#But also she's so pretty and can be a bad influence like Wednesday

[streamdotpng]

Omg pheobe atwell

[salvadorbonaparte]

Recently moved back to the US after living in germany for a bit, but I've been trying to keep up with german politics. Unfortunately I speak german at like an A2 level and don't have the reading comprehension to understand most news/memes/general conversation online. Would you be willing to just briefly explain the whole thing going on right now? I've sorta got the general idea from some American news outlets but I'm still quite confused.

Okay I'm probably missing a lot of Nuance as well but:

The current German government is a three party coalition between SPD, FDP and Green Party (traffic light coalition). Christian Lindner was minister of finance. As a FDP member he was a neoliberal piece of shit. He kept blocking government budgeting because he wanted to lower taxes for millionaires, lower retirement and unemployment benefits etc.

In a surprising turn of events our chancellor fired Lindner on Wednesday evening. He gave a speech that was absolutely scathing - for his standards. Our chancellor is known to have zero backbone or charisma and a monotone voice that puts you to sleep.

Now people find this pretty hilarious because 1) Lindner is a piece of shit 2) we've never seen our chancellor act like this. There's been plenty of memes about him being unemployed and several journalists have already asked him things like "will you apply for unemployment benefits" and "what do you think about people calling you Germany's cheekiest unemployed person".

But unfortunately the FDP didn't find this funny so now all other FDP ministers stepped back - except for one who left the party to save his job. This was also really unexpected and is also leading to lots of memes. Without the FDP, the coalition is broken and there's no longer a ruling majority. The current government will spend some time taking care of urgent stuff now and then in the beginning of next year there will be a "vote of confidence". A strategic vote of confidence will trigger a general election, which will happen next spring.

Unfortunately² the current coalition was not very popular in the first place and conservative and right wing parties are gaining lots of influence. We also have a new party called BSW funded by a former Leftist party member who is singlehandedly proving the horseshoe theory by being so leftist she's right wing. So there's a good chance the election will have pretty bad consequences.

But since it's been a really hard week for everyone we're all just enjoying making fun of Chrissy Lindner losing his job #unemployed.

If you want I can translate some of the memes as well.

Hope this helped!

[high-fantasy-sw]

Worldbuilding Wednesdays

Part One: Jedi Clothing

Welcome to Worldbuilding Wednesdays, the weekly post that expands on an aspect of the AU! This week's edition is focusing on the clothing of the Jedi Order.

Younglings and Young Padawans have the lightest sentence in terms of clothing. That sounds like a bad thing but I have no better way to phrase it. What this means is that they can pretty much wear whatever they want, but there are a few rules that need to be obeyed.

All younglings wear comfortable, loose-fitting tunics and breeches in warm shades, with soft turnstyle shoes made of felt with leather soles (they don’t leave the monastery much, so heavier-duty shoes are not usually needed). They also wear their distinguishing article- their wide-brimmed caps (for boys) or bonnets (for girls); these are based on the helmet-hats seen in Attack of the Clones.

When a Youngling becomes a Padawan, the dress code remains very light: he or she is allowed to wear almost anything of his or her choosing, but it must be modest and not overly distracting- so no eye-searing colors. Boots are preferred but not required, made of soft but sturdy leather, and almost every Padawan wears a belt that matches. Additionally, they each wear a colorful sash that denotes their apprenticeship. Often, these sashes match the color of the young Jedi’s lightsaber, though this is not always the case. (For example, while Obi-Wan’s sash was light blue, and Anakin’s was dark blue, which match the colors of their Kyber Crystals, Ahsoka’s sash was purple while her lightsabers were green.) These sashes can be worn in a variety of fashions, and the style will vary depending on the Padawan’s discretion. (To use the disaster trio for an example again: Obi-Wan’s sash wrapped over his left shoulder and across his chest, Anakin’s draped over both of his shoulders like a vest or stole, and Ahsoka’s wrapped around her waist and hung down the front of her skirt). And, obviously, we can’t talk about Padawans without talking about Padawan hair. All Padawans wear their hair short, but the style can vary based on the Padawan in question. And obviously there’s the Padawan Braid. Head accessories are permitted as long as they aren’t too distracting, and ethnic headgear is allowed and encouraged (Togruta headscarves and horn montrals, Twi’lek lekku headwraps, Mirialan veils, Kel Dor and Cerean helmets, et cetera). 

Senior Padawans are Padawans eighteen years of age or older. When a Padawan becomes a Senior Padawan, he or she begins to be fully integrated into the Order, so at a ceremony called the Rite of Seniority, Padawans actually get to design the habit they will wear, within the ground rules laid out by the Order, as an adult Jedi. Many Jedi wear robes influenced by their birth cultures, and this is a practice both allowed and actively encouraged. As Senior Padawans are still Padawans, however, they continue to wear their colored sashes until their knighting, even if they do begin to wear their adult habit.

During the Clone Wars, Jedi assigned to command troops wear a somewhat standardized uniform instead of their usual habit (however, their individual habit is still worn when at the Temple). This uniform consists of a simple tunic (in various shades of brown), a chainmail undertunic, splint-armor pants, upper-chest plate armor, pauldrons, and some form of boots and gloves. (For a better picture of what this looks like in practice, please reference the Jedi Edition of my Heroforge Series.) However, elements such as color, cut, and of course, cultural aspects like headgear, may be personalized by the individual Jedi.

Thanks for tuning in! If you have any questions, feel free to ask them and I’d be more than happy to answer them! See you next week for part two!

[space-mermaid-writing]

Wednesday [IronStrange]

Summary:Tony fights Strange and his weird wizards on a regular basis. So when he is woken up by Jarvis and being told Strange is sitting in his kitchen, waiting to talk to him, Tony just knows that something is not right. What he does not know yet is that it will be a string of very long days.

Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags:enemies to lovers, time loop, time shenanigans, hero/villain, hero Tony Stark, villain Stephen Strange, morally gray Stephen Strange, being a villain is a point of view, protecting the timeline, suicide but it has no consequences whatsoever, open ending, hopeful ending, Stephen needs a hug, Stephen and the never ending day, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, all the stuff you love

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 3.5k | Previous | Next

Chapter 3: What wizards do

Starting from scratch every day sucked.

But then again, with each new Wednesday that began, they could discard another theory and hypothesis. So in that sense, failure was a success, as it narrowed down their remaining options. Eventually they would find the right path. Hopefully.

_____________________

“What do you even do? I mean your wizard circle. Most of the bad guys we fight are pretty forward with their agenda. But you… there’s no pattern, no ultimate goal we know. You rob seemingly randomly, meddle with political and military business alike, and we traced several ‘accidents’ back to you. But then, sometimes, you save people? Don’t think we don’t know about that.”

Stephen wasn’t sure how much he should reveal. He wasn’t exactly sworn to secrecy, but he also never talked to outsiders about the purpose of the order.

Christine knew a bit of it. Fragments she collected during medical emergencies. Just enough to not ask questions she didn’t want answers to.

When he didn’t say anything, Tony continued. “I take your silence to that question means it’s something I won’t like and that I should ask myself if I really should help you with this.”

He might not be wrong about not liking the answer, Stephen thought. But at that moment he decided to tell him anyway. He wasn’t sure why. Why should he be concerned about what Stark thinks about his motives?

“We are protecting the timeline.”

“The what?”

Stephen put his Starkpad down. “Are you familiar with Brand’s theory of decision branches?”

“You mean that every decision everyone ever faces is like a parting of ways? Depending on the decision made there’s a different version of the future.”

The sorcerer nodded. “We – the order of the Mystic Arts – make sure that the future is steered in a certain direction.”

Tony gaped at him. “If you influence decisions, you’re stripping people of their free will!” This was bigger than he had thought, and he tried to wrap his mind around it.

“No,” Stephen clarified. “We don’t care if you can’t decide between ham or beef on your sandwich. But if it happens that a lost super soldier will be needed in an upcoming battle, we will make sure that we stay in the ninety-five percent of the futures in which he will be found.”

“Bullshit! You didn’t know where Cap was.”

“You’re right, we didn’t. But we knew what needed to happen for him to be rediscovered. On this we just observed; but in other cases we need to intervene.”

He didn’t mention that the Ancient One probably also knew about the kidnapping of Tony Stark and his whereabouts in Afghanistan. And that she let it happen anyway because Iron Man was a key element for what was to come.

That had been long before Stephen ever heard about a place named Kamar-Taj.

Sometimes he wondered where his own car accident fit in all this. But he didn’t think too hard about it. He had made his peace with it and had adapted to his new life.

Tony still wasn’t convinced. “How can you know about the different futures?” He glanced at the golden necklace and hit the mark once again. “Time magic?”

“Yes. It allows me to watch all possibilities of the future.”

Tony clenched his fists, ignoring the screwdriver he was still holding, and narrowed his eyes. “You’re basically telling me, you’re playing god and get to decide which future you like most. Sounds like an awfully lot of power for one single man to me!”

Stephen glared right back at him, raising his voice. “Do you think I asked for this? I just wanted to find a cure for my hands. But then my mentor died and I happened to have a solution to get rid of a world consuming entity, and coincidentally I was able to use the Eye without accidentally destroying the whole time continuum! And after that I filled in for the ones we lost during the fight. This,” he pointed at his chest where the Eye of Agamotto rested, “is bigger than me. It’s not about personal favoritism; about who is the next president or whoever. A threat is coming, whether we like it or not. Whether we’re prepared or not. It’s about no less than half of the life of the whole universe. Every planet out there will be concerned. So, yes, if I have to send a mugger into a side street to make sure the mantle of Batman will be picked up in the future, I will do that.”

Stephen had gotten carried away with his words and revealed more than he had actually intended. He was angry and tired. With a burden on his shoulders he hadn't asked for, but tried his best to hold anyway. At the end of his rant he wasn't sure if his words were solely meant for Stark, or if he did need to convince himself to some degree that he was doing the right thing.

The hurt that had bled through from between the words had taken Tony by surprise, and he realized that the expression that always lingered in those blue eyes was the mark of a man who had seen too much. Of a man who cared deeply, even if he tried to convince himself he didn’t.

