#did you know memory loss and gaps in memory are affected

[chungjoo]

I did something for myself recently. I was really scared going into it because I thought I didn't need it. but I'm getting older, I don't want to always burden my friends and family with my emotions and stress. they have enough going on. paying someone to listen to me vent can be quite a concept to grasp but I think this could help me with a lot. including my irrational fears. and even if it doesn't help, I can say at least I tried.

[sunyfan]

The Number That Changes Everything

3 years ago, I had suspicions that Rex might have a different age. So to dispel all my doubts, I began to draw a timeline of events using measurable facts:

Besides the show, there are other sources indicating that Rex’s current age is 15 years old.

I get it, Man of Action, it’s a “red line” that I shouldn’t cross if I really want to know the truth ^_^

As a result, I got 5 scales:

These scales on Rex’s timeline:

Even in the first version of the graph I have obvious conclusions:

Rex’s birthday is clearly not the same date as Six’s, despite the fact that an entire episode was devoted to this topic.

The Nanite Event and Six’s memory loss also did not occur on this date, otherwise we learned it from Caesar.

Yeas, the show has a character like Caesar, but lack of mention or hint of Rex’s true age from him, don’t letting me to set colored scales correctly..

I could have made a lot of versions of scales location, but something told me to pay attention to dots and that there is also a connection between them..

Hmm… dots forming another scale…

No way..

You’ve got to be kidding me?

Is it for real?

So thanks to WIKI I can even set the correct proportions!

Since things of «Lions and Lambs» and «Back to Black» happen on the same day for Rex, I placed dots on the same level.

I can’t make the dot’s scale longer/shorter because it affects the time and course of events

Well, I have the correct positions of colored scales (second graph), but still no answers. Perhaps if I add Six’s timeline, it will be easier for me to search.

Based on Six’s timeline, almost 2 years have passed in the show, and since there is not a single hint about Rex’s age in the series, so it’s quite possible that the answer lies in the gap of 6 months. But how far should I move Rex’s scale?

The show featured numbers such as «5», «6», «10» (Ben 10) and «15», where the number «6» has a special meaning:

Only 6 Master Control Nanites 6th dangerous man on the planet Six lost 6 years of memory Rex remembers his last 6 years Rex was sent 6 months into the future

Definitely, creators have another, special number and they had moments when they changed the airing dates of episodes just for this certain number. And I can tell which episode this happened.

The show has a special: «HEROES UNITED», the official release of which was 11.25.2011, in other words, it was the 3rd episode on air, but on GRwiki it goes as the 11th episode. Why did they decide to use 11?

I know MOA have such a character as Kevin 11, you don’t have to comment about it ^^

Besides this, «11» also relates to the another ep. like «Back to Black» which was released on the beautiful date: 11.11.2011. It’s remarkable that just in this episode we learn how scared Rex can be when he sees that Providence instantly changed for him, like he had lost his memory again.

But he is not the only one. Six also was in same situation. And do you know what I found out? «11» has its plase in «Six minus Six» too!

When Six was released from his obligation to search for Rex’s family, and One was gone, the anxiety is over in his life. But it wasn’t for long. Сreators hinted back in the series “Promises, Promises” that changes await him.. Six: «Whether for good or ill, our fates will follow the same path».

But that’s not all!

This is it, guys…

One day… some artists of the show published their resume of Generator Rex in honor of it’s anniversary.

Guys!..

It was in 11th Anniversary! 11th! This number is truly special, no less than «6»!

It was in «Six minus Six» where Six changed, It was in «Back to Black» where Providence has changed, It was in «Heroes United» where Ben helped save the World from Alpha, changing Rex’s Builds. And it was on the day when Six found Rex, boy’s life IS CHANGED!

Rex was 11 years old!

I’m not sure that Rex’s and Six’s birthdays are identical, but it’s enough for me to know that these dates in that same 6-month gap. As a result, Rex missed both of his birthdays according to the calendar and memory. And the fact that Rex remembers 6 years was a clue to his true age all these years … astoundingly o_O

Man of Action, I'm giving a standing applaud! It feels like a whole paradigm has changed!.. For good, of course ^^

BONUS

When I was studying the coincidences with the number 11, I thought that if I slightly change the positions of episodes of Season 3, because the existing one looks unnatural and this is what I got:

As far as I remember, starting from the “Black and White”, both sides began to search for meta-nanites and apparently the last one should have been found in special episode, in which Six’s memory should be back too, because it was maaany hints abouth this [ in ep. «End Game 1 & 2» ]… and so as we found out, the creators leave hints for a reason. Also in the same special, the leadership of Providence passes from Black Knight to White, because in the episode «End Game 2» after Rex was kidnapped, Six receives support from the army.

[blueparadis]

❝EBB & FLOW❞  + KISHIBE.

+. CWs —» f!reader, age gap, mention of death and loss, angst and grief undertones, smut [lactation k!nk, f!ngering,f!receiving]. 1kish wc

+. PRECIS —» “i don't smoke except for when I am missing you.”

+. NOTES —»  partly based on this. \\ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED \\back to blog navigation

Kisibe takes a strong full drag from his freshly lit cigarette as he stands before the grave. It is littered, cans and plastic bags have accumulated nearby yet wildflowers, grasses, and lush moss have sprouted from the plaque hiding the name of the dead. He does not even know why he is standing here or taking the smoke break at this particular graveyard, in front of this particular grave. A man with a profession like his should not dwell on collateral damage. He does not even know the name. He just knew that this dead person was one of Quanxi’s partners before he came along. He wonders, if death makes people forgetful, is it okay to forgive too? He wonders if death comes so easy, so abrupt and so unexpected, then why won't it take him? Would he be forgiven if he no longer visited this grave with two cigarettes in his hand: one burning and the other intact in the memory of someone? 

The wind is heavier today. The cigarette is burning faster than it does when he is usually around you, in your small yet cozy apartment — spending hours on paperwork and training you. A smile breaks like a plague on Kisibe’s face stretching his scar, haunted by the memories of his last training session with you. How you pecked on his cheeks, looked at him with so much yearning in your eyes when he was getting too worked up about the pattern of Makima's recruitments for devil hunters. 

He asked, “What was that for?” and you stammered, smiled bashfully, and failed to come up with a proper answer to his satisfaction.

“I just. . .I don’t know. . . intrusive thoughts . . . maybe—” It distracted him so quickly, so unexpectedly, and so deeply that he ended up grabbing your cheeks and kissing you back because it is really troublesome if you get intrusive thoughts like this around everyone. 

You let him like the whirlwind gushes into the corners of a building, even the loneliest corners of it and thus crumbling it into pieces. Your heart shattered moments ago, a panging pain building up inside your chest knowing full well how stupid it was to kiss him, to want him. But those thoughts start to whither as you feel his strong grab over your cheeks, his smoky bitter, tobacco-tasting lips. You feel like crying, knowing what you did was wrong and what he is doing is wrong too. 

But when Kisibe effortlessly drags you onto his lap, you start drowning in maybe(s) and what if(s). 

Maybe he knew all along . . . 

What if he wanted this all along . . . 

Maybe he is doing it because he is lonely. . .

What if he stops your training . . .

Kisibe starts kissing down your neck, his lips trailing soft and dry kisses all over your chest before he licks your collarbones. He can recognize the scent of your body lotion, it's sweet and candy-like, has a nice essence to it, and makes him wanna bite you but all he does is to proceed further down your body making you whimper. The more he goes down on you, the longer your moans elevate like a progression of a piano, not loud just prettier. When he finally has his lips near your boobs just along the lining of your dress, he peppers kisses around your perked nipples over the cloth that makes you bite your bottom lip, and you stop moaning. 

Raw and pure pleasure radiates out of your body as his fingers roam all over your body sneaking under your tunic, touching you between your legs. To his surprise, you are wearing pants. He has always known; and felt that you nurtured certain affection towards him and by that, he was always under the impression that you would at least try to sleep with him within the first two months of your training. But that did not happen, not even when he took you out for drinks to celebrate your first mission after completion. 

Still, it was a memorable night.

maybe. . . what if. . .maybe . . .what if. . .

Those thoughts come and go, like the ebb and flow of sea-waves on a stormy night but die as background noise as you hear him groaning as his kisses trace back from your boobs to beneath your ears. Now, his kisses are wet, strong, and full of soft groans. When his fingers dive into your cunt he feels how aroused you are. It makes his scar stretch with a sense of odd triumph blending with curiosity. The prolonged groan that escapes from his mouth makes him pull away, taking a breather as he ravishes the sight in front of him: you, on his lap, clothed too much in this summer heat, eyes closed and lips warped under your teeth as his fingers dig further inside of you. His eyes trail off down to your body, over your bosom, the white tunic that perfectly pronounces your perked nipples. A short whimper from you reaches his ears like a piano key on a high note and the next moment his lips circled around your taut nipple, his other hand that supported your waist has now curled and moved upwards to remove your tunic exposing one of your boobs. You moan, loud and shameless, like piano keys being played at a stretch all at once.

Your chest heaves at a faster rhythm, breathing heavier than before, hands that rested on his shoulders are now awake, palms curling into fists, wrinkling his shirt as you start wetting and biting your lips every now and then. Kishibe realizes that this is what you have been so melodious and outspoken about. You are feeling it to the fullest, not even bothered by how rough your grip is on his shoulders. His mouth on your nipple, lips sucking with full might, tongue flicking it while the other is being neglected. It tastes different than your lips; your lips have flavor, sometimes candy, sometimes strawberry, and sometimes minty; but your nipples? they have your taste, your scent;  

He knows it is gonna taste different, he thinks he knows this because you always offer him toffees and chocolates. Kisibe takes it after protesting a little... He does not wanna create a crack in your heart. Because when there is a crack, there is always light, a hope. He keeps saying that he is too old for shit like this yet he takes it. He might never get to confirm how your lips taste, given that this would be the only intimate moment he shares with you. 

A shrill screech from his own mouth pulls him back into reality. He watches the fire of his cigarette dying as it lies on the ground beside the grave. “Geez! what’s gotten into me,” he mumbles in frustration feeling his slacks tighten as he walks out of the graveyard. He should not have kissed you back. He should not have pursued his curiosity. He should have just left you, right there, breaking your heart. Too much light burns everything. Yeah! why didn’t he think of that? But

maybe. . . what if. . .maybe . . .what if. . .

—

[pluralhelp]

hello -- i feel like you've probably been asked this before but i didn't find it through searching so sorry if this is an annoyance. but... how do i know if i'm disordered? or what kind of disordered i am? i'm definitely a system and there are difficult times with it but idk if its intense enough to count as disordered? whenever we try web searching, the questions we get usually just default to asking if we're plural, which doesn't help.

Hey!

Checking out the criteria for DID/OSDD/UDD in the DSM or ICD might prove useful to you, to tell if you have disordered symptoms within your system.

Here's some parts of the DSM! Note that we've only shown the criteria here, and not the extra parts within the entries.

Though, to be disordered, you don't need a specific disorder. You don't need any particular label like DID or OSDD, because being disordered simply means that your plurality is experienced as disruptive/harmful/etc in some way. It doesn't even have to be all the time or every aspect of your plurality--everyone has bad days and good days, and different symptoms affect people differently. If you get distress from it, it can potentially be counted as disordered.

A lot of common symptoms that could be considered disordered are:

Dissociation that's disruptive or upsetting.

Amnesia/memory loss/gaps that disrupt you or upset you.

Headmates causing distractability that upsets you, such as getting in the way of IRL tasks or general downtime.

Switching during inapropriate times/places without being able to stop, such as a child headmate fronting at a business meeting and therefore not being able to properly attend the meeting.

General distress related to your plurality in some other way.

Being disordered is generally about the impact it has on your day-to-day life and how you feel about it emotionally.

Mike (He/They)

[salvatoreren]

yk i see everyone criticizing michi why he wasn't able to remember hinata or perhaps anyone 12 years ago because it was supposed to be the very peak of his life

But have we considered that this man has been traumatized? In the same year he got a girlfriend and was in a gang, tables turned the moment he knew his cousin wasn't the gang leader and was therefore subjected to being a slave and was beaten every single time.

Mind you, it wasn't only Hina, he ran away from, though he probably broke up at the behest of her dad, still, but he also ran away from his friends because they were a reminder of what he went through.

We already know his coping mechanism is to run away and so he did.

He's got that dissociative amnesia.

"Dissociative amnesia is when you can't remember important information about yourself. These memories are often distressing or upsetting events. It's most likely to happen with severe or long-term trauma, especially experiencing abuse, neglect or violence of any kind"

People with dissociative amnesia may also have certain behaviors or traits related to memory loss. Those can include:

Lack of awareness. People with dissociative amnesia may not realize they have gaps in their memory. This can last until memory loss affects part of their sense of identity or if someone brings up or asks something a person knows they should remember but can’t.

Confusion or disorientation. People with dissociative amnesia (especially the generalized form) may seem unaware, or like they’re having trouble understanding what’s going on around them. In very severe cases, people may not seem or be aware of their own identity.

Source: https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/9789-dissociative-amnesia

Tokyo Revengers is about traumatized characters, how can you be aware of that with other characters but not with the main character just because he's a crybaby :/

[vullcanica]

@vilestblood // ❛ We won’t know the cause of death without an autopsy. ❜ ((for nik... teehee.))

As far as Nico is concerned, all evidence points to that pesky little wrench in the patient's foot. A little absurd for a children's game in his opinion, even for Avita, who seems to be swiftly losing interest after a third round and two losses. He'd conceded the last one to make her happy. It hadn't worked.

"We do know. It's me.." she mutters, pouty and doe-eyed.

It's a blissfully early Saturday evening and they're huddled in close on the couch around a game of "Operation", trying to shake a sullen little five year old out of her utmost despondency in the aftermath of another 'death buzzer'. By the long look Antonin is giving him - fondly kubrickesque, reproachful, amounting to 'what did i say' - Nic suspects this might be entirely his fault for buying the finicky game for her when he'd known it would sow strife in their household. In his defense, something about 'daddy's job' had come up and he'd folded like a lawn chair. It would train her dexterity, he had insisted, and inane though it was, it still counted towards watering her little seed of kindness and nurturing that'd somehow sprouted from the genetic moral wasteland him and her mother had unwittingly set up for her.

Either way, game night this evening starts gearing to hold Vita's ire more than her attention. Just like predicted. Trust Antonin to come to the rescue anyway. Nicodem throws him a conspiratorial look over the white gold crown of Avita's head, features colored with a tinge of affection. Ok, you were right. Gameplan now.

"No, you have a point. We might require an autopsy," he intones with a casual air of feigned curiosity, quick to follow the cue. "His vital signs dropped far too quick, Doctor Cainhurst."

Avita glances his way briefly before lifting her crestfallen little face to behold Antonin with piqued interest. She finds him pensively examining their unfortunate plastic patient. Already half in character, thoughtful hum included. Nico fondly studies the gentle pinch of his brows and the near silver of his hair under the living room's daylight bulb and makes a mental note to kiss him senseless later in the privacy of their bedroom. He's gone molten-eyed and soft again without his own notice. An unwitting habit he catches himself in lately when he looks at them both a little too long - no longer watching to memorize the exact curve of a smile or the lilt of a laugh, just in case. Now simply doing so to fill his chest with it, with the abundance of them: happy, healthy, here.

