#the second part is sort of jokes but i think after vegas in a fit of rage

[presdestigatto]

the snort i let out when i went to verstappen.com on twt and discovered that i irrationally blocked them last year for posting too much love and kumbaya content

[moon-light-jukebox]

The Pretty Boy and the Purple Scarf - [Reid x Fem!OC]

masterlist

Summary: Sam is very surprised when she gets hand picked to join the BAU. She’s even more surprised to meet Dr. Spencer Reid. It’s not surprising that she would develop feelings for him...but he can’t feel the same way. Can he? 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Original Character

Word Count: 7.9k

Rating: Explicit 

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Content Warning: Unprotected sex, Dom!Spencer, light bondage, oral sex (female receiving), language.

A/n: This fic was a commission I did for @imjusthereformggcontent‘s birthday. She told me last night that it was “so good” and it “deserved to see the light of day.” She was being overly kind as usual, but here it is. I wrote this in second person which is a bit ooc for me. I hope y’all like it. 😊

--The Pretty Boy and the Purple Scarf-- 

Everything about the day you transferred from the 4th floor to the 6th floor was unexpected. You had only heard of Aaron Hotchner by reputation, but you’d never actually seen the man.

Which is why you were very surprised when he came down to the 4th floor and personally requested you be reassigned to the 6th floor; truth be told, that requested sounded more like a demand. You barely had time to gather your things before you were on the elevator upstairs.

You had been greeted by a very bubbly blonde woman in hot pink high heels. She had squealed with joy when the doors slid open and she caught sight of you.

“I knew you were the right choice!” She had chirped, teetering towards you. “Your work record is phenomenal, you passed all the background checks, and you’ve technically already taken the required psych courses to be a profiler.” She was positively shaking with excitement. “And you’re as cute a stinking button and look at your hair!”

Several minutes later the woman introduced herself as Penelope Garcia. Not only was she the technical analyst for the BAU, but she also split the responsible of communications liaison with the unit chief.

She then informed you that these duties would now be split between three people, SSA Hotchner, herself…and you.

Once the initial shock had worn off, you were thrilled. You had taken the psychology courses because you had always been fascinated by the behaviors of others. You had joined the FBI because you wanted to help people.

This was your dream job!

But you’d be lying if you said that those were the only reasons that working with the behavioral analysis unit was your dream job.

When Garcia had introduced you to the team that very first day, you clicked with every member right away. David Rossi always offered you a fatherly smile whenever he saw you, Prentiss and Garcia had invited you out to their girl’s night multiple times. Derek Morgan had taken to calling you “pretty girl” which never failed to make you smile. Even Aaron Hotchner was friendly towards you…well, as friendly as he could be. Occasionally you saw his mouth twitch whenever you made a sarcastic comment; you took that to mean that he probably liked you at least a little bit.

While that was also wonderful…it wasn’t why this was your dream job.

During that very first meeting, Garcia had introduced you to everyone in the conference room. They all smiled warmly at you and offered a handshake.

“And this is our resident genius Dr. Spencer Reid,” Garcia had introduced with a wave of her hand.

Dr. Spencer Reid was easily the most unexpected part of the day. He looked at least a few years older than you, so you were surprised that he had the doctor honorific, but the most startling thing was what he looked like. He was tall, possibly the tallest person in the room, with a slim build and unruly curly brown hair. His straight white teeth were dug into his bottom lip while he fidgeted nervously. And then there were his eyes. You now knew that they were brown with flecks of gold near the center, but in that light, they had actually looked like honey.

You offered him your hand, anticipating that he would greet you the way the others had; but nothing about Spencer Reid was ordinary.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead while he stared at your hand.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering,” he informed you, much to the amusement of everyone else in the room. “It’s actually safer to kiss.”

Out of all the things you could have said in that moment, you decided to tease him. “I mean, you’re cute. I wouldn’t say no if that’s how you wanna introduce yourself.”

A choked laugh exploded out of SSA Morgan at your comment. “Oh shit!” He threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Watch out, she’s got your number, Pretty Boy!”

Pretty Boy, you thought. It definitely fits.

The rest of the team had shared in Morgan’s amusement. Even Spencer had seemed amused; amused and thoroughly embarrassed. The apples of his cheeks had turned bright red.

You just shot him a slightly awkward smile because holy fuck he was cute, especially when he was embarrassed.

Later after the rest of the team had left the conference room and returned to the bullpen, you saw Reid standing in front of the coffee station in the kitchenette.

“Hey,” you called, coming up to his side. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in there. I’m Sam.”

He offered a small smile in your direction while he poured an ungodly amount of sugar in his coffee. “Oh, you didn’t. I was 12 years old when I graduated from a Las Vegas public high school. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Dr. Reid is tougher than he looks,” you joked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Got it. I can’t promise I won’t tease you again.”

He just laughed. “If you’re going to tease me then you can just call me Spencer.”

--

Things had started to change about 3 weeks after that. You had finally gotten more comfortable around the team, Spencer included. True to his word, he didn’t seem to mind that you had teased him a few times over the weeks. It was all harmless stuff, of course.

“Cute tie, pretty boy” or “sweater vests are an odd choice, but I’m into it.”

Derek was thoroughly amused, telling you more than once that your remarks to Spencer were the highlight of his day and that he wished you had joined the team sooner.

Throughout all those comments, Spencer never teased you back. He’d duck his head, trying to hide the blush on his face, or he’d just smile at you.

That all changed one morning while you were standing at the coffee station. Garcia had joked that she never drank coffee before working here, but it was like the machine had some sort of hold over everyone. After almost a month here, you were starting to believe it.

You liked coffee, sure, but only if it didn’t taste too much like coffee. You were honestly concerned about people like Hotch who drank black coffee; it just seemed like they must have been through something.

“And you tease me for how much sugar I put in my coffee,” a voice said from beside you, barely able to conceal a chuckle that followed their words. “Jesus Christ, Samantha.”

You turned to smile up at him, your green eyes meeting his warm brown ones. “Nice try, pretty boy. I’m putting a perfectly reasonable amount of sugar in my coffee. I don’t use nearly as much sugar as you do.”

“Probably not,” he conceded, propping his hip up against the counter. “You’re sweet enough anyway.”

Your eyes went impossibly wide at his words, you were stunned. So stunned that you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of your throat.

Dr. Spencer Reid looked just as surprised at his words as you did, two bright pink spots appearing on the apples of his cheeks. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” he squeaked out, his voice laced with embarrassment.

“You’re never going to hear me complain about you flirting with me, Dr. Reid.”

“You can call me Spencer, Samantha,” he reminded.

His words were so soft you were afraid you’d misheard him. Based on the slightly awkward look on his face, you could tell you didn’t. “Okay Spencer,” you breathed out, testing how his name felt in your mouth.

He started to turn to walk away before you found your voice again. “Oh, and you can just call me Sam. Everybody else does.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile. “I know, but if it’s okay with you, I think I’d like to keep calling you Samantha.”

The tension in the air seemed to thicken at his words. How did Spencer just saying your name have this sort of effect on you? Trying to keep your composure, you just nodded. “S-sure, Spencer. You can call me Samantha if you want.”

His nervous demeanor melted away. “Good.” He had turned back around and crossed the room before you even realized what had happened.

--

After that day, a sort of odd friendship had started between you and Spencer Reid. What had begun as awkward flirting attempts every once in a while from him were becoming more and more frequent, and a little bit bolder in nature. You loved that he was getting more comfortable with you.

But you couldn’t ignore how things had started to shift inside you over the past few months.

Talking to Spencer was the highlight of your day. Every time he called you Samantha when the rest of the world called you Sam, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Your mood always lifted whenever you listened to him talk about something he was passionate about.

One of your favorite things was how his cheeks would turn just a bit red whenever he stopped by your desk on one of his many trips to the coffee pot.

“Hey, can I get you a cup?” He’d offer, tapping his fingers against the desk.

You’d always smirk at him. “This is a weird flirting strategy, Pretty Boy,” you’d say, your voice teasing. “Not that I mind watching you walk away.”

The first time you had made that joke it took Spencer a second to get your meaning; the moment he did he flushed beet red.

Even though he acted embarrassed by your comments, he still stopped by your desk multiple times a day. Whenever he did bring you back a cup of coffee it was always made perfectly, just the way you liked it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when you realized what these shifting feelings had meant. You all were working a difficult case in South Dakota that was really getting to you. During a coffee run, Spencer brought you back a white chocolate mocha. When you’d looked up at him, your brows drawn together in confusion, he’d just smiled at you before he shuffled away.

Spencer Reid was becoming one of your best friends…and you were not so slowly falling for him.

--

The day after you got back to Quantico from Sioux Falls, you were back in the kitchenette, only this time you were getting your lunch. You normally ate lunch with either Spencer or Penelope, but you hadn’t seen the Pretty Boy since this morning.  

You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t even realize the very person you were thinking about had snuck up on you.

“What’s that?” His voice asked from beside you, causing you to jump slightly.

“Jesus, Spence,” you mumbled, embarrassed for your reaction. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

He just smiled at you, causing your heart to beat a bit faster. “You’ve never called me Spence before,” he said softly, his eyes searching your face. “Plus, I like scaring you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

It was hard to remember anything when he smiled like that. “Oh,” you said, shaking your head slightly in an attempt to clear it. “What’s what?”

He took a step closer to you. “You have something on your wrist.”

You were taken aback at first, because how the fuck did he see that? Nobody had ever seen that tattoo unless they knew it was there. It’s impossible, Garcia must have told him about it, you had reassured yourself.

His warm hands touched your arm, pulling it closer to him while his thumb traced over the almost invisible ink on your wrist.

“Is this a tattoo?” he asked softly, bending his head down to inspect it further. “I knew about the one on the back of your neck, but I didn’t know you had this one.”

You felt your stomach flutter. He had noticed the one on the nape of your neck too?

“Y-yeah,” you managed to get out. “It’s an anchor.”

Spencer made a noise of acknowledgment, his thumb still softly rubbing over the skin of your wrist. "It's interesting. You know, originally the anchor was a symbol of safety. It wasn't until years later that it got a newer meaning."

It was so hard for you to focus when he was near you, but now he was touching you too?

"Now it's a symbol of hope," he mumbled, his head lifting, his warm brown eyes locking on to your own. "It suits you, Samantha." With that, he dropped your arm and turned to get a mug for his coffee.

Now that he wasn’t invading your senses with his presence, you could gather your thoughts slightly. “How did you know about my tattoo, Spencer?”

He didn’t look up from his caffeine driven task. “A good magician never reveals his secrets,” he said cryptically.

You scoffed, earning a chuckle from him. Spencer turned; his amber-colored eyes were swirling with mischief, but also something a bit deeper. It didn't just feel like he was looking at you; it felt like he was looking into you. It felt like he really wanted to see you in the way that all people crave to be seen. He wanted to understand you.

He took a small step closer, his hand reaching up to brush over one of the green pieces in your long brown hair. ���Maybe I just pay more attention to you than you think,” he whispered before he pulled away, leaving you stunned.

He was already back at his desk before you collected your thoughts.

Spencer Reid…couldn’t feel that way about you, could he?

--

Your feelings about Spencer were starting to seep into the front of your mind, no matter what you did to try and keep them at bay. What made matters worse is that you worked with profilers, the best profilers. How were you supposed to keep your feelings hidden from them?

You decided the best thing to do was try to put some distance between yourself and Spencer. It was extremely hard to do, considering all you wanted to do was be near him; but he just kept making these teasing little comments.

Of course, like most things in life, your plan didn’t go work out. You had been avoiding Spencer for exactly 3 and a half hours before he made his move.

You were coming out of Garcia’s lair when you felt a hand clap around your forearm, jerking you to a stop.

Now, you were normally not an overly clumsy person, but when your momentum gets shifted so quickly, it’s only natural to stumble a bit. You turned and tripped over your feet, causing you to tumble into a very warm person.

One of his large hands caught your shoulder, steading you. Your eyes traveled up, up, up, to meet the beautiful eyes of the one and only, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Why do you insist on scaring the shit out of me?” you scolded, swatting at his chest with the back of your hand.

He looked completely unbothered. “I wouldn’t have had to scare you if you weren’t avoiding me.”

Your mouth popped open in surprise. “I’m not avoiding you!” you protested.

Spencer’s eyebrows pulled together. “Then why haven’t I seen you in the last three hours, thirty-five minutes and seventeen seconds?”

You couldn’t control your snort at his comment. “You’re so weird, do you know that?”

Something happened to Spencer's face just then; his whole expression seemed to soften somehow. "You don't mind that I'm weird though, do you, Samantha?"

Those pesky butterflies erupted in your stomach again, reminding you of your complicated feelings. You took a step back, plastering a friendly smile on your face…at least you hoped.

“You’re a weirdo, but you’re my weirdo, Spence.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s weirdo,” he quipped, shifting closer to you. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes.

“Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

His face turned thoughtfully before he spoke again. “You know,” Spencer said quietly, taking a step closer to you. “Your eyes have some yellow in them around the center. It’s almost like they’re sunflowers.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. “Spence…you-you can’t…you can’t just say shit like that to me.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it makes me feel…It just makes me feel.”

“Is that bad?”

I don’t know. “No,” you decided. “I don’t guess it is.”

Those warm brown eyes continued to scan over your face. “No more avoiding me,” he ordered, pointing his index finger at you.

“I wasn’t avoiding you!”

He stepped away then, but not before he reached out and tugged on one of the green strands in your hair. “You’re a terrible liar, Samantha,” he informed you, before walking down the hall towards the bullpen.

“I really hope I’m not,” you muttered under your breath. You had to be a good liar right now…because what if how you were feeling made you lose your best friend?

--

“I need the BAU team in the conference room,” Hotch’s voice boomed out across the bullpen. “Now.”

You wrinkled your nose slightly; no cases had come in today…So why are we meeting in the conference room?

“Come on, Pretty Girl,” Morgan said when he walked by your desk. “You better hustle or else I’m gonna be the one that sits beside your Pretty Boy.”

“No, you’re not,” Spencer called out. He was already walking into the conference room, his eyes fixed on your face until the moment he entered the room.

“Uh-oooohhh,” Morgan teased, his mouth in a wide smile. “Pretty Boy is getting a little territorial, miss thing. It won’t be long now.”

Your face scrunched in confusion. “Won’t be long until what?” you asked but he was already running into the conference room. “Morgan!”

--

No matter how much you told yourself otherwise, you couldn’t help but feel like things were slightly different with Spencer. He had never been overly affectionate with people, but you were his friend, it wasn’t all that uncommon for him to hug you or brush up against you.

It was just that he seemed to be doing it so much more often. He was always sitting beside you on the jet, at the round table, he was even coming by your desk more than usual.

What’s more, he seemed to have a bit more confidence than normal.

You were almost positive you weren’t imagining it or letting your feelings influence your judgment.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer asked, his leg extending so he could poke your shin with the tip of his converse. You had decided to sit in one of the seats at the back of the plane; you were thinking of it as an experiment to test your theory. There was no seat directly beside of you, making the closest one the seat in front of you that was faced in your direction. In all the time you had known him, Spencer had never sat back here if other seats were available.  

When he boarded the jet an hour ago his eyes had sought you out immediately, making his way to that set before flopping down into it.

Well, you had thought. I’m not totally crazy.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” you insisted, your eyes never lifting from your kindle. Spencer detested that you used an e-reader, but unlike him, you didn’t exactly feel like stuffing your go bag with heavy ass books.

He huffed. “One day I’m going to punish you for lying to me, Samantha.”

Your head flew up. “What!?” you hissed out in a loud whisper.

Spencer just lowered his eyes back to his book. “You heard me.”

--

The case had been a quick one to solve, thankfully. You hadn’t even been in town for 2 full days and the Tulsa police had already processed the unsub’s arrest, leaving your team free to go.

You probably could have gone home tonight if it wasn’t for the storm. There wasn’t actually a storm here that was the problem, it was the one that is Quantico. No matter how homesick anyone felt, it seemed like a unanimous decision to stay here one more night.

The team had arrived back at the hotel about 15 minutes ago, meaning you had only been in your room for 5 minutes when there was a knock on the door.

You had a sinking feeling in your gut that when you opened that door, you'd be met by a pair of warm brown eyes and wild light brown curly hair. It's not that you didn't want to see Spencer; the problem was how much you did want to see Spencer. No matter how many times you told yourself that the flirting was harmless, and he didn't feel the way you did, it didn't seem like your heart had gotten the message.

Maybe it’s not him, you thought. Maybe…maybe it’s a murderer.

No such luck was to be had, of course. You opened up the door to see the smiling, painfully handsome face of Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Spencer,” you laughed out. “We’ve only been here for like 10 minutes.”

The man just nodded, stepping around you and striding into your hotel room like he had a right to be there. "Can't I come to see my best friend?"

You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at him calling you his best friend. “You just saw me.”

“No,” he argued. “I last saw you 8 minutes and 13 seconds before you opened your door.”

Heaving out a loud sigh, you just shook your head and continued pulling things out of your go-bag.

“You don’t mind that I’m here, do you?”

That gave you pause. He didn’t sound like the confident Spencer you’d been seeing the past few weeks. He seemed like the awkward Dr. Spencer Reid who had blushed to the roots of his hair when you made a joke about kissing him.

You shot him a soft smile. “Of course I don’t mind, Spencer. You know I just like to tease you.” He seemed relieved at your answer as he went to sit on the edge of your bed. “And you seem to like teasing me too.”

“Who said I’m teasing?”

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re gonna be in here, make yourself useful.” You handed him your phone charger. “Put that in my go bag.”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, not trying to hide his smile at your bossy tone. “Why am I putting this…what’s this?”

You turned your head to see the purple fabric in his hands. “A scarf? Have you never seen a scarf before?” you teased. “Some genius you are.”

His face pulled a sour look at your words that made you smile harder. “I just haven’t seen it before. I like it.” Spencer started wrapping the scarf around his neck.

“Wow, Dr. Reid,” you called out, your eyes running over his form. “Very sexy. You’re gonna drive the girls wild.”

"There's only one person I'm interested in driving wild," he said softly before he snapped back into his teasing tone. "Purple is my favorite color, you know."

You weren’t even thinking when you said, “I know, that’s why I picked it.” Spencer’s head swung in your direction, clearly surprised by your words. “Anyway,” you hurried out. “Maybe you should keep it; you look adorable Spencie.”

He hated it when anyone called him Spencie and you knew that. You had made the comment to hopefully throw him off from your confession that you picked out that scarf because it reminded you of him.

“What happened to sexy?!” he demanded. “I do not look adorable.” His beautiful face was marred by a scowl.

You put your hands on your hips, giving him an exaggerated once over. “I don’t know, you look pretty adorable to me, Spencie.”

Spencer’s eyes had taken on a different look than you weren’t used to seeing directed at you. It was the same look he always had when he was trying to solve a problem. “You really think I’m just adorable, don’t you?”

Now it was your turn to look at him oddly. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” He took a step closer to you as soon as the words left your mouth, causing you to take a step back. “What are you doing?”

“Proving I’m not adorable,” he said, his words quiet but harsh.

"How-" You never got to finish your question; before you could even realize that he was moving his right hand wrapped around your throat, using his momentum to push you back one final step until you were pressed between the wall and his body.

You blinked up at him, trying to ignore how all of this made you feel. Even in this situation, you still couldn’t believe that Spencer was actually attracted to you the way you were to him. This is probably just like his Eastwood impression, you thought.

His head was bent down, bringing his face much closer to yours than you were used to. You could see the perpetual shadows he had under his remarkable eyes, the small crease in his skin between his eyebrows.

"Is this how you prove you're not adorable?" You had tried to make your tone sound light like your heart wasn't about to beat out of your chest, but it hadn't worked. Your voice sounded breathy and curious even in your own ears.

He looked over your face one final time, looking for some sort of emotion that he must have found because the next instant his grip on your throat got slightly tighter. His face moving so much closer to yours that your noses almost brushed.

“No,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips. “This is.”

Before you could process his words, his lips finally brushed against yours. He was hesitant at first, but he grew bolder when you gasped against his mouth.

How many times had you imagined this moment? Yearned for it? And somehow the feeling of his body against yours was more than you had ever imagined. He was more than you ever imagined.

He took advantage of the gasp you let out, his kiss growing more hungry, more frantic. His body pushed into yours, his thigh coming forward to wedge between both of yours. You were vaguely aware of his hand leaving your throat, but all thought left your head when you felt both of his hands cradled your face. His thumb rubbed against your cheek while he tilted your head where he wanted it.

Spencer Reid was in complete control of this kiss, and you were getting swept away.

His tongue brushed over your bottom lip, seeking entrance to the heat of your mouth. He groaned low in his throat when you immediately opened for him, the movements of your tongue just as bold as his. When your hands came up to grip his sides, one of his hands slid to the back of your head, his long fingers tangling in your hair.

There wasn't a moment of unsureness in this kiss; Spencer kissed you like he had done it a thousand times before. Eventually, the need for air became too great, causing you to break apart. You whimpered slightly when his teeth caught your bottom lips, tugging at it while he pulled his mouth away.

“I’m not adorable,” he panted out against your mouth.

You couldn’t do anything but stare at him in wonder. “I got that.”

His thumb moved over to run against your bottom lip. “No,” he whispered, his eyes scanning yours. “I don’t think you do.”

Those words seemed to hold a greater meaning that you couldn't quite put your finger on. How was anyone's mind supposed to work correctly when this man was standing so close?

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

"Yes." Because of course, you did.

For that moment he looked unsure like he was battling with something he wanted so desperately but was too afraid to reach out and grab. "If you tell me to stop, I will."

You didn’t get to ask him what he meant before he was on you again. This kiss was filled with the same passion as the last, but his hands had begun to roam around your body. Down to your throat, over your shoulders, brushing against the sides of your breast, and the sides of your waist, until they came to the bottom of your shirt.

He pressed his thigh more firmly against the part of you that ached for this man. When you groaned into his mouth, he broke away, his mouth trailing kisses across your cheek, then down to your neck.

Spencer gripped the bottom of your shirt, his thumbs ghosting against your skin before he started pushing it up your body.

Through the fog of lust in your brain, you realized what he was doing, causing you to tense slightly. He must have felt the shift in your body because he pulled his head up from its place against your skin, his eyes searching your face.

“We don’t have to do this, Samantha,” he whispered.

“No!” Your voice came out in a rush. “No, Spence I want to. I really want to.” He smirked at your words, one of his hands coming up to brush over the green streaks in your hair, his eyes still filled with fire, but somehow so incredibly soft.

“Spence, it’s just…I don’t know…I’m not…and you’re so…you’re so hot!”

He huffed out a laugh at your words, bringing the hand that had been touching your hair over to cradle the left side of your face. “You have to know that I think you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”

But how could you have known that?

“Samantha, you have no idea how I feel every fucking time I look at you.” He brought his mouth down again, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to both of your cheeks. “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

You felt your breath catch. “Do it then.”

Spencer looked unsure for just a moment before he looked into your eyes again. "They really do look like sunflowers," he muttered to himself. "If you want me to stop, just tell me to stop."

