#which is good after the bullshit i was dealing with the day prior

[calpicowater]

Day 8/366: January 8th 2024 | Finally Another Yakinunu 🍅

YAAAAAY a hangout with Jesslyn after almost one year. We went to Aberdeen and got Korean photobooth photos (yes I am collecting this with every single one of my friends lol) and then we got bubble tea from Pause n Sip (peach yakult so yum). We went to Hai Di Lao Vancouver location for their 31% off late night meal hehe. The meal was so good and affordable too. I was very well fed. I love the mochi filled fish cakes. As always, the tomato soup is the BEST here. I also loved the shrimp balls and meats.

#365 #52 #hot pot #hai di lao #bubble tea #korean photobooth #photobooth #yakinunu #happy night :3 #which is good after the bullshit i was dealing with the day prior

[notoriousbeb]

The My Tears Ricochet Deep Dive

While this song obviously has a clear reference to Taylor’s masters being sold to Scooter Braun in November 2019, I don’t think that’s the full story being told here.

When she released Folklore, Taylor shared via Instagram that “My Tears Ricochet” is about an “embittered tormentor showing up at the funeral of his fallen object of obsession.”

Now, why is she fallen? Because her work has been taken from her. Okay, one question answered. ✅

Now, who is the “embittered tormentor obsessed” with Taylor? Scooter Braun, of course…But see, I actually don’t think it’s that simple. I get why that’s the obvious first choice, though.

(Back story for new kids who don’t know why Scoots is trash: In July 2016, Taylor was outcast and called a snake due to a leaked phone call by Kim Kardashian and her then-husband Kanye West. Scooter was Kanye’s manager. Then Kanye put out the video of the song in question from the call—featuring a naked Taylor lookalike. Then Justin Bieber posted that video to Instagram with a photo showing him on a video call with Scooter and Kanye. The caption said, “Taylor Swift what up.” So, they’re all three supreme douche-canoes of the highest order).

However, I think Scooter’s top priority (as always) in buying Taylor’s masters was simply to make money. And if he pissed her off while doing so, that was probably a delightful bonus. But I wouldn’t say he bought her masters because he was obsessed with her. This deal was nearly three years later, and nothing had popped off between the camps in the interim.

I have more on this tormentor/obsessor/muse, concept; but first, back to Folklore. Upon its release, Taylor also revealed in a YouTube livechat that it was the first song she wrote for the album. And that leads me into a bit of timing discussion.

I think Folklore was the result of a few seismic events in Taylor’s life: a run-in with Harry at Ed’s wedding in December 2018 (which I think helped to spawn his second solo album, Fine Line); followed by talking to him during early quarantine in March 2020 in Los Angeles when the Lover tour got postponed and then cancelled; the pandemic itself pushing her, like many of us, into some serious introspection; and, of course, the sale of her masters to Scooter in 2019.

Since this is the very first song Taylor wrote that ended up on Folklore, my speculation is that perhaps it was penned in those first couple of days of the pandemic, before she reconnected with Harry in LA.

Fine Line would have been newly released—just three months prior—and on her birthday no less.

Which leads me back to the tormentor and obsessor. You know what I might find tormenting, if I were Taylor? If I’d been waiting for this one guy to grow the fuck up for years and then (perhaps after we ran into each other at our good friends’ wedding?), he confessed to me that he still wanted me but, even at 25, he still didn’t have his shit together (please see, “Renegade,” “To Be So Lonely,” and “Peter”).

Then, after I piece myself back together following snake gate, some epic twat who bullied me online back then buys my work out from under me from the guy I thought I had a good working relationship with (Scott Borchetta) and while I’m dealing with that bullshit my ex I’m still pining for releases album on my birthday with songs seemingly about us and how he still wants me.

Yeah, that’d have me plenty tormented. And feeling like, since his first album was also quite “a tip of the cap” to me (his words) as well that, yeah, someone was a little obsessed with me.

So, anyway, the lyrics:

We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too

We open at the funeral Taylor told us about. Then referencing a potential cremation. If she’s burning, so is he. Because they’re twin flames? Because they’re so close?

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you ‘Til my dying day

Does this sound like someone talking to either a bully or a former business associate? To me it sounds like a very messy, very difficult, former lover.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And you're the hero flying around, saving face And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

I can see how people could think this was about Scott, but not Scooter. But T herself said this whole thing was about one muse: The embittered obsessor attending her funeral.

Anyway, my take: it’s a lover she couldn’t let go of easily, so it ended messy.

And now he’s out promoting an album full of songs about them, pretending it’s not, because he’s a gentleman. But while he’s acting like she’s nothing to him, they both know what he said to her in private, and what those songs are really about, and no matter how much she cries and waits and wants him to grow up and come get her he just can’t — or won’t.

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll means Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

This is a Biblical allusion to Ecclesiastes 3:5: “A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.” I think she’s referring here to an idea revisited again in “loml,” that she thought she’d be safer and maybe get the life she wanted with someone more stable, versus being in a relationship that left her starry eyed, like she was with Harry…and that’s how she wound up with Joe for six years.

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene

Ah, would it really be a Haylor lyric breakdown if we weren’t talking about ghosts and haunting at some point? 👻 They obviously haunt one another because they can’t shut up about each other. (Not that I’m complaining!)

Two Ghosts: “We're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty.” ....Ready for it?: “Wonder how many girls he loved and left haunted.” Cardigan: “I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs.”

You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

Even while doing the press for Fine Line, H was wearing her ring. Should we talk some more about the Haylor ring? Or burying and graves? Nah. I think these posts sum it up very well.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

I think these lines could be a reference both to things he’s said to her and in his songs about her, particularly the pointed ones. “Lights Up,” for one, which to me, reads like an argumentative back-and-forth about why must things change in a relationship against the backdrop of fame. It also seems to include a tie to “Peter” with “I’m never coming back down,” as compared to “I didn’t want to come down.”

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones

And where is home in this case—and so many others? Each other.

And I still talk to you When I'm screaming at the sky And when you can't sleep at night You hear my stolen lullabies

I imagine this is her picturing him listening to her old albums, as she hadn’t done her rerecords yet. Also, again, doesn’t this all seem a bit…intimate and dramatic for a business relationship? Like, picture this moment in the Eras Tour in your mind, please, and tell me with a straight face that you’d sing like this for your former boss. It certainly doesn’t seem like anything you’d say to someone like Scooter. Why would she ever want to talk to him at all?

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same Cursing my name, wishing I stayed You turned into your worst fears And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain Crossing out the good years And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

So, this is where we get into the “embittered” part of Taylor’s original description of the song’s muse—the person visiting her funeral. Why is he bitter? Because he lost her. She didn’t stay. Perhaps because his own bad behavior pushed her away. “All the light couldn’t put out the dark running through my heart?” “I know you were way too bright for me. I’m hopeless, broken.” Also, and again, please see, “Renegade,” and “To Be So Lonely,” and “Peter” and also “Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus.”