Antonin's voice brings his attention to the present. Deeply solemn, hilariously so. "Suspiciously quick..." he determines with a haughty countenance, judge deciding on a verdict. Nicodem knows what's coming. "Some signs clearly point to possible foul play."

Ah, the buzzword. Avita perks up a little straighter immediatelly, everything clicking into place. Nic can't see her when she's turned away, but he knows her, from the baby hairs up top, down to the tips of her toes. Well enough to predict the small lift of her brow and the Desalvar smile, toothy, gapped, yet so distinctly curled, and her mother's unmistakeable dimples. Judging by Antonin's softening features, he's right.

"Oh. Like a job for a detective?"

"Perhaps."

Nicodem watches her look over the table with newfound interest, place both hands on it and assume the distinct pose of famed Ms Detective Desalvar, ready for another puzzling case. Antonin smiles. And the futile urge to stop time rises in him suddenly.

If he could stay here, just like this. Warm and comfortable, so wholly content, Avita perched on his thigh and his ankle touching Antonin's, suspended in the culmination of all his efforts and unlikely hopes, of gruelling nights and days, of tears shed alone. He could look at them forever.

But he won't. The thought is fleeting for once, spell easily broken. And the desperate snapshot of memory goes with it, pale in comparison to the future for once. He refuses to dwell anymore. It's safe to look beyond happiness now that it's no longer short lived. Nothing lurks around the corner. The evening will go on and he will step forward into it. He'll lovingly watch Detective Desalvar mull over all the little wrench and bucket and horse clues of a cold case made up from the scraps of his horrible purchase, and he'll steal kisses from Antonin overhead while she isn't looking. And when the lazagna he's put in the oven is done they'll eat together, sat around one corner of their pointlessly vast dinner table or like this, on the couch in a huddle. They'll turn the lights low then and put on a movie that Antonin will almost doze off in the middle of, jetlagged and sleep-soft and beautiful. He will tuck his precious daughter in by the end of the night and kiss her sweet dreams, and he will retire to bed, to be made love to quietly and then fall asleep in Antonin's arms. And he will do it all with the knowledge that he's earned it at last. That this, all of it, is his.

He reaches forward, to pick up the silly pair of plastic little pincers off the floor and hands them to Avita. He steps into the evening, bravely. "Your tools, Detective Desalvar?"

She grins up at him, all sunshine.

"That's Detective Doctor Desalvar."

"Ah, of course."

[olko71]

New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on https://yaroreviews.info/2023/10/wilko-end-of-a-fabulous-ride-for-shop-that-sold-it-all

Wilko: End of a fabulous ride for shop that sold it all

By Lucy Hooker & Faarea Masud

Business reporters, BBC News

“Being able to grab a fresh lip gloss, a sketch pad and a Pepsi Max all in the same place, that’s definitely something I’m going to miss,” says Jaye.

The 19-year-old, whose full name we are not using, doesn’t have a lot of spare cash and has found Wilko handy for dog treats, bleach and emulsion paint too.

Today could be her last visit though. Her local branch in Horsham, Sussex closes its doors on Sunday, along with the last Wilko outlets around the country and Jaye is “gutted” at the news.

She has swung by for a final pack of sandpaper sheets she’s going to use to make cosplay costumes.

Most of the shelves are bare now and what is left is marked down.

Another customer called Mary is also here, with her husband and one-year-old daughter, to pick up blinds at bargain prices.

“We’re heartbroken,” she says. “We were really hoping someone would buy them out and keep it going, you know?”

They live in a nearby village and used to come in to Wilko regularly to buy craft materials and treat her five-year-old to pick’n’mix.

“I have happy memories of doing that as a child,” she adds. “I think it’s nice for them to come and choose their own things, rather than someone delivering a parcel to the door.”

But the order-online, have-it-delivered business model is here to stay. That, and fierce competition from rivals, has done for Wilko, just as it did for Woolworths over a decade ago.

There was a wringing of hands back then too, when that stalwart of the High Street went. And Wilko took over many of Woolworths’ old shops. Now a similar fondness for Wilko has sneaked up and ambushed us all over again.

Other shoppers describe its demise as “tragic” and “awful”. The strength of affection can seem strange given the chain sold the most mundane, practical items from sink drainers to cat litter.

“It managed to create a very warm brand personality, which tends to contribute to a very loyal consumer-brand relationship,” says consumer psychologist Kate Nightingale.

“As Wilko’s brand is associated with home and pets products predominantly, we are already dealing with relationships infused with very heightened emotions,” she says.

“These emotions and their intensity is easily transferred into the relationship we have with the brand – it makes a perfect recipe for nostalgia [and a] need to fill in that gap left by a sense of loss.”

What next for Wilko workers?

Poundland to take on up to 71 Wilko stores

The future for Horsham’s site is not yet clear but some Wilko stores have been bought by other budget retailers Poundland and B&M. That won’t fill the gap for all its loyal customers though.

“Without being snobby, Poundland has a stigma attached that Wilko doesn’t,” says Abby, who is shopping with her wife Steph.

Wilko’s appeal was value for money and knowing you would find what you needed, they say.

“We had friends around the other night, realised we didn’t have enough wine glasses and managed to pick up a couple of sets for next-to-nothing,” Steph says.

The chain going under feels like a broader sign that things are “falling apart”, says Abby.

“It was the same with Woolworths. It had been going for so long that when it collapses it’s a bit like – oh right, so this is the way we’re going. There won’t be any of the original High Street shops there used to be.”

Wilko was founded in 1930 when JK Wilkinson opened his first store in Leicester. It stayed open throughout World War Two and expanded first across the Midlands then nationally. By the 1990s it had become one of Britain’s fastest-growing retailers.

In 2012, Wilkinson began rebranding its stores as Wilko, and by 2014, most branches had emblazoned the new name on their storefronts.

Now its staff in Leicester are particularly sad to see it go.

Jan Patel was 18 when she started working for Wilko. Now, at 64, she is seeing her last day at the Leicester Lee Circle store. She says it is a “tough day”.

She and her colleague David Middleton, who is now 61 and started work with Wilko in 1979, have had hugs and goodbyes from fond customers.

Jan reminisces about working with Wilko’s founder, JK Wilkinson.

“He pulled us out of recession in the 80s, he came into the store and has shown us how to trade aggressively. Cheap and cheerful was Wilko’s motto – and family. Family meant the world. This Wilko family looked after us, and in return we loved working here,” Jan told the BBC.

She says the company took her and her colleagues on training courses to learn how to to do DIY, such as painting and wallpapering.

“It’s been a fabulous ride,” says Dan who, like Jan, is now going to retire.

Getty Images

Some of the chain’s 12,500 staff – but not all – will find new jobs with B&M and Poundland.

And customers may catch a glimpse again of the Wilko brand online at least, after it was bought by The Range.

Kate Hardcastle, consumer specialist at Insight with Passion, says many retailers have already “eased their way into Wilko’s territory”.

“From Poundland to Primark, Aldi, Lidl and more, as value retailers widened the offer, Wilko was being gradually taken off the consideration list – especially by younger consumers,” she says.

Younger people were willing to “trade some savings for speed of delivery and direct to door”, she adds.

Ash, a 23-year-old who sings and plays guitar in a band at weddings, has been buying essentials at Wilko – shampoo, face wash, deodorant. But unlike Jaye he doesn’t think he’ll really miss it when it’s gone.

“I will probably forget about it in a few weeks to be honest,” he says.

“For my generation I don’t think they’ll really mind that much. We’ve got other options.”

Related Topics

Wilko

Horsham

Retailing

Leicester

Cost of living

UK economy

More on this story

Poundland owner to take on up to 71 Wilko stores

12 September

All Wilko shops to shut with 12,500 jobs likely to go

11 September

What will happen next for Wilko and its workers?

17 September

[oliviagoodhealth]

Key Qualities to Look For When Choosing a Dissociative Identity Disorder Therapist

Dissociative identity disorder is a complex mental health condition where individuals have two or more personalities that try to control their behavior at various times.

Dissociative identity disorder can cause severe memory gaps and other problems that interfere with daily life. Moreover, it can affect friends and family members. Individuals with multiple personalities might experience up to 100 “alters,” each of which could have separate ways of interacting with the environment, different ethnicities, genders, and even interests.

Thankfully treatment is available, which can help individuals manage their symptoms. However, individuals with dissociative identity disorder and their loved ones must find therapists who specialize in DID.

Symptoms of DID:

Anxiety

Depression

Disorientation

Delusions

Memory loss

Substance abuse

Thoughts of self-harm

Why is specialized therapy crucial for individuals with DID?

A qualified dissociative identity disorder therapist is crucial for individuals with DID. Dissociative identity disorder often results from physical or sexual abuse experienced during childhood. It can also manifest as a response to a traumatic event. No matter the cause, the condition is a way for individuals to distance themselves from that trauma.

Given the highly sensitive nature of the causes, it’s crucial for individuals with DID to find specialized therapists who can be patient, offer empathy, and ensure that they feel comfortable during treatment.

Equally important is a highly qualified and experienced individual who understands how to work with alternate personalities and can be patient in understanding how each personality might interact differently during a therapy session.

Key qualities for therapists specializing in dissociative identity disorder

Knowing how to find a therapist for dissociative identity disorder can be difficult if you don’t know what key qualities to look for.

Experience and Education

Figuring out how to find a therapist for dissociative identity disorder starts with reviewing their experience and education. If you are worried about the quality of service you might receive, see where they went to school. Ask whether they are therapists specializing in dissociative identity disorder or have another specialty.

Not all therapists or psychiatrists are the same. Some specialize in one type of mental health disorder. Others might specialize in family practices, working with children or adults. Find out what you need and find dissociative disorder therapists who are a good match.

Empathy and Patience

Empathy and patience are key to working with dissociative disorder. When reviewing the potential candidates for your treatment, it is important to talk with them, maybe even meet with them, to see how much patience and empathy they have.

Communication Skills

Good communication is key in treatment. So when you look for a dissociative identity disorder therapist, ask about their communication options. Some therapists will offer:

Online booking for appointments

Options for online therapy sessions

Phone numbers to call for help or information

Email addresses if you need to keep in touch

Secured client databases or portals where information can be viewed

Boundaries and Professionalism

Good therapists specializing in dissociative identity disorder will set boundaries. They will make this clear when you first meet. But the boundaries are an extension of their professionalism. Having a professional therapist means they won’t try to be your friend or text you late at night just to say ‘hi.’

They will take your treatment seriously, hold you to your goals, and be prepared for your sessions.

Updated Knowledge

Information changes as new studies are produced, and new techniques are approved. If you are looking for a dissociative identity disorder therapist online:

Review the types of treatments they use

Check whether they prescribe medication

Ask if they use updated studies to alter their practice where necessary.

Read more at Good Health’s Blog

[sulietsexual]

i know you wrote it literally 4 years ago but as i revisit some of your videos i wanted to see what other meta or analysis you had written about charmed and your scenario of how paige would fit into the sisters's lives if prue had lived and breakdown of each dynamics was awesome but i got to thinking some more about parallels between phoebe and paige

both phoebe and paige grow up without knowing their mother and although both have caretakers, people who love and care for them there's that hole in both their lives, something missing and it's what drives them both to act out and get into all sorts of trouble. phoebe never became an alcoholic like paige did in her teens but she was reckless and in with crowds that were dangerous and hyde school reunion gives us a glimpse of that

in your what if scenario with the paige/phoebe dynamic you emphasized several times that they'd be partners in crime and bond over their rebellious youths but i honestly don't think they would because both of them aren't proud of that part of their lives and it was a dark time for both. phoebe was essentially an outcast, her whole look and demeanor was designed to drive people away and it always screamed defense mechanism to me

i think it's easy to look at both teen!paige and teen!phoebe and think they're just teenagers being rebellious because every teenager has that phase but i always thought for both of them it was rooted in something else. phoebe grows up never getting to have a normal sisterly bond with piper or prue but especially prue because prue is the sister and the mother and the father, she puts it upon herself to play those two missing roles in their lives because while their grandma lives she needs help

so even though we don't get to see little phoebe i'd imagine she wasn't often playing with her sisters like we see prue and piper doing in "that 70's episode" both because of the age gap between the three of them and because even if her kid sisters wanted to play with a baby or a toddler once victor left and penny died the home life probably changed a lot, i imagine the time for games had kinda passed, all their childhoods were affected not just prue's

and i also imagine there must have been a huge level of pressure for phoebe that maybe she put on herself to be worthy 'cause she's the baby the one who needs the most attention and with no one to rely on but penny both prue and piper have to step up to help raise her instead of just getting to be carefree kids, i imagine she felt there were unspoken expectations she could never live up to

and in that i see another parallel with paige. paige feeling she could never live up to the memory of prue and how brave and good she was and phoebe with this mother she didn't get to know, that she doesn't even remember but the knowledge from her sisters and grams that she was an amazing woman, the simultaneous sense of loss and wanting to make her proud, wanting to make everyone proud but not knowing how

i apologize for all these messages, the novels i sent you there i was getting hit in my paige/phoebe feels and wanted to share i guess feel free to tell me if you think i'm off about any of the points i brought up. i love reading or seeing good charmed meta/analysis and yours are always great!

Wow, that's a lot to cover Nonnie! Always happy to hear other's thoughts though.

When I said that Phoebe and Paige would bond over being trouble makers, I didn't mean that either was proud of their pasts, just that they have that in common and could probably find common ground over being "black sheep" and that would bond them. Even out bad periods/experiences can bond us with others!

I disagree that Paige had a hole in her life due to missing her biological mother - she had two wonderful parents whom she obviously loved, and while she did seem to have the normal curiosity about her lineage that a lot of adopted kids do (myself included!) I don't think that the absence of a biological mother affected her all that much, again, since she had such great parents who loved and raised her well.

Also disagree with the notion that both Prue and Piper had to give up their childhoods to raise Phoebe. We know canonically that only Prue had this responsibility - Piper herself says in the Pilot that she and Phoebe got off easy and that the two of them were allowed to have a normal childhood, while Prue had to sacrifice her childhood to help raise them. So I definitely think that Piper and Phoebe were close growing up and I don't think that Phoebe was isolated from her sisters at all.

Thanks for the ask and glad you enjoy my Charmed vids and meta!

[prose-among-the-trees]

I was pretty excited to find this.

1. Yes. Absolutely yes. I know of diagnosed people who switch less often than we do. Tends to depend on the amount of external or even internal stimuli triggering that switch

2. Yes. Our host is genderfluid and we have parts all over the gender spectrum. I know a system who is trans mtf and they tend to have mostly women, I’ve seen it the opposite as well. Also seen just normal scattering of guys and girls and anything in between for trans and non trans hosts.

3. Yes. Our oldest presents as around 65 I think?

4. It depends. The four parts we have that we call ‘higher ups’ as far as protection are 48, 19, 25, and 6 1/2. Parts of all ages can fulfill all sorts of roles.

