#I used to work at a consultancy and honestly even there there was a chance of being staffed on the managed services team

[quietlyfail]

I think one of the truly exhausting things about writing software is that you don't get to be done. Even if you finish a feature it can impact the next thing you build or the thing after that or leadership will want it different or a new goal is added. The only way to escape is to move to a different job, where you will never be done on something different.

[temporarywelcome]

hii

i absolutely love the spencer reid smooth criminal fic you wrote 💝

kinda sad no hotch mention 😩

could you please write more for spencer reid x kelopto!reader? like they need her to discreetly get something from an unsub for them and more shenanigans take place?

THANK YOUUU

( and sorry if this isn't coherent!!!)

hey bae here it is! Sorry it took so long, I had to flee from a hurricane... Didn't mention Hotch much in the first fic bc honestly i didnt think hed gaf like everyone else did lol. Anyway, here it is:

Special Consult - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The BAU has a tricky case, though the clock is ticking, only a matter of time till the unsub strikes again. And so they bring in some help: Spencer's girlfriend, the one person who can break into a millionaire serial killer's home undetected.

Warnings: some swearing, very brief violence

A/N: can be read as standalone but is technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series.

____________

This unsub was slick.

An unsub in Virginia. Convenient enough for the BAU, only a few hours away. 

This unsub had tortured and killed four girls, recording the events and sending tapes to the families of the victims. 

According to the profile the BAU created, the unsub was way too sophisticated for these to be his first kills. 

And it led the team to a man named Richard Smith. Thirty seven years old, with a wife and two kids. 

The BAU knew he probably had more tapes, prior victims’ pain and suffering locked away somewhere. So the team came in with a warrant, turning his home upside down in search of not just tapes, but any piece of evidence that could be used against him.

They came up with nothing.

According to Garcia, that house was the only property under his name. 

So were they wrong? Did they suspect the wrong guy? The BAU reevaluated the profile, coming out stumped.

It was him. It had to be him.

So how did they prove it? Did they have to catch him in the act of slaughtering another innocent woman to actually catch him? 

“He should have the other trophies,” Morgan muttered, staring at the information on the whiteboard intently, “What are we missing?”

“Where else could he be hiding them?” Hotch asked, more to himself than the rest of the team, “There's no wooded area in a thirty-mile radius. A family member? Friend?”

“That doesn't fit the profile. He's incredibly secretive with his work, he would want it close to him, but hidden away,” said Reid. 

“Garcia's on the line,” Prentiss gestured to the open laptop, Penelope’s face filling the screen. The team stopped conversing, bringing their attention to her.

“Hey, my loves, just got some juicy, juicy information on Mr. Richard Smith,” she began, “He had this home built in 2009, and I noticed something fishy with the blueprints. There was one room on the second floor labeled ‘mechanic room’.”

Rossi's brows furrowed in confusion, “We found no ‘mechanic room’? Where is it located?”

“The door is in the library!” She replied.

“In the library? There was no other door…” Realization hit Prentiss, “A panic room?”

“Possibly,” JJ agreed, “You think the evidence we need would be in there?”

“That could be where he's torturing the victims as well,” Hotch suggested.

Rossi wasn't convinced, “You think he could get those women in there without his wife and kids finding out? Even knowing their schedules, there's always the chance of them going off schedule at some point and accidentally catching him in the act.” 

“It's worth a shot,” said Hotch, “Especially with his timeline. He should have his next victim now. He'll kill her tomorrow. Dump her the day after.”

“We don't have time for another warrant,” JJ pointed out in worry. 

“Isabella Carson was reported missing two days ago,” added Garcia, “he's probably got her.”

“She doesn't have a lot of time left.” Said Rossi.

JJ crossed her arms over her chest, “What do we do then?”

“We have to save that girl,” Prentiss stated the obvious, “Warrant or not she needs us.”

“We can't just bust in there. Especially if we're wrong-” Derek paused, a grin forming on his face, “Who is someone who can get into that mega mansion undetected and get out just as undetected?” 

“Someone who has done this before?” added Prentiss.

“And gotten away with it?” added JJ.

They all turned to Spencer, who looked at them in confusion. “What? I've never done that.” 

“Not you, Reid,” Rossi deadpanned, “Y/N.”

Spencer's eyes widened, “Y/N? Absolutely not! She's never done a house robbery before!”

Y/N, Spencer's lovely girlfriend, was a diagnosed kleptomaniac, who can't resist her urges to steal. Most of the time, it was stupid things like a pencil or a pack of gum. She usually returned what she had stolen. 

However, that was just most of the time. 

She had admitted to robbing a bank once (well, multiple times, actually, but the team didn't need to know that). And other robberies like stores and gas stations.

She was a master with her hands, able to steal within seconds without a single person noticing. 

“I'm not going to send her off to the home of the unsub.” Spencer said firmly, shaking his head.

“Reid, that girl is going to die unless we can find new evidence against him!” exclaimed Prentiss.

“As sad as that is, it's either her or my girlfriend,” Spencer said dryly, “And I don't know about you, but I'd like my girlfriend to live.”

“We will be right there. If she needs backup, we'll be there.” Rossi persuaded.

“Still, no.  Besides, she has rehearsal tonight.” Reid said firmly. 

His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket to silence it.

Y/N.

“Gee, Reid, maybe you should answer.” Said Rossi.

“So you can harass her?” He scoffed.

“Reid's right, we can’t put Y/N in danger.” Said Hotch, “It’s unprofessional and dangerous.” Always the voice of reason.

“Then what do we do? We're going to have another body,” Derek pointed out. 

“Another body?”

Spencer jumped and looked down at his phone, noticing he was holding it so tightly he had pressed the ‘accept’ button. “Oh… hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, baby. What's going on?”

__________

Oh, he was going to shit his pants.

Well, he wasn't, but he felt like he was going to, his girlfriend sitting surrounded by the BAU as she viewed the blueprints of Richard Smith's home. 

“So I just have to go here?” Y/N asked, pointing at the room labeled ‘mechanic room’. “Easy enough,”

“It’s on the second floor,” Spencer reminded her, biting his bottom lip. 

“Yeah. Should still be pretty easy.” she looked up at him, “Baby, sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Because you’re going to infiltrate the house of the unsub!” he exclaimed. Was he the only one who thought this was crazy? That this was a terrible idea? “Hotch, would you let Hailey do something so dangerous?”

“Of course not,” Hotch answered honestly, “I think this is a bad idea too,” 

“Come on,” Y/N scoffed at them, “I’m like a pro at this.”

“You’ve never broken into people’s homes before,” Spencer huffed. 

“Actually, I have,” she noticed the looks the BAU members were exchanging, “A long time ago.”

“Kleptomaniacs steal from impulse. You broke into homes on impulse?” Rossi asked with a raised brow.

“Oh, no. That was for attention. Anyway…” Y/N looked down at the blueprints again, “Garcia, Imma need you to check to see if this guy has ever purchased an alarm system. Imma assume he has one, to keep all his rich people stuff safe.”

“I believe I saw a system when we searched the place,” JJ added helpfully. 

“Ah, look at that,” Reid said, “Guess she can’t break in,” 

“Of course I can. Don’t start doubting me now,” 

Holy shit, can’t she take a hint? He didn’t want her to do this. He wanted her at her rehearsal, safe and far away from Richard Smith. Unfortunately for Spencer, her rehearsal was cancelled, which was why she had called him in the first place. 

Y/N pulled him down to the seat next to her, an arm going around his waist as she began scribbling plans of execution all over the blueprints. "Relax," she said simply, which didn't help him relax at all.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, “We’ll be right outside just in case. She’s not going to get hurt, even if she gets caught.”

“The only reason I’m allowing this,” Hotch pointed out, “...is because I believe she won’t get caught.”

“We value our jobs,” Rossi added.

“Think of it like this, baby: most of the times I got caught,” Y/N smirked, “It was because I wanted to be.”

______________________

The car ride towards Richard Smith’s home was silent. 

Spencer was seated in the passenger seat, being the Passenger Princess he was, arms crossed, staring out the window with his bottom lip jutted out.

“Baby,” Y/N said.

“Humph,” was what she got out of him.

“Baby,” she repeated. 

“What?” he finally faced her, arms still crossed over his chest. 

“I’m going to be okay,”

“Why did you even agree to this?!” he finally exploded, his anger and worry finally coming out in one swift motion, “That man is a serial killer! He could kill you! And if I lose you…” he huffed again, turning to look out the window once again.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Y/N’s free hand went to his knee, the other on the wheel, “Besides, even if I did meet my unfortunate demise, I’ll make sure to haunt you.”

“This isn’t funny!” he whined, looking at her again with those big, sad puppy dog eyes that literally always got him what he wanted from her.

But not this time. 

She chuckled softly, patting his knee, “Sorry, baby. Just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“It’s not working,” 

“I’ll buy you a really nice present tomorrow,”

“You can’t do that if you’re a ghost,” 

She hummed in response, “I’ll be a special ghost. You’ll know it’s me whenever you enter your apartment and somehow Girls’ Generation is playing,”

Finally, the corners of his lips curl up in a tiny smile, “Of course it’s Girls’ Generation. That’s how I know I’m really in a horror movie.”

“Whoa!” Y/N said dramatically, “Spencer Reid said a joke? A disrespectful one towards my queens, but a joke nonetheless!” she laughed, pinching his cheek. “I love you, baby. Never disrespect Girls’ Generation again, though,” 

A giggle escaped him, “Yes, ma’am, I love you too” his smile faded when she parked the car, a few blocks away from Richard Smith. “Oh. We’re here,” 

“Mhm, can you pass the equipment, please?” 

With a sigh, Spencer reached towards the backseat and grabbed a headband with a camera attached. Y/N held out a hand to take it but Spencer ignored her, putting it on her himself. His brows were furrowed in concentration, bottom lip puffed out as he adjusted the camera on her head.

“Stop being cute, it makes me want to make out with you,” Y/N grumbled. 

“Shut up, you’re going after the unsub, like you want me to have a heart attack. No kisses for you,”

“Okay, but like, if I do die and become a ghost, I won’t even need to haunt you, because the fact the last time I ever asked for a kiss, you denied me, and I die a few hours after will haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

“Stop it!” he huffed, hitting her shoulder, “You’re making me nervous!” 

“Does your team know you’re both demanding and abusive?” Y/N asked dramatically, rubbing her shoulder that didn’t even hurt.

“I'm neither,”

“You're demanding, a thousand percent. I guess you just save that for me.’

“No I don't!” 

Y/N laughed, cupping his cheeks, “I love you. I'll be okay. This ain't my first rodeo.”

She leaned in for a kiss but he huffed at her. “No kisses for asshole girlfriends.”

“Shit, baby, you're evil.” she giggled, “I guess I should hurry up and get this over with so I can get some, eh?”

“Youre not getting shit.” it was a venomous thing to say, but he giggled again, leaning in and giving her a kiss. He was never much of a playful person, but with Y/N it was different. She was different. And he quite liked it. 

“Ah, I'm such a bad influence, got you cursing all over the place,” she pinched his cheek lovingly before getting out of the car. 

The couple gathered with the rest of the BAU, cramped in the back of a van where Garcia had computers set up, typing away. 

“Alright,” she began, “We will be able to see everything you see,” she pressed a button, and the monitor changed, showing the side of Spencer's head, because that was exactly what Y/N was looking at. “There!” 

“Remember your task. Look for tapes, or any other sort of evidence while you make your way up to the library. Once in there, access the panic room.” Hotch began, holding up a USB-like device, “Insert this into the lock, and Garcia will be able to find the pass code for you. Remember, the main goal of this mission is to get Isabella out of there.”

“I got you,” Y/N grinned, nodding, “Easy peasy,” she turned to Spencer, who looked ready to vomit. “I'll be okay! Promise. Have I ever broken a promise?” 

Spencer looked up at her, plump bottom lip between his teeth, “No.” 

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “I don't plan on starting now,” she kissed his cheek before pulling away, “Time to commit some crimes.”