#haylor

[compassionatereminders]

Your inbox tag is so inviting, if it's okay I *will* talk to you, cause I'm in a bit of a painful pickle :(

I don't know if my partner is cheating, and it's driving me insane

Starting about a week ago, they (gender kept ambiguous to avoid any sort of instinctive judge mm sent - not that you're prone to it, but others tend to be) started behaving a little oddly. I noticed they were on Snapchat, but I couldn't see who they were snapping or what was being said. It only bothered me because normally they tell me 'I've been taking to my friend so-and-so', and they didn't mention at all that they were talking to anyone.

I stewed on it for a while, because I didn't want to make it a big deal if it wasn't. Except then they started hiding their phone screen. Like, tilting away from me in the car, screen brightness turned low, always keeping their phone in their pocket around me when it used to be out almost all the time.

We went out a few days ago and their behavior was odd again - I ended up snapping, "damn if you'd rather be elsewhere, sorry" . twenty minutes later, we talked about it - it was addressed immediately. Because here's the thing about my partner: they don't like unnecessary bullshit. I know that for a fact. They've been cheated on before in their prior relationship, they know it sucks. I'm not very attractive (I'm just kinda average), and I have very low self esteem - that is to say, I'm not easy to be around, but they make an effort to be around me anyway. Which is why my head is in such a tizzy. Since before and even after their weird behavior they've talked more frequently about us getting married one day, always being the one to bring it up first.

I think I know who they're messaging specifically, because I *know* they've been getting snaps from someone specific - I managed to see the name notification *once* - and after our little spat, they told me a number of friends they've been talking to, and pointedly didn't say the persons name.

I get friend recommendations based on their friends - we were looking over my phone, and that persons name was in the list ; my partner told me how they knew everyone else, but didn't even remark on that person.

I'm rambling, I'm sorry. I'm a little intoxicated. I'm just broken up about things, because I was so certain just two weeks ago that I was going to one day marry my partner, but now I can feel myself emotionally retracting "just in case," and I don't want to bring the topic up again because we had a long talk just yesterday about trust and I was placated until today, and I probably *do* have to bring it up, but I don't want to cause a rift for 'not trusting them' especially if it IS nothing;;; but I don't want to (potentially) be mollified by gentle words, because I *DO* trust that they mean what they say---aHHH I don't want conversations I want FACTS

:'(((( they're a good person, they are. I'm hard to be around, and hard to be with. They wouldn't put up with me if they didn't genuinely care. I'm just scared because I *also* genuinely care.

Their Snapchat score went up by 14 in 45 minutes, I'm taking another shot of alcohol ;;;;;

I think you have to confront it. Because whether this is actually happening or not, walking around with these suspicions and insecurities without communicating about it will negatively affect the relationship even if your partner isn't actually cheating on you. So the worst thing you can do is sit with this in silence and let the bitterness and paranoia snowball into a chain reaction you won't be able to stop

#chat with kat #paranoia tw #cheating tw #alcohol tw

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Modern Au kid fic! Platonic Aiden and Lambert (Aiden and Lambert are both 14. Geralt and Eskel are early twenties).

CW for eye trauma and injury description.

"C'mon, everyone knows you're like a god damned guard dog when it comes to your boys." Guxart pleaded.

"And you're hoping I'll extend that to your boy?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Vesemir ran his free hand over his face as he listened to the man on the other end of the line. He knew what he was getting into when he became a foster parent almost twenty years ago. However, he hadn't had any requests like this since taking Lambert in a decade ago and Guxart's kids were a whole different matter. It wasn't his fault the Dyn Marv Group Home had essentially been a sinking ship when he took it over. He was doing his best to turn things around but it was a slow process and there was no denying a good portion of the kids needed support which not many people were equipped to provide as a result of his predecessors management style, whilst a good number of the remaining kids had priors.

"Look, real talk." Guxart suddenly sounded exhausted, "He's my responsibility and for obvious reasons he can't stay here. Right now he's in a bad way, physically and mentally. I need to put him with someone I can trust won't take advantage of that. I need to know he's in safe hands. Please, Ves."

Vesemir sighed. He really hoped he wasn't going to regret this, "When can we expect him?"

"Any idea what this is about?" Eskel asked as he slouched on the old sagging couch.

Geralt shrugged and gave a grunt as he replied to a text (probably Yen), "Group text. I got the same information you did."

"Ass." Eskel gave his brother a playful swat.

"Alright you two." Vesemir emerged from the kitchen carrying three sodas, "I'll fill Lambert in when he gets back from school, but there's some details I'd rather he not know right away."

"Sounds serious." Eskel said, both he and Geralt leaning forwards in their seats to show they were listening.

Vesemir nodded, "Guxart called me. We've got an emergency placement arriving in a couple of hours straight from hospital, lad around Lambert's age."

His adopted sons wrinkled their noses, Vesemir cut them off before they could say anything, "I know you have past issues with the Dyn Marv kids. But Guxart assured me the worst Aiden's ever been slapped with is weekend detention."

Eskel perked up, "Aiden? Lambert's Aiden? Fuck, I gave him so much shit about him being imaginary."

Vesemir shrugged, "It's possible. It's not an uncommon name though."

"So why was he in hospital and why is he coming here?" Geralt asked

"He got attacked by a group of older kids. Naturally, for his own safety he can't go back to the group home while the investigation is ongoing and Guxart didn't want to ship him across State with fresh trauma."

"For how long?"

"Depends how long the authorities take. All I know is that the ringleaders are going to be up on assault charges. Possibly even attempted murder."

"Attempted - what the fuck did they do to him?"

"I didn't want to ask over the phone, his social worker will fill us in on everything when he arrives. That being said, you two know the drill for new arrivals. Geralt, you go do a junk food run and grab some essentials while you're at it, I've got no idea what he's going to be bringing with him so just the basics for now. Eskel, give me a hand getting the spare room ready."

Lambert kicked an empty can into the gutter, scowling down at his shoes. Another day of bullshit taunts and teasing and still no word from Aiden after almost a month. He wasn't dumb, he knew Aiden would have a reason and he knew what the deal was for care kids. He'd probably been moved to a different home or something with no warning and no choice, it happened. Still, Lambert thought his friend would have at least replied one of his emails or something to let him know (Aiden didn't have a phone. He said it was more hassle than it was worth trying to prevent it from getting stolen), not just act like he didn't exist anymore. Long distance friends were a thing, right? Lambert kicked another can. Fuck it, he was done. If Aiden wanted to ghost him then two could play at that game. Fuck friends and fuck him.

"Home." He called out, nudging the door closed with his foot.

"Stop kicking the door and get in here." Vesemir called from the living room, "I need to talk to you about something."

"Fucks sake, I haven't even done anything." Lambert groaned "I've literally just walked through the door."

"I know you haven't. Stop bitching and sit down."

Lambert slumped into the room, taking in the spread of pizza, burgers, hotdogs and cake on the coffee table. That could only mean one thing, "Who's the new guy?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about, but I need you to promise you'll keep a cool head first. Ok."

Lambert shrugged.

"He got here about half an hour ago straight from the hospital. He's pretty beat up."

"Sucks for him. He got a name?"

"Aiden. About your age."

Lambert shot to his feet, "About this tall, dark hair?"

"Yes. But before you - Lambert !"

