#it's just that i need time to recoup i guess

[martilyongabo]

EO3 (partial) lineup - November-December 2022

Peak MAbo is collaborating with your best friend for a(n admittedly unfair) final project (for web development!!!! an elective!!!), saying you would post it, forgetting about it for a year, posting it on Artstation and forgetting about it again.

As always, AC drew the lineart, and I colored. Designs were more of a collaborative effort between the two of us!

Probably should have shared this when the HD collection came out... anyway it's here now!

Some design ramblings under the cut :0! There's a lot i wanna share especially given that we recently did a soft rewrite that departed from the guild system entirely ^^" and EO3's cast was actually one of the first that we had, surprisingly!

Micah is quite clearly alt gladiator 3, but in an entirely different profession. instead of going into the labyrinth, he works in what i imagine would be an analogue to the forge in Tharsis (aka helping people make things busted af). It probably works best for his character, since he was always a gizmo freak even in his first iteration! geomagnetic (or submagnetic, ugh) gizmo is AC's idea!

Micah's brother, Eva, is a very loose spin on zodiac 3, but with a wayyyy lighter colour palette. Admittedly, i did steal a little bit of the spiritmaster's coat from bravely default, but AC managed to spin it back to resembling the original coat that the class had. Eva works as an astronomer, hence the little telescope he always has on him.

Next up we have Eva's protégé, Miri (who was imported from AC's stories)! Theoretically, Miri would be a second zodiac, and, after watching some EO3 speedruns, would probably be really strong in the earlygame when working with Eva in an actual playthrough. AC's design heavily borrows from Patho II's Grace, hence the coat + dress combo.

Following Miri in this lineup would be Noa, her admittedly very lazy but clingy sibling. I think it's apparently here that we didn't have much time to filter what a believable design would be in an EO setting, given that Noa's clothes were translated directly from our designs of them in school attire. It's actually funny how for we diverged from their original portrait (buccaneer 3) to the point that she is literally unrecognizable. Truly a pipeline from good sea boy to j-horror twist character.

Last in the OC section would be Masaru, who recently found work for the Senatus. Admittedly he does have another example of "incongruent time period" clothing (the jacket), though it's a lot more reworkable than Noa. We also made his design a lot less poofy and rugged compared to the original, and I mixed the base and alt color palettes as well to make him less, well, glaringly red. Probably one of the funnier things is that his clothing palette made him blend in more with the likes of Kujura, but given that they work for the same place, it'll probably work out fine.

Now we go onto NPCs, and who better to start than with Flowdia! Admittedly, her art was one of the last ones that we did, hence why her design looks relatively plain (sorry lola). Probably one of the things I would like to add would be more ornate patterns, perhaps of butterflies to tie her closer to Gutrune!

Before we get to the Princess, we gotta get through her bodyguard first! >:0 I honestly don't like Kujura because I answered honestly in his first question, and he said that I was prideful, but AC likes him so he looks really good here. He isn't as rendered here as he is in his portrait, since he was also one of the last characters we made, and I didn't really get to notice that he doesn't have as much value contrast in his clothing as Masaru does. Probably something to think about next time I color him >:0

Next up we have Gutrune!! We decided to make her look more jellyfish-like, while still keeping it a bit uncanny and unsettling. We tried to give her a more traditionally Filipiniana look (mostly on the Maria Clara gown), but we haven't yet made a poncho design that mixes well with butterfly sleeves without looking cluttered. As such, she has a more nightdress-y look here. AC drew in a few tentacles, and I couldn't help but make them look squishy.

Last but not least is Olympia! We wanted to align her appearance more with her background, hence her altered design :0 Having rips of the artbook easily accesible online also helped us flesh out her hair in particular, since we didn't want to just transplant Gutrune's hairstyle onto her.

And that's all of them!!! I'm honestly hoping to draw more EO characters, though Seyfried's design scares me (honestly the reason why I couldn't make a Reversed Emperor comic).

Currently, I've made a lot of progress on the EO4 game, and I'm excited to draw up the three N-turned-PCs + Xiuan >:'0!!! I don't think I can ever get as cool as Morika tho. If you've come this far and aren't into EO, please check out their blog!! Their art is stunning and has come a really long way :")

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 16/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Hotel reaction 2 electric boogaloo

still deciding whether i'll post tomorrow

------------------------------------------

4 hours later, despite the arrival of Lucifer and the mystery woman, there is barely no progress. Charlie and the others were so hopeful the first few times because it did look like the extra power was doing something. But every time they make a dent, it bites back even worse.

They flinch as another Goetia fell, prompting the Prince of Lust to call for a retreat from her dad.

Lucifer: No! We can't afford to lose a Ring.

Cherri: They are clearly exhausted.

Angel: Yeah. One day won't be tha bad, right toots?

Charlie: Umm, I don't think so. Hell's rings are a complicated. They aren't just places, it's a system. Losing one will inevitably cause the others to fall apart.

Husk: I guess his majesty doesn't want us backed to a corner. If they let Sloth be consumed then who knows how bigger the problem would get.

Vaggie: He's right. The best solution is dealing with it at the literal root. They can theoretically recoup but by the looks of things, Sloth has little to no time left.

Husk: Mhhm. The constant ritual might be the only thing keeping it alive. The ring is basically on life support.

Lucifer: Goodie! Goodie: I cannot give more of something I do not have, angel. I warned you that my support alone will most likely not stop this. Lucifer: We should at least be denting it!

They quickly covered their ears as the TV let out a sound so ear-piercing that it feels like their head is splitting in half.

Angel: What the fuck???

Looking up despite the pain, they see that giant roots sprout from the ground. It went up and up until it reached Lucifer's pentagram in the sky.

Husk: Is that a fuckin' tree?

Charlie is transfixed on the image. She has lived in Hell all her life but this is the first time she had felt dread from something that came from her home.

'This is not of Hell.' She thought. It makes her sick. But her stupor was cut short as a new voice cuts through the footage.

Leviathan: Luci! Your marks!

Charlie looks in equal horror as her Uncle Leviathan when she saw the state her dad was in. The marks on his body have now almost consumed his whole face. She lets out a sob as Lucifer held up the mirror Alastor provided to inspect his condition.

No one spoke as he does this. Then after a moment, Charlie saw something in her dad's eyes.

Lucifer: Goodie. What do I need to do?

Charlie was about to say her confusion out loud when the lady, Goodie, blew a piece of paper onto the King's skin.

Goodie: This might be the only way to stop my sister. That is an ancient seal from before the Nothing- strong enough to render God and beings like Roo weak. Satan: Huh?! Then why didn't you just let us use that from the start??

Cherri: Yeah! The shit??

Husk: I don't like this.

Charlie shares the same sentiment. Whatever is happening, she has a bad feeling.

Goodie: Because there is a condition. Lucifer: And what's that? Goodie: It must be performed from the inside. It needs to be as close as possible to the one you are sealing. The hold will be stronger with proximity. And with you being the highest power here... Belphegor: Then that means-!

Nononononono, please don't. Please don't let it be what I think it is. Please don't do it. Please dad. I love you. I miss you. Please don't leave me PLEASE-

Lucifer: I need to be the one to go in there.

Protests from the hotel residents and demons on the broadcast overlap with each other. Charlie's ears are ringing. Her chest is tight and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. She can feel someone's hand around her, probably attempting to ground her. Yup, definitely a coming panic attack.

Lucifer: Are you sure this will stop her?

She can vaguely hear someone, probably Vaggie, say something to her but it's all muffled. Charlie could only focus her hearing on the scene in the TV.

Dark spots are filling her vision and her breaths are erratic as her beating heart.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEDADPLEASENOTYOUDONTLEAVEMETOODADPLEASE

Goodie: You are the key, angel. It must be you.

Charlie's world turns to black as she collapses in the arms of her lover. And if her dad looked directly at the camera in hopes of meeting her gaze, well, she'll never know.

[bioexorcizm]

sugarplum.

ship: briarbear -> carm/wednesday (s/I) wc: 1376 summary: briar introduces themselves to carm's coworkers for the first time.

Richie barely looked up from his phone when he heard the door, still recouping from lunch rush. 

Probably some straggler, he thinks, and if they can be late to lunch, he can take a fuckin’ minute to take their order --

“Uh, hello?”

“Yo, what can we --” he pauses, chokes on the ice he's chewing as his eyes set upon them.

Their hair is pulled back, dark; this week it's dyed a deep plum color, ombre with peach that sets a highlight just about their cheekbones, where the few bright colored ends of their grown bangs that weren't tied back lay. The light dye popped especially against the minimal but dark makeup accenting their face, and that black sweater they wore…It was strangely familiar, but Richie could scarcely process the fact.

Had he half a mind, he'd ask if they're as sweet as they looked. But fortunately for them both, he was left utterly dumbfounded. 

“How can, uh, I help you?”

“Is Carmy here?”

“...Carmy?”

“Sorry -- Carmen?”

Richie shakes his head, “Nah, I know who you're talkin’ about, it's just --” he sighs, before turning his head towards the kitchen and letting out a very disappointed “Yo, cous!”

It's a moment before the vaguely annoyed “What, Richie?” comes back to him. 

“Got a minute?”

“Uh, not really.”

“Yeah, well, your services are requested at front of house, chef.”

“...What?”

Richie takes the time to let his gaze linger, stuttering a not-so thoughtful “Er --” before moving closer to the kitchen, or at the least out of earshot of the dining room.

“I mean, there's some hot piece of ass askin’ for you out there. Like, by name.”

“What the fuck -- ?” Carm groans, “Fine. I’ll be right there. Shit.”

He finishes dicing the smattering of vegetables on his cutting board and, then with a sigh wipes the sweat from his brow. It's hard to remember how hot the kitchen can get, and this thought is what claws its way to the forefront of his mind as a million other things begin to unfurl in the background of his brain; He's behind on prep, who the fuck could be asking for him? Gas bill’s due tomorrow. Speaking of gas, he needs to stop and get some on the way home. He’ll be late, he should probably take a minute and text --

He mutters a weak “Corner,” in the second it takes him to approach and round the deli bar doorway, and he tosses the towel he's wiping his hands on over his shoulder. When he peers past the counter though, his eyebrows raise, and he lets out an airy chuckle. 

“‘Scuse us for a minute, would you, cousin?”

Richie nods, shrugs, and barely moves an inch into the kitchen doorway. Carmy rolls his eyes and takes another step beyond into the dining room, head slightly hunched as they speak in hushed tones that the rest of the staff one at a time slowly gathers to strain to hear in curiosity. 

“Little busy, sweets.”

“I won't stay long. Just wanted to pop in, ‘sall.”

“No, I mean, I’m not sayin’ that, it's just…” he trails off, shakes his head, and pivots his thoughts, “I thought you had a thing today.”

“A thing? Like, you mean my job? Like, that thing?”

“Well, it's a thing.”

“A thing, yeah I guess it's a thing, but like, I get paid to do it, so…I mean, like --”

“Well, yeah. But I mean, how did it go?”

“Like an everyday kind of thing...It was fine. It was this morning. So, y'know...Now I’m here.”

They stare at each other for another awkward moment, though the embarrassment seems to lie more in Carmy than it does Briar, almost as if they’re reveling in it. Richie stifles a giggle.

“Anyways, you left without your key this morning. I just wanted to drop it off, in case I’m asleep tonight.”

Carm sighs, watching carefully as they dangle the lanyard in front of him, pooling the fabric into his hand when he finally extends it.

“I’ll be late, by the way.”

“Always are.”

“...Sorry.”

He looks at them. He knows that he should be tucking the loose strand of hair away from their face, telling them they look pretty today, especially in the cute outfit they've seemed to fashion out of his old torn black sweatshirt. He knows he should be making excuses, promising to do better but he doesn't, and he hopes that they understand that it's a promise he can't make, and that he'd rather not make it at all than break it. He knows he should be leaning in, and kissing them and reminding them how much he loves them, that he appreciates how patient they are, how attentive and forgiving they are to his appearing distance, perhaps more now that they lived in Chicago than when they had stayed behind in New York. He recounts every single shortcoming he can muster within himself, not of his own accord, and also dinner starts in about three hours, and he hears the ring of the timer he set for himself to do a walkthrough, and he has to temp all the coolers still and don't forget to check Mikey’s office for the address book in case it has anything in it and he should probably call back that guy about getting the lights in the back alley fixed and has anyone checked the chicken in the past thirty minutes? 

