#and have someone else tell me to exercise more. i don't know how to fit that into my life.

[hylianengineer]

Why do my joints hurt what did i do? I haven't done anything weird lately! (Trick question there's never a logical reason.)

[reidmarieprentiss]

Short Shorts & Long Hair

Summary: Spencer does NOT want to go to physical therapy, but the pretty physical therapist might make it not so bad.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x PT fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: injury, suggestive content (16+), alcohol consumption, insecurities, rejection, use of Y/N

Word count: 11.6k

a/n: i went through pt with a huugggeeee crush on my physical therapist ,, wish they were single :(((

main masterlist part two

After Spencer Reid is shot in the thigh during a case, the last thing he wants is to endure the grueling process of physical therapy. The thought of being touched, poked, and prodded by a stranger, let alone being intensely monitored, fills him with dread. Convinced that he can handle the recovery on his own, Spencer drafts a fake doctor’s note claiming he’s fit to perform his own therapy. Unfortunately for him, neither Hotch nor his orthopedic surgeon finds the attempt amusing. Despite his protests, Spencer is left with no choice but to attend physical therapy sessions, which also means being grounded from fieldwork and unable to join his team on cases. 

—

The atmosphere in the room was thick with a tension that only Spencer Reid seemed oblivious to as he sat at his desk, meticulously writing out what could have passed as an official-looking note. His expression was one of deep concentration, brow furrowed in that familiar way as he carefully crafted each word, determined to convince anyone who might read it that he, Dr. Spencer Reid, was fully capable of managing his own recovery. 

"To whom it may concern, Dr. Spencer Reid is fully capable of performing his own physical therapy regimen. As a medical professional and an expert in several fields, he does not require the services of an external physical therapist. Please excuse him from any mandated sessions."

He read over the note once more, satisfied with his work, before folding it neatly and tucking it into an envelope. It was the perfect plan, he thought after all, who knew his body better than he did? He could research the most effective exercises, monitor his own progress, and avoid the discomfort of being intensely scrutinized by someone else. The thought of a stranger's hands on him, manipulating his body and injured leg, made his stomach turn. Spencer was resolute—he could handle this on his own.

But just as he was about to place the envelope on Hotch's desk, ready to hand it over with the casual nonchalance of a doctor delivering a prescription, the door to the office swung open. Aaron Hotchner stepped in, his usual stoic expression firmly in place. He caught sight of the envelope in Spencer's hand and the somewhat guilty look on the younger agent's face.

"Reid," Hotch said, his voice even but with a hint of curiosity, "what's that?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment, knowing full well that Hotch wouldn't be easily convinced by his little stunt. But he decided to try anyway. "It's, um, a note. From me. For me. You see, I don't think I need to go to physical therapy. I’ve written a statement explaining that I can handle my own recovery. It’s all very professional."

Hotch's brow arched slightly as he reached out, taking the envelope from Spencer's hand. He opened it and quickly scanned the contents, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he looked up, meeting Spencer's eyes with a look that was both stern and almost amused.

"Spencer, you can't write your own doctor's notes. And even if you could, this isn’t a joke. Physical therapy is a necessary part of your recovery, and it’s not something you can just skip or handle on your own."

"But, Hotch—" Spencer began, his voice tinged with frustration. "I know what needs to be done. I don’t need someone else to tell me how to stretch or exercise. I can do the research, follow the protocols—"

"That’s not the point," Hotch interrupted, his tone firm. "Physical therapy isn’t just about the exercises. It’s about having a trained professional guide you through the process, ensure you’re doing it correctly, and adjust your treatment as needed. It’s about having someone to push you when you’re too tired or in too much pain to push yourself. You’re not invincible, Spencer."

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but the look in Hotch’s eyes stopped him. There was no room for negotiation. 

"And," Hotch continued, "I know your orthopedic surgeon would agree. I spoke with them earlier today. They were very clear that you need to attend every session if you want to make a full recovery. This isn’t optional."

Spencer felt the weight of Hotch’s words settling over him, heavy and unavoidable. He hated the idea of being in a clinical setting, of being vulnerable in front of someone else, of having to admit that he needed help. But he also knew that Hotch was right. Skipping therapy wasn’t just about avoiding discomfort—it was about jeopardizing his recovery and potentially his career.

"But if I go to therapy, I won’t be able to fly with the team," Spencer said, his voice quieter now, the frustration giving way to a sense of helplessness.

Hotch’s expression softened, just a little. "I know. And I know how hard that is for you. But your health comes first. You’ll still be a part of the team, but you need to take care of yourself. We can handle things in the field until you’re ready to come back."

Spencer nodded, though the idea of being left behind still gnawed at him. He could already imagine the isolation, the endless hours of exercises and stretches, the frustration of not being able to work cases with his team. But there was no getting around it. This was his reality now.

"Alright," Spencer finally said, his voice resigned. "I’ll go to the therapy sessions."

"Good," Hotch replied, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder in a rare gesture of support. "It’s the right decision. And remember, we’re all here for you, no matter what."

Spencer gave a small nod, appreciating the sentiment even as the prospect of therapy loomed over him like a dark cloud. He watched as Hotch left the office, the door clicking softly shut behind him. The room seemed quieter now, and Spencer sat there for a moment, the now-crumpled note still in his hand.

The first session was scheduled for tomorrow morning, and Spencer could already feel the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. He wasn’t ready for this—not physically, not mentally. But it was happening, whether he liked it or not. And as much as he wished he could write himself out of it, this was one situation where even Spencer Reid had to admit that he couldn’t do it all on his own.

—

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains as Spencer reluctantly eyed the outfit his surgeon recommended. Loose-fitting clothes were manageable, but the shorts—revealing his pale, scarred leg—were far from his usual style. They made him feel vulnerable, a stark contrast to the comfort of his usual slacks and cardigans. With a resigned sigh, he slipped into the shorts and a loose t-shirt, feeling exposed.

Crutching out of his apartment, every step reminded him of his injury, amplifying his discomfort. The short drive to the physical therapy center only heightened his anxiety; the building felt more like a fortress than a place of healing.

Once inside, the overly cheerful receptionist bombarded him with questions, each interaction grating on his nerves. Finally, he was led to a private room—a sterile, clinical space that made him feel even more on edge. As he gingerly lowered himself onto the padded table, his leg throbbing slightly, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming session, dreading the inevitable discomfort and the loss of control. The door would open soon, and a stranger would take charge, leaving him with no escape.

At last, a small knock echoed through the room before the door creaked open, revealing a young woman who couldn’t have been older than her mid-20s. Spencer’s breath caught for a moment—she was gorgeous, even in her casual athletic wear, her presence both striking and unexpectedly comforting.

“Hello, Spencer Reid?” you asked with a warm smile that seemed to light up the room. “I’m Dr. Y/L, but you can call me Y/N.”

"Hi, yes, I'm Spencer. Nice to meet you," he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of politeness and underlying nervousness.

"Nice to meet you too, Spencer," you replied with a warm smile as you settled in front of the computer, pulling up his chart. "Let's see... you got shot in the thigh, ouch. How did that happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

Spencer shifted slightly, the memory still fresh. "Uh, no, that's fine. I was chasing an unsub. I work for the FBI."

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh wow! That's cool... and painful. I'm sorry about that."

He gave a small shrug, trying to downplay the severity. "It comes with the job."

"I suppose it does," you said, nodding thoughtfully. "Anyway, let's get some basic info about how you're doing since surgery."

Together, you went through the routine baseline questions, Spencer answering each one with careful honesty. His responses were detailed, though you could sense a certain reluctance in his tone, as if he was holding back from fully engaging in the process.

"And finally, Spencer... what is your mobility like? Can you bend your knee?" you asked, glancing up from the computer to observe his reaction.

"Uh, a little," he replied, his discomfort becoming more evident as your attention shifted to his exposed leg.

"Can you show me, please?" you asked gently, trying to ease the tension.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then slowly bent his knee, his movements tentative. Your eyes followed the motion, taking note of the stiffness and the clear effort it required.

"Okay, good… now, how far can you bend your other knee? In fact, do you mind if I measure? That way, we can compare later down the line to see the progress you're making," you explained, keeping your tone encouraging and professional.

"Mhm, fine," he murmured, giving a small nod of consent.

You moved closer with a measuring tool in hand, your focus entirely on ensuring accuracy. Spencer, on the other hand, felt his cheeks flush slightly under your scrutiny. The vulnerability of the situation, coupled with the physical closeness, made him acutely aware of every small movement. 

"Alright," you said after taking the measurements, offering him a reassuring smile. "We'll track these numbers as we go, and you'll be able to see just how much progress you're making. It might not feel like it now, but you'll get there."

Spencer nodded again, his nerves calming slightly at your supportive demeanor. Despite his initial reluctance, he was starting to see that this process, uncomfortable as it was, might just be what he needed.

"Okay, for today, we don't have to push you too far," you began, your tone gentle yet encouraging. "We'll just start with some easy movements to get a baseline for where you're at. How does that sound?"

"That's fine," Spencer replied, his voice steady, though there was still a hint of tension beneath the surface.

Together, you guided him through a series of basic movements, carefully observing how his injured leg compared to his non-injured one. Spencer followed your instructions with quiet focus, doing his best to move as much as he could without aggravating the injury. As you made your way down the list, you noted the differences in flexibility and strength, mentally preparing a plan for his recovery.

When you reached the last item on your list, you looked up from your notes. "Alright, Spencer, I'd like you to try flexing your quad. This is important because you'll need to be able to engage those muscles when you're ready to start walking again."

"I know," Spencer said, his tone tinged with resignation and a touch of impatience, as if he was more than aware of what was expected of him but still not entirely comfortable with the process.

You nodded, acknowledging his understanding. "Oh, okay, yes, well..." you hesitated for a moment, wanting to ensure his comfort. "Can I put my hand on your leg, Spencer? It'll help me gauge the muscle engagement."

Spencer looked at you for a brief moment, the vulnerability in his eyes evident. But he gave a small nod, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, that's fine."

You placed your hand gently on his leg, just above the injured area, making sure your touch was as light and non-intrusive as possible. "Alright, go ahead and flex for me."

Spencer did as you asked, and you could feel the slight tremor in the muscle as it tried to respond. It was clear that the road ahead would be challenging, but this was a crucial first step. 

"Good job, Spencer," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine encouragement. "This is the start, and we'll take it one step at a time. You'll get there, I promise."

"Thanks," Spencer muttered, his tone clipped but not intentionally rude. He was struggling to keep his frustration in check—not with you, but with the entire process. The vulnerability, the slowness of his progress, it all grated on him. But he couldn’t help but notice how kind and patient you were, never once letting his mood affect your demeanor.

You offered him a gentle smile, recognizing the weariness in his voice. "Alright, what do you say we call it a day?"

"Sounds good," Spencer replied, a bit of relief seeping into his tone. The session had been necessary, he knew that, but it was exhausting in more ways than one.

You helped him settle back into a comfortable position, gathering your notes and preparing to leave. "You did well today, Spencer. It's not easy, but you're making progress, even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

He gave a small nod, appreciating your words even if he didn’t fully believe them yet. As he watched you head for the door, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of gratitude. 

—

The next day, as Spencer made his way into the office, he immediately spotted Aaron Hotchner across the bullpen. Hotch was engaged in a conversation with another agent, but the moment he noticed Spencer, a subtle, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Spencer felt a mild irritation bubble up within him; he could already sense what was coming.

As he approached his desk, Hotch walked over, his expression that infuriating blend of concern and amusement. "Morning, Reid," Hotch greeted, his voice carrying that signature calm authority. "How did your first physical therapy session go?"

Spencer’s eyes narrowed slightly, detecting the faint smugness in Hotch’s tone. "It was… fine," he replied, trying to keep his voice even, though his annoyance was evident. He could tell Hotch was fishing for details, and it was clear that Hotch knew exactly how uncomfortable the whole experience had been for him.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing just a bit. "Just fine? No major complaints?"

Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No major complaints," he echoed, though the look on his face said otherwise.

Hotch nodded, clearly enjoying this a little too much. "Good. Just remember, Reid, it's important to follow through with these sessions. They'll make all the difference in your recovery."

"Yes, I’m aware," Spencer replied, his tone a touch sharper than he intended. He knew Hotch was right, but that didn’t make the process any less frustrating.

Hotch chuckled softly, not unkindly, and gave Spencer a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Hang in there, Spencer. You'll be back to chasing down unsubs in no time."

As Hotch walked away, Spencer let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. He knew Hotch meant well, but that didn’t stop him from being mildly annoyed at the subtle smugness in his boss’s demeanor. It seemed that, for now, Spencer would just have to endure the teasing—along with everything else this recovery was throwing at him.

—

At his next physical therapy session, Spencer walked in with a bit less tension in his shoulders, though he was still undeniably on edge. The familiarity of the setting, coupled with the fact that he knew what to expect, made things slightly easier. But the apprehension hadn’t fully dissipated. There was still the uncomfortable vulnerability that came with each session, the persistent reminder of his injury.

However, without the overwhelming cloud of nerves and frustration that had dominated his first visit, Spencer found himself noticing something different. As you greeted him with that same warm smile, guiding him through the initial check-in process, he couldn’t help but take in just how pretty you were. The realization caught him off guard, stirring a new wave of anxiety that he hadn’t anticipated. 

It wasn’t just your appearance—though that alone was enough to make his pulse quicken—but the way you carried yourself, the gentle confidence in your movements, and the patient way you spoke to him, even when he was less than cooperative. It was disarming, to say the least.

