#this fully would not exist without her

[haunted-xander]

Sometimes I think about Urianger's role in and feelings on the Thancred-Ryne dynamic and I think watching it kills him a bit inside. For several reasons.

Like, to begin with there's the guilt he's been carrying with him since he ushered Minfilia to the first, how he effectively killed the person Thancred cared about the most in the world and who's "death" ended up causing Ryne's entire Situation. He looks at what's happening between them and can only think "I caused this" even though that's not really true. No one person is responsible for this outcome, it's a culmination of several circumstances and the consequences of them. Logically, Urianger knows this. But it doesn't matter, because his guilt is overpowering his logic.

And also, like. What Thancred is doing here, the way he's knowingly letting Ryne be and stay hurt because he literally cannot bring himself to tell her his feelings, is the exact same mistake Urianger made with Moenbryda. Of course, the circumstances are vastly different, and the potential consequences to Thancred telling Ryne the wrong things or her misinterperating it is far greater (being a matter of literal life or death), it's still the same sort of paralysis they are trapped in.

And he knows it. He sees it. But he can't say or do anything about it, he doesn't have the right to. He acknowledges the mistake, but he hasn't really improved upon it yet. He still doesn't voice his thoughts and feelings as he should. He's also non-confrontational by nature, he doesn't argue or try to change peoples minds, he probably doesn't think he has any place to.

So, he tries to help in what little ways he can. Because he doesn't want it to become Monebryda again, he doesn't want to know he stole not one but two people from Thancred. So he does what he can. He tells Ryne little tidbits about Thancred, things that help her understand him but are safe to share. Nothing too deep, nothing too personal. Just small things, things that are purely factual, because he can't afford to give her a false image of who Thancred is. He teacher her fun and interesting things, because Thancred isn't in the mindset to provide her with non-essential skills.

I like to think Urianger has brought it up with Thancred at least once, during one of his stays. But nothing would've come of it. Not really. Unlike Y'shtola, Urianger isn't pushy, he'll bring it up once or twice and when he sees this won't go anywhere, he gives up. He wants to help, but he knows that persistance only does do much, and he is not the person who has the resiliance needed to push and push until Thancred finally budges (because he won't budge, it won't help anything but to sour things further by adding aditional stress to an already strained dynamic).

And like. Urianger gets it. He gets it because he's been the same way- not saying what he should to someone he loves more than anything else because she was meant to figure her life out herself, and 'steering' her in any direction by telling her his feelings (regardless of if the 'steering' is intention or not) will go against that. He gets it. He gets it and it's all the more painful for it. He knows it can't just be fixed by acknowledging it or with encouragement, something needs to happen to break the stasis.

I think this is probably why he stayed behind while they went off to Nabaath Areng. This is the very last chance they have to say what they want to, and he can't afford to be the anchor anymore. This is about them, not him, he can't let their resolution be buffed by his presence, so he stays behind. Which was probably for the best. Ryne got nervous when Urianger said he's staying behind, probably not too excited about being alone with Thancred (well, not alone, but WoL doesn't count) so soon after she had ran away crying. But she needs to be nervous. For anything positive to come out of this Thancred and Ryne both can't afford to be too relaxed. As sad as it is, the stress is necessary for anything to happen. He knows it. Does he like it? Absolutely not, but nor does he like his other plots. At least no one dies this time if it goes right.

