#plus now that i think about it i can’t in good faith make a guess without knowing what she played the previous nights

[titsthedamnseason]

LA N4 marks that we are officially more than halfway done with the eras tour LA 🥲 y’all have been on fire with the guesses so please drop your surprise song guesses in the tags / replies and i will give you a shoutout if you’re right 🫶🏻

for my guesses i’m going with mirrorball and foolish one

[tiredfox64]

Part three of Go for the Kill? But its based ok the ending where reason is with all three of the brothers? She soon gets knocked up and the threee fight over whose it is? >:3

The Soil was Tilled Enough

Prior notes: I knew somebody would ask for this. Had a That’s so Raven moment when I was writing that last part.

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: You’re gonna have a stroke with my reasoning.

You are faced with a light pink stick in your hands. You were growing tired and sick just days before which worried the brothers a lot. The last thing they want is for their vicious woman to grow horribly ill. Oh but this is no illness. This is the miracle of life.

Yeah this is a strange situation. Truly a spectacle that has some people, or more like someone, disappointed. Liu Kang ain’t too happy that his paid assassin would be out of commission for at least a year. What he also doesn’t like is hearing that the brothers are fighting over who is the father. The yelling is really getting annoying.

“It can’t possibly be your child! I slept with her first!” Bi-Han yelled directly in Tomas’ face.

“We all slept with her first! You are just jealous that the baby is possibly mine!” Tomas yelled right back.

The only one staying calm was Kuai Liang. He stayed right next to you, rubbing your belly as you contemplated the same thing. Who is the father?

Alright, so you put too much faith into Plan B. Guess it wasn’t made to handle loads upon loads of baby-making liquid from men who probably never allowed themselves to feel relief in quite a while. Plus the fact that they love you a lot made the chances of you getting pregnant much higher. I think they were aiming for that goal but I’m not a mind reader.

“What are we gonna do? Are we ready enough to handle having a baby and raising it?” You questioned, concerned about way too many things.

“Of course can handle it. The baby will be in safe hands. Even if the baby is not mine I promise to take care of them as if they were my own.” Kuai Liang made that promise to you.

Kuai Liang really loves you and just wants the best for you. He doesn’t want you to worry too much especially now that’s you are pregnant. His commitment to you made you feel a little better, knowing he won’t be mad about whose baby it is. The other two…yeah that’s gonna take some time.

At this point Bi-Han had Tomas in a headlock which made Tomas start punching Bi-Han’s arms in defense. Kuai Liang ran in to split the two apart.

“Enough of this! This fighting won’t solve anything.” He yelled at them both.

“I do not understand why you are not threatened by the fact that Tomas might have impregnated her. What good will that baby do coming from a man like him?” Bi-Han was being harsh again which made Tomas punch him.

“It does not matter. She is pregnant and she wants to keep it. We must support her no matter what.”

Kuai Liang was right and all the brothers had to agree with his statement. Though Bi-Han was still being as stubborn as ever. If he just keeps the mindset that it’s his baby in there he will be fine.

“Well, do you know how far along you are?” Tomas asked.

“Considering the last time we did it was a couple of weeks ago and I’m getting sick, it might be four to six weeks.”

Oof, if it’s six it can only get worse when it comes to the symptoms. Get ready to start taking bathroom breaks and getting sick from smells.

“It will still be a few weeks before we can get a paternity test done.” You added on.

“We should do that. Settle this debate early on whose child this is.” Bi-Han was on board with doing a paternity test even though he didn’t know you can test that while still pregnant. It’s that old mindset don’t worry.

“I want to the know the gender first. I wanna see if we are having a baby boy or a baby girl.” Tomas gushed at the idea.

“No you don’t, Tomas! We will not wait to find out the gender first.”

“Yes we will, brother. It will teach you to have some patience. It will also test if you still love her enough to take care of her while she is going through this.”

Kuai Liang was shutting Bi-Han down at every opportunity. How dare his little brother accuse him of not loving you. Fine, he’ll wait. They’ll all wait. And as that goes on they will start preparing things for you like a nursery. They gonna spoil the hell out of you.

A woman who is pregnant is a strong woman indeed. They will make sure to take good care of you. They will do their parts as the possible fathers.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Finally! Week thirteen! You can expect your results to be one hundred percent accurate when it comes to the gender. Now here’s the interesting part—

“WHAT!” You, Tomas, Bi-Han, and Kuai Liang all yelled at the doctor in shock.

…I didn’t get to finish. Let me speak up. Damn…

As I was saying the interesting part was that as time went on you noticed your belly was getting quite big. It was a little too early but you didn’t think it was anything much. This was your first time being pregnant so you thought it was normal.

Not necessarily.

“T-twins? We are having twins? And they are all ours?” Tomas was questioning the doctor on how accurate it was.

The ultrasounds did show two little babies. Two little nuggets growing inside you. And they are both boys, congratudolences!

“It’s called Heteropaternal superfecundation. It’s incredibly rare but it can happen. Especially to someone with three partners.” That doctor was throwing shade at you. She was just jealous.

“So one of those boys is definitely mine,” Tomas was all smiles, “But what about the other one?”

Yeah, what about the other one? Still got the other two. They are blood related so this might be harder.

If it’s Kuai Liang’s this might not end well for him since Bi-Han was staring him down with a death glare. Luckily the doctor had something to say about that.

“That’s the thing, we can’t tell. Because they are related there is some difficulties. So as far as any of you know, they are both the father of that other little boy.”

Kuai Liang is content with that. He is just happy to start a family and have a child with you. Bi-Han…ah he gives up. There is no point in being upset about this. There is nothing anyone can do. He’ll be happy to have a son of his own that he can train and possibly be the next grandmaster to the Lin Kuei.

All the brothers are happy to be fathers to a wonderful set of twins, dizygotic twins to be exact. Tomas is already imagining having the twins play together and teaching them to take care of one another. Kuai Liang is imagining caring for them both and teaching them to be good brother. Bi-Han already preparing in his mind a plan to train his son. That’s his responsibility.

The tension between the brothers dissipated. There was no reason to fight and stress you out even more. Looks like they better get more things ready for the babies. The nursery has to be big enough to accommodate two of them.

You have a good support system going on here. I hope you are happy with your multiple lovers and your set of twins.

…

Oh don’t tell me, you want to know who the father actually is. Alright so the clinic didn’t actually have the advanced technology to figure out who the father was when it came to Kuai Liang and Bi-Han. They were only certain on Tomas.

The true father is…I don’t know. What? Did you think I knew all? No! Even I don’t know. And do you even wanna know? Just let be happy that they are happy. Now get some rest, mama. You have a long journey ahead of you and it’s called motherhood.

After notes: Why do I keep doing twins? I’m scaring myself. Here’s a fact about me I have a high chance of having twins if I were to get pregnant. Yeah, I know, crazy. Please tell me I haven’t manifested this for myself my period still hasn’t come oh gosh 😭. I would have done triplets for this fic but nature doesn’t work like that. Well since I’m done I get to eat. Adiós! (Pls make my period show up y’all)

[bookishwenchmeltha]

Sifki2024 Playlist

@sifkiweek Okay, so, I have never posted a playlist to Tumblr before, and I'm hoping this works right. If not, my apologies in advance.

This jumps all over in terms of time (they've been alive a thousand years plus, so there are a lot of valid options!), genre (Cole Porter to NIN to Dolly Parton to Springsteen), and connection (unhealthy relationship, childhood sweethearts, pining, madness, and a little nod to Sif as goddess of the harvest via Sting). I hope you enjoy it. :)

“Gone” – U2 You're taking steps that make you feel dizzy Then you get to like the way it feels. You hurt yourself you hurt your lover Then you discover What you thought was freedom is just greed.

“The Old Ways” – Loreena McKennitt As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea A vision came o'er me Of thundering hooves and beating wings In clouds above Turning to go as you call out my name Like a bird in a cage spreading its wings to fly "The old ways are lost, " you sang as you flew And I wondered why.

“A Matter of Trust” – Billy Joel Some love is just a lie of the heart The cold remains of what began with a passionate start And they may not want it to end But it will it's just a question of when I've lived long enough to have learned The closer you get to the fire, the more you get burned But that won't happen to us 'Cause it's always been a matter of trust

“Here You Come Again” – Dolly Parton Here you come again Just when I'm about to make it work without you You look into my eyes and light those dreamy eyes And pretty soon I'm wondering how I came to doubt you All you gotta do is smile that smile And there go all my defenses Just leave it up to you and in a little while You're messing up my mind and filling up my senses

“You’re So Vain” – Carly Simon You had me several years ago when I was still quite naive Well you said that we made such a pretty pair and that you would never leave But you gave away the things you loved And one of them was me

“You’re No Good” – Linda Ronstadt Feelin' better now that we're through Feelin' better, 'cause I'm over you I learned my lesson, it left a scar Now I see how you really are

“He’s a Pirate” – Klaus Badelt (Pirates of the Caribbean)

“Cold” – Annie Lennox Time it may take us but God only knows How I've paid for those things in the past Dying is easy it's living that scares me to death, ooh, yeah I could be so content hearing the sound of your breath, ooh, yeah

“Charade” – Henry Mancini When we played our charade We were like children posing Playing at games, acting out names Guessing the parts we played

“Truly Madly Deeply” – Savage Garden I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need I'll love you more with every breath, truly, madly, deeply do

“Torn” – Natalie Imbruglia Well, you couldn’t be that man I adored. You don’t seem to know Seem to care what your heart is for But I don’t know him anymore. There’s nothing where he used to lie. My conversation has run dry. That’s what’s going on. Nothing’s fine, I’m torn, I’m all out of faith.

“Secret Garden” – Bruce Springsteen She’ll let you in her heart If you got a hammer and a vise, But into her secret garden, don’t think twice. You’ve gone a million miles, How far’d you get To that place that you can’t remember And you can’t forget?

“Something to Save” – George Michael We're moving further from heaven And closer to the deep blue sea 'Cause I have no secrets from you And I have nothing left to hide And I'm open to all your questions Why can't you reach inside like I have Like I have for you And all these games that you play Don't tell me how a man should be

“Come Undone” – Duran Duran Words, playing me deja vu Like a radio tune, I swear I've heard before Chill, is it something real? Or the magic I'm feeding off your fingers Lost, in a snow filled sky We'll make it alright to come undone

“Fields of Gold” – Sting See the west wind move like a lover’s soul Upon the fields of barley Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth Among the fields of gold I never made promises lightly And there have been some that I've broken But I swear in the days still left We'll walk in fields of gold

“Found Out about You” – Gin Blossoms Is there a line that I could write That's sad enough to make you cry? And all the lines you wrote to me were lies Months roll past the love that you struck dead Did you love me only in my head?

“Possession” – Sarah McLachlan Through this world I stumble, So many times betrayed, Trying to find an honest word, To find the truth enslaved. You speak to me in riddles And you speak to me in rhymes. My body aches to breathe your breath, Your words keep me alive.

“Everything You Want” – Vertical Horizon You howl and listen, Listen and wait for the Echoes of angels who won't return. He's everything you want, He's everything you need, He's everything inside of you That you wish you could be. He says all the right things At exactly the right time, But he means nothing to you And you don't know why.

“Days of Wine and Roses” – Cassandra Wilson The days of wine and roses Laugh and run away Like a child at play Through a meadowland toward a closing door A door marked “nevermore” That wasn’t there before. The lonely night discloses Just a passing breeze Filled with memories Of the golden smile that introduced me to The days of wind and roses and you

“Night and Day” – Billie Holiday Night day you are the one Only you ‘neath the moon and under the sun. Whether near to me or far, It’s no matter, darling, where you are I think of you night and day.