Lambert didn't hear as he charged up the stairs and down the hallway to the usually empty spare bedroom and immediately started pounding on the door, "Aiden?! "

The door cracked open and Lambert couldn't hide a wince. Vesemir wasn't kidding when he'd said Aiden was pretty beat up. The skin of his arms which wasn't covered by his t-shirt and bandages was covered in bruises. He had the fading evidence of a black eye whilst the other was covered by a patch of surgical gauze, a fresh, bright red scar poking out of the top and disappearing into his hairline. He smiled at Lambert awkwardly, "Hi."

Lambert threw his arms around him in a hug before remembering he was supposed to be mad and turning it into a light shove, "You dick! Why didn't you tell me you were in hospital?"

"I would have if I could but I was in an induced coma for two weeks and it's not like the hospital had a computer lab."

"Wait, you were in a coma."

"To give the internal shit a chance to heal. I'm all good now though. Well-" he pointed to his gauze covered eye, "Mostly."

"What happened anyway?" Lambert asked, moving into the room to sit on the bed.

"Jad and his gang jumped me. This happened when Vi decided to get a flick knife involved." Aiden moved to sit next to him, eyes on the floor and fists clenched. "They couldn't save my eye."

Lambert had never heard his friend sound so small, "Shit, Aiden."

They sat in awkward silence, Lambert not really knowing what to say after that. Luckily they were both saved by a shout of, "Boys, everything ok? If you want food I'd get down here before Geralt eats it all!"

Lambert grinned at his friend, "Hot dog eating contest?"

"You're on!"

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #lambert/aiden #aiden/lambert #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert

[puckish-rogue]

Newscast #1

" Breaking news coming right out of Los Angeles, California, as police are currently investigating the murder of a local attorney, Michael Hayden, who was seemingly thrown out the window of his Beverly Hills penthouse. Reporter Daniel Stevens has been following the story all day, and is now live with the details tonight. Daniel, would this have any connection to the string of high profile killings from the past several weeks? "

Footage cuts to a man in his early 30's standing some feet away from the active investigation. A crowd of onlookers can be seen just to the side of him. What isn't shown is just how big that crowd actually is. Whatever happened here seems to have brought out a good chunk of LA's most curious.

" Thank you, Charlie. " Daniel responds. " As of now, there is no evidence to connect Hayden's murder to the series of killings that have been popping up over the last two months. However, from talking to several neighbors, it would seem to be that most are under the impression that Hayden might have had some sort of gang-affiliation given the company he would bring over to his home. Whether any of these individuals may have had a hand in the man's demise is anyone's guess. Though, one thing that most investigators seem to agree on is this; whoever may be at fault was clearly trying to send a message given the brazenness of this act. "

What follows next is a series of interviews with different eyewitnesses, all recounting the moment in which they saw Michael Hayden's body get thrown out a window, and land right onto the pavement below. Some note having heard what seemed to be gunshots prior to the crash. Others mention seeing a large man drive off on a motorcycle just a few minutes after. None could make out any distinguishing features other than his stature.

Before you know it, they've wrapped up their main story and gone off into some other bullshit about traffic jams, the weather, or local events occurring this week. However, this doesn't meant that the story won't continue to be talked about. In fact, other outlets seem to have picked up on it given the connection it seems to have with at least eight other slayings that have occurred since the start of the new year; most of them dealing with other poor schmucks who may or may not have had ties to organized crime.

Truthfully, none of this shit is going to matter in the long run. At least not for the man who committed these heinous acts. They were simply jobs to gain favor with certain people who could help him out with those BIG plans of his. And who knows, maybe they could blossom into beautiful friendships. I mean, let's be real here, it's gonna be a major pain in the ass to do anything when you've got several different world governments breathing down your neck.

Oh, well. Such is life when you're the world's most popular boy...

#Blog Event ⚜ #The Illest Villain ⚜︎ { Main Verse } #We are SO BACK #So real talk but I was planning this post for a while now and had it play out differently in my head. #But it was getting to the point where I just wasn't able to get it down the way I wanted and that resulted in this. #Which I don't think is bad at all! But I'm definitely gonna try working more on what I want to convey next time I do smth like this. #So for now I hope this works and I hope it's good.

[clatterbane]

I've got an unexpected relatively short notice 9 a.m. blood pressure appointment at the nearby primary care center that I've only been in once for a blood draw. And I swear thinking about it tonight can't be doing my blood pressure any good.

Still not sure what's up with that, but I guess we'll find out soon enough. Whether I want to or not. Endocrinology was handling it, so I really have no idea why primary care is summoning me now. Maybe it has to do with my last endo leaving so I got reassigned to another one in the clinic, but idk.

My blood pressure always ran sort of low (like, 100/60 was on the high side for me before), classic EDS dysautonomia style. I had to watch out for medications that would incidentally affect blood pressure, unless I wanted to almost black out when I stood up and/or get fluid painfully swelling my feet up. Both of which did happen over the years.

But after that 2nd round of COVID which also left me with the fatigue, it went kinda fucky too. I suspect it may be connected to the pounding heart I've been getting more often too, but I really haven't wanted to get into that--especially because it does seem to be post-COVID bullshit. Don't know if they're more likely to dismiss it as all in my head, or freak the fuck out in unpleasant ways because cardiovascular symptoms. Don't particularly feel up to dealing with either possibility just now.

So yeah, I apparently really do need blood pressure meds these days, unexpected as it was. (As much as it concerns me, with some of the repeated "unusual ethnic liver chemistry-> unusual drug reactions/effects which too often get dismissed until you're in terrible shape" fits I watched my mom go through with BP meds for years. Mine is the same, we kept reacting in similar unexpected ways--and I am basically an ethnic minority of one, this far from home. 😒)

And somebody does need to follow up on that. But, it would be nice to have some continuity of care here, and more idea of wtf is even going on. Sudden last minute summons letters from a medical practice I have no prior relationship with do not increase my confidence in any of this.

It's also feeling too reminiscent of dealing with the freaking NHS, where the rest of it was amplified by getting treated like mushroom as SOP.

#personal #venting #medical fuckery #post covid #post-viral illness

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2023-09-18

Not getting a whole lot of "autumn" vibes from this thing

Listening: Many things, but the one that has been stuck in my head is once again from Siege Ubsessed! by Curta'n'Wall. A New Castle is Born. Do you want a song about. A castle? Yes, you do.

Bonus track: whatever the hell is going on in The Dark Ages

Reading: Finished Perhaps The Stars the other day. I am increasingly convinced that Neal Stephenson has the right idea on how to end most things. The end of Perhaps the Stars is good but it's less good than the rest of the series. The book is wild, so much happens, it's a dramatic change of pace from the prior books, both way more happens and it's far slower.

9A. I am mixed on 9A. As a narrator they do not feel like the 9A. To be fair, Mycroft also does not feel like he would be a great Anonymous either. Still.

Stephenson, yes. Stephenson's books end like an 80's pop song, they just hit a peak and then fade out before you can realize it's happened. An extremely effective way to fill you with what the fuck was that great.

I like the ideas in Terra Ignota immensely. I like the style and the world of Terra Ignota a great deal. I'm not actually sure if I like the prose in Terra Ignota that much.

