#hotel check-in software

[futurevision23454]

Best Hotel Management Software

What is Hotel Management Software?

Hotel management software is a tool designed specifically for hotels and similar establishments to efficiently manage reservations, room assignments, check-ins, check-outs, and many other daily operations. By consolidating all hotel operations into one unified system, it helps hotel staff stay organized and provides seamless interaction with guests. The software generally includes features like a front desk module, reservation system, payment processing, room service, and analytics, making it an essential component for any hotel.

Why You Need Hotel Management Software?

The days of maintaining a hotel’s operations through paper records and manual methods are long gone. As hotels grow and guest expectations increase, it becomes nearly impossible to keep track of everything manually. Here are some reasons why the best hotel management software is crucial:

Centralized Operations Hotel management software :- brings all your operations into a single platform. From booking rooms to managing guest requests, everything is stored and managed electronically. This centralization reduces errors, miscommunication, and helps staff be more efficient.

Increase Efficiency :- Hotel management software automates many tedious tasks such as confirming bookings, updating room availability, or processing payments. This not only reduces workload but also frees up staff to focus on more important tasks like guest interactions and enhancing the guest experience.

Streamline Reservations :-Booking rooms manually can often lead to overbooking or booking errors. With hotel management software, you can have real-time visibility into your reservations and room availability. This minimizes the risk of errors and makes it easier to manage bookings and cancellations.

Enhance Guest Experience :- A seamless guest experience is the cornerstone of any successful hotel. With hotel management software, check-ins and check-outs are faster, room service requests can be handled more promptly, and guests are offered personalized services. This leads to happier guests and positive reviews, encouraging repeat business.

Features to Look for in the Best Hotel Management Software

When selecting hotel management software, it’s essential to choose the one that meets your specific needs. Here are some important features to consider:

Reservation Management Look for software that offers real-time booking updates, automated confirmations, and the ability to easily modify bookings and cancellations.

Front Desk Management Check if the software includes tools for managing check-ins, check-outs, guest information, billing, and room assignments. A good front desk module is an essential part of managing operations smoothly.

Reporting and Analytics The best hotel management software comes with robust reporting and analytics tools to track revenue, occupancy rates, guest satisfaction, and more. These insights are critical to making informed business decisions.

Mobile Accessibility In today’s mobile-first world, you’ll want hotel management software that can be accessed through smartphones and tablets. This allows your staff to work on the go and manage operations from anywhere.

Payment Processing Look for software that supports a variety of payment options, from credit card processing to mobile wallets. Simplified payment methods help enhance the guest experience while improving cash flow management for your business.

Top Benefits of Hotel Management Software

Faster Check-In/Check-Out Simplify guest check-ins and check-outs through efficient processes, ensuring that guests can start or end their stays without hassle.

Inventory Control Monitor room availability, supplies, and amenities in real time, ensuring that you never run out of stock or accidentally overbook rooms.

Staff Management Hotel management software helps schedule, assign tasks, and manage your staff better. You’ll know exactly which team members are responsible for certain duties and can track performance.

Improved Communication With communication tools integrated within hotel management software, you can easily interact with team members, guests, and vendors, ensuring everyone is on the same page.

Conclusion

Choosing the best hotel management software is a game-changer for hoteliers. With the right software in place, hotel owners and staff can streamline their day-to-day operations, improve guest satisfaction, and boost efficiency. From booking and check-ins to payment processing and staff management, hotel management software is designed to simplify every aspect of hotel management. It helps hotel managers stay on top of their business and enables them to provide a superior experience for every guest who walks through their doors.

If you’re still relying on traditional methods for managing your hotel, it might be time to invest in the best hotel management software. It’s an investment that promises long-term growth, operational excellence, and a more seamless guest experience.

[un-pearable]

bad hotel wifi means i can’t do my first GIS assignment properly and now i’m just sitting here like this woefully waiting 3-5 mins btwn inputting the answer to each question i got from a friend so it looks legit

[smartsoftwareltd]

Hotel Management Software in Bangladesh | Hotel Management System & Booking Software

[trayoungvis]

6 ways to improve front desk operations in a hotel

Implement a User-Friendly Property Management System (PMS)

Investing in a robust, user-friendly PMS can streamline many front desk functions, allowing for quicker guest check-ins and check-outs, and simplifying task management for staff. The right PMS can also automate functions like billing, housekeeping updates, and guest profile management, ensuring that information is centralized and accessible. With integrated technology, front desk staff can access real-time data and focus more on engaging with guests rather than juggling paperwork.

Example: Hotels can use cloud-based PMS solutions that integrate with mobile devices, enabling staff to manage bookings, room assignments, and other guest requests on-the-go. This type of flexibility can enhance the guest experience and make the front desk operation more agile.

Enhance Staff Training and Development

A knowledgeable and friendly front desk team is essential for smooth operations and creating positive guest experiences. Training programs should include customer service techniques, conflict resolution, cultural sensitivity, and technology skills to ensure that staff can handle a wide range of scenarios. By investing in ongoing training and development, hotels can empower front desk agents to respond confidently and professionally to any guest need.

Example: Implementing customer service role-playing sessions or workshops on handling difficult situations helps front desk staff feel more prepared and confident in high-pressure situations. This leads to quicker resolution of guest issues and enhances the overall service quality.

Leverage Mobile Check-In and Check-Out Options

Offering mobile check-in and check-out options can greatly improve convenience for guests, especially those who value minimal contact or are on tight schedules. With these digital options, guests can skip the line, access their room with digital keys, and receive important information directly on their mobile devices. This not only speeds up the process but also reduces wait times at the front desk, allowing staff to focus on more personalized interactions with guests.

Example: Hotels that allow guests to check in through an app or kiosk help reduce lobby congestion during peak hours, providing a smoother arrival experience. Mobile check-out also enables guests to settle their bills quickly and leave feedback immediately, fostering a positive and seamless end to their stay.

Create a Well-Organized and Efficient Workspace

Organization is key to smooth front desk operations. A clutter-free, well-designed workspace helps front desk staff access essential tools and information quickly, allowing them to serve guests efficiently. Organized storage, a clear filing system, and ergonomic workstation setups can reduce unnecessary steps and help staff focus on guest engagement rather than searching for items.

Example: Organizing desk drawers with labeled sections for different forms, supplies, and guest essentials can speed up routine tasks. Hotels could also use digital filing systems to eliminate paperwork, making it easier to retrieve guest data and reducing physical clutter.

Use Data Analytics for Forecasting and Staff Allocation

Data analytics can play a significant role in optimizing front desk operations. By analyzing guest flow patterns, seasonal demand, and peak hours, hotels can better predict staffing needs and ensure that they have adequate coverage. This approach prevents both overstaffing and understaffing, ensuring that guests receive timely service without additional operational costs.

Example: With data insights, front desk managers can allocate more staff during weekends, holidays, or major events when guest traffic is higher. During low-occupancy periods, they can redistribute front desk staff to other areas of the hotel, optimizing labor costs and efficiency.

Encourage Personalized Service and Attention to Detail

Personalized service can leave a lasting impression on guests and set a hotel apart from its competitors. Simple gestures, like addressing guests by name, remembering their preferences, or accommodating special requests, can enhance guest satisfaction. Front desk teams can leverage guest data from CRM systems to tailor their service approach, creating an experience that feels unique and memorable.

Example: If a guest is a returning visitor who previously requested extra pillows or specific room amenities, front desk staff can proactively arrange these before their arrival. Such attention to detail shows the guest that their preferences are valued and remembered.

Conclusion An efficient front desk operation is essential for a hotel’s success and guest satisfaction. By adopting advanced technology, continuously training staff, organizing the workspace, using data analytics for decision-making, and personalizing guest interactions, hotels can significantly enhance their front desk operations. These improvements lead to smoother guest experiences, higher retention rates, and a stronger brand reputation.

Additional Tips for Optimizing Front Desk Operations

Offer Multi-language Support: Having multilingual staff or digital translation tools can enhance communication with international guests.

Automate Routine Tasks: Automated notifications for housekeeping, maintenance, or guest requests can streamline coordination among departments.

Implement Guest Feedback Systems: Encourage guests to provide feedback during check-out, which can help the hotel address issues immediately and improve service.

