#that’s literally the only part i care about btw…

[kxsagi]

OK LISTEN!! WHO ARE THE BLLK CHARACTERS WHO WILL SET THE WORLD ON BURN FOR YOU? BY THE WAY, I ADMIRE YOUR WORK❤️‍🔥🫶

“𝐢’𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH MWAH MWAH

btw this prompt reminded me of the song LET THE WORLD BURN by chris grey so ofc i had to use it as the title

and i interpret “i would set the world on fire for you” as extremely down bad and possessive energy… so that’s what i wrote the headcanons about

ft. kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, mikage reo, karasu tabito, kunigami rensuke

kaiser michael

kaiser is deranged in love. like “touch her and you die in 4K” deranged. 

you so much as sigh in a sad tone and he’s like “name. address. blood type.” 

would burn down an entire stadium if someone catcalled you. he won’t even blink. 

wraps an arm around your waist and stares down anyone who looks at you too long. smug as hell. 

“you see someone else? cute. they’ll be ashes by morning.” 

kisses you possessively, like he’s marking territory. dramatic. always wants an audience. 

buys you stuff just so people know someone can afford to worship you. 

jealous of inanimate objects. “that blanket gets to be around you all night? unfair.” 

will 100% tattoo your name somewhere stupid like over his heart or on his ring finger. “it’s not obsession, it’s devotion.” 

shidou ryusei

no thoughts, just “who hurt my baby???” as he sprints into battle. 

does not care about consequences. you told him that person was rude? BANG their tires are gone. 

kisses you like he’s on the verge of losing his mind. tongue, teeth, desperation. he needs you. 

death-grip on your thigh in public. leans into your neck and breathes, “mine.” 

insane levels of down bad. if you look cute, he’s on his knees barking. literally. 

you say “i want this,” and now the whole mall is yours. “baby wants? baby gets.” 

gets upset if you're too polite to people. “what’s with that smile, huh? you wanna die for them or what?” 

your name is his phone password, tattoo idea, safe word, AND ringtone. 

itoshi rin

silently simmering with rage when someone even slightly inconveniences you. 

doesn’t talk shit. just handles it. and by “handles it,” i mean permanent erasure from society. 

down bad in the scariest way. he won’t say “i need you,” but if you even joke about leaving, he freezes. 

pulls you close by the collar and whispers “don’t test me.” you’re the only softness in his life. 

his world is just you, football, and the pile of people he’s ready to fight for looking at you wrong. 

if you cry, he goes silent and leaves the room. not because he’s heartless. because he’s planning someone’s downfall. 

possessive in public. hand on your waist. glares that say “touch her and you'll lose a limb.” 

doesn’t believe in second chances for your enemies OR for anyone who flirts with you. 

“they don’t get to see you smile. not like that. that’s mine.” 

itoshi sae

dangerously calm when jealous. but you know it’s bad when he goes quiet quiet. 

his version of setting the world on fire? controlling every outcome so your life is perfect and your enemies fail publicly. 

you think he’s chill? he’s not. he’s been watching your ex’s linkedin profile for weeks. “just waiting for the right moment.” 

pulls you in by the chin when someone looks your way and gives you a long kiss on purpose so they get the message. 

“no one else touches you. you get that, right?” 

wants your lipstick on his collar and your scent on his hoodie. it’s a warning. 

he will show up to your haters' events, uninvited, just to watch their life crumble from the front row. 

low-key manipulative. makes you feel so special you’ll never want to leave. ever. 

“you’re all i have. so no one else gets to have you. period.” 

mikage reo

most unhinged part? he looks polite and composed doing it. he smiles while planning war. 

"they hurt your feelings? alright. new mission: emotionally ruin them and buy the company they work for." 

will ruin someone's financial life because they looked at you wrong. “whoops. guess they’re bankrupt now.” 

literally has a “spoiling you” budget larger than most countries’ GDP. 

possessive in a delicate way. he’s not clingy, he’s just always there. pulling you into his lap. whispering in your ear. slipping his card into your pocket like “go wild, baby.” 

kisses your hand, your temple, your shoulder – subtle marks of ownership. especially in public. 

gets jealous of people breathing near you, but keeps it cool… until he doesn’t. 

“oh, you think you can take her from me? that’s cute. security, escort him out.” 

buys the rights to your favorite book/movie/show so he can cast himself as your love interest. dead serious. 

makes everything about you. “why start wars when i can end them with your smile?” 

and god forbid you call him your “boyfriend” in public. “no, no. say ‘future husband.’ say it right.” 

karasu tabito

smart, manipulative, and terrifyingly efficient when someone wrongs you. 

smiles in public. burns people in private. 

down bad in a playful way until someone makes you cry. then it’s scorched earth. 

“you deserve better. so i became better. for you. but they? they get hell.” 

lowkey wants you dependent on him. not in a creepy way, just in a “nobody else will love you like this” way. 

hand on your thigh while he’s whispering in your ear at parties: “they’re staring. should i say something, baby?” 

makes it his business to know everyone you hate. because now he hates them too. 

will absolutely send you a selfie with your enemy crying in the background. “justice served.” 

kunigami rensuke (post-wild card)

he tries to be reasonable, he really does, but the minute you get hurt? his whole moral compass shatters. 

the definition of controlled rage. he holds it in until he’s alone, then starts punching walls and pillows. 

when he’s possessive, it’s like protective dog energy. he’s literally hovering over you. 

doesn’t even let people near you in crowds. hand always on your back, guiding you like a damn bodyguard. 

stares down people who flirt with you. doesn’t say a word, just stares. 

kisses you slow, deep, possessive, because he needs you to know he means it. 

if someone cheats or lies to you? “i’ll make them regret ever existing.” and he does. mercilessly. 

