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lavenderspence · 1 year ago

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To Lean On You | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content Warning: post prison!Spencer, mentions of addiction, prison talk (typical for the prison arc), gun use, mentions of death, suggestive themes, idiots in love, angst, so much angst.

Word Count: 8.6K

Summary: You and Spencer wasted years, truths hidden, feelings uncertain, and a fear of the unrequited. It took ten weeks, isolated, silent, and broken, for the realization to strike. There was no life, if you didn’t have each other.

A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, writing this was a wild ride, honestly. Over a month of writing, blood, sweat, and tears poured over it (there were in fact some tears). This is also the first thing I’ve written in 3 years and I'm very happy to finally be out of my slump. It's probably the angstiest thing I've written ever, and at the same time, I feel like it's not the greatest, but deep down, I still love it, haha. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. And, enjoy and any feedback is appreciated. <3

Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to get into the mood:

Hearts by Jessie Ware

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift

Lost Without You by Freya Ridings

In This Shirt by The Irresponssibles

masterlist

79 days, 3 hours, and 27 minutes - that’s how long it’s been since he got arrested in Mexico.

70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes since you saw him being pulled out of the courtroom after he was deemed a flight risk and denied bail. 70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes have passed since you last saw him.

65 days, 7 hours, and 11 minutes, since he was transferred to Millburn Correctional Facility, and this whole nightmare, had started.

Per Penelope’s carefully crafted schedule, every team member has made numerous trips to visit Spencer - every member except you. You’d only made one trip out, and that had been 3 days after he’d been transferred.

March 4th, 2017

It’s been 8 days since you saw him led in cuffs out of that courtroom, where Penelope had broken down in Luke’s arms, everyone too shocked to make a sound. He’d looked back, his eyes meeting yours briefly, and it had been as if you’d almost seen your reflection in the mirror, every emotion had run between you both in a matter of seconds.

Shock, you’d almost been sure they would grant bail, and you’d be able to take him home. Almost.

Fear, for his future and his well-being. Fear of the uncertain.

Desperation, the desire to run to him and take him into your arms, finally, and to not let go.

Except you’d held his gaze for as long as you could before you’d looked down and turned your head to save him from seeing you break down in tears. You’d made a hasty escape after that, not sparing any of your teammates a glance, and walked out of the courthouse, stopping by a tree outside. The urge to curl up into a ball and hide, pretending none of this had happened, was strong, and then a hand wrapped around your shoulder. You had turned around, only to see Rossi and one of his sad little smiles, the ones you rarely saw.

“It’s going to be okay,” he’d said, squeezing your shoulder. ”The kid is strong.”

You’d sniffled, trying to hide the tears in your voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am," you’d whispered in despair.

You were better than you had been 8 days ago, calmer. Although still heartbroken, you were looking forward to seeing him, seeing with your eyes that he was okay. Garcia had seen him, 2 days ago, before you’d been sent out on a case.

“He looks good. I mean, as good as that big genius brain of his can look in prison. His eyes were sad though, really, really sad.” She’d paused as if to assure herself it would be alright, “I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you, sweetness.” She’d squeezed your hand, but her statement hadn’t rung true.

Your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure what from. The anticipation you’d felt? The nerves? Or the words you had a hard time coming to terms with.

“I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on Spencer Reid’s approved visitor list,” the guard at the checkpoint had said after rechecking the list.

“There has to be a mistake, I made an appointment,” you insisted, feeling yourself unravel. It wasn’t possible, you knew for a fact you were on that list, Emily had made sure of that.

“Look, lady. There are only 10 names on that list, and yours is not one of them. Now, you need to move, because there are people here waiting to see their loved ones.” you’d hiccuped and turned around, walking to the lockers to unlock your gun, badge, and phone.

“I’m here to see a loved one.” You’d wanted to scream, but you knew it would have been futile. There wasn’t anything you could do at that moment.

You walked to your car, dialing Emily’s number, “This is Prentiss.”

For a second, only your breathing could be heard over the sound of the wind, and then a tiny sniffle. You wiped at your eyes and nose, and then spoke up, barely, “Why am I not on Spencer’s approved visitor list?”

“What do you mean? Every member of this team is on the list. So is his lawyer and Diana, even Derek,” you could hear the surprise in her voice, yet you couldn’t keep calm any longer.

"They refused to let me see him! I made the appointment, Emily, and I came, hoping I’d finally see him hear his voice, and ask him-” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and after taking a deep breath, you continued, “Ask him if he was okay, and I was denied because out of the 10 names on that list, it seems mine’s not one of them.” You finished defeated, barely above a whisper.

All was silent for the moment, save for what you could hear was Penelope’s voice on the other end of the line, quietly asking what was going on, “Let me call Fiona and the warden, and I’ll see what happened. Meanwhile, I need you back here, because we just got a case.” Her voice wasn’t leaving anything up for discussion. Still, you couldn’t go, not until you saw him.

“Emily-” she cut you off.

“It’s not a discussion. I’ll resolve this, but I need you here and your head in the game. Am I clear?” Her voice was stern, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Maybe.

“Yeah, clear. I’m on my way back.” You took a deep breath and started the car and the journey back to Quantico, but your mind stayed right there, on the bars that kept you away from the one thing you held dearest.

As it turns out, there was nothing the warden or Fiona could do. Even Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, couldn't “resolve” the situation. Days, weeks, and months passed, and for 70 days you couldn’t see him, isolated out, not even knowing why.

“-to be in the courthouse in one.” You snapped out of your thoughts, only catching the end of the sentence, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. You were tired, and it had little to do with the fact that you had been up all night, going over all the evidence with the team and tracing Lindsey Vaughan’s steps to a T in an attempt to exonerate Spencer and finally bring him home.

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. You’d been up for more than 24 hours now, but then you hadn’t been sleeping all that well to begin with. Every single night was spent wondering how Spencer was doing, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw him in that cell in Mexico.

His eyes were red, high out of his mind, barely coherent, dirty, and injured - a far cry from the person you were used to seeing every single day - energetic, passionate, and brilliant. After 12 years, if there was one image you wished to erase from your memory, it was this one. Not all the blood you’ve seen spilled, every victim, be it men, women, or even children, all the horrors of the job, but this. Maybe it made you a bad person, but there was nothing worse than seeing the one person you held dearest at their lowest and not being able to do anything to stop it.

Every waking hour that you weren’t on the job was spent wondering how he was doing and if he was okay. If he was healthy, unharmed, and safe, or as safe as an FBI agent could be in prison. But most of all, the one thing that had kept you up at night, slowly destroying your sanity and making you question everything, had been the one question you couldn’t seem to get an answer to.

“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”

You’d asked everyone and had waited with battered breath for an answer, a clarification on the matter, and it never came. As shocked as you had been at the notion that you wouldn’t be seeing Spencer for an indefinite amount of time, your team had been even more shocked. They knew the kind of relationship you and Spencer had, how close you’d become over the years, and how much you relied on each other.

You’d asked every team member, you’d asked yourself, you’d even asked Spencer in a few of the letters you wrote to him, and then there had come a point where you just stopped.

You were torturing yourself more than enough, day after day, and every single night, asking yourself a question you wouldn’t get an answer to. Not as long as he was locked up in that hellhole and you were out here, trying to keep together the pieces of something, that was on the verge of breaking.

You felt a hand taking hold of yours, and for a second, you tensed up. Pulled out of your thoughts, you looked up and were met with chocolate brown eyes, full of worry - Emily’s eyes.

You glanced around the room, only to realize it was empty, save for the two of you. You hadn’t felt when the others had left, that’s how deep in thought you had been.

“Where did you go? I’ve been calling your name for a while now,” she spoke gently, squeezing your hand. If you were honest, that’s the first time she asked you anything about the situation. You’d spent weeks suffering in silence and trying to pretend that you weren’t slowly dying on the inside.

You briefly thought about lying, it wouldn’t be the first lie you’d told since Spencer had been incarcerated, but you didn’t have it in you to hide anymore.

And so, for the first time since Spencer’s hearing, you told the truth.

“Nothing makes sense anymore, Em,” it left you in a whisper, “I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’m drowning sometimes, and just when I breach the surface, I’m pulled back in. My mind, it’s...I question everything, all the time. My mornings start with thoughts about him, and my nights end with tears over him, over this entire…this nightmare. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off, to wake up and realize that this has been a plot of my imagination, some cruel joke my mind has conjured, designed to show me... "Your eyes welled with tears, prepared to admit something you should have long ago. Emily gave your hand another squeeze, prompting you to continue, and so you did, admitting it for the first time aloud.

“Designed to show me that I can’t live a life that doesn’t have Spencer in it.” You wiped at your eyes, willing your tears at bay. When you dared to look up, you were met with the eyes of the only other person besides Spencer who has been a constant rock in your life for the last 11 years. What you saw in her eyes then wasn’t surprise like you’d thought, but relief. It took you a moment to fully read her, but it was like a switch had gone off when you finally did.

“But you’re not surprised to hear this, are you?” you smiled sadly, a light laugh leaving you.

“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t have my suspicions, and I’d be an even worse profiler,” she smiled at you, “Plus, there are some feelings that you just can’t hide,” you blinked, and then you blinked again. You hadn’t come right out and said it, and yet she knew, she somehow knew.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” you tried to backtrack, but you knew it was a losing battle. Emily knew you well enough to smell your bullshit from miles.

“That’s exactly how you meant it, and don’t even try to deny it. I see it every damn day. It’s how you leave the room whenever you hear someone talk about visiting Spencer. You don’t want to hear how he’s doing because you wouldn’t believe it, not unless you see him with your own eyes. But you can’t, so you’ve resigned yourself to the torture of not knowing instead of giving yourself the smallest amount of peace by asking. You’ve been suffering in silence for almost three months, too stubborn to say anything, thinking you were doing yourself a favor. And what for? You’re crying yourself to sleep every night and coming to work the next morning, pretending everything is fine when clearly it’s not. You think you’re fooling everyone, but the only person you’re tricking is yourself. And how’s that working out for you?” she had a point, and it’s not like you weren’t aware of that fact. You knew what you were doing wasn’t okay or healthy. You had the most stable support system imaginable to get you through the hardest parts. It was hard, though, especially when the person who was suffering the most was the person who’d taken your heart with him.

“Way to call me out, boss.” you were just about ready to end the conversation, you couldn’t take any more of this. You’d promised each other long ago that you wouldn’t profile each other but you had a feeling that was exactly what Emily was doing right now. Maybe not on purpose, and with every good intention imaginable, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want one of your best friends to try to understand you based on behavioral analysis right after you’d spilled your soul out to her.

“Just calling it the way I see it, someone has to,” she smiled, but then she shook her head a little before continuing. “What I want to know is why you didn’t say something earlier. You know I would have been there to listen, and so would have the team.” Damn, Emily Prentiss.

You didn’t have to think hard about it, you’ve been ruminating over everything for days. You were trying not to, but whenever your mind wasn’t focused on a case or the many drinking nights spent in Penelope’s purple adobe, that was where your mind would take you.

“Out of fear, I think,” you started, unsure for a second, still nervous to admit it. It wasn’t exactly what she was asking, but it was a start, “I was afraid, and I still am. I’ve been baiting myself into thinking it was just some sort of fondness, a little stronger than that which you feel towards a friend, and far lesser than what it actually is. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I could go on lying to myself, and nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to change. Because words hold meaning, and an admission like that holds weight. What would I have done if it was just me who felt like this? I would have ruined the one thing we’ve both cherished for over a decade.” It felt good to finally say all of this out loud instead of holding it inward. But then again, Emily always knew when you'd had enough.

She’d told you time and time again the same thing Hotch had asked of her when she returned to duty after faking her death: “Let me know when you are having a bad day.”. Honestly, you’d held off long enough, and so had she. It was a whole miracle she hadn’t pressed you about your behavior earlier.

“That’s not what I was asking,” you said, shaking your head with a smile to let her know that you weren’t done speaking.

“Everyone was suffering as a result of what happened in Mexico, what I was feeling wasn’t any different, Emily.” You were flippant about it, you always have been. You preferred isolating yourself and hiding everything instead of seeking a shoulder to bear the weight of what you felt.

“Our sadness came from the fact that our friend was framed. And yours? That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” she scoffed, getting up. Now you really felt like you were about to get scolded like a child.

