#i remembered it and immediately thought of them and needed to get it out of my system

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

[vitaminseetarot]

Poll PAC: What Your Next Birthday Celebration Will Be Like 🎂🎉🎁

Sup y'all, welcome back to another PAC reading. This time I'm doing a special 1 year/birthday/poll topic of choice themed pick a card! This is also a special one as VitaminSee now has 300 followers! Holy crap thank you for your support everyone! I haven't been able to get on Tumblr for a while, so I apologize if it seems like I've dropped from the aether. Life is starting to enter its hectic phase right now! Thank you so much for your patience. I'm waiting for life things to straighten out (lol as if life ever does) before I go ahead and offer some basic paid readings, which I hope to do in May.

This topic is for the next birthday you have coming up, whether that's tomorrow or next year. For my selection, I was recently lucky to have found the Wild Wisdom Companion book among a vast pile of discounted books. It's based on the Wheel of the Year. I thought this deck was perfect for making piles themed around the progression of the year and how our birthdays respond to the passage of the seasons. Pick whichever one of the Spring themed card you like most down below:

Pile 1 - The Unfurling 🌱 Pile 2 - The Wind 🕊 Pile 3 - The Door 🗝 Pile 4 - The Alchemist 🍾

Pile 1 - The Unfurling

Sagittarius - Expand, Level Up, Shadow, Isolation; XVII Star, 3 of Cups, XXI World, Ace of Wands, 5 of Cups

Hello, pile 1! Your birthday is going to be the start of great expansion. Your first three oracle cards spell it out so clearly! Sagittarius is all about shooting for seemingly farfetched goals and striking the target anyway. There is so much growth going on in your pile. You're probably anticipating your next chapter to be one of reaching beyond the horizon and feeling ready to do so. Ideas or wishes that seemed impossible may be coming closer to being within your grasp. Your life is ready to take it up a notch immediately after your next birthday, where things may begin to feel like they're accelerating. Don't worry about the turbulence, it's all a part of the movement. Breaking out of your comfort zone may feel scary, but something about your next birthday will set off a chain of events that will propel you to a new phase of life.

I have a feeling that many who choose this pile will be in a transitory stage of life, like you're getting ready to start college or a new job around your birthday. It's not just another year older, this next one will be extra meaningful in terms of receiving something you've been longing for in quite some time. It's something you've been greatly eager to begin. I don't any sense that you'll be looking back too much once you go forward, since you'll be thrust rather quickly in your next chapter.

But it's still okay if you're experiencing anxiety over it, even if it's something you've really wanted. Anxiety, doubt, and fear are not necessarily indicators that something isn't right for you. It's normal to get cold feet in this context. A sprout breaking from its seed shell is no small feat; it requires a great amount of momentum and motivation. Congratulate yourself for having come this far. Let your birthday be a chance to celebrate this. Give yourself the opportunity to commemorate with friends, if they wanna help give you a birthday to remember then let them. They may feel the vibe as much as you will on that day. Don't be afraid to take that day trip out to a new place you've never seen.

What's interesting about the Isolation card is that it shows two cups. There is meanwhile a Friendship card in this deck with only one cup. So I don't know if the words were swapped with the images or what, but the sense I get is that you will very likely be in good company during your birthday. They may want to take you out dancing (the Ace of Wands is reminding me of disco lights). However, even in the midst of the event, you may feel the urge to hide away from the crowd. I'm picturing someone stepping out of a house during a party. You may need to catch your breath at times in order to process the emotions you're experiencing, as you have a lot of energetic, lit up cards just before the five of cups.

Again, getting in dark negative moods is normal when you're facing a big new stage is not indicative that things will go wrong if it's something you know you're looking forward to. If you end up spending most of the day with friends, find some space to be at peace by yourself so you can even out your feelings. These intense moods will come and go on their own, so make sure to stay balanced (and not too overly caffeinated lol) on your birthday.

Pile 2 - The Wind 🕊

Third House - Communication, A New Day, Ball Pits, Family; 10 of Swords, 5 of Cups, III Empress, Knight of Pentacles, 4 of Cups

How's it going pile 2? I couldn't help but notice you have two pairs of swallows in your reading. Birds may have some significance for you, maybe you'll go birdwatching or even get a pet bird. For a small number of you, the birthday could involve a plane flight out of home for a quick trip. Could you be visiting family members? There's a lot of communication going on, for sure. Even if you're not traveling out by flight, you may have family members show up to take you out somewhere. They may be insistent on seeing you, talking to you, and spending time with you. The phone might blow up first thing in the morning with notifications and voicemail.

But I'm seeing a lot of hesitance in your tarot cards. You may be feeling tired or burned out and not necessarily in the mood to celebrate. The previous year was a doozy for you so perhaps catching up on sleep is more of your priority. Ever get the feeling of wanting to sleep because life is overwhelmed and you're like, "I give up (for now)?" and call it a day? You need to give yourself a chance to recuperate around your birthday, before during and after. Have a break so you can fully recover and receive all that the coming year has to offer you.

That means letting loved ones in your life, be they bio family or chosen family, understand that you'd rather have a small get together or a chance to rest every now and then if you're invited out somewhere. If you choose to go out, there's nothing wrong with taking it slow and easy, or doing something casual like grabbing some ice cream and sitting by the riverside to ponder the next year. Communicate your feelings instead of bottling them up in an attempt to keep up with everybody else. Don't let anyone convince you of how you should celebrate, it's your day your rules!