The brush of their skin against his draws him back, and in the moment his eyes dart down to where their hands touch, he realizes the weight of the cigarette carton in his other. He should offer to chat with them while he takes a break. He should take the ends of their hair between his fingers and compliment them, he doesn't want them to think he hasn't noticed it's changed color. He was observant, if nothing else. 

In his mind, he offers a plethora of compliments, “You look gorgeous today, sugarplum. Your hair looks great, pumpkin. I miss you, jellybean.”

The last stings all too well, burned into his memory by having typed it so frequently just not so long ago. 

Instead, he wraps his fingers around the house key, and pulls it gently until it's close enough to shove into his pocket. He searches their face for any sign of understanding, and he finds apology and sympathy instead. 

Because they didn't understand, and perhaps they never would. But they would again and again wait up two, three, four hours past midnight until they heard the front door open and shut, until they felt the warmth of him next to themselves in bed or found themselves otherwise chasing him down to the couch and sleeping there next to him -- Just so they could say they wake up to see his smile every morning. 

He looks down to the key, dangling from his pocket, and back to them.

“Thank you.”

“See you at home, teddy.”

“Seeya.”

“Didn't even offer me lunch? Tsk, damn, I see how it is,” his expression falters for a moment, and he almost begins to speak before they cut him off with a chuckle, “I’m fuckin’ with you, Carm.”

He almost smiles. They flick a stray crumb from his shirt with a wink before spinning and heading towards the door. 

They turn, catching one last glance at him.

“This place is homey, by the way. You should let me do a shoot here, sometime…Oh, and you can tell your friends my name is Briar!” 

They wave their fingers one last time before headed out back into the city. 

Carmy moves to retreat to the kitchen, nerves still burning where they'd touched him, the echoing sound of their voice in his mind grounding him before he can get too deep into his thoughts again. But when he looks back, he sees the mass of chefs crowded, peeking from the doorway. 

“The fuck, guys?”

“Briar's a fun name,” Tina smiles, “Caught a good one, Jeff.”

“Shit, yeah, don't let that one go.”

“Richie --”

“Not quite how I pictured them.”

“Syd -- You know, fuck all of you. Back to fucking work, please.”

The resounding chorus of “Yes, chef,” that greets his ears in reply has never sounded sweeter. 

[meganwayne24]

A Ticking Clock (pt. 2)

Like Sands of the Hourglass…

Fandom: Insomniac Spider-Man

Word Count: 1541

Pairing: PS5 Harry Osborn x Reader

Synopsis: After surviving the zoo, Harry and you spend an evening together to relax and recoup.

[Warnings: flirty/witty fluff & intimacy; **The story is 18+ and will have warnings when suggestive content will appear, please do not read if you are not above 18!!]

Escaping all the madness, the four of you found yourselves back at Oscorp. Harry was asleep on the bright orange couch you all shared many memories on. You sat on the cold floor leaned against the couch, your head resting near Harry’s. You didn’t want him to be alone when he woke up. 

You must have fallen asleep because you woke up to Harry who was sat up talking to Pete and MJ. “Stop hovering, I’m fine.” He looked at a clearly useless-feeling Peter and a worried MJ realizing they were concerned for him out of love, not trying to be a pain. “Maybe some water.” He figured with the hero lifestyle, Peter wasn’t used to being able to do nothing and needed something to feel like he was being helpful. 

“Water, on it.” He ran off to the kitchen to grab a mug. You and MJ exchanged a look that said you and Harry needed a minute to talk. 

“I’ll be back, just gonna go talk to Pete.” MJ gave Harry a quick side hug. “I’m glad you’re feeling okay” and she was off to the kitchen to bring Pete out of the room. That left you on the floor and Harry sitting on the couch. Normally, Harry always joined you on the floor, it was your thing. But he was in pain, so you got up on the sofa with him.

“How are you? Sorry that’s stupid. Pete and I have your cure. Of course you’re awful. I mean feeling awful. I’m sorry I-”

“Y/N it’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll need it back eventually but you died. You were actually dead.” He trailed off. There was a slight awkward silence between the two of you. “Do you remember anything that happened before you…you know.”

“I mean I remember telling you something...” You figured the last things you said to him were the last words you would ever say. You weren’t prepared for anything after that. You wanted him to know at the time and now having to deal with the aftermath, you weren’t sure what was going to happen.

“Okay well I’ll tell you this. I’ve liked you…forever, keeping it simple. And if we’re being honest, I love you too, since you said it first.” He winked at you and nudged your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I was dying you know, could’ve been delusion or hallucinations.”

“I dare argue that’s when you’re most honest.” He flashed that cheeky smirk he does when he’s being witty. It always makes your face flush.

“Well, I do remember what I said, and I stand by it. I love you too…too. I guess.” You both chuckled. It was nice for life to feel normal, even if it was only a minute. MJ and Pete came back in the room, Pete rushing a blue mug of water to Harry. 

“Okay we gotta figure out how to get this back onto Harry. How did you give it to us?”

“I…I don’t know. It just sort of happened.” Harry looked lost. None of you knew what was going on, but his whole future was at stake.

“Okay, umm… let’s just try.” You and Pete made the black goo move around and get close to Harry but it wouldn’t take. 

MJ was watching closely until she looked down “Guys there’s stuff pushing its way out of you-”

“What?” You both looked down to see that the blade Kraven shoved in Pete’s side dropped to the ground as the small glass fragments from the zoo ceiling fell from your abdomen.

“Oh my god are you guys okay?” MJ stood up to observe and see if either of you were actually injured. 

“Yeah I’m fine. Y/N you okay?” Peter turned to you.

“Yeah I’m good. Let’s go again.” You both coordinated your timing for the second time. The goo approached Harry but again, it didn’t work. The only solution was to find Dr. Connors, which Harry suggested. He was currently a lizard though, so MJ took it on herself to find Kraven and the serum he keeps on him. In that time, Peter went off to go patrolling as Spider-Man with Miles, which led to the late hours of the night. That left you with Harry. Despite his pain, he wanted to spend time with you. 

“So what are we watching tonight? Empire Strikes Back I presume?” Harry looked at you as he was filling up the snack bowl with an assortment of popcorn and sweet candy.

“Why do you say that?” You look at him innocently as if it wasn’t always your first pick on movie nights.

“Oh gee I wonder. It’s not like we spent the first Friday of each month all of high school watching it. Even throughout summer.”

“What can I say? I’m dedicated.” You smile as you can’t help but stare at his hands as he’s filling the bowl. You couldn’t tell if he was taking forever to fill the bowl or if you had just been looking awhile. Your eyes met his and your face went red.

“Can I help you?” He laughed lightly.

“Yeah add more skittles. If you were paying closer attention you would’ve known to do that.” Even after having talked about your feelings, you were used to “hiding” it. This was new ground for you.

“Oh you’re one to talk.” He jokingly rolled his eyes and grabbed the bag of skittles and poured some in the bowl. Once he finished, you went to set up the movie. It only took a couple seconds which gave you time to head back to Harry to get the bowl and drinks.

“Here let me grab that.”

“I got it, it’s okay.”

“I know, but you could also save your energy to stay awake and finish the movie with me.” You smiled at him, trying to tell him it was okay to not strain himself without making him feel bad.

“Well when you put it like that…I’m definitely carrying it all.”

“Hey!” Your jaw dropped in awe at the statement he made. You couldn’t help but smile though. You always loved his sense of humour. It was one of your favourite things about him.

“Kidding, kidding. Fine, it’s all yours for the taking.”

“Thank you.” You snickered and carried the bowl and cups, confident from the win, as you kept an eye on him to make sure he got to the couch safely. You thought about using your newly gained powers to help in carrying the items, but you didn’t want to rub it in Harry’s face. 

The iconic theme song starts to play and you both sit in the dark, the only light being shown from the TV. You both made your inside jokes you had throughout the movie and enjoyed being in each other’s company. 

“Harry, I have a very important question for you.”

“Go for it.” He looks at you, more intrigued than you’d expect as he puts a handful of snacks in his mouth.

“We’ve got popcorn and candy here right? But let’s say you can’t have both, you can only pick one. What are you picking?”

“See that’s just not possible. You have to have a mix of both. One without the other isn’t a thing.”

“Hmm…fine. I’ll give you that.” You both look at each other with straight faces and burst out into laughter.

“You’re so weird with these questions.” Harry giggles to himself thinking of all the times throughout the movies you used to watch together, even when MJ and Peter would join and remember the random topics you’d bring up.

“Oh please you love it.”

“That I do.” He made you nervous even now. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him after he said that. He was your best friend, but times had changed. “Let’s turn the tables. Y/N I have a very important question- no. Statement. I have a very important statement for you.”

“And what could that be?”

“Kiss me.” Your mind blanked. Part of you didn’t believe that just came out of his mouth. And suddenly it was all you could see. His face, his lips. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart pounding out of your chest. 

You leaned in slowly, a long history flying by as this moment appeared. It felt like your life flashing before your eyes, but it was memories of your relationship. Your head tilted to the side as his hand reached to caress your cheek. You could feel the heat of his lips against yours when your phones started ringing. MJ called you to tell you to meet Peter at the pawn shop in Little Odessa in the morning while Pete called Harry to ask about how to use the suit. After the phone calls, the movie had finished and the two of you were left there. Harry looked visibly upset.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m gonna go to bed. Episode VI for background noise?” He didn’t love talking about his feelings. Not a lot anyways, especially when he was mad at one of you.

“Yeah sure. Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight Y/N.” You two proceeded to fall asleep on the couch, just like you always do.

A/N: Hi friends! Hope this one was okay! Still getting into it considering I started midway through the story lol oops… anywho we’ll see where the story takes us! Thanks for being here :)

[nhasablogg]

I just want you to know who I am

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Spencer Reid, The BAU

Anonymous said: Spencer cracks the identity of a "serial tickler" and has to come to terms with his own hidden love of tickling.

A/N: This was fun! It was fun writing about a case like this again but from Spencer’s POV this time. I hope you like it!

Warnings: An UnSub who breaks into people’s homes and ties them up to non-consensually tickle them, but this one’s super ungraphic and mostly just fluff tbh.

Words: 7.4k

(Read it on ao3)

Spencer was squinting at the board, which was poorly illuminated now due to the descending sun. He probably should have turned on a light, but he’d been standing there for the past twenty minutes and refused to move. If he moved he might lose it, the little hint of something at the back of his mind. The board contained pictures of bodies, only this time they were all alive, tied up but alive. That was unusual, to have every single victim to interview. They weren’t even really hurt, only a little traumatized, but they all knew that talking to traumatized victims was almost harder than talking to mere witnesses who’d simply seen something out of the ordinary. Hell, even talking to family members was easier than to scratch open wounds that had barely had time to start healing.

He rubbed at his temple and sighed. This was hopeless.

“I can’t seem to find a connection between them at all,” he said when Gideon entered. “They’re all of different ages. Different socioeconomic backgrounds. Different skin colors, different body types, different types of people entirely. The only thing they seem to have in common is the fact that they live here in Quantico.”

“Take a break,” Gideon told him. “Let’s recoup in fifteen, okay?”

Spencer deflated. “Fine.”

“That’s not a punishment, Reid,” he replied with a laugh. “Have some coffee. Hotch and Morgan will be back soon.”

“Okay.”

Gideon tilted his head. “After you.”

“You’re no fun, you know that?”

“And you must be entirely engrossed if you’re saying no to coffee.”

“I feel like I have something,” he said, exiting the room with Gideon right behind him. “I just can’t figure out what.”

“And that’s why I told you to take a break.”

“Reid, needing a break?” Morgan said, suddenly appearing. “Well, I’ve seen everything.”

Spencer turned toward him. “You got anything?”

He sighed. “Not really. The victim’s don’t know why they’d been chosen to get tickled. We tried to be tactful in case they have, like, a thing for it or something and met the UnSub through that, but they won’t talk.”

“Probably embarrassed.”

“Well, I can’t really blame them. Imagine having the FBI asking you these types of questions.”

Spencer hummed. “I don’t think they would all lie about it though, seeing as that wouldn’t help us solve it.”