“Yes, it is. God, you and Spencer are the same. It’s like I’m looking at his doppelganger without the whole… IQ of 187. You share some of the worst qualities a person can have,” you laughed at that, “You are both changeophobes-” you cut her off

“Metathesiophobia, fear of change.” She only raised her hand at you, as if to say, “See, you even sound like him,” which made you laugh even more.

“You close yourselves off after a sad or traumatic experience, silently hoping you’d be able to get through the worst of it on your own. Most of the time, it’s evident that’s not the case. You only ask for help when you’ve reached rock bottom or have no other choice, but you’ve had a choice from the get-go. Your stubbornness even stems from the same anxieties, it’s infuriating,” she seemed to calm down then, in defeat maybe, or she hadn’t been mad, to begin with, she sat down again.

“My point is, it shouldn’t have taken you learning that he might be coming home today to tell me all of this. I’ve known for a long time that there was something far more than platonic friendship on your end. You shouldn’t have tortured yourself since his trial to try to put the puzzle pieces together. You aren’t late, you have all the time in the world to say what you feel and what you want, and rejection shouldn’t be a factor, believe me. You need to make peace with that fear because Spencer is coming home today. And whether you are ready or not, you both need to have a serious conversation.” You appreciated her determination about Spencer being released, but then again, you had more than circumstantial evidence to support the fact that he was innocent. But, as always, Emily was right. He was coming home today, and after months of not seeing each other, there were a lot of things you needed to say.

“I know. Thank you, Emily, for everything,” you whispered, squeezing her tight.

Spencer’s POV

The first breath of fresh air after being on the inside for months felt far more overwhelming than he thought it would be. Being in charge of your being and your responses and emotions felt almost unnatural like the feeling of it didn’t belong to him. The sound of the wind and the traffic, people’s voices, and even the simple act of getting comfortable in the leather seats of the jet overwhelmed any ability to concentrate and think straight.

In itself, it was strange. The prison was loud, the prison commissary at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a cacophony of prisoners talking, cells being opened, and guards barking orders. The yard was loud too, although, in the middle of nowhere, nature could still be heard - the sounds of trees and the lone birds, if he had to guess a mix of Mourning Dove and Field Sparrow. Their songs were soothing most of the time, a welcome distraction from the usual noises around him.

Without the atmosphere he’d gotten used to and subjected to all of those sounds and people whose presence he found comforting before, he now felt almost out of place. He wanted to feel at peace, he wanted to feel free, and although he technically was, his mind was more trapped than he’d actually been in that 2 by 2 cell in cellblock C.

He kept replaying some of the hardest moments from his time in, every threat, every punch he’d gotten, and the phantom feel of the fists connecting. Luis’ blood on his hands, the smell of bleach incorporated with the drugs, the tip of the sharpened toothbrush embedding into his thigh. All he’d done to survive, harm, and more harm, only to make it out alive.

He barely recognized himself. He’d deliberately ignored looking at himself in the small plastic mirror in his cell, for fear of seeing what he’d had to become. Gone was the Spencer who’d use his brain to get out of situations, whose obliviousness more often than not helped to balance his intellect with the socially acceptable. Gone was the bubbly personality of a kid excited to share a plethora of facts with his friends.

In his place sat a man, tormented by the reality of the hatred felt towards him. The reality of being a pawn in a game whose complexity could have been his downfall. A man whose genius, as much of a blessing, could sometimes be a curse. A man who had felt too much and was made to experience far more loss than his quaint heart was able to take. In the end, he kept losing, be it his father, by no choice of his own. His mentor, at the hands of a killer’s insanity. His friends and loved ones, hoping for a better life or his freedom, made to rot in a place he didn’t deserve to be in.

Some would doubt that he had anything at all left to lose. All in all, how much more could the scrawny twelve-year-old child prodigy, left to survive in a public high school, take?

His mind had been plagued by that question for years. He’d thought about that more than he’d like to admit. After every loss, there’d been a split moment where he’d asked himself what was next. What would be the next thing life would take from him? And every time, he’d had to wonder if, next time, life wouldn’t reach for the one thing he couldn’t allow to be taken from him. The one thing that, were he to lose, he’d never recover. He had hoped, sometimes prayed, that after everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, this would be the one thing that’d be spared.

Locked in that cage, he’d tried even harder to ensure that there wouldn’t be another loss in his life - not anymore. Be it good or bad, he’d done everything. For 70 days, he’d had to assure himself he was doing what he thought was right, and what he wasn’t saying, he’d be forgiven for. He’d had to dodge questions and see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes, and when that wasn’t enough of a burden to bring all of his anxieties to the surface, he’d resigned himself to reading the words of the person he was doing all of this for - you.

He’d reread every letter to the point where the edges of the papers were worn out, even though he’d known the contents by heart on the first read. He tortured himself by looking at your handwriting, analyzing the slanting of the words and the pressure of the pen. The little stains on the paper, he didn’t have to be a genius to know, were your tears. It broke his heart, to know he was causing you this much pain. He didn’t need to be there to see it, he felt it through your words.

He often questioned if it was worth it, if he was protecting you, or himself, or maybe even what you were or weren’t.

Even now, the weight of your words sat heavily on his mind, and right by his heart, in the pocket of his jacket, he felt the weight of the 9 letters you wrote.

As he looked over from the little window of the jet, he couldn’t help but wonder if, in his desire to shield you from everything, he hadn’t gone too far. Ultimately, was he going to be forgiven, or be forced to pick up the pieces of the reality broken by his own doing?

“Don’t do that.” JJ’s gentle voice startled him from the overwhelming nature of his thoughts. She’d spent the last 30 minutes since they boarded silently observing him, waiting for him to pick up a conversation. But he’d decided to stay num.

In every twitch of his fingers, in his desire to get comfortable but being unable to, she could see that he was restless. If she had to guess, his mind was much the same.

“Do what?”

She gave him a look, one, had he not known her long enough, he might have been offended by. Clearly, she was offended herself, watching him play the clueless card.

“Spence, I don’t need to profile you to know that your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, contemplating your decisions, and I don’t think you should. You did what you thought was right, and no one blames you for that, not for Mexico, and not for what you did after,” she spoke evenly, gathering even Penelope and Alvez’s attention from where they sat. He looked over, receiving a smile and a nod from both before focusing on JJ again.

Rationally, he knew she was right about everything. He didn’t need to run himself ragged with everything he could have done differently, or search for the perfect way to explain, or overall, the perfect outcome of his own decisions. He knew there wasn’t one, there was no perfect way to say what he needed to, no perfect words to pick so he could fix this and erase the pain he knew he’d caused.

Perfection wasn’t something you could strive to achieve, because there’s no such thing as perfection. The term was diverse, everyone had a different perspective on what that might look like. If for JJ, perfection was the family that waited for her at home every time she returned from a case, for Spencer, perfection was vastly different.

For him, perfection was the rich aroma of coffee that could cause someone’s insulin to spike because of the amount of sugar in it. The softness of a book page between his fingers, or the familiarity of a book he’d read before but needed to revisit.

Perfection was the sound of your laugh whenever he was the one to prompt the sound. The way your eyes lit up every time you listened to him babble on. Perfection was the time he got to spend with you every day, every hour, and every minute that he could remember with almost scary accuracy.

He could sit and wonder what the perfect way to go about this was, but there simply wasn’t one, there was only the truth. And as painful, hopeful, or even a little dumb as it was, that was the best he could give.

And maybe that’s what his mind should focus on instead, the truth, in its simplest form, at its core the truth he’d hidden for months, and then the truth he’d hidden for years.

He had wondered long enough if he’d made the right choice. He spent plenty of time focusing on the shame he’d felt, prompted by the disappointment he’d seen in his friends’ eyes whenever they brought up your name. How he’d sit, silent, or give an answer so short and angry, it’d add even more shame to the one he already felt.

Beyond his time in prison, where he spent most of his time questioning his decisions, he spent years before that questioning himself as a person. His place on the team, his intelligence, even his failings. His inability to form relationships where he’d be seen as more than Dr. Reid, or the skinny kid, pretty boy, or a genius. A relationship that’d make him feel like simply Spencer, without the added adjectives, that sometimes made him feel like a circus clown.

Only when he’d been locked up, had he started to realize that he’d finally built a relationship with someone with whom he could be himself. The most basic, boring, and peaceful version of himself, and slowly, all had started falling into place.

How content he felt whenever he was around you, the desire to tell you every good or bad news he received. How when you asked about his mother, it warmed his heart, or how worried he felt when you acted stupid in the field. How out of control he’d felt when you’d gone missing last year. Or even, at the time, the unexplained jealousy he’d felt seeing you talk with another man.

Morgan had asked, once, twice, a lot, if maybe he didn’t have a crush, but he’d denied it, every time. And every time he’d question himself, he'd dismiss the idea just as quickly.

Yet, upon being forced away from you, the pieces had started mending into one.

Every realization he’d had was like a new broken piece being glued to the overall mosaic. And every new piece added built everything he felt about you. And it was a lot, and it was overwhelming, and so, so right, it sometimes felt wrong. Because he was inside a prison of his own doing, and you were out there, made to wait for him, for an explanation, for the truth.

And he’d vowed to himself that the moment he was out, he’d put everything on the table, no matter how much he’d fucked up or how much he’d hurt you. He’d sit there, and he’d let it out, and if necessary, he’d even beg for your forgiveness.

Because there wasn’t a moment in this life, he wanted to live through, without you there with him.

Your POV

You pulled the trigger, your eyes focused, and your hands steady. Three consecutive shots were fired, each one hitting its intended target. Three more followed, and then as many as it took to empty the magazine.

You put down the gun and took a deep breath, steadying your heartbeat, trying to rid yourself of the deep-seated anxiety you felt. An odd sense of calm overtook you whenever you found yourself at the shooting range. Maybe it was the everpresent scent of gunpowder or the quiet only disturbed by the firing of a gun. Or even the possibility of escaping your rising thoughts, the desire to run or scream, sometimes both.

There was a sense of solitude there that almost made it easier to breathe. The repetitive motion and the weight of the gun in your hands felt like second nature.

Front sight, trigger press, follow through, just like Hotch had taught you all those years ago. As long as you held that gun, your mind was quiet, and you focused on something other than the worry you felt.

It made sense you found yourself there shortly after Emily had shared the long-awaited good news - Spencer was finally free, and JJ, Penelope, and Luke were on route back with him. For a short moment, you’d felt the weight being lifted from your chest, and then it dropped again, now tripled.

Suddenly, your earlier conversation with Emily had gotten as real as the target before you. Even with the sense of peace, you’d felt after, your thoughts on the matter clear, you still felt a sense of dread at the idea of seeing him.

As if he wasn’t your best friend, the man who’d long ago won your affection and captured your heart, but rather a stranger who held your future in his hands. And he might as well be, because whatever the truth to the questions you wanted answered was, one thing was for sure.

It’d either make or break you both.

You picked up a new magazine, and loaded the gun, aiming at the target before releasing the safety. Before you fired again, you released a breath, and with it, all the feelings within you - fear, uncertainty, yearning, and the sense of madness, which, although mild, was persistent.

You fired once, twice, your aim impeccable, and then, out of nowhere, you missed.

The hair at the back of your neck rose, your heart rate quickened, and the feeling of another’s presence in the room was unmistakable. It took you just a second to put the pieces together, the intrusion felt like anything but that.

Instead, for a brief moment, the person brought with them a familiar feeling of calm. In the next instance, though, reality came crashing like a tidal wave, and you knew you’d run out of time.

Your hands shook as you put down the gun. You could feel him watching you, probably standing next to the door, as if he couldn’t will himself to move closer. The anxiety was palpable in the air, although you couldn’t really say if it was yours or his, most likely, it was a mix of both.

You went to reach for your protection but hesitated. Once you took it off, there’d no longer be an excuse for you to ignore him, you’d finally have to meet the reality he’d so carefully crafted for you.

Even though you felt like you could barely breathe, the desire to finally lay your eyes on him won out.

Without missing another beat, you took off your earplugs and then your eye protection. You could faintly hear the sound of shoes squicking against the floor. He could never stay still when he was nervous.

You picked up on the sound of your own breathing too, the beating of your heart was almost erratic. You were waiting, what for, you weren’t sure.

He was waiting too, for you to turn around, to lay his eyes on you. Like a sadist, waiting to see the pain he’d caused, or a masochist, wishing for his own in turn.

70 days of slowly killing you both.

When you finally dared to turn around, it took you a moment to fully take him in. He looked like the Spencer you knew, yet there was something different about him too. Dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit, he didn’t look comfortable. His posture was rigid, almost defensive. It wasn’t a conscious decision, that much you were sure of.