[keepingupwiththeboltons]

My bet on if they cave and add nettles to the show, is that they wont have her pop up behind a rock and suddenly exist and already have claimed sheepstealer, but instead theyll do something insane and stupid and have her claim the cannibal or some shit instead

[hecksupremechips]

God every day I think about Akane’s breakdown in door 3 because there really is no correct way to interpret that and every possibility makes me crazy. Like she sees this fucked up corpse whom Junpei (and the player, depending on how they play) believes is their friend Snake, but she knows that it’s Guy X. It’s a man she very intentionally put in the game for this very purpose, so that he could die horrifically and be displayed for everyone to see. And she has a full mental breakdown over being trapped in this room with the corpse, being trapped by Junpei, to the point where she rips out her hair and starts bleeding from how much she bangs on the door screaming to get out. And fuck, there’s so many possibilities like

Akane could be feeling genuine terror over the sight of the body, and with that remorse. She made this happen, she wanted this to happen, and now she’s forced to quite literally watch the damage she’s caused unfold. She can detach herself from his murder easily in other timelines where she doesn’t have to look at it, and she can sleep easy knowing that her hands are technically clean because she didn’t do the literal killing. But she can’t do that here, and she has to face the fact that not only did she happily cause this death, she failed her mission. She isn’t going to survive, and now this man is dead for nothing and everything is her fault

On the other hand, her entire breakdown could be completely fabricated in order to keep playing the role of the damsel in distress who is so innocent that the very sight of blood drives her to insanity. The interesting part about this is that if she could fake such a horrific breakdown, just how much of her personality a facade? We know she wants revenge, for everyone from Cradle to feel even an ounce of the pain she and so many others went through, but we don’t get to see the extent of how much she feels this way. We never hear directly from Akane about her feelings on any of the original organizers, just her note about her desire to punish them. She hates them, but does she see their deaths as a necessary evil, or does she feel joy and satisfaction at watching them go? It’s absolutely horrifying not knowing, not being able to see her true feelings, not knowing just how real or fake she is, the extent of her madness. Perhaps she doesn’t even know that herself

IN OTHER WORDS, it’s fucked

[thetimelordbatgirl]

With all the mystery around who Ruby is and who her mom is, I really, really hope it isn't actually the Trickster like others have been saying, because while yes it would be nice to see something from SJA appear in current DW, it also would just feel weird at this point as the Trickster was such a Sarah Jane villain that it just feels wrong to give him to the Doctor as an enemy just because Sarah Jane is gone.

[fiapple]

literally, i love nami so much, you do not even understand. you cannot begin to fathom.

[cestacruz]

Mmm Jeanne

[brainfullofbees]

.

[generationa1trauma]

flatmate has a girl over i am suddenly extremely uncomfortable

[sonicunleash]

you know sometimes i get little lonely on here with like 4 dedicated sonic mutuals at most but then i get glimpses of the sonic posts and takes circulating around outside and im like you know what im fine in here actually.

[jonathanbyersphd]

I am a Jonathan & Nancy barely finish college before getting married truther and I hate myself for it a lil bit tbh

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #268

[larrythefloridaman]

You know :)

nccts is funny. anyway cyberbullying prism is a way of life and i am committed to it i am putting her in a shoebox with no airholes and floating it down the Alafia River to be carried to and sink to the bottom of Tampa Bay where she will be torn asunder by the sharks

[dukeofankh]

I cannot express how jarring it was after being raised by a "Porn Addiction Coach" to get into a relationship with a woman and come face to face with the fact that she did actually want me to sexually desire her.

Like, in Evangelical Purity Culture, male desire was basically poison. It was a threat. It was this constant temptation that would destroy everything. And even after leaving, in the sort of queer, feminist spaces i spend most of my time in that wasn't something that pretty much anyone was spending time actively dissuading me from feeling.

But my desire is good. It's not something that I'm being accepted in spite of. It's a positive thing. It's a bonus. Not even just vanilla stuff, all the stuff I'd convinced myself were these weird terrible desires that were shameful to have.

It honestly took me over a decade to fully accept that. To stop dissociating during sex and confront that I was, in fact, being a massive perv and that was fantastic and preferable and that I could accept that into my self-image without shame or self hatred.

But it's important to do. It's important to leave relationships that don't welcome that part of you. To know that your sexuality is valuable and valid and worth owning and celebrating. Because the alternative is just...not being. Either existing as yourself and repressing the part of your identity that is sexual or allowing that sexuality to exist but turning off your self while it does.