[lokidjarin-7567]

Kinktober Day 7: Secret Relationship

Spencer Reid x you

Contents: fem!reader x Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds), oral sex fem receiving, flashbacks, ooey gooey feelings

W/C: 3.2k

Ok so I’m behind again, oops, but I’m proud of this one! Again, not the kinkiest but I got carried away with the fluff and I also got into a cipher-related rabbit hole so I hope you enjoy regardless :))

PS: This is also a love letter to pre-boyband hair season 5 Spencer, AKA my favourite hair era, as depicted below

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“Do you want to grab some coffee?” A voice whispered beside you, a touch too close to be just colleagues. You smiled uncontrollably, heart rate picking up as his hand brushed across your back.

“Sounds good.”

That’s how you found yourself pressed against the door of the copy room, Spencer’s lips on yours, his hand up your skirt.

“We’ve got time, baby…” He practically whined between kisses, bucking his hips into yours.

“Spence! We have…“ you checked you watch absentmindedly, “5 minutes until briefing.” He grinned.

“I take that as a challenge…”

His head started to dip, moving to kneel down, but you grabbed his hair with a fake gasp of disbelief, pulling him back up to his usual height, looming over you.

“Oh honey, I don’t doubt you could, but I’m not sure these walls are soundproof.” Your fingers moved to his cheek, and he sighed into your lips, his hands returning to your waist and squeezing.

“But you left so early this morning, I didn't have time to start your day right…” You were grinning ear to ear, noses bumping into each other clumsily, and you whimpered into his mouth as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

“I know, I know, I’ll make it up to you later, I promise…” You kissed him one last time with finality, pushing off the door and smoothing your skirt, but he was slightly less keen to leave, pressing himself against your hip as he helped straighten your hair and lip gloss. “I should probably leave first. You clearly need a minute.” He huffed behind you, but you had already slipped out of the room, heading into the bullpen as if nothing had happened.

You’d had a crush on him for a long time before anything happened. You joined the team a couple of years ago as a linguistics and code-breaking expert - something that was surprisingly helpful in the cases the BAU took on. You’d harboured years of butterflies, coy glances, occasional hand grazes… and you thought you’d done a pretty good job at hiding it. You’d known it was unrequited - he never so much as looked in your direction unless he was asking your opinion on something he was working on. It was starting to get to you. Your feelings had slowly been growing, swelling in your chest as you watched from afar, to the point where you had considered transferring departments. And then it all changed.

It was a case in California; a serial killer who was carving encrypted messages into his victims posthumously, only you had no idea what cipher he had used. You and Spencer had been working tirelessly for days to crack it while the rest of the team were searching for physical evidence, and it was a distraction you were grateful for. Even though you were working alone with him in close quarters, it was one of the few times you could briefly forget about your feelings, too consumed with your work to allow yourself to think about him.

It was night 3 of sleeping at the station. JJ had predicted it was going to happen, moving your go bags from the hotel to the precinct on the first day, and you and Spencer had been taking turns napping on the small couch whenever you physically couldn't keep your eyes open. You were sleep deprived and strung out, but you were close. You could feel it. You knew it wasn’t a shift cipher or some kind of alternate alphabet converted back and forth - you had exhausted every possibility of that days ago. You had been testing more complex ciphers, Garcia running everything imaginable through software to attempt to decipher it, but with no luck.

“What haven’t we tried?” Spencer muttered, pacing the room after a last ditch attempt at some kind of converted polybius square. Garcia was on speaker, confirming that she had tried every option available to her twice over.

“I mean, at this point, it could only be some kind of complex Vigenère cipher that somehow hasn’t been deciphered through Garcia’s software, or…” You didn’t even want to say the other option aloud - just the thought that three days work would’ve been completely wasted sent a shiver through your body.

“Or it’s a one-time pad.” Spencer said what you were too scared to, collapsing on the sofa with a sigh.

“A one-time pad? Is that the…”

“Unbreakable cipher. Yeah.” He confirmed.

“Unless…” A thought struck you, and you stood to the whiteboard you had set up in the room, scribbling down the ciphertext from the first body and converting it to numbers. “We need to think about this from the unsub’s point of view. He wouldn’t use a true OTP because if he truly wanted to hide this code, he wouldn’t carve it on his victims. But, the key might not be random.”

“Yeah, but then it would’ve been picked up on Garcia’s systems…”

“Not if each body had a different key….” You had written and converted the next two bodies’ codes while you were speaking, and you stood back briefly, showing Spencer what you had written. “We’ve been collating the messages and running them as a whole, but…do you see a pattern?” He paused, eyes scanning over the board frantically, and then he calmed visibly, a wave of realisation hitting his features. You smiled as he saw what you did, standing quickly and grabbing another pen to scrawl the keys beneath each.

“The Bible.” He whispered. “A Vigenère is hardest to break if the key is as long as the plaintext. Seven letters. Six letters. Nine letters. Genesis. Exodus. Leviticus.”

“It might work.” He nodded, brow furrowed in thought as he stared at the lettering.

“Let’s try it.” He wrote the corresponding letters as you did the sums, converting them back to the alphabet and - to your shock and relief - it was making sense.

P. L. E. A. S. E. H. …

E. L. P. M. E. I. …

C. A. N. T. S. T. O. P. J. …

“Garcia, can you read the last body please? The one we don’t have photos for yet…”

“No need.” Spencer muttered, writing it down without glancing up. You forgot how immaculate his memory was sometimes.

“Thank you.” It was seven letters. Perfect. You wrote numbers, he converted, you did the sum and muttered the letters aloud…

A. M. E. S. T. O. L.

“James. James ‘tol’? Is that a name, or the start of one?” Garcia asked over the speaker, but Spencer wasn’t listening, muttering to himself as he moved to the files quickly, flipping through them.

“No, I…” You answered for him, “I think Spence is onto something Pen…”

“Get Hotch on the line.” He barked, finding what he was looking for and bringing it to you.

“Hotch here…” A tired voice rung out in the small room just as you realised what Spencer was showing you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“It was David.” He breathed immediately, his words tumbling out at a breakneck speed. “The message on the bodies said something about James followed by T-O-L, and that reminded me of your interview…”

“David kept referring to a colleague throughout the interview, a James, that ordered him around a lot…”

“If he kills again, I bet the phrase would be completed. James told me to, maybe?” You mused, and Spencer nodded.

“Garcia, have you got his file.”

“Yes, I’m opening it now and… oh my god.”

“What is it?”

“He had a brother called James. Hung himself when David was 11.”

“And all of his victims died from strangulation.” The pieces had fallen perfectly into place.

“Address?”

The unsub’s home had been closer to the hotel, so Hotch and the rest of the team went to his listed address, leaving you and Spencer to wait nervously in the precinct. You were pacing frantically, knotting your hands as the sound of your heavy boots echoed throughout the room. Spencer cooed your name calmly, and you turned to him, blushing lightly. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, leant forwards with his arms on his knees looking up at you with… a look you’d never seen before. Concern mixed with something else, something foreign to you. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with a kind smile.

“Just sit for a minute. Try and relax.” You nodded weakly, perching on the edge and trying to still your racing heart, leg bouncing and hands still twisting in each other with nervous energy.

“Sorry, I… I know we’ve done our bit now but I hate not being there when the team are apprehending him…”

“I know what you mean,” he muttered. You sat in silence for a few minutes, mind racing with what might be happening. What if he was armed? What if he’d decided to shoot his way out? They could all be dead right now, and you would have no idea….

Spencer’s phone rang. He stood, answering it quickly. It was Emily, and you heard him mutter a few affirmatives, smile playing across his features.

“Did they…” You asked as soon as he hung up, and he nodded.

“Yep, it went perfectly. He’s in custody, and they’re on their way back now.” The relief you felt was palpable, a sigh falling from you as he sat back down on the sofa next to you, sinking into it and resting his head back, mirroring your position.

You hadn’t realised your leg was still bouncing until his hand fell to it. Your breath caught in your throat as he squeezed lightly, stilling you effortlessly. He was so warm, slender fingers fanned out across the space just above your knee, and it took a moment for you to compose yourself. You turned your head, and he was already gazing at you, the mysterious expression from earlier back, his dark eyes meeting yours with warmth.

“You were incredible today…” He muttered, hand still resting on his leg, and you couldn’t help but blush. He was the most intelligent person you knew, and likely would ever know, and even without your feelings being involved, a complement from him was about the highest praise a person could get in your line of work.

“Thank you, but I couldn’t have done it without you…”

“Bullshit.” He whispered, and you laughed.