Tony recognized it, because he found the same expression whenever he looked into a mirror.

“Half of the universe, hm? Can’t argue against that – if you tell the truth.”

“I do.” Stephen slouched in his chair. He yearned for rest. Not just sleep but being stripped from all responsibilities. But he knew that that day was far away.

“I also can’t believe you brought a Batman reference into this.”

It was an attempt at a joke and to make amends. Stephen acknowledged it with a hint of a smile.

Silence spread and they turned back to their individual tasks. Stephen had already said more than he wanted to and Tony thought about the words he had heard.

“Can’t your necklace tell you a future in which we get out of this loop?” he asked after a while.

“Unfortunately, I can’t seem to access it during the loop, which is highly irritating.”

The more Tony learned about it, the more he got the feeling this was a magic problem after all. Then something occurred to him: something was coming. Could it be…?

“That threat you mentioned… does it come from space?”

“Yes. As I said: the whole universe will be affected.”

“Hm.” The engineer pondered. It could be what he had seen when the Scarlet Witch had meddled with his mind.

But if he were to finally know for sure it was true and to not be able to do anything about it currently… whatever he did, it would be gone tomorrow. And he was already working on one problem that wouldn’t let him sleep. He didn’t need to add more nightmares and panic attacks to it. He would talk to the wizard after this groundhog day was over. It might even be important enough to use the IOU he was being promised. Even if only to know if the vision he’d seen had been true or false. For his own peace of mind.

_____________________

Twelve days in they had collected a lot of data but were still short of a solution.

Tony learned that even if his body was rested in the morning, having his mind working nonstop was not healthy. He was used to pulling all-nighters, but it felt like his tiredness had reached a new level.

Frustrated, Tony buried his face in his hands. He wasn't used to being stuck in a project, and the fact that he couldn't talk to anyone else about it except the wizard didn't make it any better.

Someone put a blanket around his shoulders and when he looked up, he realized it was the cloak that was hugging him sympathetically.

At first the engineer tensed up at that realization, but then he patted the red fabric. “Thanks, buddy.” It wasn’t really helping but he figured it was the thought that counted.

Strange looked at him in sympathy. They had just performed the spell to create the bond between their souls earlier; the warm tingle still echoed in his chest. It was a familiar feeling by now.

“You should take a break tomorrow, Tony. Why don’t you sleep in and meet with some friends?”

“What about-…?”

“It can wait for another day. I’ll do some meditating and meet you before midnight.”

A break sounded really fucking good. Tony already felt guilty because he had canceled his meeting with Peter so often. Even if he knew that it didn’t matter because the boy didn’t remember it.

The look on Stephen’s face when talking to him was gentle and Tony realized that the sorcerer cared. It warmed his heart and made his stomach flip. Uh – oh. The magic man shouldn’t care. And Tony shouldn’t like the thought of Strange looking out for him.

Tony definitely needed that day away from him!

_____________________

It was weird not being woken up by Jarvis' voice stating the words he had probably memorized for life by now.

Between midnight and waking up it felt as if he at least got some sleep and when he looked at the clock it was three hours later than when Strange usually showed up.

“Good morning, Sir,” Jarvis greeted him as soon as Tony moved out of the bed. “I’ll prepare a coffee for you.”

“Thanks. What day is it?” The engineer asked, just to make sure.

“Wednesday the fifth. You have a missed call from Pearson and Specter regarding the launch of the Stark hearing pro aid. You also have a meeting with Miss Potts scheduled at eleven and you told Peter to drop by after school.”

“Move everything that doesn’t need my immediate attention to tomorrow. And invite Rhodey for lunch.” Today he wanted to have his family around him.

“Of course, Sir.”

~~

The meeting with Pepper was very boring. Tony loved it. He was signing papers and they were discussing some new branches of SI and when to launch the next Starkphone update.

It was a constant problem that Tony developed the technology he was offering to the market far too quickly and every now and then he needed to be reminded that people needed to adjust to and accept change. Those things weren’t to rush.

Tony couldn’t relate to that but he trusted Pepper as CEO to make the right decisions.

Rhodey dropped by for lunch in his armor and brought tacos. It was faster than being stuck in New York’s traffic, plus he hadn’t exactly been in town.

They sat on the roof and listened to the sirens and the honking in the streets below.

“Remember that project I told you about?” Tony asked his friend after taking a sip of his soda. “The one with the guy I don’t really like?”

Rhodey looked at him, knitting his brows together. “No. What project? And what guy?”

“We talked about it, Rhodey bear. I called you from the pla-…” Then it hit him. When he had been on the plane on his way to Malibu, he had wanted to say. On another Wednesday.

Of course Rhodey didn’t remember.

“I meant to call you,” Tony steered back. “Probably fell asleep before I had the chance.”

“You? Asleep willingly in the middle of the day?” Rhodey shook his head. “How exhausted have you been? I thought Jarvis kept an eye on you to keep you from pulling all nighters.”

Tony shrugged, an easy smile on his face he didn’t really feel. “He tries his best. You know how I am.” He took another taco and offered Rhodey the last one.

“Tell me about the project,” his friend said. “And since when are you working with partners…wait, we’re not talking about Doom, are we? That guy’s mad and you shouldn’t work with him on anything.”

It was like having a déjà-vu. Tony answered evasively and changed the topic soon after. Rhodey noticed that he was hiding something but he didn’t push it yet.

Fortunately – he would forget it again tomorrow.

Peter arrived in the afternoon long after Rhodey had left. It was great to have the bundle of energy around.

He talked a lot, about school, his friends, and last night’s patrol.

Tony just listened to his rambles while they plugged the Spider-Man suit into Jarvis and ran a check-up – everything was fine besides a small bug which was quickly fixed.

Then Peter told him about May and their trip to the planetarium last weekend. That had been only a few days ago, but to Tony it seemed like weeks had passed. Because for him it had.

He sent Peter home early in the evening, because he knew May would wait with dinner and also because he didn’t know when Strange would come over.

Afterwards, when he was alone in his lab he had nothing left to do for the day. He just took a look at his workspace, where he had spent so much time with the wizard.

A terrible thought occurred to him: what if Strange didn’t come? If he deemed it best to continue searching alone for a solution.

Tony would forget everything.

Some would call it a blessing not to know but Tony had never been one of those. He had always been pro knowing.

Oddly enough, thinking about not remembering Strange tightened his chest.

They were enemies. At least they used to be. But now he’d gotten to know the wizard. And what he had seen intrigued him.

He wasn't sure that he approved of what Strange told him about the timeline and his work and Tony would most definitely not stop fighting him if necessary. But the things that had used to infuriate him, he now found charming. The way the stoic sorcerer expressed his opinion with a single raised eyebrow; his sharp wit and of course his intelligence with a hint of arrogance that was absolutely legitimate.

Strange was hard working, dedicated and had an exceptional mind. It was a dangerous combination.

Tony should know better by now than to get distracted by a handsome face and sharp cheekbones.

There were still two hours left until midnight. Tony had never been good at being patient.

If Strange didn’t come there was no way for Tony to contact him. He didn’t know about his whereabouts, just that he was located somewhere in central New York.

“Sir,” Jarvis spoke up. “Doctor Strange has just appeared in the kitchen.”

There was disapproval in his voice. Tony had instructed the A.I. and told him of their expected visitor. But that didn’t mean Jarvis had to like it.

“Tell him to come to the lab.”

There was a surprised pause from Jarvis. Then, “Are you sure?”. Not many people were allowed into Tony’s private lab.

“Absolutely. I told you: time loop. You can scold me all about it tomorrow.” If Thursday ever arrived.

Shortly after the door opened and Strange stepped in. Ever since their trip to Malibu he had traded his robes for casual clothes, which still seemed out of place to Tony – even though he had suggested them himself. But still, today there was something different about his outfit.

“Where’s Levi?” At some point Tony had gotten on a first name basis with the piece of fabric.

“They stayed home. I just came by for the spell.”

Although he had long since stopped questioning Tony's willingness to stay in the time loop, his voice sounded uncertain today. As if Tony had changed his mind after a day off.It was probably a justified fear.

“Sure, let’s do it.”

By now Tony knew the movements the spell required by heart. The yellowish glowing thread that connected them. The warm tingle that resonated with something deep inside of him.

Relief flooded through him. He knew he would remember.

Strange had a similar expression on his face, but for a different reason. Then he turned to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Do you have somewhere to be in the next…”, Tony glanced at his watch, “hour and a half?”

The sorcerer stopped and shook his head.

“Do you wanna grab a beer and watch a show? I bet we can find something you haven’t binged yet in all of the free time the loop gave you.” It was a lighthearted joke because it wasn’t hard to guess that entertainment hadn’t been on Strange’s priority list.

“I don’t own a TV, so you’re probably right.”

“You don’t… don’t tell me you were serious about not having a phone. I thought you were just reluctant to give your number.” Tony shook his head in disbelief. “Do you write your letters with ink on parchment in the light of oil lamps? Or is that too advanced already?”

Strange made an amused noise. “We do have electricity and I’m happy to inform you that we own a laptop.”

“A laptop? Like in one? For how many people?”

“Wong and I share.”

“Unbelievable,” Tony muttered.

He took the sorcerer upstairs into his living room where they got comfortable on the couch. Almost the entire opposite wall served as a screen. Tony barely used it himself. Mostly for movie nights with family and friends.

They agreed on Doctor House and watched until midnight.

_____________________

“Sir, Doctor Strange has appeared in your kitchen.”

“Clear the day, J.”

_____________________

Somewhere in between, Strange became Stephen and Stark became Tony. They still argued almost every single day.

_____________________

“We could order pizza,” Tony suggested, going through the take out delivery services in central New York.

“We had that yesterday.”

“Sushi?”

“How about soup?” Stephen offered instead. They hadn’t had that yet.

“Who eats soup when they’re not sick?”

“Soup is a perfectly normal meal.”

“Mhm…”

_____________________

“I think we’re friends now.”

“God, don’t say that.”

_____________________

Pepper arrived with the elevator. Jarvis didn’t announce her because, for one, she was family, and secondly, he was very suspicious of what was going on in the lab.