[vincenteuniverse]

Ken's progression OUT of color

This is kinda a cornplate thought that I had nowhere else to put but I love how in the Barbie movie(SPOILERS), Ryan Gosling's Ken's outfits symbolically showcase his "descent" into full patriarchy mode over time.

At the beginning of the film Ken's beach outfit (his default) has an equal balance of pink and blue. Pink is obviously Barbie's color, and shows Ken as fitting well into the femininity and style of Barbieland, while blue could be argued to be Ken's color (a scene later when he's especially confident features him wearing all denim blue, and the stereotypical gender of these colors, especially when found in kid's toys, supports these basic binaries as associated with these colors).

When Ken decides to leave Barbieland with Barbie to delve into the outside world, his color scheme goes full pink, desperate enough to be with Barbie that his attire reflects how dependent his identity is on hers at this stage.

However, it isn't long before Ken's exploration of the real world leads him to exciting new discoveries about the patriarchy and what it can do for him. Here he is introduced to a newfound sense of self independent from barbie, and while he still carries a pink scarf around his neck, the rest of his outfit has devolved into black and white while hers has remained colorful. As he pursues this new-to-him idea further, his worldview is becoming less unique, pretty, and vibrant(in addition to becoming much more masculine).

It is only his scarf that ties him to Barbie now, and upon making the choice not to follow her to Mattel, he becomes fully independent, losing the scarf and any trace of pink in his attire the next time we see him in his mojo dojo casa house coat and beach off outfit underneath.

In his most masculine moment during "Just Ken", he and the other Kens all wear a uniform of the most traditionally male ben shapiro outfit ever: A T-Shirt, belt, and dress pants. All black(and no white either to contrast like the previous 2 outfits). It's fitting that the Kens, in their destructive warpath, imagine themselves as perfectly cleaned up yet violently masculine dancers in their heads, their outfits devoid of all of the flair and character of Barbieland.

(excuse the shitty picture) After Ken has his little self-growth moment, his new sweatshirt reflects the changed and much more balanced man he has become, much more accepting of himself and a life where he can co-exist with Barbie without being with her. This outfit is again an almost perfect balance of pink and blue, both sides of Ken now a bit more at peace, his colors not pushed out by the LITERALLY black hole of toxic masculinity.

The color scheme also matches the roller blading outfit, so perhaps it shows a somewhat intermediary stage of Ken's development wherein he is still attached to and at peace with Barbieland, but where he is starting to become more independent as well. anyway these are all fun and i genuinely have no fucking idea why Mattel didn't cash in on literally making dolls of all the characters and their outfits these would be so fun to own

[afterthefeast]

the tragedy of rhaenyra and alicent is that they cannot ever truly see the other without destroying the foundations of their own self-image. rhaenyra cannot see alicent as a child married to a man old enough to be her father because that’s rhaenyra’s father. and the image she has of both viserys as a just and kind man and of herself as the beloved daughter of that man would collapse under the weight of that realisation. the resentment she holds against alicent would have to turn upon viserys. if she recognised that viserys treats alicent little better than a broodmare, she would have to realise that fundamentally that is all her mother was to him too. if she understood why alicent was disgusted by her marrying daemon she would have to see herself not as someone with agency marrying a man she loved who happened to be her uncle but as someone manipulated and groomed since childhood. the agency she clings to, which is so important to how she sees herself, would be revealed as an illusion. by extension she would have to see her family as one in which the familial is warped almost beyond repair. her self-image, so rooted in targaryen exceptionalism, would collapse.