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

He just smirked down at you before his entire demeanor changed. “We’ll see. Take off your shirt, Samantha.”

You were shocked at the sudden amount of authority in his tone.

“I won’t ask again, Pretty Girl.”

You were still slightly nervous, but the pull inside of you to obey his words was so much stronger than any sort of insecurity you felt. It was if your hands moved automatically, gripping the bottom of your shirt before tugging it over your head.

Spencer’s eyes ran over your newly exposed skin, lingering over your breasts. He reached his hand out towards you, his fingers brushing from your collarbones down to the tops of your breasts. Once they reached the edge of your bra, he paused, looking at you again.

“Your skin is soft, it’s like you were made to be touched,” he mused, unwinding the scarf from his neck. “Take this off. I’ve waited long enough to see your tits.”

Shocked at his words, you once again complied immediately. When your upper body was completely bared to him, he released another groan. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You felt yourself almost blush at his words.

“Hold your hands out.” Both of your arms extended in front of you. Your eyes went impossibly wide when he brought both off your wrists together before winding your scarf around them, binding you.

“I’d prefer to tie you to the bed, but this will have to do for now.” The scarf was secured now, but you knew you could break out of it if you needed to. “I want you to lay on the bed, raise your arms over your head.”

Once you had reached the position he had instructed, you turned to watch him. He had taken his tie off before he came to your room, leaving him in just a button-down shirt and his slacks. The placement of your arms brought your breasts higher; a sight Spencer must have enjoyed based on how long his gaze stayed there.

Before you were ready, he started removing his shirt. He looked so slim in his clothes; you hadn’t expected his body to look so well defined. Spencer Reid without a shirt was quite a sight to behold.

He joined you on the bed, his face hovering over your own. “I left my pants on because if I don’t have anything to stop me, I’m not going to be able to hold back. I’ll fuck you until you scream.”

You whimpered at his words. “Don’t worry my pretty girl, we’ll get there. But I want to savor you first. Keep your hands where they are, if you move them, I will punish you. Do you understand?”

You were struggling to think, his hands were moving over your skin again, those long fingers finally touching your breast, moving closer to your nipple.

“I asked you a question, Samantha.”

“Yes,” you responded, licking your lips.

Suddenly his fingers reached your nipple, he ghosted his thumb against the bud before he gave it a sharp pinch. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He groaned at the sound of his honorific leaving your lips before he gave you a smile that was almost predatory. Spencer shoved your thighs apart, bringing his body to settle against you. You could feel how hard he was against you, even though all of your clothes.

He only gave you a brief, soft kiss before he started moving down your body. He wasted no time now. His lips closed over the tip of one breast while his hand cupped the other.

“Oh my god,” you moaned out, already trying to rock your body against his. That feeling got more frantic when you felt his teeth graze against you before he started to suck you into his mouth hard. His hand left your breast, moving down your stomach until he found the fastenings of your pants.

With a pop, the button sprang free; the sound of the zipper lowering was so loud in the otherwise silent room. The shifting of your hips got more and more desperate when you felt his fingertips run across the elastic band of your panties.

With one final nip of his teeth, he lifted his head, staring down at you. “Such a needy girl.” He pushed his body off of yours, coming to rest on his knees between your thighs.

His hand both moved to your sides, just above your pants. He raked his fingers down the skin until he caught the waistbands of your pants and panties. Spencer revealed you to his gaze slowly; so slowly you were afraid you would spontaneously combust.

Once he had you completely naked on the bed, he ran his hands over your legs, admiring you.

“I was right to leave my pants on,” he chuckled. “It’s taking everything I have not to wrap your thighs around me and finally fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimpered out when his hand ghosted over the skin of on the inside of your knee.

“Soon, pretty girl. But first, I’d rather find out how those thighs feel wrapped around my head.”

You forgot how to breathe at his words. He leaned down, shifting farthing down the bed. Spencer's mouth moved over the skin of your inner thighs with a trail of wet, open mouth kisses.

When he finally reached his destination, he turned his head to the side pressing one finally kiss against your thigh before his teeth caught the skin. The sensation caused you to buck your hips.

“Hold still, Samantha,” he breathed against you. “I want you to hold still while I make you cum with my mouth. Can you do that?”

You weren’t sure if you could, but you bit your lip and nodded anyway.

“That’s my good girl.” That was the last thing he said before he pressed a kiss to your pussy.

His tongue ran against the entirety of your slit once before he parted you with his thumbs. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re so wet, pretty girl. You’re absolutely soaked for me.”

Even if you had wanted to respond to his words, you couldn’t have, because right after he finished speaking his tongue tapped against your clit. Using all the willpower you had, you tried to keep your hips still while his tongue made slow circles around your clit before moving down to your entrance.

He ran his tongue around it before he speared it inside of you, his thumb coming up to rub your clit while he fucked you with his tongue.

“You taste so good,” he moaned against you. The sensation making your legs shake.

“Please, please Doctor.” Your voice was a whine. Seeing Spencer Reid’s head between your thighs was the sexiest thing on the planet.  

You could feel his mouth turn up in a smirk. His thumb kept its tortuously slow pace. “Please what, Samantha?”

“Please make me cum, please.”

You felt his other hand move over to your opening, two fingers entering you without warning, causing you to arch your back.

He withdrew them immediately at your movement, raising his upper body to look at you. You were not expecting it when his hand came down against your pussy in a sharp slap.

“Fuck!”

“I told you to hold still, Samantha.”

Your thighs were shaking in your efforts. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m trying.”

He smiled, running his tongue over his lips. “I know, Pretty Girl.”

His fingers pushed back inside of you, curling up. He shifted his hand slightly until he brushed again the spot inside of you that caused you to moan out a broken plea.

Your eyes had closed in both pleasure and as a show of self-control. If you saw what Spencer was doing to your body right now there was no way you’d be able to stop yourself from moving.

When you felt his mouth close around your clit, you were unable to keep your eyes shut. You had to look at him. His eyes were closed in bliss, his arm moving at a faster past.

His eyes snapped open and his mouth lifted when you moaned out his name. “Are you gonna cum, Pretty Girl?” he teased. “I can feel your tight little pussy squeezing my fingers. Fuck. I’m so fucking hard just thinking about what it will feel like when you cum all over my cock.”

“Spencer, please. I’m so close Please.”

He moved his mouth back down to the seam of your body. “You’ve been such a good girl, Samantha. You can move now, but your arms stay where they are. I want you to fuck this pretty pussy on my face. Can you do that?”

You nodded, your hips already moving to grind against him, seeking out your own pleasure. When his lips took your clit into his mouth, sucking softly, while his fingers curled into you, you were unable to control the loud moan that came out of your mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

Spencer’s fingers still moved inside of you, bringing you through your orgasm. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh as he removed his fingers when you finally started to come down from your orgasm, he then put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before he spoke. “I’ve thought about how you’d look after you came for me so many times,” he said quietly, moving up your body. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “This is better than I imagined.”

You tried to deepen the kiss, but you knew you couldn’t move your arms yet.

“You’re not done, are you baby?” He laughed when you frantically shook your head “no.” You didn’t think you’d ever be done with this man.

His hand shot up to wrap around your throat; he applied pressure to the sides to restrict the blood flow. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, Samantha."

You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his hand against you.

“Still such a needy girl,” he teased. “Now, you’re not done, are you?”

“No Doctor,” you rasped out.

Spencer smiled before he brought his mouth to yours again. He didn’t remove his hand from your throat while his tongue slicked into your mouth. It twirled against your own until he sucked the tip of your tongue into his mouth.

He pulled away with a groan. “I can’t fucking stand this anymore.” His hands moved to his pants, undoing them in a flash. You caught sight of him inside of his underwear. He palmed himself, his eyes on your face before he finally peeled those down too.

Spencer was well above average in everything else, it wasn’t surprising that he was here too. His hand wrapped around his cock, giving a few pumps while his eyes ran over your body.

“Turn over.”

You moved onto your stomach; Spencer pulling you up on to your knees. You felt both of his hands run over your ass until his right one lifted.

He gripped his cock in his hand, bringing it to your dripping center. Even that powerful orgasm hadn’t satisfied your desire for this man.

You felt the head of his cock slip into you, causing you both to groan. “Fucking Christ,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He started to slowly fuck himself into you, going deeper with every thrust. Your upper body was propped up on your elbows, your head hanging between them. You had never felt so overwhelmed by a man like this before.

With one final thrust, his hips slapped against your ass as he filled you completely.

Your face dropped into the pillow when he started to move; you were unable to control how loud you were moaning.

Those long fingers tangled in your hair again, pulling your head up. “No,” he growled, his rhythm never faltering. “I’ve thought about fucking you for too long. I want to hear you, do you understand.”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip while your hips pushed back against him. "Yes, Doctor."

“Good girl,” was all he said but he didn’t release your hair.

This was a torture of the sweetest kind. Your hands were bound, both of his hands were holding you in place while he fucked you in an almost primal way, but you need to touch your clit so badly you could cry. You were already so close again.

Spencer must have realized it then too. He pulled out of your body, causing a whine to slip from your throat, your hips pushing back to seek him out again.

“On your back, Pretty Girl.” He helped you roll, settling himself between your thighs again. His fingers ran over the bindings on your wrists before he brushed his mouth against yours.

He gripped his cock again, lining it up with your entrance before he slowly started to sink into you. He pulled your legs up higher around his waist, pulling him deeper. You both groaned at the sensation.

Spencer started rocking against you, his pelvis grinding against your clit. He kissed you again, both of his lips covering your top lip.

You let out another whimper when his pace quickened.

“I should be so mad at you, Samantha,” he rasped against your lips. “You’ve kept this perfect pussy away from me for too long.”

His words caused you to clench around him. He lifted his upper body again, only this time one hand when to your throat, the other moving between your bodies.

You felt his thumb circle your clit while his fingers choked you again. “Come on, Samantha. I want you to cum for me, pretty girl.” Your head was thrashing against his hold, your body moving against his desperately. “I can feel it; cum on my cock baby.”

You might have screamed when the orgasm broke inside of you but you lost all sense of time and space when you came for him. Spencer's pace never slowed, his hands lifting from you to grab onto the headboard. His thrusts were brutal and seemed to extend your own orgasm.

With one final thrust, he groaned out “Samantha”, a look that you would remember for the rest of his life on his face while he found his release inside of you.

He quickly reached up and undid the bindings around your wrist with one movement. You brought your arms down, wincing at the pins and needles feeling.

“Sore?” he asked, his thumbs rubbing over your wrists.

“It was worth it,” you teased.

He smirked up at you. “So, am I still adorable?”

“I don’t know,” you pretended to consider him. “There isn’t enough data to reach a conclusion. You’re a man of science, you should know that.”

“Only you would make a science joke at a time like this.”

“It’s why you like me.”

His gaze softened, his hand cradling your face again. “It’s one of the reasons.”

--

You hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk to Spencer since that night in Oklahoma. He had slept in your room, causing both of you to rush around frantically the following morning so you wouldn’t miss the plane.

Then you had a full day of paperwork before Penelope insisted that everyone needed to unwind and have fun. So, against everyone’s will, she had dragged us to a bar nearby.

Now it was the next day and you had a nervous sort of excitement fluttering in your stomach.

“It’s a bit warm for a scarf, Pretty Boy,” Morgan called out, startling you.

You had noticed your purple scarf was missing from your go bag but you just assumed you left it in the hotel room.

That was evidently not the case as Dr. Spencer Reid walked into the BAU bullpen with it wrapped around his neck.

“My neck gets cold,” he defended. “I’m not used to short hair yet.”

That seemed to satisfy everyone else, but you didn’t miss the smirk he sent your way, or how he placed the scarf on his desk where you could see it.

It wasn’t until after 10 am that you could finally get a chance to speak to him alone. He didn’t look at all surprised when you started walking towards his desk, he just turned his chair to face you, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“Are you going to give me my scarf back?” you questioned, your tone both amused and expectant.

Spencer just smiled at you, his cockiness seeming to have vanished. He looked almost nervous when he asked, “Are you going to go on a date with me?”

Despite all you had done, you couldn’t control the rush of surprise at his request. “Yes,” you informed him with a huge smile on your face.

His smile was just as earnest. “Finally,” he muttered, turning his chair back towards his desk. “And since you said ‘yes’, I think I’ll hang on to the scarf for a bit longer.”

-- The end.

--

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[reiven2017]

Delicate steel.

Chapter 2.

Raven wondered for a long time when this happened.

Her morning started quite early, but all she remembered was how, having discovered the opportunity, she immediately slipped out of the house and was about to walk, as at the most inopportune moment she was overtaken by a panic attack.

As if this is the right time.

She remembered only how at one moment it became dark in her eyes, and oxygen stopped flowing into her lungs. It was happening so violently and swiftly that Raven felt like she was dying. Fear slowly settled in the very center of her chest and that's it. One slightest fear filled her entire body. She remembered how she sank onto the wet asphalt, her body, legs, arms, head ceased to obey her and she was unable to stand on her feet. The breathless fit continued and seemed not going to stop and Rachel lost hope for a split second. She did not remember how much time had passed and how long she was already on the side of the road, when she caught the movement next to her, and then she was smoothly put on the curb. Raven was still tossing between panic and reality, but she could feel how all this time someone was carefully giving her water. The stranger seemed not for the first time to see such a development in front of him, his actions were clear and careful, just what Raven needed. And then, when she came to her senses and the stranger was still trying to offer her help and take her to the hospital, the girl thanked him dryly, but completely withdrew from persuasion. All Raven remembered was the man's pale blue eyes before he disappeared around the corner.

Rachel winced and remembered another attack without much enthusiasm. This shit was repeated to her without any schedule or even warning and Rei sometimes felt that her body was demanding her death. She could not control the work of her brain at such moments and it was quite irritating and problematic. It made her ... vulnerable. And that's exactly what Raven hated the most.

She had a rather bad habit of switching off and thinking for too long, so she was not embarrassed when a floating hand appeared in front of her eyes.

“Hey, if you’re not going to hang around here forever, I advise you to go home. - Raven dismissed the remarks of her classmate and he grunted in response, left the class.

She blinked a couple of times, returning to reality, and then her face took on her usual sullen expression and Rachel glanced at her watch. 8:30. The last lesson ended 40 minutes ago, which means that she was passed out all this time and Rachel moaned pitifully, dropping her head in her hands. She is confident that her mom is going to arrange an execution at home for another curfew violation.

Excellent.

She took the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and turned it on and off. A couple of missed calls and threatening sms from my mother were highlighted on the screen of her mobile phone and Rachel decided that she would somehow sort it out later and, taking her bag with her, left the empty audience. In the school corridor she met only a couple of cleaners and two students, but they immediately disappeared into one of the school toilets and Raven had little interest in what they were going to do there. In the front, huge doors appeared and, wrapping herself tighter in her kurta, thrusting her hands into her pockets, Rei greeted the cold autumn wind with a shiver. It was late autumn outside and in Day, a fairly northern city, it felt a few degrees colder. Rachel let out a breath, mentally wondering if it was as cold in New York this time of year, and a warm cloud of steam began to billow from her lips. She followed this short journey of warm air and caught herself with a soft smile on her lips. It was strangely calm. Even though she still has a problem with her mother, Rachel continued to stand on the school porch, inhaling and exhaling air. Everything in this city was strangely calm and quiet, but Rachel didn't mind that much. She had been here for about two weeks and was satisfied with everything, and deep down Raven was ready to admit that she even liked Date. It was a small town, abandoned in the thicket of the forest, with its legends about heri and about the brave discoverers. It was not as famous as Las Vegas and not as densely populated as New York, but that was its sweet charm.

Raven rubbed her hands, trying to rid her body of the approaching cold. She frowned, increasing the friction between her palms, but she was still cold and Raven wasn't sure if it was the weather. There was a short whistle and Rachel reflexively paid attention to it, lifting her head and fixing her gaze on the forest in front of her. Dusk had already fallen on the street, so the huge tundra and the trees in front of it were several shades darker, but it did not look frightening, one could say that Raven liked just such a forest more. Dark but quiet and calm. Maybe her gothic nature was played out in her, but in Raven there flashed a fleeting desire to walk there, but ... she was sure that the sound came from there. Rachel shivered chilly and rolled around in place, looking around.

Several minutes passed before Raven's phone rang again and the girl frowned in resignation. If she continues to be here and not at home, Raven is not entirely sure that she will have a home at all. She threw a last glance at the night forest, saying goodbye to him for today and ... froze in indecision. If it was a stupid game of her sick mind, then she gave her brain minus 10 points for a bad joke and asked to bake it in the hospital. In the very center of the forest, where a huge black hole gaped and it seemed that all objects in it were disappearing, there were two glowing lights. They did not move, did not move, even when a gust of strong wind blew and Raven grabbed the bag on her shoulder more tightly, they did not flinch, continuing to loom in the very center. Rachel frowned, a fine line on her forehead, but in her mind she felt a lump of fear slowly creep down her throat. As if even the air froze in tension, afraid to move in front of this devilry and deathly silence fell, Raven literally felt how life had stopped, and her heart was pounding anxiously. Part of her analytical and rational brain insisted that this was some kind of misunderstanding, but something was wrong in these lights. They shone with a bright, yellow light and they seemed to be conscious, as if someone, or something, was looking at her from there. Rachel narrowed her eyes, swallowing nervously and mentally urging herself to calm down.

Of course, we did not have enough to make friends with the Martians Rachel Roth.

It was the first thing that flashed through her thoughts, before Raven's eyes involuntarily widened with horror and instantly enveloped in a wave of fear. The blood in her veins became a lump and Rachel was sure that she had stopped feeling the pounding of her heart. The lights moved and after a split second, it seemed a huge, black spot, dimly resembling a muzzle, half hidden in shadow with eyes glowing with a bright yellow light and looking directly at her.

Hell…

Rachel blinked, unable to really accept in front of her and when she opened them, neither the eerie glowing lights, nor the unknown creature was already gone. In the blink of an eye, the air became alive again, the sounds returned, in the distance there was the noise of passing cars and the dead silence evaporated.

Raven swallowed hard, looked around the darkening forest and turned sharply, walked as far from this place as possible. She did not turn around, but with each step she took, she increased her speed, remaining with the only thought in her head - to bring down.

When some ass happens, it's never too late to dump Rachel Roth.

===========

Damian sat back wearily in his desk chair, massaging his face with his hands, hoping to get the paperwork out of the way as soon as possible. Unfortunately, questions from the pack were not resolved by themselves and for a long time hung over the younger Wayne as a heavy pendulum of danger and the guy ditched the whole evening for this. Sometimes Damian began to regret that he lived in the modern century, and not in the Middle Ages, where all questions and reflections were solved alone by the menacing growl of the alpha.

He frowned again at another piece of paper with numbers, as his ears caught on the first floor the joyful exclamations of his mother and Damian mentally whined knowing perfectly well who could deserve such a warm welcome. Grayson. The happiest ass in the world and also his older brother. He was aware of his arrival ... well, of course, his entire family and some members of the pack kept buzzing about it throughout the week, causing more and more irritation in Damian. Not that he hated Richard, he was as unbearable as his brothers ... well, he had some advantages over Jason, but several rather stupid personalities once said that they were not happy to see the gloomy cloud of the younger Wayne at the head of their pack, and would gladly replace him with the sunny boy Richard Grayson. After that, Damian was completely furious. He himself did not understand how his older brother manages to be so liked by people, but even to some extent he envied Grayson ... although, on his deathbed, he would not dare to admit it even to himself. So, now he wanted to feel like a 17-year-old teenager and lock himself in his office, gloomily ignoring what was happening. So he did, and even when he heard how his whole family spilled out on the first floor and Talia displeased asking about where Damian had gone, the guy stayed where he was.

It didn't take long before his secret hideout was discovered and loud footsteps were heard, and the next minute Grayson's pretty face appeared in the doorway.

Ugh you.

Damian wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t said it out loud.

- And I'm glad to see you too, brother. Richard opened his bear hug and a smug grin spread across his face.

“Don't be like Jason, Grayson, degradation doesn't suit you. Dick ignored Damian's disgruntled grumbling as he brushed him off and walked over to the table.

- And you become like the old grumpy wolf Demi.

“Forgive me for upsetting your hopes. Wayne was going to continue to ignore Dick, but as the man approached his desk, Damian didn’t consciously stiffen. Either Grayson had successfully changed his perfume, or some strange, but rather disturbing, smell appeared in the room. Wayne looked up from the pile of papers and sucked in air through his nose with all his might. The pupils of his eyes dilated as if after a strong rush of adrenaline into the blood, and his brain slowly floated. Smell. A subtle, almost imperceptible scent made Damian's blood burn hot as fire, and his wolf whined inwardly.

Dick watched the change in his brother's face with a mixed expression and stepped back reflexively as Damian rose abruptly from his seat, never ceasing to sniff. All the same, he is a young alpha ... what can get into his head Richard had no purpose to know. But when Damian seemed unable to find anything within a radius of a meter, approached Dick and began to sniff with the same eagerness, the man could not help laughing.

- Wow, take it easy, I understand that you missed me, but can we limit ourselves to hugs? - but Damian obviously did not listen to him and did not hear. He, like an instinct, walked around Grayson's circle, sucking in air and seemed not to notice what was happening while in his world. He eagerly grabbed his brother's hands, sniffing and froze for a moment in that position. Several seconds passed before he returned to the starting position and without opening his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists, he firmly asked and was surprised at how unfamiliar his voice sounded. His question turned more into a kind of command and a rude uterine growl, which are on the verge of little politeness.

“Now Grayson, you’ll tell me in detail about your day. - a mute question arose between them in the air, when Dick raised an eyebrow inquiringly, being in confusion from his brother's rudeness and strangeness, he wanted to joke about the change in the mood of the young alpha, but stopped ... Damian finally looked up at Richard ... eyes bright and burning with green flame ... Grayson swallowed involuntarily and tensed, mentally preparing for something bad.

[gold-and-rubies]

Fallout’s Use of Dead Wives For Companions

So this isn’t a full on essay, but I want to take a look at the dead wife trope in Fallout New Vegas and Fallout 4, I haven’t played the others so I won’t make a comment on them. These are my opinions on it. I am not a professional at analysis, I just want to clear out my head. I will be talking about Boone, MacCready, Deacon, Valentine, and Longfellow. I thought about talking about Doc Mitchell, but I don’t really see people bring him up. Probably because it’s just used to explain why he has a female vault suit. I’m not going to talk about M!Sole Survivor, because in my opinion that is a different conversation. I talk more about Boone and MacCready, since I am explaining why it works for them. I don’t think many would argue with me that the others could use some alternatives though. Anyway, everything is below the cut.

So let’s start with Boone. He definitely is not the first, but he is the big one. If Bethesda did not overuse this trope in Fallout 4, I don’t think people would go off on him as much, but then again I am relatively new to the fandom. Overall, I think he is the best execution for two different reasons. 

