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vatelixx · 1 month ago

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On the concept of ‘want’, (part 1):

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

part two here.

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

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December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he��s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

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To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

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The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

#spencer reid #sub spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #he deserves this #let the man fuck!!!!!

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anemoiashifts · 4 months ago

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why you should get off social media if you want to shift.

before you scroll away, i want to challenge all of you to read all of this. this is one of my longest blog posts ive ever made with over 1,000 words. if you can or can’t make it through the whole post, please let me know how far you’ve gotten in the comments below. you’ll get a surprise at the end 🥳 !

social media isn’t an inherently bad thing. however, outside & inside of the shifting community social media (specially tiktok) has been shown to effect our attention span. this shows in my comment sections on my longer tumblr posts that i also share on tiktok, such as this one, when people say things like “im not reading all of that” or “can someone summarize” also “what method should i use” and “why am i not shifting”.

let’s start with the basics of shifting. shifting attempts need some kind of focus; an affirmation, a visualization, some sort of task like counting. if you’re someone who struggles to focus, you will struggle to learn how to meditate or any hobby or task you’re tying to accomplish. all shifting methods are is a meditation. while no, you don’t need a method, I would make the argument learning how to meditate & focus your attention to what you are trying to manifest is an important part of shifting. if social media creates an instant dopamine reward without little effort, the appeal of shifting seems less. this is why i think a lot of people actually like thinking about shifting & creating content for it rather then doing it — because trying to shift requires some level of work without instant reward even if it’s as simple as laying down & setting intention.

if you try to shift & you wake up in your cr still, that isn’t as exciting when comparing it to the idea of shifting. rather, if you post an edit or a video about your dr you will receive a dopamine hit through video interaction (comments, likes, how social media platforms are set up in general). even maladaptive daydreaming can fall into this category to some. the interest in attempting to shift dies because we feel like we aren’t gaining anything from it when that’s not true. when laying down & attempting to shift, we are meditating & training the brain to focus on what we desire most: we’re correcting our attention span.

social media destroys the ability to focus & what we focus on & give our attention to allows room for that desire to grow, to become reality. if we’re always so overwhelmed with information & have so much to stress about, it’s important to recognize what we consume & how it effects our mood & mental health & how it can sometimes delay our manifestations. im not saying you have to be positive all the time, but we’re exposed to so much that it’s important to check in with yourself every once in a while. this can be where shifting content comes into play vs non shifting content. think demotivation, you don’t look for it, it just appears. & how many times have you opened tiktok to look something up to only be distracted by a completely unrelated video that automatically started playing ?

what i mean is people are telling you what shifting is, what works for them (which you could register subconsciously & believe that’s a step by step guide), rather then self discovery. people are telling you what shifting is, how to do it, what to think, what to script, what method you need to do, even if they say “this may not apply to everyone” because of how it’s being presented & spoken about. the said popularity of a method or definition may also come into play & feeling like something has to be right or work because other people align with it. its like math class, the teacher shows you one way to solve a problem then says “your allowed to use your own methods” & shows you one example of it then goes back to using the original method in class that you don’t understand.

another reason is opinions. when being shown so many people speaking on shifting & their thoughts it can be overwhelming. it’s a great thing so many people are willing to talk about their experiences in their desired reality or want to share their personal breakthroughs & opinions on what shifting is, it can be confusing. while everything i just listed is well intended, leaning about shifting through places like tiktok & not venturing out & doing your own research — or just searching methods online & trying it yourself while going in blind — it takes away self discovery.

so, how do we learn about shifting ?

when i say get off of social media, i don’t exactly mean all social media. yes, all of these things happen across the internet but the difference with tiktok is that the fyp isn’t so prominent. this of course also applies to other feeds that are generated, but a lot of the shifting community is ok tiktok so im using the most known example. it’s important to search & decide what information you consume & seek out rather then being told something without stopping to think for yourself. you want the chance to be able to create your own thoughts. your own unique thoughts you have about things make them personal & your own beliefs become stronger when you realize things on your own. it’s more satisfying that way.

places like reddit & searching for questions you specifically have so you don’t have ten more questions shoved in your that you didn’t have before that cause you added worry or unnecessary fear is helpful to keep in mind.

there is room for grey area. not everything needs to be black & white. there should be no consciousness vs multiverse theories because two things can both be true at once. Ike thing doesn’t have to be against something, you don’t have time pick a side. it’s all theory & hypothetical. it’s okay that we 100% don’t know (& will probably never know) what shifting truly is. not everything needs to be discovered to preform it “correctly”. you don’t need to be a master at painting to paint, you don’t need to know how paint brushes are crafted or how canvas is stretched to preform, anyone can sit & learn as they create their first & second & tenth piece. even people who have painted & sold their artwork for millions, don’t know the great’s techniques. they know pieces of them & take what works & discards what doesn’t serve them.