I do appreciate how the final chapters serve as a sort of proxy for the thoughts you've probably been having while you read the series. The various peoples who have had to just endure the clashing hives get to stand up and go you guys realize an empire is not a good thing right.

Playing: Breath of the Wild, beat Vah Rudania, the Salamander beast. One left, plus maybe four or five more memories, and I do want to track down a couple more of the side quests before I hit the endgame but I feel like I'm probably not going to come back to this much after I beat Ganon.

Also beat the snow dragon Naydra fight which was a really good setpiece. You get the reveal that it's been corrupted by Ganon, which is a great oh shit moment when you think you might have to fight it. You don't but it's still a good mobility challenge. I have some video.

Watching: Nothing really.

Making: Getting back in the CAD saddle for printing things reminds me why I still keep Autodesk Fusion installed in Windows. FreeCAD is great but it has idiosyncrasies that make it less than ideal for even moderately complicated parts. Chief among these is that it is a CAD package with no first class concept of an assembly, anything involving multiple bodies is arduous as fuck.

As a result I am trying out Onshape, the cloud/web CAD package, because at least I can run that in Linux rather than rebooting. I'm going to try and see if I can spin up Fusion 360 (or maybe even SolidEdge for the first time in, god, almost a decade) in Wine/Proton/Whatever but Onshape is promising. Despite the cloud bullshit it handles pretty much like any other professional-ish CAD package.

Tools and Equipment: I have been shaving with a old fashioned safety razor for almost a year now. I had a cheap one from the grocery store but I bought that fancy precision machined aluminium one because I like the concept of a safety razor that barely exposes a blade at all. It has been good.

As a teenager my parents deemed me too ADHD to be allowed even a cartridge razor, and for years I fought with electric razors that left crappy finishes and couldn't get anywhere near what I'd call clean. When I was in University I was like "Man it cannot be that hard to use a cartridge razor" and sure enough it wasn't. The problem I have with cartridge razors is that they clog in seconds and keeping them clear is a pain in the ass. Cuts are even less likely with this fancy one but even with a plain old safety razor it's remarkably hard to injure yourself unless you really aren't paying attention.

Safety razors are marginally more dangerous than cartridge razors but you can clear shaved hair extremely easily which means they cut like a dream for a while and they aren't as frustrating to work with. The fact that blades cost like US¢25 a piece even for slightly fancier ones is a nice touch that makes me much less likely to keep using blades long after they're too blunt to serve.

#last monday of the week #Bandcamp #breath of the wild

[mneiai]

Which established characters are you hoping to see in Dreadwolf?

Obviously I think Dorian will be at least appearing and I'm hoping Maeveris ends up in an advisory role or something like that. I'd also really like that for Fenris, where he advises us and we have some sidequests with him, but his own work and ours maybe diverges a bit, to give it the feel of there being just so much going on and so many moving pieces.

I would also really like Feynriel as a companion, I think it would be a great nod to DA2 and be an interesting way to work in some great moral conundrums for us (like having the option to influence someone's mind through their dreams or the like).

From Absolution, I'm hoping either Qwydion or Tassia become companions (though Roland and Lacklon as a pre-built set would be pretty fun). Qwydion would be like a less annoying Sera sort of role, playful and silly, but very good at what she does and with a heart of gold. Tassia would also work I think in an advisory role, but I could see her as a companion (and them both as love interests). She could be a more conservative Tevinter viewpoint, but very anti-blood magic and with a Dorian-esque desire to "save" her country from itself.

Prior to the VA's bullshit, I had actually really hoped Cullen might be a companion, simply because it would get him in basically every role he could have taken in the games and because he's one of the only characters to appear in all three prior games without DLCs, so I want those parallels. Since his epilogues never actually count, he could have been in Tevinter for a year or two before starting the game--he'd fascinate the Tevinters while also having Templar abilities they wouldn't at all be ready for.

Dagna is another "older" character who would be great as a companion and give some interesting insight. I'd love to see them go deeper into lyrium/Titan lore and having someone like Dagna around (as well as Fenris and even to some extent Cullen) could add to that. There are a ton of dwarves in Minrathous, after all, who live under the city so they don't get exiled as "surface dwarves."

Krem could also be a great companion (and finally a love interest??), perhaps under an assumed name or something like that, with a side quest involving searching out his family or having to deal with being recognized, considering he's basically a fugitive.

If they're using Tevinter Nights characters, there's soooo many options. Perhaps Myrion or Strife for their Qunari invasion experiences (and Strife as a contact to the Dalish), Hollix or Mizzy already are connected to Dorian of course, Neve has great contacts in the Templars, Lucanis could give us a connection to the Crows (would absolutely love to see my fav pair from the book, Viago and Teia, appear, and through Viago we could also get a connect to the Antivan king). Philliam, a Bard! could be the comic relief character if we don't already have one, Vadis and Irian are a great all around pair with a ton of connections to different possible plotlines.

As for repeat companions from DAI...I don't know. I've seen people say Varric, but I think they're reallllly close to overdoing Varric, and also his usage in so much other material implies he may have been "released" from tight control they normally like to keep over major NPCs. Dorian would obviously be relevant, but kind of falls into the same category of being used in a decent amount of other media now. I think Cole has some great insight, but apparently he was fairly controversial, and obviously a lot of the others from player choices.

As for DAO...I'd absolutely love to have Shale back, but most of the other characters are either dead or too affected by player choices. Though Zevran could also be interesting, I'd prefer one of the newer Crow characters.

#dragon age #dragon age dreadwolf #dragon age spoilers

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

Post Amphibia Olivia and Yunan headcanons?

I’ve already done one for them (Link) but here’s a few more that I’ve thought since then:

They move into and fix up the Planters’ former neighbors house after they leave their diplomat duties. Hop-Pop visits to drop off some extra veggies as a kind neighborly thing to do.

They have 3 tadpoles, the oldest is a girl newt whom they named Marceline, or “Marcy” for short (I already had this on the last one but I wanted to give her a fancy name that Olivia would pick).

After meeting Yunan’s parents Olivia has a few new nicknames for Yunan, her favorites being, “Yunnie”, “Yun-Bun” and “Nanlie”

For some reason, even tho’ the only place to get her favorite fancy teas, Olivia can’t stand Felicia and so Yunan will get it and often pick up other fancy things because she wants to treat her wife.

Yunan patrols the outskirts of Wartwood to protect it and even trained several local frogs who both want to do more to protect their town but also want to feel the rush of combat again.

Olivia knows Wally’s true identity because she knows every noble and wealthy amphibian in the kingdom and their children (because it helped to have some prior knowledge on them before dealing with their requests to King Andrias). She keeps his secret but asks that he consider using his family wealth for the good of the valley. After a few days since that meeting, he asks that she accompany him back home as support to help him deal with his father and commit to charity to all frogkind.

Olivia is a good mom but she now understands why her mother only had the one kid. Yunan meanwhile makes being a mom look effortless (which makes her wife a little jealous but in a cute way).

While Toady isn’t as corrupt as Toadstool, Olivia and Yunan still have to deal with a bunch of bullshit which luckily Olivia is used to this kind of bureaucracy and ends up with the mayor’s office paying them taxes because of all the loopholes and junk that Olivia was able to work around.

