#as long as it’s appropriate pls

[aesthetic-day-dream]

✨Anonymously tell me a secret✨

✨Anonymously tell me a fact about yourself, maybe something you’re too scared to tell anyone else✨

✨Tell me anything!✨

[magpod-confessions]

i feel rage when ppl like. get upset over poc hcs/drawings. i saw someone say "he would never wear that" over a post of jon in chinese traditional clothing like pookums,,,, They dont have canon designs,,,,,, its a problem in every fandom but ive noticed it in mag famoms esp

.

[vcrnons]

[anonymous-scapegoat]

i’ve been fiddling w high bar vs low bar squats and stance width and struggling w hitting depth w/o hip pain for AGES esp after i sprained my SI joint back in november(?) but 2days Setup was so fuckign IMMACULATE like. no pain. full depth. glute engagement. SOLID brace. i think we’ve finally got it boys!!!! this is the one!!! i’m so happy squats and me can be friends again and i can finally fucking PROGRESS so that my goddamn bench press doesn’t overtake my SQUAT BFFR

[corporatevalue]

Good grief. Jay felt unbelievably tired. Why was she already this tired? Her endurance is usually much better than this; she should have at least another ten hours in her. & yet… dizzy, too. She felt dizzy. — perhaps it is just the wind that is constantly blowing against her face. Sure, there is not much logic connected to that hypothesis, but it provided her with some sort of action she could take in attempt to help herself: closing the tinted glass window.

The ferry travelling to The City of Glass was a fairly small one. Almost all passengers were seated outside, taking in the gorgeous sight as they traverse through the waters, but Jay… couldn't care less about sightseeing. Besides, she didn't like standing under the sun. Instead, she sat inside, where the tinted glass prevented the sun from blinding her as she attempted to write in her traditional notebook. It was much quieter than it was outside, too, for the only other person with her was someone rather… introverted? reserved? Whatever the case; not someone attempting to chat with her for no reason. It was appreciated.

It was actually Jay who was the first to break the silence upon closing the window. "Huh," she'd start, realizing it's the first time she'd actually look out the window for the past twenty minutes, as she was too focused on her attempt in writing to do so any earlier. "It's not normally this foggy outside..."

Foggy didn't cut it. If you asked Jay to describe what she sees outside, she'd fail to tell you anything; that's how foggy it was. Despite that, she'd sit back down anyway, resuming her work. She didn't feel dizzy anymore, so— she might as well.

…

Strange. A glance on her wristwatch shows its been another ten minutes already. Looking out the window, the fog had cleared out by now, but— were her eyes playing a trick on her, or was the ferry barely moving anymore?

"— have we… stopped?"

@sinnerno8

[crimeronan]

every time i get an ao3 comment on a horror fic along the lines of “jesus fucking christ. this is so vile what the FUCK what the FUCKING FUCK THIS IS SO FUCKED UP” i hug my laptop to my chest and kick my feet and roll around in bed giggling like a schoolgirl who just got a love letter from her crush. omg you got physically nauseous.....? eeee

[that-therian-cat04]

Reblog if you want your inbox spammed

[waterdeepthroat]

OHHHHH oh oh fuck I’d ask all the pride questions but I gotta be normal so uh. 8, 10 and/or 11 for Denandras!!

pls don't be normal i would happily answer any/all questions about my ocs!!

this got pretty long, so i'm putting this under the cut:

8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?

