#ABOUT THE ACTUAL PROBLEM WHY IS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[comicaurora]

A bit of a strange question, but if there were any of your videos you were to "remake" today for any reason (ex: you feel like you misrepresented the original text or spread misinformation), which would it be and why? None of them is a perfectly valid answer

Again: bit of a strange question, but I've been thinking about my own creations and how I could have done so much better with some of them, but I also know that is a sign of my growth and constantly chasing "what if I did this instead" isn't always healthy for nurturing a creative mindset, and I was wondering what your opinion might be as a Creator of Things with a bit more experience than I

There's been a few trope talks where I've thought later of other angles I could've explored that might warrant sequels or part 2s, but I don't dislike any of the summaries enough to justify a rework.

I always find "I could've done this better if I made it now" to be a bit of a fallacy. I'm only better at making things now because I made all those earlier things. If I knew everything I'd learn from making a project before I started the project, it wouldn't come out the same.

I think when it comes to the "rework remake perfect" instinct, it helps to zero in on what the impulse is really grounded in. In my experience, more often than not, it's not actually about making the art better, except incidentally. It's usually about showing that you are better. It's demonstrating your competence and your higher standards and your skills, and more importantly it's overwriting the proof that you were once less than perfect. If people look at your old work and think that's all you're capable of, they'll be judging you poorly!

If that's the motivator, it's a very unhelpful one. You can't control for being harshly or incorrectly judged. It's a fruitless effort to stave off potentially upsetting outdated criticism, and it's not even going to work. Fear of critique is an unreliable and untrustworthy motivator.

If it really is about making the art itself better, perfecting your magnum opus with your newly leveled-up skills, that's a little more solid. But from where I'm standing, it's always better to use those skills to make something new instead of polishing something old. The older, unpolished work has already acquired its audience that finds it appealing for reasons that might never occur to you. Trying to bury or overwrite it just deprives that audience of the thing they like, and maybe makes them feel bad for having liked it in the first place. Also, usually when you look back on the older work, you'll conclude that the problem is everything and it'll need to be torn down and started from scratch. I know when I revisited the first three chapters of the comic, when I let my critic brain spin up, it wasn't shading or lineart I wanted to fix - it was panel composition, overall pacing, the entire structure of the chapters as a whole. I would've had to make them all over again to be happy with them, and they wouldn't be the same story by the end.

I've been thinking a lot about the Discworld through this lens lately. It ended up over 40 books long, but everyone agrees that the first two are not what you should start with, because they're the worst ones. They're entirely parodic, purely referential of at-the-time major fantasy series, and borderline mean-spirited in places. If you haven't read Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser and Dragonriders of Pern, you're not gonna understand like a full 50% of The Colour Of Magic.

It's clear that when he started in on them, Pratchett was entirely focused on taking the piss out of a genre he found mostly shallow and unimpressive. But the Discworld wouldn't leave his head, and everything he made fun of he clearly eventually found himself overthinking. He'd make little one-off jokes in the early books about Dwarves having no women and a hundred words for gold, and then twenty books later he'd have a Dwarf gender revolution make waves across the Disc, and then he'd write Thud!, a book that delves deeper into the nuances of Dwarf societal structure than Tolkien ever did.

If you look for them, there are continuity errors everywhere in Discworld. In his introductory book, Carrot defused a dwarf bar full of rowdy brawlers by guilting them all into writing to their poor lonely mothers back home. Shortly thereafter, Carrot will be outraged at the mere concept of an openly female dwarf. Pratchett even eventually wrote Thief of Time, a book that loosely explains that the Disc makes no sense because history has been broken and put back together incorrectly twice, and therefore any continuity errors are because of that.

He's the writer. He could've gone back and fixed it, edited the reprints to be less disruptively discontinuous with the later books. Instead he continuously moved forward and allowed the world he made to grow without cutting it off from its roots. And because he didn't bury his older, far worse work, we have the privilege of following the Disc's evolution from the very start, and seeing how this shallow, stock fantasy world parody became something incredibly rich and complex without ever pretending like its early installments never happened.

Anyway, that's why I think it's better to move forward. You make more good stuff that way.

[zombolouge]

The thing is, it's not about the Therapy Speak. It's not that everyone who disliked DAV hates healthy communication as a dynamic in fiction. It's not even about only being allowed to be a good guy, really, because most of us did do that anyways (though the option not being there is a loss I grieve even if I never chose it myself, but that's another rant for another day).

It's that DAV does all that stuff at the expense of being believable. At the expense of characters being permitted to have personalities. At the expense of emotions behaving the way emotions actually work for people. At the expense of letting the plot build tension through the stakes we're forced to grapple with.

Half the fics out there take the conflicts between the characters in the previous games and resolve them. I do it myself ALL THE TIME because I like to find a path to resolution through just about any conflict, that's what fascinates me about telling these stories. But the higher the stakes, the harder a conflict is to resolve. You CAN resolve any conflict, you CAN communicate healthily through any emotion, but you can't skip the time it takes to process it all to even be able to communicate it. As someone whose got CPTSD and recovered from many Traumas, I can tell you that the TIME it takes to work through it is not something you can fast track, and the ups and downs of your emotions on that journey can't be skipped. It doesn't matter if you know exactly how to do it, exactly how it's going to feel, or exactly what the end state will be, you CAN'T speedrun it.

DAV has stakes that are astronomical, but nobody treats them that way. Nobody experiences denial - a common psychological reaction to being presented with information that shatters your worldview. Nobody expresses any distrust in the establishments handing out this information - something common among cultures that have at times been at war, even if those wars are "resolved" in the present. Nobody really ever breaks down - something that any person is capable of under extreme circumstances, especially when facing multiple crises of faith that challenge everything they thought they knew about themselves. Nobody blows their lid because they've been repressing the hell out of everything. Nobody grieves for southern Thedas, the entire thing dying off screen and giving you, the player, NO way to engage with it in any way.

Not to mention there are barely any inter-party conflicts, when there should be a lot more. Why is everyone (except Spite) fine with it if Emmrich sacrifices Manfred to become a lich? Why is everyone fine with Illario potentially being set free if he was working with the venatori and Elgar'nan, two sources that have actively attacked everyone in the party? Why doesn't Neve resent Lucanis if Treviso is picked? Why doesn't Harding get pissed off at Nevarra for having a secret society of liches that never helped during the Inquisition's war against the breach and corypheus? Why doesn't Harding feel ANYTHING about Ferelden and the rest of the south? Shouldn't Harding resent the fact that she's stuck in the north while her home dies?

All of these conflicts ARE resolvable, but not easily. And it's not believable that they're never brought up. It's not believable that these characters skip through everything that happens with like, barely a frowny face most of the time. In DAO, Alistair leaves if you don't treat his conflicts with respect. In DA2, your party members try to kill each other if you don't pay attention to their conflicts/emotional needs. In DAI, people can leave or betray you, Cassandra throws a chair at Varric and tries to body him out a window. ALL of these can be resolved but it takes effort, and the characters get to SHOW that they're bothered by them and struggling the way a person would when faced with those emotions.

The problem isn't the therapy speak, or that everyone is loyal and won't leave, or that they aren't mean to each other enough. It's that it's toxic positivity. It's toxic as fuck to imply that anger or grief should be smiled over or else you're giving up, and it's damaging to people to avoid engaging with their own negative emotional responses to extremely negative stimuli. It's pasting optimism over very real, very weighty issues, sweeping it all under the rug, and you keep waiting for the lid to blow off the pressure cooker that creates, but it never does. It never becomes anything that emulates real emotions, which is why the whole damn thing feels hollow. Everything's dying and nobody cares, not even about themselves, and that's NOT healthy communication.

It's bullshit, half-assed storytelling that didn't tell us the actual story, just the vague idea of what it could have been.

[evellynssocbrainrot]

So I have been minorly skimming some stuff on YouTube and TikTok about SOC, and I cannot believe some of the things that people say about Kaz and the Crows.

One point I tend to hear from Six of Crows critiques a lot is "The Crows act older than their supposed age, especially Kaz"

And... Seriously? Did we read the same book? The Crows are constantly making jokes and bickering. Do you think people who are in their 30's or even their late 20's would say shit like "jogs the liver" or "I need a cup of the darkest bitterest coffee or a real punch to the jaw" or "my ghost won't associate with your ghost" or "a hive of bees in your dresser drawer"? THEY WOULDN'T. (Actually, they can, but maybe not every single sentence and not as impulsively) These are things only dramatic teenagers would say. Not to mention the way the Crows handle their traumas is extremely immature and they're awful at communicating. The Crows actually act more like teenagers than 90% of teenagers in YA novels. The only reason why they seem older is because they have skills.

Another point I tend to hear a lot from critiques is "Kaz never faces consequences and he always wins and he's perfect"

What!!???? Just what!!?? In what universe? Once again, did these people read the same book as us?? Kaz is always facing terrible consequences. He is on the edge of losing his own crew every other chapter. His own crew is not afraid to call him out on his shit when he does it. The trauma he has doesn't glorify him, it makes him look pathetic and weak next to the other Crows. Kaz himself is deeply ashamed of it and he's lonely and isolated because of it. He is restricted from hugging his crewmates, he is restricted from kissing Inej and that kills him. He is broken and miserable because of it. But simultaneously, the trauma is his problem to fix. Nobody fixes it for him.

And yes, Kaz is highly intelligent and incredibly skilled and strong, but trust me, he does not always win, and he isn't perfect. If I remember correctly, his first plan for the Ice Court was a failure and they had to improvise from there. But the final plan came at a cost, and that was Nina using parem. Towards the end of the book, Kaz was wrong about predicting that Van Eck actually loved Wylan enough to not kill him, and it cost him everything. The first plan he made to take down Van Eck in the middle of CK was a complete disaster. The crew ended up stuck in the Geldrenner hotel. Kaz was clearly dangling so far off the point if utter insanity that he actually resorted to giving himself up for the crew and only resigned because the other Crows stopped him. And for the final plan of the book, Kaz ended up using every single resource he had left, which once again, subtly implies how desperate he was. He gave up all his assets, he used his old home, he used his original surname, he injured himself a lot in order to recruit more people for the plan. It took him a great deal of time, effort, and thinking to finally put together a plan. AND EVEN THEN, it came at a terrible cost which was the life of one of his Crows.

Even the revenge he took against Pekka wasn't that worth it as Pekka still couldn't remember Jordie's name, Jordie was still dead, and Kaz's trauma and pain didn't get any better than it was before.

Kaz is not at all a perfect guy who always wins. He is deeply flawed, twisted and is always losing something even when he wins a bit. I don't understand how some of these SoC critiques didn't understand this.

[34tmyh34rt]

König wanting to be tied up but he’s nervous to ask

Tying up subby König

Smut Ahead!!

A/n: This scared me to be completely honest, like how do I write this 😭 BUT I CAN DO THIS.

Sorry for the wait, I wanted to make sure that this was good for all of y’all :)

Tags: gn reader, afab reader, fat friendly fic, no pronouns except for ‘you’, sub König, dom reader, bondage, degradation (m receiving), after care included, slight obsessive König, toxic masculinity mentioned, gender roles mentioned, König being a wuss, what color have we agreed his eyes are??? also this fic is a lil silly, don’t take me too seriously, gets better as you read lol

König’s huge and beefy. He’s not made to be gentle, vulnerable. When you’re in military you gotta have muscles, not feelings. But lord does this big man just want to be put in his place.

Whenever he had the time - or privacy - bondage was always his favorite to pleasure himself to. The lack of control, putting your body in the hands of someone else, having to take everything you were given.

The soldiers he worked with didn’t have much of a filter, using any chance they could to compete in some stupid testosterone pissing match. They boasted about coming back home to their submissive wife that they could fold into a million positions. Talking about how strong and dominant they were - but König couldn’t help but wish for the roles to be reversed.

Being a dom never really did it for him, he didn’t get all the hype. He’d much rather be the one being played with like clay. Pushed and pulled in all directions, used like a doll, treated like a slut. But he could never tell the other men this! No, he’d be ridiculed! I mean, he breaks open doors for a living! He can’t whimper and beg!

But oh lord does he.

He loves his relationship with you. He doesn’t think he could ever find anyone who cares for him as much as you do. God you’re just so fucking perfect. You understand him so well. You don’t make fun of him, you know that he comes with a lot of fucking baggage. You’re so patient with him, especially when his anxiety is taking over.

He’s been too scared to go too far with you in the bedroom. He won’t even let you touch him, worried that he’ll turn into subby mess right under your hands. He’ll finger you or eat you out, never using his dick. If you ever complain or feel bad about the only one getting pleasured, he’ll just tell you that you deserve to feel good, so why don’t you just sit back and let him play with your body?

You guessed that he was just too anxious or insecure to actually fuck yet. You remind him every day that you love him and you’d never leave him, I mean, even that bulge is impressive. If he let you suck his dick once you’d be his forever. He’s so fucking hot and god won’t he just fuck you already!! Nothing could turn you off of an absolute hunk of man like him.

You’ve been begging more and more every day, even resorting wearing only his shirt and your underwear, hoping he’ll rip it right off of you and take you right then and there. Crawling into his lap and grinding down. But of course he’ll just effortlessly pick you up and set you down next to him, giving you a kiss on the head as a sort of apology and racing to the bathroom to deal with his massive… problem

You rolled your eyes, seriously?!?!?

You know that he’s jerking off. This is ridiculous, he obviously wants to fuck you, what the hell is going on? You can’t do this anymore! That’s it, you’re confronting him and getting a goddamn answer.

Your knuckles knock against the wooden door of the bathroom, “König. Get out here. Right now. I know you’re jerking off in there.”

König felt heat rush from his tummy to his cock, goddamnit now he was even harder. He strained against his pants painfully, a soft whimper tumbling past his lips. You’ve never been so demanding before. He hate how much it turned him on.

With a large hand clumsily hiding his bulge, König stumbled out of the bathroom. He was sheepish, refusing to look you in the eye. He looked so fucking pathetic. And he still looked sexy.

“König,” you drawled out his name, frustration evident in your tone - it sent another rush south, König’s eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the sound, “Are you gonna keep beating your dick in the bathroom or are you going to fuck me?”

You could practically hear König gulp, his hand squeezing down over his hard on. His wide eyes flickered down to your lips, you looked so hot when you were angry.

He nodded slowly, never breaking his gaze from you. He’ll probably last long enough, he just has to go slow - that’s all! He just has to keep focusing on being strong and manly and he won’t melt at the feeling of your pussy around his cock! Oh god, who is he kidding, he can’t stay dominate around yo-

“You want me to top you, don’t you?”

His heart dropped. How do you know? He’s quiet, he never has told you anything about his preferences! He’s in the military! He acts like all his peers, right?

His thoughts are racing and you can tell. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes moving back and forth - something you realized that he does every time he’s deep in thought. You let out a small giggle, “König, don’t be so oblivious, baby.”

You walk up to him, hand reaching up to hold his face. The simple touch has him sinking into your hold. “God look at you, it’s not hard to tell. You always liked it when I took charge,” you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “You want me to tie you up? Ride your cock until you can’t see straight? Prove to you how much of a slut you are?”