 That’s about all I have for now (again)

#ask #amphibia #lady olivia #general yunan #Amphibia headcanon #yulivia #general yunnan #inglob-wetrust

[symptoms-syndrome]

(tw brief mention of suicide attempt) I had a friend for a few years (since Jan 2020). They started telling me I was being a neglectful friend this past September. I had just flown across the country to see them a few weeks prior... they said for the last few months I had been short and canned responses and stuff and I was like idk I felt like we grew closer than ever this summer? I remember basically confessing my (platonic-ish-it's-weird-I'm-very-queer) love for them in July. we talked every day pretty much. I guess I was also incredibly sick and also moving house at the time, so maybe I was reaching out to them less? Anyway they disabled their account after leaving very long messages about a bunch of confusing stuff and saying they had to leave or they'd abuse me, but they also had issues abandoning people, so they would be back. That was like 5 months ago. Now they've popped up in my inbox again asking to reopen the conversation. A few weeks before they left, I told them the door would always be open and I'd still be their friend, which is true, I still feel that way. but I've been really struggling with my own mental health the last couple months. A ton of self-hatred/repressed stuff that's been festering since childhood. A few weeks ago my sibling tried to kill themself. so I am like... sure, I want to talk to my friend and hear them out. but if they just start laying blame on me again, I don't think I'll be able to handle it on top of everything else that I'm dealing with right now. I responded briefly to their message and basically said things are really rough for me right now and I'd reach out to them in a few days. IDK. I'm already tired from thinking about what they could say. That's it from me, you wanted tea, this is the newest development for me. say whatever or delete this ask. just???? ugh when it rains it pours

Nah NGL I would give them like. Very little grace at that point. But that's just me. Like. Put ur foot down, say that you have very little tolerance for Bull Shittery RN (in a nicer way, probs. Smth like "I'm very fragile RN") and if they're gonna pull stupid shit that you're gonna block them or w/e. It sounds to me like they don't appreciate the lengths ur going for them and that's smth they might have to learn the hard way.

Plus like. U can totes be their friend if u want and still say "hey if u pull bullshit w me I'm not gonna wanna talk to u. I wanna be ur friend but ur gonna have to act a friend bc this isn't a one way street."

Like I can understand where they're coming from, sometimes ur brain is a shithead and tells u ur friends hate u or whatever, but that's their problem not urs. Don't bend over backwards for someone who won't appreciate it. Plus IDK, sometimes showing that u rly mean it when u say u don't wanna hang w someone who's a dick to you actually makes smth click in their brain like "oh shit they're for real about this, I gotta change the way I act if I wanna keep this person around." And if they don't change. IDK man maybe they think of u as a particularly nice dartboard more than a good friend.

#suicide tw

[sassy-tuukka-time-tantrum-40]

Workplace drama time~! It's long but I need to get it off my chest

So back in August I started talking to this guy who worked in a different department and we got into a bit of a "fling" if you want to call it that. He seemed like a nice guy who would respect that I'm not always the most talkative person and often need my space as I'm autistic. Things went pretty well for a few weeks until he put on his Facebook profile that we were dating (yes, I still sparingly use Facebook) and he urged me to do the same. To which I told him "There are a few things I don't want publicly displayed, my relationship status being one of them." He reluctantly dropped the subject.

We were supposed to meet up at a mall on August 29th but as luck should have it (whether good or bad I'll let you be the judge) I woke up with a fever than day and tested positive for covid. Turns out the guy thought I made up the covid diagnosis to blow him off until I missed three consecutive shifts. When he confronted me via text with the "Wait you actually have covid, I thought you were faking to get out of going out with me" and I told him: "Why the hell would I fabricate a covid diagnosis and risk losing almost a full-week's pay because I didn't want to meet up with you at the mall, seems a little excessive no?"

Things went okay for a few more weeks but I started seeing more and more, not quite red flags but yellow or orange flags. And things came to a head when I asked him if we could scale things back because things were moving too fast for me. I then got four days of radio silence where he unfollowed me on everything, Facebook, Twitter, Insta, YouTube. After four days he sends me a friend request on Facebook and when I asked him if he unfriended me he tried to "well I though YOU unfriended me" and I told him to "Cut the bullshit and tell the truth" and he changed his story to "Facebook likes to remove people from my friends list" So I told him: "Oh what about Twitter, Insta and YouTube then? Did those sites also just happen to decide to remove you from my followers too?" We never spoke again after that and I thought it would be the end of it.

Until I found out that he was telling everyone at work we "Went out for a date and I freaked out and called the whole thing off because he got too "handsy"" I heard this from *FIVE* people two of whom I had literally never spoken to prior and all five told me they had heard it from the guy himself. I confronted him, as I expected he denied it, and I went to the store manager saying he was spreading rumors about me and it was leading to people saying nasty things about me (which was a lie but two can play that game jerkass) and he was told in quite a harsh manner that "management was more inclined to side with me and the people I heard the rumor from over him, that it wasn't fair to me to start that rumor, not to discuss private matters at work especially if they involve another worker, and to knock it off." Oh and now the entire workforce has to do a "how to deal with and eliminate workplace harassment" training (myself included) because of it.

#long post

[behindtheireyes]

First off since this is my first time back on the desktop site in ages I feel the need to say how much I hate the changes that were made. If I wanted to see a website that's like Twitter, it will always be Twitter for me not this fucking X bullshit, I'd log onto my Twitter! Which I never do because I hate the fucking layout!

Also since I'm going to be on here a bit more often, in theory at least, I will not take sides in anything or be involved with drama. I will interact with anyone I connect with or can deal with my slow as fuck ass :P

I also want to thank the two people who have been there for me to talk to about this but I will not tag them because, again, not taking sides. You both know who you are and I appreciate you both more than you'll ever realize <3

Now it's time for an explanation as to why I've been in a shit head space since the end of July which I will put under a read more for those that aren't interested.

On July 30th I was at work and got pulled into the office to talk with my Store Manager, she had a few papers in hand and asked me to sit down. The day before she'd received an email about corporate restructuring and I was being told my full time position with the company was eliminated. I was completely thrown for a loop since I had been working at another store for a few days a week as of the week of July 9th and had only spoken to my district manager a few days prior about what needed to be fixed at the store I was helping. Everything had seemed good when we spoke so I was pretty shaken up by this news.

I was told I could continue on doing my job as part time making $9.75 an hour or take a severance deal and collect unemployment. I of course said I needed to think about it since it was a big decision going from 36-40 hours a week at $16.85/hr down to god knows how many hours at a shit wage. My SM, who was bawling like a baby along with me at this news btw, said she understood but FUCKING CORPORATE wanted an answer by Friday July 28th. The date this conversation was happening? Wednesday July 26th.

Yes, you read that right, Two whole days to make a huge decision and if I didn't give them one in time I was forfeiting my severance and it would be considered voluntary job abandonment so no unemployment for me! Also if I chose the deal I couldn't take any time off, use any of my PTO or sick time, or even call off because it would be considered voluntary job abandonment and I wouldn't get unemployment or my severance.