God. Has he ever. Growing up in drow society as a lower-class male entertainer was hard enough, but growing up with feelings of what we would call dysphoria (he, of course, originally saw that as desire to be female for the power it would offer him) made it even harder. Denandras, then known as Szin'eth, was definitely very confused by his identity growing up, and due to the nature of his society would remain confused for almost two hundred years. When he finally had the means to escape to the surface, he still saw his own masculinity as sort of a curse, something he'd deeply internalised growing up in Menzoberranzan. He didn't find freedom in it, didn't feel like it was something to be celebrated, as it was with the drow men who joined Bregan D'aerthe. Denandras identified as a trans woman for many years and lived as Brizziffyn, but it never felt right, either. He changed his name again and lived as a man when he came to Waterdeep, but internalised transphobia is a hell of a drug, and never really considered that being non binary was an option (at least, that's the closest term we would have for him IRL). His feelings about gender were even stranger when he underwent the Changedance, because the Changedance completely changes your physiology so you look like you were born a different sex. While this is something he may have thought he wanted when he went by Brizziffyn (he changed his name to Denandras when he converted to worship of Eilistraee, though this was before he underwent the Changedance), it never felt entirely comfortable to him. Only through the temple of Eilistraee and meeting Luala did he start to understand that he could exist outside the binary, though I'd say he still moved through the world and presented as a woman through most of BG3. I'd imagine he would only open up about his struggles with gender at about the mid-point of Act 2, when all of the origin characters start having their own crises. This would come in the form of him sort of coming out to everyone (though he had been open about the Changedance, he hadn't talked about his discomfort with it, possibly seeing voicing his discomfort as a sort of blasphemy... yeah, growing up drow will seriously fuck up your ability to understand what is okay of a woman to ask of you and what isn't) and coming to the conclusion that he/him pronouns felt best for him, even if he isn't a man, necessarily.

As for sexuality, it isn't quite as complicated (though, this being Denandras, it's still complicated). Bi/pansexuality is the norm in the Forgotten Realms, however, I'm pretty sure I remember reading somewhere that WLW relationships are far more accepted than MLM ones by drow (though calling them relationships is also a bit ehhh, since only Eilistraeeans actually have a word for love- something actually brought up by the Minthara romance). When it comes to orientation, Denandras definitely leans more towards men than women, but that isn't to say that he hasn't held feelings for women before (ex: Luala, a Silverhair Knight of Eilistraee who rebuffed his advances, though this developed into them becoming very good friends instead). I would imagine his preference to "entertain" men over women wasn't taken terribly well in Menzoberranzan, though likely he rarely had a choice in who he performed for, if at all. Denandras is also somewhere along the asexuality spectrum, though this definitely interacts with the sexual trauma he's faced at the hands of House Tor'duis (a drow house that, you guessed it, held him captive for a few years, as he was a favoured performer). He's very much of the mind that sex is something extra in life. It can feel good, when done right, but he doesn't seek it out. When it comes to his relationship with Astarion this definitely causes problems early on, as the two are similar in terms of backstory, but ends up actually benefitting them both post-Cazador. Denandras is a very romantic person, especially in terms of displays of affection and non-sexual intimacy, but when it comes to sex itself he's got a lot of, at times contradictory, feelings about it.

10. Does your OC celebrate Pride? How?

As discussed above, queer identity in Faerûn definitely works a bit differently than it does in our world, so actual pride month/pride parades probably wouldn't be a thing there. However, different pride-associated events/institutions would exist (likely focused more towards trans and aro and acespec identities). One example of a very queer setting would be the Lace Harp, a canonical drag club in Waterdeep founded in the 1370s. Although Denandras got there roughly a hundred years after it was established, it does seem like the kind of place he and Luala would frequent. One thing forgotten by a lot of people is that beauty and the arts also fall under Eilistraee's domain, and gender identity is something that definitely comes into play when it comes to her religion, so all of those combined mean that it's probably pretty common for her followers to either do drag or enjoy drag shows. Art that alludes to a sildur (Realms word for being trans) identity would be something Denandras would appreciate in particular, though using that term for himself would be something he would be uncomfortable with for a long, long time. Especially post-canon (in a world where I don't give him the tragic end that I played through lmao), he and Astarion would be the type to enjoy drag shows and seek out other events and/or groups that involve queer people (though, with bisexuality being the norm, what's considered queer would likely be different than how we define it).