________ 

Once the alarm system was disabled, Y/N found herself opening a window and entering the mega mansion’s dining room. The BAU stood huddled together at the monitor, watching her work.

“Shit,” she smirked, picking up the fancy centerpiece, “This is fancy,”

Spencer groaned, saying into the mic, “Y/N, focus.” She was wearing an earpiece to hear any direction from the team. 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she put the centerpiece down, “Find evidence. Got it.”

Fuck, he was biting at his nails, silently cursing out his team for coming up with this idea, cursing out Y/N for agreeing to this. He felt like vomiting. 

Y/N began searching around the first floor: dining room, living room, other living room (?), kitchen, and then… the first bedroom.

“I’m going to throw up,” Reid muttered, head in his hands. 

“The fun’s just started,” she said smugly, twisting the knob quietly. She entered the room, and Spencer realized he was holding his breath. 

Richard Smith’s daughter, Emma, was fast asleep in her bed, luckily with a pair of headphones on, easing Spencer’s worries somewhat. Y/N began rummaging through her things, looking to see if her father might have left something in her room. For all they knew, the whole family could be in on it. 

“Holy shit,” Y/N whispered.

“What?! What is it?!” Spencer exclaimed, feeling his hands begin to sweat. 

“Do you see Richard?” asked Hotch, brows furrowed, his usual unamused expression on his face. 

“Emma is a Sone!” 

“...a what?” Rossi asked.

Spencer, feeling second-hand embarrassment over his girlfriend’s words, explained, “People who like Girls’ Generation,” 

On the monitor, a musical album filled the screen, showing what Y/N was looking at. She held it, obviously observing it.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, lips uncomfortably close to the microphone, “Put that back. Please,”

“It’s an old album too,” she opened it up. 

Rossi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This is what we can expect sending a kleptomaniac into the home of a very wealthy family…”

“Y/N,” Spencer repeated, “Put down the album. I will literally buy you that exact same album. Please focus,” 

Y/N gasped, making the whole team jump in worry. “She’s got Jessica!” she held a small cardboard album inclusion with a pretty woman on it to the camera on her forehead. “Jessica!”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. His girlfriend who was supposed to aid the BAU in catching a serial killer was busy ogling over her idol Jessica in said serial killer’s home. He couldn’t tell if he was horrified, embarrassed, or both. 

“We might have made a mistake,” Prentiss muttered as the team watched Y/N begin to shove objects into her bag. 

“This is stealing,” Spencer stated the obvious, trying to stay calm, “Put it back, Y/N,” he pronounced each word slowly, as if sternly speaking to a small child.

“Fine,” she huffed.

Spencer glanced at the team, “We’re going to have to pat her down when she gets out of there,” 

“Must be nice having a girlfriend you can’t even trust,” Rossi stated sarcastically. 

“Not now, Rossi,” Spencer groaned. He spoke into the mic again, “Y/N, I’m begging, please get on task.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she grumbled quietly, leaving the room, “No fun,”

“A girl might die,” Rossi reminded her dryly. 

“We’re going to get fired,” JJ added. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Y/N huffed, going into another room. “Trust me,” she began to go up a grand staircase, “Imma be this rich, baby, trust,” she whispered, obviously to Spencer.

“Legally?” Rossi deadpanned.

“Let’s focus on the task,” sighed Hotch. 

“Yeah, Rossi,” Y/n grumbled, “Let’s focus on the task,” she reached for a random decorative piece on the wall, her impulses taking over.

“Y/N,” Spencer said through gritted teeth, “Don’t,”

She paused, hands hovering over it, “Sorry, baby,” 

He sighed in relief, realizing he’s getting somewhere with her. She was starting to actually listen to him and fight the urges. 

“Good job, pretty boy,” Morgan said with a nod, “Keep her on task,” 

Spencer nodded, biting his bottom lip, “I’m trying,” He knew this was going to be the most stressful case of his life. 

It was a complete mess, a constant battle to keep her from stealing unnecessary junk throughout the abnormally large home. From diamond jewelery to magnets, this woman was struggling to not grab everything around her.

She finally made it to the library, and Spencer let out a soft sigh of relief. They were getting somewhere. However, so far, not a single piece of evidence was found. This was their last shot to prove their profile was correct. 

Y/N closed the door behind her, scanning the area. She began going through the desk, humming to herself as she looked for anything of use. She then paused, eyes on a small container of paper clips.

“Focus,” Spencer already knew what she was thinking. “Y/N-”

She snatched up a handful and placed it in her bag. 

“Y/N!” he groaned, “You do not need more paper clips.” That was the problem with kleptomania. She never needed the things she stole. It was a desire she couldn’t control (okay, sometimes it was for fun). There was absolutely no reason she needed a whole handful of paper clips. But her brain told her she did. 

Y/N ignored him, grabbing another handful and looking around the room again, “The mechanic room should be… here.” she gestured in front of her, a large bookshelf, “Oh my God is there like a book that when you grab it, it’s actually a lever, and it reveals the secret door to the secret room?” she started grabbing at books on the shelves excitedly. 

“We’re going to get fired,” JJ repeated.

Gripping another book, Y/N hooted in victory, the book not budging and making a clicking sound instead. She backed up, watching the shelf move, revealing a door. “Fuck yeah,” she took out the USB device and a screwdriver, getting to work on the passlock. Once it was open, she inserted the USB.

“My turn,” Garcia hummed, typing away on a monitor, “Okay, the code is 9-1-4-7-2.”

Y/N repeated Garcia’s words as she pressed the buttons, unlocking the door. “Moment of truth,” The large metal door began to open on its own, and Y/N entered the room, flashlight in hand. She began looking for a light switch, pausing when she saw a small bin. In curiosity, she went towards it.

“Look for evidence, not things to steal,” Spencer reminded her.

“No fun,” she opened the box, “Shit…” she held up an object to the camera, “...tapes.” She looked down at the tape again, reading it, “ ‘Fun with Hannah“

“Same handwriting as the unsub,” Morgan pointed out, “Same language use,” 

To confirm, Y/N picked up another tape. Fun with Katherine. 

“That’s what we need,” Hotch said, “These were before he decided to send them to families, so there’s a chance these aren’t edited and his face might be visible. Y/N, grab a few.”

“Jackpot,” she held up something else: a leatherbound journal with yellowing pages, “Journal,” 

“Okay, you got evidence. Get out of there,” Spencer said quickly. 

“We still need to find Isa-” Y/N’s eyes widened as she moved her flashlight, coming face-to-face with a girl bound to a chair, “Shit, fuck, shit, I’m like actually in the mega mansion of a serial killer,” 

“I’m going to throw up,” Reid gasped, biting at his nails again. 

“Untie her!” Hotch stated the obvious, trying to keep everyone from losing it, “Untie her and get out of there,” 

“Right, right,” Y/N reached for the girl, when she suddenly went, “Oh, shit!” 

Spencer’s eyes widened in terror as Y/N turned around, coming face-to-face with Richard Smith. Without a second thought, he shoved his gun into its holster and bolted out of the van, sprinting down the street. 

“Go, go, go!” Hotch shouted, the rest of the team barreling after the boy genius. 

Spencer was not a runner.  He was a terrible athlete. Yet he ran like a track star, his heart beating practically out of his chest with each step on the concrete. 

If anything happened to her, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

___________

“Hi there,” Y/N said casually, trying to calm her nerves in front of Richard Smith, the unsub, the killer of God knows how many young women, “Does your wife know about this little hobby of yours?”

From the profile given to her, Y/N knew he was narcissistic and full of himself. She had to keep him talking. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said simply. 

“I know,” she replied, glancing at poor Isabella Carson, who looked terrified, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “You know, you did a great job here. How did you manage to not get caught?”

Richard looked at her in confusion, a brow raised in suspicion, “Excuse me?”

“How’d you do it? How’d you get away with it?” she asked

The serial killer smirked, leaning against a wall in the secret room, “You broke in here to ask about my killing methods?”

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip in an innocent way, “They’re admirable, actually. I’m sorry I didn’t go to you directly, I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.” 

A look of victory crossed the killer’s face, “No no, that’s fine. I just… didn’t think anyone was admiring my work.” 

A very rich man who made his riches by exploiting others. He was a dominant force, and needed to feel it. And Y/N knew this. 

“So how did you do it, Sir?” Y/N asked, “I want to learn from you,” 

Richard’s smirk grew as she spoke, “Learn from me, huh? Alright… well, my family is here at the moment but… some other time, I can absolutely teach you my ways,” his eyes flickered towards her chest, then her eyes again. 

“Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” Y/N said, inching towards the door, “I hope we can meet again-” Richard put his arm in the way of the door, and Y/N knew she was trapped. “Um, I’ll leave you be-” 

“No,” a devlish look appeared on his face.

“Yes,” without a second thought, her hand flew out of her pocket, and she was tazing his balls.

He did not like that.

“Okay.” she began as he shouted and crumbled to the floor, “Now my super hot FBI boyfriend is going to come arrest your ugly ass in three… two… one-”

“Y/N?!”

“There he is,” she grinned, turning over her shoulder, “In here, baby!” she called after him. 

Spencer came sprinting up to the library, “Y/N?! Y/N!” he threw his arms around her, “You’re okay,”

“Yeah,” she brought an arm around him, eyes on Richard Smith who was laid out on the floor, “I’m okay,”

_________

The rest of the BAU came in after, freeing Isabella Carson and arresting Richard Smith.

His family was not happy. 

Once outside of the mansion, Spencer conduced a pat-down of his girlfriend, removing all of the stolen objects from her bag and body. 

“Do you really have to steal everything you see?” he grumbled, finding some pens in her boot. 

“I can’t help it, baby,” 

“I know,” he sighed, standing up, “By the way,” he cupped her cheeks, “You’re not allowed to help on a case ever again,”

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I don’t think crime solving is my thing anyway, darling,” 

“Good, I was terrified,” he nuzzled into her neck, “This job is stressful enough, I don’t need to worry about you as well,” he paused, “I still have to worry about you anyway.” 

“Am I really that much of a terror?” 

“A bit,” 

He then was called up by Hotch, so he gave her another kiss on the cheek before grabbing a box filled with the goodies she stole, walking off to him.

She waited till he was far enough away before, with a big smirk, she pulled out a card from under her sleeve. 

The Jessica Jung photocard she found.

_________

A few weeks later, the BAU sat together, viewing a case.

“I don’t understand,” Rossi muttered in thought, “How can these two rob these banks so easily? No weapons, they kill their victims an hour after with their bare hands. How are they doing this?”

“If only we knew someone who has robbed a bank before,” said JJ.

“With no weapons either,” said Morgan.

“And didn’t get caught,” said Prentiss.

All eyes went to Spencer.

“I’ve never robbed a bank before-”

“Not you. Y/N,” Morgan deadpanned. 

“Well, actually, she did get caught-”

“The first time,” Rossi corrected, “Garcia found some messaged between Y/N and a friend. She gave us printouts,”

Spencer sighed, rolling his eyes, “She’s always giving printouts,” 

“So,” JJ grinned, “Is Y/N busy?”

And that's how Spencer found himself with an annoyed expression in the corner of the office, the rest of the team huddled around the case's special consult, Y/N.

______

Inbox is open!

[reiderwriter]

Margaritas and Mistakes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, smut coming in the next part (it's already written it just felt best to post them separately lmao).

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, some heavy petting and mention of sexual arousal. 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

A/N: Welcome back, it's my week off currently so I've been writing a copious amount of smut, so please enjoy this 3.6k word build up to more smut coming soon. Requests are still open, and you can find my masterlist here!

PART TWO!

You truly made all of your worst decisions when under the influence of alcohol. You blamed it on the fact that you really didn’t get the chance to go out all that often now that you were a full time member of the BAU Team. But the job was sometimes rewarding, and considering you’d been working on consultations all week and not a full time case, you were really looking forward to stretching your legs this friday night and getting some much needed relaxation in before you had to stare evil in the eye one more time.