His knees almost buckle under him, you’re all he could ever want. He’s fantasied about you so many nights, worried that he’d never be enough for you. Worried that he wouldn’t live up to your expectations. But that’s okay, you have all the time in the world to prove to him what a good boy he is.

He couldn’t even think, stumbling as you dragged him into your shared room. You quickly tore off your shirt and pants, only allowing him enough time to take off his shirt before throwing him down on the bed, climbing onto his lap and straddling his thick, muscular thighs.

You looked so pretty on top of him. He loved being under you, he wish he could spend the rest of his life right here.

You playfully rutted your heat down on his rock hard cock, König threw back his head. He let out a loud whine, fingers digging into your hips. “You know König, I’ve been planning for this for oh so long. I’ve seen how squirmy you get whenever someone’s tied up on TV. How you grab something to cover your lap. But you’re just so obvious, huh baby?” You squished his cheeks between your fingers. Your voice was so condescending and he couldn’t help but thrust his hips up into you.

“God, you’re such a whore for me König.”

He whined, loud. His pretty pink lip caught between his teeth, brows drawn together. He watched as you opened up your bedside drawer and pulled out a bundle of delicate black lace. His face flushed, cock throbbing against you.

He stayed perfectly still for you as you gently grabbed his hands, leading them up the headboard, and tying them together in a neat little bow. The intricate fabric looked perfect next to his bulging muscles. You ran your fingers up and down the sprawling vine like veins in his arms, you could feel him quivering beneath you. His shallow breathes and occasional low moans tumbling past his mouth.

He gave an experimental tug to his bindings, he could barely move. A rush of blood flowed down to his cock. You were so strong, tying him up so tight, leaving him to your mercy.

You could feel him harden even more, a smirk gracing your face, “You like that baby? You like being tied up under me?” His head quickly nodded, his pretty blue eyes looking up at you.

“Maybe I should just leave you here…” you trail off, leaving kisses along his collarbone, “all desperate and whiny… I mean, it’s only fair after making me wait this long.”

You don’t think you’ve seen König so panicked before. His eyes were blown wide, hands tugging at his bindings so he can hold onto you and keep you right where he needs you. “N-no! Schatz please… please! Bitte mein leibling… I- y/n, I can’t-“ His words slurred, strung together by his thick accent.

“Come on König, stop blabbering. I know you can beg me better than that.” Your words shut him right up. You could see him process, his mind clouded with lust.

“Liebling… ich braunche dich, I need to have you t-touch me…” he pleaded for you, lips trembling and dick pressing against your thigh. “I want to be inside of you so bad, maus… fuck, I’m so hard for you y/n…” How could you deny him when he was begging you so sweetly?

“Only because you’re being such a good boy for me.” You smirked as you oh so slowly unbuttoned his pants. He thrust into the air uncontrollably, even the slightest touch drove him mad. “Ah-ah, stay still König.” His teeth dug into his lip at your words.

You pulled him out of his boxers, his cock slapping up against his tummy with how aroused he was. Pre cum slid down to his base in pretty droplets. You wrapped your hand around him, barely covering him entirely from just how big he was. König let out small breathy whimpers, the heat of your hand was just so warm and nice against his hard on.

You gave him a small lick at his tip, the flavor of his cock spreading deliciously across your tongue. König let out a loud, drawn out groan. More and more peals dribbled from the slit and you quickly caught them in your mouth. König pulled down on his restraints as you slowly took the head of his dick in your mouth, sucking gently.

He loved when you treated him so sweetly, so softly. So lovingly. But lord could he not wait for you to fuck him up.

You started bobbing up and down on his cock effortlessly, taking him nice and easy. You looked up him through your lashes as you hollowed your cheeks and it sent his stomach in knots. It felt so good, the warmth and wetness of your mouth was like heaven. Your teeth grazing the skin of his dick, a small reminder that he was under your mercy and control. To another man it might be threatening to think that their pleasure could so easily be turned into something so painful if the person blowing them off only clamped slightly…

But it just pushed him closer to the edge. Being placed in between those pretty jaws of yours, so sweet but so dangerous. Of course you’d never hurt him, at least not more than he could handle - or enjoy.

He thrusted up into your mouth only for your hands to hold down his hips. Your eyes glowered at him in warning, you were in charge of his pleasure. He whimpered as a sort of apology, too enraptured in the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips to form words. Your saliva pooling at his base and mixing with his pre cum.

He couldn’t wait any longer, his stomach tightening in short spasms. “Maus, I- I’m gonna… ‘M gonna cum…” His breath came out heavy in between his words, your mouth never ceasing as you watched him stumble his words out.

Your lips pulled off his cock with a small ‘pop’, hand lazily moving up and down on his length. “Yeah? You gonna cum? Am I making you feel that good?” His eyes watered, your words so teasing and mean but so arousing. You let out a little chuckle at his state, feeling him twitch in your hand, “Go ahead, cum for me. Cum for me like the slut you are”

You brought your head back down on his dick, moving fast and rough. He loves the way you talk to him, the way you treat him. Like he’s yours. He pulled harder on the lace holding him in hopes of grounding himself, hoping to somehow deal with the overwhelming pleasure you were giving him.

You let his hips thrust into you as he chased his orgasm, loud whines and strings of your name leaving his mouth. You kept your gaze on his face as his brows pinched and eyes closed tight. You felt his cum spill past your lips and leaking down onto his lap. You kept sucking his off long past his high came down, aftershocks twitching throughout his body.

“W-wait it’s, it’s too much- ngh! Oh my god…- y/n!” You giggled watching him squirm with overstimulation. You laid one of your hands down on his hips, pressing down against him. The other hand traced up and down his cock. It was still hard, pressed against his tummy and smearing left over cum on his skin. He jumped with each ghost of your fingers and whined for your teasing to stop.

You eventually slowed your hand, grinning at the mess König had become beneath you, “Alright pretty boy, so fucking sensitive, huh? But if you’re too sensitive for me to even touch you, how am I going to properly fuck you?”

Standing at the edge of the bed you slowly pulled your underwear down, looking at every twitch of König cock as he watched you. You climbed into his lap, your bare cunt hovering above his dick.

Tears fell from the corners of his eyes and he gazed at you as though you were sent by god just for him. “Du bist so schön, meine Liebe.”

König’s lip quivered as you lower yourself down onto him. His hard cock stretched out your walls so wonderfully. So hot and thick, and all yours. You threw back your head at the feeling of König disappearing into you inch by inch.

“König you feel so fucking good baby, filling me up soooo much”

König searched for your eyes, needing to know just how good he was making you feel. Him. Not anyone else, him. He felt like he’d cum just at the thought of pleasuring you so well.

His hands shook in his bindings, he craved the feeling of your skin. He needed to run his hands up the curves of your tits, and down the fat of your hips. He needed to grab your stomach and grope your thigh. He just needed to touch- but he was a good boy. He wouldn’t beg you to untie him, no, he needed to prove he could be nothing but a toy for you to use. This was all about you.

God, you.

Your hips met his and the final stretch lodged a moan through your pretty lips. König involuntarily bucked into you as a tear rolled down his cheek at the bliss of being inside of you.

You reached down a hand to dry his face, your other hand pressing down against his lap,

“Aw, Baby, it’s okay. Don’t get too excited though, you keep still.”

Your voice was soft but firm. So melodious. It sounded like honey to König and you could feel him throb inside of you as he held back another thrust.

You teasingly rolled your hips with his full dick inside of you, head thrown back and thoroughly enjoying yourself. König’s teeth burrowed into the soft plush of his lip, overwhelmed by the sight of your heavenly state and the overstimulation to his cock.

His jaw dropped open as he felt you slowly rise up until only the tip was encased in your warmth, and then quickly falling back down to his hips. You watched as König whimpered, eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through him.

You picked up the pace with each movement, up and down, up and down. More and more whines tumbling past König’s lips as they harmonized with your own moans. Your slick and his cum mixed together over his hips and the insides of your thighs. You reached a hand forward, tracing patterns on his stone hard stomach. It was like chiseled marble, perfectly sculpted all for only you to see and to touch.

He jumped, the muscle in his tummy jumping at the feeling and relaxing at your chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how sensitive you are, König.” You leaned forward even more, lips teasing his ear. “It’s gonna make fucking you a lot harder for you and a lot more fun for me.”

You straightened your back, mean grin gracing your features. König’s eyes reached the back of his skull, too pleasured to feel real fear at your words. It only pushed him further to finishing. His stomach muscles spasming in preparation and his body tensing.

You suddenly stopped, his cock fully encased in your tight warmth. A twisted cry came from König, desperate for you to continue but not daring to thrust his hips into you. You leaned against your arms propped on his chest, staring deeply into his eyes as he stared back.

Your voice was low aa you spoke, “Are you gonna cum again, König? Cum for your first time from my pussy? Cumming like the pussy drunk slut you are?”

A small sob left König, tears falling from his face. It was as all so much, almost too much. Having you be everything he’s ever dreamed of. He nodded his head, your word bouncing around his skull.

“Y-yes meine liebe, please. Please, let me. I love you.” Another sob, “Ngh, I’m- I’m your slut y/n, I’m your whore.”

“Awww.” You smiled wickedly at him, crashing your lips against his as you continued to ride him. His cock reached all the right places, leading you to your own release. You bit at his lips and even his tongue, his moans filling your mouth. Drool dribbled down his chin and slid down his neck.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, gripping him like you never wanted him to leave. The sound of your skin connecting was like music to König’s ears. The sound of accomplishment. The sound of his love in physical form. The sound of you taking him and putting him right where he fucking belonged.

His tummy tightened again, dick pulsing inside of you. You felt your own stomach pool with pleasure. You momentarily broke from König’s mouth, saliva stringing you together. His tongue lolled out, desperate for your connection to resume.

“Cum for me König, cum with me and prove to me that you’re mine and only mine.” Your lips reached his yet again as your hips moved faster and faster. You even allowed König to sloppily thrust into you. Each time your bodies met it felt like heaven, pushing you further and further to what you knew would be an other worldly orgasm.

All that mattered in this moment was you, it didn’t matter if he fucked before or if he’d cum from someone else before. It felt like he was doing it for the first time. Like this was the only time that mattered. The only person that made him feel this fucking good. This fucking loved.

The pleasure rose and rose, until it snapped. Euphoria rushing over your bodies in waves. A strangled cry pushed into your mouth from König. You could feel him filling you up, warmth spreading throughout your body. You did a few more slow lazy thrusts before pulling yourself off of him, sitting up and looking down at the mess you made.

God he was pathetic, tears drying against his face, lips swollen and bruised, and his eyes looking at you with pure admiration.

You lazily crawled off the bed, leaving König whining for you. When you returned you had a warm wet towel. You sat next to König and gently cleaned him off, careful to not overwhelm him too much. You could feel him jump underneath you every now and then from his overstimulation. When you were done you quickly cleaned your self off and laid the towel on the bed side table, turning back to König who watched your every move with a soft gaze.

You untied the lace around his wrists, holding them in your hands and massaging them lightly. “Does your skin hurt at all baby?”

“N-no. Well, not unbearably. The sting… feels nice.” His voice was husky and low. You smiled at him, before lying down and cuddling up to his chest. He was damp with sweat and his flesh was feverishly hot under your hands. His arm snaked under you and held you tight against him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you so much maus, thank you… thank you for making me yours.”

A/n: oh. my. god. It’s finally over. I finally finished it. Sorry for being gone for so long! Hope this makes up for my absence :)

[styrofauxm]

i think the problem here is the inclination to go "x ideology is bad so no aspects of it are acceptable."

Ignoring nuance like that is normally a bad idea, but it's especially a bad idea with TERFs, because at the end of the day, TERFs are feminists.

The facts, arguments, and beliefs that TERFs and feminists who aren't transphobic/are trans-inclusive use are more or less the same. It's just that TERFs uncritically believe that gender and biological sex are one and the same.

By saying that "TERFs aren't feminists" (or whatever variation applies), what you are actually saying is "everything upon which TERFs base their beliefs is transphobic," and that includes a lot of very important (and not transphobic) feminist arguments and beliefs, as well as just objective facts.

And this is why forming opinions based on the internet is so dangerous. Because what "TERFs aren't feminists" is intended as is "trans women should be included in your feminism." But unless you've read/watched enough feminist and trans rights stuff, you would never know that.

The original-original poster here is clearly working off of "gender essentialism is bad," but it's also clear they don't actually know the difference between statements that are gender essentialism and statements that are a remark on the current state of affairs. Because they do not know what gender essentialism is, nor what the current state of affairs is.

So, call to action: any time you want to post a fact or argument online, go find a trustworthy source (but preferably multiple) to ensure you have it fully correct. Be sure to read the source(s) in full. Link them if you can, or otherwise provide an easy way for people to find them on their own (ie, article title, author, and publisher)

Additionally, every time you see a claim or argument online, pause what you are doing. If you have time to research it, go do that. If you don't, scroll away. Again, be sure to read your sources in full.

Finally, be always be willing to provide your sources (yes, even ones for facts people can easily google. Additional information included in the source, the conclusions the author makes, and the bias of the author/publisher are all things people can learn from your sources. Having to search on their own prevents them from learning that), and always be willing to admit where you are wrong. It's perfectly normal (and good) to change your mind about a few things (if not your entire position).

I suggest MediaBias/FactCheck for vetting any source, and this link for a checklist when independent verification is needed.

And one final aside, I was going to add an addendum to mention that men are actually more likely to be the victims of non-sexual violent crime.

This is no longer the case.

I think I'll kill you instead

[thatmexisaurusrex]

I have no expectations of Buck and Tommy getting back together, but if they do, I would love love love for the episode to be called "Tommy, Actually". I would love it if it was interlaced with different little moments we never got to see.

When Buck first met Tommy.

When Tommy introduces himself to Buck's sister and Buck's parents at the wedding at the hospital.

Tommy getting ready alone for the medal ceremony. Having no friends or family coming, no, not until Buck comes over to greet him, bringing the entire 118 with him. The deleted scene with Hen and Karen. Tommy taking a moment alone to react to the fairy implied comment from Gerrard and maybe Buck coming over to him.

Buck telling Tommy what Bobby told him about being good people.

Tommy hearing about Bobby in the hospital and asking Buck about it. Tommy confusedly hearing through texts about the Kim situation. Maybe cooking the dinner for Buck as he waits for him to come home.

Tommy reacting to the bee and plane emergencies.

All the small moments with Buck at the loft or at his own place. Muay Thai and flying lessons. Karaoke Trivia. That scene in the car during Masks. The takeout they ate the night before their anniversary.

Hell, I want moments with Tommy building his relationships back up with the people at the 118 too.

Watching movies together with Chimney. Basketball with Chimney and Eddie. Drinking at the bar with Hen and Chimney. Muay Thai and more Las Vegas excursions with Eddie. Talking flying and space with Hen. Talking Buck with Maddie.

A contrast to the emptiness of his life before meeting Buck; his life after the breakup.