Others of you who have a little more energy, a little more of that "last year sucks, I need to go out and do something fun to sweat it off!", I feel like the ball is emphasized here with Knight of Pentacles beneath Ball Pits. Some of you looking for more action and noise may choose to go to a ball game, or spend time at the arcade playing pinball with friends. It could even be mini golf. Whether you are the low energy (calm) or high energy (excited) seeking type, getting the chance to have some fun is important, as long as it feels right for you.

This is the pile most likely to get some kind of surprise, be that a party (high energy) or a surprise gift (low energy). There will be a sense of being pampered. Some of you may get a larger number of gifts than you may have expected. You may receive a very beautiful gift, something you may treasure for a long time. Whatever it may be, allow yourself to thoroughly enjoy it and express that joy. Let yourself embrace gratitude, being mindful of what you have now regardless of how your last year has been and how your next year will be. For your next birthday, try to focus on the present (in both meanings).

Pile 3 - The Door 🗝

South Node - Past, Let Your Light Shine, Bubble Gum, Winter; Ace of Cups, 9 of Swords, 3 of Pentacles, XIX Sun, Page of Wands

Hey pile 3! For your next birthday, I'm definitely seeing you go outside to celebrate. There may be an actual party held outdoors, or you might choose to go out somewhere. I'm seeing parks, possibly national parks or natural trails. I'm getting the feeling of warm sunshine, the weather will likely cooperate perfectly on your day. You could be cruising through town, going from store to store (the 3 of pentacles reminds me of a mall here). Your birthday feels expansive and adventurous, ready for something new.

A small number of you may wish to engage a little bit in the spotlight, or you may be placed into a position of receiving more attention on this day. If you wish to, your birthday would be a great day to showcase your talents or passions, since I'm picking up a bit of Leo energy in this pile. With lips in Bubble Gum, you could be giving a speech? I'm picturing an actual toast, if you feel the strong urge to speak out then do so, let yourself be heard. I'm also seeing people sing for you at restaurants, so if that isn't your style, it's best to find a place to eat that doesn't do that sort of thing.

This birthday could be like your own version of a New Year's Eve celebration. Some of you may actually be born in the winter or around New Year's, so holidays and birthdays could tie in together. You're wanting your birthday to stand out amidst the traditional festivities (I've known many people born around Christmas who hate having their birthday gifts thrown under the tree, so you're not alone in that frustration!). You may get the idea of doing something out of the ordinary. Let yourself take the spotlight--it's your special occasion!

There's a message in your pile of letting old things go as you step into a new age. Old things from the year prior may still be sticking onto you, old issues from unresolved matters may pop up. They could be on the more practical side, like needing to sign something or finish a task on time. Be ready to step into the future unafraid--now is the time to shed the baggage. Your birthday can be the fresh start to a bright new trip around the sun, but you gotta give yourself that chance. If something needs to be resolved, and you got the time, tie up your loose ends beforehand so it's not weighing on you as you celebrate.

Your birthday is a threshold to an exciting new time for you. It may be like a breath of fresh air. I keep hearing "refreshed" and "invigorated", so this may be how you feel at the end of your birthday. You may do something that makes you think, "huh, why don't I do this more often?" That could be the key for you to step into something brand new. Will spending time with your friends refresh you, or going to a concert and discovering a new band that you will fall in love with as it warms up the show? Or may you desire to spend more time out in nature? Lean into what lights you up, listen to what engages you, and move from there.

Pile 4 - The Alchemist 🍾

Imum Coeli - Roots, Snow Day, Forest, Transformation; 3 of Cups, 6 of Cups, Ace of Swords, XII Hanged Man, 8 of Swords

What's up, pile 4? Your birthday is looking to be the absolute warmest and coziest out of all the piles. Many of you may identify strongly with introversion. I'm sensing a lot of you have your birthday around autumn or the cooler times of the year when most people are ready to bundle up in blankets or sit by the wood stove while awaiting the first signs of frost. Many of you may get a lucky chance to stay at home instead of needing to work or go to school, so you'll have the day off to plan out what you want to do. Others of you may desire to take time off if you have the chance to, I would go for it especially if you've been feeling the need to rest. You may live near trees or desire to be out in nature as a way to kick back.

I'm seeing someone invite a few friends over to watch old reruns of favorite shows while baking. It could be a gathering of closest friends, I'm not getting the sense that it'll be a big to-do bash. This day will be short, sweet, and simple. It's a good day for doing hobbies or spending time indulging in the gifts you were given. Some of you may rather spend time with family or those you live with instead of inviting people over. You and your family may share a special way of celebrating birthdays, I don't know of any birthday specific cultural traditions from the top of my head but you may have special rituals unique to you and your family. Either way, I get that you'll have a modest celebration that's nevertheless full of camaraderie and relaxing activities.

The description for the Alchemist card says "Allow Transformation", and you have another Transformation card. You may be doing a lot of transmuting on the inside, working through old stubborn patterns and limiting beliefs around this time. I'm seeing the ball of flame near the snow as if you're melting old self-sabotaging blockages away to make room for more growth in your coming year. This flame, this transmuting energy, is making way for the new to arrive.