Pepper stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she saw who else was present.

“Can you pass me the tongs?” Tony asked the sorcerer who didn’t even look up from his own work and just made a gesture whereupon the tool floated to the engineer. Tony picked it out of the air. “Thanks.”

“You should consider wearing gloves,” Stephen suggested. “You have a fully equipped lab and still manage to ignore any safety rules.

“Since when do you guys tolerate each other?” Pepper’s voice made them both freeze and they looked at her, as if they had both been caught doing something sensitive.

Tony had forgotten to clear the day. At least he thought so. He should be used to it by now, since he had to repeat it every single day. It was somewhere between day 45 and 52. Tony had lost track of time. One day bled into another and it was always Wednesday. He wasn’t used to repeating any request to Jarvis though. Normally, Jarvis knew more than him.

“‘Tolerate’ is a strong word. We’re working together on a problem,” Tony said while Stephen opted for the smarter option: staying silent.

Pepper put her hands on her hips. “Are you solving that problem or are you two creating it?”

“Haha, funny. We’re-…” Tony suddenly had an idea and he turned to the sorcerer. “What if you’re the problem?”

“Pardon me?” Stephen sounded confused as well as insulted.

“You’re the only one remembering the time loop. It starts with you waking up and ending with you at midnight.” Tony explained. “So whether this is caused by magic or by science: it is linked to you.”

Pepper watched their interaction with a healthy amount of wariness. “Jarvis, what is happening?” she asked the A.I.

“Sir said they are stuck in a time loop and the day is repeating over and over for them.”

“Have you any proof for that?”

“Negative, besides that they seem pretty friendly with each other.”

Pepper's face hardened. She had been there the last time Tony had been working together with magic, and had seen how bad it had ended.

“Tony,” she said louder to get his attention.

He stopped his bickering with the doctor and turned his head to her. “Yes, dear?”

“You know he,” she nodded to the sorcerer, “attacked you at the fundraiser gala just a few days ago?”

Stephen had indeed. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

“I know what it looks like, Pep. But I assure you: it’s alright. Everything is fine, really,” Tony reassured her but his words only raised her distrust.

“How can you be sure he is not messing with your head?”

“I am not,” Stephen protested immediately.

“Pepper, please.” Tony made a step towards her, raising his hands in a soothing gesture.

Pepper retreated a step backwards, not trusting anything that was going on here. “Jarvis, call the Avengers,” she told the Jarvis. “There’s been a breach in security.”

“Pepper no! Jarvis, don’t!”

But it was too late. Jarvis had basically just been waiting for an excuse to intervene.

The Avengers assembled promptly. No need to mention that the day didn’t end well.

[hislittleraincloud]

I also seem to have a like/dislike relationship with Jenna, and prefer her sister Aliyah.

In older videos you would see Jenna talk over Aliyah because she always had to be right, even when Aliyah was. I wonder if she is controlling in the work place. Everyone seems to be fawning all over her. I don’t get the hype

See, I didn't stalk them that far back. I've only seen perhaps a couple of older vids (like the one where they talk about Jenna's height and how she hasn't grown — LOL — and a couple of other short ones where Jenna was being an ass to her).

But yeah, as it is, Aliyah is much more down to Earth and sweet. And holy Hell, prettier 🫠. Like the difference between Cindy Lou Who and an actual model.

Recent pics of both

I mean, just open your eyes

Not to mention her doing exactly what she knows she's doing when she does shit like this

She would make so much 🏦🏦🏦🏦🏦 if she had an OF, but she's a good girl (a huge tease, but a good girl nonetheless) and only whores herself on Live every night to pay for her nursing school shit/other things. (She's got a couple of wealthy simps that just pour buckets of gifts on her every night. 💀 It's kind of neat to watch the rarer gifts/animations come up.) She's beauty and brains, since you gotta have some brains to get through nursing school.

The Ortegas seem to be their own little islands (Aliyah even intimated that there were different votes in the election this past month, so..."everybody does their own thing/have different opinions" re: politics, so color me unsurprised), which is weird to me but whatever. She's not an influencer, she's just a regular celebrity sib, however in this age of connectivity, she isn't actually coasting off of her older sister's name/fame (and hates all the simps asking her to hook them up with Jenna). We watch her for her and the nothingness that is spending a few minutes of connectivity with someone we don't know "just because", like any other Lives over there on TT.

Watching Aliyah for an hour doing nothing but sitting pretty and yapping can be more entertaining than watching her sister in one of her bad movies. I said what I said. I mean did you miss the singular post where I — gggg let's see it again

✨🫠😭🫠😭🫠😭🫠✨

ETA: Re: Jenna being a controlling one, yes, I can see that. She likes to overdraw her checks, like when everyone fawned over "mother mothering" when she told Ryder that she didn't have to take her glasses off during B2 promo, as if Ryder hasn't been a part of the industry for twice the time Ortega's even been alive. 🙄

Jenna appeals to people who get hard over baby faces. It's probably as simple as that. And people in general fawn over baby faces (except in professional settings, if I recall reading that recently). A baby face is both a blessing and a curse, because some people won't take you seriously sometimes. But I mentioned in another recent post that hers has changed a bit since filming Wednesday 1.

[capsarcastica]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Review

The long-awaited sequel has a lot to enjoy and a lot of problems keeping it from greatness. Original film fans will enjoy the returning characters and their progression, but the story is a mess.

The three returning actors are all terrific. Michael Keaton is the obvious standout. Like his return as Batman in The Flash, he slips back into the role like he never left. He brings all that same energy that made the role so iconic to begin with. I like how Delia and Lydia's characters are progressed. Catherine O'Hara still has that yuppie narcissism from the original but is has more of a softer side. Winona Ryder plays a similar mother to her Stranger Things role just with a goth side.

I'm disappointed with how the movie handled Charles Deetz. I get Jeffrey Jones wasn't going to return due to his legal issues, but the character was one of the good guys. This movie goes out of its way to disrespect Jones that it hurts Charles with an over-the-top death. It doesn't help that the movie similarly killed off Astrid's father also off-screen in another over-the-top way, almost like the movie has a thing against fathers.

Of the new characters, Jenna Ortega's Astrid has it best even if it's too close to her Wednesday Addams role. She has the most story and character development from doubting the events of the first movie to meeting a boy her age and then getting swept up in the supernatural. I wish the movie focused more on that, instead it gets lost in the sea of other subplots. I don't know why every single legacy sequel has to turn the original characters into bad parents whose kids hate them, but it has become an annoying cliche that Hollywood needs to stop.

The other new actors do what they can, but their characters aren't given much to do. Willem Dafoe's actor turned afterlife cop is lots of fun, but could have been written out and not be missed. The rest are pretty one-note. It's telling when Bob, a voiceless character with a shrunken head, is more interesting to watch than Lydia's boyfriend or Beetlejuice's ex-wife.

The main problem is that there are simply too many stories going on and none of them tie together in the end. And it spends too much time in the zany afterlife rather than living world. The first film had a simple plot and only used the afterlife sparingly. This film feels like several episodes of the animated series mashed together. Individual stories are fun but too often disappear for long stretches while it develops another. Besides concluding at the same physical location, none have much to do with the each other. There are also times a scene will just go on too long, like Charles' funeral or the wedding musical number. Someone should have exorcised the excess from the script.

Tim Burton continues killing it as Hollywood's most visually distinct director. Just like the first, the living world is a Norman Rockwell painting come to life while the afterlife is German expressionism pushed to the extreme. The cartoon's influence may have hurt the story but not the visuals. I also love how the visual effects continue that classic stop-motion look of the original rather than obvious CGI as it maintains continuity between films, something I wish the last two Ghostbuster movies did more of.

Danny Elfman delivers another knockout score. There's just something extra special when he does a Tim Burton movie, like when John Williams works with Stephen Spielberg. Just like Batman Returns, Elfman keeps the main themes every fan loves while also bringing something new. The 70s pop songs are fun, though they don't quite hit the same as the original film's use of Harry Belafonte.

Like Deadpool and Wolverine, there's too much good stuff to just dismiss the movie as a pointless sequel but too many problems to equal the original. I certainly enjoyed it enough that I wish there would be a third film coming soon, but also too much wasted potential to be memorable thirty years later like the first.

[kelgrid]

What are the main higher entities in your Kult game? I’ve seen Nepharites but with your boy on the verge of being a Purgatide it sounds like Inferno’s somewhere close.

Yeah! We've mostly been dealing with the "Hound beneath the Coast", a homebrew nepharite of Golab, who is bound (advantage) to Juliette, the PC who sacrificed Clément (my PC) while under its control :''') We've mostly been dealing with nepharites and razides (of Togarini and Sathariel) but Golab has had the most influence. The Nepharite of Togarini contacted my PC because she was really into his unhealthy work habits but was actually pretty chill?? Didn't hear from her for about 10 sessions and she made a very brief comeback recently just to pettily dunk on my boy then disappear. Concerning the Razide, she was actually an enlightened NPC hiding from some lictors. Juliette killed her when the Hound took control and she turned into a razide. She came back a number of times to haunt Juliette (the first time actualy causing the sacrifice of my PC since the encounter broke him 🥲) until she got destroyed by the Hound in a final encounter.

We've also briefly met/contacted a few other entities not linked to the inferno: A few stray angels and lictors, some Gaia entities, She who waits Below, a couple of Awakeneds and a Dream Prince! Apart from those, the entity that has had the most influence while not being linked to the inferno is a Malakhim who has 0 idea what's going on, is extremely bad at her job as an angel, and is drunk off her ass most of the time. We love her.