Hell, if we're making lists of things we want here, I'd love this to be intercut with the relationship that fucked Tommy up. Or even relationships.

How bad was his father to him? What did his father say to hurt Tommy in a way that kept him in that closet? What about his mother?

What about the military? What trauma lay in the army for Tommy?

Who was the man who hurt Tommy? Who told him he wouldn't be someone's last if he was someone's first? Who made him feel like no one could ever truly choose him first?

Intercut it with a rescue.

A helicopter rescue where Buck joins Tommy in his helicopter. And despite the awkwardness, things are going well up until some malfunction in the helicopter that Tommy couldn't control. That the person who had been originally flying the helicopter didn't catch in the inspection of it before taking off.

So, the helicopter is crashing.

And Tommy does his best to land it as safely as he can given the circumstances.

And Tommy's hurt. He's severely hurt and everyone besides he, Buck, and the knocked out patient are dead. And sure, Tommy tries not to think about the injury, but Evan can read Tommy like a book.

He can tell.

Buck forces Tommy to take it easy; let Buck give him first aid. And while Tommy isn't as mobile as he would like to be, he and Buck are a fantastic team when it comes to problem solving and figuring out a way to get the patient and themselves to the location where another helicopter will pick them up to bring them to the hospital.

And Tommy doesn't know why Buck cares.

He's scrambling to understand; he just can't. Not with the voices of everyone who hurt him in his head. Not with how he practically ghosted everyone at the 118 after he broke things off with Buck.

Became insular again.

Became alone again.

All of Tommy's worst qualities seem to creep up; flood his mind and it all culminates with a fight with Evan. A fight where Tommy is arguing against helping himself; against wanting Tommy.

Because Tommy's not worth it.

He's not worth anything.

And, damn it, Buck's fighting back. Evan gives Tommy everything he's got; all his anguish and hate and confusion and love.

So much love.

And maybe it ends with yelled I love yous from them both before something happens.

Something that almost hurts Buck, but Tommy pushes Buck out of the way; saves Buck's life. Hurts himself.

Because he's not worth it.

He was never worth it.

And he blacks out, distantly hearing Buck screaming his name.

And. Tommy wakes up in a hospital. Alone. And he assumes that's all that it is and ever will be. He was always alone. He always will be alone.

Then.

The 118 come in.

Rightfully mad about Tommy ghosting them. Worried about Tommy.

And maybe Tommy realizes that, well, maybe he has a home now. He has found a home with Evan; with the 118. That his fears that people will leave him behind won't come true. That he could be part of their family. That he was allowed to want that.

And when Buck rushes over, the rest of the team gives Buck the room. And Tommy confesses everything; his fears; his love; his wants and dreams and Buck confesses back too. And they say their I love yous again.

And it ends with them having a small, easy moment in the hospital. Evan getting Tommy coffee. Maybe Tommy saying, "Mmmm. Just like that." And. Holding each other's hands. Just. Smiling. Paralleling their coffee date.

Yeah.

That would be a good Tommy, Actually.

[lazycats-stuff]

How about Batfam x male reader, where reader is Russian and has a slight accent, unless someone really pissed him off, that's when it really shows. Reader is always eloquent and kind, and you don't notice his accent unless you are really paying attention to the way he says certain words, but after a few galas where a fat businessman keeps insulting him somehow, and Damian or Jason are trying to defend Reader, but Reader just tells them no. When the fat businessman insults his brothers, Reader finally snaps and just goes full blown Michael Blackson Teacher style roast on him and his entire family in front of everyone, even his Russian accent comes out (I just think it would be funnier with the accent). After the gala is done, Bruce tries to scold the reader, but everyone is constantly trying to contain their laughter except Jason, as Reader finally snapping is the funniest thing that ever happened at a gala. Even Alfred can't bring himself to scold Reader for what he has done because he was there.

I know you are probably busy, so whenever you have the time for this one-shot. Thank you.

Oh hell yeah. Also, I couldn't find a GIF. I'm sorry...

Summary: (Y/N) is Russian and takes no disrespect.

Warnings: fat shaming? Only when (Y/N) was insulted.

Bruce would say that all of his children are nice, but (Y/N) is an exception to a certain degree. He is nice, eloquent, kind and loves to help others. He's Russian, can speak Russian fluently and his accent is rather hidden. You can hear it come out in certain words, but other than that, it is rather hidden. And Bruce loves to listen to it. Especially when he is frustrated about something, or simply can't remember a word in English.

That's when the Russian actually comes out. Of course everyone will revert to their native language when frustrated, mad and everything else. It was something that was rather endearing. Cute even. Just some grumbling underneath his breath about something in Russian. (Y/N)'s brothers found it cute. And they started to pick up a few phrases of their own.

But not curse words, because Alfred doesn't want to hear any cursing in the manor. None. Not in English, Russian, Arabic or any other language. It doesn't matter if it's a dead language or a live one, because Alfred is going to lay down the law.

Even now, while there was a gala going on in the Manor, Bruce watched his sons carefully. Jason was evading it with everything in him, Tim was getting some food, Damian was his usual grouchy self, Dick was conversing with some people and so was (Y/N), using his eloquence to get his points across. Bruce smiled as he brought a glass up to his lips, sipping some champagne.

All was well.

For once.

Bruce was surprised, but wasn't going to complain or actually question why the universe has decided to bring peace upon the Wayne Manor. Peace was seemingly a rare thing in this Manor and Bruce was going to cherish it for the rest of the night. Actually, for as long as it lasts, Bruce will cherish it.

Oh, that peace wasn't going to last long.

At all.

As (Y/N) was talking to a woman about some charities, a big, fat businessman approached. Sure, it's not nice to call someone fat, but, if someone's stomach is spilling over the pants, then it's just a fair game. Bruce watched from afar, just observing the room.

He raised his brow when he saw (Y/N) frowning, clearly mad about something. Bruce could make out a few words and one of them struck a nerve. Commie, or short for communist. (Y/N) never liked that. Never. Just because Russia was a communist country, that doesn't make him bad. And how the hell is that an insult?

(Y/N) shot right back, calling him a capitalist for not caring about his workers, which were the more prevalent rumors in the high society. Bruce watched, wondering how it will unfold. But then it hit him. This was the man that (Y/N) had problems with for the last few galas. (Y/N) always remained polite, but Bruce knew that it would rile him up and upset him.

Damian and Jason noticed and both have jumped to his defense, defending him with polite and tense smiles. But the businessman wasn't letting up. At all. Being this relentless in insulting was rather... Weird. Bruce kept watching, ready to step in the moment it gets too tense or it escalates.

And (Y/N) had a rule. It was, insult him all you want, but insult his brothers? He will retaliate. Tenfold.

And that's where the fat man opened the door for him to retaliate. The moment that the man insulted Damian's Arabic heritage and Jason's life on the streets before adoption, (Y/N) was absolutely fuming and has decided to go onto the offensive.

He hurled insults onto the man, but one that made Bruce nearly lose his mind was, and he quotes this, " You are one sandwich away from a heart attack. " And (Y/N) wasn't done, far from done. Firstly, the Russian accent came out during all of this and he wasn't letting up. Since the family of the fat businessman joined, (Y/N) was not battling on two different fronts.

And he wasn't holding back.

At all.

Jason and Damian were trying to keep straight faces but it's not easy.

Bruce had no doubt that Jason would later say that the insults are a work of art.

The gala was now over and everyone was sitting in the kitchen, munching on the leftover food. Alfred was standing there, watching (Y/N), knowing what had went down in the ballroom. Bruce was supposed to scold him. Maybe ground him, perhaps. Take away certain things?

But then again, he was defending himself. The man insulted him first so... Well...

So Bruce was going to try to scold (Y/N). He has to. And that was difficult when everyone around them was trying not to laugh so hard. Even Alfred. Seeing (Y/N) snap, when he was normally kind and calm. And with a Russian accent too. It was all too much for Jason who was laughing his ass off the entire time whole Bruce was trying to scold the reader.

" You know what, I won't scold you, " Bruce declared, making Jason cry from laughter.

" (Y/N) snapping is the best thing that has ever happened at a gala. Ever. EVER, " Jason wheezed out, slapping his knee.

Alfred tried not to break, because he was supposed to be a serious one, but Alfred couldn't even hold it together. He was about to break. Should (Y/N) be scolded? Yes. However, he didn't start the insulting, the man did... Alfred tried to keep it together. He did.

And he was going to keep it together.

So, to conclude the evening, in the history of galas, (Y/N) has put his mark in it.

[alexanderwales]

Reached a point in Nate Silver's new book, On the Edge where he talks about what ChatGPT told him:

"More than forty years I've been doing innovation. I can't think of a single example of a large innovation that came from an expected player or a large player," Vinod Khosla told me. Taken literally, this is an exaggeration - a ChatGPT query turned up counterexamples of products like the Sony Walkman, the IBM PC, and the iPhone that were developed by well-established brands.

Nate. Come on man. Why are you asking ChatGPT this? Why is this a ChatGPT question? Why are you telling me that you're getting answers from ChatGPT? Why are you writing in a book that this is where you're getting your information from?

I don't think there's a problem with asking ChatGPT stuff per se. It's like a worse, more expensive Wikipedia that lies to you sometimes. But you then have to go actually think about the answers and whether they fit the question, and do research to see whether those answers actually comport with reality, and be ready to say "well, the machine was full of shit again", which is often the case.

I guess I'm just baffled by referencing ChatGPT as a method of investigation, like its an admission that Nate Silver would rather go to the machine than sit and think to himself about the issue for five minutes, or go to a contrary source to get their quote. I don't necessarily think that he should have lied about where he got that list from, but ... I don't know. It felt really lazy. I think if you're writing a pop science book, I want more from it than "I asked ChatGPT and here's what it told me".

(The book is full of interview snippets and anecdotes and halfway through, this is the first time that ChatGPT has shown up, but it does raise my skepticism levels of everything that's come before.)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeak Clean 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

Note: yeah…

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’re about done. You just need to take the trash out to the bin and pack up the last of your things. As you wind the cord around your vacuum, a throat clears and draws your head around. You crane to see Steve watching you from the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Oh, just finishing up,” you say as you hook the cord to secure it and stand. 

“No problem. I was actually gonna ask if you wanted a snack,” he says, lifting his arm to lean his elbow on the doorway. You stop yourself from frame your hips, letting that knot in your lower back linger. 

A snack? You hesitate. You’re not bothered by your size or the assumptions people make about it. Still, you can’t help but be reminded of the extra cushion. You’re sure he didn’t mean it that way but it’s not really necessary for him to feed you. You bring your hands forward to fold them against your stomach. 

His eyes follow the movement and he blanches. His cheeks tinge pink and he blinks furiously, “wait, I only—I'm just being... nice. Sarah Rogers raised me right, you know? Not right to have someone in the house and not offer.” 

“It’s fine. I’m not a guest. I’m a cleaner,” you assure him and turn to grab the vacuum, dragging the wheels lightly off the carpet. 

“Sorry, if--” 

“No need. I’m not offended. Not hungry either.” You roll the vacuum to the front doorway and cross the room again. You approach him and slow, waiting for him to get out of the way, signalling with your eyes that you need to get past. “Excuse me.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he drops his arm but brings it back up to comb his golden hair. “How about water?” 

“I keep a bottle in my kit.” You assure him as you search out the bucket.  

He stands awkwardly by the door as you heave it up and carry it through to the front room. You put it with the vacuum and return one last time to the kitchen. You open the bin with the pedal but before you can uncurl the edges of the liner, Steve is right there. 

“Here, it’s pretty full. I’ll take care of it.” 

You back up if only to get space. You don’t like how easily he crowds you. You can’t tell if he underestimates his own size or yours. 

“That’s what you hire me to do,” you say. 

“Sure, but it’s one thing,” he lifts the bag out and ties it. 

“Right,” you agree. “I suppose then, I’m done for the day.” 

He lowers the bag to hang from his hand. He smiles at you. “You did a great job.” 

You arch a brow, “thanks.” You’re not sure if it’s normal. Zuli said you wouldn’t have to deal with small talk, well, she was wrong. Figures she’d lie. She never really stops talking. Maybe she should take this one. “I’m going to go.” 

He nods, almost as if he’s disappointed. “I’ll walk you out.” 

“Sure,” you shrug. 

You spin and stride away. You haul up the bucket and latch onto the vacuum. He comes closer again and before you can dodge him, he has a hold of your kit. You want so badly to rip it away. Didn’t he pay for a cleaner? Why is he trying to do everything himself? 

You don’t react. You push it all down and head for the door. You put your shoes on and grab your sweater. You head outside and he follows you. You have to keep from running to your car. The weight of the vacuum helps slow you. 

You open the trunk and lift in the vacuum. Not quick enough. He puts the trash bag on the curb and comes up to place the kit in the trunk first. He then lifts the vacuum and angles it into the car. You suck in a sigh. 

It must be something programmed into him. He is a hero, after all. He can’t just sit back and let others do the dirty work. Even to a lowly cleaner, he needs to be a saviour. 

“Thanks,” you mutter again. 

“No, thank you,” he takes a step back and searches around, “uh, drive safe.” 

“Mhm,” you nod again. “I’ll try.” 

You turn and walk up the driver’s side. You feel him watching you. You’re not the most socially graceful creature on earth. Graceful in fact is not a trait you possess in any manner. Blunt would be a better descriptor. 

You get in the car and shut the door. It doesn’t help cool the heat on the nape of your neck. You buckle your seat belt and glance in the rearview mirror. He’s still there behind you. Watching.  

You want to assume there’s some logic behind his strange behaviour. He must not be used to having people in his space. If it was you, you’d rather just clean your own place than let someone else poke around. You’re sure you have a lot less to hide than Captain America. 

You turn the engine. The rumble seems to jolt him into action. He moves away and grabs the trash bag. You flip your signal on and check your blind spot. You try to see around the cars behind you. 

You peek over again as Steve nears the bins against the brick of the townhouse. He pauses as he drops it inside and waves at you with another grin. You wonder if he rehearses that suburban hero act. It can’t be real. 

You pull out and shake your head. A job isn’t supposed to be enjoyable and rarely is it easy. You can tell already that while the work itself isn’t complicated, dealing with your client will be anything but simple. 

[throatgoat4u]

random post but these are some blogs on tumblr that i absolutely adore, and love, and why (most of the whys contain fics but like that's the whole point of me being on tumblr. other reasons too like talking to people and getting to know people, and shit. but like i'm literally always reading a fic)

1.) @bernardsbendystraws: she's actually so fucking funny, and i could just scroll her page for hours, and hours, and hours, and hours, and hours on end. and don't even get me started on her fics, and blurbs, and everything. it's just so ughhhhhh.

2.) @phone4pills: THE FICS ARE EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cannot even begin to count the amount of times i've re-read her whole masterlist. like it's sooooo good.

3.) @blckslutsforchrizz: one of my moots!!!!!!!!!!! she's really fucking funny and i feel like any post she's posted where she has an opinion on something i always agree with that opinion. she's just too relatable. and not to mention she's so fucking gorgeous. like have you seen her face reveal???? STUNNERRRRR!