The Hanged Man being tangled up in vines beneath a forest makes me think that you've been hung up on something that needs to be let go. You must prune in order to effectively grow. Too much in a small space can lead to cramming and confusion. You must deal with the thoughts tangling themselves up in your mind before cultivating the thoughts you want in their place. Changes may happen slowly on the outside, but when certain patterns are fully cleared out things can really take off.

So, for example, let's say you've wanted to sign up for a ceramics workshop for your birthday, or spend the day cleaning house (if you happen to find cleaning therapeutic). To do so, you'll need to not only free up your schedule, but free your mind of thoughts trying to convince you that you can't learn or can't clean. Perhaps it's difficult to not see the forest as just a bundle of trees. But a forest is more than trees, it's an entire system that supports itself in a perpetual cycle. Don't fill up your days with too many tasks, especially on your birthday. Pace the day with both the things you want to do and the things you have to do. The time around birthday will show you how to integrate the best of both worlds. We can have cake and eat it too, it's just a matter of pacing and doing things one at a time.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[georgeclarkesgf]

forgetful | george clarke

the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.

"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"

"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"

he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.

"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.

"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.

"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."

now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.

"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.

"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.

she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.

he decided on the latter.

--------

it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.

"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"

"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.

"okay. can we talk about it?"

"i've said my peace. you go."

"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."

george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.

in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.

"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."

"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."

and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.

a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3

[holdinbacksecrets]

your writing makes me feel safe, thank you. if i could request something? it’s totally ok if you aren’t comfortable but i was wondering how you think seventeen would react seeing their s/o’s self harm scars? but not the act of doing it; i’ve just been feeling a bit unworthy because of my own from my past and my mind wandered (but absolutely no worries if this is out of your comfort zone. i know self harm scars can be a trigger for sure (and you don’t have to reply in that case either)) <3 thank you either way

thank you for sharing kind words and requesting! i'm sorry for taking over a year to answer this... hopefully you still see this >.< i also hope my interpretation of your request is ok. sending you all my love 🥺 i hope you’ve been feeling better these days. you’re deserving of all the good things

seventeen: seeing your self harm scars for the first time

tw: mentions of self harming (no details of the act itself) and scars

seungcheol: he’d trace them with his lips, allowing his love to sink into the scars and caress their edges. he’d ask if they still hurt—if the memories are still piercing

jeonghan: “you turned your scar into a butterfly?” “yeah, it always made sense to get a tattoo, and it’s a reminder that pain and discomfort are fleeting. i’m never stuck.” “you’ve always had a thing for flying, haven’t you?” “yoon jeonghan, i’d exchange my arms for wings if i could.” “you’ll need me for so much more than reaching things on the highest shelf.” “you’re right… not the most practical idea.”

joshua: walks with you through the park after seeing the small x on the kitchen calendar, marking the passage of another year, and the feeling is overwhelming as painful memories flood your mind

jun: “so these aren’t from a bike wreck?” “i can’t believe you remember that…” “everything you tell me… i can’t forget anything.” “it was only our second date. i didn’t want to scare you away.” “you wouldn’t have, but i understand why you worried. i wish you didn’t have to.” “what do you think you would’ve said? would’ve thought?” “i would’ve admired you. i can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to share with anyone, let alone a person you just started dating. i would’ve felt honored that you trusted me with something so… intimate, something that leaves room for conclusions being made that you aren’t in control of.”

soonyoung: he asks if you’re ok now and immediately wonders if that was too simplistic of a question, but he means it. he wants to know if you wake up and feel peace or dread. he wants to know about the cracks in your smile. he wants to know if you’re proud of yourself now. if you were before. if he can do anything to make the dreadful moments with forced smiles easier

wonwoo: thank you for being here is the last thing you hear before drifting off, carried away by a current of warm dreams

jihoon: he cries for you and his childhood friend with similar scars. a man he hasn’t seen in years but thinks about the last week of every october—reminded of his birthday, hoping he’s celebrating well

seokmin: he holds you. he doesn’t want to let go until his tears have stopped. he doesn’t want you to know that the thought of you harming yourself pierces his heart, stops his breath, stays heavy on his shoulders, and keeps him awake while you sleep

mingyu: he wants you to know that no feeling you meet will ever scare him away. you don’t need the reminder, but he tells you anyway: you can always come to me. he will be your solid ground, the maker of comforting words and sweet distractions

minghao: will you believe him if he says you’re the strongest person he knows?

hansol: he doesn’t know what to say, and he’s suddenly afraid of his ability to support you. he hopes you can’t tell because this moment isn’t about him. the last thing he’d ever want is for you to turn to another if he’s unable to give you what you need. “it’s ok. you don’t have to have the perfect words. they don’t exist. i just want you to know. i’m so much better now. i’ve never been happier, truly, but the words were starting to itch and pull me out of present moments. summer’s coming, and i know you’ll see them soon. i just want you to know.”

seungkwan: so many questions roll around in his head. they stick to the back of his throat, and he searches your eyes for any signs of the capacity you have for sharing in this moment. you smile softly and offer a nod of encouragement. he takes a deep breath and asks the first one

chan: “do you ever…” “think about doing it again? i do, but i made a list of things to do instead.” “can i hear it?” “make tea, watch the sky, turn music on, call a friend, think about something yummy to make for my next meal, ride the train and stop as close as i can get to the library… i have a playlist of seventeen videos on my phone too.” “you’ve thought about it that recently? y/n…” “i didn’t make the playlist for that purpose alone. it started out of missing you, but i know it’ll help if i start to slip.” “you can always call me. call me first and call again if i don’t answer.”