As the session progressed, and you asked him to move through the exercises, Spencer felt his heart rate increase—not just from the physical effort, but from the proximity, the way your hands occasionally brushed against his skin as you guided him. He tried to focus on the mechanics, on the steps you were instructing him through, but his mind kept drifting to the fact that you were so close, your attention entirely on him.

When you gently placed your hand on his leg to help him flex his quad, Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, the warmth of your touch sending a jolt through him. He knew it was purely professional, that you were just doing your job, but it didn’t stop the nervous flutter in his stomach.

“Doing okay, Spencer?” you asked, your voice soft as you glanced up at him, concern flickering in your eyes. You could sense the shift in his demeanor, though you weren’t sure what had caused it.

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered, his voice a little unsteady. “I’m fine.”

You smiled, giving his leg a light pat before continuing with the session. “You’re doing great.”

Spencer nodded, trying to steady his breathing. But the truth was, having your hands and eyes on him, especially now that he was fully aware of how attractive you were, was even more nerve-wracking than the physical exercises themselves. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious, worried that his unease was obvious.

As the session came to a close, Spencer felt a mix of relief and lingering nerves. He knew he’d be back, but the thought of facing these sessions with you—someone who was not only skilled and kind but also strikingly beautiful—added a new layer of complexity to an already difficult process.

—

As the weeks passed, a sense of familiarity began to settle between you and Spencer. It was inevitable, really—spending an hour together every week, working through the same routines, sharing small talk to fill the silence. The initial awkwardness had started to fade, replaced by a growing ease in each other's company. 

Spencer was still nervous around you, but it was a different kind of nervousness now. His crush had developed into something undeniable, and though it made his heart race whenever your hands brushed against him or you smiled in that particular way, he had learned to manage it. He even found himself engaging in playful conversation, something that had felt impossible during those first few sessions.

Today, as you guided him through another set of exercises, the conversation flowed naturally, the rapport between you evident.

“So, Spencer, any big plans this weekend?” you asked, your tone light and casual as you adjusted his leg for the next stretch.

Spencer, who had been concentrating on following your instructions, looked up with a faint smirk. “Yeah, I thought I might go skydiving,” he replied, deadpan, though his eyes twinkled with mischief.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the playful tone. “Hmm, sounds thrilling—and very safe,” you responded, matching his sarcasm.

He chuckled softly, a sound that was becoming more frequent as he grew more comfortable with you. “Yeah, I figured, why not? Might as well add another injury to the list, right?”

“Perfect plan,” you teased, giving his leg a gentle pat as you moved to the next exercise. “Just make sure to tell your orthopedic surgeon first. I’m sure they’ll love the idea.”

Spencer laughed, the tension in his body easing further with each passing moment. “I’m sure they’ll have a lot to say about it. But really, I’ll probably just catch up on some reading. Nothing too exciting.”

“Well, that sounds more like the Spencer I’ve come to know,” you said with a smile. “Anything interesting you’re reading?”

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should share, but your genuine curiosity encouraged him to open up. “Actually, I’ve been revisiting some classic science fiction—Isaac Asimov’s *Foundation* series. It’s been a while, and I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

You nodded, impressed. “That’s a great choice. I’ve always admired Asimov’s ability to weave complex ideas into his stories. You’ll have to let me know what you think when you finish.”

“I will,” Spencer promised, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the session. These moments of connection, however small, were becoming something he looked forward to—a bright spot in what had been a difficult and frustrating process.

As the session wrapped up, Spencer found himself lingering a little longer than usual, reluctant to leave the comfortable rhythm you had developed together. 

—

During one of your sessions, as you guided Spencer through another set of stretches, the conversation drifted into more personal territory. Spencer, his curiosity getting the better of him, asked, "How old are you?"

You couldn’t help but tease him a little, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age?"

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he immediately started to apologize, stumbling over his words. "Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I just thought you looked so young."

You laughed, deciding to let him off the hook. "Why, thank you!" you said, exaggerating your response by pretending to flip your hair over your shoulder. "But I was just teasing, Spencer. I’m no lady," you added with a wink, enjoying the way it made him chuckle.

He relaxed a bit, his laughter easing the moment. "Well, now I’m even more curious."

"Alright, alright," you conceded with a grin. "I’m 26."

Spencer nodded, processing the information with a slight smile. "You’re younger than I thought… but somehow, that makes sense."

"Yeah? And how old did you think I was?" you asked, genuinely curious, your eyes fixed on him as you waited for his response.

Spencer shrugged, his expression thoughtful but with a hint of mischief. "I don’t know, maybe 50?"

You stared at him for a moment, deadpan, before replying with a sarcastic sweetness, "That’s so sweet of you, Spencer. Now tell me, am I supposed to push my thumb directly into your wound or just squeeze around it?"

His eyes widened in mock horror as he quickly backpedaled. "Neither! I’m sorry!" he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "You don’t look 50!"

"Yeah, well, you’re going to after I’m done with you," you shot back, a grin spreading across your face as you leaned in, pretending to consider where to apply pressure.

Spencer laughed, the tension melting away as the playful banter flowed between you. 

—

During another session, you glanced over at Spencer, who was carefully stretching his leg. "Okay, Spencer," you began, your tone encouraging, "let’s see if we can get a little more range of motion in your knee today. How’s it feeling?"

Spencer shrugged slightly. "Stiff, but manageable," he replied. "I’m trying not to overthink it."

You nodded in approval, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Good strategy. Just remember, slow and steady wins the race."

He met your gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I’ll keep that in mind… though I’ve never been very good at pacing myself."

—

Today you greeted him with a warm smile. "How’s the leg holding up today? Ready for some more fun?" you asked, your tone light and encouraging.

Spencer met your gaze with a playful grin, the tension from previous sessions now mostly replaced with a sense of friendship. "If by ‘fun’ you mean more quad exercises, then I can hardly contain my excitement," he quipped, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response, enjoying the banter that had developed between the two of you. "Don’t worry, I’ll make it as enjoyable as possible," you teased back, a mischievous glint in your eye. "We can always spice it up with some trivia."

At that, Spencer’s expression brightened even more. "Trivia? Now you’re speaking my language," he replied, clearly intrigued. "Just don’t go easy on me."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your voice as you responded, "Wouldn’t dream of it. Get ready, Spencer. I hope you’ve been studying."

—

"Alright," you began, today there was a hint of mischief in your voice as you glanced at him . "Let’s see if we can get a little more flexibility out of that knee today. I know it’s your favorite part."

Spencer’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "You’re really starting to understand my love for torture," he quipped, his tone laced with sarcasm, though there was a softness in his expression that suggested he didn’t mind the challenge as much as he pretended to.

You couldn’t help but laugh, playing along with a mock-serious look. "Well, if it helps, I think I’m getting better at dishing it out. But seriously, you’re doing great," you added, your voice turning more sincere as you looked at him, hoping to convey how much progress he had truly made.

Spencer tilted his head, the teasing glint in his eyes growing stronger. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he remarked, clearly enjoying the banter.

With a playful wink, you replied, "I’ll keep that in mind."

—

“Okay, Spencer, this one’s going to be a bit tougher. Ready?” you asked, glancing at him with a hint of challenge in your eyes during this session.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smirk. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” you replied, your smirk matching his. “But I promise, if you make it through this, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Spencer’s other eyebrow joined the first, his interest piqued. “A bribe? How very professional of you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Hey, whatever works. Besides, I know your weakness for good coffee.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. “You’ve been paying attention. I might just have to hold you to that offer.”

“Deal,” you said with a playful wink, moving closer to guide him through the tougher exercises. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got, Dr. Reid.”

—

As Spencer walked into the therapy room for his session, he was greeted with a warm smile and a familiar, teasing tone. "How’s my favorite patient doing today?" you asked, your voice light and welcoming.

Spencer couldn’t help but return the smile, a playful glint in his eye as he replied, "Favorite? I’ll try not to let it go to my head."

You grinned, the banter between you both becoming second nature by now. "You’re lucky you’ve got that charm. Otherwise, I might make you do extra reps."

"I’ll remember that next time I’m tempted to be difficult," Spencer quipped, his tone just as playful, though there was a genuine warmth beneath it.

"Good plan," you said with a nod, before your expression softened slightly. "But seriously, you’re making great progress. Pretty soon, you’ll be back to chasing down unsubs."

Spencer’s smile grew a bit wider, the teasing still evident in his voice as he responded, "And I’ll be sure to tell them all about my excellent physical therapist."

A soft chuckle escaped you, and you met his gaze, your voice gentle as you said, "I’ll be waiting to hear that story."

—

While the team was out on a case, Spencer and Penelope found themselves working together in her Bat Cave, the hum of computers and the click of keys filling the otherwise quiet space. It was a rare moment of calm in their usually hectic lives, and Spencer appreciated the company, even if the work they were doing was still demanding.

“How’s Kevin?” Spencer asked, breaking the silence as he glanced over at Penelope.

Penelope paused for a moment, her fingers hesitating over the keyboard before she responded. “He’s… fine. We haven’t been on a date in a while.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Spencer inquired, his curiosity piqued.

“I’m not sure. We’re both busy, it’s not a big deal,” Penelope replied, her tone making it clear she didn’t want to delve too deeply into the subject. It was unlike her to brush off a topic so quickly, but Spencer respected her boundaries and decided not to press further.

Instead, Penelope shifted the focus, a mischievous glint in her eye as she asked, “How is your love life, Boy Wonder?”

Spencer snorted at the question, shaking his head. “Non-existent.”

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with a mix of sympathy and determination. “Do you want me to set you up with someone? I have single friends!”

“No, thank you, I’m okay,” Spencer replied quickly, his voice firm but kind. The last thing he needed was to be thrust into a blind date arranged by Penelope, well-meaning as she was.

Penelope pouted slightly but didn’t push the issue. “Okay… but think about it!” she added, her tone playful, though there was a hint of genuine concern behind it.

Spencer just smiled, appreciating her efforts but knowing that his mind was already occupied with someone else—someone who made him look forward to his weekly therapy sessions in a way he hadn’t expected. But that was something he wasn’t quite ready to share, not yet.

—

“Ow!” Spencer winced as a sharp pain shot through his leg, catching both of you off guard.

“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t mean to push too far. Are you okay?” Your voice was filled with concern as you immediately eased the pressure, your hands hovering just above his leg, ready to help if needed.

Spencer forced a small, embarrassed smile, trying to downplay the discomfort. “Yeah, hah, I’m fine,” he said, though his flushed cheeks told a different story.

You offered him a reassuring smile, sensing his unease. “It’s okay if we need to take a break.”

“Okay… maybe a little one,” he admitted, feeling a bit sheepish but grateful for the pause.

“For sure,” you said with a nod, standing up. “I’ll go get you some water.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, watching as you left the room. He let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort.

When you returned, Spencer couldn’t help but notice how stunning you looked today—though, in truth, he thought you looked gorgeous every day. But something about today caught his attention more than usual. Your pants were form-fitting, hugging your figure in a way that made it hard for him to focus on anything else. And your top… well, it clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating every curve, every roll, and, in this chilly room, every… bump. The air conditioning was doing its job a little too well.

Spencer quickly averted his gaze, feeling his face heat up, and hoped you hadn’t noticed the direction of his thoughts. He took the water you offered with a grateful nod, trying to distract himself from the sudden rush of awareness that had flooded his senses.

“Here you go,” you said, handing him the bottle with a warm smile. “Take your time, okay? We’ll go at your pace.”

“Thanks,” Spencer murmured, taking a sip of the cool water, though it did little to calm the warmth in his cheeks. He was still focused on recovering, but now there was an added layer of distraction—one that made the idea of these sessions both thrilling and terrifying.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay, doctor?” you asked, noticing the bright flush on Spencer’s face. Your concern was evident, your eyes searching his for any sign of discomfort beyond what he’d already admitted.

“Yes, doctor,” Spencer teased back with a small, sheepish grin. “Why?”

“Your face is really red,” you pointed out gently. “You can tell me if we need to be done for the day.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I promise,” he insisted, though the blush on his cheeks only deepened as he realized you’d noticed. He quickly tried to redirect the conversation. 

“Okay,” you said, still watching him carefully. “Let’s just rest for a bit. Can I sit?” You gestured to the patient bed where Spencer was currently resting.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, starting to scoot over to make room, but you plopped yourself down on the opposite end anyway, your casual movement making him relax a bit.

“So, um, do you have any fun plans for the weekend?” Spencer asked, eager to keep the conversation going and to steer it away from his embarrassment.

“Yeah, actually! I’m going to a new club with some friends,” you responded with a bright smile, clearly looking forward to it.

“Nice,” Spencer said, though internally, he had no idea what going to a club entailed. It wasn’t exactly his scene. Still, he was trying to be polite and keep the conversation light. “Will your boyfriend be going?”

Your brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but there was a playful glint in your eyes. “Who told you I have a boyfriend?”

Spencer felt his heart skip a beat, a pang of regret hitting him as he fumbled for words. “Uh, I just, um, assumed…”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, no, he’s not going. He’s not allowed in.”

“Oh,” Spencer said, confusion and curiosity in his voice. “Why?”

“They frown upon bringing dogs into clubs,” you replied with a grin, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

Spencer blinked, processing your words, before a wide smile spread across his face. “You had me there for a second.”

“Good,” you teased back, your laughter light and infectious. “I’m single, Spencer. Just me and my dog.”

Spencer’s heart, which had momentarily broken at the thought of you having a boyfriend, slowly pieced itself back together. The relief he felt was palpable, though he tried not to show it too much. “Well, your dog sounds like great company.”