I already made a small post about it, but I want to expand on it. When people talk about how focused he is on Carla’s death, I don’t think most people realize that it was recent. It happened while they were living in Novac, and when you meet him he says he has been living there for a year. Meaning that at the most she’s been dead for a little over eleven months, but I think it is way less than that. I think if it had been that long, Boone would have already figured out who was responsible. He’d probably be long, long gone. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is as recent as a little over a week. Not only is it recent, but he’s the one who did the deed. And he hates himself for it. He knows what he did was wrong, but it was that or let her and their unborn child become slaves. That’s another thing I don’t think a lot of people know. Carla was pregnant, and I’m pretty sure they were planning on keeping the child. He was given a choice that consisted of two very dark shades of grey, and he had to figure out which one was just a little better. Not only is it very recent, and tragic, but it genuinely has a very deep affect on him. It is apparent from the beginning that it isn’t just something that is supposed to make the player feel bad for him, it is an important part of his character.

The second reason is that this isn’t the only thing affecting him deeply, though he is the slightest bit more open about what happened to Carla. His participation in what happened at Bittersprings, and how that affected his relationships and how he views Carla’s death make him a deeper character. It serves to show the horrors of war, how willing people are to turn on each other when afraid, and it makes Boone a deeply traumatized character. Unlike other things, it isn’t just some cheap grab at pain. It’s made clear that he isn’t getting over her anytime soon, or maybe he might not at all. 

Let’s look at MacCready next, shall we? I think he is the second best execution of this in this group, and by far the best one in Fallout 4. 

I think this is because while Lucy’s death was incredibly sad, and affected him deeply the focus is more on Duncan and how he mirrors the Sole Survivor. A parent with a dead spouse who desperately wants to save their child? They’re practically twins. But jokes aside, unlike the others in Fallout 4, Lucy’s death provides substance and cannot be easily switched out for another person. 

While twenty-six is a young age to have experienced all that Boone has, twenty-two is even younger. MacCready lost Lucy in a horrific way and became a single parent at quite a young age. We know that he met Lucy after leaving Little Lamplight, and she obviously died after Duncan was born. We know she’s been dead for a least two years because MacCready says she’s been gone for a few years. That means he lost his wife, the person he trusted the most and became a single parent when he was likely still a teenager. And despite this he has arguably the healthiest relationship with the death. He still blames himself for it, but he has come to terms with it the best he can.

It serves as the reason as to why he is a single parent, which I think has more of an affect on him as a character than her actual death does. Growing up in Little Lamplight, and being in charge of it for a bit likely forced him to grow up faster than is healthy, but having a child at such a young age with no one to lean on but your partner who died sent that into overdrive. 

Yes, the final affinity talk is about Lucy, but given this is when you are able to pursue a romantic relationship with him, it makes sense. But here is why I think it makes sense that she died, and didn’t walk out on him, which could be seen as an alternative. He says that he never got the chance to tell her who he really was. She died believing he was a soldier and not a mercenary, which seriously messed him up. Part of him feels like she might have not loved him if he had told her the truth. It not only adds to the grief he feels, but also the joy he feels when Sole tells him they love him, because they truly do know him for who he is. 

They could have gone in about a million different ways with his character in Fallout 4, but with the way they went what happened makes sense.

Then there’s Deacon, who I have mixed feelings about. Him being violently against synths before joining the Railroad makes for an interesting story, and a good reason as to why he is the way he is, but I’m not fond of how Barbara fits into the story. I understand that there would have to be some sort of redemption in order for him to join the Railroad, but I don’t think Barbara’s death was the best choice.I mean a death of someone he is close to makes sense, but it didn’t have to be his wife. Unlike Boone and MacCready where it makes sense for them specifically to be dead, it doesn’t for Deacon. Her death is just seen as retribution for the pain he caused. They could have very easily have just made it a close friend. While it makes sense for him to have such a dark history, they could have gone with anything, as the specifics of what happened don’t play a large role in who he is as a person.

Now, Valentine. Yes, Jenny was his fiancée not his wife, but close enough. Unlike Deacon, where they could have done anything for his background, it makes sense that someone had to die to make sure Nick was well and truly invested. The thing here is that it absolutely did not not have to be his fiancée, his professional partner dying could have achieved the same effect for him. Now, what’s different here is that her death isn’t really the sad or important part, it’s his identity crisis and justice that are. It is the Original Nick’s memories that spur him on, but justice for her death specifically isn’t the takeaway. It is the desire to do the right thing, and your actions being your own are.

Finally, we have Old Longfellow. This one is going to be super short. Old Longfellow is old by human wastelander standards. While I understand they want to provide a proper explanation as to why he dislikes the Children of Atom, him just being around for a long time and seeing and hearing everything would be reason enough. Hannah, that was her name if you didn’t know, I had to look it up, dying does the opposite of what the writer’s want. Instead of gaining sympathy for him it pushes players away, making her death the most unimportant one. You can’t even tell that that’s what is affecting him. They should have just focused on the thing with Shipbreaker. That would fit both his character, and the whole aesthetic of Far Harbor very well.

[imagining-supernatural]

The Big Reveal

Part 7 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You bring your best friend up to speed on your new situation... and Sebastian gets a new name

Word Count: 2165

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” Jasmin asked, her brown eyes boring into yours through the screen.

Maybe it was being around an actor for the last three days, but you decided to draw the suspense out a bit, just for the drama of things. “Did you cut your hair? It looks shorter. I like—”

“Y/N.”

“I’m in New York.”

Her mouth dropped a little. “But, you were just in Vegas. Right?”

“Yeah. And now I’m in New York City. And…” This next part was definitely Sebastian’s fault. You had wondered how to break the news to Jasmin, and he suggested the big reveal by just holding your left hand up to the camera so she could see the ring.

Which you did.

And she squinted at her computer screen, trying to figure out what she was seeing on her Skype screen. Obviously she knew what it was and what it meant. But connecting those to you?

“Is that…”

“I’m married.”

Somehow, you’d knocked her speechless.

“And I’m in New York. And I’m moving here for a while, at least.”

“Married?”

“Remember how you joked about how awkward it would have been if I had woken up married to my one-night stand? That’s exactly what happened.”

“And you ran off to New York with him? Sweetie, if this is some sort of last chance to let loose thing, you know that I’ll support you. But this isn’t just, like, a fling that you can leave behind. You got the friggin’ government involved.”

“And a doctor or two.”

“A… are you pregnant?”

“Jasmin! I only met him, like, three days ago! First off, that is biologically impossible, right? To know that quickly if you’re pregnant? Second, I’m on protection.”

“So you did fuck him?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. Which, if I did, is really too bad. Would have loved to remember that.” You had to get away from the topic of Sebastian. Jasmin was a chatter. She couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. “No, I’m not pregnant. The doctor’s we got involved are, uh, oncologists.”

Whatever she had been about to ask about the man you were married to seemed to dry up in her mouth and she stared at the screen. “Oncologists… Does that mean…?”

You could tell she was too scared to hope. Just as you had been.

So you nodded and tried your hardest to keep your tears locked away as her lower lip started to tremble. In a voice thick with emotion you stated simply, “I’m in a clinical trial, Jaz.”

“Wha—how?”

“My, uh… my husband. We were about to get an annulment. By about to get, I mean we were literally in the courthouse in Vegas and he mentioned that… he brought up the fact that I can get on his insurance, if we stay married.”

“And you, what? Jumped on a plane to New York?”

“Fuck no. I tried my damnedest to push that annulment. But he won’t take no for an answer for anything. He convinced me to see his oncologist friend here and if she said the same things Dr. Patterson did, then we’d go through with the annulment.”

“But she got you into a clinical trial.”

“Seventy percent, Jaz.” Her hand flew up to her mouth and you stopped trying not to cry. Tears were streaming down both of your faces. “I have a seventy percent chance that my tumor will shrink and I can get it removed. By the best neurosurgeon in the fucking country.”

“Sweetie,” she choked out.

“Seventy percent. I mean, according to Dr. Sharpe and Dr. Chowdhury, my cancer is getting much more aggressive, but that’s what this clinical study is directed towards. I just… I’m scared, Jaz. I’m scared to-to-to… to hope. I’m terrified to remind myself what optimism is. But… what are the odds, Jaz? That I’d wake up in Vegas, married to a great guy who has the means to save my life. Who had the connections to get me into this clinical trial that just started? What are the fucking odds that I went to Vegas this last weekend, instead of next weekend when I was originally planning on it, especially when Dr. Sharpe said that my cancer would have been too far progressed to get me into the trial in a week?

“What if this is all just a cosmic joke?” You started spiraling downward. “What if this is God’s way of, I don’t know, punishing me for leaving my family like I did. For everything that happened with my family. He makes me hope, then He takes it all away. This is such an aggressive treatment, I mean, I only had one infusion today and I’m already feeling it. What if I can’t do it? What if I just… my body just… it just gives out?”

“Y/N!” She shouted though the speakers, in the way that let you know she had been saying your name for a while. “Babe, breathe.”

“You got me through chemo and you’re thousands of miles away now.”

“But you have a husband now so…”

She was fishing. You hated lying to her, but she was literally the worst at keeping secrets.

“And I can’t tell you who he is. Because, I love you, but you would keep it a secret for three days, maybe? And, uh, I just can’t tell you his name.”

“Is he famous? Rich? Cute?”

“All of the above. Which makes this all so much more insane. But I just really don’t want you to hate me for not telling you.”

“Oh, I hate you for sure. But I still love you.” She blew you a kiss. “If I guess his name, will you tell me if I’m right?”

“Absolutely not, because I sure as hell do not need the paparazzi yelling questions at me as I’m being wheelchaired out of the hospital.”

“Fair point, fair point.” Her expression softened and she adjusted her computer on her bed. “I’m so happy for you, Y/N/N. I know you were ready to, well, not give up, per se…”

Your fingers scratched at the back of your head as you nodded, to let her know you understood what she was saying. “Did I tell you that… I need to come up with a codename for him because I can’t tell you his name, but calling him my husband just sounds so fucking weird.”

“Okay, tell me a few of the names that aren’t his, and I’ll help you come up with something.”

“No. Nice try.”

“Fine.” She thought for a moment. “Would calling him Jesus be too much? I mean, he is a life savior for you.”

“Might be. Seventy percent means that there’s a thirty percent chance I don’t make it.”

“Medically you have a seventy percent chance, but universally? You’re gonna make it. Look at how you made it there.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you looked down at your lap before returning your gaze to Jasmin. “I need you to keep reminding me of that. Don’t let me push you away just because you can’t physically climb into my bed and make me acknowledge that you love me.”

“If you gave me your boo’s phone number, I could make sure he makes you talk to me.”

“I gave him yours, in case there is an emergency. So, if a New York number calls you, um, it might not be spam? I told him to text you first just saying he was going to call you. Since, you know, neither of us answer unknown numbers.”

“I got a call from Apple Inc today at work. Apparently Siri is calling landlines because she’s worried about my iCloud account.”

“Ah, yes. Your iCloud account. On your Android.”

“Definitely not a scam call.”

“Of course. Just Siri being a concerned friend.”

“She called four times in one hour.”

“Girl, you better check out your iCloud account. This could be a major breach of confidentiality.”

“I’ll do it after we come up with a codename for your hubby. What color are his eyes?”

“Eyes?” You asked. “He ain’t got not eyes.”

She stared you down flatly until you broke into a grin, giggling.

“I suppose it can’t hurt. Blue. Or, uh, blue-green?

“Merman,” she said without hesitation.

“Merman?” You repeated, taking a drink of water from the glass you had on the bedside table. “I, uh… sure? My merman. That sounds super stupid, but I’m in. Maybe we can call him Aquaman?”

“Jason Momoa?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so you’re not married to Jason Momoa, then?”

“Pretty sure he’s already married, so I’m not revealing anything.”

“You sure about that?”

She gave you the side eye that was so convincing that you pulled up a Google search to confirm that, yes, Jason Momoa was indeed married already.

“So, tell me about Jason Momoa.” She sat forward on her bed with her chin in her hand.

Fuck, you missed Jasmin so much. “He’s really nice. That’s kind of obvious since he’s willing to stay married to me so I can go through cancer treatment, despite the, uh, obvious downsides for him. He’s working out right now. Super fit. Uh… Let’s see… He took me to Hamilton on Broadway yesterday and this hole in the wall restaurant with the best tacos. I’m talking even better than the taco truck on State Street. He, uh, wouldn’t let me talk myself out of the treatment. He kind of forced me to get more tests done, because the doctor wanted some tests. So that’s a negative point in his score.”

“Positive point, I think you mean. I love this guy already.”

“Yeah you do.” She was a Marvel Devotee. If she knew you were married to Sebastian Stan, she might just internally combust.

“I do? So he’s one of my celebrity husbands?”

“Not anymore. He’s my celebrity husband now.”

Her head bobbed up and down a few times as she considered. “So. Back to something you said about your celebrity husband… what did you mean by the obvious downsides to staying married to you?”

Why the hell had she caught onto that slip?

“It’s just… Jaz, you know how much debt I had to go into during my last treatments. And my student loan debt. I mean, I don’t think he’s legally obligated to that, but I don’t know for sure. And-and-and even besides that. I have fucking cancer. Cancer. If I’m part of the thirty percent… or if I make it to surgery, then die in the O.R… He’s… That’s another person who mourns me. He barely knows me and he’s willing to go through bitchy Y/N. You remember chemo-Y/N. I was a fucking disaster.”

“Did you talk to him about that?”

“Sure. After Dr. Sharpe told me I had a seventy percent chance. What kind of decent human being would take back their offer to save someone’s life after they saw what I’m sure my face looked like? I should have told him back at the courthouse in Vegas. He’s… He doesn’t deserve this. I shouldn’t—”

“Shut the fuck up. You shut your fucking mouth right the fuck now.”

“Wow, Jaz,” you muttered. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I learned from her. Y/N. You worry far too much—”

“But I don’t—”

“Yes you do. You thought that I would stop being your friend after you yelled at me for not changing the toilet paper roll after the third week of your chemo. You thought that the mailman hated you because she kept delivering your credit card bills month after month—”

“I went paperless, but they keep sending paper statements when you owe as much as I do—”

“And let me tell you, that mailman had a crush on you so you can fucking shut your fucking mouth.”

“She did not.”

“She fucking did. But my point here is not that our lovely mailman, Camila, is in love with you—”

“Love is a stretch.”

“—But that you overthink things way too much—”

“I know I do.”

“And you also think far too little of yourself. Look at me, Y/N.” You kept your sarcastic quip in check as you looked at the screen (the screen showing her eyes, sure, but the screen nonetheless). “You are so worth it. Whatever I went through and will go through. And whatever Jason Momoa goes through for you.

“You. Are. Worth. It… Everything.”

Emotion overtook you, and you turned your laptop camera away from you for the moment.

It wasn’t that you hated yourself. It wasn’t that you thought you were nothing.

You just had a hard time thinking that you… that you were someone. You weren’t no-one… but you weren’t someone either.

You didn’t matter as much as other people.

“And when you have your tumor removed, Jason Momoa and I are sure as hell gonna make you realize that you are fucking amazing.”

Going into cancer treatment with your best friend living thousands of miles away isn’t going to be easy... I guess we’ll just have to see how her self image holds up without Jasmin’s constant reminders.

Part 9: The First Week

[missytearex]

Hi! So I’ve decided to do monthly recs instead of weekly recs from now on, which mean this list is kinda long, so I put all the under 10k fics under the cut, but be sure to check them out too! And remember to leave kudos and comments when you do ❤

Tired Tired Sea by @mediawhorefics — [fic post]

larry | 113k | mature

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Not That Gone by @a-brighter-yellow --- [fic post]

larry | 61k | explicit

A few weeks after Louis and Harry, *ahem*, reconnect at their high school reunion, Harry temporarily moves back home. Louis isn't sure he has the emotional fortitude for a prolonged fling with the man of the dreams.

Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl — [fic post]

larry | 40k | explicit

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

INSPIRED BY CLOUDS.

I Just Want You to Stay by @sadaveniren --- [fic post]

larry | 34k | explicit

Louis and Harry have been roommates for four years, comfortable in their routine and their relationship. But all of that is about to change.

The Spaces Between Us by @justalittlelouislove — [fic post]

ziam | 33k | explicit

Liam is a ghost bound to nothing, feeling nothing. Until he finds Zayn and learns what it means to feel everything.

Give A Little Sing To The Singles by @londonfoginacup --- [fic post]

larry | 31k | teen and up

Harry Styles is an adult now, with a real adult job (and benefits! Whatever those are!). He spends his days at the copier. Copying things.

That being said, no one told Harry that being an adult came with a confusingly chaotic boss, a copier machine that would be hell-bent on ruining his life, and a coworker so good looking that Harry might just have to quit. After all, Christmas is coming and if their office doesn’t win the decorating contest, Louis has threatened to break several laws and kneecaps in retaliation.

Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.

The Goat Guy of Bethlehem by @lululawrence --- [fic post]

larry | 25k | not rated

every year, Harry and his family attend a church festival called Bethlehem. Harry's freshman year of high school Bethlehem expands, bringing in new vendors, including one that just might change everything for Harry. But first, he has to see if Anne and Robin are willing to part with him for the price of a few goats.

reach the stars by @disgruntledkittenface — [fic post]

horshaw | 19k | mature

Spring 2021. Four years after breaking up with Louis and moving to New York with his best friend Aimee, Nick runs into Niall and they start dating. When their relationship gets serious, Nick struggles to tell Niall how much he means to him.

Everything I Do by Anonymous — [fic post]

larry | 16k | explicit

the one where Harry finds a book of Elizabethan courtship rituals which sets in motion a series of events that can lead to only one conclusion.

High Heels, Red Dress by Anonymous --- [fic post]

larry | 15k | explicit

Louis answers the call when Pearl Harbor is attacked and there is no way around it. The United States is at war. Hiding his queer identity isn't so hard until he attracts the attention of a particular soldier. It's all lies and secrets until the war is finally over. Maybe then Louis can finally have his happy ending. It's up to fate to decide.

when half spent was the night by @juliusschmidt --- [fic post]

larry | 14k | mature

Hi Harry,

I’ve skimmed your website and am interested in hiring you to be my doula. I’m 7 ½ months pregnant and not keen to do this whole labor and birth thing alone. After looking around, I thought you might be a good fit because you mention enjoying unusual people with unusual birth requests. I can meet up any day this week.

Lou

You are the feeling of drugs, pulling the chain of my love by @peujeune — [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 10k | explicit

Louis gets bored with all the questions by the next week and tells everyone, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off, in a Facebook post he subsequently deletes the next day. Instead, he chooses to ignore all his friends.

And text Nick.

you’ve set my soul to dreaming by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed — [fic post]

larry | 9k | teen and up

Thirty year old Harry Styles goes to bed single on Christmas Eve, only to wake up on Christmas morning with a husband in his bed and a son down the hall.

The Truth I Can’t Explain (Smoke and Mirrors) by @fallinglikethis — [fic post]

larry | 9k | mature

Louis Tomlinson scans the horizon. It’s dark, but his werewolf eyes are equipped for that. He sees clearly in the inky black of the forest around them. He and every other wolf can see the moment the first blood mage crosses the boundary into their compound. The mages must think they’ve disabled the wards on the edges of the boundary but the wolves did that themselves when they found out the mages were coming. Louis’ pack has opened the door and put down the welcome mat. It’s up to the mages whether that mat becomes stained in blood.

on the same page by Anonymous — [fic post]

larry | 8k | mature

The one where Louis doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

You’re a Nightmare, I’m a Disaster by @lululawrence --- [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 7k | not rated

the one where Nick is a writer, Louis works in a bookshop, and things don’t exactly start off on the right foot, but they might just end on it.

The Gingerbread Show Off by @homosociallyyours --- [fic post]

larry | 6k | general audiences

The Gingerbread Show Off is the biggest event of the year at Harry's still sort of new to him job, and when he's given a spot to compete in it he's beyond excited. When he realizes that he's going to be paired up with Louis, the man who's been sneakily stealing his ideas since almost their first day of working together, he's understandably frustrated.

He still wants to win, though, and he's not going to let his office enemy bring him down.

The Circle of Life is Not a Circle, it’s a Stick by @lounonymouse --- [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 5k | teen and up

This is a story about Louis, his husband Nick, their daughter Ella, and her pet stick insect Mr Sticky McStick-Face.

B-Sides & C-Cuts by @bitter-leaf — [fic post]

shiall | 5k | teen and up

Niall’s stuck in Toronto the day before Christmas Eve. Shawn plans to make the most of it.

A Not So Silent Night by @lightwoodsmagic --- [fic post]

ziam | 5k | teen and up

Liam's had a crush on Zayn for months, every time they talk on the phone just making him grow fonder. He's just never met him in real life. When he finally gets to meet him, it turns out that he can't take his eyes off him dancing on the table at the bank's Christmas party. Especially when he starts taking off his sweater.

Summer Love by Anonymous — [fic post]

larry | 5k | teen and up

Summers at his lake house are Harry’s favorite time of the year. They’re treasured moments in time spent with Louis, his favorite person. The boy with the bluest eyes, the brightest smile and loudest laugh. Harry’s best friend for all of his summers. He’s gonna marry him someday. All that Louis needs to do is ask him - again.

my heart got caught on your sleeve by @foliealou  — [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 5k | general audiences

Louis Tomlinson decides to come out: a story in three acts.

it's getting bluer (and you can't keep faking) by @dinoflangellate --- [fic post]

nessie | 4k | explicit

For a second, Niall can’t move, pinned in place by Bressie’s casual words. Get you sorted could mean so many things, things he wants, and his brain almost explodes.

I Knew From The First Time by Anonymous --- [fic post]

larry | 4k | teen and up

Harry spent weeks picking out a gorgeous ring, and months planning every little detail of the perfect anniversary trip to propose to Louis. Except it doesn't go as planned and the ring disappears.

Harry Styles Plays with Kittens While Answering Questions by @sadaveniren — [fic post]

larry | 4k | teen and up

Louis runs a Youtube channel and Harry is his celebrity guest

to love you in word and deed by Anonymous — [fic post]

larry | 4k | general audiences

Louis loves everything about living with Harry. Except for Harry’s effusive proposals. Because the problem is, it’s getting harder and harder for Louis to keep reacting like they’re jokes.

Roll the Dice by @allwaswell16 — [fic post]

larry | 3k | explicit

Louis has been in love with Harry since they were eighteen. It isn’t until Harry’s thirtieth birthday in Las Vegas that Louis must finally decide to either tell Harry how he feels or let him marry someone else.

molecular by @dinoflangellate — [fic post]

zouis | 3k | teen and up

The team pushes into the lab, jostling each other through the sliding glass doors. Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. There they are, the four of them, present and accounted for. Louis shoves his way in last, looking sweaty and triumphant, and the hand around Zayn’s heart finally unclenches.

Unto You by @londonfoginacup — [fic post]

larry | 3k | teen and up

Louis is a lamplighter celebrating the saturnalia season in his own way.

Harry is heavily pregnant and new in the city.

The holiday of Christmas is yet to be created.