“Demon Seed” – Nine Inch Nails It keeps growing And I can feel it breathe I have been trying To behave myself

“Two Princes” – Spin Doctors Marry him or marry me. I'm the one that loves you baby can't you see? I ain't got no future or a family tree, But I know what a prince and lover ought to be, I know what a prince and lover ought to be.

“The Sweetest Taboo” - Sade If I tell you, if I tell you now Will you keep on, will you keep on loving me? If I tell you, if I tell you how I feel Will you keep on bringing out the best in? You give me, you give me the sweetest taboo.

[another-dr-another]

ok i am in a maki mood let’s chat w her!! see more of her theory and what not -iris

Maeda, narrating - Maki’s… a lot more approachable right now-

Maeda - I mean, yeah, that’s just because she and I agree with each other… but, whatever. 

~*~

Maeda - Hi, Maki…

Maki - Hey.

Maki - …Procrastinating on investigating more?

Maeda - Well-

Maki - I’m not judging you. As long as you get it done eventually, it’s fine… I guess I’d be more concerned if you were excited to go to the trial.

Maki - …Do you want to switch? It probably wouldn’t be an issue if you wanted to be on guard duty.

Maeda - No, it’s fine…

Maeda - The thought of just hanging around here, me, Ōtori, and Hatano isn’t something that gets me feeling too great…

//His voice drops, even quieter than it was before.

Maeda - Being around Hatano after I saw her react to Iranami’s death is…

//Maki hums, understanding.

Maki - Who knows, maybe if I hang out here for long enough, I’ll have some great epiphany about what happened.

Maeda - Mmm…

Maeda - Did you ever see Iranami drinking coffee in the mornings?

Maki - Yeah, actually-

Maki - She always went back into the kitchen to get more, she’d go through at least one mug every morning.

Maeda - …Oh, I think I remember that, actually…

Maki - I mean, it’s not like she was one to announce what she was doing… god, maybe I need to get some coffee…

Maeda - If you want, I could get some for you, from the kitchen- how do you take it?

Maki - …

Maki - ………

Maki - What.

Maeda - …?

Maki - Th-There’s coffee… in the kitchen…?

Maeda - …Yes?

Maki - But- there’s only one coffee pot.

Maeda - Yes.

Maki - …

Maki - …Did you and Ōtori actually make coffee using the poisoned coffee pot-

Maeda - OH-

Ōtori - What?!

Maki - There is no fucking way-

Maeda - We didn’t! We didn’t!

Ōtori - We didn’t what?!

Maki - Maeda.

Maeda - Seriously!

Maeda - I found some cans of cold brew! That’s all!

Maki - …Oh my god…

Ōtori - …What happened?

Maki - I thought- 

Maki - I thought you two had actually made coffee using the pot that the poisoned coffee was made in…

Ōtori - What the hell? Maeda!

Maeda - I’m sorry! I just wanted to offer Maki some caffeine! Be a good classmate! Damn!

Maki - Jesus…

Maeda - …

Ōtori - …

Maeda - …Ōtori did actually suggest using the coffee pot, though-

Ōtori, hissing - Maeda!

Maki, overlapping - Ōtori!?

Ōtori - …What!

Ōtori - What, so it’s a problem that I have faith in my ability to sanitize things? We aren’t allowed to believe in hot water, now?

Maki - It’s not a- a fucking pathogen, poison isn’t negated by hot water!

Ōtori - Some are! And what, we can’t clean things? It would need to be spotless before I’d use it!

Maki - Jesus…

Ōtori - …Nice snitching, Maeda-

Maki - Maeda, thank you for snitching on Ōtori. I didn’t realize the extent of his…

//She places her head in her hands.

Maki - … “It would’ve been spotless,” oh my god…

Maeda - …Do you want some cold brew, though?

Maki - I’ll get an energy drink before the trial, thanks…

Ōtori - Seriously, Maeda, I think you’re the only person who likes those-

Maeda - It’s not that they’re good, I’m just not picky!

Maki - …

Maki - That… brief moment of terror gave me so much adrenaline…

Maki - …

Maki - I still can’t work out what happened, though…

Maki - I was right by the door… I can’t believe I didn’t wake up- the door had to have opened and shut, because it was closed when we went to sleep…

Maeda - Huh…

Ōtori - …

Maki - I mean… I get that we can’t just dwell on the past… but it seriously doesn’t add up-

Maki - Also? I just can’t imagine Iranami willingly going with someone, just the two of them, without anyone else up…

Maki - …But I can’t think of what happened…

Maeda - …We’ll work it out. You’re just one person- we’ll have eight different people all trying to work out what happened-

Maeda - And hey! Maybe the blackened will slip up and say something incriminating.

Ōtori - …Wouldn’t that be lucky…

Maeda - …Plus, adrenaline is nothing compared to that energy drink, so maybe when we get to the trial, you’ll be awake enough to solve everything.

//Maki snorts.

Maki - Next time we talk, watch us both have come up with totally contradicting theories for what happened last night…

Maeda - Then we finally come to an agreement, tell everyone our theory in the trial-

Maki - And they shoot it down instantly, no hesitation!

Maeda - God…

Maki - …

Maki - …Maeda, I really thought you were offering me coffee from-

Maeda - I know-

Maki - What does that say, Maeda, that I genuinely believed you and Ōtori might’ve done that…

Maeda - I know…

Maeda - …

Maeda - Ōtori really did suggest-

Maki - I know.

~*~

Maeda, narrating - I can’t tell if Ōtori’s comment was supposed to be a reference to my talent, or not.

Maeda - …

Maeda - Wait, should I have asked Maki if she wanted to trade?

Maeda - She probably isn’t enjoying being with Ōtori and Hatano either…

Maeda - …It’d probably be weird if I offered now, though.

Iranami is still on the table, same as when Maeda first saw her, same as she’s been in the corner of his eye, and same as she’ll be when he leaves for the trial. Up close, the [positioning of her body] sticks out to him a bit more than it did initially. Additionally, he can already tell that there’s [more blood] than he’d expected. [Maki] and {Ōtori} have both made their way over, but neither seems quite sure what to do. Maki is simply looking at Iranami, while Ōtori keeps glancing between her, and his E-Handbook. Lastly, {Hatano} is sitting alone a few tables away… but Maeda isn’t sure he wants to approach. Maeda isn’t sure he needs to investigate any of what remains, and he’s considering {going to Tsurugi’s Dormitory} now.

[despapillon]

stupid how you managed to make a dick joke out of innocent shot. and hosegate oh no that is awful. Byler is not going to be in relationship. what show have you been watching certainly not Stranger Things more like Gayer Things. Duffer have had an emotional love declaration by Mike and you believe Byler? that is sad. it may not be romantic but to Duffers it is. same men that wrote in Steve talking about his breeding kink to Nancy and framed it as romantic. just because something is the better choice in your eyes does not mean that will happen. after events of show i can only see Mike and El get married. Duffers try to convince he is straight and they intend him to be but Mike reads as deep in closet. fans dw Will is going to get over Mike and find a bf that is give him happiness he deserves. but Mike? Mike will forever be in loveless marriage and he is never ever going to get over Will. in his thirties and beyond that he is going to suffer and not stop thinking about how everything would be different if he accepted his sexuality and chose Will not El. he is going to hate himself for making such a mistake

listennnnnnnnnn. ppl were talking about hosegate so i just made a reference to the rolled up painting shot. i wasnt the one that noticed it first. i only knew it was a thing because of Bylers discussing it. i had the pic saved, as i was preparing a post that i scrapped that was about Will and the allegations he had, including fake stuff spread around that S3 Will would have a p*rn magazine and the speculations that Will is going to sleep around with random men in S4 and my thoughts on this plus the sexualization dramas like Byler sex in the show, Byler kiss not being chaste, writing Byler smut, Mike supposedly checking Will out, hosegate and other phallic imagery. i decided against that and now i think that was a good choice because it would drive some wild.

i never truly meant the rolled up painting thing was intentional i was simply saying what was a regular shot became dirty to me thanks to Bylers influence. i’m sorry i didn’t mean to offend anyone. i still find it funny but i feel bad for making that post. i guess i should have kept it to myself. i had no idea it would come off this inappropiate. though the characters are only 15 (i think) so that is on me for not caring how uncomfortable it could make others.

now onto the rest of your ask. i don’t know if Byler is going to be together. i don’t. i ship it because i like it. when we get the next season we will see. i willingly choose to spend my time on discussing Byler knowing i’m not really that confident in it. nobody is forcing me to do this. i know we may get queerbaited. but i don’t care.

there is that section of Bylers that got utterly destroyed by vol 2 and either converted to M!leven and now mock us for still shipping Byler (there must be a name for that phenomenon because how) or are bitter and lashing out at Duffers because they lost their faith and now Byler bad. i assume you are the second. i hope you are proven wrong because you seem heated about the topic. to the point you sent me an ask about it.

Duffers did make a lot of writing mistakes and choices i disagree with. whether Byler happens or not i do plan on discussing what i had a problem with after watching s5 because i need to see how they will handle the characters’ arcs to make a post as there could be surprises awaiting us. and talk about how i’d handle certain plotlines as a person that can’t write anything coherent.

keep in mind that Montauk, the original ST, drew inspo from It, and if there was a potential season 2 to Montauk, they wanted to straight up go the It route by having the characters grown up and some leave the town then come back when it all gets fucked up again and join forces for the second time.. they do also mention It, and Stephen King as inspiration. you can see it in the current series too. Willelmike is literally a ripoff of the love triangle between Ben, Bev and Bill. Ben’s poem and Will’s painting.. it’s so blatant. and those that watched the movies know how said love triangle ends.

Gayer Things is a great series that i suggest you need to have more faith in.

[mychemicalficrecs]

any priest!gerard fics besides unholyverse?

The thing is: this mod, as tumblr says, identifies religiously as 'I was raised Catholic' so going through these fics is always Interesting! But luckily, I think blasphemy and all that shit is hot. With that tmi out of the way: Here's a bunch of fic for you. I didn't try to make this Frank/Gerard, but it still happened.

Frank/Priest!Gerard

Even a Father Has Sins to Confess by MizErie, 9k, Explicit. Father Way knows it's a sin in more than one way, but he just can't help the feelings he has for the altar server in his parish. Young Frank even has aspirations of becoming a priest himself one day. And that has him spending more and more of his time with Father Way as he finishes his last year of high school and prepares to enter seminary. Will Father Way be able to resist his urges or will he succumb to the Devil's temptation?

Against the Works of the Flesh by happilyappled, 63k, Explicit. Frank Iero is the gay teenager who, after coming out to his Catholic family, faces trouble in finding himself and fitting in. He will find himself, though, through Father Way.

Guilt by silentdescant, 7k, Explicit. Frank has an obsession with Father Way.

Not A Saint by happilyappled, 6k, Explicit. Father Way is not just a priest and Frank is not just any other man.

Unholy by cupid_falls, 2k, Explicit. Frank has to stay after youth group

I'll never let them hurt you by KJBrainrot, 33k, Mature. Midnight Mass AU. What can be said about Belleville? Nothing, that's what. It's just one of those suburbs you either manage to escape from, or get stuck in forever. Mikey was of the latter school, he had never even tried to go away. He had to watch all his friends and his brother do. For a weird series of coincidences, though, they all end up back in town at the same time. It's like eighth grade all over again, except Ray's a cop, Frank's all messed up and Gerard...well, Gerard's a fucking priest.