likewise alicent cannot fully grasp why rhaenyra was so upset that she married viserys because she would have to fully see viserys not as the king but her friend’s father. she would have to face the horror of her life head on. moreover she would have to see viserys in her own father. for her to accept that rhaenyra is not selfish or undutiful for having affairs and trying to carve out whatever agency she can, the pedestal on which alicent places duty would have to be destroyed. she would have to realise that duty is only as important as she believes it to be, that it has no meaningful moral weight to it, and that all of her suffering has been for nothing. alicent tells herself that her sadness is a condition of her existence, as a woman, a mother, a daughter, and that by trying to claw whatever happiness she can from the world rhaenyra has turned her back on all of those things; she is the wrong kind of woman. if she could ever accept that rhaenyra had slept around and birthed bastards without judgement the core of alicent’s identity as a good mother/wife/queen would collapse. she would have to face the reality that nothing that happened to her was justified, and crucially that her submissiveness at every turn was not noble or good and was never going to let her win, but only trapped her further. every cognitive barrier she has built up to protect herself and provide some sort of meaning to a life in which she has only ever really suffered would have to shatter.

and they both realise these things to some extent, rhaenyra knows that viserys is flawed and fallible because she’s experienced his mistakes firsthand (and she is definitely aware of daemon’s violence) and in many ways alicent is so viciously judgemental of rhaenyra’s choices because she wants that level of freedom so desperately for herself, and they so clearly love each other still that they both want to believe there’s something good in the other. but they bury those doubts under layers and layers of cognitive dissonance so they don’t have to face deeply painful realities, because neither of them can truly see the other without destroying themselves.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SLEEPLESS NIGHT

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Where Spencer finally has a night to sleep at his apartment with his girlfriend, but the current case doesn't even let him close his eyes, leading him to study the files until ungodly hours. But who said that Y/N can sleep away from him?

WARNING: Slightly mention of age gap (reader is still in college), tooth rotting fluff.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Spencer hated bringing work home, and he had two very specific reasons for it. First, he loathed the idea of mixing his work life with his personal life. The BAU was a constant source of darkness; gruesome crimes, twisted minds, and the unrelenting pressure to solve the unsolvable.

His home was the opposite: a place of light and warmth, a refuge from the horrors that haunted him on a daily basis. But more importantly, home was where Y/N was. She was the one person who could pull him from the depths of his thoughts, her mere presence offering a calm that he couldn't find anywhere else. She was his life, his anchor, and his sanctuary.

Their time together was sacred, especially with the demands of his job taking him away so often. Whether he was chasing unsubs across the country or spending endless hours poring over case files at the BAU, being away from Y/N was the hardest part of his job. When he was home, he wanted to be fully present, to make up for the time he lost while he was away.

He cherished the quiet moments, the lazy evenings where they could simply exist together without the weight of the world bearing down on him. He wanted to give her every ounce of his attention, to make her feel just how much she meant to him.

But then, there were nights like tonight, when the case followed him home despite his best intentions, forcing him to divide his focus in a way that always left him feeling guilty.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, filtered through the sheer curtains that hung over the windows. The clock on the nightstand read 2:37 AM, its gentle green glow a quiet reminder of how late it had become.

Spencer lay on his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling, though his mind was far from still. It raced, chasing the loose ends of the case, replaying details, searching for the missing link that could unravel everything. The unsub was smart, meticulous in his planning, calculating in his movements. It was unnerving, the way this case was so close to home, right here in Quantico.

Hotch had granted the team a rare night to return home and rest, knowing the work would pick up again with relentless intensity in the morning. Spencer knew he should be grateful for the chance to sleep in his own bed, to hold Y/N close, and let her warmth lull him into rest. But sleep felt impossible.

Beside him, Y/N slept soundly, her body curled against his. One arm rested across his chest, her hand fisting tightly the fabric of his white shirt and her hand tucked beneath his shoulder, as if even in sleep, she sought him out. Her breathing was soft and even, the slow rise and fall of her chest a soothing rhythm against his side.

Spencer turned his head slightly, watching her. She looked peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, the faintest hint of a smile still lingering on her lips, probably remains of a dream. His heart clenched with love, a wave of warmth and tenderness washing over him.

