#and I'm like ok well. now i feel like no one will believe how heinous this is. bc everyone said it wasn't. but it is. i swear it is

[rahleeyah]

Worst part of this experience so far is that now that the wisdom teeth are gone the molars at the back are exposed and surprise!! They're sharp!!! Like really sharp!!! So my tongue and cheeks have been shredded. Ripped open and now covered in sores, and bc my cheeks are swollen there is no way to hold my mouth that doesn't rub them against those sharp teeth. Like the soreness in my jaw/teeth I can deal with but the way all the soft places in my mouth are completely raw is what is gonna break me.

[meyhew]

I've been buying 90% of my clothes in second hand street markets for my entire life (we're talking 50c, 1€-3€ max if anything is above that it's already considered expensive lol) so I understand that like my perspective is very biased and that workers still need to get paid and stuff but like, already when I'm shopping in normal stores a 30€ sweatshirt feels so unnecessarily expensive, like a plain piece of jersey with a logo on it? and i paid around 40€ for a louis hoodie last year cause I had a sudden higher income of money for a bit and I decided to treat myself, but now everyone's merch it's like At Least 60€, if you're lucky you get an ugly 30€ t-shirt and like howwwww it's just so absurd to me to wrap my mind around the idea that in order for artists to release merch drops every so often with so many different pieces at such high prices, and for them to sold out every single time (although I guess this could be a publicity strategy as well idk to say they're sold out when they're really not) it means that they can count on A Lot of people buying this stuff regularly so there's people just spending hundreds of euros /whatever often enough for it to be worth it for them and like how why

like im not blaming the consumers, cause as a fan I'm also super gullible and fall very easily into the trap of yk wanting merch, "supporting" the artist, having a nice fan experience

and i partially get that the artists also "have" to do this (although I think it's only really a necessity for smaller artists who actually need it to support themselves and their carrier) but those prices just. don't sit right with me

ok im so sorry i had a glass of wine and that's the result ffs sorry for the rant nobody asked for. don't have to post this or reply ofc

agreed. i know merch across the board is ridiculously expensive now and it isn't just a problem with a few artists but i also believe it is heinous to charge that much for plain and boring products. creative graphics still wouldn't justify t-shirts for near $50 but at least it would be something—something to say "hey we're actually putting some thought & effort into this product and it isn't just a cash grab." i know, too, that it isn't the artists setting prices for individual products and that it all trickles down from the companies but again i also believe that artists have the power to negotiate those prices, especially when they're mainstream megastars—they just have to be willing to lose out on some of the profit, which most of them aren't. and it's not even like things need to be that expensive bc workers need to be paid; factory workers are NOT being paid enough to justify a boring sweater costing $90. at best they're being paid minimum wage, and we know that a lot of companies don't compensate their workers at all. i think artists dropping exorbitantly overpriced merch several times a year should be a punishable by law and that includes the ones i'm a fan of

[the-only-villain-here-is-me]

Suspicious Nerdivity

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Violence, Language, Murder

Requested By: @lostmermaidponyo

Prompt: "Imagine meeting Reid at comicon and getting along great, only to be a suspect on his next case."

Note: I am so sorry this took so long to get up!!! Everything's been so crazy lately I kind of had to back burner it, but thankfully, I have finished it up. I hope you like it! :)

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"You wouldn't dare!" You scream at your friend, pawing for her phone as you weave in and out of the massive cluster of people; occasionally pausing to gawk in admiration at them.

You see; this sort of gawking is socially acceptable at the event you're at. Currently, you are surrounded by masses of cosplayers at the annual Washington DC Comic Con.

There are Hermiones, Deadpools and Spider-Men, there are Doctor Whos, Sherlocks and Dean Winchesters. It's like a dream come true...the only problem is you had to call in sick to attend as you didn't have enough vacation hours to last the entire week.

Cue your friend holding the knowledge you gifted her with as ammunition to get whatever she wanted from the various booths peppering the room.

"Fine, I concede!" You yell ahead to her, catching up long enough to snatch her phone and bolting off.