This happened company wide with even some assistant managers losing their jobs and being offered a similar deal. I will gladly send links to the Reddit subs talking about this if anyone wants to see exactly the fuckery this company is putting its loyal people through. I had almost three weeks of paid vacation and about two days of sick time built up that I lost.

I would have also been with the company for ten years in November and I worked through the worst of Covid being treated like shit by the customers for trying to enforce the company's and CDC's rules. I was also a manager for 7 or so of those almost ten years.

Then on August 1st I had a surgery consultation for a health issue only to be told it's worse that they thought and I would need a procedure that would land me in the hospital for a week with a TWO month recovery time. Thankfully my health insurance, as crappy as it is, is independent from my job so I'm not losing it but whose going to hire someone whose going to have to go out on medical leave in a couple of months? This wouldn't have been a problem before, you know sick time and PTO for the win, but now it is. I know my boss would gladly hire me back after I recovered but it's going to be at a shitty wage with shitty hours.

So do I put my health aside and risk my issue getting worse and try to find another job right away or hope my former company doesn't screw me over anymore and lets me collect until I'm fully recovered?

Thankfully, I won't be homeless but that's another issue for another day.

I'm not looking for sympathy, monetary help, or anything like that. I just felt like I owed the wonderful people I interact with here a proper explanation of to why I've been more out of it than normal.

Thanks for taking the time to read this.

Love,

Barb

#out feeding birds (ooc) #tw: real life #tw: job loss

[queen-of-obsessing]

it started over a phone call. 

the entire group had gone to California to help the Byers move back to Hawkins, and while everyone had gone to check out the mall and roller-skating rink, and Eddie decided to stay behind at the house with Joyce, Steve found himself worrying about him. He didn’t like the idea of Eddie being (almost) all by himself in an unfamiliar state, in a house covered in bullet holes. 

He couldn’t help but worry, even as he sat with Robin and Nancy at the roller rink. So, finally, after Robin and Nancy had spent the whole afternoon flirting, laughing and skating together, Steve found a public phone and called the Byers house. He just wanted to know what he was up to, if he was okay, if anything bad had happened. 

Joyce picked up the phone and told him that Eddie was upstairs packing some stuff up while listening to Jonathan’s music records. 

Jonathan - who Eddie had spent the last two days hanging out with. The inseparable childhood best friends. While they had been laughing and talking like they had known each other all their lives - which they basically had - Eddie had spent no time with Steve, and even though Steve had formed a nice friendship with Argyle, it still nagged at him. Who needed Steve when he had Jonathan’s illustrious company? Steve bitterly hung up the phone. 

Joyce, however, is entertained by this. Steve adorably checking in on Eddie? It was too sweet. She bounds up the stairs, sticking her head into Jonathan’s room, where Eddie lounged on the floor. She tells him Steve called. But Eddie’s not impressed. He doesn’t find it very cute. He questions why Steve would feel the need to call in the first place. Does he think he can’t take care of himself?

Eddie is incensed when Steve returns from the rink with Robin and Nancy, and lightheartedly asks him what he had been up to all day. “Don’t bullshit me, Harrington, you know full well what I’ve been up to,” comes his cutting response. 

Steve’s first instinct is denial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Something about Steve lying only further fuels the disgruntled anger in Eddie. He hates liars. “Now you’re lying to me? First you call the house, just to what? Check in on me? Then you lie about it?” 

“I didn’t lie!” “You just said you didn’t know what I was talking about. You’re literally lying to me. To my face.” 

Steve is caught. He knows that he knows. He also knows that Eddie is going to demand an explanation, but the only explanation Steve has isn’t one he is prepared to share. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”  

But he’s only dug himself a deeper hole. It isn’t looking good. By now a crowd has grown, everyone else returning from their respective places, watching this unfold with confused expressions. 

Eddie is hurt but carries on - he has a point to make after all. “Because, Steve, after all we’ve been through, the least you can do is give me a little bit of trust, not go behind my back to check in on me, as if I can’t take care of myself.” 

Steve’s brow furrows. Trust? Since when did he not trust him? “I know you can take care of yourself, Eddie-” 

“Then why’d you call? To make sure I didn’t burn the house down? Murder somebody?” 

Steve is horrified. “No!” How could he even think that, when he was one of the few people who fought for his innocence four months prior? 

“Then what? Why can’t you trust me, Steve?” Eddie’s angry now. He wants to know why but Steve isn’t telling him. Why would he care what happens to him? He keeps pushing, pushing Steve for an answer. Answers he can’t give, and Steve tries so hard to resist his questioning, walk away and leave it, but his own frustration is rising. Until finally, something snaps. 

“Because you weren’t the one who had to pick up the pieces!” Steve shouts. Eddie is shook. Everyone is shook. But Steve has no choice but to continue now. It was too late. “When you were in the hospital, who was the one who had to keep it together? Who was the one who had to watch Dustin cry, break down over and over, wishing his friend was okay? IT WAS ME! I HAD TO WATCH HIM CRY IN MY ARMS! And where were you?! You were unconscious! YOU DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO SEE WHAT YOU DID! You traumatized a child, by running into a swarm of demobats, when we all knew goddamn well you could have gone through the gate!” There are a chorus of gasps. Everyone had assumed Eddie and Dustin never even made it to the gate. Mike looked at Eddie, horrified at the realization of what he had done. Tears sprung to Eddie’s eyes at he stared at Steve, face flushed with rage. “But you didn’t climb, did you? No, you had to be a hero, you had to prove yourself, you turned away and cut the rope, you left Dustin alone, and I dealt with the aftermath. So, yeah, you can forgive me if I call.” 

A stunned silence falls on the room. Eddie’s barely able to hold back tears as Steve continues to glare at him. He takes in a shaky breath. “Thanks, Steve,” he responds before pushing past him upstairs. Steve shuts his eyes, regretting everything, but there was no undoing this now. 

Later that night, after things had mostly calmed down, Steve comes to Jonathan’s room, to find Eddie sitting on the bed, back turned to him, staring out the window. “I replay that moment in my head all the time,” Eddie says quietly. “What would have happened if I just...grabbed Dustin’s hand? Climbed through?” 

“Why didn’t you?” Steve asks. He didn’t dare come any closer. He figured he didn’t deserve to, but he had to ask. 

“I don’t know.” Eddie’s back slumps. “I guess I thought...if I went through...I’d just be running away again. Like I always did. A coward who runs away.” 

“Who told you it was a bad thing to run away?” Steve turns around, Jonathan leans in the doorway. “That’s not really true, you know. You just wanted to survive. Live your life. That’s not weakness.” 

“You were never a coward,” Steve added. 

“I wasn’t even there and I know you weren’t,” Jonathan continued with a laugh. “You are the bravest person I know. You’re so unashamedly yourself, even when everyone tried to bully you into being normal. Never forget that, Eds.” Jonathan cast an unreadable glance to Steve before leaving the room. 

Once alone, Steve crept closer. “You were a hero the moment you drew those bats away. The first time.” 

Eddie chuckled darkly. “I’m a hero for playing the guitar?” 