With a soft sigh, Spencer slid his right arm beneath her, his hand resting gently on her back, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of the sweater she wore - his sweater. He brought his other hand down to her bare leg, carefully shifting her until her right one draped across his thighs, her body instinctively curling closer to him, almost laying fully above him.

His fingers trailed softly along her thigh, the smooth skin warm beneath his touch. The gesture was soothing, grounding him in the present moment, in the feel of her against him. His thumb stroked lazy circles on her flesh, his touch light and reverent, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of her - as if he already didn't had each part of her craved inside his head.

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of her hair. It was a mixture of her shampoo and something uniquely hers, a scent that had always brought him comfort. His lips brushed against the delicate skin of her closed eyelids, another kiss pressed to her temple. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her hand tightening its grip on his shirt.

His right hand traveled across the fabric of his sweater, slipping below it, his fingertips sliding higher, brushing against the bare skin of her back. She was so warm, her skin so soft, and the feel of her made something inside him settle, if only for a moment. He continued to stroke her thigh with one hand, his other one gently massaging the muscles of her back, feeling the way her body relaxed further into him.

He stared at her for a long moment, his mind flickering between her and work. He didn’t want to leave her alone in bed, didn’t want to let it drag him away from her. Spencer knew Y/N deserved a good night's sleep more than anyone. She had been tirelessly studying for her college finals, always the most academically involved and dedicated in her class, which caused her to staying up late, buried in textbooks and research papers - just as he spent sleepless nights away on cases.

But even as he held her close, the details of the case gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

With a reluctant sigh, he carefully began to shift, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb her. His hand on her thigh slid away, and he gently eased her leg off his hips, tucking it back beneath the blankets. She mumbled softly in her sleep, her body instinctively moving toward his warmth even as he slipped out from under her.

Spencer sat up, pausing for a moment as he watched her stir. Her hand reached for him in her sleep, her face burrowing further into his pillow as if searching for his scent. The sight made his chest tighten with both affection and guilty.

With one last glance at Y/N, Spencer stood, moving with the quiet precision of someone who was used to slipping away in the dead of night. He padded silently out of the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath his feet.

The apartment was shrouded in a heavy, comfortable darkness, the only sound breaking the quiet being the distant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Spencer moved with practiced silence, stepping lightly through the familiar space until he reached the small room they’d turned into a makeshift office. It was cluttered with his books, scattered papers, and, more recently, case files.

He flicked on the desk lamp, casting a soft, amber glow across the cluttered desk. His movements were slow, careful not to disturb the serene quiet that enveloped the apartment as he sank into his chair, rescuing his folded glasses from between all those papers.

In front of him lay the case file, the photographs of the victims staring back at him as if mocking his inability to piece it all together. He scanned the reports for what felt like the hundredth time, his brow creased in thought, eyes darting over the details.

Minutes bled into an hour, maybe more. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose as he leaned in closer to the desk, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of the crime scene photos. His other hand tugged at the cuff of his pajama sleeve, lost in the rhythm of his restless thoughts.

Just then, the sound of soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor reached his ears, the faint shuffling of bare feet snapping him out of his thoughts. He barely turned in his chair before he saw her; a sleepy, disheveled Y/N standing in the doorway, her figure backlit by the faint glow of the hallway light. The sleeves of his sweater were falling over her hands, causing her shoulders to become exposed, and her eyes were heavy with the remnants of sleep.

"Spence..." She mumbled, her voice raspy and thick with drowsiness. The sight of her tugged at his heart in the most tender way.

Spencer’s face softened instantly, guilt creeping in at the edges of his thoughts. He’d woken her.

"Hey, sweetheart." He murmured, pushing the file aside and giving her his full attention. His voice was quiet, filled with concern. "What are you doing awake? You should be asleep."