“So you don’t think they met the UnSub on some sort of forum or something?”

Something clicked in Spencer’s head. “Forum. Oh my god, that’s it.”

Morgan frowned. “But you just said they probably wouldn’t lie.”

“Not them.” Spencer was already running toward Garcia’s office. “But someone living on their addresses.”

*

“Reid, victimology.”

“The UnSub has purposefully chosen family members - or in some cases roommates - that live with the person who most likely got in contact with the UnSub through a tickle forum. Garcia’s trying to narrow down which one. Turns out there are a lot of them. As for the people he picked, he avoided minors and elderly people, keeping the age range between 20 and 55 with no other obvious preferences. The reason none of them admitted to being interested in it is because they’re not the ones who browsed the forums, so we need to go back and talk to the other people living there.”

“They’ve not said anything about their connection to it,” Prentiss said.

“They’re probably freaked out and embarrassed. Guilty because they wonder if they’re somehow responsible for it. My guess is the UnSub traced their IP addresses and found out where they live. He probably lives here and picked victims close by so that he could be in and out as quickly as possible. Mr Rodriguez said he’d been tickled for an hour, right?”

Hotch nodded. “And Miss Bardot for twenty minutes.”

“And Mrs Smith for three hours. I think the UnSub knows how long they’ll be home alone and plans his attacks after how much time he has. Mrs Smith was intricately tied up, which could tell us more about the UnSub’s preferences, since he obviously does research, but also that he had more time. Miss Bardot was simply handcuffed to her bed, which is the quickest way to restrain her without making a fuss.”

“So this guy talks to people on a tickle forum and then decides to attack their family members instead?” Morgan shook his head. “It makes no sense. Why not simply meet up with the people he was talking to?”

“He likes the non-consensual nature of this,” Gideon said. “He gets a fix from talking on the forum, and then he gets a different type of fix when he attacks. He’s simply killing two birds with one stone by picking addresses from the forum. It narrows them down. He probably also enjoys the idea that the people he talked to are freaking out about it.”

“So say we find the forum. How are we supposed to figure out who did it?” Morgan asked.

Hotch said, “We need to talk to the family members. See which one of them has visited a site like this, and if anyone in particular stuck out.”

Spencer crossed his arms. “Maybe we need to go undercover in the forum too. Draw him out.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Let’s go talk to the victims and their families first. Morgan and Prentiss go talk to the Smiths first. Reid and I will take Mr Rodriguez.”

*

Mr Rodriguez lived in a calm suburban area in a house that looked clean on the outside, but was overcrowded on the inside. Things and people everywhere, ranging from kids to cousins who seemed to be staying with Mr and Mrs Rodriguez for longer periods of time, whether it meant they actually were living there or simply visiting Spencer wasn’t sure.

“Oh hello,” Gideon said when the door opened to a little girl peeking out. “Is your dad home?”

She blinked up at him with big brown eyes, which went from curious to squinting in an instant as she slammed the door shut in their faces.

“Was that a no?” Spencer said with a laugh when the door opened again.

“I’m so sorry,” Mr Rodriguez said, holding the little girl in his arms. “We told her not to open the doors to strangers and, well-”

“She’s never met us,” Gideon filled in. “She did very good.”

“Except for the fact that she opened the door to begin with,” Mrs Rodriguez said, appearing at Mr Rodriguez’s side. “Let me take her.”

He handed the girl over to her mother and stepped aside. “Please come in.”

The house seemed less crowded this time around, but they found people in each room they passed. Spencer kind of liked it in theory, but knew he’d probably go crazy himself if he couldn’t be left alone. If each moment could potentially bring someone else into the room, needing him, needing company, needing reassurance. Finding just one hour where the father would be entirely alone in the house must’ve been difficult, and yet the UnSub had managed it. Whomever he’d been talking to they probably had been talking for a while.

They settled in the living room, a child instantly climbing into Spencer’s lap. Another girl, identical to the one who had opened the door. Twins, he realized as he semi-awkwardly placed his arms around her as she leaned back against his chest and looked up at him. “Hi.”

She didn’t reply, but smiled so brightly he had to smile back.

“How many children do you have, Mr Rodriguez?” Gideon asked, sitting on the other couch across the room, giving them both opportunities to see different things.

“Biologically we only have five. Elena and Julieta are the youngest. They’re four. Then we have Emiliano, who’s seven, Amelia who’s nine and lastly Felipe who’s eleven.”

Spencer and Gideon exchanged a look. All too young to really be on a forum.

“But we did foster my older brother’s children,” Mr Rodriguez continued. “That’s why there are so many of us,” he added with a laugh. He seemed calmer that day. He wouldn’t fully meet their eyes still, but he wasn’t shaking anymore.

“That’s compassionate of you,” Gideon said, straightening.

He waved a hand. “He would’ve done the same for me. He got deported, you see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’re trying to get him back, but…” He trailed off. “Anyway. He has four children, but they’re all a little older. The oldest one, Lucía, is away at college and Samuel’s moved out, although I swear he’s here more than at home. We only have Ari and Camila here.”

“And how old are they?”

“Ari’s 18. He’ll be going off to college next year he said, but he’s taking a gap year. Camila’s eleven, like Felipe.”

They exchanged another look. “Could we possibly talk to Ari?”

Mr Rodriguez frowned. “Ari’s a good boy,” he said.

Gideon held up his hand. “I’m sure he is, Mr Rodriguez.”

“He works to help us out. Never got in trouble. Straight A student. The only reason he took a gap year is because his scholarship didn’t go through.”

“He’s not in trouble, sir, we’d just like to talk to him.”

Ari cracked his door open when they knocked. “Yes?”

“Hi, Ari,” Gideon said, showing his badge. “Agent Gideon and Doctor Reid. You remember us?”

“Sure,” he said, opening the door wider. “You were here after we found my uncle.”

“We have a few questions for you if that’s okay.”

He visibly stiffened. “I was at work when it happened.”

“Oh, we know. We got everyone’s alibis, don’t worry.”

He shifted from foot to foot, glancing behind them at the empty hallway. “Come in.”

Ari sat on his desk chair while Gideon and Spencer took the bed. “This might be an uncomfortable conversation,” Gideon warned him. “But we need you to be honest with us.”

Ari fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Okay.”

“You know how your uncle got tickled by his attacker?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we have a theory that he got the address to your house from a specific forum. That he spoke to someone on this address and traced it here to pick a victim.”

Ari’s face fell. “You think?”

“Do you happen to know if someone in this household has visited a tickle forum in the past and possibly talked to someone?”

“They’re all children,” Ari said. “And I don’t think my aunt would. Maybe my uncle?”

“No. He would admit to it in a heartbeat since it would mean his attacker would get caught.” Gideon smiled sympathetically. “That leaves you.”

Ari avarted his eyes. “Me? You think I’ve been on this… t-tickle forum?”

“It’s just a theory, but it’s currently the only one we have.” He leaned forward. “I’m sorry that this is embarrassing. We only really need to know if that’s the case and what site. Maybe if we could borrow your computer too.”

Ari ran a hand over his face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening.” He looked up at them. “It’s my fault?”

Gideon hummed. “So you have been on a forum.”

“Yes, okay? Yes. I’m just. Curious.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to us, it’s okay.”

“Oh my god, please don’t tell my uncle. Or anyone.”

“We won’t, don’t worry.”

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. “I wondered if it was my fault,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t expect the answer to be yes.”

“Ari.” Spencer spoke for the first time, tilting his head at the teenager. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

*

“I’ve not been tickled in years,” Spencer found himself saying later that day.

Morgan grinned at him. “I bet you’re real ticklish, though,” he said. “Probably a giggler.”

“I didn’t say that.” But he started blushing, which was unusual even to him. Spencer was awkward, yes, but not shy. “Besides, being ticklish is natural. A defense mechanism of some sort. Back in ancient Japan it was used as punishment if you wanted to ensure no one would be able to find any proof of actual injury.”

“Changing the subject, I see.”

“Not at all,” he insisted. “It’s still within the same topic.”

“But it’s been redirected away from your own sensitivity.” Morgan leaned forward, which didn’t necessarily cause any alarm since there was a whole table between them. “Tell me, pretty boy. Where’s your spot? The spot that makes you scream if touched.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I have one?”

“No? Nowhere?”

“No?”

“But you are ticklish?”

“Of course he is,” Garcia said, suddenly walking into the room.

“Oh?” Morgan leaned back. “And how exactly do you know that, baby girl?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get jealous, my love. I accidentally poked him when I first started working here.”

“Is that so?” Morgan’s smirk was actually scary enough that Spencer suddenly felt as if he was in danger. “And where exactly was that spot?”

“I don’t kiss and tell I’m afraid, mon chéri.”

“Oh, that’s unfair, Garcia.”

“Try him yourself,” she said, pointing at Spencer. “He’s right there.”

Spencer stood. “Let’s not.”

“There you go,” Morgan said, standing as well. “Panic. I like that. It probably means you’re really bad.”

“Morgan, come on.” He started walking when Morgan did, the two of them rounding the table over and over again without breaking the distance between them. “This is childish!”

“Well, you are a kid after all.”

“I’m literally 25- no, wait!” Morgan had suddenly picked up his speed and Spencer rushed to do the same, nearly crashing into Hotch in the process. “Hotch, oh my god, save me.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, blinking at them in confusion.

“Derek’s trying to find out where Spencer’s ticklish,” Garcia said.

“Pretty boy thinks he can run away from me,” Morgan said, grabbing Spencer’s arms. Hotch was standing just in the way of him being able to flee. “Not gonna work, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer didn’t know which was worse; the fact that Morgan grabbed onto his sides and wouldn’t let go or that he was still facing in Hotch’s direction and got to see him witness the very first peals of hysterical laughter they’d probably ever heard come out of his mouth. “No!”

“Aw, I knew you were a giggler,” Morgan was cooing behind him. “Isn’t he cute, Hotch?”

Spencer caught Hotch’s ghost of a smile through his plight. “Oh, very. But we have work to do. Leave Reid alone.”

“You’re no fun, Hotch,” Morgan said, letting him go. “I’ll get you later, pretty boy.”

As Spencer straightened he found Gideon standing behind Hotch, meaning he’d probably heard if not seen the whole thing.

He felt himself flushing. He was gonna kill Morgan.

“Had fun?” he asked as he entered the room, his smile fond.

“Oh, the time of my life, truly,” he muttered as Morgan laughed. “I can’t wait to do this again.”

“Don’t you worry, Reid,” Morgan purred. “I’ll make sure that happens.”

Spencer shook his head and willed his blush to calm down as they all settled down around the table, all eyes on Hotch and Gideon. “As you all know we’ve talked to all the victims and their families again,” Gideon started. “Some of them refused to admit to it, but for the most part we found someone in the household - older teens, roommates, spouses - who’s visited the site iTickle, a forum where you can talk to like-minded people.”

“Garcia did some digging,” Hotch continued. “Turns out the site is completely text-based, so you can’t send any pictures or videos, which means you also can’t view any type of content on there. It’s strictly to talk to others.”

“Which gives us the impression that the UnSub uses that site on purpose. It’s like he wants just enough to get going so that he can go out and act out all his desires. Reid?”

Spencer cleared his throat and stood. “We’ve been given access to one of the computers that was used to visit the forum. It’s one of those portable laptops, so we were able to take it with us. The kid who used it said there was one user who was acting a little too sketchy that stuck out to him. Garcia will be tracing the IP address, and after that we’ll figure out a course of action.”

“Great job, everyone,” Gideon said, clapping his hands. “And now we wait.”

*

Spencer was swirling his chair around when Morgan grabbed his shoulder, stilling him. “You’re being super distracting,” he said, but there was no menace in his voice.

Spencer straightened. “Sorry. I’m bored.”

“This case not entertaining enough for you, huh?”

“Well, we’ve practically cracked it. We just gotta find the UnSub.”

“The easiest part,” Morgan said with a laugh.

“Maybe not,” Spencer said sheepishly. Morgan’s hand was still on his shoulder and he could feel it each time a finger moved even just an inch. Despite himself, Spencer had spent the past two days waiting for Morgan to tickle him again and finding he was disappointed each time the opportunity was missed. He wasn’t entirely willing to have that conversation with himself yet.