Holy Palmers by nomdeplume (ibelieveinyou), 1k, Explicit. Unholyverse Extended Universe - Priest Gerard fucks Frank's stigmata. (Surprisingly tender)

On The Altar by SadGhostCult, 7k, Explicit. “On the altar, now, Frank,” the priest demanded again, his tone firm and strong, as if he genuinely enjoyed being the dominant one here with full control over Frank—and not only that, but the fact that although the church doors were locked, they really could be caught at any time. Plus, it was definitely a sin to fuck on the altar before Christ. --- Frank can’t remember the last time he went to church, and since he’s been kind of in a bad way recently—failing all his classes, getting into drugs, etc.—his mom forces him to not only attend this Sunday’s service, but to also go to confession with Father Way and admit his sins.

Someone Get Me to a Church by oompapa, Frank/Gerard, Bert/Gerard, Grant/Gerard, Frank/Grant/Gerard, 18k, Explicit. Can be read without watching the show. This is ‘Midnight Mass,’ streamlined with liberties taken to prioritize gay smut. Also, for the sake of forcing Grant’s sexy voice into this thing, this Angel is telepathic now. I am weak and I will see you all in hell.

The Devil's Got Your Number by frnkxo, 4k, Explicit. Frank was the leader of his church's youth group, so naturally, he wouldn't be the first and only teenager to sin and have a crisis of faith. He's a good boy. He loves his faith and his God. He cannot be swayed by the Devil. But of course, Gerard has a few tricks up his sleeve.

Twice a Week, Religiously by mashedpotatoqueen, 5k, Explicit. Frank temporarily moves back in with his parents and they tell him he is going to go to church with them. Whether he likes it or not.

The Sound as You Fall by ontheskyidance, 23k, Explicit. “Told you to be careful,” Frank whispered, sliding his palm to settle it on the edge of the handle. Gerard didn’t even breathe as he locked his fingers around it. One sharp push and the blade would be buried in his throat. “You’re Poison, then,” he guessed easily. Gerard’s lungs burned with the need to gulp air, blood deafening in his ears. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Father.”

[laf-outloud]

WIndy back with a bang! This show never misses or makes us endure dull moments and I love them for that.

I have to remember to keep good faith when it comes to Gus, he’s smarter and more in the know than he lets on and seems to have his own motives that he’s not quite willing to let people in on yet. He’s also the character that knows Tom best since he knew that unless Tom found the body himself he’d never believe it was Mary Collins, and was instantly suspicious of Tom letting the suspect go. The team needs someone who isn’t going to let their distrust of Tom blind them. His dynamic with Hoyt was so good– I’m a sucker for when the lawman and the outlaw team up. I’m also wondering if we’re going to see a new arc for Hoyt with him going legit, I could see Gus and Hoyt running Independence together. Hoyt’s days as a ranch hand didn’t last long and with it his relationship with Lucia is also over, or at least that’s the way it seems. I’m hoping that Lucia now enters her girl boss rancher era.

I’m happy that Kai didn’t run away, I’d miss him. Plus we’ve all seen that Independence is a boring town, it could use his drama 😉

I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel about Abby’s sister or her joining the show so soon (I thought Boston wouldn’t come into play until season 2) but I love her and need her back ASAP. Kate probably feels the same way lol. Those two kissing while Angel Olsen played did more for the gay community than Chaos Machine/Jenneel ever could. I loved the scene where Kate was filling Charlie in on all of the gossip. Didn’t think I’d get my shipping wish fulfilled in the same episode as her introduction! Their spark was there from the moment they met! Kate really is the most charming woman. I’m glad Abby seems to understand her sister a little better now, and hopefully realizes that they’re more alike than Abby thinks (side note, get off your high horse Abby). I’m also curious because it seems that Charlie knew more about Liam than his own wife did.

Calian’s storyline has taken quite the turn! I’m guessing that Calian is going to turn to the town, specifically Abby and co, for an alliance to protect his tribe. The Native gossip mill must be wild, how does this chick know so much about Calian? I know it’s probably just because it’s convenient for the narrative, but I like imagining people gossiping about the handsome Calian.

Did anyone else think that Tom Davidson was going to kiss Abby when they were searching the scene of Liam’s death? It’s funny because I’m always happy that the show doesn’t force romance and I’m a slow burn type of gal, but every episode I also want Tom and Abby to kiss. He’s clearly so into Abby. “You saved me, you’re so smart and determined, you ran the town with Gus while I was gone and I’m totally not jealous, you care and my family doesn’t😍🙈🙊” And this episode he reminded us that he was previously in a mental institute by hanging the guy that stabbed him from the ceiling. My skin crawled when he stabbed that guy in the hand. I was wondering why he let him go, but apparently Davidson sheriff work needs to be done off the books. Abby is growing on me as time goes on. I love the parallel of both her and Tom being artists, and being so conflicted when it comes to him and her morals.

And speaking of conflict, a Tom Davidson doppelgänger! Props to the casting department, they really do look like brothers. I’m surprised Abby is able to admit that she might be wrong about Tom, and I’m excited to see where this takes the case.

All in all, the perfect episode to bring things back. Humor, romance, more mystery and good, old fashion western drama. I missed these characters so much! Can’t believe we only have a few more episodes in the season.

Swoon! I love your reviews! Thank you for continuing to send them in!

Gus has so many layers I feel we've barely scratched the surface! And him and Hoyt? Comedy gold! (Matt was wearing a pretty smart suit in one of the bts photos... maybe he's looking to be on the town council?)

I miss Kai when he's not in the episodes, I can't imagine him being out of town. But I find it interesting that he was so willing to open up to Hoyt when he's been so tight-lipped prior to now. I wonder if Lucia's put in a good word for Hoyt, or if it's just easier thinking he may be talking one criminal to another.

Kate and Charlie!!! Chate? Karlie? "Those two kissing while Angel Olsen played did more for the gay community than Chaos Machine/Jenneel ever could." You're not wrong!

I'm right there with them gossiping about Calian!

I didn't really see a kiss coming, but the chemistry he and Abby have is fantastic. And I did not see Tom's descent into torture coming. Now I'm really curious as to what he was in the asylum for.

Called it when I saw those photos of Tom and Shane for next week. I knew there'd be a way for Tom to be exonerated of killing Liam. (Even if he still might be guilty.)

I'm lucky that I get to rewatch WIndy as I'm typing! Along with everything else being fabulous, Hoyt looks fantastic in blue! (I think that's a Walkerverse constant!)

[old1ddude]

Faith in the Future Troutdale, Oregon

Okay, I saw Louis in the flesh a few weeks ago and it’s about time I wrote up my experience.

The McMenamins-Edgefield amphitheater is a lovely venue for outdoor concerts.  There are plenty of tall trees surrounding (and a few within) the field, so the whole thing is shaded fairly early on June evenings.  Due to heavy traffic through greater Portland, we were not as early as we had hoped, but did find a spot for our low beach chairs about halfway back.  The venue was not crowded (except for right in front of the stage, which was a separate, roped off area I think.)  I believe it was roughly half of full capacity (which would have been quite crowded.)  As it was, halfway back, we had respectful distances between our party and those who surrounded us.  85%-90% of the crowd appeared to be females in their mid-late twenties.  There were a few men around the same age scattered about along with some couples who were 50 plus.  If I had to guess, I’d say the vast majority of the crowd were old 1D fans.

I didn’t know what to expect from Andrew Cushin, but his short set blew me away.  He was charming, humble, grateful and disarming  when he talked to the crowd and poured out his entire soul with every song he sang.  He only himself, a guitar, and a keyboardist -- and that’s all he needed.  He sang about some very painful things (such as his alcoholic father) but he has an absolutely beautiful voice.

Next up were the Snuts and I would have enjoyed most of their songs had it not been for the lead singer’s voice.  His sound is harsh, shrill, nasal and just plain ugly.  I’m sure he could sing nicely, but this is apparently his style, or brand.  I HATE ugly art!  It was quite a contrast with Cushin (who made beautiful art from ugly, painful experiences.)  The Snuts make otherwise good songs obstreperous and ugly.

I’ve Been Lying to Myself

While I’m not one to watch much fan video of live concerts (the audio quality is just awful and you often hear the crowd more than the artist) I have seen many, many clips of Louis performing live.  Upon seeing these clips, I have consistently (in my head) blamed any deficiencies in Louis’ vocals on things like the crowd singing off key.  (And to be fair, the crowd, more than often, does sing VERY badly and no where near in key.)  However, after listening to a live show in person, it’s clear that Louis can’t carry a tune very well.  At the beginning of every song, I would hope he had hit his stride and would pull off a decent vocal - only to end up wincing at some point, because he would hit some absolutely sour notes.  Now, a lot of very famous artists (Springsteen, Petty, etc.) could be a little off key, but gratingly sour is another matter.  I think Louis might well be aware of his shortcomings, because he doesn’t seem to have much confidence on stage.  His voice is mixed like a background singer, so his very proficient band comes through much, much louder and clearer than his vocal.  Meaningful interaction with the audience seems limited to those within twelve or fifteen feet of the stage.  I certainly didn’t expect to make eye contact with him (especially with those sunglasses he wore -- what was up with those?) but please make some effort at playing to the whole venue.  Louis as a live performer is in one word, disappointing.  I take no joy in saying the most memorable part of seeing Louis live, for me, is sour notes and very little stage presence.

“Faith in the Future” is one of my favorite alums.  My favorite tracks include:  “Written All Over Your Face,” “Face the Music,” “Chicago,” “All This Time,” “Headline,” “Silver Tongues,” “Common People” and “Angles Fly.”  The only songs I usually skip are: “The Greatest” (it’s okay, but I was never into Imagine Dragons music) ” Bigger Than Me”  and “She is Beauty...”  Louis writes some very good music and is occasionally brilliant with his lyricism.  The thing with lyrics is, the way they sound is just as, or more important than what they say.  Some of his best lyrics come from “Silver Tongues” such as:  “You said love was a pretty lie, And I choked when your smoke got in my eye...” and  “ You said grass was a dirty drug. You like to preach with a vodka in your mug.”  Also, the way he delivers those lines on the album is sublime. 

I’m sure Louis has a long future, if he wants it, in music, but I don’t know how long he can sustain a career as a live performer.  Something tells me that even people like Swfity (who shows zero talent for music, lyricism, or staying on key) must have impressive stage presence.  From what I’ve seen a thousand times in clips, but only admitted to myself after seeing him live, Louis just doesn’t have “it” on stage.  I wish him the very best and I hope he proves me wrong one day.  For now, I’ll continue enjoying his music, but don’t see myself paying to see him live again.

[praphit]

FAST X: Pastor Dom

The world is a pie. It's been placed in the oven. It's got all kinds of goodness in it:

apples, what else do y'all like?... banana pudding? - sure, maybe some walnuts, of course the milk and eggs and stuff... what's that? - you like meat pies?... idk if that's gonna work... but sure, it doesn't matter, um... got some... BBQ pork up in there as well... imagine whatever goodness you want. We are all baking inside of this goodness pie at 350 D's. But, the main ingredients of this pie are pain and disappointment. What a twist, right?? Makes it kind of a crappy pie. Maybe there's literal crap in the pie as well.

That's what life can feel like at times though, right?? You walk outside and look at life, and say to yourself "Wow, there are a lot of sad and angry people out there." And perhaps more times than you're willing to admit, you're one of those sad and angry people.

But, FEAR NOT, there are plenty of ways to cope (and it's all about the coping) : faith in God, cute animals, booze, guns, strippers, pills, dark magic, robbery, murder, chocolate, etc.

But, one of the best ways I've found..... you guessed it -

Watching Fast & Furious movies.

This man, right here... my emotional anchor...

VIN DIESEL

There's something about him isn't there??

Vin is rocking his most beloved character -  Dominic Torretto, leader of the... "FAST GANG". Is that what they're called? Doesn't matter. I love this guy! When I saw the trailer, I smiled big, and said "The bullshit IS BACK!" And I meant that in the best way.