[wintfleur]

I can totally see Ethan having Stella playfully flirt with a freshmen and then mark act like her upset bf . . . def troublemakers!

Can we get a mini blurb on this?

a/n ﹒ofc you can lovely mwah! x

au masterlist - you can find everything under #👩🏻‍🎨 ͡ ꒱ Stella Hughes!

“Hmm how about that one?” Ethan leaned down to whisper in Stella's ear as he motioned with his cup, towards a freshman who stood by the drinks table, getting a refill. Stella shook her head with a smile as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the said boy “I don't know this seems kinda mean.” 

“Oh, he’ll survive '' Mark chuckles as he loops his arm around Stella's shoulder, being careful not to spill his drink on Stella at the quick movement. Stella let out a sigh but agreed on the two boys' plan. The Two boys spent the next few minutes giving her a rundown and information about the frieshie, until they deemed, she was ready. “Go get em’ tiger” Ethan smirked, softly pushing her away from them. 

“Hi!” Stella spoke loudly enough for him to hear her over the music, as she popped up next to him, a charming smile on her lips. The boy quickly turned to look at her, and a smirk forms on his lips at the sight of her “Oh hey, enjoying the party?” 

“It's okay, I heard that the football players know how to plan a party” Stella smiled as she filled up her cup, her shoulder brushing against his. She looks back up at him to see him already looking down at her. “You're Josh, right? you're on the team?” 

Josh’s eyes widen and he keeps his smirk on his lips, his ego boosting at the fact that she knew he was already. “Yeah, and your stella” 

“Oh, you have heard of me?” Stella giggled as she tilted her head to the side, wanting to roll her eyes when she saw his eyes immediately drop to her tits and neck, ugh boys. Josh kept on looking from her eyes to her chest, not even caring that it was obvious “How could i have not? You're one of the hottest chicks on campus.” 

Stella bit back a groan of disgust, God Ethan and mark was right, he's a major dick she thought to herself. No wonder why they wanted her to mess with them. She took a step closer to him and looked up at him through her eyelashes, a teasing smile on her lips “Can i quote you on that?” 

“You can do whatever you want babe” he was quick to reply as he moved to take a step closer to her but stopped when Mark stepped up and wrapped his arm around Stella's shoulder, pulling her flush against his chest. Mark glared heatedly at Josh who looked like he saw a ghost “You flirting with my girl freshie?” 

Josh takes a step back and quickly shakes his head no “Oh no no i was just asking her, err where the bathroom was, thanks” Josh gives her a fake smile, panic in his eyes as he quickly turns around and gets lost in the crowd of students. The duo watches him for a few more seconds before breaking out into laughter. 

“God did he forget he lives here?” Stella laughs as she hides his face in her chest. Mark laughs and rubs her shoulder, and excited Ethan walking up to them, a mischievous smile on his lips “That was great stella, we have one more guy.” 

“No no no i'm going to go dance with lily and carmen, have funn” Stella smirks with a wink, trailing off into a teasing tone as she hands her cup to mark before stepping out of his hold, and turning around to make her way to the last spot she remembers her two besties where. And where rutger was . . . but they didn't need to know that. 

°. — taglist ( @lovings4turn @cixrosie @toasttt11 @bunbunbl0gs )

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 17

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

Danny reappeared in the entryway of Clockwork’s house in a swirl of blue.  He met Clockwork’s eyes for just a moment and saw the muted concern in them.  

He couldn’t stand it.  

He darted to the side and made for the stairs.  

“Daniel–” said Clockwork, behind him, but he ignored him.  

He reached his bedroom and dove under the covers of the bed, wrapping himself up in the quilt, because he missed grabbing the sheet underneath it.  He pressed the nearest pillow into his face and tried to stop crying.  

“Daniel,” repeated Clockwork softly from near the doorway.  Danny hadn’t closed the door.  

Danny shook his head.  Whatever Clockwork wanted right now, Danny just couldn’t–

The edge of the bed sank down as Clockwork sat on it.  He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder.  “It will be alright, Daniel.  You are safe here.”

“You know– You know what they did.”

“I do.”

“How could you just let me– How could you let me go there?”

Clockwork sighed.  “I am bound by the limits of the role I have taken on.  I could not tell you.”

Typical.  Danny rubbed angrily at his eyes.  “How did I get away?  Do you know?”

“I know,” said Clockwork.  He didn’t say anything else.  

“But you can’t tell me, is that it?”

“If I were to tell you,” said Clockwork, carefully, “I would be removed from my current role and replaced by someone… less able.  The Observants are ever eager to exert control.”

Danny sniffled.  Clockwork’s explanation was reasonable, from a certain perspective.  It still hurt.  

“Why did they do it?” asked Danny.  “They said they wanted to understand, but they–  Who could do that if they wanted to understand?”

“I cannot say that I understand their motives,” said Clockwork.  “I certainly couldn’t imagine acting like that.”  He began rubbing a small circle into Danny’s back.  “But you need never see them again, if that is your wish.”

