#desperate mind

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[nouverx]

These two have the potential to be the funniest duo of the show istg

First one is from this amazing reblog from one of my posts, second one is inspired by some of the replies of said post

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

a couple scribbles i cleaned up. also i think i like drawing him in varying states of distress

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

It’s not that Jason forgot, per se.

But between smuggling a toddler out of the League of Assassins, trekking halfway across the world, and finding a suitable hiding place that’s also child friendly… well, it kind of slipped his mind that he’s supposed to be… dead.

Something that comes back to bite him in the ass when he takes Dami out for some ice cream and just so happens to run into non other than Brucie-fucking-Wayne

[arrgh-whatever]

a little comic about my (and Pauk's) Skyrim experience

[misclotus]

lamb to the slaughter

[candy-heart-brew]

I've seen some fans theorize that the lyrics to "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" tie into Frank's developing relationship with Eddie, potentially foreshadowing a grisly end for a favorite mailman. The lyrics are incredibly emotional and poor Frank sounds like he's fighting back tears during this entire record, making it feel like there's something more going on under the surface. While it's entirely possible that this is meant to foreshadow Frank and Eddie eventually being separated, I think the song's symbolism could be pointing to a different direction...

I touched a bit on this in a different post but to summarize: the attitude that Frank displays during "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" is completely at odds to his reaction to Eddie at the party. During BaBaG he's sad but resigned to fate, he knows that hibernation is inevitable but takes a bit of comfort in the knowledge that it's only temporary and that his loneliness will only last through winter. So, he does his best to power through, keep his personal feelings out of it, and assure his little friends that he'll be alright.

By contrast, his reaction to Eddie's behavior at the party is one of panic and confusion. He doesn't understand what's happening to Eddie or why he's suddenly gone unresponsive, he just knows that he isn't acting like himself at all and he can't accept that. He refuses to leave Eddie alone even after being ignored, continuing to push until he gets a response, at which point he immediately realizes something is wrong and tries to push further, only stopping when Eddie leaves. At this point in the story they don't appear to be especially close but Frank's terrified reaction speaks volumes about his true feelings for Eddie. And if this is how he reacts to him being quieter than usual, I can't imagine that he'd be much calmer or more composed in the event of losing Eddie altogether. IMO, he's far more likely to get angry and demand answers rather than wax poetic. So while "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" could potentially foreshadow Eddie's fate, Frank's subdued reaction makes me question that interpretation. I do think there's a deeper meaning to BaBaG, that Frank is singing about something other than bugs, just not Eddie. But then who? Well, as we found out in this last update, bugs are not the only creatures in the neighborhood that hibernate...

Think about it for a moment- Julie is going to be gone for months, leaving Frank all alone without his best friend. Who's going to invite him to games now? Who's going to listen to him about his interests and laugh at his jokes? Who's going to bake gelatin monstrosities with him? Julie is practically his other half so to lose her for months on end must be very difficult for him! He knows that she can't help it and he doesn't blame her but that hardly makes it any easier. All he can really do now is just push that sadness down, wish her goodnight, and wait for her to return.

Under this interpretation, certain lyrics in BaBaG take on a different meaning to me. Lines like "I know it's for the best, I can't keep you," or "I'll be the first to tell you, you just can't stay," could imply an oncoming rift between the two of them. The recent updates have implied that Frank and Julie were written to be a couple and were perceived as such in-universe. We don't yet know how the two of them felt about that but we do know that they were very close to the point of doing basically everything together! But now Frank is falling in love with someone else, someone who may very well come to eclipse Julie in terms of importance to him. No matter how much he loves her, no matter how much they might want to stay together, there are some things you just can't fight and this play-relationship they have can't last forever...

But that's just my interpretation!

[mischieviem]

[bigfatbreak]

I'm giving myself a tiny break now that I've churned out that MASSIVE update, so you know what time it is!

TIME TO MAKE MORE BLASPHEMOUS LMAOOO

[rosepompadour]

If there were no girls like her in the world, there would be no poetry.