“Ok, maybe I could’ve, but it would’ve taken me twice as long.” He chuckled then, eyes scanning over your face with an intensity you only saw when he was trying to analyse something. It felt as though his eyes were boring into your skin, and you had to look away, heart near beating out of your chest. His hand shifted slightly on your leg, and oh sweet Jesus you just remembered it was still there. It had a strange affect on you - like when you put a harness on a cat and they suddenly couldn’t walk. You were frozen solid, trying to breath and staring at the ceiling.

Then his hand touched your chin. It was light, delicate, just guiding your eyes back to his and it wasn’t until that moment you finally realised what that look had been, the one you couldn’t identify. It was a reflection of what you had been feeling for months. The longing, the restraint, the need that swirled up inside you every time you stole a glance at him, and now, seeing those same emotions in his soft eyes, it was sobering. He wanted you too.

He moved first, gently pulling your lips to his and kissing you, light as a feather. It was tentative and sweet, so unsure and your body took a second to process that the thing you had been imagining for years was actually happening. And then you smiled, hands moving to the base of his neck, fingers twisting into his gorgeous hair and you pulled him back to you, lips clashing in a kiss full of years of pent up desire and desperation. You felt his body relax under your touch as the kiss deepened, his hands wandering to trail your waist and hips, before tangling in your hair and holding tight, pulling you closer. You had twisted until you were practically on his lap, hands falling to his shirt and bunching it up as his tongue finally hit yours, every bone in your body turning to jelly as you tasted him. It was magnetic, everything you had wanted for a long time finally coming to fruition and you couldn’t even break away for a second of air, so lost in him that breathing was no longer important.

And then the Precinct door banged open, and you jumped away as though you had been electrocuted. You laughed, cursing quietly as you tried to smooth your hair, tousled from his hands, while he just smiled, gazing at you.

“Spencer!” You whisper-shouted at him, still grinning uncontrollably, and he finally moved, straightening his shirt and placing his jacket over his lap. You giggled like a school girl, standing and moving to the whiteboard to try and convey a more believable working situation, and to put some distance between you and him, not sure how well you’d be able to hide your smile if he was so close to you.

You still jumped when Rossi opened the door to the room, although, you were more surprised when he didn’t speak. You turned to him, confused, and he pointed at Spencer. When you followed his eye line, you realised he was pretending to sleep, head slouched to one side and mouth slightly parted. He looked beautiful.

It had been six months, and you were stronger than ever. You honestly weren't sure how you were still keeping it a secret. You had had years of practice when you were just pining after him, sure, but it was a hell of a lot harder to not give anything away when every time you looked at him, you got flashbacks to the night before. Even if the team somehow did suss out a vibe, no one said anything, which was something you were grateful for. Spence was a lot better than you at masking his feelings, so anyone who noticed something probably assumed you just had a crush on him. Which was true enough.

You had managed to avoid looking at him the entire briefing, which was honestly a miracle, but your mind was ever so slightly distracted by your rendezvous in the copy room. As JJ spoke, you heard something about male victims, and she might have mentioned Tennessee, but all you could think about was that travel meant your date night plans were cancelled. And you were always cautious in hotels - too close to your other colleagues. It was hit or miss; sometimes, the fear of it was fun, the idea that someone could knock and catch you in the act, but if you had adjoining rooms with any of your teammates… well, them hearing you scream his name might just be a bit awkward. So, naturally, all you could think about now was finishing what you started earlier. You wanted this meeting to be over, to get him somewhere private and to let him completely wreck you before the long plane ride, to get this idea out of your head so you could focus on the case at hand. And then, at last, came the magic words…

“Wheels up in 20.”

The team dispersed quickly, and you caught Spencer’s sleeve just before he left the room.

“My car?” You muttered, earning a grin.

“Change your mind, baby?”

“Shut up.” You smiled. “I’ll meet you down there…”

“What’re you doing?” You practically whimpered, as he opened the passenger door instead of joining you in the backseat. He chuckled.

“Just making space.” You were about to ask what for, when he deftly moved the seat forwards, before getting in the back. Oh. You grinned as he pressed his lips to yours with hunger, backing you into the corner and you let yourself be dwarfed by him. His fingers trailed your collarbone, to your waist, and gripping onto your thigh with urgency. You whined as his lips left yours, earning another soft laugh. He managed to fit his tall frame mostly in the footwell, pushing your skirt up to your hips as you bit your lip, admiring him. He was so beautiful, the way his hair fell over his face, his earnest eyes, almost pleading in the way he looked up at you, his long fingers that so deftly moved your panties to one side.

“Can you…” he muttered gesturing to his hair, and you giggled, hand running through the front locks and holding them away from his face. Your leg draped over his back as his head dipped, tongue going straight to your folds, lips circling your core and kissing your sensitive bud with a hum of contentment. Your body relaxed into him, moan escaping your lips. He’d always been enthusiastic about eating you out, and you’d never complained about it. He was good. Really good. And today was no different.

He was lapping you up, relishing every taste and you were getting closer to your orgasm with every circle around your clit, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Spence…” you managed to gasp out, writhing in the seat, “fingers…” He didn’t hesitate for a second, one of the hands firmly holding your thighs apart trailed down to your centre, two fingers slipping into your soaking core. Your groan was filthy as he found that spot that made your toes curl with such perfect precision it was blinding.

“Oh god Spencer…” you choked out between moans and pants… “baby I’m so close…” Your hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned into you, sending a wave of pleasure through you that sent you over the edge into that searing hot pleasure you were so used to receiving from him. He held onto you as you rode it out, his tongue still circling you until you were finished, finally stopping when you started to whine and squirm from overstimulation.

“Fucking hell, Spence.” You muttered, as he gently returned your panties and carefully let your skirt fall back around you. You watched in awe as he quickly licked his fingers clean, but it was mostly pointless, as his lips and chin were covered in your slick. You giggled.

“You might have to rinse your face before you join the team.” He grinned, pressing his lips to yours with force, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, making you hum into him.

“Now you will too.”

After a quick clean-up in the parking lot toilets, you both joined the rest of the team, entrances tactically staggered. For once, you couldn’t help but look at him, stealing glances as much as possible, watching as his hands scanned pages as he read and all you could think about is what those hands were doing to you just minutes earlier.

When you started looking into the case, you would be focussed, fully invested, but… you just wanted to stay in this headspace a moment longer. A happy one. A scary one still, for sure, but a fun kind of scary. A hopeful kind of scary. It was peaceful. And peaceful moments were rare in your line of work. His eyes caught yours, sending you a soft smile, and you knew you were in for the long haul, no matter how many people you had to lie or, or how much time you had to hide it for. It was all worth it for the moments of peace with him.

Taglist 🩵 - @emma-e-a

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

*

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

*

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Karma

Prompt: You go undercover with DiNozzo as his wife, and Gibbs, your boyfriend has no choice but to watch from the sidelines.

You weren’t happy about being partnered with DiNozzo on your current undercover case but not nearly as unhappy about it as Jethro. Nothing against DiNozzo but pretending to be his wife was almost close to a nightmare for you. Vance denied Jethro posing as your significant other only because he didn’t fit the profile and Tony already had established contact, which actually worked in your favor since you and Jethro had gotten into a slight argument before the op and had you been partnered with him, you might’ve ended up strangling him.

So as Tony and you stood in the elevator, you closed your eyes and mentally stepped into your alias.

“Alright DiNozzo, Y/L/N. Com check,” you heard Jethro speak in your earpiece.

“Heard ya loud and clear boss,” Tony responded.

You ignored him, finishing going over your cover story in your head, making sure you remembered every detail. The way you talked, walked and even smiled mattered.

“Y/N!”

“No need to yell in my ear Gibbs, I can hear you just fine,” you finally responded as the doors opened and the two of you walked out into crowded lobby.

The plan was simple. Your target was having dinner in the hotel restaurant, all you two had to do was have some dinner as well, scan the room so Abby can run facial recognition software through Tony’s glasses and get out of there safely.

“Hi, reservation for my husband and I,” you told the hostess with a fake smile as your hand intertwined with DiNozzo’s.

“Of course, right this way ma’am.”

She led you two through the restaurant, seating you in one of the corners, per DiNozzo’s request so that you had a better vantage point at identifying your suspect. She then handed you off to your server who stood by the table and handed you both a menu.

“May I start you off with any drinks tonight?”

You spoke before Tony got the chance.

“We’ll have 2 glasses of your Coup De Foudre Gauchiste and start off with Gruyère and Crab Palmiers please.”

DiNozzo gave you a slight look of bewilderment but quickly covered it with a smile. The server nodded and left as you heard Gibbs speak.

“We have a budget on this op, Agent Y/L/N.”