4.) @mattscoquette: her page is just too good! i absolutely love every fic of hers, and don't get me started on her au's. PERV!MATT!?!? LIKE AHHHHHHHHHHH. too motherfucking good. he has me on a chokehold.

5.) @freshloveee: love, love, love, love, LOVE her fics. the one where matt takes care of the drunk reader?!?! HELLO?!?! i love her so much i can't even. her new theme is also very, very cutesy. also we're supposed to be getting married (i think. last time i checked) so ya'll are all invited. mwah, mwah, mwah. she's def one of my favs.

6.) @chrisweetheart: another mootie! i devour her fics up like it's my last meal. if you haven't read the one about sweetheart reader jerking matt off, READ IT!!! oml it's so good. her theme is also just a chefs kiss like omg ughhh.

7.) @bluestriips: again, another moot! her fics are scrum-dilly-umptious. i'm literally licking my fingers clean after i read something of hers. love, love, love!

8.) @leoslaboratory: i just love sitting down at night, in my bed, knowing i can scroll through her page, and get some good entertainment. i love it. I LOVE IT! also dealer!chris?!?! I LOVE ITTTTTT OH EM GEEE!!!!

9.) @vainilladollie: GROUPIE LOVEEEE!!!!!!!! AGHGHGHGHG! that was the first time i discovered her page and i fell obsessed. i love that fic and all her other ones so much it's not even funny anymore. i love that i have such a cool moot who writes such good shit.

10.) @whiteferraristurns: first off, the name? need i say anymore? i love her fics so much like it hurts. white ferrari matt fic had me in a chokehold i actually can't even put it into words. loved it and her page so much.

there are so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so many more pages i absolutely love, adore, and just overall cherish, but there's too many to put. these were the only ones i could think of off the top of my head. and i may be glazing but idgaf. if you have a problem with it, then how about you fuck off. anywho!

toodles sluts :)

[celestialmoondragon]

On Eurylochus in Epic: the Musical

Hey, guys! I've been struggling to put this together since Thunder Saga because the amount of Eurylochus hate I saw after that saga just really stuck in my craw. Now, to be clear, I'm not pointing fingers or saying it was everyone, and a lot of it tapered off so I think it was just a gut reaction after the Saga came out but I've always identified more with Eurylochus while everyone else seems to fall over Polites. 

Not that I have a problem with Polites or anything. I just find the 'blindly optimistic sunshine character' to be rather irritatingly naive most of the time? Again, I identify with Eurylochus’s character & philosophy. I'm not trying to prove he’s better in any way. I've just been trying to put together something to articulate why I think Eury deserves more love.

So here is what I’ve been affectionately calling ‘The Eurylochus Apologist Post.’

Full Speed Ahead:

This song sets up the relationship between Ody, Eury & Poli. It's clear it's a dynamic they're used to: Eury & Poly providing seemingly opposing arguments and Ody finding a sensible middle ground between them. I've seen posts saying it's the Devil & Angel on Ody's shoulders but I don't like that argument because it assigns a moral value to their arguments that isn't there. I think the reason this has worked so far is because Ody sits between them, balancing their viewpoints as both pessimistic caution and blind optimism could be dangerous to their survival solely on their own.

Eury's argument for theft feels extreme, sure, but keep in mind these men just got out of a 10-year war. He's not arguing because he wants aggression or slaughter. Later songs show him going out of his way to avoid conflict enough that an argument could be made for his cowardice although I don't believe that to be the case. Here, he thinks a quick in-and-out is a safer, more cautious approach when dealing with the unknown residents of an unknown island.

I would argue that Poli's desire to openly trust strangers is a more unusual philosophy post-war. And maybe his blind optimism has helped the men keep their spirits up. (Everything's changed since Polites.) But Ody says 'No, let's give them a chance at a peaceful resolution.' 

Both songs before this have shown us how tired of violence & death Ody is but some people read this as him agreeing wholesale with Poli's philosophy which is not the case as he's by far the most cautious of the two in Open Arms. It's only as a result of Poli's death that he tries to be kind to Polythemus, perhaps in honor of his friend. But also simply to spite Athena, who's been rather aggressively telling him he's wrong, and Ody is nothing if not a petty bitch.

Back to Eury tho.

Luck Runs Out:

Eury expresses his doubt after Poli's death. Yeah, they've worked together for at least 10 years and possibly grew up together, but the Polythemus incident is the first time that Ody's cleverness fails. The first time their crew actually dies as Ody's managed to keep them all safe the entire war. And their personal friend was the very first. He sees their mortality for possibly the first time. 

He expresses this throughout Storm. He was CAUTIOUS in Full Speed Ahead, yeah, but the level of defeatism in Storm is extreme. And nearly right after, while he's still struggling, Ody wants to try his tricks on a GOD? There's no indication that he knows about Ody's personal relationship with Athena. All he could see is his friend being arrogant enough to stroll right up to a GOD like it's nothing right after they lost their best friend and several others to a monster. A God is a more dangerous opponent than a monster. (Don't you know how dangerous the gods are?) 

So he tries to articulate his feelings and worries and what does Ody do? Dismisses them. Entirely. Or at least that's what it feels like to Eury. This is something he wasn't doing before. It's also here that we see Ody parrot Poli's philosophy. This is a huge out-of-character shift in their dynamic. Ody isn't playing the middle ground anymore, a mix between trust and caution, the best of both. He's now the other extreme and the dynamic doesn't work with only two points of the triangle.

Now, Eury isn't perfect. He definitely should have expressed his doubts in private where the crew couldn't hear them argue. And Ody does try to reassure him but it's coming from this place of ego & optimism. Eury feels like he doesn't get it. They're both talking at each other but not getting through. And to put the cherry on top, after Ody pulls him aside, all Eury hears is that his concerns don't matter. It isn't necessarily what Ody means. Ody, I think, just wants to caution him about making the crew doubt his leadership but, to Eury, Ody's words come across as 'I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing and you're just going to have to deal.' Which, again, is not how their dynamic works before. Ody fully hears him out in Full Speed Ahead and incorporates his advice into the final plan.

But he isn't doing that here. Eury's final okay is him giving up on trying to get through to Ody right now. Without other events, they might have had a chance to talk about it later and actually reconcile but neither of them are in a state to do so right now.

Keep Your Friends Close:

The captain comes back from an ill-advised talk with a GOD with a mysterious bag that he claims has to stay closed. The crew is agitated by the winions claiming its treasure and the harrowing events of the cave and storm. Remember, Eury's backing vocals are the crew. He speaks for them. While there might have been members who think Ody was lying about the contents, I don't think Eury opened the bag out of a sense of greed. There's been no indication that he's greedy at all. But the crew is growing increasingly agitated and the Captain is obsessing over the bag to the point that he stays awake for 9 days. That's weird. That's out of character. 

People act like the wind bag reveal and his 'sudden' distrust came out of nowhere but the entire first half of the Storm Saga shows their relationship deteriorating. Should Eury have given him the benefit of the doubt considering their years of friendship a trust? Probably. I'm not saying Eury is perfect.

Maybe I'm assigning a thought process that isn't there, but if I were in that position? I'd be worried. Not just about the captain's judgment being impaired from lack of sleep but also there's no telling if the God told Ody the truth about the contents of the bag. I think Eury still trusts Ody but what if Ody's the one being tricked? The crew is agitated, his captain & friend is acting strange, they've got a mysterious bag with unknown contents... 

Of course, he opened the bag.

One argument I've seen the most is that if he hadn't opened the bag, Poseidon wouldn't have caught them and the 557 men wouldn't have died before they got to Ithaca. Well, I would argue that there's no indication Poseidon couldn't get them on Ithaca even if they had made it, but that's not really relevant.

Eury has always, always been worried about the safety of the crew.

He just wanted to check. Be able to reassure the crew & make sure Ody was okay.

They. Did. Not. Know. He. Was. Chasing. Them.

While Ody does question the origin of the storm, (Is it nature or Divine or a blessing in disguise?), it's more idle speculation. That line exists more as a hint to the audience that something is afoot more than an indicator that Ody's figured out, out of nowhere with no context, that the god of the sea is hunting them. With the benefits of hindsight, we the audience know they wouldn't have died, but within the story, the characters didn't have any clue and I don't feel it's fair to blame Eury. 

Puppeteer

Eury tries to fess up immediately. Eury tries to tell Ody his mistake as soon as possible but Ody is, once again, not in a state to hear him out. That isn't either of their faults at all but it does erode their relationship further. It's unclear if he's seeking absolvement, atonement, or just reassurance, but what is clear is that the guilt festers until he blurts it out at the absolute worst time in Scylla. 

Eury gets a lot of flack for proposing they leave the men captured by Circe. Is it necessarily the morally correct choice to abandon their crew? No, and I won't say it is. But his decision is perfectly in line with his character. 

(Look at all we've lost and all we've learned.

Every single cost is so much more than what we've earned.

Think about the men we have left before there's none.

Let's just cut our losses, you and I, and let's run.)

He's begging & pleading for Ody to not through them up against another foe they can't win against. He's saying 'look, we've lost nearly everyone. It's okay if we're cowards here because we won't have anything left if we fail again.'

Now this is somewhat speculative on my part, but If Eury was really a coward or really didn't care about Ody, he probably could have convinced the crew left on the ship to cut and run while Ody confronted Circe alone. All he would have to do is use the same argument he tried on Ody. I think the narrative decision to make Eury's backing instrument the crew tells us pretty clearly that they'll side with him. It's shown most obviously in Mutiny, of course, but it's first demonstrated in Luck Runs Out.

Different Beast

Eury is technically not in this song except for the fact that he is. Because Eury reflecting the crew works both ways. He is the crew & the crew is him. Now the crew, including him, are all on board with Ody's change. Eury wouldn't have left the sirens to chase them or attack others either. He thinks their viewpoints are aligned again, not the Ody has gotten to the opposite extreme of 'only I have to survive.' Not Ody realizes this either.

Scylla

This is were Eury breaks. He blurts out the truth that's been eating him alive at the worst moment. He thinks he's in a good place to confess and try to talk to Ody again because as far as he knows, they're just sailing through a dark cavern. He has no idea Scylla is there until they're attacked. Even when Ody instructs him to light torches, he probably thinks it's because it's dark.

And then she starts eating the crew Ody deliberately made her target. Whether Eury was one of the intended targets doesn't matter, in my opinion, as much as Eury realizes that Ody's new philosophy for survival doesn't include the crew. 

I've seen speculation that Scylla has some sort of truth-compelling power but I believe it was terrible timing myself. The framing of Scylla leaves the audience speculating who she's talking to until it's revealed at the end that it's Ody. Her (breaking the bonds you have made) line comes after Eury's confession not because she's compelling the truth but because she knows what response Ody's gonna have. She knows him because only someone like her would brave her lair. (We're the same, you and I.)

Mutiny

This is by far the most complicated bit and I'm not going to pretend Eury isn't a bit of a hypocrite here. I think he would have made the same choice to sacrifice 6 men if it came down to it, since he was willing to leave some of them on Circe's Island, but I don't think Eury does. He thinks he's always made the most pragmatic, logical choices for the crew's overall survival. He sees Ody's compromised mental state in Luck Runs Out/Keep Your Friends Closer but he didn't necessarily see his own then or now.

So he rounds on Ody. Ody deliberately forced them onto a dangerous path that would see some of them dead without telling them the risks. Eury 'for the crew' lochus can't believe that after all the risks he's taken to save them all, Ody would suddenly decide they don't matter.

(If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame) is a line I've seen people use to argue Eury's hypocrisy but I've always interpreted it differently. He isn't saying 'You're the captain so everything that's happened is your fault,' he's saying 'If you want to keep secrets and throw your crew away, you can't blame them for fighting back.' I believe this to be the case because it comes after (You miss your wife so bad, you trade the lives of your own crew.) 

Between the two is Ody's line (Don't make me fight you, brother, you know you'd have done the same) and, as I said earlier, I firmly believe Eury would have done the same in Ody's place. Or would have less of an issue if they crew were informed before and drew lots or something. But he can't see his own hypocrisy. Whereas Ody was too compromised to see Eury's POV in Luck Runs Out, Eury is now too compromised to see Ody's.

How do we know this?

Because Mutiny begins to mirror Luck Runs Out. The crew parrots Eury's lines, fully and completely taking his side and after Ody passes out and they get to Helios's Island, the lyrics constantly call back to Luck Runs Out although not precisely in the same order. For example:

Luck Runs Out:

Please don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do.

You've heard the legends of the island in the sky, this proves they're true

We're in the home of the wind god

We don't know for sure

How many floating islands have you seen before?

This is the home of the wind god.

And what's your plan?

I'm gonna climb to the top and ask 'em for a hand.

Mutiny:

Please don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do.

Ody, we're never gonna get to make it home

You know it's true

You don't know that's true

This is the home of the Sun God

But if you kill his cattle, who knows what he'll send?

This is the home of the Sun God

I'm tired, my friend

But we're so close to home, this can't be where it ends.

-----

This continues the entire second half of Mutiny but I’m honestly not a skilled enough musician to recognize every little motif and note. But the two songs feel very similar except that now Eury is the one that can’t hear what Ody is telling him. I hesitate to include this information because it’s not explicitly stated in the musical but the reason he kills the cow in the original is because either the starving crew will survive and can build a temple to Helios in Ithaca or the gods will kill them quickly. Not only would starving be a slow, painful death but it's not a glorious end for soldiers and warriors.

Regardless of whether you choose to include this information in his motivation, it’s clear he’s done. He’s shattered and broken and Ody’s reassurance is too little, too late. The crew is, in his mind, either going to starve to death or die trying to get home and he’s quickly realizing he doesn’t know which is better. He hates that the situation and his relationship with Ody has come to this. He’s no longer angry, just resigned and exhausted. He doesn’t know how to solve their problems and can’t trust that Ody cares enough to try either. So why does he fall back in line so easily when Ody orders the crew to flee?

Because, despite everything, he wants to trust his friend. He wants to go back to when it was the three of them and they trusted each other with no reservations. Which brings us to his last lines in Thunder Bringer. 

Eury: Captain?

Ody: I have to see her.

Eury: But we’ll die.

Ody: I know.

I saw a lot of people getting particularly angry at this because he’d brought the wrath of Zeus down on them and is now begging Ody to sacrifice himself instead of the crew. But I don’t read it that way at all. We’ve heard him plead & beg. He pleads firstly Luck Runs Out and begs broken on his knees in Mutiny and this line doesn’t sound like either. 

This is resignation.

Mutiny shows us that he’s already given up. He’s ready to die. He’s not begging for his life. The crew questions Ody, reprising the chorus of Just A Man the same way they did when they questioned his decision to kill the Infant. Because that’s what Eury’s asking. 

Can you live with the fact you killed us?

Not because he wants to live for himself but because he wants to know if Ody can truly live with the choice he's already made in his heart. At the very end, he seeks reassurance that his last friend will be able to survive to make it home.

For all of them.