Also! The PCs went from "Aware" to "Enlightened" during wednesday's session just as Clément turned into a purgatide 🥹 But he got a little bit of help from an Awakened NPC who made sure his soul wouldn't be consumed in the process. So now because things got a little messed up, his soul is trapped into the purgatide's body, over which he has no more control and is forced to watch roam the countryside killing stuff and basically being a very bad dog. We're still figuring things out before starting the second part of the campaign but this should last for about a year before he can finally muster the strength to yeet himself out of his own body. Said body will act as the enemy of his new "Nemesis" disadvantage because it is /not/ enjoying having its soul torn from it. The Nepharite may also be a bit pissy about his new purgatide malfunctioning. Here is a shitpost rendition of how the yeeting will go down:

Also I think I should add that my boy has been TERRIBLE at surviving this whole time. Rolling 8 failures out of 12 "condemned" rolls 🙃

[gaywiththesauce]

Sleeping in the Backyard (CHWE #4)

Today was Monday. Just yesterday, Senjuro ran him over with his skateboard. Today, he was sitting in his class during Giyuu's lunch. Shinobu must have been stalking Giyuu to find out that Senjuro was related to his neighbor's drama.

"Let me get this straight. You're Tomioka-san's-"

Tomioka scolded her, "It's Sensei."

Shinobu shot a glare at him, "Shush, I'm not talking to you." She turned back to Senjuro, "You're his neighbor, and your brother is the guy that crashed over at his house?"

Senjuro shrugged, "I guess? Nii-chan never told me about it."

Shinobu was smirking, and it was disturbing to look at, "Is your brother hot? Is he hot enough to let anyone do anything for him?"

Senjuro looked at his food, "I'm not calling my brother hot, Shinobu-san."

"Shinobu-chan, you can stop now. It's not appropriate to crush on other people's older brothers," Giyuu warned as he ate his soup. Senjuro and he had the same meal, as Kyojuro insisted on feeding him. He was a grown man. He could make his own food (and by make, he means to buy.)

Shinobu scoffed, "I do not have a crush on him!" Senjuro covered his mouth as he hid his laughter. He looked concerned but was still entertained. Shinobu rolled her eyes, "You're just saying that so you don't have to admit-"

Shinobu was interrupted by a knock on Giyuu's door. The man standing in his doorway had the teacher rising from his chair and bowing, "Ubuyashiki-san."

The principal bowed his head, "Relax, Giyuu. You can sit back down."

"Ubuyashiki-sensei," Senjuro and Shinobu said in sync. The principal waved at them to relax as well.

"Giyuu, I see that you have students here. Is it a bad time?" the older man asked. He wasn't very old, but his mid-40s was still older than Giyuu thought the man looked. Despite his experience and seniority over Giyuu, he thought the man was quite pretty.

Giyuu shook his head, "No, sir. These students like to eat their lunches here leisurely. I can ask them to leave if we need privacy." The students were already packing up their lunches, but the principal held out his hand to stop them.

"There's no need, it's not that serious," Kagaya smiled reassuringly. He sat down on an empty desk in front of Giyuu's desk. "I've just come to tell you that you'll be observed for the rest of the week by a college student studying to be a teacher. You're teaching the subject they'll be teaching, so I figured you're the best positive influence. Please take time before classes start to give him a tour around the building tomorrow."

---------------

Heya guys! Welcome back to Rengiyuu Not Wednesday. Y'all be lucky that this is posted, it's 4am and I'm moving into my dorm TOMORROW! College things, woo! Hehe I made some good edits and it gets the Saucy approval.

Warning, there is mild sexual content this chapter! The tags for this fic update every chapter, so make sure to read them! (Or ignore them if you want to be hella surprised)

Here's the link to the rest of the chapter :)

Previous chapters: One - Two - Three (these are also just on ao3, but if you want to see my little notes on the posts, go ahead lol)

Taglist: @amanitaknowsbest

[cryptidsurveys]

Friday, February 28th, 2025.

[TW: SUICIDE] Do you know anyone who has committed suicide? Hmmm.

Do you think Jersey people are annoying? No. People can be annoying (or not) regardless of where they're from.

Does your mom think you’re a virgin? She knows I'm not.

What do you think about people who party a lot? It's not my scene, but it's also not my business or concern.

What are you listening to? Still not listening to anything, but did the blind scroll again and landed on When I Come Around by Green Day.

Are you the one that normally makes the first move? Such "moves" were relatively mutual and simultaneous in the past, but I doubt I would be up for making the first move now.

Do you currently work? I have my volunteer thing, but I'm not actually employed.

Do you take any prescribed medication? I don't. The only things I take are OTC migraine meds and the occasional Tums.

Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin? I have.

Have you ever seen someone get a piercing/tattoo? I've been with someone while they were getting tattooed, but I don't think I've ever watched anyone get a piercing?

[TW: ABUSE] Do you know someone that is/was abused by their parents? I can hardly name someone who wasn't abused in some way.

Do you like strawberry and banana smoothies? Yeah.

Have you ever spent more than two weeks in a wheelchair? No.

Does weed smell good? Or no? There's a grow not far from where we get groceries, and it smells almost indistinguishable from skunk. Up close and personal, though, I don't mind the smell at all.

Have you ever played golf? I've played mini golf, but never real golf.

Do you like beer? If so, what’s your favorite brand? Ehhh. It's alright.

Have you ever been pulled over for speeding? No. Sometimes I drive a lil fast, but there's almost always someone else going even faster.

Do you feel bad when you throw food out? I do occasionally feel a twinge of guilt.

What was the last wedding you attended? Steph and Shelly's, back in 2014.

Are you religious? What do you believe in? I believe in God, but even though some of my dad's Jewish influence has rubbed off on me, I wouldn't consider myself especially religious. It's also difficult to pin down exactly what I believe when it comes to all things spiritual.

What is your favorite video game? It's been so long since I last played a video game…or watched one being played…but probably Rock Band and Guitar Hero.

Have you ever made your own pizza or pasta dough? Not me personally, but my dad has made pizza and pierogi dough.

Are you lactose intolerant? I don't think so.

Does it take a lot for you to cry, or does it happen easily? I guess it happens easily.

Do you tan easy? No. I tend to burn.

Do you have two of the same pair of pants? I don't, but you know…that's really not a bad idea…

Do you know anyone with Type 1 Diabetes? Not currently, but I have known a couple of people in the past.

Do you have a lot of pictures of you and your friends? No.

What did you have for dinner last night? A sandwich and mixed veggies.

Have you ever been rock climbing? Yeah.

Do you own a bean bag chair? A pink one. My cats use it more than I do. I just put a blanket over it so it won't get covered in their fur.

Are you allergic to anything? What? I have seasonal allergies (pretty sure the culprit is kochia), but nothing serious.

Do you own any vinyl records? I don't.

Have you ever touched a caterpillar? Plenty of times.

Have you ever met someone famous? Who? Do tell! I haven't.

Who else is in the room with you? My kitties.

Do you think age matters in relationships? There are definitely instances in which it matters.

What was the last thing you watched on the TV? I have nooo idea.

Where was the last place you went out to eat? I went to Red Lobster with my mom last Wednesday.

Are your nails currently long? No.

Where’s the closest church to you? Do you attend it? It's a few minutes away. We went there a few times when I was younger.

Dr. Pepper or Root Beer? I don't really care.

Favorite flavor of cream cheese? Either plain or brown sugar and cinnamon.

What US state would you like to visit? The last person mentioned Wyoming due to Yellowstone and saaame.

If you live in a house, how many floors does it have? If you live in an apartment building, how many units does it have? It has two floors and a basement.

Have you ever put on or lost a significant amount of weight? Not sure what would be considered "significant," but let's go with yes.

On a scale of 1-5, how often do you curse? Like a 2, maybe a 3 depending on how zesty I'm feeling.

Tell me something you like about yourself. Lol, everything feels like a lie.

Do you prefer salty or sweet treats? I've gravitated more toward sweet treats over the past few years.

Do you have a favorite actor or actress? Naw.

Are you or have you ever been a smoker? Yeah.

What are your favorite summer activities? Used to be backpacking and gardening, but now I just try to survive. I haaate summer.

Have you ever taken an Uber or Lyft? I haven't.

Would you pay someone to kill the person who hurt you a lot? No.

Have a best friend? Yeah.

Does it bother you when your best friend does stuff without you? My best friend lives in California, so they're constantly doing things without me. Not gonna lie, there are moments when I feel bummed out and envious, but it's not a big deal.

Do you usually tell people when you’re mad at them? It highly depends on the person.

What's your favourite way to eat potatoes? Probably potato chips.

Do you prefer The Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit movies, if you like any of them? I never saw The Hobbit films, but I did enjoy the LotR films.

Which Harry Potter film was your favourite? What about your least favourite? Can't say I have a favorite / least favorite.

Have you or have you ever considered messing around with the same sex? What is your opinion on same sex marriage? I have. And I'm fine with same sex marriage.

Do you enjoy piercings & tattoos? Yeah.

Do you prefer to shower at night or in the morning? In the morning. I also shower right when I get home from the animal shelter.

Have you ever said you'd never love again? I honestly don't know if I'm capable of falling in love again. Or maybe more accurately - allowing myself to fall in love. The idea of being that vulnerable with another person is terrifying.

Did you like middle school? I was never particularly fond of school, middle or otherwise.

Have you ever hugged a complete stranger? Possibly…?

Where would you rather live, England or Australia? England.

Did you go to your senior prom? No.

What was your first job? Not sure what to count as my first.

Did your parents live in a different country before you were born? No.

Are you happy with your weight? EhHHh.

Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? Piercings, tattoos, dyed hair - the animal shelter allows it all.

Would you ever enlist in the army? Naw.

How many kids would you want? I don't want children.

Do you use Tumblr? What do you normally post? Mostly just surveys nowadays.

Have you ever been accused of cheating? Not that I can recall.

How about having an eating disorder? It never used to be much of a secret. These days…I don't know what other people assume, but no one has asked or made any accusations.

Would you ever go on a birth control pill? I was on birth control as a teen. Can't see any reason why I would go back on it now, though.

Have you ever taken a train? No.

[jlilycorbie]

Happy WBW, lovely! Not sure why, but today I'm asking about fashion?? What does the fashion-- I'm talking high, street, or anything else-- look like in your world(s)?

Happy (very belated) Worldbuilding Wednesday! (Sunday?) Thank you for the ask!

I'm not great at visualizing things, and in real life I've learned to appreciate fashion, but in a sort of distant way? Like, I have friends who care deeply about it, and hearing/reading them talking about it taught me a lot about how interesting it is, but I still don't know much about it.