A sob caught in Danny’s throat, and before he knew what he was doing, he had twisted around to throw himself into Clockwork’s arms.  Clockwork received him with a remarkable amount of grace.  

“I don’t know why–  I don’t– Why I’m acting like this, I barely know them, knew them, it shouldn’t feel like–”  He didn’t know how to describe it.  “I don’t know why.”

“The why of it does not matter so much as the fact that you do feel that way,”  said Clockwork, continuing to pat Danny’s back.  

“It matters to me.”

“Ah, I see,” said Clockwork, soothingly.  “I’m sorry.  Of course it matters to you.  Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” said Danny.  

“No, no,” said Clockwork, “it’s quite alright.”

“I’m crying on you.”

“It’s fine,” said Clockwork.  “Tears wash out.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You learned about something very upsetting.  This is natural.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“It still happened, and is responsible for your present circumstances.  It’s alright to cry.  I will be here.”

.

“I made oatmeal today,” said Clockwork, putting a steaming bowl down in front of Danny.  “I thought that something simple would be best, after last night.”

Danny grunted and picked up a spoon to stir the oatmeal.  It wasn’t as simple as all that, really.  Clockwork had put raisins and cinnamon sugar in it.  It probably tasted just as good as all the other food Clockwork had made for him.  

“I’m supposed to choose now,” said Danny, listlessly. 

“This is the stage of the trial where you choose, but you need not do so immediately.  I cannot advise you on how to choose, or how to weigh your options, but it would not be out of the question for you to contemplate the matter for several days.”

“Right,” said Danny.  He scrubbed at his face.  Even after he’d sent Clockwork away, he’d cried on and off all night.  His skin around his eyes felt grainy and salty.  “What happens, when I choose?  Do you just teleport me back and the doors start working again?  And I, um, get my memory back?”

“That is a portion of it,” said Clockwork.  He sat down at the table across from Danny.  “First, however, the power involved in the ritual that is the trial would coalesce into a bond between you and your chosen guardian.  This would include the power involved in altering your form, so you would shortly thereafter regain your original appearance.”

“I kind of like the ears and tail, though.”  He ran his hands over his ears reflexively.  “They’re fluffy.”

Clockwork smiled.  “There are ways you can either regain or retain them.  Once that has occurred, the Observants will come to return your memories, and, finally, you will be escorted to your guardian.”

“Huh,” said Danny.  He poked at the oatmeal some more.  

“You should eat,” said Clockwork, gently.  

Danny sighed, and did his best.  

.

“I should make a list,” said Danny, having given up on breakfast.

“Of what?” asked Clockwork.  

“Names,” said Danny.  “Of people.  Choices.”

“You already have one of those,” Clockwork pointed out.  “In the folder.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Where did that get to, anyway?”

Clockwork slid it across the table, along with a pencil.  

“Thanks,” said Danny.  He flipped the folder open.  “I guess I can start by crossing off the people I’m definitely not going to choose.”

“That seems like a logical way to proceed,” agreed Clockwork.  

“So.  Not the Observants, obviously.”

He looked up at Clockwork out of the corner of his eye.  He could swear he’d seen him smirk at that pronouncement.  Just a little.  

“And not Skulker, Ember, and Technus,” he continued, moving down to the next entry he could safely cross out.  “And not, and not, um.  Not Jack and Maddie.  Those’re– those are the ones I can’t, who won’t, um.  Yeah.”  He looked at the rest of the list.  “Vlad is okay, but he lied to me a bunch, and I don’t really get why we were enemies, so when I get my memory back, I might hate him again, so not him.  Jazz…”

Danny licked his lips and tapped the eraser of the pencil against the table.  He liked Jazz.  And she was his sister.  Given everything else, he could sort of understand why she was lying, but…  No.  Vlad had a point, saying that he shouldn’t choose her.

“Not Jazz,” said Danny, finally.  “I don’t want to do that to her.  Which leaves Pandora and Frostbite.”

“A difficult decision indeed.”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  He sighed.  Either one of them would be good.  Different.  Very different.  The culture shock would be hard.  Ancient Greece and the Far Frozen were both very different from what he was used to.  But Frostbite and Pandora would take care of him, and that’s what really mattered, in the end.  

But he had to wonder if there wasn’t another option.  

“Clockwork, you knew me before, didn’t you?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Right.  But Jazz knew you, which sort of implies that I knew you.  So.  You knew me.”  Danny bit his lower lip, thinking.  “You, um.  Why didn’t you join in?  As a guardian, I mean.  Why didn’t you, um.  Apply?  Is that the right term?”

“It’s as good as any.”  Clockwork leaned back in his chair.  “There are still limits on what I can tell you.”

“Yeah, but tell me what you can tell me.”

“If I were to adopt a child,” said Clockwork.  “Any child, not necessarily you; you understand that I cannot speak of such specifics.”

“Right,” said Danny.  

“But, if I were to try to adopt a child, the Observants would be very cross with me.”

“Why?”

“Because my responsibilities to such a child would supercede my oaths and duties to them.  They would not appreciate the loss of control, and would do everything in their power to prevent it.”

“Like, by making you be a neutral party.  Taking you out of the running.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork.  “That would be something they might do.”

Danny fidgeted with the edge of the paper folder.  “If you– Did you–  Would you have applied?  If you could?  You know, hypothetically.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork, simply.

