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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 12 | S.R.)

Summary: A week later, Reader tries to reconnect with Spencer. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW)   Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Gap (10yrs), penetrative sex, degradation, Daddy kink, unprotected sex, BDSM, choking Word Count: 8.3k

MASTERLIST

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You might think that dating Spencer Reid would make doing your homework way easier, but you would be wrong. Turns out that dating a genius includes him lecturing you on the importance of learning things yourself.

That’s why I had been sitting at his kitchen table with him for at least two hours, struggling to finish the last five problems on my assignment while he casually read a book in a language I couldn’t even place.

“Speenceeerrr.” I called from across the table, reaching in his direction with the saddest pout I could form.

“Don’t whine,” he answered without even looking up. Jerk.

“I’m bored,” I continued to whine without any shame, “Can I come sit on your lap?”

“No.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I realized he was in one of his stubborn moods. But that was fine. I could deal with stubborn.

“Please?” I asked, only to receive another immediate “No.”

This time I put both of my hands in front of me, pressing my breasts together while I leaned over the table as I asked, “… Pretty please?”

That was enough to get him to finally lower his book, peeking across the table to see me staring at him with wide doe eyes and a coy smile.

“You’re very cute,” he said with an extremely brief smile, returning back to his book when he concluded, “Still no.”

“Come on!” I cried with a groan, “I promise I’ll behave.”

He laughed at that, idly flipping a page before speaking. “Oh, you do? You promise?”

“Yes!”

“Fine. Bring your homework,” he instructed, gesturing to me to come over without ever putting down his book.

I scrambled to collect everything, happily padding over to him and dumping my book, notepad, and pencils in front of him. Once I was there, though, he suddenly raised his hand to stop me.

“Take off your pants.”

With a raised eyebrow, I shifted my hip to the side to inspect his suspiciously calm, vague demeanor.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Considering that response was completely unhelpful but also incredibly hot, I listened. I tried to make a little bit of a show out of it, but his eyes were glued to the page in front of him until my pants finally hit the ground.

“Take off the rest.”

It was then that he started to look at me. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, licking his lips as he began undoing his own pants.

The sound of his buckle coming undone was enough to spark butterflies in my stomach, and I began removing my underwear with a renewed vigor.

“Don’t look so excited, little girl,” he warned in that low register that usually accompanied his more dominant persona. I considered arguing back, but ultimately just let out a playful giggle.

After he had finally removed his bottoms enough to reveal himself, I bounced on my toes as I waited for the command I knew was coming.

“Sit down.”

There it was. Allowing him to guide my hips to turn me around so that I was facing the table, I swung my leg over him to straddle his lap, lowering down onto him slowly.

And slow was the only word for it. He didn’t allow me to move more than an inch every few seconds, his breath hitching each time until I was fully seated on him.

I could feel the blood rushing to my face, my mouth hung open with hungry breaths. When I tried to begin moving my hips, however, he halted me with a firm grip on my hips.

He clicked his tongue in my ear, digging his fingers into my sides as he held me there. “I don’t think so. You’re going to sit here and stay very still until I tell you to move.”

“But—“ I barely got a word in edgewise before he countered.

“You promised to behave. Now do your homework. I want to finish what I’m reading.”

I huffed, struggling to move one more time and ultimately failing. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do your work and be patient and maybe I’ll fuck you, or get up and get nothing. Those are your options.”

I was certain that if I could see him, he would have that clever, devilish smirk he always wore when he was fucking with me. But I forced myself to keep my eyes straight ahead, leaning forward to grab my pencil from the table to hopefully finish my work quickly. If he wasn’t going to check it, I could just bullshit it.

Of course, as soon as my pencil hit the page he shifted underneath me in a very purposeful way, forcing himself even deeper into me.

“Fuck!” I gasped, gripping my pencil tighter as I arched my back.

“Language.”

With a deep breath, I forced a smile as I issued an extremely sarcastic apology.

“Sorry, daddy.”