“He is,” you agreed, still smiling as you settled more comfortably on the bed. “But it’s nice to have human company too.”

Spencer nodded, his own smile lingering as the tension between you two melted away, replaced by an easy, comfortable rapport that made him feel just a bit braver. “I’ll, um, have to think of something fun to do this weekend too.”

“Well,” you said, giving him a playful nudge with your foot, “if you need ideas, you know where to find me.”

—

Spencer had spent the weekend mentally preparing himself, trying to muster up the courage to take a step outside his comfort zone and maybe even visit the club you had mentioned. But as the days passed, the idea of loud music, crowded spaces, and unfamiliar social dynamics became more daunting than exciting. In the end, he stayed home, retreating to the familiar comfort of his books and routine. 

However, something had shifted in him after your last conversation. The way you had laughed, the playful teasing about your “boyfriend,” and the easy, comfortable rapport between you—it all made Spencer feel like maybe, just maybe, his attraction to you wasn’t as one-sided as he had feared. That small spark of hope ignited something in him, and by the time his next session rolled around, he was determined to push the boundaries of your interactions, just a little.

As soon as he walked into the room, he could tell there was a different energy in the air. You greeted him with your usual warm smile, but there was something in your eyes, a glint that made his heart race just a bit faster.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said, your voice bright as you guided him to the usual spot. “How was your weekend? Did you end up finding something fun to do?”

Spencer hesitated for a split second, then decided to go for it. “Well, I thought about going to that club you mentioned,” he began, watching your reaction carefully.

“Oh really?” you asked, clearly intrigued. “What happened? Did you chicken out?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “But I figured if I was going to do something that bold, I’d need a good reason. Maybe some company?”

Spencer's confidence had been steadily growing throughout the session, especially after the playful banter you shared earlier. But when you leaned in just a bit closer, your eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief, and said, “Company, huh? I’m sure you could find someone to go with you,” he felt a sudden drop in his stomach. 

He tried to keep the conversation going, hoping he hadn’t misread the situation entirely. “Yeah? Do you know anyone?” he asked, forcing a smile to mask the uncertainty creeping in.

You tilted your head, a teasing grin on your lips as you replied, “I can’t say I do, but if I find someone who screams ‘Spencer Reid,’ I’ll send them your way.” You finished with a wink before turning your attention back to the session.

Spencer’s heart sank. Had he completely misjudged the situation? Maybe his earlier confidence had been misplaced, and the connection he thought was there was just friendly banter after all. As you continued guiding him through the exercises, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of defeat, the playful atmosphere from earlier now tinged with doubt.

Later in the session, you left the room to grab one of the measuring tools you needed, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. He leaned back on the patient bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to shake off the disappointment gnawing at him.

That’s when he heard voices in the hallway, one of them unmistakably yours. He wasn’t the type to eavesdrop, but curiosity—and maybe a bit of desperation—got the better of him. He strained to listen, his heart beating faster as he realized you were talking about him.

“You think he was going to ask you out?” said another female voice.

“I don’t know, it seemed like it,” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of uncertainty. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. Had he been that obvious?

“Isn’t that good? I thought you said he was cute and funny,” the other voice continued, sounding encouraging.

There was a brief pause before you responded, your voice a bit softer. “He’s my patient, it doesn’t matter. That can’t happen.”

Spencer’s heart sank further. So that was it. The connection he felt was real, but there was an undeniable barrier between you two—one that you weren’t willing to cross.

“You’re right. Just be nice,” the other voice advised.

“I always am,” you replied, your tone resigned but still kind.

A moment later, the door to the room opened, and you reentered with the measuring tool in hand. Your expression was as warm and professional as ever, but Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment that had settled in his chest. He forced a smile, trying to act as if he hadn’t overheard anything, though the knowledge weighed heavily on him.

The rest of the session continued, but the lightheartedness from earlier was replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere. Spencer kept up the conversation as best he could, but there was a lingering sadness beneath his words. It wasn’t just about his injury anymore—it was about the realization that, no matter how much he might want it, there were some lines that simply couldn’t be crossed.

—

“Hey, Penelope?” Spencer’s voice carried a hint of hesitance as he approached her workstation, trying to muster up the courage for what he was about to ask.

Penelope swiveled her chair around, her bright eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of him. “Yes, my love?” she replied, her usual affectionate tone bringing a small smile to Spencer’s face.

“Do you still have a friend you could set me up with?” Spencer asked, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. He wasn’t sure what had pushed him to ask, but after the recent disappointment, he figured it might be worth a shot.

Penelope’s reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, her hands clasped together in excitement. “Are you serious? You’re being for real? You’re not just messing with me?”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head at her enthusiasm. “I’m being very serious.”

A squeal of delight escaped Penelope as she practically bounced in her seat. “Yes! I have the perfect friend for you! Oh em gee!!!” she exclaimed, her excitement palpable.

Spencer chuckled, feeling some of his earlier doubts melt away in the face of Penelope’s infectious energy. Maybe this wasn’t what he had originally hoped for, but seeing her so happy about helping him made him feel like he was making the right choice. 

“Tell me everything!” Penelope demanded, her fingers already flying across her keyboard as she began to plan out every detail. “What are you looking for? What should I tell her about you? Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Spencer smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. It wasn’t the path he had initially imagined, but maybe this new direction would lead to something just as fulfilling. “I trust your judgment, Penelope,” he said with a grin. “Just… make sure she’s okay with a guy who’s a little bit of a nerd, and on crutches.”

Penelope beamed, her heart bursting with joy at the prospect of playing matchmaker for her dear friend. “Spencer Reid, you’re in the best hands. She’s going to love you.”

—

The night of Spencer's blind date had arrived, and his nerves were running rampant. Despite trusting Penelope’s judgment, he couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him. She had insisted that he fully embrace the blind date experience, right down to not even knowing the woman’s name. All she had told him was that he should look for a woman in a red dress.

Sitting at the table in the cozy, dimly lit restaurant, Spencer tried to steady his breathing, his fingers drumming nervously against the tablecloth. The uncertainty was overwhelming, and he found himself glancing at the door every few seconds, half-expecting to make a quick exit if things went south.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, and with every passing moment, his heart beat faster. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of deep red fabric. He turned, his breath hitching as he saw the back of a woman at the host's stand, her figure silhouetted perfectly in the elegant red dress. Even from behind, she looked stunning, and for a brief moment, Spencer felt a flicker of excitement, his nerves momentarily forgotten.

But as she turned to scan the room, her eyes searching for him, Spencer’s heart nearly stopped. It was you.

All the blood seemed to drain from his face as he sat there, frozen in place. His mind raced, trying to process what was happening. Of all the people in the world, Penelope had set him up with you—his physical therapist, the woman he had been crushing on for weeks.

You spotted him almost instantly, your eyes widening in surprise, and for a moment, you looked just as shocked as he felt. But then your expression softened, and a small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Spencer swallowed hard, his anxiety now mixing with a sense of disbelief. He hadn’t expected this at all. What were the chances? He could barely keep his thoughts straight as you walked toward him, your movements graceful and confident, though there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes that mirrored his own.

“Spencer?” you said softly as you reached the table, your voice laced with surprise and something else—something warm, perhaps even hopeful.

He managed to nod, still struggling to find his voice. “Y-Yes… it’s me,” he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. “I didn’t… I had no idea…”

You chuckled softly, the sound doing wonders to ease the tension between you. “Neither did I,” you admitted, settling into the seat across from him. There was a playful glint in your eye as you added, “I guess you work in the BAU at the FBI, huh?”

Spencer nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “I do. How do you know Penelope?”

“We do wine and painting together every month,” you explained with a fond smile, recalling the origins of your friendship. “After a few classes, we started sitting together, and the rest is history.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you’re my blind date.”

“And you’re mine,” you replied, matching his smile with one of your own.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is that okay? I know I’m your patient…”

You tilted your head slightly, considering his words before replying with a hint of teasing in your voice. “Well, technically, I’m not supposed to see my patients outside of PT… but I’ll make an exception for tonight.”

“Right, tonight,” Spencer echoed, relief and excitement coursing through him. He could hardly believe how the evening had unfolded, but there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

The two of you shared a moment of quiet understanding, the reality of the situation settling in. Despite the unexpected turn of events, the chemistry between you was undeniable, and the restrictions that had once seemed so daunting now felt less significant in the warm glow of the restaurant's soft lighting.

As the evening progressed and the initial surprise wore off, the conversation between you and Spencer flowed effortlessly. There was a natural rhythm to your interactions, a playfulness that neither of you could resist indulging in.

“So, Spencer,” you began, taking a sip of your wine and meeting his gaze over the candlelit table, “what’s it like being a genius? Do you just know everything, or do you still get surprised sometimes?”

Spencer chuckled, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I wouldn’t say I know everything,” he replied, his tone modest but with a teasing glint in his eye. “I get surprised plenty—like tonight, for example.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Surprised in a good way, I hope?”

“Very good,” Spencer admitted, his eyes flickering to yours, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “I mean, how often does someone get set up on a blind date with someone they already know—and like?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, the pink tint spreading across his cheeks as he looked at you with wide eyes. "Oh, you like me, do you?" you teased, your voice light and playful, but with a hint of something more beneath the surface.

"Was that not obvious?" Spencer stammered, his blush deepening further, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he was.

"It was plenty obvious, Doctor. Don’t worry," you reassured him, leaning in just slightly to close the distance between you.

Spencer let out a small, relieved laugh. "Oh goodie! I was worried I wasn’t making a fool out of myself."

"You weren’t," you said softly, your smile growing as you watched him. There was something so genuine about Spencer, something that made it easy to be honest with him. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Absolutely," Spencer replied, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned in closer, mimicking your earlier movement. "I might tell everyone I know, but you can still tell me."

You giggled at his response, the sound light and full of warmth. "Amazing," you said, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I don’t have to touch you as much as I do during our sessions... I just really like how your legs look in those shorts."

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he seemed completely caught off guard. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out. Finally, he managed to stammer, "You… you what?"

"I like how your legs look," you repeated, your tone playful yet sincere. "And those shorts you wear? They make it hard to keep things strictly professional."

Spencer’s blush, which had just started to fade, flared up again in full force. He let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I had no idea… I mean, I didn’t think—"

"You’re cute when you’re flustered," you interrupted gently, reaching out to place a hand over his. The gesture was simple, but it sent a jolt of warmth through both of you. "And just so you know, you’re definitely not making a fool out of yourself. In fact, I’m really glad Penelope set this up."

Spencer looked down at your hand on his, then back up at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and affection. "Me too," he said softly, his voice carrying a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. "More than you know."

—

As the waiter poured the wine, the atmosphere between you and Spencer lightened even more, the earlier nerves melting away with each sip. You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Spencer take a tentative sip from his glass, his expression one of cautious appreciation.

"How’s the wine, Doctor?" you teased, raising your glass to him with a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass like he was trying to remember some long-forgotten etiquette. "I think it’s good," he said, though his tone was more curious than certain. "I’m not exactly a connoisseur, but I think I could get used to this."

"Oh, I bet you could," you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And who knows, maybe by the end of the night, you’ll be an expert."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "Are you planning on getting me drunk?"

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as you replied, "Maybe just tipsy enough to loosen you up, Doctor. You’re pretty cute when you’re not overthinking everything."

He laughed, a sound that was becoming more frequent as the evening went on. "Is that so? Well, in that case, maybe I should order another bottle."

"Oh, I see how it is," you giggled, raising your glass to take another sip. "Trying to get me drunk so I’ll spill all my secrets?"

Spencer leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "I don’t need wine for that. You already admitted you like how my legs look in those shorts."

You laughed, the sound bubbly and warm, and you playfully nudged him with your foot under the table. "Guilty as charged. But don’t get too cocky, Doctor Reid. I’ve got plenty more secrets I haven’t shared yet."

Spencer’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, and he leaned back in his chair, giving you an appreciative once-over. "Now that’s something I’d like to hear more about," he said, his tone flirtatious but with a genuine interest that made your heart flutter.

You smirked, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, you’ll have to earn those secrets, Spencer. I don’t just give them away."

"Challenge accepted," Spencer replied, his grin widening as he clinked his glass against yours. "But I warn you, I’m pretty good at uncovering secrets."

"Is that so?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I’ll have to keep you on your toes, then."

"I think I’d like that," Spencer said, his voice softening as he held your gaze, the playful banter giving way to something a bit more serious, but no less exciting.

The wine continued to flow, and with it, the conversation grew flirtier, the two of you slipping into a comfortable rhythm that was as intoxicating as the wine itself. The night felt like a blur of laughter, teasing words, and shared glances, each one charged with a growing connection that neither of you could deny.

As the glasses emptied and the night wore on, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something new—something wonderful. And by the way you were looking at him, your smile bright and your eyes full of promise, he had a feeling you were thinking the same thing.

—

You held the door open for Spencer as you both exited the restaurant, then hailed a cab with practiced ease. Spencer couldn’t help but notice the way you held the door open for him once more, a small gesture that felt both kind and distant at the same time.

“One stop or two?” the cab driver asked, his voice breaking through the quiet night air.

“Two,” you responded, offering Spencer an apologetic smile that made his heart sink just a little.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, Spencer started to get the sense that this night—this connection—was slipping away, becoming nothing more than a fleeting exchange.

“This isn’t going to continue, is it?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with the disappointment he was trying to keep at bay.

You sighed softly, placing your hand gently on his, your expression filled with genuine regret. “Spencer,” you began, your voice tender but firm, “I’m your physical therapist. You’re my patient.”