Danny took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his thighs.  “Then…  Then, if I…  I can choose anyone, can’t I?  Anyone I want, right?”

“Correct,” said Clockwork.  “That is the base rule upon which this whole trial is based.”

“So… what happens if I do?  If I, um, if I choose you?”

“That would be a nonstandard ending to the trial,” said Clockwork.  “It would not end as smoothly, perhaps, as it normally would.  The pathways that the power involved would travel upon may be confused.  You may not regain your original form.  The Observants would certainly withhold your memories.”

“And that would be… bad,” said Danny.  “That would be…”  He shook himself all over.  “I, um.  I don’t think…”  He faltered, looking down at his hands.  “That wouldn’t be much of a loss.  Really.”

“Fifteen years of memories is not insignificant,” said Clockwork, a note of warning in his voice.  “This is not a decision to make lightly.  It will affect your entire life.  There may even be other side effects that I have not listed.  Things that even I cannot foresee.”

“I don’t think I want to remember.  Not if it means remember what…”  He swallowed, with difficulty.  If what had been written in that binder had actually happened, he didn’t want to remember it.  “I’ve been thinking about this decision for months, right?  Every moment I remember.  I’m not making it lightly.  I know how important it is.”

Clockwork inclined his head towards Danny, acknowledging the point.  

“Pandora and Frostbite are great, but…”  Danny took a deep breath.  “But it’s you.  I choose you.”  He braced himself preparing for rejection.  A sort of tension built inside his chest until the feeling scraped the edge of pain.  

Then Clockwork was next to him and reached out to him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek.  “Oh, Daniel,” he said.  

The tension abruptly collapsed, and Danny let himself fall forward, into Clockwork’s arms.  Clockwork carded a gloved hand through Danny’s hair, ruffling his ears.  

“It’s okay, right?  It’s okay for me to choose you.”

“Of course it is,” said Clockwork.  “Of course.  I cannot tell you how glad I am.”

“But you can tell me other things, though, right?  You’re not neutral anymore.”

“Quite right,” said Clockwork, and Danny could hear a smile in his voice.  “I have so many things to tell you.”

“What kind of things?” asked Danny, settling his head against Clockwork’s collarbone.  Or whatever ghosts had instead of collarbones.  

“All sorts,” said Clockwork.  He chuckled.  “You’ll be able to see my actual lair.”

“Is it purple, too?”

“You’ll see.”

[ctallena]

hii!! don't be shy posting anythin, that's cool when new people appear who write south park stuff! 🤍 can i request (f!reader) picnic headcannons with kenny, stanley and kyle? it can be platonic or romantic(sure, aged up), idc

sure!! thank u sm for being my first headcannons req anon !! 🤍 ill try my best with these bc i never was on a picnic so i have to use my imagination on how it works.. also i made this romantic, theyre like 17-18 here

⋆ PICNIC WITH MAIN 3 :

✩ — STAN !

this guy was so flattered when u asked him to go do a picnic with u

he was so excited he couldnt sleep

brought cookies and dr pepper...

its because he was walking around the store for like 30 minutes in denial of what would you like to eat 😭😭

like.. will u like it? what if youre picky? mostly everyone likes cookies so cookies it is

butttttt he brought money to the picnic too in case you need something

he picks a nice outfit for himself!!

and by that i dont mean a suit or anything like that... its just a tee that you once said you liked and his fav baggy jeans

so nervous before meeting u for the picnic. mostly bc of the food. what if youre not happy with the food he brought☹️

he brought a picnic blanket too tho!!

he tries to settle it himself but its sort of windy and he drops the blanket...

it flies away

but dw luckily he got it!!

he tries to settle it ahain but DONT trust him with that bc its gonna fly away again so help him pls😭

once its all settled he tries to make it romantic somehow?? he doesnt know how to be romantic without it being corny tho😕

so he just passes u everything u ask for!!

totally did not put the picnic basket next to himself on purpose..

with stan its mostly just giggles and stuff. he will hold your hand or hug you there and there but he enjoys just talking with you like he would with a best friend, if you know what i mean??

he kisses your cheek and thanks you for all the effort you put in everything <3

✩ — KYLE !

he suggests the picnic 🤗

kyle is the most organized one of them all

before the picnic he knows what to bring and what food you like

like what??? how did he know that?? did he put cameras around ur house or smth

or maybe ur parents just like him a lot so they told him stuff..

keeps checking if he has everything

he also brings you a flower!!

hes a gentleman😭

somehow manages to settle the blanket himself??

he also picked the perfect time of the day so it would be sunset

puts sm effort in to show you how much he loves you!! hes so sweet

brought like a backup hoodie for you just in case youre cold😕

he doesn't really like touching you in public, so expect a hug and a kiss from him only after it gets darker after the sunset

or if he thinks no one is watching

ike definitely wanted to go with you two

kyle said no

he wants it to be a moment just for you and him

ike still comes along with sheila "on accident" but for like a few minutes bc kyle begged them to leave you two alone😭

HE WAS SO EMBARRASSED THAT HIS MOM CAME TOO💔

he apologizes to you

its not like hes embarrassed bc of sheila, its just the fact that his MOM came, if u get what i mean

what more can i say?

besides that its all perfect !!

✩ — KENNY !

you suggest the picnic

he thought abt it before and wanted to ask you too but money... 😕

he immediately said yes and saved money just for that occasion

he knows what food u like

its because usually when you two hang out he randomly asks you stuff like "whats your fav food?" in that case

and he remembers every answer u give him🤗🤗

he brought food and you brought the blanket

he actually made sure to bring enough for the two of you

thats so sweet😕

he doesnt gaf abt public, he will show his love to you everywhere

so he has his arm wrapped around you most of the time

and also kisses your shoulder or cheek sometimes !!

he would do the rizz thing with "hey you have something there" while pointing at ur chest and then he would grab ur chin so u look at him and he kisses u

its just a joke tho😭

thats not a great way to flirt in his opinion

he would also chuckle before kissing u !!

sweeeeeeeet

after the picnic he offers to walk you to your home <3

he also holds your hand while walking

when youre about to leave he hugs you and thanks you for everything too🤗

fill my requests up guys!!

[featheredenby]

The Life Games: Part Two

Soon after the reaping of the tributes the parrot avian known as Grian Helios and the other tribute of unknown origin known as Scar Goodtimes are swiftly brought to the train that they will journey to the capital in by a group of peacekeepers. Inside of the train there are already two people, Lizzie Shadowlady (the District 12 escort) and Joel Smaller (the District 12 mentor), who are sitting at a mahogany table in the center of the dining car.

Despite being greeted Grian immediately heads to his room on the train and sulks, because yes it was a rash choice to randomly volunteer as tribute for his cousin but really no one will care once the blood starts flowing. It was really only a matter of time anyways as he’d always been rebellious against the government. The capital doesn’t really enjoy it when people sneak into the woods to hunt rabbits and go fishing. What’s the point anyway, he knows that his family will miss him but Pearl knows how to gather herbs and fruits which she can sell in the hob and her and Timmy have the chickens which they can sell eggs from. In spite of this they still need him so he has to get back home, for them.

At the other side of the dining car is Scar’s room in which he is writing a note to his Mom and Brother and his cat. Why is the cat in the letter though, the cat can’t read but that’s not important because it’s the thought that counts. He on the opposite end of the spectrum has high hopes for the games believing that he can at least make the top five contestants however ever if he wins he’ll lose something greatly important to him. His thoughts turn to the other tribute, he’s only spoken to Grian one time before this and it was a while ago, in fact he would be surprised if Grian even remembered. It was shortly after a mining accident and Grian had been outside of Scar’s house trying to sell tattered feather pillows and Scar had seen him fail to convince his mother that they were for a good price. So when no one was looking Scar had slipped Grian a too big red sweater and some bread, when you think about it those things weren’t that much but Scar had noticed that Grian was wearing that sweater during the reaping.

In the dining car Lizzie, a young fae who has an extra set of arms and fin like wings, has engaged in conversation with Joel, who appears to be a fae with green antennae and glassy wings, anyone playing enough attention would know that they are discussing what the strategy should be with the new tributes. As Grian and Scar come out of their rooms for dinner Joel makes the remark of, “I just don’t see the point in mentoring them if they die just like everyone else.” and is startled to hear the response “ Well did you hear that Grian? This guy thinks that we’re weak.” At this Lizzie starts to laugh much to Joel’s dismay. Remarks like this continue to be thrown around as the four of them eat which royally pisses of a certain avian, who happens to be sitting across from Joel and happens to have a knife. With in an instant the cheerful joking tone is thrown out the window and is replaced by one of dead seriousness, “Look,” says Grian as he stabs the knife into the table a millimeter away from Joel’s fingers, “We don’t like you and you don’t like us. That’s fine but it’s your job to try and keep us alive so start acting like it.”

[mr-payjay]

analysis of oj's thought process in this scene for funsies (quick warning for suitcase being put down and seen as inferior by another but it's not character neg)

why is oj being a massive fucking bitch? 🤔 Let's analyze.

so, obviously oj is living off a power trip in this episode. interesting implications about his actual power as a hotel owner. actually, at the beginning of the episode, we can see that he is NOT RESPECTED. salt lies about cleaning up, pepper demands him where the towels are (and he smugly lets her enter the DEATH TRAP DOOR? implying a familiar but negative relationship), and in general oj (and paper sort of but that's not relevant) seems to be the only caretaker while the rest of the residents are more like customers. though it seems they are *meant* to help out (such as salt being supposed to clean).

anyway. once oj gets the temporary host role for inanimate insanity, he immediately gets excited. we transition to the scene outside the hotel and he even does a little twirl! oj starts to read off the paper mephone uses (which oj has happily vandalized with drawings of himself and a snarky little message, this points to his general disdain towards mephone) and is trying to go Smoothly through with it. once the teams start fighting, he doesn't even try to figure out who's telling the truth, preferring instead to eliminate a random person. he REALLY likes to be efficient with his time, huh? that's talked about more in the next paragraph, but in this one i'll say a bit about his hatred for inanimate insanity. for the whole episode, he is uncaring of the show's rules, guidelines, structures, etc. he eliminates someone at random, he makes the contestants clean the hotel NOT as a challenge then flips a coin to determine the loser (only after they question him), he makes them sing for no reason other than to be entertained, he zips through every step as fast as possible. he does not care at all about ii, despite being so eager to host it. why? because hosting it means he gets to boss around a group of people (and he can make them clean his hotel! something he really needs help with!!), he gets to take mephone's place and mess with his stuff and disrespect his show, and generally he gets to sort of... take out some of his lasting frustrations surrounding ii. i don't think ANY of the season one cast is fond of inanimate insanity (and especially not of mephone), even if it brought them together (also not always a good thing). oj certainly isn't.