Still, I tried to think about what fashion would look like in the untitled fantasy WIP. (I'm trying to think more about Bad Fences, but there isn't a lot to talk about fashion-wise. It's set in modern America. The fashion is modern America. I guess I could dig in some with the Wyldeborns, since they're a big queer family, so their fashion is a bit off from the population at large, but Barbara is an older white lady who wants to talk to your manager.)

Clothing all over the world in the fantasy WIP is about practical use, protection, and decoration. Modesty isn't really a factor, not like we know it, and clothing and accessories aren't typically gendered.

The Huudzairen primarily influence fashion on the Alinay Steppe, where most of the first half of the story takes place. They're unicorn antelope centaurs, and at least the members of Ciraeg Miren really love sparkly things. All over the steppe, jeweled hooves and jingly, flashy anklets are common, both because they're pretty and because there's lots of snakes. Of course it's fun to also coordinate layered bracelets and flashy necklaces and decorations for their horns. Their fashions and clothes rely more on linens and wools and silks and other woven materials than fur or leathers or other animals products, though those aren't rare. They'll often wear elaborate woven belts and tops that drape over their shoulders, where their hair is thinnest and they're most likely to sunburn. They'll also wear drapes over their hindquarters, mostly for decoration. Their clothes are often heavily embroidered and jeweled, and you can typically identify a Ciraeg by the specific patterns and colors they use. People who are native to the steppe and have feet instead of hooves will usually wear sandals if they wear shoes at all.

Zaya's from Castravandt, which ranges from the edge of the steppe up through the Castravi mountains. She's specifically from the foothills, further south where it's warmer. Tattoos are very common, and they're both decorative and can identify people in different ways. Zaya has a tattoo on the side of her head that identifies her as ba hasur, which loosely means hero.

Dragon leather is common, and you can tan it the easy way, which loses most of the color, or you take make the time and effort to tan it in ways that preserve the color. Zaya has dragon skin boots that are brightly colored and elaborately patterned, and when she's hunting, she'll wear a lot of leather mostly to protect her. In her part of Castravandt, linens woven in bright patterns are common, and decorative clothes tend to be loose and flowing. As you get to different parts of the mountains, you'll find a lot more leather, fur, and wool. The leather can be different colors from dragons, or it could be more common leathers that have been dyed or painted and/or tooled.

Castravi people tend to have darker skin and long, pointed ears. Hats are common, both broad-brimmed hats to protect from the sun designed to protect their ears, too, and warmer fur hats also designed to accommodate their ears.

The Nyctine Mountains are very hostile, full of thorns and sharp rocks. The people there are (mostly) very isolated. Everyone wears not just shoes, but boots, and you won't see people barefoot or wearing sandals or even soft-soled slippers. The clothes are almost all leather and fur, and they cover more of your body than most other places for safety reasons. They tend toward lots of greens and browns, but people wear splashes of color that echo the local flowers, birds, and butterflies. Leather and wood are elaborately tooled and carved, and they accessorize a great deal with shells, feathers, bone, wood, and other natural materials. Most metal goods arrived by trade, and you won't see a lot of decorative items made from gold, silver, iron, bronze, copper, etc, as they typically value more practical metal items like knives. At least among the Kopaulinok Folk, who are the Padanche people who show up most in the story. I suspect the Chikehru Folk, whose territory is more in the foothills and who interact a lot with the Huuzairen, have a lot more decorative metal jewelry and a lot more jewels and precious stones.

The Loghani people live inside the Nyctine Mountains. When you meet a Loghani person outside their caves, they probably look pretty drab, with close-fitting clothes typically made of silks and linens. Inside their caves, though, the clothes and jewelry is bioluminescent or phosphorescent and delicately patterned.

Tsalta is a big, vertical coastal city and a thriving trade hub. You'll see fashions from all over the world there, and different trends easily appear, are absorbed, or quickly disappear. One thing that's consistent: all the colors. The city itself and the people there make everywhere else in the world look drab. There are lots of silks, including sea silk, which doesn't exist in our world. The merfolk make and trade it. Clothes are loose, layered, and dyed all sorts of colors, both solid and patterned. Lots of things are jeweled or sparkle, and tiny Tsaltich dragons, which are patterned more like butterflies than their typically solid-colored and larger cousins, are popular and beloved pets. It's safe and common to go barefoot in Tsalta, but you'll see lots of sandals and soft-soled slippers, too. Sandals are typically also bright and jeweled, and slippers are usually elaborately embroidered. Face and body paint is also super common.

Since Djaetyrot got erased, most of its fashions have also disappeared. You can see some echoes of it in places where there are still a lot of Djaetyli people, but those fashions got absorbed by the community around them. It's hard to say if those old fashions will come back and be embraced by the people who returned when/if Djaetryrot is restored or if they'll end up creating something new.

I've got vague ideas about some other locations, but I don't think they'll appear in the book, so I haven't really worked out those details. I kind of feel like I'll need to write more stories set in the world, even if none of the characters from the current story appear, just so I can explore more of it.

[dadsbongos]

“Juliet is the sun."

Chapter 4 / Series Masterlist / Previous Chapter

798 words

~~

WEDNESDAY. 3:00 PM

You talked your way into letting Robin give up the speaker system for a day so you could play the album you bought from next door. Led Zeppelin quietly drones over the wandering customers and you’re hoping to finish the album by the time you have to clock out so you can talk to Eddie about it.

“Cheese,” Robin shakes her head, pointing at you, “You smell like cheese.”

“Stop it,” you smack her hand down and turn to the woman renting Indiana Jones with her daughter, giving what you hope is a convincing smile, “I don’t smell like cheese.”

The little girl goes to lean forward and test your theory but her mother snatches her arm and the two are out of Family Video before you can tell them to have a nice day.

“I can’t believe you,” you turn back to Robin, eyes wide, “Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re cheesing over,” Robin clenches her eyes and holds both hands to her stomach, keeling over to fake gag, “a man.”

“Knock it off,” you laugh but flick her arm, “You’re being weird.”

“You’re being weird,” Robin stands up fully and squints at you, “Since when do you go to parties?”

“Since I realized I’m a senior who spent her whole life just nodding along to whatever her parents said,” you smack a hand to the front counter and don’t notice the way an old man jumps at the other end of the store, “I wanna live, Rob! Besides, Eddie’s not bad company, he’s actually really nice and funny and like, yeah, maybe I think he’s cute. It isn’t a bad deal!”

“Mozzarella with Colby Jack,” she shakes her head and Steve returns from restocking the returned films to glare at you.

“I still don’t trust that freak,” he points at you, “If he tries one thing, I swear to God- "

“Steve, I can take care of myself,” you jab the tip of your finger with the one he’s pointing, “Also, Eddie’s sweet. And you’ll be at the party we’re going to anyway, so it isn’t like I’m leaving the state without you, Mom.”

“I never said I was going to that party,” Steve looked between you and Robin, only finding unimpressed stares sent back his way.

“Are you going to that party?” Robin asks.

When he doesn’t answer, you cross your arms, “But Eddie is the bad influence. Sure.” 

WEDNESDAY. 5:30 PM.

Hellfire ended a mere two minutes ago and Eddie had never cleaned up a campaign faster in his life - absolutely dreading the mere idea of being late to pick you up. 

But before he can push open those ugly green double doors, there’s a voice, “Munson!”

Ms. O’Donnell is hurrying down the hall - as fast as she can in heels, anyway - a stack of papers in hand. She grins when he turns and waits for her.

“So, how’s studying going?”

Eddie shrugs and digs the hand not holding his metal lunchbox in his pocket, “‘s fine. Well,” he looks to the ceiling and his lips have the slightest twitch upwards, “we’re getting along pretty well. I wasn’t expecting it, but here we are,” when O’Donnell doesn’t speak, he continues, “She’s actually a lot nicer than I thought she’d be and I’m having  a lot of fun with her. I think, uh,” he swallows the lump in his throat, “we could be friends.”

It takes a certain, special kind of nerve to admit all the lovely and cute things (and less cutesy things) he wants to do with you in front of a teacher. It takes an even more special kind of nerve to say that he’s bending over backwards to show you the underbelly of Hawkins just because you asked; and that so long as you’re being gentle with his battered heart, he’d do anything you asked.

So he doesn’t.

A.) Awkward B.) Bizarre  C.) It’s none of her damn business

“That’s great,” Ms. O’Donnell pushes up her glasses, “Also, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided that in order for you to have a guaranteed passing grade, I’m going to make an allowance and let you have a second final - but technically you can’t take a second one. So, it’ll be a retake of your midterm, okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Eddie nods, for once earnestly excited during a conversation with his three-time English 7-8 teacher.

“You can come in Thursday or Friday to do it - and that’s it, Munson. I’m already sticking my neck out for you here.”

Thursday is a Hellfire night and Friday is free. Monday is your night.

God, why can’t life always be this easy?

“Well, does that work?”

“Hell yeah!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you.”

~~ Taglist @homiesexual-or-homosexual @chainsaw-man-inserts @juggernort 4 u <3

[spencersawkward]

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted! 

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

[dwellordream]

“…Being a damsel was a specific job. It meant that you were a lady in waiting in a house that was not your own. A lot of the time the period of service would kick in around about thirteen when families had educated their daughters to a level that was deemed sufficient. The next step of their education was to get refined and ladified, so they would get shipped to live with another, usually richer and more powerful, family.

Damsels did all sorts of work. They embroidered and helped with cloth production. They made their lady’s bed. They took messages to other rich people if their mistresses didn’t feel like going themselves. In general, they made themselves useful in whatever way was best. In return, they learned how great houses were run, made contacts among the aristocracy, and hopefully made a good impression so that they could secure a marriage with a nice (rich) young man as well.

Anyway the thing about being a damsel, as my patron Max (shout out!) pointed out, is that the main sort of work you did was essentially being an inverse influencer.