11. Is your OC open about their identity? Are they more low-key or blunt about it? Why or why not?

I'm starting to think I created Denandras to be a mess of insecurity, indecision, and overall complication when it comes to queer identity lmao. I could write a 2k word essay on each one of these questions. But, to answer this one quickly, it's complicated. Over the course of BG3, Denandras became more secure in his identity (like the coming out I mentioned above- if he were a companion in BG3, this would definitely be the Act 2 part of his arc). He tends to keep that part of his identity on lock until he quite literally can't anymore. As for sexual identity, his bisexuality + preference for men is something he doesn't keep hidden. He probably would have, at one point, but upon coming to the surface I think it's the first thing he'd come to terms with identity-wise. It's a lot easier to be bi when being bi is seen as normal, after all. When it comes to asexuality, though (something there is, unfortunately, no Realms term for- though if anyone has a suggestion for a term, I'd be happy to hear it!) he probably is still working to figure that out. There's a lot of trauma that he hasn't been in the right place to unpack for literal centuries, leaving him in a similar position to Astarion, if Astarion had about ten years of real freedom under his belt. That's to say, Denandras is still unsure about a lot of things, and insecurity is still a big issue for him. He'd probably view his own lack of desire as something to push past rather than a fact of being, though he's perfectly willing to respect anyone else's. It's a major case of internalised victim-blaming when it comes to trauma and internalised acephobia when it comes to his asexuality, though these are all something he (with Astarion, if we're disregarding both of their tragic ends in my "canon" playthrough) would attempt to work past. Tl;dr he's a mess of insecurity and thinking he's allowed to even have an identity is still very new to him.

[woolydemon]

All your ninjago art reblogging has hit me hard with a realisation of fucking why do people bother to make Zane black if their gonna just give him the whitest blonde hair and blue eyes. It would be one thing if his hair was dyed but they put no effort into showing that it is, and he still has the brightest blue eyes ever. I get that they like the colour contrast, I get that they wanna show his ice connections, but if you wanna make a character black then at LEAST drop the euro centric beauty standards oh my god.

i do agree that I actually would like to see more of Zane with light hair that resembles actual bleached hair + brown eyes if he's going to be depicted as black.

Though I do think for the blue eyes part it is largely based on him being a robot, so like he's got led eyes that glow blue. maybe I'm not the best person to ask if this is bad or not, but I'm personally ok with this. It's not like ppl are supposed to think that's realistic (they're glowing robot eyes) + if ur depicting the other characters with non-eurocentric eye colors (like please. they're like all asian ....) as it further shows it's simply a robot feature (You can also argue his hair not resembling dyed hair is also bc of robot stuff like. Artificial hair ig??? Idk how I fully feel abt that one though)

but even then he does occasionally don looks where he's supposed to blend in with humans, so blue eyes can be a bit odd for that (in s8 though his human disguise had blue eyes in it... But whatever).

Another thing that would be cool actually for Zane to have light hair + blue eyes is for him to be an albino black guy. I do not see a lot of ppl depict characters in general like this, so it would be, as I said, Cool to see that. Still doesn't mean u can skimp out on making sure his features aren't eurocentric in this one as he's still black here

grain of salt for my takes on this since I'm not black I'm just passionate abt diversity in character design, feel free to wreck my shit or add onto it if ur more qualified to talk about it <:] ,,

[cathymee]

one thing about us is. #colonialism

[noorsh11]

📢Please dont skip this post. 🙏💔

Hello,❤

No one donates to me 😢 please help me to make them pls donate to me share my link.🙏💔

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📎My husband, Yousef, has been unemployed for a long time, and we suffer from a lack of support. We are living in a fabric tent that does not protect us from the harsh winter cold, and we feel like we are living out in the open, exposed to the winds. ❄️

My baby girl, Lin, is in dire need of milk 🍼 and diapers, but we have no income to buy the basic necessities to ensure her safety. The price of diapers is 100$, and the milk is 50$, which is far beyond our means. 😔

We have been displaced several times, and each time we are forced to leave our lives and belongings behind. We feel like we are starving, and we don’t even have appropriate clothes to face the severe winter cold. 👚❄️ Every passing day, my fears about Lin’s future grow, and I am frightened that I could lose her. 😢

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@ibtisam @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @7amaspayrollmanager @fairuzfakhira @fallahsart @sayruq @humanvoreture @kaapstadgirly @sar-soor @dimonds456-art @plomegranate @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @stil-macher @soon-palestine @communitythings @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @ghost-and-a-half @7amaspayrollmanager @kaapstadgirly @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnota @toughknit @flower-tea-fairies @the-stray-liger @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf @communistchameleon @troythecatfish @the-bastard-king @4ft10tvlandfangirl

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC. 

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future. 

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field. 

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe). 

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.” 

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all. 

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat. 

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab. 

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?” 

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly. 

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder. 