5. The way it works for us is that there’s near always a trigger, even if we can’t recognize it. Oh that smell reminded the host of a trauma? Someone else is here. Oh that one protector thought we were back in x situation? They’re out now.

6. Rapid switching isn’t common for me/us, but it’s when triggers are so frequent and overwhelming that parts don’t know who’s best for being around and kinda have to trial and error it in a state of panic. It’s not fun.

7. Yes. I personally have been out for a few days now and I know a system who doesn’t switch for months at a time.

8. Dissociative episodes can happen if a switch happens or not. Our switches tend to leave us pretty dissociated but we won’t always notice if the switch needs to be quick (quick trigger came on).

9. For us two things will happen. The host will now be in a safe enough situation to return, or something will trigger them out specifically that doesn’t affect the rest of us. They deal with pretty heavy memory gaps that we all try to take notes about and discuss in therapy, but it’s hard to remember what they’ve forgotten as we’re not actively removing it, just switching.

10. Yes. Inner worlds are pretty common in systems. Think of a proverbial ‘happy place’ or ‘mindscape’. They’re typically developed in therapy settings and it’s ‘where’ alters visualize communication and switches.

11. I’ve not heard of backseating but I’ll describe co-consciousness and co-fronting. The former is like if an alter was driving and another was in the passenger seat of a car. You can see the road ahead and you might even be able to adjust the air and the music but you’re just a passive observer to whatever the driver is up to. Co-fronting is if you stick both alters in the drivers seat. Tends to be very tiring and disorienting and confusing. It’s happened to us a small handful of times and never more than two parts. We have heard of systems who can have seven out at once but that sounds unbelievably complicated and stressful. Doesn’t work for our system if that’s possible.

12. Depends on the amnesia barriers between those parts. If I meet a hosts friend I’ll tend to recognize them, even if I don’t know why, but someone like 🧊 or ⚪️ might not because they’re not out a lot and they hold very niche traumas and triggers.

13. Absolutely yes. We have a few parts who vehemently dislike our host. They don’t trust them and think they’re unintelligent or incapable. It’s gotten pretty stressful but it’s something we address in therapy.

14. This answer I’m going to keep vague for my own sake. There are ten situations known as the ten ACEs (adverse childhood experiences) that are typically linked to causing did, but I’ve seen abnormalities in that being the only cause, and some of our trauma falls outside of that.

15. Did starts developing before the age of 9. I don’t know how much memory of childhood is a normal amount because I’ve never felt that. I honestly couldn’t tell you how it starts or what it feels like, just the effects of having your life in large chunks stolen. There are parts that don’t remember that we have parents. I forgot I had parents when I first formed. It’s memory loss and identify confusion and hurt and it doesn’t make sense because childhood isn’t supposed to feel like that, but it always has been so how else would it feel?

16. It really depends on the trauma but I’ll give a few mundane examples.

🪢 is a protector and gets triggered when people’s voices in public sound like abusers. They’ll front to protect the host whether or not there’s an actual danger.

I’m a trauma holder (📚) and I tend to front when I feel like the situation I’m in mirrors what I experienced when I grew up. It’s scary and I go into fight or flight to avoid ‘messing up’ in the same way I ‘did’ when I was 13.

Littles can be triggered negatively too. I don’t feel comfortable giving an example that works with our system but maybe they’re scared of a perceived or actual threat and will be out. Maybe something reminds them of home (good or bad) and they’ll be out.

Keep in mind child parts or littles can have any role. Trauma holder, protector, ANP (the ones that don’t deal w trauma), sexual memory holder, etc. their triggers can vary just as much as the entire systems would.

Thanks for letting me answer this.

-📚

I wanted to educate myself more about DID, so I wanted to ask some questions I have about it to further understand what it’s like. I do not have it myself so I will word these in a way to avoid accidentally offending anyone or any confusion:

Is it possible for someone diagnosed with DID to not regularly switch alters? Like almost little to no switches

Do some systems with a trans host have alter(s) that are their AGAB and vice versa?

Is it possible for a system to have an alter that’s much older than the host, like 30-40+ years old or older?

Is the protector alter usually near the age of the host or is it possible for a protector to also be a little/young alter, or are little alters usually not protectors?

How can an alter switch? Are they triggered by an external trigger or switch whenever they want?

How does rapid switching happen?

Can an alter front for more than one day?

Does a dissociative episode happen every time a switch happens or only sometimes, or is it also sometimes immediate?

How does an alter switch back to the host? And I’ve heard that when an alter fronts, the host has a gap in their memory from the time the alter was fronting. Does that memory gap ever get filled or is it just never told to you?

Do the alters share information with other alters if they aren’t fronting? And can they talk in the background like a subconscious? (It’s a silly question but I’m just curious)

What is backseating and co-fronting (I think that’s what it’s called) and what does it feel like?

If the host meets someone like a friend while fronting and a switch happens, does the alter recognize/know who the person is, or do they think they’re a stranger, since it wasn’t them who met them?

Can an alter(s) dislike/hate another alter/the host and does it cause any problems with the system?

What type of trauma usually causes DID? Can it be any physical/emotional/SA related event or does it usually affect a specific type? (Sorry if this question is worded poorly)

How quickly does DID start developing and what does it feel like when it first starts?

How is a protector alter triggered? How is a trauma holder triggered? How is a little alter triggered?

If anyone can help educate me on this topic I’d really appreciate it! Feel free to put your answer under a read more

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Y/N and Spencer decide to keep seeing each other in secret. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, cockwarming, heavy petting, penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (both receiving), degradation, exhibitionism, fingering, cum play maybe? Word Count: 7.5k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is... *nervous laugh* this is pure filth. Like... It’s nothing but sex scenes, y’all. Buckle in. (Also the end is a lil angsty so watch out hehehe)

———

JULY 8th

"You're sure you guys are okay without me for a little while?"

I love my mom. Really, I do.

But if she delays her bath for any longer than one more second, I'm going to burst into flames.

Thankfully it seems that Spencer is patient enough for the both of us. "Positive. You deserve to relax a little. Go. Take your bath, we'll be fine."

Mom looks to me for extra reassurance, and I give it to her with a nod.

"Okay. I'll try not to be too long."

She turns and kisses Spencer, long and lovesick, and I want to barf. What's even worse is that when she pulls away and pats my head before retreating up the stairs, he's smiling. And he's supposed to, I know that. Part of him obviously cares about my mom, and even if he's only fucking me on the side, the fact remains that he goes to sleep next to her. That's the way it has to be.

But it still makes me incredibly envious.

It's a problem.

Mom is upstairs now, but our rule is that unless we know for certain that she's not coming into sight or earshot anytime soon, we remain distant.

Still, I make my distaste for their affections known. "You guys are gross..."

Spencer laughs, his hand sneaking over the couch cushion and grazing the end of my skirt. "Jealous, are we?"

Of course, I have to make it difficult for him. "You're a genius, you tell me..."

"Hey now... You're lucky I'm giving you any attention at all... Besides, you know the rules."

I glance over at him, practically crumbling apart at the seams under his intense gaze. It's one I've gotten used to as of late, one that rivals every smile I've ever seen him give my mother.

"Doesn't make it any easier," I mumble, glancing down at where his fingers are still toying with my skirt.

"I know..." He reaches out and touches my hand, and my skin tingles. "Come here."

Even though I can hear that the bath water has only just started running from below, I comply all the same. I scramble off the couch and return on his lap, straddling him and nesting my fingers through his hair while I lean in to kiss him.

He welcomes me with open arms and an open mouth. The moment our tongues brush, I sigh and melt into him, needing desperately to be as close as possible. Our kisses then are languid and wet, and soft. We don't want to get carried away in case we need to be alert and jump apart, so it's best to keep our bodies controlled.

But as I'm learning, around Spencer, controlling myself is painstakingly difficult.

A whine escapes me when his right hand slips under my skirt and rests along the inside of my thigh, and I shift, silently begging him to give me more.

"So impatient..." he mumbles over my mouth.

I pull away and slide my hands down over his neck and shoulders, my hips rolling forward as I pout. "I haven't had you all week. I'm lonely..."

It's true.

Once all my STD tests came back clean and I got my birth control figured out and solid, the first thing he did was tell my mom he wasn't feeling well and texted me the address to his apartment. And after I told her I was meeting up with a friend, I drove over there and got my brains completely fucked out. We spent all day under the sheets, on the couch, over the kitchen counter, and then on the floor, until I had to go home and pretend like it never happened.

Since then we'd only slept together once, and that was just over a week ago, quickly while Mom ran to the store for an onion of all things. And then Spencer had been busy with consulting on new cases that his old job wanted a little help with, and once he had free time, Mom insisted they go on a date weekend.

I pout harder, stomach churning at the memory of the look he gave me before they left—a silent, sweet goodbye that had left me empty and wanting.

But he's just amused.

A smirk ghosts over his lips, red and a little puffy from the pressure of my own against them. "So I definitely can't trust you to be quiet enough to fuck you properly..."

That warrants another whine and another roll of my hips, and I can feel his hand gripping my thigh a little tighter.

"Please... Spencer, I need you..."

His name rolling off my tongue must be what makes him give into me, because I barely have time to react before he's kissing me again, using both of his hands to lift the back of my skirt up and knead my ass.

"Wait... Are you wearing..."

I grin over his lips, wiggling my ass into his touch and utterly turned on by the fact that he knows what underwear I'm wearing just by touch.

"Mhmm," I answer, nipping his bottom lip. "Your favorite..."

The sound that rumbles in his chest as he crashes his body against mine has to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. He's obviously trying not to be loud, but it's hard, and that makes the sound strained. He really wants this, wants to keep me, and to do that he has to refrain from going absolutely primal right now. He has to do anything to keep this quiet.

So he pushes me off of him, and I pout, thinking he's given up until we can get a true moment alone.

But I know that isn't the case when he spins his finger and then starts undoing his pants.

"Turn around, sweetheart," he huffs, slipping his pants and underwear down just enough that his erection emerges free. "You're gonna sit here, keep quiet, and keep my cock nice and warm, understood?"

Don't have to tell me twice... I'll fucking take what I can get.

So I spin, back up, and move all my clothing to the side, my skirt lifting as I nestle into Spencer's lap and hold my panties to the side. He laughs at my eagerness, though he isn't laughing much longer once I sink down onto him and get in real close. His hands come out to grab my chest and pull me flush against his own.

The way he stretches and fills me has my eyes rolling back, a long, happy sigh falling from my lips. I wish I could say I'm being dramatic about it, but I'm really not.

I'm genuinely relieved and satisfied with the burn.

"There's my girl," Spencer muses through a sigh of his own, his breath fanning gently over my neck right before he gives it an open-mouthed kiss.

His hands slip under the baggy sweater I'm wearing and run along the planes of my stomach, then up and up, taking the fabric with him until it rests above my bare chest. Being exposed like this, right in the middle of the living room while my mom is just upstairs, excites me more than I think it should.

While Spencer kisses and licks at my neck, his hands now gently kneading my breasts, I squirm.

He doesn't like that very much.

"Ah-ah," he warns, squeezing me tight and pulling me into him more. "Relax..."

He hooks his legs around mine then, spreading them apart and somehow filling me deeper. I whine, leaning my head back onto his shoulder and trying not to roll my hips.

Instead, I settle for clenching myself around him, and that seems to be the right move.

"Atta girl... Lay back and relax... Just feel me filling you up nice and slow..."

"Mmmm," I respond in kind as his hands loosen and glide down my body.

He's light with his touch, though the kisses on my neck feel hungry, and his cock feels heavy and thick inside me. It's a beautiful contrast, really, making me feel so full and yet so light, like I'm a raincloud.

Soon his fingers dip under my skirt and cover my hand, which is working at keeping my panties off to the side. He traces the curves of my fingers with his own, mumbling praises and scattering kisses along the side of my neck. And I'm distracted enough that I almost don't feel his other hand make gentle contact with my clit until I gasp from the sharp sensation.

I can feel his smile against my skin as he starts rubbing in slow, precise circles.

"That feel good, princess?"

"Uh huh," I breathe out, trying to keep still. My other hand digs into my knee in hopes that I can stay grounded and focused on keeping still. But despite that, I'm feeling rather calm. Satisfied...

Right where he wants me.

"Mmm..." He hums happily into my skin, continuing to kiss my neck while working my clit.

And I have no idea how long we lay there. It feels like it could be hours.

The TV is on, but we're not paying any attention to it. In the back of my mind I know that Mom could be done with her bath at any minute, but it's been too long without Spencer inside me... And even though he's not actually fucking me, just having him this close and feeling him touch me, fill me, breathe me in...

God, I never want it to stop.

I'm almost on the verge of coming, but he removes his hand from me and slides them up my stomach again.

I whine at the loss of orgasm, but he pays it no mind. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna start moving..."

I start to get excited, wiggling in his lap a little.

With a dark laugh, he brings his hands to my breasts, kneading them gently and nipping my earlobe. Getting my attention...

"But you're not gonna stop until I fill that slutty little cunt with my cum, got it? I don't care if you come more than once. I don't care if you come at all... I don't care if your mom comes down here and sees..."

I swear I almost come on the spot from his words alone.

And then his voice is somehow even darker, seeping through my skin and settling into the very deepest parts of me.

"You will not stop until you make me come, am I clear?"

I wouldn't deny him if I could. I'm so damn whipped by this man, so eager to please and be near him that he could ask me to do any fucking thing on the planet and I would.

My rational brain might have second-guessed that feeling if it hadn't been horny as fuck...

And so I get to it, maneuvering my hips and working Spencer's cock like my life depends on it. And honestly, it kind of does, because if my mother comes down and catches us I'm dead.

Despite the urgency, though, I relish every second of it. I try to remember every sensation vividly because I don't know when I'll get to feel it again. So every time I sit back down on his dick, I clench it on the way up, because I know that drives him wild and it also means I get to feel him grab me tighter.

I can't see him, not even really when I turn my head, but I can picture how he's probably biting his lip, trying not to be loud. His eyes are probably shooting daggers at the ceiling, praying to the heavens above that my mom won't come down.

But it looks like the heavens above have decided to damn us to hell.

That unmistakable sound of the drain in the tub rumbles through the ceiling and down the inside of the walls as the water travels through the pipes, and my heartbeat races faster than it ever has.

Spencer tugs my hair then, pulling my head to meet his shoulder once more. "You better hurry, little girl..."

That's when I finally come. My cunt throbs and shakes around him as I bounce as quietly as I can. His grip in my hair is tighter, urging me to keep going, and the sharp sensation seems to extend my orgasm a little.

I whimper and whine as I feel it, and that seems to be what does him in.

"Fuck, Y/N, that's it... That's my girl..."

Four more bounces from me is all it takes, and then he's holding my hips in place. He grunts as quietly as possible into my shoulder and fucks into me slowly, filling me to the brim with his cum and breathing harshly into my skin.

I can hear Mom walking around upstairs, most likely getting dressed, which means she'll be down any minute...

"Time to get up, princess," Spencer whispers a moment later, letting go of my hips.

I turn my head into his neck, whining. "I don'wanna..."