In conclusion, Eurylochus is a flawed but entirely human character with a very consistent internal logic throughout and he doesn't deserve to be painted as a conniving, fickle, cowardly friend to Ody because it's abundantly clear he loves the crew and his friend.

[starvu]

My Heart Won't Start Anymore || s. reid

where you were always, always there for spencer, but after what happened with maeve you couldn't handle it anymore, you felt betrayed

pairing: spencer reid x bau member!gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst/hurt

content warnings: mention of spencer's addiction, mention of his being shot in the knee, reader was once shot in the stomach, mentions of blood, fairly graphic description of maeve's death, maeve wasn't spencer's girlfriend, but they had feelings, that's for sure, bitter ending (inspired by "you're losing me" ts)

word count: 9,1k

a/n: i described the whole line from s2 to s8 here, i didn't even know i could write that much lol. and i haven't written that much yet, it was a bit of a weird concept and i couldn't put everything into words, but I wanted to write it so much (i suck at dialogue, sorry). i spent like nine hours today only in notes app and writing this, im kinda insane. i won't be posting any more work this year, so i hope your new year will be happy 😽

~

You would never have thought it would end like this. No, no... no. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

No.

You were always each other's support, comfort, comfort. When you joined the BAU, you were just a young girl, full of ambition and hope, joyful and smiling with sprinkles in your eyes, but also a lost girl. Lost in a new environment and new circumstances.

No need to mention that you were a people pleaser who only wanted to be noticed... right?

Of course, you were prepared for such a job, but damn, you didn't expect this. What they learned in training and at the academy was nothing compared to what you had been working on since day one. Theory was just a sliver of practice, yes, it was brutal, but in real work, the same theory seemed like a sugar-coated story with sprinkles. It didn't connect in any way.

But Spencer wanted to help you. He really, genuinely wanted to help you. He wasn't that much older, well, no, you were the same age, actually. He wasn't overly effusive or outgoing, but he wanted you to settle in, and you appreciated that. He was awkward, very awkward, more interested in facts than people, and not really good at social interactions, and your good attitude made him a little intimidated when he first saw you and you eagerly greeted him, introducing yourself.

He wasn't sure what you would find nice and was afraid of imposing, so he did little things like bring you fresh coffee from that not-so-great coffee machine, sometimes gave you little tips about team members, sometimes helped you when your casework was limited to sifting through tedious piles of files tied with string, the letters already shimmering before your eyes and blurring into black spots.

That's why when he went through his own hell, held captive by Tobias Hankel and drugged, you felt the need to help him. You couldn't explain it, but... no, you could actually explain it. You always wanted to help everyone and spread your smile. A smile that didn't fit the job, a smile that was the opposite of the brutality you saw in the job, and only that smile allowed you to keep your sanity.

Hey, do you know that you'll even lose your spark and the twinkle in your eyes?

You felt plain, simple, and human sympathy for him. His addiction problem was one of those ignored ones. You all swept it under the rug, almost like the whole team suddenly had blinkers on and lived in a conspiracy of silence, even if you didn't state it out loud. That just hadn't happened in the history of this team, even if you had noticed Spencer's daily highs. There was nothing wrong with the young genius's mind, after all. More or less.

You hadn't known him very long, but you knew it had little to do with his everyday behavior. Even if you only knew him for a few months before, he couldn't act like this and you noticed that everyone outside the team noticed his behavior as well, which Hotch could always justify because 'Dr. Reid isn't at his best right now'.

Funny how reputation and lack of complications from the people above were more important than Reid's well-being.

Funny how Reid's well-being has become more important to you than your own.

You acted somewhat on your own, you tried to help Spencer, even if he rejected help, he was elusive. He closed himself off, he practically dismissed his problem on his own. And maybe you were a little intrusive, yes, you were aware of it, but how else were you supposed to act in such a situation?

And surprisingly, you succeeded. He didn't look kindly on your actions, but he stopped dismissing you coldly. Your actions were happening behind the team's back, you didn't want to expose yourself as a newbie to something that wouldn't be approved of. If this whole situation is going on behind the backs of the people at the top, why couldn't you go behind the backs of the team?

You took care of him, at least as much as he allowed you. You didn't want to overdo it, but you tried. You didn't force him to do anything, but you still tried everything that could replace the dilaudid, you spent more time with him than was appropriate just to distract him from needing another dose. and when he stopped taking the drug, you were there to help him through the withdrawal symptoms, although withdrawal was the hardest. You were understanding and respected him despite everything, even if it was a difficult and overwhelming experience. You could say that it left a mark on you, however you wouldn't admit it. You just piled on the stress and nerves. It wasn't easy by any means, but you didn't have the heart to leave him.

You never had the heart to leave him.

Or at least that's what you thought.

Anyway, you were there for him.

~

He also felt a spark of sympathy for you when you cared so much for him, because you didn't let up or ignore the problem. He finally felt a little different, other than a drugged-up piece of trash. Someone really wanted to be with him, to suffer especially for him and at some point with him.

You knew that a spark of understanding was being born between you over the years. A spark of something warm, like friendship. Your friendship was close, there was something special and magical about it. He trusted you. He trusted you and opened up to you, he felt exposed to his emotions but he didn't feel bad about it. It wasn't often that he felt this way about anyone, you were important to him.

Sometimes Penelope joked that you were glued together, because wherever Spencer was, you were too, within a radius of a few meters and no further. If you think about it, the sweet, sweet technical analyst wasn't wrong at all, in fact, she was right. Likewise, Derek, who would laugh and sometimes tease you about your glued hips, you dismissed it as bullshit.

You were sitting in her darkened computer lab, your seat was a little lower, so you rested your head on the desk. The quiet hum of computers came from the computer lab. You didn't have much work, so you sat together and talked about things that helped you forget about the hardships and darkness of work for a while. You matched each other with your rather cheerful personalities. You were sipping from plastic cups through colorful straws some overly sweet tea that Penelope had brought earlier. You weren't even sure what kind of tea it was, some brewed herbs with a lavender aftertaste. In any case, it was tasty.

You laughed. "Pen no. There's no match here..."

She stared at you with clear disappointment and determination, she interrupted you suddenly. "Listen, it's in the stars. I beg you, can't you feel it?"

You shook your head slightly. "Penelope. I really love you and appreciate you, but this is a bunch of bullshit. What kind of match in the stars? Just because you, as a fetus, decided to be born on this day and not another, doesn't mean you have a fantastic love match with anyone." You took a sip of tea, but you were still staring at the blonde analyst.

"I'm not just talking about the stars here. It's the whole match, similar vibes, agreement and..." She continued to justify herself when Spencer suddenly entered the computer room with two warm coffees.

"Garcia, there's extra foam and vanilla syrup for you." He put the coffee on the desk. "Here." He looked at you. "They didn't have any almond milk, so I got lactose-free." He put down the second coffee and looked at you apologetically. "Is it okay?"

You just nodded slightly with a warm smile. "Yes, thank you."

Garcia watched your interaction, then took a sip of coffee, she finished her tea earlier. "It's still warm!" She interrupted enthusiastically, and Spencer nodded with her lips pressed into a line, a sign of confirmation.

After a moment he was gone from the computer room, leaving he made his awkward gesture waving at you with his hand, or rather sticking it out motionlessly, and you followed him with your eyes to the door.

On Penelope's face there was an incomprehensible, slightly too wide smile, she looked at you with excitement. "Oh God, it's look of love! Real look of love!"

You sighed. "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." She continued to chatter happily, not straying from this topic even for a moment.

Penelope believed in the emotional tension between you, personality matching, and other such endearing things that you didn't quite believe in. You hated breaking the worldview of your favorite glitter and pink analyst.

~

When Spencer was shot in the knee and temporarily annihilated, you also tried to help him, although you were more likely to scold him then. What kind of brainless person wanted to ignore all doctor's orders just to fly with the rest of the team to the crime scenes. Second opinion? More like mindless, idiotic and stupid chatter. You wanted to hit him in the back of the head every time he tried to figure out how to avoid being grounded any longer, and even his doctorate couldn’t convince you to implement gentler measures. You didn't have the strength to fight him and you wanted to shoot him in the knee again, but it was out of concern, as strange as it might sound.

But despite his thoughtlessness, you were there for him then too.

~

You could say that you spent a lot of time together, often aimlessly, you could sit up all night and talk nonsense and in the end Spencer would let you drink coffee from his mug, and after difficult cases he was the one who tried to comfort you, your radiance and optimism could not be eternal and unwavering, and you baked his favorite cookies with brown sugar and sea salt. It was as if his worries suddenly disappeared, he spoke freely about whatever interested him without being suddenly silenced or dismissed, and strangest of all, even his aversion to germs was then a secondary matter.

You didn't see anything special about it, unlike anyone else around you. Yeah, you were a bit blinded by each other and sometimes the rest of the team felt like they were just getting in the way when they were around you. They felt like they were intruding on your little moments, your exchanges of glances and incomprehensible gestures.

They all felt that something happening, except you two.

And did it bother anyone? It was fine as it was.

Four years just flew by and you changed, not for the worse, change doesn't have to be bad... or something. You couldn't have peace. Day by day you felt more and more strange, not like usual, definitely not like usual, something was wrong, why were you suddenly stressed by his presence, and why did your nerves almost always get the better of you? You didn't show it, but this feeling started to annoy you. And you were a bit excluded, because there was one thought you didn't even consider, it didn't get into your tangle of thoughts, it just didn't. Or maybe it got into the center of your thoughts, and you cleverly avoided it with full awareness? Either way, when one day at work you were staring at him with your chin resting on your hand, probably looking at him from every possible and potential angle, a sudden realization finally hit you.

Oh.

oh.

It was a little different from friendship. Okay, maybe it was very different from friendship. You missed him faster than you thought, you almost felt anxious when he wasn't around and and you felt those nerves when he appeared next to you and you wanted his unwavering attention and you tried to justify it in every way, as friendship, friendly concern, natural nervous reaction towards loved ones, friendly... blah, blah, blah.

You felt attached to Spencer Reid and infatuated with him. To the same Specter who supported you from the beginning, he remembered what your favorite coffee was, he remembered the little details that made you you, showed you care in the same way you showed him care, he wasn't tired of you usually being full of energy and a little too emotional and were your precious friends. You couldn't say you expected it, but you couldn't say you didn't either.

You were in trouble.

Technically, you didn't have to tell him, but on the other hand you had a hard time keeping your mouth shut. You had to work up the courage to tell him. For God's sake, for half a year you'd felt like throwing up just thinking about that conversation. This could be good, or you could have ruined everything. You couldn't be sure he felt the same way, maybe he was just nice (and the fact that your stomach was tingling and your throat was dry and you just wanted to grab his stupid face and kiss it until you couldn't breathe was a side effect). Too nice. Being nice was never a bad thing, but it made you unable to fully read his intentions.

With shame in your mind, you admitted to yourself that you were observing him much more closely than usual, to investigate his behavior, no matter how stupid it seemed. This case really made an idiot out of you.

One night you were staring at the ceiling in your not too big bedroom and exchanging meaningless conversations, as he carefully ran his long fingers through your hair and occasionally glanced at you. There was a lamp on the nightstand, which gave off a rather shady, flickering light. You should have replaced that bulb. The rest of the light coming into the bedroom was the moonlight, carefully trying to get in through the window, thanks to the open curtains and blinds. The bright moonlight was more shy, though.

You finally, with heavy heart decided to talk to him about it.

This wasn't a good idea, trust me.

You tried to play it cool, even as you swallowed hard and your shaking hands were hidden only by the dim light of your bedroom.

"Umm... Spence." The usual certainty suddenly disappeared from your voice. “You know, there’s this thing.”

He immediately turned his head towards you, now in addition to his unwavering attention you had his gaze as well. "Did something serious happen?" He wasn't the best at talking about emotions, but, as befits a profiler, he read them well.

"Not really. I mean, yes, but no." You swallowed hard. "Depends."

He didn't want to rush you, force you to talk or annoy you. "Okay, no rush." Despite that, he felt a growing curiosity and a bit of stress. You rarely took that tone.

Suddenly you felt his hand no longer in your hair. Instead, he squeezed your hand gently in his, assuring you that everything was okay. The gesture, combined with your nerves, made you feel like you might as well cry. It was a gesture that you had considered nice and didn’t object to, but now it was confusing you even more.

It was now or never.

“I think I love you. No, it's not 'I think', I’m convince. Yeah, I'm convince."

Pretty nice, but you won't be the only one saying it.

He didn’t answer right away, only because he always had the feeling he’d ruin everything the moment he started talking about feelings. But he squeezed your hand tighter and didn’t take his eyes off you, his hazel, puppy eyes fixed on you. His voice lacked confidence, he hesitated for a moment, he asked quietly. "Can I?" You nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

After a moment, you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, tender and sweet. You had waited so long for this, and his absolute gentleness and feelings melted your heart without the slightest problem. You felt like you were the only people in the world, especially since everything around you was quiet and calm that night, practically intimate without the actual intimacy. Life just happened and you were somewhere in between, not in a rush. You always had to be rushing somewhere after all.

The conclusion from his actions was one. He felt the same way. You thanked all the gods and heavens for that. You didn't even want to think about the disaster that would happen if he didn't reciprocate your feelings and you had to keep working together, not to mention the tragic ending of your friendship. But at that moment, besides your still shaking hands, something else was hiding in the darkness - a smile on your face.

Maybe everything wasn't supposed to be so bad.

Oh sweet child, what a stupid impression.

~

It wasn't until you became a couple that you realized how little had changed in your relationship. You weren't sure if it was just too romantic before or too platonic now, but it was pretty much the same thing, with the added bonus of showing affection. Your relationship was built on all these little things and there was never a moment when your heart stopped feeling warm. You were really, really happy with the way things were.

For a short moment you regained some of the sparkle in your eyes, take advantage of it.

If Derek had talked about having your hips glued together before, it was hard to say what it could be called now. It wasn't that you were blabbing about your relationship left and right, in fact the fact that your relationship had even happened had stayed between you for a few weeks. You spent a few evenings off from work wondering what to do with the new label of this relationship. Telling Hotch was one option, and keeping it a secret and hiding it in every way possible was another. Both had their pros and cons, because in theory, a relationship between agents wasn't necessarily indicated, so it was more reasonable to admit it than to have him find out later on his own. Hiding it was also reasonable, considering the nature of your work, the dangerous nature, the possibility that someone might use it someday. Well, you didn't come up with a solution right away.

The fact that Spencer would bring you coffee every morning, or the exchange of small smiles, and the fact that you would sit on the edge of his desk while you talked wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It had happened even before there was anything like a relationship between you.

After a few weeks, you decided and went to Hotch to sort it out and not expose yourselves to any unpleasantness related to your new relationship - a relationship between two agents. Potential risk? Hard to say. But maybe it was better to explain it to him honestly, like adults. After all, it was inadvisable, but not forbidden either.

Spencer squeezed your hand in comfort and leaned towards you. "It'll be okay." The warmth of his hand helped a little and brought you back to earth.