“Since there’s no DNA on the crime scene it’ll be difficult to actually track him down,” Morgan continued.

Spencer shrugged. “I told you. One of us should go undercover. Set up shop in an apartment somewhere. Pretend two or three of us live there for a few days and have him come to us.”

“Pretty boy, that isn’t actually too bad of an idea.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised about it,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes.

Morgan barked out a laugh and curled his fingers over the sides of his neck. “Smartass. Don’t forget I know that you’re ticklish now.”

Spencer retracted, a sound that was almost a squeal leaving his lips at the sudden unbearable sensation. No matter how low he tried to slide down the chair Morgan simply followed, and while it only really lasted for a moment the whole office could probably hear him giggling and begging for him to cut it out.

“Mor-gan!” he choked out, managing to grab his wrist, which to be fair did very little to make him stop.

“Ye-es?” Morgan teased, index fingers working their way to the area beneath his chin. “I told you I’d get you again.”

“Stop being mean- wait!”

“Oohh, your neck’s a real bad spot, huh? Maybe this is the spot that makes you scream? Or are you worse somewhere?”

“Morgan, stop messing with him,” Hotch said. “Come on, both of you. Garcia found something.”

Morgan let him go, muttering the whole time. “I’ll get you properly one of these days.”

Spencer exhaled, rubbing at the skin where his hands had just been. “You’re terrible.”

“Mm, I could be worse.” Morgan helped him up and slapped his back. “Let’s go tell them about your idea.”

“I didn’t know you were ticklish, Spence,” JJ said when they entered the room, smiling gently if not playfully at him.

He groaned. “Did everyone see?”

“Pretty much,” Prentiss replied. “I mean, you weren’t necessarily being quiet.”

“So you all saw him torturing me and did nothing?” He shook his head in mock betrayal. “Traitors, all of you.”

“Aw, he’s blushing,” Morgan said, pinching his cheek. “So cute.”

“As endearing as you’re both being,” Garcia said, standing in the front of the room. “I have been lured out of the comfort of my own room to hold a presentation and I’d rather get it done quickly.”

Morgan chuckled. “All right, mama, whatchu got?”

Garcia took a breath. “So I think I’ve narrowed down the user. He calls himself ‘TheFeatherFrontier’, which at first I thought was a reference to Star Trek, but- anyway, not the point. I did some digging and it turns out he’s been in contact with someone in all of the households we’ve found victims at. Looking back at their conversations, it starts innocently enough but becomes real strange after a while.”

“Strange how?”

“Well, this guy has practically zero boundaries. Zilch. It goes from ‘hi how are you’ to things I’m way too uncomfortable to say aloud. And it’s weird since this site is all about creating connections through text. Why be crass and drive people away?”

“It’s not really about them,” Gideon said. “They’re simply shortcuts to people he’d rather tickle.”

Spencer squirmed in his chair, trying his best to not look away from Garcia. He wasn’t sure why the word suddenly flustered him, but it did. Maybe because Morgan had just tickled him in front of everyone. Maybe because-

No. Not now. Not yet.

“Reid had an idea,” Morgan suddenly said, directing all focus on him. “Tell them, kid.”

“Oh, uh, well, I kind of told you about it earlier, but- well, one of us should go undercover. Set up shop in an apartment somewhere. Pretend two or three of us live there for a few days and have him come to us,” he quoted himself verbatim. “And hopefully he decides to take the bait.”

“Reid, that’s a really good idea.”

Spencer turned to catch Prentiss’ eye. “Yeah?”

“And probably the only way to actually catch him,” Hotch said. “Great thinking, Reid.”

Morgan reached over to ruffle his hair. “Our ticklish little genius.”

“Oh my god, stop.” Spencer shoved him off of him. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

Morgan laughed. “Not as long as I’m around. But hey, you should totally be the bait.”

“Why me?”

“We need someone super ticklish to make it more believable.”

“Morgan, he won’t even tickle me-”

“Still. And you look like you could be hanging out in there. All in favor of Reid chatting him up?”

“We’ll probably all be involved,” Gideon said. “Although we can’t consult each other after each message. It’ll take too long, and he’d probably be messaging at night.” He looked at Reid. “You up for a night shift or two?”

Spencer sighed. “Fine. But I’m not coming in on time tomorrow.”

*

Their fake apartment was small to have three bedrooms, but it did, and so they decided that Reid, Morgan and Prentiss would be staying there for the next few days, starting immediately in case the UnSub decided to stake the place out after the first conversation.

“Will you guys be okay if he catches one of you?” JJ asked, and both Morgan and Prentiss made a big show out of waving the concerns off, claiming to not be ticklish.

“It’s Reid we should be worried about,” Morgan said and Spencer sighed, having accepted his fate to get teased until his death.

“I’ve got you all set up,” Garcia said, motioning to the monitor on the desk of Spencer’s temporary bedroom. “Derek came up with your username.”

“PrettyShyBoy,” Spencer read, flushing. “Oh, come on.”

Morgan peeked into the room. “Did I lie?”

“I’m not shy.”

“Oh, with how much you’ve been blushing recently he won’t know the difference.”

“Shut up-”

“I need you to come up with a bio,” Garcia said, interrupting him. “It’s better that you do it.”

Spencer sighed and took her place when she got up. “Do you all have to watch?”

“Oh, flustered, are we?”

“Morgan, leave him alone,” Hotch said for the hundredth time that week. “Let’s give him some space. We can look through the bio once you’re done just to make sure it works, but I trust that you know what you’re doing, Reid.”

“Thank you.” Spencer straightened as they left the room. “A bio. Right. Uh.” He tapped his fingertips on the desk. “Guys, do I look like a college student?” he called out, getting a collective yes back. “Right. Thanks.”

20. Shy college student looking for like-minded people.

Hmm, maybe a bit generic, but he was supposed to be a regular shy guy, after all.

Inexperienced lee just wanting to talk.

He’d done his research on tickling as a kink and found a rather fascinating community. He could imagine who he’d be in it. Shy and inexperienced and wanting to be on the receiving end.

Hypothetically, of course.

He erased what he’d written and rewrote it. Shy, inexperienced 20-year-old lee looking to chat to like-minded people. Better. More concise and less repeating.

“It’s not much,” he said when the others returned. “But I think it’s better to keep it short, no?”

“It’s great,” Hotch said, reading it over. “Straight to the point. Appealing enough. It’s good that you added an age and inexperienced. The UnSub’s probably looking for control and it will be easy controlling someone of this background.”

“I didn’t add it, but I named myself Oli. It seems regular enough for a shy college guy.”

“It’s perfect. I think we’re ready to start.”

Everyone but Spencer, Morgan and Prentiss left and Spencer set to work, connecting to TheFeatherFrontier immediately. The connections were random, but Garcia had worked her magic for them.

‘Hi,’ The FeatherFrontier wrote instantly. He was online.

Spencer took a breath. ‘Hi..’

TheFeatherFrontier: Are you new here?

PrettyShyBoy: Yes. Are you?

TheFeatherFrontier: Not really. Been around a while.

PrettyShyBoy: I see..

Spencer shook his head, unable to decide if Oli would be so shy he would be this short, or if he would be trying desperately. He should’ve profiled this fake persona before using him. It might cause him problems.

PrettyShyBoy: Do you like it? This forum I mean.

TheFeatherFrontier: Oh yes. It’s very nice. It’s fun talking to like-minded people.

PrettyShyBoy: Oh that’s great! I was a bit nervous joining.

TheFeatherFrontier: Haha

TheFeatherFrontier: You have nothing to be nervous about :) 

“Ew.”

“What?” Morgan and Prentiss peeked their heads into the room, having obviously been lurking just outside.

“Nothing. He just gives me bad vibes.”

“Let me read.”

“It’s really nothing yet,” Spencer said, but turned the computer toward them anyway. “I think it might also just be me knowing what he’s doing.”

“He- oh, he wrote again.” Prentiss turned the computer back toward him.

TheFeatherFrontier: Sorry. Did I scare you off?

“He’s impatient,” Spencer said. “Better not keep him waiting until we’ve got his attention.”

PrettyShyBoy: No no! Don’t worry :)

PrettyShyBoy: I’m just. Well.

PrettyShyBoy: Shy.

PrettyShyBoy: Heh.

“Nice,” Prentiss said. “Have Oli ramble to showcase it.”

TheFeatherFrontier: Oh, you are, huh?

TheFeatherFrontier: I bet you’re really ticklish.

Spencer, even though it made no sense, blushed. “Oh my god. You guys gotta leave now.”

Morgan peeked at the screen and laughed. “All right, all right, call for us if you need help.”

PrettyShyBoy: Maybe a little…

TheFeatherFrontier: Oh, I’m sure it’s more than just a little, right pretty boy?

Spencer frowned. He didn’t like that the UnSub stole Morgan’s nickname for him, even though it was technically in his username.

PrettyShyBoy: I’ve never really gotten properly tickled… but I think so heh.

TheFeatherFrontier: What’s your worst spot?

Spencer hummed. He really was making no effort in being conversational.

PrettyShyBoy: Maybe my belly…

TheFeatherFrontier: Mmm I’d love to tickle you there. Tie you up, stretch you out real good and go to town on your defenseless belly.

TheFeatherFrontier: Make you scream with no one to hear.

Spencer nearly exited the chat. How the hell had this guy not gotten caught yet with how blatantly obvious he was being?

PrettyShyBoy: That sounds a bit intense…

TheFeatherFrontier: Oh, but I’d stop once you asked me to of course.

PrettyShyBoy: Oh right :) 

PrettyShyBoy: Well, then I guess I should tell you about my feet…

He’d tickled all his victims’ feet for a long time, so they’d pieced it together that it was probably his favorite spot to torture.

TheFeatherFrontier: Mmm what about them, pretty boy?

PrettyShyBoy: I can barely stand having them touched…

PrettyShyBoy: Let alone tickled…

TheFeatherFrontier: We’d definitely need a safe word for those, huh?

PrettyShyBoy: Definitely heh.

Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t entirely sure when to stop, but it seemed too early still.

PrettyShyBoy: How else would you tickle me…?

TheFeatherFrontier: I’m glad you asked.

TheFeatherFrontier: First I’d make sure you were securely tied. Maybe even blindfolded to keep an element of surprise.

Spencer twitched. All his victims had been blindfolded.

TheFeatherFrontier: Would you like that?

PrettyShyBoy: Yes…

Spencer spent half an hour reading about how this stranger would tickle him to half death, feeling a conflicting disgusted and strangely intrigued. Not that he actually wanted this man to do this to him, but…

Well, that was a morning Spencer problem, he decided, feeling confused by his own thoughts.

He logged off only once Morgan and Prentiss had read through the chat and TheFeatherFrontier had become semi-aggressive.

*

“I’m so tired,” Prentiss whined for the tenth time that day, her complaints being echoed by Morgan and Spencer. “I deserve a raise.”

Morgan snorted. “Reid deserves the raise I would say.”

Spencer groaned into the table where he was currently resting his head. “I know right,” he mumbled.

“You’ve all done great,” Hotch said semi-distractedly, glancing over the chat which had been saved to Garcia’s computer. “I think his interest has been piqued.”

“Mmm. I especially enjoyed the part where Reid was forced to ask him how he’d tickle his-”

“Okay!” Spencer exclaimed. “Hotch can read that for himself.”

Morgan laughed. “All right, testy.”

“It makes me feel ticklish just thinking about it,” Garcia muttered from where she was standing behind Hotch.

Morgan gasped. “Baby girl,” he sang. “Don’t tell me you’re ticklish too?”

Garcia huffed. “Oh, come on, sugar shack, as if I don’t know about your-”

“Hey, hey!”

Spencer raised his head to grin at him. “What is this I’m hearing, Morgan?”

“You shut up, nerd, I know you’re worse than all of us combined.”

“This is a strange week,” JJ said, appearing with a pile of papers. “Copies of the chat, just in case,” she explained.

“Good thinking,” Gideon said, taking them from her. “God, I hate cases where we have to wait for the UnSub to come to us.”

“At least we can tickle Reid in the meantime, huh?”

Spencer jerked away when Morgan made a move to squeeze his knee. “Stop.”

“Never. Too fun. Now stay still.”

“Hotch, he’s doing it again- no!”

Only this time Hotch merely glanced back at them and said, “I don’t have anything for you to do right now anyway, so you’re free to play.”