"I know, I know... But you have to."

I know he's right. But I can't just get up and lose him so quickly. I want to hold on for as long as possible.

So I tilt my head up and bring his lips to mine. Thankfully he doesn't reject me, instead returning my affections and sighing into my mouth. He's still sheathed inside me, and I can feel his cum very slowly starting to drip down.

I have to get up now...

My mouth reluctantly parts from his and pouts. I expect him to return it with a sad smile, but his lips are rather mischievous.

He smirks, lifting me off of him and quickly pulling my panties back in place. His cum instantly soaks into the thin, lavender fabric, and it only reminds me of his absence.

But then Spencer spins me around on the heels of my feet and presses his hand firmly to my clothed, sopping wet cunt under my skirt, rubbing it in and making me whimper out at the overstimulation.

"I missed you," he whispers sincerely. Sweetly...

I can't help but smile as I lean down to kiss him one more time.

"I missed you, too."

JULY 23rd

I've been looking forward to this weekend since Mom brought it up after her bath—A call from work. A weekend business trip across the country.

She would be gone for almost a whole week.

Spencer's already started on his coursework for the next school year so he'll be busy most days, but at night? That's when he's all mine.

The only hard part about this, really, is containing my excitement. Just yesterday Spencer got me alone and warned me that I better keep my cool and be patient. Though, the way he said it was hardly a bad thing considering it gave me an excuse to feel his hands on me, even in the laundry room where, more or less, this had all started.

Even now I can still feel their warmth and their heft as they grope and paw at my breasts while he attacks my neck with sloppy kisses.

But right now he's not here, and as much as I can't wait to spend the week with him, my mom is also going to be gone for that long.

Just because I'm fucking her boyfriend on a regular basis doesn't mean I don't still love her.

Though, the thought of it all makes me a little uneasy—I don't know what the future holds. I know Spencer obviously cares about my mom, but if it really gets to a point where they've been together long enough, would he ever marry her?

And then what?

It's one thing for him to be my mom's boyfriend, who doesn't live here and only stays when he can... But it's a whole other one to be my stepfather. And what if my mom wants to have another kid?

No.

I'm not even going to think about it... If it ever gets to that point, then we'll deal with it, but right now I've only known Spencer for nearly 2 months, and it's way too soon to be thinking about any of that right now.

"You gonna be alright without me for a week?"

I curl into Mom's side, laughing and thankful for her distraction. "I spend almost a whole year away at college without you, I think I can survive five days."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I wish you could just stay here with me forever."

"Ha, no you don't. I'm a menace."

"Only when you eat all my food and then complain that you're starving..."

My eyes roll affectionately. "Mom. That was one time, and I was fifteen and dramatic."

She kisses the top of my head and then rests her chin on it. "Then my point stands... You were only a menace when you were fifteen. Now you're an angel."

I can tell she's sincere, and when I tell her Thank you, it feels incredibly deceitful—Especially when she starts humming my favorite song and brushing through my hair with her fingers, just like she used to do to get me to sleep as a kid. The foggy feeling it sends through my bloodstream reminds me that I'm definitely not the same person I was back then.

Although, it is true that some things never change, and within minutes I'm soundly asleep in my mother's arms.

———

When Spencer and I are sending her off at the airport the next morning, my heart thrums wildly in my chest.

"You have Spencer's number in case of an emergency?" she asks me in a haste.

"Yes, Mom. For the thousandth time, I have his number, and I have Grandma's number, and I have just about every other number you've ever given me for emergency contacts."

She gives me The Look.

"Yes, I have it. And I'll be okay. I love you."

"Oh, I love you, too," she says, pulling me in for one last breath-reducing hug, though, that's not truly what knocks the breath from my lungs.

She goes to Spencer next, reaching up to give him a goodbye kiss. I'm expecting it. I'm okay with it.

But this is unlike any other kiss I've seen them share, and it admittedly makes me jealous.

Spencer almost has her off the ground, pressing her close to him and kissing her deeply. Her hands weave through his hair as he tilts his head, and this time I can see his tongue slip into her mouth.

"O—kaaay, my eyes are burning... Thank you for that..."

I know I can get away with that because it's a completely normal reaction to seeing your mother make out with anyone, so I don't feel bad about it one bit. And I especially don't feel bad about the warning look he gives me over my mom's shoulder when she comes to give me another hug.

But then she's gone, and minutes later we're leaving the airport parking lot, and I can't seem to shake my jealousy. Even when his hand rests politely on my knee.

The whole way home I only barely acknowledge his presence, giving him half-hearted smiles and remaining mostly still when he glides his hand higher up my leg. By the time his fingers slip under the hem of my skirt, I think he knows something is up, because it stops there.

He waits until we get in the house to bring it up.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

I plop myself down on the couch with an overexaggerated sigh. "Kinda..."

I know Spencer used to be a profiler, and really, it's not that hard to figure out what's wrong with me. But it's still a little scary how easily he just knows.

"You know I had to," he says, walking over and standing in front of me. "Keeping up appearances and whatnot."

He's right. And it's a consequence of what we've decided to do, so really I'm in no place to complain.

Still, I reach out and pull him in by the belt loops, leaning my face in rather close to his crotch. "You know... Actually, I think you just like making me jealous..."

The smile that dances over his lips is amused and downright sinful. "Oh?"

"Mhmm," I drawl, sliding my hands to the front of his pants and rubbing him through the fabric.

He laughs. "Yeah, you are pretty cute when you're all huffy."

With big eyes and a fluttering in my stomach at the way he looks down at me, I feel that pressing of jealousy start to lift off my chest. I know that within an hour he'll have me pinned under his body somehow, and the thought allows my response to come out clearly and without question.

"So how are you gonna make it up to me?"

———

We're already out of our clothes by the time we make it upstairs. And when we finally get into my bedroom, I'm about to shut the door and then Spencer stops me.

"No one's home, sweetheart... Leave it open."

He takes two steps and has me in his arms, his hands sliding down my back and resting over my ass. And when he gives it a squeeze, he grins down at me. "You're gonna be loud for me, understand?"

"Hey, that's on you," I tease, wiggling against him. "You want me loud? Make me loud."

His grip on my ass gets tighter as he pulls me closer, and I yelp out. "Don't challenge me, little girl... You'll regret it."

I laugh then, calling back to his earlier statement. "Aw... You're pretty cute when you're all huffy..."

"Alright, fine."

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees, and his hands are rooting in my hair. The rough carpet underneath me already burns, but I know in the end it's gonna be so worth it.

Spencer brings me close to his exposed crotch and tilts my head up to look at him. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude right out of your pretty little mouth, got it? And you're not gonna do a damn thing but take it like a good girl."

I would have asked him if that was a threat or a promise if he hadn't immediately shoved his dick in my mouth. It has me wet in an instant, the way he just pulls me onto him and starts fucking my face with an urgency that seems to contradict all the time we have. He needs me now, with no time for teasing or pleasantries, and I fucking love it.

Which is why I do as I'm told, enjoying every second as he holds my head still and snaps his hips forward, his velvety smooth cock gliding over my tongue and down my throat with ease. It doesn't take long for my eyes to water, my vision going blurry and my body growing hot. My face is angled straight ahead, but I still find a way to look up at him, and from this low angle?

It's the best thing I've ever seen.

No matter how many times I've been on my knees like this, staring up at Spencer as he loses himself at my hands (or rather my mouth, if you want to get technical), I swear I could never tire of it.

His eyes are glaring down at me as he concentrates, his arms are out in front of me as they hold my head in place, and his pubic bone and sculpted hips are right there, moving ferociously in front of my eyes. He's so deep in my throat for a few seconds, holding me down while I gag around him, that my nose is buried in the soft trail of hair that gathers on his skin, and I want to stay there forever.

But my gag reflex isn't much durable for more than fifteen seconds, much less forever, so I have to pull back.

Spencer pulls me off of him completely, a trail of spit following my lips and then detaching until it lands along my chin. I blink away some of the tears that had gathered in my eyes and pout up at him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're supposed to be making it up to me..." My voice is scratchy and a little hoarse now, but I know it'll probably be worse if Spencer really thinks he can make me as loud as he says (which I truly don't doubt for a second).

He tugs me up by the hair, and I whine as I get to my feet, my knees aching already. And then his mouth is on my cheek, gently kissing away a tear. "Aw, I thought you liked having my dick in your mouth..."

"I do..."I giggled a little, nestling into his body and feeling his erection, now slick with my saliva, press up against the inside of my thigh. "But I like it better in other places..."

"Mmm, you're right... I do, too..."

I certainly hadn't been expecting that answer.

But it doesn't surprise me when he walks us over to the foot of my bed and pushes me onto it. "Hands and knees, princess."

My knees still burn from the carpet, and I'm sure this squeaky-ass mattress won't alleviate the pain at all, but if there's one thing I've learned since having sex with Spencer it's that pain is all part of the pleasure.

So I don't question it. My limbs submit to his simple command, and once I turn away from him and perch myself on my hands and knees, I can feel him climbing on the bed and crawling up the backside of my body. His hands roam my ass and my waist, and within seconds he has his cock nestled against me.

He moves nice and slow at first, dragging the length of him through my slick cunt and ghosting the skin of my backside with his hands.

"Remember... Nice and loud, okay? Wanna hear how good I make you feel."

Like I could ever deny him. Even though I like to tease him and push his buttons, I couldn't think of a single thing in the moment that I'd ever deny him.

So he finally pushes into me, stretching me out well and good, and a low groan slowly rolls off my tongue like a waterfall. And I'm not doing it for his sake; It's like he draws it out of me like a syringe, and I'm utterly powerless against it... Against him.

Like I need a metaphor to explain how I'm well and truly his bitch...

"There she is..." Spencer breathes, reaching the very deepest part of me and staying there. "There's my obedient little girl... Tell me what you want."

I turn my head to get as good of a look at him as I can, and give him the pout to end all pouts. "I want you to fuck me, hard... Please?"

His answer is a gentle push forward, his body leaning over mine to take my hands and pin them behind my back, which pulls me up towards him so that my back is nearly flush with his chest. His hands are so big that one of them is able to hold both of my wrists while the other gathers my hair and tugs.

I feel like I'm being held by a bungee cord, especially when Spencer starts snapping his hips and pounding into me roughly. My knees are pushing into the springs of the mattress and lifting again with each thrust, and I can't help the stream of whimpers and shouts that escape me at the whole experience.

He lets go of my hair in favor of reaching around and palming my left tit, his pace never faltering for a second. Everything he's doing is precise and swift and so fucking good that my eyes can hardly stay open.

"I'm hearing you, pretty girl, but I don't think you're quite loud enough..." he grumbles in my ear, letting go of me and gently pushing me back down on the bed. He slips out of me and I whine at the loss, but I don't have to worry about it much longer when I feel him lay down over top of me and slam into me hard.

I yelp out, my hands reaching out and clutching the comforter for dear life. Spencer's hands, meanwhile, push up off the mattress on either side of my hips to lift himself up, and then he's grabbing my waist and pushing me into it while he fucks me.

When I instinctively shove my face down and try to muffle myself, though, one of his hands leaves my waist and comes up to tug my hair, pulling my head up. His hips pause, pressed deep into my backside, and I can feel how he's struggling to keep still.

"Uh-uh... No one's home, princess... Let it all out..."

He pulls back and plows into me again, and this time his pace is frustratingly slow. With each slam forward my voice grows louder, begging him for more with incoherence until I start to feel myself grow tense with pleasure.

"You're almost there, baby, I can feel it," Spencer breathes. His voice is far away, and I wish he was closer, his breath on my neck and his lips not far behind. But for now I gladly settle for his hands, tight and bruising on my hips, and the force of his pelvis as it collides brutally and wonderfully with my ass.

What finally brings me sweet release is the sound of him grunting out one word. A command. And once again it's like I'm powerless under his spell.

"Come."

I do, and he fucks me thoroughly through each wave. Even once I've finished, he chases his own orgasm for minutes.

By the sounds he's making and the way his hips falter here and there, I can tell he's close, but he wants to make it last. I want to tell him that we have all weekend, to maybe tease him a bit, but I'm so fucked out and incoherent that I couldn't have said a single word if I tried.

So I lay there and take it with a weary smile on my face, ever the whiny, whimpering mess that I am, and patiently wait for the moment he decides to let go.

And when he does, it's the most glorious feeling in the world. I'm tired, yes, but never tired enough to lift myself and wiggle my ass back into him, clenching myself around him and relishing in the way he grunts out my name. He empties himself into me, and I hum, positively satisfied and warm.

Before I know it, I'm sinking down within the comfort of my blankets, and I rest my head in my arms, the pillow still a little too far out of reach. And though I'm content, I still whine out sadly when Spencer retreats and leaves me feeling empty.

I'm about to tell him to get over here and cuddle me when I feel his weight redistribute, and it isn't long before he has his head between my legs, his tongue acting as a net for the cum that drips out of me. He barely touches me, only the tiniest of flicks with the tip of his tongue darting over my skin. I can't tell if I'm thankful because of the relief or if I want the burn to go on forever.

In the end, I don't really have a choice.

He pushes his tongue up, sweeping over my dripping cunt and cleaning me up. Suddenly his mouth is everywhere, making the most delicious sounds and bringing me closer to another orgasm, and all I can do is let it happen. My weary smile is joined by a fluttering pair of eyelids and a string of whimpers that are so small they don't dare drown out the words Spencer is grumbling between my legs.

Some of which, I can hear, sound out, "Another one..."

His finger adds to the mix, coming up and rubbing my clit in tight circles as he finishes cleaning up the mess he made, and within seconds I'm a writhing mess at his undoing.

I'm not sure how long it lasts, only that one second I'm tensing with another orgasm and the next I'm having my limbs moved.

Spencer is beside me in an instant, his face coming into view as I feel my breathing slow to a steadier pace. The longer I wait, the more focused I am on his features, soft and even a little concerned as he strokes some of the hair from my face.

"How are you feeling?"

The smile that beams across my face is just about the most natural thing I'd ever felt. And it seems to bring out those bright glints of adoration in his eyes that only ever serve to make my heart flutter, which makes what I tell him even more true.

"I'm happy."

JULY 27th

Waking up to Spencer next to me, while a daily occurrence these past few days, is still possibly the most surprising and comforting feeling in the world.

Our bodies never part. From the moment we lay down to sleep until the moment we wake up and decide it's time to start doing necessary daily things, not one inch of skin is untouched. Even when showering.

I think back to yesterday morning, where he dragged me out of bed because he had to pee and didn't want to leave me. I was slumped over the backside of his body while he went and then in his arms again while he ran us a shower to wake up.

It brings the widest smile to my face, however sleepy it may also be.

"What are you smiling for?"

I squint one eye open and see that Spencer is staring at me. I hadn't expected him to be awake.

"Just thinking about yesterday..."

He tightens his grip on my waist and pulls me even closer, my face instantly drawn to the crook of his neck. "Mmm," he hums as I nestle in and press a sleepy kiss to the bare skin at the column of his throat. "Which part?"

"Our shower."

I feel his thumb then, rubbing back and forth over my hip as clearly as I can feel him smile against the top of my head. "That was fun, wasn't it..."