“Girls’ Night Out! No male detectives, partners, Special Supervisory Agents, Unit Chiefs, OR Doctors!” Penelope cheered as you arrived at her apartment that night prior to your eventful outing.

“God I needed this,” Emily sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I got to kick back with a glass of chardonnay.”

“You sent me a picture of your drink two days ago, and it didn’t exactly look like water,” JJ laughed.

“Ah you see, my dear JJ, that wasn’t kicking back. That was therapy.”

“Honestly, though, it’s going to be good to get out of the house. I swear, the only places I’ve been for the last month have been my apartment and work,” you sigh, downing the last of the drink Penelope had handed you on the way in.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing, Y/N? Was he that bad?”

“Don’t even mention it. He took me back to his place and he didn’t even have a mattress on the floor, wanted us to do it on his couch,” you groan. “The couch that was also housing all of his laundry. And I’m not positive it was even clean laundry.”

You really had been having the absolute worst luck with men recently; other than your aforementioned tinder date, the only men who had shown any interest in you being serial killers who wanted to murder you and married cops looking to fool around with an FBI agent. Not the most auspicious of dating pools.

“Okay, operation get Y/N laid is a go. Ladies, your jobs tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to become the best wing-women this town has ever seen!” Penelope joked, and you found yourself giggling at just the idea, thankful that they were taking the time to try to cheer you up.

“Oh I’m all in. I’m warning you now, Y/N, my wing-woman success rate is pretty high. I’ve helped multiple couples achieve not only orgasm, but also marriage and kids.” Emily boasted.

“Emily, next time you might want to think about the wording of that one,” JJ laughed. “But I’m in too, you could use a little unwinding.”

“Not you too, JJ. You were supposed to be our voice of reason tonight.” You giggle into your cup, feeling the effect of your starter alcohol already.

“Nope. We’re having no responsible adults in our midst tonight. That’s why I’ve already arranged for our favourite Doctor to come and pick us up when the last of us falls tonight. He’s at a screening of some Indie Russian flick until 2am which is probably about perfect for our plans.”

This is the first you’ve heard of Penelope’s plans, but you’re not against it. With a solid escape route, you can let loose as much as you want tonight and know that all of your friends are fully able to have as much fun as possible tonight.

“Well, that’s the plan for us, sweetcheeks. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Penelope winked at you with a nefariously innocent look on her face. And suddenly you weren’t quite as sure you trusted her…

–X–

After your first margarita at the bar you were still feeling fine. Sure, you were talking a lot louder than you usually did, and if you saw yourself in the mirror you’d probably start giggling instantly at the stupid, semi-permanent grin on your face, but you were feeling so relaxed that it was of no consequence.

You’d moved swiftly from Penelope’s apartment to the nearest downtown bar. It looked pretty seedy to you, and the lighting was so low you could barely make out the faces of your friends in their seats at the same table as you, but you were sure some of that was just the alcohol blurring your vision.

Your hearing though was still in top shape, which was why when Penelope asked her next question, you almost spit the drink out of your mouth, rushing to laugh.

“Okay, fuck, marry, kill, Hotch, Morgan, Reid.” She giggled as she posed the question to her teammates.

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair.” Emily laughed at the question posed.

“You’re right, I don’t know a woman alive that doesn’t want a ride on my chocolate thunder.” Penelope let out a faux dreamy sigh and took another swig of her drink.

“And marrying Reid just seems wrong. He’s like our brother at this point.” JJ points out, just shuddering at the thought.

“So we’re all in agreement? Fuck Morgan, marry Hotch and lovingly bury Reid six foot under?” Emily laughs and the other two nod.

“Nope,” is all you manage to get out before going for another large gulp of your drink.

“Well, well, well, Y/N what would you be doing differently?” Emily snaps her head around to look at you, eager for the juicy details.

“None of you are curious what the doctor is packing?” You reply, almost innocently, unaware of the many plots culminating in the minds of your friends at that very second.

“Not at all. “Nope.” “That’s pretty gross, actually.” They all seem to reply at once, but Penelope pushes another drink into your hand as soon as you’re done and gets ready to launch a counter-attack.

“Are you curious about it?” She leaves it at that, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d have seen them all lean into you, desperate for your answer and ready to hang off of your every word. "Do you think about you and him… You know?"

“Every night,” you sigh dreamily. And you’re telling the truth. In the recent months, you’d found yourself waking up a little hot and bothered after some rather steamy midnight encounters with the Good Doctor. You’d become close to him over the few months you’d worked with him as a member of the team, but it wasn’t like you’d had a crush on him or anything. It was more like your body had an unconscious appreciation of his body. Or at least for certain parts of his body.

“His fingers are really nice, you know. And they’re big, too. Just makes a girl curious, s’all.” You down the proffered drink, hiding your remaining shame behind the glass.

“No, no, no babycakes, we’re gonna need more details than that if you’re gonna claim that you want to fuck Reid more than Morgan.” Penelope insisted, more forceful now than before.

“And what exactly does every night mean, Y/N? Something you should be telling us?” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at you and you lost it for a few seconds having a giggling fit.

“Okay, okay, it’s just… You’ve seen how he looks, right? And there was that one case three weeks back. He confronted that accomplice, and when he was about to bolt he slammed him against the wall and held him there like he’d barely broken a sweat. And you know how it is, we see Morgan kicking down doors on the daily, so I thought I wouldn’t be that interested in feats of physical strength, but my only thought in that moment was that I’d rather like him to slam…me…against that …wall.” You slowed down your speech at the end, looking up to see what looked to you like the grinning faces of three wolves staring down at their prey.

“And now I need another drink, anyone up for another round?” You squeaked out, changing the topic before any of the others could make their own comments.

–X–

Your second round of margarita’s was probably where things went irreversibly wrong for you. You’d returned to the table with two rounds of shots for all, having queued up four songs on the ancient jukebox you’d seen in the corner, hoping to entice the girls away from conversation, and it had worked.

After you’d bought the first two rounds, JJ had bought you another, and then Emily had splurged on another three, and then Garcia had rounded the hour out with one more shot, this time with sparklers attached.

So by the time you got back to your table and took a much needed swig of a drink that didn’t have to go down all at once, you were feeling well past drunk, to say the least.

But with the free-flowing alcohol came the lack of inhibition, so you really didn’t care. True to their word, the girls had been doing their best to convince you to dance with some of the guys in the bar since you’d gotten up, but truthfully none of them had enticed you.

But now, the night was running out, and the alcohol had you a bit hot and bothered, so when you felt a nice, hard body press up gently against yours, you decided to take advantage of the situation. Without looking back, you wrapped your hand around the one of his that had grazed your hips and held in there, moving your hips back and forth and beginning to grind back into your mystery man.

He was a little bit still at first, but eventually began making some slow movements along with you, and you could see the others cheering for you from a distance, Emily especially whooping from her perch at the bar.

You felt the voice lean down to your ear after a minute or so, and you tilted your neck up to hear the tall man a little better.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He whispered against your skin, still letting him guide you through the music. Had you been sober, you’d have realised the voice was more than familiar, especially since he’d said your name, but you were not, and so you did not.

“Well, if you’re lucky, tonight I’ll be doing you?” you giggled back, looking up at the man quickly. But with the hazy lights of the bar and the copious amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you don’t catch a good enough glimpse of the man to realise he’s your coworker.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says, when you start to pull him towards the bar, his grip on your hips tightening, accidentally pressing you back into what you expect to be his semi-erect cock, straining against your clothing.

“Oh, what, wanna take me home right now? That’s okay with me, mister.” You giggle, grinding back into him more intentionally this time. You grip his hand and try to force it up to touch more of you, utterly carefree about throwing yourself on what you presume to be a stranger in the middle of a bar.

Before you manage to, however, he lets out a frustrated groan and turns you around by your hips, forcing you to look him in the eye for a little bit longer, and all of your senses finally start working once again.

“Yes, Y/N, we’re going now. Penelope called me 15 minutes ago and said you were ready for that ride home and I can see now that she was right,” Reid leant down so you could hear him enough, but your brain was short circuiting.

You’d been grinding on your coworker. The one that had been the cause of so much of your sexual frustration for the past god knows how long. Spencer was right in front of you, and he hadn’t loosened his grip on you that much. Spencer was right in front of you and his erection was poking into you.

Really, your following actions shouldn’t be held against you in the slightest given the situation.

“Are you going to take me home, Doctor? Lay me down in bed and get me nice and comfortable?” you giggled up at the man, now enjoying the way your insinuations were making him blush.

“Y/N, you’re not being fair. We need to get the others and go,” he shot back, irritation dripping from his tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I being a bad girl?”

“You’re certainly being very difficult- what are you doing?” He jolted as you moved your hands to his fair, beginning to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s softer than I imagined it would be,” you giggled again, pressing yourself forward to press a kiss against his neck.

“Okay, we need to get you home,” he panicked, grabbing both of your hands, pressing them against your sides, spinning you around and walking you back towards the other girls.

“Hello Spencer~” the girls all giggled as you approached. You struggled against his grip a little, but he kept you firmly in place, man-handling you slightly, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Who let Y/N drink this much? Don’t answer that, you’ve all been drinking the same amount, right?” He left out a frustrated breath, and ran one hand through his hair. You attempted to move again, but he’d practically pinned you to the table. Your hips were pressed into the edge of it, his hips pressed against you, forcing you up against the table in a way that should have been uncomfortable. His other hand was resting near your discarded glass, caging you in almost entirely.

“Cars out front, lets go,” he said, his jaw twitching with anger now.

“No need, lover boy, taxis are coming to pick myself, Penelope and JJ up as we speak,” Emily slurred the words, but got the idea across well enough. “You’ll just be needing to take this little kitten home and you’re done for the night.”

They were all giggling now, as you let out a childlike yay, your excitement evident on your face.

“We’ll wait and see you all off together at least, so outside now. She needs some fresh air or something,” he was practically talking to a wall at that point, but after a few repetitions, the women acquiesced and moved outside.

“Ooh, that’s my taxi, gotta go,” Garcia practically runs from you the moment you step outside, and you wave at her whilst wrapped around one of Reid’s arms, stumbling with each step.

“Use protection my sweet babies,” she shouts as she slams the car door just as her car drives away, leaving a spluttering Spencer unable to respond that he’s not touching you tonight while you’re in this state.

The taxis for Emily and JJ arrive swiftly as well, and the two soon depart with similar messages and soon you find yourself alone with Spencer once again.

“So, your place or mine,” you smirk, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in the sweetest way you can manage.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk I may be, Doctor, but I absolutely know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want you to shove me against a wall and finger fuck me until I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

“Goddamnit, Y/N, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Oh you want me to be quiet? If you take my panties off and push them into my mouth maybe you could shut me up for a few minutes.”

“Get in the car, now.” You stick your tongue out at him, but hop into the passenger seat. He slams the door in your face and takes a few deep breaths before moving around and getting in himself.

–X–

Despite having the window open the entire car journey, hoping that the fresh air will do you some good, you’re still on top form when Spencer pulls up to your apartment.

“I didn’t even give you my address,” you pouted, as you tried, unsuccessfully, to remove your seatbelt.

“I memorised your file, now let’s get you into bed,” he unclasps it for you, and you use the close proximity to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you get into bed with me, hot stuff,” you wink at him and make for the door. “You know, you’re going to remember everything I said in the morning, right?” You asked him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered under his breath as he caught you just as you were about to teeter into the hedge on the shared green space. You wrapped your arms around his neck for the second time that night and stopped him in his tracks. Looking deep into his eyes, you took one of your hands and traced it gently over the side of his face and down his neck, your eyes following your fingers. He gulped involuntarily when you hit his adams apple, and you snapped your eyes back to him.

“Chances are that I’m probably not going to remember any of this, right?” You smiled up at him.

“Alcohol induced memory blackouts tend to occur in binge-drinkers whose alcohol levels have hit at least 0.16%, and further studies show that 50% of adults will experience some kind of alcohol-related memory loss in their lives, so yes, I’d say you’re probably not going to remember any of this.” He shot back, almost entirely still in anticipation of your next move.