Spencer gasped. “Traitor- Derek!”

“Oh, first name basis,” Prentiss teased, but Spencer’s own panicked giggling overpowered her as Morgan grabbed for his knees again, this time managing to latch onto them for long enough to squeeze just above the knee cap.

Spencer tried to kick him off. “No, come on, I’m tired, please don’t-”

“I’m just waking you up. You should be thanking me, really.”

“JJ, help!”

“Oh, no. Not getting involved in this one, sorry, Spence.”

Morgan moved upward, poking and prodding at his torso, and Spencer found he was very much trapped against his chair. “I’m dying.”

“Drama queen.”

“Emily, help!”

Prentiss, unlike the rest of the room, didn’t seem to mind getting involved at all, and Spencer’s laughter was soon joined in by Morgan’s indignant, “Hey, no!”

“I knew you were ticklish,” Prentiss cheered, and despite Morgan’s sudden laughter it took him a moment to stop torturing Spencer anyway, so by the time Spencer was able to compose himself Morgan had fled with Prentiss at his heels.

“Aw, man, I missed it,” he pouted, sitting up. “Where did she get him? Guys? Hello?”

Hotch sighed. “This is gonna be a long case.”

*

“Sorry, Spence, you’ll have to find that out for yourself.”

Spencer huffed. “You know he’ll just tickle me before I can even try.”

“He is sitting right here, you know,” Morgan said, kicking him lightly under the table.

Prentiss let out a laugh and took a bite of her pizza. They’d left the office early, making a show out of entering the apartment together so that it would be obvious that Morgan would be staying behind for an hour or so on his own. They didn’t expect the UnSub to show up that day, and so they would do the same thing the next. Hopefully he would act quickly so that they could close this mess of a case soon.

“Statistically most men are ticklish under their arms, upper ribs and feet, and seeing as you probably didn’t get his feet while he was standing and in shoes, my best guess is his underarms since he had his arms extended while he was tickling me.”

“So why so curious if you have a theory?”

“Well, theories have to be proven right too,” he muttered, throwing a piece of pizza crust at Morgan who promptly threw it back. “Come on, let me try.”

“That’s not how that works, genius.”

“Just once. You’ve already tickled me like three times today and I don’t know if I can handle another.”

“I’ll make it four if you don’t stop pestering me.”

“Emily.” Spencer turned toward her. “I will tickle you unless you tell me.”

Prentiss raised her eyebrows. “Oho, making threats now?”

“I technically don’t know if you’re even ticklish, but most people are.”

“Do I look like most people to you?”

“Reid, it’s a trap, don’t answer that.”

She grabbed the crust off Spencer’s plate and threw it at Morgan. “Behave or I’ll tell him.”

“Hey, hey, I’m always nice, aren’t I?”

“No,” Spencer and Prentiss said in unison.

Morgan frowned. “You’re asking for round four now, pretty boy. Better be careful or I’ll be looming over you during your whole chat with Mr Feather.”

“TheFeatherFrontier,” Spencer corrected him unnecessarily.

“Yeah, yeah. Oh.” Morgan’s phone started ringing. “It’s Hotch. Hey, you’re on speaker.”

“Have you guys finished eating?”

“Just about.”

“Good. I’ve enrolled Reid and Prentiss in a yoga class. That way you have a specific place to go in case he would happen to keep track of you and actually is thorough enough to look up your fake names in the system. You obviously don’t have to attend, but I’ve enrolled you for the next three days. That way he has a time limit to act during. The studio is located next to a library, which you can enter from inside the building as well. I figured you might not actually want to attend the class.”

“Good thinking.”

“I was kind of excited to,” Spencer said.

Morgan snorted. “I’d like to see you do a downward facing dog.”

“Look at you coming through with the yoga terms.” Prentiss patted his arm. “I’m almost impressed.”

“Oh yeah? I can do better than that. Chaturanga.”

Prentiss shivered. “Stop, I’m not used to feeling impressed.”

“Focus, guys,” Hotch said dejectedly. “The class starts in 30 minutes, so I suggest you get going. It’s one hour long.” And then, as an afterthought, “Good luck and thank you.” He hung up.

Prentiss turned to Spencer. “Looks like we’ll be hanging in the library this afternoon.”

Spencer stood. “I’ll bring a book.”

*

“I’m gonna use the computer.”

“I thought you said you brought a book?”

“Just for a bit. I want to look something up and I’m not sure they have books on it.”

“Are you gonna talk to TheFeatherFrontier?”

“Oh no. Not here. Besides, if our theories are correct he won’t be online anyway. And for us to connect twice would be suspicious.”

“Okay, well.” Prentiss pointed to the part of the library where you could find couches lining the walls. “I’ll be over there napping.”

Spencer picked the computer which was located in the far back of the library, hidden behind shelves of topics so obscure Spencer could only imagine one single person to be walking them (and that was himself). He felt silly. It wasn’t like he’d not done research on it both at home and at work, but that had been for the sake of the case. This was personal, even though he’d been pretending it wasn’t.

Taking a deep breath he typed in tickling and hit search.

And boy the things he found.

*

He had to admit it was nicer to be staying at this apartment when he wasn’t forced to sit in front of a chat room for half the night. Gideon, Hotch, Garcia and JJ had come over for a couple of drinks, even though they all had work the next day, but so far neither of them seemed to be regretting it.

“Baby girl, truth or dare.”

“Mmm, dare.”

“Read us your latest sent text.”

“Oh my, hot stuff, that could be dangerous.” She took out her phone, grinning devilishly at the screen. “My latest text says ‘Perfect, sounds good’.”

Morgan clicked his tongue. “Boring. Who did you send it to?”

“Nuh uh. Not your turn. But I’ll bite. Sugar, truth or dare.”

“Dare, duh.”

“I dare you to show us your last sent text.”

“Now that’s vengeful behavior, Garcia.”

“We’re waiting, Morgan,” Prentiss said, tapping her imaginary watch on her wrist.

“Fine. Okay.” He grabbed his phone, his face forming into a frown when he looked at it. “Oh, no, that’s too much even for me. I’ll take my punishment,” he said over everyone booing. “Pour me my shot.”

“Weak, weak!” Garcia said, but poured him his shot anyway. “Bottoms up.”

Morgan grimaced as he swallowed. “Gross. Okay. Pretty boy,” he purred, grinning. “Truth or dare.”

Spencer thought for a moment before saying, “Truth.”

“Do you have any fetishes?”

“Oh my god, Morgan.”

“What?” Morgan turned to Prentiss, holding out his hands. “We’re off the clock technically.”

Spencer, flushing the entire time, said, “I don’t know.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“It’s good enough for the way you phrased your question.”

“Oh, we need to get you laid, Spence.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “All right, my turn. Emily. Truth or dare.”

“Hmm, truth.”

“Where did you tickle Morgan?”

“You’re still going on about that?” Morgan asked incredulously.

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t like being excluded.”

Prentiss was busy doubling over with laughter, so Morgan had time to reach over and squeeze Spencer’s thigh a couple of times. “I’m starting to think you’re ticklish everywhere, kid,” he said as Spencer did a lovely imitation of Emily.

“You’re gonna have him scared of being around you soon,” he heard Gideon say, something amused in his voice which made Spencer blush all the more.

“Good. I like it when he’s squirmy.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” JJ said with a laugh.

“Not my fault you guys have dirty minds.”

Spencer managed to grab Morgan’s hand. “Em, answer the question.”

“His ribs.”

“Ah, so I was right.”

“Didn’t you guess armpits?”

“I said either ribs or armpits.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Either way-” Spencer threw himself over Morgan, knowing that was his only way of actually getting even an ounce of revenge. “-payback’s a bitch.”

“Did you just swear- woah, woah, no, you don’t!”

Morgan tried, he really did, but Spencer had managed to latch onto his rib cage with both hands and was wiggling his fingers over it. Combine that with the booze in Morgan’s system and he was laughing within seconds. It was quite refreshing to be on the other side of it for once, Spencer realized, although he wouldn’t say he minded being the victim either.

Anyway.

“Emily, you traitor!”

“It’s truth or dare, Derek, I can’t be blamed.”

“Oh my god, Morgan, watch the coffee table!”

“Garcia, help!”

“This is an interesting turn of events.”

“Hotch, help!”

“I’m sure you can handle this by yourself.”

*

“Hey.”

Spencer swung around, coming face to face with Morgan. “Please no revenge,” he begged.

Morgan laughed. “Nah, it’s late so you’re good. But maybe Gideon’s right. I seem to be making you nothing but jumpy. Sorry about that.”

Spencer shrugged. “It’s okay.” I don’t mind.

“It’s just.” Morgan shifted from foot to foot, a rare display of nervousness. “You don’t really, you know. Let loose much. It’s fun seeing you let go, even if I have to force it out of you,” he added with a grin.

“Oh.” Spencer wasn’t entirely sure how to react. “Well.”

“I can scale down my attacks,” Morgan said. “I won’t fully stop, though.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“What?”

“Stop. I don’t want you to stop.” Spencer averted his gaze, finding the wall of their fake apartment incredibly interesting all of a sudden. “It’s… fun.”

“Oh, Reid,” Morgan said with a sigh. “Look at me.”

“Do I have to?”

Morgan let out a laugh. “I guess not. But hey. It’s fine if you like it, okay?”

“I don’t know if I like it like they like it.” He didn’t mention the people browsing the forum by name, but knew Morgan understood. “But I, uh. This case has kind of… made me realize things. I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I might act upset whenever you do it, but-”

“You actually enjoy it,” Morgan finished for him. “That’s really fucking cute, Reid.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, no, I’m not making fun! Come here.” Morgan reached for him, putting his arm around his shoulders when Spencer moved closer. “I like that you like it. It’s fun messing with you, you know? And if you’re also having fun at the same time, all the better.”

“It’s not. I don’t know. Weird?”

“Nah. Tickling’s all about bonding and having fun, after all.” He grinned. “The word flusters you a little, huh?”

Spencer looked away. “Oh my god, shut up.” But he was laughing.

Morgan ruffled his hair. “Come on. Bed time. Quickly before I get your neck. It’s literally right there.”

*

Spencer and Prentiss were at the library when Gideon called them. “We got him.” They raced to the apartment, finding a middle-aged man who wouldn’t take his eyes off of Spencer.

“You’re not that pretty up close,” he muttered and Spencer wasn’t sure whether laughing hysterically when catching an UnSub was acceptable behavior.

“He totally lied,” Prentiss said, placing a hand on his shoulder blade. “You’re, like, really pretty.”

“Morgan overpowered him before he managed to tie him up,” Hotch explained to them. “We got it all on tape too.”

Spencer exhaled. “It’s done.”

“Well, almost. Interviews.”

“He’s guilty,” Morgan said. “At the very least for breaking and entering.”

The next few days were a whirl of interviews and paperwork, and Spencer found he’d not been tickled since the day before they caught him and he was having withdrawals.

Weird.

“You seem deep in thought.”

Spencer turned to look at Gideon. “I am.”

He smiled, gentle, patient. “Anything you want to share?”

Spencer shook his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, now you’re making me curious.” He approached him, arms crossed. “I won’t push,” he added. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I know.” Spencer smiled briefly at him, wondering if it would be weird to share what he’d already shared with Morgan with someone he considered a mentor and not simply a friend. Was that overstepping? Was this weird to even be talking about? “This case,” he started, rubbing his neck. “It, uh. Well, it- I’m sure you’ve noticed Morgan torturing me.”

Gideon chuckled. “It’s been hard to miss, yes.”

Spencer felt the now all too familiar blush spread over his cheeks. “Right. It, uh. It’s made me realize that I-”

Gideon tilted his head. “Enjoy it?”

“Oh my god, is it obvious?”

“Not necessarily.”

“But we’re profilers?”

“No, it’s not that. You just seem.” Gideon shrugged. “Happier.”

Spencer blinked. “Happier.”

“Yes. Jumpier, yes, but I’ve enjoyed seeing this side of you. Of all of you. Everyone’s much more playful and I think it’s needed, especially now.” Gideon patted his arm. “I’ve not necessarily been suspecting anything-”

“It’s not a fetish!” Spencer found himself blurting out.

Gideon held up his hands. “I didn’t think it was.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

“Of course not.”