His hair was longer, pushed back, curling at the ends, and he’d lost some weight. Not much, but enough to make an impression after all this time. He looked pensive, like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but maybe it was just the weight of the consequences he had to face.

Your eyes ran over every inch of him multiple times, intentionally avoiding his gaze for as long as possible. Seconds and minutes passed, and you weren’t really sure how much exactly.

Spencer knew, though, of course, he did. If his fear of meeting you eye to eye was as great as yours was, you knew he was counting until the torture of the act itself was over.

89 seconds he’d counted, although now with you there, they felt longer than the days without you did.

When you eventually met his gaze, you felt a part of your heart chip on the inside. What people said about the eyes being a portal to one's soul couldn’t have been more right in that moment. Spencer, a man who excelled at hiding his emotions when he really wanted to, had let them out as clear as day for you to see.

His eyes sparkled with so much sadness and guilt that it threatened to take you apart even before he had the chance to talk. Something softened within you at that moment, but in the next instance, it was like someone else took over.

One moment you wanted to cry for him or with him, and the next you felt like your whole being needed to be let out.

“Is that…is that all you can offer me right now? More of your silence? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” The questions, a few of many to follow, had a bite to them.

His face fell a little, taken aback by your tone. He fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to say, or where to start. How could he answer your question? He pictured a scenario where his words flew freely, where he gave you an explanation worthy of forgiveness and a confession, so earnest that it ended with you in his arms.

Try as he might, the words didn’t come to him, just a barely audible accusation.

“That’s not fair.”

You scoffed, as if in outrage. A madness, one born out of so much heartbreak, took over, it was blinding. If someone had asked you to explain yourself, you’d say that wasn’t you. You’d never be so forward, almost cruel, to him, but at that moment, being mad sounded so much better than being vulnerable. Like a shield, you weren’t ready to let go of yet.

“How exactly is this not fair, Spencer? It’s the truth!” you yelled, and you felt free, finally letting it all out. “You want to know what isn’t fair, though? The way you isolated me OUT of your life! For three months, I’ve had to stand on the sidelines and beg for scraps, just to know you were okay. Every pitiful look I’d get from the people I consider family felt like another stab to the heart. That’s what’s not fair!” You were screaming so loud. It was a good thing the range was soundproof, otherwise, the whole of the BAU would have been deep in your business by now.

If he looked surprised by the accusation, he didn’t really show it. His posture took a turn, though. The rigidity disappeared, and in turn, it opened, as if the need to comfort you overpowered the uncertainty or the mask he’d had to hold while imprisoned.

You didn’t want his comfort, not right now. Maybe later, when all was said and done, you’d get to have a normal conversation without the frustrations of the past. At that moment, you just wanted everything out of your system. You wanted the questions, the answers, and the truth.

His silence continued as he started closing the distance between you. You wanted to move, to create more distance, but there was nowhere to go. You were squeezed between the range, and him. Whatever else was left than to continue begging for clarity.

“It’s not fair being sent away the first time I came to see you. To learn you didn’t want to see me! Each time it was my turn to visit you, do you want to know where I was? I sat outside that fucking prison, wishing for a glimpse of the person who’s been my rock for 12 years! Holding back tears, thinking you didn’t…you didn’t care like I did. Is this what I really deserve after 12 years by your side?” You almost slipped, you almost told him, and maybe you should have, it might have prompted him to talk or to say something. But no, he stayed silent. Step after step, he limped, his cheek twitched, and his brows furrowed, but like a coward, he remained quiet.

He was meters away from you, three more steps, and he’d completely close the distance, and meet you face to face.

“Say something, Spencer, damn it!” Your throat burned from the strain, and he advanced even more. “Anything,” you finished in a whisper, and all of a sudden, all the fight left you, and your eyes watered and your vision went blurry.

He was just a step away then, and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but see how they shined.

He reached forward, one hand taking hold of your arm while the other went to hold your waist, but you shook your head. “No, Spencer, please,” you whispered. You didn’t want to find yourself in his arms, because that would be the last of your composure, gone. You’d surrender to the feel of him like you even had a choice not to.

He didn’t stop, not until you were snug into his arms, one of his hands at the back of your neck, holding your head tenderly, but the arm around your waist held onto you as if he was scared you’d slip away from him.

Once in his arms, you finally let go, breaking down into pieces, hoping he’d be able to hold them all from crumbling to the ground.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your pulse point. All the while, you could only stand, your arms at your sides, as if paralyzed.

Being in his arms felt like being home somehow. It felt so right after having been deprived of the feeling for so long. It felt like there was nothing wrong, and nothing could go wrong at that moment.

Even though you hadn't initially wanted his comfort, somewhere deep inside, you craved his tender touch. You craved the feel of his body near and the faint scent that was so uniquely him - a mix of coffee, fall, and old paper, books. You realized then that you craved the sound of his voice too, another part of him you’d been deprived of.

The voice of the always rambling boy that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you couldn’t understand him sometimes.

And the more he whispered, his voice broken and shaky, the harder you cried. You’d thought nothing could match the heartbreak of his actions or the anger of his silence, but the reality of being held against him brought the realization that your suffering mirrored his own.

If you’d been dying on the inside for months, he’d been on the other side of the link holding you tethered to each other, dying just as much.

And you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer after that. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and your arms finally circled his waist underneath his suit jacket, fisting the back of his shirt as if it were your one lifeline.

You felt him exhale when you finally returned his touch, most likely in relief, before he dropped a light kiss on your head.

You cried for the relief of having him back and close. For unspoken truths and time wasted, years of figuring out feelings clear as day. For all the anger, for all of his silence, for all you felt for him.

He cried for all the pain he’d caused you and for all the time he’d wasted being alone instead of being with you. He cried for himself, he cried for you, and he cried, overwhelmed by his feelings for you.

You clung to one another, crying, and minutes were passing and neither of you cared. Not when you had each other.

After a while, when both your tears dried out and your cries quieted, but you still felt the need to hold each other close, you dared to murmur a broken “Why?” hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d understand.

It didn’t take him long to mumble a reply, no longer silent.

“All the words in the world available, and I wish I could explain.” it came out just as quietly, both of you scared to break the little bubble you’d found yourselves in.

You pulled back from him, wanting to look into his eyes, red-rimmed and still sparkling when you felt yourself begging again.

“Then try, please, because I’d rather know, and not understand, than not know at all.” And it was the truth. He could speak in riddles if he wanted, but you needed to know why he’d made that choice.

You looked at him expectantly before he pushed a piece of hair back, and his hand once again settled at the back of your head, gently cupping it.

“I wanted you safe from a world you didn’t belong in,” he admitted on an exhale, like a lifelong secret he’d gotten tired of holding onto.

You looked at him in wonder, and it was on the tip of your tongue to tell him he didn’t belong in that world either, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, he shook his head.

“I was ashamed when I had you removed from the visitor’s list. I didn’t want you to see me like that, like a criminal,” he started, pulling you into his arms, not wanting to admit it to you eye to eye, out of fear of being right. Of course, he was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wondering.

“The first time JJ visited me, they leered at her like they were being fed fresh meat, taking her in, committing her to memory. A cage full of animals. I knew then that I didn’t want that for you, and any guilt I had at keeping you away disappeared that day. It hurt me, knowing I was failing you and whatever trust you had in me,” he whispered, wishing to keep the reality of his thoughts and his feelings in a little bubble as if you only existed in it.

“I’m not the same person I was before, I couldn’t be him, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process. I couldn’t really be a decent human being without bearing the consequences. Everything I saw, everything I did, and everything that was done to me, I don’t think I’d ever fully be the person I was before. And that too, I’m thankful I spared you from seeing.” It would explain his rigidity, a defense mechanism he’d had to get used to.

And while everything he’d said thus far was true the biggest truth, he’d had yet to say. He had yet to really explain why he’d done what he’d done in the first place. He was stalling, still afraid, but the longer he held you, the longer he felt your heart beating in time with his, the more sure he became.

To hell with the consequences, to hell with whatever happened after, he was right here in the now, alive, breathing, his arms around you, finally at peace.

He pulled back, took your face into his hands, and finally whispered.

“Most of all, though, I knew I loved you enough to risk us if it meant keeping you safe.” It left him in a rush, a confession waiting to be let out for months. A feeling he’d had for years, and a moment where he could finally be open about it.

“What…?” you licked your lips, shocked that you might not have heard him correctly. ”What does us mean?” This part of the conversation felt like you were daydreaming about it, it just didn’t feel real.

“It means whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want us to be.” All of a sudden, it was that simple.

“So, you love me?” You had a hard time taking it all in, yet your heart fluttered in pure happiness. “And you…you want us?”

"Yes.” Even before you were done speaking, he was already answering. He was desperate to finally admit he was absolutely smitten by you.

Months of figuring out your feelings, years of hiding them, a conversation to finally prompt a confession out of you, and all this time it was reciprocated. You could have cried, happiness like no other coursing through you, pure bliss.

You wanted back into his arms, you wanted to kiss him so badly that your blood was burning from the need to feel him like you'd never been able to before. And yet, you knew there was something else you needed to do before you could finally do it.

“Spence, you don’t push away the people you love, no matter the cost. You rely on their love to help aid you when you’re at your lowest.” You gave his sides a light squeeze before you looked back into his eyes, only to see them hopeful and uncertain at the same time.

He looked hopeful, for the possibility that you might actually love him back, but uncertain because it felt like you might be pushing him away this time.

“I can’t go through this again. Having to watch you wither away, in prison, at home, or by your own thoughts, I won’t be able to handle being pushed away again,” whispers, cries, pleas, memories full of heartbreak intertwined with present confessions full of joy.

His eyes watered then, his lips trembling. Any sign of hope was gone, and in its’ place stood the realization of a man who’d maybe gone a little too far. He’d pushed you away, and now, it was your time to be the one sticking and twisting the knife deep, breaking his heart in the process.

If someone were to ask him at that moment what his biggest regret was, he’d say this. This was his biggest regret, his own choices.

A tear escaped him, and you reached up, wiping it away gently before you spoke again.

“If..if this is going to go anywhere, you need to rely on me. You need to believe that I can handle anything and everything, just as long as you are by my side. All those years of being pushed away - your addiction, Maeve and Gideon’s deaths, your mom’s diagnosis, Cat Adams - you weren’t alone then, you aren’t alone now, and you won’t be alone in the future. You’ll always have me by your side, you’ll always have my support. Most of all, you’ll have my love, but when things get hard, I need you to lean on me, and trust that I can help you because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together.” You finished on an exhale, full-on crying now. You could barely see him, but from the little you could, you saw tears streaming down his face, and a smile that grew wide, happy.

Those words, he knew them word for word. For 13 days, he’d repeat them, no longer needing to see them written down, he had them engraved in his brain. Your letters he could recite, but your final one he’d remember as long as he lived.

“I promise to lean on you and trust that you’d help me because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together,” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for just a moment before he pulled you in, and finally, his lips met yours.

He kissed you, tentative at first, testing the waters. He wanted to take his time, commit your lips to memory, gentle, and plump, exactly how he’d imagined they’d feel. The more he kissed you, the more he couldn’t stop. Passion, urgency, desire - his kisses turned desperate like he wanted to swallow you whole and never let you go.

He bit your lip gently, asking for access, before his tongue intertwined with yours and he pulled you flush against him, closing any gap left between you. Chest, hips, there wasn’t an inch where you weren’t touching.

It felt so familiar, even though you hadn’t kissed before. So right, like no one's kisses had felt before. As if your whole lives, kissing each other was the missing piece in a complicated puzzle, waiting to be put together. Coming together as one, it felt magnetic, a feeling of euphoria, pure ecstasy, no one else mattered, no other feeling mattered at that moment, other than your hands on each other and your lips locked together.

Time was passing by, and you didn’t care. Years of missed opportunities, hidden feelings, and long-awaited realizations all led to this moment. Starved for each other, a kiss full of fervor and even the taste of tears was present. Unimaginable, but very real.

When you finally pulled apart, he wiped your tears, and you wiped his in turn, before he gathered you back in the comfort of his arms, laying a kiss on the side of your head.

And between the four walls around you, nestled in each other’s arms, the place where no one could touch you, in a shared breath you both whispered.

“I love you.”