It's been over 20 years of this nonsense. 20 years of fun, racing, ridiculous acts with cars, thievery, Coronas, and FAMILY.

ANNND probably killing. No one ever wants to talk about this, but they've caused a lot of property damage haven't they? - and within that damage, there has more than likely been a rising body count. The damage alone may have ruined lives! BUT, they're such a cool group of people, and VIN... those flex poses?? - C'MON :) 

You can't help but love him.

This time around Dominic is seeing the end coming. He tells his lovely wife (Letty, played by Michelle Rodriguez):

"How long can we keep doing this shit? We've got a kid. We've got a nice home. I'm making all of this Marvel Money ("I AM GROOT"), and dishing out hot singles “Feel like I Do”

(real song - check it out).

We can get out. We don't have to live this life of sexy, dangerous racing anymore."

The problem is, when you've spent 20 years stealing, and probably killing, you make some enemies.

In walks Jason Momoa (Dante), dressed like Prince.

He's our villain who doesn't just want to race Dom, doesn't just want to kill him, but wants to make him and his team (sorry, his FAMILY) suffer. This is why we need to chill and be kind to one another. There's already so much sadness and anger, then you add assholes to your life, like this... But, Momoa don't care, he wants revenge cuz Dom killed his daddy. To be fair, Dom didn't mean to kill him. He was driving 1000 miles down the highway, while stealing his daddy's money, and shit happened. Plus, Momoa's daddy was a criminal, so... you know... the real offender here is karma.

But, here we go anyway.

Jason Momoa had a blast making this movie. You can tell that he had a lot of fun. 

Dante's a fun character, but also kinda confusing. Sometimes, he acts like The Joker, sometimes like a super villain from... a show like “The Power Puff Girls”, and sometimes he's serious gangster revenge guy. Idk. What in the world did the director whisper into Momoa's ear as motivation? If the director whispered the words "cartoonishly evil" , perhaps he nailed it.

The movie is pretty much Dante chasing Dom's family around with Looney Tunes gadgets, guns, and at one point a giant rolling bomb, that was on fire.

YES!

Now, I don't think this installment is as fun as some others, mainly cuz there's no real mission here. You normally get the vibes of Ocean's 11 meets The A-Team, but it feels more like Dom and the Family getting chased for 2 1/2 hours.... cuz that's what it is. Some actual acting star power up in here:

Brie Larson 

and ONCE AGAIN, the underrated, yet GREAT Charlize Theron. 

whom I still don't understand why she's a part of all of this (being a real actor), but she works. They finally got her hair right tho.

Trust me, that's an improvement.

  That's her not long after getting her ass BEAT, and she still looks amazing. Those UFC people must be doing something wrong.

I love this franchise! I get it :)

It's just not quite as good. And the dialogue, which has always been bad, but... c'mon y'all. There's been talks within this current Writer's Strike of protection from writing scripts with AI action like “ChatGPT”. People will say "Well, that won't happen, and even if it did... it wouldn't be any good." And then I saw this movie.... Not only could AI have def written this film, but it would have been 10 times better! I'm not sure how the strike will affect the next movie or two that come out for this franchise, but... honestly, it might be an improvement.

Ludacris and Tyrese are old. 

Not that they look old, but their act is old, you know?? Like, they're still cool for their age, I guess, but they're not "young people cool" anymore. Sorry, fellahs. It happens to everybody. Just part of the pie we're all baking in :)

BUT, all in all, lots of laughs (even though I was the only one in the theater laughing at the absurdities) Good, solid, destruction porn. An AWESOME fight scene between Michelle Rodriguez and Charlize Theron.

And so much star power... though I think they might have to beef-up the villain star power in the next one.

Go after some other respected actors: see if Angela Bassett and Jake Gyllenhaal are doing anything.

Grade: C+

I really think that Dom would make a good pastor. 

Perhaps once he's truly done with the stealing and killing.

He's good with people. Very accepting. He's always got that mood music in the bg; perfect for his sermons.

I feel like Vin could keep his congregation focused on the goodness in the pie, not just all of the crap. Plus, his churches would be filled with sexy people. Church is not all about sexy people, but it helps.

And the best part is, he can solve any of the world's sad/anger-inducing problems with racing.

Rising Homelessness - "Let's ride!"

Climate Change - "Let's ride!"

Crippling Depression - "Let's ride!"

Sign me up for that church!!!

[screamingeyepress]

Exploring the Dark Side: An Interview with Kenneth W. Cain

Kenneth W. Cain is an author of horror and dark fiction, as well as a Splatterpunk Award-nominated freelance editor. Serving as the publisher and editor-in-chief at "Crystal Lake: Torrid Waters", Cain is an Active member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA) and a Full member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association (SFWA). With over one hundred short stories and thirteen novels/novellas to his name, his works have been published by publishers such as Crystal Lake Publishing, JournalStone, and Cemetery Gates Media. Additionally, Cain has edited ten anthologies, with more forthcoming.

Where are you from and when did you first start writing?

I grew up in the Midwest, outside Chicago in the suburbs. I guess I’ve always been a writer, from Garfield comics a friend and I used to pen and write for our own amusement as grade schoolers, on through the rest of my schooling and beyond. I guess I’ve never really thought about it much, but I’ve always loved to write. 

How did you first become interested in writing in the weird western genre? What drew you to this particular blend of genres?

So, that one’s a little more difficult. I grew up in the ‘70s, and truth told, TV wasn’t near what it is now. Everything had some level of static, and you had to have a heavy hand when the screen went all angular. But one thing you did have a lot of was Westerns. And my dad loved every single one of them. I suppose my roots are there, in those shows and movies. But it wasn’t really until King’s The Gunslinger came out and I read it that something really ignited in me. I’ve always loved playing in that world. That’s why, when Brigid Gates came to me asking if I wanted to edit a Western anthology, I was all in.

Can you describe the defining characteristics of weird western fiction for those who might be unfamiliar with it?

Well, I think the most interesting and intriguing characteristic is the lack of any modern technology. You don’t have to worry about cell phones or TVs or anything like that. It was simpler times, with more mythical creatures, so there’s a lot of room there for all sorts of creations. Plus, you have the good guys and the bad guys, and there’s some blurry lines there to play with. Case in point, see the movie Cowboys & Aliens.

How do you approach world-building in your weird western narratives? What are some key considerations when creating an alternate or fantastical version of the American West?

For me, I want to stay faithful to the period, but at same time, respectful of the people. There’s a lot of bad things that happened during those days. That doesn’t mean we have to ignore it, but we can respect it and treat it with such.

How do you balance historical accuracy with creative license when writing in the weird western genre?

That really depends on the story, yes? If we’re telling a fictional story about a monster, I try to stay true to the period but allow lots of license in regard to the monster. Aliens might have tech far beyond what they understood back then, so you can’t just ignore that. This is one thing the movie I mentioned above got right.

When writing, do you find yourself pulling heavily from your own life, or do you find yourself trying to escape it and write something completely different?

A little of both. People see me, and I’m quite certain they always think, Hey, that’s one big scary guy. But I wasn’t always “big.” That happened later in life, after a long pattern of near daily bullying. So, I like to draw on those emotions a lot—both the bullying and being viewed as some sort of Shrek-like ogre. Neither makes me feel so good, so it’s a bit cathartic. That’s how I work through it.

Is it comforting to write in such an esoteric genre, or do you feel the pressure of the “weird west” aficionados?

I follow the words of my wise and beautiful wife to the T and “just do what you love and write.” Cheers and jeers, awards, reviews—all of it is a distortion, as Jimi Hendrix put it. It’s great t be recognized, but it isn’t a need. And I treat criticism the same way. I guess that’s how I became an editor as well; because I paid attention to the feedback but didn’t take it personally. That isn’t always easy, but I also think a lot of writers struggle to see editors aren’t “against them.” They’re on the same team. Same with most readers. If we’re on the same team, it’s a little easier to see they’re just trying to help you be a better writer. 

Can you share any insights into your creative process? How do you develop your characters and plotlines?

I have notes everywhere. Tons of them. And I rarely look at any of them. They’re just all stuck up in my craw, jostling around in there like the ping-pong balls in the Powerball drawing. Occasionally, I hear a single voice that’s louder than the others, and that’s the story I tell. As to where those ideas come from—everywhere, anything, anyone, at any time. People. I’ve seen some strange things, and so I do my best to tell you what I saw.

Dialogue is a crucial aspect of any Western narrative. How do you ensure that your characters��� speech feels authentic to the time period while still being accessible to modern readers? Remember that M. Knight Shyamalan commercial where he’s just sitting there listening to people? Well, that’s what I do; I listen. A lot. Everywhere I go. And I jot down notes. Then I attempt to do something Peter Straub said: I try to remove as much of myself from the story as possible. But it’s something I’m always working on, always improving, always refining. I’m never satisfied with my craft.

The genre of weird western offers a unique opportunity to subvert traditional Western tropes. How do you challenge or reinvent these tropes in your storytelling?

Well, like I said earlier, there’s a lack of technology in that period, and that opens many many doors. As does the mythology of the time, how someone might have seen something (a common creature for instance) and describe it afterward. It’s a fun sandbox to play in.

Are there any particular authors or works within the weird western genre that have inspired or influenced your writing?

Definitely King. But also, Ronald Kelly.Stephen KingRonald Kelly

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers interested in exploring the weird western genre?

Do your research. Don’t be lazy about it. Tell a “real” story that’s also fantastical. Have fun with it and don’t get discouraged. Follow my wife’s advice—do what you love. 

In one of your bios you said you were inspired at an early age by Baba Yaga folklore. Have you had a chance to integrate that character (or similar aspects) into your writing?

Oh my, yes. I heard a story about Baba in 3rd grade, and it’s stuck with me ever since. And I did pay tribute to that in my short story collection, Embers, in a story titled “Buried Beneath the Old Chicago Swamp.”

You’re an active member of the Horror Writers Association, a chair for the membership committee, and you head the Pennsylvania chapter. What does that entail and can you tell us a bit about the Horror Writers Association and why a writer would want to join?

Well, I no longer chair the membership committee. Ten years was enough. Ha! The thing I love about the HWA is meeting people, either through messages/email or in real life. That’s a lot harder now with so many members, but I’ve met some really genuine folks through the HWA. And many of them have mentored me in one way or another, though they may or may not know that. If someone were considering joining, I’d say give it a shot. See if you like it. But don’t expect everyone to come clamoring to talk to you. You get out of it what you put into it, like anything else. 

What are you working on next?

Well, truth be told I’ve been doing so much editing work, my writing has stalled more than I’d like. But I love editing and have trouble turning down jobs, and that’s led to some great opportunities on that front. That said, I’ve been plucking away at this novella based on my grandpa. The man was made out of steel and leather, I swear. Toughest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. But also, maybe the most worried when it came time for him to die and what he was afraid would come for him. You’ll have to keep an eye out for that to see what it was.

Would Your Like to Know More? https://www.screamingeyepress.com/interviews/kenneth-w-cain/

[h3adsh0t]

Hey, I’m making this post on this new account real quick because I think I really need some advice or something. Please try to read everything. If you have any advice or questions or comments to give me that may help me, even just a little bit, please dm me.

So, just for some background about me, I’m 16 years old and just got into my junior year. I live in Louisiana with my mom, stepdad, and half brother. Also, I’m a straight (bi curious) boy.

I don’t know why, but for the past year now I’ve been having a lot of really shitty suicidal thoughts and all that. I don’t know if I wanna go to any therapy or my parents or any friends about these thoughts though. Everyone I open up in front of anybody for any reason, I just start crying a lot. And I completely hate crying in front of anyone because I’m scared they’ll think I’m some scared or selfish pussy that can’t handle simple things or anything like that.

I’ve always been incredibly shy and introverted so I usually always worry about what basically anyone thinks of me. Anytime someone at school even glances at me, they look away and that makes me think that they think I’m ugly or look weird or something. Anytime I walk past someone in the halls and hear people laughing, I always think they’re laughing at me for either my hair looking shitty, me being a bit chubby, or something else.

I’ve never been popular in school. I feel like most people in my grade just kinda know who I am but don’t care enough to talk to. I’m just the guy they look at and say “oh it’s that guy”, and then move on. And I’m honestly fine with that. I’m fine with being the quiet kid who just wants to do his work and go home. The problem is that my school is filled to the brim with gangster-wannabe type kids who just never know when to leave people alone. And I never wanna tell them to go away or leave me be because I’m scared they’ll get mad and hit me or something or just give me dirty looks I guess. I genuinely feel like I can’t go anywhere in that damn place without getting harassed by a bunch of asshats.

I never really leave my house outside of school. I still need to learn to drive and I’m planning on applying at Subway soon for a first job. I spend most of my free time at home either binging YouTube, TV, Movies, Anime, Cartoons, playing video games, working out in the evenings, and a lot of sleeping.

I also think I might have a few undiagnosed mental disorders. Whenever I’m alone by myself, I just talk to myself. I constantly imagine myself in different scenarios and situations. It might be BPD but idk. I have a fuck ton of weird interests that most people are not into, especially around where I live.

I’m also really scared of my adult future. I want to eventually go to Full Sail Uni in Florida and become a successful screenwriter. A lot of my family calls me really creative so I think it’d be a good job for me, plus I just like making stories and writing in general. However, there’s a ton of more things I’m terrified of. I have no clue how things like taxes, insurance, business deals, applications, the DMV, bills, basically anything having to do with just being an adult scares me. I can do the basic shit like laundry, washing dishes, cleaning, sometimes cooking, etc. But everything else just scares me.

When it comes to friends and relationships, I think I have probably some of the worst trust issues on the planet. I’m constantly scared of going over to friends’ houses because I think they’ll judge me for something dumb, so I never really go over to any of them and I just stay home all day. I’m also incredibly scared of getting into any relationships with girls because these days, everytime I go on twitter, or Reddit, or TikTok, I feel like I’m seeing some new story about people cheating on each other and not being faithful. Or I’ll see another story about people dating someone as a joke, or a dare, or just to mess with them. It’s made me so terrified of dating out of fear that it’ll happen to me too, or I’ll say something bad or too weird and they’ll think I’m a freak and leave, or something will happen and they’ll have to move. And it sucks because I wanna be able to just hang out with my friends without stressing. I wanna be able to date something sweet and kind and caring and fun. I wanna be with someone that I can hold and take care of on their bad days. I want someone I can be weird with I guess. I just want people who I know won’t leave me.

I don’t know why I’m so damn anxious all the time. I don’t know why I’m stressed. I don’t know why I’m scared. I don’t know why I’m so shy. This is just kind of how I am.

I’m sorry for making this so long, I just really needed to get this all off of my chest and I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. If you have any questions or anything, please feel free to DM me at any time.

Love to all of you and I hope you have a good rest of your day. Or night.

[revoltinglittleworm]

Some ramblings about future/life choices

I’ve been working on my FIT (fashion school…) portfolio. It’s due on Nov 1 lol and i still have a decent amount to complete. There’s the first portion, which is a sportswear, or ready to wear, design. That consists of a jacket, skirt, pants, and top. I already have the design, i just keep going to sketch it and hating the sketches. I don’t know. I’ve made several mock ups, and none of them are fully speaking to me… its more of an illustration issue than a design issue. I like the outfit i designed. But i feel so disconnected from my actual sketches. I guess i just need to remember that I’m not trying to be an illustrator or artist in that sense. I want to go to school so i can design and create and sew the actual garments. The sketch is part of the process but is it actually as important to make it look ‘perfect’ in my eyes as i am putting as much pressure on? I’m so awfully perfectionist that i struggle to have anything look subpar or incomplete. My sketches are rather simple, and i suppose that’s all that really matters anyway; being able to see the design of the garment clear enough, and the actual illustrative component is secondary.

I’m just gonna keep telling myself that because i need to move past this part and continue on with the portfolio. The next portion is my own designs, just whatever i want to share. I have plenty of designs I’ve made in the past that i like, ill just have to redraw them and color them, etc. and the last part is the biggest section: a sewn project. Luckily i already made my auto bonnet, but it requires 2-3 pieces, so I’m going to have to make at least one more piece. This is obviously the most important section/the most work, and ive been putting it off all day…

I think i am just already frustrated with my sketches that I worry ill get to sewing and get even more frustrated with the project. (I’m a very amateur seamstress, i know little to nothing.) so it’s easy for me to not know what the hell I’m doing, and I don’t know if I have the patience right now. But i need to get it done before nov 1……. Ugh

This is an important thing for me to do though. I have no idea if ill get in tbh. My past experiences with college have led to poor GPAs and attendance, ive been so depressed at those points in my life, and I’m worried it’ll effect FIT’s decision in my application. Plus, I can’t help but think about all the amazing people probably applying… but anyway. This is something that I want for myself, i can see myself making money and making things i love and feel proud of with this kind of knowledge and experience. Do i necessarily wanna go back to school…? I don’t know. But i figure I’ll apply to see what happens anyway. I can always just. Not go.

I have plans for this, i really want to have my own independent fashion line, simply made in my own studio. Original pieces and one of a kind things, i can actually picture it and have faith that i can make a good amount of money… because I’d be charging a pretty decent amount for my stuff, i want it to be high quality and unique. I look at my designs in my sketchbook and i see so much potential for interesting garments and such. I think my biggest thing? Overcoming my impatience and taking the time, learning, and working hard to make quality items. Ive been learning more and more that my impatience is the greatest thing hindering my work; making it amateur and flawed… i need to really take my time!!! Why is that so hard???

The answers from the poll i made earlier are interesting. I think i will in fact go with “Fallen Scrub” though “faint get up” is a close second. I want something that feels connected to me and my identity and vision. Obviously scrub gender is something that really speaks to me and who i am… lol

Thanks for reading if u got this far. I have high hopes for myself and future even when it feels like I’m never gonna get there, or that ill never been good enough. It’s like, in the back of my mind, ill always believe i have the power and capability to succeed, and make art that i love. I see it rarely in my stuff. Like, extremely rare. But with the auto bonnet i sewed, while it wasn’t perfect, there was something about it that felt… right. Felt like it was coming from an authentic place of, this is who i am, what i make, and what i want to share with the world. Anyway!!! I should really get back to work, lol ;/

[blogtaculous]

I decided to take on Far Cry 5, and now that I’ve finished it boy do I have opinions!

What the fuck was the story. Like, what the fuck. This isn’t the good sort of “what the fuck” like when the alien shows up at the Brazilian birthday party, but the bad kind where nothing makes sense and everything is stupid. Four main antagonists and all of them are Vaas. It’s just Far Cry 3 again, but worse.

Not once in all the constant, endless, bad monologues from four people who spoke with the same cadence and vocabulary did I feel anything close to interest. Just awful writing. Talking in circles FOREVER for no reason. Did they even hint at anything? No. Just talking for the sake of talking. Zero charisma on display.

Far Cry’s tone is always weird, considering the main gameplay has the “holy shit can you believe that!” vibe but then the story is like “This guy is called The Cook because he made two kids eat their parents’ toes before setting them all on fire.” (Side note: it takes like 10 goddamn minutes of the slowest paced storytelling to learn about The Cook and I killed him in 8 seconds with a rocket launcher immediately after laying eyes on him)

The nuclear war was fucking dumb. Ubisoft thinks there were lots of clues, but in the end those clues were:

- Bog standard fictitious doomsday cult says the world is going to end

So when the nukes go off the only response I could muster was “huh?” I even knew that was going to happen (because it came out 5 years ago) so I was actively looking for the subtle clues and hints that was even on the table. Like… it wouldn’t have taken much, but when Ubisoft’s goal was obviously to create that twist ending there can’t be any substantial clues. If the player could guess it then Ubisoft would consider that a failure (the HBO gambit). There were opportunities during the NUMEROUS capture moments to expand on the possibility of nuclear war. I’m putting a pin in that because…

Speaking of unavoidable capture moments:

The capture squads were fucking dumb. Here’s a worthless combat encounter that is not winnable and inescapable. You get paralyzed and captured. The end. Absolutely trash. I know each of the lieutenants gets a moment of “ha, fooled you!” but this guy was so boring and so lame. I don’t even remember how he outsmarted the protagonist.

The Bliss induced haze was okay. I thought it was a little lame that the Marshall is “rescued” in one such haze, but when it was revealed he was compromised from the start I softened on it a little. The cutscene where he becomes Faith’s parrot and starts killing the militia in the prison was really good. I felt betrayed. Also I’m bummed that Faith gets exactly one line floating that Joseph is also manipulating her, and it’s right before she dies.

The random arrows to the thigh were stupid, and I thought the hallucination kill house was also stupid, though I began to get the hint and thought the execution of the Manchurian Candidate plot was really solid. Especially since that is the only area that requires the player constantly return to the militia base to get new tasks, so the parallels between the hallucination and the Wolf’s Den become obvious right as it’s too late. Plus, characters remark at the length Rook has been missing when he’s being conditioned. Seriously, a great story moment and cool twist.

The final boss fight was fucking goofy. It has a solid gimmick, though how the fuck did every named character get Blissed like that? It doesn’t make Joseph feel powerful or in control, it’s just contrived. The fight itself would be better if the battle arena was more than 5 square feet. Really stupid trying to revive someone while Joseph appears out of nowhere to kill everyone else. He also has a great line, right at the end, where he’s begging Rook to believe him, and it sounds sincere and desperate. Naturally it lasts one second then he’s back to being a jackass.

Back to the pin:

Joseph and his lieutenants are obtuse just for the sake of being obtuse, in service of keeping the nuclear twist a secret until the end. I could keep complaining, but here are some solutions:

- The Knock at the Cabin method: in the aforementioned film, Leonard et al prepare video material to convince Eric, Andrew, and Wen that the end of the world is, indeed, imminent. Joseph should have done this. “Next time I see you,” he says to Rook, “<thing is going to happen elsewhere in the world> which means apocalypse is coming and I have seen it already” so that Rook has to consider whether it’s a long con lie or truly the start of the end of the world.

- Don’t fucking end the game that way

Moving on to a related diatribe, it absolutely makes no sense that Jacob’s arrest by Rook brings out the start of nuclear war. Did Joseph just know those two unrelated events would take place at the same time? Who knows, but it certainly isn’t the writers of the game. This concept needed to be fleshed out, but honestly this entire story needed to be done in a different game where the core gameplay loop is something other than “explore a huge world however you want with whatever tools you like and slowly liberate it.” Ubisoft also can’t fall back on “there were radio broadcasts that things were going bad in the rest of the world!” because who fucking listens to those (I didn’t hear even one) and, again, why would an intense global geopolitical crisis hinge on A RANDOM ROOKIE SHERIFF’S DEPUTY ARRESTING A CULT LEADER IN MONTANA??

Anyway, it was an okay game, because Far Cry games are pretty consistent in quality of gameplay. I’m glad there was no crafting. I wish there were more weapons. The perk system was good.

[imnosuperman12]

10.16.2022 life update

So I’m officially 4 weeks into my residency program. And so far, I’ve been loving inpatient rehab. After 1+ years of taking travel contracts with clinics and facilities that were logistical nightmares, it’s refreshing to gain a sense of structure and mentorship again. That’s something I’ll never take for granted. I mean I guess that’s the point of a travel contract right? To take on sites that no one really wants? To hit the ground running and not really stop until it’s over? Though chaotic, it’s nice to know that I can do it. That I can work with adults, see up to 12 patients in a day, and come out the other side. Though I’m taking a hiatus from travel work, I’m so glad I was brave enough a year ago to say yes to the unknown. Yes to new places. Yes to navigating places alone and finding community on my own.