"Cheater!" She screams behind you as she gives chase.

You only grin in delight as you high five a Deadpool and plow on through the massive crowd.

You also just so happen to try to plow through a man you hadn't noticed in your path. To say the action worked is a severe overstatement; instead, you bounce off the scrawny man and land smack dab on his sonic screwdriver with a sickening crack.

"Oh my god; I'm so freaking sorry!" You exclaim hurriedly as you kneel forward to pick up the pieces of his screwdriver, banging your head against his as he has the same idea as you.

Holding your aching head, you shake off the pain and start to stand up, wordlessly taking the hand he has offered out to you.

"Are you ok?" He questions softly, worry cast across his features as he eyes you.

"Um, yeah; I should probably be asking you that though seeing as how I just rammed into you," You sigh embarrassedly, peering down at your feet awkwardly as a small smirk flutters across his lips.

"Well 1 in 29 people are 50% clumsier than the national average so I wouldn't hold it against yourself," He chuckles, fixing the felt hat topping a mess of curling, chestnut locks.

"Oh yeah, that makes me feel a lot better!" You reply jokingly, slapping his arm lightly.

"I'm Spencer Reid; what's your name?" He questions curiously, waiting expectingly for your answer.

"I'm (y/n) (y/l/n), nice to meet you Spencer," You smile before your friend comes barging up, rambling about you taking her phone until she notices Spencer.

"Ooh, he's fluoride, iodine, and neon!" She whispers to you before snatching away her phone.

"Go get him tiger!" She growls in your ear before skipping off to check out the booths.

"Listen; I'm really sorry about your sonic screwdriver; can I get you a new one?" You question bashfully, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"No, it's fine; I'll just pick a new one up from one of the booths here," Spencer reassures you, his lips tugging back into a small smile.

"Well; then I'll have to buy you dinner to make up for it," You blurt out, a sense of confidence overwhelming you as the man looks taken aback by your blunt offer.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" He questions curiously, his eyebrow cocking slightly.

"Definitely; here's my number so we can set up a date and time," You grin happily, grabbing a pen and paper from one of the booths beside you, ignoring the glare the older woman running it is sending you.

Passing him your number, he smiles and yanks out his phone; entering your digits into the phone before scribbling his own number on the back of the paper for you.

Suddenly, his phone lights up and he sighs; staring down at the bright screen warning of an incoming call.

"I have to take this," He sulks, tapping the accept icon and pressing the phone close to his ear.

"Reid here," He greets into the phone, murmuring every so often in response the person on the end of the line before hanging up.

"I have to run; but I'll call you?" He offers sheepishly, running his hand through his tousled locks awkwardly.

"Alright; I'll be waiting," You respond with a smirk.

"Great!" He exclaims, starting to take off.

"Don't be a stranger Spencer!" You yell after him, grinning as the lanky man darts between the crowd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sip your cup of water carefully, gazing around the bland grey room you're in as you try to determine why you are here.

Soon, the door to the interrogation room flies open and Spencer enters, accompanied by a serious looking man with dark brown hair and a thin lip.

"(Y/n) (Y/l/n); that's your name I'm told?" The serious man questions gruffly as you eye him wearily.

Ignoring him, you turn to Spencer and exclaim; "When I said don't be a stranger; I didn't mean this!"

"(Y/n), I'm sorry but we do have reasons to believe t-" He starts softly before you cut him off.

"Reasons to believe what?" You huff, "To believe that I would kill those men?"

Spencer nods sadly and you roll your eyes in disbelief.

"Reid; please wait outside," The man beside Spencer orders.

"But Hotch-" He tries to plead in vain, but in the end, he leaves the room.

"You were spotted on multiple cameras in or around the vicinity of where three bodies were discovered near a local Comic Con you were attending; can anyone account for your whereabouts around the times that these men were killed?" The man, Agent Hotch it seems, questions; laying out a spread of gory crime scene photos depicting the victims.

Your mind flutters back to Comic Con, and when you had heard of the heinous crimes...