After that he was much kinder, allowing me to work without any more rude interruptions. Granted, my maximum capacity to function was still very low, and it took me at least ten minutes to finish three of the five questions.

It was hard enough having him inside of me, the warm throbbing of his cock like an extension of myself at this point, but once he finished the book, it was a completely different level of impossible. Because no sooner did the book hit the table than were both of his hands on me.

One hand remained rooted on my hip, halting any attempts at movement while the other crept up to fondle my chest. I took the new ministrations to be permission to move, but he quickly cut off that train of thought as he leaned his chest against my back.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Daddy—“ I desperately whined, my hips moving with a mind of their own even as he tried to hold me down. Spencer was still dedicated to making it worse, moving my hair to one side and latching his mouth onto my neck.

“Keep going,” he mumbled into the skin.

So I tried. I cannot stress enough how hard I tried, my mind functioning much like a toddler being told to focus on math while sitting in front of a fucking funfetti birthday cake.

“Wrong.” Spencer whispered in my ear, his eyes apparently watching my botched attempts at my homework. With a general sound of displeasure, I erased my previous answer and changed it.

“Still wrong.”

Breaking the scene for just a second, I hoarsely begged, “Please, Spencer.”

He must have sensed my mounting frustration, because soon he was palming my breast much harder, his hand finally letting my hips begin to rock.

“Tell me, is it just because my dick is in you, or are you always this clueless?”

The breath left my lungs in short bursts, his words both hurtful and hot against my ear. I didn’t let it faze me, still scribbling some answer on the sheet while I spoke. “I-I told you before I can’t... I can’t focus when you’re inside me.”

He lowered his hands, running them down my bare thighs before dragging them back up, leaving angry red marks in his wake.

“You should’ve thought about that before you asked to sit on my lap.”

This time, he lightly nibbled on my ear once he stopped talking, laughing at the way a shiver ran through my body.

“I didn’t think you would do... this,” I quietly confessed.

“So you just wanted to tease me? And now you’re mad I beat you at your own game?”

Rocking back and forth, I groaned, “It wasn’t a game, I just wanted to sit on your lap!”

“And now you are sitting on my lap and you’re still whining.” He retorted, his hands returning to their heavy petting wherever they could reach.

“Because I want you to fuck me!”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

If I had been sexually frustrated before, now I was essentially feral. The harder I tried to move, the more he tried to stop me until I got fed up, forcing out a few hostile words.

“Fuck you.”

His hand flew up to my face, grabbing my cheeks roughly and forcing my lips to pucker.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Why would I listen to you if you aren’t going to fuck me?” I muttered through my contorted face, now struggling to lift off his lap.

He wasn’t having that, though, and roughly tugged me back down onto him while he thrusted up into me.

“Because I said so,” he ever so kindly reminded.

“Fuck!” I cried out at the rough intrusion, continuing with an even angrier exclamation, “Fuck you!”

“Fine.”

I’m not sure what it was about his voice when he uttered that one syllable, but dread coursed through my veins. I couldn’t tell exactly what was coming, but I knew he was going to have fun doing it.

“If you want me to fuck you, I will.”

Before I could protest, he had swept the items on the table onto the ground and lifted me off of him. He dropped me harshly against the table, standing so he could have the upper ground.

“After all, you have quite a bit of naughty behavior to answer for. And right now, I’m more than happy to administer the punishment.”

I rolled my eyes at the way he always managed to drag these things out. We both knew I was going to be a brat, so why waste our time with threats I clearly wanted him to follow through on?

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

Spencer bitterly laughed, staring down at me with far too much amusement as his fingers brushed over my lips.

“How badly do you want it, little girl?” He said as he continued the trend of sudden, rough movements by shoving his fingers down my throat. “I should’ve warned you not to do anything to me you don’t expect me to do to you in return.”

Gagging lightly on his fingers pressing down against my tongue, I only felt my need for him to fuck me skyrocket. Through the lustful haze, I managed to remember what he had done to me in this situation… and how I had responded.