"I take you for granted. And you better be right." You turned to face him for a moment. That sounded like one of your joking threats to Spencer. It wasn't the least bit funny to you at the time.

You entered Hotch's office first, with Spencer right behind you. He was on the phone, but quickly put it away. You took a breath. When his gaze landed on you, you still wanted to turn around, run away, hide and hide. But it was too late. You turned your head slightly towards Spencer. And then you wandered with your gaze wherever you could.

To your surprise, the conversation with Hotch was so... ordinary. You felt quite surprised by this turn of events. None of your theories had panned out. Besides, they had no chance of panning out, it was impossible. You loved to imagine a million versions of a single event in your head, and mostly the worst versions. It clashed with your optimism.

Or maybe that optimism was fading anyway.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye through the window of Hotch's office that Derek, with an expression of obvious defeat written on his face, was giving Penelope a twenty dollar bill as soon as they noticed you two. Penelope had just won a bet of sorts and you felt disbelief, but at the same time a smile was also trying to creep up on your lips. You squeezed Spencer's hand imperceptibly tighter. For a moment you were distracted and focused on Morgan and Garcia. You didn't bring it up, it was just a little stupidity between them, one of many

Your relationship wasn't a big obstacle as long as it didn't affect the team's work, your cooperation in the field, or involve showing romantic feelings at work. 'And no intimate contact!' He even emphasized that a few times, but in an even more professional way. Not that you had any plans and you were an adult, so you shouldn't have been nervous, yet your cheeks and nose suddenly became more rosy. It ended with a few signatures and sending you out of the office with nothing. Overall he said that as long as you are happy, it's good. He went back to talking on the phone and reporting, which were more important to him at the time than such problems with agents.

You and Spencer were there for each other.

~

Everything seemed pretty fine until the headache and sleep problems came. And after it another headache and another headache. Sleep problems were nothing new, they happened every once in a while, but then they became more frequent. You thought it was temporary, caused by stress and fatigue, maybe not drinking enough water and being slightly dehydrated, but it only got worse. Often and routinely. The medication didn't help much, and the tests, head and brain scans showed nothing.

Spencer was almost going crazy thinking that this was early schizophrenia, some stage of the disease and he would end up like his own mother, which was his biggest nightmare. The knowledge that in a dozen or so years he might not remember anything, only have flashes of what he knew, become useless. He wanted to use his full potential. He was supposed to be a genius, to come up with something that would help slow down the progression of his mother's disease, not a useless piece of crap whose life would slip through his fingers because of the cavities in his head.

It had nothing to do with schizophrenia at the end of the day, but it was problematic enough. They were migraines, strong and painful migraines. They didn't seem dangerous in a long run, were not comparable in terms of potential danger to anything related to the disorder he suspected, however they were difficult for Spencer and he was clearly suffering, the sight that broke your heart.

You didn't want to see him like this, you wanted to do everything to make him feel better. You weren't an expert in medicine, but you used the comforting methods you knew to make him feel at least a little better, a little more mundane than the medical ones. You stayed at his apartment a lot more often, slept there a lot more often, to be completely sure about his pain, to help him through sleepless nights, to provide him with some peace. At one point, you practically lived there. Despite your sincere efforts, compresses, warm teas, kisses on the head and careful massaging of his temples, it wasn't enough, maybe it just helped slightly. You really tried and he knew it too, sometimes he even thought and mentioned, that he didn't deserve you.

You wanted to find someone who knew about these kinds of conditions. You knew that Spencer had more contacts and connections because he was in the scientific community, so he could do more, he could take care of himself, but you wanted to do something too. You spent your nights just to find a doctor, a scientist, anyone. This situation wasn't good for you either. Almost every time you worried about Spencer, it took its toll on you. The nerves and helplessness became overwhelming. You yourself experienced headaches, but you just clenched your teeth. It was from exhaustion and you wouldn't admit it. Spencer thought you didn't have to do it, to sacrifice and worry so much, he always reminded you of that.

You were there for him, nothing new.

Wait, sweetheart.

You know you weren't the only one anymore? Really, no one told you?

You were about to give up, thinking that there was no point in searching any longer. More frustration than concern flowed through you. Mostly frustration with yourself. But you found it. You had it. You found a geneticist who could help. You felt enlightened and filled with hope. You hadn't felt this kind of hope in a long time.

There she was.

Dr. Maeve Donovan

You felt convinced, you had a feeling she would be the solution to Spencer's problems. He had no doubts when you suggested that Maeve look at the scans. You sent them by email, but you didn't go into why that was the right way for her. It wasn't your business after all. She had reviewed Spencer's MRI scans of brain, partly to help, partly out of pure scientific interest, he was a brilliant mind after all. Unlike other doctors, she saw the solution in these headaches and sleeping problems. After a few weeks of analysis, she wrote everything down, including recommendations and a prescription for some medications that you knew a little about because of how immersed you were in the whole topic of migraines, insomnia, and even paranoid schizophrenia, despite everything, Spencer knew more about these meds.

~

Months passed. I guess. You were losing count. Something was wrong and you knew it. Not with Spencer, he was slowly getting better and was in less and less pain, he didn't wake up at night as often and he wasn't in more pain during the day. You were relieved to see your beloved getting better, the meds were working, and he was regaining his nerdy drive and commitment to everything. It was a precious sight you had been waiting for.

So you should have been happy, it was wiser not to dig anything up. You didn't have a habit of behaving like that. Since Soencer was acting strange at least, you had to find out what was going on and why he wasn't telling you. He always trusted you, he told you everything, and if he didn't say something, he still mentioned the situation. Now he was avoiding anything that could be related to his behavior. He was nervous, as if stressed, sometimes he would suddenly disappear at Sundays and come back after a few minutes without a word. Later he was a bit concerned, but he tried to get back to reality. And later he would even sneak out during work, when you were with the team in the field. Sometimes you'd see notes and a pen left around his apartment, like he was writing letters. You never tried to read them, but you felt a pang in your heart.

Your intuition wasn't some great mechanism, but it wasn't stupid either. You saw him get even more worked up one afternoon. That was when Maeve told him she loved him. But you were so blissfully unaware that you were in that position. Spencer wasn't a cheater, that much was for sure. He froze for a moment after hearing those words, but he didn't answer her. He thought about what to do with this new awareness, he thought a lot.

When, during one of the cases, after Spencer had a quick conversation with Blake, she gave him a ride somewhere, you felt like something was happening completely behind your back. At least Alex already knew what was going on after she confronted him near the telephone booth. And so she promised him she wouldn't tell anyone, so you remained in unconsciousness. Unconsciousness that was no longer blissful.

And then you saw a book wrapped carefully in ribbon in Spencer's apartment, even if Spencer wasn't particularly artistic. You didn't look in there. You didn't know if it would calm down or if you'd find out something you didn't want to know. He didn't even noticed you'd noticed the book, he was behaving the same way as last time. A little nervous, but pretending to be normal. You were also a profiler, he couldn't hide it from you, even if you didn't make a habit of profiling your loved ones, it didn't agree with your morals. Well, you made plenty of exceptions for Spencer, so why should this be any different?

You loved this living room 'cause of the light. As you stood by the bookshelf, staring at the spines of old, yellowed books whose arrangement you already knew by heart, Spencer came up behind you, a slightly sheepish smile on his face. You knew that look on his face. You often cut his hair because he wasn't very comfortable with having a barber do it. He didn't like the feeling of a stranger messing with his hair, it wasn't pleasant in any way, even if most of society disagreed.

“Umm… I’m starting to think I look weird.” He began uncertainly, referring to his hair. “It’s a little too long, I think.”

You stared at him for a moment, your gaze darting between his face and his hair, you smiled. You had thought about proposing a haircut to him a few days ago, but in the end you didn't. The request seemed rather sudden. Finally, you reached out and touched his hair, and he leaned slightly into your touch. He found it a pleasant experience.

"I don't know, I like it. It's not too long yet." You admitted as you focused on his hair and kept running your fingers through it, trying to style it.

"You think so?"

You didn't know why he was so determined about it, or why he cared so much at that time. As if there were already too many strange things happening that you couldn't explain, another one was just happening.

"Yeah, it's fine. Trust me, Spence."

“Okay.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. This kiss was warm and sincere, as always, but it had a slightly different tone than what he usually gave, more... apologizing? What the hell did he have to apologize for?

You didn't bring up the subject of hair again. You didn't know, but Alex had told him that his hair was fine the way it was and it wouldn't affect what Maeve thought. It would be funny if you were the one who cut his hair to meet her. And your eyes kept returning to the white cover and the ribbon - The narrative of John Smith

You thought you were stupid, that you were really just making up a story to yourself because you were too bored, that it was just your stupid overthinking and nothing was happening, you were drawing too many conclusions and adding a story to everything. You thought you were crazy, that something was wrong with you. You should have been happy that Spencer was no longer suffering and in pain, not making up events that you had no idea about.

What if you were right?

~

While at work one day that seemed as normal as any other, except for the constant doubts in the back of your mind, you saw Spencer briskly walk to Hotch's office without a word. He was there longer than you expected, which certainly didn't comfort you. And then you were all in the bullpen, around Spencer, whose voice was breaking.

"... He thinks he'll get away with this and he might." He stared at the floor and didn't look up. "I have a wealth of knowledge I should be applying to this case. Behavioral patterns of violent stalkers, tactical recovery strategies, victim survival odds. But right now I can't focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time, which makes me the dumbest person in the room." All eyes were fixed on him, it was an unexpected situation. "So... please help me. Help me find her."

Sometimes you felt small glances at you. You clenched your hand on the edge of the desk. You weren't even mad. You felt your stomach drop. Maeve, same Maeve. How could all this be happening so close to you and you were so stupid? You didn't say anything, just like everyone else. The difference was that the others were taken aback, surprised, but you were just numb.

After a moment, Hotch spoke up, even his tone of voice was a little different than usual. "We don't know if we have a case. So we'll be working on personal time. Does anybody want to leave?"

Silence.

You swallowed hard, but did nothing. You didn't leave, you stood there, leaning against the desk. It seemed impossible. This was all a bad dream. If nothing happened, then you weren't betrayed, right? Still, your heart ached. Your heart ached for another reason. You couldn't even feel angry because you were more concerned with his trembling, cracking voice. What the hell was wrong with you. What was even worse was that Spencer didn't have the courage to look at you. His gaze wandered, staring at the floor, his gaze meeting everything and everyone but you.

"Good. Let's get to work."

Soon, you were sitting at the same round table as always. All of their letters in front of you. The same written pages that you had seen in Spencer's apartment, but that you had never touched. You hadn't spoken to him since his confession and plea for help. You should have occupied yourself with the fact that this was about the life of an innocent woman, approached it professionally, but you couldn't. Looking at these letters, holding them in your hands and reading them, you pressed your lips into a line. You didn't share your thoughts or observations. In fact, you didn't have any, because all the letters merged into one, and you weren't able to think deeper.

Spencer was clearly taking it, looking worse than he had during any stressful case, worse than he had during any other stressful event. And you wanted to help him, or take him aside and talk to him. But he didn't seem to have a clear head to talk. What were you supposed to do anyway? Comfort him? You were the first loved one, it wasn't fair to you. Who said feelings were fair? Were you supposed to yell at him? In his condition, it wouldn't do any good anyway, and you'd only say too many words because of how you felt now.

He was angry, he didn't behave rationally, he stretched all possible theories. You had never seen Spencer like this, so emotional.

And you thought he was emotional when you were shot in the stomach during one of the cases five, maybe four years ago.

You remember his panic, your hot, scarlet blood on his hands, the pressure of his hand on your stomach where the bullet was and the tears in his eyes. And you smiled slightly at him, you don't know why, but you weren't even scared. You didn't feel any pain, because of the adrenaline in your body. You lost so much blood at the same time that you started to feel blissful, maybe that's why you weren't afraid. He acted like a hothead, and you thought there was no need to panic.

He sat in the hospital all night, right under the operating room, when you were being operated on. For several days he sat in the hospital almost constantly, slept on those uncomfortable chairs and showed you the greatest care. He was the first person you saw after waking up. The team and the nurses practically had to drag him away from the room and the hospital.

He brought you everything that could help you recover faster and smuggled in some snacks when you made pretty eyes, although according to the regulations he shouldn't do that. He explained that he wasn't doing it because it was your whim, but because after losing so much blood you should eat chocolate to normalize. You knew that wasn't his intention, but you appreciated the clever excuse.

It doesn't change the fact that you lost a part of yourself back then.

But his behavior back then was nothing like what he was now. A nervous wreck. He wanted to do everything in his power to save Maeve. How could you have known they were in touch? You thought that after the meds were prescribed, it was over. But no, she had sent him a letter praising his article on psychology. You tried to work on it, like everyone else, you really did, but you felt like shit. Maybe she was what he had always been looking for? They were interested in similar things, had similar topics and knowledge in different areas. Maybe you were just too stupid for the long term, didn't have that much to offer.

Weren't you his love by any chance?

Anyway, you didn't even talk. You didn't bring yourself to talk, you didn't look at him. The team's hard work had paid off, even if the atmosphere was tense and heavy. You were supposed to find Maeve, find out where Diane was holding her. Diane had already killed Bobby, Donovan's ex-fiancé. After her efforts, Garcia discovered where both women could be. Hotch absolutely forbade Spencer from showing up at the scene, but Spencer clearly protested. He wanted to pretend to Diane what he felt for Maeve - love.

After those words, you really felt like nothing.

You no longer showed him the same sweet support you always did, you couldn't, but by not giving up on your help you also made it clear that you wouldn't just abandon him. Despite the lack of contact between you, you devoted your nights to this matter, you slept worse than usual and drank more coffee. Don't kid yourself, you didn't really sleep because you were thinking about your relationship. Was it real or was it your imagination? You weren't working, you were consumed by thoughts and you were losing all of yourself in it.

So you were there for him, well, more for his cause, but for him.

~

Outskirts of town. Spencer entered the old, abandoned building first. None of you thought it was a good idea, but you didn't stop him. You felt the pain in this whole situation, and you were even more afraid of something happening to him. Well, it was because you loved him. You didn't know if he loved you the same anymore. You couldn't even think about 'no'. You were exhausted for the past few days.

You waited there impatiently, not knowing what was going on inside. At least you didn't see that fake kiss between Diane and Spencer. You knew it would be wiser to step in there, so that's what you did. They tried to keep you at a distance, to the side, so you wouldn't do anything stupid under the influence of emotions. Spencer tried to negotiate with Diane, who was holding a terrified Maeve, while with her other hand she was holding a gun to her own temple. You kept your cool, just like Spencer, but you could see his nervousness.

"He's the one thing you can never take from us." You heard Maeve's last, quiet words, and then a noise.

A bang, a screech in your ears, and a large, spreading stain of blood on the floor. Both women lying on the cold floor, their hair in dark blood, and a gun nearby. You looked at Spencer, who was rooted to the ground, with tears in his eyes. He quickly approached the lying, still warm Maeve. The bullet flew through the head of one and stopped in the head of the other. There was nothing left to save from the shot brain. Spencer's beloved was currently bleeding out in his arms, his hands were completely covered in sticky blood, and tears were running down his cheeks, staining her pale skin and face, from which the life had gone.