“I just. It’s fun.”

“I can tell.” Spencer averted his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I like seeing you happy, you know. All of you.”

“Is everyone else also happy?”

“Oh, very. Even the ones who aren’t joining in. It’s making things seem easier.”

“Okay.”

“I sense there’s something else you want to say.”

Spencer flushed even more, finding it hard to remember a time where he wasn’t blushing this frequently. “It’s nothing.”

“Reid.”

“Really, it’s silly.”

“Reid,” Gideon said again, this time with a laugh. “I won’t judge, and you clearly have something on your mind.”

“Well, it’s just that. We’ve not had fun in a few days. Oh god, that sounds ridiculous. I’m leaving.”

“No, no, I understand what you’re saying. Wait here.” Gideon left the room, reappearing a moment later with a grinning Morgan in tow.

“I heard you’ve missed my hands on you, pretty boy.”

Spencer decided to be embarrassed about it all afterward.

[berenwrites]

Dreams in the Night - Stranger Things - Steddie, Chapter 5 of 9

Dreams in the Night: But Vampires Aren't an Upside Down Thing!

Summary: Steve has been having nightmares, seeing through the eyes of a vampire like creature in Hawkins as it hunts. He puts the dreams down to past trauma and too many horror movies at Family video. He’s checked and no one’s been hurt, so even Robin agrees. However, his world is about to be turned upside down yet again as the nightmares become far too real.

Tumblr Master Chapter Listing | Also on AO3

For: @lady-lostmind (lady_lostmind on AO3)

Relationships: steddie, platonic stobin

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: ~18600

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: vampire!Eddie, Kas!Eddie, hurt/comfort, bisexual!Steve, bisexual!Eddie, platonic stobin, steddie

This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange

Chapter 5: Bigger Picture

Steve just wanted to fall into his bed on the nice clean sheets he had just put on it, next to where Eddie was sprawled and already sleeping.

He was exhausted and so thoroughly fucked out his legs kept trembling. Eddie had kept him going for hours, with seemingly endless stamina. At one point Steve was pretty sure he had forgotten words entirely. The only thing he had to be thankful for was Eddie had seemed to be as surprised as he was at how long they had been having sex.

With what little brain power he had recouped since, Steve guessed it had something to do with the blood. Eddie had taken little tastes of him over and over again, blowing his mind each and every time. After the first time Eddie had bitten him, he could never have guessed how good it could feel. It still hurt, but somehow, in a good way that he did not have enough wherewithal to analyse yet.

The only reason he wasn’t already out for the count was he knew there was one thing he needed to do unless he wanted people breaking down his door.

Picking up the phone he dialled Robin’s number.

“Buckley residence,” came the quick answer.

“Hey, Robs,” he greeted, and his voice came out far rougher than he had expected.

“Steve,” Robin responded immediately, “are you okay? You don’t sound good.”

“Long night,” he replied. “Can you cover for me today? I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I can make it through a shift.”

“More nightmares?” Robin asked.

He hummed in response, after all that was how it had started, but he didn’t want to have the full conversation yet. He also didn’t want to lie. Lying to Robin was not something he would ever choose to do.

“You’ll owe me for facing the holiday madness without you,” she said, but he could hear the worry in her tone. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

“Just need to sleep thanks,” he promised. “I’ll give you a call later to fill you in once I can put two thoughts together.”

“You’d better,” she replied. “Now go to bed.”

“Yes, mother,” he responded. “Thank, Robs,” he added, “don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Get fired,” she said without hesitation. “Shoo.”

“Talk later,” he said. “Bye.”

“Bye,” she said. “And stay hydrated,” he heard as he put the phone down.

He was pretty sure he had to have been a saint in another life to deserve someone like Robin in his current one.

~*~

“Hey, Dingus, you better be dying, Keith was an ass … oh my fucking god!”

Steve shot from sleep blinking blankly as he heard Robin’s shriek before his brain came back on. He took in his best friend standing in his bedroom doorway and followed her eyes to where Eddie was sprawled across the bed on his front, taking most of the bed and a good percentage of Steve too. Luckily, he had thought about pulling the sheet over them properly before he fell asleep, but the white cotton didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination.

He extricated himself from Eddie, who was still mostly out of it as Robin fled. Grabbing the pair of sweats he had been wearing the previous evening, he pulled them on as quickly as possible and headed after his best friend.

“Robin, please wait,” he called, chasing after her.

“You … you … you skipped out on a shift to get laid!” she accused rounding on him once she hit the kitchen.

Her anger brought him up short.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s past five in the evening,” she said, frowning and cooling down a little.

“Shit, we’ve been asleep all day” he muttered.

“All day? Did you take something? Are you okay?” Robin asked instantly worried. “Is she alright?”

“Rob,” he said, doing his best to think, “did you see who that was?”

Robin gave him another look.

“A girl with lots of dark curly hair,” Robin said, but her tone was uncertain.

“With tats and scars?” Steve prompted, realising that Robin had clearly not taken in most of what she had seen.

“Tats and scars?” Robin said quietly.

“What’s going on?” a familiar deep voice came from behind him, and Robin’s mouth dropped open.

Steve turned to find Eddie wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his boxers, hair wildly everywhere. He looked mostly still asleep. Steve was quite surprised the sweatshirt was on the right way round.

“Explain, right now,” Robin demanded.

She was clearly torn between delighted to see Eddie standing there whole and alive, and worried that this was some horrible Upside Down trick.

“The dreams weren’t dreams, they were Eddie,” he replied, skimming over all the details. “We’re connected.”

“Bats?” Robin asked.

Steve just nodded because that was his best guess.

“And what, Eddie just turned up here and ended up in bed with you?” was Robin’s next question.

He grimaced at that. She was probably going to kill him.

“He called me,” Eddie said, which was exactly what Steve had not wanted to reveal just yet.

“I had another dream,” he jumped in before Robin could react to that revelation, “and I finally realised I was seeing through Eddie’s eyes and I guessed it was real, but I had to be sure.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to do this all by yourself?” she said, tone completely incredulous.

“I couldn’t tell anyone,” he said, “not until I was sure. Can you imagine what that would have done to Dustin if it was all in my head?”

“And what about me? We tell each other everything, remember?” Robin said, and her accusatory glare had him quailing inside.

And wasn’t that the crux of it.

“You would have tried to stop me,” he said simply, because it was the plain truth.

Robin opened her mouth to ask something several times. Steve just gave her time.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“Because, Buckley,” Eddie entered the conversation again, “what he did was ridiculously dangerous and could have ended up with him very, very dead.”

Steve sagged at Eddie’s tone. It was clear that in the cold light of day, both Eddie and Robin were mad at him, hence he was a little surprised when Eddie stepped into his personal space, leaning on the island next to him.

“Why?” Robin asked again.

“Because like Steve always does, Lady Buckley, he faced off against a wild thing, only this time he didn’t have an axe,” Eddie said, and Steve heard his voice change.

Looking over, he saw Eddie flash a fang at Robin. It said a lot that Robin did not so much as flinch, just stood there staring. Steve saw her eyes flick between Eddie and the various injuries on his neck. He’d run his fingers over them, and he was pretty sure there were no wounds left, but the places where Eddie had bitten him still felt tender. He didn’t know why they hadn’t gone like the ones that must have been on all of Eddie’s other victims, but they were pretty obvious. They looked like hickies.

“You let him bite you,” she accused.

“He did way more than that,” Eddie said, clearly in unhelpful mode.

He had been inside Eddie’s head, kind of still was at a low level. He knew way more about the other man than he could ever have imagined even if none of it was crystal clear, and he understood where the snark was coming from. Eddie was putting his armour up before anyone could see the weakness. Steve wasn’t having that, so he leaned in the extra fraction of an inch to close the remaining gap between them.

Eddie jolted at the contact, turning to look at him. Steve looked back, refusing to back down. No matter what image Eddie was trying to project, Steve could feel the turmoil going on inside his resurrected friend like an echo in the back of his head. He had no idea what Eddie was getting from him, but he did his best to project caring determination. When Eddie finally relaxed in place, he was satisfied and turned back to Robin.

His best friend was giving him one of those looks that meant she was reading him like a book. Sometimes it was useful. Right now, he felt like he was under a microscope.

“Where have you been hiding?” Robin demanded, looking at Eddie.

“Community pool,” Eddie said without preamble. “It’s closed to the public for the season, but they keep the amenities on to stop anything freezing. Stole these clothes from the unclaimed lost and found.”

“Judd Williams is the caretaker there,” Robin said.

Eddie nodded.

“We bumped into each other a couple of times,” he replied. “He doesn’t remember them. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a ghost.”

“I didn’t see you bite Judd,” Steve commented.

“That’s because I never fed from him,” was the quick reply. “It seemed rude.”

Steve didn’t try and analyse that, he was more than aware Eddie’s mind was a strange place.

“Why didn’t you contact any of us?” Robin asked.

“Because I wasn’t thinking like that,” Eddie replied, matching Robin’s pointed tone. “When I crawled out of the Upside Down everything was simple. I had needs, so I dealt with them. Things were getting clearer over time, but emotion still wasn’t high on my list. It’s Steve who gave me that back.”

Steve found Robin’s eyes firmly on him again.

“This is almost as insane as Vecna, you realise this, don’t you?” she said, throwing her hands up.

“Yes,” he replied, because what else was he supposed to say.

“We need more minds on this,” Robin said, putting her hands on her hips in a way Steve was pretty sure she had picked up from him. “I’m calling in reinforcements.”

“Not everyone,” Steve said, before she could step past him to the kitchen phone.

“Everyone is going to need to know, Steven,” she said, and he winced as she used his full name.

Only his parents did that and she knew exactly how much he hated it.

“But not all at once, please,” he all but begged.

He couldn’t cope with his house being invaded yet. He needed time to process it all before he had entitled kids yelling at him from every direction.

“Who then?” she asked, clearly picking up on his desperation.

“Hopper and El,” he said, because they definitely needed El’s input and that meant Hopper’s as well, “and Dustin,” he added after a moment.

“Kid always sees the details,” Eddie seemingly agreed from beside him. “The only Hopper I know is dead,” Eddie added.

“Oh,” Steve said, “no, not dead, kidnapped by Russians and held in a Russian prison. Escaped and came back with the help of Joyce Byers and a guy called Murray you haven’t met. Hopper and Joyce are now living together. El is the girl with superpowers we told you about. She went through hell, got them back and kicked Vecna’s ass.”

“And you’re sure she’s not going to take one look at me and throw me through the nearest wall?” Eddie checked.

“Positive,” Steve replied.

“Not unless you turn out to be an Upside Down trick,” Robin added, giving Eddie the side-eye.

“Not a trick, I swear,” Eddie said, holding his hands up.

“El will know if you are,” Robin said, and moved to pick up the phone.

End of Chapter 5

On to Chapter 6

[m3talmunson]

Deciding to recoup at Reefer Rick's after... the graveyard, Dustin had a little bit of what he would call, one of his typical strokes of genius.

"If what Victor told you is true," Dustin started, nodding to Nancy, "And we combine it with Max's... well, situational evidence, then we need to get to making a list."

"Of what, exactly?" Steve asked. These kids had better stop assuming that people can read their minds.

"Are you kidding Steve? Of everyone's favorite songs, what else? Groceries?"

"Watch your tone you silly little genius." Eddie chimed in.

Though nobody would admit it out loud to the kid, Dustin was usually right on top of the solutions. He didn't need to be so rude about it though!

"Ok, that is actually really smart, I'll give you that." Nancy agreed. "Let's get started then! We'll go in a circle, I'll write them down, and we can find tapes for any songs we don't have. I'll start." She laid out the game plan, and started the list, writing down her favorite song.

"Care to share with the class Nance? Since we should really all know. Y'know. Just in case." Lucas asked.

"Oh, right. Don't you dare bring up the morally questionable undertones to the movie, but it's Don't You (Forget About Me)."

"Solid choice!" Robin muttered absentmindedly, clearly at least a little lost in thought.

" Your turn Robs"

"Oh! Uhh. In classic theater kid fashion, I guess it would have to be One from A Chorus Line." She said, as Nancy scribbled away. That was definitely one they would have to buy.