"Hey, what's going on?" You question curiously as a throng of people gather on the front lawn of the Comic Con venue, staring across the street at an influx of police cars forming a blockade in front of your hotel.

"I heard some teens discovered a couple of bodies in the hotel trash; said they were torn up pretty badly," A man dressed as Castiel whistles from beside you.

As you watch, you hear footsteps nearing you and you turn slightly to notice your friend join the crowd of onlookers.

"Why'd you change; I loved your Lucifer costume!" You whine to your friend, noticing she had changed from her Lucifer costume into a ratty pair of jeans two sizes too big and a stained flannel that smelled slightly of cigarettes.

"I dropped some food on it," She murmurs, a bit preoccupied as she watches entranced as the coroners pull up to the hotel.

"Look, the FBI is here!" A woman dressed as Sam Winchester on your left exclaims, her hand flying instinctively to her own fake credentials.

For some odd reason, your friend's face seems to flush an odd pale at the mention and look of anger bubbles across her face.

"Not the exact time; but my friend can confirm that I was in the crowd watching you guys pull in," You reply, your voice barely above a fearful whisper at the thinly veiled accusation of murder.

"We were called in for two other murders before the other three; you also happened to be captured on camera at a gas station not too far from the first two," Agent Hotch growls lowly, making you gulp in fear.

"Wait, was Agent Reid undercover to catch me for something I didn't even do?" You question out loud increduolously, eyes widening.

"No, Agent Reid was not undercover; he recognized your face on security cam footage later after he left the Comic Con," Agent Hotch replies cooly, peeling back his papers as he searches through the manilla file.

Suddenly, the interrogation room door flies open; startling you as Spencer Reid himself rushes in.

"Hotch; it isn't her!" He exclaims excitedly, his eyes wide.

"Wow, what took you so long?" You quip jokingly, rolling your eyes.

"Reid, what are you talking about?" Agent Hotch practically hisses, his eyes flickering between you and Spencer.

"Garcia reviewed the tapes from the gas station and since we weren't looking for it; we didn't see that (y/n)'s friend also pulled into that same gas station a few hours after time of death," He almost sputters, as your heart starts to beat wildly at what is being implied.

"How long was your friend in the crowd with you (y/n)?" Agent Hotch questions gruffy, eyeing you carefully.

"She went back to the hotel around breakfast time and then I saw her a couple hours later when she joined the crowd after you guys pulled in," You reply, piecing together the timeline in your head.

"Does this man look familiar to you (y/n)?" Agent Hotch asks, sliding a glossy photo towards you, which isn't an easy feat to examine it with your hands cuffed to the table.

Craning your neck, you notice the man who's on it is very familiar to you, in fact.

"He's the one who was flirting with (y/f/n) this morning; he gave her his number; why do you ask?" You question curiously as Agent Hotch stands and motions for the guard in the corner.

"Release her; we're dropping all the charges," Agent Hotch instructs the man, who nods his head silently and twists the key in your handcuffs to release your swollen, red wrists.

You storm past Spencer wordlessly, in a tizzy of anger; waiting at the front desk for your belongings to be returned to you.

"(Y/n), I'm sorry; we had to bring you in, you were at or near both crime scenes and you fit the profile," Spencer sighs apologetically.

"If you're going to arrest me, at least wait till after the first date Spencer; now we have to reschedule it!" You exclaim with a huff, signing a few forms the receptionist shoves at you.

"Wait, you still want to go out; on a date; after we arrested you?" Spencer questions oddly, his head tipping to the side quizzically.

"Well yeah; I do like you even with your unconventional methods of getting to know each other," You chuckle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you grab your bag.

"What about tomorrow; I'll pick you up at 7?" He offers gingerly.

"It's a date; you know where to find me after that whole background check you guys ran," You chuckle, saluting the man as you rush from the station and past your friend being wrestled in, handcuffed.

[thedarcydichotomy]

✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉ {but you only have to do one. Yes. I know I'm a toddler but I demand attention.}

Dear Riley,

It feels super weird to be using your surname like it’s your first name. I mean, I know I do it in person all the time and it’s fine then, but writing it feels wrong. Fuck it though, I’m not about to start calling you Andrew, that would feel like I was writing to a stranger.

And you know what kinds of people women past the age of eighteen are writing actual pen to paper letters to?

Prisoners.

So, y’know, let’s not go down that path. Super awkward. Although I’m sure you’d look great in orange (you can’t tell when I’m lying on paper right?).

Today was...eventful. If you’ve seen the news you probably already know about it. Fucking Watchdogs, bunch of Ku Klux Klan wannabes. It was SO satisfying kicking their asses.

Wish you were here now though. After the fight it’s like ok, debrief, and then a whole lot of nothing. I’m bored and wired, and you know me, that is a shitty combination. Phil is kind of crazy letting me get this way, because this is how he ended up with an office covered in confetti. And an office covered in Cap posters. And an office covered in… Well, you get the idea.

It’d be a lot better if he hadn’t shut down external communications access. Then I could just text you like a normal person, and you could be my favourite distraction.

But that’s not the situation, so I think I need to go now and beat all the boys at video games and plot what I’m going to cover Phil’s office in next.

Smell ya later,

Darcy

*-*-*-*-*

Riley,

Day 328. The isolation is becoming unbearable. Today I drew a face on a coconut just to feel less alone in this abandoned hell.

Ok, slight exaggeration, but that’s how it feels. And if there was a coconut around here I would have drawn a face on it. Not out of boredom, just because coconut-faces are funny and weird people out. Unfortunately I think all the good little agent boys and girls around here have gotten used to me and refuse to get weirded out anymore. Or maybe that’s just resting agent face. Who knows. It’s annoying though.

Since I’m not there to do it, can you please make sure that every beer Gamble orders today (whatever day this reaches you) gets a colourful and fruit skewered umbrella in it? He doesn’t believe me that it makes drinking more fun, but I’m determined. Plus you guys can tuck them behind your ears like flowers and be the prettiest menses in the place.

Darcy.

*-*-*-*-*

Dear Riley,

Just reminding you that your face looks like a butt.

Love,

Darcy

*-*-*-*-*

To the realm of Rilandia, on behalf of the Sovereign Monarch of the great kingdom of Lewisvania.

Our two great nations have been at war often in the past, but in the spirit of peace (and the currently agreed upon cessation of hostilities), we are a nation coming to you on bended knee seeking aid.

We have been under siege from a great beast of late, it’s fingers of chaos spreading throughout our land. I fear if it is not kept at bay then it will be the fall of Lewisvania entirely.

This burdensome beast, black as the devil’s twisted soul, wreaks havoc at every possible moment. Only the most effective attacks have swayed it’s attentions away for any measure of time.

This beast, I’m sure, has plagued your kingdom on occasion also, so it is our firm belief that together we stand the best chances of defeating the evil.

Boredom is the beast’s name.

On behalf of all citizens of Lewisvania we beg your help. Whatever provisions you might provide to fend off it’s heinous attacks we will gladly accept, and, in time, when Boredom strikes your shores once again (for I fear it may never be truly killed), we will be there to reciprocate your kindness.

We eagerly await your reply, and the bounty we pray you send with it.

Yours faithfully,

Her Highness, Queen Darcy, Monarch, Protector and Warrior of Lewisvania

*-*-*-*-*

Dear Riley,

I’m going to sing you the doom song.

DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM DO-DOOM DO-DOOM DOOM

You’re welcome,

Darcy

*-*-*-*-*

Dear Riley,

I get to come home! Oh sweet happy, wi-fi connectivity day!

If you don’t think I’m busting your door down as soon as I’ve cleared out my email and watched all the latest cat videos on youtube then you are seriously deluded. I mean, come on, what else do you think is going to happen?

I vote we go out for wings, because I want wings. Buckets worth of them. And margarita’s. And if you’re lucky I’ll even let you take the role of space heater for the night!

See you soon (or in a week, if there are a lot of cat videos),

Love,

Darcy