Everyone was in shock, no one made a move or said anything. Tears welled up in your own eyes. Partly because of how Spencer felt, how tragic his condition was, partly because you only just realized what was happening. He was crying hard over the body of another woman, whispering quiet words to her, hoping she would hear them, even though it was a foolish hope. He was too stunned to do anything at that point, so you walked up to them, her blood was also on your hands, you thought you could still save her yourself, even though there was no chance of that.

~

He helped her parents bury her. He was there until the end... in fact, he was there even longer. Everyone else had gone, and he was left at the grave. No, he wasn't there alone. He was there with you. You helped him in everything. You loved him and watched him bury and mourn his beloved woman. He hadn't slept in many nights, his eyes were red and his face was drawn and sunken, and he had probably lost weight. He didn't remember much of the ceremony, he was numb and had been on sedatives for several days.

Days passed, and attempts to contact Spencer were in vain, he wasn't at work, he didn't answer his phone. You went to the staircase of his apartment, to the tenement house where he lived. You'd sometimes pass JJ or Blake going up or down the same stairs. You knew the stairs by heart by now, and every time you went on the second floor up them it only got worse. Penelope left more baskets of food and necessary things by his door. Eventually they disappeared, he had to take them when no one was there, he had to survive somehow, not leaving the apartment.

You couldn't handle it, but you tried not to show it. Despite that, the rest seemed to notice your suffering. They certainly did, knowing how close you were. Suddenly you felt betrayed, rejected. What the fuck was that? You were always there for him, always, you loved him, he seemed to love you sincerely too. And in the end, he suffered because of the loss of another woman. How did she achieve this so quickly? You wanted to be understanding, but you didn't know how. You had the right to hate him, but you didn't do that either. You were left empty.

Without optimism, without a spark in the eyes, without what you started with.

You knocked on his door again, even though you had a feeling it wouldn't make much difference. Your voice was loud enough to be heard, but tired.

"You know Spencer, it's me again." You started uncertainly, having to think about every word so as not to say something stupid. It was a delicate situation. After a moment, you continued. "I just want to know how you're holding up." You leaned toward the dark, wooden door with a small plaque with the number 23.

You heard faint movements and rustling on the other side of the door, but no response. You sighed quietly. "Maybe you don't want to talk to anyone. Okay, I'm not forcing you. I think I look a little stupid talking to the door, though."

Suddenly you heard the sound of the lock turning in the door. The door opened slowly, as if he was wondering if he wanted to open it. Finally you saw him in the doorway, dressed in a thick sweater, deep in mourning. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair uncombed. The curtains in the apartment were drawn, and it was a general mess, which you could only see because of what you could see behind him, in the back of the apartment. "Hey." He was barely holding on.

You wanted to help him, to be there for him again, but you no longer felt entitled to do so. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you into the apartment. You immediately opened one of the windows, not much, just enough so that the fresh air would make him feel better. You repeated your previous question. You were standing close to him, but at a safe distance. "How are you feeling?" You asked in a soft voice with your typical concern.

"Not so well." He answered shortly, he didn't have the strength to talk.

You didn't push. Hell, you couldn't even talk to him. It was almost like you were standing there with a stranger, not with the man, you loved so much. The light you loved so much was gone from this room. It was almost completely dark. The air was thick with lose and indecision.

He walked over to you, more tears flowing from his eyes. Suddenly you were his support again. He hadn't really cried in days, he just didn't have the strength anymore. Seeing you made him realize everything he had done. He clung to you like you were his last lifeline, he clung to no one else but you. You heard his sobbing and some quiet words, you didn't even understand what they were, there were tears in your eyes too, but you didn't hug him like you usually did.

On the corner of the table, the same book was lying again, this time without the brown ribbon. You were lucky you didn't see the dedication inside. It would have destroyed you even more. Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another.

He cried on your shoulder, and you pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart. Why did he even feel entitled to this, why did he keep leaning on you? You felt like screaming. You really wanted to scold him, but it probably wasn't appropriate at the time.

Again you were there for him, it was always you at the end of the day.

~

The atmosphere at work was tense, heavy. Everyone seemed to be behaving normally, but it wasn't like usual. No one talked to you about the incident anymore, except maybe Penelope, who as always tried to talk to you, to make you feel a little relieved, brought you those herbal, sweet teas with syrups that you loved. She didn't delve into the subject, so as not to drag out your own pain, she skirted the subject all the time. Basically, everyone was tiptoeing around you, which irritated you. Damn, you didn't want any forced pity.

A few weeks passed, Spencer went back to work, but you didn't talk more than necessary and everyone noticed the changes between you. You became colder, distant. After all, your relationship wasn't supposed to affect the team's work. But was it even a relationship anymore?

You bit your nails, picked at the cuticles around your nails, scratched off the polish. You clenched your fists, dug your nails into your palms, leaving indentations in the shape of half moons on the palms of your hands. Every morning you looked at him with a storm in your eyes, and he didn't notice the signals you were sending him.

You had to talk to him, there was no other way. He had avoided you during Maeve's case and the funeral, and after that you had only had this one, harmless conversation because you didn't want to overwhelm him with more things right away. But now you were the one who was overwhelmed. You cared about his well-being, but not your own. It had always been like that, you were mainly concerned about him, even if it was ultimately overwhelming for you.

Was it worth it? Because I don't think so.

Having a free moment, you approached him and approached him. You wondered if you should do it or just back off, but your tongue got the better of you and the words came out. "We should talk."

He immediately turned to you. He knew this conversation would come, but somehow he wasn't ready for it. But he also knew how much worry and pain he had caused you, he couldn't put it off forever and keep running away. Grief wasn't an excuse. "Fine."

You found a spot in the hallway, a little more private, far enough away so you wouldn't be conspicuous through the glass doors. No one in the bullpen needed to hear your conversation or see what you did. You didn't promise predictability.

You could see he wanted to start calmly, like it always was between you, but you started abruptly first. "Spencer, what was that all about?"

He wasn't looking at you again, suddenly the floor seemed much more interesting. "What does that mean?"

"Don't suddenly act stupid, you're not stupid and unintelligent. What was wrong with our relationship?" You play brave, tough. You play because you don't feel that way.

He looked up, his lips pressed into a line. “Nothing. Everything was fine.” His answers were distant.

You shook your head slightly. “Spencer, talk to me, I don’t want any half-spells. You know what, I would expect this from anyone, anyone, but you."

He let you down, he let you down and that hurt him the most. He wasn't what you deserved. "I'm sorry." You could feel the shame in his voice but you didn't want shame or an apology because there was nothing left to save.

"I don't want your sorry. I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy. I didn't expect anything in return, not even though I got your feelings in return, I'm not saying I didn't, I won't lie. But how did you replace me so easily?" And your bravery quickly crumbled, and tears appeared in your eyes, you blinked a few times.

Silence.

"Do something, say something! You won't lose anything anyway." You were starting to get angry. This was the first time you had been angry at him like this and you had allowed yourself to be angry. "Because what else can you lose?" Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut and not said that. It sucks, it happens.

He swallowed hard. "You. I could lose you." He knew those words wouldn't do much now, but he tried anyway.

"Oh, you're just now thinking about this? And where, excuse me, were you earlier?! Sorry I forgot, in a phone booth. And you didn't see my gray face, how sick we've become, and if you noticed, you wouldn't admit it." You didn't mince your words, you deserved to be genuinely mad.

"I..."

You should have let him talk, you should have, but you didn't. "No, listen to me! You acted like the biggest, selfish asshole and I don't know what you were thinking!" He had never seen you so upset with him, but he didn't interrupt. "What did you miss, what did I miss?"

He deserved those words, he knew he deserved them. He didn't even try to argue, he accepted the harsh words. It hurt him more when he heard your question. "No, no, you didn't lack anything. It's my fault and I'm really sorry. You were so good and sweet to me, it's all my fault." He didn't want to lose you too, but he worked for it.

"You can't change anything, beating yourself up now won't change anything... Spence." You hesitated to address him that way at all. You weren't as loud as you had been a few seconds ago, but I guess he preferred it that way. It was easier for him to accept your anger and the hurling of insults than the disappointment in your voice. And that was exactly what was in your voice - disappointment.

He looked almost like a beaten puppy. "I know, I realize that." He thought for a moment; he wasn't in the habit of swearing. "I screwed up."

"Yes, and I don't deny it. I really thought you'd be honest. I wish I had known from the beginning, maybe it would have been easier." You had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't be stupid enough to cry. "I thought it was honest. My own pain was such an imposition."

He reached out and ran his hand through the hair on top of your head. He didn't want to scare you, to do something you wouldn't like, he held his hand there for a moment. "It wasn't an imposition, don't think like that. And you shouldn't have known this from the start, in fact I shouldn't have done it at the first."

You wanted to ask what Maeve had that you didn't, but you didn't even have the courage. You pulled his hand away from your hair. "Those are nice words, but we both know you can't take back your actions, which said something completely different." You bit the inside of your cheek until you finally spoke again. "You're losing me."

He didn't blame you for rejecting his hand, he understood that perfectly well, you had every right to avoid him, but he still felt a pang. He shook his head slightly. "No, don't say that, please."

"But it's over, Spence. You kind of decided that yourself. I'm really sorry she's gone, but helping with a case like hers is one thing, and love is another. I know you and I saw, well... that." You didn't want to bring up the brutal murder directly. "That's what love looked like."

For a moment you stood in silence, he couldn't deny it and you didn't know what to say. Without a word you turned around and started walking down the hallway towards the glass doors, a few tears in your eyes balanced between your lash line and the corners of your eyes.

Spencer lost something again, but you were no longer there for him.

See? I told you so.

You know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone.

[vidavalor]

Hmmm...I feel like I asked you this before,but why do you think Crowley doesn't like the 14th century??

I don't think you have actually, Rouge. Aww, the grumpy Crowley picture, my heart! I had missed him so. 😁 I can answer that, yeah, especially if you help me consume the holiday treats I'm lucky enough to have from some lovelies?

Why does Crowley hate the 14th century?

The short answer is also the only answer here and that's really just that the 14th century was, by all accounts, godawful. Especially if you lived in Europe, as Crowley and Aziraphale did then.

Yes, there is always hope and lovely people and somebody making art somewhere no matter what else is happening but heed this warning now: when we all start time-traveling, there will be these dirt cheap options to go to the 14th century and you should remember this post and definitely not do that. 😂

Here are some reasons why (and nowhere near all, as Tumblr only has so much space...):

Early in the century, The Great Famine of 1315-1317 hits Europe. Several years in a row of terrible weather ruins crops and, compounding the problem, a terrible disease rips through the cattle and sheep population at the same time as the crops fail, decimating the cattle and sheep population by an estimated 80%. Millions starve to death and millions more go half-mad from the lack of food, causing crime to also increase. The foundations of society start to shake as so many are sickly or dead that the ability to keep everything going begins to come close to collapsing. This is just the warm-up for the century...

This is already an era that is very hard to live in. We couldn't hack it then with our modern comforts and expectations. There's no indoor plumbing or heating or electricity. Medical and scientific knowledge was more limited so there were no vaccines and no understanding of germ theory. Diseases that we have eradicated today entirely or can treat and make no longer life-threatening would rip through populations in waves on the regular. Life expectancy was much shorter because of the inability to inoculate against viruses-- and, really, from a lack of understanding of germs and disease in the first place. No one understands enough about disease to even think about societal efforts to stop the spread because they don't yet know what a virus is.

These are the conditions when The Black Death-- bubonic plague-- shows up in 1346. It kills tens of millions. By the end of the 14th century, as a result of Black Death and wars, Europe's population has halved compared to what it was at the start of the century. Life expectancy was never great but now, with bubonic plague atop all of the other diseases already in existence, it becomes wild for someone to live past the age of 30. The average lifespan drops to 26 and families are having so many children because the diseases we've eradicated today through vaccines still exist and kill them in huge numbers, with 20-30% of all kids dying before they reach the age of 5.

In the midst of this? The average person was illiterate. Gutenberg's printing press wouldn't be invented until the 15th century and the ability to mass-produce written works with it is what helped it become the norm in Western societies for the average person to know how to read. Aziraphale and Crowley, in the 14th century, would have been able to get access to written works mostly by associating with priests and high-ranking members of royal courts, as these men were the main people who were able to read and write and were responsible for keeping records and transcribing materials.

There were still playwrights and artists and scientists and everything but the 14th century is also an age of rampant anti-intellectualism and all the insanity that comes with people being against knowledge and science and art. While there are always people making art and learning new things in every era, there's kind of a reason why when you think about great advancements in humanity, the 14th century is not really the time period of which you think. Technically, the Italian Renaissance began during the 14th century but basically every major work in it was made well after it and it's more like the foundations for it were put into place during this era-- probably by Crowley and Aziraphale having had enough lol.

It's an era of persecuting scientists, condemning art, being suspicious of people with knowledge in basically any field... there's a lot of calling people trying to do anything other than pray, starve or die sorcerers and witches and demonic and all that nonsense. There's hate everywhere, especially rampant antisemitism, with pogroms in the later part of the century where countless Jews were rounded up and murdered in the streets.

Atop all of this, Italy suffers an enormous earthquake that is also felt across parts of Europe that, when coupled with all the death and suffering, does what things like that have always done throughout history... increase the number of people who now think the End Times are upon them and usher in all sorts of extra doomsday-prep weirdness.

This is all egged on by the fact that societies across Europe are basically on the verge of collapse as a result of The Black Death killing so many people and everyone is grieving and afraid and on edge. It's also helpful to know that, in between all this famine and death? There's also wars on all over the planet. Basically every established country on Earth is at war with another one for the majority of the 14th century (to be fair, this is true of most of history) and the one happening in Crowley and Aziraphale's backyard of England was no picnic.

The Hundred Years War started in 1337. Historians consider its end date, uh... 1453. It was a war between England and France, who also had a whole civil war in there in the middle of it. There were some attempts at truces and some 'sorry, too many people are dying from the plague for us to keep trying to kill one another right now-- revisit this next year?' periods but the conflict continued for over a century. It was largely triggered by... what else?... the English king at the time-- Edward III-- trying to say that he should also be king of France. Surprisingly lol, no one in France was really into that idea... England and France both also see these massive revolts of working class people in response to the high taxes of the war, the limited resources, the plague, etc..

This is just a handful of the likely top reasons why the 14th century was not Crowley's favorite. I don't think Aziraphale was very fond of it, either. They're two curious, literate, food-loving, peaceful, warm-hearted people, and they would have spent that century drowning in the worst of the human experience.

I'm sure they think about all that misery sometimes when they're warm and comfortable without miracles and enjoying seeing greatly reduced child mortality and many people living past a century. They probably often think about it when they're eating food sourced from around the world that exists in plenty, especially in places like The Ritz, that would have been unimaginable for most during the 14th century.