“But we like each other,” Spencer pressed, his heart pounding with the desperate hope that maybe, somehow, you could make this work.

“So much,” you agreed, your eyes softening as you met his gaze. “But I can’t cross that boundary.”

“We already did,” he argued, his tone filled with frustration and a touch of disbelief. “We’re more than just patient and therapist.”

You nodded, your expression pained. “We’re friends, and we had a meal together,” you said gently. “But I’m sorry, Spencer. I can’t let it go beyond that.”

As the cab pulled up outside Spencer’s building, he gave you a look that was filled with hurt, disappointment, and a sense of finality. “Maybe Penelope isn’t as good of a matchmaker as I thought,” he muttered, his voice heavy with emotion. Then, without waiting for a response, he slammed the door to the cab shut, the sound echoing in the night as he moved away.

You watched him go, a heavy weight settling in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t care for him—far from it. But the lines had been drawn, and you knew you couldn’t cross them, no matter how much you wished you could. As the cab pulled away, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been, even as you tried to convince yourself that you had done the right thing.

—

“Spencer, baby!” Penelope’s voice rang out the moment he stepped into the office the next morning. She rushed over to him, her eyes wide with excitement and anticipation. “How was your date? Did you love her? I know you did!”

Spencer’s expression was flat, his usual warmth replaced by a cool detachment. “I did not,” he replied, his tone clipped and final.

Penelope’s face fell instantly, the excitement draining from her features as she looked at him in shock. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “But… what happened? I thought it was going to be perfect.”

Spencer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. “It wasn’t what I expected, Penelope. I… we had a nice time, but she made it clear that it couldn’t go anywhere.”

“But… but why?” Penelope stammered, clearly upset. “I thought she was perfect for you! I mean, I was so sure…”

“She was,” Spencer admitted, his voice softening. “She’s great, really. But she’s my physical therapist, and she didn’t want to cross that boundary.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped, guilt and sadness flooding her eyes. “Oh, Spencer… I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I just thought… I just wanted you to be happy.”

Spencer gave her a small, sad smile, trying to ease the tension. “I know, Penelope. And I appreciate it. You were trying to help, and I’m grateful for that.”

Penelope nodded, tears welling up in her eyes as she reached out to hug him. “I’m really sorry, Spencer. I never wanted to make things harder for you.”

Spencer hugged her back, his voice gentle as he reassured her. “It’s okay. You didn’t know, and it’s not your fault. I’m glad you care enough to try.”

Penelope pulled back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just… I just want you to find someone who makes you happy.”

“I know,” Spencer said, giving her another small smile. “And I will. Just… not this time.”

Penelope nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of unintended consequences. She wanted so badly to make things right for him, but now she could only hope that time would help heal the disappointment she had inadvertently caused.

—

“Y/N, you have a new patient today,” your supervisor informed you as you glanced up from the paperwork on your desk.

“What about Spencer Reid?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, though the question carried more weight than you intended.

“He’s seeing a different therapist,” your supervisor replied, flipping through the schedule without much thought.

“Oh…” The single syllable lingered in the air, heavy with disappointment. You hesitated for a moment before asking, “Can I ask why?”

Your supervisor looked up, her expression indifferent as she explained, “Something about your schedule not fitting his anymore.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process the news. “Okay, that’s—” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat, “that’s fine.”

But as you turned back to your paperwork, the reality of the situation sank in. It wasn’t just about schedules or convenience; this was the consequence of the boundary you had enforced, the one that was meant to protect both of you. Yet, knowing that Spencer was now in someone else’s care left a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t anticipated.

The rest of the day felt a little off-kilter, your thoughts drifting back to Spencer more often than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t help but wonder how he was doing, whether he was okay, and if he understood why things had to be this way. It was the right decision, you reminded yourself, even if it didn’t feel like it.

—

“Penny, he dropped me,” you said, your voice heavy with disappointment as you leaned against the doorframe of Penelope’s kitchen. “He’s not even my patient anymore.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise, but then a grin spread across her face. “That’s great! You can date now!”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple, Penny. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Penelope’s expression softened, and she gave you a sympathetic look. “He’ll come around. He just feels rejected, that’s all. You could go explain yourself, you know.”

“I don’t even have his number,” you admitted, feeling a pang of helplessness. It wasn’t like you could just show up at his door and expect him to listen. The lines between patient and therapist had already been blurred, and now they were more complicated than ever.

“Uhh, don’t be silly, missy. I do,” Penelope said with a playful smirk, pulling out her phone and waving it in the air like it was the answer to all your problems.

You blinked, surprised by her quick solution. “You’d really give it to me?”

“Of course!” Penelope replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of determination. “Spencer’s my friend, and so are you. If there’s a chance you two can work this out, I’m all for it.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks, but the thought of not reaching out to Spencer gnawed at you. Maybe Penelope was right; maybe you needed to explain yourself, to let him know how you really felt.

“Okay,” you said finally, your resolve strengthening. “Give me his number.”

Penelope’s grin widened as she quickly typed on her phone and handed it over to you. “Go get him, girl.”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of nerves and hope as you took the phone from her. “Thanks, Penny. I’ll try.”

—

Later that night, as you sat in the comfort of your apartment, the familiar hum of city life just outside your window, you finally mustered up the courage to dial the number Penelope had given you. Your heart pounded in your chest, each ring feeling like an eternity until you heard his voice on the other end.

“Spencer Reid, who is calling?”

“Hey… it’s Y/N. Your ex-therapist,” you said, your voice softer than you intended, trying to gauge his reaction.

There was a brief pause before he responded, “Oh.”

The single word carried a weight that made your stomach churn with anxiety. You took a deep breath, pushing forward despite the tension. “Yeah, I hope it’s okay I got your number from Penny.”

“Why?” Spencer’s voice was guarded, and you could tell he was still hurting.

“I wanted to talk to you. Can we meet up?” you asked, trying to keep your tone hopeful, though the uncertainty gnawed at you.

“When?” he asked, his voice giving nothing away.

“Tomorrow? You could come over?” you suggested, hoping the familiar, private setting might make things a bit easier.

“Fine. Send me your address,” Spencer replied, his tone clipped but not completely closed off.

“Okay, see you—” you started to say, but the line went dead before you could finish. You stared at your phone, a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation swirling in your chest.

He was coming over. You had a chance to explain, to make things right. But now that the call was over, the reality of what tomorrow might bring settled in. You just hoped that when the time came, you’d find the right words to say.

—

Spencer knocked with perfect punctuality, 6 pm sharp, just as you were adjusting the final details in your apartment. The soft sound of the knock sent a flutter through your chest, a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

You opened the door to find him standing there, his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened as he took you in. “Hi,” you breathed, a bit of your earlier confidence wavering under his gaze.

“Hi, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and calm, though you could tell he was just as unsure as you were. Your beauty, as always, took him by surprise, rendering him momentarily speechless.

“Please, come in,” you said, stepping aside to let him enter.

Spencer stepped into your apartment, his eyes immediately scanning the space. The warm, inviting atmosphere of your home greeted him, filled with soft light from the setting sun filtering through the windows. The room was decorated with personal touches—lush green plants, carefully selected books lining the wooden shelves, and artwork that gave the space a cozy, lived-in feel. It was a reflection of you, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for how things had turned out.

“Can I pour you some wine? I found the one from the restaurant,” you offered, trying to break the tension and bring back a little of the familiarity you both shared that night.

“Sure, thank you,” Spencer replied, his tone polite but still holding a touch of reserve.

You moved to the kitchen area, retrieving the bottle of wine and two glasses. As you poured, you could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look up just yet. There was so much unsaid between you, so much that needed to be addressed, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Handing him a glass, you finally met his gaze. “I’m really glad you came,” you said softly, your sincerity clear.

Spencer took the glass from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. “I wasn’t sure if I should,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I know,” you replied, taking a small sip of your wine to steady yourself. “But I’m glad you did. We need to talk, Spencer. I need to explain.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening just a bit. “Yeah… we do.”

You gestured toward the comfortable seating area, and the two of you moved to sit down, the warmth of the room offering a bit of comfort as you prepared to finally have the conversation that had been hanging over you both.

Spencer settled onto the couch, his posture stiff as he tried to maintain a semblance of calm. The warmth of your apartment contrasted with the tension between you, and he took a slow sip of his wine, waiting for you to speak.

You sat across from him, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched for the right words. After a moment of silence, you decided to just be honest. “I’m sorry I rejected you,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “That was wrong of me.”

Spencer’s gaze flickered with surprise, but he remained silent, letting you continue.

“There are things we could have done,” you went on, feeling a weight lift slightly as you spoke. “Ways we could have moved around the rules, ways to handle it more delicately. But instead, I stiffed you and hurt you. I didn’t give us a chance to figure it out. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”

Spencer’s grip tightened slightly around his glass, his expression a mixture of emotions—confusion, hurt, and perhaps a bit of understanding. “It wasn’t just about the rules, was it?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head, feeling a lump form in your throat. “No, it wasn’t. I was scared, Spencer. Scared of crossing a line, of losing my job, of making a mistake that couldn’t be undone. But in trying to protect myself, I ended up hurting you… and that’s something I never wanted to do.”

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I understand why you were scared,” he admitted, his voice softening. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I know,” you whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “And I can’t take back what I did. But I want you to know that I care about you, Spencer. I really do. And if there’s any way we can move forward—whether that’s as friends or something more—I’m willing to try.”

Spencer looked down at his glass, his mind clearly racing as he processed your words. After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked back up at you, his expression gentler than before.

“I care about you too,” he said quietly. “And I want to move forward. But I need to know that we’re both on the same page, that this isn’t just something we’re doing because of… circumstances.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he was willing to talk about it. “I agree. I don’t want to force anything. But I also don’t want to walk away from something that could be real, just because it’s complicated.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, tentative smile. “I guess we’re both pretty good at making things complicated, huh?”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a bit. “Yeah, we are. But maybe… maybe we can figure it out together?”

Spencer took another sip of his wine, his smile growing a little more confident. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice warm and genuine.

And with those simple words, the gap that had formed between you began to close, replaced by the possibility of something new—a fresh start, built on honesty, understanding, and the connection you both knew was there all along.

Spencer’s tentative smile grew into something more playful as he leaned back slightly, the tension between you all but dissolved. “Does that mean free, private physical therapy sessions?” he teased, his tone light, though there was a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound easing the last remnants of anxiety you had been holding onto. Leaning forward, you matched his playful tone, raising an eyebrow as you replied, “Only if you don’t wear any shorts.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then he laughed—a deep, genuine sound that filled the room with warmth. “I’ll have to consider that,” he quipped, the playful banter between you rekindling that familiar connection.

“Well, take your time,” you said with a grin, feeling the ease and comfort return between you. “But just so you know, I’m a lot stricter when it comes to private sessions.”

“Is that so?” Spencer leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. “Maybe I’m up for the challenge.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the flirtation now fully out in the open. “Well, Doctor Reid, I’ll be sure to make it worth your while,” you replied, your tone equally soft and playful.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, the air between you charged with excitement and anticipation. The conversation had started with apologies and uncertainty, but now, sitting here together, it felt like the beginning of something new—something you were both more than ready to explore.

“Looks like we’ve got a lot to figure out,” Spencer said softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a warm smile spreading across your face. “But I think we’re off to a pretty good start.”

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[starlemonbunki]

In a dominant mood so here's how I think bsd men would act as subs

Atsushi

Would be a very obedient sub

Trusts you in every way imaginable

You know how parents tell you "well if your friend told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?"??

Yea that's him

If you told him to do something stupid or dangerous whether in the bedroom or not he would immediately trust that you have a plan behind it (even if you actually don't, he doesn't know that)

Other than that, he's very anxious when it comes to PDA, at least at first

But once he gets used to it, and by that I mean used to the feeling of being loved, then he will slowly start warming up to and even asking for it

When it comes to sex, he can be even more bashful and awkward about it

He mostly whimpers and whines and it's not super loud, but if it does get to that point he's very self aware and scared of others hearing him, so he covers his mouth right away

I think he'd be most compatible with a more gentle top

He can't handle very heavy scenes and I can't imagine him having a very active libido

He has sex to express love and passion, not just for a quick fling that doesn't mean anything

Outside of the bedroom, he's very quiet about what goes on in there

Dazai likes to tease him about it and you love how his pale complexion turns into a pretty shade of red

Dazai

Oh this man is OBNOXIOUS

He's the type of sub that makes you wanna fuck him so hard he actually shuts the fuck up for a second

One of the brattiest of the bunch, for some reason has to turn anything and everything into a game of cat and mouse

Also one of the horniest, believe me you'll be drained DRY after like a week or so

This man's libido is UNMATCHED

He may be taller than you, smarter than you, and possibly stronger than you when it comes to his ability,

But in every other way you are in charge And some part of him always wants to challenge that

Loves to be paraded around like a showdog (but prefers the term "trophy wife")

He's a little princess and always gets what he wants

I think he'd fit best with a dom who could handle his.....special traits

He needs someone who won't get tired of him so quickly and leave, just like everyone else in his life did

But he also needs someone to put him in his place from time to time

Dealing with dazai isn't for the faint of heart, anyone who's done it before knows that

So maybe if you're strong enough, smart enough, and a little bit delusional and crazy, you could have this cute little former mafioso wrapped around your finger like a worm on a string <3

Fyodor

Tbh this one's the whole reason why I made this post in the first place😆

This one's also a little....different...from the others

And by that I mean he's worse

His brattiness doesn't come in the form of disobeying orders or having a fit in front of your friends

No, this one will purposefully pick you apart psychologically

Trying to get this man to behave will require a labyrinth of words, a battle of the minds

He needs someone who can challenge him, because if they don't, he wouldn't bother to be submissive towards them at all, they don't deserve it.