Seattle itself has been such a great fit so far. It really is the best mix of a good-sized city, with access to all the outdoorsy things you can think of. I’m nervous for the upcoming winter, but at least I know the summers are worth waiting for. Hopefully by then I can invest in an inflatable paddle board and basically live on Greenlake. Speaking it to existence now, even though I know I’ll only get more busy.

The summer was a good excuse to get back into running again. It’s been years since I ran a half, so it’s good to know I can still do it. Also ran it in 1 hour and 49 min, about 3 minutes faster than I did in high school. Running will always be a part of me, and hopefully every couple years I can keep the streak going. I will say though, I do miss Crossfit. Going this past winter/spring for ~4x/week in Philly helped me get into the best shape of my life. And I’ve 100% lost all the strength that I gained since then. But during the summer, the gym was just too far away to logistically make sense. Now, even though there’s a box near the hospital, I just can’t afford it right now. Plus, knowing I’d only go like 2-3x/week make me question whether it’s worth it.

So for now, I’m settling on going the rec center at UW. Not quite the same, and I’m definitely missing out on gymnastics work. But this residency year, I gotta do what’s right for my bank account. Maybe by summer I’ll get a better sense of how my finances are and get back into it.

As far as friends go, they definitely keep me busy. It’s been a while since I’ve consistently been a part of a small group at church. In Ventura, we met monthly. In Philly, we met every other week. It just wasn’t set up that way. Now, I’m at ENCS sometimes 2-, 3-, even 4-times a week. It’s great to be a part of community, but I’m hoping I can deepen some of these friendships before winter comes. Meanwhile, my music friends are kind souls, but are hard to get a hold of consistently. And while I am getting along with my residency cohort, we just aren’t as close as I thought we would be by now.

I think at this point I’m just surrendering expectations and letting God lead. I’m grateful he’s put these people in my life, and I’m believing that while some of it will come from intentionality/planning on my part, He’ll develop these relationships exactly how He wants to.

That step of faith of where I live my life definitely informs the perspectives I’ve taken on as well. In friendships, relationships, the whole 9 yards. Like the relationship I envisioned with the guy I connected with this summer isn’t going the way I thought it was. And it’s certainly a, “we’ll see how it goes”, scenario right now. I don’t feel any bitterness or regret towards it. The season allowed me to feel feelings and listen to myself for once. And wherever things go, I’ll follow. Whether it ends up with him or someone else.

Lots of travel has been had the past couple months though! After the June Peru trip, I’ve now gone to San Antonio, Dallas, Mexico City, Houston, and Fort Lauderdale. To see family and old friends while on jury duty. To see my Rice friends again. To celebrate Nnedi’ and Reba’s weddings. I guess I really do travel a lot. And it’s unfortunately expensive. But I really do believe that right now is the time to do it. I really don’t know where I’ll be, how busy things will get, how busy other people’s lives will become. Adult friendships are tough. It means going months, sometimes years of not seeing each other. But when opportunities arise, I’m learning to fight to make them happen. Even if it means taking red eye flights, sleeping in airports, being in cities for 24 hours at a time.

This is especially true in the context of maybe one day owning a home. It’ll feel impossible, but with the income and budget I currently live on, there’s gonna come a day where I’ll have to start saying no. I will legitimately have to change my lifestyle to be able to afford a car, house, and actually be “adulting”. It’s absolutely tragic to think of, but it’s the truth.

Which just means my dreams of having a dog are just gonna have to be in the far far future. My hopes of rejoining a Crossfit gym may just have to take a pause in order to make room for a mortgage, car payments, property taxes, car insurance, home insurance, bills, more bills. AND saving for retirement, having an HSA, having life insurance.

Life is expensive. I think I might have to get a PRN job at some point. Or find some kind of side hustle (maybe teaching? Research?). It’s just rough to think about. I don’t necessarily regret pursuing the degree that I did. I do actually enjoy what I do. I do believe in what therapy can do for people (and has done for patients and families). I do envision a future of wearing multiple hats and dabbling in multiple career paths. It’s just wild to think that even after graduating, and actually making an income, that it can be this hard to live independently with a single income in a city like Seattle. AND I DON’T EVEN HAVE DEPENDENTS. If I were to decide to live here, that’s a really big factor to consider.

I don’t even regret leaving Texas and my old job. I think if I had stayed, a part of me would have always wondered what it would have been like. The grass really does always seem greener on the other side. But having grown on my own terms and rediscovered myself time and time again, I know that even if I end up back where I started, I’m not the same person that I was. I’ve lived! I’ve surfed, navigated big city streets, seen unbelievable landscapes of the PNW. None of which would have been possible if I had stayed. And thankfully, I’ve done it before I turned 30. And the icing on the cake? I’m in a residency program right now. These experiences, personal and professional, will always be a part of me. And if I do go back to Texas, I know I’ll have a community waiting for me.

But the allure of staying is Seattle is already very appealing. If I can somehow afford it, it may just be worth it. Not sure if it’s too soon to call, but if the fates align, and opportunities present themselves, I could see myself here. As happy as I was in Ventura, (no shade to Philly, because I truly truly enjoyed the charm of the city), it just didn’t have enough diversity or opportunities for professional growth that I think I need. Could I be convinced to do another travel contract out there? Absolutely. But settling roots long term? Ultimately probably not. But it will always have a special place in my heart, and I have every intention of visiting again.

So where do I see myself in a year? At this point, it’s very likely Seattle v San Antonio. I’ll be 29.5 years old. And even though I know in my head timelines are arbitrary, and you can’t compare people’s timelines, I do envision a future where I have settled roots. Where I’m actively investing in my future. But I think for now, I’m not gonna put pressure on it. I think I’ll revisit the topic next ~July when I need to look for places to live in September 2023. In the meantime, I fully intend to soak up as much knowledge and experience this residency year has to offer. I hope to further deepen relationships with the people I’ve been blessed with in Seattle. (Including reaching out to Marissa, Eric et al., etc.).

It certainly feels like a lot to process. But here’s to taking it a week/day at a time.

Exceedingly grateful for God for the opportunity.

[itsacrowd]

taleswritten​:

@itsacrowd sent i don’t dress for men. - From Faith to Damon

“No, guess a pretty thing like you wouldn’t need or want to dress like a man.” Lips curl up in a smirk, his eyes trailing over her form without any shame. She seems like she’d make a tasty little meal but there’s something nagging at him about her that he can’t quite place his finger on.

One thing’s for sure, her blood smells sweeter than anything he’s ever smelled before. It’s strange, tells him something is up, but he pushes it aside for now.

“Confident. I like it.” There’s just something about a woman who knows what she’s worth that Damon finds attractive and right now, Faith is ticking all those boxes. He doesn’t know whether to eat her or seduce her.

If there was one thing Faith was good at, it was understanding men. Alive, dead, they all liked the same things. Plus or minus all the bloodshed- most of the time. Truthfully, she doesn’t mind being glanced over. At least he wasn’t trying to hide it like some. 

Faith’s brow perked up at his comment. Oh, Faith, you have got to have higher morals than this. She thinks to herself, but then again, she’d always been drawn to the darker side of things. The irony of her being a slayer- some savior hadn’t made it’s way past her.

“Careful,” She replies, though whether she’s talking to him or herself is anyone’s guess. “You might have me feeling special if you get too nicey-nice.” Being a slayer didn’t mean she was impervious to harm by a vampire, it would just be much more of a fight. One she was not trying to have tonight. 

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

De(railed) +18

Summary: The canon episode "Derailed" reimagined where Reader is sent on the solo interview and Spencer, recklessly, decides to save her. Plus, the aftermath.

CW: mommy kink sub! Spencer x dom! female (she/her) reader, cum play, penetrative sex, light degradation, praise kink, light choking (mentioned), edging, calling him a slut (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 6 K (this is the longest thing I've ever written!)

Author's Note: Special thank you to @shemarmooresfedora for reading this for me because I was very nervous about the smut portion. And a very special thank you to @notanotherreidgirl for inspiring this idea! this was my ask so yeah, this is a little out there for me so be kind (*dips into the shadows*). Also I either really hate or really love this title :)

Taglist: You can join the taglist here!

De(railed)

Sitting on the train, headed towards Virginia for the custodial interview, you tried to remind yourself what Spencer said to you the previous night when you dropped him off at his apartment. You had his hands in yours and you could feel him shake with nerves when he spoke.

He told you that he believes in you. Even when you think that Hotch and Gideon are sending you out to the solo interview too early, Spencer believes in you. If only you’d believe a little bit in yourself, then maybe you’d be able to figure out a way off this train, but an armed man and innocent passengers proves that a little challenging.

The man passes the train up and down and you tell yourself to relax. In hindsight, it seems like a horrible series of events that lead to the man shooting the train attendant. You’ve done your best to keep him calm until the police can see him off the train. Looking outside, you see SWAT, local PD, and FBI lined up 50 yards from the train.

Continuing to wave his gun around the train, the unsub rants about wanting to talk to a higher authority. To yourself, to wish that Spencer was here with you. He’d have figured out exactly what was wrong with the man by now. For less than professional reasons, you’re forever grateful that he’s not here- that he’s safe on the other side of the train.

“He’s out of his mind,” the man holding a bottle of whiskey says, “You gotta do something, lady,” he says, taking a swig of his drink. Your eyes dart to him and back up the doctor, the unsub’s psychologist, looking for a way out.

You breathe deeply, hoping that the BAU would come up with a plan. Knowing FBI protocol, you expect them to try to initiate a line of communication. Glancing over at the unsub, you think that he’ll want to talk to someone who looks like they are powerful. That would be either Hotch or Gideon. Selfishly, you’re grateful that Spencer still looks like an underpaid TA with a toy gun attached at his hip.

“No! Please, don’t hurt me!” the young woman screams, trying to release herself from the man, Ted’s, grip. He releases her, throwing her to the ground when his phone rings.

Gideon.

On the phone with Gideon, the man demands for something to be removed. You can’t hear what he’s saying to the unsub, but you place the little faith you have left into hoping your team can save you.

***

His vest is much too big for him.

That’s all you can think of when you realize Spencer is the “technician” that they’re sending in. His tie and shirt stick awkwardly and there is a gap in his shoulders around the vest. The straps are pulled so tight that they nearly fold over. His hands aren’t shaking when he carries the small black box, but his eyes look terrified.

You want to reach out to him, maybe hold his hand or brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face, but you can’t. You have to sit there and pretend that this is the first time you’ve met him. It’s excruciatingly sick and mildly amusing in an equally twisted way. The first time you’ve come to terms with loving Spencer, you both can very well die.

“I’m here for the chip,” Spencer says, holding his hands up, “the higher authorities sent me,” he claims, feeding into the unsubs delusion. You shield your glance, unable to trust yourself from launching yourself in between Spencer and the man with the gun.

“That’s far enough and drop your weapons,” Ted says, holding the crying woman by her neck, “and take that vest off. I want to see you,”

“I don’t have any weapons. They don’t authorize them for-”

“I said take it off!” the man shouts, throwing the woman to the ground.

Spencer complies, taking off the much too big vest and tossing it to the ground. He holds his hands up, playing the part of the unsuspecting underling well. He reaches out to Ted, showing him the tools that he’ll use to take out the “chip”. You wonder how Spencer will pull it off, but you know he will in the end.

Spencer digs into the man’s skin with the scalpel. You can’t catch the sleight of hand, but you know that’s what he used.