They continued to go around clockwise, skipping over Max, who was already listening to Kate Bush during the conversation. As long as everybody their own walkmans before they recouped next, everything should be fine. In all this, it's kind of wild that a walkman has become armour, but stranger things have happened to the lot of them.

"What about you Eddie?" They were reaching the end of the circle.

"Easy, You've Got Another Thing Coming, Judas Priest. You don't have to worry about buying that one though, it was in my van when I came here so it's around somewhere."

"Got it," Nance said as she put it under the 'owned' column. "Lastly, Steve?"

"Y'know what I don't actually think anything is going to happen to me. I think we're all good and safe on this one and I don't think we need to worry about-" He started.

"Steve-O you know that's not how this works!" Robin retorted. She knew Steve's favorite song, she had been waiting for this one.

"C'mon Harrington it can't be THAT bad." Eddie backed Robin up. Damn those band kids.

"Ok. MAYbe. Just maybe. it's lastchristmasbywham."

"What was that Stevie?" Eddie piped up again.

"Yeah, what did you even say?" Dustin asked.

" I SAID... ugh. Last Christmas by Wham! And none of you are allowed to make fun of me for it until we all fucking survive this." He yelled the last part over a chorus of giggles from Max and Lucas, who were doing their combined best to find just a little bit of joy in this all, plus Dustin who yelled back "Language!"

"Harrington. No. There's no way your favorite song is a Christmas song from two years ago there's nO WAY-"

"What did I just say about making fun of me Munson? None of you would be complaining if George Michael saved your life. Last Christmas is iconic. Shut your mouth." Steve rolled his eyes. There was no malice behind his words, he KNEW this would happen when he said it, but this was no time to lie and save face.

"Boys, we've got bigger problems to yell about than George Michael," Nancy reminded, immediately switching topics, leaving Steve to wriggle under Eddie's questioning stare until he got distracted.

[taelonsamada]

Tid-Bit Tuesday

It’s been a hot minute since I posted any wips!! Figured now was a good time to do so, since I’ve been consumed with a new oneshot idea, and for a boy I’ve pretty much never written! Poor Vincent, he gets so little love from me, considering he’s the gateway that led me to redacted in the first place 😅

I’ve been missing my grandpa pretty hard the last couple weeks, so this is my way of working through that lol my grandpa lost his leg from just below the knee, and while he handled it with grace and great humour (Ooh, the way he’d scare the grandkids with it… love that fucking man LOL) there were still days that were hard on him, and I’d get to see how my grandma would help him through it. It was always really sweet, being able to see the bond between the two of them as she helped him.

So this is kind of like a tribute or me paying my respects to the love between my grandparents that I got to see growing up, I guess 😅 it should be up later today, so long as I don’t get trapped in editing hell or distracted by woodslife stuff lol

Tagging @romirola @zozo-01 @ejunkiet & @darlincollins because they’ve all tagged me recently in their wonderful wips and I need to catch up! XD ♥️ also tagging @dominimoonbeam @lovelylonerliterature @glassbearclock @dollscircus and @sollucets cause I’m nosy and wanna see what you’re working on LOL

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

It would pass. It always did. He’d been enduring phantom pain like this for the last two decades, he knew what was going to happen. He just had to be patient, ride it out.

William would know. It didn’t matter how long he gave himself to recover, to settle and recoup before heading out to be with the rest of the clan. William knew when it was a bad day. Something he could see or smell, something so minute that Vincent couldn’t disguise it. The bond between progeny and Maker, perhaps. He’d know, and it would break his heart.

Vincent wished, yet again, that he could take back all those words he’d said in the first few years towards his maker.

He knew that William still blamed himself for not being able to save his leg, still carried guilt for Vincent having to mourn the loss of a limb on top of all the other pain and grief that came with adapting to life as a vampire. A guilt that Vincent had absolutely played on in his early days, hurling curses and accusations that he now felt awful about.

For all his power and strength, even William wouldn’t have been able to save his leg, not after the damage the crash had done. Vincent’s outrage over the loss had merely been another way of exorcising his grief for the life that had been taken from him.

He’d grown to accept this change alongside all the others in his new existence, and on the good days it was something he almost embraced and celebrated. Treating it as a badge of honour, a testament to what he’d survived. As well as using it as a way to fuck with the new members of the clan whenever they joined.

The faces they’d make when the Solaire Prince collapsed in front of them and screamed as his leg, to quote Alexis, ‘flopped about below the knee like a badly gutted fish’, were priceless.

[ladykailitha]

"Boy with a Bat Book 2" please!

WIP Wednesday! Make me write.

Alrighty I know where this is going now. It has a proper title now even. Based on another line from a song from a musical, just like the last one. And while the last one was "1776", this one is from "The Scarlet Pimpernel."

Snippet

Eddie hummed for a moment as he thought. “I guess I was about seven or eight. My dad was in jail for the first time and my mom needed the weekend to recoup after an especially long week at work. So when offered to take me camping for the weekend. Back when was he was young, wild and free.”

[drdemonprince]

how do i get my therapist (who has experience working with autistic ppl) to stop viewing me through a neurotypical lens?

when I brought up that I'm struggling to show up to a social function due to a number of factors (overwhelming loud environment, not knowing them that well, not much time to recoup after an overstimulating workday), she said I was engaging in "negative self-talk" and needed to think more positively. I've heard this from other therapists too but I really don't see the self-esteem angle.

or when i mentioned I've been suffering from insomnia, and mentioned that I make lists to help me fall asleep (eg: something with my special interests, like list the entire taylor swift discography, lol), she said that was definitely the reason I couldn't fall asleep because it requires too much focus (even though I'd been doing that for years as a method and the insomnia part is new...). she said i need to "clear my mind" instead when that's never worked for me.

i know the correct answer is "find a better therapist" but i just. they're ALL like this from my experience. and i guess i'm just wondering what some other red flags might be in a therapist who specifically works with autistic clients.

thank you for taking the time to read this, i know this is a long question so no pressure to respond! xx

Yeah, it sounds like it's time to hit the bricks. This therapist sounds invalidating, dismissive, and not at all introspective about their own assumptions and process.

Have you tried telling them that their view of you and your way of functioning is colored by really neuronormative assumptions? How do they respond to disagreement or challenge in general? Do they respect you? Have they demonstrated that they can self-reflect and apologize when they get things wrong? If all or most indications point to no, this therapist is not just useless to you, they're actively harmful, and I think you probably ought to stop wasting time and money being exposed to their feedback.

As for the fact that nearly all therapists appear to be like this -- that is by design. The entire enterprise of psychiatry and psychology is to impose a neuronormative standard onto all people, and to attempt to correct for any deviance from that standard that is observed. Therapists are overwhelmingly privileged people who have not been trained to consider factors of systemic oppression and exclusion, and in fact these dynamics are often ones they do not comprehend. Therapists are bad at being compassionate and helpful toward Autistic people because psychology as a field philosophically does not see us as okay as we are. So you will likely run into this problem again and again.

The only good therapist is one who is willing to betray the most oppressive norms of the field, and that's a rare thing. You will likely have to grill potential therapists on their knowledge and understanding of neurodiversity before you hire them in order to determine if they would be a good fit. It's exhausting and people often find it scary, but just remember that they work for you, and there is no reason for you to be paying someone to tell you that you're defective.

(Of course, there might be some benefits that you find you are receiving from therapy, even with this person's many flaws, and if that's the case, by all means stick with them if you think it balances out. Trust your own judgement. I'm just a cranky ideologue on the internet I don't know your life. Tho neither, it seems, does this therapist).

[muzzleroars]

HI HI HELLO HI i go rabid whenever u post art or long posts here is a random question that popped into my head a while ago:

why do you think the v-series (or all machines in general) run off of blood? whats up with that

i am just really curious and desperate for another pov OKTHANKSBYE

aaaaaa thank you!! sometimes i feel self-conscious carrying on for so long, so it makes me really happy that people like reading those posts ;o; this is a good question too, so let me ramble some more!!

in context, blood as fuel makes sense for something like the v-series - v1 was a prototype designed to be a highly skilled war machine, so blood would presumably be plentiful during its working time, while v2 was a quickly thrown together project to recoup the losses on v1 when the war ended. not exactly. great for a peacekeeper to be blood-fueled, but it was repurposed to not use direct contact blood so i guess it's a little less intimidating than its predecessor in that regard. however, it's the ubiquity of blood as fuel that presents an interesting question - why do things like drones and streetcleaners subsist on blood too? these are machines for surveillance and pollution maintenance, what could possibly compel their engineers to make them dependent on blood as well? outside of that, we also know from the terminal entry on the nailgun that even more non-combat machines existed and fought to survive against much more prepared opponents after the fall of humanity - and while we don't know if they too were blood-powered, why else would other machines attack them? everything seems to be blood-powered, to the point where that's one of the defining characteristics of what constitutes as a machine in ultrakill.

there isn't much to go on, but i think it must speak to the society that existed before the fall, particularly the one during the war. for v1, blood is efficient because it would be plentiful on the battlefield, but how are the drones fed? where do the streetcleaners find their blood? during the war, there must have been a great disregard for life and very much discarding of it, to the point that other fuel sources were in scarce supply but blood was plentiful. human bodies were piling up while perhaps the metals for batteries had been exhausted and the energy needed to produce electricity was becoming increasingly difficult to make or prohibitively expensive. so. they need to use what they have. machines are all outfitted with blood processing equipment for efficiency's sake and now those bodies are a precious resource when there's little else to go around in war time.

but then the new peace is established. how are machines now running on blood at a time when blood should be in much lower supply? there could be several answers to this, but all are pretty speculative. perhaps much like is mentioned with the streetcleaners, a majority of machines are deactivated. they no longer need massive industries to fight a war and so humans can once again run things without the aid of tireless machines, leading many of them to be scrapped or shelved. they are then only brought back into service with the hell expeditions, where they may once again feast on the blood of husks or demons. but that doesn't quite work, since it seems things like the drones stayed active during the new peace...meaning the new peace may have been much less peaceful than it seemed. or maybe machines had other options to power them like traditional electricity, with blood now a defunct back up (and by the events of the game, their only choice with all the grids forever down). however, given that it seems highly implied via minos that machines had something to do with humanity's fall, perhaps they were starting to starve. perhaps they were being worked on as little fuel as possible or maybe some makeshift blood substitute that allows them to work but leaves them hungry, unsatisfied and exhausted. perhaps the new peace was making them increasingly obsolete and they rejected their eventual demise. BUT it's entirely unknown at this point, it's just interesting to think of the possibilities...

[sovpologist]

ok finally went ahead and caught up with the season and here are my thoughts!

hmmm... i like the season's concept but not the execution sadly. it feels bad to have an entire season where the central question is "how do you be more than a weapon" and the answer to that question is "kill yourself to save others" i guess????? rasputin didnt really get the chance to live as more than a weapon and ended his life AS a weapon but its okay and "growth" because he's being a weapon... for people he cares about this time? idk, i'm not one of those people who are like "you don't owe anyone anything" because i think helping other people is a beautiful thing to do and i love destiny's focus on community, but i feel like rasputin's ending was more about denying him community if that makes sense... he never really got the chance to experience humanity and be human unless you count his recouped felwinter memories

i feel like there were so many interesting routes we could have gone with a fully mobile and "human" rasputin that i guess the writers were just not interested in exploring... im not a rasputin loremaster so if there was precedence for rasputin being inseparable from his warsats please lmk but it genuinely felt like it came from nowhere that rasputin HAD to die to shut down the warsats. until now they had been treated as something completely separate from him (they were able to operate remotely even when he was shut down for god's sake, although you can argue gameplay elements don't equal canon)

even when ana says "there has to be another way" rasputin's response seems to indicate that it doesn't even matter because somehow someday someone will eventually get hold of the warsats and use them for harm so he might as well just die now, which again is like.... such an unhealthy and negatively self-sacrificing mindset!!!!! it is genuinely really sad to play through all the seasonal missions at once and do a speedrun of rasputin going from confident to completely depressed and questioning his purpose in life if he can't be a weapon and use force to overpower his enemies, and then to have that arc just NEVER be resolved bc he immediately decides he needs to die for the good of others. it was just a completely unsatisfying arc

there are a billion other ways the writers could have sufficiently nerfed rasputin so to not have to deal with an overpowered war god of a character who can call in an airstrike anywhere at any time and can hack every computer in existence simultaneously (listen, i get it, it would be hard to write around that) and i have to believe the destiny writers aren't stupid so i guess they genuinely just really thought rasputin had to die, probably because they wanted something "big" and "shocking" going into lightfall. and i get the meta reason is that this "chapter" of destiny is wrapping up and we have to get rid of some dangling characters and plot threads but idk i don't think that should stop me from being able to critique HOW they decide to shed characters. have rasputin lose access to his warsats and databases and decide he wants to fuck off to felwinters peak to do some soul searching if you really just dont want to have to deal with writing him into lightfall and final shape!

it just feels like such a waste as a character and i'm not even a huge rasputin fan. what really frustrates me is the wasted potential. you barely actually get to meet the "real" rasputin and he's gone, which is why the whole "emotional death scene" fell very flat for me. the ending cinematic was very gorgeous, no doubt about it, but it wasn't as emotionally moving to me as it was to others and i assume thats because i didn't play d1 so i wasn't waiting seven years for this character to actually show up as anything other than ominous backwards disembodied russian voicelines

but i dont want to be totally negative, there were a lot of small character moments i really liked. the bray sisters stuff was great and i loved mara and osiris' conversation, it was nice to see the game acknowledge that they're friends. oh and i genuinely liked rasputin's poetry! submit this man's work to the poetry foundation! it was also nice to see the mid season operation missions get changed up a little too, they felt fun and unique, and seraph station was sooooo fun! i feel like the gameplay elements of this season were great; i just didn't love the direction they took the story in the end

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Destiel Month, 6 Nov.: Trip

"Oh?" Dean wiggled closer. "Where would you like to go?"

deancas, established relationship, nsfw-ish

"I was thinking," Cas said.

