#Cat Urine Out Of Wood

[octuscle]

The ghost of Beta Rho Omega

Jeff and Scott were standing in front of a hovel. It must have been an impressive house once. But the broken porch, the half-collapsed roof, the broken windows, it was all pitiful. And all in such an excellent location. The university campus was around the corner, with a few remaining fraternity houses in the neighborhood, but the majority of them were investment properties such as student residences, boarding houses and office buildings, with coffee shops and co-working spaces on the first floors. Not exactly their world. Jeff and Scott were the children of laborers, their children were laborers. In their minds, students were freeloaders and ne'er-do-wells. And in many cases, even voters for the Democrats. As I said: Not their world!

Their job today was to clear out the wreckage, tear down the porch and prepare the construction site for the excavators that would arrive tomorrow to clear the way for a new Starbucks or something. They didn't need to unlock the door, and they didn't have a key anyway. A powerful kick was enough. And the rotten wood gave way with a crash. A cat fled screaming from the dark room, which smelled musty. The young colleagues would have put on face masks by now. Wimps, Jeff thought to himself. They shone flashlights around the room. It looked as if a farewell party had been held many years ago and then the building had been abandoned. Beer bottles and weathered pizza boxes could still be seen in the thick dust. The furniture was covered in droppings from pigeons, cats and other animals. Scott went to a window and forcefully pushed it and the shutters off their rusty hinges. Fresh air! Thank God! And light that offered an even better view of the chaos. Part of the ceiling had come down. Water damage. The wallpaper was hanging in shreds from the walls. The only thing that looked surprisingly clean and intact was a large banner above the fireplace “verum homines olet, verum homines amant odor verus hominum”. Scott asked what that meant. Jeff replied if he looked like that, would he speak Spanish.

The two of them searched the first floor. The stairs leading upstairs didn't look like they could withstand two massive workmen. They would need a ladder. The kitchen smelled like rotten food and animal droppings. There were pictures hanging in a hallway. Some of them were a little yellowed. But surprisingly, the frames of the pictures were dust-free. On the frames were brass plates with names on them. And in front of each one was always the same: “Bro of the Month” and a date. Some of the plates were from the 50s, some from the 70s, some from the 90s. There must have been many more pictures in the past.

The shadows of the missing pictures could be seen on the wall. The last two Bros of the Month whose pictures were still hanging were called Jeff and Scott. And the Bros, who, like the other shirts, had BPO printed on them, clearly looked like what Jeff and Scott would have looked like if they had spent their high school days in the gym and on the football field. Jeff and Scott turned pale. Pale like the freshly painted wall behind them. Shit, Jeff had to throw up, was there a bathroom around here? He opened the nearest door.

White tiles, urinals, toilet boxes. Jackpot! He opened a box and broke into the toilet bowl. Shit, shit, something was wrong! Yes, there were puddles of piss and obviously more than one guy had jerked off here. But everything was in good condition. “Bro, everything okay in there?” Was that Scott? His voice sounded different. Younger. Deeper. ”Dude, are you jerking off? Or why is it taking so long?”

Jeff went back to the hallway. The guy standing there was probably Scott. With longer hair. And somehow… younger! Had he changed his clothes? Or had he been wearing the overalls all along? And damn it, why wasn't he wearing a helmet or a T-shirt. And Scott stank! Of sweat and musk. Shit, shit, shit! Scott raised an arm and scratched the back of his head. Like the Scott in the picture “Bro of the Month.” He inhaled the stench from his hairy armpit. A deep cave between large pectoral muscles and impressive biceps and triceps. Was Jeff seriously getting a boner? Scott began to knead the bulge in his crotch with the hand that wasn't scratching his head. “You like what you see, bro?” Why did Scott talk like that? “Bro,” that's what young, stupid college students called each other. Not workers. Like Jeff and… Were they workers? Scott had been his buddy since high school. Most successful quarterback in ten years. And he himself… Wasn't he… Right, the linebacker. Shit, maybe he'd just had too much to drink yesterday. Jeff flexed his pecs. He knew that made Scott hot. ”Of course I like it, bro! How about you? Do you like it?” On Jeff's naked chest, beads of sweat glistened in the chest hair. Scott lowered his dungarees and freed his cock from the yellowed and encrusted jockstrap. With one hand he jerked his cock, with the other he worked Jeff's right nipple. Jeff moaned, unbuttoned the waistband of his trousers Scott pushed Jeff back to the toilets and pushed him against a wall. He spat on his dick and began to insert it into Jeff's ass. Shit, why couldn't the two of them be together for half an hour without having sex?

Last night's party had gotten out of hand again. Like almost every party at Beta Rho Omega. Jeff and Scott were on garbage duty this time. Damn, a few of the chairs in the dining hall had been broken. That happened quite often, too; the BPO members were the biggest guys on campus. The alumni were used to writing regular checks for new furniture. The guys from Rho Epsilon Epsilon Kappa across the street had really overdone it again two years ago; their house had to be completely renovated. But hey, that was the neighborhood: a bunch of frat houses where big, dumb guys competed to see who could throw the best parties. A few went to college. But they were just a few nerds.

Pics by @ki-kink, inspiration by @rowdy317

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Summer Heat | S.R

Summary - By orders or the director, the BAU must undertake a team building hike in the woods. You and Spencer have never gotten along and not even the summer heat seems to be able thaw the ice that exists between you. But then you get yourselves lost and while waiting for rescue, you have to find a way to pass the time…

A/N - set somewhere in the realms of s15. This is my second entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Challenge.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - enemies to lovers, Spencer’s awkward info dumping about hiking related deaths, swearing, public urination, talks of bladder control techniques, treating wounds, Spencer is touch starved, mentions of prison and Cat Adams and Max, Spencer and reader are oblivious idiots, make outs, handjob, fingering, public sexual acts, interruptions.

WC - 8.9k

The potency of the early afternoon Virginia sun infiltrating the towering thicket of loblolly pines caressed your skin, peppering its honeyed kisses across your flesh. 

The warm earthy scents combined with the aromas of moss and the sharp, almost sweet notes of the pine trees engulfed you in a blanket of mother earth's creation. 

You hummed to yourself as you trekked up a grassy incline barely registering the weight of your oversized pack on your back. You were no stranger to hiking or the heat and you were barely phased by it. 

Unlike some people. 

Doctor Spencer Reid was equipped for neither physical activity or the weather, despite the fact he grew up in desert climates. You could hear him huffing and puffing behind you as he struggled up even the smallest of hills. 

You reached the brow and turned back to him with your hands on your hips. His face was flushed red from a combination of the sun and exertion. His hair stuck to his sweaty brow and his chest heaved with his breaths. 

When he reached you, he doubled over, hands on his knees and he fought to catch his breath. You rolled your eyes and waited somewhat impatiently for him to stand again. 

“Are you really this out of shape?” You scoffed. 

He glanced up through a curtain of hair, puffing uneven breaths out between parted lips. 

“Clearly.” He bit back. 

It wasn’t a secret that the two of you didn’t exactly see eye to eye. You’d been with the team for almost a year now, but you and Spencer had never been close. 

You’d gotten off on the wrong foot on your very first case. He’d spent almost all day on the phone to someone talking about his mother and you’d made a flippant comment about him being a mama's boy. 

This led Spencer to launch into a rant about how his mother suffered from schizophrenia and altzeimers and how he was talking to her doctor because she was struggling to adjust to the new home he’d put her in DC. 

He didn’t stop there. He continued to inform that she had been moved to DC because she wasn’t responding well to medication or her living facility in Vegas. He detailed how he’d moved her to the east coast and then gotten arrested in Mexico whilst trying to procure some experimental medicine. 

He was seething by the time he told you that the same woman who’d gotten him arrested then had his mother kidnapped and almost killed. 

He wasn’t as standoffish towards you as he used to be, his iciness thawing somewhat over time. But you were never going to be his favourite person. And as a result, he wasn’t yours either. 

He forced himself to stand up straight, grabbing his canteen from where it was hanging from the strap of his backpack and taking a hefty sip before wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. 

“It’s just a little hike. It’s not like you’re running a marathon or anything.” You clucked. “Can we continue now?” 

“Just a little hike?” He groaned but started walking nonetheless. “It’s ten miles! And I have to do it with you.” 

“Oh you poor, unfortunate soul.” You rolled your eyes as you fell in step with him. 

The hike had been an idea which was floated down from the director. A team building exercise it had been dubbed. Although it wasn’t strictly mandatory it would look bad on those who didn’t participate. 

So the BAU was spending a rare weekend off on a ten mile hike through the Shenandoah National Park followed by spending the night camping at the valley’s campground. 

The Shenandoah National Park was more than five hundred miles of hiking trails extending along the Blue Ridge Mountains which included a section of long distance Appalachian Trail. 

As someone who relished in the outdoors you’d always wanted the chance to visit Shenandoah but had never had the opportunity. And if you were paired up with anyone other than Spencer you might have been able to enjoy yourself. 

Garcia had everyone draw straws in order to team up for the hike before you would all meet up later at the campground. You’d quite literally drawn the short straw with Spencer whilst Penelope was paired with Matt, Luke with JJ whilst Tara, Emily and Rossi made a group of three. 

Spencer was the least athletic of the BAU members, the least outdoorsy, and so far had not stopped complaining. 

You regarded your GPS as you walked to ensure you were headed in the right direction and the two of you fell back into silence. 

Spencer breathed heavily even when the trail was flat, groaning a little every time you came to another incline. 

You watched him out of the corner of your eye. It was a strange sight to behold, an academic who was far more comfortable indoors trekking through the woods like this. But what was even weirder was his outfit. 

You’d never seen Spencer out of a shirt and slacks but he’d tried to at least look the part of a hiker today. He wore a thin black t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts which showed off his surprisingly toned legs. You didn’t even think he would own such an item of clothing. 

He’d tried to look the part, probably only taking into account the heat and not the fact that he was leaving his legs exposed to bug bites and poison ivy. You wouldn’t be the one to tell him that though. 

He’d ditched his satchel in lieu of a backpack but still had his trusty converse on with obligatory mismatched socks. You’d told him converse would be hard to hike in, their thin soles alone not conducive to walking on the forest floor. 

Judging by the way he grimaced with nearly every step, he was starting to wish he’d listened to you. 

You continued to walk in silence, watching the way Spencer’s wary eyes cast around through the thick tree trunks, ears pricking at every tiny sound. 

“If you didn’t need to stop and catch your breath every five minutes we’d be back by now.” You couldn’t hold your tongue. 

Spencer’s head turned towards you, brows furrowed. 

“If we hadn’t taken such a hilly trail I wouldn’t need to keep stopping every five minutes. Did you know hikers use twenty eight percent more energy when traversing uneven terrain as opposed to flatter land?” He grabbed his canteen again and took another sip. 

“Don’t come crying to me when you’ve run out of water.” You ignored his statistical rambling, increasing your gait a little. 

“I won’t run out of water. I’ve calculated exactly how much I can afford to drink per hour when approximating how long it will take to walk ten miles.” He told you smugly. 

“Of course you have.” You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace a little more. 

“I can’t believe the bureau is making us do this. Do they not realise that hiking related deaths have been on the rise? They’ve increased as much as twenty one percent in recent years.” He grumbled as he tried to match your pace. 

“Oh please, do tell me more.” You huffed and clearly Spencer either didn’t sense your sarcasm or he chose to ignore it because he did tell you more.

“Fifty percent of all hiking related deaths are caused by a fall or drowning. Men make up seventy two percent of those victims.” He pulled a face, focusing on the ground beneath him now he’d drawn his own attention to that fact. 

“Well you for one are particularly clumsy.” You replied, your tone one of boredom. 

“The other fifty percent are due to medical conditions such as heart attacks while engaging in physical activity.” 

“What kind of physical activity?” You smirked suggestively, nudging him in his arm. 

Spencer shook his head as your childish insinuation. 

“Oh grow up, Y/L/N.” He spat. 

“I’m just saying if there is a man out there so good in bed he can induce a heart attack, I wanna meet him.” You chuckled, seeing him roll his eyes in your peripheral vision. 