I bit down on his fingers just hard enough to leave a small indentation on them, and he jerked his hand back the same way I had.

His slap across my face was just as hard, too. The sound filled the room, and I had to bite back a moan at the way my cheek stung where his hand had hit.

When I turned my face back to him, I bit my lip before smiling.

“Do it again,” I giggled.

But he didn’t listen, because of course he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed my hips, flipping me onto my stomach on the table, my face pressed against the wood.

“I don’t take orders from you, bitch.”

Another shiver ran down my spine at his words paired with the sound of his belt slowly being removed from the loops of his pants.

“And honestly? I’m tired of hearing your voice.” He finished, his hand reaching around to open my mouth. He worked the belt between my teeth like a bit for a horse, tugging back on the material. With my head craned back, I began to rub my legs together, already missing the way it felt to be filled by him.

I tried to groan in disapproval, but it just came out as garbled noise. Spencer didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s been so long that you’ve forgotten I’m not as nice as you. That I’ve been taming brats a lot longer than you.”

For a moment I was left there just like that, laid out on his kitchen table for his consumption. I could tell from the silence that he was enjoying watching me squirm, taking in the brief image of me submitting to him without a fight.

But then the moment ended with one swift thrust into me. The force was enough to rattle the table and I grunted from the impact.

“If you’ve got a problem, don’t bother trying to tell me, because I don’t fucking care.” As he spoke, he gave a thrust after each clause, somehow becoming progressively more aggressive.

I’d felt him like this once before, although under different circumstances. This time he wasn’t just using me to get through pain. This was something else.

The freedom I could feel flowing between us was intoxicating, and for once in my life I didn’t want to fight him. I didn’t have to. He was already doing everything I could have ever asked of him.

At least, that’s what I thought until he started talking again.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his hips slowly to make sure he was fully entering me with each thrust. “You really love keeping your daddy’s cock warm, don’t you, little girl?”

It was always strange, to feel the duality of Spencer. The way that his words could sound so much like praise while littered with downright filthy words. Or how he used one hand to gag me with his belt and the other tenderly caressed my sides.

“You’re so good at being a pretty little slut for me. Letting me use you.”

His voice was so smooth, with a confidence I was unaccustomed to hearing from him. My fingernails scraped at the table, trying to fight against the way my entire body slid against the wood.

I could feel my muscles desperately clenching around him, my feet trying to remain on the floor. The light struggle didn’t go unnoticed, with a dark laugh coming from Spencer as he leaned over top of me, pressing me down with the weight of his body.

“I don’t understand how a slut like you has such a tight little cunt.”

A loud moan escaped from the little space between my teeth and the leather, and I could feel the saliva dripping down my chin. Tears had already started forming in my eyes, my cheekbone still raw from his hand now burning against the table.

“What’s it going to take to break you, huh? Or have I already?” He whispered as his fingers gripped my hips with bruising force.

“No fight left in you, little girl? You gonna give up? You gonna cry?” He mocked, earning my first attempt at a response. The gag got in my way, though, and it just came out as a wrecked sob as he entered me with another rough thrust.

“Speak up.”

The next noise out of my mouth was a guttural groan, my back arching enough to lift my face from the table and loosen the belt against my lips.

“Here, I’ll make it easier for you.” He said before using his hand to wrench the accessory from my teeth, tossing it in front of me on the table. I could see my teeth marks against the leather.

“S-Spe…” I tried, but couldn’t even finish his name. My mind seemed somewhere else, some place to which only he could take me. Nothing else mattered here; nothing except pleasing him.

Which is what made his nails against my skin so exciting. But still, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as the way he continued to laugh at the mess he made of me.

“How pathetic. You can’t even say my name? Doesn’t matter anyway.” He stood back up, providing him the leverage to drive further into me once more, pulling my hips back against him with both hands now.