"Mhmm," I agree. My lightly tongue traces over his collarbone before I kiss it again. "Our shower is much better equipped for sex than yours."

"So... What you're saying is that shower sex is out of the question this morning?" he confirms with a laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm saying..."

"Well then, princess, what uhh... What alternatives do you think we should try out?"

I start to laugh when he pulls my leg up over his waist and hoists me over on top of him. My face remains buried into his neck, though I trail my lips up and up until I reach his jaw.

"Hmm... What if I just ride you and see where it takes us?"

When my lips finally reach his cheek, Spencer shifts and captures them in a long, butterfly-inducing kiss before pulling away with a smile and brushing the hair from my face. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

It helps that I can already feel him hardening beneath me, and from the moment I felt his hands on me, I'd been aroused.

Though, as soon as I line him up and get ready to start our morning the right way, his phone rings on the bedside table. I'm tempted to keep going, but he half pushes me off of him when he reaches and reads the name.

"It's your mom."

That instantly kills my mood.

With a dramatic sigh and a pout, I hop off of him and curl up under the covers, letting him answer.

"Good morning," he chirps rather happily, and I try not to imagine my moms smile on the other end of the line. Thankfully I can't hear her, but I can still see Spencer smiling as he greets her and goes through all the pleasantries that come with a long distance relationship; I miss yous and how are yous...

I wonder if he really does miss her. He must, at least a little, right?

I'm staring straight ahead now, picking at my nails while I wait for them to finish talking, but something feels off.

I can feel Spencer's eyes on me.

But then he asks, "What are you wearing?" through the phone with a voice so playful and seductive, and I snap my head around, glaring at him.

"Really?" I mouth.

The smirk on his face makes me want to chuck his phone across the room.

"Mmm," he hums, looking me dead in the eye. And the next time he speaks, I swear he's talking directly to me. "Why don't you take it off... I want to talk you through some things..."

I know my mom is hearing the roughness in his voice through the phone, but right now I can see his eyes, hungry as they rake over my body once I slowly peel the blanket away and reveal myself to him, and I know that his main goal isn't to get my mom off.

It's to finish what we started before she'd interrupted.

"Touch yourself for me, baby? Nice and slow. Just relax..."

He softly crawls over to me, keeping the phone to his ear with one hand while the other takes my knees and spreads them apart.

I start to touch myself as instructed, but he swats my hand away and winks, nestling between my legs. I lean up on my elbows and tilt my head, wondering where he's going with this, when he leans his other cheek into my thigh.

"You know what I'd do to you right now If I was there?" A small pause. And then, "I'd use my fingers to slowly stretch you open... Feel you contract around me..."

His fingers do exactly like he says, and I have to stop myself from making any sound. The evil grin growing on his face as he does it all makes it even harder.

"I'd finger-fuck you nice and slow," he continues in a voice just above a whisper. "Until you're begging me for more."

When his eyes meet mine, once more I want to lean forward, snatch his phone, and smash it on the floor. I want him to utterly devour me, without any interruptions or avoidances at getting caught.

But he's such a fucking tease.

Mom must be talking on the other end, because Spencer is silent, slowly fucking me with his fingers and watching them intently as they disappear inside me. Entranced... The thought of her speaking to him and holding his attention makes me jealous— Sure, he's fucking me right now, but really, she's the one calling the shots.

I lean my head back in frustration, letting out the tiniest of whines and grinding my hips up into his hand, hoping and pleading for more.

A low laugh leaves him. "Please, what?"

It's not lost on me that my mom must have asked for more from him at the same time I did... It cements just how absolutely fucked this whole situation is, and yet I can't help but clench around his fingers in earnest, silently pleading with him to go on.

He removes his fingers from me and I sigh out, trying not to disrupt their call.

"And... How would you like me to fuck you?" he asks, looking at me with an evil grin and knowing damn well I can't actually answer.

After he gets her answer, he climbs up on his knees and spreads my legs further, throwing one of them up on his shoulder while he leaves the other on the bed. Since he only has one hand to work with, he gestures to it and I help him out, lifting my other leg up to my chest and holding it with one arm to let him get inside at a good angle.

"Yeah, and how do you want it, baby?" He lines himself up with me and very slowly sinks the head of his cock in, holding it and running his hand along my stomach. "I'm thinking... I'd like to fuck you so slow you're practically writhing beneath me..."

I stick my tongue out at him, and then without warning he slams into me. I bring a hand to my mouth and bite down on my finger, trying not to make a sound.

"You're gonna be patient... And you're gonna let me take my time... Until you're nice and desperate... Whining out for me like a good little whore..."

Each sentence is punctuated with another thrust, hard and deep, followed by a short pause, and it's all I can do not to cry out his name and beg him to go faster.

Mom must be talking on the line again, because Spencer doesn't say a word as he fucks me. His pace doesn't pick up or slow, and his own self control starts to recede—I can see it in his features. I can also feel it in the way his free hand grips my leg. He wants to go faster, he wants to lose control, and this is killing him just as much as it's killing me.

But then he pants into the phone, his voice breaking a little as he pauses and rolls his hips into me, slow and burning. I whine into my hand as quietly as possible, and he asks the question that will seal my fate.

"Where do you want it?"

I wait, clenching around him and praying for the result I want.

And then he laughs. "Yeah? You like when I paint you with my cum, huh?"

I shake my head, silently begging him to resist and stay inside me, but he only shrugs as if to say, Sorry about your luck, and then pulls out, leaving me whiny and desperate.

Just like he said.

And then, he comes all over me, stroking himself fast and hard. Even though I've still yet to feel any sort of relief, seeing him in front of me like this, feeling his warmth dance across my skin in warm spurts, and hearing him groan out as he watches my body gladly accept it all...

It's quite honestly the most satisfying thing I've ever seen.

I can't say I'm not happy, though, when he slumps down and pants, sighing out a few goodbyes to my mom and then tossing his phone on the floor when she hangs up.

He smiles at me then, and I pout.

"You're evil..."

"Mmm, you love it," he drawls, leaning down and starting to dart his tongue over the mess he made on my stomach. Meanwhile his finger finds its way inside me again, and I feel myself start to turn into a writhing mess once more.

And he's right.

I do love it.

JULY 29th

Approaching the front door with Mom in step behind me, knowing that Spencer awaits for her on the other side isn't what makes my heart jump out of my chest.

It's the look on both of their faces when they see each other.

Though I push Mom forward to go see him, it nearly breaks me seeing her run into his arms. He picks her up and spins her around, reminiscent of their little moment at the airport, and the pure happiness on her face specifically makes my stomach twist.

This time it isn't jealousy.

It's guilt.

She's... incredibly happy. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy before. She's positively beaming as she hugs him tight and buries her face into his chest.

And when he looks past her head and looks over at me, I feel it.

The heartache.

Spencer's eyes burn holes into my own, and fill them with a sympathy that makes me feel more wounded than comforted.

I wonder then if he can see it on my face; The way I'm trying not to break down and cry... The way I'm only holding myself together by the weak smile I'm wearing, both to assure him that I'm fine and also to feign happiness for my mother, rather than the aching envy and sadness that festers within every crevice of my soul.

I offer to grab more of Mom's things from the car and dart right back out the door to avoid them for a little while. Maybe to also get some fresh air, even though I'd just been outside less than a minute ago.

After flinging open the trunk of the car, I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my chest start to tighten at the realization that I might be starting to fall in love with him.

A man who isn't mine, and who could never be.

———

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[unwelcome-ozian]

About the post of one of the last anons, which post was the one with types of DID? The ones mentioned in the other post were modular and secret DID. I looked on your blog for them but can't find anything. ^^

It can be a bit of a pain to find things here. Thank you for asking.

Oz

Here you go:

Latent DID – The alters are generally inactive but may be triggered by stressors which are somehow symbolic of the traumatic event. Examples of this are when the patient’s children reach the age of the patient during the trauma, or the perpetrator becomes ill or dies. During such time the alters may emerge for the first time publicly, which provides a window of diagnosability.

Posttraumatic DID – Symptoms are not present until the patient experiences an overwhelming contemporary event such as a great loss, rape, combat, or a head trauma sufficient to cause organic amnesia.

Extremely Complex or Polyfragmented DID – Presence of such a wide variety of alter personalities with such frequent switching between alters that it is difficult to discern the outline of DID and the multiplicity actually disguises itself.

Epochal or Sequential DID – When an alter emerges it takes over for a long period of time before the next alter takes over for another long period of time. While one alter is out, the others go dormant.

Isomorphic DID – Several very similar alters take control as a group and try to pass as one. The only overt signs may be a fluctuating level of function, unevenness of memory, or inconsistencies in the patient’s personality. Kluft’s example is “she’s quite bright, but what an airhead!”

Co-conscious DID – The alters know about one another so there is no demonstrated time loss or memory gaps.

Possession Form DID – The most evident alter presents as a demon or devil. This can be seen more commonly in cultures where religion or rituals have to do with demons and can easily be mistaken for psychotic conditions.

Reincarnation/Mediumistic DID – Alters who are experienced by the patient as having a supernatural quality and communicate with the patient in such a manner.

Atypical DID A group of patients that is rarely diagnosed.

Private DID – Alters are aware of one another and have consciously adapted to pass as one.

Secret DID Closely related to Atypical DID . The host is unaware of the alters, who only emerge when the host is alone. One might suspect this in a patient who cannot account for his or her private time.

Ostensible Imaginary Companionship DID – The patient has an adult version of the imaginary companion who is friendly and supportive with the other socially constricted host. What the patient is not aware of is that this entity does assume executive control and that there are other alters present as well.

Covert DID This is the form most characteristic of patients with DID . Alters contend for control and influence without assuming full executive control. To patients it feels as though their lives are out of control and that their actions are imposed upon them by a power unseen rather than selected by them.

Puppeteering or Passive-Influence Dominated DID – The host is dominated by alters that rarely emerge. If the host is unaware of these alters he/she feels like the victim of influences that force behaviour in a direction not chosen.

Phenocopy DID – The most important of the covert forms. Occurs when the alter’s interactions with, and influences on the host and each other, create phenomena that are similar in appearance to the manifestations of other mental disorders. For example, alters who are in conflict and are insistent on their thoughts while cancelling out one another’s actions can imitate obsessive compulsive disorder. When a patient has alters who harass one another, it appears to the onlooker as though the patient is hallucinating, which would resemble an acute schizophrenic episode. Alters with different moods can have the appearance of an affective disorder. Alters in contention may create the chaotic appearance of borderline personality disorder.

Somatoform DID – Very common. The pain or discomfort of a traumatic event which was experienced by an alter, is felt physically by the host, who has no memory of the trauma. Examples are pain in the rectum or vaginal area, numbness or tingling in the extremities from being tied up during abuse, a sense of choking or nausea associated with forced oral sex. This should be suspected when there is no apparent physiological explanation for the pain.

Orphan Symptom DID – Closely related to all of the covert categories. This is the phenomenon of unexplained and spontaneous feelings, sensations, actions, or intrusive traumatic imagery which manifests in the host, is not understood by the host, and which has been triggered by a contemporary stimulus that relates to the childhood trauma.

Miscellaneous Presentations Of DID

Switch-Dominated DID – Most commonly seen in the patient with a large number of alters. The switching process is so rapid and frequent that the patient appears bewildered and forgetful. Patients are often misdiagnosed with an affective disorder, psychosis, and organic mental syndrome, or seizure disorder.

Ad Hoc DID – Very rare. A helper alter creates a series of alters that function briefly and then cease to exist. This can be suspected when the patient’s history may suggest DID or recurrent fugues, but no alter can be found to explain the missing time.

Modular DID – Very uncommon. This occurs when usually autonomous ego functions split and different personalities are reconfigured from their elements. When an alter is encountered it may have a vague feeling to it, and may never be seen in exactly the same way again. These patients have been seriously abused, and are brilliant and quite creative. Kluft has also found an unusual computer literacy since childhood among these patients.

Quasi-Role-Playing DID – In this case the patient is attempting to disavow the diagnosis of DID . One alter acts out when it knows of the other alters, and then informs the clinician that he/she has been feigning DID . The patient states they have willfully generated this behaviour. In the 11970’s and 1980’s this was seen exclusively in mental health professionals. Now it is also found in sophisticated lay persons.

Pseudo False Positive DID – This presentation was common in the 1970’s and 1980’s and is now uncommon. In this case a patient would adopt the behaviour of a widely publicised or Hollywood movie type of case, one that is very flamboyant in appearance. The purpose of this was a desperate attempt to convince the clinician of the presence of DID , while the patient anticipated incredulity on the part of the clinician. Now that DID is accepted as a valid diagnosis, this presentation is rarely seen.

[thessaliah]

Meh

Arcade was really, really bad and underwhelming. I know I expected too much from an Arcade game, but Nasu being involved raised some expectations. Let me address some worst points underneath the cut:

Chaldea Mystery Goes Unresolved: Nothing is explained properly. They hint before to the final battle that this Chaldea isn’t the real one (echoing to Merlin in Camelot as warning to Bedivere only to trust the real Chaldea), using Chaldea under double quotations and brackets, yet (unless Mash’s Bond CE fills the gaps), nothing is actually explained. It creates more questions than answers including: why is Mash alive in 2017 without Cath Palug, why is Mash or Da Vinci even there without Roman (the condition Da Vinci stays, and why Mash survives at all), why is Chaldea even there at all without Roman or the Animuspheres (you know who made it?), why is a crap mage as Guda even chosen as Master without a sabotage to take down the previous candidates and more if there’s no “part 1 happened but their memories got erased.” And memories getting erased was even hinted by Merlin in the end (that they will forget this journey?) which is a drop line without a single explanation. There’s no explanation why says “Grand Order Recovered” instead of “Completed.” More superfluous mystery built up which has no payback at all. The OP song seems more confirmed to be for Mobile Mash’s arc, so I don’t know why was it used in Arcade at all. Terrible. Why was Chaldea here too? It feels like the Master and Mash did nothing and amounted to nothing in characterisation, it was all Arthur and Merlin and neither required their presence. They did nothing in the last battle. There was not even a debate with the Beast where the Beast obtains an “answer,” just some hilarious “discussion” about why they are fighting someone with obviously evil intentions with less depth than Beryl which is supposed to “troubled” them morally? 