This is because the major thing that damsels did was be very conspicuously pretty, well dressed, and hanging out with the woman that they were serving, especially in ceremonial circumstances. Phillips notes, for example, that Dame Katherine Grey and Mistress Ditton served at Elizabeth of York’s (1466-1503) coronation in 1487 by going “under the table where they sat on either side of the Queen’s feet all the dinner time.” Similarly, the Countesses of Oxford and Rivers “kneeled on either side of the Queen, and at certain times held a kerchief before her Grace”.[2]

Now this is an extremely specific (and weird) flex. What Elizabeth was showing was that she was surrounded by hot important chicks at all times. She had so many hot important chicks around her that they just hung out to pass her a napkin when she needed it. Hell, she had hot important chicks sitting under the table where you can’t even see them just because she can. It’s like a late medieval version of a selfie full of Instagram baddies and a caption that says, “Quiet Tuesday in with these idiots, yawn.”

The point of having a bunch of damsels around you was to create a spectacle which highlighted the woman in charge. She looks very feminine and very powerful because she has lots of feminine powerful women surrounding her and serving her. In return, the damsels get to be a part of the spectacle and prove that they are well connected and feminine enough to be used in this manner. It’s a form of display and you, peasant, are meant to be very very impressed by it. So basically, a powerful lady or queen with a large retinue is running a hype house. I will not be apologizing for this analogy, thanks.

This is interesting though, because it acts in a sort of reverse way from how influencers work now. Influencers are, of course, expected to be extremely hot, and usually conspicuously feminine when they are women. When we have to deal with every white girl in the world in a pair of suede boots at a pumpkin patch every autumn they are acting out a specific form of girly-girlness that we are meant to recognise, respect, and respond to.

However, unlike damsels which are meant to make it clear that someone is very important, and indeed much more important than their audience, influencers have to make their audiences feel as though they are actually friends. Yes, they are standing in a million-dollar beach house in a three-hundred-dollar bikini, but maybe you could be there too with them! The only thing preventing you from doing so is buying X product which will make you just like them.

…So the difference is that influencers are attempting to create what we in the analysing society game refer to as “parasocial relationships”. That’s a technical way of saying when you feel like you have a relationship with someone based off of their media output. So, you know like how you feel that you are friends with the people who are on your favourite podcast? That is a parasocial relationship and that is what influencers do. This is in stark contrast with damsels and ladies’ courts who are extremely on a Mean Girls vibe and doing “on Wednesdays we wear pink” in front of an audience who knows that they, decisively, cannot sit with them.

Hilariously in both the medieval and modern contexts, whether the women in question are letting you know you are not friends, are trying to make you think that you are, the pretty ladies doing the display make some people very very sad. Phillips notes that in the fourteenth-century Book of Vices and Virtues it was written that damsels wearing pretty clothes were in mortal danger of their souls, both because they were vain and because they inspired lechery in the dudes who saw them. It reads:

“To behold these ladies and these maidens and damsels arrayed and appareled, that often [time] apparel them more quaintly and gaily for to make [foolish] lookers to look on them and [think] not to do great sin … But certainly they sin well grievously, for they make and be the cause of loss of many souls, and where-through many men are dead and fall into great sin; for men say in old proverbs, ‘Ladies of rich and gay apparel are arrow blast [against] the tower.’ For she has no member on her body that is not a [snare] of the devil, as Solomon says, wherefore they must yield accounts at the day of doom of all the souls that by reason of them are damned.”[3]

In other words, the damsels at court might think there is nothing wrong with being conspicuously hot in public, but in fact, it is very sinful because it creates a sinful society and encourages lust in men. TL/DR: dressing up in public means that you are in league with the devil.

…This is important to note because both medieval European society and our society now have a clearly very fraught relationship with women displaying themselves in public. The attempt to control gaze both then and now has some very visceral reactions. It can make people feel awe, or build entire relationships in their mind. It can also enrage people to the point that they condemn these women even though, and this is crucial, in neither case were they actually in a relationship with their audiences.

The important thing to take away from all of this is that women being put on display, and using that to wield power, is a very old practice. What has changed over time is the way that display is focused. Medieval people used it to keep others as an outgroup, and people now use it to make outsiders feel as though they are in. Overall, the goal is the same: accruing power, prestige, and respect to the woman who is in control of her image. This often results in backlash but the thing about it is that the world has yet to end because a bunch of hot chicks hung out one time and then someone felt bad about themselves.

Do I think that either iteration of hyper-feminine display is necessarily laudable? Not especially. I am just saying it is a constant feature in our society, and if you want to get rid of it, then we need to rethink our approach to femininity more generally. Until we can offer women more ways to gain prestige, we are gonna keep going back to old reliable: being conventionally attractive. I find it hard to get mad about that.

- Dr. Eleanor Janega, “On damsels and influencers.”

[voiceless-terror]

And Many Happy Returns

a sequel (or companion piece) to Inseparable, my childhood friends AU. chapter 1 of 2.

“Next week?” Jon shrieks, slamming a hand down on his desk and startling the nearby students. “That’s not nearly enough time to prepare!”

Martin does that blinky-eye thing that means Jon’s being too loud, but he can’t help it! Martin’s turning eight in six days (less than a week!) and didn’t think to tell him. They’re best friends, he should know these things. He curses himself for not asking about this at the beginning of their relationship, when he was collecting Martin facts. Favorite color and book seemed more important at the time. 

And while Jon doesn’t think birthdays are that important, it’s still a fact he ought to have known. Well, his Nan doesn’t consider birthdays important. These past two birthdays he’s gotten one new (!) book and a dessert after dinner, but that’s about it. Nan doesn’t have money to spend on frivolous things, and Jon’s never needed much, but he wouldn’t mind a bit of fanfare. His mum always made sure he felt very loved- he got plenty of hugs, a fun cake, an outing where they would do his favorite things. But maybe that’s something only mums do. Nan, with her rare, stiff hugs and general stand-offishness was never one to put up much of a fuss.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Martin mutters, his pencil twitching in his hand as he refuses to meet Jon’s eyes. He doesn’t like it when Jon starts fretting about him. “We never do anything for it, anyway.”

Martin’s mum isn’t anything like Jon’s, that’s for sure. It’s not every day you turn eight. It’s a nice number, very even and divisible. Much better than boring old seven. When Jon turns eight, he’s going to get fifteen extra minutes added to his curfew, and he’ll be able to walk to the corner store all by himself. He’s already walked there several times, but it’ll be nice to have permission. That’s the real treat.

“So you’re not going to bring in cupcakes for the class?” he asks, remembering the last birthday they celebrated- it was Lydia’s, a quiet, unassuming girl that Jon doesn’t mind but also doesn’t think much about. As soon as Jon asks it, Martin gets that sad look in his eyes again, the kind that’s always followed by an “I’m sorry” or something equally nonsensical. Jon hates that he’s the cause of it, him and his stupid mouth. Think before you speak, that’s what Nan always says. She says that for most anything he talks about, though, so he takes her advice with a grain of salt.

He reaches out to pat Martin’s arm consolingly, giving him his best sympathetic head tilt. “It’s alright. I’ve never brought any in either. Just thought I’d check in case you needed help bringing them to school.” Jon’s not very good at carrying things, but for Martin he would make an attempt.

“That’s nice of you,” Martin replies, though it’s not really nice, it’s just a normal thing a friend would do. Jon’s read books about it, he ought to know. “But yeah. I don’t think Mum’s planning anything, much less making cupcakes. She’s really busy.” Martin’s always saying how busy his Mum is, but Jon’s pretty sure she doesn’t do half the things around the house that she’s supposed to. Martin already knows how to cook and make tea and do the laundry without hurting himself. It’s very admirable. The last time Jon attempted to do laundry, he flooded the cellar.

“Do you like cupcakes, though?” Jon asks, scooching closer to Martin’s desk. “Lydia’s mum brought some for her birthday, but they were all carrot cake. Blegh.” He makes an exaggerated face to get Martin to laugh. It works.

“Carrot cake’s not so bad,” Martin says, poking lightly at Jon’s hand with the eraser of his pencil. Jon flinches back dramatically, putting on his most wounded look. “You just don’t like it cause it has the word carrot in it.”

“I don’t like it cause it has actual carrots in it,” Jon sniffs, turning away from Martin to show his displeasure. He decides not to talk to him for the rest of the day, or at least until he has something else to say to him. He’s got a lot on his mind now, and he needs to be left alone with his thoughts. Besides, Martin will poke him again once he gets bored enough. 

Jon flips open the school planner that he’s never used for actual school work and starts to write. He’s got a birthday to plan, and he’s going to give Martin a Mrs. Sims birthday special.

______

It’s a Thursday, which means Martin can’t play on account of his many, many chores. Jon hates Thursdays.

But this time it works in his favor, as he’ll actually have time to plan without Martin thinking something’s up. Jon very rarely cancels on Martin; he’s his most important (and only) friend. But he does on occasion get a little mixed up. One time, he thought it was a Wednesday instead of Thursday, and wound up at Martin’s flat when he didn’t show up at the park. Martin was very nice about it, though, and gave him a cup of tea to ‘calm down’ to drink in the hallway, before he went home. Martin thinks a cup of tea is calming. It doesn’t really do much for Jon, but it is tasty, and Martin gives him extra sugar just the way he likes.

But today is most definitely a Thursday so he scurries on home, slamming the door open and screaming a greeting to Nan that goes unanswered.  She must be off at the shops, otherwise she’d be giving Jon an earful for being too loud. He kicks off his shoes and gazes at the picture of him and his mum on the wall. If his mum were here, she would know exactly what to do to make Martin’s birthday extra-special. But she’s not, and Martin’s mum seems like kind of a jerk, so it’s Jon’s responsibility. “I won’t let you down,” he solemnly tells her smiling face, and turns to take the steps two at a time.

After grabbing his planner and throwing his backpack into the corner,  he pulls out the chair to his messy homework desk, which is usually only used for doodling or writing stories or reading when he wants the activity to feel more official. He flips open his planner to next Wednesday, Martin’s birthday (!!!) and taps his pen impatiently against the page. 

What do birthdays need? Food. Presents. Happiness. The first two might be a bit difficult to pull off, considering his lack of money and cooking skills. Martin deserves a lot more than stale discount biscuits from the grocery. He can get those any day.