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes. 

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things. 

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused. 

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen. 

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general. 

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies. 

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face. 

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day. 

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.  

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way. 

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips.  When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping  his bag a little tighter to him. 

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.” 

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” 

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away. 

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk. 

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.” 

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent. 

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable. 

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional. 

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence. 

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading. 

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time. 

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.”  He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him. 

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply. 

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away. 

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.  

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could. 

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond. 

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?” 

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space. 

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen. 

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you. 

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office. 

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt. 

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat. 

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you  grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention. 

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same. 

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer. 

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.” 

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line? 

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you. 

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before. 

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face. 

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again. 

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist,  and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now. 

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat. 

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed. 

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?” 

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove. 

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now 

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.  

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.  

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind. 

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day. 

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?”  You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him. 

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands.  Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands. 

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night. 

-X-

[cutiefulism]

cw. spoilers for magnum opus, smut, semi-public, p i v, fluff..?, aftercare, not proofread lol, jealous but loverboy sylus (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

note. sry if anything is inaccurate plot wise, as i dont have the card💔💔! i used this scene as ref, and this is my first time writing for crowboy so pls don't jump me i beg

oh, how the great leader of onychinus has fallen.

“are you jealous?”

the briefest of pauses, and that perpetual smirk on his face falters, crimson eyes shifting a few shades darker.

“why would i be jealous of a plastic mannequin?”

his words are smooth and suave as usual, even laced with a hint of arrogance, but there was no mistaking that look on his face, the undertone of his words.

sylus was jealous.

jealous of a plastic mannequin that wouldn’t be able to move even if it wanted to. you couldn’t love it or kiss it, tease it about getting scratched by a kitty or run your hands through its hair when it’s sleeping the day away. sure, its physique is nice, you weren’t lying about that, but that was sculpted. it’s fake. and it certainly doesn’t compare to the breathing greek statue that is your boyfriend.

nothing does, actually.

everything about sylus is big and broad. hands, shoulders, back. his limbs are long and corded with thick muscles that have old ladies swooning, and the veins underneath tan skin map to places you’ve explored many, many times.

anything even slightly fitted clings to and stretches for every contour and bulge, and when he walks or lifts (or does anything, really), you can literally see them flex.

why would you want anyone (or anything) else, when sylus is right there?

he is the pinnacle of beauty, and you know it. you’re sure he knows it, too — otherwise, why would he be splitting you open in the dressing room?

two massive hands hold onto your hips, pulling you back to meet every single one of his sharp thrusts. sylus is usually deep, slow, passionate, taking his time to worship you and prolong your pleasure, but now?

now he’s a man on a fucking mission.

“thaaat’s it, mhm,” he hums, barely sounding winded like his tip isn’t kissing your cervix with every rut of his hips, pushing sounds out of you that certainly aren’t appropriate for mere dress shopping.

that was all this was meant to be. something fun for you and sylus to do, time that you two desperately need with each other, especially considering how busy both of you are.

even if he’s his own boss, he can’t take off when he wants to. meetings and dealings overseas wait for no one, and if he doesn’t show up, how will he spoil you?

can’t do much when you don’t have any gold to your name, and he could never disappoint his one and only beloved.

one hand abandons your hip to deliver a sharp swat to your ass, one that has you clamping down around him and your fingers digging into the leather. “mmngh, sy– sylus—”

“you should be ashamed of yourself, sweetie.” smack! “letting another man fuck you like this, when your precious, plastic boyfriend is standing outside.” smack! “what would he think of you now, hm?” smack!

stinging, red handprints bloom on your ass, a pretty color that has sylus salivating and his palm smooths over the mark with gentle, soothing circles that have both your heart and your pussy fluttering.

“h-he’s not . . not my boyfriend,” you huff out in-between poorly stifled moans.

you hope and pray the walls here are thick.

if not, well . . those outside have been subjected to a lot of squelching, moaning, and groaning. sylus will reimburse them at a later date.