[selene-moonie]

Jean Kirschtein Simp Post

I love Jean Kirschtein. He had me in the palm of his hand from the moment he challenged Eren for being a suicidal maniac (AND HE WAS RIGHT!!!), and when he debuted in s4, he was basically my husband.

Bless his s4 visuals because he didn't need to look this good, like damn.

Again, Jean calling out Eren for for constantly attempting suicide as well as being irresponsible in his fights got me from the get-go. I watched Eren be irresponsible and I watched everyone else applaud him for being courageous but I don't think they understood that Eren already had little to live for, so it wasn't courage. It was the only option. Eren was fearless for the most part. Jean telling him he's suicidal and irresponsible was refreshing, and it showed that Jean had a better head on his shoulders than most of their cohorts.

Actually, this plays into what Marco told Jean - that he'd would make a good leader. It's because Jean is aware of his surroundings and makes good use of it. Eren on the other hand, bites off more than he can chew then lets his friends clean up his mess. That's why they clash. Jean sees how things can be handled with the least amount of casualties, and Eren fights. And even then, Jean ends up growing up and moving past things with Eren till s4, when Eren becomes a problem again.

Additionally, I love the way Jean loves. Openly, honestly, wholeheartedly. Now, he's a smart man, so he knew not to mess with a girl clearly in love with someone else, but you could see how openly he'd loved Mikasa if they'd gotten together. Like he'd be giddy and happy all the time - because he has the girl he wants. Also, loyalty? Seven years after they met and he was still fantasising about her.

Also Jean can cook. That's just chef's kiss, no pun intended. I love me a man that can cook. And I know he, Connie and Sasha were swapping recipes over the years. They had a ball in the kitchen if Sasha didn't eat everything.

I say this in every post as well - but his friendships with Connie and Sasha humanised him. They matched his energy and took his ass down a peg or 10. They were the siblings he didn't have, but needed. Like you can't tell me he's just some vain/arrogant guy when he has the capability of having deep relationships with others like what he had with Connie and Sasha. I'll this again as well - Sasha never went a day not knowing that Jean and Connie had her back.

But yeah, seeing him go from this arrogant little teenage shit, to a capable man was a sight to behold. All his dreams were crushed and he changed course. He wanted to be best best, and he ended up being one of the best (can't beat Annie and Mikasa). His friend that hyped him up the most? Dead - titan vomit. The girl he loved? In love with someone else. Becoming military police? A waste of his skills in light of the real fight being with the titans. The high rise apartment? Probably still a possibility, but when do they actually live in their homes as soldiers? Jean had some of the best character development I've seen in fucking ages.

One of the things I resonated with the most was the fact that he kept fighting. He kept moving forward. Even when he'd cover his ears and fantasise about his high rise apartment in Wall Sheena with Mikasa and their child - he'd get up and deal with reality. Do you know how fucking hard that is? When you have a real and genuine fear of what life is, and you still get up to face it - that's true courage. That's something I'll admire till the day I die.

Now that we're done talking about his personality, let's talk looks because his s4 visuals were absolute fucking crack. I don't know what Isayama put into his visuals, but he did it right. Honestly everyone looked great but due to my attraction to Jean, he looked even better. The mullet he'd slick back? Just his looks in general? Absolute fucking crack, and I am just an addict. Jean is the full package. The full fucking package.

I have this headcanon (basically a modern au) that he likes expensive cologne and has a somewhat meticulous grooming routine. He cooks a lot, and it's like French restaurant quality, but he'll never forget his humble omurice roots. As an individual, he's cool and respectful, but it's always chaos with Connie and Sasha. He's a private person and excels in his dedicated career/job, and be he loves openly. He doesn't hide who he loves or that he loves them. Like, he's a person at the end of the day, but just a really cool one. Also he's responsible.

Anyway yeah, Jean Kirschtein is perfection incarnate and I stand by that.

[mattysprincess]

Love me like it’s the last thing you’ll do.

This is the prequel to this Drabble

SMUT! MDNI!!

It’s not proofread so if you find any mistakes don’t be shy to DM me!! And I’m always open for criticism and tips!

You and Mattheo had been dating for around 1 month, you kept your relationship Private for now because as much as he loved you… he was still scared of others viewing him as weak for actually having feelings, for being in love.

For the record, Mattheo Riddle has never been in a relationship nor romantically involved with any girl ever, it was all hookups and one night stands and so you understood that he wanted to take it slow, understanding his worries and fears.

The problem with that however is that you can’t show affection to eachother in public, leading to others thinking you’re single and free to hit on… which Mattheo can’t seem to handle very well.

Mattheo shoots you a quick text after some overly confident Gryffindor tried flirting with you.

‘My dorm. Now.’

That doesn’t sound too good… You immediately make your way to his dorm, not bothering to knock, as always, you slowly push the door open revealing a frowning Mattheo pacing in his room. “Why were you so close to him?” He immediately shoots and his tone confirms your bad feeling. “Mattheo-“ “Why the fuck were you even with him? Did he make you laugh? Is he better? Did you flirt with him-?!” “Mattheo.”

Your firm voice cuts through his questions and he looks at you as you step closer, standing right infront of him now. “Will you let me speak?’’ He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but nods. “Thank you.. no, I did not flirt with him, no he didn’t make me laugh and no he isn’t better than you. He came up to me and tried to flirt but I told him I’m not interested and to use his awful flirting skills with someone else.” You cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumb back and forth gently. “You know you’re the only one I allow to flirt with me…”

Mattheos expression soften at your words and touch, feeling guilty for even thinking you would. “I’m sorry I just- I don’t know… I hate when guys think they can flirt with you and have a chance with you.” He lifts one hand to cup yours that’s on his cheek, squeezing lightly. You smile at his little gesture and apology, letting out a soft breath.

“It’s okay Matty… just next time let me speak first, yeah?” you chuckle softly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, making him let out a chuckle under his breath.

“I don’t deserve you…” he mutters lowly, looking at you like you’re the most precious living and breathing thing. You feel a light pink dust your cheeks, yet a frown finds its way to your lips. “Matty… you do deserve me.” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper and he just shakes his head. “Baby… you’re everything I never will be. You’re soft, delicate, sweet… you’re like a ray of sunshine wherever you go. You make people happy just by smiling at them, your voice brings others comfort and warmth. You’re every good thing bundled up into a person and I'm-" he sighs and sits down at the edge of his bed, looking down "and I’m me.” he murmurs.

The frown on your face stays as you walk up to stand between his legs, cupping his cheeks to coax him to look up at you. “look at me please my love..” you say softly, so much warmth in your tone that he can’t help the way his heart flutters, the way he looks up at you so willingly. He’d do anything if you’d just asked with that sweet voice of yours, one word, a simple syllable is enough to make him forget about everything else. “Mattheo you’re you and that’s what makes you so special.” you whisper, like sharing a secret with him “you say you’re not sweet, kind nor soft… but when you touch me it’s like I’m made out of the finest porcelain, when you talk to me I feel like I’m floating, you go out of your way to do anything that might make me crack a smile and you always help me with everything even if I keep telling you I can do it myself.” You smile at him, stroking his cheek and he smiles back lightly “I know you can do it yourself.. but I’m your boyfriend, I want to do it for you. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.” He takes one of your hands that’s on his cheek and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “This is why you deserve me Mattheo… me and so much more.” You whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

The kiss, supposed to be sweet, quickly gets deeper as he tangles one of his hands in your hair and his other pulls you onto his lap, pressing you flush against him. He nudges his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you grant him so willingly. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, exploring you like he’s done countless of times yet it still feels different. Softer, gentler, more passionate and like he’s pouring all of his love and affection into a single kiss. It’s making both your heart swell with love as well as make your pussy throb with excitement and desire and you know Mattheos feeling the same because the second you grind your hips down onto his you feel his bulge pressing flush against you, the only thing separating you being his pants and your panties.

“Fuck… baby I need you.” He murmur against your lips, his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, thumbs striking the undersides of your breasts as his mouth moves down to press hot opened mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your throat.

“Then take me, Matty… I’m only yours to take.” You breathe out, Mattheos eyes darkening as the words leave your mouth. “That’s right… mine.” He murmurs against your skin and lifts your shirt up and over your head, leaning back to admire you. “Merlin… you’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful girl.. all mine baby.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to you.

His hands roam your body, squeezing and caressing whatever he can, all the while whispering sweet nothings against your skin. You let him, sitting in his lap all soft and pliant and patient, just letting him feel you and worship you however he wants. His hands reach your thighs, going up and under your skirt, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties. “You gonna be a good girl and let me worship your pretty little body, baby?” He murmurs against your neck and all you can do is nod as your stomach flutters in the best way possible. “So perfect, such a perfect girl for me hm?” He grins, pulling your panties down your legs and patting your thigh, silently telling you to stand so you do. He pulls them down completely, then slowly unzips your skirt, letting it drop and pool at your feet. You stand before him, bare as he finally unclasps your bra and removes the last piece of clothing that’s preventing him from seeing all of you. He stands, towering above you as he grabs your waist and lays you down on the bed. “You’re beautiful… fuck you’re so perfect, baby, I could look at you forever and never get bored of it.” He whispers under his breath, looking at you with soft eyes yet you see the hunger behind them, the simmering heat of desire he’s only ever had for you. You reach up, fingers tangling in his curls before coming down to cup his cheeks “I wanna see you too, Matty… please.” The second you utter please, whatever it is, Mattheo will always give you. So he leans down to peck your lips, a lingering kiss, before leaning back and taking off his shirt. Now it’s your eyes roaming over his body, unashamed desire on full display as well as admiration for his trained and scarred body. His hands go down his belt, undoing it quickly and then unzipping his pants, kicking them off and leaning back over you. “That needs to go too.” You whisper with a smile and point to his black boxers, he grins back at you amusedly “someone’s impatient.” You raise a brow at him “as if you want to wait any longer?” He chuckles at that, pressing kisses from your forehead to your cheek and then finally to your lips “I wanna take my time with you tonight, Angel. Let me show you I love you… how much you mean to me.” Your lips part slightly as you look up at him, he sounds so vulnerable and genuine… you could never deny him anything, not that you wanted to anyways so you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m yours, Mattheo. Tonight, tomorrow, always.” He closes his eyes for a moment, heart beating dangerously fast and a smile graces his lips “and I’m yours, Angel. Tonight, tomorrow, always.”

With that he starts pressing open mouthed kisses down your body, taking a nipple between his lips as he reaches your breasts, making you moan as he swirls his tongue around it, sucking, licking and kissing while his hand is caressing the other bud. Your hands tangle in his unruly curls, tugging slightly as he gently bites you, not being able to resist it. He pop off your right nipple with a pop, blowing cool air on the wet bud and making goosebumps raise on your entire body. He moves to the other, giving it the same attention before moving further down to your stomach, kissing and licking whatever he can. When he gets down to your hips, he sucks a hickey right above where your panties would be.

He moves lower and lower but right past where you need him most, making your squirm slightly and he smirks. “Be patient, baby… I’ll give you what you want, just be good a little longer.” He murmur against the inside of your thighs, biting you there gently and making you yelp slightly and tug at his hair. His tongue goes over the spot he bit gently, soothing the sting and saying sorry. He litters your thighs in hickeys and bite marks until your legs are clenching and trembling from the heat that’s pooled right between your legs. “Matty please…” he chuckles slightly, looking up from between your legs “such good manners for me…” he licks a long stripe up your pussy, making you moan out as your head drops back against the pillow.

He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue reaching whatever it can. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your hips, one hand sprawled over your stomach possessively. Moans and whimpers tumble from your lips, his name on your tongue like a prayer as he devours you whole. The only thing on his mind is your pleasure, how to make you feel good… how he wants to be the only one to ever see you or make you feel this way, driven by those thoughts the dives in with even more fervour “I can feel you clench angel… cum for me, right on my tongue like a good girl.”

Those words push you over the edge, your whole body tensing up as you clench your thighs around his head and he swears he’s in heaven. He laps up your release, making you twitch and only when he’s made sure he’s got every last drop he lifts his head, crawling back over you and licking his lips “I might just need to give you a new nickname… you taste so sweet, fuck I’d give up every meal on this planet if it meant I got to eat you for the rest of my life,” he murmurs with a smile and you look up at him, chest heaving with pants, small smile on your lips “so what will you call me?” He grins at that “I think sweetness would fit you quite well, wouldn’t it?” That tears a small giggle from your lips, making Mattheo grin wider.

After calming down a bit, you tense up again as you feel his dick prodding at your entrance “oh you didn’t think we’re done, did you?” He grins “I’d be disappointed if we were, Matty.” And with that he slowly pushes in, making sure you feel every inch of his rock hard cock as he splits you open. You gasp, clawing at his back, it was always difficult to take him but with his gentle words and soft coos it somehow seems so much more intense then all the times before.

“Shhh I’ve got you angel, I’ve got you… relax for me, can you do that? Can you be a good girl and relax for me?” He coos softly on your ear, making you want to do whatever he asks without question so you try your best to relax for him. He feels your walls unclench the slightest but and smiles, pepper soft kisses along your face and jaw once’s he’s fully inside you. “So good for me… you’re doing so good, I’m so proud of you.” He whispers against your skin and you can’t help but clench around him again, making him groan.

He lets you adjust for a couple seconds until he pulls back until only his top remains and pushed back in, making you let out a loud moan. He grins and does it again, setting a slow rhythm, each thrust hard and deep, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He grunts above you, small hisses and pants leaving his lips and it’s the hottest things you’ve ever experienced.

He slowly picks up the pace, grabbing your hips with one hand while the other goes to your neck, squeezing lightly which oddly brings you comfort. “Matty..!” Your breathless voice rings out and Mattheo cant help but go harder, almost pounding into you before pulling out completely, a whine slipping from your lips. But before you could get any word of protest out he grabs you and turns you around, hands and knees digging into the mattress as he slips back inside on one long thrust. “I’m gonna take you like this and you’re gonna love it, okay?” He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his one hand slips down to press against your stomach while he moves in and out of you. “F-fuck… Mattheo oh my god..!” You feel him deep inside you, so much more intensely then before and your face drops into the sheets as he pounds into you from behind.

“Fuck you’re amazing… I love you much, can you feel how deep I’m inside you? No one will ever get that deep because You. Are. Mine.” Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust, your eyes roll back and in that moment all you think about is him, how he makes you feel and how you’ll only ever be his for the rest of your life. The hand on your stomach reaches down, playing with your clit as he pounds into you impossibly faster “come with me, sweetness. Come on my cock while I come inside you.” He breathes into your ear and you all but comply, clenching around him tightly and coming for the second time that night with a loud moan of his name.

He rides out your orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppy and with a few more his body jerks and he sheaths himself deep inside you, filling you up with his hot cum as you twitch from the feeling. You fall onto the mattress and he rolls you over onto your back before collapsing on top of you, his head buried in your neck as you both try to catch your breaths.

“I love you…”

Im so sorry for being inactive guys, I’ve been a bit stressed lately. Take this as an apology and happy New years! Love all of you <3

~Princess

Taglist: @revesephemeres @ur-local-wizard