looks at you like you're the only good thing in the world. “you’re mine. and i don’t share.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬���𝐠𝐢

[ofeliaxoxo]

https://www.tumblr.com/alexturntable/767486658181545984?source=share

if we're playing charlos i think we all need to talk about this again. what the fuck was this. why did charles decide to do this unprompted. the fact that he's presumably trying to 'fix' carlos' hair but really just makes the strands he's touching look more out of place like he goes back in a second time to fix the initial error but only causes more disarray. carlos just unselfconsciously openly staring at him as he does it. i still don't feel like i can accurately describe the look on his face in this moment but to me it's not like a Standard Carlos Expression you know. the very action Itself of charles touching carlos' hair unprompted which i don't think has been documented at any other point in time. the simultaneous smiles immediately after… cute! carlos' eyebrow wiggling to try to bring some levity to an otherwise Classic Unnecessarily Charged Charlos Moment. charles' intake of air smile dropping looking down fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he processes what he just did on camera and clearly short circuits about it.

the other part of this that is crazy to me is how it's still kind of the lightest of touches. because it's like personally if EYE was in that close proximity to carlos sainz's hair and had access to touching it without him minding (i don't know that he would particularly enjoy it or anything. but let's be real here if charles had at any point in their relationship felt inclined to do that and had actually acted on the urge carlos absolutely would have let him) you better believe i would be properly running my hands through it twisting it around my fingers tugging et cetera. now even if charles had actually wanted to do that is a puma photoshoot really the best most appropriate setting in which to do that to your teammate's hair of course not. but the restraint of his touch here kills me regardless (partly because restraint is also kind of inherently erotic. To Me.). it's like he couldn't help but touch but was like okay if i let myself do this only the barest brush of my fingers is allowed i will touch the fewest number of strands possible (which while admirable could not have been me fr i would've been so shameless about it). even in the monza track preview blindfold video when charles is just barely holding onto the little tufts of hair on the side of carlos' head i wanted to yell at him. Charles Leclerc you drive me crazy because what do you mean you had the precious opportunity to basically yank carlos sainz around by his hair and you didn't take full advantage of that to touch his hair as much as possible. the fact that charles never just fully went for it in four years……… a missed opportunity of epic proportions i fear. and it's not even like charles would've been introducing a New Physical Action to their dynamic or anything when carlos has gotten all up in charles' hair on camera in front of god and everyone else in the paddock on multiple occasions.

whatever this just kind of became me projecting my insane feelings about carlos' beautiful hair onto charles leclerc so my apologies to Charlie L for that i guess. i think i'm feeling particularly insane about it right now because i just saw the video of eva longoria (ohmygod btw. carlos sainz WHO he looked incredible and i was still barely looking at him in their cannes pictures together because she is soso beautiful) reaching out to ruffle his hair (https://x.com/mafiasainz/status/1922428049619812539). the way he just immediately acquiesces and bends so she can reach better……… he literally just met her (if i'm not wrong?) and he's already letting her do that to his hair… i am foaming at the mouth. I Don't Care Even If She'd Been A L'Oreal Ambassador For One Million Years It Still Should've Been Me Instead.

no this is truly a charlos moment of all time like absolute hall of fame because like...why tf would he do that. no one made him, it makes no sense, it's completely unnecessary and YET. he was Compelled. like hello

"it's like he couldn't help but touch but was like okay if i let myself do this only the barest brush of my fingers is allowed i will touch the fewest number of strands possible" YES. wanting to do it so badly that you HAVE to but still trying to sort of not do it at the same time. the simultaneous denial and satisfaction of desire.

and then with eva longoria she gets the hell up in there and he entirely lets her. he also does fully let charles but unlike charles eva feels no self consciousness whatsoever and just wants to feel that gorgeous mop she dgaf about being delicate. there's no charged sense of anything. in being delicate and not fully going for it charles accidentally creates a much more intimate atmosphere than eva, who sinks both hands completely into his hair unselfconsciously thus revealing that there is nothing for her to be self conscious about. charles's restraint IS erotic and her absolute lack of it conversely means there is no eroticism.

like the difference between the touches.... between carlos's reaction as well. for eva he's like ok hee hee feel my hair i am but a pleasant gentleman and then for charles he's like. let me stand stock still and gaze into your eyes.

i also always think about that track preview because carlos says his hair is not sensitive while charles says his is. So we've got carlos, who has declared he doesn't feel it much, absolutely getting up into charles's hair on multiple occasions, vs Charles who says his hair is sensitive absolutely NOT doing the reverse. so to extrapolate, touching someone's hair is Serious to him he feels it as an erotic act more so than carlos. He lightly touches Carlos's hair a couple times and experiences immediate cringe, while Carlos thinks nothing of it and ruffles the fuck out of him.

me when i feel incredibly normal about what i just did

vs me when i actually legit feel normal about what i just did

ultimately i LOVE carlos's hair as a point of desire for charles. in that meme reaction video when carlos is complaining about his haircut and charles just goes Your Hair ALWAYS looks - and trails off. his extremely tentative feeling of it...his delight in fucking with it in that track preview...his own sensitive hair....my charlos rpf will ALWAYS include Charles hair fixation

[h1biscusgal]

ASKS IN A BUNDLE BC I'M TIRED : PART 2

OH MY GOD I MISS EACH ONE OF YOU I SWEARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, MWAH TO YOU ALL I ADORE U SO MUCH.