“Hm. Then it’s a good thing I brought your card just in case,” you answered back while taking a sip of water. It was quiet for a second before you heard him sigh in exasperation.

“Torres is a really good teacher. You should think about starting a class.”

“Abby get anything yet boss?” DiNozzo jumped in, changing the subject.

“Not yet. Keep looking.”

You both spent the rest of the fake dinner, sipping on the expensive wine, scanning the room, and you giving DiNozzo occasional caresses that you knew made both him and Jethro uncomfortable. Once the dinner ended and the both of you had gotten up to leave, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. A man matching the description of your suspect was following you. You knew you couldn't let him follow you to the surveillance van so using your high school improv skills, you pulled DiNozzo by the hand into the opposite direction, once you were outside.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked you which you replied with a fake giggle.

"Just follow my lead. We've got a tail."

You pulled him back towards the side of the restaurant where it was dimly lit and stood so that his back was against the wall. You made sure you weren't standing completely in front of him so that his glasses could pick up a good picture of the man following you.

Keeping up the act, you smiled fakely at him and began playing with his tie, moving your hands so they trailed up his chest and settled around his neck. He chuckled nervously, clearly unprepared for the unscripted intimacy.

"Ah, jeeze. I can't watch this," you heard Jethro speak faintly in your ear, making you smirk. Serves him right.

"At least pretend like you're enjoying this Tony. Has he passed by yet?" you asked, snapping him out of it.

"Uh, not yet."

He finally put his hands on your waist and then unexpectedly pulled you into his chest for a hug, pretending to nuzzle your neck.

"Got him," you heard Abby confirm. "It's him."

"Tell me when he leaves," you whispered to Tony, continuing to pretend that you two were just a lovestruck couple cuddling in the parking lot.

"McGee, Bishop. Move in now," Gibbs ordered a little harshly.

The two of you gave it a little more time before pulling apart and now following the suspect as you saw McGee and Bishop's car come speeding in from the other side and stop in front of him. They both got out and pulled their weapons out.

"NCIS, stay where you are," McGee called out.

The suspect turned to run but stopped once he saw you and Tony aiming your own weapons at him.

"Too bad you didn't stay for dessert. Their Tiramisu was delicious," Tony joked, making you roll your eyes.

- - - -

You watched from the other side of the interrogation window as Jethro slammed his hand on the table, making both McGee and the suspect jump.

"You think he's a little worked up?" you jokingly asked DiNozzo who stood next to you.

"Yeah, I am not envious of McGee right now. I already feel the major head slapping that's coming to me for the stunt you pulled in the parking lot."

"Stunt? Hey, I was doing my job," you defended.

"Yeah well Gibbs had direct feed to my glasses, seeing what I was saw and you were making it very difficult to keep an eye on the suspect."

You laughed and turned to Tony, putting your hand on his shoulder.

"He's not gonna fault you for being a man, Tony. You did your job. Very well might I add."

He smiled just as the door opened and Jethro stood in the doorway.

"Uh, good talk Agent L/N but I think I should go see what Abby is up to," Tony stuttered, stepping away from your touch and turning to leave. Jethro stayed where he was, blocking Tony's path, increasing his nervousness.

"Uh boss. About earlier. I really wasn't expecting any of that to happen. I mean-

"Get out of here DiNozzo," he ordered, stepping into the room, allowing Tony to pass.

"Right away boss."

He pretty much ran out and you couldn't help but giggle. Jethro's hard stare turned to you as he shut the door and you bit your lip. Your plan definitely succeeded in getting Jethro thoroughly worked up and you loved it. He slowly took steps towards you until you were inches apart, his chest level with your face but your gaze never leaving his. The air was charged as he spoke.

"Is this what I should expect from you every time we have an argument?"

"Only if we have an undercover op the next night."

His hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear and trailed down your jawline to hold your chin.

"Then I'll have to make sure you're always partnered with me."

[adafruit]

🎄💾🗓️ Day 3: Retrocomputing Advent Calendar presents the Commodore VIC-20! 🎄💾🗓️

The VIC-20 ⌨️📺🕹️, released in 1980 by Commodore, was the first computer to sell over a million units. It had a 6502 CPU running at 1 MHz, 5 KB of RAM (expandable), and displayed up to 22 characters per line on a color-capable screen. An affordable and friendly computer, the VIC-20 was great at games and basic programming and was supported by a library of software and peripherals. It connected to TVs for display and included Commodore's BASIC interpreter for programming. Its success allowed other computers like the Commodore 64 to make its mark.

And since this is a #firstcomputer celebration here's a fantastic story from Jeff -

My first home computer was the Commodore VIC-20. I must have been in second grade (1986/1987). My Dad was working somewhere away from home, but one weekend Mom drove us two kids to spend the night at the motel that was his home base.

He had bought this computer, the VIC-20, and hooked it up to the hotel TV. I remember entering the program pictured below (probably Mom typed it in, actually) and being blown away by the birds flapping their wings across the screen.

The other distinct memory I have is the next morning my folks woke me up and asked whether I was hungry. No, I very much wanted to play with the VIC-20, so I made up the most obvious word that came to mind: "No, I'm Vic-y". I think they were very puzzled. We probably went and had breakfast regardless of whether we wanted to see the birds flying again.

Check out the wikipedia page for some great history, photos (pictured here), and more -

And the COMMODORE vic-20 commercial commercial compilation, featuring William Shatner.

Have first computer memories? Post’em up in the comments, or post yours on socialz’ and tag them #firstcomputer #retrocomputing - See you back here tomorrow!

[chaoticace2005]

Text lurking in scenes in the first two Hazbin Hotel episodes: (I was bored and when seeing text I need to pause to read so I decided I’d do a service for anyone who needs it)

Spoilers below:

Episode 1:

21:45

News Ticker: SHIT!! THE EXTERMINATION IS HAPPENING IN SIX MONTHS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL! CONFIRMED! LEGIT! FUCK! CFVGBHNJM WE ALL DEAD SOON!! WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME!

Episode 2:

:56

So I’m thinkin, you and three huge guys are getting it on and it’s really hot and oily and then it’s revealed your on a boat and it’s sinking so you all have to cum as fast as you can. (I hate everything I'm writing but I've already committed so... plus nobody else should have to pause their screens to read this.)

Have you seen temperature play vids? Lol cause there is gonna be ice!!!!!!!

So get that flat honey ass to the studio baby~ as you can see the ideas are F L O W I N G

Haha sooooooo its been thirty seconds……

don’t be like this baby

This isn’t cute Angel. Legit I’m so bored of this little cat and mouse chase.

FR over it!

Fuckibng bitch!! (Yes, I spelt that as said on screen)

Babe.

Angel.

Where the fuck are you??????

3:41

VOXTEK ASSIST (top right)

“Hi Vox”

VoxTek: Can I assist you today?

VOXTECH (under Voxtek Assist)

Vox: You can be just like me!

V- Watch!

Trust Us*

Vox: It's great! I'd buy it!

*With what? That’s none of your business

9:42

News Ticker: SO THE RADIO GUY’S BACK. I DON’T THINK YOU NOTICED. I DIDN’T AT FIRST— I WAS TOO BUSY BEING A MUCH MORE INTERESTING AND IMPORTANT PERSON, BUT FUCK IT, NEWS IS SLOW TODAY I GUESS. I’M TOTALLY NOT WORRIED ABOUT THIS GUY AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU BE. I TOTALLY WRECKED HIS SHIT LAST TIME.

9:49

FUCK ALASTOR

11:02

Vox screen

A PROBLEM HAS BEEN DETECTED AND VOX HAS BEEN SHUT DOWN TO PREVENT DAMAGE TO HIS SYSTEMS.

THIS PROBLEM SEEMS TO BE CAUSES BY THE FOLLOWING FILE: ALASTOR.EXE

VOX.EXE_CRASH_ERROR_EAT_SHIT_ALASTOR

CHECK TO MAKE SURE ALL ((FUCKING 1930S LOOKING ASS)) HARDWARE AND SOFTWARE IS UP TO DATE AND PROPERLY INSTALLED. ASK VOX FOR ANY VOXTEK UPDATES YOU MIGHT NEED.

IF PROBLEMS CONTINUE, ((FUCK YOU ALASTOR)) DISABLE OR REMOVE ANY ALASTOR(S) FROM THE GENERAL VICINITY. IF YOU NEED TO USE ‘UNSAFE MODE’ RESET YOUR VOXTEK DEVICE PRESS F5 AND SELECT ‘ADVANCED STARTUP OPTIONS’ THEN SELECT ‘UNSAFE MODE’

TECHNICAL INFORMATION:

******STOP: ALASTOR.EXE ((OLD TIMY PRICK.RADIO))***

[lisacameron99]

Revelation S.R.