“A useful cunt doesn’t talk. So don’t even think about bothering with your little safe word now. I’m not stopping until I’m finished taking what’s mine.”

I’m not sure if it was from the way my lips caught on the wood, how hard I was biting down on my lip, or a mark from the belt, but I could taste blood somewhere on my lips.

“Don’t stop.” My voice was weak and hoarse from disuse, but the words were audible, and that’s all I cared about.

I was a little surprised, though, when Spencer immediately withdrew. Then I realized that I had inadvertently given him another order, and he didn’t seem too happy about the fact it was one he wanted to follow.

With much more strength than needed, he lifted me by my arm and flipped me onto my back. My joints had given up even when the rest of me hadn’t, leaving me lolling like a rag doll under his will.

I could only imagine what he saw, my cheek only slightly less red than the blood tainted spit covering my chin as I held my body open to him.

The smirk on his face was positively feral, like a predator admiring his catch before going in for the kill.

“You’re so fucking filthy. You actually like this, don’t you?”

When I didn’t immediately answer, he brought his hand against my cheek much lighter this time. Although I knew it wasn’t a smart response, I couldn’t help but giggle at the way it caused goosebumps to ripple over my skin.

His hips snapped forward, entering me completely all at once. Spencer couldn’t stop himself from moaning, belying his stoic nature in scenes like this. He was enjoying himself so much that he couldn’t hide it anymore, and the thought just made my heart beat harder.

“Fuck me harder, daddy!” I suddenly begged, rocking my hips forward in time with his thrusts.

“God, you’re such a dirty bitch,” he responded, doing exactly what I’d asked by driving into me as the table screeched against the floor. It didn’t last long, with his hand coming up to my throat and clenching my airway within seconds. There was no warning this time.

“You’re nothing but a little toy that likes being fucked like a cheap whore.”

I would have screamed out in agreement, but I could barely manage to breathe under his unrelenting grip. Instead, my eyes began to roll to the back of my head, my mouth open in an attempt to take in any air.

“Go ahead, go to sleep, little girl. I don’t need you to be awake for this part.”

The butterflies in my stomach had migrated to my chest, filling every inch of space that used to be filled with air. The burning in my face was even hotter now, and I honestly felt I might collapse in on myself if he didn’t finish soon.

Luckily, his hips began to falter the longer he watched me scraping at his hand on my throat. With one more thrust, he threw his head back with closed eyes.

The sweat on his brow showed just how much of himself he gave to this moment, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. Seeing him come undone inside of me was one of my favorite past times.

“Fuck!” He growled through clenched teeth. His fingers twitched harder against my neck as I felt him spill his release deep inside of me, his hips still trying to push further into me. Once he opened his eyes, it’s like he suddenly remembered that I still hadn’t taken a breath, my face draining of color before he quickly lifted his hand.

I gasped, my lungs both burning and finally relaxing as they filled with air. My energy nearly drained, I hoped to god that he wasn’t planning on making me move anytime soon. For once, I was actually grateful that he hadn’t tried to get me off, too. I’m not sure I could take it.

I closed my eyes and laughed to myself about the irony of me not protesting him staying inside me now. Soon enough, he had pulled out of me, muttering another string of curse words as he tried to find the ability to walk the few feet over to the counter.

The sound of running water felt so far away and so serene. I smiled, knowing what was coming before it happened.

Sure enough, his hands were on me once more, cleaning away the evidence he’d left behind with a warm paper towel.

My face was last, with him taking extra care to be gentle. My eyes fluttered open, looking at the way he seemed to look straight into my soul, seeking any validation he could find that I was going to be alright.

“How are you, little girl?” He asked anyway, and I just sucked my bottom lip into my mouth as I smiled.

“Dirty.”

I had meant it as a joke, but I could see a flash of guilt in his eyes. Grabbing his forearm, I started to try to sit up against my body’s wishes. Something told me he needed me to be closer to him. He needed me to be okay.

“Can you stand up?” He asked, supporting my body weight with both hands on my back.