AND THANK YOU MY DARL, i'm fine so far ml and im so sorry i could not post, had my phone away and i'm on my laptop rn, but thanks sm for asking you're so sweet omg, i feel like i literally won in life having ppl care for me IM GIGGLING TEE HEE.

ok so, let me explain this metaphor, once you CLAIM they aren't sick, there is not one part of your mind that will see it as SICK, which in short, means none of this sickness existed once you banish it.

it's so hard to explain bear with me- BUT, your mind sees something, you'll persist, and it shows up, that's the thing, there's no "oh what if in my other reality-" that's shifting for a reason baby, once you set your foot on the reality you want it stays that way, and everything follows through.

ALRIGHT SO, hypnagogia is not forced, nor is it "trying to reach there", you simply always are in that state before you sleep without even knowing, hypnagogia is usually something that happens unaware when you DRIFT off to sleep, simply state and understand that no matter whatever you do, you STILL enter it, you just gotta stay aware of it and that's simply easy, i listed a HUGE range of methods ppl do to keep awake when they are trying for the hypnagogia, it's in my masterlist post ab the hypnagogia. but either way! if you WAIT on GOING IN THE HYPNAGOGIA, you're actually drifting further away from it, because you're keeping yourself awake further more or boring yourself which leads to sleeping, ACCEPT IT YOU'LL ENTER AND JUST LAY BACK AND WATCH, try the forearm method too, it's when you raise your forearm and if you sleep it'll wake you up when it falls.

OFC YOU CAN BE MY ANON, now, for racing thoughts, you can meditate beforehand if you like, OR! let the thoughts come and just observe them until it quietens down and goes blank, or i like to actually focus on somewhere on the ceiling first before trying and just looking at it until i feel everything drift off.

GIRLY THAT WAS A SHIFT LMFAO.

OR! it could be a false dream that happens a lot, it's when your mind plays the scenario so well, when something like this happens and you're not sure, ground yourself to your surroundings, affirm in your DR tense "my name's ---" "i'm --- years old." and so on and on, use five senses, so that even if it is a false dream, you trick your mind into shifting you there, but seriously this sounds A LOT like a shift.

a place where your awareness is not bound to any body, nor is it bound to any material, a part of you that is the simplest form, you usually enter it when sleeping that's why you don't feel your body when you sleep, nor are you aware of it.

FUCK HWUEGUAQIWJWHE Y'ALL WHEN I TELL U TEE HEE THIS SHIT IS REALLLLL, AND BTW THE WHITE LIGHT IS SO REAL??? I HAD IT THE FIRST TIME TOO LIKE I WAS "hol the fuck up if it's my brother again with the flashlight ill whoop his ass", only when i woke up and saw no one, i looked in my brother's room and mf was fast asleep, i was SO confused then remembered, y'all i promise it's so fucking easy.

YES DARL.

MWAH ASK ME ANYTHING LOVES.

don't wait on the "movement", BE the movement, don't see it? "fuck it if i don't see it? i'll show you the movement."

EMBODY, it's not about confidence, it's actually about NOT GIVING A SINGLE FUCK bc you KNOW you can do it, if you keep waiting for someone to get you water, no one will know when will they come back, but if you get the water yoursef? you know exactly how much time you need.

JDEWFGRHEWJQKLERENJ CONGRATS BBY MWAH.

OFCCCC U CAN, I KNOW YOU WILL ENTER BTW

OFCCCC, i think i shared it somewhere but here u go darl:

I always wake up in the void.

My subconscious randomly wakes me up in the void in the middle of the night.

The void is mine.

I am already the void.

No matter what i do, i still wake up in the void.

My subconscious knows how to enter the void.

My subconscious already wakes me up in the void anytime i want.

I don’t need to believe the void, i always wake up in it and that’s a fact.

My breathing is regular when entering the void.

All resistance dissolves now — I am open and receptive.

My subconscious mind is a powerful magnet for miracles.

Old beliefs fade away. My new reality is already here.

I am free from fear, doubt, and delay. I transcend them effortlessly.

I choose the new version of me, and it instantly becomes real.

I was born to enter the Void. It's who I am.

The Void is my natural state — familiar, safe, and instant.

I have unshakable confidence in the Void. It’s always mine.

I am the Void. I become it instantly.

The more I trust, the faster it happens. I trust fully now.

Entering the Void is easy, normal, and guaranteed for me.

I already know how to enter. My subconscious does it perfectly.

I don’t need effort. I just choose — and I’m there.

Every version of me already knows how to enter — and I shift to that version now.

If I fall asleep, I instantly wake up in the Void.

My subconscious never forgets — I always wake in the Void.

Sleep is not a block — it’s a gateway for my void.

The Void meets me the moment I drift off.

I trust my subconscious to shift me perfectly, every single time.

My body sleeps, but my awareness enters the Void.

Even if I forget — my subconscious always remembers.

I automatically wake up in the Void, even if I don’t try.

The Void calls me back in my sleep — and I answer every time.

I enter the Void whenever I want — instantly and easily.

I don’t need to try. I just decide, and it happens.

Entering the Void is as easy as breathing.

I command the Void — it obeys me.

The doorway is always open. I just walk through.

I don’t chase the Void. It flows to me.

Every second is a new chance — I can enter now, and now, and now.

The Void is one breath away — and I’m there.

I shift realities just by intending. I am that powerful.

Doubt has no power over me. It fades into nothing. I release all resistance. I am open, relaxed, and ready.

Fear is just noise. I rise above it effortlessly.

I am worthy of the Void. I deserve it fully and completely.

All my old beliefs dissolve — the truth is, I can always enter.

Nothing stops me. No method, no block, no delay.

There is no “how.” There is only now.

I transcend fear, effort, and logic — I just shift. I’m beyond waiting. I decide, and I arrive.

I know the Void is real — because I’ve already been there.

I don’t need proof. My knowing is unbreakable.

I’ve already entered, and I can do it again, now.

I trust myself. I trust the Void. I trust the process.