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#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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quinnnfabrgay-writes · 7 months ago

Text

what it means to burn

This is my (incredibly and abhorrently late) entry for the Summer Lovin Challenge! My prompt was heat wave along with this AMAZING mood board! Thank you so, so much for putting this on @pedgito (and for being so incredibly patient)

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!reader

summary: There are many different ways to burn. People warn against getting sunburned amidst the suns cruel rays. Others are told it's in the afterlife where they'll feel hells wrath and burning flames. But burning desire that fills your body, floods your system, clouds your mind... what on earth are you supposed to do with that?

wc: 4.8k

tags/warnings: not much, some good ol' pining-esque angst (and some tooth-rotting fluff for funsies), Dieter is an idiot - but that's why we love him, i know nothing of film sets so there's that too

reader description: reader is described as having breasts and there is gendered language, otherwise nothing else about reader is described, no use of y/n

a/n: yeah, so this is almost exactly 6 months late, i am SO so sorry. i feel like i've been so stuck creatively this year. BUT here it is. at first I had no idea where I wanted to go with this, but then my wife and I binged all of Bridgerton in two weeks and I have that to blame for how some of this turned out. i also tried to really lean into the heatwave aspect of it 🫣 MAJOR shoutout to @bitchesuntitled for reading this over when i was losing my mind, i am so incredibly grateful

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

Your toes dig into the sand beneath your feet, each grain tickling your nerves - a much needed distraction you welcome. A bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, your body's desperate attempt at keeping you cool as you approach your third hour in this dreadful, sweltering heat. Your fingers twitch, fighting the automatic urge to wipe it away - the last thing you need is to give the director, Jared, another reason to call “cut” for the umpteenth time.

What was supposed to be a “quick and easy” take of the scene in which Dieter’s character has a heat-induced fever dream of your character scantily clad in an oasis, has now become a whole cluster fuck.

Dieter was almost an hour late to set - his reasons being missed alarms, traffic, every excuse under the sun really, but that was the least of your frustrations. Once everyone was finally in place and ready to start shooting, wardrobe mishaps galore.

They originally wanted to have you in a gauzy, deep cut dress, golden ropes tied around your waist to complement your figure. But between the combination of the heat and your sweat, the dress tape meant to keep the cloth adhered to your breasts kept slipping off your skin multiple times, resulting in multiple nip slips that had the wardrobe department ushering you back into the trailers for an emergency costume change.

But perhaps the most annoying circumstance of all has to be the sheer amount of times Jared has had the two of you film and re-film the part in the scene in which Dieter’s character finally confesses his feelings for your character- or the mirage of your character to be exact.

Picture it: Dieter’s character is lost in the desert, he’s been walking for days and nights looking for reprieve when he stumbles upon a beautiful oasis that’s too good to be true. Because it is. It’s simply a mirage used as a catalyst for Dieter’s character to come to terms with his romantic feelings. He’s supposed to come upon the oasis to find you lounging by the pool of a waterfall, dipping your toes in the water before approaching him, lavishing him with attention. Light sultry touches from you, flirty quips back and forth before devolving into a confession of love from him, all culminating into an almost kiss. Dieter is meant to lean in, your lips almost touching before his character wakes from his fever dream with a new determination to get back home and confess his feelings to the real life version of your character.

Which wouldn’t be an issue if it weren’t for the director finding a new problem almost every take.

The first few takes were issues with your wardrobe. The next few, he wanted to try different starting positions: you by the pool of the waterfall, then you lounging on a moss covered rock, finally he settled on you wading out of the pool of the waterfall, the water making your skin sparkle and glisten under the cruel sun.

A change you gladly welcomed the first one or two times you had filmed trying the new starting point, the water helping cool you down as the heat of the sun kept beating down on everyone. But soon enough even the water wasn’t enough of a reprieve, because then Jared had an issue with yours and Dieters chemistry.

Or lack thereof.

He couldn’t really blame the two of you though. At this point you were tired, sweltering, hungry, and so so cranky. Dieter wasn’t faring any better, you could tell he was two takes away from throwing a temper tantrum like a petulant child, and to be honest you weren’t too far behind him. The last thing on your mind was trying to convince the cameras of any romantic inclinations.

Although, if you were being honest with yourself, it really shouldn’t be that hard, it’s not like you would be acting at all. This isn’t the first movie or project where you’ve led opposite Dieter Bravo, and even though you’ve tried your damnedest to do the complete opposite, you have found yourself falling more and more for the handsome goofball with each passing day.

He was one of the first of the bigger names to show you kindness in your earlier roles; even took you under his wing as it were to warn you about the creeps to stay away from, to tell you the little tips and tricks of the trade, he even offered to run lines with you for auditions from time to time.

His party-going ways and eccentricities were enough to keep your feelings at bay for a while, but as the two of you grew closer, and you got to see more of the real Dieter, it became more and more difficult to deny that you had indeed fallen for the one and only Dieter Bravo. And you had fallen hard.

And if that doesn’t just piss you off.

“Oh for the love of Christ- cut cut cut!”

You and Dieter both huff and groan, you drop your head into your hands as Dieter slumps his shoulders in frustration. You feel like you could scream, your anger and frustration building to the point of tears gathering in your eyes.

“What is the matter with you two?!” Jared's voice becomes louder as his steps grow closer to the two of you.

You're just about to let him have it (deservedly so), but luckily Dieter pipes up before you can say something that might deem you “difficult to work with.”

“I don't know Jared, it could be a number of things. This goddamn heat being at the top of the shit list.”

You bite the corner of your lip to keep yourself from laughing, reigning your expression into a slight amused smirk instead as you watch Dieter and Jared go back and forth, mentally checking yourself out of the conversation until you hear Jared let out a dramatic sigh, running his hands through his hair before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in thought.

“Okay, I get it. I really do. I know I've been impatient myself, this heat really is getting the best of all of us I suspect.” He drops his hand, opens his eyes, and glances back and forth between you and Dieter as he pleads his case.

“Just one more take, please? Just the speech Dieter gives, that's all we need. You two are almost there, it just doesn't feel… right yet. There's an underlying sense of animosity that I can't pinpoint, but that's what is holding you two up. Just take a couple of deep breaths and let go. Give us everything you got, okay? Really, you two are ridiculously talented, I specifically requested you two for a reason. If there's any hesitation, just let it go. And let everything else be fuel for the fire. Use your frustrations and channel them into your character's desire for each other, okay?”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. You know his speech was pointed towards you, there's no way it wasn't, but he was good about making it seem like it was a pep talk for the both of you.

You nod your head, blinking quickly to clear the moisture in your eyes before any tear drops could fall.

“Y-yeah, thanks Jared.” You reach your hand out to squeeze one of his forearms, a quiet show of appreciation.

Dieter rubs the back of his neck as he nods once in agreement, his lips pursed in thought.

Jared gives you two an unreadable look before speaking again. “From the top then, yeah? Just one more time.” He claps his hands, swiftly turning around and back to his chair as he orders everyone else back into their places.

Dieter lets out a long, drawn out sigh before turning towards you, an eyebrow quirked and a half smile sweet enough to wash away your irritation.

He briefly looks back over to Jared before shouting “can we have a moment?”

Jared simply slumps in his chair, waving his hand exasperated in a manner signaling “go on.”

Your brows furrow; what could he possibly need to talk about that can't wait until you've at least been able to scarf down the snacks in the shared trailer, enjoying its glorious AC?

He swiftly turns towards you, stepping forward and closing the small gap between you two until you are practically toe to toe with one another.

You draw in a quick, sharp breath as he reaches both of his hands out grabbing your own. Such a simple touch, yet paired with the sheer closeness he's created, it's enough to set your skin on fire where the two of you are connected. Or maybe it's just the heat finally pulling you into an exhausted haze and warming your skin to the touch. That had to be it, there's no way this means anything.

“Mírame, por favor.”

Dieter’s voice raspy from the dry heat, yet it's still smooth as silk to your ears. You acquiesce, slowly raising your eyes to meet his gaze.

The look on his face could easily bring anyone to their knees. The molten pools of his dark brown eyes draw you in, begging you to dip your toe in. A false sense of security washes over you as you believe that little voice in the back of your head saying “it's safe, the water's fine,” as if the tide of his gaze won't pull you under at the first chance you'd let it.

You could dive in head first into the deep inky waves, letting them pull you further and further down - not once feeling panicked or afraid even as the darkness spreads around the corners of your vision, finally feeling at peace. Finally giving up your resistance, letting him finally drown and consume you…

You're shaken from this image, your mind coming back into reality, dropping back into your body when Dieter squeezes your hands in his. The deep baritone of his voice floating through your ears like a choir of angels when he utters “estrella.”

“Y-yes?”

“I- um, I just–” Dieter cuts himself off with a huff, casting his eyes down and you're pretty sure you hear him mutter fuck under his breath. He slowly shakes his head, a self deprecating tone weaved into his voice. “I'm terrible at this.”

“Dieter, what're you ta–”

His head swings back up quickly. “I'm sorry.”

You jerk your head back slightly, completely caught off guard. He looks so determined, his eyes flickering back and forth between your own. He squeezes your hands again, takes a deep breath, and continues.

“I'm- I'm sorry. For today, for the million takes, for being late. All of it.”

He pauses long enough, you go to tell him it's fine, but he shakes his head, beating you to it. “No, I'm– fuck. Look, I know why Jared feels like there's some underlying animosity.”

You shuffle slightly, dropping your gaze to his feet, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn this conversation has taken.

“But what I'm trying to say is, I get it. You have every right to want to rip my head off right now. I know me being late really screwed up the schedule, and- and, I don't know. I just wanted you to know that I get it, and I really, truly am sorry. It was incredibly unprofessional.”

You brave looking back up at him. A pang runs through your heart at how genuine he looks. You have to bite the corner of your lip to distract yourself from the tears that want to well up, hoping you can keep them at bay.

“Thank you, Dieter. I really appreciate it.” A small, soft smile stretches your lips, meaning every word.

A small smile spreads across Dieter’s lips, mirroring your own.

“I- um, I just couldn't sleep.”

“...huh?”

“Why I was late. I really did miss all of my alarms this morning. I was up most of the night, too nervous to sleep.”

Your brows and lips wrench up in confusion. “Nervous?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous. I mean this isn't the first romantic drama we've shot together or anything. I just really want to nail this scene. I want to be the scene partner you deserve. I really believe this could be the project that gets you nominated.”

“Oh, Dieter, th-thats's… that's getting a little ahead–”

“No, I'm serious. You deserve this. How can you become an EGOT winner without the Oscar? Huh?” He's full on grinning at you, those brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

You huff a chuckle out, shaking your head. “Dee, please. That was just a silly childhood dream.”

“No, it’s not, and you know it.”

He dips his head slightly, trying to get you to meet his eyes. Once you do, his face softens. A small, adoring smile graces his features.

“You deserve it more than anyone I know.” He drops one of your hands to softly cup your chin, his thumb brushing across your skin. “Mi estrella brillante.”

Your stomach drops as you try to remind yourself it’s nothing more than a friendly gesture. But Dieter apparently wasn't finished tormenting your lovesick soul. Before you have time to comprehend what's happening, he leans forward and drops his lips to your forehead, your chin still in his hand.

It had to have been only a brief few seconds, but to you that moment was frozen in time.

His devastatingly soft and pouty lips have your skin tingling, goosebumps forming along your arms, and all he has done is kiss you on the forehead, possibly one of the most innocent kisses two people could share, and yet your knees threaten to buckle as if he was worshiping your body underneath his tongue.

God, you needed to get out of this heat.

Dieter pulls back and must notice something's amiss. His face falls slightly, his eyes searching your own as he says your name.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

Your eyes flutter as you shake your head to try and rid yourself of this spell he's put you under.

“H-huh? Oh y-yeah. I think the heat is finally getting to me.”

“Alright you two,” Jared's voice further coaxing you out of your stupor, “let's wrap this up so we can all go home, yeah?”

If logic was accessible in this moment, you could easily remind yourself that this isn't him talking to you like this. It's all for the movie, nothing more.

Unfortunately, that's not the case, all logic flew out the window the moment his lips touched your skin. You have no doubt in your mind that you're looking at Dieter like he hung the moon– which works for the scene, but were you really acting?

It's hard to think of anything else beyond the feeling of his soft lips on your forehead, the reverent way he looked at you while cradling your chin in the palm of his hand, softly muttering, “mi estrella brillante.”

Mi estrella brillante.

You slowly flick your eyes back and forth between his, wondering if anyone has ever told him he has the most painfully beautiful eyes. So expressive, so captivating.