“. . oh?”

his hips slow, now shallow thrusts and periodic grind, giving you much needed reprieve from the way he was pummeling you within an inch of your life earlier.

a shameful whine pries itself free from your sore throat, and he only chuckles, pupils expanding when he sees the way you wriggle back.

naughty thing, trying to use him to fuck yourself how you want to be fucked.

sadly for you, sylus is in a selfish mood, and his movements stop completely, leaving you stranded like a ship at sea.

one big arm slips beneath your tummy before yanking you upright, his warm breath ghosting across the shell of your ear.

“so who is your boyfriend, kitten?”

you too often forget how petulant sylus can be.

your throat and mind work, mustering up enough willpower to say something other than “please keep going”.

“you’re my boyfriend, sylus,” you say, and it isn’t some shy little murmur like he thought it would be. no, your voice, despite its breathiness, is firm, sure.

and that, honestly, is all sylus needs.

all of his previous irritation, jealousy, and ire fade away, swamped beneath the sheer and irrevocable amount of love and adoration sylus holds for you.

he moves, flipping you over and shoving himself right back in with a lewd squelch and a deep groan.

his pace, if possible, is more needy than before, and sylus makes sure that with every thrust, his cock is nestled deep within the haven of your cunt.

by this point, you’ve given up on coherent speech — not that you had anything else to say besides the obvious: i love you, keep going, and it feels so good.

all those things are true, too. you love him, you certainly don’t want him to stop, not with how you’re nearing the edge, and there are days where you’re sorely tempted to move to the n109 just to feel sylus hit your g-spot every morning.

perhaps one day, that will come true, when you two have matching wedding bands and a little girl with silver hair and red eyes stumbling about.

“i love you,” sylus groans, that measured control in his husky voice gone, replaced by sappy obsession. “f-fuck, darling, so perfect, so mine . .”

he truly is a vision like this.

lids, dropped to half mast, jaw slack, brows drawn together in both concentration and pleasure. sweat rolls down the sides of his face and neck, and you wish you were in a position to lick it up.

sylus is just as close as you are, if not moreso.

your arm, despite feeling like a wet noodle, lifts up, and it only takes him a milisecond to understand what you want. his fingers slot between yours as his pace gets sloppier and the both of you get louder.

if the employees couldn’t hear you two before, they certainly can now!

“mmm, s-shit, sylus! c-cum with me, please, fuck—!”

you aren’t asking, you’re telling. and, well, how could he say no to that, especially when your voice is like a siren’s song?

lulling and irresistible. just like you.

the nanosecond you’re tumbling off the edge, nails clawing into the leather for purchase as your back curves into a delicious arch, sylus is following with a long groan of your name. his pelvis is pressed right against your thighs as he dumps his load, thick spurts that paint your gummy insides a gorgeous, creamy shade of white.

the hand not holding yours slips between the two of you, rubbing slow, small circles onto your swollen clit, and his dick gives a happy twitch when he gets that overstimulated whimper.

once sylus is sure you’re back down to earth, he’s hoisting you up into his arms, stopping only to grab the box of tissues before plopping down on the loveseat with you in his lap.

“you’re so good to me, sweetie,” he murmurs as he wipes you down, shifting you a bit to get the cum from between your thighs. it’ll leak out, unfortunately, but he’ll pump you full again later. “are you okay? ready to go? we’ll stop and get some water on the way home, okay?”

his voice is unbelievably soft and quiet. you’d say meek if you didn’t know any better.

but you really, truly don’t mind. how could you, when this is the real sylus? your sylus. soft and sweet and kind, a gentleman in every aspect of the word.

you wouldn’t want him any other way.

you nod your head with a little “mhm”, slumping forward to tuck your face into his neck. he smells like a luxurious musk now, and you can’t resist sucking a tiny mark into his skin. not visible, but it doesn’t need to be.

only you and sylus know it’s there, your adorable claim on him.

you two are barely dressed when an attendant pops her head in, a polite, professional smile on her face. “are the dresses to your liking?”

shame licks at the back of your neck while sylus only smirks. “i’ll take them all, please.”

unfazed as always.

he leans down to whisper in your ear. “give me a chance to show you what your mannequin boyfriend can’t do, yeah?”