Dean opened one eye to look at him. Cas, or at least his soft hair, looked improbably tidy. Only a little flush on his rough throat remained. On the other hand, to Dean's great delight, Cas like Dean was still incredibly naked. 

"Angelic post-coitus musings – sounds like a Penthouse column." Dean grinned lazily as he stretched long-ways down the mattress and wiggled his toes.

"I–" Cas closed his mouth and started again. "I was going to say I wouldn't call it that, but you're well aware I would not write a column for that publication."

Dean poked his leg with his big toe. "Don't let the naysayers get ya down. Dream big, buddy." He yawned and stretched some more. 

Cas rolled onto his side, facing Dean and wearing a patient-but-not-that-patient expression. "Are you going to go to sleep?"

Dean moved a little closer and hooked his foot around Cas's ankle. "You just fucked my brains out, man, you gotta give me time to recoup."

"On average your refractory period is approximately 23 minutes." Cas pushed a lock of hair off of Dean's forehead. "And it's been about 15 minutes already."

"Okay, Mr. Spock, first of all, this isn't a sprint, it's a marathon. Secondly, you don't need to pay that much attention to the clock–"

"Oh, I'm not." Cas shrugged. "There doesn't seem to be a clock in here. Our phones notwithstanding." 

He glanced over at the window. On the way into the cabin they'd thrown down their keys, phones, and bags in that general vicinity. They themselves had landed directly on the one well appointed bed. Their clothes were…everywhere.

Dean reached out and snagged the undershirt that was festooning the corner of the headboard and let it fall on the floor. "You're just, what? Able to keep – and remember, I guess – time, these particular times, by yourself? That an angel thing?"

Cas propped himself up on one arm. "Hmm. I oversaw a lot of celestial projects over the years. They often took a very long time to complete. Proper timekeeping was essential."

"You know having sex isn't the same kind of thing, right? Like there's no boss standing around with a clipboard checking off ticky boxes. Although that might be kinda interesting." Dean waggled his eyebrow and was gratified that Cas smiled in response. "All right. What were you thinking?"

"We should take a trip somewhere." 

Cas traced something on Dean's shoulder with a fingertip; Dean shivered to guess it was probably the ghostly outline of Cas's former handprint.

"We're technically already doing that." Dean let his hand curl around Cas's hipbone and marveled again at how good it felt to do so. "And we're even staying in a slightly more upscale accommodation than usual. Behold! We're in a cabin, but the bedside lamp is not shaped like a whiskey barrel. Pretty classy." 

Cas shook his head with what Dean felt confident was genuine fondness for him. "I meant a vacation devoid of potential dragons."

"Oh?" Dean wiggled closer. "Where would you like to go?"

"You're always talking about the beach." 

"Oh hell yeah." Dean got lost in the ocean blue of Cas's eyes for a second. Then he remembered: "It's November."

"The US has a whole southern coast, doesn't it?" Cas squinted. "Not to mention all the other parts of the world that aren't going into wintertime, or even if they are, it's warm there year round." He must've felt Dean's hesitation. "We don't have to go the second we return to the bunker."

"No, no, you're right." 

Dean started to imagine a long swath of white sand warmed by sunlight, and water clear as glass rippling in a tropical breeze. Fruity, frosty drinks and hot, lazy afternoons. The sea turned to flame at sunset. A beautiful resort room where he could lay Cas out and take him apart slowly, taste every inch of tanned, salty skin, render him helpless with pleasure. 

Cas's eyes had been tracking Dean's and growing darker.

"We'll do some research when we get home, figure out a time and destination," Dean murmured against Cas's mouth, as the flat of Cas's hand began to wander down his chest. "How many minutes we at?"

"Twenty," Cas said, already sounding a little out of breath.

"Ahead of schedule then," Dean said, rolling onto his back as Cas rose up over him.

Planning for a trip could be half the fun. Practicing for a trip, even nicer.

[thewizardtower]

Unsolicited…

You've got a really overwhelming situation. It’s a bit ancillary to my irl job (env health and industrial hygiene), so I wanted to toss some thoughts to the void to maybe make it less heavy? (Def feel free to disregard and delete)

Since the AC is too large for the house, the house will stay too humid because the AC doesn’t have time to “dry” out the air – it’ll kick on and off too quickly instead of running for awhile. I’m guessing this is also contributing to the fire hazard (power cycling of the unit). You may be able to find a company that will trade the unit for a more appropriate one, which could help recoup some of the costs for a new system, or maybe local rebates with the power utility provider if the new unit has a heat pump, or just for being smaller and consuming less energy overall (spitballing ideas)

If you have a dehumidifier (bit spendy), you can put this in affected areas to help the problem from getting worse. For an attic, you can try placing it near a central air intake or exhaust inside of the house, like near vents or the furnace, to try and catch the airflow (if you put the central air furnace to ‘recirculate’). Changing your furnace filters monthly if you don't already should also help with air quality.

Mildew will stain, like the plywood and drywall in the attic, but if it’s dry, it shouldn’t grow. You can also spray surfaces in a diluted bleach solution to help manage it. Just a small bottle of plain bleach (none of those silly laundry kinds) and a spray bottle. An N95 respirator and long sleeve shirt/pants would be a good idea if you go into the attic, but mostly for fiberglass (if you don’t have blown insulation) and potential critter dust (mouse droppings, esp if you’re in a rural area, which I assume if you have a well)

A “hot attic” will be that (hot), but it shouldn’t be “humid”. If it is, it might be worthwhile to visually check your roof or attic and make sure the PO didn’t leave you with a crappy roof and soffit venting set-up, or that the vents weren’t block by wasps, critters, etc.

Sending the best vibes I can, from one broke Millennial to another

Gotta stick together to survive in this shitty capitalist hellscape

Bless you honestly. 🙏🥺 Thank you for this advice! I'm definitely going to use the bleach solution on the mold.. it's everywhere and all into my insulation.

Exactly everything you said is what the repair guy just told me lol that's exactly why there's mold. The previous owners installed a gigantic unit for whatever unknown reason. Unfortunately the AC unit is roughly 20 years old, so I can't trade it in for anything because all the parts and coolant supplies it uses are no longer on the market/viable. We were able to measure what kind of AC unit we'd need and the smaller unit brought the cost down from $13k to...$11.6k. So, not much, but still a little. (I've been considering asking for ko-fi donations since I'm honestly and truly desperate, but I first need to wrestle the part of my brain that doesn't allow me to ask for help first lol).

Thank you, anon, for your advice on this. It truly means a lot to me that you took the time to reach out! People like you make being a poor millennial a little bit easier. Seriously, bless you.

[rosedmuse]

entitle; for haruseonne 950 days

if i had to write on a wish list just one gift out of millions in the world to treasure forever, then i wouldn't hesitate scribbling your name down on it.

happy 950 days (and more), harutosan! 

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

And thus, it's time his flight is due. Amidst all lies, he very well went and grew. Across endless skies of the brightest blue, A bird of ambition finally soars through.

Ah, lines like these never grow old; never failing to prompt me into being completely honest about just how pretty of a name 'Haruto' is. And so is 'Asuka'.

Pair the two up and immediately a masterpiece is born. A work of art in its truest formーan actor encapsulating the essences of beauty, passion, and an endless pursuit of perfection.

Anyone would think a person of this character exists solely in a realm beyond what an ordinary human can ever imagine. But guess what.

Here I am, sitting right behind the being divine in question.

"Seonne?" He asks.

"Haruto-san," I respond.

"What chapter are you on?"

"Five."

With a shrill almost like that of an eagle, he quickly shifts a quarter around in his seat to face me; looking nothing less than bewildered, "already!?"

A warm, sunny day veils over Veludo Way this morning, making the final couple hours of daytime an ideal setting for an outdoor unwind, specifically at the park.

While parked beside a large tree for shade, an old blanket is laid down onto the grass to get ourselves comfortable on. I take a seat on the spot where the view features children fly their kites and families enjoy their own picnics, and Haruto, who is sits opposite of me, relishes at the sight of the townscape spreading out gradually below us; both of us leaning onto each other's backsides for support. And how could a date at the park be an actual date at the park without... books! I brought with me two volumes from the series I'm currently a huge fan of. Why two, you might ask? Well, the second book's for me; and since I'm done with the first one, my companion promised to start this story alongside me.

"The protagonist reminds me of you," I tell him, eyes fixed solely on the material I have resting on my knees, "strong, smart, a little silly at times but y'know..."

"Hey," Haruto snaps, and I feel a gentle poke by my ticklish side. Glancing back accusingly at him after holding back my sensitive nerves, I meet his lilac eyes and recognize a tiny hint of a tease in them. With a light shake of my head, I return to my page.

It's nice that we managed to finish work a little early today. Sometimes, a brief pause from the world is all a busy person needs to recharge, recoup, and renew the flames driving their fiery hearts forward. Not to mention that today happens to be an extra special day for us, too.

"No, really," I say again, "you do remind me of the protagonist. They're known for a lot of names, too!"

"I'm known only for one other name!" Haruto argues. He may not know it (or simply refuses to admit it) but his sudden outbursts like this make him really cute at times. No way I'm using that word right to his face though or I'd be done for!

He clears his throat. "And, well..." but falters, before he could form a coherent thought out.

Clearly, that doesn't normally happen. Must he be wanting to add something a bit more serious to the conversation?

Temporarily inserting a marker and setting my book aside, I reach out and rest my hand above his shoulder to assure and urge him on. He hasn't directed his eyes towards me yet, so I assume he's still sorting his head out.

"Seonne,"

Wait. His accent changed.

"What's the matter, Harutoー"

"No." He swiftly places his index finger over my lips. Leaning close to my ear, he whispers, "you can call me by my real name when we're alone."

Oh.

Well, this is new.

Mentally practicing every day how the name might sound when I finally can say it aloud seems to have come in handy all of a sudden. What perfect timing.

"So..." After a moment, I clarify, "Genta?"

"Gen-chan," he corrects.

"Gen-chan!?"

"Please."

Extending my arms around him in a hug, I press my cheek firmly onto his shoulder. I may not have seen the reaction on his face, but feeling the weight of his head lightly on mine and him holding onto my interlinked arms, already tells me everything I need to know.

"I 'ppreciate ya keepin' up with me."

"I wouldn't want to keep up with anyone else anyway," I proudly say. "Right, Gen-chan?"

And who could've known that an entity so regal and brave is likewise (though occasionally) capable of showing the world a smile so sweet, genuine and humane?

Although he has yet to own a clue, As to when he'll find out his cue. And once come the first couple few, As fate wills, he is to be born anew.