Summary: based on the Criminal Minds episode Revelation (2x15)

Y/N Hotcher (Little Hotch) x eventual Spencer Reid

Warnings: angst, Spencer being tortured, Tobias Henkel, usual Criminal Minds stuff?, swearing, reader/I being really angry at the world because she loves Spencer but won't admit it, friends to lovers, emotions, idk if I am missing anything

LONG AF AND NOT PROOFED

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

“Where’s Spencer?” I asked, looking around the farm. “And JJ?”

“I don’t know, come check out the barn with me and Prentiss.” Morgan told me. We made our way to the barn and when we opened it, JJ pointed her gun at us, eyes wild.

There was a lot of commotion with trying to get JJ to lower her gun. I noticed the dead dogs. Jezebel. Oh God.

“Tobias Henkel is the unsub.” JJ told us once she realized it was us.

“We know,” I said gently.

“We just thought he was a witness. I had to kill them.” She said referring to the dogs. I glanced at the dead animals again and rubbed my temples. “There’s nothing left.”

“JJ, where’s Spencer?” I asked her but she didn’t answer me.

“JJ, look at me,” Prentiss prompted. JJ focused on her. “Where’s Reid?”

“Oh, uh, we split up. He went around back.”

I ran back outside to tell Dad and Gideon that we found JJ but not Spencer.

"Dad,” I called, running up to him. “Dad, JJ was in the barn, but Spencer’s not.”

“We searched the rest of the property and the house and he’s not there either. Neither is Henkel.”

“So,” I gulped, looking at my dad. “So where’s Spencer?”

“I don’t know. But we will find him.” Dad promised me.

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

I was standing with JJ and Emily by the ambulance while they checked JJ out.

“Hey, any sign of him?” Prentiss asked Morgan and he shook his head.

"You can't find Reid?" JJ asked, confused.

"Not yet," Prentiss told her.

"Prentis, Little Hotch." Derek pulled us away from JJ. "I think Reid followed him into the cornfield, it looks likes somebody got dragged." I rubbed my temple, trying to push away the stress migraine that was impounding.

"Hey, what's going on?" Prentiss asked the officer who just got off the phone.

"The sheriff two towns over. He just gave directions to a man who fit Henkel's description. It's to a motor lodge in Fort Bend."

"Let's get Hotch and Gideon." Morgan said and I went back to JJ.

After hours of not finding Spencer, morning came which brought Penelope too.

"You know they do have hotels in Georgia." She told me and Aaron.

"There's no sense splitting time between here and a field office." He told her, ushering her into the house.

"Right." She agreed warily, looking around the property.

"Think of the house as a witness," He explained to her. "If it could talk, what would it tell us?"

"My guess is it would tell us to get the hell out." She responded.

We made our wait into the main living room and JJ greeted Penelope with, "Welcome to our nightmare."

"His computer is an extension of his brain," Gideon told her. "I need you to dissect it."

"I'll get you set up, come on." Derek told her, taking her to where the computers were at.

"I'll come with," I mumbled, walking past my dad and everybody else, to go with Penelope and Morgan.

The rest of our team filled Dad in on everything, but there was no evidence pointing where Spencer and the unsub could be.

"Okay, right out the gate, the guy is self taught." Penelope told us. "His mainframe is totally idiosyncratic, but it's pretty brilliant."

"Talk to me about what this son of a bitch watches online. What the hell is all of this?" Morgan told her, trying his best to figure out the computers and how we could use it to help us know Henkel better.

"It's tame stuff, video games, software sports. Seriously, if I had to guess whose system this belongs to, I would say a crazy smart high school kid."

"Well clearly it's not Penelope. Can you please find us something that will help us find Spencer?" I snapped before walking out the room and back outside.

I hated this. How could Spencer have gotten so far away so fast? Where the hell was he being held? Please God, I begged, please bring him back to me. Please. I hadn't prayed in years, especially with my mom and dad fighting, but I knew we had a slim chance at getting Spencer back, and God was probably the only person to bring him to me.

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

"Hey guys!" Morgan called to us, I looked up at him from where I was sitting with Gideon on the steps. "I think I got something."

I ran over to where he was and he found a cellar.

I pulled out my gun as Morgan opened the door. "Tobias Henkel, FBI!" Dad and I followed him inside. We got our flashlights out and searched the ice cellar. "Tobias Henkel! Tobias!"

Dad moved closer to the unmoving body. "I think we just found Henkel's father." Well, shit.

We made our way out of the cellar and let CSI do their thing while we went back into the house.

"You need to get some sleep." Gideon told me and I rolled my eyes. "Sometimes it felt like I had two dads between Hotch and Gideon.

"I'm fine."

"When was the last time you slept?" JJ asked me.

"When was the last time for you?" I snapped back, my anger seeping through. I wanted to find Spencer. I wanted him back.

"Y/N, you need to get some sleep." Dad told me and I stomped my foot.

"Is that an order?" I demanded, looking my dad square in the face.

"Yeah, it is." He shot back and I threw my gun on the table, making JJ jump at the noise. I went into the living room and grabbed my blanket and my dad's pillow from the corner and laid on the floor to take a nap. There was no way in hell I was sleeping on any of the furniture here. After a few minutes, I felt JJ come sit by me, resting her back against the couch.

"I'm sorry." She muttered.

"I'm sorry too." I muttered back.

"I'm so stressed out that I can't sleep." She admitted after a few minutes.

"I can't either. I just want to find him." I relented.

"I saw you guys, at the club. You danced."

"Liquid courage fixes a lot of the world's problems. Sometimes."

"You guys would be cute together."

"You must be sleep deprived."

"I know what I saw at the club. You both like each other, you're practically dating anyways, why not just make it official?" And with that thought running through my brain, I fell asleep.

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

"Morgan just told me that he thinks the stressor is the father's death, which happened about six months ago." Dad told me and Gideon as we sifted through the papers.

"So basically he has split personality disorder?" I banged my head on the table.

"This journal is filled with religious ramblings." Morgan told us, coming into the room with the journal. "He notates hour by hour. November 15th, 3:17 - if ye offer a sacrifice of peace offering unto the Lord, ye shall offer it at your own will. And it goes on and on. 5:04, 7:41, 10:22, 1:42. But then it goes blank for days."

Morgan handed me the journal and I looked at it, getting a sense of who Henkel was. Dad put a hand on his head, thinking. "Maybe he got sick of writin'," The sheriff suggested.

"I think I got it," Dad said, and I looked at him hopefully.

"What is it?" Gideon asked him.

"Yeah, Dad, what did you figure out?"

"Journal entry - December 6th - father sick, wants me to put him down. I say, "Thou shalt not kill," He says, "Honor thy father." Must pray for guidance." Oh. So he killed his dad...

Before I could finish my thought, Gideon interrupted. "So he kills his father as an act of mercy?"

"Some sick sort of mercy." I muttered, flipping through the journal in my hand before giving it back to Morgan.

"This is two months ago. Tobias Henkel's father had been dead for four months already." Dad told us.

"That's exactly it. Look at the floor," Morgan told us, pulling a chair out for us to see. "These scuff marks are fresh." He was right, they were. "I mean it's like two people were moving the chairs constantly, trying to fight for control."

"So?" The sheriff asked.

"This journal matches Charles Henkel's handwriting, but it was written after he died. Upstairs, Tobias' bedroom - it's got junk puled from the floor to the ceiling, but the other bedroom could pass a military inspection." Morgan explained.

"So are you telling me, one of Tobias' personalities was his father?" The sheriff asked, trying to make sense of this situation.

"Well," Gideon put in, "Tobias was raised with a strict religious code - black and white - right and wrong. When his father asked Tobias to kill him, something had to give."

"And his brain couldn't handle the moral contradiction, so it split into two personalities." Dad said.

"To keep his father alive." I finished.

"So... who is Raphael?" The sheriff asked, confused.

"My guess - he's a mediator between the two. Angels have no human emotions. Live or die, they don't care, as long as it's God's will."

"We need to start profiling Tobias' father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

"I'll get Penelope on it." I said, standing up and walking to the computer room.

"Pen, I need you to log into the system as Tobias' father."

"The system was set up three months ago. The dad was already dead."