Y/N blinked at him, the bleariness in her eyes making her seem even smaller and more vulnerable. She swayed slightly on her feet, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"I woke up... and you weren’t there." She slurred softly, taking a small step toward him, her expression confused and sleepy.

His heart clenched at her words, a wave of guilt washing over him. He hated that he’d caused her to wake up, especially on a week that she spent too much time studying and having little to no rest. He adjusted his posture above the chair, motioning her closer with gentle hands, but Y/N was already moving on her own, shuffling across the room with slow, sleepy steps, her gaze never leaving him.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, dove." He whispered as she reached him. He reached out with his hands as she practically fell into his arms.

She pushed his arms open with little effort and maneuvered herself onto his lap, pressing against him as if seeking out the warmth she’d missed. Her legs straddled his thighs, her knees resting above the sides of the chair, her body curling around his like a koala hugging a tree. The weight of her felt perfect, grounding him as she nestled closer, her chest rising and falling softly against him.

"Spence, don’t apologize." She murmured, her breath tickling the skin of his neck as she shifted, her nose nuzzling into the curve of it, seeking his scent. She pressed her face against him, her lips brushing feather-light against the sensitive skin just below his ear as she planted a sleepy kiss. "You know I just can’t sleep well without you."

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the soft, familiar feeling of her lips against his neck sending warmth coursing through him. His left hand instinctively found her back, his fingers running to the hem of his sweater and lifting it slightly, making room for hand to enter under the fabric and meet her skin, spreading his fingers as he began tracing lazy circles along her spine, soothing her.

Y/N sighed in pleasure, her left hand gently crawling up to his face. Her fingers softly traced the rough stubble along his cheek before instinctively pushing his glasses back up to their proper place, her fingertips grazing the bridge of his nose in a familiar, soothing motion.

He smiled softly, his guilt still lingering but melting slightly under the comfort of her touch. She was so close, so vulnerable in her half-asleep state, and it made him feel even more protective of her.

"You should be in bed." He whispered, his voice low and affectionate, his hand continuing its gentle caress. "You have finals tomorrow... and this position’s going to make your back hurt in the morning." He tried to sound stern, but the amusement in his tone betrayed him. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly as Y/N shifted again, her hand leaving his face and meeting the other side of his neck, her right arm tightening around his torso in silent protest.

"I don’t care." She mumbled into his neck, her lips brushing against his skin as she spoke. "I love you. I want to be here."

His heart swelled at her words, an overwhelming wave of love flooding him. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the comforting scent of her.

"I love you more." He whispered back, his voice barely audible as he nuzzled his cheek against her hair. His hand never stopped its rhythmic movement along her back, his touch gentle and tender.

Y/N hummed in response, her breathing already slowing as the warmth of his embrace lulled her back toward sleep. Spencer could feel the way her body relaxed against his, her weight becoming heavier as she melted further into him. She was so peaceful, her soft breaths brushing against his skin in a steady rhythm.

Spencer's eyes drifted to the case file still resting on the desk, his mind unwilling to let go of the details he was trying to piece together. His hand continued to trail soothing patterns on her back, and he tilted his head down, pressing another kiss to her temple, noticing how her body was giving way to sleep again.

"Let me tuck you back into bed, sweetheart." He whispered against her skin, insisting. "You need the proper rest."

But Y/N shifted in his lap, shaking her head, clearly unwilling to move.

"No." She mumbled, her voice soft but convincing. "What I need is to be with you." She burrowed her face deeper into his neck, pressing her nose against his skin and nuzzling him like she was trying to become a part of him. "Let me stay here. Please."

Spencer sighed softly, feeling torn between the the case and the warmth of Y/N in his arms. He glanced back at Y/N, her soft breathing and her peaceful face pressed against his neck, shaking his head with how stubborn she could be.

Wrapping his arms fully around her, he held her close, one hand still caressing her back while the other pulled the case file closer to him again, reopening it and going back to the first page.