Brring Brring (that’s the land line) by Anonymous — [fic post]

larry | 3k | general audiences

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been dating for six months and two weeks.

It’s one in the morning, and the phone rings.

Snowdrops and Mice Pops by @ohharold --- [fic post]

larry | 3k | teen and up

The boys are stuck at Hogwarts over Christmas incapable of taking the Hogwarts Express back to London. A botched together friends Christmas would have to do.

step into christmas by leighbot

zarry | 2k | general audiences

the one where Zayn's written a Christmas book for children and Harry brings his son to a local reading.

Oh Valley Girl by @londonfoginacup — [fic post]

larry | 2k | general audiences

Out past the rolling hills and the churning sea sits a little fishing village, nestled in a valley where its residents are protected from the elements, as well as from the outside world as a whole.

Harry lives in this little fishing village, and she loves nothing more than feeling the earth beneath her and seeing the sky above her and sometimes dreaming of adventure.

Then one day a ship arrives.

Tricks and Treats by @homosociallyyours --- [fic post]

larry | 1k | general audiences

wherein Louis receives a package not intended for him, Harry has a brilliant idea, and the two of them meet properly at a Halloween party.

Gratuitous puns, bone® jokes, and creepy neighbors abound!

This Is Halloween by @hadtobelou --- [fic post]

larry | 1k | explicit

Louis' Halloween doesn't go as planned.

Scarily Incompatible by soidiallednine 

larry | 666 | general audiences

Harry seems perfect for Louis. Lottie certainly thinks so. But one really scary choice by Harry will doom them before they start.

something weird (but it do look good) by @uhohmorshedios — [fic post]

larry | 666 | teen and up

Harry’s upset that Louis didn’t appreciate his attempt to put a very-Harry twist on a Halloween meme and Louis tries his best to make it up to him.

take my hand (i won’t let go) by @tempolarriefix — [fic post]

larry | 666 | general audiences

in which zayn and liam are in love, niall doesn’t want to third wheel, louis hates scary things, and harry works in a haunted house.

aka the ficlet haunted house meet-cute that you never knew you needed.

The Devil Went Down to Georgia by @kingsofeverything — [fic post]

larry | 666 | general audiences

Louis just wants to fall in love for eternity.

the future reflected by @louandhazaf — [fic post]

larry | 666 | not rated

Louis didn’t take the stupid game seriously. Maybe he should’ve.

The Literal Gates of Hell by @evilovesyou — [fic post]

larry | 666 | general audiences

Louis has a passion for the supernatural and tends to drag his friends into his ghost and demon hunting adventures. His guardian angel isn’t too pleased when they set out to find one of the actual gates of hell.

You Win by @ziamhaze --- [fic post]

ziam | 666 | general audiences

Based off this AU: A werewolf finds a human who is strolling in the woods late at night, and just before the werewolf goes to attack the human, the human then starts to beat box and the werewolf is too intrigued to attack them.

I Still Follow by @smoke-flowers — [fic post]

zarry | 606 | general audiences

The sky is cloaked in black velvet, but he swears he sees stars.

[bom-bombon]

Texas?

Yeehaw

Name: Sebastian Inglesias

While Texas does have a second last name because he’s Hispanic, he decided to drop it. I know many Hispanic who have either both of their parents’ names and of only their fathers’ last name with the former being more common. Those with one last name has less complications with paperwork, applications, etc., than with those with two last names. Considering all this, I think that Texas would drop the second last name to make his life more easier.

Age: 27-29

Gender: Cis male

Ethnicity/Race: Hispanic (Mestizo)

Siblings: Coahuila (perhaps Chihuahua and Nuevo Leon too but it’s still a wip)

Height: 5′11 (180.34 cm)

He’s sad that he’s not 6′0. He may be taller than some of his fellow Mexican brethren, but he gets reminded that he’s not the tallest in the Union, or at the very least, he’s not 6′0. This annoys him to no end.

Relations:

-Arizona: They’re buddies. They both share a love for guns, have similar conservative ideologies, and they love a/c. No matter how much New Mexico tries to discourage Arizona from talking to him, Arizona just doesn’t care. He thinks that Texas is cool (which fuels his already big ego)

-Arkansas: They get along. That’s it. I suppose that sometimes he does call her Ar-kansas and she don’t talk to him for a whole day after that, but they’re cool nonetheless.

-California: They don’t like each other. He finds her annoying and thinks she’s an idiot. When she was first introduced to the states, he thought that they could be together and be some sort of duo. But they thought different things and it upset him. To him, it almost felt like betrayal because he thought he knew her and she supported and admired him. So why doesn’t she support him now? Today, they just bicker and often start arguments. Both of their egos will never let it go and make up.

-Coahuila: It’s complicated. Coahuila was enraged when Texas broke away from her and even more so when the US helped. While I’m not sure their relationship was during this time period, I do know that they didn’t talked for a while. Texas believed he was doing the right thing in following his own dreams. Though that is debatable at best. Nowadays, they get along well and Coahuila sometimes invite him to parties. Sometimes…

-Louisiana: They chill with each other. Louisiana, although criticizes him on some occasions, think he’s a nice guy. He has helped her in the past and she no doubts never forgot about it, so she helps him whenever she can. They’re also dumbasses together so that’s fun too.

-Minnesota: They’re together! Minnie is like 6’2 so she calls Texas cute for being tiny and he loves and hates it!! They are both tough as nails. For example, Minnie surprised him by beating him on a mechanical bull, Virginia complained about how strong Minnesota was during the Civil War, and Montana always remarks about how Minnie was the only other state who can keep up with her in the World Wars. And Texas is Texas. They are both incredibly sweet in relationships. Minnesota is known for being nice and it’s tru. Texas in relationships is sort of like the Latin Lover, excluding the constant need for uhh bedroom stuff. They are both gentle to each other out of respect and always get each other meaningful gifts. Not to mention the daily reminders of “you’re beautiful” or “you’re my sunshine”, they’re too pURE. They both like similar hobbies such as watching and playing football, taking care of animals, and roasting the hell out of people. Texas helps Minnie into confronting problems and people

Minnie: Idk how to tell them

Texas: It’s easy, I’ll show you how

Texas: Hey New York!

New York: I’m not listening…

Texas: New York!

New York: *looks up*

Texas: I like your shirt but I don’t like you!

She teaches him about considering other’s feelings. Sometimes Texas is too caught up about himself to realize how he’s affecting others around him and she knows this. She reminds him that people that not everyone will understand him emotionally and might take offense. Slowly, Texas thinks more often. Minnesota and Texas also love having adventures together. They would go and snowboard (though Texas has fell off a mountain one time). No matter what they’re doing, they always seem to compliment each other and have fun together. 

-Montana: They’re cowboy buddies. I would imagine them talk to each other about animals, particularly horses and cows. Since Montana is also a tough person, she and Texas loves to have small competitions with lifting or who has the most power. He sees her as a buddy and likes to talk to her, which is good because Montana herself has trouble fitting in when all people know about her is just cows and nothingness.

-New Mexico: New Mexico hates him. From what I can remember, Texas tried to claim parts of New Mexico three separate times. The last attempt was the Civil War, and with the attempt to take Santa Fe, New Mexico won’t let it go. Texas doesn’t really care about him nor seem to remember that he even exist. He mostly focuses his rivalry with Oklahoma. Plus, he think New Mexico is a bad driver.

-Oklahoma: They’re rivals. The extent of this rivalry, I’m not too sure and admittedly haven’t delved into much. What I can say is that he always honk his horn at her because she’s a terrible driver. At some point she called him Baja Oklahoma and he cried

-Tennessee: They’re friends. Tennessee is gay for him. So when the Texas Revolution was starting and the US helped out, a good chunk of the people were from Tennessee. So Tennessee helped Texas out wherever he can and that was his first friend from the US. They love to go hunting and talk about guns and stuff. Tennessee really admired him and is glad that he’s consider to be close friends with the big boi of the South. They also play music together and have nice country vibes.

-Wyoming: They’re Yeehaw buddies. They also had a relationship is perhaps early 1900s but I’m not too sure yet.

Things I don’t know how to title but it exists:

-Texas has tattoos of all his state symbols on his arms and back

-They played a “special” game of Truth or Dare. In the end, Texas threw up and vowed to never go to Vegas or hang out with Nevada for 9 months.

-Texas gave some of his friends in the Midwest and South (who aren’t Hispanic mind you) the “spicy” Mexican candies and almost all of them are more cautious about Mexican candies. Plot twist: they’re not spicy at all; they’re just weak

-Yee in the streets, haw in the sheets

-He’s bisexual

Some things about her (development? idk):

Texas has this arrogance that kinda makes it unbearable to work with at times (his closest friends can attest to this). But to be fair, this arrogance would be provoked by someone either messing with his lovely state or someone who’s just curious. Besides that, he is actually pretty charismatic, confident, and charming that attracts people despite his (non intentional) brash behavior. (It’s a joke that he purposefully made Tennessee gay). He’s also intelligent as he’s musically talented, exceeds surprisingly well in mathematics and sciences, and fluent in a couple languages such as English, German, and Vietnamese. He worked hard to be where he is and he can be closed minded in some parts but that’s because he likes to stay relatively the same. He doesn’t like a lot of change; you can say he’s afraid of it and what it might bring because he doesn’t want to lose who he truly is deep down inside. (It’s kinda funny because with this new influx of Californians, he’s stressed and upset at her more than ever).

Some quotes,, things?: 

New York: I’m hot shit and that’s the only thing I’ll take away.

Texas: Didn’t you hear her? I’m also hot shit. And that’s the power of the Texan charm ;) Checkmate, liberals.

New York: Yeah well why don’t you shut up.

Texas: You shut up

–

Northern Mariana Islands: *gives everyone a glass shot of tequila*

Everyone: *downs the shot and put their shot glass on the middle of the table*

Delaware: More please!

Ohio: No more please…

Arkansas: What the fuck was that??

Utah: Ugh, that so strong what the heck-

Texas: Can we do this every night?

–

Priest: You may now read the vows you have prepared.

Texas: I think I misunderstood the assignment.

Minnesota: Just read what you wrote, dear.

Texas: Ok *deep breath* A E I O U

–

Texas, drunk: SI YA SABEN COMO ME PONGO PA QUE ME INVITAN???

–

South Dakota: But it’s couples like you that give hope to the rest of us. Minnesota, you deserve the best, and you found it.

Texas, don’t you dare hurt her.

Everyone: *laughs*

Texas: I won’t.

Michigan: Don’t laugh. She means it.

Texas: Okay, I-I won’t

.Nebraska: Seriously, don’t hurt her.

Texas: Okay, I’m not planning on hurting her.

Indiana: You better not be

Texas: I’m not!

Ohio: Hey, Texas, you best be watching yourself

Texas: Why would any of you think I would hurt Minnesota? Y’all my friends too.

Illinois: Nah

–

1945

Tejas, a los otros estados: Me das una úlcera cada vez que me despierto y tengo que venir ‘pa trabajar para ti, para ti!

–

Texas, grabbing a toy police car: Coahuila! Can you buy me this?

Coahuila: No.

Texas: You never buy me anything!

Coahuila: You’re over 300 years old!

–

Texas: Yee in the streets, haw in the sh-

Oklahoma: No.

–

Texas, drunk: You’re so pretty,, are you seeing anyone?

Minnesota: Yeah, I’m married

Texas, crying: To.. to who?

Minnesota: You, you smol idiot *kisses his forehead*

[nellie-elizabeth]

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend: I Need to Find My Frenemy (4x15)

What even is this show. It's so unbelievably brilliant.

Cons:

I thought the Rap Battle reprise was a little underwhelming, when compared to the brilliant original. It wasn't bad enough to be like a real problem or anything, it just wasn't a new favorite either. Just thought I'd mention that.

Also, and this isn't a real complaint, but... I miss White Josh. It sucks that he hasn't been around more this season. It was so fun to see him here and I wish we could have so much more.

Pros:

I want to start with the comedy corner and just mention a few of my favorite jokes: Heather makes fun of the CW's "Dare to Defy" slogan, and it gives me life. I liked Darryl and White Josh being delighted in all the drama with the three guys. Every time Josh said "stand down," I cackled. Paula's references to a not-so-secret past gambling addiction, all of the call-backs to previous seasons (the butter, the reprises, the lyrics), it was all comedy gold. Specifically talking about the slow-motion song for a second: I honestly thought that gimmick was going to get old or stupid very quickly, but it didn't. Every time they went back to the slow-motion, there was a new element involved to make it even funnier.

There's so much to talk about in this episode that I think it might be best to take it one character at a time, starting with Rebecca's three suitors.

So... Greg is the clear winner for me in this episode, because he doesn't participate in the "stand down" nonsense, and when he sees that Rebecca has made a chart comparing her three love interests, he's horrified and he doesn't want any part of it. He's also got the line item on his column that says that he seems to understand Rebecca in a deep way, which is a lot more specific and important than anything on the other charts. The fact that he gets roped in to the "three dates for Rebecca" scheme is sort of a backsliding moment, but it also shows that Greg is willing to fight for Rebecca right along with the other two.

Nathaniel and Josh both come across looking like idiots in comparison to Greg, in a way, since they're both willing to pretend to back off only to go back on their promises immediately. I honestly like Nathaniel a lot, and I think he and Rebecca make sense together, but this season has taken the show in a direction such that the two of them getting together would feel unsatisfying. That goes double for Josh, though. I don't think there's a chance in hell that Rebecca and Josh could make each other happy, and I trust this show to know its characters well enough to avoid any ridiculous pitfalls. I just hope we get to see a satisfying ending for all of the characters.

"The Math of Love Triangles" reprise was more successful for me than the song with Audra. I wish it could have been longer, but I thought it was a great way to emphasize the degree to which Rebecca is stuck in a rut. At the end of this episode, we learn that Greg, Nathaniel, and Josh all want to take Rebecca out on a date, and then she can make her choice between the three of them. It's clear that this is part of a pattern that isn't sustainable. We know that Rebecca's life is about more than a man, and the very fact that she isn't sure which of them to pick might be an indication that the answer is... none of the above.

Before we get to Rebecca and Audra, let's talk about the other trio of characters in this episode: Paula, Valencia, and Heather. Each of them has a small subplot about a problem in their lives, and their trip to Vegas acts as a means of avoidance for them.

Heather feels like she's having to be a mother for Hector, always picking up after him and taking care of the little things. What I liked about this journey for Heather is that it wasn't the typical thing where a sitcom wife indulges a lazy husband, and it also wasn't a dramatic moment where Heather realized that she and Hector weren't right for each other. It was just... a pretty normal thing that I bet happens in a lot of relationships, maybe especially with a woman taking care of a man. Heather recognizes an unhealthy pattern, talks to her husband about it, and Hector promises to do better. I like that we're seeing the aftermath of a "happily ever after" for Heather. She's got a job she loves and a husband she loves, but there will always be challenges.

Paula, meanwhile, is excited to start her new job, but she's a bit apprehensive when she sees the expensive power suits that all of the lawyers are wearing. She ends up buying one after winning a bunch of money in Vegas, but she tells her new boss that she's not going to buy another - it's just not her. This was another plot thread that could have been overly dramatic. Paula could have started her new job and realized that the high-powered world of corporate law wasn't what she wanted, after all. She could have realized that she was more comfortable back with Darryl and the others, and reverted to a safer part of her life. But no - she's a little bit worried that she won't fit in, but her new co-worker assures her right away that they don't care about Paula's wardrobe - they value her for her legal mind and they're excited to have her working with them. I'm so happy for Paula!

Finally, you've got Valencia. Beth tells her that she's not ready to propose, and Valencia is crushed, and refuses to back down from her ultimatum. Her time in Vegas shows her that it's stupid to be withholding from her girlfriend, and that ultimatums are manipulative. She calls and asks for Beth's forgiveness, and Beth forgives her, and then says that she wasn't saying no to marriage forever - some day, Valencia could get a ring for Beth. Valencia is adorably delighted at the notion that she could be the one to propose. I found this to be incredibly charming. I was worried last week about Valencia's ultimatum, but this week's resolution felt so appropriate. Valencia has grown so much as a person, but some of her ingrained prejudices and ideas about relationships are still within her, and I'm happy she's overcome another hurdle.

Okay. Audra Levine. I'm so happy that this character got to have one final appearance. The thing about Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is that nothing is as simple as it appears. There are no caricatures - not really. Valencia was the bitchy girlfriend, Heather was the aloof cool girl neighbor, Rebecca was the "Crazy Ex-Girlfriend," and now we know them in the full complexity of their person-hood. Audra was trapped in the same restrictive life trajectory that Rebecca had been in back in the pilot episode. We see how she has outwardly succeeded - great career, lots of money, husband and three kids... and yet we know by now that things are a lot more nuanced than that. I loved that Audra initially justifies her behavior by comparing her decision to Rebecca's. Yes, Rebecca did uproot her life and move to a new place and then jump in to a series of ill-advised relationships. But she wasn't leaving behind a husband and three babies to do so. I like that Audra's behavior is framed as being incredibly terrible, but she is not condemned out of hand for it either. Rebecca knows what it is to be in a place of indecision and fear, and she helps Audra out to the best of her ability.

That's where I'll stop for now. There's always so much more I could say about Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, but that's the gist - this is an excellent show, and I'm on the edge of my seat, wondering how it's all going to end!

9/10

[starsgivemehp]

Tag’s Multiverse - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Tea Party

Word count: 2,266

Warnings: none (I think?)

Characters: Vega (Classic Sans), Alka (Alterfell Sans)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101227

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

- - - - - - - - - -

The door made a soft chiming sound, and the sweet, homey fragrance of various teas washed over Vega. He glanced around, his hands easily slipping into the pockets of his parka. Assorted boxes and jars of tea were neatly stacked, arranged by type. A few places had tea pots on little burners, and samples of certain more popular teas on display for testing. Behind the counter sat a skeleton monster, much like Vega himself, his back perfectly straight. He looked to be dressed in a robe of some sort, the hood and sleeves red, arms tucked into the opposite sleeves. He seemed harsher in appearance, teeth sharp, one glinting gold. There was a lateral crack down his right socket, splitting and tapering underneath. Though Vega’s own face was unmarred, his teeth flat and harmless, he wasn’t surprised. The sharper skeletons had a big district, but not all of them chose to stay there.

The sharp skeleton’s eyelights were a muddy sort of cerulean, and that told Vega plenty about the kind of person he was already. He shuffled up to the counter, noting that the shopkeep’s pupils never left him. Was that wariness, or just interest in the only current customer? The harsher monsters tended to be jumpy. And yet, this one’s posture was relaxed. ‘alka,’ the nametag on his chest dubbed him, in a familiar, all-lowercase font.

“golden flower is on your right,” Alka informed him, his voice deep, almost husky, with a touch of that drawly accent his type had. A much clearer cerulean poured from the words, and Vega couldn’t help but grin. Familiar endless patience.

“actually, i wasn’t looking for golden flower.”

“oh.” His brow raised slightly. “my apologies, most skeletons coming in here have quite a fondness for it. how can i help you, then?”

Despite the light drawl, his words had a deliberate quality about them, a more formal speech pattern than younger monsters (and humans) bothered with. This guy had to be several centuries old. Vega must have worn his amusement on his face, because the man’s sockets narrowed after a moment.

“how can i help you?” he repeated, and Vega watched the perfect cerulean of the words darken, even take on a faint hint of muddy green.

“heh heh. sorry, just remembered something funny. yeah, i’m actually looking for a kind of tea to wake me up, not put me to sleep.”

“oh. coffee not to your tastes?”

“nah. too bitter.”

“right.”

The other skeleton got up and came around the counter, and Vega could see the rest of his appearance. The robe was long enough to cover his feet, tied with rope at the waist. He was only a few inches taller than Vega, which was unusual - the softer skeleton stood at a pretty 4’6”. Even as Alka reached out to switch on a burner, his hand never became visible. Vega couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to an injury - it always seemed to be something like that.

“you’ll want black tea, for the caffeine. i take it you don’t like flowery shit?”

The casual swear even in such a formal conversation… Vega could just hear the chiding “LANGUAGE!” Solstice would chirp. He tried not to snort at the imagery.

“um, not really.”

“not fruity either?”

“nah.”

“mm. i have a few you can try. but it’ll take a bit for them to steep. you’ll have to be patient.”

Vega grinned wide, lifting his chin up with a gleam of amusement in his gaze.

“no worries there, pal. i’m always patient, heh heh.”

“you say that like it’s a joke, somehow.”

There again, Alka’s brow rose a little. Vega shrugged, closing one eye to look down at the teapot slowly getting heated up. Black, stone of some sort. Very fancy and professional. Clearly, this guy was no pushover about this stuff. Funny, how… no. Say that out loud.

“funny how a sharp guy like you can have so much… tranquili-tea.”

There was an undignified snort from the other skeleton, and he turned away to laugh into his sleeve.

“brew think you’re funny, huh?”

“oh yeah. i’m tea-ming with puns.” Vega grinned wider, and his opponent only snorted again, a little smirk coming onto his face.

“i leaf-t that one out for you.”

“well, i still have a cup-le of more.”

“you can chai to outpun me, but you’ve got oolong way to go.” The shop's owner was smirking behind his covered hand now, his sockets narrowed in amusement rather than irritation.

“i guess i’m in hot water now.��

“don’t strain yourself, it’s a steep climb out.”

“now you’re just taking pot shots.” Vega pulled out a hand to put to his chest, as if wounded by that one.

“ah, kettle load of that one.”

“you sugar you haven’t met your match?”

“please, i’ve got this in the bag.”

“eh, i’ll milk you dry eventually.”

“hehehe.” The sharper skeleton turned off the burner now, and pulled out a tea bag to settle into a cup. Then the kettle was tilted, the hot water pouring into the cup. “technically, the proper way to brew your tea is to put it in the kettle and let it steep there before pouring. but since you want to try a few different types, it’s easier to steep it in the cup.”

“yeah, sure. i’m not picky.”

“make sure you do it the right way when you’re at home.”

“yessir.” An easy shrug, as he held out his hand. Alka handed the teacup over.

“this one is ceylon. give it two or three minutes to steep, and then try it.”

As Vega took the teacup with a nod, the other skeleton grabbed another, and rooted around in the samples for another kind. A second tea bag was found quickly, and settled in the second cup. He then poured water into that one as well.

“this one is yunnan. neither of these are flowery or fruity. they're richer. almost have a bit of a chocolately taste to them. that one you're holding, the ceylon, has a bit more spice to it. if it's too much, you might like the yunnan better.”

Vega nodded along, though he honestly wondered if he'd taste much difference at all. He pinched the square tab starting the string, and shifted the bag in his cup a few times, causing more of the flavor to seep out. Then he took a sip.

“...huh. not bad.”

“yeah? well, try this one too.”

The second cup was held out, and Vega obediently took it to give it a try. The warm drink rushed through his non-throat, and he hummed lightly in approval.

“even better. guess i'll take this one.”

“good. go ahead and finish that cup. i'll take the other off your hands.”