My knowing creates my reality.

The more I trust, the faster I shift.

I don’t need to believe — I know.

My inner world shapes everything. I choose truth over doubt.

In the Void, everything is instant. I manifest effortlessly while in the Void.

I heal, shift, and transform through the Void.

The Void listens to my every thought and gives instantly. My dream life is always just one Void moment away. In the Void, I become my highest self. The Void is my blank canvas — I create without limit. All outcomes bend to my will in the Void. I remain perfectly still — my body relaxes deeply and naturally.

My heartbeat only grounds me deeper into the Void.

Fast breathing is just energy moving — I allow it and let it pass.

Every sensation is proof I’m close — I welcome it fully. I am calm, still, and in total control.

My body knows how to relax — and it does so easily now.

Every twitch or movement melts into stillness.

My body becomes weightless — I float into the Void. I don’t resist sensations — I observe and allow them to pass.

My nervous system adapts — stillness becomes easy.

Distractions no longer reach me — I stay deeply focused. My mind clears instantly when I choose to enter the Void. I don’t chase thoughts — I simply return to stillness. Thoughts float by like clouds — I remain the sky. Focus comes easily. I’m fully tuned into the Void. I ignore all noise — internal or external. Silence finds me, no matter what’s happening. I have full control over my attention. Every moment I refocus makes the Void stronger. I remain centered, no matter what tries to pull me away.

Boredom is just ego leaving the body — I welcome the silence. I am patient, powerful, and fully present. Waiting is no longer necessary — the Void is always now. Every second brings me closer — I trust the process fully. There’s nothing to chase — the Void finds me when I relax. I let go of time — I exist only in the now. Frustration fades the moment I surrender. Boredom is just the doorway — I walk through it calmly. I trust the stillness — it leads me to everything I desire. I’m always closer than I think — I keep going with ease.

I never give up — my success is guaranteed.

I always follow through — the Void rewards my persistence.

I’ve already committed — nothing stops me now.

Even when I feel stuck, I’m still making progress.

I don’t need to feel it — I know it’s happening.

My subconscious never quits — it keeps going until I arrive.

I trust even when it’s quiet — the shift is happening now.

I was built for this — I always reach the Void.

Giving up is no longer part of me. I’ve already won.

I stick with it because the Void is already mine.

I am the Void.

I embody complete stillness and limitless power.

I was born to enter the Void. It’s second nature to me.

My subconscious and the Void are one.

I am the version of me who enters the Void instantly and easily.

There is nothing to fear. I am safe to surrender.

I let go of control — and the Void welcomes me.

I don’t have to try. I just allow.

Every block dissolves before it reaches me.

Even resistance is proof I’m getting closer.

One thought, and I’m in.

Void now.

I command my awareness to drop — and it does.

When I close my eyes, I drop into the Void.

When I let go, I shift.

Sleep = Void.

Breath = Void.

Blink = Void.

My heartbeat only deepens my entry.

I remain still without effort — like the Void itself.

My thoughts slow down and disappear.

Every movement stops naturally.

Distractions bounce off me.

Boredom is a doorway — I walk through with power.

I flow past discomfort into full silence.

If I fall asleep, I wake in the Void.

If I forget, my subconscious remembers.

Even when I’m not trying — I enter the Void perfectly.

The Void reaches me, even when I think I missed it.

My intention is enough. My subconscious delivers it instantly.

I am the creator of the Void. It answers only to me.

In the Void, I become anything — I manifest everything.

I am already in the Void.

I am beyond time, space, and effort.

All versions of me collapse into this one — the one who always enters.

I quantum jump the moment I decide.

I shift without delay.

Time bends for me.

I reality shift without effort or steps.

The version of me who always shifts — I become them now.

My desired reality flows to me through the Void.

It’s safe to let go. It’s safe to be powerful. It’s safe to disappear into the Void. It’s safe to receive everything I want.

Every time I try to enter the Void, I succeed instantly. My subconscious has been fully trained — it takes over when I try. The moment I intend, my subconscious activates the Void. One decision = full access. Trying is now the trigger. I don’t have to do anything extra — it’s already done.

This subliminal reprogrammed me permanently.

One listen was enough — my Void access is unlocked forever.

I only needed to hear it once — and the effect never fades.

My subconscious remembers this subliminal forever.

Background listening rewrote my reality completely.

This subliminal stays active in my mind — even when I’m not listening.

When I try, I shift.

When I relax, I enter.

When I breathe, I drop in.

The moment I decide, it happens.

My intention alone activates the Void.

Void entry is my default now.

I’m the kind of person who enters the Void instantly.

I was born with this ability.

My subconscious does all the work.

I am the one who doesn’t need to try — I just do.

I no longer chase the Void — I am the Void.

Even after the subliminal ends, it stays active in my mind.

Its effects grow stronger every day.

The command is fully installed.

I no longer need help — I’ve already been reprogrammed.

I access the Void naturally now, as if I always could.

Whenever I say “Void” I enter instantly.

“Void” = full access, no delay.

That command is permanently active in my subconscious.

My subconscious absorbs this instantly and completely.

Every affirmation goes straight to my subconscious now.

My subconscious is wide open and receiving perfectly. I absorb this subliminal effortlessly, automatically, and fully.

My mind is tuned to receive and obey every word.

These affirmations are already working.

My results appear faster than ever before.

My mind accepts and applies everything right now.

I shift instantly with every listen.

Each second I listen multiplies the effect by 100.

Every repetition rewires me deeper.

The more I hear it, the stronger it gets.

Each play of this subliminal makes it permanent.

This subliminal grows more powerful every time I listen.

It compounds — it builds momentum fast.

This is working.

It’s done.

Shift locked.

Activated.

Full access granted.

Already mine.

No delay. No doubt.

(gah dayum that was long).

TEE HEE MY FAV GIRLY. YOU'LL GET UR MANIFESTATIONS I KNOW IT, I JUST KNOW IT.

OH MY FUCKING GOD SOMEONE GETS ME, PLEASE THAT WAS ME. i used to be obsessed with being skinny (i am so ashamed to say i used to be a koreaboo when i found kpop and you get how ppl wanna look there, pale skin and thin body and shi) so i managed to manifest losing a lot of weight and actually looking stick thin but I realized a year ago i kinda hate the look fr, i loved my old curvy self so i managed to manifest it back, ACTUALLY IT'S SO MUCH EASIER TO MANIFES SMTH BACK BC U ALREADY HAD IT BEFORE.

subconscious always listens- it's your conscious mind that is blocking it because there's no belief or persistence backed up.

WHY WON'T IT WORK- sit somewhere, calm yourself, speak to yourself your desires, go about your day doing that until you get ur desires, it's not "oh i did once or twice it may not work."

in Joseph Murphy's book, one of his clients was an elderly woman wanting to look for a man, many may say "oh u can't marry at this age it's too old." SHEEEE, EVEN IF SHE WAS OLDER, TOOK ONLY A MONTH BY SITTING SOMEWHERE AND REPEATING SHE HAS A LOVING MAN AND SHE FOUND ONE LITERALLY LIKE THAT.

I LOVE SIGNS LIKE THIS TEE HEE.

HI DARL AND SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY, so, what you mean is, that your HYPNOPOMPIA STATE IS ACTUALLY VERY SHORT, mind you, that is not HYPNAGOGIA, which is a state that happens BEFORE SLEEP, hypnopompic state is when you JUST wake up, and it varies from someone to another, actually i get you, personally i find my state to be longer when i sleep limitedly, BUT THAT'S OK, you can try BEFORE sleep.

YALL HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS MADE ME SMILE, I LOVE PEOPLE WHO UNDERSTAND ME AND MY HUMOR, I ADORE U ALL.

I DARL! ok so, there's a very fine line between dreaming and shifting, there's ALSO false dreams which looks like your reality but it's just a dream! there's a very big difference, best way? is to look down your fingers, if there are ten, you're in a real solid reality, if you have less or more, you're in a dream!

HI DARL! so yes, this is your body making way for the shift/void! body being stiff is a sign that it's going rigid to be entering soon!

THE AMOUNT OF PPLS ASKING THIS I SWEAR I'LL MAKE ONE THESE DAYS, AND IMMA MAKE IT EVEN MORE POWERFUL JUST U WAIT.

EJUFEIWJQI I SWEAR BY THE HMM METHOD I SWEAR, IT'S SO RELAXING AND YET SO FUN, I KNOW U WILL SHIFT SOON DARL.

YES DARL THAT'S A VOID THING, the main property is to know if it's not just your eyes waking up from a sudden sleep OR if it was actually a shift! check the surrounding, did u see anything? felt anything? BUT YOURE SO CLOSE MWAH.

[abbotjack]

Hi! I love your writing SO much. You are incredibly gifted and so intelligent and just—- wow. Constantly amazed at everything you write.

I had a question about the latest installment of the Life We Grew series — specifically, when Jack is proposing.

While they’re in the throes of it (so good btw!!) he says the line “we’re alcoholics” and that threw me! I’d so greatly appreciate if you could expand on that and your thought process behind that because I was a little confused; are they actually alcoholics? Is Jack just joking? Nothing in their story ever led me to believe that and it felt like such a specific detail to include and I couldn’t stop bumping against it. And maybe (because I have my own personal history with alcoholism in my family) I just couldn’t stop thinking about whether it was true, whether it was a throwaway comment, etc. Curious to hear your thoughts on this line!

So appreciate you taking the time to respond to this if you have the capacity to do so.

Cannot wait to read more of whatever you write!

Hi anon — thank you so much for this message. For the honesty, the care, and the softness it takes to ask a question like this, especially when something doesn’t sit right. I really appreciate the way you phrased it, and how much thought you clearly gave before reaching out. I’m so grateful you’re reading this story with your whole heart — that means more to me than I can put into words.

So let’s talk about that line:

“I know we’re both fucking alcoholics.”

Right away, I want to say clearly and respectfully: no, Jack and the reader are not alcoholics. That line wasn’t meant to be literal, and it absolutely wasn’t meant to diagnose or define either of them. It also wasn’t meant to make light of something as real and heavy as addiction. I completely understand why the phrasing gave you pause — especially if you or someone close to you has lived through that experience — and I want to explain exactly what I meant by it, where it came from emotionally, and how it fits into the scene from a character and story perspective.

That moment — mid-proposal, pre-orgasm, trembling in the quiet dark — is Jack at his most emotionally stripped bare. He’s not performing. He’s not posturing. He’s not even thinking clearly. He’s doing what he never lets himself do in daylight: he’s asking for more. Asking for something permanent. Something safe. Something that could break his heart if he touches it wrong.

And Jack doesn’t know how to ask softly. He never learned. He didn’t grow up in softness. He didn’t serve in it. He doesn’t work in it. He lives in a world of triage and night shifts, of unrelenting chaos and controlled urgency. He’s the man who listens to a police scanner while off-duty, who comes in early and leaves late, who jokes about therapy because it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He doesn’t believe he deserves love — he’s just trying to earn a piece of it before it slips through his hands.

So when he proposes, what comes out of his mouth first — before the tenderness, before the I love you, before the quiet grief of how long he’s waited — is a list of flaws. Of all the reasons she might say no. Of all the ways he’s convinced himself he’s going to ruin this.

“I know we won’t get married yet. I know we’re both fucking alcoholics. I know we argue over the thermostat and forget groceries and ruin bedsheets we don’t replace.”

And this is Jack’s language. His shorthand. His cracked, jagged, not-actually-true way of saying: We’re not perfect. We’re not balanced. We’re not living the kind of life that feels sustainable right now. But I need you to know I still want forever anyway.

Because here’s the thing: the reader isn’t a trauma doctor. She’s not part of his world in that way. She’s an accountant — sharp, brilliant, holding her own in a firm full of high-stakes pressure, deadlines, and polished precision. Her life runs on structure. On systems. On numbers that reconcile at the end of the day. Jack’s life doesn’t. His world is unrelenting and bloody and full of grief he can’t process fast enough to name. Their connection shouldn’t work — and yet, it does. It’s the contrast that gives him hope.

But in that contrast, there’s tension too. She’s steadier. She’s better at controlling the chaos. And Jack knows that. It’s part of what humbles him about her. It’s also part of what terrifies him. Because in his mind, she could leave. She could walk away and find someone more stable.

And so when he says that line, what he really means is: "I know you’ve seen me on my worst days — the nights when I show up late, the mornings I smell like sweat and adrenaline, the weeks I work through without noticing I’m bleeding. I know you drink to come down and I drink to stay numb and neither of us wants to talk about what that means. But I still want this. I want you. I want to try.”

The word choice is harsh. Abrasive. And in retrospect, it might have landed softer if I’d written “I know we’re both coping like shit” or “I know we both use things to survive that aren’t good for us.” But Jack — in that exact moment — is not editing. He’s not filtering. He’s offering her the rawest version of himself, even if it comes out in dark humor and cracked honesty.

That’s the kind of man he is. He doesn’t believe in polishing the truth before presenting it. He believes in laying it out like a battlefield map: here are the landmines. Here’s where I fall short. Here’s the part where I might hurt you. But I want you anyway. Please tell me you want me too.

And what’s beautiful — what makes the moment theirs — is that the reader understands him. She knows what he means. She doesn’t hear addiction. She hears fear. She hears honesty. She hears Jack offering her the mess first, so she can still choose him knowing it’s not perfect. And she does. She puts the ring on herself. She says yes with her whole body. She meets him in the wreckage and says, I’m not scared anymore. I’m home.

So to return to your very thoughtful question — no, the reader and Jack are not alcoholics. That line wasn’t written to label them. It wasn’t written to make light of addiction. It was written to reflect how people who are scared of being loved sometimes speak — too sharply. Too honestly. Without polish. With the fear so loud in their throats they have to say something bold just to feel like they have control over how they’re seen.

And I also want to say: I take your concern seriously. Language matters. And I’ll always strive to be intentional in how I write it. I never want a reader to feel unseen, especially when it comes to something as sensitive and personal as addiction. I’m really grateful that you gave me the space to explain, and even more grateful that you asked instead of turning away.

Thank you again — from the bottom of my heart — for reading with such care. And for trusting me with your question. I’m so glad you’re here. Sending all my love 🖤

[applebees4prez]

nobody can ever doubt the fact that i have autism i literally write big time rush fan fiction

[whetstonefires]

#4 please !

Now see this could be tricky, because generally if I don't get some key elements written down very quickly the idea flows away again and the 'yet' disappears, even if I remember generally what it was about, but I have one this time! I am still just enough plagued by this vision that it's not out of the question I'll go for the capture, but so far nada.

Idea was basically a Jiang family character study by way of modern au. (So tw canonical abuse.) I started from the reflection, in a modern au very high chance the Jiangs are divorced, because being a divorcee wouldn't necessarily ruin Yu Ziyuan in the modern world, as long as she was allowed to control the narrative enough that she didn’t look at fault, so it might be on the table.

Especially because modern views on child abuse are such that while she'd hold back more than she already does in terms of physical chastisement, Jiang Fengmian would also be under less societal pressure to not interfere in her disciplinary system too much, and both these factors mean he’s more likely to put his foot down.

So, concept: Jiang Fengmian, when his son is eight and his daughter thirteen, forces the issue of taking in his best friends' abused orphan child whom he’s just managed to track down in a nightmarish group home, probably leveraging the fact that wherever their money comes from it's mostly his, something he usually doesn't do, but she has always known he could, and been fucked up about it (reasonable) and hated him a little (less so) and hates him so much more now (understandable but still fucked up).

They were obviously still both pressured into this marriage by their families, because I literally cannot imagine them choosing one another of their own free will, and if they did that would be an au in an even more dramatic way than being modern, and no longer work as a character or relationship study as far as I'm concerned. I mean or it’s a cql-based au, but that’s not the version of this toxic marriage I find compelling.

Situation subsequently deteriorates to the point that when the boys are around twelve some outside party observes and is repulsed or otherwise upset by Yu Ziyuan's treatment of Wei Wuxian specifically--she's emotionally abusive to everyone in the family, canonically, and it harms Jiang Cheng significantly more than Wei Wuxian, which I think is also pretty explicit on the page, but she's more openly antagonistic about going after wwx because he's basically a proxy for her husband, whom she doesn't consider to be someone she's capable of harming.

And ofc in a modern family scenario, being abusive to your foster kid is more plainly personal misconduct than being unfair in how you discipline one of your husband's many students, even if it is his favorite. Which means she's very unlikely to chase him around with a whip, but whatever she does do will sting that much more emotionally.

Anyway the outside judgement provokes a more explicit confrontation than the last four years of maneuver and attempting to balance all the competing needs according to two very different standards. And the upshot is that by the time wwx is 13, the Jiangs are divorced. To avoid making a humiliating spectacle of themselves they present a weirdly united front in court and have a very smooth uncontested proceding, although the closed meetings with their respective lawyers involved a lot of vitriol.

Yu Ziyuan, despite having a smallish trust fund and probably a job of some kind, though one that's more prestigious than profitable like uh. Olympic fencing coach. Idk what they make but it's probably not enormous. She and Cangse Sanren probably competed in the same events back in the day.

Anyway she gets a solid chunk of alimony, the house, and primary custody of both her children, although Jiang Yanli is almost 18 at this point so mostly she just gets Jiang Cheng. Everyone thinks Jiang Cheng wants it that way, including sort of Jiang Cheng; he has this idea that if he has his mom to himself they'll finally have a good relationship, even though he's also terrified of being left all alone with her. He's complicated. Families are complicated.

Also she would never have forgiven him if he hadn't concurred that he wanted to stay with his mother because she was the only one On His Side.

Jiang Yanli ofc does not move out right away when she comes of age, in part because her brother needs her, but she probably does go to college, so she's only around part-time.

Jiang Fengmian, meanwhile, keeps most of his financial assets and Wei Wuxian, and gets his kids on the weekends.

So that's all setup for how you have this situation where Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are entering high school--probably the same school, together, but no longer sharing the commute except maybe Monday mornings--and Wei Wuxian's primary residence is Jiang Cheng's dad's apartment.

It’s really chill. They get a cleaning service in once a week and eat a lot of delivery food, but they do cook at least once a week. The canonical thing where they largely agree about what’s funny and what’s right-or-wrong, and so forth, on the one hand really pops when there’s mostly no external conflict disrupting it, but also probably gains more complexity now that it’s not a thread of positivity fighting for its life against a background of drama. They get to know each other better than they ever had a chance to in canon.

Some of that isn't all that positive, because now they have the space to discover the places where they do actually have the capacity for friction, but both of them are very good at dispersing tension (I do tend to suspect jfm's dad was abusive he sure acts like it), and on the whole it's a good thing.

Jiang Cheng is going to have such a mental health crisis, and Jiang Fengmian is going to handle it so badly. Because of course when his son starts replicating his ex-wife's toxic attitudes and behaviors more now that she has primary custody, he’s going to feel guilty and like it’s His Fault, but he’s going to feel like it’s his fault that Jiang Cheng is growing up to be a shitty abusive person.

And even if he’d never say that the subtext would come through, in the assumptions he made when framing communications and so forth, as in canon, so the thing where Jiang Cheng’s father loves Wei Wuxian more than him, or at any rate likes him better and thinks he’s a better person and prefers his company, would wind up feeding into a self-reinforcing loop.

(Jin Zixuan's nasty public remark about Jiang Fengmian treating Wei Wuxian better than his own children hits Jiang Cheng significantly harder in this scenario, where he's being Tormented by the feeling that all his peers know his dad walked out on him for another son. Wei Wuxian's punch is therefore even more clearly primarily for Jiang Cheng's sake, although Jiang Cheng is probably more inclined to see it as being for his dad's. Jin Zixuan is about halfway between the Jiang kids' ages here, so he's a senior saying this shit to a sophomore.)

So that cycle builds to the point where Jiang Cheng would eventually have one of those rare moments where he resorts to actual violence, because his poisoned feelings are choking him so bad his rationality deserts him.

He’s not going to be nearly as close to actually murdering Wei Wuxian as he was in canon the night the Jiang Sect was massacred, because it’s a less extreme situation, but he still goes for the neck. So Jiang Fengmian is in his home office one Saturday about a year and a half into this new normal, and realizes the boys are fighting. He hears through the wall the accusation you stole my dad. He says to himself, well that’s terrible but interjecting myself into this situation would definitely make it worse.

Then he hears sounds of violence, and then an ominous abrupt silence, and updates that analysis.

And when he opens the door to the boys’ room, Wei Wuxian is being strangled. He’s not really resisting, which is because he’s made the call that that’s way more likely to get Jiang Cheng to snap out of it, and thinks it might make Jiang Cheng feel better to get it out of his system (because he does sort of feel like what Jiang Cheng is going through is all his fault, or at any rate is much worse as a result of decisions made for his sake) and is severely underestimating the dangers of choking, but looks to a third party like he’s already passed out and Jiang Cheng is still at it. Which is to say, it looks like a serious murder attempt on the brink of success.

So that sure made that situation worse!

So yeah that's my idea that I probably won't write but it sure has its teeth in me.

[ronanlynchbf]

ugh like. WHATEVERRRRRRRRR

[beneaththebloodylake]

oh so she really is from kansai. ive been wondering about that for literally ages but never managed to catch where shes from in the anime

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

the worst part of break is the last day when you're just drowning in stress thinking about going back. i feel literally physically nauseous

[microwave-core]

I wish that music players on blogs still worked. If they did, I would put this on loop.

[wild-at-mind]

No offence, but ffs the general strike for Palestine thing being circulated for action this week is literally coming with caveats saying 'if you can't do anything else just don't post on social media about anything but Palestine'.....????????

[hellcatsandcars]

.

[hunterwritesstuff]

random thoughts with Hunter

thinking about how people reacted to Jax post-episode 2 made me realize I don't think anyone would survive unfiltered(If I didn't care about people liking my characters) Speaker(OC of mine) lmao /silly

[agirlwithglam]

things confident people do, part 1

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 1) when someone compliments them, they say thank you.

WOAH mind-boggling right! they don't self depreciate themselves by going "no no im so ugly" or whatever, but they don't say something like "yeah i know." either. show your gratitude, but don't let it get to your brain.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 2) take care of themselves.

they make sure to show themselves just as much love as they show everyone else because they know they deserve it just as much as anyone else.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 3) they show up for themselves.

when they say something, they do it. when they want something, they work to get it. when you feel sad and hurt, you yourself should be the first person to come and support yourself.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 4) they walk and sit with good posture

confident people know that they don't shouldn't have to make themselves invisible for anyone. it may be scary at first to be walking around looking straight instead of hunched over, but just btw u look rly lame being hunched over. stand up girl.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 5) they take up space

because they know they are allowed to. they know they deserve it. why would they try to become smaller? for who are you doing that for? literally no one cares and it just looks pathetic. take up space honey, you're allowed to.

GIF by cherrylipssara1

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 6) you like what you see in the mirror

when i look in the mirror, no matter how i look- whether im sweating and crusty musty dusty or even all glammed up- i always love myself. why? because i know that i am not what i look like. i know i am beautiful, but that is not the only admirable thing about me!

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 7) do what scares the crap out of u!!

or basically, step outside your comfort zone. do things that the previous you wouldn't even think of doing, and do it proudly, and do it alone! (me for example, recently i did the most scariest thing ever that i was dreading the entire day and when i did oh my god i was so proud of myself!! esp since i did it alone as well!)

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 8) is not scared of being alone.

who cares? literally who cares? confident people know that no one cares. people look at you because they may be curious or just looking around, but then you don't stay in their mind all day, okay? other people couldn't care less and neither should u!

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

------------------------------

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[classjezter]

Y'know, everyone's talking to Baby OP and giving him illicit treats, but how's everyone else managing? We saw all the initial reactions, and know about their dynamics with sparkling Optimus, but how are they holding up? Optimus becoming a baby during wartime is probably rough for having to shift responsibilities on top of hiding and taking care of a tiny child. They could probably all use some goodies too

Hi! I like you videos btw :) as to your question:

The Autobots are stretched thin. They were already in a full-scale war before and now they have a troublemaking sparkling to take care of. To manage both their duties and taking care of baby Optimus, they take shifts watching him (takes a village to raise a child put literally). There’s always at least one Autobot on ‘Optimus duty’ while the rest keep up with patrols, defenses, and battle strategy.

More about every specific bot below cut cause this got a bit long

Elita was a strong leader even before the war, but now she’s been forced to take on Optimus' responsibilities while also keeping him safe. She’s stressed, constantly dealing with managing the Autobot faction, and Decepticon attacks (all while making sure nobody outside their small circle discovers the secret). Still, she loves Optimus no matter what, and seeing him like this makes her fiercely protective over him

Outwardly, Wheeljack acts like his usual self, making jokes, keeping up with his work, taking sparkling duty like a champ and definitely not acknowledging the guilt eating at him (This mess is partially his fault, not intentionally of course, but that doesn’t make the weight on his spark any lighter) But when he’s alone, it gnaws at him. Every time he sees Optimus being adorable, being so vulnerable, it’s just another painful reminder. He’s overcompensating by throwing himself into work, trying to fix the problem while also building safety measures for their tiny leader

Jazz is really good with Baby Optimus. His easy-going nature and energy make him a great playmate for the kid (although he sometimes struggles with the actual taking care of him part, but he tries). That doesn’t mean Jazz isn’t aware of how much trouble this is. He knows they’re barely holding it together. The Decepticons will notice eventually, and when they do? They’ll probably be in serious trouble. But until then, Jazz just focuses on keeping the kid happy, and keeping morale up for the team

B-127 adores Baby Optimus. He’s always been close to Prime, and now that Prime is small, Bee has kind of become his big brother. They play together, and he loves carrying OP around, but sometimes he misses the real Optimus. The one who led them, who reassured them, who always had a plan. This tiny version of Prime is sweet and fun, but it’s just not his Optimus. He never says this aloud, though. Instead, he focuses on keeping Optimus safe and happy, hoping that one day, they’ll get him back to normal

Ratchet, as not only a medic but the Autobots' chief medic, has seen a lot in this war, but this? This is a whole new kind of problem. Ratchet spends half his time while on sparkling duty running scans on Optimus, making sure the transformation into a sparkling didn’t do any permanent damage. Despite his grumpiness and wariness, Baby Optimus has got him wrapped around his tiny finger, he loves the kid and constantly gives him treats. But deep down? Ratchet worries not just about Optimus, but about all of them. If the Decepticons ever find out, they’ll be completely vulnerable

Prowl is all about strategy, discipline, and efficiency. So, at first, Prowl treats Baby Optimus like a tactical problem. Keeping up a war effort and hiding a baby Prime? Nearly impossible. And it doesn’t help that Optimus refuses to stay out of trouble. He didn’t want to get attached, just solve this situation as soon as possible, but of course Optimus eventually won him over. Despite everything, Prowl is doing his best to keep things running smoothly. He knows they can’t afford to fall apart, if they do, the Autobots are doomed. He’s keeping them together through sheer force of will. But Primus helps him, if he catches Optimus stealing another one of his datapads, he’s may lose it

No one expected Ironhide to be good with sparklings. Even as one of the oldest miners he never really had much interaction with sparklings, at least not ones this young, but somehow things just clicked for him. At first, he wasn’t sure how to handle this. Optimus is his leader. His commander. The best Prime Cybertron has ever had probably. And seeing him as a helpless little sparkling messed with him. Despite this (after some light research) he becomes a great caretaker, he knows how to take care of a sparkling: He instinctively rocks Optimus when he’s fussy, he knows how to hold him properly (unlike others, Jazz knows what he did), he keeps track of feeding cycles, etc. And if anyone even thinks about hurting Optimus, they’re getting the biggest cannon in Ironhide’s arsenal to the face. No one messes with his little charge

In summary, they’re all struggling a bit lol, they need energon goodies too sometimes