But a whole cake is going to be hard. If Nan won’t make one for Jon on his birthday, she most certainly won’t do it for ‘his little friend,’ even if she thinks he’s a good influence. Martin is always very quiet and polite when he sees her, and Nan always gives him a smile in return for his good manners. She doesn’t smile at Jon like that. He tamps down his jealousy and gets back to birthday thoughts.

He thinks he had a purple- or was it pink? - cake on his fifth. It saddens him that he can’t remember. He thinks he’d forget his own mother’s face if he didn’t look at it every morning and night. Memory’s fickle like that, as his Nan likes to say.

Maybe, if he’s very nice and good tonight, Nan will take him with her on the weekly shop and he can convince her to get Martin a cupcake, a good one. One that doesn’t have any carrots in it, even if Martin says they’re alright. He must like them so much because they’re orange, like his hair. Unsurprising. 

He stops wiggling in his chair and straightens his back, as if Nan can see him in his room right now. It’s good to practice, he thinks. If he can sit still all through dinner and not make a mess, she’ll come round. 

Next, an essential part of any birthday: a good present.

His mum never really showered him with gifts, but she always gave him something good, something from the heart. The last present he received - Augustus, an orange cat plushie- still sits on his bed. It’s kind of babyish to sleep with a stuffed animal at his age (or so Marcus declared during recess one day) but Jon doesn’t really care. It helps him sleep.

Unfortunately, Jon can’t buy Martin a stuffed cat. He doesn’t have much money except for what he’s found on the ground and in sofa cushions. And he’s supposed to give that to Nan if he finds it (which he does, mostly).

He could be creative. Make him something. Jon’s not very good at crafts, though. And he doesn’t have a lot of supplies. But he has almost a week to figure something out, minus the times he’s playing with Martin. Well, even then he can stare at him and hope it jogs a good idea.

Lastly, he’s got to make it the happiest, most special day he can. Martin should feel special all the time, but Jon knows how hard that is, especially when you go home and you’re lonely and it seems like you’re the least special person there is. But if Jon is very nice to him and makes the day as fun as possible, maybe he’ll be able to keep that happiness all night, even when Jon leaves. 

That’ll be the hardest part, Jon thinks. He’s not the type of person to make someone happy. Sigh in aggravation, maybe. Roll their eyes. But Martin does neither of those things, so Jon might have a chance. He’ll try and ‘tone it down,’ though. His Jon-ness can be too much at times, and he doesn’t want that to get in the way of what should be Martin’s day.

Everything’s going to be perfect. 

________

And then it’s Saturday, and Jon still doesn’t have a present for Martin. 

He somehow managed to get Nan to agree to the cupcake bit- he’d asked very politely, ate all of his dinner and didn’t spill a thing. Though he thinks it has more to do with her liking Martin. She always acts surprised when she sees him over, like she’s shocked Jon kept a friend for longer than a week. He’s not that bad. But Tuesday she promised to take him to the grocery with her, so it’s fine. One part of his plan is done.

But the present. 

Actually buying something is clearly out of the question- he already exhausted his Nan’s good will in that department. And Jon, for all his usual creativity, is plum out of ideas. He could give him one of his books, but he does that already without prompting. He doesn’t have any good toys, and Martin certainly isn’t getting his best pen, the one that glides real smoothly on the page.

“Are you alright?”

He’s been staring at Martin too long. “Of course,” Jon snaps. “I just like your shirt today, that’s all.”

Martin looks down at his worn t-shirt. It’s not Jon’s favorite, but it’s Martin’s, so he likes it. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

They’re out in the woods behind Mr. Fletchley’s house to investigate what Jon thought was an ancient ruin but just turned out to be a couple of crumbling cinder blocks. It was an incredibly disappointing find, but Martin wasn’t discouraged.

“We don’t know where they came from, or why someone dumped them here,” he reasoned, a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “What if they were stolen? What if they’re part of a...a crime, or something?”

Jon doesn’t know what crime would need a cinder block, but he intends to find out. They’ve been walking down the relatively short path (it’s not so much woods as it is a cluster of trees) and haven’t seen anything suspicious, besides a few empty wrappers and a particularly sharp stick that Jon’s been whacking against the ground. He thinks it could’ve been used as a weapon.

“What are you going to do when you’re eight?” he asks, nudging Martin in the side. He hasn’t mentioned his birthday since the first time, so he’ll be in for a real treat come Wednesday. Jon just hopes he can think of something good in time.

“Mm, I don’t know.” Martin slows down to a mosey, and Jon tries to match his strides no matter how much he wants to jump ahead. Martin’s a real ‘slow down and sniff the flowers’ type of guy. Jon’s more of a ‘run ahead and accidentally trample them’ type. “Probably the same as I’m doing now. It’s not like it’s an important age. I can’t drive or anything like that.”

“It’s a very important age!” Jon insists, though he doesn’t have much to back that up. He’s mostly just excited because it’s Martin’s very first birthday with him. “You should look forward to something.”

“I dunno, I don’t want anything to change,” Martin says, his face going a little red as he stares at the ground. “I’d just like to spend more time with you. Have fun. That kind of stuff.”

Jon blinks. “We do that now, though.”

“Yeah. It’s the best.” Martin gives him a toothy grin, the kind that Jon puts away and thinks about later when he’s at dinner with Nan or getting ready in the morning. People don’t smile at him like that, only Martin. He does it all the time when Jon tells him a good joke, or shares his food, or passes him a particularly funny doodle.

And now Jon’s got the perfect idea for a present.

part 2

[illumiru]

hi cami!! based on literally everything because you have good taste I was wondering if u had any fic recs?? I am in like a good fic desert and if u have any good reads would love to read them! thank u!!

Thanks!! I have to be honest that I don't read a lot of dc fics lately bc a lot of what's posted on AO3 doesn't appeal to me tbh. But I do have some favorites that live rent-free in my head. I hope you enjoy!

baby, it's a sign of the times by danishsweethearts

Dick Grayson has a pretty bad day, but hey, he's coping.

let your love grow tall by danishsweethearts

In a move endearingly predictable and highly amusing, Dick Grayson buys a bunch of plants and proceeds to pack bond with all of them.

cold was the night and hard was the ground by danishsweethearts

Laundromats are save points.

i've been longing for silence by danishsweethearts

The Titans are Dick's family. Damian is also Dick's family. Cue the collision.

un haeng il chi by danishsweethearts

un haeng il chi (언행일치) | yán xíng yī zhì (言行一致) idiom 1. word and actions coincide; to live up to one's word 2. to match words with deeds 3. practice what you preach

The Cassandra Wayne guide to truth-telling, manifestation and prosperity.

big d stands for big (demon)or by danishsweethearts

The one where Titans Tower is haunted, and Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder, original Robin, one and only Nightwing, esteemed leader, part-time exorcist, un-haunts it.

young volcanoes by dottie_wan_kenobi

You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s ten years old and hopeful. No, Bruce says. You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s fourteen and realistic. No, Bruce says. I’m going to join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s seventeen and furious. No, Bruce says. No, you are not.

Dick is nineteen now. And he’s not joining the Justice League—he’s joining the Titans.

the last of the real ones by dottie_wan_kenobi

Gar is like a blessing. He doesn’t seem to notice the shiny parts of Vic, not until it really counts—when there’s wires sticking out, something shoved through Vic like it was nothing, when he’s in danger. And even then, he treats them like any other part of the body, like a wound is a wound and it doesn’t matter that it’s not flesh, but technology.

When he asks, Gar tells him about Cliff Steele, and shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m just used to robot guys, I guess,” he says, flippant like he’s not the first person Vic has met who didn’t recoil at the sight of him.

Vic manages a laugh, his eye—his real eye, his human eye—stinging.

if you just call me by BeatriceEagle

“Dick.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Dick, look at me.”

Slowly, as if he were pushing against a terrible force, he lifted his head.

“I have known you since I was thirteen years old, and I have known you in a dozen other lifetimes, so I need you to believe me when I say that there is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

Dick held her gaze. He looked like he was searching for something in her eyes, so Donna held still and hoped he found it.

“Did you really know me in other lives?” he asked.

_____

Dick and Donna, after the action, through the years.

once upon a time... by Mayarene Rose (DickRoy)

The announcement is the talk of the kingdom. Men on horses, coming from the capital itself, shout it to every corner of the land to make sure everyone hears.

There will be a three-day festival held in honor of the crown prince’s name day!

So of course, no one can shut up about it and everyone’s making plans to make their way to the capital, one way or another.

Gotham, after all, isn’t known for its decadence. Celebrations from the capital are few and far in between. But, it’s also well known that the king absolutely dotes on his children. The has the makings of being the biggest feast anyone has seen in their lifetime.

“Huh,” Roy says. He’s in a farming village when he hears, about five days ride from the capital if he had a horse, which he does not.

Or the one where Roy is a knight errant, Dick is the crown prince, and there is a three-day celebration.

Dr. Wilson, Will I Ever Play the Violin Again? by HoodEx (DickJoey)

1 Missed Call 1:12 PM TUES 9 MAY Frank Hardy

A fond smile spreads over his face. He remembers Dick writing that as his own contact name in Joey's communicator the first time he and Joey exchanged numbers. Joey knows it's an action influenced by paranoia rather than something meant as an inside joke between friends, but he likes to think of it as a mixture of both.

"Who are you mooning over?"

Lissa crosses her arms over her chest and cuts across the room to get closer to him. Joey tries not to instinctually jerk his communicator closer to his chest as she peers down at it with a curious glint in her eye.

"Frank Hardy," Joey spells out with his fingers. "He's a friend of mine."

Her brow furrows. "Frank? Have I met him?"

Joey shakes his head.

"What do you think he was calling for?"

Hopefully not to tell me that the world is on its way to ending, Joey thinks, worrying at his lip.

"Not sure," Joey signs. His thumb hovers over the call-back button. "I guess I'm about to find out."

Red Letter Day by silverwhittlingknife

Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday.

He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too.

(... Though only after everything fell apart first.)