Willa Cather, My Antonia (1918)

[imsilay]

you absolutely have NO idea HOW MUCH I LOVE OBSESSIVE AND DESPERATE MAN

(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻

i hate pinterest for always bringing these pics on my page T-T

especially this fucking painting:

if he aint like this i don’t want him.

my delusions (cus i’m a delulu bitch):

He buried his head between your thighs. The fabric of your skirt is covering his face as his hands found their place on your ankles. He knew it was ridiculous to see a man like him, a huge, grown man with board shoulders and potential to kill a bear with his bare hands, kneeling infrond of you and pleading love from you. Just a little affection from you was all he was asking for. Even if you did it with pity or by delaying he would accept it. His head brushed against your skirt as he looked up to you and inched closer to your stomach. You narrowed your eyes and raised an eyebrow. He immediately stopped and sunk back down. “Darling…” he mumbled as his thumbs caressed your ankles. “No.” you answered sternly and leaned back onto couch. “Please?” he tried again. His hands moved up to your calfs with the wanting to feel me of you. “You don’t think you can get whatever you want when you act like that, right?” you crossed your legs causing him to lift his head and then put his chin on your knee stubbornly. He refused to leave you alone. “Can’t i?” you felt a pout in his voice. You rolled your eyes and bounced your legs to push his head off. “Get up. You make yourself look pitiful.” you spat.

He clenched his jaw and sit straight on his knees. Then grabbed your wrists and pulled you foward to him, making your cleavage his view. “Do you think i care?” he hissed and nuzzled his face into your neck. Savoring your scent. “You know i will make you my wife. Whether you like it or not.” his voice stained with lust and determination. “And when i do…” he trailed off and his fingers brushed against your waist and up to your breasts. His palm covered the skin under your breasts and squeezed lightly. You felt blood rushing to your cheeks and your face burned. “You can’t escape your fate. Don’t worry, my love. You will enjoy it. A lot.” he whispered against your skin making you feel tingly with the vibration of his voice.

You swallowed and tried to straighten your posture but he didn’t let go before pushing your hair of your neck and pressing a delicate kiss. He already knew he had you in the palm of his hand. Your protests did nothing to stop him. “Get out.” you mumbled and crossed your arms. He chuckled dryly and get up, his frame towering over you as you refused to look into his eyes. “I promise.” he mumbled before leaving your room.

now do whatever you want with this information.

[icarryitin]

Workplace Hot

spencer reid/gn!reader

look i don’t know what this is or where it came from, all i know is one day i woke up normal and then by the end of it i had started CM from the beginning and fallen in love w this man

word count: 1.2k//warnings: literally zero, just vibes

Things never go smoothly, do they?

Never quite to plan, there’s always something missing from the final draft, or something unexpected lurking in the background of the big picture.

This surprise comes gift wrapped just for you, in stupidly attractive, nerdy, beanpole patterned paper.

The first time you lamented about your unfortunate crush on Dr Spencer Reid had been over mojitos at your favourite little hole-in-the-wall bar. Sitting at the raised table with the remainder of your girl group from college, staring dismally at the bottom of your glass, they’d tried to convince you he was just Workplace Hot. Proximity Hot. Work crushes are commonplace as anything, they come just as quickly as they go. God, you wish they’d been right.

You’d tried to convince yourself of it, anyway, and that worked for a little while. You were happy enough to sit at your desk, the man in question mirroring your position somewhere on your right, five days a week. You could do your paperwork in his general vicinity and not feel like you were about to catch fire every time he leaned over the aisle to pinch a file from your stack. And then, there was The Incident.

The Incident - named for the absolute havoc wrought on your nerves until the early hours of a Sunday morning in May. Uncoordinated nights out though they had been, with your own friends out celebrating a birthday and his little group with their own agenda for the evening, it would have been rude not to wave across the bar at him. The rest of them had been too far gone already but one of your friends noticed your shy grin, arguably your best - friendship forged in the fire of back to back forensic psychology classes would be hard pressed to die. She noticed, because of course she did. So you’d told her, because of course she’d have worked it out. And then, to your horror, she’d walked right over to him. Because of course she would. She’d wandered back over to your group only a few minutes later, a solemn look on her face under the dulled bar lights.

“Do you get what I mean?”

“Oh, I get it, my condolences.”

You had been doomed from the start - cursed, bewitched. Lulled into a false sense of security via cardigans and wide eyes and odd socks until you find yourself here. Six months into your new job, and six months into an embarrassingly cumbersome crush on the good doctor.

