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HAPPY STATISTICS DAY !   /reid voice:   103 countries celebrate a national statistics day as of 2010, including 51 african countries that jointly celebrate african statistics day annually on the 18th of november. 

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spence’s curls

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I’D RATHER SPIT BLOOD than drink the illusion of normality. i am afraid.  ─────── of them ? of myself.  of the monster in me. // independent & private nolan holloway from teen wolf. written by aimee.

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i might have done a bad thing

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Reid’s favorite doughnut

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i might have done a bad thing

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@mindafraid .   the boy who fell in love with a broken doll

“ you found this broken doll one day ,  she was small and a little damaged, so you put her pieces back together ,  and held them firmly with your feeble hands .  she loved you then.    you loved her too .    but then one day ,  your weak wrists grew tired of holding , so you let go … somewhere between what was and could’ve been,  you let go . it all faded then .  all the pieces crashed onto the floor,   scattered across the room in a  jumbled mess.  you tried once more… looking at the broken porcelain doll, cracked and dusty,  again left in a dark corner of the room ,  alone . but you couldn’t stand the sight of the wreckage left behind, so you ran away ….  so you ran away . ”

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♙.  *ﾟ°.  ANTIALIBI.  /  °  unknown.

     STREAMS OF CHERRY-RED DANGLED FROM SMILING LIPS,      the stale sweetness of expired rope-candy causing  ROT  to her otherwise plainly innocent expression  -  the enigma listening carefully with an unblinking gaze and  oddly  canted head. Even as her tongue curled away from yet another bite of the terrible treat,  dusty with age and neglect - only recently rescued from the depths of an abandoned convenience-store’s pantry,   his CONFUSION was enough to satiate her palette.   ( This doesn’t make any sense, he said. For that was how it  sometimes  began , but was surely how it always ended ).    

     Opal gaze with spinning irises veered ever-so-slightly,  downwards towards the man’s lips  :  a corrupt sense of curiosity delighted at the novelty of his words, the twisting lilt of his speaking voice. As the void-vessel’s attention tunnelled and deepened, reality  slowed  until particular details vanished while others  ( a coincidence, a coincidence, a coincidence )   crystallized to painfully sharp clarity.    Charlotte winced once, biting down on the tense rope-candy so hard that it SNAPPED and wretched reality back into place.   “ Me? You’re asking me?    Well, I don’t — ”    Her words interrupted by her own manic burst of laughter, for no one has ever asked of her such critical intelligence before.     “ I say, just throw that  the-o-retic-cally  mess out the window! A coincidence that  can’t be  a coincidence sounds like a good time to me. Maybe to your killer, too. ”

THERE  IS  SOMETHING DISTURBING  behind her smile.  it makes the concatenation of relentless  thoughts stop for a second, it shifts his focus entirely on her, as if the answer to the uncanny quandary is hidden behind her eyes  ( perhaps it is. it isn’t. is it ? ).  he quickly diverts his inquisitive stare when her sight lands on him.  it sears his skin,  makes him feel  vulnerable  without any plausible reason,  makes him clear his throat with a visible tinge of uneasiness.   did he really say that out loud ?   innermost placed on the table subtly,    albeit he’s certain she can see the true diorama analytical lexemes reveal:  this is one of the scarring cases,   that turn dreams into nightmares  —–  answers into more questions.  &   he can’t find either.  ❝ –––––––––––– it  was  more  of  a  rhetorical question. ❞    he admits, offering the shadow of an apologetic smile for his awkward assessment.  ❝  i mean..thank you. a second opinion is always helpful. 10% to 62% of second opinions yield a major change in the course of an investigation. ❞   his tongue gets ahead of him again,  coordinating with his brain much faster than his manners can, which is why he abates the scientific enthusiasm that took over him.  ❝ i wouldn’t call it exactly a good time. the unknown never is. ❞

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the person I reblogged this from is a cute peach

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♙⁝ *ﾟ‘ﾟELZABTHS.