The lore is all over the place: Both Grand and Beast lore got completely trashed by the unnecessary introduction of G and S of Beast VI and pretending Merlin included them in a prophecy she told Arthur, which was what we read in Arthur’s quest years ago and nowhere Arthur nor Merlin mentions G and S. It reeks to Nasu retconning his lore again to shoehorn more scantly clad women as “final bosses” (playable, of course) instead of going with what was probably originally planned where R was described with a lingering “scent of roses” (so could have been Sodom/Draco) and L was “miasma (so would go to Proto Beast and Manaka), forgetting they called Proto/Fragment Beast “Sodom’s Beast” and Beast of the sea. The poor, inconsistent writing to try to create a plot for Arcade is just ridiculous.  Of course we still have Beast VI/G to deal with and means well, a sequel hook for Arcade. If it continues and might not. What will happen if it doesn’t? They’ll retcon Beast G as dying? She (because obviously will be another cringe scantily clad woman) will be killed on her way back to her home planet? Point “It was Angra Mainyu in Heaven’s Feel” so is defeated yay!” IDK. Grands are also inconsistent, why is Hassan a Grand again (why was he even here? He did nothing other than sass Sodom and add more mystery boxes or “ooh they knew each other!”)? Thus rendering his sacrifice to beat Tiamat void. Not only Arcade has bad writing, but its bad writing affects some of the mobile best chapters with its reek. And Noah could have been cool. I love how he says he can’t help anymore in Babylon and he appears again without 0 back-draws and consequences for what Draco did to him with “Yo, I brought Arthur with me!” also undermining the loss of Noah a chapter ago. This makes him way less cool, but also makes the Beast whose only on-screen feat was to eliminate that Grand, look really incompetent. Oh well.

(Next in FGO: Rasputin pours water on U-Olga and she starts to spawn multiple Beast parts which bounce around different spinoff, where “Chaldea” needs to fight Beast VII/A, Beast VII/B, Beast VII/C, Beast VII/D and more!).

Worst Beast to date: Look, I really, really wanted to like her, but she’s a hot mess in a post U-Olga and Koyan setting where they are hot messes too. But at least they were hot messes from the beginning (U-Olga and her story isn’t yet over) or degraded over the time which gave me zero expectations (Koyan). The Harlot, though, I had big hopes for. Draco is a little better than Sodom, but not for much, and gets points subtracted by her awful design. Nero’s fursona fails to be a competent antagonist in all aspects: she’s pure tell, without any showing. There’s no backstory, no characterisation beyond “I’m Evil and Hungry lulz!” There’s no connection to the protagonists to make her get a meaningful role to influence and be influenced. She does absolutely nothing other than gloating and flashing her tits at us (nice chest but that would just make her a good hentai character not a final boss). Her only kinda impressive feat was Noah being taken out the board, only to have this made irrelevant a chapter after. Her actions despite trying to sabotage Noah ended up doing nothing since he does everything he’s supposed to do anyway? Noah doesn’t even require any miracle to return, Chaldea or the Master do nothing, he was just looking for Arthur so he arrived late. 

Now to elaborate most points. Old rule: show, don’t tell. You can tell me Sodom is some Universe Buster but if she does nothing to prove it other than tell me things she allegedly did off screen, she doesn’t build any sense of danger or despair. She’s all talk and no walk, and worst is when she clarifies she didn’t destroy the worlds, humanity did, so any past actions were just her eating despair and desire after humans wrecked some timeline. On the second point: Just like is important to showcase what your boss can do, it’s important to show us why, give us motivations, backstory, and something to relate to the protagonists. Time Temple battle is so memorable because of Goetia’s connection to the people who fight against him. Olympus climax is so memorable because of Kirschtaria’s connection.  Even with Olympus all over the place writing, everyone agrees the climax of the Crypter arc is really a powerful moment. They would be memorable climaxes to remember, while Arcade climax is completely unmemorable and partly is because Sodom has no connection or resonates with anyone around. They tried to shoehorned this with Merlin and still didn’t click. An antagonist to be memorable also requires them to be some compelling character first. Sodom works as a midboss or throwaway villain, but not as an arc final boss which is supposed to wrap the take away from this story. Not in the way they wrote her. Fluffing her with supposed off-screen deeds and powers does not make your antagonist (be a villain or a rival): that’s why Kotomine is better than Angra Mainyu or Gilgamesh as final boss for FSN. Even Kiara with is as wicked as Sodom had this in Seraphix conclusion, by paralleling her to Melt. Now it’s unfair because Arcade has little lines, but it just felt absolutely shallow. The ending in general looked like a dummies’ version of Time Temple/Babylonia combined without their heart. Which also leads us to the other point of why she fails as antagonist: there was never a sense of danger, stakes or anything during the entire fight. We don’t see anyone even getting injured or in despair or in trouble, they are, well, calm? Remember Babylonia? Remember Time Temple? Even Ooku and Seraphix had this. Merlin even hilariously lampshades this:

What was even the point lmao. There was nothing memorable about the final battle and the fault lies on Sodom being a good for nothing antagonist in execution. The way the boss is written and is presented carries the resolution. All would have been solved if Merlin didn’t send Arthur away to gatekeep him from one shooting this Beast early on for no reason but horrible plot she wanted to be amused. All that Biblical background possibility and nothing is really brought up to spice things. There’s not even clarification if she’s Nero or just a Pseudo Servant Nero like Kama is Sakura Pseudo. Her Welfare’s Final Art has the Draco constellation in the background which gives her a completely unrelated mythological source to the Bible and Nero. And her region is “Europe” so again, vaguely displaces her from her Abrahamic connection of the slide. The source being FGO seals her as an Original Character instead of a historical or legend one, but one without background to justify her existence and makes her compelling. 

Nasu demonstrates once more his ideas are hit or miss. This could have been great, he had all the ingredients but really mess when he tried to cook them.

[a-smile-hides]

A WARM CUP OF COFFEE - A.H.A.

Pairing: Alex x reader

Warnings: none, just ... not really - that great?

Sum: This was a request (thank you for that!) and I would like to apologize because it took so long and.. Yeah. The request:

"Hi 🥰 do you still take request for Alex Andersen? Something like the OC is alex teacher at university and they fall in love with each other but the age gap is a problem so she broke up with him but BOOM they really love each other!! With some fighting and fluffy 🤤🥲hahah sorry if its bad 🥰 thank you!"

A soft ‘thing’alerted the old man behind the desk, making him look up from today’s newspaper and push his glasses further back on his nose. The small café he owned was somewhat concealed from the busy streets, tucked away in between two large buildings. It created the perfect escape for the chaos of life. Oh, how he was proud to own this little palace. A simple, ‘back to basics’ coffee shop where people could enjoy a good cup of coffee. Where people could talk or just relax, or in your case, find some inspiration to prepare for a new class.

Returning his friendly smile, you easily manoeuvred between the mismatched tables and chairs until you reached the one next to a small window. As usual, a silver sign stood on the table reading ‘reserved’ in a beautiful font. And as usual, you plopped down on the chair that gave you a look out on the street, sliding the sign to the end of the table so that it could be picked up by one of the staff members. Throwing a notebook and different prints out on the table, you breathed in deeply.

It had been a long day already... And it was like... what? – 11 a.m.?

“There you go, honey.”

Without even looking up you already knew who stood next to your side, presenting a large cup of coffee with one of those delicious self-made biscuits.

“Jer, I can’t thank you enough”.

The man laughed, seemingly pleased with himself after seeing the frown on your eyebrows clear up for a second. He waved your gratitude off and returned to his kitchen.

He had grown used to your visits over time. It wasn’t hard to miss you, sitting stressed in the corner of his little café, browsing through pictures and notes trying to decide which was the best one.

It hurt him every time he saw a lost soul enter his little café, in a rush and completely lost to the world around them. In you, he saw one of those lost souls. Busy, busy, busy... Overloading themselves with work.

It seemed as today would bring no exception. And you once again would ignore the beauty and comfort his café hoped to give to its customers. Especially when he saw you fiddling with a large package, no doubt filled to the brim with new photos for a possible lecture, he knew you only came here to work even more. Sighing, the old man turned around, reaching towards the different treats and cakes his little shop offered. He knew you would be there for a while and figured that the need for sweets may come soon. In the background, he could hear the familiar sound of your papers falling onto the ground. Accompanied by some swear words, immediately followed by mumbled apologies. And he could not hold himself back as a laugh passed his lips. It became a routine really...

Still chuckling, he turned around and placed a large piece of cake on a plate, decorating it with an extra piece of dark chocolate. The sound of someone entering his café made him look up momentarily, greeting the young man who just entered with his signature smile. The young man returned his smile warmly, before letting his eyes wander over the place. He had clearly never been in here before. His eyes narrowed once he focused on something in the back of the café, furrowing his eyebrows in worry. Skilfully, he walked between the tables and chairs as if he had decorated the place himself. To a small table next to the big window, where you were still mumbling under your breath about how life seemed to hate your guts. And it made the young man chuckle. Loudly.

Freezing for a second, you immediately collected all the pictures that had fallen off the table, carelessly throwing them back on the table. Refusing to meet the eye of whoever found enjoyment in your clumsiness, you side stepped back to your table. Hoping and praying that they would just go away. But they stayed.

“It’s good to see you’re still as clumsy...”

It was a good thing you were leaning against the table, otherwise you would have been knocked to ground right now.

“Mister Anderssen.” You nodded your head.

The young man pressed his lips together in a tight smile at the greeting, feeling a sting in his heart that he believed to have been long gone by now.

The long silence that followed felt dense and awkward. He was trying to make eye contact, his lips were turned up in a little, comforting smile. He did not know what to say or feel as he looked at how your body seemed to turn away from him. Your arms were wrapped around your middle, your eyes glued to the pictures on the table without truly looking at them. And then, his gaze fell on the smallest amongst them. He could recognize that gloomy setting from anywhere. His heart jumped, he felt overjoyed and the smile on his face grew larger.

“You kept it?” He breathed out, making it sound more like a question.

Slowly, he crouched down, careful not to make you run away. As he took the card from under one of the chairs, brushing some dust of it. Looking up, he waved with the picture he once offered you to use in your classes.

Nodding to himself, he kept his eyes locked with yours as he slowly came up. “You kept it.”

“I did” You spoke out softly.

***

“Fuck”

The curse had left your mouth before you could hold it back, as you watch yet another one of your cards fall on the ground.

It was good that none of your students had the habit of arriving in time for your class. Choosing to rather arrive just in time for the lecture to begin instead of showing some interest and being there before it began. Otherwise, they could enjoy this little comedy show as you desperately tried to stick those cards on a timeline.

You had never thought that one day, you would stand in front of class, as a teacher. Talking about something that had been a passion for so many years. Movies are a piece of art, a way to express and communicate. And now, you had the power to let others see that as well.

And even thought the path of being a teacher had crossed yours rather unexpectedly, it had made you happier than you’ve ever been.

And it had let you to some beautiful and interesting moments.

Looking down at the picture in your hands, a warm feeling overcame you, painting a very small smile on your face. It was a simple photo of a man standing alone in the street. The sky was pitch black; the only light provided by a single streetlight on the far right. The yellow light cast dark shadows on the ground. And on the left, almost completely hidden in the shadows, you could see the silhouette of another man. His back was turned to the man he had left behind under the streetlight. And thus, he missed how the other reached his hand out in a desperate attempt to call him back.

Every year you would collect pictures to show off how a simple setting can bring out different emotions to an audience. This scene would often bring feelings of sadness, grief, loss, misery and heartbreak to your students. Ironically, this scene brought you only a warm feeling. The beauty of the shot together with the memory of how you had come across this movie, cancelled out those unhappy emotions.

Completely lost in the moment, you almost jumped up when two hands sneaked around your hips.

“Morning”

His voice was raspy as he failed to conceal the chuckle that passed his lips.

“Morning, mister Anderssen”

He laughed, rubbing his nose in the crook of your neck. He found it almost amusing how you spoke so formerly to him now when at night...

“Mister?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your way out of his grip. Without giving one look to the young man behind you, you picked up the card that fell out of your hands. Looking down at it again, you sighed and returned to your desk. The classroom needed to be ready before the students would arrive.

“I thought we made an agreement; you would not visit me this early to avoid suspicion, right?”

Alex smacked his lips, nodding his head slowly. He played with the straps of his backpack as his mind brought him back to that memory. It was around three weeks ago; you were collecting everything to go home after a long day when the young man suddenly sneaked in to share some ‘alone time’. Sadly enough, another student had forgotten her scarf that day and ran back to retrieve it. Even though you tried your hardest to not succumb to his advances, his willpower was way too strong. And the poor girl had almost walked in on you and him kissing. He had pushed his luck too far that time.

Still, if he could, he would not take that moment back. Every second spend with you was worth it.

“It’s nice to see you still like that picture...” He said, pointing to the card in an attempt to effort to change the subject. “After you told me what subjects we would discuss in the future, I immediately thought of that movie and-”

Alex’ voice died once your eyes met his. He was always the first to enter your classroom. In those moments you always could be yourselves. There was no reason to hold back. In that way, these few minutes of privacy would always be filled with love and jokes, stolen kisses and hugs. He couldn’t really recall the precise moment his dream came true, and you returned his affection. The way to earn it had been long and filled with obstacles. The boundaries that needed to be crossed were great. And it felt unlawful, disgusting, wrong... And still, so right.

Now, as he stood only a few feet away from you, it felt like a mile. Your eyes danced across the room, only meeting his for a mere second before quickly darting away again. Your hands brushed some imaginary dust of the picture, while you tried your hardest to breath normally. Little signs of how the nerves started to creep up.

“If you want other recommendations...” He tried, but again... The strength in his voice died before he even finished his sentence. Alex grew concerned as he watched you turn around and hung up the card. The whole thread portraying different scenery throughout film history over the last 50 years shook as you clumsily pined it next to a very bright photo, depicting two children running around at a fair.

Alex frowned when you still did not respond to him. Softly, he moved his hands to rest on your shoulders, trying to turn your body towards him. His head was lowered down a bit, a friendly look on his face as he shakily asked: “What’s on your mind?”. Hoping that whatever bothered you, he could help you solve it.

You didn’t need to see his face to know how his eyebrows were scrunched up with concern. Or how his mouth was slightly twisted as he pondered over who or what could have made you behave so coldly.

But the reason was crystal clear to you.

The adoration you had received from the man in front of you was overwhelming. These past months have been a dream. Almost indescribable. Just as all those sappy quotes on Pinterest say: some things just need to be felt. And this, this felt great.

It had been great.

Felt.

Had.

You bite your lip, feeling nervous all the sudden. Turning around, you tried your best to avoid his blue eyes. They were hypnotizing, demanding for a reason, an explanation.

“Mister Anderssen-” You started again.

“You know, we never did that kind of play, but I am open to anything.” He tried. His attempt to lighten the mood was only met with silence. A silence that felt deafening. And it made his stomach turn.

With his finger and thumb, he slowly lifted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eye. He was a bit taller than you, and he loved that. He used it to his advantage on every occasion he got.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked again.

You sighed, feeling it was better to speak the truth. “This.” You answered, “Us.”

Alex lifted one of his eyebrows, scratching the back of his neck. “Us? What's wrong with us?”

“You’re smart, Alex.” You answered. “Deep down, you know.”

Alex eyes widened. He was speechless, dumbfounded.

“I am a teacher, your teacher to be exact.”

“And you’ve been teaching me amazing things.” He snickered, wiggling his eyebrows.

You snorted, shaking your head. Until you remembered what you wanted to share with him, and your face went blank again. It was almost impossible to not give in, to hold back your laughter when he was around. But you had to.

“Alex.” You said, pushing him lightly away. “The age gap is way too big.”

His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he turned your body more towards him. His eyes narrowed. And although they still sparkled, the hurt he felt could not be hid. The time he could hold back secrets had long passed.

