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:)

@importantprunewombateagle

15, single, sad, she/they
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belle-keys

parts of some classic lit that hit different for me

“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.”

- the iconic piece on books and morality from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you, God forgive you!

- the “you are in every line I have ever read” tyrade in Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

- the whole opening of Lolita by Vladimir Nabakov

My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

- Catherine’s confession about Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.

- Darcy admitting the big truth to Lizzy in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

- Sydney Carton’s last words (*crying*) in A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

You cling so tightly to your purity, my lad! How terrified you are of sullying your hands. Well, go ahead then, stay pure! What good will it do, and why even bother coming here among us? Purity is a concept of fakirs and friars. But you, the intellectuals, the bourgeois anarchists, you invoke purity as your rationalization for doing nothing. Do nothing, don’t move, wrap your arms tight around your body, put on your gloves. As for myself, my hands are dirty. I have plunged my arms up to the elbows in excrement and blood. And what else should one do? Do you suppose that it is possible to govern innocently?

- Hoederer being a realistic bad bitch, that’s what, in Les Mains Sales by Jean-Paul Sartre

I couldn’t forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified. It was all very careless and confused. They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.

The “they were careless people” realization in The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

‘Hateful day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony. 'Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemlance. Satan had his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and abhorred.'

Frankenstein’s monster’s teenage angst in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

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Emily Prentiss is what the FBI like to call a rogue. After having her Supervisory status revoked, she’s offered a job with the BAU, her status back, and a clean slate, an offer that’s impossible to refuse. On her first day, though, she finds she’s already fairly well acquainted with her new boss.

rating: M. I don’t advise anyone underage read this fic. If you do, skip chapter 2.

pairing: aaron hotchner/emily prentiss

chapter preview under the cut (this one is gonna hurt y’all. chapter focuses on ‘the big game’ so i don’t know if that’s a hint or not…)

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illicit affairs chapter 9

Emily Prentiss is what the FBI like to call a rogue. After having her Supervisory status revoked, she’s offered a job with the BAU, her status back, and a clean slate, an offer that’s impossible to refuse. On her first day, though, she finds she’s already fairly well acquainted with her new boss.

rating: M. I don’t advise anyone underage read this fic. If you do, skip chapter 2. pairing: aaron hotchner/emily prentiss

chapter preview under the cut

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geekinator

Reasons I like subtitles:

1. I can see how people’s names and the cities and the countries are spelled.

2. I don’t miss any words, so everything they say makes sense.

3. I get to know what background noises and conversations are.

4. The descriptions of the noises people make are freaking awesome. Ex: splutter, grunt, chuckles.

5. I can see who says what.

6. I don’t have to have the volume super loud so I can hear the dialogue, and I don’t blow my eardrums out because the ambient noises and music is SO FREAKING LOUD.

I freaking love subtitles.

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Seven Months (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Nota my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: A field operation goes wrong, and you lose the most important person in your life. That's what you thought for seven months.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: A character’s death and mourning are mentioned and discussed. Pregnancy is shown and discussed. A mention of possible abortion (not actually happening). Strong words. A character faint and needs medical attention. Angst with a happy ending.

A/N: Hey, my loves! I wrote this one based on this request I got the past weekend. Are you familiar with Doyle’s arc? Here is, but it’s not Emily faking her death; it's Spencer. I enjoyed writing this one, although it was painful in some parts. You can send me requests! I would love to work on those.

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Your life has been pretty good, in your opinion. It's not like you haven't been through dark times for a few years, but once you grew up and followed your dreams, things got a lot better. You became a reputable FBI agent working at the BAU, one of the most elite groups in the bureau. You earned excellent colleagues who are also your friends and your family. And you met Spencer Reid, your fiancee, the man who can light up your days and rock your nights.

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riyastark
“He was conscientious, the kind of person who believed that the others around him were so much more important than he was, who already believed that he was letting everybody down. And he was honest, the kind of person who was naturally open about all he felt and all he wanted. Alec’s virtues had made a trap for him: these two good qualities had collided painfully. He felt he could not be honest without disappointing everybody he loved.”

It was a hideous conundrum for him.  It was as if the world had been designed to make him unhappy.

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Your Something Else (+18)

  • Summary: Reader reveals to her boyfriend, Spencer, that she's never had sex. He takes it into his hands to change that, with her enthusiastic support of course
  • CW: Elements of Dom Spencer & Sub Reader, Virginity, Innocence Kink, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink, Mutual Masturbation through video conferencing, Implied Age Gap
  • Word Count: 3,800
  • Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
  • Author's Note: I hope you like this!! Let me know if you'd want a part 2 when they actually...(Also thank you to my love @reidsbookclub for reading this over!!)

I can count the number of times Spencer's kissed me on two hands. It's the most I've been kissed in a very long time, so I don't blame myself for getting carried away by the feeling of his soft lips and strong hands on my body. Spencer's breathing into my neck, as I try to scoot closer and closer to his body in his car. It's almost like that typical teenage experience that we both missed out on: making out in cars on a summer night. I can tell, sitting in his car with his hand brushing against my chin, that we both crave it.

“Spence..Spencer, wait. Please,” I say, the uncertainty in the words making Spencer drop his hands immediately.

“Did I do something wrong?” Spencer asks, his eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read me, which he probably is trying to do, knowing him, “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me, sweetheart. I’m not going to mad or anything,”

“No, no,” I whisper, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, “It’s me. It’s not you, Spencer. It’s a little embarrassing,” I admit, looking down at where your and Spencer’s hands interlock. His hands, bigger and a little more worn, are warm against my cool ones. It might be a little silly, but I like to look at his hands, especially when his hands gleefully embrace my hands. I haven’t had many hands to hold before Spencer.

OBSESSED

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