“I have to leave, the higher authorities need the chip-”

“Turn it on,” Ted orders, “Turn it on!” he screams, his voice booming in the small train.

Spencer’s eyes dart to yours thinking of ways that he can get out of here. He looks almost sorry, and you feel a wave of intense regret. The thousands of times you could have said those little words seem so simple now.

“I can’t turn it on,” Spencer says, “I can’t turn it on,” You hate how scared he sounds, and you hate even more how you have to pretend that you don’t know him.

“Why!” the unsub yells, thrashing the gun around, “You’re one of them!”

Thinking quickly when you see him point the gun at Spencer’s face, you jump to your feet. You push Spencer out of the way, terrified that he’ll do something rash. You can’t lose Spencer, not when you’ve hadn’t had the chance to have him yet.

“It needs to be implanted to be activated,” you say, “I know this stuff Ted, I’m a Fed. Only me. Everyone else,Ted is just innocent. Just let them go, Ted,” you plead, “Just let them go,”

“No!” he yells, shooting up into the ceiling of the train, “no!”

The windows are closed, but you suspect that Hotch and Gideon have the train surrounded by now. Spencer moves closer to you, staring at the man as he scratches his upper arm. He drops his hand towards yours and squeezes, like he’s saying sorry and saying goodbye all in one touch. You don’t realize this before it’s too late.

“Doctor Brier,” Spencer says, standing up with his hands near his head, “you’re right, there’s more-”

“Just make it stop!” the desperate man pleas, “Make it stop!”

“I know what it’s like, Ted. The voices, they’ve been talking to you since you were a kid. They don’t stop. I know what it’s like Ted,” Spencer says, inching closer and closer to him, “Leo? Why don’t you let him think for himself?” Spencer says, trying to use the man’s delusion against him.

“Don’t! Stop, you’re trying to trick me!” the man begs, whipping the gun around too close to Spencer’s face, “stop!”

You always listen to Spencer. Whatever he talks about, you listen. From Russian cinema to Star Trek to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, you listen to him. It’s not that hard and it’s easy to get lost in his eyes or the way his hands move when he talks. But the seconds leading up to when the gunshot goes off, you’re not listening.

Because without Spencer, there isn’t much worth listening to.

***

Your eyes are squeezed shut so when a large hand hovers over your shoulder you jump at the touch. It takes you all of ten seconds to realize it’s Spencer. You look him over, searching for signs of mortal wounds that will rip him from your clutches, but there isn’t any.

“You’re okay,” you say, wanting nothing more but to kiss him or yell at him, or maybe a mix of the two, “you’re okay,” you repeat, not fully believing it the first time.

“We’re okay,” Spencer says, hugging you tight as you collapse into his arms, not caring if the rest of the team watches.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Spence,” you say, breaking from the hug to caress his face. You stop, holding his face in your hands, soaking him in, “you’re not someone who gets strung along, baby. I fucking love you and you-you mean so much to me. And I hate-I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize that,” you cry, unable to care anymore.

“You love me?” Spencer whispers, unable, himself to care that they have an audience, “You love me back, but I’m, I-I,”

“Spencer,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him fully, “I,” you plant another kiss, on his right cheek, “love,” left cheek, “you,” forehead.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, looking at you with a proud smirk, “I guess that’s good because, I love you, Y/N. I don’t go risk my life just for everyone,”

“Watch yourself, baby,” you remind him, channeling the surge of pure life that runs through your veins, “you’re in for it later, my darling,” you tell him, whispering into his ear so only he can hear.

***

You didn’t even give him time to breathe before you pushed him up against the wall. Spencer’s hands still held yours, you don’t think that he dropped them since you two safely exited the train. He whimpers through the kiss, his breathy moan only serving to spur you on. His hands broke from yours, clinging to your waist. Spencer tries to peel your clothes from your skin, but he's much too distracted by your lips that travel across his cheekbones and down to his neck. He’s breathless and panting, but you don’t let up. If he’s breathing, he’s alive and that’s all that matters now.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Spencer pleads, the desperation in his voice causing you to pause from your attack on his neck, “I-I, Y/N,” he stutters, feeling empty without your kisses.

“I’m not mad, sweet boy. I’m not mad at you,” you say, laying on a sweet voice as your fingers skim through Spencer’s hair. He’s shaking slightly and closes his eyes, looking like he’s grateful to be alive.

“You’re not, but I wasn’t good,” he whispers, “I wasn’t good for you, Mommy,”

You do everything in your power to keep your composure, but after a day like today, you’re ready to melt into him. He might be the one begging at your feet soon, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s you who's wrapped around his finger. He looks up at you, with his back leaning against the wall; his face flushed pink and marks littering his neck.

“You scared me, Spence. I thought- I just let me take care of you,” you request, dropping your hands from his hair and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him to your bedroom. You’ve made it a habit to go to your place after cases; Spencer claims that the sunlight that dips into your bedroom in the morning is more pleasant than his view of the street, but you know he just prefers your bed and the attention he gets at your place.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, following you into the bedroom. He’s at your heels and burrowed deeply in your heart, exactly where you want him.

You drop his hands, guiding him so his knees hit the edge of your plush bed. He kicks off his shoes and starts to undo his tie and shirt, but you stop him before he gets the chance.

“Let me do that for you, baby. I’m taking care of you tonight,” you say, feeling your heart swell as he looks up at you adoringly, “Mommy’s got you, my brave boy,” you tell him, your fingers grazing over his cheekbones, his nose and eyes. His eyes close as you continue to draw shapeless shapes over his skin.

“Thank you,” he mutters, saying it like a pray as he relaxes for the first time today, “thank you, Mommy,”

You smile at the name, enjoying how pliant he is as you unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. His flushed cheeks lead down his equally flushed chest. You place both your legs over his body, hovering over him as you straddle him. The proximity eggs him on and the minimal friction near his pants causes him to buck up words. Mercilessly, you chuckle at his attempt to get off. You want nothing more than to put him out of his misery, but watching him squirm for the tiniest bit of affection— your affection makes you nearly as desperate as Spencer.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you tell him, harshly pulling off his shirt as you nibble on his ear. He whimpers out in desire, already unable to form coherent thoughts even though you’ve so much as kissed him.

You stop touching him, sinking down to your knees before him. Spencer looks down at you, his pupils blown and his hair messy from being pushed up against the wall. His breathing is erratic and unmeasured, but he’s heart is still beating. You smile, unafraid and not caring that it breaks character as you give his thigh a squeeze. You bring his hands to his buttons, motioning for him to unbutton his pants for you.

“I can’t do all the work now, can I, baby?” You question rhetorically, quite self satisfied that he nods eagerly. He quickly undoes his pants, kicking the heavy corduroy trousers near your bathroom door. If the moment wasn’t so tense and erratic, you probably would have teased him for his excitement.

“I want to touch you, please? Mommy” Spencer starts, his hands holding your face as you kneel. He holds your face so delicately and gently, it’s a contrast to the sinful way he’s squirming above you.

“Not yet,” you tsk, slipping your finger under the waistband of his boxers. The bulge in his underwear looks very uncomfortable, but Spencer clearly tries his best to behave under your strong stare. You peel back the underwear and let it drop to Spencer’s feet. His cock, now exposed, is painfully hard. He concentrates on his breathing and trying to remain composed as your fingers travel up his leg and towards his groin.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you coo, grabbing Spencer’s jaw and making him look down at you. He lets pitiful whine at your words, “Come on, make my fingers nice and wet,” you order, sticking out two fingers that he sucks enthusiastically.

“What a good little slut I have, you’re sucking Mommy’s fingers just as if it’s my strap, aren’t you sweet boy,” you say, gently resting your other palm loosely around his neck. You don’t apply any pressure, but let it serve as a reminder of what could happen.

Happily, Spencer sucks your fingers, moaning around them and bucking his hips up in frustration. Marred by impatience, you remove your fingers from his mouth and kneel back down on the floor. Loosely, you grip his cock with your wet fingers. Spencer whines at the friction that’s nothing close to enough.

“Tell me how that feels,” you demand, “Tell Mommy how I makes you feel,”

“I-I feel,” Spencer starts, concentrating intently, but unable to truly articulate the passion you ignite in him, “Mommy, you make me feel so good,” Spencer says, finally finding the words, even though they barely scratch the surface.

“That’s all I want, baby. You deserve to feel good. So let me take care of you, my love,” you tell him, watching as he simpers at your words.

For a second there you let yourself think that maybe it’s calling him my love that prompted his reaction, not the promise of his cock in your mouth. You know after tonight there’s no tip toeing around it anymore: you’re unequivocally in love with him and you’re a little disappointed that it took the pair of you nearly dying to figure it out finally.

Looking back up at him, you abandon your plans for a moment. You kiss him hard. Normally, you’d hate the way your teeth clash against someone else’s and how the kiss isn’t really a kiss. It’s hard to pace yourself when he’s whimpering below you as you grind down hard on his crotch. The fabric of your pants provides much needed friction, causing Spencer to cry out in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain. He paws at your work short, silently begging for you to shed your layers as well.

“Good boys wait,” you tell him, kissing his forehead and sinking back down for the last time. You’ll never be done teasing him, but for now you intend to put his needs first.

“Such a pretty cock that only I get to see,” you coo, running a finger up his length, relishing in how he shudders at your touch. You’ve touched him so many times, yet he reacts each time as if it’s the first. He’s leaking precum as his breathing becomes more and more strained. This is far from your first time with Spencer and you’re well aware of the signs of his release.

Smiling up at him, you lazily wrap your hand around him, giving him the smallest bit of friction and attention that he needs to come. You drop him once he’s close to the edge, his pleading, begging eyes turning glazed over when he realizes you’re taking off your shirt. By the way he’s looking at you, you’d think you’d be wearing your best lingerie. Quickly, you’ve learned that with Spencer you could be wearing your ratty college tee shirts and he’d still look at you like you were dripping in gold.

“Mommy,” he pleads, “I’m a good boy,” he says, no trying to convince himself to hold back from his release, “please Mommy. I’m gonna-“ Spencer says, the flush on his face deepening as he throws his head back in ecstasy. However, he summons enough energy and will to reach out and palm your boobs. You don’t hide your moans as he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. It only encourages him, but nowhere can you find in yourself to care.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Spencer whimpers, unable to hold himself up anymore and collapsing on the bed. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to collect himself. He comes all over your chest, staining your lavender bralette and looking very proud of himself. Spencer learned quickly as well that coming before you’ve even touched him earns him quite the praise.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, choosing to ignore him coming without permission, “such a messy boy though,” you chastise, squeezing his thigh and crawling your fingers up his chest.

“Mommy, please, I want to make you feel good too. I love you,” Spencer begs, his eyes droopy with exhaustion from the long day and glazed over with his orgasm. His words slur together as if he's drunk off something potent. His eyes meet yours, but flit down quickly. He scans your soiled chest, licking his lips unconsciously as his eyes rank over your breasts covered in the lavender lacy and stained with his cum.

“Do you know what good boys do?” You ask, expecting Spencer to answer the question without hesitation.

“They clean up their mess, Mommy,” he says. In a moment of bravery, he grabs your hand, guiding you to lay down on the bed. He twists his hands around your back, unlatching your bra from your body and tosses it on the ground.

Above you, Spencer lowers his face so his chin barely grazes your chest. His tongue darts out onto your skin, licking up the messy cum that fell on your chest. You place your hands in his hair, gripping firmly. It’s not hard enough to cause any pain, but it’s tight enough to remind him to stay put. Spencer hums contently, lapping up your chest, but keeping his eyes trained on yours. You pull him up by his hair, pieces fall over his blissed out eyes. He smiles up at you, his chin glistening with cum, but looking pleased with himself.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. His tongue swirls around in yours and his large hands cup your face. You can feel him moving in your lap, more and more desperate for attention and friction as you continue to hold him off, “I love you, baby,” you say, hoping that he’ll hear enough times for it to stick and for him to start living his life like he wants to stay alive.