“And I’m saying, hiking is inherently dangerous.” 

“We chase serial killers for a living.” You huffed, checking your navigational device again. 

“Which I am well versed in due to years of hands-on experience. I am not educated in outdoor pursuits.” He scoffed. 

“You seem to know a lot about hiking related deaths.” You cast your gaze upwards towards the sun peaking between the high trees. 

You could hear faint rhythmic buzzing from insects nearby, distance scuffling through the underbrush. Every now and again you picked up on various bird songs as they chirped from the high branches. 

It made a smile blossom on your features, being one with nature, the summer air cleansing your lungs. The sounds and the smells were a comfort to you, taking you back to childhood memories camping and trekking through forests just like this with your family and fond recollections of years spent at summer camps. 

Summer was without a doubt your favourite season. It elicited waves of nostalgia, taking you back to years spent at camp lake edges, eating ice cream hurriedly before it melted, giving you brain freeze.

It evoked images of burning campfires, the smell of the wood as it smouldered and the marshmallows roasting ready to be made into s’mores. Dulcet tones of an acoustic guitar played under the moonlight by Andy Duncan, your camp crush. 

And later when he’d walked you back to your cabin and bestowed upon you your first ever kiss. Summer held some of your best memories and kindled your sentimental side. 

You toyed with the GPS device in your hand as you walked, twigs and leaves crunching under foot. You didn’t realise Spencer was staring at you. 

“You okay?” He spoke up, snapping you out of your reminiscing. 

“Huh?” You glanced at him sideways. 

Spencer had a hint of amusement in his eyes as he looked at you, something you’d never seen on him before, not directed towards you anyway. 

“You look awfully wistful.” He shrugged. 

“I just love summer I guess.” You mirrored his action. 

“That makes sense.” Spencer turned away and looked back at the ground so he could avoid any potential trip hazards. 

“What does that mean?” You swatted at a bug that landed on your arm. 

“It means I’m not surprised you like summer, arguably the worst season.” He clucked. 

“The worst? Oh please. Let me guess Doc, you’re a fan of gloomy winter? That would make sense.” 

“Winter isn’t gloomy. Winter is oversized sweaters and hot cocoa by a fireplace. Huddled under blankets, the holidays. Sometimes even snow.” He told you as if you’d never heard of winter before. “But it’s not my favourite season. My favourite season is fall.” 

“Hmm, dark and moody tones, nature dying. That tracks.” You spoke in a clipped tone. 

“It’s not dying, it’s the start of rebirth. Shedding one layer so it can grow into something more than it ever thought it could be. It’s hauntingly beautiful really. And autumnal tones are stunning, all those earthy hues and streets littered in leaves. It makes me think of cinnamon and old books. Reading in the park with my mom when she was lucid and watching the leaves fall from the trees all around us.” It was Spencer’s turn to grow wistful. 

You noticed his eyes glaze over slightly, his lip quirking up at the corner as he got lost in a fond childhood memory. 

Spencer never talked to you about his youth or his mother after your initial falling out. He’d never been so candid with you before. As if he realised this, he shook his head, snapping himself out of his own revere. 

“I, uh, didn’t mean to share all that.” He grumbled, grabbing his canteen and sipping the water just for something to do. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Well I do.” He spat, slowing a little as the two of you neared another slight slope. “You’re the last person I want to talk to about my mother.” 

You slowed with him until you both stopped. You folded your arms across your chest and glared at him. 

“Reid, come on. It’s been a long time. I’ve apologised for calling you a mama’s boy multiple times. How could I have possibly known about your mother?” You shook your head. 

Spencer’s jaw tightened, the muscle in the side of his face pulsing as he stared at you. You could all but see the cogs turning in his head as he fashioned a response. 

“I don’t want your apologies, Y/L/N.” He huffed out. 

He suddenly started walking again, ignoring how much his legs ached as he started up the small slope. You watched him go for a moment or two, feeling awash with anger. 

You’d been looking forward to this hike, to an excuse to spend the weekend outdoors in the sun. You were not going to let Doctor Spencer Reid ruin that for you. 

***

You carried on walking for another hour or so and not another word was spoken between you. It was tense and awkward and the sun was getting lower in the sky. 

It wouldn’t be at all long before it started getting dark and you were growing a little concerned that you might not make it back before the sunset. 

Spencer was clearly thinking the same as his brows had been furrowed for at least the past ten minutes and he was furiously chewing on his lip.

You halted in your tracks and pulled the GPS device back out. You stared down at it with a heavy frown, feeling the heat radiating off of Spencer as he drew closer to you. He peered at the GPS over your shoulder with a scrunched brow similar to your own. 

“That says we’re only a few hundred yards from the camp. We should be able to see it.” Spencer looked up but all he saw was trees.

He turned a complete three hundred and sixty degrees but was met by trees as far as the eye could see. 

“I think…I think it’s busted.” You groaned deeply, the sound reverberating out into the forest. 

“No? No!” Spencer snatched it from your hand and shook it as if that would help matters. “Call someone! It’s going to get dark soon!”

You did not miss the blatant panic in his voice and if you didn’t feel the same you might have made a jab at him for it. 

You reached for your phone in your pants pocket and unlocked the screen but groaned as soon as you did so. 

“Fuck, I have no signal.” 

“What?” Spencer scrabbled for his own device and huffed seeing he had no bars either. “We’re stuck out here?” 

“Uh,” you glanced around. “Yes?” 

“No, no. I am not dying out in the woods with you.” His tone was even more fraught. 

“Trust me, you are not my first choice of death partner either.” You scoffed.

“If we’re out here long enough we could dehydrate! Or get hypothermia! I told you fifty percent of hiking related deaths are caused by medical conditions.” He was spiralling. 

“How many hiking related deaths are caused by homicide?” You shot him an unamused look. 

“Eighteen percent of 990 deaths at national parks were considered intentional. That includes suicide and homicide.” 

“It was a rhetorical question.” You shook your head. “Maybe if we get to higher ground we can get some cell service.” 

You started to walk but had no idea where you were going. You just had to hope you would find some higher ground. 

Spencer followed you for lack of any better suggestions. He was sulking like a petulant child, clearly there was something on his mind as he huffed a few times as he trailed behind you. 

You walked no more than a few minutes before his constant sighing and pouting caused you to stop again. 

“What?” You spat. “What is it?” 

Spencer frowned, halting in his tracks too. He was rolling his lip frantically between his teeth now and jiggling a little where he stood. 

“I, uh,” his cheeks flushed red. “I need to use the bathroom.” 

You closed your eyes for a second, pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“I hate to break it to you but there are no bathrooms way out here.” 

“It’s a figure of speech.” He grumbled. “I need to…pee.” 

“Okay, well take your pick.” You motioned around to the copious trees surrounding you. 

“I’m not a dog.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sorry princess but it’s the best I can offer you.” 

Spencer sucked in a deep breath, clenching his hands at his side. His leg was still jiggling with his need to urinate. 

Spencer had developed an extremely strong bladder in his time in prison. The toilets on offer at Milburn were some of the most unhygienic he’d ever seen and as such had used them as little as humanly possible. 

He’s trained himself to strengthen his bladder, exercising his pelvic floor in order to reduce the amount of times in a day he needed to use the bathroom. 

As such during the hike he hadn’t been once while you had been multiple times. And now it had snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere and he wouldn’t be able to hold it long. 

“Goddamn I hate nature.” He grumbled, glancing around for the largest looking tree he could use to shield himself from you. 

You watched as he turned his back on you, hurrying off in one direction, further than was strictly necessary. You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head. 

“Don’t worry, Doc I’m not looking to catch a glimpse.” You called after him. You heard a tut in response but he didn’t rise to it. 

Spencer pushed forwards through some bushes and weaved in and out large pines before he found a tree trunk far enough away from you that he could have some semblance of peace while he expelled himself. 

He made sure the trunk was blocking his body before he unbuttoned his cargo shorts and freed himself from his pants. Within a fraction of a second he was already urinating.

He let out a relieved sigh, holding the base of his cock in one hand for aiming purposes whilst leaning the other on the tree. 

He closed his eyes as the blissful sensation of his bladder emptying consumed him. He didn’t relish doing this in the woods but he couldn’t deny how nice it felt. 

It felt so good in fact he didn’t even notice the itching of his calves. He finished his business and tucked himself away before buttoning his shorts. 

He swung his pack off his back and rummaged in the side pocket for a little bottle of hand sanitiser. He squirted a little in his palm and rubbed his hands together. 

Returning it to his bag and putting it back on, he noticed a stinging in his left calf but ignored it as he walked back over to you. As he walked his other leg started to sting too. 

When he reached you he subconsciously reached down and started scratching the backs of his bare legs with his blunt nails. You stared at him curiously. 

“You okay?” 

“Just a little itchy. Think I’ve been bitten or something.” He grumbled. 

You walked around him and regarded his legs. His skin was flushed red with little raised blisters dotted up the backs of both calves. 

“Reid,” you took his wrists and guided his hands away from his frantic scratching. “I think you’ve walked in poison ivy.” 

He snapped back to his full height, eyes wide. 

“What? No? Come on!” He moaned, glancing back at the rash forming. “Could this day get any worse?” 

“I’ve got a first aid kit in my bag, I’m going to need to treat those. If you keep scratching they could scar. Maybe this will teach you for wearing shorts on a hike.” You put down your backpack and rummaged for the kit. 

“It’s nearly eighty degrees.” He scoffed. “And I’ve never been hiking before.” 

“Just shut up and stand still. Give me your water.” You knelt down on the ground behind him.

“You’ve got your own water.” 

“I’m not wasting my water on cleaning your rash because you were the idiot who wore shorts. Give me your water.” 

Spencer huffed out a breath to show he wasn’t happy but then he unlatched his canteen from his bag strap and passed it back to you. So much for his calculations. 

You uncapped it and poured a little on the back of each leg causing him to shudder. You used a small hand towel you had in your backpack to dry them off before sanitising your hands.

You located the hydrocortisone ointment in the first aid kit and squeezed a little on the pads of your fingers. You cautiously started on his left leg, massaging the cream into the small blisters. 

Spencer hissed and his legs buckled a little. He was silent though and allowed you to treat his rash. Soon you were moving onto the other leg and although it stung Spencer couldn’t deny he enjoyed the skin to skin contact. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Spencer was touch starved. He hadn’t felt another set of hands on him in such a tender way since before prison. 

He’d deliberately kept everyone at arms length since, not trusting himself or deeming himself worthy to be so close to another person. 

He’d almost allowed himself to go there with Max, to succumb to the kind of pleasure he’d sorely missed. They’d kissed but ultimately that was the furthest he’d let himself go. 

And somehow your benevolent touch was more intimate than kissing Max. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part. 

He was sure you knew the real reason he was so brusque with you wasn’t because of what you’d call him during your first case. He was annoyed about it at first but he hadn’t held a grudge over it. 

His curt behaviour towards you stemmed from his almost overwhelming crush on you. He’d pushed you away because when he met you he wasn’t ready to be close to someone. But in doing so he had inevitably sealed his own fate so that now when he might actually want to pursue something, you could barely stand him.

He tried to omit the feeling of your fingertips on his calves and focused his attention on the warbling of a nearby bird. Its song wasn’t the prettiest he’d ever heard but it had a certain cadence to it which he found oddly calming. 

All too soon you were finished and your touch was gone, leaving Spencer feeling dissatisfied. You wrapped both of his rashes in gauze bandages but your fingers barely ghosted over his flesh again.

You stuffed the kit back away and pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dirt off of your knees. Spencer looked down at his newly bandaged legs with a small frown. 

“Do you have a change of clothes? Some pants perhaps?” You asked.

“No, for all my planning and research I did not think to bring long pants.” He shook his head at his oversight. 

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but you could have asked me what you should bring. The whole team knows I’m big on hiking and camping.” You turned away from him, looking back out through the trees to try and ascertain the best direction to head. “I also could have told you that converse was a dumb choice for hiking. I can only imagine how much your feet hurt.” 

Spencer made a noise that sounded somewhat like he agreed with you but didn’t want to say it out loud. You pulled out a piece of crumpled paper from your backpack and unfolded it, staring intently at it for a few moments. 

Spencer came closer, glancing down at the wrinkled paper in your hands. It looked to be a topographic map of the area. Finally something Spencer understood about hiking. 

“Didn’t know Garcia gave us those.” He spoke as you studied it.

“She didn’t. This isn’t my first rodeo, I would never have come out here without one.” You didn’t look at him. 

“So I can read this but how do you work out where we are? There’s nothing but trees for miles.” He scratched the back of his neck. 

“Observation. We passed a small body of water about a mile back. I didn’t see it but I could hear it off to the west. And this incline,” you pointed in front of you. “Will help figure it out.” 

“Okay, so a small body of water and an area where the contour lines aren’t too close as the hill isn’t too steep.” He nodded.

“Exactly.” You agreed. “And if my bearings are right I believe we’re facing north east.” 

Spencer looked around briefly before a smile tugged at his lips. 

“Because of the position of the sun.” 

“Yep. And the moss.” You nodded towards the trees. “It’s not an exact science but in the whole moss tends to grow on the north side of trees in the northern hemisphere.”

Spencer watched while you ran your index finger along the map, trying to draw on everything you knew in order to get the two of you to higher ground. 

“Wow I’m…I’m actually impressed.” He chuckled a little and you looked up at him with a frown. 

“Are you patronising me?” 

“What? No! I mean it. I’m really impressed.” 

“Oh,” you looked back at the map. “Thanks.” 

A minute or so later and you’d estimated a few miles worth of trail you believed the two of you to be on. If you were right you were still miles from the camp and wouldn’t make it there by nightfall. 

Your plan was to find somewhere to get cell service so you could call the team and hopefully they could get park rangers out here to find you as they were the only ones equipped to traverse the forest after dark. 

Spencer followed you while you kept the map in your hand. The two of you walked for another mile or so, by this point Spencer’s water rations were nearly depleted. 

Eventually you stopped at the foot of a large, steep hill and Spencer looked up at it with a dubious expression. 

“You want me to climb that?” He whined. 

“Well we have a better chance of getting cell service when we have two phones.” You rolled your eyes, folding the map and slotting it in your pocket. 

“Can’t you just take mine up there with you?” He pulled a face. “I really do not possess the physical prowess for this.”

“No kidding.” You scoffed. “But we’re in this together. I could get hurt or something, I need you for backup.” 

Spencer groaned, pouting his bottom lip like a child. 

“Oh jeez, fine.” He huffed. “But I will complain every step of the way.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” With a shake of your head you started forward and Spencer reluctantly followed you.

You got less than twenty paces before he almost slipped and fell on his face. To steady himself he instinctively reached for your hand. He didn’t let go the whole way up. 

You hated to admit it but there was something oddly comforting about Spencer’s hand in yours. His hand was warm and surprisingly soft and it was so much larger than your own he all but encompassed yours. 

He held onto you tightly, fingers squeezing your hand every time his foot slipped a little on the hilly ground. A part of you didn’t want to make it to the top because you didn’t want him to let go. 

But of course as soon as the ground levelled out he slipped his hand away and all but collapsed onto the damp ground below, huffing and puffing. You watched him grab his canteen and finish the water without a second thought. 

He removed his pack and rolled onto his back, relishing in every last drop of liquid and clearly not concerned he had now emptied his reserves. He closed his eyes and pushed his hair back off his sweaty forehead. 

You pulled your cell phone out and unlocked it. You had one tiny bar of signal which you hoped was enough to make a call. You nudged Spencer in the ribs with the toe of your hiking boot. His eyes shot open and he stared up at you, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes. 

“I’ve got one bar, I’m going to try and call Prentiss.” You informed him, bringing up your contacts. 

You found Emily’s name quickly and hit the call button before putting the device on speaker. The dial tone was crackly and you knew the signal could cut out at any minute. It rang four times before Emily answered but her words were muffled and you only caught a handful of what she said.

“Y/N…are you?...Gone hours…thing okay?” 

“Emily, we got lost. Our GPS was misprogrammed. We need help.” You had no idea how much she could hear of what you were saying.

“...are you?...send a rang…coordinates?” 

You reeled off your approximate coordinates, explaining that you could be anywhere within a few miles of that spot but again you don’t know what she heard due to the spotty service. 

“Hold tight…get a ranger…be okay.” 

“Thanks Emily.” You finished before hanging up.

Spencer was still on the floor on his back, his brows furrowed in concern.

“How much of that do you think she got?” He was rolling his lip between his teeth.

“I have no idea.” You pocketed the phone again. “I’m almost certain Garcia would have brought her laptop with her. If she can get to the rangers station and get on the WiFi she might be able to locate us.”

“Yeah, good point. Garcia is the best.” His eyes closed again, a strangely dreamy smile on his lips. 

“What are you doing?” You kicked him again and his eyes quickly opened and he stared at you.

“Resting, what does it look like?” He scowled.

“Reid, the second the sun goes down the temperature is going to plummet. We need to make a fire.” 

“Goddamnit,” he pushed himself to a sitting position. “I hate the outdoors.” 

You chose to ignore him and didn’t help him to his feet, instead started wandering around in the search for some sticks for the fire. Spencer eventually got himself up and started to help. The sun was barely a sliver in the sky by the time you collected enough wood.

You created a crisscross on the ground with the kindling, explaining to Spencer this type of fire would burn for longer and not need as much wood. You had no idea how long you would be out here and you needed to stay warm. The smoke would also help draw attention to your whereabouts. 

You retrieved a pack of matches from your back, Spencer once again impressed by your preparedness. He simply watched while you went about lighting the fire, in silent awe. It was several minutes before the fire started to grow and he shuffled closer to it, sitting cross legged on the dirty forest floor and holding his hands towards the flames. 

You sat down next to him, but not too close. You got out a fleece hoodie from your bag and slipped it over your head. As if jogging some kind of memory for Spencer he opened his own bag and found his oversized CalTech sweatshirt, thankful he’d had the forethought to pack this even if he had overlooked bringing pants. 

Sitting by the fire you felt the fatigue wash over you. You could quite easily curl up and fall asleep after the day's events. Spencer noticed your fluttering eyelids and how you were desperately trying to stay awake.

He suddenly felt extremely bad for how difficult he’d been all day, complaining and moaning while you tried to keep him safe and alive. He huffed out a breath and the sound caused you to look at him.

Half of his face was illuminated by the glow of the fire, the other side set in deep shadow from where the sun had now almost completely vanished beneath the horizon. His golden brown eyes shimmered as he looked at you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry I’ve been such hard work today.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.

“Reid, I’m used to you being hard work.” Your lip twitched at the corner. 

“I’m sorry about that too.” He swallowed. “Do you…do you want to lay your head down on my lap? You deserve to rest.” 

You frowned a little sceptical, mildly concerned by the offer as Spencer had never been so nice to you. But you were too tired to question it and the idea of laying down sounded wonderful. You nodded slowly, prompting Spencer to uncross his legs and stretch them out in front of himself.

You sucked in a breath, shuffling in the dirt so you could lay on your side with your head in his lap while you stretched your own body out on the ground. 

Without meaning to, Spencer's hand was soon brushing through your hair. You couldn’t help the hum of appreciation that you let escape and it goaded him to continue. 

His touch elicited the sweetest sounds from your lips, some sounding dangerously like moans. Spencer was only human and his body reacted of its own accord at the noises. 

He could sense the blood rushing south, feel the swelling in his shorts despite how much he willed it stop. He stilled his movements on your hair, hoping if you weren’t making those delirious sounds it would stop the blood rushing and he wouldn’t get hard enough for you to notice…

…You suddenly sat up, looking right at him with wide eyes. Of course you’d noticed, his crotch was right beneath your head. 

His cheeks instantly flushed red and he pulled a face full of apologies and mortification. You continued to stare at him and he felt more uncomfortable with each silent second. 

“Please,” he whimpered. “Just…don’t mention it.” 

“Kinda hard not to…pun not intended.” You frowned at your own choice of words and Spencer groaned. 

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “It has been a long time since I’ve had any kind of closeness with another person. I can’t be held responsible for my body’s carnal reactions. Especially when you’re making such sinful noises.” 

Your own cheeks turned red now and you glanced away from him towards the fire. 

“I, uh…I didn’t realise I was. Sorry.” You croaked. “Full disclosure, it’s also been a long time since I’ve had any kind of closeness with another person.” 

Spencer’s brows furrowed as he regarded you. He found that incredibly hard to believe. You were just so beautiful he imagined men fell at your feet everywhere you went. 

“Seriously?” He couldn’t help but ask. 

“Seriously.” You confirmed with a huff as you turned back to him. 

“But why?” 

“Why what? I don’t understand.” 

“I mean…you’re you. You’re beautiful and smart and charismatic. Surely you could have your pick of men?” Spencer was really frowning. 

“I’m…fussy I suppose? And I don’t really like the whole casual sex thing…” You trailed off with your own frown. “Wait did you call me beautiful?”

“And smart and charismatic.” He nodded. 

“Uh, thanks?” You were rightfully confused, Spencer had never said anything nice about you. “What about you? You don’t have women lining up at your door? And weren’t you dating someone?”

Spencer let out a hearty laugh at this, shaking his head dramatically. 

“Max and I broke up not long after Cat and her games. We never…you know…and trust me when I say women do not fawn over a neurotic, socially awkward ex-con.” Spencer sighed sadly. 

“Oh, I didn’t realise about Max, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It wouldn’t have worked out even if Cat hadn’t interfered.” He pulled a face, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “You didn’t know me before prison. I’m not the same man I used to be. I had to do things on the inside just to survive and it changed me. For a long time I didn’t trust myself to get close to anyone. A part of me still doesn't but I’m trying I guess? Max was the closest I came to allowing myself to be vulnerable again.” 

You simply stared at him, unsure what to say. You’d never spoken so personally with Spencer before, he’d never opened up to you in such a way and you didn’t know how to respond. 

You knew you needed to tread lightly, not wanting to risk him clamming up and shutting you down. You were making progress for the first time since you’d met him and you didn’t want to give him a reason not to continue. 

“I didn’t know you before prison and I have no idea the things you would have gone through in there. But I do know you now. I know you shield yourself behind these huge walls to keep people from hurting you, probably because you’ve already been hurt enough for one lifetime. 

“You kept me at arms length because you don’t like change, you worried I would threaten the team dynamic. But once you realised that wasn’t the case, you were too far gone and it was easier for you to keep treating me with disdain rather than thaw towards me.” 

Spencer was silent while you talked, ingesting your words, mulling them over in his head. His expression tightened, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips drawn into a line. 

“I guess you’re right, at least about some of it.” He exhaled. “I was always guarded to a degree even before prison. People have always disappointed me I guess and so I learnt not to rely on anyone, not to let anyone get too close. It’s easier to be alone than to risk getting hurt. 

“But you’re wrong about why I kept you away. Your comment about me being a mama’s boy stung but I didn’t hold it against you. I needed to put distance between us because from the first time I met you I knew how effortless it would be for me to fall for you.

“I was too raw at the time, I wasn’t ready to give my heart away to someone who might not even want it. I had to keep you at arms length because it was safer than letting myself develop feelings for someone who probably wouldn’t reciprocate. But I guess the jokes on me because my plan was far from foolproof and I managed to fall for you anyway. 

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, and I’m hoping once we’re rescued we can just forget this whole thing ever happened. But I suppose you deserve to know why I am the way I am with you and maybe going forward we can try to be…I don’t know…friends? Or at the very least I hope we can get along better.” He sucked in a breath when he finished speaking, looking completely exhausted and utterly heartbroken.

You couldn’t speak. You took in every single word, toyed with them in your mind and tried to make sense of them. But really they didn’t make any sense. In the year you’d known Spencer you had never even gotten so much as a hint that he had feelings for you. He was detached, withdrawn and oftentimes entirely unapproachable. 

It seemed implausible that he could have been hiding these feelings all this time and for you not to have a clue. You were a profiler, wasn’t it your job to pick up on these things? Did the rest of the team figure it out? Were you the only one in the dark? 

He looked increasingly uncomfortable by his confession with every passing second of silence. The fire crackled, its warmth washing over you both. It cast you both in a cosy glow. 

Spencer seemed closer somehow. Did you move nearer or had he, or was it simply all in your head? 

There were so many things you could say, so many possibilities but you couldn’t form a simple sentence. Every time you tried to speak your words caught in your throat and his own played over in a loop in your brain. 

I guess the jokes on me because my plan was far from foolproof and I managed to fall for you anyway. 

Spencer had feelings for you and he thought you wouldn’t feel the same. Perhaps neither of you were as good at profiling as you thought. 

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth, growing self conscious in your lack of response. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it through his nose. 

“I should not have said any of that.” He averted his gaze to the fire. “I don’t even know why I did. Jeez, I’m a moron. Please can you just pretended I didn’t…” 

He trailed off when your hand cupped his chin and you turned him gently to look at you. 

“Yes, you are a moron.” You smiled meekly. “But only because you missed what was right in front of you. How can you think I didn’t feel the same?” 

His mouth fell open, your hand still on his jaw. He blinked rapidly as if trying to clear some kind of fog in his brain. 

“You…I’m confused.” He frowned. 

“Let me clear it up for you then.” You dropped your hand to your side but seconds later your lips crushed against his. 

Spencer gasped at the sudden action, in a million years he never dreamed to actually feel your lips on his. And if he never got this chance again, he was going to make the most of it. 

He raised his hands to cup your face and ran his tongue along your bottom lip, gently asking for passageway. You obliged by parting your lips enough for his tongue to slide inside. 

You were quick to explore the contours of each other's mouths, both of your desperations evident in the way your teeth knocked together while you worked to find your rhythm. 

One of his hands worked its way into the back of your hair and held you firmly as he deepened the kiss further. He pulled you into his lap and you manoeuvred yourself so you were straddling him, kneeling in the dirt either side of his hips. 

He kept one hand cradling your head and the other moved down over your ribs. It dipped beneath the thick fabric of your hoodie, sandwiched between it and your shirt underneath. 

You rocked in his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around neck. The friction caused him to moan languidly into your mouth and it wasn’t long before you felt him growing hard again. 

When he pulled back and opened his eyes, his pupils were blown out, heavy with lust. He was begging you for more without the use of words, he removed one of your hands from around his neck and moved it between your bodies. 

He placed your palm on his rapidly growing erection, rolling his swollen lip with his teeth whilst silently asking if this was okay. You smiled at him and your other hand joined it so you could pop the button of his shorts.

One hand wasted no time in diving straight into his boxers and wrapping around his shaft. You quickly tugged him free of the confines of both his shorts and underwear. 

You sat back a little on your haunches to look down on him. You couldn’t hold back your lamentation as you surveyed every inch of him in your hand. He was long and thick, heavy against your palm. Honestly you hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this. 

The vein that ran up the underside throbbed as you brushed your thumb over it and he bucked his hips when you moved it to rub over his swollen red tip. You slowly brought your fist all the way back down, squeezing his base whilst nestled in a bed of scratchy pubic hair.

You tore your eyes away from his crotch and looked up to meet his eyes. They held a hint of uncertainty, as though he was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. Spencer never was blessed with body confidence, he was always too skinny or too tall or too gangly. 

He wasn’t dumb though, he knew that particular appendage was above average. He didn’t have a wealth of sexual experience but he had enough to know that he was often a tight fit for most. But that didn’t stop him from feeling self conscious under your gaze.

The smile on your face and the glint in your eye was enough for him to know that you were pleased by what you’d seen and it allowed him to relax a little. He felt a wave of heat wash over him as your hand slowly started to move and it had nothing to do with his proximity to the fire. 

He wriggled beneath you as you started moving your hand up and down, your thumb brushing over his sensitive head each time. A string of wanton moans left his lips and he was momentarily dumbfounded while you worked him, not able to do anything but sit and relish in this feeling.

Your petite hand couldn’t fit all the way around him but it didn’t make your movements any less mind blowing. He had never been touched like this before, with such a combination of care and desperation. 

Once he got his brain working for long enough to think straight, he moved his hands towards the buttons of your pants. You didn’t let up on your ministrations while he got them undone, swiping your thumb through the precum collecting on his head. 

He swiftly popped the buttons and his right hand dipped inside straight inside your panties. He moaned animalistically when he discovered how wet you were already, the sound dissipating out into the forest. 

You kept eye contact with each other as his fingers slid between your legs, collecting your arousal before moving to settle on your needy clit. You whimpered as he rubbed the sensitive bud with two fingers, rocking against his hand whilst increasing your speed on his cock.

The sounds coming from the both of you were nothing short of feral and became eaten up by the vast woods surrounding you. You grinded against his hand while he flicked your nub deftly, eager to bring you to orgasm.

You returned the favour and matched his speed. The sounds of your arousal and his flesh against yours filled your ears. The fire continued to crackle behind you, casting you in an ethereal glow from where you perched on top of him. 

His chest heaved and his stomach was coiling into thick knots. He wanted this to last forever but knew his orgasm was imminent. It had been all too long since someone had touched him so intimately and it would be impossible to stave off his release for too long.

But judging by the noises you were making, the sinful whines and moans leaving your parted lips and how frantically you bucked against his hand, he assumed you were in the same boat. 

“Jesus, Reid,” you panted heavily. “Who knew you’d be so good at that?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, increasing his speed even further as if to prove that point.

“Likewise.” He replied, whimpering as you swiped your thumb through more beads of precum. 

“I’m so close.” You whined, throwing your head back to your shoulders.

“M-me too.” He stuttered, stomach clenching at the way you twisted your fist around his shaft. 

Somewhere in the distance you heard a twig snap but paid it no attention. You kept your focus here on Spencer, on how he was making you feel and on how you were making him feel. But then you heard another crunch followed by a faint voice.

“Reid? Y/LN?” It called. “I see smoke! That has to be them!”

“Is that…?” Spencer frowned, breathing heavily.

“G-Garcia.” You mumbled. 

“Fuck,” Spencer groaned, his frustration evident.

“Reid? Y/L/N? It’s Penny G, can you hear me, my loves?” 

You and Spencer exchanged a look while you both stilled your movements at the same time. He kept his hand inside your panties while you held the base of his shaft limply. You felt dizzy, you were on the cusp of orgasm, about to fall over the ledge when Garcia’s voice had dragged you back from the brink. Looking at Spencer, he felt much the same.

“Y/L/N, Reid! We’re coming angels!”

“Oof,” Spencer groaned, cautiously withdrawing his hand from inside your pants. “Poor choice of words.” 

You reluctantly let go of his shaft and crawled away from him while you both readjusted yourself and got your pants done up.

“Over here, Garcia.” You called, hoping she didn’t notice the way your voice shook. 

Your body tingled, so close to release a soft breeze could get you there. Spencer pushed himself to his feet, legs shaking and reached out to help you up. He was tenting his shorts, unable to get the blood flowing elsewhere due to how close he’d been. He picked up his backpack and held it in front of him so Garcia wouldn’t notice.

Your underwear was soaked and sticky. You tried to adjust your stance so it was less uncomfortable but it was almost impossible. You could see three flashlights in the distance and the footsteps were growing closer. 

Soon enough Garcia and two park rangers appeared through the thicket. If she noticed the flush of your cheeks she didn’t say anything. She immediately threw her arms around both of you, Spencer cloying to keep his bag as a barrier between himself and the bubbly blonde for fear she might feel his unyielding erection.

“Oh my sweet angels!” She cooed over you both. “Let's get you back to camp and get you warmed up and fed.” 

You both silently agreed and let the rangers lead you back towards a clearing where their vehicle awaited you. Garcia hopped in the backseat first and Spencer held open the door for you, offering a meek smile as you passed him. 

Perhaps it was for the best you’d been interrupted before you could go too far. Perhaps Garcia had inadvertently helped you dodge a bullet.

***

Several hours later after making it back to the camp and feasting on Rossi’s campfire soup and bread and whilst being wrapped in Garcia’s fluffy blankets, one by one the other members of the BAU retired for the night. 

The fire was still dwindling as you perched on a log next to Spencer, silence deafening you once the two of you were alone. You watched the small flames flicker and dance in the soft breeze, soaking up the last of the summer evening before calling it a night yourself.

Before you did, you turned to face him to find he was already looking at you. He smiled softly, a little bashfully and you returned it. Words and emotions bubbled under the surface and neither one of you knew where to start. 

“Some day, huh.” You shrugged, wrapping the blanket tighter around your body.

“It was certainly eye opening.” Spencer agreed.

“It was probably for the best that Garcia and those rangers found us when they did, right?” 

“Oh yeah, for sure. Probably stopped us from doing something even more stupid.” Spencer chuckled nervously. 

“Exactly.” You nodded, getting to your feet. Spencer did the same. “We can just pretend nothing happened. We were tired, probably a little dehydrated. The sun makes us do weird things.” 

“Yeah, the sun.” He nodded too. 

You swallowed thickly, giving him one last look before turning towards your tent. Spencer scuffed the toe of his converse on the ground and found himself speaking again without really meaning to. 

“I mean…it would have been nice to at least finish. I’ve been kinda on edge ever since.” 

You spun back to look at him and he looked so unsure of himself. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were pitched up to his ears. 

“Uh, yeah same here.” You took a couple of tentative steps back towards him. “There’s no doubt I could go back to my tent right now and finish what we started alone but…”

“But your hand feels so much better than my own.” Spencer finished for you. 

You both chuckled as you reached him again, letting go of your blanket and letting it fall to the floor so you wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck. 

“It would just be a one time thing.” You whispered, your breath fanning across his face. 

“Even though you don’t like casual sex.” He placed his hands on your hips. 

“Even though I don’t like casual sex.” You repeated. 

“We’re just…two colleagues helping each other.” Spencer smirked, inching his face closer to yours. 

“And if anyone ever found out…” 

“We’d blame the sun. Summer heat got to us.” 

“Summer heat.” You agreed and with that he kissed you again, drawing you into his body whilst tugging you in the direction of his own tent. 

Spencer had never been a fan of summer. But after today he may have been converted. And he was certain this summer heat between you would continue to smoulder through the seasons. 

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

(I'm sorry it took me so long, I realized I wanted to participate in Kinktober after my ask box filled up with requests, then life got crazy, I moved, started a new job, got a baby (cat)..) CW: Gang bang, GN!Reader, multiple penetration, licking, both male and female partners, abduction, monster fuckers, non-con, forced oral, non human genitalia, urination

It's been two months since (Reader) fell.

They wondered if anyone had noticed they were missing.

Had their boss called the police? Maybe the apartment manager when (Reader) failed to pay their rent?

It didn't matter.

No one would ever find them.

There was a trail leading through a large patch of woods behind (Reader's) hometown that they often enjoyed hiking, but a couple of months ago (Reader) had made the mistake of traveling too far off from the trail. The young adult quickly became lost in the thicket, getting turned around as the sun went down. Then, they fell.

The hole seemed to go on forever, and they would have died, or at least broken something important, if a pile of soft bedding hadn't cushioned their landing.

"My, my, my.. what little snack has fallen into my chamber?"

(Reader) struggled in the mass of leaves and furs, frightened and disoriented from their sudden descent into the earth. But before they could sink deeper into the remains of animals unfortunate enough to have fallen before them, (Reader) was hoisted into the air by a strong hand clenching a fistful of their sweater. A giant creature larger than a suped up truck held (Reader) at eye level.

"Oh? What a cute little snack." The feminine voice echoed through (Reader's) skull. Whatever it was that now had (Reader) captive looked like a human woman that had a bug grow to a horrific size within her; soft pieces of human like flesh stretched out over a hard exoskeleton, tearing in multiple spots.

An exposed, human like skull molding into mandibles was presented as her face, with insect eyes lodged within it's sockets.

Because of the unrealistic, dreamlike scenario (Reader) found themselves in, they responded numbly, "Please don't eat me." It wasn't confidence that kept their voice from quaking, but shock.

Their request seemed to amuse the monstrous woman. She chuckled loudly, both within (Reader's) mind in a beautiful laugh and from her metal-like chest. The sound that reverberated from her body sounded like a knife being drug across a pipe. Her strong hand shifted, moving from (Reader's) sweater, holding them up like a kitten by their scruff, to cradling (Reader) against her bare chest. The chest was flat and without breast tissue, but it still felt effeminate to (Reader). Perhaps it was because of the soft curves above her hips, or the slender shape of her nape, but it made (Reader) feel almost embarrassed, exposed, in the nude woman's embrace.

The parts that resembled human flesh were cold like a corpse, chilled from the hard insides. Her skin was a dulled earthy color, and the longer (Reader) was pressed against it, the more the reality of their situation sank into their mind, transforming the numbness into paralyzing fear. And the monster holding (Reader) gently to her bosom smelled the change in their sweat, further entertaining her.

"Do I frighten you, little one?" Her hypnotizing voice that telepathically sang into (Reader's) head spoke in unison with the actual voice of screeching, ear piercing scraping of sharp plates.

(Reader) went rigid. This wasn't a dream. This was real. Their limbs involuntarily shook. How should the respond? What could they say in this situation?

"No." They lied. They didn't know how they found the strength to speak, but the lie tumbled out before they could clamp their mouth tight.

Another laugh rocked (Reader's) weak heart within their rib cage.

"How sweet.." An abnormally long, mostly armored finger stroked (Reader's) face. "You lie to the Queen.."

(Reader) was laid down upon what they assumed to be the Queen's bed, a more organized stack of furs and leaves. The Queen stood above (Reader), giving them a better view of her body. She had two sets of arms attached to a slender abdomen, with no belly button, her gently rounded stomach ended in a strange split at her pelvis( what (Reader) guessed to be her genitals), and from her hips were very large, inhumanly shaped thighs, without any skin texture, attached to rough and bumpy legs bent backwards and elongated, ending in insect like feet.

"Shall I eat you, little one?"

(Reader) began to tear up, feeling their bladder about to betray them. Their thighs quivered under the pressure of their fear.

"Or.. shall I keep you?" The Queen's upper hands traveled up over her chest, caressing herself, as her lower pair made circles on her lower stomach, inching closer to her exposed slit.

A horrified noise escaped (Reader's) nose as they felt warmth leak out, soiling their pants. The adult began silently sobbing, heaving as they failed at holding in both their crying and their urine. Before them, the Queen seemed to become excited, her antenna twitching as the air filled with (Reader's) scent, one only she could detect. Animalistic and hungry, she fell onto her hands and what appeared to be knees, crawling over (Reader) and tearing off their bottoms with unnatural strength.

(Reader's) body was revealed against their will, and they could no longer hold back their terrified screams. Their hollering didn't phase the woman as she felt their piss stained underwear. Her skeleton like fingers ripped open their wet fabric, purring as she investigated the human body, a reproductive body unlike her own. And it aroused her.

"You are an adult.. I can smell it.." Her mandibles opened, revealing a human like bottom jaw, with sharp, carnivorous teeth, and a long tongue dripping with saliva.

(Reader) couldn't fight back; their struggling didn't budge the Queen as she lowered her mouth onto (Reader's) wet lower half. Her long muscle explored (Reader's) warmth, before finding their ass. The skin on (Reader's) fists scraped and bled as they weakly beat the Queen's head, begging her to stop as her tongue entered their clenched hole.

"Stop!" Their screams fell on deaf ears as the organ seemed to elongate, pressing up even further into (Reader's) colon painfully. It pulsated as she tasted (Reader), breathing in deeply as she did so, relishing in their scent.

Her exposed septum rubbed against (Reader's) most sensitive place, exciting their nerves against their wishes. They fought against it, but their body began to feel pleasure despite (Reader's) emotional anguish. And the Queen could taste it.

The change in (Reader's) smell spurred on the creature, speeding up her movements as she fucked (Reader) with her tongue faster, enjoying the leaking fluids mixing with (Reader's) pee. Their stomach muscles tightened as their climax built.

......................................

(Reader) cried out a pathetic "No!" as they came into the Queen's mouth, writhing under her as their muscles spasmed.

But the Queen wasn't done with them yet..

Two months later, and (Reader) was glued to the Queen's side. Her new favorite mate, she never let (Reader) further than an arm's distance away from her, regardless of what she was doing. (Reader) had to be present for some of the most disturbing activities they had ever seen, including the Queen laying eggs. The Queen often told (Reader) that they were (Reader's) children as well, frightening (Reader) as well as confusing them. It was impossible, (Reader) thought, but they never saw the Queen mating with other monsters.

And there were other monsters.

Males and females, all significantly smaller than the Queen, hitting about (Reader's) height, who would occasionally enter the Queen's chambers to retrieve the eggs or bring food for the Queen and (Reader). Each creature was just as disgusting as their queen, with flesh stretched uncomfortably across ant like bodies. But it wasn't their anatomy that disgusted (Reader) the most: it was the way they stared at them. Monsters unable to blink, they never turned away from (Reader's) face whenever they entered the room. (Reader) didn't know what they were thinking, and wasn't sure if they wanted to know.

But they couldn't take it any more.

The Queen hardly slept, not needing to sleep as often as (Reader) did, only sleeping once since (Reader) fell, but when she did, she was out. Out hard enough where she was practically dead to the world.

And it seemed as though it was time for her to sleep again.

(Reader) stood by the drowsy Queen, naked. Their clothes were destroyed after their arrival, and the creatures had no need for clothing, so nothing was available to replace their hoodie and pants. It was a discomfort that (Reader) never got over.

"I shall see you soon, little one.." The Queen clicked softly as she curled up into the bedding.

'I'd rather die.' (Reader) bitterly thought, scrunching up their nose to prevent themselves from snarling like a caged animal. Although they did their best to keep their hatred off of their face, the Queen chuckled, seemingly taking joy in (Reader's) rage.

'You won't be laughing for long..'

They waited for what they hoped was an hour after the Queen passed out, trying to count the seconds down without the aide of a clock or ability to see the sky. Then, they took their chance.

On all fours, muscles sore from lack of use, body weak from nearly constant abuse, (Reader) crawled as silently as they could out of the den, unaware of the bemused twitch of the Queen's antenna.

They were silent, breathing such shallow breaths that (Reader) felt light headed.

But what they didn't account for was the stench.

(Reader's) tender sex and ass smelled of their's and the Queen's intimacy, even though (Reader) couldn't smell it, the rest of the hive certainly did.

As they snuck through the halls, the hive were alerted immediately of (Reader's) departure by the telepathic Queen, and were on the hunt for (Reader), following their smell.

It only took one to see (Reader's) cute little behind as they pathetically tried to crawl past for every member of the hive to know where (Reader) was, and for every worker not actively caring for younger members to immediately beeline for (Reader's) location.

And it didn't take long, for (Reader) to become hopelessly lost.

Panic began to fill their lungs and suffocate the poor captive.

"It is you!" A raspy voice exclaimed behind (Reader), startling a yelp out of the human. A male stood behind (Reader) with his hands clawing at his chest as if to steady his heart.

Fright rocked (Reader) to the core. "Please don't kill me.." They muttered nervously, already spun around on their knees to beg for their life.

The worker didn't seem to be listening, his antenna rapidly flicking about as he rambled under his breath.

"So sweet.. so cute.. so soft.. our mate.."

From his pelvis an endophallus emerged, pointed at (Reader's) face. The realization of (Reader's) fate caused a surge of adrenaline, propelling them in the opposite direction, running as fast as they could move their legs.

As they ran they heard voices down every corridor they passed, chanting words of love and attraction for their "mate". There seemed to be no escape; each hall (Reader) nearly turned down had voices calling out for them. They continued trying to run where there were no sounds, but eventually found themselves in a giant room of furs and leaves:

(Reader) had stumbled upon the sleeping chambers of the adult workers.

Tears filled their eyes as the room began to fill from multiple entrances with workers excitedly crying out for (Reader).

"It is!-"

"Our mate!-"

"Finally!-"

They wasted no time pulling (Reader) to the ground, ready to prove their love for their Queen's favorite mate.

As (Reader) opened their mouth to scream a long tongue entered and thrust itself deep into their throat. Choking and gagging, they were too busy trying to push the creature kissing them away to cover up their lower half. Like a dog pile, (Reader) was swarmed from all sides.

The workers fought one another just for the chance to touch (Reader). The second a crevice on their body was violated by a sharp inhuman dick, rubbing wherever they could reach, the creature would be thrown off, replacing the cock for a tongue or a hand. Sharp fingers massaged (Reader's) swollen body as every every hole was filled and every fold caressed. The long tongue was exchanged for a monstrous dick, but even that cold metallic-like phallus suffocating (Reader) was replaced by a female's vaginal slit as soon as the male filled (Reader's) stomach with a sticky liquid.

There was so much being touched at once that (Reader) couldn't focus on all the ways they were being assaulted.

If their ass was getting rammed by a cock, and their mouth was occupied by something else, with no holes available the creatures found other ways to fuck (Reader); folding their arms and knees and masturbating into the folds of their soft flesh; using (Reader's) hands like dildos and forcing (Reader) to enter their bodies; licking the sweat off of whatever body part they could reach while touching themselves impatiently.. Even the shallow button of their naval was molested by prodding tongues and fingers.

(Reader) was painted over and over again by fluids. All the while, the monsters would sing praises for (Reader) between their panting, grunts and moans. There seemed to be no end, with dozens of men pumping warm slime into (Reader's) stomach and ass while women rode out their orgasms on (Reader's) body.

Everything went black at one point, passing out due to a combination of a lack of air and exhaustion.

But when (Reader) woke up, they found that their body was still being used as a cum dump for another wave of workers. Their body was past the point of over stimulation, incapable of pleasure. It was pulsating electricity rolling across their abdominal muscles, contracting without (Reader's) permission.

They didn't know how long they were passed around for, but it was impossible to keep track of the number of monsters taking turns using (Reader's) body. Blood was dripping out of every orifice asking with cum and arousal fluid, the sharpness of their big like cocks and the hardness of the women's pelvises tearing (Reader's) body both inside and out.

The last thought (Reader) had before going completely dumb, was wishing that they hadn't left the Queen's side..

(A/N again, I'm so sorry it took so long! And that my drafts wouldn't let me edit your story anymore 😭 I hope you see this, Ant Anon!)

[spindle-and-nima]

What would you say are the essentials of a bunny enclosure? I'm trying to get ready to make one for my new apartment

Hello friend!

First and extremely importantly you need space. I strongly encourage a minimum pen size of roughly 3x5 (vet and shelter told me to make sure my pens were no smaller than that size for my rabbits but a bit bigger is good). If your rabbit is not free roam, you can certainly make it bigger (my pen is a 6x6 my rabbits are semi free roam). I use a tall dog playpen to build mine so that or a Z pen will make for easy building. You can get creative with how you block out an area but space is incredibly important.

As for what goes in it:

-litter box of course but what's important is size. Do not get a tiny corner triangle box it's unhealthy for their posture. Opt for a cat litter box that's big enough for your rabbits to sit comfortably in and turn around easily in.

-hay tower or rack. You can either hang a rack (you can literally get a metal rack basket for cheap from Lowe's or home Depot and just stuff hay in it) or a wood tower like what I have. Bunnies must have Timothy Hay available 24/7 in unlimited quantities so this is the way to ensure that. It keeps the hay from getting soiled though I do always add additional hay to the litter box. Keep the hay near the litter box to kinda just keep em poopin in the litter when they want a snack

-hides. You need at least 1 hide per rabbit. I have 4 hides for mine. I like the cute wooden Castle hides bc they are roomy and my bunnies like them a lot but really you can get creative with it. Just absolutely no igloos those are not good for rabbits or their postures (vet and shelter advice). You can do tunnels or cardboard boxes but yea hides are a necessity for rabbits.

-flooring. There's a lot of things you can do for flooring but you definitely want something to prevent your rabbits from soiling your carpet and most rabbits dislike smooth tile or hardwood (slippery on non padded feet). A few things I've seen people do are use pee pads and lay fleece, blankets, towels, or rugs on top which are good options. If you're like me and busy and want easy cleaning and a cute aesthetic, you can use EVA carpeted foam mats. They absorb well without letting urine leak through.

I would NOT advise EVA foam if your rabbits really chew and actually eat everything. while I find these dont give bunnies much leverage for biting, especially destructive ones will find a way and you don't want them eating these. My bungies are luckily not interested in chewing them so they work well. A handful of guest rabbits I've housed did well with them too. Even my more destructive guests didn't manage to bite through it well but I need to put that disclaimer because I'm kind of lucky with my rabbits behaviour.

They look like this and come in many colors:

Pretty good and I like them because they are easy cleanup (wash by hand but you can just pop the soiled square out and replace it with a spare so the pen is immediately freshened up. And you can clean the soiled ones immediately or if you're busy just set it aside to wash when you got the time.) these are not essential ofc you can just use the ol fleece or towel or rug thing. Since you are renting i would really reccomend putting puppy pee pads under whatever you choose to protect the flooring.

[simdertalia]

🛀🏽 ACNH Bath Set 🧼

40 items | Sims 4, base game compatible, except for items that have the steam animation. This animation requires Cats & Dogs.

Some items have extra swatches added by me ❤️ All surfaces have slots. The Aroma Candle Holder has been made to fit the small tealight candle HERE (second post from the top)

Type “ACNH Bath” into the search query in build mode to find  quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing  the title and it will appear.

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.

I hope you enjoy!

Set contains: -Aquarius Vase (with steam animation) | 3 swatches for water color | 1196 poly -Aroma Candle | 7 swatches | 1068 poly -Aromatherapy Sticks | 9 swatches | 930 poly -Bidet | 8 swatches | 1218 poly -Bubble Tea Decor | 5 swatches | 546 poly -Elegant Mirror | 8 swatches | 1225 poly -Fan Palm Plant | 6 swatches | 1522 poly -Flower Shower (functional) | 6 swatches | 1198 poly -Humidifier (no animation) | 9 swatch | 706 poly -Humidifier (steam animation) | 9 swatches | 796 poly -Japanese Toilet | 1 swatch | 1200 poly -Jar of Soaps (made by me ❤️) | 10 swatches | 414 poly -Leaf Accent Table | 8 swatches | 956 poly -Long Ivy Planter | 9 swatches | 2307 poly -Magazine Rack | 60 swatches | 536 poly -Makeup Bag | 28 swatches | 1198 poly -Plunger | 2 swatches | 332 poly -Pottery Pitcher | 6 swatches | 1096 poly -Rattan Stool | 6 swatches | 730 poly -Rattan Wardrobe Closet | 6 swatches | 1206 poly -Sauna Heater (steam animation) | 2 swatches | 1202 poly -Shampoo Bottle | 24 swatches | 620 poly -Shower Cap Decor | 5 swatches | 1202 poly -Sink Stand (functional) | 6 swatches | 992 poly -Sleep Mask Decor | 1 swatch | 604 poly -Stairs Dresser (functional) | 5 swatches | 1814 poly -Bath Stool (surface) | 8 swatches | 1142 poly -Succulent Plant Pot | 1 swatch | 1189 poly -Table Mirror | 9 swatches | 952 poly -Toilet Brush | 4 swatches | 566 poly -Toilet Roll Holder | 2 swatches | 356 poly -Toilet Roll Single | 3 swatches | 242 poly -Toilet Roll Stack | 3 swatches | 950 poly -Toothbrush Mug | 24 swatches | 1148 poly -Towel Rack | 18 swatches | 1232 poly -Towels Folded | 11 swatches | 176 poly -Towels Folded with slot | 11 swatches | 176 poly -Tub Cabriole (functional) | 12 swatches | 2232 poly -Urinal | 2 swatches | 1188 poly -Wood Screen Shelf | 8 swatches | 1184 poly

📁 Download (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Download (still no ads): HERE 

-Mermaid Oil Painting CC

As always, please let me know if you have any issues! Happy Simming!

✨ If you like my work, please consider supporting me ❤️

★ Patreon  🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi  ☕️  ❤️

Thank you for reblogging ❤️❤️❤️

@sssvitlanz  @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters  @coffee-cc-finds  @itsjessicaccfinds  @gamommypeach  @stargazer-sims-finds  @khelga68  @suricringe  @vaporwavesims  @mystictrance15 @public-ccfinds

[pseudowho]

I know adoption requests are closed, but I never applied yet, and I was wondering… it’s just, well… I’m from America… and… err… have been living with a hateful family my whole life… need a safe space… (This is a joke. Of course I don’t expect anything from two internet strangers; I’ll have to be strong and figure things out amidst/against it all, hopefully have my own chosen family one day, maybe, I hope). Anyway I also wanted to lyk that I looooove seeing the posts you and Mr Haitch put out. Also side note, I think my cat peed in my room, which is unusual, and I can’t figure out where it is! I just keep smelling the scent of cat urine. …I’ll find it hopefully. When, I don’t know. Hopefully it isn’t in the wood so I can clean it up properly

How are you Mrs Haitch??? How’s the book coming? Will you share what genre and tropes you’re writing about? (I might have missed if you already talked about it).

Honestly, as long as you don't mind having about 30 siblings, you are most welcome.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

40 Years Super Hot Body Ready for Party • Aries Taurus Gemini Cancer Leo Virgo Libra and Scorpio Sagittarius Capricorn Aquarius Pisces Fart Song • Butterflies Scared My Cat When I Was Burping in Your Face on Wednesday Morning • Drunk Log out with Spooky Music Settings on My Firm Tits Pictures • Grandpa Says Fuck While Grandma Screams What Repeated Several Times • Grumpy Trumpy Python Toddler Taxi with False News and Emotions • Hugging Blood Thirsty Vampires with a Transylvanian Accent and Slapped Butts • I Farted as an Official Statement Against Global Warming, Expressing My Worries! • I’m Handsome When Wearing a Bag on My Head, Said the Horny Motherfuckers Politely • Is That Cellulite or Just Your Ugly Face? • Kindergarten Farting Fanfare Discussed with Disgusting Asian Clay Warriors Terracotta Song • Leaking Ladies Xylophone Solo Learning with Lusty Lashes Song • Lisping on Penis Peyote Creaking Mirth Radio, Let’s Lisp! Song • Lowering My Filthy Boobs to the Height of Your Curly Chest Hair with Freckles • Mom’s Cleaning Closet Looks Like a Women’s Porn Stash • My Gay Expense Combination Password Gore Seeking Battle Was Sinning • My Hangover Got Hung over by a Hung Guy from Hungary • My Horoscope Sign Is Poop and Yours Is Farts • Nearly Touching Myself with Your Girlfriend’s Hands While Doing the Dishes • Peeing a Farting Swearing Shouting and Pooping in Different Languages Made Me Famous Song • Petite Girls Liked My Fat Farts in Skinny Jeans with Justice • Pooping a Masterpiece in the Little Boys Room on National TV Broadcast • Puerto Del Penis Summer Holiday with Topless Sun Bathing and Surfing Fun • Puking Girls Are Holding Each Others Hair While Selling Butter to Pregnant Vomiting Men • Real Sharks Was a Great Accessory for My Swimming Pool Party Massacre • Relaxing Music for Penis Boys and Vagina Girls, I Have Money Cash, Yes! • Rescuing My Penis from Your Vagina at the Last Minute, Whoah! • Scary Music and Naked Ladies Cemetery Collection Flickering Through Growth • Shaking Sausages in the Men’s Room and Dangling Coconuts • Short Temper Anus Removal with Lipstick on the Collar • Shouting Poopers to Girls While a Crying Man Is Pooping Poop, How Adorable Screaming Babies Are! • Silly Talking Childish Macho Man Thanking Prayers for God’s Food Yes Hello! • Skinny Bitch, Fat Bitch, Rich Bitch, Poor Bitch, All Bitches Poop! • Smelling That Pussy in the Air at the Private Night Club Farting Room • Smudging Chocolate over the Toilet, So Everyone Would Think I Pooped • Sneaking Beans into Your Butthole While U Talk to a Handsome Stranger • Snuggling in Satan’s Satin Sheets with Shattered Dreams and No Boner Song • Solitary Fighting My Big Toe with the Desolate Strangler • Spoiling Desert by Pulling Your Finger Thirteen Times in a Row • Strolling with Morning Wood in the Woods While Mourning to This Song • Stutter and Chinese Food Destroyed My Artwork in the Toilet Bowl Coffee Shop • Sunny Morning Boner at the Beach Gym Towel Rental Song • Surprisingly Soft Boobs on the Milf Statue in the Garden of Jugs, Oh It Was Your Mom Sorry! •

Taming My Daughter’s Boyfriend with Booze and Fists of Agony • Teleporting My Cock to the Urinals Hurts When Peeing Penis Action • That Penis Is Not Mine, Stop Accusing Me of Curing Your Cancer! What • The Brothel Cup Cake Dispenser Had a Variety of Chocolate Brownies Too • The Giggling Killer Was Invited for Tea and Mustard with a Former Laughing Idiot • The Headache Fuckers with Migraine Were Chopping Fucking Painkillers • The Itchy Vampire Vagina Was a Gothic Curse from Medieval Times Song • The Lying Bitch Hermit Ducking Group Was Insisting on Bitch Slaps • The Penis Teens Shouting Squad Declared War on the Vagina Milfs Departure • The Pussy Cock Was Meowing and Cock-a-Doodle-Dooing with Glance • The Singing Orgy Group Remembered My Fancy Birthday Party, Super! • The Sock on My Penis Shook the Genuine Spokesman While Crying Song • The Syphilis Motown Singers Were Blowing Deranged Adultery at Me Song • The Toy Collector’s Mature Attitude Otter Raised Homeland Security Breach • The Triangle of Pussy and Clipping Smoothies Burping Smootch • Typical Asian Food Poured into the Purse of an European Hooker Prostitute Igloo • Under Water Farting Wiz Nick Y Minaj Naked Twerking Shower Saloon Barf Thong • Updating My Profile Picture While Pooping Macaroni with Japanese Subtitles • Using Mother´s Panther Underwear Because of Broken Shopping Bag to the Store • Washing Hamburgers with Dirty Sauce in Leather Pants While Howling • What Ugly Shit on Your Finger! Oh, It’s Your Wedding Ring? It’s Very Nice! • Whistling and Farting a Heavenly Polyphonic Song for Dying Virgins • Violin Licking Sounds by a Hard Baritone Dick Song Licker • Young Girls Selling Old Men´s Boxers in Thongs with Soulful Tutti-Frutti • Your Butthole Swallowed My Telephone, Will It Come out from the Mouth Then? • Your Mom´s Butt Massage Seems Innocent at First, Before Handing out Religious Leaflets

Spotify ♪ Youtube

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 4 EPISODE 09 || THE BIRDS & THE BEES ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

The light outside was dazzling after the taproom’s gloom. Brianna blinked, eyes tearing at the shafts of sun that stabbed through the shifting greens of a screen of maples. Then a movement caught her eye, below the flickering leaves. He stood in the shade of the maples, half turned away from her, head bent in absorption. A tall man, long-legged, lean and graceful, with his shoulders broad under a white shirt. He wore a faded kilt in pale greens and browns, casually rucked up in front as he urinated against a tree. He finished and, letting the kilt fall, turned toward the post house. He saw her then, standing there staring at him, and tensed slightly, hands half curling. Then he saw past her men’s clothes, and the look of wary suspicion changed at once to surprise as he realized that she was a woman. There was no doubt in her mind, from the first glimpse. She was at once surprised and not surprised at all; he was not quite what she had imagined—he seemed smaller, only man-sized—but his face had the lines of her own; the long, straight nose and stubborn jaw, and the slanted cat-eyes, set in a frame of solid bone. He moved toward her out of the maples’ shadow, and the sun struck his hair with a spray of copper sparks. Half consciously she raised a hand and pushed a strand of hair back from her face, seeing from the corner of her eye the matching gleam of thick red-gold. “What d’ye want here, lassie?” he asked. Sharp, but not unkind. His voice was deeper than she had imagined; the Highland burr slight but distinct. “You,” she blurted. Her heart seemed to have wedged itself in her throat; she had trouble forcing any words past it. He was close enough that she caught the faint whiff of his sweat and the fresh smell of sawn wood; there was a golden scatter of sawdust caught in the rolled sleeves of his linen shirt. His eyes narrowed with amusement as he looked her up and down, taking in her costume. One reddish eyebrow rose, and he shook his head. “Sorry, lass,” he said, with a half-smile. “I’m a marrit man.” He made to pass by, and she made a small incoherent sound, putting out a hand to stop him, but not quite daring to touch his sleeve. He stopped and looked at her more closely. “No, I meant it; I’ve a wife at home, and home’s not far,” he said, evidently wishing to be courteous. “But—” He stopped, close enough now to take in the grubbiness of her clothes, the hole in the sleeve of her coat and the tattered ends of her stock.

“Och,” he said in a different tone, and reached for the small leather purse he wore tied at his waist. “Will ye be starved, then, lass? I’ve money, if you must eat.” She could scarcely breathe. His eyes were dark blue, soft with kindness. Her eyes fixed on the open collar of his shirt, where the curly hairs showed, bleached gold against his sunburnt skin. “Are you—you’re Jamie Fraser, aren’t you?” He glanced sharply at her face. “I am,” he said. The wariness had returned to his face; his eyes narrowed against the sun. He glanced quickly behind him, toward the tavern, but nothing stirred in the open doorway. He took a step closer to her. “Who asks?” he said softly. “Have you a message for me, lass?” She felt an absurd desire to laugh welling up in her throat. Did she have a message?

“My name is Brianna,” she said.

He frowned, uncertain, and something flickered in his eyes. He knew it! He’d heard the name and it meant something to him. She swallowed hard, feeling her cheeks blaze as though they’d been seared by a candle flame.

“I’m your daughter,” she said, her voice sounding choked to her own ears.

“Brianna.” He stood stock-still, not changing expression in the slightest. He had heard her, though; he went pale, and then a deep, painful red washed up his throat and into his face, sudden as a brushfire, matching her own vivid color. She felt a deep flash of joy at the sight, a rush through her midsection that echoed that blaze of blood, recognition of their fair-skinned kinship. Did it trouble him to blush so strongly? she wondered suddenly. Had he schooled his face to immobility, as she had learned to do, to mask that telltale surge? Her own face felt stiff, but she gave him a tentative smile. He blinked, and his eyes moved at last from her face, slowly taking in her appearance, and—with what seemed to her a new and horrified awareness—her height. “My God,” he croaked. “You’re huge.” Her own blush had subsided, but now came back with a vengeance. “And whose fault is that, do you think?” she snapped. She drew herself up straight and squared her shoulders, glaring. So close, at her full height, she could look him right in the eye, and did. He jerked back, and his face did change then, mask shattering in surprise. Without it, he looked younger; underneath were shock, surprise, and a dawning expression of half-painful eagerness. “Och, no, lassie!” he exclaimed. “I didna mean it that way, at all! It’s only—” He broke off, staring at her in fascination. His hand lifted, as though despite himself, and traced the air, outlining her cheek, her jaw and neck and shoulder, afraid to touch her directly. “It’s true?” he whispered. “It is you, Brianna?” He spoke her name with a queer accent—Breeanah—and she shivered at the sound. “It’s me,” she said, a little huskily. She made another attempt at a smile. “Can’t you tell?” His mouth was wide and full-lipped, but not like hers; wider, a bolder shape, that seemed to hide a smile in the corners of it, even in repose. It was twitching now, not certain what to do. “Aye,” he said. “Aye, I can.”

He did touch her then, his fingers drawing lightly down her face, brushing back the waves of ruddy hair from temple and ear, tracing the delicate line of her jaw. She shivered again, though his touch was noticeably warm; she could feel the heat of his palm against her cheek.

“I hadna thought of you as grown,” he said, letting his hand fall reluctantly away. “I saw the pictures, but still—I had ye in my mind somehow as a wee bairn always—as my babe. I never expected …”

His voice trailed off as he stared at her, the eyes like her own, deep blue and thick-lashed, wide in fascination. “Pictures,” she said, feeling breathless with happiness. “You’ve seen pictures of me? Mama found you, didn’t she? When you said you had a wife at home—”

“Claire,” he interrupted. The wide mouth had made its decision; it split into a smile that lit his eyes like the sun in the dancing tree leaves. He grabbed her arms, tight enough to startle her. “You’ll not have seen her, then? Christ, she’ll be mad wi’ joy!” The thought of her mother was overwhelming. Her face cracked, and the tears she had been holding back for days spilled down her cheeks in a flood of relief, half choking her as she laughed and cried together.

“Here, lassie, dinna weep!” he exclaimed in alarm. He let go of her arm and snatched a large, crumpled handkerchief from his sleeve. He patted tentatively at her cheeks, looking worried. “Dinna weep, a leannan, dinna be troubled,” he murmured. “It’s all right, m’ annsachd; it’s all right.”

“I’m all right; everything’s all right. I’m just—happy,” she said. She took the handkerchief, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “What does that mean—a leannan? And the other thing you said?”

“You’ll not have the Gaelic, then?” he asked, and shook his head. “No, of course she wouldna have been taught,” he murmured, as though to himself. “I’ll learn,” she said firmly, giving her nose a last wipe.

“A leannan?” A slight smile reappeared on his face as he looked at her. “It means ‘darling,’ ” he said softly. “M’ annsachd—my blessing.”

41 JOURNEY’S END

[natalie13390]

Imagine this.

A and B are in the woods looking for A's cat that recently ran away. A is looking around on one side and B on the other, B loves cats and decided to help but didn't take into consideration how long they would be out there.

After about an hour and a half of looking, B was finally sitting on a rock to help their bladder for a while, A notices this and walks over; asking B what's wrong. B has a very shy bladder so they just tell A they have slight stomach ache, standing back up to continue looking around.

After a while, B's bladder was starting to ache slightly as of then, they were holding it for six hours now. He wandered a bit further away from A and tried to duck behind a bush to go but as they thought, nothing; they couldn't. B stood back up and that's when they see a cat behind them, B picks the cat up and rushes to A; relief on their mind as that means they can get home and B can use the bathroom.

A smiles as they see the cat and hugs B; unaware of the problem B was having.

A, B and the cat all start making their way down the trail to the house, B was dragging behind; now having to grab themselves slightly.

After another hour of walking, A started to hear a small hissing sound and turned around, seeing B uncontrollably wetting themselves, the sound of the urine hitting the concrete was only making B's face more red. A looks at B sympathetically and walks over to him, taking his hand and the cat licks B as well.

A asks B why they didn't tell them they had to use the bathroom sooner and B's only reply was 'I'm sorry'. A hugs B and both of them start walking back to the house again.

(This is my first Prompt and I hope you liked it, please give me suggestions if you have any!)

[backside-into-the-heavenly]

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. Since they were starting to smell, however, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women, and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it … hence the saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the Bath water!”

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof, resulting in the idiom, “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed, therefore, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That’s how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, leading folks to coin the phrase “dirt poor.”

The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way, subsequently creating a “thresh hold.”

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while, and thus the rhyme, “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, “bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and “chew the fat.”

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the “upper crust.”

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up, creating the custom of holding a wake.

They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & sold to the tannery. If you had to do this to survive you were “piss poor.”

But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn’t even afford to buy a pot; they “didn’t have a pot to piss in” & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands & complain because the water temperature isn’t just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive, so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.

And that’s the truth. Now, whoever said History was boring?

[phantoms-lair]

49

Marvel + Ranma 1/2

Steve and Bucky hit the ground hard. But then again it's hard to judge landing when you're thrown through a random portal in space time. Now to look for context clues to figure out where and when they were. A forest was pretty nondescript in both regards.

Steve felt himself grew tense as he saw a sign reminding hikers not to litter. A sign in Japanese. Steve had no problem with the Japan of the 'modern' times(part of him still thought of it as the future). But he vividly remembered a time when Japan and America were lock in a bloody kill-on-sight war and there was no guarantee that wasn't the time period he had landed in. The best thing to do was just like when you were lost in a forest normally. Stay where you are and wait for rescue.

"Dad, please no! I don't want to go into the pit again!"

Steve and Bucky shared a look. They'd both become fluent in Japanese during the war and neither one were going to just sit back and ignore that.

They headed towards the sound of the cry, pushing themselves faster as it became a bloodcurdling scream. They broke into a clearing in the woods to see a fat middle aged man cracking open a beer. In front of him was a wooden cover over a pit, doing nothing to muffle the yowling of cats and the screaming of a child.

Steve ran to the pit while Bucky covered the man. He raised the lid and almost gagged from the combined smell of rot, urine, cat feces, and blood. Without thinking he jumped in and scooped up the small boy while the cats tried ineffectively to claw through his uniform.

"I've got you," he whispered in Japanese even as he heard the sharp retort of a gunshot. He climbed out of the pit and saw the fat man on the ground with a single gunshot wound to his head.

Bucky was giving him a challenging look, like he expected Steve to yell at him. But after seeing what this man had done to his own son, holding the bloody and injured boy who was looking ahead with blank unseeing eyes...all Steve did was give him a nod.

The sky broke above where they had initially landed. "Looks like our ride homes here." Bucky commented, but there was a question in his eyes. What do we do with the kid?

But there wasn't really a question was it? He needed medical attention and there was no telling how far they were from civilization. If they left him here, he'd probably die. "You get to explain this to the others." was all Bucky said as he took off towards the opening portal.

Steve rolled hiss eyes and followed. This kid was going to need a crapton of physical and mental therapy. And adults who were in it for the long haul.

Good thing Steve was the worst at giving up

[kishavo]

plagued by memories tonight so I’m going to spit them up and hopefully that brings me relief.

I was an EMT for about 5 years and I think these things are tattooed on my bones. trigger warning under the cut for…upsetting healthcare-related experiences? and the f-slur

I remember bringing a wheelchair-bound elderly man up to his shoebox apartment in the inner city, 12 floors up a derelict building in a tiny, shaky elevator, and being hit with the stink of smoke as soon as I opened the door - cigarette butts stubbed out on every surface, ashtrays overflowing, carpet that started out as brown matted down to black. I offered to help him into bed but he refused. he took off his vietnam veteran baseball cap and picked up a stale pack of cigarettes and told me to go

I remember the man who had been attacked by his neighbors’ dogs, two Rottweilers. his legs were mangled; huge scoops of flesh just gone. he was kind. he asked me how my day was going.

I remember the dead woman in the ER who I was told to bag up and bring down to the morgue. she looked familiar. I remember putting a tag on her thumb but I don’t remember her name. I remember making small talk with the ER tech who was helping me on the elevator ride down to the basement. that sounds like the start of a joke, doesn’t it? a girl, a man, and a dead body get in an elevator. if you think of a punchline let me know

I remember the frequent-flyer patient with a chronic mystery skin infection that caused his legs to leak so much fluid that we had to wrap them in plastic bags or else the gurney would get flooded and it would soak into his pants and spill over the edge onto the floor of the ambulance. the first time I got his call I thought we’d been sent to a haunted house. it was an old victorian in downtown, made of rotting wood and peeling paint. The knob in the front door had been ripped out so I bent down and looked through. There was no answer when I knocked so I yelled ‘hello’ through the hole until eventually someone came down the stairs and silently let us in. Our patient’s apartment was one room, it was dark, it smelled, the bed was as dirty as the floor, beer cans and cigarettes everywhere. There was a tiny, square, box TV playing static. There were spoiled diapers kicked under his desk. He lived alone and apparently had no family. I and every EMT who had ever been sent there reported the situation to social services but nothing was ever done.

there was the woman coming down from a meth binge who kept asking me if I was going to eat her brains. we dropped her off at a psych facility and a few days later I was back with another patient. I saw her again, sober now. when she saw me she averted her eyes and retreated into her room

there was another woman in the middle of a severe psychotic episode who, within 5 minutes of meeting me, looked me dead in the eye and said, “You’re a fat fucking faggot and I want you to die.” She had pissed on all her personal belongings and the back of the ambulance stank so bad of stale human urine that I had to kick the fan on and spray air freshener into my face mask. She spent most of the call insulting and trying to spit on me and my partner. My partner snapped at her but I just ate it. Later, when we were outside cleaning the gurney and waiting for the next call, a stray cat slipped out from behind a nearby dumpster and curled around my boots. he booped my knuckles and mewled when I pet him and the night was good again

I remember being in and out of psych facilities so often and feeling like a fucking imposter because I was burning out, depressed out of my mind and regularly experiencing suicidal ideation. I wondered when I would call 911 and end up there myself. I wondered if it would be my coworkers who would pick me up. the thought of it scared me enough that I never made the call, even when I should have. I started getting high instead

I remember the middle-aged woman having a panic attack. that was at my on-location job, at my city’s arena, where all the concerts and games were held. it was a slow night and too many of us responded. this woman was hyperventilating, the bass from the concert was everywhere, and a crowd of strangers was closing in on her. I got there first, so by default it became my call, which always made me nervous. I sat her down, I kneeled in front of her, she grabbed my hands reflexively and I let her grip on. I coached her breathing. I waved my coworkers back to give her space. I convinced her that everyone there just wanted to help her and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. it worked. I was soothing, and sure, and strong. it worked.

when it was over she held my shoulder and thanked me. patients don’t usually thank us. when it was over I went to the bathroom and cried. I handled it so well because I had been talking my mom down from her panic attacks for years.

I talked about that call in group therapy the week after. I thought I was going to be proud, that it would be a positive share, but I cried again.

when people ask about what it's like being an EMT, I don’t think they want to hear any of this, they only want the cool stories. they want to hear about the lights and the sirens and to thank you for your service but please, please, don’t. There’s a quote by Anaïs Nin: “I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise.”

[griefabyss69]

for the random word asks: game/stake/bond <3

You got me with the last two! I had to write more > : ) Game, from shrapnel:

Maybe they can find a big empty place and they can play a real cat-and-mouse game, and he'll see if Eddie hates running around if he's chasing Steve and trying to like, strip his clothes off. He pushes up into his hand, groaning. He technically has time before work, but he decides to just calm down instead. He doesn't want his day hanging over his head while he tries to get off. Making breakfast will help.

Stake, from quiet house:

Waking up from a nap that tried to replace a full night's sleep makes him feel like a soggy cardboard standee, but at least Eddie's there, with his heartbeat against Steve's cheek. He has no idea when he got this far down the bed, but they're tangled loosely together and Eddie's breathing is deep and even, helping him drift comfortably for a while, even if he feels kind of hungover for no reason. All of the sex probably did that - it's not like they kept it gentle. As soon as the shield between them crumbled it's been heavy and hard even if it's been the sweetest he thinks he's ever experienced. He's definitely sore. Like more than just his ass, and so he thinks maybe he should keep whatever he and Eddie do in public kind of low stakes, at least for now. It's okay, they can still makeout in the dark probably, they just… have to be careful about it.

Bond, from a continuation of a microfic ( Into The Night ) I did last month! Working title: house party piss ninjas (voyeurism, discussions of urination):

Eddie's not sure if this counts as bullying or flirting or just joshin' around, but he feels himself get a little thicker in his hand and he presses his toes hard into the soles of his shoes. C'mon, keep it together!!! Be soft, be soft!!! "Because you're… you're a pervert, Steve! A voyeur!" he exclaims, finally able to give himself a shake and tuck his dick away from sight. It doesn't get any softer but at least with his pants on it's much easier to hide. "Uh-huh," Steve says, directing the beam to the side of Eddie's face, making him hiss and squeeze his eyes shut. "Are you embarrassed?" Eddie wants to shout DUH!!! at him but he just frowns and shrugs. "No," he says. "Just wondering why you seem to like watching me piss so much." Steve laughs, lowering the light so Eddie can steal at glance at him. He looks… Normal. No fucking shame. "I dunno," Steve sighs, and starts walking back. "You're so… covered up, like, armored, and your aura's all spiky." His aura? "Maybe I just like seeing you vulnerable," he says, like that's not a fucking crazy thing to say to an acquaintance. Or even a friend. Or anyone he's not already been balls deep inside of. "Underneath all of this bullshit, we're just animals pissing in the woods, you know?" He opens his mouth to answer but he's truly gobsmacked. He nods dumbly even though he doesn't necessarily agree with being the one made vulnerable in this situation. "It's what I like about sex, too. But that's different obviously, I promise I won't go all peeping tom on you getting busy," Steve continues. "But you get it, right? Just… a lot of society is… really fucking stupid. But I like people." As far as explanations for pervert behavior can go, this one makes it pretty far. "Okay, so why haven't you whipped it out?" Eddie challenges, crossing his arms as they pick their way back to the rock. "You want to watch me piss?" Steve asks, sounding more like Eddie asked him if he'd please eat a slice of birthday cake. "That's not what I said, actually. This has just been very one-sided," Eddie says. "Your explanation is nice, but I still think you're just covering up the fact that you're a pervert. Like you have to know this goes beyond the regular male bonding thing, right?" Steve laughs. He's so fucking unbothered that it kind of pisses Eddie off, like how is he supposed to win against that?

Thank you!!! <3 <3 <3

WIP Game: Word Guess

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Grain of Salt "Facts"

I don't know if these are true or not but they come from a source I tend to trust. Still, take 'em with a grain of salt and please excuse the word used for urination. The fact just doesn't make sense without it.

People used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken and sold to the tannery…….if you had to do this to survive you were "P*ss Poor". But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot……they "didn't have a pot to p*ss in" & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the old days…

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. However, since they were starting to smell … brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it … hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water!"

Houses had thatched roofs with thick straw piled high, with no solid roof. The cats and other small animals including mice, bugs lived in the roof to get warm. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes they would slip and fall off the roof … hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was also nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and droppings could mess up their nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how our luxurious “canopy beds” came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, "Dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a “thresh hold”.

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire … every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and didn't get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and “chew the fat.”

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered “poisonous”.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the “upper crust”.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a “wake”.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive … so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the “graveyard shift”) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, “saved by the bell” or was considered a “dead ringer”.

[literalliterature]

Light Motif: Preview

[Removed all but the preview as I submit this for publication!]

Orpheus went into the Underworld with a guitar case covered in scuffed stickers. He didn't have his plastic 7/11 cup, where he would always put some of his own change in at the start of the day, so that when anyone passing on the street threw money his way, there would be a celebratory rattle for all to hear. He didn't care, this time, whether anyone on the street was around to hear or not. And money does nothing down there anyway.

Orpheus went into the Underworld and passed newly made shades on the way down. He nodded to a few and wasn't surprised when they didn't return in kind. It's hard, sometimes, to nod to people in a big city. They see a smile from a stranger and think you want something out of them. (To be fair, Orpheus usually did. He did now.)

Orpheus came to the River Styx. The River Styx was an episode of Hoarders. The River Styx was the aftermath of the Galveston Flood. The River Styx flowed at a crawl these days, so choked was it with the refuse of lives. Wood beams and alarm clocks and open umbrellas and rings and socks and shelves and marble mantles and mattresses where love was made or fucking occurred and favorite sweatpants and the old toaster from someone's grandma's house and bricks from someone else's hometown's elementary school and the spot of carpet stained with cat urine and refrigerators and closed door after closed door after closed door. Everything that the dead had had to leave on the shore went in, items divorced from their meaning like the symbols of a language everyone has forgotten. There was more of the debris now than there was of the gray water. If you were to try to ford the channel yourself, you'd be not so much swept away as crushed in the crunch of things.

Orpheus went into the Underworld to find Charon on a smoke break. This was the only kind of break he took, and he seemed to always be taking it. There was no use in talking to the ferryman on break, certainly not if you didn't have a fare to give him, so Orpheus sat for years on the shores of the river, watching disorganized spice cabinets and roofs topped with rooster-shaped weathervanes drift by. The Model-Ts gave way to Teslas. Around him on this side of the shore milled the specters of the dead buried wrong, that is, without a means of paying their way across. As it turned out, burying people with coins over their eyes or in their mouths was a practice that had fallen out of fashion, meaning that nearly no one these days came down able to pay Charon, who took the excuse to work very little.

[goatguy7399]

So my boyfriend inherited a house, right? And not just any house, but the house his great grandfather built the majority of. I’m talkin this thing was two, maybe three rooms when he got it, and he more than tripled the floor plan plus there’s two basements. Dude put in a lot of work. I’m renting a room and helping him fix it up.

Unfortunately it seems dearest great grandfather decided that it was important to save money (reasonable) and do too much by himself (unreasonable). What are the issues that I complain of, you may ask?

1. Every door frame is a different size. The office alone has three different door frame heights, four different door frame widths, and three different types of doors. There are four doorframes in that room. ALL OF THEM ARE DIFFERENT. This trend continues throughout THE ENTIRE HOUSE.

2. A large majority of the electrical outlets do not have the standard grounding slot. This means that anything that is more than a lamp requires an adapter in order to be connected to electricity. I am a simple American I just want to plug my things in to the wall. Oh and not only are most of the outlets two prong compatible instead of three, the majority of those ones are also upside down! Fantastic! Thank you so much great grandpa you have truly outdone yourself.

3. There are two huge Asian elm trees in the front yard. That’s good right? Lots of shade? WRONG. These trees are less than six feet from the front porch. The front yard is MAYBE 12 feet from the street to the porch. These trees have destroyed the concrete slabs that have been laid for the carpark and the walk up to the door, been replaced, and they’re in the process of re-destroying them. They are sending roots into the foundation. They are destroying the sewage line and clogging the ever-loving shit out of it. We were without the only bathroom for over a week. We STILL can’t use the shower.

4. Somehow, and I’m not sure how the math works on this one yet, the floors are really weird. The original three rooms (1900s build date) are all more or less level with eachother. The living room is level with the first two. The bathroom and hallway is level with the office. The hallway is not level with the living room by an entire step. How did you manage that??? What wizardry were you participating in?

5. For some reason the ceiling in the original three, the hallway, and the bathroom have been artificially lowered with the foam tiles you typically see in such places as school buildings or perhaps a doctor’s office. Metal supports and all. Why, praytell, would anyone lower a ceiling? In any economy? Well my assumption is that the wood paneling he picked out in lieu of drywall was simply Not Tall Enough to reach the ceiling proper. So instead. He decided. To lower. The Ceiling.

6. He decided to install 70s carpet (not shag, the normal length stuff that had a rubber backing on it as “padding”) directly on to particle board. This resulted in the floor in the original three to be, essentially, a sponge. A sponge his daughter did not keep up care for, and ended up absorbing a LOT of urine. Specifically dog and cat urine. Also, the backing on that carpet had literally disintegrated after 50 years, leading my boyfriend to believe it was dirt. Nope. Rubber dust. Super fun to breathe in.

7. Someone decided it was a grand idea to paint the cinderblock walls of the finished basement, I.e. the FOUNDATION. It is now cracked and leaking in several locations and I fucking swear if I see another idiot paint brick, stone, cinderblock, or concrete I am going to set them on fire and use the ashes to scrape the paint off of the poor assaulted stone-based building material. Fuck you. Most idiotic thing I can fucking think of.

This isn’t even all of it, just the most interesting parts that I can think of.

In the interest of fairness, I must say the man knew which tools to buy. All of the old ass electric tools still work (although they do complain) and I have been using them to re-do the office. 10/10 great selection, got a whole hardware store downstairs essentially. I occasionally ask his ghost where tools are and he lets me know (more or less). I’m just glad he’s no longer messing with the lights.