“Yeah. How else would we have gotten into the Creel house?” There was a brief silence before Steve swallowed and addressed the elephant in the room. “Eddie, I’m so sorry.” He grabbed one of the moving boxes, sitting in front of Eddie at the bed. “Everything I said - I was angry. I crossed a line. It wasn’t cool, I’m sorry.” 

Eddie met his eyes, wide and questioning. Steve reached over and grasped his hands, holding them tightly. “It’s just...you're my friend, and I...I can’t lose you. You mean too much to me, and I nearly did once before, and I can’t do that again.” 

“I mean a lot to you?” 

Steve bit his lip. “Yeah, we’re friends, right?” 

Eddie stared back at him, gazing up, pleading. Please don’t hate me. The three words are reflected in his gaze, but Eddie can’t bring himself to interpret it that way. He instead nods. “Friends.” 

(There’s a lot of stuff i didn’t include, like Mike and Eddie’s convo, how Joyce felt about the whole thing, etc, but i didn’t have room hehe but this is all gonna be a fic so we’re good!) 

#steddie angst #steddie #fanfic #fic imagines #steve harrington #eddie munson #jonathan byers #joyce byers #ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #angst

[beinfriends]

DETAILED DISLIKES!

( answer the questions for your muse. )

TAGGED BY it's an old meme

MUSE’S NAME.  Leder Bertram Herze

LEAST FAVOURITE NICKNAME.  I don't think he cares one way or another. But he'd rather be called Leder than Beanpole/Beanstalk, which was a lot of people's nickname for him prior to the cataclysm.

LEAST FAVOURITE COLOURS.  I don't think he likes bright or neon colors. Probably yellow in particular, idk. He likes dark, monochrome colors lol.

LEAST FAVOURITE SEASON.  Summer for sure, especially since he used to stand outside all fucking day during the insane heat. He'd rather be cold than hot, though his preference for cold has lessened as he's gotten older and developed joint paint.

LEAST FAVOURITE WEATHER.  Hot weather, as I said, though he hates super cold weather too. Please just give him a nice temperate climate. He is tall and very old he does not need this. He also doesn't like it when it gets super windy.

LEAST FAVOURITE, HOT OR COLD.  WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME ESSENTIALLY THE SAME QUESTIONS-- fucking hot.

LEAST FAVOURITE HOLIDAY.  I don't think he really dislikes any, though he doesn't care for his birthday at all. Leder just doesn't see a reason to celebrate that for himself, really? Not that he hates it, he's just whatever about it.

LEAST FAVOURITE FOOD.  I don't think he enjoys marzipan.

LEAST FAVOURITE FLAVOUR.  I think Leder probably dislikes strong flavors rather than any particular one. Too sour, too spicy, too sweet, too bitter, etc.

LEAST FAVOURITE DRINK.  Not much of a soda guy, I imagine. Too sugary. Also same for iced tea in Tazmily, they probably got the diabetes type sweet tea there KRHF

LEAST FAVOURITE SCENT.  After being held prisoner in a sewer, I'd assume whatever the fuck those awful, musty apartments smelled like lol.

LEAST FAVOURITE SOUND.  Probably doesn't like the sound of people eating. That or just 'whatever distracting sound there is when he's trying to work'.

LEAST FAVOURITE BOOKS.  Leder doesn't like conspiracy books or dishonest, hokey nonsense like that. Especially as a former book publisher, lol.

LEAST FAVOURITE MOVIES.  Probably not into particularly violent ones. Not a big action guy, prefers quiet dramas.

LEAST FAVOURITE TV SHOWS.  Same sort of thing, but I don't think he enjoyed TV in general. A lot of it was likely propaganda back in those days.

LEAST FAVOURITE AREA OF STUDY.  I don't think he cares any which way-- he appreciates everything.

LEAST FAVOURITE ASPECT OF JOB.  I think dealing with the others towns' bullshit. There's a lot of whining and griping at Tazmily since they're the most established town and the most successful in some ways, and dealing with the people running these towns can be obnoxious, particularly Molewarp Council.

LEAST FAVOURITE PERSON.  Porky Minch babey!!!  It couldn’t be anyone else but him, and most people would agree with that.

LEAST FAVOURITE TRAIT IN OTHERS.  Selfishness, good God. He loves the Tazmilians to death, they're all like family to him, but man it was painful watching them do all that stupid shit during the Pigmask occupation.

LEAST FAVOURITE PLACE TO BE.  New Pork City. I think that's self-explanatory.

LEAST FAVOURITE THING TO TALK ABOUT.  While Leder is basically Tazmily's one therapist, he doesn't like to talk about his own trauma. Because of this, he rarely talks about his past, his wife, his family, so on.

LEAST FAVOURITE THING ABOUT THEMSELF.  He's a pushover sometimes and he didn't do nearly enough to protect Tazmily when he felt he could've. He's not sure what he'd tell them would've changed anything, though.

LEAST FAVOURITE DAILY CHORE.  I don't think he cares either way. Chores are chores, but he's never been the best at anything that takes him bending over a lot. Bad back and all, y'know.

LEAST FAVOURITE STYLE OF CLOTHING.  Leder isn't much into casual clothes himself. He likes to dress formally and nicely all the time. He doesn't care what others do, though.

LEAST FAVOURITE ACTIVITY.  I don't think he enjoys cooking much. It's not bad, just not his thing.

LEAST FAVOURITE THING ABOUT HUMANITY.  How easy it is for them all to forget where they came from and what they've gone through. Leder was always vehemently against erasing their memories, and he knew it wouldn't end well and was right. He never blamed the Tazmilians for that, but it could've saved some heartbreak, perhaps, if they'd known how to deal with conflict better. Even prior to Nowhere, though, humanity has been like this. Egos get in the way of everything.

LEAST FAVOURITE THING ABOUT FALLING IN LOVE.  Knowing you could lose 'em. And he did. It's hard not being able to be with someone you love forever.

LEAST FAVOURITE THING ABOUT DEATH.  The fact that it just isn't fair sometimes. Leder doesn't fear death and he accepts it, but he can't deal with it too much when someone dies "before their time," essentially. He was crushed when Hinawa died because she had so much life to live.

#Good Work [TAGGED] #Leder [ABOUT]

[blog-reflection]

ONE / Thirteen - Fragile - Pls be Gentle

Well back I am.

I’m back in Dover and well, nothing has changed. Except, power is back on. I may or may not got some help from Lucia, who helped me out after I told her what all happened. No sight of Mildret being here, everything’s how I left it a view days ago. 