“Just for you, Mommy,” Spencer mumbles, already sucking and marking the valley between your breasts, “Can you? Please?” Spencer asks, still embarrassed, after all these months to put to words his desires.

“What, baby? You need to use your words,” you tell him, scooting up in the bed and smirking to yourself as Spencer practically chases you up the headboard, “You need to tell him what you want me to do, baby,” you say, talking slowly as you rub circles into his skin. He’s still hot to the touch and flushed all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” Spencer begs, licking his fiery red lips that are swollen and bitten from your earlier treatment, “I want you to feel good,” he says, attempting to buck his hips against your legs.

“Are you sure about that, Spence?” you ask, teasing him with your wandering hands. One stays latching in his hair, exposing his criminally bare neck and the other sneaks down to his cock, but hardly satisfies his burning need, “Because it seems like you’re an insolent little slut who only cares if he gets off. Do I need to remind you that I have needs as well,” you chide, increasing your grip on his hair as your lips nip the sensitive skin of his neck. He shudders in response, unable to fully articulate a sentence.

“But you’re lucky, you’re beautiful, Dr. Reid,” you say, dropping his hair and letting his head fall onto your chest. Knowing your expectations, Spencer doesn’t hesitate to kiss and nip along your skin. You feel your panties dampen at the sight of him: his hair wild and messy, his neck marked with evidence of your mouth, and his chest is bright red, somehow still flustered and embarrassed by your affections. You find it bizarre that he still doesn’t fully believe just how head over heels you are for him. He’s too good and pure for this world, and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life reminding him just how deserving of goodness and pureness he is.

“I love you,” Spencer whimpers against your skin, his breath is hot as he pants, “but please fuck me,” he begs, flipping around on his back so you can be on top.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, Mommy will take care of you,” you remind him, balancing yourself so you can hover over him, “Now, I’d normally want you to be quiet, but I want to hear everything. So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me how you feel, sweetie,” you instruct, maneuvering yourself so you’re lined up with him.

“Give me a second, please,” Spencer asks, pushing himself up so his back rests against the headboard, “You make me crazy, I just need a moment to think,” he says, quietly, staring off nothing in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to grab his hand, that’s gripping onto your floral patterned sheets, and kiss his scars on his knuckles. Some are new and fresh, while others are old, from longer ago than working at the BAU. You kiss them over, as if your lips are able to help the evidence of his physical pain.

“You make me crazy too, Spencer,” You say, growing more and more unhinged as he moves underneath you, “I love you so much, darling,” you tell him, kissing his eyes, lips, nose, anything you can reach.

Slowly, so slowly, you sink down onto Spencer. You watch his microexpressions, but you know how he’ll react. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s willing himself to hold off. He breathes in and out, teetering on the edge. You wait for his nod, for his sign of approval that you can move. He whines and peeks open his eyes. Spencer’s hands dig into your waist, his strong, large hands searching for any skin to grab onto.

“Please move, Mommy,” Spencer begs, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to plead with you to have mercy on him, “I need it, Mommy,” he moans.

“Don’t be greedy, darling. You’ll take what I give you, but don’t you want to make me feel good too, baby,” you ask, guiding his nimble fingers to your slick core. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub quick circles around your clit. You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you feel the pressure build. Between the heightened tensions of work and Spencer's hot breath against your neck, you know that you’ll come soon. Spencer’s breathy moans get more and more desperate.

“Are you already going to come again, love?” You ask, increasing your pace. His other hand grips your thigh, drawing shapes into your soft skin. Following suit, you match his sweet movements on his cheek. His breath is his shaky as you stroke his cheek lovingly, “Make me come first and then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you come inside me,” you promise, already knowing that you’ll let him come inside you.

“Watch you disappear inside me, baby. Watch your pretty cock slip inside my pussy. It’s just like you were made for me, darling,” you cry, your voice getting slightly breathy yourself. You watch yourself as his cock goes in and out, red with overstimulation. Spencer’s eyes, littered with small tears, looks transfixed.

“Fuck,” Spencer says, “I’m so close, Mommy. I-I, you make me feel so good. You’re so beautiful, I-I-”

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy,” you say to him. You can tell he’s growing more and more impatient by the moment. His hands lurch towards your chest, pawing at your boobs. Spencer’s sloppy movements bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“So good, so good,” he repeats, his sweaty forehead rests on your collarbone. You pull him up again his hair, relishing in the pitiful moan that he lets out. It’s raw and pure sin, it should make you want to fuck him more, but it only makes you want to love him more.

You’re drunk on him. Drunk on his moans and whimpers of pleasure. You’re drunk on the way his skin sticks to yours and how his hands roam around your body, always finding a spot on your torso and legs that makes you approach the edge closer and closer. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being too hard on him. If you should just whisper that little sentence and let Spencer feel the wave of pleasure.

“I need it, Mommy,” Spencer pants, kissing lined up your chest and collarbone. His face is pressed up against your face and moves up and down as you continue your pace, “I-I, Mommy, I want you to-”

“What do you want, baby? Hmm? Tell Mommy?” You ask, your voice sounding sickly sweet. The noise of moans fills the room, Spencer’s moan akin to whimpers and whines and your’s more like praises and words of approval, “you’ve been such a good boy, baby I’ll give you want whatever you want, my love”

“Please, please let me make you come, Mommy. I need you to come, Mommy. I need it,” Spencer whines, looking up into your eyes and latching onto them in the darkness.

It’s sinful how the filthy words contrast with his sweet, shy tones. He looks so innocent, but enthralling with his face between your hands, but his own hands rubbing small circles on your clit. His moans grow more high pitched. You kiss by his ear, ready to whisper the words of approval that you’ve neared your release.

��Oh god, Spencer. God. You have no idea what you do to me. My sweet boy,” you murmur, pressing Spencer’s face further into your chest. You can feel him heave and his breathing grow more and more unsteady, but he still has enough sense to continue rubbing your clit.

You kiss him, wanting to feel him everywhere when you come undone. Kissing him is desperate and full of gasps of air. His skin is so soft as you slide across his mouth, up his cheeks, and over his jaw. His helpless moans spur you on, giving you the strength and energy to thrust down on him another time before you feel yourself come undone.

“It’s your turn, baby. Come on, sweetheart. Come inside me and maybe I’ll have to call you daddy? Hmm?” you chant, halting your movements to torture him a little longer.

“Please, Y/N. Please let me fill you up,” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being so vocal, “I’m yours. I love you so much,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around you so your chests are pressed up together. He holds you sweetly and you kiss his shoulders and his neck, choosing to leave a large red welt as a reminder for him.

“You like that? Hmm you like if I call you Daddy and let you fill me up? Come on, Spencer. You can come. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?,” you say, giving him the permission that he’s been desiring all night.

He tightens his grip on your upper half as he meets his release. Spencer’s strangled moans turn into sweet whimpers as he looks down into your laps. Quietly, you ride him through the rest of his orgasm, letting him come down from his high peppered with light pecks along his freckled shoulders and sharp jawline. Spencer smiles into the kisses, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush. For the first time today, he looks relaxed and safe.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Spencer says quietly, mirroring your motions and kissing your shoulders and neck as you slow your pace, “Can we stay like this. Just for a moment,” Spencer asks, burning for the feeling of being inside you for even a couple more minutes.

“Of course, baby,” you tell him, squeezing him into a tight hug, “you did so wonderful for me. Such a good boy. I love my sweet boy,” you tell him, brushing the stray hairs from his face. His neck is marked by your mouth and his eyes are glazed with sleep and desire.

“I love you,” Spencer says again, his forehead falling against yours and his breath hitching as you move slightly with him inside you, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about today,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart and then we’ll talk about it,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to kiss his lips as you pull yourself away from his lap.

Spencer doesn’t say much in response, but nods silently. He groans slightly as you separate your bodies and he tries to chase your lips with his as you climb out of the bed and into your bathroom.

“Please come back,” Spencer says, sounding like he wasn’t sure if you’d keep your promise.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you reassure him, returning from the bathroom dressed in an old tee shirt and carrying a warm, damp washcloth and a pair of clean underwear for Spencer.

“Can you please hold me? Please, Y/N. I need you,” Spencer says, reaching out to you in the dark. That’s one request you know you’d never deny.

“Of course, Spence. Just let me clean you up and I’ll hold you,” you tell him, gently dragging the warm towel over his skin. He’s quiet as you clean him up, but his soulful eyes look lost and sheepish, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than he actually is. You drop the towel to the floor, not caring that the water isn’t good for the floor.

You lay back down on the bed and Spencer, like a magnet to another magnet, crawls in close. He’s still undressed, except for the underwear that you gave him. His eyes are droopy and his breathing is still shaky, but steadies out as your hands draw circles on his back. You pull the covers up to his chin, making sure he’s covered before you start what you know all too well is a difficult conversation.

“Spencer,” you croak, “Why did you do that? Why do you think that’s okay?” you ask, still trying to make sense of why Spencer would risk his life like that so recklessly. You hold him tighter, squeezing his arm as he breathes out, ready to tell you what he’s never told anyone before.

“Bec-, because- I don’t matter,” he says, the words choking out between cries of years and years of pain, “because it doesn’t matter to anyone if I don’t come home. I don’t have anyone to come home to,”

“You’ve always had me,” you say quietly, “I’m your person to come home with, Spence,” you tell him, hoping with all the faith in your body that he’ll believe you. You hold his hand, weaving your fingers in his. Looking at your hands intertwined together, you’d think that your hand was made for it. It’s a little cliche, but Spencer is the kind of man that makes all those cliches seem like wonderful possibilities.

“I-I, I never had someone before,” Spencer says, “I mean, I had my mom, but it’s gotten harder. But then, then, I met you. And I never thought you’d like me like that, Y/N. I never thought you could love me,”

“Spencer,” you say, twisting around so you can hold his face in your hands, “Spencer, I love you. You are so much more than your job. You’re worthy of being loved, Goose. And I’d spend the rest of my life making you realize this”

“You want to spend the rest of your life- the rest of your life with me?” Spencer asks, sounding like he can’t believe the words that you say.

“Spence, I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” you say, dragging your hands through his curly hair that’s matted against his forehead, “You would have realized that if you weren’t too carried away with making me your future history,”

“I think I have a habit of doing that,” Spencer confesses, kissing your forehead sweetly, “You’re- I’m sorry that I worried you like that, but for so long, for so long this is all I’ve had. And before that it was school. I throw myself into academia or work because it’s all I had,”

“Had,” you repeat, “as in the past tense. You’ve had some much more than too, Spence. We all love you. Elle and Derek. JJ and Hotch. Penny and Gideon. We all love you, but I love you the most,”

“Good,” Spencer replies, turning his head down to kiss you, “because I love you the most,”

His lips glide across yours, moving slowly at first and faster as he grows more urgent. There’s no sense in rushing through. You could kiss him lazily in your bed all night and continue until it gives way to morning. There’s no time limit, no buzzer that’s going to go off and force Spencer to whole himself back up into his past. He smiles through the kiss, knowing well that there’s more to come tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. His lips were warm and soft, maybe still a little tender from before, but still eager to feel your lips against his. Breathing together, savoring that you both are breathing, you smile yourself, fully ready for whatever comes next.

***

Taglist (not my usual taglist because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable bc this is smut. You can join the taglist here!)

@shemarmooresfedora @just-another-persona123 @folkreid @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @spencersrose @strawberryspence