“sure, okay.” Vega handed off the first cup again, and Alka took it to absently sip as he reset everything at the little taste-testing station. Vega couldn't help but smile again, seeing that bright yellow accent the cerulean. Shining, triumphant. Genuine.

The shorter, softer skeleton let his eyes wander around the store again, as he savored the rich taste of the tea. Way better than coffee, he felt no need to add any sugar or milk to throttle the flavor. He wandered off, looking at decorations on the walls. Mostly tea motifs, though there were also some posters of human and monster bodies, displaying energy movements through the body, describing magic flow. There was a guide to meditation plastered on another wall, with steps laid out and encouragements to keep trying if nothing was achieved the first few attempts. He wondered if the owner had plastered these sorts of posters around the place because they fit the theme, or if the guy really did meditate and practice energy flow and other such inner-tranquility things. Seemed an oddly… peaceful type of hobby for a fell type. Maybe he was misjudging thelem.

“do you meditate?”

Vega tried not to jump, realizing the other skeleton had approached while he was spacing out.

“oh, uh, no,” he said, finding himself sounding almost apologetic. “honestly, i'd only fall asleep if i tried.”

Alka clicked his teeth, and Vega realized after a moment that he was holding back a chuckle.

“if it helps you fall asleep, you've at least gotten part of it down.”

“heh heh, i can fall asleep easily anyway.”

“that's fair. what about fighting?” Alka asked, and Vega blinked in confusion.

“huh?”

“fighting, do you know how?”

“uh. well…” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, debating how to answer. Technically, yes, he knew how. He had very good magic control, though not as amazing as his brother's. But on the other hand, he'd never exactly had to test it. “...i do well enough,” he said eventually, before drinking another gulp of his tea. He felt Alka's gaze bore into him again, and kept his own gaze on the nearly-empty cup.

“you know the rec center just outside of the arts district?” Alka asked next, and Vega had to cast around in his mental map to remember where the arts district was in relation to him. Music seemed to hum in the air constantly there, as if everyone who lived there generated it with their bodies.

“oh, yeah, i know where that is.”

“i teach kung fu there.”

“really?”

“technically, there's some tai chi mixed in with my style, but yes. every tuesday and friday from 7 to 9 in the evening is my monster class. humans come on mondays and thursdays.”

Vega stared at him for a long moment, a little dumbfounded. Logically speaking, this made sense. Not only was violence of some sort a very typical hobby or skill of the fells, the specific kind he was speaking of - some Eastern kind he couldn't place perfectly - paired with the meditation and tea drinking perfectly. Still… he had just been beginning to think there was not a fighty bone in this skeleton's body. Alka waited for a long moment, clearly waiting for a response. When none was forthcoming, he cleared his throat to speak again, his voice a bit softer. A swirl of green replaced the yellow as accent to his voice-color.

“throwing around bone attacks and dodging is one thing. you might even be perfectly safe like that, up here. but you never know. learning how to properly dodge, block, and attack physically is very useful. especially since, given your stats, you'd probably want to avoid killing from relying on magic attacks too much. who knows when fighting skills would be put to the test? things are peaceful for now, but… besides, the doctrine is not to be aggressive and hurt everyone you come across. kung fu is meant to protect yourself and deal only the damage to need to for your attacker to leave you alone.”

Vega scratched the side of his skull thoughtfully. He had no interest in fighting at all, and despite what Alka said, he was fairly certain he'd never have to do it. But that being said… his brother's determined voice rang in his head, proclaiming his lifelong desire to join the guard. He still was not a part of it, and he had set his sights on other goals. But even so… It sounded like something he might enjoy.

“tuesday and friday at seven, you say?”

“that's right. interested? the first class is free.”

“mmm. i guess i'll come take a look. s’ it okay if i bring someone?”

“of course,” Alka assured. “the more the merrier.”

“heh. alright. then, i'll be there.”

“excellent. could i get your name and your friend's name?” Alka went back to the counter and pulled out a clipboard. Vega hummed quietly again, finishing the tea and setting the cup down. Then he hovered near the wall of tea.

“the name's vega. his name is solstice. which, ah…?”

“the yunnan. vega and solstice. very well.” The names were scribbled down, the clipboard tucked away again, and then he rung up the box of tea Vega had brought up. The G was slid over for Alka to pocket, and then he sat himself back down, his sleeves once again meeting in front of him. “have a nice day, vega.”

“you too, buddy.”

Vega left the store with the tea box in hand, wondering how Friday night would go.

- - - - - - - - - -

Alka settled himself in his seat properly again, making sure that his back was as straight as he could make it. The pain was not so bad today. But of course, he had been keeping to his routine for a while now, that was to be expected. He closed his sockets, letting his awareness expand to cover the whole store, and even a little beyond. People passed by on the street, and he could hear their chattering, their footsteps, see which direction they were headed and if any of them might step into his shop. Absently, in the back of his head, he contemplated why he had been so eager to get the soft skeleton to come to his classes. In the end, it was probably the same reason he had tried to save each child, the same reason he had fiercely defended Frisk from all of the dangers on their journey to freedom.

He was a softie for the innocent ones. It was the big brother in him.

He hoped Vega would actually come. The guy looked like he couldn’t dodge more than five hits before he got knocked flat or killed.

He wondered if ‘Solstice’ looked anything like his dead brother.

[statesmanillusionist]

five times houdini didn’t honeypot

and the one time she did.

aka: lauren what have you done????

includes mentions of vomiting and drugging. 

more than mentions of dom/sub, breathplay, shibari/bondage, sex toys.. i think that’s it? NSFW. 

five times houdini didn’t go on a honeypot….

Chicago.

They thought they’d need her at first.

Houdini was excited about a honeypot - she’d always seen them in spy films and thought it’d be fun.

It also would keep her mind off of the breakup she had with Tim.

She had everything ready to go, even made sure she had an extra condom in her clutch. Honeypot missions in Statesmen were always good fuel for gossip, too, and Houdini couldn’t wait to join in.

But then Ginger was pulling her aside and telling her it was a no go - there had been a problem earlier in the day while she was down in her office and there would no longer be need for a honeypot.

Houdini pouted, and spend the rest of the night curled up in her office chair watching shitty movies and crying over her ex.

San Diego.

The second time was when there was a key investor they needed information from regarding a new technological advancement that was potentially being worked in favor of the black market. It was going to be easy; slip in, flirt, snog in the bathroom, plant a device, maybe fuck.

Houdini was, once again, itching to have her turn.

Something had gone wrong during lunch, though, and it left her puking into a bucket in the medbay. Tequila gave the girl a look of pity as he passed through with Sprite.

She was sick for the next three days, and the mission was passed to Brandy.

Boston.

Being back in her home turf was going to give Houdini a morale boost after the last two missions failed. (Well, let’s rephrase that - the last two honeypot missions.)

Her own personal hookups were also failures and she was really, at this point, looking for a good fuck while on the clock.

Bourbon accompanied Houdini to the bar on the West End for his own enjoyment. What he didn’t see, as Houdini held her drink against the bartop as she spoke to the bartender, was an accomplice of the target slipping something into her drink by knocking into her. It was something the drug detector ring she wore didn’t pick up on, and only when Houdini nearly slipped from the barstool did Bourbon realize something was wrong.

No wonder there was a caution attached to the file. Even being vigilant couldn’t stop the worst from happening.

Las Vegas.

This was supposed to be another good one, under the lights of the strip and the casinos sparkling all around them. The high roller table was going to be the target as Vodka gave instructions over the comm. He had requested a honeypot from Ginger while at the Vegas HQ and immediately sent the first available agent - Houdini.

She had dolled herself up quite nicely, looking blonde and made of money, her highlighter shimmering in the many lights of the gambling floor.

… until Vodka revealed that the whole thing was a joke and that he was trying to fuck her instead.

Ginger wasn’t too happy, either, and gave explicit permission for Houdini to kick Vodka right where it hurt.

Miami.

This mission was definitely not a flop for the reasons the other ones were.

Houdini was partnered with Rum - who everyone happened to call Rum Cake - for a mission to get information from a trust fundy who was tied to a CEO dealing a strain of coke that would cause far too many problems if they couldn’t stop them.

The target was very into pretty people. It couldn’t be helped that on the beaches of Miami, that they went for Rum. He was very pretty and if Houdini were in the target’s shoes, she’d go for him too.

So instead she sat on the beach, sipping strawberry daiquiris until Rum came back looking absolutely worn out.

...and the one time she did.

New York City.

The moment she landed back at the Distillery from a mission in New Orleans, Houdini was sent packing for a mission in New York City.

A honeypot mission.

Part of her wondered how poorly it would turn out this time given her track record, but the moment she read the mission brief she began packing as if she had to run for her life.

Most of the other agents did not feel comfortable with the requests of this mission. It required… a certain taste, which is why Houdini was so willing to jump on a plane and head out to NYC.

The file prompted that the target not only enjoyed holding power over others in a court of law, but he also had that taste dip into the bedroom.

A note of caution was marked in Stephen Tiller’s file: approach only if capable.

Capable? She kept reading, seeing notices of breathplay, dom-leaning, enjoys bondage, and other comments that made her wonder if she’d make it through the flight in one piece. To think that other agents passed up this mission!

Her cover was simple; she was applying for an internship within his law firm. This honeypot would be a little dragged out, too, as she needed to get access to the files saved on the firm’s server.

The only thing she changed about her look was the color of her eyes. It was noted that the secretaries of the office - some who willing spilled over drinks that they tried to sleep with their boss, only to bail when he asked to put a hand around one’s neck, or to use sex toys - all had dark brown hair and blue eyes. Simple enough to fit the aesthetic of the man she was going to milk.

Houdini was going to make the most of this mission as if it were making up for every other failed honeypot that came before it.

The day she sauntered into the office in her heels and wrap dress was the day she also happened to find that the man also had an affinity for shorter women. Tiller sized her up quickly, his handshake meeting her equally strong one.

He knew he had found the right intern when the corner of her lips turned upward at the mention of ‘staying late’ and dinner on the first day.

The first night was the first time Houdini came so hard she saw stars for the first time in a year. Sure, masturbation was nice, but a man coaxing her into orgasm by simply finger-fucking her across the desk (all while her bracelet hacked into the server) was way better. Tiller made mention of sex toys, and she tucked that into the back of her mind. Maybe they’d get there before Champ extracted her.

For now, she focused on the feeling of warmth that was spreading through her body as she held her breath, Tiller humming from his seat at his desk as she came around his fingers, hard and encouraging for further play. She slipped down to her knees, wobbly and practically high, to take his erection without even asking.

He was definitely going to keep that one.

The data she pulled during the finger-fucking and blowjob session proved helpful and sent Statesman looking in the right direction.

Two nights later, Tiller invited Houdini out to dinner before taking him to one of the apartments he had in Midtown. There were rules, this evening. Everything was ‘yes sir’ - and by god did that feel good, slipping from her lips as he pinned her to the bed by her throat. No one handled her that roughly in the bedroom - a small girl is simply frail, most men thought - and her ass hurt the next day after the spanking she got for cumming before she was allowed.

Tiller was more impressed with the fact that she was keeping up with him. His previous attempts, as he called them, were very vanilla in their taste and did not like adventure in the bedroom. He mentioned that he considered going to a kink meet of sorts in one of the bars nearby, but there was a feeling of uncertainty in his voice as he brushed Houdini’s hair from her face.

Before she slipped into the shower to clean up after three separate rounds of rolling orgasms, she placed a tracker in his shoes. Another instance of getting in bed with the man proving useful for Statesman as Tiller met with unknowns during lunch halfway across the city.

She had submitted so easily to him that Tiller wondered if it was because of the internship, that she was doing it just for the job.

When Houdini allowed him to tie delicate knots across her petite frame, he knew it wasn’t just to keep her internship. He was fascinated, watching her rut against the dildo as he fucked her mouth, arms carefully bound behind her back. He was equally fascinated with the way she hummed in approval as he handed her a bottle of sparkling water, pink lips parting in a way he never really noticed before as she sat naked in the bath after a rougher than usual night of fun.

It was a shame, having to pull out of the mission after it was completed. Her cover was that of a death in the family and a need to take care of her aging mother; Tiller lapped it up just like the few times he had done with her cunt throughout her three week stint as his intern.

In a way, he was thankful Houdini fucked him as well as he did, before the court came and fucked him the day after she left.

Houdini, on the other hand, still struggled to find someone who’d give it to her the way she wanted, hard and core-shaking with an intimate level of trust.

At least there were some nights from the mission archived for review.

[memorylang]

Identity at the End | #34 | March 2020

With this last story, I share my journey crossing the States, having arrived from Mongolia beyond a blur evacuating around COVID-19.  

With this to conclude my first nine months a Peace Corps Volunteer, I focus on identity. I share subtle moments from between hours of packing, farewells to Mongolian friends and the journey to Mongolia’s capital. I also share huge moments from my flights crossing Eurasia. By my stories’ end, you’ll know what’s next.

First, let’s pick up where we left off. 

America Alone

Moments before, I said goodbye to the last Peace Corps Volunteer I’d see for a while. That late Thursday, March 5, I just had me now. 

I stepped inside the Radisson JFK where I’d stay this night. I felt a little disappointed the receptionist said to take the 5:30 a.m. shuttle not the 6:30 (when I could’ve gotten breakfast). But I tried not to sweat it, knowing my backpack of food from Mongolia remained. 

That night, I enjoyed a refreshing shower, rested four and a half hours and reorganized my packs to get off the many clothes layers I wouldn’t wear flying to Vegas. Then I headed forth before the crack of dawn. 

Turns out my flight’s captain rode our shuttle, which felt neat. Being able to understand people’s small talk in English felt weird. Like a superpower. 

The shuttle driver had us announce our airlines, then he dropped us off accordingly. Nice guy. 

I wandered to find Delta in JFK’s big place. Bright lights contrasted outside’s darkness. American diversity caught my eye. I felt amazed, seeing so many different looking people. I felt as though in ‘another country’ in the Big Apple. Even when I lived in Nevada, visiting NYC felt like trips abroad. 

I felt surprised to see almost no one wore masks to try mitigating Coronavirus spread. I heard New York had serious cases. So, I let my guard down a little, figuring on that Friday, March 6, I’d escaped global paranoia. 

One Last Airport 

Well, at my check-in desk, the woman told me to stand against a wall when I spoke of having returned from Mongolia. She added she was joking. I didn’t like her joke. Thus, I returned to limit mentioning I was in Mongolia (which, at that time, had no COVID-19 cases). 

As I waited in lines, I checked my phone to see Peace Corps friends announcing in our group chat they were home. Others had stickier situations. My Catholic friend, for example, got stranded overnight in Berlin, since his group, scheduled to fly through Frankfurt, rescheduled. My friend sent me beautiful photos from his Berlin outing. I felt glad. 

After clearing security, I felt convenience being able to prop my foot on a bench to tie my boot. To elevate feet is a bit taboo in Mongolia. So, American culture has its conveniences.

Aboard the shuttle to my gate, I noticed the time and saw I’d reach by 6:30 a.m., not even boarding till 7:30. I could’ve had time to grab breakfast at the hotel. But, then I remembered today’s the second Friday of Lent. So, a fasting day. Perhaps God did me a favor having me miss breakfast, hehe...

American Culture 

In the West, I get few bonus points for adhering to culture norms. Especially in the States, many unremarkably expect others to know how things work. 

I felt this at a water fountain near my JFK gate. A woman stood sort of behind a man refilling his bottle, but she was a bit to the left side. So I asked her, "Are you filling up, too?" She replied yes pleasantly. So I waited to refill my bottle after her. 

Americans expect each other to wait their turns. We assume people who arrive first should go first. If we're not sure, we might ask. On the flip side, in the East, usually the most urgent people go, even if they’re not first. 

I also liked how people in Asia felt more amazed when I followed cultural norms, for they often didn’t expect foreigners to know them. I received more forgiveness, too, for my Asian faux pas, too. 

(Bonus points if you remembered I couldn’t find a drinking fountain in Amsterdam’s airport, the day before!)

Ready for Takeoff

I returned to my waiting area seat. Amusingly, I noticed my Delta flight marked, ‘DL’—It had my name on it! I shared. Peace Corps staff liked my joke. 

When my Peace Corps cohort first met last May, we’d asked each other where in the States we came from. Fast-forward nine months to a couple days ago in Mongolia’s capital for evacuation, and we’d asked the reverse: where we’d fly home. Many felt surprised I’d fly to Vegas, for they say I don’t seem I’d be from there. I usually just added it’s where my family lives. I think my Midwestern childhood shaped me enough to still consider myself more ‘from’ the Midwest. Still, Vegas is alright. 

We boarded, and I, having settled in, found myself with my last flight home. Outside, I saw personnel defrosting the wing. I remembered Ulaanbaatar the day before. This time, chemicals weren’t green, just misty. 

As our plane climbed, I paused, pondering how to mark the occasion of my Peace Corps journey’s last leg. And so, identity resurfaced as what I sought to reevaluate. Now, I take you one last time down evacuation memory lane. 

World Window—Change

Barely a week earlier than New York was Thursday, Feb. 27, and I needed a break. The night before, we Peace Corps Mongolia Volunteers learned we’d leave and had to pack up as fast as feasible. So in my apartment I pushed the night through day, finally sleeping that afternoon after receiving notice I wouldn’t leave till the coming Sunday, March 1. 

I paused later that evening, taking another break from packing. A Peace Corps cohort friend called me. We sometimes chatted on slower evenings to check in, given our shared interests in anthropology, history, religions and the like. 

Well, we wound up chatting a cathartic two hours (which wasn’t too uncommon). Since her province was near the capital, Peace Corps would collect Volunteers from her site over a day before mine. So she’d already arrive and could fill me in after I make it. I felt seeing each other again so soon since December would feel weird but cool! 

As we talked, I’d paced into my bedroom, habitually gazing out my window. 

The sun was setting. I’d only two sunsets left before leaving this city I loved. I longed to savor these moments. As the call progressed, a dark night bloomed with faraway lights seeming star-like. 

My window overlooked both a nearby hill to my ger district on the left and faraway hills of another get district toward the center. In my right periphery, I saw a smidge of downtown’s few tall apartments, beside the two-lane main road. Few cars passed afar now, for cops enforced people remain at home to mitigate Coronavirus’ spread if it reached Mongolia. 

World Window—Acceptance 

I realized while chatting with my Peace Corps friend, when I first arrived in this city, I felt lonelier. This quarantine revived my August 2019 feeling of knowing people are out there but not knowing where to see them. At that time, I didn’t know who they were or what they were like. 

So now, I realized, I’d really integrated, after all. 

Integration wasn’t how I expected—Peace Corps life rarely is.  

I worried, when Peace Corps Mongolia placed me at a site that’s known Volunteers for generations, I could have to live up to predecessors’ standards. But rather, locals seemed more interested in knowing me for me. I found adventure in uncovering past cohorts through locals’ fond memories. 

In my city, I met so many talented people with huge dreams. And they wanted me to be part of those dreams (or I already was). I hoped in the days following to fit the few goodbyes I could. 

For, I’ve loved being a Volunteer. To live as a servant feels liberating. I live to serve, and the world meets my needs. In whatever jobs I take after Peace Corps, I want to serve. 

My friend and I’d later meet again Monday afternoon, March 2, when she caught me up in the capital. We drained our bank accounts together that Wednesday. And on Thursday, March 5, we coincidentally sat i n the same row for our flights to Moscow and Berlin. 

Easier Being Me Overseas

Cultures sure reveal subjectivities. 

Before Peace Corps, many people I knew, including my parents, didn’t like much my  abnormally great willingness to let my joy be joy and show my enthusiasm as it is. Indeed, many preferred I be less ‘that.’ As I grew older, I learned to stifle these more regularly. I considered if I was blessed with great joy, then praying for temperance can help me balance it. 

To my amazement, many Mongolians found my tendencies endearing. I loved how in Mongolia, many enjoyed my idle rhythmic movements, calling them, “dancing,” versus my dad’s more patronizing label of, “swaying in the breeze.” (Even Mom once asked a doctor if I’d something wrong with me…) So Mongolians were kinder. 

On Sunday, March 1, while my Peace Corps group evacuated to the capital and our car met up with the van, I felt overjoyed seeing again Peace Corps friends. 

I know expressiveness has its time and place—I did public relations and communications. But in interpersonal life, when we’re freer to be ourselves, I try to be myself. And, while people in the West tended to view my actions as ‘childish,’ those in the East tended to view the same as ‘cute.’ Mongolians (and Chinese, too) more often enjoyed my visible and verbal elation toward our world’s wonders. I felt relieved from greater acceptance. 

But, I felt touched, too, by a Peace Corps friend who asked me to give her a moment for sorrow when she needed it. To voice our needs, I feel, is among the most powerful and difficult tasks in our lives. When she had that courage, I respected her wishes and returned to humble masking. Outside, I still felt awed to bask in snowy hills we Peace Corps Volunteers had to leave behind. 

My friend and I reconnected the next day, after getting time in the capital to understand our evacuation. She was my senior cohort friend I enjoyed dinner with Monday night, alongside the anthro. friend from my cohort. 

From Nine Months—Mongolian?

Throughout Lunar New Year’s /Tsagaan Sar/, I confused local children when they opened their family’s doors to me. Their parents would explain I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer from America who speaks English, to which the children would apologize to me thinking I was Mongolian! 

I didn’t mind. I figured this mostly came from children’s lack of meeting foreigners. 

Fast-forward a few days later, and my friends gathered in my apartment to see me off Saturday night, Feb. 29. While they relaxed in my living room thankfully enjoying my snacks, they asked what I'd do in the States and how I felt. I admitted worries that American anti-Asian sentiments grew, considering Coronavirus’ source as China. 

But my friends looked shocked and insisted, no I don't look Chinese, I just look American. 

I mentally pushed back, knowing I look to most Americans Chinese (but at least Asian). Still, I felt debating whether Americans think I look American felt trivial. I just chuckled, accepting my friends’ positive vibes. If only more Americans were as inclusive as these Mongolians...

During my sunset hike later that night, my high schooler friend added something else: 

"You look like a Mongolian person!"

Having summited and taken our selfies, I sat nonchalantly on a rock. I wore my face mask, hats and all, plus the sky-blue jacket my colleagues gifted me. My friend insisted I looked Mongolian. I had him photograph me so I could share it with the others. To my amazement, my FLEX alumnus friend agreed with the teen! I hadn’t done anything outside my norm, so I felt amused that my mannerisms made me seem Mongolian to Mongolians. 

Nine months seems enough time to be born again. 

Flying Mongolian

Aboard my MIAT Mongolian Airlines flight from Thursday, March 5, identity confusion extended. 

The experience led me to ponder, one does not often aspire to be a foreigner. People yearn to belong, to integrate. 

Here’s the first part. As the flight attendant came down the aisle, she addressed passengers in either Mongolian and English (and maybe Russian, too). But when she reached me, she spoke straight Mongolian! I felt surprised but went with it. I replied, "цай" /tsahy/ (tea), followed by "хамаагүй" /ha-mah-gwee/ (doesn't matter) when she inquired which kind. 