this post isnt to negate any of the good social media has done or sound like my mom & preaching about how social media destroys your brain…but i think we should be mindful of what we consume & how it makes us feel & if we’re speaking for ourselves or parroting others words. there are so many great people & advice out there & im not trying to take away from that. i just think taking a moment to stop & digest what we’re seeing is healthy. this blog post has been a long time coming but i know a lot of people wouldn’t want to hear it. i can promise you, you are more addicted then you think — myself included. i just don’t wake you guys to look back in 10 years & have spent more then half of that looking at a screen when there’s so much life to be lived. i don’t want social media to take away from what we are all here for which when we come down to it is living. shifting is literally wanting to experience life & i can’t help but find it ironic that this is the opposite of everything we wish to accomplish through this practice.

please take care of yourselves. much love.

surprise :) congrats you made it ! here’s your digital slice of cake ! 🍰

#desired reality #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter #reality shifter

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nothorses · 5 months ago

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You've made a lot of really great posts about transmasc experiences and struggles, and they really resonate with me! So I guess I want to in complete earnest ask: why the push for 'transandrophobia' when anti-transmasculinity as a term has been around for longer and faces little friction by comparison? I don't really *dislike* transandrophobia, but its meaning gets muddied everywhere from different directions, while ATM is pretty direct and succinct I feel. It's very clear that it's about TRANSmasculine oppression. I'm not against having a dedicated term at all, but the content of our struggles gets lost in the weeds of attaching kind of understandably divisive terms like misandry and androphobia in an attempt to mirror a phenomenon very specifically about misogyny; it seems more trouble than it's worth considering ATM is right there

I'll be honest, this ask is confusing to me for a few reasons.

When I started talking about transandrophobia around the summer of 2020, the conversations I was encountering were very much, like, a handful of people across Twitter and Tumblr (literally, a handfull!). I picked up "transandrophobia" because it was one of two words I saw in use, and the other- "transmisandry"- felt much less clear and much more contentious. It seemed super obvious to me that people would draw a line from "men's rights activists" trying to push this idea that "misandry", as a systemic oppression of men by women, to "transmisandry", and assume some ill intent where there was none. It's confusing!

"Transandrophobia" was the better of two options being floated at the time, at least in any conversation I saw. "Anti-transmasculinity" was not really a term I'd been made aware of, if anyone at all was talking about it at the time.

I have seen people pick up "anti-transmasculinity" more recently (maybe in the last year?), and this is definitely the first I've seen someone shorten it to "ATM". The people I've seen use that term have been mostly people who seem really new to the conversation, and the vibe I've gotten has been very, like, "we're the Good Transmascs, our word isn't dirty and gross like those other Bad Transmascs everyone hates. you'll listen to us now that our word is Good and Pure, right?"

Which is like... kind of frustrating, and kind of sad, honestly. I think these people honestly believe that if they just choose the right word, all the people who've been dragging me and every other transmasc talking about these issues through the mud for the last 4 years or so will really just stop & listen. If they can just say it right, these people- who have been relentlessly harassing and spreading lies about every single transmasc who came before them for years now- will care what they have to say, and will be willing to engage with them in earnest, compassionate dialogue.

If you just find the right word, all of these people will care about your hurt, your pain, and the suffering of your community.

It kind of breaks my heart. It's an incredibly hopeful, kind, loving way to view the world. It's compassion and patience and forgiveness that these folks are not being given, but that they so badly want to offer to others.

And at the same time, it sucks to be the Bad Transmasc. It sucks to have fought so hard for so long, and for the people I've been fighting for all this time to turn around and say, "you're gross, and dirty, and evil, and everything you've done is a mistake." It sucks to see the people I've been fighting for agree with the people I've been fighting against, and shove me under the bus in an effort to appeal to the people running me over with it. Knowing that the bus is going to aim for them once it's done with me just makes it sadder, yknow?

@saint-speaks wasn't the first person to ever speak the word "transandrophobia", but he is the one who coined and popularized it in its current form. And then he was dragged through the mud so hard and so brutally that some people think I coined it, just because when I defended him (too little and too late, imo) I withstood the mud-dragging better than he did (and gee, I wonder white.)

And now people take for granted that everything everyone said about hymn to justify that frankly fucking evil harassment campaign was true, actually, and we should abandon the word he coined and find one with purer origins.

If you honestly think "anti-transmasculinity" is just a more practical word, that's fine. I don't care what word we use. But they're going to cover it in mud, too. They're going to cover every one of you in mud.

Will you keep fighting for "ATM" once they make it the new dirty, gross, bad, evil word? Will you keep fighting when they drag you and everyone else through the mud for using it? Or will you agree with them, make up a new word, and never look back?

Please don't let us drown in the mud. We've been fighting for you, and we want to fight with you. Please.

#transandrophobia #transmisandry #anti transmasculinity

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captainx-camino · 6 months ago

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I am once again asking people to shut the fuck up about what people ship.