“What made you start doubting us?” He asked.

You sighed, looking down at the ground.

“What if I said... What if the doubt never left? What if it was a thought that always bugged me?”

That made him halter. His muscles stiffened for a second. A millisecond in which he let the guard down and his pain became visible. But just as quick as it fell, the wall was back up again. He stood upright, the hands on your hips now slowly making their way up towards your shoulders. The corner of his lips was pulled up, a fine grin that silently asked you to laugh or say it was just a joke. That it wasn’t the truth.

Alas, it was the truth.

The lingering thought that had been filling your mind with doubts and questions for a while now. Making you question yourself and your choices, but above all, the day on which you gave into his charm.

He was a young, handsome man filled with life and chances. He was almost at the end of the first big chapter in his life, ready to begin a new one, to step into an adventure. After this... Did he want to work somewhere? Move back in with his parents? Maybe he wanted to travel? See the world after being closed off from it after keeping his nose in his books all the time. He could explore, try to discover who he really was. And... Fall in love with someone else. Someone … more of… his age.

How could you hold him back from that?

His thumbs started to stroke small circles of comfort on your neck, while he kept on trying to make eye contact with you. With each passing second, he felt himself grow more uneasy and lost.

“Little one... Love.” Alex winced as he saw you flinch with each nickname that passed his lips. His voice pitched and he sounded in a rush, as he wanted to find a way to ease those doubts. “Y/N, what...?”

The corner of your lip twitched in a weak effort in making a smile appear on your face. It failed horribly, as you felt yourself get overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow. “We have to stop this now, Alex.” You managed to make out. “It’s done.”

In the back of the room, he could hear the slow ticking of the big silvery clock. It was only five minutes until the lecture would begin. Any time now, someone could enter the room and walk in on their teacher standing in a, what they would think, romantic embrace with her own student. It only made you more nervous and desperate to get out of his hold. To just say goodbye. To leave this all behind and start new.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head widely. “The age gap is just a number, not even a high one. You want me as much as I want you, right?”

“I do- I- I did. And now, I am ending it.” You said, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the stinging feeling in your eyes. “I am letting you go.” you whispered, finally pushing his arms away.

Alex breathed in deeply, stepping forward as you took a step back. Again, and again, you shoved his hands away. He tried to make contact, to touch your arms, to hold your hands, but every time you slapped his hand away. And his heart broke as you kept on avoiding him. He grew frustrated.

“What do you want, Y/N? Since when are you afraid? So, what if they say something? We- We are the ones in love! They-”

“Alex! It’s done! I don’t want this anymore. I don't want- I-”

At this point, he felt the blood in his veins boiling. His heart clenched. His stomach turned. “So, we-this meant nothing to you?”

“That’s a low blow, Alex” You bit back.

“What do you want, Y/N?!”

“I don’t want this. I don’t want you anymore, Alex! This is done! Over!”

He scoffed, his fists clenched at his sides while his chest went up and down with every heavy breath.

“Over? Why are you acting like this? When have you turned into this scarred shell of-”

“I don’t care if you don’t see the problem. Someday you will. And you will understand I made the right call.”

The clearing of a throat ended the discussion sooner than Alex would have wanted. Another student had entered the classroom. Her eyes were wide open as she stared at her teacher and the class top student. Her mouth was slightly open as she tried to form a sentence, but no sound seemed to pass her lips.

You swallowed, quickly wiping a fallen tear off your cheek, stepping even further away from Alex, whose eyes were still glued to you.

“Good afternoon, miss Tuffin. Please take a seat.”

Alex slightly shook his head from side to side, unable to comprehend the situation.

“So, mister Anderssen. Now that you know your answer, please take a seat.” You said quietly, flinching as your voice cracked a bit. Your eyes did not meet his anymore, even though he was hoping you would look him in the eyes again. He knew deep down you did not mean one word of the things you had said. "Class will begin soon.”

***

The silence that had formed was killing the both of you. No one knew what to say or do. The awkward tension held him back from taking the first step, the fear mixed with the embarrassment from a few moments earlier made it impossible for you to move. It felt strange to be in each other’s presence without having the ability to look each other in the eye for longer than a few seconds. And even stranger to know how different this was only a few months back. You had resorted to dust off the pictures that had fallen onto the ground while Alex let his eyes wander around. He did not know what overcame him as he walked up to you. The little café had never come to his attention before. He blamed the big buildings that flanked the warm place for that. As he stepped in, looking for a place to enjoy a good cup of coffee, he wished he had discovered it a long time ago. The mismatched tables and chairs, the hanging lightbulbs, the old paintings decorating the flower wallpaper… Everything breathed out comfort and safety.

The older looking man had greeted Alex with a warming smile, until both men were distracted by the loud curses of a woman in the far back of the café who had dropped her papers all over the floor. Alex did not know whether to laugh or run away when he saw that you were the poor soul collecting all the different photos of the ground. And before he even knew it himself, he stood in front of you. Trying his best to make a casual conversation, without losing his cool.

He was failing miserably.

He really wished the sudden urge of confidence hadn’t left so suddenly.

Jeremy frowned upon the sight in front of him from his place behind the counter. The large piece of cake he had prepared for you earlier stood abandoned next to him. He had never seen that young man in your presence before. Every day you visited his little café alone. Never were you accompanied by a friend, nor had you ever invited one. He could not help the chuckle that passed his lips as he saw the strange boy fumble his way towards your table. But by the way his steps slowed down with each second and how he now stood before you as if he had committed a crime, the old man could not help but wonder what your relationship had damaged to become so uncomfortable.

“Y/N…” Alex started, sighing as he noticed you close your eyes for a second, turning your body slightly away from him.

“Y/N.” He tried again; his voice sounded a bit stronger, more certain. As if he had found his courage and willpower again. But then it crumpled again, his shoulders dropped as he frantically tried to make eye contact. “I am happy to see you again.”

This made you look up. “Me too.” You nodded. “How are you?”

Alex snorted, looking around the café as he tried to find words. Why had it become difficult to speak to you? “Good?” He nodded, more to convince himself than you, “Yeah, I have been good. Taking pictures, trying to improve my photography-“

This made you laugh, the sound making his heart jump for a second. “As if you needed any more improvement.”

Alex bit his lip, glad that you weren’t paying attention to his red flushing cheeks. He breathed out deeply as he looked down at the different cards. His eyes glided over the different pictures depicting scenes of romance, hope, grief and so on. Without saying anything, he sat down, flipping through them one by one. Some of the pictures made the corners of his lips slowly turn up, while others made his brows furrow.

This gave you the opportunity to finally take a look at him. His hair had gotten longer since the last time you saw him. Back then it was cut short, but now his long locks were held together in a little man bun. His jaw was accented by a subtle beard. It’s crazy how much he changed in a few months time… Yet he still looked as dashing as back then.

“I still think this one is the best.” He smiled, showing you the gloomy picture from earlier.

His words made you snap out of your daze, clearing your throat as you took a seat opposite from him after he arched one eyebrow, pointing to the empty chair.

“That’s a shocker,” you shrugged, “You came to me with that movie.”

Alex nodded, the confident smile on his lips reached his eyes for the first time, making them shine bright. However, that light quickly died. Absent-mindedly, he let his finger wander over the picture, contemplating if he should speak up about the shared past or not.

“I… I knew we would meet again, you know? Well, I hoped”

You looked down at your coffee, once again escaping his eyes while wrapping your hands around the lukewarm beverage. It didn’t offer you much comfort anymore.

“Now that I am older,” He lightly joked, “More mature, more-“

“Alex” You interrupted his train of thoughts. “Don’t- Don’t do that.”

“Maybe now you can give me the real reason as to why you gave up on us so easily.” He continued, his voice was low, almost a whisper but the sneer in it could not be ignored. All of the sudden, it felt as if you were on the artic. The blood in your veins ran cold as he had backed you up in a corner. Alex knew he could have pushed you even further away from him, but simply needed to know. The young man sat there before you with his heart beating loudly in his throat. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers lightly drummed on the table.

You sighed, not daring to look into his eyes. Before you even opened your mouth to answer his burning question, he softly spoke up again. “The truth, please.”

You laughed dryly, now really feeling trapped under his demanding stare and the growing tension between the two of you. “I did not want to.” You confessed, feeling your eyes well up. “I really… I really loved you, you know? The time I shared with you was wonderful, and I want you to know that it wasn’t your fault or anything… I just let myself get carried away by my feeling for you, Alex.”

“And why is that a bad thing?” He asked, not understanding your motive.

You grinned, looking at his confused face. “I was your teacher, Alex. We had this conversation before, I wasn’t-“

His hand immediately flew towards your hand, making you fall quiet. “So what? I never cared. Not then, not now. I am no longer your student, there is no reason anymore to hold back anymore.”

You snorted; he would never change. He would always be this cocky little brat and-

“Wait. What do you mean… ‘no reason to hold back anymore’?”

He grinned, squeezing your hand a bit. “I always hoped we could meet again, so I could tell you should not be afraid of our relationship anymore. Or your feelings. Or… us. Don’t say anything because I know that fear held you back. We can be together, Y/N! Please, just-just leave behind your doubts for once. Don’t give a fuck about other people!” He said, his voice becoming louder with each word, growing with passion. “Put yourself first…” His face sprouted a smile, but it was not one of happiness or relief, no, it was because he felt helpless. He could feel you slipping right through his fingers again as he saw you shaking your head. He saw the doubts written all over your face. The questions rummaging through your mind. Was he being truthful? Was it unethical? Could you just start over again and continue this relationship? Was it worth the risk? “Just, choose with your heart for once. You know my feelings for you, but I am waiting for you.”

His words warmed your heart and made the corners of your lips turn upwards slightly. The worries clouding your minds made it hard to really focus on his words, still… You could no longer deny how he made you feel deep down.

As you licked your lips, the both of you suddenly got shaken out of your little bubble by a friendly voice complimenting the handsome man in front of you.

“My dear boy, you could not have a better timing. She really needs someone to make her laugh and escape that world of hers full of work and deadlines she dares to call a life.” Jeremy laughed, waving off your shocked expression, knowing you were about to contradict him. “You both need each other, children.” He paused, placing down two cups of coffee, accompanied with two large slices of one of his famous cakes. “Listen to an old man’s wise words.” Without any further words, and still ignoring your shocked face and Alex’ gestures that he had not ordered anything yet, he left the table to go back to his counter.

From there, he watched how you both broke into a fit of laughter, figuring it was better to enjoy the food and drinks than let them spoil. As Alex shrugged his shoulders and took a careful first bite of the pie, you took a first sip of your new and cup of coffee, never breaking eye contact with him. And… it felt good.

The old man behind the counter watched proudly as the two of you slowly picked up a conversation, sharing what you had been up to these past months to the finest details. The words suddenly came easily and talking felt comfortable again. Laughs, giggles, and loud exclaims of shock and delight were audible throughout the whole café, often making the other customers look up from their spot in the far back of the café. But you couldn’t be bothered by them. No, you were far off in your bubble. A bubble that was warm and joyful, filled with light and love now that Alex was in it.

And as the hours passed and the second slice of pie had been devoured, Jeremy’s heart filled with joy as he saw how your hand was still in the hands of that handsome boy.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! xxx

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader

 It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused.

CW: MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, IMPLIED SMUT, AGE GAP, LANGUAGE, DADDY KINK. (LMK IF I MISSED ANY PLEASE)

PART ONE

PART TWO

A/N: Shiiit!!! Sorry this mediocrity took so long!!! Anyway, let me know if you want me to clear anything up and please let me know if you like it. Kisses <3

I had the right to be upset, but I knew I shouldn’t be. Hotch was right, I could not work the case nor was I in the state to. It was for my own good and maybe the sanity of the rest of the team. I was a mess. He “ordered” me to go get some sleep in the breakroom, knowing I would never agree to go home. But like always, I couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t unusual and my brain began me to torture me with a movie of my most recent memories. 

9 Days Ago 

Friday - 8:49 PM

“I waannt Thaiiii foooood!” Only she could make my heart melt while simultaneously whining and disagreeing with me. She tightened her grip on my hand, “Pretty, pretty please?”

“We had Thai last week.” I looked down at her as we continued walking down the streets. “And plus, you love the Greek place.” She pouted and continued to ramble about why Thai was so much better. Even complaining, her company was so comforting and calming that I was genuinely relaxed, despite the roars of taxi cabs and the indistinct chatter of drunk city goers. 

“Oh my god! Don’t look! Do not look left!” She skipped to my right, “Look-look at me!” I watched her skip around me and cling to my right arm before her little hands grabbed my face and pressed her mouth to mine. 

“Sweetheart,” I tried to get out of her grip but she cut me off by pressing her body to mine and continuing the frenzied kiss. As soon as she needed a breath, I spun in the other direction. “You’re a monster.” I grabbed her hand and we ran to it immediately. A life-size and functioning chess board under an array of colorful lanterns and vines. It was probably a contemporary art piece and I silently thanked whoever created it. I wrapped my arms around her as I excitedly admired it. “Why didn’t you want me to see this?” I whispered into the small of her neck. “Is it because I always beat you at chess?” 

She backed up from me offended, “You don’t always beat me!” 

I grabbed her once more, not liking the space between us. “If you took all of our games, looked at my wins and your losses, I’ve won 98% of the time.” 

“Yeah well…” she tiptoed and grazed her lips against mine, “I win 100% of the time.” I was confused, “At this.” She pressed her entire body to mine and finally kissed me.

“You,”

Kiss.  

“Don’t know,” 

Kiss. 

“What you’re,”

Kiss.

“Starting little,”

Kiss.

“Girl.” 

She grabbed my hand and twirled herself around just to fall back onto me. I caught her, just like she knew I would. I trusted her and she trusted me, and that was the best feeling in the world. “I love you.” I said, still supporting all her weight. 

She stood upright and gave me a light kiss. “I love you so much Spencer.” 

I couldn’t see anything in the world but her. “I would do anything for you.” 

She perked up with a sneaky glint in her eye, “Would you eat Thai two weeks in a row?” She grinned. 

I sighed. She won. “Yeah,” I pushed the hair out of her face, “I would. Let’s go get some.” 

“If..” she rolled her eyes, “We play on the walk back.” I motioned to the board. “I’ll go easy on you.” 

“You’re on Dr. Reid.” she snarked back. 

8 Days Ago

Saturday - 2:31 PM

Saturday was one of those stereotypical rainy days where the world seemed slowed. The pitter patter of the raindrops and the light music of her favorite record created a symphony of other-worldly peace for me. I left our room, and there she was, my perfect girl sitting criss crossed at my desk. I perched over her, laying a sweet kiss on her cheek. 

“So..I was thinking macaroons…” she scrolled through different catering sites, “But cupcakes are a must too.” I watched her plan in adoration. Never in my life had I been so sure of anything. But I wanted to marry this girl and spend every last day of my life like this one and there was no question about it. It was that simple. 

“Spence?” she broke me out of my lovelorn daydreams of growing old together.

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Chocolate or red velvet? There is one right answer.” her eyes narrowed. 

“Oh,” I knew exactly what she wanted me to say, “Red velvet. All the way.” 