I felt shocked how smooth that went, too. It reminded me of flights to and from China, when attendants would sometimes address me in Chinese and I’d reply likewise. 

Still, the next few times the attendants addressed me, they continued speaking to me exclusively in Mongolian, even after they spoke English to my Caucasian Peace Corps Volunteer friend seated across my row. 

Eventually I reckoned flight staff thought I was Mongolian because I wore a face mask like Mongolian passengers. 

Before long, I felt a moment's impostor situation. Flight staff came back down the aisle to ask about drinks again, after serving meals. I'd my mask off. 

I feared, this is it. They'll see me as the foreigner I am and stop speaking to me in Mongolian. Well, I felt moved while it lasted. 

Then God surprised me! The attendant asked in Mongolian what I’d drink. She didn't quite hear me a moment, though. I flinched—I thought, oh, she can see my lips, she’ll know I’m inauthentic. 

I trooped on anyway and tried again, "ус" /ohs/ (water). She heard, provided and continued on—And that was that. 

I felt stunned. 

Ultimately, I felt so content Mongolians assumed me for Mongolian. I guess that's the ultimate step of belonging—being believed to be like anyone else. 

Never in high school would I have guessed that the civilization I loved so much might one day assume I too came from their great nation Chinggis Khaan made.

Flying Ambiguity 

I later felt disappointed when a flight attendant responded, "Water?" in response to something I asked in Mongolian. 

So I wondered what factors influenced with which language flight attendants addressed me. 

I wondered if my Asian features made me seem Mongolian. Or maybe the sky blue jacket my colleagues gifted. I suspected once I hid my mask and stowed my extra cold-weather sweater that I took on the more "foreign" look. Perhaps my mannerisms influenced, too. Maybe when I read English language books, I seemed better to speak English with. 

But I acknowledged even on Chinese airlines, attendants consistently inconsistently chose in which language to address me. So, achieving similar cultural ambiguity for seeming as Mongolian to Mongolians as I seemed Chinese to Chinese felt the best of both worlds! 

Further, as our flight was leaving Moscow for Berlin, I noticed attendants asked me in English, "Please stow your luggage under the seat," but in Mongolian said, "Please turn off your phone." 

Originally I wondered if maybe some just didn't know English? But I heard them speak it. Maybe speaking English just took more mental energy? I hypothesized at last they spoke English when they suspected I wouldn’t understand the Mongolian, otherwise addressing me in Mongolian. 

On an amusing note, I noticed on the flight, “бүсээ” /büsehh/ meant “belt,” which sounded similar to the word “бүс,” which Peace Corps Mongolia translated as “region.” I felt comforted by this simple connection I made in trying to get the language.

But my language musings fell away once we touched down in Berlin and made the many farewells. I transferred from the Mongolian airline to a Dutch one. European cultures drew my attention. Then at last I reached America. 

Discerning Aspirations

As I flew alone above the States, I felt the hollowness of having made my last goodbyes to amazing Peace Corps people. 

When I get the call back to Mongolia, I’ll go. If I can’t, I’ll find a new path. 

In the meantime, I accepted my first nine Mongolian months had passed. Moments later, I felt the vibes of my past flights from New York home to Vegas. I tended to see in-flight films back then. 

With hours left till Vegas, I relaxed, taking up my ol’ habit searching for either Chinese films or English ones subtitled in Chinese. “Frozen II” had subtitles. I’d passed it on flights before, so I decided I’d give it a try. 

Then I felt moved. Seeing Anna’s self-giving love and Elsa’s identity bound seeking their late mother, “Frozen II” catalyzed my new start in America. I actually cried from its climax. (So, see “Frozen II” ahead of the story I’ll write this May, if you fear spoilers.) I’ll return to this in time for Mother’s Day. 

The End

For now, this marks the finale to my Mongolian start as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Having returned home Friday, March 6, 2020 to an America just waking up to COVID-19, I’ve been stateside exactly eight weeks now. 

Less than 10 days after my return home, Peace Corps would make international headlines, and my life flared up that Lent. Then came Easter, life’s renewal. 

So something’s next—sweeping us through both March and April, 2020—my Easter epilogue. 

Till then, thank you for joining me. I hope you learned something from these 34 stories—They were at least entertaining, right? Well, thanks for humoring me anyway. I look forward to sharing with you how I’ve spent my American quarantine and the hope in life to come. 

Love, Daniel <3

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

[hime-guma]

takanori (inazuma) saturday 💖

i just got back from Shiga and I need to put down everything in my brain before I forget it! (It will mostly be me yelling about TMR and finally seeing him live)

Sorry that it's looong, I'm on mobile and I can't seem to add a read more!

Unfortunately tomorrow is canceled because of the typhoon ☹

it literally rained all day. not heavily but constantly enough that my clothes were completely soaked through. umbrellas aren't allowed in the live area so i brought a collapsible raincoat but it didn't help much lol. i did end up buying a giant raincoat/かっぱ (CHEERS, learnt a new word 2day) later when i saw them selling them at the venue, but it was a bit late... already soaked.

when i got to the platform for biwako line I was like "wow I'm actually goin... GOIN' what a good song" (not knowing how relevant this would be later)

i was impressed with all the organisation of it? everything had been thought of in advance. like we all got off at kusatsu station to walk down biwako road to the shuttle bus stop, and there were IRF staff on the streets helping to direct traffic so we didn't annoy all the shiga residents (there were a LOT of us haha)

i want everyone to know there are cans of shoushuu riki in all the toilets.

i accidentally went in the "goods for each performing artist" queue first, not realising that T.M.Revolution doesn't fit into that category because he has surpassed all the mortal artists to become a god. my bad.

eventually I ended up with one TMR shirt and towel, 3 IRF shirts and various bracelets. yeah i went a bit wild...

it was nearly 12 so i wandered around looking for the live area entrance. i think this was the only time i got a bit lost bc you had to queue along a footpath which was kind of secluded/off to the side/hiding behind stalls? anyway you then had to find the queue for your block - I was B1.

they started calling us in by ticket number then, mine was like 1540 or something. i was rly glad i knew japanese so i could listen for my number lol

when we got in i was shocked at how close i was to the stage despite being in a B block! Also the stage and live area somehow seemed smaller than they do when they televise IRF. it was really surreal seeing the stage as well.

they had some radio hosts MC'ing for the next hour or so, introducing all the artists performing for the day, reminding us of the rules (take ur trash to the trash area and sort it! alert medical staff if u feel unwell! don't take photos of perfornances! if you see someone doing it please dob them in to staff!)

at one point the MC said "so i was supposed to have a part here where i warn you about heatstroke and how to prevent it but uh.... nevermind. stay hydrated tho" she also went through all these leg stretches we could do to keep our circulation going while we're standing all day, cheers!

the opening act was kankaku pierrot, a group from osaka i think? the singer was at inazuma in the crowd in 2013 and he couldn't believe he was standing on the stage in 2017. he said something like "i thought the distance from the crowd to the stage was massive, but here i am four years later on the same stage!" you go buddy, chase ur dreams!!!

when it came up with FIRST ARTIST: T.M.REVOLUTION i was still not believing i was actually about to see him! they had people squeegee-ing (?) the rain off the stage before he came on and i was like damn he is totally gonna do thunderbird it's perfect conditions for it

when his set started i swore i heard a bit of "We Make Revolution" and i was like NO WAY... and then it segued into JUST A JOKE and Promised FORCE and all these album instrumentals???

he opened with AMAKAZE and he was in a black shirt with "T N" on the front and "FEAR OF BUDDHA" on the back (internet tells me this is a parody of the brand Fear of God?)

I could actually see him on the stage from where I was standing, unbelievable tbh. when the staff were wiping down the stage some people behind me were saying "I wonder if Nishikawa is gonna run around like he usually does..." but he totally ran all over the stage and I got to see him from the left side! I couldn't see his face that well but I could see him grinning!

at the end of one of the songs he got down on the stage and started doing pushups ALRIGHT TAKANORI WE GET IT YOU LIFT... after another song he just lay down on the stage in the rain #big mood

He played Pearl in the shell second and I started crying a bit lmao... I remember Pearl in the shell was the new song he debuted at IRF in 2010, and it was the time just before CLOUD NINE came out and everything was exciting because we were getting new all these new TMR songs for the first time in ages! Pearl in the shell is also one of my faves and I've loved it ever since I heard the first live version of it in 2010. Anyway it kind of hit me all at once that I was seeing it live NOW and I was actually at Inazuma and TMR was not only right in front of me but also a Real Person?

Then I heard the synth riff from ウルワシキセカイ and I could NOT believe my ears. No way is he playing this obscure album track from 2004 that is one of my faves?? BUT NO HE WAS ABSOLUTELY PLAYING IT. he could have ended the live there and I would have been satisfied

Then he played Juggling, Goin', and Pied Piper!?!?!!!!?? As someone who knows his discography back to front I was absolutely beside myself. I expected to hear his popular anime songs and a couple of his singles (which I'd be very happy to hear too!) but here he was playing B-sides and album deep cuts. Also Pied Piper totally goes off

The last song was Wheel of Fortune which is also the first TMR song I ever heard, so that was weirdly fitting. (he played it 4 me obvs thx m8)

His voice is amazing and he sounded so good live!!! At one point he was being extremely extra with the vibrato on purpose to make everyone laugh. And he has so much stage presence. it was just a REALLY GOOD TIME and it lived up to all my expectations.

He tweeted later that he chose songs with special meaning in relation to today's IRF performance, interpret that how you will!

After he left I headed to get food and Keytalk came on next, blasting WHITE BREATH as their entrance music which I was living for since that's my fave TMR song

I hung around the free area for a bit and caught migimimi sleep tight's performance which was really fun and had good basslines! I swear the vocalist kept making eye contact with me hahahaha

Later I went back to the live area to catch Fear, and Loathing in Las Vegas. I'd looked up some of their stuff on youtube and they seemed like a lot of fun (great synths, dance beat BUT ALSO SCREAMING). I really enjoyed their set! I love that they seem to have simple choreography to each of their songs (at least I thought so, I was copying everyone's hand movements?) But then you get these metalcore screaming sections so you gotta start thrashing around. It was an experience! Gonna try to pick up their album while I'm here.

I thought about staying for UVERworld but I only know their Bleach song and I thought I had better conserve my energy for tomorrow... (I'm sure they were great though!) I made my way out of the block and tried not to get stuck in the mud as I walked to the exit gate...

When I got out someone approached me with a camera and introduced himself as someone from a TBS program. I said something super brief like "oh wow really" in japanese and he was like "ah so you can speak some japanese? is it okay if I interview you?" me: 😂😂😂 sure you can but my japanese is not that great...

we talked about where I'm from, why I'm at the festival, what I like about TMR, fave things about the festival, did you know Nishikawa-san did all this what do you think about that, wow you came from Australia all by yourself but people in Australia mustn't know much about TMR, what made you get into him? Also I went on about the setlist lmao

Afterwards he said it was for an IRF special and apologised that I probably won't be able to watch it in Australia "but maybe Nishikawa-san will see it!" We thanked each other and I walked off to the bus in total disbelief. (Also later I thought of more things I wanted to say but didn't in the heat of the moment 😭)

wow. I was supposed to see him again tomorrow but the typhoon says no! Such a shame. But I'm so grateful that I got to see TMR live just once! FINALLY 😭

I'd love to go back and see Lake Biwa in nice sunny weather - it was very foggy and hard to see today. I also want to come back and see TMR when he tours again at some point! 😊

[hypnofur1]

What’s Hypno’d In Vegas – Stays In Vegas. By Hypnofur

I walked into the kitchen, and as always I was delighted to see my wife’s beautiful smiling face. I was less delighted, to see that she was preparing some food. It was day three of my vegetarian New Years Resolution. I was not loving it. I don’t even know what she was making, I just knew it didn’t have meat in it, and it probably tasted like play-dough.

“Hey Babe!’ she said to me, really cheery. I knew she was being this cheery because she wanted the vegetarian thing to be a positive experience. I knew she wanted the vegetarian thing to be a positive experience because she wanted me to lose weight. I’m a big guy, not fat, but I used to be ripped. I was a linebacker at UNC. Over the years, the steaks and sausages have caught up with me a little bit. Really not a lot. I’m still in way better shape than most 37 year old guys. Kelsea, my wife, was a fitness nut though. Her 37 year old body was comparable to a 25 year old. She sort of had to be that way, as she was on TV. She did the morning weather here on the Raleigh NBC affiliate.

“Hey babe. What are you making?” I asked, getting to the point.

“Well, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?” she answered.

Oh shit. “The bad news” I answered.

“Ok, this are soy-corn patties, and even I have found them a little… well, they are an acquired taste.” She told me.

Visions of sneaking out to Wendys when she fell asleep dashed through my head. “Ok, those sound great”, I answered sarcastically, “What’s the good news?”

“You’ll get the weekend off from your resolution” she said with a beaming smile. I liked the sound of that.

“Awesome, why?” I asked. I didn’t think resolutions took weekends off. Not that I was complaining.

“Because we are going to Vegas!!!!!” she said with a bounce and a jump.

“Vegas? What?” I asked, happy, but confused.

“Well, a guy that knew me back in college got in touch with the station and offered me a free weekend getaway if I reviewed his show!” she said. “Dan, this is like an assignment!!!’ she squealed. Kelsea had always wanted to move from the pigeon hole of weather reporting to do some other types of reporting. She really wanted to be on the Today show, or Good Morning America or something, but at 37, her window was closing, even with her looks.

I knew how much this meant to her, even though I really didn’t want to go to Vegas. I had been there once, it just wasn’t my kind of place. I was a good husband though, and I loved her more than anything, so I acted thrilled. After a long hug and telling her how proud I was of her, I admitted I had a few questions.

“So, first, not that I’m complaining, but how does going to Vegas get me out of my resolution?” I asked.

“You’ve heard… what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. City of sin, etc. I’m not going to try to keep you from steaks while we are there. You can get back on it when we get home!” she said with a smile as she gave me a kiss. Unfortunately, she went back to preparing the soy-corn grossness that we were apparently still going to eat for dinner.

“Ok, I liked the answer to question #1, let’s see if I like question #2. This guy you knew at UNC, was he like a boyfriend or something?” I asked. We both graduated the same year, but we didn’t know each other back in school. We met after college.

“No, god no” she said, intimating that he was less than attractive.

It suddenly occurred to me, ‘show’ – ‘Vegas”. Maybe he was gay? “Is this like a drag queen kind of show?” I asked.

“No, he’s a stage hypnotist. I guess he’s been doing it for a while. He finally booked his own theater. I guess that is a big deal out there. If you can get one of the casinos to give you your own theater and make you an every night act, that’s like the big time.” She explained.

“Well, sounds like you are on the way to the big time as well, Mrs. Martin!” I said to her, grabbing her by the waist and picking her up in the air.

She squealed. “Mr. Martin, if you pull me away from the soy-corn patties, we might miss dinner!” she said with a laugh.

We made love in the kitchen.  

This, by the way, was a Wednesday. That meant it was less than 48 hours until we took off. Even less, considering that the show we were scheduled to see was the Friday night one. That meant we had to be on a flight Friday morning. I run my own excavation company, so I was able to move some things around, but the rest of the time between that romp in the kitchen and the point we boarded the plane was hectic to say the least.

We didn’t even have a chance to chat too much about the whole thing until we were in flight.

“First class. Well, this didn’t come from Channel 4.” I said as we toasted our champagne glasses.

“Ha! No. This was part of Milton’s package I guess.” Kelsea said.

“His name is Milton?”

“yes, Milton Snigleton.” She said. “Don’t laugh” she added.

“What? Milton Snigleton is a good name.” I said with a smile. “Maybe that’s why he became a hypnotist, so he could hypnotize people into thinking his name was Joe or Tom”

“Oh, that’s a good question. What made him decide to be a hypnotist?” Kelsea said as she typed that question into the notes app of her iphone. “By the way, he did change his name. He goes by Braxton Blaze as a stage name.”

“Jeez, that’s almost worse. So you are going to interview him as well?”

“Yeah, I’m doing a whole little piece on the show. The station will use it as a filler segment sometime during the year.”

“Cool, so are you going to go up and try to get hypnotized?” I asked.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that” she said, in her ‘you probably won’t like this’ tone.

“I kind of need you to go up” she said sheepishly, batting her big brown eyes at me.

“What? Why?”

“Well, two reasons, but one main reason. I sort of am easily hypnotized. So, if I go onstage and get hypnotized, I won’t be able to take notes on the show. ” She said.

“You are easily hypnotized? How do you even know that?”

“Well, it’s happened, twice actually. When I was a freshman I got hypnotized on stage at orientation. It took me a long time to live that one down. Secondly, when we covered hypnosis in psych 101, the teacher tried to hypnotize us. I went under then too. I guess I’m just a really good subject.”

“So, you are telling me that I could have hypnotized you years ago to get you to do funky stuff in the bedroom?” I asked playfully.

“I don’t think you are a trained hypnotist buddy. The professor of the Psych class supposedly was. Oh, by the way, that is where I know Milton from. He was the teaching assistant in Psych 101.”

“So, you haven’t seen this guy since you were a freshman in college?” I asked.

“Well, senior. I took psych 101 late. I had taken another Psych at the community college I went to before UNC, but somehow they lost the records or something, so I had to take it again. But, no, I haven’t seen him since college. We weren’t like friends really.”

“What does this dude look like?” I asked. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a dashing vegetarian with six pack abs or something. Kelsea had an image on her phone, from the pre interview research she had been doing. The guy was not attractive. He had a big nose, fake hair, and he seemed to be very short. I made a joke about his appearance. Kelsea fake hit me.

“Be nice. He is flying you out here first class and put you up in a really nice suite in a hotel”.

I smiled at her and realized she was right. We were getting a free little get away vacation here. I decided to enjoy it. Besides, I was off the hook for my New Year’s Resolution for the weekend as well.

EIGHT HOURS LATER

“I can’t believe this room” I said as I toured the penthouse suite we had been comped. It had a living room area, separate bedroom, the works. “This place is amazing. Maybe I should let you off the hook for making me do that. I still feel like an idiot though Kels” I yelled to Kelsea who was getting into her swimsuit in the bathroom.

“I told you, I’m super susceptible too. I almost went under myself. My eyes were closed and everything. If the lady next to me hadn’t grabbed me, I would have been in the same boat as you. I was actually walking towards the stage in a trance” She said from behind the door.

“Well, falling into a trance for a few seconds and being made the laughing stock of a room of two hundred or so people are two very different things.” I reminded her. Yes, I had agreed to go on stage, but I never thought in a million years that it would work. I was embarrassed, and I hoped that Kelsea didn’t think less of me.

“I have to hand it to him, he is good. His voice is just so… well, I’m sure that’s why he does what he does now” Kelsea said as she came out of the bathroom. She looked amazing in her bikini. She laughed as she saw my cock start to grow beneath my bathing suit a bit.

“Shall we try out the hot tub?” I invited. The suite had a beautiful hot tub that was off in its own little section. There was a gorgeous stone surround, and a cool inset chandelier above it. Sconces with candles hung on the stone walls, all of which I had lit while Kelsea was getting into her swimsuit. I figured the candlelight would help set the mood. I was quite excited to enjoy some private time in the hot tub with her.

Which is why I was so annoyed when I heard a knock at the door. “Shit!” I exclaimed.

“Just get it. I’m sure it is just a hotel person who has the wrong room. Might want to put something over your tent though!” she laughed.

I threw on my shirt and opened the door. It was Milton Snigleton. What the hell was he doing here.

“Oh, uh Hi Milton.” I said.

“Hello Dan” he said, offering out his hand. I reached out to shake it, not wanting him here, but not wanting to be rude either. As soon as he grabbed my hand, everything went blank.

Next thing I knew, he was standing inside the room with me and the door was closed. He looked different than he had during the show or in his pictures. He seemed imposing, intimidating. I mean, yes, I had almost a full foot and 40-50 lbs on him, but there was just something about him that was kind of intimidating. I was a little scared of him.

“Everything ok over there?” I heard Kelsea yell from the hot tub area.

“Yes, Braxton Blaze is here for his interview with you” I shouted back to her. What? Why did I say that.

“Let’s go see her” Mr. Blaze suggested. Suddenly I was leading him back to my bikini clad wife.

“Honey, Mr. Blaze is here for the interview.” I said politely.

Kelsea was shocked, she started looking for a robe to cover up.

“Please, Kelsea, this is Las Vegas. Your suit is beautiful, and is what would be considered modest and conservative here in Sin City. I assure, there is no need to cover up” Mr. Blaze said.

Unable to find a robe anyway, Kelsea seemed to resign herself to hanging out in a bathing suit with an almost stranger. “I’m sorry Milton I didn’t know we were meeting for the interview tonight. At this late hour” she said, hoping he’d get the point.

“I’m terribly sorry Kelsea, my assistant was supposed to notify you. She’s not very effective unfortunately, I’ve been thinking of replacing her. I’m afraid this evening was the only time that I am available during your stay for the interview. I’m off to a private event all day tomorrow and Sunday.” he explained.

“We were about to hop in the hot tub. Would you like to join us? You two could talk in there” I suggested. What the fuck? Did I really say that? Holy shit, I sounded like I meant it. Did I? What the fuck was going on.

Kelsea looked at me with the same surprise in her eyes that I had in my mind.  Mr. Blaze wasted no time in accepting my invitation though. He said that the hotel usually keeps extra swimsuits in the hotel closet. Sure enough, he found one in there that was his size. He went into the bathroom to change.

Kelsea immediately came over to me and whispered “Dan, what the hell, this is so weird!!”

I wanted to say “I agree, I’ll throw the weirdo out!” But instead, I heard myself say “It’s not that weird babe, this was the only time he was available. Besides, this is Vegas, the cultural is a little different here.”

With me being ok with it, Kelsea seemed to relax a little bit. Holy shit, why was I helping this happen?

Milton came out of the bathroom. When he did, I actually said, “Shall we?” and led us all into the tub.

Kelsea was still pretty uptight when we were in hot tub. I couldn’t blame her, I was too… on the inside at least. Making the best of it, she started in with the interview. “So Milton, what first got you interested in hypnosis?”

As soon as she said the word ‘hypnosis’ I got a flash of what she must look like hypnotized. Eyes closed, totally relaxed look on her face. I bet she looked beautiful like that.

Mr. Blaze smiled as he started to answer her question. “Actually Kelsea, it was while we were in the Psych class where we first met. I found the power that Professor Collins had over all of your minds to be fascinating.”

Kelsea seemed almost a little embarrassed by that. I found myself wishing I had taken that class with her back at UNC. I’d love to see Kelsea hypnotized in her class. That must have been hot.

“Have you been hypnotized since then?” Mr. Blaze asked.

“No, I can’t say that I have. Well, I guess I was a little bit tonight during your group induction. The lady next to me woke me up though” Kelsea said with a laugh. It was her nervous laugh.

“Yes, I saw that. I almost had her thrown out of the theater!” Mr. Blaze said with his own laugh. I found myself laughing at that too. I was laughing loudly, supportively.