Yes, even if it makes you 'uncomfy'. Yes, even if you feel it's 'wrong'. Yes, even if you don't understand the appeal. Yes, even if you don't personally see the characters ever liking each other. Yes, even if it's a kink or fetish you don't understand.

Unless an image is of real, human people being harmed or forced into something they did not consent to, or a real, living creature that is not capable of consent, shut your fucking mouth and scroll away.

Yes, even if you think the drawing is 'illegal' (it isn't). Yes, even if you think the person is wrong for drawing it (they're not). Yes, even if you think their 'coping mechanisms are bad' (art therapy is an entirely normal and common practice). Yes, even if it personally triggers you (that is not the responsibility of the artist. It's yours. Block the tags/person.)

Life is full of horrible stuff much more legitimate to getting upset over than a bunch of lines and colors without any actual thoughts or feelings.

Learning to discern fiction from reality is a useful life skill. Start figuring it out now and save yourselves the trouble later on in life.

You are not better than someone else because of the fake morality you harbor over line and color. You're just not. Much like how best selling authors or renowned film makers are not evil for creating media surrounding sensitive topics, your average shipper on Tumblr isn't either.

Your repacked highschool bullying so you can still separate yourselves from the other people in fandom now that it's mainstream and you can't use it as a means of othering anymore is neither cute nor necessary. It doesn't make you a good person to clutch your pearls over a drawing.

If fake people are more important to you than living, breathing artists, it's not the artist's morality you should be questioning. It's yours.

Every time you want to complain or get bent over a fictional ship, take that energy and go donate a dollar to relief for Palestine. At least then your rage farming will make a fucking difference.

#discourse #shipping #proship

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xwonderlandresidentx · 5 months ago

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I feel like I've been seeing a lot more posts about how both the Kat//ng and Zutara fandoms should stop fighting and tolerate each other more, and while I understand, and to an extent, agree with the sentiment, it bothers me a little because these posts tend to make it out like both fandoms are equally as toxic, when in my experience, that simply isn't true.

I am a multishipper, and even though I mostly just participate in the fandoms for my absolute favorites, I still enjoy lots of different ships, including ships that "contradict" each other.

In AtLA, even though Zutara is my favorite now, I also used to ship Kat//ng. Kat//ng used to be my favorite, and only ship for the series that I actively engaged with. I saw the appeal of Zutara (and others), but for a long time my opinion on it was "it's not canon, so why bother?" and I mostly just ignored it.

But one of the biggest reason I stopped enjoying interacting with the KA side of the fandom was because I saw a vastly disproportionate amount of other KA shippers going out of their way to harass Zutara shippers. And I don't mean simply talking badly about the ship itself, or the characters involved, but personal attacks against the real life people who ship Zutara.

Have I seen Zutara shippers harass Kat//ngers? Yes, of course. But not nearly as much as the other way around. Literally not even half as much. And not just here on Tumblr, but Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, Deviantart. All across the internet, I saw KA shippers constantly badmouthing Zutara and Zutara shippers, even in the comments of Kat//ng art and fics, completely unprompted.

It bummed me out, and while it isn't the reason I stopped liking the ship itself, it did make me feel uncomfortable interacting with it's fandom. Kat//ng shippers are, ironically, a big part of the reason I started actively shipping Zutara. Because after seeing the way they went on about it and it's fandom, I thought "Surely, Zutara and the people who like it can't be that bad." So I took a deeper look at the ship and it's fandom, and.... I was right. They weren't as bad as other Kat//ngers had told me they were. Not even close.

#zutara #pro zutara #anti anti zutara #anti kataang #anti kataang shippers #atla fandom critical #ship wars are stupid #and it does take two to tango #but every dance pair has a lead

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mactavishsgfandwife · 10 months ago

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141 When They’re Sick

bilingual privilege is using your second language to scribble down notes for your tumblr fanfiction in class with the reassurance that no one else will be able to understand what you’re writing 😋 pure fluff (not proofread)

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

soap has such man flu vibes

i just know he will have a little cold from never dressing appropriately for the english weather (he thinks he can tough it out) (he can’t) and then lays on the sofa for a week, miserable and constantly pining for your attention

he loves a cup of tea when he’s sick but he also swears that irn bru has magic restorative qualities, and "that’s how i keep m’physique, bonnie"

Johnny groans, rubbing his face with his palm as he lays stretched out over the sofa, his feet resting on one arm and a hot water bottle flopped lazily over his stomach. For the most part, the grunts and sighs seem genuine, but you could swear that he makes sure to emphasise his suffering when you walk past, just to let you know what a big strong boy he’s being for dealing with his sore throat and slight headache.

"Head hurts…" he groans, holding a forearm over his eyes to shield them from the light.

"I know, honey… you want a paracetamol?" you pat his head, trying to hide your little, sympathetic laugh.

"Nah, only just had one… Y’could gimme a kiss, though," he grinned up at you, his tone lightening a little.