[jenosbliss]

pls write a smut where haechan looks extra pretty before performing and his makeup artist can’t help but want to fuck him before he goes on stage

pairing. afab!reader x idol!haechan | genre. smut | wc. 1k | mdni!

warnings. hard!dom haechan, unprotected sex (don’t try in real life), slight hair pulling and spanking, mirror, creampie? calls the reader princess but also a slut

a/n: it took me 3 weeks to write this as i had a lot of uni work. Please please pardon me this time if it’s not well written.

Maybe it was the blush that made his cheeks look impossibly soft and warm, or the tiny stickers under his eyes that added a playful touch to his sharp features. Maybe it was the way his dark hair fell perfectly in front of his eyes, or how his lips—full, red, and devastatingly distracting—seemed to curve into the kind of smirk that could undo you in seconds. Whatever it was, something about Haechan today had you undone.

You told yourself it was just your work. You’d perfected the art of making him look his best, every contour and color carefully applied, every detail deliberate. But today was different. Today, his presence alone made it impossible to stay steady, his every glance and smirk making your hands falter and your professional demeanor unravel. It was the way his eyes locked onto yours like he could see right through the flimsy wall you were trying to build, the way his fingers brushed too casually against your waist when the room was packed, his warmth seeping through the thin barrier of your shirt. It was the way he tilted his head just enough for you to lean in closer, as though daring you to close the space between you.

And you weren’t exactly innocent either. Your fingers lingered too long on his jaw as you blended the last touch of highlighter. Your breath ghosted over his skin when you worked on his eyeliner, your chest brushing against his shoulder in ways you knew weren’t entirely necessary. Then there was the lip tint—your thumb dragging over his bottom lip a fraction slower than you should’ve, your eyes dropping to his mouth, betraying just how much control you were losing.

“Careful,” he murmured when you pulled back, his voice low enough that no one else could hear over the bustle of the staff. His smirk deepened, a flicker of mischief lighting up his gaze. “You keep touching me like that, and I might think you’re trying to make me lose my job.”

Heat flared across your cheeks, but you refused to look at him as you turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up your station. You couldn’t let him get to you, not when the room was still crowded with staff and members. But when you bent down to grab a makeup sponge that had rolled off the counter, his voice came again, soft and teasing.

“Was that for me, or do you just like testing my patience?”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words—and the low rasp in his tone—sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins, as he looked right through your little game. Without thinking, you straightened and turned, locking eyes with him as you reached out, brushing your thumb over the corner of his mouth. “You smudged your lipstick,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

It was a lie. You both knew it.

His gaze lingered on your face for a beat longer than was appropriate, and for the first time, you saw something shift behind his playful exterior. Something darker. Hungrier. Something that made you feel you won in this game.

Moments later when everyone was leaving for the final mic test, he straightened in his chair, stretching his arms with a casualness that didn’t fool you for a second. “Think I need a touch-up,” he said suddenly, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear as the members emptied out the room. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Before you could process what was happening, he was already locking the door behind you, his smirk gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

If you thought you won the game, you were wrong because in no time Haechan had you bent over the same vanity. Your shorts and underwear were pooled around your ankles and fingers gripping the edges of the wooden table tightly as he pounded into you from behind.

He had one of his hands wrapped around your throat putting just enough pressure on your veins which made you lightheaded while he delivered hard thrusts from behind pushing you more into the table. “Had fun teasing me princess?” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he bit down on the sensitive skin of your neck before sucking harshly.

You let out a low whimper, eyes rolling back to your head as he hit that spot again and again. If the pleasure of him moving inside in that brutal way was not enough to send you into an overdrive, the moment his free hand slid down to press against your clit did break you apart. “Fucking princess can’t go a minute without my dick shoved in her little pussy?”

He moved his hand from your throat to grab your cheeks harshly as he lifted your head to make you look in the mirror in front you, your nose almost brushing against it. “Look at yourself…” he groaned, feeling you tighten around him “...why do i always have to remind you not to behave like a slut at work?”

He thrusted deep with each word making your eyes roll back. “Look at yourself” he whispered, tilting your head up. Your eyes roamed over the smudged mascara and disheveled hair as you met Haechan’s dark ones in the mirror. He leaned down to whisper again “What do brats like you deserve?”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, you knew what he meant and when he stopped his movements you almost cried out “Please… don’t stop.” He chuckled, running his thumb over your lower lip “Don’t worry Princess. I’ll take my time with you after this concert.”