Many a time you have gotten lost in studying his micro expressions - one of the many reasons you fell for him honestly. The amount of emotion this man can portray in one glance, a simple lift of his brow, a slight tilt of his head or subtle frown - it was mesmerizing. He's mesmerizing.

His hand finds your cheek, the wide breadth of his palm practically encompassing the side of your face in its entirety.

In an instant it all becomes too much - the pounding in your ears, the shallow breaths you're struggling to take in, the haze forming around the edges of your vision. Your gaze drops to his lips. His irresistibly tempting lips, still moving, still reciting his lines, but the words remain a mystery to your overheated state of being.

The way the velvet plush of them unwittingly beckons you closer and closer. And suddenly it all becomes so clear to you.

This fiery all consuming heat, this overwhelming longing that has been ignited and seized your entire being, has nothing to do with the hours spent in the burning sun.

This aching, this burning, it's all coming from within you.

A burning desire all for one Dieter Bravo.

In hindsight, you were probably also dehydrated, but in this moment the only thing you want to drink in, the only thing you crave, is the taste of Dieter's tongue sliding against your own, to feel his lips mold perfectly around yours. The very thought of him pulling your body against his, close enough where you wouldn't know for certain where your breath began and his ended.

It's this thought alone that has you acting like you've finally snapped and lost your damn mind, maybe you have.

Dieter’s still in the middle of his monologue when you suddenly clutch the front of his billowy shirt in your fists, a soft breathy whine slipping past your lips, your gaze locked onto your plump pillowy prize. You see his lips frown slightly, pursed as he starts forming a question, but you can't wait one second more. You shake your head, silently asking him to not speak, to not disturb whatever stars or planets that had aligned to make this moment possible.

You gently pull on his shirt, bringing his body closer to yours as you angle your chin up, brushing your lips against his. Your eyelids flutter closed before you quietly whisper your simple request, “Stop talking and kiss me.”

Every worry, each little annoyance you encountered throughout the day all fades away to nothing the moment Dieter tenderly presses his lips to yours. His palm moves from your face, gently sweeping down the skin of your arm, goosebumps forming under his touch; an unexpected shiver shocking your system amidst the unrelenting heat.

He continues his path until his hand finds the small of your back, the pads of his fingertips stroking the skin bared from the exposed back of your costume. He gently pulls your body flush against his as he wraps his other hand around the nape of your neck, further enveloping you in his embrace.

The warmth of his body against your own should be the very last thing you crave in this unforgiving and blistering heat, your dress starting to soak through with your sweat, yet somehow his touch is exactly what you need. His touch like a balm to your nerves; his caress the only source of reprieve you desire.

You let go of the white knuckle grip you have on his shirt, immediately tracing the edges and curves of his body as your palms chart a path towards his hair. Your fingers twisting into his curls greedily, not even caring to pay any mind to the slick of the sweat drenching his tresses.

Your heart clenches when you swipe your tongue past your lips to find his tongue peeking out as well, the both of you in sync as you deepen the kiss. You can't control the small whimper you make at the sound of Dieter softly groaning as your tongue slides against his for the first time.

His iron grip around your body tightens even further; you swear your body could melt against his from the sheer heat shared between the two of you.

The heat so all consuming it's flooded your senses, spread through your veins, and now sets your skin alight. Dieter is flint and wood, and you are the spark that sets the whole thing ablaze.

Every pass of his tongue, every tug of his hair, each shared breath between you two only serves to feed and fan the flames; the heat of them licking at your skin, growing ever higher and higher until you and Dieter are one giant shimmering inferno.

But even roaring fires turn to ash eventually.

“And cut!”

Jared’s voice cuts through your trance, jolting you out of Dieter’s embrace. You immediately take a step back, giving yourself space to fully assess and absorb what you’ve just done.

Dieter’s hands hang aimlessly by his side now that you’re no longer wrapped around him, his chest heaving as he catches his breath, his lips swollen and slick from your kiss, his eyes wide and wild, glowing like the last few golden embers that refuse to be smothered into smoke.

You find the will to tear your eyes away from him and brave a glance at the crew around you. Some looks of shock come into view, some of annoyance, but nothing is as unnerving as the stoic look upon Jared’s face.

Your nerves quickly take hold, a chill running down your spine and spreading through your limbs as you slowly back further away from Dieter.

“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t- I…”

You quickly turn, gathering the skirt of your dress in your hands and move swiftly to the trailers, head hung in embarrassment.

What have you done?

A rush of frigid air greets you as you fling open the nearest trailer door, too wrapped up in your distress to pay any mind to where it is you’re actually going.

It’s only when the door slams shut behind you that you finally take notice of your surroundings - a table littered with script pages, all strewn about with red and blue ink scrawled in the margins; a green robe haphazardly draped across the back of a chair; various bottles of water scattered across all in varying degrees of fullness, not one of them fully empty.

Dieter’s trailer. Of fucking course.

Even in a moment where you need some space to distance yourself from this school girl crush, you still can’t escape him. Whether you like it or not, you’re inherently drawn to him - even just a space that he’s inhabited has enough magnetic pull to draw you in.

And it’s so fucking frustrating.

You’re just about to let out a much needed scream when you hear the door whip open behind you, the sound of it clicking shut only seconds later after the unwelcome guest makes their way inside.

Well, technically you’re the unwelcome guest.

You bury your face in your hands, not ready to face what’s coming next. You don’t even second guess who it was that followed you in, it was inevitable that he would come running after you - always looking after you, never once giving you a moment to breathe. The sun itself no longer the source of heat that threatens to smother you. Even the chilling AC isn’t enough to temper the rising fury of your admittedly misplaced anger. If only he would give you just one minute to wrap your head around the situation you have placed yourself in.

The heat of Dieter’s body radiates off him in waves as you hear him shuffle closer to you, the exposed skin of your back already starting to dampen with newly formed beads of sweat. The feel of his hand coming to rest on your hip burns as if he is made of fire himself, a quiet “Estrella,” mumbled close to your ear. You drop your hands from your face in defeat, closing your eyes to muster whatever strength you have left, and push his hand off of your body.

“Dieter, please, don’t.”

He lets his hand fall away from you, but you still feel his presence as he stays put behind you.

“I don’t understand, did I- did I do something wrong?”

You slowly shake your head, still not ready to turn around, still not ready to confront this head on.

“It's just… it's jus-”

Fuck, it really is now or never, isn’t it?

You can tell Dieter is starting to get just as frustrated as you have been all day, a childish exasperated huff tickles your skin before the cracks in his composure start to show. In any other moment, you might have the patience and wherewithal to sympathize and agree that his day has been just as shitty as yours, but at your wits end? Well that’s no place for compassion or sensitivity, now is it.

“It's just what? Spit it out alre-”

You whip around facing him, feeling like the embodiment of a steaming kettle finally blowing its top, ready to let its contents boil and bubble over.

“You frustrate the living daylights out of me, Dieter!”

He takes a step back, shock written all over his face, obviously not expecting this outburst of anger from you. His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms in a show of defense.

“Yeah, and? I piss a lot of people off. Where is this even coming from, I thought we were coo-”

“Oh please, we are well past you merely pissing me off. You have completely turned my world on its axis! You have single handedly complicated and confused everything I thought I knew about myself! You're so infuriating - with your stupid reservations over anything bluetooth-”

“Not stupid, the EMF waves mess with your brain-”

“-your complete and utter inability to care for or respect anyone's time but your own. Your obsession with alien probing?! What is that? If aliens are real, you really think out of everyone on this planet, that they would choose you to beam up into their ship just to what? Study you?”

“It's not an obsession! It's a reasonable and completely rational fear and respect for aliens. And no, not study me… I'm afraid they'll impregnate me, okay?”

You stare at him blankly, silence filling the air. Dieter’s face is so… genuine. His eyebrows downturned in distress, those deep brown eyes of his widened slightly in legitimate fear. If it weren’t for the circumstances or the subject matter of your current conversation, you would almost feel bad for him, almost wanting to close the distance and caress his face, easing his worries.

But his worries were… ridiculous.

It starts out small; a quirk in your brow, the corners of your mouth twitching as you let out an amused huff in disbelief. It tickles your insides, the sheer absurdness the turn this conversation has taken.

It quickly takes over, growing into giggles you try to contain behind your hands, but then Dieter’s face cracks - his own expression twisting in mirth as the two of you erupt into fits of laughter.

A few seconds pass as you both fight to reign it in until silence takes hold again. But this time, it's not as suffocating, it's… nice.

You softly smile at him as he returns the gesture, cautiously taking a step forward into your space, Dieter’s hands finding their home cupping your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. You can see the internal battle waging behind his eyes, no doubt trying to figure out what to say in an attempt to not set you off again.

You give him some much deserved grace, bringing your own hands up to wrap around his wrists, feeling his pulse beating rapidly below your fingertips. You take a shallow breath before attempting to apologize, but yet again Dieter beats you to the punch.

“I won't pretend to know what's running through that brilliant mind of yours, but if I've done anything to upset you…” his gaze quickly drops to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes, “... I'm sorry.”

“No, no you really don't meed to apologize Dieter, I… fuck.”

You snap your eyes shut, afraid to see the inevitable look of pity. You can't look him in the eyes when you say it. Brilliant my ass, more like a fucking coward.

“I'm just so embarrassed, that was so unprofessional and I know everybody is pissed that I messed up yet another take and I just… I couldn't deny it any longer. And I'm so sorry I took you by surprise like that, it was completely uncalled for and mmfph-”

Dieters lips come crashing down on your own, silencing your babbling. Your hold on his wrists tighten as you immediately match his fervor, not caring that you're already struggling to take a breath, his is the only oxygen you need at this moment. Before you can get too lost in the kiss, he breaks it off, resting his forehead against yours while you both try to regain your breath.

He nuzzles your nose before smirking, “there, now we're even.”

A surprised and delighted giggle escapes your lips, holding onto his wrists even tighter, filing away every second of this that you can before the moment is over. But Dieter was always full of surprises.

“And if you'll let me, I'd very much like to do that again. Maybe later, after dinner?”

You can’t stop the goofy grin spreading across your face as you respond.

“I think we could work something out.”

Thank you to anyone who reads this, comments and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated. I'm just happy there's someone out there who might enjoy the things I have to say ❤️

tagging some Dieter moots (no pressure to read or reblog obvi): @sp00kymulderr @perotovar @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @yopossum @whatsnewalycat @kedsandtubesocks @whocaresstillthelouvre @pedrostories @beefrobeefcal @seventeenpins @ozarkthedog @pedrit0-pascalit0

#this took me way too long to write #but i think i'm finally happy with it #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #SummerLovin24 #writing challenge entries

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merbear25 · 5 days ago

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Hurt (Caesar)

a/n: I've been in a really bad mood and need an outlet.

CW: angst, some fluff, argument and resolution, toxic relationship, depressive thoughts

“Why can’t you just—” Blood boiling and turning his face shades of red, the swirling rage and frustration clouded his better judgement.

“Just what? Just be normal?” You baited him into admitting what you feared. Your throat swelled around the lump that felt like it was getting bigger and drier.

He sneered at you and straightened his posture. Staring down the bridge of his nose at the riled up ball of flaring emotion. He just wanted to make you hurt. “Oh, I know I’d be asking the impossible if I wanted you to be ‘normal’. A broken person who plays chameleon all to be accepted and loved.” A deceptive smile stretched across his face. “But you never find it, do you?”

Your lip quivered, while he tore at your insecurities and exposed your fearful and weakened heart. The implication that you hadn’t even found that in the one you called your partner threatened the onset of tears. “You’re a cruel man.”

His breathing deepened, his eyes bore into your vulnerable heart, and his frown was etching into his face: the whole world saw him as cruel. You were the only one to ever look past that. Acting on impulse, he grabbed you by the arm and forcibly pulled you closer. Try as you may, your struggle to break free was in vain.

“Get off me!” You screamed and clawed at his hand.

He tightened his grip as the flames of anger fueled his actions. Suddenly, he hoisted you up, completely ignoring the pain he was inflicting both physically and emotionally. “You’ll always be a miserable excuse for a human.” His words spat on your face like venom. “Broken. Unwanted. Unloved.” Your efforts at breaking free from the oppressive grasp weren’t wavering. When tied with your refusal to make eye contact, he shook you to demand a reaction. “Look at me!”

With such intense tides of emotion drowning the both of you, the heights they brought you to could only lead to a massive drop. “No! Just leave me alone!” The cracking in your voice had little effect on him.

“Is that what you want? Hm? To be left alone until your sad life has reached an end?” Chest rising and falling, his hot breath bathing your neck, his gaze trying to force its way into the depths of your soul: to him it felt like he could never truly know you, and it made him feel like a fool for thinking he could.

Your sobs made your words incoherent.

“What?” He yanked you closer.

“What difference would it make if I’m already alone?”

He tsked at that. “You know what your biggest problem is? It’s that you’ve made it impossible to get to you. That’s why you feel lonely. That’s why they don’t love you.”

“Because I know they won’t. I know they’ll never care because every time I try, I’m rejected for who I am.” The warm tears rolling down your cheeks dropped to the floor. “It shouldn’t be this hard… I just want to be normal.”

Watching each of those little cries for help fall from you, his gaze didn’t shift, in spite of the confliction he was combating. “You’re not normal. You will never be normal. Because normal isn’t who you are. The sooner you come to terms with that…” He trailed off, not really sure how to end his sentence. “Well, maybe you’ll be less like a pretend version of yourself.”

You wiped your face with your hand, smearing the salty residue across your flushed cheek. The fight you were putting up subsided, and he lowered you down and finally let go of your arm. Rubbing the tender area, you timidly looked towards him. It wasn’t easy for you to read him either. He was a man of many masks, after all. The expression staring back at you could be a representation of many things: of harboring resentment, of an attempt to gauge your next move, suspicion, or even a want to hold you. Even still, he cautiously moved towards you. When you didn’t reject him, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to a place where you could rest. It was a form of a peace offering in a way: not with words, strictly action.

When he laid you down on the inviting silk sheets, you turned towards him. “Will you stay with me?”

The question caught him a little off guard given the circumstances. He assumed you would’ve preferred being alone to collect yourself. “Sure.” Crawling in next to you, he got the sense that you simply craved connection at that moment. It was obvious with how you scooted close to him.

He wrapped his arms around you and cradled you against him. There were whirlwinds like this when it came to you - a whiplash, even - and yet, he couldn’t help getting caught up in all of it. You were a sweet fragile thing that just wanted to be cared about and loved. Even after these flare-ups in the relationship, you sought him out for comfort, and he gave it to you.

Thumps against his chest reminded him of how much of an effect you had on him. Whether it was positive or negative, you got his heart pumping in a way so few did. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against the top of your head. When you cuddled closer to his chest, he knew he’d become addicted to this wave. The highs and lows, each time they came to a halt they ended with this kind of embrace. He never wanted to let that go, no matter how many times he might say he did.

“I’ll stay with you,” he whispered to himself.

#one piece #caesar clown #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #op #one piece x you #one piece caesar clown #caesar clown one piece #caesar clown x reader #one piece angst #angst #one piece fluff #toxic relationship #one piece fanfiction #op x reader #op x you

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lovemybluebully · 10 months ago

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Masterlist

Thought maybe I oughta make one of these pinned posts so people can find my fics easier. 😁 They are all tickle fics btw so if you don't like that kind of thing then this is not the blog for you. lol They are of the SFW variety though.

Currently obsessed with Deadpool and Wolverine.

Just gonna list my new DP/W fics here below the cut and then put a link to the page with all my other fics. 😎

Listing newest fics at the top here.

The Therapy of Gravity (And Giggles) - IN PROGRESS FIC! PART TWO POSTED ON 6/20/25! Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Morning Kisses - Logan wakes up in a bad mood so Wade enacts a softer way to rouse him and in turn put a smile on his face. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Hits Different - Wade gets Logan to see what good touch is all about and Logan ends up showing Wade just how much he appreciates it. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Was That A Snort? - To get some payback Wade attacks Logan with tickles and is beyond amused by the sounds he manages to get out of him while the whole experience ends up putting Logan's head in a better place. 💗 Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Santa Always Comes Through - Logan's nightmares of his past are keeping him from getting any sleep, so Wade comes up with the perfect Christmas gift for him. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Feels Like Home - Logan has become downcast about the prospect of moving into a new apartment. Wade offers a foot massage to help him destress and.....You already know where this is going. 🤣 Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

All Hail Queen Bea! - After a comment from Logan induces some ticklish consequences, Wade finally gets the confirmation about his friend that he suspected all along. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Wakey Wakey - Wade gets Logan out of bed in the best way possible. 🤭 Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

It's For Science - Wade gets it into his head that maybe not all humans have the same number of rib bones. His logic being that since Logan has a shorter body then he may be an exception. Unfortunately for Logan this is far too ticklish of an experiment for him to bear. A small bit of ticklish!deadpool at the end too. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Over My Dead Body - Logan just wants to watch the game, but Wade can’t help but mess with him and discovers he’s ticklish in the process. Logan is pissed at first, but eventually comes to terms with the benefits and has a life altering epiphany. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

A Small Lapse of Judgement - Logan is adjusting to his new residence in Wade’s apartment. And that includes enduring his countless tickle attacks against him. But then Wolvie decides it’s time for a little payback. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

How To Pet a Wolverine - Wade makes an irresistible discovery about Logan during their brawl inside the van. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Here's the drawing I did of Wade tickling Logan. 🤭 I have other tickle art I've posted on here if you look hard enough. lol

And the other one I did here of Wade giving Logan ticklish raspberries to his tummy. Heheh, he likes it. 😊

And below is the link to the rest of my fics. All SFW. Mind you some of them are around 10 years old and may not be written that great so proceed at your own risk. lol I mainly wrote for the cartoon/comic versions of X-men (99% being Wolverine lol I love him 🥰), Venom, Punisher and The Wolf Among Us. Got one random Overwatch story in there too.

Tickle Fics Here! All fluffy, SFW stuff.

I have a Deviantart account as well but warning that there is some NSFW stuff I've posted on there over the years. I am an adult woman and do find tickling to be a kink in very specific situations. 90% I don't though, and I just enjoy tickling as a cute, fun, bonding activity between friends and lovers. I'm not gonna link my DA here. If you're interested, I'm sure you'll be able to find it.

#tickle fics #masterlist #sfwtickles #deadpool and wolverine #ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #ticklish!deadpool #ticklish!wade #deadpool tickle #wolverine tickle #poolverine

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squidthusiast · 6 months ago

Note

can I ask how you learned to render as beautifully as you do? I've been trying to learn how to apply colors for a long while and nothing seems to stick;;

Heya Anon :)

Awh shucks! you think I render beautifully? I’m so touched💖

Rendering, painting & color theory have been a bit of a special interest of mine for a while, so i’d be more than happy to explain & give some pointers!

If there’s a specific piece of mine that made you inquire, feel free to mention it in another ask too. I love showing my thought process and workflow c:

I’ll put the rest of the ask under the cut to minimize clutter meanwhile.

I learnt to render both through self-taught methods and during my college art degree (though quite honestly, not much that I didn’t already know or learn by myself).

Rendering in digital painting/illustration is a process that compounds various areas of knowledge. The main ones that come to mind and of which i’ll talk about are the following:

* Values

* Color Theory

* Light & Shadows

* Edge Control

Having a solid grasp on these fundamentals will greatly strengthen your ability to render and understand how other artists tackle their pieces as well.

Values

I always love to start by talking to people about values. It’s something that I don’t always see beginners learn about, yet it’s one of the main things that makes or breaks an art piece.

Values allow you to control & direct the following: Composition, Contrast, Focal Point, Colors, Distance, Mood, etc.!

So what are Values? In short, they’re the range between light and dark when it comes to both neutral greys and colors.

A handy resource to understand this is the Munsell Color System:

Hue refers to the different Colors on the wheel. Chroma is the purity (strength vs weakness) of a color. Finally, Value refers to the lightness or darkness.

Different colors have different chromatic values; that is, how a pure color appears in a greyscale format.

A 100% red will always be at around 50% grey. With this knowledge, we know that we can’t get a pure bleeding red if we were to paint a light shade of white. It would be more pink than red.

Color Theory

Okay, so we know of values, now what?

Color Theory can seem intimidating, but it shouldn’t be!

Colors have a harmony, a flow. They talk to each other, and once you learn to listen to them you can start creating wonderful conversations.

The following are things I take into account when I am thinking theory:

-Color Harmonies (complementary, triadic, monochromatic combinations, etc);

-Warm & Cool Colors;

-Color Psychology (what moods can be conveyed through color?).

-Color Relativity (how a color is affected by other surrounding colors)

I think the best advice I can give when it comes to studying and applying color (once you have a general grasp of the fundamentals listed above) is to analyze art pieces that you love.

“What attracts you to it? Why do you think it works? What does it communicate in terms of colors? Are there fundamentals that the artist applies (OR breaks?) in this piece?” etc.!

Light and Shadows

So there’s values, there’s color.

Light and Shadows could be confused with Values (black and white right?), but in this case we’re actually talking about lighting!

Values are specifically related to the range between black and white AND the lightness/darkness of a color (chromatic value).

Our eyes perceive volume through contrast, lighting and shadows first and foremost.

Understanding the terminology of light and shadows will give you a fantastic set of tools to ground your drawings in reality, and give it volume regardless of whether it has cartoony proportions or not.

There is one thing I want to also mention: it is important to know about light terminology, but it’s equally important to understand how light affects different materials.

The following terms are great elements to keep in mind if you wish to accurately render different sorts of objects (it’s a non-exhaustive list by any means, but a good start)

- Types of Light (soft, hard);

- Light Decay;

- Specularity;

- Roughness;

- Translucency;

- 1-2-3 value read

This leads us to my final note…

Edge Control

This last topic is more-so a bonus, but i’ve found it really brings a painting to another level when you know how to use it. Knowing how to control your edges will help you better define 3D volumes in your pieces without needing to use lines.

We typically have three types of edges in painting: Hard edge, Soft edge, and Lost edge.

I won’t talk about the last one because I’m still researching and practicing it, but let’s look at the other two:

Hard Edges are typically used when there is a sharp change between two planes.

Soft Edges are the more gradual transition, typically on a smoother surface like a sphere or a soft slope.

Notice how different both examples feel?

Organic shapes like bodies are full of hard and soft edges because of the smoothness of skin and fat, coupled with the harder edges of bones and muscles.

Try to pay attention to this, both in real life subjects and in art pieces. You’ll be surprised to find the variety of edges there are in all sorts of objects and living forms. It takes practice and observation, but it’s definitely feasible to learn.

Resources:

GENERAL STUFF

Marco Bucci (he covers most of what I talk about here & more, huge rec!)

Arne Niklas Jansson - (I stumbled upon this one by accident, it’s old but gold)

Values:

Yuming Li (in general)

Bonekrishna/ Roberto Ribeiro Padula

Anthony Jones (his ‘painting like a sculptor’ video is one of my favs)

Marco Bucci (seriously this guy has solid videos)

Orenjikun - (his reels and video tutorials are so insightful)

Color Theory:

Slawek Fedorczuk

Justin Oaksford

Eyecager

James Gurney blog (+ his book Color & Light)

H3m0cyt3 (A fun way to harmonize color palettes)

Iniro/Eskbl (I own this pdf, it’s best used when you apply each concept in your own exercises)

Lighting Mentor (really good vid about color relativity)

Light and Shadow:

How to Render- The Fundamentals of Light, Shadow and Reflectivity [BOOK] - Scott Robertson

(I think this is the most solid resource you can have if you’re serious about studying this subject)

Color and Light - James Gurney [BOOK] (this one’s a classic)

Proko (if i’m not mistaken, he has some videos that tackle this subject)

Edge Control

Thomas Mahon (he has one or two tutorials that touch on this)

Anthony Jones (even just watching his process videos on youtube helps)

Sinix

Unfortunately it’s somewhat hard to find more resources for this section :(

———

I hope this helps with your question! If anyone has other good resources feel free to link them as well :)

This is just what I can think of for now :P

#i’ve been working on this ask for so long lol #i’m just gonna post this here and if ever there’s updates i’ll add a post #I hope this is useful anon! thanks for the question :)#i’ve been quiet here cause i’m working on my uni portfolio rip #see y’all once that’s done #with a sporadic update here & there #not off the hook #squid asks

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shyfoxsky · 7 months ago

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Photo Credits: Jim Cumming, Aline Bedard, Brian Hall, Ron Gallagher, David Burt, Jake Putnam, Megan Lorenz, Anne Dorcas

If you've been following this blog for more than a couple of weeks, then this post will come as no surprise to you. I've been using tags and writing posts as if I've already confirmed the red fox as a theriotype, but that actually isn't the case. I really wanted to wait and give myself time to determine if this was a cameo coming back or potentially the season affecting how I feel, but it's been three months, I've graduated college, and now that it's my awakening anniversary, the same day I first confirmed this species nine years later, I feel it's time to officially announce.

I've spent some time to myself, really looking into my identity and who I am over the course of my final college semester, and I feel like my therian birthday/awakening anniversary just after my graduation from college is a good time to graduate from my state of questioning. I've done some in-depth research on therian terminology as well as watched and tracked my shifts, my moods, my days, and more, and through that I've come to a conclusion.

Foxes are my theriotype and wolves are a heartedtype, alongside horses. I used to consider vultures, bats, and even marine mammals to be the same, but with some time to really look into the term itself and the experiences of other otherhearteds, I realize they're simply animals I like and relate to and have had some influence in my life. I've found horses to fit under the heartedtype label due to the longevity and intensity of their influence on my life, as they've done so since I was a small child, and my connection with them, and wolves are similar. Otherhearted people have described their heartedtypes as just shy of theriotypes, something they felt like they almost were, something they longed to be, something they 'ought to be, but aren't. Many describe seeing themselves in their heartedtypes, thinking like them, even having shifts. Many said that they feel more deeply and strongly about them than they do their own theriotypes, and though I could say that's how I feel with foxes, it honestly fits wolves better. Though I feel they look like me, they don't feel like me more than foxes. My behaviors, vocalizations, and just general feelings all point to me being a fox, but not a wolf.

Wolves are a recent thing, red wolves in particular being discovered by me in college, just before I first questioned them. In college, I had to be in friend groups for my own human social needs, and I think that caused me to think of myself as more social than I really am. In my final semester, I wasn't in any groups, I barely attended clubs, most of my time was spent by myself in my dorm working on my thesis with my mate as one of the only people I talked to at all, and that's when I started seeing myself as a fox again. My life became wrapped around wolves as I prepared for my thesis, and I think that deep appreciation and connection for the species led my brain to becoming confused as to what I am. I think that earlier in the year, when I said I might consider myself a wolf because I want to be one and have it easier in the community and be seen as cooler and more powerful, I was right. I never really thought of myself as a wolf when I was younger, even when I knew less about myself and both wolves and foxes and I was aware of them and their ability to be red-furred and enjoy water, whereas with foxes, there was no question that I was one when I first awakened. I just always knew, but it was never the same when it came to wolves. I love wolves, they're amazing animals, but they just aren't me. I don't see myself in how they act, how they live. From sociality to vocalizations to especially body features like the tail, they get trumped by foxes.

Otherheartedness has been something I've struggled to comprehend for some time. I've struggled with finding that line between an animal I like and one I'm connected to and one I identify as. It's like looking at a blonde as a ginger. I identify with them, we both have light hair, but I can't put myself under their specific label, because though we are similar, I don't have the same feelings and experiences as them. It's an inconsequential thing, but if someone were to say I was blonde, I'd feel they were wrong, because I know myself to be a ginger, even though I wouldn't mind or care if I was blonde. I feel similarly with wolves. I can see myself as one, I can look at one and think "that looks like me", I am a canine like them, but I'm not one myself, I don't have the same feelings and experiences as them, and I can't ignore that fact anymore. My friends, family, even my mate all can see the fox that I am, so much that even those who don't know I'm an animal consider me to be like one. I rarely get that with wolves unless I make it obvious, to the point that my mate has made sure to ask me and clarify that yes, I do see myself in wolves and consider them part of my therianthropy.

Of course, this is something I've honestly known for a few months now, since September, but with four years identifying as each species, I really wanted to take my time with my questioning. I didn't want to just give into my rose-colored nostalgia goggles and drop one label for the other because it had been my theriotype before or because it had been my theriotype for so long. I think that was the right choice for me, waiting. I also think I was right in getting off Instagram for this. That's where most of my therian journey has been, some posts dating back to 2018, before I even knew red wolves existed, and while I love that side of the community, I've made some genuine friends on there, it's addicting to post as often as you can with big, grand essays about your identity, especially when it comes to questioning and confirming and having some news to share, rather than little side posts whenever you feel the need to post about anything you want. In that way, I think I prefer Tumblr. Not only do I not really waste anything by posting something small three times a day about how I'm feeling and what shifts I've had, but it's not a numbers game. I don't have hundreds of followers to write super eloquently for. I love my essays, just take a look at this post, but it's nice to be able to go back to my roots and embrace my younger self, the little kit who told everyone how she had a super fun mental shift and of her new tail and about the epiphany she had that morning at breakfast. The switch helped me reconnect with the part of me that first awakened and knew without hesitation that she was a red fox. I've missed her, and I hope that if she could see me now, she'd think I'm everything she wants to be when she gets older.

That leaves me with one conclusion; I am a red fox, just like I thought and said back when I first awakened. They are so very near and dear to me, and I have a deep, rich, and complex history with them. The universe, fate, whatever you call it, has put them in my life for years. From the first time I ever saw wildlife other than a squirrel or backyard bird, to my awakening, to when my mate immediately guessed I was one when I told him about therianthropy, they've always been there. Wolves are one of my favorite animals, the defining animal of my college years, the species I dedicated my senior thesis to, and they have had a big impact on my life, but they are not what I am. I share certain behaviors with them, but I believe they more than likely only feel like me because they are so alike the human world and body and mind I was born into. It's easy to behave similarly to them when we share the same nuclear family, dispersal style, socialization behaviors, and body types. Foxes are so different from humans, and I think that as I learned how to hide my animality and assimilate into human society, especially in college when friend groups feel the most like temporary dispersal wolf packs, I forgot just how different my natural instincts are from humans. I am a solitary, red-furred, water-loving, forest-dwelling, little hunter.

TL;DR I am a red fox therian who is otherhearted to wolves and horses.

#therian #therianthropy #alterhuman #alterhumanity #fox therian #fox theriotype #foxkin #red fox therian #red fox theriotype #red foxkin #wolfhearted #wolfkith #horsehearted #horsekith #theriotype #kintype #heartedtype

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aristenfromwarsaw · 8 months ago

Text

Because of you...

This is my first fanfic I've ever written. 💜 I guess it's not the best fanfic in the world, but you have to start somewhere 😃. Since I had this scene in my head for a long time, I decided to put it down on paper. If there are any grammatical or construction errors, please let me know - English is not my native language, so I could have made a stupid mistake somewhere 🙈.

💜 Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Aristen ~ Redemption Dark Urge ~ High Elf ~ Sorcery ~ Storm Sorcery.)

💜 Summary: the action takes place after the events of the game. Aristen and Astarion live in Baldur's Gate and help rebuild it. Astarion now finds it easier to talk about his feelings with Aristen, and they both get used to life on their own terms. However, even though Aristen is free from Bhaal, she feels great remorse for what she has done when she was under her father's control. Aristen can't deal with it and bad thoughts start to overwhelm her and finally her emotions explode.

💜 Content/tags: romance, deep love, feeling of guilt, trauma, suicide attempt.

💜 Word count: 1 154.

It was a warm and quiet evening when Aristen was sitting in an armchair and reading a book. Or rather, she tried to read. The elf had been having a bad time for a few days, she was constantly thinking about what she had done when she was under the influence of her murderous father. The sorcerer also was very afraid that one day Bhaal would come back and take her under his care again. Because why wouldn't he come back, gods are eternal. And if he comes back, he'll probably hunting for his demigoddess daughter. Unfortunately she hiding her bad mood from her lover, which made her feel even worse. But Aristen just wanted to see by her beloved as a strong and confident woman, not an elf damaged by her own past. She also didn't want to burden her lover with her problems when he himself was struggling with his own trauma.

Suddenly Aristen was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of a key turning in the lock. The woman walked to the door and greeted the person who entered the house with a kiss - of course it was Astarion, the only person in the world who understood her so well.

- “Hello Darling” - Astarion said with big smile of his face.

- “Hi Love, would you like some of that wine you brought yesterday, it's delicious” - Aristen asked while pretending that everything is fine with her.

- “Of course, how could I refuse?”- the pale elf replied in his sweet voice.

- “By the way, I heard that they are going to build a monument with our likenesses for saving the city. No wonder, who wouldn't want to have a statue with so beautiful vampire in their city ? ” - he added.

Immediately Astarion heard the sound of breaking glass when he hung his coat on the hanger. He quickly looked towards his love and was terrified. Aristen stood among the broken glass and was shaking. Her magic began to live according to its own will. Electric sparks swirled around her.

- “Do these people even realize who is responsible for all this !? ” - Aristen started screaming. - “It's me! I am responsible for all this chaos, I am responsible for the death of a hundred. The city should hate me, the inhabitants should come to me with torches and weapons, not treat me like a hero ! I'm just repairing what I've broken, nothing more ! I hate myself and I not a hero ! ”- the women started crying and shouting.

-“Darling, please try to calm your magic. I can't even come close to you and talk with you calmly. ” - said the pale elf with care in his voice. ”

Astarion's voice, always full of love and care, was the only thing that could calm down Aristen. Slowly, her magic returned to full control. As soon as the sparks stopped swirling around the woman, Astarion quickly come to his lover and hugged her.

- “My Love, I didn't know that you suffer so much because of your past. Why didn't you tell me about it? ” - Astarion asked, almost whispering.

- “I didn't want to worry you, you have your own traumas. I also want you to see me as a brave and confident woman, not a victim of my own actions. ” - the sorcerer replied still shaking and continuing to cry into Astarion's chest.

- “Oh Aristen, I see you as a brave and self-confident woman, with or without your traumas, crying or laughing. And you're not a monster. How can a person with a heart like yours call themselves that? For me and other people you are an angel, not a demon. And when you committed your crimes, it was not my Aristen, but her father. And please don't hide such things. If you are having a bad day and want to talk, cry or just hug, come to me, I will always be here for you my Love.” - Astarion said in a soothing and calm voice and hugged her even tighter.

After a few minutes of holding Aristen hardly in his arms the vampire felt that his beloved calmed down. She stopped shaking and the crying subsided slightly.

- “Honey, I want... I want to tell you something else.” -Aristen said quietly.

- “I'm all pointy ears, my Love.” - he whispered in her ear.

The sorcerer didn't want to talk about the incident that happened a few days ago, she was supposed to keep silent about it forever. But she felt so safe in vampire's arms that she decided she had to finally let it out.

- “A few days ago, when I was home alone I had a really bad day. Thoughts of what I had done as Dark Urge still haunted me. At some point I thought about taking a knife... and ... ending it... you know what I mean.” - women said, gripping Astarion's shirts tighter in her hands.

- “By the Gods, Aristen....” - the man replied with fear in his voice.

- “But I didn't do it...because...because of you... I... I know I don't deserve you... your love... any love for what I've done. But... but I love you so much and this feeling between us... and... and... I don't want to lose it... It's the only thing that gives me a gleam of hope that it will get better with time... And... I just don't want to destroy this... this beautiful feeling that connects us... And I don't want you to be alone in this crazy world... So don't worry, I will never do it. ”- Aristen said quietly.

Astarion didn't know what to say. He was the one who thought he didn't deserve such a beautiful and good person as Aristen. After all, he saw how men looked at her, she could have had almost anyone, but she chose him. The damaged elf who could only give her his own traumas. The pale elf admits she deserved a better man, but he loved this woman too much to leave her. She was his friend, his lover, his savior.

After a few minutes of silence, Astarion took her head in his hands and looked deep into hers bright blue-turquoise eyes.

- “Darling, please, don't talk about yourself like that. If anything, I'm not worthy of you. You are such an incredible person and you deserve all the best, not the traumatized vampire. But I guess love is blind... or strange. And please remember what I said earlier, I will always be there for you. You should always tell me if you feel worse... remember, always.” - the Astarion said.

- “I promise you that... I'm sorry” - the elf replied crying again, cuddling into pal elf.

And the silence fell, broken sometimes by Aristen's soft crying...