“Well, you should really consider it Kelsea. You are an amazing hypnotic subject, and it could really help you in your life. Are there any bad habits you would like to kick?”

“Not really” Kelsea said quickly.

“Biting her nails!” I blurted out. “She’s always wanted to stop biting her nails, because the station people get mad at her. They want her to have pretty nails for when she points at the map.” I said. Now I was torn, I still couldn’t believe I was facilitating this whole situation, but another part of me really wanted to see her hypnotized. I had always wanted to see that so badly, and the conversation was starting to point in that direction. I had to seize this opportunity to fulfill my lifelong desire of seeing her hypnotized.

Wait, lifelong desire of seeing her hypnotized? I seriously hadn’t thought about hypnosis for more than like two minutes in my entire life before two days ago. What the hell? Things were so confusing, and moving so fast.

“I could help you with that” Mr. Blaze said, before giving me a look.

“Yes! Kels, let him hypnotize you! I’d love to see it!” I almost shouted. “Besides, I’m right here, it’s cool. Besides, what better way to report on your story.”

Kelsea gave me a ‘what are you doing look’, but relented. “Ok. I guess” she said.

“I promise that you’ll find it a wonderful experience. Now, since this is going to be therapy based, and not entertainment based like my stage show, I’d like to use a slightly different induction. Kelsea, and Dan, if you are comfortable with it, my induction will include a shoulder massage. Is that alright for you?” Mr. Blaze asked politely.

“Yes, that’s totally fine!” I piped up quickly. I didn’t love the idea of him touching her, but it was worth it to see her hypnotized. Kelsea gave me a glare, but then slid along the bench to sit next to Mr. Blaze, with her back to him. Mr. Blaze put his hands on her shoulders, and started massaging with his thumbs. I watched like a hawk, making sure that he didn't defile her with his touch, but also to make sure that I didn’t miss any parts of her slipping under hypnosis. "Oh man, this is does feel good," Kelsea sighed deeply. I wasn’t sure if she was being polite or she meant it "Yess Kelsea, I’m quite skilled at what I do. Just relax and enjoy it. Your husband is here. You are safe. Safe to just relax, enjoy the massage, and watch the bubbles rising to the surface and floating away. See the candle lights reflecting in the bubbles. See the bubbles rising and floating. Just relax and hear only the sound of my voice as you watch the bubbles rising and floating” This went on for a few minutes. Mr. Blaze's hands massaged other areas, but everything remained above board, and I didn't want to look like a jealous husband. Kelsea seemed to be enjoying herself, letting out a sigh here and there, whenever Mr. Blaze really dug his fingers in. She was totally zoning out. Her face looked so relaxed, so beautiful as she seemed to be succumbing to his hypnotic induction. God she looked so hot hypnotized. I had always wanted to see this. I was sort of lost in the beauty of watching her in a trance when all of a sudden Mr. Blaze tugged at the string on the back of Kelsea's bikini. The bow that held the back of the piece together unraveled, and the fabric fell away. "Rising and floating," he continued, not missing a beat Mr. Blaze, "Floating into trance for me." "What are you doing?" I asked, sternly. A massage and a trance was one thing, but undressing my wife was quite another.

"Relax, Dan. You don’t mind seeing her like this. It just makes it sexier. You’ve always wanted to see her topless while hypnotized. " he told me.

That was true, I had always wanted to see her topless while hypnotized. But wait, she wouldn’t want this. It was all going too far. She was my wife. I had to make sure she was ok with this. "Kelsea?" I tried calling out. "She’s very relaxed right now Dan, and totally ok with everything that is happening. In fact, she’s never felt more relaxed than she does right now in this warm water, feeling my strong touch, as she watches the bubbles rising and floating. She’s watching them rising and floating as she hears only the sound of my voice as it helps her float into a state of deep hypnosis.”  I sat there, transfixed. On the one hand, I really didn't like what Mr. Blaze was doing, but on the other, I so desperately wanted to see her topless while hypnotized. Mr. Blaze couldn't see Kelsea's breasts from his angle, and it's not like I wasn't here. I watched Mr. Blaze work his hands lower down her back. Kelsea's nipples hardened visibly, but that was probably just because of the cool air. But then things went to the next level. His hands slowly reached around her side, as if in slow motion, and wrapped around her breasts. He told me to do nothing. I wanted to protest, but my throat constricted, and I couldn't produce a sound. I wanted to intervene, but my muscles didn't seem to respond. 

The things he was telling her changed in tone. His words shifted from talk about ‘relaxing’ and ‘floating’ to things like ‘arousal’ and submission. He was telling her how sexy she felt, and how attractive and powerful he was. Mr. Blaze squeezed Kelsea's breasts, and pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Surely she would freak out at any second now, and tell him what he was doing was wrong. This inappropriate sexual touching should be enough to wake her from her trance, right? No such thing happened, though. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open. She breathed deeply. Her chest expanded with every intake of air. My hands felt clammy all of a sudden, even though they were submerged in the hot water. God, she looked so hot hypnotized. Why did I love that so much? Paralyzed in place, I watched one of Mr. Blaze's hands trail down my wife stomach, and disappear in the bubbly water. Kelsea gasped, and I could just make out the silhouette of his arm pointing down toward her crotch beneath the swirling water. Mr. Blaze leaned forward, and nuzzled her neck. His arm was rapidly gyrating back and forth, and Kelsea was actually moaning. His other hand kept playing with her tits, alternating attention between each nipple. What the hell was happening? An evil hypnotist was fingering my wife right in front of me, and I couldn't seem to bring myself to stop him. Worse still, Kelsea seemed to be enjoying herself—immensely.  It only took a minute or two—much, much faster than I ever managed to—before Kelsea's back arched, and with a wordless scream, her whole body shuddered. Mr. Blaze's arm kept moving the entire time, and it seemed to take forever for Kelsea's scream to die down and her body to slump limply against the wall of the tub. “How did that feel Kelsea?” he asked her.

"Oh god," sighed Kelsea, her face a mask of ecstasy. "I've never orgasmed that hard before."

My heart broke at that comment. It seemed to embolden Mr. Blaze though. I saw a flash of something in his eyes. Was it anger? Dominance?

“Dan and Kelsea. You realize now that I am the most powerful, sexual man you have ever encountered. No one is as virile or sexual as I am. You both feel my power over you. You will both submit to my power!” he said with a grunt as he sat up on the rim of the tub. His cock was only semi erect, but seemed larger than mine, even though it wasn’t. Kelsea was still slumped against the wall, recovering from her orgasm, letting his words soak into her hypnotized mind. Mr. Blaze grabbed her ponytail, and roughly pulled her face toward his crotch.

“Please me Kelsea. I am a sexual, hypnotic love god, and you want nothing more than to please me. It turns you on so much, you’ve never been this turned on in your life.” He said. Kelsea reacted instinctively, and wrapped her lips around his cock. I couldn't look away, as Mr. Blaze enjoyed my wife’s very attentive blow job. It was impossible not to notice the passion and enjoyment in her oral play. Mr. Blaze seemed to relax a bit. That’s when he came clean with an admission.

“You asked me what first got me interested in hypnosis Kelsea. Truth be told, it was you. I was at the hypno show your freshman year when you went under on stage. I was immediately taken with you and the idea of having you hypnotized. When I became a TA, I used my power to delete your community college class from the system, forcing you to take Psych 101. I knew Professor Collins covered hypnosis in detail, and I wanted to see you go under one more time. I spent the next fifteen years honing my craft, just waiting for the day I could make you mine Kelsea. For fifteen years I’ve waited for this, for you.” He said before I saw that flash of dominance in his eye again. “Tonight I make you mine!” Still holding her by the ponytail, Mr. Blaze pulled Kelsea to her feet, and then ripped off her bikini bottom with such force the strings on the side snapped. Her nude, wet body was exposed to the world, and just between her legs I could see the dark patch of pubic hair I loved so much. Mr. Blaze must have pulled on her hair, because she stumbled backwards, and thumped against his chest, knees bent, her crotch just above Mr. Blaze's cock. Mr. Blaze grabbed her thighs, his hands nearly circling around them, and spread her legs—wide. Her labia were still red and puffy from the intense fingering, and a small rivulet of juices ran out of her spread pussy, dripping down into the water. I had never seen her so wet before. Mr. Blaze's small biceps bulged, and he lifted her up, guiding the entrance of her hole over his cock. Kelsea reached down, and pushed the head into her. I watched in horror as it sank in between the folds, and disappeared inside her.  Spread eagled, Kelsea slowly descended as his rock hard dick pushed into her. Kelsea let out a moan, her face a portrait of pleasure. I blinked, and a tear rolled down my cheek. Kelsea kept breathing faster and faster. Still unable to find the strength to resist his command and move my leaden limbs, I watched as Kelsea came to rest at the base of Mr. Blaze's cock. I hated seeing the woman I loved impaled on a stranger's cock. That was supposed to be something reserved only for me. "Oh, oh, oh, oooooooooh..." Kelsea screamed with eyes closed, and for the second time that night, her whole body shook with euphoria, while she was squeezing her own nipples. Seemingly without caring about her state of mind, Mr. Blaze lifted her up again. Kelsea's shrieking intensified, and it looked like her legs were struggling to break free, but Mr. Blaze's iron grip held them steadfast—still spread wide apart. He started thrusting with his hips, and his balls swung back and forth, while his rod plunged in and out of my wife's pussy, squelching loudly with every thrust.

Looking at me cruelly, he said. “Watching me take Kelsea is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen Dan!” Against all logical reasoning, my body betrayed me once again. My own penis stirred in my trunks, and the fabric soon pressed against my erection. I looked down, and sure enough, there was a noticeable bulge. Despite the fact that I was watching something that should have been mine, and only mine, taken away right in front of my eyes.

“This is better sex than you’ve ever known. I am a sexual god. I control you. You serve me. You will do what I say. You will obey me!” Mr. Blaze said. I’m not sure if he was talking to Kelsea, me, or just saying things that got him going. Then, with a guttural grunt, Mr. Blaze's body flexed, and with one final, deep thrust, he pumped his seed into my wife. Kelsea was laughing breathlessly, hands rubbing all over her body, still impaled on his dick.  Mr. Blaze hoisted her off his pole, and carelessly dropped her into the tub. Kelsea stumbled forward, and crashed into me. As if the spell had finally been broken, I reached out and caught her in my arms. She was burning hot to the touch, despite the coolness of the air.  Kelsea kissed me, fiercely and passionately, shoving her tongue aggressively into my mouth, with the ferocity of a hungry lioness on the verge of starvation. She broke the kiss, and then opened her eyes to look at me. Her beautiful, brown eyes were fixed at some point off in the distance, her mouth was slightly parted, as if she wasn't really looking at me, but was lost in a delirium of her own. "Oh god, Dan, you have no idea how amazing that felt. I never knew sex could feel so good." Her words cut deeply into me, and I blinked away another tear, but Kelsea was too far gone in a world of her own to notice. Mr. Blaze chuckled as he left the hot tub and went into the suite part of the room. Just before he disappeared from veiw, he turned around, and said authoritatively, "Kelsea follow me." I was speechless, and held on to my wife for dear life. Kelsea extricated herself effortlessly, and stepped out of the pool. Before she could take a single step, her legs wobbled and gave out, and she fell down on the ground.  "Kelsea, you ok?" I asked, concerned, but urgent. "Come back in the water, we need to talk about what just happened!" "I must go with him Dan."  She tried to get up again, but her legs faltered once more, so she simply got up on all fours, and started crawling towards the door. With her wet ass pointed straight at me, I watched her disappear, all the while Mr. Blaze's creamy white cum dripped out of her. Then I was alone.  I sat there, stunned. I had just watched the love of my life being savagely fucked by another man—hypnotized and under his control—right in front of my eyes, and I had been unable to stop them. My dick twitched at that moment, as if to remind me that I had also gotten hard watching Mr. Blaze's hypnotic cock pump my wife full of cum. Despite all of that, I still loved her. I couldn't imagine what my life would be like without her. Without seeing that cute face look at me when I woke up in the morning. Without feeling her soft body press against me, and her tender lips on mine when I came home every day. Without the smile on her face when she made gross vegetarian food in the kitchen. Without the smell of her essence lingering in every room of the house. 

After a few minutes, I managed to muster up all my remaining strength, determined not to lose her. I found the strength to break the hypnotic spell I was under. From the suite area, I heard a squel that sounded like it came from Kelsea. Wet puddles trailed on the ground where she had crawled, leading all the way to the kitchenette. The sound of meat slapping on meat was audible long before I turned the corner, and saw Kelsea bent over the kitchen counter, with Mr. Blaze standing behind her, thrusting like a madman.  "thank you sir, thank you sir, thank you sir," moaned Kelsea, over and over. I gripped the doorframe for support, and watched in helpless terror as Mr. Blaze continued pumping. He looked over at me.

“You are under my power Dan. You love seeing me in hypnotic control of Kelsea. You find it so sexy. You can’t resist this. Sit in that chair and think about how much you love seeing her under my hypnotic control! Once you jerk off, I want you to slip into a deep sleep.”

What? That couldn’t be right. I wanted to tell him to go to hell and never come back, but was unable to get out as much as a peep. I sat down in the chair as he directed. Mr. Blaze grabbed Kelsea's arm, and brought her towards the bedroom. She stumbled after him, and never even so much as looked at me in passing. With a click, the bedroom door closed behind them. I sat in the chair as my mind was still reeling from the emotional devastation and inner turmoil. Why was it so sexy to see her under his hypnotic control??

I could hear Kelsea's screams through the thin walls, and wondered how Mr. Blaze was pleasuring her at that moment to produce the kinds of noises she was making. Once again, my penis hardened. I pulled down my trunks, and started stroking myself. In my mind, I pictured Mr. Blaze's hard cock sliding in and out of Kelsea, and the intense pleasure visible on her face as he took her deeper into hypnosis. Still listening to my wife's screams of ecstasy from the bedroom, I came, cumming over my stomach. After climaxing, I felt absolutely exhausted, and drifted off into sleep, just as Kelsea started another round of loud moans. *** That was a year ago. Kelsea has not left Vegas since. I did. I went back and packed up our stuff. She quit the station of course, and has become Mr. Blaze’s personal assistant, both on stage on off. Mr. Blaze had me move to Henderson. He didn’t want me in North Carolina, as my life without Kelsea there would raise too many questions.

Even though Kelsea has been living with Mr. Blaze since that night, and introduces herself as Kelsea Blaze, we are only now starting the process of getting a divorce. I’ve been instructed to slowly start telling my connections back in North Carolina that there is “trouble at home”. Understatement of the year.

[solos0]

Criminal Minds

One Week Later —

It was strange, leaving (y/n)’s house the day after telling her that I loved her and finding that the world was going on as usual for everyone else. Because it wasn’t for me — everything seemed so much lighter and clearer, like the knowledge that a woman like her loved me could actually change the fates of every other creature on the planet.

Of course, the butterfly effect has its merits in theory. Perhaps it is true that her saying she loved me was enough to alter what would have been otherwise. But as modern media depictions show, those changes aren’t always for the better.

Anyway, that's a very roundabout way to explain how uncomfortable I felt as I stood between her and JJ in the middle of the bullpen.

It was almost harder to keep up with what they were saying because their body language screamed so much louder than the normal register of their voices. JJ stood much closer to me than I was used to, her arms crossed over her chest with her hip cocked away from me.

(Y/n), on the other hand, had wrapped her arms so tightly around me I thought she might actually cut off circulation. I couldn’t blame her for being nervous. I wasn’t exactly loving the idea of her being out on display for everyone.

I don’t have the best track record of keeping girlfriends safe at this job.

By the time I tuned back into the conversation, JJ was asking me a question. Luckily, some deeper part of my subconscious had heard it well enough for me to understand she was asking me where I’d like to go on a vacation, given we ever actually have time to take one.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it.” It was an honest answer, albeit a bit boring. My girlfriend, herself stumped by the question, suddenly blurted out an idea. “Ooh we can visit Los Angeles!”

JJ and I had the same reaction at first, although I quickly put together what she actually meant. Unfortunately, JJ was quicker than I was to speak.

“Why LA?”

(Y/n) glanced up at me with a similar confusion, whispering with her usual tone when she knew she was about to be embarrassed. “That’s where you’re from, right?”

“Close. Las Vegas.” I shrugged as I said it, blowing off the confusion of the two names. I knew she’d never been to the West Coast, and names and numbers weren’t really her thing.

“Isn’t it like four hours away?” JJ asked, since, of course, she knew neither of these things about (y/n), who was now very shifting in her spot, slightly pulling away from me in an obvious sign of guilt.

“Sorry,” she muttered with a nervous chuckle. “I’m not great at names.”

Not wanting her to feel like I cared at all about the name of a city I didn’t even live in anymore over her feelings, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her back to me.

“Don’t apologize. We should go to LA.” She looked up at me as I spoke, my favorite smile creeping back across her features. I smiled, too, as I added, “and Vegas.”

The lighthearted joke seemed to ease the tension, although I could still feel the anxiety bristling off the woman by my side.

It was weird, and difficult to explain why JJ seemed so defensive. I had my theories, but none seemed to fit. We’d just had a conversation about our relationship a couple of weeks ago, so why did I feel like the matter had never actually been settled?

Regardless, she smiled when she saw me smile, despite the hint of confusion and something else in her eyes. I was cautious to call it jealousy, because too often we assume that word means envy over a romantic love interest, but that didn't strike me as what was happening.

“How did you two meet again?” It was a genuine question that I would normally be excited to explain but in this case…

“It’s embarrassing,” (Y/n) said with a laugh, covering her face with her hand as she recalled the memory.

But I don’t know why she was embarrassed when I was the one who had looked like an idiot that day. “Yeah, for me, maybe.”

“No way!” She squeaked, “You were my hero. I was the stupid one.”

“Completely false.” I shot back without a second thought, looking down to see she had that devilish, playful shine that told me she was very eager to share our humiliating meeting with everyone.

She turned to JJ, pulling her hands away from me so she could talk with her hands. Truthfully, it was more like she talked with her entire body. Everyone would probably think that she had subconsciously adopted the trait from me, but she had been doing it before she met me.

We were just made for each other. That was all.

“So it was a beautiful day outside so I went to the park. And I was wearing one of those big floppy hats, ya know?”  She used both hands to mime the size of the hat over her head, which JJ seemed to find an equal mix of charming and annoying.

Peculiar.

“But then the wind just sort of… whooshed it away. It ended up landing in a tree, and so I figured I could just climb up and get it, but I was wearing a dress so… Long story short, he ran over and offered to get it for me.”

“I think calling that “climbing” is a bit of a stretch…” I teased halfway under my breath, earning me a sharp elbow to the side.  

“Anyways!” She drawled, clearly annoyed by my comments from the peanut gallery, ”He climbed the tree for me to get my hat, and when he came down all exhausted with leaves in his hair I just…”

My cheeks burned as she continued to talk. I was still unused to praise, or anyone talking about me the way she does. Because I could be doing something completely unremarkable, anything at all, and she would still act like I was the most amazing thing in the world. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it.

I hoped I didn’t.

“I knew I needed to know more about this strange man who was willing to climb a tree in front of everyone just so I wouldn’t hurt myself over a stupid hat.”

“In your defense, it’s a very cute hat. At least on you.”

Her bright smile only did so much to make me feel less guilty about the fact I was practically ignoring JJ. But it was weird, no matter how much I didn’t want it to be. In a way, I felt like I was flaunting my happiness in front of her, and I got the sense that she also felt that way.

Which, if true, would be a pretty big dick move. It wasn’t true, though. She was here because she wanted to be, and because I loved her. I couldn’t hide her forever; that wouldn’t be fair either.

“I’m impressed he was able to climb the tree in the first place.” JJ finally remarked, awkwardly shrugging her shoulders with an equally nervous laugh.

“It didn’t look very easy,” (y/n) replied, mirroring JJ’s actions with her own shrug before tacking on, “But I guess that’s why he’s a genius, right? 185 IQ and everything?”

I could see what was about to happen before it did, but that didn’t make it any better when it happened.

“187.” JJ’s curt response ended with a stark silence between all three of us.

“Sorry?” (Y/n)’s quiet voice peeked through the tension in the air.

“His IQ is 187.”

I knew that I should say something, but I couldn’t find the words fast enough. Taking a deep breath, my eyes continued to burn into JJ, who refused to look at me.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry.” The tremble as she spoke stole my attention away, and I took her hand just a little too tightly as she continued, “I’m not good at numbers. That’s his thing…”

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” I thought that my words would be enough to signal that this conversation didn’t need to continue, but I was wrong.

“I’m surprised, he talks about it so much, I figured you’d know the exact number.”

(Y/n) was started to get overwhelmed, and I needed to defuse the situation somehow without also making her feel like I was speaking for her. On top of that, I didn’t know how to explain to her that JJ was only being weird because she was clearly having a bad day in a series of even worse days.

But, bad day or not, there was only so far I could let it go on like this.

“We don’t really talk about stuff like that.”

Thankfully, (y/n) seemed to be holding her own. Or at least, holding up better than I figured she would. JJ, being the amazing mother she was, had a tendency to be a bit intimidating when defending someone she loved.

Which might explain why the next words out of her mouth were, “That’s too bad.” Although it was a semi-hostile comment in itself, she made matters worse by tacking on, “I feel like it’s a big part of his life.”

“I said it’s fine.” I cut in, feeling the way (y/n)’s hand started to wriggle out of mine, probably from a mixture of discomfort from JJ’s comments and the way I was holding it much too tightly.

“It’s just weird being the one correcting people for once.” JJ tried to laugh it off, but I knew what she was doing. Did she think I was stupid?

“Well, you don’t have to.”

The sentence hung in the air, with JJ’s jaw almost imperceptibly clenching, her eyes darting away from both of the people in front of her. She had something she wanted to say, but it wasn’t the time or place. Not with (y/n) here. And (y/n) knew it, too.

“I’m sorry, can you excuse me?”

I released her hand, knowing that it would be much worse if I tried to force her to stay. And as much as I wanted to chase after her and wipe the tears that I’m sure were to follow, there was something much more pressing in front of me.

“JJ, can I talk to you for a second?”

She didn’t answer, just turning on her heels to walk back into her office. I followed closely behind, and when I shut the door, I took care not to slam it. I didn’t want to be mad at her.  Didn’t want to.

I had to keep repeating it to myself, because the more I thought about the fact my girlfriend was currently crying in the bathroom, the angrier I got. This was supposed to be a good thing — I had finally found a woman that was willing to put up with me! She wanted to be around me!

As soon as the door hit the frame, I couldn’t contain the rage any longer.

“What are you doing, Jennifer?” My voice remained low and quiet, although the way it shook demonstrated exactly what emotions lurked beneath the surface.

“Jennifer?” She said with a tilt of her head, clearly not appreciating the use of her full name, “Spence, what—“

And I didn’t appreciate the nickname, either, so I didn’t even let her finish, gesturing to the closed door as I asked, “Do you think I’m just going to sit back and let you treat my girlfriend like shit?”