If you weren’t crying before you did now. He moved relentlessly, holding your hips with both hands in a bruising grip as you fell flat on top of the vanity. The wooden frame shaking beneath you due to the intensity as he moved deeper and deeper.

Your orgasm left you trembling even more as he didn’t stop thrusting in you. “Haechan please” you cried and he yanked you up by a tight grip in your hair “Take it like the slut you are.” He groaned and your whimpers turned into the cries of his name pushing him closer to the edge.

And with one final hard push he came inside you, moaning as he pulled out before spanking your cheeks. “Stay like this. With my cum inside you, don’t you dare clean up.” He said pulling up your panties and shorts and zipping up his own pants.

“You know princess this isn’t over, is it?” you managed to mumble a small no as he ran his fingers through your hair. “So be ready when we get back home… I’m going to ruin you so well tonight.”

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

navigation.

[mattsjuul]

GRAVITY. chris sturniolo

༣ summary: chris is on tour and misses his girlfriend .ᐟ ♡

༣ pairing: clingy!reader & tour!chris

༣ warnings: suggestive, just a cute lil oneshot tbh, pet names ( i think only one tho ), long distance ???? idk

༣ authors note ♡: ok i rlly didnt know what to do for this tbh i js wanted to write for chris lol!!!! this MIIIGHT get a pt 2 tho. so twoshot!

you stand in your kitchen, your mind constantly filled with thoughts of your boyfriend while he's off on tour. is he sleeping? maybe he's eating something. i hope he's enjoying it. is he gonna call me? isnt he in new york? thats three hours ahead. three whole hours. so if its six pm here then its... seven... eight.. nine. nine pm there? so is he asleep? i dont know if tour's got him sleepy. gosh. can he call me? i bet he looks so good right now. fuck. then your thoughts are interrupted by a very specific text tone. it's chris! "Hey" "R u busy imy" you read, causing you to almost start jumping for joy in front of your open fridge. although you do a little squeal instead. "definitely not" "call me im begging" you reply. "I like that" he replies, making you giggle to yourself. seconds later, your screen lights up with a picture of chris with a big smile holding your dear friend, madison, 's cat.

"well hellloooo" you answer with a smile far too big. "hey sexy" he smiles back just as much. "i've been waiting for this call" you admit. "yeah? you been thinking about me?" he asks in a cocky tone. but it was lowkey doing things to you. well. highkey. "you'd like that wouldnt you?" you ask. "yeah." he proudly says. "i was actually about to rub one out since im alone. show me your tits" he jokes. "don't tempt me" you giggle. "i mean.. you're free to do whatever you want. you're an adult with free will in your own home" he babbles on. you take a deep breath, honestly debating it. why not? he's seen them pleennttyy of times. more so, touched them plenty of times.

"ya' know." he interrupts your debating. "i've had lots of time to think. especially to think about you. and ya' know, we're never really apart for longer then a week. and it's made me realize that you really hold me down. i feel like i need at least one night with you every week to function. not like night.. i mean one sleep. i feel like it's made me sleep not so well. is that crazy? i'm not making sense. but then also, it'll be like 10 am here and i'll argue with nick or matt and i cant run to you. you'd be asleep and i dont want you to be upset the moment you wake up. i hate this seperation. i hate making you wait.. like what if you stop liking me before i get back. fuck. you're not hanging out with that actor guy you like, right?" he goes ooonnn n on. well boobs wouldnt be too appropriate right now. "okay.. no" you reply for starters. "and i dont think it's crazy. i get it. but you're veeeryyy cute for thinking all this. i love you chris. i miss you so much." i say. "i love you. can i see your boobs?" he asks, a giggle escaping your lips at his very stupid words.

yet you lift your top up, getting a shocked look from chris. "oh.. i like those.. a lot." he says, a big smile on your face as you shake 'em a little. "just.. stay there for a second" he says, seeing him moving around, clearly pulling his sweats down. "join me, yeah?"

a/n: ohhhhh em geeee.... idk if i like this tbh lol. but lmk if u want a part two w phone sex hehe. im sorry its so so short sad face.. i actually rlly liked writing this tho idk. yaaay hope u like :') ♡ lmk if there r any mistakes pls i didnt proof read!!!!!! (im in class..) 🐻‍❄️

[moonsaver]

The isekai trope is burning my brain. Pls have this yan!alhaitham with isekai'd reader who actually tells him the deal.