once he picks suitcase, he starts by calling her "whats-your-face" (thank you for noticing mari), then a few seconds later calls her by her actual name. thissss is so interesting to me. he KNOWS her name, apparently. but he called her a mean name first. this can either imply that he forgot, that he's just being a jerk for the hell of it, or both. i think it's both. a mix of his obsession with productivity and his need to be superior motivates this. he wants to get the elimination over with as quickly as possible, so quickly that he doesn't even bother to remember her name right away, because he's SO efficient that he just simply Doesn't have time for these things (in his mind). so it makes him feel both superior to her (disrespecting her), makes him feel good about himself (he feels like he's just being Productive and Time Efficient and part of that is that he has "no time" to do anything else but work). basically, he DID forget her name for like, a singular second, he just didn't bother to wait a moment or correct himself instead of calling her something else.

and for telling suitcase she's ruining the show? let's bring it back to ii1. oj insults people whenever he feels like it. he's pretty mean, and he's worse when he's stressed. he insults people particularly for being "useless" (such as to bomb), and is quick to fight back against anyone who challenges him. a pushover like suitcase is easy to demean. and it makes him respect her even less when she's being so meek! oj thinks his snappishness is justified by the fact he's, once more, simply being time efficient ("we've got a busy schedule!"), and that she is just wasting his time. i said earlier that oj doesnt respect inanimate insanity. so why does he accuse her of ruining the show if he doesn't care about it? well, because this is *his* episode. his time to be the host. even if he disregards the usual way things run, he's still going to get upset if something conflicts with *his* plans. he wants to get this over with and get them to clean his hotel, not much else (again, he's still enjoying being in a position of authority, he just likes to be nonchalant about how Superior and Powerful he is now). if someone's interrupting that, he's going to assert himself. oj always fights back against anyone who challenges him, and suitcase is too much of a doormat to stop him from shutting her down.

now for oj telling her to step back. this part is petty. he's irritated but also kind of. happy about being irritated. "what," you say? well, see, suitcase is genuinely trying to follow his directions. she just doesn't know how *much* to step back, obviously. so oj keeps shooing her a little bit at a time until she's finally offscreen, and you can tell he's a little bit annoyed by it. but this is part of the power & superiority once more! he gets to boss around someone "inferior to him" who is just soooo stupid that she doesn't even know where to go. and oj has to shoo her over and over because she's just not getting it (since he is sooo very much smarter than her and she is just completely incapable of following OBVIOUS directions.) but it's okay she is simply a Minor inconvenience (in his head) that he has dealt with now. also note that he could've just pointed to where she had to go. does this paragraph make sense? he likes being able to tell others what to do and have them do it, so even if she's kind of annoying him by not completely understanding the instructions, he still gets to assert his authority quite a bit.

this analysis is particularly focused on the scene in the video but i do bring up some other parts of the episode to support it.

[aliencatart]

having himerita thoughts and missing them everyday of my life

[natsmagi]

Hi!! Ive been wondering about something... That line at the end of element where tsumugi says hes growing his hair for a reason and cant cut it till he fullfils his vow, do they ever adress that again? I've not read every single switch story... i was really curious about that, if you dont mind my asking you?

yes they do!! its directly referenced in Next Door!!

this is the only time outside of WG where its been directly stated hes growing it out for natsume iirc?? though in !-era most of natsumes jabs at tsumugis hair would be met with tsumugi being all "why are u being so mean!!!" in contrast to !!-era where tsumugi has caught on that natsume actually really likes his hair which i think is a really fun and cute development KAHJSFKJHKJ

(source: Magic Lantern)

EDIT: I JUST REALIZED THE STORY U LISTED WAS ELEMENT AND NOT WONDER GAME. SO HERES THE WONDER GAME SNIPPET LOL

ignore tsumugis image not loading i hurried over to get this ok

[fleouriarts]

oh my god i keep forgetting i havent posted these. eden has been added to the Hivemind Furry Cinematic Universe as a stoat

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[izzy-b-hands]

I get two fucking sentences in on every new draft for every new idea lately, and then my brain goes 'hm, no, actually that's stupid/boring/cloying/not going to be something you can write at your current ability'

I am. vibrating with rage at my brain rn over this bout of writer's block. Bro we literally want to die whenever I go longer than like. a fucking week without writing SOMETHING; why the fuck are you making this harder!!!!!! Just let me write a full fucking thing even if it sucks!!! but i literally physically start to feel sick and can't push myself to keep typing as soon as the above thoughts hit. I have a stupid number of untitled, barely started to almost completely done drafts, for multiple fandoms (mostly our flag tho admittedly lmao), all of which have been started within the last maybe fourteen days.

i wanna scratch my brain out of my fucking skull lmao. free to a good home after i get it out, if anyone else wants to try and rehabilitate it

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

Today I learned that essays and written work isn’t that hard. I just have adhd

[aaa-vixx-aaa]

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