Brighton is far away from all that Bullshit I had to deal with. And the best of it, the train to Windsor only takes around two hours which is one hour less than from Dover. It's not like I visit Jesse that often, but it's great to know that even the opportunity is given. I already texted them the good news, they were so happy and offered their help if needed. Soo Next thing will be, packing up everything I own. I already saved up a lot of boxes over the last month just in case that I do figure out a way to leave this place. Luckily, it’s a whole apartment. I’ve started with my desk, which I rarely used last month. Folders I’ve already forgotten, more than one million pens, pencils, acrylics, you name it, a tone of different coloured papers, books I didn’t even know I own and…what the actuall fuck!? How in the hell did Jesse snoop one of their tank tops in here? This thing must be in here for at least 10 years prior to today. It even smells like they frequent if I’m honest. It’s a basic one, dam coloured, leaves a tiny bit of transparency, has really small stripes and no sides. I think I’m going to keep it, not because I want to wear it but to have it as a memory of Jesse. Still funny though. I will nail this to my wall just because I want to see their reaction. If I’m honest I don’t even think they miss it at all, they lose track of so much and have a really small recall ability. I turned on the music and continued packing the boxes while doing awful and probably embarrassing dance moves throughout my room getting lost in memories of the old time, our old time. Jesse is quite a loud and extroverted person, after they were out of school. Apart from that, Jesse is living with the best person ever; Charles, Jesse's dad. He is just the nicest human being. He never had anything against anything. The way he had handled the quite emotional outing from Jesse was just done in the dreamiest way possible. Ever since, he uses the right pronouns, makes sure Jesse is doing just well and ensures to give them the time they need to not get stressed out. He cares a lot about Jesse without controlling them nor so ever. Some people say Mr. Owen doesn’t care about Jesse because he gives a fuck about everything. Truth is, he knows how Jesse's mind works and does everything to not get Jesse stressed. A few years ago, he left the two of us alone in the apartment for around a month. This was nuts, a lot of chaos and fun. I actually haven’t seen Jesse since I graduated 9 years ago. But we still haven’t lost connection at all. We chat on a weekly basis, update the other one with the latest tea and gossip, laugh and play a lot of online games, like Minecraft together. 

They are just the most talented people on the planet. Doing their own music, playing the guitar, is a master in arts and craftsmanship and a true gamer. Whenever we started something, they made it better. Even in school. The only subjects where I was superior were either history or forms. They are even able to read but compared to me that’s not really a hard thing to do. They are aware of me being jealous. Jesse can take it. I explained why it is the way it is but even this can’t tear us apart. We stuck together like a bag of wine gums in the middle of the summer left in the car. I started packing some boxes again, since there was no chance for me to sleep now.

I played some music in the background and continued filling some of the boxes. Four hours passed and I got around 30% of my stuff wrapped. I had some breaks whenever I found some old things that revived memories, especially the ones with Jesse. We somehow managed to get a lot of memories in a really small amount of time. Most of them are from my time in Windsor, when things were much worse. We had so much fun during that time. I looked towards a picture underneath the book that I just put away. We were so young. Jesse was so small, they were even shorter than me. Now It’s the complete opposite. Based on the pics we exchange sometimes, Jesse must be around six feet and some inches by now. I myself managed to get stuck on five feet and around eight inches. Their skin had this bright coffee touch, light brown curls with a touch of red all over the face. Jesse is a person that never sweats and is always a walking radiator. I barely see them wearing any clothes as soon as the temps rise over 20°C, especially in summer. They don’t show it off though, it’s just Jesse being Jesse. For me that’s normal. We’ve seen each other naked so it’s literally no big deal rather or not they wear fabric. Sometimes, I’d wish I’d be as confident in my body as they are. Jesse is just all pure, pure skin, pure mind, knowledge, smart, clever, outstanding, you name it. I could never pull off any of their trades. I’m really insecure sometimes, which makes life even harder than it should be. But Jesse knows that. They know I have a tendency for low self-esteem and, honestly, they support me so well in almost all the stuff, especially when I get stuck in BII. 

The picture was taken on the last day of year nine and showed the two of us. I wore one of Jesse’s tank tops and Jesse themself was not dressed at all. I can see that moment right before my eyes. It was mid-summer, a really really hot day, so we went to a local river Jesse knew about. It was a really spontaneous idea; therefore, we weren’t really prepared. We grabbed some stuff at a local store before heading to the lake for some good chills. We were alone, no one really knew about that spot, so Jesse did some proper skinny dipping. I for myself haven’t had proper swim wear, which resulted in me jumping in the water with my clothes. We had a lot of fun, but when I got cold and got out, I realised that I had nothing to change. Jesse said I can have their clothes, a tank top and some really short pants. I took it and dressed to feel warmer. We stayed at the river for a really long time. We talked a lot, laid in the sun, enjoyed the small breaths on our backs, made some kind of sandcastle and so on. Even when the sun went down, it was so hot that the temps did not fall. My clothes haven’t fully dried yet, since I’ve been jumping in and out of the water, so I asked Jesse if they brought anything to change. They just looked me dead in the eye, shrugged, got out of the water, shaked their hair like a dog after a rainy day, grabbed their bag and started walking. I remember how they looked back at me asking whether or not I’d follow. At the end, Jesse walked home naked,only covert by the night, me next to them, dressed in their clothes. This constellation was so horrendous, we laughed the entire way home. I’ve known that Jesse does not care about others opinions, but that got it up another level. When we got home, we took that pic to remind us of how much fun we had that day. That’s for the good old days. I framed the picture with a spare frame I found, wrapped it in paper and carefully put it in one of the boxes. I closed it and rested my elbows on it, holding my head. I looked through my room and thought…what a mess. 

Boxes all over the place, some of them were open, most of them closed and stacked above each other. It lowkey looked like a toddler, trying to build a cardboard castle or something. Truth is, it’s still a mess. Blankets everywhere, pillows, plants that I don’t even remember I had. I have lived in this room for around eighteen years. Never realised how much I got in those years. I changed the music to some Loft vibe music and set my focus on boxing and unboxing again. One shelf left, the one with the most values in my entire room. There are a lot of pics, one from my graduation, one from Jesse attending Royal Holloway for the first time, one with a not so happy family and yes, I did rip my dad out of it, trophies and certificates as well as a collection of pics with Jesse as well as with Lucia. I took the picture I framed before out of the box and took a slightly smaller one to proper store all of these memories. I found a cute pastel pink ribbon to secure the box, took a pink sticky note and wrote “!fragile, pls be gentle!” In a bold font of the note before sticking it to the box. I placed it on top of one of the smaller box towers next to a plant, which is held in a self-made macramé mesh and used to hang from my sealing window next to my fairy lights, which are now tangled up somewhere in those boxes. That’s it, within a week, this room will be empty. Or already occupied by something my mum has in mind. Truth is, she’ll be pretty alone once I’m gone. And if love is genetic, she will stay single for a while. I’ve never had an official boyfriend, at least not one I’d count to that. There is more experience to prove the fact that I like boys. But that’s all, no deeper connection, no hard feelings, most of the time we barely even talk. I looked over to my phone. Four am. Well, now I know why I took these weeks off work, so I can focus on the move. I got out of my jumper and crawled onto my bed. 

Orrr come one for fuck sake, not again. I stretched my leg to reach my phone, which is laying on the floor about four feet away from the bed. I almost fell out of bed when my toes finally hit the screen of my phone. I reached out a little further and with a hard pull I managed to kick it under my bed. I took a disappointing look towards the middle of my room before getting upside down and grabbed it. Now it’s chill time. I plugged in my phone and browsed through a variety of social media until I eventually fell asleep, around 6am, in the morning. 

Fun am I right? I’m not even tired. Well, not anymore.

#unboxing #memories #moving #blog.reflection

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

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