---

What if you got isekai'd into genshin? (specifically sumeru for my taste of scenario)

And alhaitham actually got to know? Maybe you don't even hide it while he's talking to you and writing down whatever you're saying while you're half dazed, sitting up on the stretcher, mentioning an entirely different world. Investigations show no result for it, meaning you really must have come from a different world – which isn't entirely impossible. But it seems yours is a slightly different case.

Regardless, alhaitham still doesn't want trouble. Leaves you be with the matra to discuss and sort out your own situation for the most part.

And then you get assigned to work at the Akademiya.

Its temporary, just until you gain your bearings. And the higher-ups (ahem, Nahida), determine he's appropriate to look after you for a period of time. He's a pretty well-adjusted guy, doesn't bother much, and simple enough to not complicate things (you may protest regarding the kinds of books he reads, but to his standard, it is simple. Just don't bother with that.)

Regardless, he's now in charge of you.

He teaches you the main language Teyvat currently uses, or at least the main language talked in major parts of Sumeru. Stays with you after work hours from time to time to help you learn – but only in exchange for knowledge about your own world. He studies you – or rather your subjects, your culture, your languages. If he's teaching you, you have to appeal something to him, and of equal magnitude aswell. So for the most part, your time is spent trying to piece together how to get you back to your world, or simple cultural and linguistic discussions. Unless that isn't your thing; but you both can find a common ground even then, considering Alhaitham doesn't shy away from different areas of study.

It's only natural your bond progresses. You both go from "somewhere between acquaintances and strangers" to "might occasionally greet while passing by". It's not soon before some of the other higher ups approach you to help get a task done from him, since it always seems like he manages to evade them, going who knows where during his working hours. Maybe it's an important task that can't simply be left on his desk. But you're a bit of a special case - Alhaitham doesn't mind sharing a few details with you; as long as you can appropriately determine what is and isnt worth his time. So you somehow manage to find him and get things done.

Its a bit strange. There's only a few ever constants in his life when it comes to people, and doesn't expect much in return. But having you around is different. Having you around feels.. strangely understanding. Although he doesn't mind the solitude, a part of him has always felt secluded from the masses. And you seem to be stuck in a similar situation. It's only natural you two seem to stick together. It's natural. That's what he tells himself.

And then you start to fizzle out from his grasp.

You make new friends. Newer people who may or may not know about where you really might be from. You learn newer things, far beyond Alhaitham's scope (or rather, just his scope of teaching), you get involved with many, many, people, even get invited to events he doesn't. It hurts a bit when he sits silently at your usual table at the library, cozily tucked away from most prying eyes, sitting across where you should have been, but aren't. but he won't admit it. You did mention you're busy and might not be able to come. But something inside him twists the slightest bit.

And he will admit it– only to himself. He has no grasp on his judgement nor principle when he decides to destroy all your documents, leaving you to hopelessly and despairingly run around to somehow, someway, recover them, trying to revive all the information you earnestly gathered.

He begrudgingly gets up to attend the door in the middle of the night, almost regretting not having worn his headphones, when he stops thinking for a moment. Its you. Of course it is. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch up, but he resists. He invites your shaking, teary form inside with silence and serves you some tea, before sitting down in front of you. It's almost funny how familiar the scene is – except this time you're alone much later at night with him, and this time you're so distressed you can barely get the words out before you break down.

And he takes care of you, silently. His large, warm hand soothingly rubs your back as he gives you space to cry and blubber out all your stresses, humming to let you know he's listening, tapping the saucer of the tea cup when you're sobbing a bit too heavy and need a break. It's enough to make you realize just who you really need to stick by. None of your friends would really care for you, would they? They're simply fascinated by the strange things you say. Alhaitham and you have a deeper connection, don't you think? Maybe if you're a bit of a romantic thinker yourself, he can twist his words just right enough to even imply you both must have been meant by fate to meet.

In the end, it all settles when you decide to sleep over, cancel your plans for the next day as you get ready to sort out your information with Alhaitham all over again. And this time, he can study you closely.

-