Which probably would have been fine if either one of you stayed behind at Quantico regularly, but you don’t. Instead, you’re burdened by six months worth of knowledge of all his little quirks thanks to case after case after case.

You know he’ll commandeer the couch on the jet when he can, because he likes to stretch out when he naps. You know exactly how much sugar he takes in his coffee, too much - you feel mildly nauseous every time you make him a cup, but you still make it. You know that he chews on the inside of his lip when he’s thinking particularly hard about something, just as well as you know he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. And sure, it’s not just him, you’ve learned these silly little things about every member of the BAU team. But Reid’s just seem clearer to you. More significant. You’re a little more self conscious when you find yourself looking at him. Even in conversation, even if he’s looking to you for an observation about the Unsub. You can’t hold his eye for very long.

He knows, you’re sure of it.

There’s a rule - don’t profile the team. The golden rule. The golden rule that gets broken about fifty times a day.

Spencer likes the rule, even if he doesn’t always respect it. Sometimes it needs a little disrespecting, he thinks so anyway. Sometimes his colleagues, his teammates, his friends - they need somebody to prod them a little, letting people in goes against every fibre of a behavioural analyst’s being. But trust has to be built somehow.

He’s about this close to cracking you.

Which hasn’t been easy by any stretch of the word. You’d held him at arm’s length for much longer than the others, and at first he’d thought he annoyed you. It made sense enough, he’s been called annoying enough times in his life to know he definitely can be, and the way you’ve never really been able to look him in the eye would suggest you don’t want to get into the situation where he could be. He tries his best not to ramble at you, even now, just in case. Though that initial ice has long since melted.

You’re a lot more open with him now, even if there’s still parts he has to chip away at thick stone walls to get to. Silly things, that not everyone would care to know about their co-workers, but Spencer absolutely needs to know about you.

Which is where the stakeout game comes in.

It’s silly, really. Twenty questions - who plays twenty questions as a grown adult? FBI agents who desperately want to get to know other FBI agents whilst they’re stuck in the confines of an SUV’s backseat for hours on end. That’s who.

Derek and Emily sit up front, watching the quiet street, the way they’re supposed to be - as Spencer desperately tries to guess your favourite movie. He’s narrowed it down to two in his mind, in only three questions. The traditional rules of the game had gotten boring after the first few cases, you’d laughed and told him that he’s too good at guessing. He’d told you that you’re just not asking the right questions on your turns. You’re watching him carefully in the dark now, the way you’re meant to be watching the Unsub’s house. You don’t make eye contact but you’re studying his face all the same, he wishes you would. He’s become a little too dependent on the way his heart seizes when you allow him that kind of vulnerability.

He doesn’t have time to pick a film or ask another question anyway, because the Unsub is flying out the back door of the house, he’s jumping out of the SUV with everybody else, and the Unsub is surrounded. Thanks to your work, your observation being the final piece of the puzzle that had clicked everything else into place.

You’re chatting to a local officer when Spencer calls out the title of your favourite movie across the street. His guess, twenty questions completed in just three. How very Spencer Reid of him.

He’s right - obviously. He doesn’t need to watch the way your head drops and your shoulders shake with a giggle, interrupting your conversation to turn to him. But he watches all the same, he always does.

Your eyes sparkle in the dark when you look back over your shoulder, finally catching his under the orange haze of the streetlights, and sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies surging in the pit of his stomach. Paper thin wings clog up his throat, spindly legs tickle his lungs.

Work crushes are commonplace - but this one might just be the death of him.

[daydreamerwonderkid]

The actual Cool Kids.

Many thanks to @seven-rats-in-a-trench-coat @devilishly-stupid @tulips-and-tolstoy for your suggestions!

You do NOT have permission to repost my art.

Redraw reference below cut

[sprinklersart]

Based on This post! I made a font out of my handwriting! So fun!

[queithypmoslav3]

This was fun the first time! I was so brain dead after. Let's go again!

[buildoblivionthenwewilltalk]

there is something so essentially ‘jonny sims’ about the consequences of mag200 being not just the dissemination of eldritch fear entities but also those very same entities being farmed by a soulless civil service department that runs on caffeine and vitamin d deprivation