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castlebyersafterdark · 5 months ago

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there's some really interesting answers in noah's german con about filmmaking in general, he spoke about the order of his average day on set and i was so happy to hear him talking about blocking! so they get into hair costume etc arrive on set then they rehearse the scenes and block them and decide that on the day, then they go back to their chair (enter bananagrams) and the cameras set up for the blocking they chose, and then they go and shoot.

i couldnt stop thinking about the scene in the bedroom with will's butt facing mike hahaha, and noah or finn suggesting this on the day! he said that its common for him to suggest ideas like this as they block and that the duffers are very trusting and happy for them to improv lines as well as give ideas about what their characters would do in terms of how to frame a scene. trust!

and he also said how almost every scene in s5 did not turn out how he expected - he has an idea of everything in his head and how it'll go, and then it always turns out differently and crazy! so interesting. that's acting + reacting for you! but nice to hear him talk the creative process (from this video, no timestamp cos it's instagram so you cant fast forward tho)

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DFh1c1SIa-F/?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ%3D%3D

(Can yall believe I'm finally just now getting to watch this? That's how behind I am with things 🤭) Thoughts as I watch:

Off the bat and I know it's true - the way he refers to fans as meeting them, remembering them from online, and even "seeing familiar faces" again after being at that con for the last time when he was 13? And how I don't doubt at all that he genuinely does remember some people. He's so sincere and sweet. That's more than I'd expect for an actor. Something you can never take from him is his genuine care and value he places on his fans and having fans at all (we all know this can be a slight detriment at times... but he's just. Sweet.)

Saying that there are big sequences that use music and on set, even though that's added in post - they played it during filming to evoke a mood. And he can't say. Of course, we know music is integral to the show, but it's pretty hype knowing there will be big music moments again - love it or weary of it, I personally at this point really love everything they did with Running Up That Hill and I've heard the DB say you can't force a cultural phenomenon like that and it's not like they're trying to capture lighting twice - but you gotta wonder what they're gonna do. The fact that a bunch of 80s musicians were asking to have their music in the show 😆 I would love to know who tried to shoot their shot. (Do we all pretty much think Should I Stay or Should I Go is gonna be a huge Will climactic moment? Come on, they set that up. Imagine the song queuing, just the first few notes... then a pointed pause and it's like ahhhhh before some amazing scene. Cheeseball dramatic stuff like that I personally love. Because it's fun! And we shouldn't be afraid to enjoy that sort of thing.)

The fan who delivered the really kind message to him makes me cry by the way 🥲

Ahhh yes. His "favorite moment with Finn on set" and of course it's from season 5. Is his favorite moment with him on set gonna come from the season where Mike rejects Will??? Nahhh because that ain't happening. AND then the way he gets super excitable talking about how he spends the most time on set with Finn, then catches himself like ooooh should I be saying this? I know I'm late to the game and have only read accounts of this but hearing him actually talk about it. Boy is struggling, boy is flustered, boy is giving it all away. He is sooooo flustered. It;s not even spoilers and the fact that he considers it so is sooooo much. "What was the question??" JFC Noah 😝 Literally talk about ANY other season!! You have 4 seasons to talk about filming with Finn and instead he is losing it on stage. Season five is clouding his mind so much he can't focus. (*Inserting Foah agenda here* him unable to talk about favorite moments on set with Finn and none of them are appropriate to share 🤭🤭 Or more innocently, crushing like maaaad.)

Not gonna repeat / rehash all that was said above about a day on set which was one of the more interesting answer segments!!

Had to skip around after a certain point, yall know me and interviews and con panels - this one was better than some I've seen in the past and I think overexposure in the fandom now is making me get less embarrassed about stuff but still... ya know.

Ooooooh the answer at the end about keeping in touch with Millie was kinda awkward? I'd read his quote but watching that was interesting. He spoke fairly positively about filming memories with her before this one but the whole "evaluating how well we are able to keep in touch now that filming is over" was so heavy? He looked a little unsure there. It was odd. I'm not looking to re-poke the bear on that situation, but it was different to watch him speak on that over just reading about him speaking on that.

Also... little guy... so cute...

#Queued #I'm working through the backlog here trust me!!!#A lot happened in a short period of time and the amount of messages I got in a week caused quite the meltdown of timeliness!#In the future I will be more timely but the con weekend and preceeding week was wild!!! I love yall!!!! 😘😘😘#ns

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p-receh · 1 year ago

Text

Since my previous posts talked about elementals. I want to write an essay about them from my perspective and possible theories and headcanon I gathered so far. It might not be accurate so fill me in if you want to add or correct some of it. I love open discussion ^^

I've seen some people thought that in the early season, all elementals had not have characteristics but changed after Halilintar's incident.

Boboiboy's emotions under circumstances not only triggered the true self of available elementals, but it also awakened the other elemental powers as well(hence how the rest 4 were born) like what anon said here.

This is gonna be looooong ted talk so I have to spilt this in two parts!

What I want to talk about is how interesting their character development throughout the series. Starting with the original trio!

(That 3rd picture lasted for a few minutes... I didn't even notice their communication at first. :'()

Their development was that drastic in the youth era. The unstoppable "the fun, the serious and the tough one"(edit: more like, "The Striker, Tacklerer, and The Goal Keeper in soccer terms. Don't ask why I thought about this a lot) which sparks Boboiboy as the hero of Pulau Rintis. But, it's starting to decrease during Galaxy onwards.

I know I know they need to blend with the others as well. (They got most of the screen time in every series after all). I already talked about it here.

(People say this year indirectly the reunion of this trio I guess? Windara and Gentaraju animated arc? ...

but... aaah well... my head's spinning right now >_<)

Halilintar/Thunderstorm.

What more to say about this person? haha, I've already talked about it from anon in the first link I put on before and this one.

But still, from the very first moment he arrived till today, I am almost certain my hypothesis then and now is coming true. Being just created as "the cool, serious" side of Boboiboy, This 'talk less, do slash more' guy unknowingly becomes the tsundere eldest due to his tragic incident.

He is such a supportive person behind that murder mask. Seeing rare moments that he actually cares for others whenever he can is an absolute miracle. God, the season 2 comic and Sori continuingly showed his soft side from youth era. wtf my 12-year-old me is screaming right now! aaarghh! :3

(But that face in ep 5 when he's strangled lmaooooo X'D)

Taufan/Cyclone

One of my favorite things that I know about him is he enjoys whenever he's out. He truly loves all the thrilling fights, if not get the vibe, he instantly goes into a bad mood. Every poster I saw about him, always with his smile and never faded. That's why I was shocked when I saw his decision in Windara's arc. Finally, the man he always wanted to be, bravely giving it all in one v one fight. I'm so proud of him! T^T

His easygoing attitude reminds me of a certain hedgehog I knew hehe...both resemble the wind itself right? :] (I need to draw them in June)

Leading the Troublemaker trio is always fun to watch. And the fact that he looks at Hali as his role model is really cute! Despite him and Hali being the first two elements who had civil fights before, a bit sad these two are independent on their own from Galaxy onwards :'(

Gempa/Quake

Gempa got me confirmation that he is the leader of the elementals from the very first fight till now. I can see why he has the closest resemblance to Boboiboy himself (hence the hat position :] ).

To be fair, Gempa is the only elemental that I see no difference with Boboiboy. And with being one of the strongest elementals(with embedded two giant stone hands), he sure is a low-profile person and easily blends with other elementals. Now I know why he gets the title "Mama Gempa". He is unknowingly taking too much care of every elementals like a family ^^)' .

Even tho he's the last power to be introduced(in this trio) and sometimes people see him as a lone wolf in the group, he's natural at giving orders. The others actually listen to him and get scolded if they messed up! Like how parents do! X'D

How about the Temper Duo?

(Why monsta didn't put this dialog to Sori? :''(( )

How fitting the theme song of movie 2 titled Fire and water as well? Hehe.

Being the first two powers to be fused(the coolest name, "Frostfire" :} ), these two are what most people like to call "The polar opposites". The ones that used two hoodies in the youth era(except now only Ice wears it), the ones that had back-to-back introductions (exactly after Fire arrived, water showed up in the next episode, Galaxy season 1 also showcased the exact same pattern), the only two powers survived in movie 2, and even their own original masters lived in the same planet.

I'd say if these elementals do be brothers, these two were most likely born twins. (I know I may be late to this headcanon but hey why not? :/)

Blaze

The gremlin boi who got more screentime in sori than his partner. I absolutely adore this boy in Galaxy onwards. His wild and reckless traits are always the main attraction whenever I watch his combat style. I still think since season 3 and movie 1 He should've gotten a brass knuckle type as a weapon than the fire disc. He's a close combat brawler, right?

Anyway, he might be the one who hasn't changed much since his youth until now. In fact, I'd say he is a pretty consistent character from the start. Only gets wilder and cheekier to his fellow elementals tehee~. But that's the beauty of having a friend like Blaze. If done right, Blaze could shock you with his kindness and care deeply for others. Just like how he did with Duri once he accidentally broke Duri's plant in one of Boboiboy's official posts. (Sori ep 3 and comic made my day lmao)

Ais/Ice

If I can relate to one elemental, I choose Ice. He likes to eat yet is frightened to get fat like he did in his youth era; a very sleepy person; also an introverted person but he is confident when surrounded by his closest circle. And most of my friends are usually the Blaze type. So I can understand how to handle that person ^^)'

Ehem. Ice's first tier, Air/Water, got me confused at first. Mainly how he summons his power. Somehow Ice fixed that issue. Making his right arm purely made of ice is genius. My headcanon is every weapon or power he uses comes from his right arm. His cannon comes from his right arm, the same as the bow & arrow one. Even so, many scenes contradict that(Boboiboy is an ambidextrous guy).

Can I say I'm glad from Galaxy onwards he's a bit more open than in his youth era or just me? This doesn't count during the transition mode. All I see now is that he showed more emotions than Hali. (Also whoever decided Ice's tears become snowflakes, I salute you sir)

Last but not least! The Photosynthesis duo!

(I talk about this scene before but holy shit this scene is always mesmerizing to watch)

Duri and Solar were also made me adore them if not because of season 2 & Sori. Okay, I have to confess first to avoid misconception:

I was disappointed when Duri and Solar showed up in movie 1.

My selfish youth still took some time to get used to with Fire and Water in season 3. And all I think was negative reactions when Duri and Solar showed up. That's... also the reason why I went on hiatus.

Luckily, hence the word "was" I put it there.

I'm very grateful that they reset his watch back to start, so then they can at least make a proper debut with both Duri and Solar in Galaxy series. I much prefer that method. (That last episode was truly huge, I'm shocked they went that grand)

Therefore, Sori could continue to make the audience know better about these two! Pretty creative I'd say! I can see why the last three episodes are fan favorites. Me personally love eps 5 & 6.

Duri/Thorn

The most unique symbol to draw to, Duri truly shines in galaxy 2 comic and Sori. His debut in galaxy 1--oh wait, in Eid Fitri's short video after movie 1 made me confused with Taufan at first. Even though he's got more screen time than Solar, Duri still surprised people with the recent series. Who knew his childish and clumsy features could do unverbal damage to enemies by his words? Count me in! He might not do that to his friends and families, but he will delightedly do so with Solar :D

And thanks to Sori, I can now differentiate between Taufan and Duri more clearly. His design in Sori especially the last three is my fav. I love what Monsta did the effects on his arms. Since he doesn't has a signature weapon, they create a 2D flash-winded green leaf around his arm like a coil. That is a very cute detail for Duri.

A bit surprised when every elemental went to serious mode in Windara's arc, only Duri still managed to find fun in the battle. Heck even Taufan dropped his smile during that.

Solar

Being the trump card of the group, I can see why he is the last elemental to be introduced, both in movie 1 and galaxy series. The hardest one to obtain his 2nd tier that requires proper research and pure luck, Solar's traits are also what makes him interesting. To be honest I didn't expect his characteristic to be like this, at all. And somehow very matched with his design and attack as well. Every aspect is strangely in synch I'm astonished. (Adding a visor to his 2nd tier is uhh *chef's kiss B=) )

Also, I love that his attacks use his finger that's also kinda easter egg of the famous "Ray Gun!" shot attack from Yu Yu Hakusho(look it up, there's a live-action ver if you want to know the short ver of the series. The anime itself is legendary to all weebs out there).

Regardless of his limited screentime in every series. I'm very much grateful Monsta treats him equally. His timing in Sori is exceptional and his popularization bursting successfully. My only hope he didn't get cut in Windara and let all elementals showed up. When was the last time Boboiboy did that without splitting to 7?....

... Well if you count heptasplit part, the last time he did that was in Movie 1. That's 9 years ago.

Now we're done here? Nice! Onto the theory part in reblog!

#boboiboy #boboiboy galaxy #bbbg #bbbglxs2 #I want to make gif but my laptop and phone couldn't keep up anymore #Rip my files...#I'm not done yet!

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