He's one half sickly and one half pride, so taking care of him isn't gonna be easy

Of course you'd have to know going in that Fyodor's self care is abysmal and as his dom you'd have to take responsibility for his health

Taking care of his pills, his diet, making sure he eats and sleeps on time, gets enough rest, drinks enough water, exercises, that's all on you from now on

But you do it cause you love him

Sometimes he'll be bratty and arrogant enough to take you for granted, and would snap at you and tell you he doesn't need someone to baby him when you just were trying to help

But after enough time, he'll realize he was wrong, and as his health depletes, he'll slowly start to inch towards you, asking for your help

You would make sure it gets to the point where he'd have to beg. Make him realize what it's truly like to not have you "distracting" him with your care and concern

And eventually, if he's put up a pathetic enough display for you, you'll hold him in your arms, warm chest comforting him as he leans his head and torso on it

You'll watch how he shivers each time he takes a breath, his eyes are glassy and staring at nothing, his hair is drowning in grease, and it's obvious he hadn't showered in days, but you don't mind

All of this means he's vulnerable, which means he's weak, which means he's malleable.

Malleable enough for you to mold into whatever you please.

Because the only person who could dominate the demon Fyodor is someone who could become the demon Fyodor.

Whether he knew it or not, you were just as sinister as he was, possibly even more.

And every breath he took was another foolish step into your web, a plan you had conducted just for him

So he can be as proud and smug as he wants, but at the end of the day,

You are in control.

Chuuya

It's kind of hard for me to decipher what kind of sub he'd be to be honest

I want to say he'd be a brat but that term doesn't seem to describe him exactly

Sure, he's got a lot of pride, so getting him to submit to you or even to simply let you take the wheel will be difficult.

He's too stuck in his old habits, too used to having to take care of everything, so being taken care of for a change will be a new feeling to him.

He's also scared to love you, scared to let himself bring another person into his heart, afraid of instead accidentally luring you to your death as he had done with so many others.

No, he's not ready to lose another person. Not again.

He's grown to see his love for others as a trap, a ploy, a misfortune. It was like a prophecy for someone's death.

But you, you were different from the rest.

You were strong. Strong enough to protect yourself, strong enough to stand your ground. In fact, you could probably even protect the gravity manipulator Chuuya Nakahara himself.

It took a long time for him to be ready. Ready to open himself up for you. But you let him take his time. You let him think things through. And despite everything, you were there.

You both sprouted a relationship neither of you thought you could do before

And the sex wasn't just sex to you two, no, it could be a distraction, a vacation, an escape, a break, an apology, you name it.

Sex would be a big part of you guys' relationship

I like to think that Chuuya is a lot hornier than he says he is, and also a lot more submissive

Learning that he was a sub was surprising for you, especially because of, well, everything about him

But that was cool for you, as you were vers, and you had to admit you loved the way he screamed and cried under you.

The look in his eyes, the blush in his cheeks, the spit dripping from the corners of his mouth, even the small wounds he had gotten from biting his lips so hard to keep in a moan was adorable

Fucking in his penthouse was great because he had red lighting in almost every room, giving it a sexy, moody vibe.

It also reminded him of his place. He may be rich, he may be a mafia executive, and he may have a couple dozen people under his command, but no matter where or what he is, he will always be a pathetic little whore for you.

You fuck him in his room to remind him his riches mean nothing. He means nothing. All he is is a slut, and he must be reminded of that.

I think he'd be best compatible with a quieter personality to counter his loud one, but I think that loud, brash personality is most present around Dazai. Though he can have a little bit of a temper from time to time, even around you

He needs someone who doesn't care about status or ranks, Port mafia executive or not, you'll fuck him like there's no tomorrow and once you're done he'll be clinging to you like a lost little dog.

Ranpo

Brat. Brat Brat Brat. NOTHING about this boy is topping.

I mean, I do see him as a switch, but in this case, he's the brattiest brat to ever brat.

Will require you give him sweets and cold drinks whenever he asks, will make you drive him places, teach him things and even fuck him when he's too lazy to do the fucking.

He'll be obnoxious all day and then look at you like he's done nothing wrong his whole life. Spoiled little shit.

He's exactly the type of sub you would fuck into submission until you hear a sorry or any sort of appropriate apology.

He likes to be fucked lying down, sometimes sitting and leaning against something, but sometimes you'll force him to sit on you and ride you up and down even though you know he hates it. You'll never hear the end of it from him, though.

He likes to be fucked while eating, too. You'll fuck him from behind with a hand out and spoonfeeding him cake, and the rapid shaking of your bodies and the table he's up against will leave traces of cake all over his chin and cheeks. He doesn't know if he wants cake or if he wants you to eat his cake. Either way, he wants and needs you bad.

I think he'd be best fit with a top who would usually just give in to all his demands and would be patient with his bratty personality, but knows when it's been taken too far. You'd be calm and gentle with him, but come nighttime, you're a beast in bed, making sure he makes up for everything he did in the office that day.

He's not the type to apologize I don't think, he'd definitely beg if it's gotten too much for him but an apology? That's asking too much. Just take the moans and cries and leave.

However, right afterwards he'd go back to his usual bratty self no matter how bad the punishment was. In couldn't have been that harsh anyway, as you could never say no to Ranpo's cute face.

Akutagawa

When I say this man is a Virgin I mean he's a VIRGIN VIRGIN.

As in as virgin as the virgin mother mary

He hadn't even had time for sex before you came along.

You taught him everything, even things about his own body that he didn't even know. Like how he doesn't like the feeling of frotting because he doesn't like how another man's dick is on his own. Or how he likes when you pump his cock slowly, especially since he's so new to the game that he couldn't handle more even if he tried. Poor boy😔

He finds it odd, the feeling of being pampered. Being provided with food everyday, a warm place to live, constant affection, he didn't know what to do with it. It was as if he was an alien studying earth and experiencing the most mundane things for the first time.

And the weirdest thing about it was, he liked it. He liked the feeling of being taken care of, being provided for and pampered, and it was odd. He wasn't sure if he even deserved such wonderful feelings.

When it comes to sex, you better believe this man's got some weird shame thing related to sex

He sees it as a filthy task that he, unfortunately, likes to partake in.

He's ashamed even bringing it up, let alone asking for it.

But once you get the memo you take action and calmly and gently take care of him

Akutagawa's been used to violence, been used to screams of pain and agony, but this? It's soft. It's sweet. It's tender. He's not used to it but part of him wants to be. He's never been so happy in his life.

He's not the type to whine and whimper so much like Atsushi, instead he'll let out a low grunt here and there and maybe throw in a moan somewhere too.

He's into the wildest things, most of which involving your ability with his. It's probably some weird psychological thing where he's associated his ability strength = worth thing to the bedroom which......isn't healthy.

But once you're done his sickly little body is spent, his already damaged lungs trying desperately to keep moving. You hold him over your shoulder, as being carried bridal style would mess with his pride. Arm wrapped around your shoulder and tugging at you inner arm, he leans into you the way he's never done for anyone before.

He feels odd now, as if he's just discovered something new. Learning and even participating in sex has left him with many questions, that hopefully you could answer.

[goldnhourwrites]

Not enough people talked about these so I'm gonna do it myself because oh my god (commentary and headcanons below, it's just long)

Sett has a little travel-sized sewing kit in his bag... it's so tidy... sett stitching things back together when his bandmates rip them...

Sett just casually carries around like 20+ pounds of dumbbells. Mans is literally always working out. The grind never stops.

"yo Ezreal can you grab my bag for me?" "Yeah sure--what the FUCK do you have in here? This thing weighs a hundred pounds."

His little exercise headband... and is that a hair tie behind it? Sett with his hair tied back??

Sett's energy bar collection. Sett's the type of person to pack an entire backpack full of snacks for a road trip.

Ezreal has a plushie OF HIMSELF on his bag.

this guy practically collects aesthetic glasses. 3 pairs in the bag plus the circle ones he had in PARANOIA.

Sharpie (for signing autographs???) His signature on the polaroids of himself???

The photo under the lip balm looks like it might be Ezreal and Aphelios. Ezreal's the type of person to make sure he has photos with all of his friends. Ezreal hanging up his favorite polaroids in his room.

can we talk about the all-white fit in the very bottom photo omg

Aphelios has back-up headphones for his headphones.

WHO SENT THE SNACKS. WAS IT ALUNE. WAS IT SOMEONE ELSE.

The writing on the note looks like Korean but unfortunately I don't know any Korean :(

his sticky noted book... is it a journal? is it full of lyrics? who put the little smiley face sticker on the front!! does he write in it!!

I love the idea of Aphelios just pulling out a little keyboard whenever he wants to write down a tune. How well can he play the piano? Only enough to write music, or does he have songs memorized? Does he ever play for anyone?

K'SANTE'S DRAWING TABLET

he's not just in charge of putting together their fashion, he designs it himself. i'm going to scream

I am in love with those glasses. I need art of k'sante in those glasses ASAP. i will do it myself if i have to.

What is his book!! What does the W stand for!!

The way the button on his gloves matches the one on his jacket in his LoL splash art. This tiny detail is driving me insane.

Also, the cologne? The top is the same as his necklace? Does he have a specific personal cologne? So elegant...

Kayn's Pentakill guitar pick. Let me see him play the guitar I beg

The crumpled up receipts. This man goes Shopping (also see: cash, various coins). And he just has a bunch of random shit in his bag because he never bothers cleaning it out.

the open leaking bottle of hair dye. please. do you NEED that

The random jewelry... I love the idea of him either a) taking it off, shoving it in his bag, and forgetting where he put it or b) bringing backup drip with him everywhere in case he needs more

While Sett, Aphelios, and Yone all opted for headphones, Kayn's gone with good old-fashioned corded earbuds. Does he not like headphones? Is it because they mess up his hair?

Big ass box of matches and For Why? Does he smoke? Is he too cool to carry around a lighter? Does he just like setting shit on fire?

Yone keeps a little emergency travel kit. Band mom energy. He's got band-aids and a toothbrush and toothpaste At The Ready.

Bottle of lotion? Yone with a skincare routine? Yone who stays moisturized? Everybody in Heartsteel asking Yone for lotion?

Earplugs (for sleeping on long bus rides, maybe?) I want to see Yone going "I'm sick of this shit" and tuning the fuck out.

Yone is the only one with a real headphone case. Aphelios has his around his neck 24/7, but his wireless earbuds have a case. Sett's just shoving his in there with twenty pounds of dumbbells and hoping for the best.

Yone's got so many little gadgets and I don't even know what they all are. He has his laptop and (probably) his phone, plus a smartwatch, and maybe a portable charger? He's that prepared.

I can't tell what the object beside his smartwatch is (looks wooden?) If anyone knows, let me know? I'm so curious

This man's got even more stuff inside his bag. Yone doesn't leave the house without like fifteen things in case of an emergency.

good news everyone. i'm still losing my mind over them

[bomberqueen17]

what is up froods

lol i keep forgetting to like. actually write updates in my personal journal. i'm using this tumblr too much like a tumblr.

i went down a rabbit hole the other night in that i just opened my own archives and went back to 2013 and then realized i started this in 2011. i didn't say a lot, back then i definitely was still using my LJ for Big Personal Updates and Tumblr was exclusively for snappy shitposts, and then I abandoned the LJ and only blogged in snappy shitposts for a while, and I did some vagueblogging that I genuinely have no idea what it was about, and that's fun.

But there's some. Boy there's some real fossils in there. God everything stays the same but everything happens so much.

I know I've backed up this blog but IDK how much you can make it make sense, offline. Anyway. That's how it goes. I'm not in any kind of existential panic about the site I'm just reacting to the zeigeist here, it made me think of old times.

I go back to the farm in a couple of weeks-- just for a couple of weeks, but the Season is Starting. My physical therapist keeps giving me more exercises. She's right, my core strength is wretched, but when I said I'd tried to do crunches now and then, tried to stay a tiny bit fit but-- she was like omg no you can't do crunches, with that hip cartilage as it is, so I felt a little better. So she's teaching me what I *can* do, and the important thing is that she's like you cannot do this more than every other day or three times a week, you cannot rush this kind of thing, and it's wonderful advice contrary to all the other advice I've ever had in my life which was like every moment you're not doing more work you're being a lazy shit. So, that's nice. I'll cut because nothing else here is going to be interesting.

I'm not the youngest person at physical therapy but there's a lot of old people there. I haven't been masking, I've been being lazy and just using xylitol nose spray before I go, and it's been fine, but I know that's just luck. (I see no one but Dude, who sees almost no one but me, so the consequences of fucking up would be minor.) with a trip to the farm coming up, I'm going to go back to masking, at least in the lead-up to the trip-- because last time I had COVID I had almost no symptoms, and nowadays apparently the rapid tests aren't super useful. The way I'm coping is, I know, a logical fallacy-- since COVID wasn't bad the one time I had it, I'm just telling myself I'm resistant naturally and it won't hurt me, and I know this is not the truth at all but it helps me cope-- but I cannot stand the thought of spreading it to someone who would be more hurt by it, so I have convinced myself not to fear catching it but to fear spreading it. I figure it's effectively the same and lets me not just be fucking terrified all the time.

I also discovered that a former employee of the farm who's out here going to college is interested in carpooling, and we've already got a tentative date for him to ride back with me on my way back from the farm at the end of March, and this has lightened my spirits a great deal. It's such a long drive and it feels like such a waste of gas, and he does have a car but it's not actually that safe to drive on the Thruway. (He swears up and down it's perfectly safe but just not at sustained speeds over 60. I was like omg kid do NOT, I will drive, my car is brand fkn new. He's taking the train home and will ride back with me.)

Let's see. Oh I don't think I've kept up with posting about the kitchen painting. It's down to the last tiny fiddly details, and what I've got to do is do a half-stencil in the corner above the door, and I did one half yesterday and will finish the rest today. I had to custom cut out a copy of part of the stencil to make it work, and it's sort of janky and I am going to have to hand-paint it with a lot of masking tape, but it's such a small area that like, why not, I can be that fussy. It's fine.

Once I finish that, which if I do part in the morning and part in the afternoon I can do today, then I can FINALLY CLEAN UP AND PUT AWAY all the painting detritus. I can't tell you how excited I am to do that.

I've also been doing fabric dyeing, finally. I collected several of the muslin garments I'd finished and meant to do something with, and got out my dyes. I did a batch of ice dye solely because I forgot which ones I'd intended to use for that; now I have a pair of slightly ill-fitting homemade leggings that look like a clown threw up on them, and a cheerful sweatshirt to match. i then used the runoff to dye the cream-colored canvas work smock-- I sort of tie-dyed it because I pasted up a little bit of two of the component colors and poured that on a couple areas that I then rubberbanded, because I wanted tie-dye but did not want any white areas left. So it's a blue/purple/red smock now, and the rainbow stitching I constructed it with was polyester so it's still rainbow, huzzah. Subtle and understated and also I can smear it with filth and maybe it will still look intentional.

[image description: a canvas work smock with big pockets, hanging to dry, mostly a mucky dark purple but with some brighter splotches of red and dark blue, and some bits of paler purple.]

[image description: assorted garments draped over drying racks in a sunporch, in blotchy shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, all kind of run together but not murky.]

And then I did another batch of ice dye, this time with the dyes I had bought that are supposed to work well for this because they split. That dress is still in the wash so I don't have pictures of how it turned out, but mostly it just looks splotchy green. LOL oh well. The point was, I made all these test garments in undyed fabric, but I don't have a lifestyle where I can wear a white dress, so now I have some non-white dresses I don't have to be precious about. Some of them I should now probably hem and like actually finish..........

I have one dress and one shirt left, and a pair of light-wash jeans I don't like wearing, and I'm thinking about trying like. Ombre or something. We'll see if I get around to that.

My sewing area is still a fuckin disaster and I don't want to think about it. But I'm cutting out a vest from scrap denim, I want a quilted abrasion-resistant washable work vest for farm work next week and I gotta get a move on. All I need now is to cut out the batting and get to it. So hopefully today.

I took photos, I might try writing up how-tos on the dyeing and on the repurposed denim stuff, but I also might not. If I was doing this again I would probably not bother with the ice, for the rainbow one. We'll see once the properly ice dyed dress comes out of this wash, I can hear the washer spinning but I'm trapped under Chita at the moment.

I missed this week's fic update because I'm progressing so slowly on both current active WIPs. I have a bunch written ahead in both, but each one has the back half of the current chapter just held up waiting for me to write them; I've overcome the structural decisions that delayed me, but I have to just sit and write them. And both of them are complicated scenes I've been waiting to write a long time, so I'm looking forward to writing them, and so like, paradoxically, can't make myself do it. Because once I've done it I'll have done it, see... anyway. Silly but there it is. I'll get through it once I decide I deserve that treat. I know! I know.

[h-c-u]

A different type of exercise

Summary: You do your best to convince Slider to come back to bed, but he wants to finish a set before that... 

Pairing: Ron "Slider" Kerner x fem!reader 

W/C: 1.6k

Rating: +18, size difference, daddy kink

TWs: none

A/N: Porn without plot. Also - don't distract someone lifting weights in real life, it's dangerous af. But beside that - enjoy! 

Masterlist | List of tags

You didn't exactly know why your wonderful boyfriend liked to exercise in the middle of the night, and it's not like you were totally against it. What you really hated was waking up and not having him in bed with you...

And this time you woke up already horny and soaked... You didn't remember what you were dreaming about but it must have been amazing, because the feeling didn't want to go away, not allowing you to go back to sleep. And you definitely didn't want to take care of that yourself, when Ron was just in another room.

With a heavy sigh, you got out of bed and went to your home gym wearing only one of his old t-shirts.

He was currently getting ready to lay on the bench and start lifting, with his hands wrapped in tape and everything else prepared.

- Ronnie...? - you said, grabbing his attention, but not enough for him to stop. - Come to bed, I need you... - you knew that just by your tone he could tell that you weren't joking.

- One last set, doll, and I'll be there, I promise... - he replied, finding the right position, wrapping his hands around the bar, and lifting it in the air.

- You don't understand... I need you now... - your voice was low and full of that primal need, but he still assumed that you'll be able to manage 10 more minutes. He was wrong.

Seeing his muscles tense, his whole body working intensely on lowering and lifting the weights just did something to you... On a regular day you could watch his impressive physique for hours, no matter what he was doing, but now... Now watching wasn’t enough, so you slowly came closer to him and stood over the bench, giving him one last chance to stop, but he didn't... So you took matters into your own hands.

- Y/n... - he warned you when you lowered the band of his shorts and got closer to his exposed penis. You always had trouble with fitting his whole cock into your mouth, and you honestly tried to work on your gag reflex, but he was just... so big. Fortunately, you just needed him hard, not even caring how your actions affected him now. - Ffffffuck.... - he said, still trying to finish the set, but he was slowly losing count, with his dick quickly filling up in your warm, soft mouth. Not even half a minute later, you straddled him and with your hand, guided him inside you; he didn't even have time to react properly. Next to extreme pleasure, he felt that he was in real danger of getting stuck under the weights because you were distracting him so much.

So while you were slowly sinking down, taking him deeper and deeper, he finally lifted the bar one last time and rested it on the handles, just as your pussy swallowed him whole.

- Needy little thing... Couldn't even wait 10 minutes... Do you want daddy so bad...? - you eagerly nodded, enjoying the burning stretch without moving just yet, but you knew you wouldn't be able to stay still much longer. - Awww... Poor thing... Daddy's sorry he wasn't there to take care of you when you woke up. - he rose on the bench, changing the angle, which drew a long, deep moan from your mouth. He immediately drank it directly from a source, kissing you with a passion that took your breath away. - And you're taking me so well... Such a good little girl... - he smiled between the kisses and started taking off the shirt you were wearing; he wanted to see the bulge in your stomach and how it will move when you were ready to continue, which didn't take long.

You had to stand on your toes, just to rise enough to get half of him out of you, but you were determined to make it work, so instead of actually getting up, you started grinding against his body, trying your best to stimulate your clit. The sounds you were making were lewd, and he loved every single one of them... You could feel your juices making his pubic hair wet, somehow making them rougher, and the pleasant scratch only added to the stimulation, but even that wasn't enough... Your calves were twitching and spasming, ready to give up. You knew what you had to do...

- Daddy... - you were a mess... Your body was covered in sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead, and you were already out of breath.

- Yes princess...? - he asked with a cheeky smile as if what you were doing wasn't affecting him at all.

- Please... - your voice cracked from desperation and you rested your head on his shoulder because you just... weren't strong enough.

- Please what, princess...? - you huffed in frustration and bit him. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but he definitely felt it, because he chuckled. He knew that you had trouble regulating your reactions when you were so desperately helpless, and he wouldn't mind even if you drew blood, because he loved being marked by you. - Use your words. - he requested in a soft tone, but you knew that if you didn't ask, he would inform you in that same soft tone dipped in honey that good girls ask for things nicely, and if you couldn't do that, it meant you didn't really want it... And that would be the end of the night... And that was something you just couldn't deal with.

- Daddy... Please fuck me... Make me cum and fill me up... - you said, suddenly embarrassed by your actions and words, hiding your face in the nook of his neck.

- Since you asked so nicely... - he teased, but his strong hands found their way under your ass and squeezed your cheeks hard; you knew well what that meant and you lifted your feet from the floor and crossed your ankles behind him. He shifted once more, moving his forearms under your thighs, giving himself more leverage to actually start moving your body, and then he slowly lifted you in the air, so only his tip stayed inside you, and you almost cried at the sudden emptiness, but you didn't have time to even think about complaining because he let the gravity work with him, and you literally fell onto his whole length. And then again... And again... He was using your body as a toy, and you were more than happy to let him because he was making you feel so good... He was dragging the tip against your g spot with every move, whispering sweet praises directly into your ear... How good you felt around him, how he loved that your tiny body was taking him without a hitch, how perfect your moans were, and how you should moan even louder...

And even through all the praises and compliments, you could hear the obscene sounds your pussy was making every time he entered, and even though you two did much kinkier things in the past, it made you blush because it was a clear sign how strongly Slider could affect your body. And with every move he was getting you closer and closer to the peak, but when you were almost there...

- Hold on, princess... just one minute longer... So we can cum together and your tight walls can milk me even harder. Ok...? - he asked, but you knew it wasn't a request, and something in you broke when he looked at you. You were so close, even stronger breath could push you over the edge, and yet he was intent on keeping you there for just a little longer. You nodded, tears of frustration and desperation streaming down your face, while he was still moving your body. You bit your lip so hard that you drew blood, trying your best not to cum. It was hard and he knew exactly what he was doing, especially when he moved one hand to your lower abdomen and pressed on it hard at the same time as he said. - Now you can cum... - as soon as the words left his mouth, the tightly woven cord in your core unraveled and you slumped against Ron's torso, so checked out, that you didn't even realize what exactly happened when you came.

It took you a few minutes to come back to consciousness...

Slider's arm was still tightly wrapped around your waist, while his second hand was gently playing with your hair... He was still panting, and so were you, but you also realized something else... Everything was... wet. And not from sweat...

- I've made a mess, didn't I...? - you asked quietly, your cheeks on fire.

- A beautiful mess, princess... I just wish I could have drank it all straight from a source. - he grinned, a plan already forming in his head. It's not like it was the first time you squirted, but it wasn't happening often, so it was always a pleasant surprise. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. - You were perfect... - small praise, but it made you grin like an idiot.

- Carry me to bed...? - you requested quietly, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he started to stand up, a change of position making his cock fall out of you, and with it, you could feel sticky cum sliding down your thigh.

- Quick shower first... - he pressed another gentle kiss, this time to your temple and you couldn't help but smile. 

A/N 2: Please don't feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. But I would really appreciated if you commented :) Love, G.

[ruthlesslistener]

for the ship/don't ship meme: Aeris and his Dubious Decisions Trio (Drifter, Misraaks, Taniks)

KJHSDBFGKJSHDF I SHOULDA KNOWN YOU'D ASK ABOUT AERIS'S POOR CHOICE IN MEN

(preliminary note: Aeris is aromantic, so saying that I ship Aeris with anyone here defines a close sexual partnership rather than a typical romantic relationship, as he's incapable of anything else. We aroshippin in this bitch)

Putting this under a cut bc its gonna get long and there's going to be talk about sex. Lots of OC x canon stuff in here for the 3 people who are into that sorta thing

Aeris/Drifter: Don't ship, casual fling

Why don’t you ship it?

-Aeris chose Drifter to pop his cherry/teach him how to fuck for two reasons: one, he knew that Drifter was pan and thus actually interested in him, and two, he knew that Drifter wouldn't make it weird or judge him for his...everything. Drifter also thinks he's kinda cute in a weird, awkward, gangly way, so he was more than happy to have a casual fling with him and teach him the ropes

2. What would have made you like it?

-Not sure honestly! I like the thought of Aeris and Drifter being bros who are comfortable enough to fuck if they want it (like how straight men will compliment each other's ass and dicks, but these guys actually mean it), but as an actual pairing they're more just for character development than anything else. I prefer Eris/Drifter QPR too so Drifter is kinda taken in that regard, though Drifter DOES like to crack jokes about fucking both Aeris with an A and Eris with an E to those in the know

3. Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

-Even tho Aeris never really sought Drifter out after he got confident in his abilities to not fuck up a fling, I have a fuckload of fun imagining them going 'nice cock bro' in casual conversation or Aeris showing off in Gambit while Drifter hypes him up. So they're still very much a fun duo to fiddle with but it's not much different from how they were before

Aeris/Misraaks: FWB ship, kinda complex

I'mma count this as 'ship' even though its not too far off from the Aeris and Drifter thing in that a heatmate is just an inherently more vulnerable, intimate position than a casual fling. However, Aeris is still aromantic and Misraaks is someone I view on the ace/demi spectrum, so it comes with a caveat in that its again, not a ship so much as this grey zone of 'I trust you to see me when I'm aching and needy and vulnerable but I don't want you as a partner'- made even MORE complex in that Aeris treats Eido like a younger sibling which gets Weird when you factor in the fact that he's fucking her dad (though obviously the adopted sibling thing isn't literal)

What made you ship it?

-Aeris/Misraaks was the first thing I considered when thinking about fleshing out Aeris's sexuality. Partially because Misraaks is hot, so of course I'd want to throw people at him, but also because his chill, laid-back personality meant he was perfect for Aeris's tendancy to want to experiment with things.

As for how they fit together- it works because Aeris, as the Young Wolf of his universe, already has a history of trustbuilding exercises with Misraaks, so Misraaks knows that he's a very quiet, dependable individual who'd never divulge any personal information and would meet any of his alien eccentricities with curiosity instead of fear or judgement (and that Aeris is brutally honest, so him offering himself as a heatmate because he wants to help + is curious is genuine). Aeris is also in the unique position of being both outside of traditional Eliksni culture while also being feared and respected enough by them to be a Kell's heatmate, so even if something DID come out about them fucking, there wouldn't be any social consequences to it re: hierarchy stuff. Oh, there would be gossip for sure- but how could you tell a godslayer who he could or could not share his body with? Or judge a Kell for wanting someone so strong as a suitable mate? Not to mention not needing to worry about any STDs or pregnancy issues with Aeris, as Misraaks might for any other Eliksni

And Aeris- as he very quickly found out when sleeping with Misraaks- is a size queen and a masochist. So Misraaks doesn't really have to worry about Aeris just gritting his teeth and bearing it. If anything, he has to tell Aeris to slow down before he does something that causes Misraaks irreparable distress, even though Aeris himself can bounce back from any injury. It makes finding relief during his heats all that much easier, even if Aeris can't give him pheromonal relief

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

-The comedic relief potential inherent to anyone figuring out that Aeris and Misraaks are fucking. I mean, its a very poorly kept secret if you knew where to look, but...who's looking?

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

-I literally made Aeris and this pairing, I have nobody to argue with but myself

Aeris/Taniks: Ship. Just outright ship. Aeris is still aro here but honestly I don't think that matters here because the whole thing is a goddamn disaster from start to finish. They're the world's most beautiful car crash

What made you ship it?

-The moment the whole 'OOPS I ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED TANIKS THE SCARRED WHEN GUARDING A NEWLIGHT' moment went down in DnDestiny! I had ZERO recollection of the 'bite to denote marriage' headcanon at the time I decided I wanted Taniks to bite Aeris, so running with the joke was great fun. And then, of course, as soon as you start joking about it is when it becomes serious, so here I am

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

-That it works surprisingly well given the circumstances. Aeris is aromantic, autistic, and a living weapon- he took the 'you are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill' thing that the Witness said to him in the Black Garden waaay too literally, and nothing he had to do ever really disproved that, either. Taniks is undersocialized to the point of being feral, doesn't know what love is, and is only seen as a murderous killing machine by both Eliksni and humans alike, so their character parallels are wayy too fun to play around with. If there was anyone for Taniks to be accidentally married to, then Aeris is probably his best bet. Now he's just gotta get over the fact that Aeris thought it over and actually wants to be tied up with him...gl with that buddy

Also, Aeris has a lot of really, really hard kinks related to his issues with personhood that really only another guardian or someone like Taniks can resolve. And Aeris doesn't get along with other guardians well enough to form a sexual relationship with them, so...Taniks it is then! Works out in the long run anyhow bc of the aformentioned size kink thingy he's got gong on, bc Taniks is a big boy. There's more of a social consequence to the whole ordeal, of course, but Aeris doesn't give a lick of a shit about that

Plus they have the extra fun of 'enemies to...whatever the fuck is going on over there.' 'The only one who can see the humanity in a monster is another monster' sorta deal. Idk they both need therapy for their traumas but they're gonna do it in the most fucknasty gorey way first

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

-See above point about me literally making Aeris and thus being incapable of having an unpopular opinion on a guy very few people know about.

The closest I can come really is that the jokes about him and Taniks getting divorced ain't happenin because uh,,,those bite marks aren't going away any time soon. As in, ever. Idk about Taniks being able to shed them out but Aeris isn't getting out of this one in the slightest

[breelandwalker]

hello! I am very new to witchcraft and your blog has been very helpful to me as someone who does not have anyone i know to look to in real life :)

I have a question, is it okay to just,,, try things out in your craft sometimes because they make sense to you or it feels right? i dont mean saying that this herb means this because i say so, but like lighting a certain type of incense while you do spells not because its supposed to help with the intention but because it calms you. Today I enchanted a necklace for the first time after doing research and reading a lot about what other people do in their craft and did just that along with lighting some candles and opening windows despite no one mentioning that. i know this example is small, but there are a lot of things that i want to do because they make sense to me, but at the same time I don't want to make things up. i see people saying that its about intention and good to write your own spells and all that, but is that something i should be doing when im new to witchcraft? it's just really hard to tell if I'm doing things right sometimes.

sorry for such the long ask, thank you for your helpful posts :)

This is a good question and a good object lesson.

When you're first starting out with witchcraft, and even later as you go on, there are plenty of pre-written spells to try out and lots of correspondences to learn and tips to follow. However, it's important to remember that your craft is still your own. It's not going to be an exact match to anyone else's, and that includes using things in ways that make sense to you but may not match generally agreed-upon usage or correspondences.

This isn't to say that we should ignore common sense or cultural boundaries or safety measures, of course. (And good on you for including that from the start.) But part of learning magic and developing your craft is figuring out what works for you and what doesn't. Sometimes that means adapting a spell you found online or in a book to suit your needs and purpose. Sometimes it means using unconventional materials or using different correspondences than you'll find in a volume of Cunningham.

It may also mean creating your own spells, which is a fantastic exercise that I recommend to any witch of any experience level, including complete beginners. Even if they're clunky, even if they don't work, even you just write them as a creative exercise and never cast them, spellwriting is a great way to learn how magic works and how magical workings are put together.

It's not so much a matter of doing things the right way or the correct way as finding out how and why things are done at all, and from there, deciding which bits you want to do and what you're good at. So unless you're part of a dedicated tradition that has Rules about how these things should be done and is giving you formal instruction on the process, experimentation and experience are going to a big part of your education.

Dabbling is encouraged. Test things out to see what fits. If it works and you like it, learn more. If not, there's always another topic to explore. Making things up, testing theories, and seeing if they work a time-honored part of Finding Shit Out.

We don't learn to paint by expecting to produce a masterpiece overnight. Sketch. Practice. Make a mess. Try again. Find your style and don't worry about how it looks to someone else. The only person you have to impress is yourself.

I'm glad the blog is helping. Hopefully it will continue to do so. If you have more questions, my inbox is always open.

Best of luck to you, witchling!

[swampgallows]

.

i wish i had a more definitive diagnosis for whats wrong with me. the worst of my symptoms don't seem to easily fit into any standard criteria. like, i have intrusive thoughts, thoughts that are so intrusive that they make me stop what im doing, or i end up talking myself out of something i was going to do because the thought is so painful/disturbing/foreboding etc. it happens a lot when im at my turntables, maybe because all of my senses are dormant except for sound, and im concentrating so hard on listening, or something. it's like my guard is down so my mind has a chance to storm through with upsetting thoughts or flashbacks or completely fabricated scenarios.

it's why i could never meditate. i used to describe it to a therapist as my mind being like a tall building, and my consciousness was on the ground floor, and the penthouse was full of these demons trapped at the top, and if i tried to empty my mind all of the guards would be absent, and then the demons would see that the way was clear and start stampeding down all the flights of stairs toward the exit/lobby. and i would be sitting there trying to meditate and clear my mind and could envision this dark cloud approaching closer and closer like i was being fucking hunted.

i read somewhere else that meditation doesn't really work for people with ptsd, or it at least has a shitload of prerequisites before someone can get to a point where they can effectively meditate. nobody (therapists included) ever told me that, like that i had to start out with bite-sized portions of meditation (like literally one minute at a time), for my environment to be comfortable and without any distractions, shit like that. they'd just say "oh go on youtube" and link me some 30 minute "meditation for beginners" shit. which imo is comparable to telling someone "just work out" when what they actually need is physical therapy. instead i would try meditating and have a panic attack, like someone with an injury throwing their back out trying to do basic exercises. then they'd say some stupid shit like "ohhh well thats why it's sooo important that you keep trying to meditate, let those thoughts come to you so that you can process them :)", essentially encouraging me to trigger flashbacks instead of having a discussion about why i might feel unsafe or why a method like meditation might invoke this kind of reaction. you dont tell someone with a broken arm to "just keep trying" to throw a baseball then go "no pain no gain!!1" when it hurts them to do it. you go, hey, actually, it shouldn't hurt to throw a baseball, let's check that out. like meditation is meant to be calming, it's not a fucking ayahuasca trip. if meditation is making me have actual panic attacks instead of calming me down, something is wrong.

i dunno im mad now lmfao. i have an appointment w a therapist FINALLY coming up in a few weeks and im really not looking forward to it. i think im gonna end up with another milquetoast "this woman streamed yoga from her bedroom during lockdown and look how many followers she has!!! she changed the world" bitch again

anyway i dont know why i get so many intrusive thoughts while trying to practice mixing but it bums me out fucking hard and sucks all the fun out of it. i have so many records and ive had my turntables so long and i can still barely mix properly because i only know how to mix in my headphones and 9 times out of 10 my mind likes to terrorize me

[dream-in-seoul]

Rant about friendships coming up:

Let me make this clear, this is about people in my offline life, not about anyone here. I actually have multiple kind people checking on my wellbeing here and i appreciate you all so much even if I don't have much energy to reply and be cheerful these days 💜

However I just want to rant about how friendships have changed in the recent couple of years, at least for me and maybe someone else will find solace in my ramblings.

Ever since I became chronically ill, I lost most of my friends I made at university. Eventually, I stopped reaching out to people to hang out or talk to them because it was clear they were not interested. As my health declined, I was no longer able to travel across cities easily to visit them, and no one ever visited me. I always suggested we Skype instead, but to my surprise, people never wanted to. Now I am realising they wanted to go out not hang out with me.

One of the longest friendships I have managed to keep slowly fizzled out, probably ended already without me knowing and it is breaking my heart a bit.

This friend was willing to Skype me sometimes as it helped her pass the time when working on her art, however then she wanted to change her way of living and wanted to go out only. So I always travelled to see her and I spent the day walking around with her, hiking etc. no matter the time or weather. My friend knew how bad my health became and that hiking in heat made me close to passing out (I probably have pots) and sick and it would put me in bed for days or weeks. I always tried to be cheerful. I was happy to see my friend, but she would often lecture me about how bad my fitness was and how i would not feel as sick if I moved more (at the time I was still forcing myself to do daily walks and I had more movement daily than her).

Then she would ignore me for a few months when she had events to go to. I would get to listen the stories and sometimes was a little sad. I was never invited.

The last time we saw each other was in December. My body was throwing another issue at me (which is still lasting I am afraid) and I stood up for myself for the first time and asked whether we can skip the walking and stay in a cafe instead as I knew that even just the journey there will be harsh. My friend agreed and we sat down for a nice lunch as she told me about all the things she was watching, working on and the events she has been to. Then she told me about her new trainer and how he told her that he never tells his clients "not to do a certain exercise in a certain way so they don't fixate on it" which I guess makes sense. So I nodded and agreed and suddenly it went down the wildest rabbit hole.

I listened to my friend talk about how this works in everything in life and she will no longer listen to people's rambles about their issues because she doesn't want to go through the same thing as them because of it. If they tell her they are sick, then she would feel sick too, she concluded. (I highly doubt this is what her pt meant)

I was stunned. It wasn't hard to tell what she was hinting at. I just nodded. I respect that.

Then she asked about my worked, suggested I should either find extra work or "do something about it" and when I said, I don't think I can handle more work and that I am now dealing with a new symptom - I stopped myself and said: "I won't tell you about it of course since you have explained how harmful you find it"

"Yeah, exactly. Better not tell me, I don't want to be sick, too."

And I felt like shit. I didn't know what to talk about. My life was falling apart and I couldn't even tell my only friend.

Few months later, few days before I was due to leave to Korea, she texted me to hang out. For the first time, I declined. I was on antibiotics and needed all the rest before my flight "that is valid I guess."

Then I wished her happy birthday when it rolled around a month later. She did not remember mine. I invited her to come meet my new puppy. Of course, she never came.

Now I don't reach out, nor do I think I want her to. I don't want a friendship where I have to fake happiness to make someone else feel better. What has happened to our friendship. "Problems are for therapy" is what I have heard way too often from people who has usually never done therapy and as someone who has - no, they are not. Sometimes you need a therapist and sometimes you need a friend.

I hate how therapy culture is ruining friendships. How people grasp all those out of context sentences that ruin our sense of community.

Yes, put yourself first. I always encourage people to do that. But if you take it to extremes, are all your friends beneath you?

Yes, you don't owe anyone anything. But don't you want to have meaningful relationships where you help out and they help out?

If you want sanitised friendships, you are not experiencing friendships.

But I don't know. Perhaps I am in the wrong here.

[turtle-toe]

My experience with and opinion on fat acceptance

I am currently 16 years old and 5'6, 169 pounds. I need to tell my story.

I've been fat or chubbier my entire life due to poor eating habits taught to me early on. "Oh, you want thirds on that giant plate of yours? Sure, go right ahead." But I never really noticed until about 5th grade and really got self conscious in 6th grade. But, I was healthy. I'd say I was around 5'3 and 155-160 pounds. I moved around a lot, I was running with no thought about breath control every day at recess. But I still sucked in my guy and wore giant shirts so no one could see the shape of my body. Then, Covid hit.

I gained what i thought was so much weight during lockdown, as everyone else did too, as well as my oh so quirky mental illnesses. I was at 168 and it made me feel horrible. But not in the health way but the outer appearance way. Then I discovered fat acceptance.

I went from sucking in my gut to being sucked into a harmful mindset that I cannot change but that's okay.

Now, I have to give the movement credit where it's due; it both positively and negatively affected me. The negative part was that i gained about 20 pounds. I got to 180. The positive was that I gained confidence that I desperately needed. I started to not care as much about what I thought people would think, I started to wear more form fitting clothes, I started to even wear two piece swimsuits. But that 20 pounds felt absolutely horrible. And after about two years in the fat acceptance movement, I finally got out of it.

I finally stopped blaming everyone else, either for not being "fat positive" or for being the ones who made me fat. I finally stopped thinking the "naturally" skinny girls were my worst enemy. I finally stopped blaming my genetics. I finally realized just how much I was grossly overeating. I finally saw just how bad I was and how the path I was taking would've lead me to major health problems and an unhappy life filled with resentment and bitterness.

So I took that confidence given to me by the movement and I used it to better myself. After many ups and downs, I managed to get down to 162. I've gained 7 pounds back but I'm trying my best to be consistent. And this health journey started because I wanted to be healthier and just feel better, mostly because I wanted to justify it because I thought that it was wrong of me to want to lose weight to look a certain way. But honestly, fuck that. I don't care if it's fat phobic of me to want my own body to be smaller. So, health is a priority for me but I will be damned if I don't start looking the way I want.

And I tagged this with so many of these fat acceptance tags because I know for damn sure that I would've needed this post three years ago. To hear how it affected someone close to my age. So to anyone who is feeling like shit because you feel as though you can't lose weight or you don't feel as pretty as others; you can do this. You're absolutely gorgeous and handsome and pretty and interesting no matter how you look. But please, please, please don't take to the fat acceptance movement as a way go block out and ignore your insecurities. It doesn't work, it will only get worse. I lost those 17 pounds just by eating a few more vegetables and very inconsistent exercise. I realize everyone is different but it's way easier than you think it is.

Please, y'all, take care of yourselves.

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Libertarians are great. I don't know if you know anything about them - I have a feeling you don't exactly travel in the same circles. If you ask them what their ideal government is they say "one that doesn't exist." Because it's "corrupt" and "unnecessary." Governments after all are institutions and institutions have agendas. The government can use force to exercise that agenda. And impede individual freedoms. When pushed on exactly how you do resolve disputes and enforce contracts though, Libertarians will insist that the "people" can resolve that amongst themselves. In what way, you may wonder? Well perhaps a court could be formed specifically to resolve these disputes. Who is in charge of this court? "The people," they say. How do the people decide? Well, they could... vote...

I'll give you ten guesses how this relates to your video about the abolishment of show don't tell.

Found this absolutely ridiculous comment. I gonna need more that ten guesses to do and probably change my brain for a different one.

Nothing cracks me up more than the fact that libertarians have repeatedly tried to create Galt's Gulch, the supposed libertarian utopia from Atlas Shrugged where you can't even loan a guy your car without demanding payment, and failed because the lack of laws lets corrupt people run off wiht the money without paying them a dime.

Which is exactly what they want. Corrupt people getting to do what they want. They want the freedom to run roughshod over everyone else but throw a fit when someone does the same to them.

[softsky-daily]

1/18/2024

It was cold and then cold and wet and then warm and wet and then cold and wet again and then just cold.

Positive thing: I had pizza with friends after class.

We always choose the same pizza place because it's cheap and close by but I've gotten a bit attached to it as a hangout place too. We've been going after class every now and then for about a year now.

My day started off bumpy since I had to stay later after work because my coworker didn't get to her tasks. It would be one thing if she was struggling and genuinely seeking help with stuff, but there's been multiple times she'll interrupt me and say something along the lines of "hey, I really want to be able to get to my homework, so can you do this task for me?" I don't even care she does homework during work hours (I do the same thing, but only after I finish my work stuff) but don't push things onto other people just to suit your own needs. It's annoying to have my boss enable her too and make me and our other coworker do what she can't, although I get that these tasks are time-sensitive and need to be accurate so in the moment she doesn't have much of a choice. But still.

Class ended early at least. I think our professor doesn't really know what's going on because she reads the slides like she's never seen them before but it's fine honestly. I could use a break from classes that expect too much from us.

Oh yeah, at like 10:30pm one of the people from my prac texted and was like, do you want my last client? And I was like uhh. Sure? (I had an empty slot since one of mine canceled.) And she was like okay cool, I'm going to call people to get them to switch now :) and I'm thinking girl at 10:30 at night?? The clinic is closed. She went on to tell me she didn't think she was a good fit for the client and to tell me "ahead of time" that the client is dealing with trauma, which like, yeah duh okay. And she said the client would be "really good for experience" but she didn't want to work with a kid client and she "doesn't need the client hours" and all these other things.

I don't know, I didn't really like her tone about the whole situation. I kept thinking about how she must've really not wanted to work with this client because she's calling in the middle of the night to get her switched, and it's only been a day since she first met her. And I didn't like how she talked as though trying to sell them off to me just for "experience", or for "hours". This is the kind of tone I hear a lot in my counseling program, and I never know how to clearly define my discomfort with it - on one hand, I understand the thought process of if you can't give best services to someone you should give them to someone who can, but on the other, this is the part of your training in this field to learn how to help clients of all sorts. "Difficult" (I say this with very big air quotes) clients can't just get shuffled around forever. They deserve to have someone reach out to them too and say, I will help you.

I don't think my classmate was being hurtful on purpose or anything, and I can't fault anybody for wanting to work with their population of choice. It's just not the line of thinking I really agree with for myself. I see it more like, if you are entering a helping profession, you especially shouldn't be discriminatory with when and who you give your help to. Imagine being told you're too much of a niche case to be helped and then being shuttled along somewhere else, where you may or may not get rejected too. At least where we are in our training, I think it's best to exercise your empathy and stretch your skills as much as possible across as many diverse people as possible while we still have the safety net of our program to catch us if we mess up.

Anyways. I said I would be happy to see that client if she didn't want to. We'll see how that works out.

[swolesecrets]

America is Obese.

Before I begin, I think it is crucial that I tell you a bit about me... My name is Gwyneth, I am a 17 year old girl who loves fitness, starting my fitness journey around 2-3 years ago. I have always had a caring and empathic personality, ultimately hoping to help people. For that reason among many others, I plan on pursuing a career in nursing as well as personal training. My goal is to preach the wonders of the fitness world whilst assisting people to attain their goals. Welcome to swolesecrets...  

The detrimental obesity epidemic is an overlooked societal issue specifically throughout the Western community. "The latest estimates are that approximately 34% of adults and 15–20% of children and adolescents in the U.S. are obese." According to https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov, this concludes that obesity is a health concern that affects every age segment of the U.S population. Just how detrimental can an obese population really be though?.. VERY bad. 

Defined by the Oxford English Dictionary, the term obesity is “The condition of being extremely fat or overweight; stoutness, corpulence.” Ultimately posing affects one's physical capabilities and quality of life. 

“But how does someone else’s physical health affect you?” 

As a gym nerd myself and an aspiring personal trainer, it is simply a fact that this growing obesity epidemic will have an impact on the society as a whole, and here’s why… Given that as seen by definition; this state of health imposes compromises to the individual's physical demands… We can foresee economical issues given that more people are incapable of doing difficult jobs essential to a functioning society, such as trade work, floor nursing and emergency services amongst many others, and in fact increase tax rates and pose negative effects on the healthcare system. 

Just within recent years, obesity rates have spiked immensely. In terms of a historical science stand-point, early primates and our ancestors were “physically fit”, because it was a factor that determined their survival rate, which can be proved by the Darwin Theory. “Survival of the fittest” literally and metaphorically. 

It is most important to note that weight does not correspond to obesity! Everyone is different, in terms of metabolisms, genetics, bone structure and where they may carry weight. To say that being “skinny” or being “larger” is healthy or unhealthy is unfair, the truth is, there's no set definition of what a healthy person is as long as their body does not compromise them from expected average tasks and their favorite activities. Did you know that exercising speeds up your metabolic rate naturally, thust decreasing your risk of obesity.

In the most simple way, weight is determined by the average ratio of calories being consumed to calories being burnt. When the average person consumes more than what the body is able to burn, that's when we can observe a gain of weight.

“But do the pros REALLY outweigh the cons?”

There are so many reasons why exercise is beneficial for humans' emotional, physical and psychological well-being. I think that everyone could benefit from exercise, especially for themselves. It doesn't matter how you do it, the fitness world is so immense from weightlifting, zumba classes, pilates, yoga, aqua fitness, sports, swimming, cardio, home workouts, biking and perhaps even walking your dog.

Let's be real, many of us don't like exercising at first. I certaintly didn't. I was in grade 9 during the pandemic when I first set foot in the gym, not knowing what the muscle groups were even called. Nor what a benchpress even was. Thankfully though, through my mask no one could see my facial expression of udder confusion looking up "back workouts for girls", "instant ab workouts", "toned full body workout." into my TikTok search. I think thats one of the many reasons why fitness could benefit EVERYONE. It allows you to challenge yourself; work towards something. For me personally I truly believe fitness has helped immensely with my mental health. From being so isolated in my room every day throughout lockdown, fitness taught me determination, improved my work ethic, allowed me to process my feelings and gain confidence.

With that being said, throughout this Blog I will discuss the insides of the fitness industry including, the many benefits of working out, motivation sources, my journey in depth, healthy nutrition advice, my favorite workouts, time management with working out and much more…

[flirtyambiguouswizard]

[My shitty Summary of you]

You're like, a really good writer. Your blog can be a little intimidating to new wizards but you're super sweet and everyone thinks you're cool. You use your wizard blog almost to just tell stories with other people. To me, the posts you do, while still being roleplay, are more like collaborative story telling exercises. You seem to put a lot of effort into the RPs you do, and I don't know if it just comes naturally to you or if you put a ton of effort into making it fun for your friends, but your blog is exceptional, I hope you're a writer or doing something else with that great talent of yours.

[sorry this did turn into me just rambling how cool you are, I hope you like my description of you still]

- <|:)

I don't know if I'm supposed to respond or not but whatever, I'll use this like a "get to know me" occasion

First of all: thank you very very much for the compliments!

Now some points about your observations:

I mostly interact with other blogs mainly because I'm not that good at coming up with things on my own. I do better when I can bounce ideas off with someone and I enjoy being surprised and given new angles and directions I wouldn't have thought of. I like to set a direction or have a general idea of where I want to go with a RP but let the others involved get as much room as possible to fit their vision in. I think the result is way more realistic and nuanced than when i have complete control over what happens.

I do put a lot of effort into the RPs, mainly because it's fun to do so. I already have to imagine the scenario I'm acting in to get and stay in character so it would be kind of a waste not to put into words what I'm picturing. It also has the benefit of creating a shared setting and this helps with the RP, as it makes it easier for the "actors" to create something coherent. But It can be very tiring and I don't always have the energy to put all the effort in so I often "disappear" and limit myself to engaging in some funny banter with other wizards, relatively low effort interactions that can also be quite funny but don't stress me as much

I'm not a writer and I don't really write stories outside of here, mainly because I'm hot good at coming up with things that start and end on my own; I always think I'm too boring and not up to my standards and I think I'm not really that good at writing characters that don't rely on my personality or my set of moral values. They always feel too fake to me so I get embarrassed and give up. I am however getting back into fanfictions and I plan of writing something, mostly for fun, without putting too much pressure on myself.

I'm sorry for the unnecessary amount of words and I'm also sorry if this blog feels intimidating it's not really my intent and I'm very open to suggestions, if I can change something about the blog while still respecting the character of Lanfear I will.

[anaturaljourney]

Psychic Journey

I have, in the past year, felt more and more drawn to witchcraft and have had the very strong desire to truly learn it and incorporate it in my life. As someone who grew up in a very fundamentalist Christian church...this was hard to reconcile. (It's probably why I'm just getting back around to it now.) However, I plowed on...

That has brought me to where I am today. I have had many ups and downs in this journey over the last year to a year and a half and, for the most part, I haven't done much with it because I had no idea where to begin. There is a lot of information out there but a lot of it centered around spell work, talking to spirits, gathering tools, telling me about how to set up an altar, and so much more. However, none of it told you how to do it and to do it safely. I felt like I floundered so much that I just stopped trying for a while.

Recently, I have found that I am back again seeking knowledge and trying to make sense of it all. This time around, however, I have found several practitioners on YouTube that have seemed to delve more into what I am looking for and feeling drawn to...it has been almost a relief. I feel like I'm on the right track.

One of the best things about this path forward, I am hearing from the direction of these "voices from the 'Tube'"...lol...is them telling me (and anyone else who cares to listen) to start with the basics. This is something I really needed to hear. What are the basics? They are to first...research (everything), learn the history of witchcraft, the different traditions and the different practices. Make sure you cross-reference your material (including your YouTube voices) and find out why you do what you are being told to do. Does it fit? Is it something I should be practicing? Am I appropriating another culture/belief?

Other things to be aware of is to make sure you know how to center and ground yourself. Know how to control energy and PRACTICE this often. This will become an integral part of doing spell work and so many other things that it is essential. This brings me to why I am writing this today...

One of the loudest recommendations I have heard as I delve back into this journey is to grab this book, 'Psychic Witch' by Mat Auryn and go through ALL of the exercises, in order. I don't need tools and I can take my time...even if it takes a year (or more). I am here for this...taking one step at a time and really solidifying the basics and not feeling as if I need to rush through any of this. Do I want to move quickly through these things? Yes, of course there is that desire but I am also such a stickler for learning things properly...especially when it comes to this practice.

So...as I dive into this book, I plan to write some of my observations here and to probably put my more personal thoughts and experiences in my Book of Shadows. In that vein...I'll start with the first thing I highlighted in this book. "...the simple truth that to be a witch is to be psychic..."

Well then...let's get started, shall we?