HE    HAS  ALWAYS   FEARED   DARKNESS.   not because of the monsters that hide under his bed  —–  he realised  a long time ago that there is no one there,  for they all resided inside his head.   not because of phantoms he can not see,  those of the past or of the future,  that lurk in the shadows of harrowing memories.  the inherent absence of light.  that’s what terrifies him .  he has  fallen into pandora’s box,  caught in a labyrinthine helix of perplexity  &  vulnerability.   heavy eyelids open slowly  &  he crashes with reality, head spinning  &  throbbing with pain as he inspects the surroundings with soporific eyes. the tableau he sees is sheathed in unclarity  &  haze, but the sense of alarm  &  panic only creeps in his bones akin splinters of ice after he discerns another motionless   figure in the room.   there is something familiar in the constitution of limber body, something that awakens a spark of recognition in brilliant mind.  he props himself on his shoulders uncomfortably, wrists pinioned by ironclad handcuffs,  &  makes a weak attempt of getting up to his feet,  but his limbs protest,  hauling him back to the cold floor.     ❝ –––––––––––– he..hello ? ❞   the echo of his voice is gruff & trembling, verges on hesitance. his vocal chords ache & his throat is dry, cheeks sullen, body shivers slightly: symptoms of dehydration. hot liquid trickles down his cheekbone & macilent digits raise to his forehead instinctively. they are stained with blood. apprehension ties up his stomach in knots, precipitates already unsteady breath. he remembers. the powerful strike of his skull against a harsh surface. how he collapsed on the ground. the last face he saw before a stygian curtain of blackness veiled his vision. realization dawns upon him, a tempest of foreboding swirling inside him. ❝ elizabeth ? ❞  his question, a puzzling allegory: hope & despondency. ( god, let her be alive. god, let her be someone else. )

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♙⁝ *ﾟ‘ﾟ  MALFAIISANT.

           JUST  ANOTHER  bruise.  just  another  ice  pack  ruining  baby  soft  skin.  another  day  at  the  office  !  !  so  cute  !  !  like  a  lost  puppy.  she  wants  to  ruffle  his  hair          scratch  his  ears.  put  him  on  a  leash  &  &  walk  him  home.  but  oh  how  she  held  a  BIG  smile  on  fair  lips.   ‘   NO     NO     NO  !  !     apology  not  accepted  …  my  arm  hurts  ,  MISTAH.  ’

SURPRISE VERGES ON a small modicum of dubiety, eyebrows  furrowing slightly, creating a portray of soft confusion. the smile on her lips is in antithesis with her averment of pain, illustrated by a resolute timbre. ❝ –––––––––––– i...sorry. ❞ he repeats, as if another sign of repentance��would take her minor pain away. ❝ how can i make it up to you ? ❞

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if anything bad happens to reid in season 13 i’m suing

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thebeautifulwordlist:

noun.

1. the recollection or remembrance of the past; reminiscence.

2. Platonism. recollection of the Ideas, which the soul had known in a previous existence, especially by means of reasoning.

Anamnesis

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9/∞ times dr. spencer reid has been incredibly pretty

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on today’s episode of aimee’s ramblings, i’m going to ramble about a very, very special & dear person to me. her writing is truly, whole-heartedly, one of the most beautiful things i have ever seen on this earth. i keep reading & reading it & i just can’t understand how is it possible to be this talented. her theme is so creative & unique ! & her blog is literally perfect. she is always supportive, kind, manages to make my day with her awesome jokes. she is a great friend, a great listener & don’t even get me started on her drawing / sketching skills. her dedication & love for her muse inspires me in unimaginable ways. both me & spencer admire her ! besides that, lenny & i  are very similar & i relate to her on a spiritual level ! that only makes me love her more. also she has this supernatural power of being patient with me because i take forever to reply to our wonderful threads. literally forever. dear lenny, thank you so, so much for being my friend. you inspire me to be a better writer, a better person, a better friend. i'm really sorry if sometimes i'm not ! real life tends to kick my butt daily & oft-times i take whole days to answer to you. anyway, i'll stop talking now. ily ! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

@insomniiiac.