"She knows that, smarty pants, but do it for your favorites anyway, alright?" Morgan said, coming in behind me.

"Okay," Penelope said, starting to type.

"Charles Henkel." Derek told her.

Tons of horrifying imagines and videos showed up on the screen. I closed my eyes and cracked my neck. This was going to be bad.

"Woah," Penelope said trying to take it all in.

"He's crazy." I mumbled. "Like crazy crazy. I can't imagine having split personalities, let alone, one of them be insane."

After a few minutes of Penelope trying to do her thing, the computers went blank.

"What happened?" Morgan asked her, confused.

She wasn't much help because she was equally confused. "I don't know?"

"What do you mean, you don't know?" I demanded, scared.

All of a sudden on most of the screens, Spencer showed up. He was bound to a chair beaten and bloodied.

"Oh my god." Penelope said, taking the words straight from my mouth.

"Guys! Guys!" Morgan shouted to the team. "Get in here!"

"He's been beaten." Prentiss said, assessing him.

"Can't you track him?" JJ asked, confused. I put a hand over my mouth, trying to remain composed.

"Henkel's only streaming this to his home computer." Penelope told them.

"This is for us, for Y/N, he knows we're here."

"I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick." Morgan spat, angry.

"Why can't you locate him?" Dad asked Penelope.

"He's rerouting to a different I.P Address every thirty seconds. I can't track him."

"Can you really see inside men's minds?" Tobias asked Spencer. "See these vermin. Choose one to die. I'll let you choose one to live."

"No," I gasped at Spencer'svoice.

"I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior." Tobias said.

"You're a sadist ina psychotic break. You won't stop killing. Your word's not true." Spencer told him, trying to snap him out of the personality he was in. Tobias was either Raphael or his father at the moment.

"The other heathens are watching. That whore of yours, she's watching. Choose a sinner to die, and I'll say the name and address of the person to be saved."

"I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like poacher." Playing into the fantasy. Good job, Spence, I thought.

"Can you really see into my mind, boy?" Tobias demanded lifting Spencer out of the chair. I gasped audibly, grabbing onto Gideon's arm. "Can you see I'm not a liar?" He yelled. "Choose one to die, and save a life. Otherwise, they're all dead."

"Alright," Spencer gave in, not wanting more people than necessary to die. "I'll choose who lives."

"They're all the same." Tobias spat at him.

"Far right screen." Spencer finally said.

"Marilyn David, 4913 Walnut Creed Road." Tobias said.

"You got that?" Dad asked Penelope.

"Yeah." She said, typing her fastest on the computer.

Gideon typed the phone number on a phone and it dialed.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end said.

"Marilyn David. My name is Jason Gideon. I'm with the FBI."

"What?" She said alarmed, Gideon told her to turn her computer off immediately and she did so.

"You're Raphael." Spencer said. Before anything else could happen, the screen went dark. Morgan walked out of the room, angry, and punched the door. I gripped JJ's hand hard, needing the contact to stay grounded.

"So now what? We wait for a 911 call, and hope we get there in time?" The sheriff asked.

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

When the next victims were killed, Dad, Gideon and I went to the crime scene.

"Slaughtered, same as the others. We've got roadblocks for a fifteen mile radius. Every unit's on the road, but so far nothing." I pushed the stray hairs out of my face and looked at the crime scene.

"I don't know how much longer Reid can hold out," Dad said quietly, giving in to his fear that Spencer might not make it.

"Who were the victims?" Gideon asked, ignoring Dad.

"Pam and Mike Hayes. He was a local defense attorney."

"And what Bible passage was left?" Gideon asked another question. I went and stood next to him.

"Isaiah 59. No one calls for justice, "no one pleads their case with integrity. They rely on empty arguments, they utter lies they conceive trouble and give birth to evil."

Gideon got close to the camera, "Reid, if you're watching, you're not responsible for this. You understand me? He's perverting God to justify murder. You are strong than him. He cannot break you."

"We're not getting any closer." Dad told us.

"Reid's brilliant. He'll figure out how to survive." Gideon said, trying to reassure us, himself included.

"You know, I always take advantage of Reid for his brain, but I never actually teach him how to deal with things emotionally."

"Lead by example." Gideon responded.

"What kind of example is that?" Dad asked.

"He'll make it."

"He has to." I whispered. "He has to make it." God, I prayed. Bring him back to me. Please just bring him back to me.

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

"We can trace their whole family history." Morgan said, looking at the evidence board we made up. "Here we got happy, smiling pictures of Tobias. Report cards all As and Bs, but as an eight year old, we get nothing."

"That's his mother leaving." Prentiss said from her spot next to me. "Six months later, on the other side of the board, we have a form from child services saying they paid a visit."

"Then Charles starts keeping journals about punishing sinners and needing to remove the devil from his son." I added. "Which corresponds to Tobias' drug use. He's trying to escape."

"So wherever Reid is, it was Tobias' choice, not this fathers." Morgan told us.

"How do you figure?" Prentiss asked him.

"Look at these two lives." Morgan pointed out. "They're like inverse graphs. One's getting weaker while the other one's getting angrier. Tobias would run away, his father would have stood and fought."

"Okay, so Tobias uses drugs as an escape. I'll go back through the journals with Y/N and see if we can find anything connecting his drug use to a hiding place."

"Uh, where's Gideon?" JJ asked walking into the room.

"He's upstairs. Why? What's going on?" Morgan asked her. JJ glanced at me before responding.

"Henkel's jut posted the latest murder."

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

We all gathered in the computer room to watch. It was horrific. Absolutely horrific. In everyway imaginable.

"I don't understand, why can't we just shut it down?" Gideon asked, pacing, confused by technology.

"Because I can't pinpoint his IPF." Penelope tried to explain.

"Just remove it once he sends it." Jason told her.

"It doesn't work like that." I said. "It's the internet."

"It's the internet, sir. Like Y/N said. Once something's out there, you can never take it back."

"It must remain. You can't undo anything."

"Right, you can't once it's up. Once it's up, it's up forever."

"I hate technology. Can you please do something? Anything? I do not want him thinking he has a pulpit."

"I have a list of everyone from the file-sharing chain. I could send out a mass warning that the video is actually a virus. I'm gonna do that. Okay." Penelope sent it out.

After a few moments, Tobias, as Charles, started streaming live again. "Do you think you can defy me?" Tobias said.

"I don't know what he's talking about." Spencer pleaded with him.

"You're a liar! You're pitiful! Just like my son. This ends now." I gasped when he pulled the gun on Spencer. "Confess your sins. Confess!" He hit Spencer in the face, making me cry out.

"I haven't don anything! Tobias, help me!" Spencer begged. I covered my mouth, tears streaming down my face.

"He can't help you. He's weak." Tobias, as Charles, said to him.

"Tobias!" Spencer cried.

"Confess your sins!" Tobias, as Charles, demanded again.

"Help!"

"Oh my god. He's killing him." Penelope said. I put the other hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my cries as Spencer started choking and the chair toppled over with him in it. He was dying. Actually dying.

Gideon stormed out and Dad, Prentiss, JJ and Morgan raced in. I hugged Dad tightly as Penelope explained what happened. Dad pulled away and went to get Gideon. I continued to silently cry. God, please, please save him. Let him come back to me. Please. I kept praying it over and over in my head, hoping He was listening.

Tobias came back into the room and started performing CPR on Spencer. Eventually after a few rounds, Spencer started coughing and breathing. I let out a strangled cry before clamping my mouth shut.

"Wait, wait a second." Prentiss said. "When was the last video posted?"

"9:23." Penelope responded.

"And - and what was the time of death?" She asked.

"The 911 call came in at 9:04 and the murder must have been moments later." Dad told her.

"That's only a 19 minute difference!" I said, looking over at JJ who nodded.

"How long would it take to post the mpeg?" Morgan asked Penelope.

"Two or three minutes." Penelope mumbled, guessing.

"Let's call it two." Morgan said.

"You figure a maximum of 60 miles an hour in a residential area." I piped up again. "That means Henkel has to be within a seventeen mile radius of the crime scene."

"Garcia, can we see it on a map?" Dad asked her and she did what he asked and pulled it up on the computer.

"Call Farrady." Gideon said. "I want that area locked down like it's martial law." JJ got up to go call him.

"Guys."

"You came back to life." Tobias said as Raphael.

"Raphael." Spencer said.

"There can only be one of two reasons." He declared.

"I was given CPR." Always with the science.

"There are no accidents. How many members are on your team?" Tobias, as Raphael, asked.

"Excluding me, seven."

"The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown down to earth."

"He thinks it's Revelation. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death." Dad said, understanding the unsub.

"Tell me who you serve." Tobias, as Raphael, demanded. Pulling Spencer up to sitting.

"I serve you." Spencer croaked.

"Then choose one to die." My eyes widened in fear.

"What?" Spencer asked, confused, trying to stall and come up for time.

"Your team members - choose one to die." He repeated himself.

"Kill me." Spencer pleaded. What?

"You said you weren't one of them." He reminded Spencer.

"I lied."

"Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies!"

"No!" I grabbed Dad's arm in a panic when he pulled a gun on Spencer. Dear God, please save him. Please save him. Please. Please Please.

He rolled the chamber of the gun. "Choose, and prove you'll do God's will."

"No." He clicked the gun. Dad used his free hand to cover his mouth.

"Choose." Tobias, as Raphael, demanded.

"I won't do it." Spencer told him, looking him square in the face. He shot again, but no bullet came out.

"Life is a choice."

"No." The gun clicked again. No bullet.

"Choose."

"I... I choose Aaron Hotchner." There was a moment of relief before Spencer started talking. "He's a classic narcissist. He think's he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4. "Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense. In emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense."

Tobias, as Raphael, took the bullet out of the camber. "For God's will." and put it back in and spun it.

We all walked out into the main room. "I'm not a narcissist." Dad said.

I looked at Gideon and then my dad. "Come on. Look. You can't take anything from that. He's not in his right mind, Hotch."

"Dad, he's trying to live." I pointed out.

"No. Stop. Stop." Dad said. "Alright, everybody right now - what's my worst quality?" Nobody said anything. "Okay, I'll start. I have no sense of humor."

"You're a bully." JJ said, referring to how he treats unsubs.

"I'm a bully," He agreed.

"You can be a drill sergeant sometimes." Morgan said.

"Right." Dad agreed.

"You don't trust women as much as men." Prentiss said.

Dad looked at me to say something but I shook my had. I wasn't going to say anything back about my dad.

"Okay, good." He relented. "I'm all of these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't ever."

"You don't, Dad." I agreed with him. Not sure where he was going with this, I indulged him nevertheless.

"I don't. Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that. And he also quoted Genesis chapter 23 verse 4." He picked up one of the many Bibles around the house and handed it to me. "Read it."

"I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may burry my dead out of my sight." I read from the Bible.

"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose." Dad scoffed, knowing that Spencer tricked Tobias/Charles/Raphael.

"He's in a cemetery." Morgan concluded.

"I don't see a cemetery." Prentiss said, looking a the map on Penelope's screen.

"Call up the first time we saw Reid." Gideon thought aloud. Penelope did what he asked. "I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher."

"Check to see if there's any poaching in the last couple days." I demanded, pacing back and forth in the back of the room.

"Okay, uh." Penelope typed as fast as she could. "A farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property."

"Where are we talking?" Morgan asked. She pulled it up on the map.

"What's that patch of green there?" JJ asked her.

I moved closer to the computer, wedging myself between Dad and Gideon.

"Marshall Parish. I think that it's an old plantation." Dad said.

"Wait." Prentiss said.

"Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from the Marshall." My brain rapid fired.

"Guy's there's a cemetery on the grounds." Penelope told us.

We all rushed to the vehicles.

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

"Spread out! They have to be on foot! Let's go!"

"Spencer!" I screamed. "Spencer! Spencer!" I screamed when I heard the gun shot. I ran towards the noise, everybody else right with me.

"You alright?" Dad asked Spencer after getting him on his feet. I stared at him blankly. He was here. He was alive. He was here.

"I knew you'd understand." He told Dad, hugging him before moving on to JJ.

"I am so sorry." She told him. I put my hands on my face and tried to remain calm. He was alive. He was alive. Thank you God. Thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank you.

"It's alright. It wasn't your fault."

"Let's get you out of here." Gideon said, reaching for Spencer. Spencer pushed away from him and into my arms. I burst into tears.

"I'm okay, you saved me." He mumbled into my hair. "I'm okay."

I clutched to him, holding onto him tightly. “Please don’t leave me again.” I begged. “Please.” I bagged my hands in his shirt.

“I won’t. I’m okay.” He repeated pulling away after a few minutes.

“Okay, let’s get you to an ambulance.” Gideon said again.

“Please - can I have a minutes alone?” Spencer asked.

“I’m not leaving you again.” I clutched his hand.

“I’ll just be a minute.” He squeezed. “Okay? Just a minute.”

Gideon pulled me away from Spencer, giving him a minute.

When Spencer caught back up to us, I held his hand again.

“Please don’t leave me.” I begged as we got to the ambulance.

“I won’t, I won’t leave you.” He promised me sitting in the back of the bus. I leaned my head on his shoulder, sighing at the nightmare this case was.

Part 2 coming soon!

[paincallingback]

I Hate Androids

(Not really angst. It's more of a short story to move the driving plot. I'm sorry, Felix, for hurting you like this)

Peeps?: @doakarma @star-tb @oscarsgallery

Tsk, has that brat really returned to my hotel once again? Pathetic. Can't this kid just screw off and go to school instead of wasting my time and bothering me? What does this brat want this time? Trying to persuade me into making a business deal with him so he can take my money?

All the previous times he came here, it's been the same old begging every time. Sorry kid but I'm not giving you any of my money because you want to build more androids. I know what you're up to. His innocent little looks may fool everyone but me. I know that this kid is a sadist at heart. I can see it in his eyes.

I was sitting in my office, doing the same old boring paperwork, checking the time to see when I needed to feed the cats. But the little brat comes in, and I sigh. I noticed he had his little android with him all the time as well. What an emotionless machine.

"What do you want, kid? I thought I banned you from my hotel. You have 10 seconds to explain to me why you're here before I call security to kick you out." I said, obviously bored that this kid has returned.

The kid smirked before clasping his hands behind his back. "Actually, this time I'm not here for a business deal. In fact it's something completely this time." He said in a cheerful voice. My eyes narrowed. "Today I brought you a gift!"

He snapped his fingers, and a second android appeared next to the first android. I stood up and reached for my sword under my desk. What is this kid planning.

"What is the meaning of this?!" I yelled, suspicious of the two androids and the kid. The kid laughed, that sadistic laugh.

"It's a gift silly. A gift of letting my androids beat you up! You'll be the first among many to feel the true power of my creation!" He snapped his fingers again. "Androids after him!" The two and start to move towards me.

I bring out the sword and get in a defense stance. "You are making a foolish mistake here." I uttered which only made the kid laugh more.

"The only fool here is you." He grin, watching one of the androids get hit by my sword, only to do no damage. I back away.

I glance around the room, I wish I had a gun instead on me. Those things can't work as long as I stabbed them through the head.

I raised my sword again, dodging one of them while charging at the other. I jumped to stab it, but it grabbed by the blade with their hand and snapped it in half. My eyes widen. I realized two things. 1) I'm going to need to buy a new one. 2) I'm screwed.

The one android that I dodged earlier grabs me by the arms and swung me to the wall, hitting the fireplace. I could have died if my head hit the wrong spot. I groan and cough before the other android jammed a needle into my neck.

It was probably some sort of chemical because I could barely get up and the room felt dizzy. I was determining to not be beaten by machine's. But my vision was getting blurry, and I collapsed onto the ground.

I blacked out, only soon to wake up in a car with the androids taking me to the Prime Softwares HQ. Tsk, they were taking me hostage and they felt nothing about it. This is why I hate androids.

I didn't even get to feed the cats today either.