“Good, then I might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts right.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, your lips crashed into his, and after a beat, his reciprocated, moving over yours just as hungrily. He moved now, walking you back to your door, lips still locked in a ferocious battle for dominance, until he pinched your arm slightly. You gasped a little, ready to pull back and complain about the pain, but suddenly his tongue was in your mouth and you were back at it all over again. He tapped your legs, signalling that he wanted you to jump into his arms, and you did, wrapping your legs around his centre tightly as he finished making his way to your apartment door.

Pulling away for the briefest of moments, he pulled your keys from your back pocket, and made quick work of your door.

“Bedroom, now Spencer, please I need you,” you whimpered in his arms, pressing kisses against his jaw and neck. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

“No. We are going to the bathroom, where you’re going to wash your makeup off, brush your teeth and change your clothes, and then you are going to get in bed and sleep.” He unceremoniously dropped you at the door of your bathroom, and you slid to the ground.

Pouting up at him, you felt the tears well in your eyes.

“No! I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you sounded like a petulant child and Spencer cursed a little under his breath when he looked down at you.

“Y/N listen to me very clearly, you’re not thinking straight. You’re way past the legal limit, you can’t consent to any of this and I’m not going to sleep with you and then have you forget it in twelve hours.” His tone was harsh, but you listened to him.

Picking yourself up off the floor, you followed his instructions and got yourself ready for bed.

“Okay, I’m all done now, Doctor,” you grumbled once you were done. You half expected him to have left you there, choosing to retreat whilst you cleaned yourself up, knowing that he’d already done what was asked of him by getting you home. But he was still there perched on your bed, and you made one last attempt to get what you wanted.

As he made his way to stand up, you used the last of your strength to push him back down again and climbed into his lap. This time though, you made no attempt to take anything further, just wrapping your arms and legs around him and burrowing into his shoulder. You had to admit, you were getting particularly sleepy now.

You let out a small yawn and burrowed further into his neck just as he opened his mouth.

“Y/N, please, what are you doing?” He sounded tired now, but didn’t attempt to push you off again.

“You said I was probably not going to remember this in the morning. That’s not going to fly with me. So you’re gonna sleep here with me and tell me everything I forgot in the morning.” You informed him.

He scoffed at you, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“So you want me to just sleep here next to you? No pushing you against a wall? No panties in your mouth?”

“Nope. Like you said, ‘s getting pretty late and it’s been a long week, so it's probably for the best if we…” You tried to finish but your tongue was so heavy in your mouth that you just couldn’t use it anymore. You felt the warm rumble of his answering laugh of disbelief as he manoeuvred the two of you under the covers, taking the time to kick off his shoes and remove his coat and shirt.

“Sleep well, Y/N, because when you wake up I’m going to make you feel all of the torment you’ve put me through tonight tenfold.”

And he held you there against his chest as both of you fell deeper and deeper into your slumber.

PART TWO

[my-my-my]

Food for Thought - Chapter 1

Summary: You often wonder why you feel so alone even when you spend time with other people. An outsider even in a packed room. But a chance work project with Urahara Kisuke provides a strange comfort... so strange that you continue to spend time with him after your project is over.

Content warning: Reader is written with self-esteem issues/insecure thoughts, food is a large part of this story. Kisuke will become a yandere in this, he is also promiscuous. This chapter has no smut, but it will become very NSFW soon.

Read on AO3 here.

Chapter 1: Blini with caviar and crème fraiche

“You’re still up for karaoke tonight, right?” Your co-worker Hanatarou asked, as he peered over your cubicle.

You smiled brightly at him, eyes filled with mirth, “of course! I don’t back down from a challenge, especially one from Madarame” you snickered. Hanatarou laughed as he thanked you again for agreeing to come with him to a singing showdown. You knew Hanatarou since you started working at the Senjumaru & Hikifune Diagnostics Company. While you and Hanatarou were new in your roles, you sensed that there was an ongoing rivalry between your department and Madarame Ikkaku’s - the marketing team.

But before you could figure out your song list for the night, your manager, Sarugaki Hiyori shouted for you, “Oi! C’mere quick. I got a new project for you, newbie.”

It had been over two years since you started your job here, but you couldn’t help but laugh at Sarugaki still calling you “newbie”, but the casual behaviour you two shared was something you appreciated in your role.

“I got a new project for you.” Hiyori explained, walking you towards the meeting room. “The higher ups were impressed with how you dealt with the immune checkpoint inhibitors assessment.”

“Thank you, but it was a team effort after all.” You explained, which was true to a degree, but you were the lead analyst on the project.

“Don’t be so modest,” Hiyori scoffed, “anyways they want you to do a review on the prefecture’s medical imaging inventory.”

“I see, but that’s not my area of expertise, wouldn’t Akon or Nemu be better fits?” You asked, knowing that their team, led by Kurotsuchi Mayuri, were the health technology team.

“In all other cases, yes, but they turned down this project.” Hiyori huffed, entering the empty meeting room. “They said some bullshit about other projects of theirs being of higher priority.”

Well, that’s fair you thought, but Hiyori’s face looked like she didn’t buy it. “From the look on your face, you don’t think it’s true.” You laughed as she clenched her notebook.

“It’s because they don’t want to work with the consultant tied to the project.” Hiyori explained, her scowl growing deeper. “Not like I want him to work with you either.”

“I’ve worked with frustrating consultants in the past, Sarugaki-san.”

“I know, I know” Hiyori sighed, looking dejectedly at the window. “This guy’s annoying, and frankly, just plain weird.” She admitted. “I worked with him for a short while, he wasn’t completely a bad guy then. He just gets on my nerves.” She explained, honestly.

“Well, if you were able to tolerate him, then it should be fine.” You said, wondering what type of person would not only upset Hiyori (who was already quick to anger) and Kurotsuchi-san (who was already easy to annoy). You figured this person must have been normal to some degree, since the two people who have worked with him were a bit odd in their own ways.

Your manager explained in more detail the work you’d be doing and the finer technical details of the expectations senior management had for you. “The consultant is an expert in this field, which is why he’ll be assisting you on this. Apparently, he used to work for the national health board way back when.” Hiyori explained, as you diligently took notes.

“Anyways, that’s about it. I sent him a meeting invite to this board room in 5 minutes. I’ll email you everything we shared for your records. I gotta bounce, but send me a message if anything comes up.” Hiyori waved you goodbye as you sat alone in the room.

You checked your phone, scrolling through your calendar for the week. You were relatively social at work, with colleagues sending you invites to things to see, do and eat. You didn’t see the harm in participating, and you weren’t much for drinking to begin with, so you made sure your colleagues got home safe. Either way, you were appreciative of them inviting you out.

Five minutes turned to ten, and still no show of this infamous consultant.

You continued scrolling through your phone, going through your social media accounts. Acquaintances from school and previous jobs, were sharing engagements, wedding photos and many other milestones. You couldn’t help but smile sadly, with cold, belittling words ringing through your head.

This stuff isn’t meant for me anyways. You thought, as you continued to scroll through your feed.

It wasn’t until you saw the time, that almost half an hour had passed. You began to type a message to Hiyori about the no-show consultant, until he barged through the door.

Pale, disheveled blonde hair, and what you assume a white button down and a poorly tied dark green tie around his neck under a brown sweater, paired with dark grey slacks.

He immediately grabbed your hand and gave you an intense handshake. The suddenness threw you off and confusion was evident across your face.

“Ah, sorry about that! I’m Urahara Kisuke the technology consultant, and I suppose you’re the analyst I’m working with?” Urahara-san asked.

You nodded your head, while you flexed your poor hand that was caught off guard by his tight handshake. You introduced yourself and offered him a seat next to you. The two of you went over the technical details and scheduled to meet again tomorrow before your lunch break. Your phone began to buzz as your coworkers and friends began to barrage you with texts.

“My my, you really are popular.” Urahara teased, as he stared at your phone with curious eyes.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed from his comment, “no, not really” you explained, “I agreed to karaoke tonight, that’s all!”

Urahara gave you a soft smile, “that must be nice. Karaoke sounds wonderful. Have a great time.” You thanked him for his time today and rushed off to your coworkers.

He wasn’t so bad. You thought, as your coworkers waved at you near the elevators. You told them to wait for you in the lobby as you grabbed your belongings, unaware that Urahara was watching you from the hallway.

The karaoke bar was lively. Drinks were ordered, snacks were shared and laughter erupting from your private booth. You smiled at your friends who sung along badly to old pop hits, and laughed as they sang dramatic renditions of tearful ballads. You sang along, clapping with them, until you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder.

“I heard you met Urahara Kisuke today.” Rukia quietly whispered.

You stopped clapping and turned to face her as the rest of the room kept singing along.

“Oh yes I did Kuchiki-san! He was quite polite and knowledgeable. He really knows his stuff.”

Rukia gave you a puzzled expression, “really? I heard he’s kind of shady.”

“It’s funny you say that, my manager said that as well, and she mentioned Kurotsuchi-san saying something similar.” Rukia’s face turned to one of concern, “but I’m going to be meeting with him for the rest of the month, so I’ll tell you if anything interesting comes up.” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ok, but just be careful. I heard from Rangiku at Payroll that they weren’t able to fire him because he has deep connections to some of the executives.”

That surprised you. The company itself was old, nearing 50 years (or so they say). You didn’t know much about Urahara Kisuke as his field of work was different from yours. You made a mental note to look into him later tonight. “What was it that made them consider firing him?” You were curious to know why everyone you’ve spoken to about him, had such poor opinions of the man.

“I’m not sure, I heard he was doing insider trading?”

“Really!?” You exclaimed, “wouldn’t the cops be involved then?” Pointing out the discrepancy within the rumour.

“Oh… yeah..” Rukia was stumped, “I’ll ask Rangiku next time I see her then. Maybe she doesn’t know either.”

“Or maybe it’s just a baseless rumour?”

Rukia gave you a look of uncertainty, “just be careful around him, ok? Rumours start from somewhere you know…”

You laughed her comment off and treated her to favourite snack. You were left with an uncomfortable feeling the rest of the night and excused yourself to leave early.

At home, you looked into Urahara Kisuke. Several of his papers came up, all of them focused on some aspect of biomedical engineering. You saw a Kurotsuchi-san’s name come up frequently as a collaborating author, and another person, “Aizen Sosuke” come up. You ran a quick search on him and saw he was working as a professor in the top university in the country. Nothing else came up in your search though, which left you more questions than answers.

You always tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and Urahara-san was no different, maybe it’s just a baseless rumour after all. Whatever the case may be, work was work, and you resigned yourself to be professional and complete the project to the best of your abilities.

You had meal prepped your lunch for tomorrow then prepared for bed. You still couldn’t shake off everyone’s comments today, so you hoped sleep would wash the thoughts away.

It had been several weeks now of meeting with Urahara-san. Your time with him made you doubt the comments made by your colleagues and friends when you first started the project. Now it was nearing the end of it, and if anything, if someone were to ask you to describe “Urahara Kisuke”, you would say he was a “curious, yet brilliant man who tries to be funny.” You laughed at yourself when you remembered the terrible “jokes” Urahara-san made, but he was certainly an interesting person.

Today was your last meeting with him though, and a small part of you was sad. You liked spending time with him. You watched him skim your report on the laptop screen with an intense focus, typing in tracked changes sparsely in between.

“I’m impressed!” Urahara said to you, “you really nailed this review. I know the execs will love it.”

You smiled at his compliment, “I’m flattered, Urahara-san, but it’s your vast knowledge that really helped me. I wouldn’t have even known to look in the formulary database and disability policies!” You said, shaking your head.

“They really are right about you.” Urahara remarked in a serious tone.

You looked at him with curiosity.

Urahara chuckled and in a teasing tone, “that you’re incredibly studious and hardworking! I barely did anything.”

“Well I have to say people are wrong about you.” You beamed at him, “people were telling me all sorts of rumours about you, and to be cautious.”

Urahara raised his eyebrows, but let you continue on.

“But you’re actually quite friendly and diligent.” You give an awkward laugh, “and I’ll miss working with you.”

Urahara looked surprised. He had never heard that before. Most people found him, in some ways, too difficult to work with. His unorthodox approach to analyzing and finding results, and dubious ethics, made finding people to work with slim to none. Yet here you are.

They really are right about you. He thought to himself. It bothered him, to some degree. Initially he wondered what angle you would be playing at while working with him. Would you fish him for gossip? Would you be a bother and ask about his past research? An annoyance who wanted access to his connections, his work?

No, none of that came up. You approached him with sincerity and kindness, something he wasn’t dealt with in his years of working as a researcher.

“Urahara-san, if you have some time,” you ask, your face growing warm, “would you care to join me for lunch?” To say he was startled was an understatement, but he accepted.

“Is that all you’re going to eat, Urahara-san?” You ask, noticing his canned coffee and prepackaged rice ball.

“Oh this,” Urahara laughed, “I had a hearty breakfast, so I wanted a light lunch.” He lied to you, while wearing a large grin on his face.

“If you want, you can have some of my food.” You offered to him. “I don’t think that’ll last you through the afternoon.” You gave him a sheepish smile.

Urahara’s eyes widened, but he chuckled, waving you off. But you were full of surprises, you pushed forward your lunch to him, “why don’t you have some of mine?” Your face grew hot as you began to ramble, “I know I may not look it, but I’m a pretty decent cook.”

He was hesitant, but the earnest tone in your voice, and the way you avoided his eyes told him enough. He picked up the utensil and took some food for himself.

Urahara’s eyes widened but quickly shifted. “My, you certainly know your way around the kitchen!” He joked, a slight smile on his face as he noticed the way your eyes avoided him, but the pleased smile on your face.

It felt unusual to him, to enjoy someone’s company like this, it put him on guard. He would listen to you talk, watch your reactions, and try to rationalize what you wanted out of him. But before he could make a definitive conclusion, your lunch break was over.

“Thank you for spending your lunch break with me, Urahara-san.” You said softly, “if you’re free the rest of the week, I’d like to do this again.”

His mind raced, maybe you were interested in something more personal from him, his under-the-table work, maybe you were sent by Kurotsuchi or the higher ups to investigate him.

But a small part of his brain knew that wasn’t right, he’d have to get to the bottom of this. “Yes, I’d love that.” He gave you a smile.

Two weeks had gone by where, for the most part, you and Urahara had lunch together at work. You were dismayed by his lack of lunches some days. He would say he was too busy to prepare something, or having a larger breakfast made his appetite quite small. But you had your suspicions.

“Urahara-san, what’s your favourite meal to cook?”

Urahara made an exaggerated sigh and cupped his chin, “why lately, it’s been what you’ve shared with me at lunch.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “I’m serious! I’d love to know what you make. I want to try new recipes.” You gave him a sincere smile.

It’s what bothered Urahara about you, you were too sincere, too earnest with someone like him. He suspected you didn’t know the actual rumours surrounding him, and a part of him hopes you never do. His heart, much to his dismay, would flutter seeing you smile, seeing your eyes light up. He would watch, as he wandered around the company’s different units, how you interacted with other coworkers and colleagues. You were polite and friendly. So… disarming.

Urahara let out a sigh, it would be so easy to let you go if you were only spending time with him for nefarious reasons. He wouldn’t have had any qualms about leaving you high and dry. But even on the weekends, he would send you a short text, something about how your weekend was going.

A small part of him was growing jealous at how you would hang out with some of your coworkers after work. Your social circle seemed so large compared to him… but he wanted to be at the centre.

“I don’t have one. I can’t say I’ve cooked much for myself.” Urahara murmured, scratching his head.

You looked at him with shocked eyes, “no way! Not even scrambled eggs?”

Urahara let out a laugh, “ok, maybe one.” He looked at your now empty bento that he had nibbled on, “if you have the time…”

You looked at him with such an eager expression, the knot in his stomach tightened, as he tried to ignore the thudding of his heart. He wouldn’t act on feelings; this was a plan to let you slip up what your real reasons were to spend time with him.

“Would you teach me how to cook?”

And as he suspected as much, and denying his own relief from your words, you agreed. “Why don’t you pick a recipe you want to try and you can come over to my house on Sunday?”

“Sure,” Urahara said, his brain already laying down plans to ensnare you, “but won’t your boyfriend mind if I come over?” He asked, with a hesitant look on his face.

“If I did have one, maybe!” You laughed, “You don’t have to worry about that, trust me.” You looked away from him, a sad look on your face. Urahara narrowed his eyes, but before he could ask more, your smile was back, “just let me know what ingredients to buy.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Urahara said, “I’ll bring the ingredients. It’s the least I can do since you’re offering your kitchen.”

“Oh alright! Thank you for going through the trouble.” You smiled, “let me know how much it is and we can split the bill.” Urahara laughed at your comment, you really were so honest.

“No, it’s on me. Especially after feeding me lunch these past few weeks.”

You let an awkward laugh, before avoiding his gaze. “My only request is that,” Urahara lowered his voice, bring his face close to yours, “don’t invite anyone else – I want your undivided attention.”

THANKS FOR READING MY FIRST CHAPTER!!

I've already have drafted over 5 chapters for this story and I have an ending in mind for it too. As a personal goal, I want to complete this, so I hope you join me along for this ride!

[lilislegacy]

Considering the fact that Percy is half Greek, do you think he's circumcised or not circumcised? What do you think? (if you think of this at all lol, maybe it's just me) I'm a big history nerd and in history books circumcision is mostly associated with Christian and Muslim cultures (I'm not from the US so I have no idea what the common for the average man is in there), but it is true that in Greece a very low percentage of men actually get circumcised, I know for a fact Greek gods and so included Poseidon does not engage in rites like these, so do you think Sally would have kept respectful to that side of his dad?

So sorry if this is a bit on the unhinged/weird side (you could totally not answer if you don't want to) but I can't avoid asking someone this since I'm veeery curious about what other people think.

So… I’m sure some people would label this a “weird” or “inappropriate” thing to answer, but honestly, I’m in healthcare, and this is just a natural part of new parenthood and biological males' health/well-being — so I’m gonna talk about this from a very objective perspective. This is something a lot of people either have experienced themselves or will eventually have to consider, especially since roughly half the population is biologically male, and a good portion of the other half might end up making this choice if they have a biological son. So I really don’t see a reason to treat it like a taboo topic.

Also just to clarify — I’m strictly talking about fictional Percy from the books, not anyone real.

So, it’s a great question, and honestly, one we can’t answer definitively. On one hand, I could totally see Sally being the kind of mom who wouldn’t want her newborn to go through a painful and unnecessary medical procedure. And since she is so knowledgeable when it comes to Greek history and myth, there’s a solid chance she might honor that culture and not have it done. But on the other hand, she didn’t really have any mortal male figures in her life to consult. And usually, it’s a decision that’s often influenced by the father’s input, since men tend to have more personal insight into it. In the U.S., circumcision is fairly common and is often encouraged (though never forced) by doctors, mainly for hygiene reasons. (Though the validity of that reasoning is controversial.) So I can definitely see her doing some research and deciding on it. But regardless, it can be a very difficult and personal decision. I can see why she wouldn’t, and I can see why she would. You know?

Also… I'm having a thought. If a demigod does get circumcised, would it even... stay? Like, do we think it might somehow reverse itself? Heal back? Regrow? I don’t even know how to phrase this without sounding ridiculous lol, but you get the idea, right? Demigods have accelerated healing. And especially Percy... like imagine Sally goes through with it, and then during his first bath afterwards, it just… grows back LOL?? Idk how it works though. I mean, say Percy’s hand got chopped off, would it grow back in water or would the stump just heal???? 😭

Idk guys maybe I shouldn’t have answered this. I’ve spiraled now. Begging someone else to please say something or reblog and contribute LOL

[shmisky]

How about a situation of Stan being kicked out by Filbrick because Ford literally framed him for breaking his machine?

Like, Ford realizes that Filbrick only cared about the fact that he could be a millionaire to make the family rich and decided that he couldn’t live with that kind of pressure on him all the time, so he sabotaged his own entry in West Coast Tech by making sure that ‘perpetual’ part of his perpetual motion machine no longer applied, by snuck in the gym and cut some wires of the machine.

However, Ford would still want to discover himself as a person and, knowing that Stan would likely still want sail away with him after graduation, left a Toffee Peanuts wrapper near his exhibit, so he could use this a ''prove'' that Stan sabotagaed him, then being able to mad at his brother and don't want to talk to him, being free to going to a college.

And then, when Filbrick kicked Stan out, Ford choose to keep the act of hurt brother and don't stand up for Stan, because he saw this as an opportunity to free Stan from his father's expectations too and since Stan probably would not graduate in high school too, he being kicked out would give him the perfect excuse to drop out school and don't go through the humiliation of having to repeat the last year of high school. He would genuinely believe that Stan is able to succeed alone, being finally free to be whatever he wanted.

Ford would thought that Stan would reach out for him if entered in trouble and then he would be able to apologize to Stan about accusing him of sabotage. He would explain his plan to him and how it was for the best, since they were able to find themselves as separate persons and learned who they are individually, being free from their father's expectations and from their codependency.

Oh wow!! So you want Ford as a mastermind, anon... Interesting AU! Let’s assume his plan works perfectly, then, and focus on Stan’s reaction.

Honestly? I think Stan wouldn’t be very happy with that if Ford ever got the chance to explain it to him, hahah. In fact, I think he’d punch Ford. Hard.

First, because he would’ve acted without consulting Stan at all. What happened to them being a team, telling each other their secrets and plans? And about something that concerned Stan so deeply!

It’s almost as if he thought Stan (rightfully) wouldn’t have agreed to it. Or wouldn’t have truly understood, not possessing Ford’s genius foresight and planning skills, but not to worry, Brother Knows Best. (Ford knows what’s best for Stan, even if Stan doesn’t!) Either out of cowardly avoidance (it’s better to apologize than to ask permission) or out of a very condescending view of Stan. You pictured Ford keeping up the act of a hurt brother and not standing up for Stan, which implies Stan actively pleaded with Ford to intervene, as he did in canon. That would already be enough confirmation that Stan wouldn’t want to be free of their father’s expectations if it meant homelessness, and for Ford to just straight up ignore that so things could play according to his plan...

Second, because Ford didn’t think of the implications of Stan being, literally, homeless. I imagine Stan has always known Ford possessed more book smarts than street smarts in many areas, but that would be... too much. Ford would have, even if accidentally, ruined Stan’s life. And partially for his own interests!

Third, because Stan didn’t want them to be able to find themselves as separate persons and learn who they are individually. Sure, Stan would want to be free from their father’s expectations, but not from codependency. Only Ford wanted that. From Stan’s own words in A Tale of Two Stans: “Without Ford, I was just half of a dynamic duo. I couldn’t make it without him.” Stan could very well interpret Ford’s plan as a very painful if indirect rejection, one much more devastating than Ford’s awkward “I guess you better come visit me on the other side of the country” line in A Tale of Two Stans.

Fourth, because Ford assumed, here, that Stan would be utterly unable to finish the last year of high school, which shows a huge lack of faith in his brother’s skills since, as we know from canon, Stan already copied everything from Ford, hahah. I think this would hurt Stan a lot. It’s one thing to be considered dumb by his father and their bullies and the principal and presumably their teachers, but another completely different thing to be considered dumb by his brother. It would feel like a betrayal, no matter how good Ford’s intentions were. Even if Ford didn’t see him as dumb at all, and merely thought the school system was flawed (I mean, old Ford expected Dipper to leave school to accept the apprenticeship opportunity), that’s how Stan and lhis low self-esteem would interpret it.

But that’s only if Ford gets the chance to explain it to him, right? If he does, even if Stan gets furious, it still would be better than leaving it unexplained. At least Ford could still help homeless Stan.

But if he doesn’t...

I’ve read some fanfics and headcanons that worked with the idea that Ford was expecting Stan to return home after he was kicked out, after one, two days or so, begging for forgiveness. His claims about not needing anyone were just bravado, and soon enough he would be back. Only for Stan to never, ever be back...

In this AU, your Ford hoped for a similar thing: that Stan would reach out for him if he ever got in trouble, that he would at least understand that this option was available for him. Only for Stan to never, ever reach out... Justifiably! From Stan’s POV, this isn’t just Ford refusing to believe his mistake had been an accident, but Ford actively and maliciously framing him for no apparent reason then turning his back on him. Why would he reach out again, if Ford ignored him the first time he did?

And that summarizes Ford’s greatest mistake here, right? To attempt to control Stan, to treat people as chess pieces instead of human beings with complex feelings and surprising choices of their own. That ties with Ford’s very poor understanding of people. Perhaps he overestimated Stan too, in a way, and how well Stan would fare with this new “freedom.” It’s something he does in canon, too, as TBoB makes it clear (at least to me) how he thought his brother was doing just fine, and not struggling as a homeless person. Stan’s so good with people! (From Dipper and Mabel vs the Future: “Mabel will be fine on her own. She has a magnetic personality.” )

It’s interesting to think about how would this affect the rest of their story. Let’s say Ford doesn’t search for Stan through all these years because he assumes Stan is enjoying his life without him, considering Stan didn’t reach out at all. Would Stan even come when Ford sends the postcard, in the future? If so (I wouldn’t rule this possibility out entirely because Stan is a simp for Ford), how would Ford treat him? Not with hostility, surely, and not acting like Stan owed him something and/or had to prove his worth?

Even if Ford was ready to make peace, I don’t think Stan would be. After all, this Stan had been homeless for ten years! It would be even more difficult for him to forgive Ford than it would be for teen Stan, freshly kicked out, because he would have already been forced to deal with the terrible consequences of Ford’s plan.

But Stan does love Ford very, very much, and the revelation that Ford never wanted to hurt him and just acted carelessly, after all, could be an enormous relief. I think Ford and his forgiveness/gratitude/love is, in a way, irresistible for any Stan.

In the end, it’s about which one of these things you think would win out: Stan’s hopeless loyalty to Ford or Stan’s righteous indignation. Personally, I think it depends on how Ford would handle things. He does have a tendency to put his foot in his mouth, and it being traumatized paranoid!Ford at that...

[cinnamonest]

Alright, we need to know. Who are top members of the "looking at women, who're minding their own business, and talking about how sad and concerned you are for them because 'with the way they are, they'll end up single and childless for the rest of their lives and no high value man would give them a chance," club? Like on a sclae of 1-10 how delusional would they become after they realize said woman doesn't give a shit?

Honestly one of my favorite tropes is the whole, “nooo what are you doing living your own life you're supposed to be someone's wife and having babies” thing. Like it has both benevolent aspects (the whole “you'll be happier this way” part) while also having malevolent aspects (the “you're a resource to be used and the resource is being wasted” part).

Like, even irl, there are some men who are like. Discombobulated. Baffled. At the suggestion that a woman can have other priorities in life. The sheer reeling disbelief when he sees a woman that's like 30+ with NO kids, NO husband. Unbelievable. It must be so awful for you, you must be so sad and desperate. Equally worrisome is that you might end up accepting some inferior, unsuitable guy that doesn't have the same Husbandly Quality™ of someone like himself, tragic…

But yes I’ve been thinking about this concept ever since the Diluc escape fic, and I know I’ve talked about him with that concept before, but consider CHILDE would be such a major candidate.

Childe is hopelessly drawn to you if you’re mean.

It’s honestly not healthy for his sake either, but it’s far worse to be on the receiving end. He can’t help it, it’s like waving meat in front of a hungry dog, an irresistible urge to have you.

You’re not exactly high rank, but not much of a subordinate, you’re more of an “other” category, you keep records and files and do a lot of scribe work for a division of units you’re assigned to. Unfortunately for you, higher-ups such as harbingers end up consulting you quite often for records and information… well, most of the time, they send someone else to do such a menial task for them, but he always comes in-person, waltzing in all cheerful and full of youthful energy — and loud, God. You wonder if parents these days have stopped teaching their kids about having an inside voice, because this kid certainly is unfamiliar with the concept.

You scowl, evident disgust on your face as you lazily sort through your records, not about to show any urgency for someone so annoying. You were kind of hoping to irritate him, even. But alas, he’s equally smiley and talkative when you hand him what he’s looking for.

Far too talkative. You’ve already handed him what he needs. Why is he still in here? Now he’s talking to you, asking you the dumbest questions about if you like working here and what you do and blah, blah. You didn’t ask for this. You force yourself to give answers, albeit blunt and short as possible, mostly consisting of yeah-s and sure-s, before the annoyance becomes too much and you ask through clenched teeth if he needs anything else or if he’s done here, an all-too-obvious hint to leave.

Thus marks the beginning of the bane of your existence, because unfortunately, by the will of some malicious higher power, he comes back. Regularly. Habitually. Eventually you start noticing that he isn’t even retrieving anything, half of the time, he’s coming in just to annoy you.

See, for him, it’s not just attraction, but a weird sort of pride thing. That initial coldness draws him in, because it presents a sort of challenge. He’s now overheard other people say the same thing, that you’re cold and mean to everyone.

Based on looks alone, he thinks, you’re old enough that you should be married. Maybe that’s why you’re so mean, you’re just bitter or something. Maybe you had bad luck and got hurt a bunch and now you’re all guarded. That’s actually kind of cute.

Naturally… well, naturally for him and whatever’s wrong with him, at least, it sparks an obsession. He likes chases, challenges. Things that are hard to get are that much more satisfying to obtain, you know? The feeling of having won, the feeling of being better than everyone else, knowing that he accomplished something other people can’t and now reaps the rewards, and the pride and ego boost that comes with it — that sort of thing is an intoxicating fuel, a motivator unlike anything else one could offer him. This does not combine well with the fact that he’s young and hot-blooded and in possession of a hair-triggered sexual aggression, not to mention a sense of pride for which the word ‘no’ doesn’t have any meaning.

It’s kind of sad though. Wasting your life away in some menial job, you’ll be so lonely and regretful.

You’re very lucky, then, that he takes pity on your plight. It will all work out.

Because he can fix you.

And he knows that that's just how you are — he's already composed multiple potential sad backstories that explain your behavior in a way that makes you seem cutely pitiable, that writes off your attitude as being ultimately due to being sensitive and afraid of vulnerability, very endearing — he's not deterred by you pushing him away.

In fact, he realizes, once you've opened up to him and he's forced you to expose the vulnerable side of yourself, you'll probably feel bad for all the times you were mean to him. You'll shuffle even closer (in the scene that plays out in his mind, see, you'll be in bed, naked, face buried against his chest, all clingy and needy) and quietly sheepishly mutter out apologies and ask him to forgive you.

Or maybe after a while, if he keeps being nice to you, you'll break down and cry and be more honest about how sad and lonely you are and how much you need him and then he'll be right there to hold you close and promise to be there for you, it'll be really sweet and will make him very happy. He's already planned out several lines to say that should elicit enjoyable reactions.

It will be so cute. It will feel so good. It’s just a matter of winning you over at this point.

Which, you see, proves to be the difficult part.

He’s getting there, he’s certain, you’re just a little more stubborn than he anticipated.

He’s already started trying to work his way there, during his regular visits. He’s already asked you if you’re married, watched the way your face turned all sour the moment the word came out and the way you rolled your eyes before you muttered a no. Ah. Sore spot, then, as expected.

And then asks if you have kids — because the first answer doesn't necessarily negate that possibility, and ‘jaded single mom with a bad ex' is one of the potential backstories he's theorized for you, so, it's worth asking. You still say no.

The ideal response, then, is—

That's too bad. You would make a good mother!

You narrow your eyes and glare like he's just said the most vile thing you've ever heard. But it's okay, it's cute that you’re so defensive (because you know he’s right and it’s what you really want).

It doesn't matter what you say, any words that come out of your mouth will be filtered through his delusions to match the reality he's already decided is the case.

You say you don't want to get married, this means you actually really do, you say you don't need a man, which means you actually really do and are aware of it and it bothers you, you say you're fine by yourself, which means you're very lonely, it's practically a cry for help.

He'll keep being nice, no matter how much you push back. He can tell it's just because you're sensitive. Maybe you think someone as young and charming as him wouldn't sincerely like you, and you're being defensive? That's probably it. Aw. That makes him feel good.

Poor thing. You're so defensive, so guarded. It's endearing, even if it's starting to get a little frustrating. But it will just take a little more work before he gets through to you, and then everything will work out perfectly… and then he’ll have a nice trophy for all his efforts, can savor the defeat and vulnerability you’ll show. You'll become so meek and submissive and it'll be just for him and no one else. It’ll be so nice. Just a little more time.

[gouraminnow]

... So when do we get the reader insert fic where we co-parent with Marco? /hi I love the fic!

Birds of a Feather <- link to OG, tldr orphan baby harpy mistakes Marco for their own kind so he's a dad now

I'm not doing any proper one shots/multi chap things with it but I could do some hcs for you :) this is... a bit light on the actual Marco x reader tho tbh

Honestly if you're already in a relationship with him, this would realistically be a point of tension. No, the harpy kid latching onto him isn't his fault, and you're not some villain who thinks the kid should just be abandoned- but it's kind of a big deal if your boyfriend spontaneously adopts a child without consulting you whatsoever. Needless to say a very long conversation is going to be in order at the very least. He's not a bad person for taking in an orphan, and you are not a bad person for going "hey bringing a kid home isn't something you just DO to a partner wth man"

But assuming you do have that discussion, and you are okay with things after they've been explained, then it's gonna be him trying to make it clear that You are his partner. Kissing you while they're present, making sure you're included in meals, having you groom his bird form and just playing up the casual affection in general.

If you share a bed with Marco that might be challenging the first couple nights. He sets up a little nesting box by the bed, but the kid really really wants to cuddle. They think it's really weird that you're there- but is able to settle if you stay on his opposite side.

But they warm up to you and Thatch pretty fast. Thatch is the food guy and you are... another parent. I give it three days tops before they interrupt the performative preening of your boyfriend by plopping themselves down in your lap with some grumbly chirping sounds, fluffing themselves up and expecting you to do the same. Marco grins at you and you try not to get too excited- don't scare em off!

I can see it ending with you in his lap while the kid is in yours, melting into a little feathered pile. Now they want to sleep between you two at night, squished between both of their new parents.

They're not gonna get your name right. Marco is "Maro" for a bit, and then "Margo" for even longer. With Thatch, they struggle through what sounds a bit more like "Tadge," but gets frustrated bc they know it's not right. If they're especially fed up they settle for yelling "AAA" at him. Ace gets it the worst he's "Ass" for awhile. WILL glare if you laugh about this.

Good chance you end up on baby bird duty while Marco is doing medical work.

Late one night, after the kid is a sleep, he asks you if he should still call you "Baby Bird" as a term of endearment and that it feels a little weird now... you agree but you aren't sure. Maybe it's just an in private thing now..?

Finding babysitting for dates isn't an issue this kid has hundreds of aunts and uncles. Thatch is a common choice- he's had special gloves commissioned so he can teach the kid cooking without their hand fluff getting dirty.

Meanwhile, you two get some alone time together, whether it's on some island for a proper date or just relaxing together in his cabin. Despite the reputation of the WBP, Marco is a reasonable person who understands that bringing a random child into a pre-existing relationship is a lot. He does check in with you a lot- he's a busy guy, but he does his best to make it clear you're still a priority. Odds are you're used to this sort of thing since he's a doctor and a division commander. He's got shit to do.

If you two have the uh. Equipment to reproduce, then one night he asks how you feel about another kid. He's very careful about it. He isn't certain on whether or not he wants another, but he'd be lying if he hadn't thought about it, is all. Odds are you don't wanna handle pregnancy on a ship this busy. But you do joke that if you happen to find some other sad little bird kid on some other island... Well, it might be good for them both, honestly.

[itertarot]

Lately, I’ve been feeling incredibly disheartened by certain parts of the tarot community, especially online. Due to feeling overwhelmed, I stopped offering tarot readings on Reddit and significantly reduced how often I read for others. Still, from time to time, I browse through the posts just to see what’s going on. And honestly, I never thought I’d see the day where tarot readers are being insulted because people believe ChatGPT is just as good. Let me be clear: I’m not completely against AI. In fact, I believe it can be a helpful tool in many ways, even when it comes to learning tarot, but i truly believe there are much better ways of learning it. But when people start selling readings based on ChatGPT alone? That’s where I draw the line. Artificial intelligence is just that: artificial. It doesn’t have intuition. It’s not spiritually connected. It doesn’t feel, and it doesn’t tap into any energy. So far, I’ve come across two types of people using ChatGPT for tarot:

1- Those who don’t even draw cards, they just ask ChatGPT for a reading from scratch. Yes, it can produce something that sounds accurate or insightful, but I’ve tested this myself multiple times. What I noticed is that ChatGPT often tries to tell you what you want to hear, not necessarily the truth. It leans heavily into positive interpretations, even when a card clearly calls for a more challenging message. It’s designed to satisfy, not to confront, and that’s a huge problem when dealing with something as nuanced as tarot. Tarot isn’t meant to coddle your ego, it’s meant to guide you, sometimes through uncomfortable truths, not all answers are positive.

I even tried to ask for answers i know, one of them: "will i have another baby", three answers: yes. I won't! I can't have any more babies, because the chance of my dying away before giving birth is extremely high. Not only i checked it on my tarot, but i also had consultations with other professionals from others spiritual practices.

2- Those who draw their own cards and then ask ChatGPT to interpret them. This, at first, might seem more valid. But even here, I have concerns. First, not everyone is ready to draw cards, if you’re not connected to your higher self or grounded spiritually, the cards you pull might not resonate or reveal true insight. Drawing cards is a sacred, intuitive act, it’s not just about shuffling and choosing at random. And even if the right cards are drawn, asking an AI to interpret them misses the entire point of a reading. ChatGPT can provide basic definitions, yes, but it cannot grasp the energy behind a spread. It cannot tune into you, your situation, or the emotions and spiritual energy that flow during a real reading. I’ve tried this myself, just to experiment, and I wouldn’t rely on AI for any of my readings. The nuance, the soul, the understanding of the energy between the cards, the emotions you feel as the message unfolds, it’s simply not there with AI. I even noticed how it tends to twist a negative card into something softer, something more “inspirational,” and again, that’s not always helpful. Sometimes the truth is hard, and that’s okay. That’s part of the work. So even here, is not accurate at all.

Do not rely on an AI. Even worse, do not sell reading based on AI.

I will not even start on those who read tarot but don’t believe in divination, and believe of it, goes around insulting others tarot readers. Yes, tarot is a powerful tool to look inside yourself, but there are other ways to use it.

[allwaswell16]

Hi Anitra! I was wondering if you had any favourite omega!louis fics?

Ohhhh I have so many...I'll try to narrow it down to five for you...

where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting / @polkadotlou

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it. If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now. As it is…Louis feels like shit.

Or the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

Cameras Flashing by @juliusschmidt

With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.

Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: poring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.

As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?

Bonus: My favorite omega Louis I wrote lol

If I Loved You Less by allwaswell16

Beautiful omega Louis Tomlinson is set to make his come out in London society and determined to find a mate in his first Season. With the help and protection of his oldest friend, Lord Niall Mendes, he takes Society by storm.

Being a wealthy and titled alpha means Lord Harry Styles has grown used to avoiding unmated omegas...until now. This Season he finds himself at every Society event just for a chance to speak with the omega with the flashing blue eyes.

Louis has the aristocracy at his feet and all the suitors he could hope for, but his secrets may ruin his chance at a love match.

[bekolxeram]

No, OMG! I'm so sorry if my ask came off this way. I was genuinely curious if there was any way this could work, hence the question. I used to believe it was Tommy who flew the plane, but once I saw your explanation, I actually subscribed to your view. It does seem more believable. I wish it was Tommy, but I think you're right, it wouldn't make much sense. I was just curious if Tim and the writers were to confirm in the future that it was indeed Tommy who flew that plane, whether it would be at least somewhat believable. That was the purpose of my ask. I didn't mean to disregard your theories. I'm sorry. I LOVE your aviation analyses; I even sent you a coffee from the Kinley cafe 🫣 I hope you don't stop. Whenever I see you posted something, I have this huge smile on my face because I know I'm about to read a banger of a post. It's all so interesting!

Noooo, it’s not you. I actually really appreciate your asks. And thank you for the Kinley Café order, you have no idea how happy it made me.

I don’t get asks often, but since the 8x02 title reveal I’ve gotten a few, all aviation related. I’ve been… honestly, elated. I have the chance to yap about my passion and do deep dives on stuff that never crossed my mind before. Sometimes I get carried away, I’m very much incapable of being normal about planes. Ever since I saw those planes in bts photos, my brain has been bustling with ideas, and at times I click rb/reply before thinking because I get too excited. I would worry later that I might’ve forced my theories on others without being asked about them. But it’s not like they’re harmful rhetorics or antagonistic hot takes, just an info dump about a lot of planes. So people can ignore and I’ll move on.

I especially enjoyed doing research on that C-130 in 2x14, I learned a lot about aerial firefighting in the process. I didn’t pay attention back then, but I noticed the lack of airplanes when Tommy was giving Buck the tour in 7x04, so I went back and found the line from the TV reporter saying it was CAL FIRE.

I suspect that line was shoved in there last minute, because some technical consultants told them firefighting air tankers are never used in an urban environment, the weight of water/fire retardant can flatten cars, houses, it has gotten multiple people killed. I can think of more instances where the emergency seems unrealistic at first, but then there’s a passing line making it kind of possible, just exaggerated. I know we always joke about Tim writing soap opera level surreal emergencies, but I feel like all the other people involved in the making of this show don’t get enough credit, especially those designing the opening big disasters.

I’ve noticed multiple times that shortly after posting stuff about Tommy’s pilot career, a post would pop up in the tag asking people to stop obsessing over timeline. I paid them no mind before, they were probably not personal I thought, a subsection of the fandom does have the habit to use Tommy’s age to call him a predator. But this time, well, my theory was mentioned by name, so they were talking about me.

I can handle bad takes or even attacks from the toxic part of the fandom, I don’t value their opinion at all. Seeing rb after rb from people on our side of the fandom, some of whom I admire, basically telling me to stop being so obsessive over realism, being compared to fans who nitpick certain actors’ accents, tattoos, grooming choices, that one stings harder than I thought.

I know I’m being thin-skinned, I’m making everything about me, I’m fully aware that I’m a disaster. But I find myself hesitating to answer the other aviation related asks in my inbox, one of them particularly asking about the possibility of certain scenario in real life. I’m just not sure my input is welcomed here. I have this fear of unknowingly annoying people with my over-enthusiasm. I feel like that kid who keeps yapping about trains at school that everyone secretly hates again.

I just really, really love aviation. I thoroughly enjoy uniting these 2 things that I love and maybe learn new things from it. I don’t mean to impose. I was very excited this morning when I received asks in my inbox, but now it feels like being slammed back onto the ground, and it’s not a good feeling. I don’t know, maybe it’s time to uncouple these 2 things.

[roo-bastmoon]

Homage vs. Copying

So I'm not feeling super great these days, but I still dip into Jikook spaces for a quick hit of lovely serotonin and to check up on my friends. Alas, I see some folks raging in the tags that JK is stealing Jimin's original concepts because he's too stupid or lazy to come up with his own... I'm not having flashbacks to BTS' plagiarism scandal, I'm not. I have thoughts--and lots of photo examples--about this topic, under the cut. Let's get into it--and keep it civil, too.

First off--let's just establish that folks have the right to use the Jikook tag to both celebrate and critique Jikook and the fandom around Jikook. People get to write about what they want on their blogs. They get to rant, so long as no one is using hate speech and slurs. (The minute I see that shit, I quietly report.)

Clearly, folks who are angry at Jungkook (or Jimin) come into the Jikook tag because they want attention from Jikookers, and the best use of my time and energy is to self-police and block them. That way I am not infringing on their right to scream into the wind all they like, but I also don't have to hear the noise.

Second off, unless JK called any of us up and said: "Hey, guess what? After 10 years of evidence to the contrary, suddenly I'm incapable of original thought, so I just take advantage of Jiminie-hyung, whom I keep calling out and hyping up and praising and asking to spend time with and traveling with and whose style I also match in my personal life!" maaaaybe we give the benefit of the doubt, and at least entertain the possibility that Jungkook is expressing visual alignment with Jimin because he can't just openly claim him in other ways?

Like, I'm not saying that IS what's going on, because Jungkook doesn't call me up and tell me his thoughts, either. It's fine; I'm not mad. He doesn't even text Jin back. I am just saying we should maybe sit with the idea for a bit and really marinate on what that might mean for a queer couple.

(Or we could just take in things without pronouncing any opinions yet--ya know, until we get more data around Jungkook's choices and how Jimin feels about it.)

It's fine not to assume the similarities are romantic gestures; but it's also fine not to assume the worst--that JK is siphoning off Jimin like a leech. Jungkook was consulted by the Seven stylist and he got to be creative director for his Vogue shoot; he also had some say in his music videos and performance stages. He is making choices deliberately, and it makes no sense to me that he would choose to openly copy a bandmate out of laziness. He has a professional reputation to consider.

Rather, I think this is one of the few places where he has artistic license to tether a thread between him and Jimin. I think he's paying homage.

(Side note: In film and photography, an homage is an imitation of another work. At first glance, it may seem like an homage is a rip-off or a lesser copy, but it actually pays tribute to and honors the source work. Homage is a great way to use other filmmakers' styles and content to crystallize your unique voice as a filmmaker.)

So that's my currently theory about what's going on.

Yet, honestly? None of us really know WHY there's so much similarity in their looks these days. The similarities are now stacking up so much as to be undeniable, though.

Personally, I'm leaning to this being a celebration of the fact that Jikook have always shared similar tastes; it's one of the many ways they click. Jikook know that. The stylists know that. So yeah, when JK gets a chance to observe and emulate (and expound upon) Jimin's style, he does. Because Jimin is one of the coolest people in the world to him. So he shows this in his own creative work and in his own personal wardrobe.

Here's why I hold that opinion at the moment:

Could this all be the stylists choosing to recycle looks or throw bread crumbs to Jikookers? I guess.

Could this be Jungkook just borrowing from Jimin as a shortcut? I'm not sharing his brainwaves, so I can't tell you there's zero possibility.

But what seems more likely is that of all the artists in the world, Jimin is the one Jungkook has always kept his eyes on. Out of love and respect, not malice and opportunism.

Like with the 1108 and 13 numbers that THEY keep inserting into their own communications, these similarities in style is also an emerging pattern.

If you feel protective of Jimin, I understand why you'd be wary of so much similarity. But consider what we know of both Jimin and Jungkook over the past 10 years...

While neither of these human beings are perfect (and they will continue to make mistakes), they clearly love each other. And you don't steal from the people you love. But you do honor how amazing they are whenever you get the chance.

So maybe let's just hear JK out on this?

Okay, that's all the energy I have for this topic. I got deadlines and health tests to power through over the next few weeks. If you comment with your own ideas, that's cool--but please keep it respectful of Jikook and each other. I don't want to banhammer anyone but I will.

Love, Roo

PS Even if I'm not around much, you can be sure I'll buy and stream 3D, and I encourage you guys to give it a chance too! <3

[bessmertny]

Just hearing that my workplace is now 'looking into AI' (with intent, with board members involved) has made me so, so anxious and sick all day. I know I won't be asked my thoughts on it becuase i've been actively anti-ai since day one, but I've honestly been on the verge of tears because it can n o t be escaped.

Our projects are meant to improve prospects for underserved kids and help them into sectors that have not been designed for them. My entire job is designing events and learning resources for these kids to stand a better chance at getting aspirational, high-paid work in the future.

Literally what is the point in learning how to be interviewed if every interview is an AI screening. What is the point in learning about your options, leveraging your passions, or finding value in your unique skillset if not a soul is going to employ you for them. How, when businesses are trying to slash every entry-level job to hand it to a 'free' AI model to do, can we even expect them to even try to break into that world? What is the point?

This week a senior member of the team fed our entire proposal for an international consultation project into ChatGPT to see what it thought. Like... that was our intellectual property... we spent hundreds of hours, tens of thousands of pounds, and the manpower of 10 full-time members of staff on that PDF... it was the entire Product that a business paid us a lot of money for... because we have 20 years of experience in delivering social value projects... and you just gave it... to the slop machine... without a moment's hesitation... for a bullet point summary... for a document you wrote... and thus... could have summarised ... yourself

[jerirose]

I'm really bad at writing these and I'm not sure where to start... but I think I need help. As a large amount of you know in FEB 2023 I got COVID whilst on holiday. I am autoimmune and my body did not take kindly to it. I got it on the 3rd day of my holiday and spent the next two weeks in bed, flew back home (properly masked) with COVID and spent another week in bed with positive results. COVID took my voice for several months, from shredding my throat (I wasn't able to talk for 3 months afterwards and slowly had to gain back my ability to speak) and I gained a heart condition from it, along with breathing problems. I am still suffering, a year later from all of these, the last year has been an extremely difficult battle for me, along with my other illnesses, relearning my limits with my long COVID issues. I has taken away my ability to do the things I love, I used to spend everyday day painting almost all day, I can no longer do this because of chronic fatigue and I used to stream 6 days a week on a good week (I'd of called this my job, since I'm too ill to work), for 6 hours, now I am very limited in how much energy I can put into either. I finally have an appointment at a Post COVID Clinic... but I almost fell over when they told me the cost.. it's expensive and I have to pay up front (we are not sure if my insurance will cover it to get the money back - this we find out when I'm there), this is just the consult and I'm sure there will be follow ups that I have to pay for... If you can help even a little, even by boosting this post I would greatly appreciate it, it'd honestly mean the world to me. (Long) COVID has taken so much away from me, and I'd really like to be able to have a chance to get some normality back in my life. I've set up a Goal on Ko-Fi, if you can or would like to help.

[ying-an-sanren]

TGCF AU IDEA

I have an idea for a modern AU... do you know those classic cop shows where there's always a detective and then someone who isn't really a cop and more like a consultant...

Imagine detective Xie Lian, who during the investigation of a complex murder case gets lead all the way to the city's most infamous and feared mafioso's doorstep.

At first Hua Cheng seems to be the likely culprit - he has the means, and if Xie Lian dug deep enough he would surely find a handful of motives! But when upon further investigation it turns out that the case leads a different way, and Hua Cheng is not the killer after all. Oh well, the best Xie Lian can do now is apologise for the inconvenience and hope that the head pf the Crimson Rain syndicate won't take it too personally. Surely he understands that Xie Lien is just doing his job.

Truth to be told, this was Xie Lian's first case after a years-long hiatus. In the past he used to be an aspiring and ambitious detective. But as such he seemed to have made enemies.

It tends to happen that after a string of victories, a failure is bound to come one day, and Xie Lian got to experience that too. At first it seemed that it was his own 'incompetence' that caused the failure. However, after some further investigation, the police found evidence that all pointed to foul play; fingerprints, personal belongings with pieces of DNA - all Xie Lian's.

Xie Lian naturally defended himself, and after arduously describing where he was, what he did, who could vouch for him, etc., he managed to clear his name. It was clear that somebody must have framed him. But the damage was already done.

The fact that one of the department's most aspiring investigators was now investigated on suspicion of murder and sabotage made the headlines, and Xie Lian's reputation was tarnished. The relatives of the victims demanded for him to be taken off the case - some even called for him to be fired - and there was just nothing that could be done. In the end, the head of the police department, Jun Wu, had no other choice but to strip Xie Lian off his badge.

Years have passed. Xie Lian has worked diligently, and finally he got a second chance. He knew that he was being carefully observed, so he couldn't make any mistakes for now.

But who could have predicted that this young, diligent detective would pique Chengzhu's interest? And the crime lord can't deny that solving crimes seems like an amusing pass-time activity.

And so, the next day when Xie Lian comes to work, he's greeted by the policemen that were supposed to secure the new crime scene and make sure that no civilians get close, clearly distraught, and explaining that they couldn't do anything! Xie Lian is confused at first, but when he steps behind the yellow tape, he finds the city's most infamous mafioso already waiting for him with two fresh hot cups of tea, and casually looking over the corpse and evidence.

The moment he spots Xie Lian, a charming smile that sends chills down the policemen's bones spreads on his face. "Good morning, detective Xie!"

Oh... Xie Lian is so dead... or fired. He honestly couldn't tell what was worse.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing were Xie Lian's former deputies and friends. After Xie Lian ended up fired, the two of them continued to climb higher, until they too earned their badges. Their specialisation was organised crime, and for months to no end they had been trying to bring down the notorious Crimson Rain syndicate. So imagine their surprise when they entered the office that day, only to find the head of the syndicate right there in flesh and blood - leaning over Xie Lian's desk!!!

Such an outrage! The city's most notorious crime lord invites himself right onto the police grounds and the whole building of officers can do nothing about it because, as Xie Lian awkwardly explained - with Hua Cheng smirking smugly from behind him - "Oh well, he's here as the new police consultant. He'll be my partner now."

Truth to be told, having Chengzhu himself on his side turned out to be quite useful. All it took was for the suspect to catch a glimpse of him, standing right behind that little twink of a detective, Xie Lian was able to get any information much quicker than usually. And if even then they were hesitant to talk - well, detective Xie might have been a law-abiding citizen, but Hua Cheng wasn't above using more unconventional means whenever Xie Lian wasn't looking. Aside from that, Hua Cheng was also the reason why Xie Lian could now walk freely through the crime-oriented areas unscathed.

For Hua Cheng this was at first just a way to pass time, and get closer to the pretty gege, but deeper into the investigation he started noticing that something was clearly on Xie Lian's mind.

The truth was that even though Xie Lian's friends told him to get rid of all the notes and files connected to that old case that got him fired, he didn't do it. He kept them all as a memento. And now, although he wasn't sure about it at first, more and more it appeared that this new case is somehow connected to the old one.

Hua Cheng noticed it. He had been spending so much time with Xie Lian that he could already tell when he was troubled.

None of them noticed at first, but the time they were spending together was starting to influence both of them. Xie Lian used to view the world in black ad white, but Hua Cheng opened him a whole new view. Hua Cheng himself, who was so used to being a hard and ruthless criminal, got to experience some completely mundane things, like brainstorming together, or sharing a lunch. He would also often drive Xie Lian home, because Xie Lian couldn't afford a new car after his old one broke down.

It was one of those evenings when they both sat in Hua Cheng's car, that the crime lord noticed the cloud of worry casting its shade on the detective's face. And that night he decided that instead of throwing Xie Lian at his apartment as usual, he would take him to his residence. After all, it looked like the last thing Xie Lian needed right now was to be alone.

Xie Lian was surprised at first, but he allowed Hua Cheng to invite him in. Just for tonight. They had some wine, and Xie Lian ended up telling Hua Cheng about the old case, and about the suspicions he had, that it could be somehow connected to the new one. For the first time Xie Lian had someone who had listened to him, other than the walls of his flat.

Xie Lian wasn't used to alcohol. He did drink after he lost his job, but he has been abstaining ever since. The thing was that at this moment he couldn't help it. Hua Cheng's presence and proximity made him feel a little flustered, which prompted him to drink more and more.

His colleagues had actually commented that sometimes it almost seemed like Hua Cheng was flirting with him. Xie Lian always dismissed them. It just seemed foolish. But he couldn't deny that sometimes he was enjoying Hua Cheng's presence a bit too much.

He didn't know whether it was just his imagination, but whenever some of the informants and suspects tried to flirt with Xie Lian, Hua Cheng would turn outright wicked with them. He would stand so close to Xie Lian that the detective could feel his breath on his nape, and his hand snaking around his waist.

Whenever that happened, Xie Lian could feel heat rising into his face, but he silently reprimanded himself. He shouldn't think like that! San Lang is just... being San Lang... he shouldn't take it seriously, or he might get the wrong idea.

But this time the alcohol did its wonders on both of them, and before Xie Lian knows it, his lips are captured by Hua Cheng's in a heated kiss. The kiss was passionate, yet tender, Xie Lian couldn't help but succumb. His thoughts melted away, and with them the weighed that has been burdening his shoulders for so long melted as well...

I don't know how tumblr would like me sharing nsfw content here, so if you wanna know how their night went on, I uploaded it to ao3 as well, but pls read the note for the chapter in case theres something you don't like reading about :) (I hope the link shows the right chapter... Its a collection of short fics and the cop drama AU should be chapte 9 Good Cop, Bad Mob)

[mtjester]

Choose Y(our) Own Adventure #003 — Negotiate the amount of help you’re willing to give

<-#001 <-<-#002

#004–>

—————

You clear your throat. “You shouldn’t expect much from me,” you say. “I don’t…do that kind of thing anymore.”

Koriena deflates slightly, but hie doesn’t look surprised. Hier eyes flicker to the four thin scars that cut white lines in the short fur on your face. “I heard a little bit about that,” hie admits. “They said you would be hard to convince.” Your chest tightens.

“Mm,” is all you can think to say. Thankfully, your food arrives, and Koriena is immediately distracted by the new cuisine. You’re granted the excuse not to talk for several minutes while hie samples hier food and chatters excitedly to hierself. Hier enthusiasm slowly takes the edge off your anxiety. “You don’t eat out much, huh?” you say, the corner of your lip turning up despite yourself.

“Oh, no, not really,” hie admits. “The kinclan shares the currency, you know? We don’t spend lightly.”

“Yeah, I remember.” You prop your chin up on your fist. “…How long exactly have they been gone?”

“It’d be…two standard septerms,” hie replies. Hie eyes you. “Are you considering it?”

You hate that you are. The longer you stay in this stranger’s presence, remembering what life used to be like, the more you feel your resolve waver. Hie reminds you of home. “I…have worked hard to get where I am,” you say, breaking eye contact and picking at your food. “The project I’m working on right now, it’s a big deal embassy for an important interplanetary trade partner. It’s—well, it means a lot to me to succeed, because…honestly, I’m not that good at any of it, and I’ve had to fight for every little success I’ve had since I left the clanship…”

You risk a glance up. Koriena’s watching you closely, waiting for you to finish with apprehension. Your voice dies in your throat. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to continue, hie says, “I’m sure it’s been hard. I promise I won’t get in the way! But just…something? Please? Just tell me what I need to do, please. I’ll make it up to you, any inconvenience at all—I can help you build this embassy, even, but please…”

You can’t help but breathe out a laugh. “I’m not sure you could help with that,” you say. You pause and then sigh. “Well, I can at least help you find out what happened.”

“Yes!” Koriena says immediately, sitting forward. “Yes, please!”

You hesitate. “Listen, I’ve never heard of an entire ship getting spirited away before. I’m not even sure it’s possible. So be prepared for the chance that it’s something other than the Fair Folk.”

Hie shakes hier head. “Your elder said it’s definitely a spiriting away.”

“Well, we need to confirm that,” you say. “Especially if hie’s sick. That can impact Sight.”

“Your kin said you’re even better at it than hie is,” Koriena says eagerly. “So you can find out?”

You grimace. “I’m not…better at it. I don’t think anyone can be better at it.”

“But you can?”

“…Yes.”