“You really are a genius.” She teased and began to scribble ‘Red Velvet’ on the small notebook next to her. I looked at the list of random little things she’d written down in preparation for the day. It assured me she was just as infatuated with the idea of a future together as I was. I sighed, “Even your handwriting is cute.” 

“Duh..” she retorted and I rolled my eyes, “Can I read you the food list?” I gently lifted her off the desk seat, “You can read it to me on the couch maybe?” 

She nodded and grabbed her notebook. I sat first, and she took the opportunity to crawl in my lap. It’s like our bodies were made for each other because she just fit so perfectly there. 

“For the dessert table, hazelnut, pistachio and vanilla macaroons. From the French bakery in downtown. Obviously.  Red velvet cupcakes from that bakery JJ told me about. Remember the ones she ordered for her baby shower?” I nodded. “Those.”

“White chocolate macadamia nut cookies, and if I get my way..”

“You always do.” I teased. “Yeah, and don’t forget it.” she smiled, “Tiny little cheesecake squares.” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I said. “Of course! A lot of tiny desserts are waaay better than one big cake.” 

“And more sanitary.” It was her turn to sigh.

“Yes yes, and more sanitary.” She laid her head in my chest and closed her eyes.

 “I told Penelope we’d meet her at the restaurant at 3.” 

“But it’s raining!” I complained. Truthfully, I just didn’t want this moment to end. She gave me a look and I stopped my protests. “Y’know if we order an Uber instead of taking the metro, we might have time to take a nice…” her words purposely trailed, “Long...hot shower.” She didn’t really have to say much else, batting her eyelashes to give this heart wrenching illusion of innocence. I wasn't buying it. Then, being way too coy for her age, she ran her hands up my chest and flashed me a coquettish grin. It was textbook but, goddd. Her smile alone turned me on to an extent it shouldn’t. 

I let her off my lap and stood up instantly, grabbing her hand and leading her to our bathroom. “Now.”

7 Days Ago 

Sunday - 9:22 AM 

The view convinced me I had died and arrived in heaven. I had to be. Where else but heaven does an angel perch themselves on your lap? No, though. It wasn’t heaven. It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused. 

She kissed down my neck and I swore my heart would burst out of my chest. She paused and sat up to say “When was the last time we got a whole weekend together like this?” 

I rubbed her arms up and down, “I can’t even remember.” 

“Me neither.” She kind of sounded like she wanted to say something else, but I didn’t really care, kissing her open mouth and rocking my hips up to hers. She was panting by the time my hands met her chest. “Please,” she whined, “Daddy, please.” 

She had no idea what she was asking for but I did. So I gave it to her. 

I would give her anything. 

6 Days Ago 

Monday 7:02 AM 

“Bye baby.” I kissed her still bed-headed hair. 

“NOooo!” she tried to pull my satchel back into her mess of sheets. 

“I’m sorry.” I sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. She curled her head into my lap and I caressed her forehead. 

“You have class today.” I felt her twitch, “An important one. You should eat a good breakfast.” 

“I know.” she said sadly. I registered that the sadness was less about class, and more about the fact we both knew this was goodbye for at least a couple days. Time spent together was bliss and days apart were agonizing, regardless of how important both of our responsibilities were. 

“Hey, think about what a good weekend we had.” I gently reminded her. 

“I know but now you’re gonna be gone.” The pain in her voice brought me the kind of sorrow that you didn’t wish upon your worst enemy. 

“Not for too long, little girl.” I kissed her forehead again, “I promise.” 

She got up and sighed, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

I wish she wouldn’t do that, but I couldn’t blame her either. 

“I’m sorry.” She just shook her head. 

“Don’t be. Go save some lives Dr. Reid.” there was a gentle smile on her face as she said the words, “I’ll be right here when you get back.” I enveloped her in a hug with nothing but love, and she still couldn't resist teasing me, “Or maybe drunk at a Frat house, I don’t know.” 

My eyes went wide and the thought immediately gave me anxiety, “Please, do not. Do you know-” She shut me up with a kiss and I silently thanked her for it. “I love you Spencer. I’ll see you soon.” “I love you more.” I got up and headed for the door, “Sooner than later, okay?” 

She nodded, “Okay.” 

3 Days Ago 

Wednesday 2:10 AM 

I silently stepped through the apartment, relishing in the stillness that meant just maybe, my begging Y/N not to waste sleep over me had worked, but I still doubted it. Her listening to my instructions was like a solar eclipse: disappointingly rare. 

As soon as I made it to the bedroom though, I was pleasantly surprised. She was asleep, but not yet under the covers. Poor thing had tried to stay up, but couldn’t. As much as I wanted to instantly smother her in affection, I restrained myself only to admire the sight of her in nothing but underwear and a grey cardigan of mine. She’d only done a single button too, obscuring the direct view so her figure was just barely covered. It was incredibly attractive and she knew it.

I began to undress, trying to remain silent as I exchanged my tie and vest for pajama pants and the Caltech sweater on the dresser. I didn’t wear it much before she did. In fact, I’d only started wearing it because despite it being 5 sizes too big for her, she adored it. For the first couple months of knowing her, it was the only thing she slept in. And because of that, it smelled like her perfume. Nestling myself into bed next to her, I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close, while trying to gently pull the sheets out from under her. 

“Get under the covers.” Her eyes fluttered open, “Spence...Spencer?” She smiled, “Spencer!” 

She buried herself impossibly closer to my chest, arms and legs wrapping around me like a…

“You’re like a panda.” I laughed. She giggled, “You’re bamboo.”

“Are you calling me a stick-skinny? That’s hurtful, y/n.” We laughed harder until I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her. The kisses were long and sweet as we both savored the reunion. She tugged on the sweater I wore, “Why are you wearing my sweatshirt?” I brushed some hair out of her face. “It was mine first.” She rolled her eyes, “Pff...did you even go to Caltech?” She was trying so hard to control laughter, “Poser.” 

She laughed as I’m sure despite silence from me she could hear my internal screaming. 

Her laughter finally ceased when my grip on her got looser and my eyes hung a little lower. “Sleepy?” she asked. 

I nodded and so did she, “Me too.” We got under the covers together. 

“Hold me.��� she hummed. “Hotch give you guys the day off tomorrow?”

“Yeah, recuperation. The case was...rough.” 

“You guys catch the guy?” she asked. 

I nodded, “Yeah.” “That’s amazing Spence. You’re so amazing.” I held her tighter. 

“I love you.” I said. 

“I love you too. Now go to sleep.” And so I did. 

2 Days Ago 

Thursday 6:30 PM

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.  

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

Present Day 

Sunday 11:45 PM

How did it all seem so incredibly long ago? The BAU break room couch was definitely not made for sleeping, and yet Hotch had insisted I come try to get some rest. What was the use? How was I supposed to rest knowing that Y/N was out there in so much danger? I couldn’t rest until we found her, everybody knew that. 

Morgan came rushing into the tiny room, “Garcia’s got a hit. Her father left her 3 of his commercial properties, one of which is an abandoned mall.” 

I wasn’t allowed to work on the profile, but this was, for lack of a better word, a clear trap. “Morgan, it can’t be that easy. We both know that.” 

“Kid, she’s having a psychotic break. Everything about this is disorganized. It wasn’t planned at all. It’s not that much of a stretch to say she’d go to a secluded place she figured we’d never find.”

“Was there a second stressor? JJ and I thought it might’ve been the proposal but…” 

“Reid, I’ll brief you in the car. Get your shit together and let’s go get Y/N.” 

----

Taglist: @slaterskaterslaterboi @frickin-bats @bxtchboy69​  @reidsbbg

@sassy-hades @jackiehollanderr @k-k0129 @spenceoffense​

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[even-after-a-millennia]

The Freeman's and Firsts

My first fic for @nilefreemanweek2021 and the prompt Nile Freeman + First(s)! You can read it below or over on my ao3 account here. Nile-centric | Rated G | ~1.7k Enjoy!

Nile jerked awake, her eyes opening and lungs heaving.  She forced her body to remain still, to not jolt upright.  She instinctively started taking deeper breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.  After six months of immortality and the dreams that came with being connected to Quynh, she had gotten better at moderating her body’s reactions to her nightmares.

It was her mind that would not calm.

With a sigh, she eased herself out of bed.  Joe and Nicky were sleeping in the bed opposite her, Andy unconscious closer to the wall in Nile’s bed.  The safehouse was small, but it had a balcony, and suddenly that was the only place that Nile wanted to be.

She snuck out of the bedroom and across the living room, doing her best to keep quiet on the creaking floorboards.  The door to the balcony squeaked as she opened it and she winced, stopping it for a moment and listening.

There were no noises that indicated she had woken anyone, so she slipped out the small gap she had created and into the cold night air beyond.

The balcony wasn’t much, but it did boast a few chairs and a rickety table whose screws could probably use a tightening.  Nile sank into one of the chairs and pulled her feet onto the seat with her.  The sun was just an idea on the horizon, barely a faint glow of orange to be seen, and the early morning air was cold against her skin.

She needed that.  Needed the cold to ground her where she was, in a safehouse with her fellow immortals.  Not the heat of Afghanistan, the warmth of the floor under her as her blood soaked into the rug.

She continued to breathe, holding her breath for seven counts before she released it.  Slowly, her body calmed.  And all she suddenly felt was exhaustion.

The sky was slowly brightening, reds bleeding into the black and blue of night.  She tried to catalog the colors, so that she could recreate the moment some time later on canvas.  But her mind pulled her back to her dream no matter how many times she tried to redirect it.

The door squeaked but Nile didn’t turn to see who it was.  Any of her family would be a welcome distraction at the moment, but she felt a pang of guilt at waking any of them.

A blanket settled around her shoulders and a cup of hot coffee materialized before her.

“Two sugars and a splash of milk,” Nicky’s soft voice said.

Just how she liked it.

She turned to him as she took the mug from his hand.  He looked barely awake, his eyes slightly puffy with sleep still.  But he had taken the time to make coffee for her, get a blanket.

She swallowed, slightly undone with affection for him.  “Thank you, Nicky.”

“Prego,” he replied, sinking into the closest chair to hers.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said, cuddling the warm cup close to her.  Between that and the blanket, she was feeling warmer, but luckily, no memories tried to upset the moment.

He shook his head.  “Many nights, I try to wake to check on the room.  Usually, I can drift back off quickly.  But when you were not there, I worried.  We have seen our share of bad nights.  They are easier when not alone.”

Nile sniffed, then reasoned that the steam from her coffee had made her nose run.  She nodded, taking a sip.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked, staring at the burgeoning sun.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t looking at her, that she was able to speak.

“When my dad died, I missed school for a few days.  Even when I got back, I wasn’t really there.  My grades suffered and I ended up in my guidance counselor’s office.  She said something to me that I will never forget.  Well, hopefully,” she said drily, remembering the vastness of time available to her.

“She said that after something traumatic happens, like losing a family member, you go through a year of firsts.  Big ones, like the first holidays without them.  Small ones, like the first time you want to call them, only remember they aren’t there to pick up.  A whole year of constantly remembering that your life is irrevocably changed.”

She sipped the coffee and let the warm run down her throat, savoring the feeling of its heat in her stomach.

“That first year was so hard, I wasn’t sure we would all get through it.  But we did.  Even after that year came big moments, though, times I thought my dad would be there for.  Prom, graduation.  Birthdays.  And I realized that it wasn’t just firsts.  It was those moments when all you want is your family surrounding you.  And suddenly, there was this gaping hole where he was supposed to be.  To take pictures of me and my prom date.  To cheer as I walked across the graduate stage.”

Nile pulled the blanket closer around her and surreptitiously wiped her eyes with the corner of it.

The first glimpse of the sun broke over them, illuminating Nicky’s face.  His eyes were more open, more awake now as he looked at her.  His brow was lowered, not in anger but in concentration, as if every word that came out of her mouth had weight and importance.

Like he was trying to understand her more than anything else in that moment.

She smiled a bit at him even as he got blurry behind the tears in her eyes.

“This whole experience reminds me of that.  I am suddenly the gaping hole in my mom and my brother’s lives.  I should be there for birthdays and big moments and small ones.  And I’m here, knowing what that feels like, knowing I’m responsible for them feeling that way, and not fixing it.  I don’t even know if there is a way how.  And it overwhelms me sometimes.”

Nicky nodded, looking back at the sun.  

It was halfway visible now, harder to look at in its brightness.

“Were there good firsts in that year?” Nicky asked.

Nile considered.  That time felt hazy and endless in her mind, a place that she only visited in her darkest moments.  

“A bunch of ladies from our church would make us a hotdish every week, so that we would have guaranteed meals.  I didn’t want to see tater tot hotdish again in my lifetime until I was eighteen.  I finally made us spaghetti one night just to be able to have something different.  It was the first night my mom laughed since my dad’s death, once I explained why I had done it,” she finally said.

Nicky snorted a laugh.  She grinned faintly back at him.

“Miss Temple from down the street came with her son, who was about my age, and he and my brother Jordan played basketball on the sidewalk as she, my mom, and I sat in the grass and she did our nails.  She worked at the salon my mom went to.  It was just before the funeral.  We both had beautiful nails for the service.  I kept looking down at them while people were talking.  They made me want to paint.  It was the first time I had thought about art since we found out he was gone.”

Miss Temple had been adamant about not using black nail polish.  She had painted Nile’s nails blue and her mother’s purple, both so dark they looked black until they hit the light.  Nile remembered using the lights in the church to illuminate the color of her nails, to show herself they weren’t just black.  That there was still color, even as her father was being put into the ground.

“A girl at my school had lost her mom the year before.  Cancer.  She ended up sitting next to me at lunch my first day back.  We hadn’t talked much before, but everyone else was avoiding talking to me.  I was sitting by myself and suddenly, she set down her tray next to me and started talking about what I had missed in the class we shared.  I think she knew that I needed to not talk about my dad,” Nile admitted.  “She made me laugh, catching me up on all the shit that had gone on while I was gone.  Some stupid story, but it was funny enough to get a laugh out of me.  Another first.”

“There’s more, but those stand out.  Little kindnesses.  Little moments.”

Nicky nodded.  “A few centuries into my immortality, it surprised me how many of those little moments were still present in my memories.  The first time Yusuf and I broke bread together without bickering.  The first time I slept through the night without memories haunting me.  The first time a child looked at me and smiled, rather than shrinking away.  They add up in such a way that makes the awful moments fade slightly.  Balance.  I am glad of them.  It would be a much more miserable existence without them.”

It was Nile’s turn to nod.

She let her mind wander back on her life since she had gained immortality.  Yes, there were awful moments of death and violence and loss.  But there was the first time she had disarmed Andy and the proud look in her eyes as Nile whooped in victory.  The first time she and Joe had painted together, music playing in the background as they lost themselves in colors.  The first time that Nicky had made her coffee just how she liked it, though he had never asked.  

So many little moments that added up to so much.

The sun began to warm her as she sat there in silence with Nicky, mind finally settled into the moment filled with coffee, companionship, and, finally, contentment.  There were still many firsts to come, but she knew that she wouldn’t have to face them alone.