"Ew! Stop, I don’t want your germs," you laugh, pulling your hand away from his hair.

"Aww, c’mon… might make me feel better," Johnny teases, sitting up a little (he wasn’t really that weak in the first place) and holds your wrist so you can’t escape. When you see the stupid, irritating grin on his face, you know you don’t really care about germs. You just want to kiss him.

Captain John Price

price, when he’s feeling ill, likes to be looked after - the number one cure for ANY of this man’s problems is a warm bath

he loves it when you act like a little housewife for him, running him a warm bath and bringing him a constant stream of cups of tea - sometimes he’ll pretend to be sicker than he is for a little longer than he has to just for a day or two more of being doted on by you. not that you don’t do that anyways.

but he’s a menace when you try to go off shopping or to work - he lays a strong, hairy arm over you, mumbling something about being sick and needing you to stay

if you massage his back and shoulders when he’s feeling sick, he will be so happy. it takes a little longer than when he rubs your back because there’s just more of him, with his broad shoulders and muscular dad-bod (yum)

You have John laying on his front, on the bed, arms crossed under his head. His hair is damp, getting the bedsheets a little wet beneath him, and he has a soft white towel wrapped loosely around his hips - he smells strangely like lavender (he definitely used your shower gel instead of his because yours is nicer - you pretend not to notice, as your hands gently move up and down his sore back).

He’s managed to come down with a bad cold the day after an intense workout, so his body is totally exhausted and nothing really appeals to him other than laying down. Being as fit as he is, you wouldn’t expect him to be in such a state, but the man needs a break and it’s plain to see.

The soft light from the nice-smelling candles that you’ve lit on the bedside table plays in his wet hair, which you gently comb your fingers through.

"You been using my products again, hmm?" you grin with a gentle tone, leaning in closer to him.

"Sorry love…" he starts to respond, his voice a little hoarse.

"It’s okay," you laugh softly, nuzzling your face into his back as you lower yourself on top of him, like a weighted blanket. Your soft hands wrap gently around his scarred sides, as little sighs of contentment leave your mouth.

"What happened to my back rub?" he teases, feeling your body laying against him. Still, he doesn’t a muscle to stop you from cuddling up to him.

As you keep quiet, enjoying the warmth of his body, he chuckles and pulls himself into a more comfortable position below you.

"That’s alright, sweetheart…" he replies to your silence.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

simon would try to be an unphased tough guy but he’d have little moments of weakness

he’d insist that he’s not that sick while taking paracetamol and drinking tea constantly, pulling you close to him as often as he can and being clingier than usual (he’s always touchy, but he is particularly reliant on you now)

he’s in a terrible mood, but just resting his head on your shoulder or holding you while you work helps him… better yet, he loves it when you’re sitting on the sofa and working on your laptop, or watching a film, and he gets to lay down with his head in your lap - with your soft fingers occasionally brushing through his short hair

he’s a tough guy, but when it’s just you and him, he can just lay down with his girl without worrying about being ghost. he’s just simon - poorly simon, with his sweet girlfriend taking care of him.

Phone in your hand, you quietly text your friend about her crazy ex boyfriend and the dress that she’s going to wear out tonight - the red one or the other red one, with the different neckline? You look up to the doorway to see a tall, tired man walk into the sitting room - 6’4", dressed in an old grey hoodie and a pair of pyjama bottoms, ruffling his hair and looking utterly exhausted.

"Thought you were asleep, Si…"

"Can’t sleep," he mumbles gruffly, silently moving towards you and finding a spot to lay his head - right in your lap, his feet resting on the opposite arm of your big sofa.

Understanding his fatigue, you sigh softly and stroke his head as it lays against you. His skin is pale, showing his sickness, and his eyes look tired and dry. A little groan escapes his lips as he shuffles on the sofa, trying to make himself comfortable.

"Love you, darling…" he whispers softly, his eyes shutting in preparation to finally sleep.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

i feel like kyle’s love language is food

if you make that man a curry or a good spag bol, he will secretly be making plans to propose to you as he eats it

and that’s all the more true when he’s ill or tired out - some comfort food home cooked by you would mean the world

Gaz had a bad cold and had been hibernating in bed all day, mostly asleep but occasionally watching the football or texting Soap to complain about how sick he is. As you walked into the room, brandishing a bowl of spaghetti carbonara, his eyes lit up.

"Hey, what’s this?" he grins, his voice a little hoarse.

"Carbonara. For you," you chuckle, placing it down on his bedside table, "I have some work stuff to finish, I-"

"Y’could just stay with me instead. I’ve been locked up in here all day," he teases.

"You’ve been asleep all day! I really need to… well…"

"Come on, baby."

You struggle to hide the grin that’s creeping onto your face, not wanting to procrastinate your work any longer (this wasn’t the first time Kyle has stolen you away from typing up emails) but he got what he wanted when, a moment later, you were cuddled up to him. Wearing his tshirt and your underwear, with your head resting on his shoulder.

"Oh my God, this is so good!" he chuckles, eating, voice still strained from the sore throat. He’s mostly just happy to have you next to him (oh, as well as the pasta).

gaz is my babyyyyyyy i don’t think you guys get it 😣😣😣 this took an age and a half to write i hope it’s up to standard thanks for reading!! xx

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danandfuckingjonlmao · 3 months ago

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*grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you violently, screaming in your face*

I WANT TO WRITE ESSAYS ABOUT PHANNIE CULTURE AND HUMOUR!!!! I WANT TO DO A COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS BETWEEN THE PHANDOM AND OTHER FANDOMS AND WHY AND HOW THE PHANDOM CAME TO BE THE INFAMOUS AND NOW RELATIVELY ISOLATED PLACE THAT IT IS!!!!! I WANT TO DO RESEARCH STUDIES ON DAN AND PHIL’S APPEAL TO QUEER NEURODIVERGENT PEOPLE!!!!!! I WANT TO UNDERSTAND WHY WE ARE SO INVESTED IN THESE REAL PEOPLE IN A VERY UNIQUE AND SPECIFIC WAY!!!! I WANT TO KNOW THE CHANGING PERSPECTIVES AND BEHAVIOURS OF PHANNIES WHO HAVE BEEN HERE FOR 10 OR MORE YEARS!!!!! I WANT TO STUDY PHANDOM LINGUISTICS AND HOW OUR LEXICON CHANGES AND GROWS WITH DAN AND PHIL!!!!! I WANT TO DISCUSS AND DISSECT WHAT MAKES TWITTER PHANNIES AND TUMBLR PHANNIES HATE EACH OTHER WHEN ITS THE SAME PEOPLE AND HOW THE DIFFERENT CULTURES OF TUMBLR (COLLECTIVISM, ANONYMITY) VS TWITTER (INDIVIDUALISM, DIRECT INTERACTION WITH CREATORS, THE RESPONSE TO GETTING A NOTICE) IMPACT THIS DYNAMIC!!!! I WANT TO WRITE ABOUT THE CYCLE OF PHANDOM DISCOURSE AND WHY WHENEVER THERE IS A CONTENT DROUGHT PEOPLE START SHIT AND HOW WE CAN STOP DOING THAT BECAUSE ITS NOT GOOD FOR OUR MENTAL HEALTH!!!!! I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE PHANDOM’S POWER AND HOW WE ACCOMPLISH DIRECT ACTION ABNORMALLY FAST FOR AN ASYNCHRONOUS GROUP OF STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET!!!!! I WANT TO MAKE A PHOCUMENTARY AND EXPLORE THE WORLD OF DAN AND PHIL AND THE COMMUNITY AND INTERVIEW EVERY SINGLE VIEWER AND LEARN EVERY SINGLE PERSON’S EXPERIENCE!!!!!! I WANT TO DO AN IN DEPTH DISSECTION OF THE PHASES/ERAS OF THE PHANDOM!!!!! I WANT TO CONFRONT PHANNIES’ SUPERIORITY OVER EACH OTHER AND THE TENDENCY TOWARDS CONTEMPT AND OTHERING EACH OTHER BECAUSE OF COGNITIVE DISSONANCE!!!!! I WANT TO GET INTO ACCESSIBILITY IN THE PHANDOM AND WHY ITS SUCKS AND HOW WE CAN IMPROVE IT!!!!!! I WANT TO HAVE A HUGE DISCUSSION ABOUT HOW DESPITE HOW LEFT WING THIS AUDIENCE IS WE HAVE A TENDENCY TO STEP ON AND SILENCE POC PHANNIES WHEN THEY EXPRESS BEING NEGATIVELY IMPACTED BY SOMETHING DNP SAID IN THEIR PAST AND HOW ITS GOOD ACTUALLY TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT SOMETHING WAS HARMFUL ESPECIALLY IF YOURE A FAN OF THAT PERSON AND WE SHOULD ENCOURAGE THESE DISCUSSIONS AND WE DONT NEED TO IMMEDIATELY GO ON THE DEFENSIVE WE CAN JUST LISTEN!!!!! I WANT TO TRULY THOROUGHLY EXPLORE THE ETHICS OF RPF AND WHERE THE LINES ARE AND BOUNDARIES!!!!! I WANT TO FIGURE OUT THE GENERAL OPINIONS OF PEOPLE ON LABELLING DAN AND PHIL AND WHY WE DO THAT AND WHAT IS OKAY AND WHAT ISNT!!!!!! I WANT TO WRITE ABOUT DEMON PHANNIES AND COMPLICITY AND DANNIES AND PHILLIES AND PHLESBIANS!!!!!!!! STOP TRYING TO ESCAPE ME I HAVE TO GET THIS OUT BEFORE THEY FORCE ME BACK INTO THE PHENCLOSURE!!!!!

#dnp #dan and phil #phan #dan howell #daniel howell #amazingphil #phil lester #danisnotonfire #yeet my deet #yeet my deenp #dip and pip #social media analysis #phresearch #d&p #i wish i could major in dan and phil #if i had time motivation and energy i would do all of this and more #image description in alt

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madockisser · 3 months ago

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Could you do a analysis on Jude and Taryn’s human beauty compared to the fae beauty

faerie beauty standard, human/faerie attraction, jude and taryns beauty, and short faerie breeding analysis!!

hi, gladly!! this is another long one bc to fully understand, i threw in some faerie facts lol! hope u don’t mind!

let’s start w what we know,

holly says (at a washington convention !!) that faeries and their beauty is very alien like. they can be beautiful in many ways, beautiful in a way that is not sexually attractive. she compares faeries with the alien man in the movie “shape of water” (this was all found on a tumblr post by a deactivated acc!!! i attached a cropped pic below of the extent of what holly said!)!!

above that pic however, is a letter from holly black herself, explaining faerie beauty standards and if humans would find jude or nicasia more beautiful, to which she says that humans would find jude more beautiful, bc humans have different beauty standards as well.

she also says that beauty is suggestive, which it is. what i am attracted to in a person differs from what YOU are attracted to in a person. this is the same for faeries.

their standards of beauty are ofc centered around faeries and not humans. but that does not mean that they do not find humans to be beautiful, bc they can and many do!

but to them, it’s just a different sort of beauty that they are familiar with, humans do not look like falling stars, they do not have translucent teeth that only shows when they catch the light. they do not have fangs or webbed fingers or green skin.

another thing abt humans and faeries is that faeries can be very skinny and lanky, and jude says that her fingers are rounded like her cheeks and ears, while the opposite is true for faeries, they have cutthroat jawlines and cheekbones, and pointy ears.

every faerie sees humans differently, and every human sees faeries differently. ESPECIALLY since faeries have advanced eyesight, and can see in the darkness, makes me wonder if they can see shadows very well, (like if jude’s eyes always look amber, like the sunlight is shining in them, which is what cardan implies in htkoelths when he says that her amber eyes are alight, despite them flying at nighttime.)

anyway, to make it simple, you can compare it with human traits, hair color, eye shape, hair cut, lip shape, smile, teeth, etc etc! what YOU find attractive or pretty in a person is yours and yours alone, no one will have the EXACT same attraction as you (ever heard someone say “i don’t see the appeal”??)

anyway, take for example, eva duarte and madoc. madoc is a big green guy w tons of sharp teeth that poke from his bottom lip and two cat eyes. YOU may find that scary or ugly, but to eva, she is attracted to him. whether she finds him handsome is another story, bc attraction and good looks don’t always go hand in hand-yk how ppl are attracted to funny but unattractive ppl, it can be like that.

now let’s compare how cardan sees jude. cardan is attracted to jude, lusts for her and desires her despite not liking her, because he’s attracted to her. he later on reveals that to him, her beauty is overwhelming, distressing, alarming, etc.

BUT he also says, “some of you may swear jude is unlovely” bc that is the faerie way, jude does not conform to the faerie beauty standards of being this sunrise eyed, blue haired, skinny to death sort of beauty, like faeries do.

now onto jude’s overall appearance:

we know jude is of average height; abt 5’4, she has the wavy red-brown hair of a willow tree, and she has amber eyes. she is described by kaye, as someone who is comfortable in her body, someone that has the body of an acrobat, or a soldier. jude says that she is musclier than taryn, and only when she rises from the undersea does she look sickly and pale. (just mentioning that i don’t think she is pale skinned, i imagine her w warm brown skin) and lastly, she has freckles across her body.

i also wanna add that another things faeries and humans do not have in common aren’t just their looks, but the shape of their bodies. jude’s hips and breasts are heavier than that of a faeries, mainly because faeries are so unfortunate in fertility, that their bodies do not grow to suit childbearing, because few of them have any children at all if ever.

i suppose that trait is something that could’ve been passed down through natural selection(or they just simply were never built for childbearing), as faeries started using human midwives and human women to help care for babies had, and to help strengthen the bloodline. (bless it w the fertility that comes w being a human)

and since faeries breed true (if a human bears a faerie child or if a faerie bears a child w a human, the child will still be very fae, more than it will be human) human characteristics (like heavy breasts and wide hips) are not passed onto those children, and instead they acquire glamour, curse breaking, magic weaving etc.

now onto jude:

one thing abt hollys writing that differs from many other authors is that she does not consistently remind the reader of the main characters looks.

but, fortunately for us, jude’s looks are described a few times by a few faeries.

in book one, immediately, valerian comments that jude and taryn are recognizable in any crowd, and that there is no head more plain.

which i actually find funny. since he was attracted to her.

nicasia in the first scene that she has any lines, speaks down on jude’s appearance, comparing jude’s looks to that of a faeries beauty, “did you think [this hair pin] would make you as we are?”

nicasia says that jude is not pretty like faeries and merfolk are, bc she isn’t, which jude finds disheartening bc the fae are painfully gorg if they aren’t frighteningly disgusting.

now me personally, the way that ONLY nicasia mentioned jude’s looks out of the whole group makes me think she’s sorta insecure bc she knows that locke is seeing one of the twins, and she’s not outright dumb, she prob also sees that val and cardan look at the twins in such a heated sort of manner.

but again later on, nicasia actually ends up calling her a “pretty thing” so, pretty contradictory but she just means that jude will never look the way a faerie does, but she admits that jude’s still pretty in her own way.

later on, jude visits the mortal world, where “milo” the human boy, circles jude at the mall before approaching her, hitting on her, and asking for her number, promptly before jude clocks his shit for grabbing her. (as she should queen, what was he grabbing at her for 🙄)

time passes and locke tells jude how beautiful she is (twice, like a “winter night”), yaddah yaddah yaddah, in book two, balekin says jude has a pretty face, and ofc smooches on her, and val moren calls jude pretty. in book 3 grima mog calls jude pretty, and later grimsen takes a liking to jude since he likes pretty things (pretty sure he said something to her abt that along those lines, or oriana did, too lazy to get my books)

as for taryn, jude often says how pretty she is, like a princess out of a story book, soft and beautiful, how impossible it seems that they share the same face. taryn also encounters a faerie that describes her beauty as “divine”

i mention all these things bc faeries cannot lie, so jude is beautiful, atleast in those faeries eyes.

lastly, i wanna add; that of course there is human-faerie sexual attraction, bc cardan feels it for jude, as does valerian. jude feels that way for cardan, and once even locke (? tbh she didn’t long for his touch like she did cardan so) but there is also eva and madoc, val moren and eldred, whom val moren was willing to burn his life away just to feel eldred touching him again, there is val and ravus, and hazel and jack. and more.!

so moral of the story, while jude’s and taryns beauty do not fit the faerie beauty standard, they are still seen as beautiful and desired by many faeries, just not all of them, since they all have their own attractions.

i hope this made sense, and thank you for the ask! feel free to add on in the cmmts!

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goldensunset · 3 months ago

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so i guess it didn’t occur to me but like. Yeah. even if the app is offline and only provides theater mode that’s still a real canon kingdom hearts entry. those cutscenes are part of the story. and that app is the official means by which those cutscenes are accessible. there’s youtube of course but that’s all the work of fans… without the uxdr app square enix is currently straight up not offering an actual official way to experience this story anymore. which is. really low. nintendo type move. and like. bad for an overarching story that relies on this and is only going to do so more and more…

i’m betting on this being the first symptom of square enix doing something new with this story in the future but for the time being it’s like. man that really reflects poorly… not that it’s even that irrational to take down an app that’s been dead for years now but what it does is bring to light how ridiculous it is that square enix hasn’t done anything else in that time. no announcement of a remake or other new means of making uxdr available, no warning about the app being removed, etc

not to sound like one of the mobile game saga haters but in the end. when you get practical with it. it really is unprofessional and far-fetched for game developers to expect the masses to get into a story that’s only accessible through a gallery of cutscenes on a mobile app. like i understand there are always gonna be casual fans who aren’t interested in every last side game ever (even if they’re wrong) but in general stuff like bbs and ddd or whatever we’re good at appealing to broader audiences. i think square enix really needs to face the reality that people want real and playable games and the rabid passion of us tumblr weirdos who will gladly watch hours of cutscenes isn’t enough to float their boat

like khux has been around for so long you’d think they’d have realized ‘hmm the cute little online pc/mobile game we made got popular and we expanded the lore a lot hmmmm maybe we should reconsider our initial choice if confining it to the realm of a cute little online pc/mobile game.’ it hurts my heart to hear people dissing the mobile games bc it’s done from ignorance of how good they are but i’m not mad at those people. they’re judging a book by its cover but like yeah some books have unappealing covers. i get it. not everyone will immediately see the hype. the khux superfan in me says skill issue they should try harder. the pragmatic person who wants the series to survive says square enix you gotta do something to appeal to the broader audience

and like only offering the thing in a mediocre form is bad enough but it’s even worse now if they don’t even let you have the thing at all. now it really is up to the fans to preserve this work of art? a set of crucial support beams for the entire mythos’ lore is being curated by youtubers doing this entirely out of passion? and square enix doesn’t see a problem with that? mannnn if you want to be taken seriously as a storyteller. provide access to your stories. ideally make it a good and widely popular type of access but at least do something. nintendo type of move smh . as long as they don’t go full nintendo and start striking down people who upload it online

#this has been 1:45 am rants goodbye

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purple-plum-petals · 2 years ago

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⊱ TWST Dorm Leaders’ Reactions to Overhearing Yuu call them “Hot” ⊰ || Multiple Character Scenario

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover (mentioned), Cater Diamond (mentioned), Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper (mentioned), Vil Schoeinheit, Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud (mentioned), Malleus Draconia Reader Type: Human, Ramshackle Prefect (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Nothing! I also always use the Japanese TWST Terms (Dorm Leader instead of Housewarden, Madols instead of Thaumarks, etc.) in my writing. Genre: Scenario, Fluff, Slight Angst (?), Mutual Pining (Romantic Relationship) Word Count: ~850 words Scenario: When you had asked your companion out loud, “Man, why does your dorm leader have to be so hot?”, you had no idea that said dorm leader was nearby and overheard everything you just said. Author’s Note: This is a small sequel piece to my TWST Characters’ Reactions to Yuu Calling Their Dorm Leader “Hot” simply because I thought it would be cute to do a follow-up on how each of the dorm leaders would react to Yuu admitting they found them attractive. I decided to keep this fluffy and make it so the dorm leaders in turn also found you attractive just to keep things fairly simple. I hope you all like it – thank you so much for your support! 🥰

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Becomes a flustered mess at your words, deciding against walking into the room and interrupting your conversation with the person they had been looking for. Their face is red and they feel as though they’re going to implode as their mind replays what you said over and over again. You… really think they’re that attractive? Well, at least they know the feeling is mutual.

· Riddle, Azul, Idia

Well, now isn’t that interesting… He smirks slightly when he overhears the conversation you were having with the dorm mate he had been looking for. He was in a bad mood before, unhappy he had to painstakingly walk around campus to find the person he was looking for, but your words help with boosting his mood (and his ego). Waits for a moment before making himself known, acting as though he didn’t just overhear you call him hot.

· Leona

Immediately starts smiling when he overhears your conversation and, with no hesitation and absolutely no shame, rushes into the room and gives you the biggest hug you’ve gotten in quite some time. Was it rude to eavesdrop and interrupt your conversation? Maybe… but he just couldn’t wait to tell you how much he likes you, too!

· Kalim

Is fully aware of how good-looking he is and wishes you would have said so with a bit more tact, but still finds his heart skipping a beat slightly at your words despite himself. Takes a moment to compose himself before making himself known, acting as though he hadn’t overheard everything you had said. He’d certainly bring up what you said in the future when you two are able to have a… private discussion together. He’s not one to bring up such things in public since he knows that the pressure of other people involved could ruin what would usually be a nice moment.

· Vil

Oh? He doesn’t quite understand what “hot” means in this context but, from your tone alone, he believes that it is most likely a compliment. He’ll need to ask someone later about what exactly that word refers to when referencing someone. Perhaps you were talking about his iconic green-flamed magic? That would be what made the most sense, at least in his eyes.

· Malleus

Even despite knowing how you feel about him and that you at least find him visually appealing, he still doesn’t try to ask you out. He doesn’t feel as though he’s enough for you; his problems with his self-worth put a slight hindrance on your potential relationship with one another. You’ll definitely have to be the one to make the first move; that or Ortho might have to step in which probably isn’t what either of you two want.

· Idia

Doesn’t make a move, not because of self-worth issues, but rather because he has no clue what to do. He’s never really experienced having a crush on someone, let alone someone having a crush on him in return. Tries to discreetly gather information on what to do from Cater and Trey, but they very quickly catch on (poor guy lmao). Thankfully, they give him pretty good advice on what to do; you’ll probably be invited to a private tea party soon so you two can talk about potentially changing your relationship with one another.

· Riddle

Doesn’t make a move because making the first move would leave him in a vulnerable position and, well... he doesn’t like the thought of that possibility. What if you just thought he was attractive and that was it? Plenty of people have complimented his appearance while not necessarily finding his company enjoyable (not that he entirely blamed them). He’ll just step up his flirting game and hope you eventually break and ask him out to which he, after some of his usual teasing, would agree to give the relationship a shot.

· Leona

Easily makes the first move knowing his feelings will be reciprocated. Why wait around when he knows how you feel about him? They would ask you out on a date, each with varying levels of formality. Azul would have an entire three-course, candle-lit dinner prepared for the two of you at Monstro Lounge, being his usual gentlemanly self. Kalim would try his hand at cooking dinner for the both of you (only to be kicked out of the kitchen by Jamil) before taking you for a ride on his magic carpet. Vil would do something a bit low-key and private considering his career as a model and actor, most likely deciding to have dinner and a nice little self-care date at Pomfiore.

· Azul, Kalim, Vil

Instead of asking someone else about the meaning of your words, he would decide to ask you directly what you meant when you said he was “hot” as well as apologize for unintentionally eavesdropping on your conversation. Oh, so you weren’t referring to his fire magic but rather his appearance? He can’t help but smirk at your bold declaration and tell you that he, too, finds you to be quite attractive. He’ll definitely start properly courting you now that he knows your feelings toward each other are mutual.

Malleus

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