Eventual fix-it for Dick & Tim’s Red Robin fight, but other rocky relationships - Dick & Jason, Tim & Damian, Damian & Bruce, Dick & Bruce - wow, this family is dysfunctional - might improve too. Eventually. They just have to, y’know, work through All of Their Issues first. XD

Two of Six by silverwhittlingknife

There’s nothing special about this kid, no reason to remember him. But Dick remembers. Because of the photo.

Dick and Tim’s pre-nu52 relationship, from the beginning all the way to the end.

or: how Dick acquired a stalker, attempted to make him go away, and failed so badly that he acquired a brother instead.

(So far: missing scenes from childhood, Lonely Place of Dying, Knightfall, and Knightsend. Current arc: Prodigal.)

In the Palm of Your Hand by lapsedpacifist

Dick was forced into becoming a host for an entity of unknown strength, unknown motive, and unknown reach. The only thing he did know? It needed him alive.

Neurodegenerative series by lapsedpacifist

The general premise: Bruce has completely forgotten about Dick, and Dick only. Now tension is high between them and the rest of the family as they attempt to resolve the memory problem -- while drawing battlelines and realising that Dick had always been much more than a brother to them all.

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul

"WHAT MAKES IAGO EVIL? some people ask. I never ask."

— Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays

Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well.

This is all I could think of at the moment! I'll add more once I read the ones I encountered while I made this list. Enjoy!!

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Title: Extraordinary

Pairings: HotchReid (side pairings Morcia, WillxJJ, others in flirtation)

Summary: League of Extraordinary Gentleman/Vampire AU;

Within the FBI there is a specialized team full of an elite selection of people. Unique individuals with very particular skill sets. And their job is to take the unusual cases: the ones that need to not only be solved, but are undetermined if the unsub is human, or something else entirely.

In a world filled with Vampires, non-human creatures, and subspecies unknown, there is only enough information to have them vaguely regulated. Rules that are so easily, and violently broken, all while hidden in plain sight among the unsuspecting public. Unrivaled for eons.

That’s where the BAU comes in.

Official Posting Date: Now posted on tumblr and Ao3, Click Here

Links: (Masterpost) (Snippet 01) (Snippet 02) (Snippet 03) (Snippet 04)

(TW/CW: This is pretty tame, Emily is just a little intense and eager because Spencer is... well, Spencer, and when she realizes all he can do? Oh she is chomping at the bit. Some trance-like things and witchy stuff and Hotch being territorial without being able to admit it.)

(the story so far/what you need to know for this clip at least: this takes place in chapter 02, what you will all see on Saturday evening, and this version is insanely unpolished (I’m about to go through and fix it up and give it a good make-over) but basically this is the first time Spencer is meeting Emily Prentiss and it makes... an impression. Also, Emily has been at the BAU for about 0.2 seconds and Hotch is already done with her. The sibling energy I love to see. It’s also hella long, as an apology for missing last week and being a day late. All you’ve missed is Spencer about ran into Emily turning a corner and she saved him from spilling his case files and coffee all over the floor. Now they are talking)

–

.

“I apologize, I thought you were an intern or still in the academy.”

“It’s alright, everyone does,” Spencer says without taking offense. He wouldn’t have gotten where he was or lasted very long if he did; however, if he had a nickel for every time someone had been surprised by his age, he’d be as rich as Father Rossi. His full hands actually aids him as he mentions, “I don’t usually shake hands with people, so don’t think me rude. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” He offers her a smile in exchange, and it is mirrored on her face just as her surprise kicks up another notch. 

“Doctor, my my I am in for a trip on this team, aren’t I?” she laughs, and it’s a melodic thing that stretches over an expanse of time and history. Ballrooms in Russia and palors of France, Elizabethan and the roaring 20’s and everything in between all rolled into one. He’s not sure how he sees it, an impossible thing, but he can read it like a book and that must have something to do with what she is. “Emily Prentiss, it is a remarkable pleasure to meet you Dr. Reid. Now, I have to ask--” her tone is so charming and playful and probing he barely notices the nuance, “And I’m sure it’s taboo around here, but I have to know -- your regeneration process. Tell me what it is or what you do. You look so young.”

“I am young,” he states simply, finally stunned by a question he’s not usually asked. 

“Yes, yes, we all can’t be a thousand years old like your fearless Vampire leader,” she waves off and Spencer’s eyes widen because… he hadn’t known Hotch was that old. Sure he’d said he’d been alive for the better part of a millennia, but he always said it like a hyperbole. A turn of phrase that’s off by a couple centuries. But --

 A thousand years old. 

That would put him… 

God, that would put him alive, as a human, just before the start of The Crusades. 

“Oh, did he keep that to himself? Oops, my bad. Pretend you don’t know. Anyway -- so are you a Shifter? Or use a particular spell? Oh, or is it a curse? I’m fascinated by curses, I don’t use them often myself but the rigidity of terms using a power so chaotic is just such a fun juxtaposition that I--”

“No, no, I’m… normal, human,” Spencer interrupts her, still the smallest bit shell-shocked, but now connects a few dots himself as she speaks. Realizes very suddenly that Ms. Prentiss appears ageless because she is ageless. She’s also a Witch. One of the broadest terms for subspecies categories, which really doesn’t do it justice. A Witch could be a number of things. Someone who uses magic and science and the very Earth itself paired with the spiritual planes to do impossible things. Witches are beings so powerful they should be uncategorizable. Something Spencer is fascinated by as well. He’s never met anyone like Emily. “I look young because I am young. I’m 27, I’ve only been with the BAU for the past three years. I’m a little excited to not be the newbie on the team any more,” he tries to joke, but Emily’s gaze has gone distant and sharp all at once.

“You’re only 27? And you’re a doctor?” She asks in clarification, Spencer nodding along each time. “You’ve been a doctor, since becoming an FBI agent?” 

“Um, well -- I’m not a medical doctor. I do have three doctorates, though; in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering,” he finds himself shrinking a bit under her intensely interested gaze. “What?”

“Chemistry?” she asks, vaguely more distant.

“That was my first doctorate,” he murmurs back, not sure what has her looking so contemplative. 

“You’ve achieved all of this: three doctorates, FBI agent, BAU -- in 27 years?” she questions, a grave yet wondrous sound.

“Technically I did all of that in 15 years. I graduated high school when I was 12,” he manages to do more than mumble, and Emily’s wide-eyed stare has him spewing forth information like it requires an explanation. “I have an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words a minute, and my IQ is 187 so by human standards yes -- I’m a genius, and borderline on the advanced brain developments scale. But I’m still human. Nothing paranormal or extraordinary.”

The pause that follows is palpable.

“Oh,” she says in an exhale, “Oh, you young soul. You have no idea, do you? What you are capable of...” She tilts her head as she steps closer and Spencer is very suddenly aware that he’s not sure she’s blinked since they started speaking about his qualifications. What he can do, how he got to where he is. No one usually shows this much interest, he makes them uncomfortable for reasons he doesn’t always understand. 

Emily doesn’t look uncomfortable, she looks… hungry. 

“You are so very, very extraordinary. Exceptional, really. Look at all of what you’ve accomplished with just 15 years of life.” That astonished sound again, like she can’t believe her luck--

And then she’s in his space, gaze boring into his, and Spencer can see galaxies in the depth of her eyes. His breath stolen from him and feet rooted to the floor. So he doesn’t step away as she leans just the smallest bit closer, words resonating with echoes across ages.

“Imagine what you could do with a thousand.” 

“Prentiss,” the deep voice of Hotch’s monotone (edged in something vaguely aggressive, and more than a little aggravated)  breaks through their moment. The trance fading like a fog from Spencer’s eyes. “No recruiting. It’s in your contract.”

“You have such a gift, it’s a shame to waste it,” Emily whispers in a rush as Hotch approaches them from down the hall. More earnest than intimidating, now.

“Prentiss!” 

“Think about it,” she winks, and then turns to give Hotch a smile that’s all teeth so sharp she resembles a shark. “Oh, what a sour face. What’s wrong? Were you planning on asking him first? You snooze, you lose.” 

“Conference room,” he instructs, pointing the way Spencer had just come. “Team meeting in 20 minutes. Try not to summon anything between here and there.” She sticks her tongue out at him childishly as she leaves, and sends a quirk of a smile Spencer’s direction that shifts her whole expression into something comically entertained. He’s never seen Hotch interact with someone like this, like they were… familiar, even exasperatingly so. The closest in comparison is probably Father Rossi. But this is less like old friends and more like sibling rivalry. 

The space Emily had just vacated is suddenly filled with Hotch, an overwhelmingly welcomed presence and it eases the tension out of Spencer’s spine and shoulders that he hadn’t even realized was there. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, low and quiet. They’re the only ones in the hallway, but secrecy is a hard habit to break.

Spencer nods, still gaining his bearings once more. “I think so. That didn’t feel like hypnotism. I don’t know what that was.” 

“Prentiss doesn’t manipulate minds or the wills of other people,” Hotch tells him, which is soothing if not for the foreboding question of what just occurred. “She doesn’t need to. She can do a lot of things: change her face, her voice, make illusions and talk circles around anyone -- even you.” Spencer looks up to him at that, aware that his level of intelligence is the only thing that keeps him safe from JJ or Hotch’s influence. His mind can’t be bent, or tricked.

“Then what was she doing? I felt compelled but… not against my will. What was that?” he asks, also quiet but much more high in pitch as his confusion turns his voice to a winded sound.

Hotch’s thin, stern frown does nothing to alleviate the apprehension caught up in his chest like a bad cold. 

.

“Possibility,” he states, grim and not liking that Spencer had fallen prey to such a short moment with Emily Prentiss and her promise of what her craft could do for him. Hotch is well aware that Spencer’s gift of soaking up every speck on information he’s given like a sponge isn’t something to let wither and die like so many before him. There’s so much he could do with an infinite life, such as his and Emily’s, but the curse of living forever alone is not something to be taken lightly. And not to be decided by someone who still has so much more life to live unaided by other forces.

However, Emily was right about one thing. Hotch can’t deny that he’s thought about it. More than considered it as a definite possibility. 

An offer, all his own.

–

Tagged list so far: @physics-magic​, @thaddeusly, @ssa-noa, @ssa-sarahsunshine, @tobias-hankel, @reidology, @mintphoenix