[animentality]

got some people complaining about the poll I made yesterday that determines if you're poor, middle class, or upper middle class based on whether you know what DevSecOps is.

mostly people who know what it is, and were protesting that it's not a class indicator... except it is.

and I can tell they're middle class from this, almost definitely living in a suburb or just outside a city, not in a rundown neighborhood in the city or a backwater bumpkin town in the deep south that hasn't seen a job since 1973.

middle class people who come from college educated parents and/or went to college themselves and are in the sphere of computer programming and tech really take the world they know for granted.

people are waiters, man. they're truck drivers. they're hotel receptionists. they're plant workers and electricians and plumbers and shit. they sell machines to people and do secretary stuff. they work at hospitals and as emts and as car mechanics. or boring bureaucratic government jobs where you do paperwork all day.

you really think every single person on this planet knows what DevSecOps is?

it's a work philosophy similar to scrum that is specifically geared towards software developers with the goal of releasing software quickly and safely and responding to security threats as quickly as possible.

so.

a software developer who specializes in security would be familiar with it.

and you're gonna stand there and tell me that a software developer with a specialty in cyber security is living in poverty?

not very good at networking I guess.

it's just funny because I think the tendency to take your world for granted is unavoidable, but the people complaining that they know what DevSecOps is, but it's not a class indicator-

they're like the people who think everyone can afford college.

you're privileged to know what it is.

they don't teach that shit in public schools. they don't even necessarily teach it in colleges.

it's something you learn while working a desk job, for some tech corporation. and while you're no CEO, you're still better off for knowing how to develop software applications.

so check your privilege, internet weirdos!

this may shock you but knowing what some esoteric technical terms mean are an indicator of class.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#20yrsago Tech-support generation spends Thanksgiving patching for parents https://web.archive.org/web/20041120052426/http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6522314/site/newsweek/

#20yrsago Neal Stephenson’s System of the World concludes the Baroque Trilogy https://memex.craphound.com/2004/11/20/neal-stephensons-system-of-the-world-concludes-the-baroque-trilogy/

#15yrsago Owner of trendy Manhattan restaurant Paradou plumbs new depths of evil bad-bossitude https://gothamist.com/food/restaurant-owners-email-to-staff-belongs-in-tyrant-hall-of-fame

#15yrsago Traffic cameras used to harass and limit movement of peaceful protestors https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2009/oct/25/surveillance-police-number-plate-recognition

#15yrsago Owner of trendy Manhattan restaurant Paradou plumbs new depths of evil bad-bossitude https://gothamist.com/food/restaurant-owners-email-to-staff-belongs-in-tyrant-hall-of-fame

#10yrsago Firefox switches default search from Google to Yahoo https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/in-major-shift-firefox-to-use-yahoo-search-by-default-in-us/

#10yrsago Blackpool’s Broadway Hotel fines guests £100 for negative review https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-30100973

#10yrsago Hacker, Hoaxer, Whistleblower, Spy: why only an anthropologist can tell the story of Anonymous https://web.archive.org/web/20141122163653/https://www.spectator.co.uk/books/9373852/the-anonymous-ghost-in-the-machine/

#10yrsago Secret history of the poop emoji https://www.fastcompany.com/3037803/the-oral-history-of-the-poop-emoji-or-how-google-brought-poop-to-america

#5yrsago In an age of disappearing prison libraries, jail profiteers provide “free” crapgadget tablets that charge prisoners by the minute to read Project Gutenberg ebooks https://appalachianprisonbookproject.org/2019/11/20/how-much-does-it-cost-to-read-a-free-book-on-a-free-tablet/

#5yrsago DoJ to scrap the Paramount antitrust rule that prohibits movie studios from buying or strong-arming movie theaters https://www.reuters.com/article/us-usa-film-antitrust/justice-department-asks-court-to-scrap-decades-old-paramount-antitrust-decrees-idUSKBN1XS2G0/

#5yrsago When Republicans say “How will you pay for Medicare for All?” Democrats should answer: “Mexico will pay for it” https://theintercept.com/2019/11/20/democratic-debate-budget-deficit/

#5yrsago Twitter censures UK Tory Party for changing its blue-check account name to “FactCheckUK” during the prime ministerial debates https://edition.cnn.com/2019/11/19/world/conservative-party-fact-check-twitter-intl/index.html

#1yrago Larry Summers' inflation scare-talk incinerated climate action https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/20/bloodletting/#inflated-ego

[tangentsimmer]

Anxiously Waiting... (The Sims 4: Get Famous)

Ari and her mother arrived at their San Myshuno hotel around midnight Monday morning. Junie decided to retire to bed, but Ari was too anxious to sleep. She was meeting with her record label "Dinky Beats" first thing in the morning. Ari fears they're going to drop her for not releasing music timely enough. Despite sending the label plenty of samples of her music to her label (and promising to have her debut EP ready by this summer), they want to her to release something now. Anything. It doesn't matter how talented she is: the show must go on, with or with her.

Ari sat on her hotel bed while her mother slept in the other bed. San Myshuno is one of her favorite places to be, for more reasons than one, but the dread she is feeling in this moment is clouding any other emotion.

buzz buzz

Ari looks over to her phone on the bedside table as the screen lit up with a text message:

"Has the eagle landed yet?"

It's none other than amateur music producer and tech guru, Akira Kibo. Ari and Akira met several months ago during Ari's "Moschino & Co." photoshoot through a mutual friend. Akira works for "Rainy Day Entertainment," a startup tech company based in San Myshuno. He assists with managing the software used at "Moschino & Co." And Ari finds him incredibly attractive. Suddenly, Ari's tense mood was gone and had been replaced with giddy.

"There's no way a man is making me feel like this," Ari muttered to herself, fighting back a huge grin as she composed her reply to Akira:

"Just landed in the city. Bored. Wanna have a jam sesh?"

The shift in their relationship happened weeks ago. Ari has been making waves under her current label, but she's also been sharing and trading ideas with Akira. He thinks -- maybe even more than she does -- that Ari is going to be a global superstar someday, and has been happy to help her with music producing. Ari even told him she was coming to town, but she didn't disclose why. Partly because she was embarrassed, but mostly because she still has no idea what the meeting is about. But before Ari could pull herself out of her thoughts, her phone buzzed again:

"Absolutely. Come through. ;)"

Ari knows that text was harmless; he's always teasing her flirtatiously. But still, Ari feels butterflies in her stomach. She checks the clock sitting on the end table. 1:36 AM.

"On my way."

[too-many-rooks]

Okay I need to know, out of all the Thomas Levin content you watched, which ones were worth watching?! I kind of want to check out Alfa

Ooh that’s a good question - I will add the disclaimer that I’ve absolutely not watched 100% of any of these shows (except for Alex Rider, which I’ve somehow watched 300% of,) I’m mostly just hunting for Levin scenes that could be interesting seen through the lens of Yassen - but there’s definitely some that have drawn me in more than others, there’s also a substantial amount I’ve only been able to find only in Danish, with Danish subs.

His episode of Unit One is pretty fun, and thanks to Mads Mikkelson fans, it’s fairly easy to find links on reddit to the episodes that will also have subtitle files you can important into a video player.

His episode of Taxa from when he was like 20 is on drtv, full Danish but is still quite fun to skip through to just see his scenes, it’s fairly easy to pick up on the context clues to follow the story.

His scenes in ‘Those who kill’ and ‘Strike Back’ are brilliant, but the shows are really hard to find and I had to buy them, so tricky. I might be able to isolate his scenes and share them, but not totally sure, my usual screen recording software doesn’t have sound .

These next ones were easier to find on streaming, at least in the uk, on Netflix or channel 4 has a lot of them -

Smother, bit meh, might give it a miss, but him being a dad to a teenager is quite cute.

Borgen can be interesting, very heavy on the politics - I didn’t dwell on this one much, as a lot of his scenes are either presenting the news, or in meetings discussing the news, but his character is an little shit in a fairly fun way.

Stockholm Requiem I got more into, and he’s a pretty central character who gets up to some interesting shit - it is *dark* however, and fairly heavy on the child murder.

Seaside hotel (gifs upcoming) is quite a fun show, though there’s some tonal disparity there, bc it’s basically a lighthearted show about people on holiday on the 1930s-40s, and he’s playing a Jewish man fleeing a Nazi work camp, but I enjoyed this show. He has a sweet little romance.

Baby fever is a really fun show - it’s a comedy about a woman who works at a fertility clinic and breaks into the sperm bank Levin manages when drunk and inseminates herself - there’s supposed to be another season soon (today, maybe?) which he’s also in, and I’ll definitely be checking out for gif making potential

Alfa/Grow is good - it’s another fairly dark crime drama that’s got multiple storylines converging together around the drug trade in Copenhagen, his story line is as a member of this secretive police unit acting as a mentor to one of the main characters, whose father was involved in the drug trade but has become a cop. An interesting role for him - he’s the dad of a teenager again, which I enjoy, and is a bit of an ass.

+I will say in my Levin studies, I’ve definitely noticed some typical archetypes he tends to fit into - full blown criminals who can and will murder you, assholes who are really good at their jobs (Yassen fits into the overlap there 😅) and a few, much rarer, genuinely nice guys trying their best. I might make some kinda Venn diagram to display this crucial data bc I do already have this info in a table, including important subcategories, like ‘beard?’ Or ‘dad?’ Just not totally sure how to present this information 😅😅

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