“I’m not doing that!” Her statement sounded more like a question, and I knew that despite the direct eye contact, she knew she wasn’t telling the truth.

“Yeah, except you are. You act like you’re being nice, but you aren’t. You’re constantly waiting for her to screw up. Everyone knows what you’re doing, including (y/n).” I paused, noticing that my voice was slowly rising in volume. “She’s crying now. Are you happy?”

“No. Of course I’m not happy about that.” There was genuine guilt, but it wasn’t nearly enough for me. “I’m sorry, Spencer. She’s just... not what I expected.”

The thought made me laugh, and the words were out of my mouth before I could screen them to ask myself whether they would really be productive.

“What did you expect? Someone like you?”

“What does that even mean?” She balked, crossing her arms over her chest again as she moved behind her desk. She was literally putting barriers up between us, and still couldn’t accept that I could see right through her.

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say this in the simplest terms. More than anything, I needed her to understand that just because (y/n) wasn’t caught up on my entire life story didn’t mean she wasn’t right for me.

JJ, Garcia, and Emily had all viewed me like the stupid kid I had been when I first met them. But that wasn’t who I was anymore, and they needed to see that. I was an adult, and a profiler at that. I didn’t need her to protect me anymore.

My heart might have belonged to her back then, but it was mine now. I got to do whatever I wanted with it. And I was choosing to give it to (y/n). If she couldn’t understand why, she would have to at least accept that it was going to happen anyway.

I thought about her again, trying to picture her smile without red-rimmed eyes or a quivering lip. The anger that was at first about my own pride quickly morphed into my undying need to protect her.

“I don’t care if she doesn’t know what my IQ is.” I finally spoke, holding a hand to my heart like it was the same as holding (y/n). In a way, I guess it was. “I love that she doesn’t give a shit about how smart I am and how she can take advantage of that.”

JJ’s face fell as the words hit her, and I could see the years of regretful actions that had built up to this moment. People always thought that I didn’t fight back when people were subtly dismissive or outright rude because I didn’t notice, but I did.

I just didn’t care when it only affected me. But this time, it impacted someone else. And she definitely didn’t deserve it. My voice rising again, I bitterly laughed, “It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t know everything about me yet, because I want to spend the rest of my life with her! Okay? I’m not in any rush.”  

Biting my tongue to drop myself from sharing our problems with everyone outside the room, I ran a hand through my hair, trying to remember that JJ was my friend, and (y/n) was my girlfriend, and neither of those things had to change as a result of this conversation.

But the next question stung at my throat, begging to be asked.

“Honestly, do you respect me at all?”

“Of course I do.”

Her answer was quick, reflexive, but I hadn’t really even finished asking the question. Because respecting me meant more than letting me talk. “Then how can you treat her like this? How do you treat me like this?”

I turned away from her, briefly considering just ending the conversation there, before I said something I would regret. But the sight of her arms dropping to her sides in my peripheral vision told me to hang on.

“You told me you loved me. And you told me it was because you wanted to move on. But now— now that I’m happy, you don’t like it?”

JJ wasn’t the kind of woman to cry when a man raised her voice, so I didn’t really know why there were tears in her eyes now. If I had stopped for even a second, I might have been able to see the regret and guilt across her brow.

But I didn’t, continuing to plow forward with the words I’d apparently needed to say for some time now.

“You don’t get to have me both ways, JJ. I don’t even want one of those ways. Does that even matter to you?”

“Spencer—“ She tried to interrupt, but there was no stopping the words anymore. They would continue to the bitter end.

“Have you really gotten that used to me being your— your fucking lapdog that you think my feelings are at your command? That I would sacrifice everything I’ve built on my own, just to have you?”

I had to stop because I was out of breath and out of anger. There was nothing left, leaving us both uncomfortably numb in her office. This time, when she raised her hand, it was just to wipe a single stray tear from her cheek, knocking it off her hand with a solemn smile.

“You’re right.”

“I know I am.” I tried to let those four words express all the residual anger, letting it disappear into the air with the sound. She nodded, cleaning any stray makeup from under her eyes before looking back at me with all the love I knew she still had.

“Yeah. You’re right, Spence. I’m sorry.”

Now my emotions twisted into something else; something that no word in my vast vocabulary seemed to describe well enough. A unique blend of jealousy, anger, sadness, and a desperate need for her approval. Was it just its own kind of love? I wasn’t sure, but only one question was running thorough my mind.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“I am, Spence. I really am.” She walked up to me, noticing that she was about to cross her arms before forcing them back down to her sides. “It’s just that… I feel like I’ve known you for so long and with her you’re... different.”

She nodded again, like the longer she talked, the more her own feelings made sense to her. “But, maybe that’s a good thing.”

“It is, JJ.” I said with a small, sad chuckle, “I’m happy.”

“Maybe some part of me just didn’t want to admit that the team and I... weren’t enough.” Her voice broke at the last two words, and my heart broke a little bit with it.

“It’s not that you guys failed. I just don’t... need you like I used to.”

I had to smile a little at that, recognizing at least a little bit of her behavior as that of a mother whose child didn’t cry for her anymore when she dropped them off at school.  I couldn’t believe that she honestly thought she loved me as anything more than a little brother.

“It’s a good thing,” I reminded her.

“Yeah,” she laughed, “It’ll just take some getting used to.”

Taking her hand in mind, I brought her into a hug. She accepted the rare display of physical affection that I actually initiated, silently listening as I tried to reassure her. “I’ll always love you, JJ. Just not like I love her.”

“You deserve to feel that way about someone,” she mumbled into my shirt. She was the one who ended the hug, standing up straighter and smoothing out her blazer. “And anyone who makes you happy is good enough for me.”

“I’m not going to disappear. We’ll still be friends. We always will.”

And just like that, a real smile was on her face again. She bumped me with her shoulder as she passed me, ready to return to the rest of the world. I hoped that this time when I passed through the door, this complicated thing between us would have really, finally, been put to rest.

But before I stepped out of the room, I laughed. She turned back to me with squinted eyes, curious and worried about what exactly made me laugh. “And just for the record, I really think you’ll love her. Once you get past the whole having-a-crush-on-the-same-guy thing.”

JJ just rolled her eyes, flinging the door open and turning to hide her very obvious blush. “Shut up, Spence.”

“I’m just saying!” I called, trying to follow her as she practically bolted down the steps, “Must be really awkward!”

But if I thought that was awkward, it was nothing compared to how I felt immediately after the words left my mouth. Because I caught sight of my very anxious girlfriend standing at my desk, turning to the sound of my voice.

She gave me a small wave that I quickly returned, not thinking about the fact I had just given JJ a full 30 second head start to get to her first. Which she did, and by the time I had returned her wave, the two were already speaking in hushed tones.

Rushing down the steps while trying to look like I wasn’t in a hurry was ridiculously difficult. I was proud of myself for only stumbling twice along the way.

It didn’t matter anyway, though, because by the time I got there (y/n) was happily giggling with the woman I had just been yelling at. That pleasant sight told me that the JJ I knew and loved, who had been my family for years, was back. Any trace of resentment or jealousy had vanished from her demeanor. For the first time that day, I smiled one of those smiles that take up your whole face.

It was one thing to see the woman I loved happy, but to see her happy with the other people I loved? Well, that was just spectacular.

“What are you two talking about?” I asked, taking a few more slow, small steps back to (y/n), who was now confident enough that she didn’t feel the need to hang off my arm. I kind of missed it, but knew it was for the best.

“I was telling (y/n) about that one time you were at a conference and dropped the microphone three separate times while talking because you wouldn’t stop moving your arms.”

I knew I was blushing; I could feel it. Still, I pretended like that wasn’t happening for my own sanity, trying out a little more self-deprecating humor to hide my own embarrassment. “Which time? There’s been more than one, no?”

“I could also tell you about the time he had too much to drink at my house — you know he’s a lightweight — and ended up passed out on the floor in Henry’s room because he couldn’t fit on the bed with him.”

“Awww, I want to hear that one!”

“Isn’t that the whole story?” My voice did that thing where it jumped octaves, with the last syllable of the sentence hardly audible.

“No, there’s more. Anyway, so get this—“ The two started to walk off before I could stop them, not that I really wanted to.

I stood at my desk wondering whether or not I should follow them, but decided against it. After all, what are sisters for if they don’t tell your girlfriend embarrassing stories the first time they meet?

“No way! She pulled him in the pool? That’s hilarious!”

On second thought…

“Wait, come back!”

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Jets Take Game 7, Hamilton, Pacioretty, Skinner, Eichel, Islanders Wingers – May 11

In our only Game 7 of the second round, a matchup that the entire hockey world was looking forward to came to its conclusion. Each team looked great in stretches but the difference was a couple of early goals from the WInnipeg Jets that led them to a 5-1 win over Nashville, and a date with Vegas in the Western Conference Final.  

Hockey is a fickle sport, goaltending in particular. An all-world goalie like Pekka Rinne can look unbeatable one night and an ECHL goalie the next. On this evening, he was the latter. Those two early goals by Winnipeg, one by Tyler Myers and one by Paul Stastny, were both of the soft variety. The Myers goal snuck between his pad/skate and the post from a sharp angle while Stastny jammed a backhand short side off his own rebound. In a one-and-done game with thin margins of error, this is often, and in this case was, the difference between winning and losing.

Stastny finished the game with two goals and an assist. Not a bad deadline pickup.

A quick shout out to the Winnipeg fourth line. It’s not often fourth lines get the limelight but they were excellent in this game. With the Jets leading almost the entire game, Paul Maurice didn’t hesitate to use his depth and they had a few shifts of extended zone time, great cycling, and even a couple good looks on net. Being able to wear down your opponent and give your top guys some rest makes for a valuable trio, and they did just that.

It’s a tough out for the Preds. From the outset of the playoffs, and I mean this in all due respect to the rest of the West, these two teams seemed destined for a collision where the winner would be the West’s Cup Final representative. Now, Winnipeg still has a tall order in a Vegas team that has been playing lights-out hockey, in particular from Marc-Andre Fleury. All this is to say that I think many people saw this inevitable matchup as a Cup Final-worthy series in its own right. And it was.

The entire core of the Nashville roster save for Rinne and Nick Bonino are under 30 years old and signed through next year. They will be a Cup contender again. It was just a tough matchup.

Congratulations to the Jets and their fans. They’ve been waiting decades for this level of playoff success. I’m excited for a fast-paced Conference Final.

*

All the goings on with the Carolina Hurricanes lately had me digging into their season a little bit more. Expected goals were covered last month (here and here) but they mostly covered rookies like Jakub Vrana and Jesse Puljujarvi or depth players like Sam Bennett.

Something interesting stuck out to me with Carolina and individual expected goals: both Jordan Staal and Sebastian Aho saw significant declines in their individual expected goals per 60 minutes at five-on-five last year. In the sample of 227 forwards to play at least 700 five-on-five minutes in both 2016-17 and 2017-18, both Aho and Staal were among the 20 biggest declines. Here is the top-20 list, including ties (data from Corsica Hockey):

  I don’t think anyone would complain about their actual output from a fantasy perspective, but here’s where things get interesting: Teuvo Teravianen saw one of the biggest increases in individual expected goals per 60 minutes at five-on-five. Out of the same 227 forwards, he was inside the top-50 for increase between 2016-17.

Did Teuvo do a better job getting to the net? Shooting off an odd-man rush? Line mates looking for him? If this is the start of a trend, Teravainen’s goal-scoring prospects look bright so long as the line stays together. We’ll see how this lineup is tinkered with over the summer.

*

Following a season that was beset by injuries, Flyers defenceman Sam Morin looked to put in a good showing for Lehigh Valley in the AHL playoffs. Unfortunately, he appeared to suffer a knee injury on Wednesday night and left the game. That was the game that went to five overtimes.

Morin is part of the glut of young defencemen the Flyers are hoping are all regular for them in the next couple years. This is pretty much a lost season of development for him. Let’s hope he’s fine for September. All the best to him.

*

Could Dougie Hamilton really be on the move again? For some reason, his name is popping up in trade rumours. This seems insane considering Hamilton is a bona fide top-pair, 24-year old defenceman signed through his prime at a very reasonable cap hit. Alas, it was insane that he was traded the last time.

As a Hamilton keeper owner, seeing him in a different franchise that will play him 24-plus minutes a game rather than the 20:20 per game he’s averaged in Calgary would be nice. He’s as consistent as they come among fantasy blue liners and his upside still hasn’t been reached. Calgary desperately needs to re-stock the prospect pool, particularly among their forwards. That’ll be hard to do without a pick until the fourth round in this year’s draft. Maybe Hamilton for a good scoring winger and a couple lesser picks makes sense. Again, though, it seems crazy to trade him. We’ll see.

*

Sticking in Alberta, Jim Matheson of the Edmonton Sun has been reporting that Peter Chiarelli is actively shopping the 10th overall pick for immediate help. Given that their glaring need is scoring on the wings (go ahead, make your jokes) and more defensive depth, I can’t help but think the scoring is going to be prioritized. The 10th overall pick is not going to land you a superstar blue liner like Erik Karlsson and the pieces they’d have to add to make it work would just deplete the roster, so going for a top-end scoring winger makes more sense. Here are a few that stand out:

  Max Pacioretty

If the team needs immediate scoring help, Pacioretty should be at the top of the list. He had a down year in 2017-18 that eventually ended with injury but he’s still one of the most consistent scorers of this generation with five consecutive 82-game seasons with at least 30 goals. The problem is his expected goals at five-on-five took a dip for the second straight year. Is that a product of trying to fit with Jonathan Drouin? Just a down year with Philip Danault? He just never seemed to mesh with anyone this year. All the same, the Oilers should be familiar with trading low on a proven goal scorer who just had one bad year but maybe they’re looking for someone with more term as Pacioretty is a UFA after 2018-19.

  Jeff Skinner

Another winger coming off a down year, Skinner runs into the same contract problem as Pacioretty because he’s a UFA after this coming season. All the same, it seems pretty obvious there are some changes coming to Carolina. Skinner, Jordan Staal, and Justin Faulk are all at least 26 years old (actually, Skinner turns 26 next week, for the sake of accuracy), but the new core of this team (Aho, Teravainen, Lindholm, Hanifin if he’s not traded, Pesce, Slavin, Necas, Bean, and whoever they draft second overall) are all 25 or under. Trading a contract set to expire for a guy who will be 27 when he’s due a new one to get a second pick inside the top-10 makes sense from a certain angle. Skinner has been one of the top scorers in the league since getting to the NHL, coming in tied for 6th in goals per 60 minutes at five-on-five since 2010. That’s ahead of both Alex Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby.  He’s also a wonderful skater who can get to the net. That seems like a good skill mix for Connor McDavid’s winger.

  Jason Zucker

I know most Oilers fans would roll their eyes at Zucker because he’s name A Name but it seems pretty obvious changes are coming in Minnesota. In the six seasons since those monster contracts were signed by Ryan Suter and Zach Parise, the team has two playoff series wins and zero Conference Finals appearances. Zucker is a pending RFA so a sign-and-trade deal would make sense for the Oilers. He could play on either the first or second line and should the latter be the case, would make a nice running mate for Leon Draisaitl.

If you missed my Ramblings a couple days ago, there was some discussion on Zucker. You can read that here.

One last guy that had crossed my mind was Mark Stone but the package to get him would take a lot more than just the 10th overall and Edmonton doesn’t really have the prospect depth to do it. They would need to be roster players like Darnell Nurse or Jesse Puljujarvi and I’d hope Chiarelli doesn’t do that considering those are the areas they need to fill. I guess we never know with good ol’ Peter though.

What say you, Dobber Heads? If the Oilers target a winger in a trade, who would you like to see next to McDavid?

*

We’re technically just at the halfway point of the playoffs but it’s hard not to look ahead to the next fantasy season. We still have the draft, free agency, and trades to deal with but there are still some pressing questions worth discussing.

  Does Jack Eichel come at some sort of draft-day discount?

Some people, myself included, had Eichel as a first-round pick this past season. Injuries assured he wouldn’t end up returning that value. Here’s the thing: his 82-game pace for his career this far is 29 goals, 41 assists, 288 shots, and 26 power-play points. Those are very good numbers and he’s just coming into his fourth full year. 

Anyone who drafted him last year was burned and anyone who didn’t wasn’t given a reason to take a leap of faith on him this year. Does he come in undervalued? His ADP will be fascinating.

  Discount on Islanders winger?

One thing that we could see, if John Tavares signs elsewhere, is fantasy owners bailing on the Islanders wingers. Honestly, though, if Mathew Barzal continues on the trajectory he showed in his first season, why stay away from the Islanders top line?

At the least, Anders Lee should be a mainstay of the first trio, if anything to pump up his trade value by the deadline. Even before his 40-goal season, he averaged 26 goals per 82 games for his career. Barzal seems plenty capable of keeping him in the 30-goal range.

Tavares signing with another team would be a nightmare for Islanders fan but could be good news for the value-hunting fantasy owners.

  Eeli Tolvanen over-drafted?

The Shiny New Toy is a thing in any fantasy sport, hockey included. Fantasy owners will be keenly aware of Tolvanen’s upside as the notion will be beat into submission in a cascade of “Breakout Target” articles. The thing is, it seems the top-six is pretty locked with their left wingers. It is possible he supplants Kevin Fiala but that probably won’t be the case coming out of training camp.

Had Tolvanen been a fixture of the playoff push like Fiala was last year, maybe it inflates his draft-day price even more. That he can’t crack the lineup, though, might be good news for those who want to keep his ADP reasonable. All the same, it won’t take much more than a couple exhibition game videos to get the fantasy owners riled up. We can wait and see how much he’ll eventually cost but my initial lean is this will be a situation to avoid come September.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-hamilton-pacioretty-skinner-eichel-islanders-wingers-may-11/

[flauntpage]

D.J. Wilson Is Milwaukee's Next Positionless Freak

During the Milwaukee Bucks' final Summer League game, D.J. Wilson, who had been having a rather unremarkable Summer League stint to that point, exemplified the spectacle he can seemingly create whenever he wants.

With one arm cocked behind his head and his nose nearly at the rim, Wilson glided across the paint, his eyes locked on a floater from a Utah Jazz player that seemed out of reach. But instead of falling through the net, as the shooter hoped it would, the ball was met with a violent swing by Wilson, who whipped it off the glass at an awkward angle and right into the hands of his own teammate standing directly underneath the basket.

The possession ended with two points for the Jazz, but moments like this help rationalize Milwaukee's decision to select Wilson with the 17th overall pick in last month's NBA draft. In discussing Wilson, questions about an up-and-down collegiate career, his overall toughness, and his inconsistency are weighed against the fact that he'll turn 22 in the middle of his rookie season, his impressive wingspan, and his athletic 6'10'' frame.

For all his promising qualities—the gymnastic spring, the nimble touch, the agility—Wilson played only 182 minutes in his first two years at the University of Michigan, and didn't score more than ten points in eight of his first ten games this past season. During the Summer League, he averaged only 11.8 points per game on 38 percent shooting. But then there was that block that made you forget those average numbers.

When asked when he first realized Wilson could be a first-round pick, Michigan assistant coach Saddi Washington deadpanned, "On draft night." There's a bit of truth in every joke, though; Wilson's unpredictable play has thus far been intertwined with his nearly limitless potential.

"A lot of the NBA scouts, in the early part of the season, we'd get calls and questions on him," Washington told VICE Sports. "You'd walk in the gym, he has presence and he fits the profile. But can he really make that next jump?"

On the whole, Wilson's Las Vegas experience was mediocre. He launched 22 threes and only made six of them, with an assist rate that eclipsed his rebound percentage. But it can be overkill to base any sort of meaningful criticism on Summer League stats. In many ways it's a peculiar environment that won't make or break anyone's career, especially a big man. Thon Maker, Wilson's new teammate, held his own in the NBA playoffs a few months ago, but was an anxious horror show (six points per game, 22 percent shooting) in two ultimately meaningless Summer League games a couple weeks ago.

Contending with his own nerves, Wilson battled in the post, flashed some bullish aggression on the glass, and inevitably sketched the chalk outline of a player who can be useful for a very long time.

"I think I performed alright," Wilson told VICE Sports. "Some games my shot wasn't falling or whatnot, and I think that kind of changed a lot of things for me as far as, I don't know, just my mentality. But once I get over that, once I get those shots to fall—because those are shots that I can make any day of the week—I think my game will definitely elevate to another level."

Even if his ceiling isn't on the same plane as an All-NBA headline act like Giannis Antetokounmpo, or if he doesn't have the intangibles of bottomless intrigue that surround Maker, Wilson is still tailor-made to complement those two, Khris Middleton, and Jabari Parker with his own upside.

He made 37.3 percent of his threes at Michigan last year while displaying an ability to stick with shiftier players on the perimeter. He should be able to switch most screens in the NBA (if the Bucks ever adopt that strategy on a full-time basis) and allow Milwaukee to maintain size without sacrificing speed or skill.

"At 6'10", he's an elite athlete," Washington said. "In time he may get to be a player who can masquerade at the three in the NBA. The league is just emerging into positionless basketball, so there would be times where we had D.J. playing the five for us.… For him to go 17 was a bit of a shock, but for him to go to the Bucks was a blessing in disguise."

It makes sense to be as long and tall as you possibly can, with gifted offensive players who can pass, dribble, shoot, cut, rebound, and generally not look like they're trudging through wet cement trying to defend a wing 25 feet from the hoop. The Bucks may be able to deploy units that can do that across all five positions, with Antetokounmpo, Middleton, Maker, Wilson, and Tony Snell essentially lining the court with reams of yellow tape. This is scary stuff.

In college, Wilson was able to fix critical defensive mistakes by recovering before too much damage was done. Open threes and blow-by layups turned into contested twos. His lateral quickness needs to improve, but Michigan coaches are confident it can, along with other areas of Wilson's game that make his skill set so attractive.

After Michigan was eliminated from the NCAA tournament, in a game where Wilson, a junior, made four threes, grabbed six boards, and blocked two shots, the Wolverines held a couple practices with everyone except the graduating seniors. Wilson dominated in ways that caught his coaches off-guard, from individual drills to five-on-five scrimmages.

"I was like, 'Oh my God, if scouts were in the gym right now they would be freaking drooling over themselves,'" Washington said.

There, they decided to put the rock in Wilson's hands and let him create in space a little bit, a terrifying concept if he continues to work on his ball-handling and is eventually given an opportunity to attack in Milwaukee's offense. He doesn't project to be a first or second option, but anyone that large who can confidently attack a closeout, corner crash, and engineer a screen-and-roll is devastating.

But that's all a best-case scenario. Wilson's frame needs to fill out and he has to approach each possession with a certain amount of belligerence. The existing technical skills make projecting what he can amount to such a tantalizing exercise, but it still takes a leap of faith to assume he'll get there.

It's telling that those who know him best were surprised to see him go as high as he did in the draft, but gambles have worked out for the Bucks before. If they hit on Wilson, this team could own the Eastern Conference with futuristic versatility like the NBA has never seen.

D.J. Wilson Is Milwaukee's Next Positionless Freak published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv