theshyspy
You’d Be The Love Of My Life When I Was Young
♡i'm redoing this profile all the time so just be patient while i come up with a clever bio again ♡𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚
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omg i loved the loopy wisdom teeth one w peter 😭😭 can i get that with hotch, and reader, who's usually more reserved starts flirting with him and stuff while she's loopy
ty!! and ty for ur request ♡ fem, 1.2k
"Most people have their wisdom teeth out in their teens," Aaron had said before you went in, a Spencer Reid tidbit if there ever were one.
"I'm a special case," you'd said, accepting his kiss on the cheek but denying his half hug. "See you in a bit."
People often lament that Aaron's ended up with a woman so much like himself. You must make each other miserable, one ill-advised chancellor had said, to your amusement.
We're desperately unhappy, you'd said back.
The opposite is true. You and Aaron, or Aaron alone, at the very least, is as happy as he's ever been. Work is hard but manageable, Jack is well-tempered, growing smarter and kinder each day, and you're his sweetheart. You're reserved, a little solemn, but you understand him better than anyone ever has. It's a relief like no other to be known so well.
And so he has zero qualms looking after you for the rest of your lives. He waits patiently for you to come out of surgery, arms behind his head in the empty waiting room. He's worried about you. This isn't a painless procedure.
Footsteps echo down the hallway, but you announce yourself anyways in the doorway. "Handsome!" you say, a lisp to your happy sing-song, "I'm back."
Aaron doesn't know what to say. He giggles like a kid at your sudden demeanour and sits up properly. "Honey."
You wobble with the nurse at your back, prompting him onto his feet to take over. "You should remove the gauze in about half an hour when the bleeding has completely stopped. Clean daily with saline, there are instructions in the bag," the nurse says, offering Aaron a white prescription bag. "Okay?"
"That's perfect. Thank you so much," he says, taking your hand.
"You're perfect," you say, looking up at Aaron with stars in your eyes.
The nurse laughs softly as she leaves. Aaron doesn't bother hiding his amusement, grinning at you as he puts his hand between your shoulders to guide you to the front of the building.
It's busier here. Reception is hectic. Aaron puts his arm more firmly around you to stop people from bumping into you and you again look at him with your starry eyed gaze. "You're very tall," you say.
"I am," he says. "Though you joke occasionally that I'm shrinking."
"The only thing getting smaller is your waist," you say, poking at his abdomen, "my champion."
You're referring to his recent third triathlon success. He's no record setter, but it keeps him active and happy in the summer months, and he can't pretend you don't appreciate the additional definition of his muscle during this time. You like him every month of the year, of course, but with his trim waist comes a certain amount of energy you also appreciate.
"Completely inappropriate behaviour," he says lightly, waving a short goodbye to the receptionists as he holds open the door for you to pass by. "Next you'll be enacting PDA."
"You'd like that, huh?"
Hard to take any notice of you with gauze fluffing your words, and again, he laughs at you. "I'd love that."
"Well, wait, I'll do it right here–"
Aaron catches your hands mildly. "In the car first. Kiss after." Your downtrodden expression requires urgent care. "What, that's not okay? You're upset?"
"No," you lie obviously, glaring down at your feet as you wobble forward.
"Maybe we can wait until later, then."
"What?" You gawp. "You just said in the car."
"I'm teasing you," he says, taking your elbow. "We've been known to do that with one another on occasion. You know I'd happily kiss you anywhere you wanted to be kissed, honey, now watch your step on this curb. Watch your step. Good job."
You're extremely pleased by his praise, leaning into his arm with your head tipped back. "You're so handsome. Can you kiss me now?" You soften your eyes.
Alright, you have a little bit of bloody dribble on your bottom lip, and yes, there's this dazed look about you like you've had a mean shock, but you never look at him like this day to day. Perhaps in your more intimate moments, your arms around him when the lights are low, or early, early in the morning when you haven't yet remembered your more timid temperament. But it's so rare. It catches him off guard, how pretty and wanting you look.
Aaron leans down for a careful kiss, the barest of pressure.
"And a good kisser," you murmur, turning into his chest for a hug. "I love you, I want you to carry me to the car."
"Sweetheart, I don't think I can," he says. He's mostly kidding in the depth of his apology, but there are real threads of remorse in his voice, hot as a flame. "Come on. We'll go home, okay?"
"But you always do everything for me. Everything I ask for." You talk into his chest, likely leaving pink spit on the grey of his quarter zip. He couldn't care less, his arm around you, looking down with equal measures of fondness and surprise. "I had to stop saying I liked things because you kept buying me stuff. I love stuff."
"Then why did you stop?" he asks quietly.
"'Cos I know I don't deserve it. Don't deserve you, Aaron, you're the best man I've ever met. Can't believe it."
He savours your mumbling, and begins to walk forward slowly, encouraging you out of his chest as he formulates an answer for your confession with the same gravity. "You can't believe it?"
"You're a tall glass of water."
He actually sighs aloud. My girl, he thinks, rubbing your lax shoulder. "Alright. What if I thought the same of you? What then?"
You giggle infectiously, a stickying sound like you know he's trying to trip you up. "Nice," you say. "We should always be like this."
When he brings it up later, the extreme effects of your anaesthesia dissipated and your pain revamped, you can't think of anything worse. "I'm mortified," you whisper, your ice pack chilling the top of his arm where you've wedged it, your hand tucked between his thighs in an attempt to stay warm.
"I quite liked it."
"You would. You used to flirt with me so aggressively–"
"Aggressively," he repeats, grinning.
"–you're lucky I survived it." You sniffle, rubbing your nose into his sleeve. "Was I as intimidating as you are?"
He presses his lips to the top of your head, not kissing, just there. "No," he says into your skin, "you weren't intimidating at all. Just lovely. It made my day."
"I'll have to have my teeth taken out more often."
He snorts. "If you'd rather have more teeth pulled than flirt with me unaided, things are worse than I thought."
"Don't be like that..." Much quieter, "Will you rub my back again, please?"
Just like that, he's reminded of how much he likes your regular reserved attitude. "Sure, honey. Lean forward."
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said what needed to be said
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PSA Regarding Hateful Anons
Tumblr recently made it a requirement for you to be logged in to send asks anonymously. If you receive a hateful ask, don’t publish it - report it to Tumblr. It can be traced back to the user that sent it and with enough reports that person’s account will be suspended.
Share to raise awareness but also to make the clowns who think this behaviour is acceptable think twice before acting brave behind the guise of invisibility.
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Please just the team telling r about HOW MUCH OF A SOFT SPOT AARON HAS FOR THEM like god he’s literally such a grouch to Morgan and prentiss but he kisses the ground you walk on and they’re like BESTIE GET A GRIP HES WRAPPED AROJND YOUR FINGER bc reader is convinced he doesn’t share their feelings and he’s just being polite </3
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
“Guys, please stop. You’re giving me false hope,” you sighed, dropping your hands on your lap. “I know you’re only trying to make me feel better, but honestly this is making me feel worse.”
“False hope? Sweetheart, the man is in love with you,” Derek said.
“No, he’s not.” You pouted.
You regretted ever telling your friends about your crush on Hotch. What you expected was them making fun of you for it. What you got were daily lectures on how your boss had the hots for you.
“He makes you coffee every single morning,” Emily pointed out.
“He’s just being polite!” you argued.
“We arrive here at the same time every day and he has never made one for me.”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this,” you said. “Maybe he thinks you won’t like it the way he makes it. But he knows I do, so that’s why he only does it for me.”
“Okay…” Derek spoke again. His eyebrow was raised, showing he had a very good point to add. “What about when you got hurt last week? It was only a scratch on your cheek but Hotch was ready to drive you to a hospital.”
“Now you’re exaggerating!”
“I saw him cupping your cheeks, it’s true!” Emily exclaimed.
“I also saw that,” Spencer, who had just been observing the conversation, added.
“You too, Spence?”
“Sorry.” He lifted his hands up in defense. “I’m only pointing out what I saw.”
You crossed your arms against your chest. There was no way you’d let them get to you. If you let your heart believe that Aaron had feelings for you then it would break even harder. “He’s like this with all of us.”
Emily moved close to you and took your hand in hers. “No, he’s not,” she said with a smile. “How can you not see it? He looks at you like you’re his sun and stars.”
“We could have an experiment,” Spencer suggested.
“What kind of experiment?”
“Emily got yelled at yesterday for making a mistake during paperwork,” he explained. “I can see you’re preparing a similar report today so you could make on purpose the same mistake as her. Let’s see if he reacts the same way when he sees it. If he yells at you too then that means he treats you the same way he treats all of us. If he doesn’t…then you’re his soft spot.”
“Fine,” you agreed. “Only so you can all finally stop torturing me with this.”
A few hours later, your report was on Hotch’s desk.
“Y/N?”
You heard your name in that warm voice of his and lifted your head to look at him. He was standing at his office door with a smile, certainly not looking like a man about to start yelling.
“Can you please come to my office for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Walking up the stairs to his office, you could feel the stares of your colleagues. Time to prove them wrong, you thought. Even though, you were secretly praying for the opposite.
“What do you need me for?” you acted naive.
“I was just looking at your report,” he said, sitting down on his chair. “And-”
“Oh no, did I make a mistake?”
“No, it’s nothing important!” he rushed to reassure you. “It’s just some little thing. I only wanted to show you so you know the correct way to do it from now on.”
There was a sweet smile on his face. His voice was soft and not at all angry.
“Come on, let me show you.”
It didn’t feel scary to go close to him. So you did.
It was a bit hard to pay attention to him explaining your mistake, since you were staring at his fingers brushing the paper in front of you. It didn’t matter anyway, your mistake wasn’t an accident at all.
“Okay?” he asked when he was done.
“Okay. I’m really sorry, Hotch,” you said, giving him your best puppy eyes. If you were gonna do this experiment, you were gonna do it right. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“Why don’t you come to my office next time you prepare a report like this one? We can do it together, hm?”
“But you’re so busy, I don’t wanna slow you down,” you argued, your heart beating faster and faster as you realized that Aaron wasn’t angry at all with you.
“Nonsense. We’re doing it together next time.”
“Okay,” you said. “Thank you, Hotch.”
Just before you arrived at the door, you heard him calling your name. “Oh and Y/N?”
“Yeah?” you responded, looking back at him.
“The team is right.”
“Right on what?”
He smirked and dropped his gaze back to his papers. “You know what.”
You turned around to exit his office with a huge grin on your face. Sometimes it feels better when you lose.
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Photo Dump #3 (it's mental illness babes) ((also the middle one on the picnic blanket? Yeah unholy thoughts))
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WHY IS HE SO SWEET😩
A blurb on spencer with the audio thats like “I always thought you were the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen” and it’s to reader? :))
love this !! and i don't care if it's such a cliche image, I'm not going to stop
Spencer jumps when you slide the balcony door open. Even with the serial killer caught, you're all still on edge, chilly in the Alaskan spring.
"Sorry, I hope you don't mind me interrupting." You step forward and close the door to stop any heat from the fire escaping inside.
"Not at all," Spencer assures you, smiling softly to encourage you forward.
You stand next to him, looking out over at the hill and evergreen trees, everything with a fresh dumping of snow on it. The sun's just setting even though it's not too far into the afternoon, the sky beginning to turn soft pink and orange.
"Things were getting a bit tense inside." You laugh at the very recent memory of some passionate arguing.
"Prentiss and Morgan?" Spencer guesses. You confirm with a nod. "Hotch should add Uno to the list of banned games."
You laugh at the rare joke from him. "We're not going to have anything left now that Monopoly, Clue, and all card games are banned."
"We'll have to all play chess." He decides, matching his enthusiasm with a grin.
"Then you'll have to sit out so it's fair." You remind him with a smirk.
He pouts at that, not the answer he was after. A comfortable silence falls between you as you watch the sky changing colors. It's really like nothing you've seen before, and it's a nice reminder that there's still beauty in the world.
"It's just wow." You say softly, in awe.
"The stars will be out soon," Spencer notes. "They should be incredible. It's meant to be clear and there's no light pollution here like there is in DC."
"You looked it up?" You wonder. It's sweet, really, and his interest seems to go beyond adding to his vast general knowledge.
He turns to you to nod. "I'm going to come out after dinner to watch them. I've never seen anything like this in the cities I've lived in, and we don't get many cases in such beautiful, remote places."
You hum with your own nod. "You're right. Or..." Your curiosity doesn't allow you to resist the opportunity to segue the conversation. "Many beautiful people, like the deputy that's into you."
You're trying to disguise it as teasing him, at least then you can play it off as being teammates and friends, and you're desperately hoping he doesn't notice that you're tense about his answer.
His nose scrunches slightly. Maybe disgust, maybe excitement. "I wasn't looking."
"Not your type?" You ask, slightly alarmed again. You do share some similar traits with her, so if she's not his type, your chances are slimmer.
"I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen." He says sincerely, knocking the wind out of your chest. "So, no, Y/n, I'm not looking at anyone."
You take longer than you should to get over your shock. "You're serious?"
"Sorry, sorry." He quickly apologizes as his cheeks heat up more than can be accounted for by the cold weather. "That was weird. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."
"No." You rest your hand over his, hoping to calm his spiraling worry. "You didn't... just thank you. That's... the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"It's true." He reiterates.
Your smile deepens. "Can I come stargazing with you?" You ask. "I promise I won't distract you."
"Looking like that? Impossible." He jokes, flirtier than you imagine. It's like your reciprocation spurs him on. "But I'd love company... your company, specifically. Inviting someone else would be weird."
You chuckle. "Just me and you."
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I love them sm help🥲
Hi, I love your work so so much, but I've been too afraid to like to say it... you are such a phenomenal writer! ❤️❤️
I had a thought/request for cm? I think it'd be so cute/soft if like... the reader took meds or something, and while they are on a very important case it comes time to take their meds but they're very invested in working stuff out or whatever... and then a few of the team members phones go off and on of them is like, welp it's time to take your meds, and you're just like 🫠 you have an alarm to make sure I take it on time. I need some team fluff!
There's no room for recreation in your schedule. You personally think that being flown to the sunny beaches of florida and being confined to a stuffy police precinct is evil, but so are serial killers, you suppose.
Your head is starting to ache, and by the deep sigh that JJ lets out, hers is, too. The last thing on your mind are the little pills in your go bag, but your eyes are starting to droop from where they're scanning over a plotted map. Lines are starting to blur together, and you're thankful for the intrusion of an alarm.
Wait, two alarms.
Three, you note, frowning as you glance at the clock: 8:00.
Hotch's phone is one that buzzes as its pressed to his cheek, and he interrupts his running dialogue to scan the room for you.
"-understood. We'll send a team out, they should be there in 20. Y/L/N," He calls, and you stiffen slightly, ready for orders, "Take your medicine."
Those weren't the orders you'd been expecting. Your brow dips, creased in a frown as Hotch goes back to his conversation.
You glance questioningly at Reid, but all the doctor does is hold up his own phone.
"Your medicine," He prompts, showing the alarm ringing on his screen, "You're supposed to take it at 8:00."
"Here," JJ sticks a hand over your shoulder, pill bottle in hand, "Do you have water?"
Aaron's still engaged in conversation over the phone, but apparently parenting has given him good multitasking skills, because he hears JJ's question and passes his own water bottle to you, the plastic looking comically small in his large hands.
"Thank you," You mumble, "Uh- you set alarms on your phones... for me?"
"You don't do it for yourself," Derek teases, pinching at your side as you struggle to juggle both the pill bottle and the water. When you get the cap off of the medicine bottle Morgan takes it from you, shaking out the dosage you need and screwing the cap back on.
"I take them," You defend yourself, taking a swig of water and washing the medicine down, "I was just preoccupied tonight."
"And that's why we have the alarms," Rossi reasons, "Penelope had to help Reid and I with ours, she's the one that found your medical records and told us what time you needed to take them."
"That snoop," You scoff, "Someone has to take those computers away from her."
"I've tried," Aaron reasons, finally off his phone call, "She always outsmarts me. You took the meds?"
"Yeah," You nod, "Uh, thanks, guys."
"Anytime," Derek goads, ruffling your hair despite your protests to fight him off, "Someone let Garcia know you took 'em, or she'll call you herself."
Before Prentiss can pick her phone up off of the table, yours rings. There's a round of snickers throughout the room, and you raise it to your ear with a fondly exasperated sigh, "Yes, Penelope, I took my meds."
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WHY IS THIS SO SWEET
Texting the BAU: Would they still love you if you were a worm?
I'm not sure if anyone's ever done this before, but I was inspired by the AI voice tiktok that I saw of 'Hotch' answering this question! The user that posted the tiktok I saw was 'shiftershiz', I thought their video was really cool and I owe them the inspiration for this post!
This post has Hotch, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, JJ, Reid, and Prentiss. If you'd like to request a temp agent that I didn't include, or an earlier one that got written off, please do so in my inbox, I'd be happy to make more :)
I apologize if some of these pictures are a bit longer than others, I cut the conversation into two 'screenshots' when I could but sometimes it was easier just to stretch them out a teeny bit.
(Almost) all of these can be read as either platonic or romantic, the only hitch is that I mention Will in JJ's post so unless you're envisioning a throuple that one won't work </3
Images under cut to avoid a long post, happy texting!
Hotch:
Garcia:
Morgan:
Rossi:
JJ:
Reid:
Prentiss:
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Why is soft hotch so hot😐
I am so incredibly sick rn and desperately craving some Hotch comfort—maybe bau!gf who desperately tries to hide the fact that she’s sick even when she’s burning up and can’t keep her eyes open, and Hotch who just wants to take care of her!!
thank you for your request! i hope you feel better soon. —hotch fights to take care of you when you hide a fever. fem!reader, 1.4k
Spencer knows you're sick, but he's the only one who's figured it out so far. Everybody else is too busy.
He pushes your coffee toward him and exchanges it for a cup of water without saying anything. You're relieved to find it's ice cold, fighting to drink it without spilling it, or worse, pressing it to your furnace of a forehead.
"Just go home," he says.
"I like it here," you say lightly.
"You're fatigued, obviously running a fever, and probably disoriented if your eyes are anything to go off of."
"Are they?" you ask, eyes fluttering closed.
You prop yourself on your hand. Having a desk right next to Spencer has its ups and downs. Ups including physics magic, surprise trinkets, and all the donuts you can eat. Downs include this —he's too good at his job but bad at taking a hint, so while he's realised that you're sick and tired and should probably head home, he hasn't stopped to think you might be keeping it a secret for a reason.
If you take more sick leave already after your week long bout of food poisoning only a fortnight ago, it will look like you're trying to take advantage of Hotch. You don't want the team thinking you're cheating and you don't want Hotch to think this is how it’s going to be. You’d never use him like that, but it’s so early into the relationship that there’s no way for him to know that for sure.
You take a measured breath. You're the kind of sick that yearns for bed, head heavy, a pounding pain behind your eyebrows and a nose you can't breathe through. Your lips are chapped despite the thick layer of balm you applied that morning. The weight of a bowling ball rests in your sinus'. Your head begins to list forward.
"Y/N?"
You look up, rubbing your forehead as nonchalantly as you can manage. Hotch stands with a hand on the railing of his half-platform, eyebrows pulled together as they tend to be.
You like the sound of your name on his lips, even if it's said with question.
"Yeah?" you ask.
Before, it would've been, Yes, sir? But Hotch told you (while in boyfriend mode, assumedly) that it makes him hot around the collar (though he'd said it more delicately), so now you save it for special occasions, like when you want to get your way, and when he looks especially perturbed.
"Something wrong?" he asks.
He can't like the way you say, "I'm fine," maybe he spots the far-away look in your eyes, your poorly concealed wince as your head throbs, maybe he just knows you. He gives you a look bordering reproachful and turns away.
"My office," he says.
Spencer gives you a pointed look. When he realises you aren't awake enough to glare, he nudges you encouragingly. "Be honest," Spencer says.
You almost fall up the short steps to the landing in front of Hotch's office. You don't knock before entering, and later you'll realise how odd this is. Hotch hasn't even sat down, instead straightening a paper from the wrong side of the desk.
"What's wrong? Another migraine?" he asks.
"No. I'm alright, did you want something?"
He turns around fully. You like seeing him after hours without his suit, arms behind his tired neck and eyes half-lidded, but this look is just as good on him: furrowed brows, a hand twitching toward you but not touching. He tries not to cross the line here at work because when it starts it never ends. Your evaluations have to be cross examined and approved by a higher up, you are not permitted to room together on cases, and you have to report to HR every three to six weeks to reaffirm that Hotch isn't being coercive. It's odd and invasive at times, but these are things you have to do to be together. You'd do worse.
"Did I want something?" he asks. It's more patient than incredulous, but the incredulity is definitely there.
"From me?"
"I want lots of things from you." He breaks eye contact with you and turns back to his things, shuffling papers into a manila folder. You blink dozily, wanting a hug and needing him to let you go back to your desk lest you give in and lean against his broad chest. "Like for you to take care of yourself."
"I'm fine."
"Forgive me if this is something I shouldn't say, but you don't look okay. You look sick."
You summon your most convincing smile even while his back is turned and enthuse your tone with some practised pep. "Well, it's not the most romantic thing in the world."
He ties the cord on his manilla envelope and clicks open his briefcase. It's a testament to how sick you are that you didn't notice it there, nor his coat thrown over the edge of the desk.
"You going somewhere?" you ask curiously.
"I'm taking you home, honey."
You shake your head. "No, you're not. I'm fine."
Hotch puts his coat on regardless. Briefcase closed and in hand, he walks the short distance to you and looks over the shape of your face expectantly. "Let's go home."
"Hotch–"
"Home," he says, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "No more 'Hotch'."
You take a step back but not one more than that, startled by his readiness to leave, and his reluctance to believe you. You're a bad actor and he's trained in the art of untangling deception —it isn't going to work. You give it a valiant effort.
"You don't have the resources to give me the day off. You definitely don't have the resources to take a day off with me, and that's fine because I'm not sick." You rub your face clean, dust off your work blouse. "I have a headache, it's not so bad."
Hotch actually smiles, then. You worked for him for three months before you realised he could. It isn't what you're expecting. It disarms you.
"Liar," he says, ducking down to give you a kiss. He sounds amused and sorry at once, an impossible combination marked by his small smile and his protective hand at your elbow.
Every kiss is like a shock. Not because Hotch is particularly abrasive to the senses, the opposite. It feels right.
"I'm not lying," you say.
"Take the day off with me, then."
He knows he's being a bit of a bastard, evidenced by his smile, but he sobers for your sake. "You're lying to me, but that's not what matters. I can feel your head like a flame and I'm not even touching it. And you've kept your secret well, honey, but Reid's a good friend."
"What did he tell you?" you murmur.
"You fell asleep for sixteen seconds."
"When?" you ask in disbelief.
"A couple of minutes before I called for you." Hotch squeezes your arm.
"If we go home you'll have so much work to do when we come back," you lament.
"It'll be the same as any other day," he says. He's slipped into his most dulcet tone, the kind he uses with family. "I am… desperate, to take care of you. I can't do that here. Please oblige me and let me do that."
"Oblige you?" you ask.
"Being your boyfriend isn't working. I thought I would try boss instead."
You relent, finally. You genuinely can't abstain from him anymore, not when he's being as ridiculously charming and gentle as he is, his hand steadying at your elbow. Plus, your brain is probably gonna explode inside of your skull any second now if the headache is anything to go by. You drop your face into his chest and sigh, relieved when his hand moves to your shoulder, and his cheek presses to the top of your head.
"This is inappropriate," you mumble.
"You're really not well, hm?" he asks, just as quietly. "I'd be negligent if I didn't take notice. Doubly negligent if I didn't take you home."
"Human resources…" You mean to say more. He's solid, he wants to hug you, and he smells like his expensive cologne. Hotch has a presence about him that's automatically comforting once you overcome the intimidating. Sometimes, even, the intimidating helps it along. You feel sheltered by his arms. Totally safe. It's probably why you nearly pass out in his arms right there and then.
"Okay," he says, rubbing your back. "Alright. I'll let human resources know your complaint, honey, don't worry. Let's get you to the car."
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The way I have an actual problem🤠
a compilation of my fav spencer reid pictures
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my life would be so much easier if harry styles didn’t have curly brown hair
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THINGS DON'T NEED TO BE PERMANENT TO BE BEAUTIFUL!!! VALUE IS NOT STORED IN PERMENANCE!! TO BE ALIVE IS TO EXPERIENCE EVANESCENCE!!!
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The Eras Tour | Denver Night 1 (x)
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SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP
it looks so pretty 😭💜 (getting ready for sn tv)
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Certain words can change your brain forever and ever so you do have to be very careful about it.
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idk what traumatized or mentally ill person needs to hear this but dreams (especially the really disturbing ones you dont want to talk about to anybody) arent some deep peek into your psyche or a sign of your True Desires or whatever theyre quite literally your brain making fruit salad with whatever it can find on the shelf. just putting all that shit in a blender and hitting obliterate. its fine, youre fine, youre not a weirdo for it
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