“Yeah, I think so,” I laughed.

Once I was upright, I realized that while he was still fully dressed, my legs were fucking freezing. Spencer noticed, too, and already had a plan in place for this situation.

“Let me clean you up.”

“You already did,” I responded with a nervous glance when his fingers ran through a piece of my hair hanging in my face. He just gave me that judgmental, deadpan expression that told me he knew I was trying to get out of something.

“Come on,” he said with a light pat on my ass before guiding me towards the bathroom. “We need to warm you up, anyway.”

I couldn’t argue with that; honestly, the idea of a shower sounded delightful. Still, some part of me felt strangely awkward about something so intimate. I clearly wasn’t nervous about him seeing me naked.

The thought of him taking care of me, delicately cleaning away any remaining evidence of sin, just got me much too excited. It didn’t take me long to realize that my apprehension wasn’t going to stop him.

He kept his hand wrapped around mine the whole time, even as he turned on the shower and checked the water. I didn’t mind, enjoying the glimpse into domestic life with Spencer Reid.

Although I was perfectly capable of doing it myself, I let him take off my remaining clothes before helping him remove his.

Steam filled the room that was remarkably calm. The usual suffocating sexual tension felt worlds away as Spencer helped me into the shower. My muscles immediately responded to the hot water, and I let out a happy sigh as I heard him enter behind me.

His hands were back on me, gently caressing every curve of my body under the water. Still, his touch was not sexual in the traditional sense. He pulled me closer, letting the water fall over both of us until there was nothing dry left.

Normally it would uncomfortable, for one of us to have to remain outside of the water, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind. It was like all of the focus he had in that supercharged brain could only be placed on me. Keeping me happy, safe, and warm.

And I was.

I couldn’t tell if he knew that. It felt like he didn’t.

With my back still to him, I heard him rustling with the travel-sized bottles I’d started to leave behind. I wondered to myself if I should just start leaving regular items now.

I was distracted from the thought by his fingers diligently working through my hair and on my scalp, massaging the product into a lather. For a touch I claimed to be nonsexual, I felt it all over my body.

Tilting my head further back, I nearly fell over onto him in the pleasurable haze he’d created. He just gave a small chuckle, nudging me back up so he could continue.

Before he finished, I gave a soft sigh and a mewl. When he turned me around to begin helping me wash it out, I saw the goofy smile on his face.

“I love you.” He said it like it needed to be said at all. As if he weren’t tenderly caring for me in that very moment.

A selfish part of me hated when he said it, because I still wasn’t sure when I could say it back. It seemed like there was never a right time. Before, he had been worried it would be about the suspected pregnancy, and then it had been the drugs. Now, I feared it would be swallowed into that post-coital dysphoria he always brought up.

Thankfully, he didn’t make me say anything.

“Close your eyes.” He said, tilting my chin back and maneuvering his fingers through my hair to rid it of the shampoo.

It had been a long time since I’d felt cared for like this. I didn’t know how to react. My heart was overwhelmed.

He repeated the process with the conditioner, and I remained silent once again. But Spencer didn’t seem like he missed our usual snarky repartee. I began to worry something deeper was wrong... again.

That thought was an unfortunate one to have, because it caused me to turn around. I took his hands in mine, stretching out his arms to see the remnants of bruises still peppered over his skin.

“Don’t think like that, little girl.”

His voice was harsh and crackling, filled to the brim with self loathing that I always hated to hear.

“They’re fading away, and I’m still here. There...” he paused, swallowing and trying to keep himself steady before continuing, “there won’t be any more.”

But there was still a struggle in his words. I wasn’t looking to chastise him, and it hurt to see he expected it. Which is why I began to slowly shift so that he was under the water, a weird mix of a smile masquerading as a pout.

Once he was under the water, he made a face at the way it hit him differently at his height. I ignored it, grabbing his soap from the side of the tub and pouring it into my hand.

He didn’t say anything when I started to run my hands over his chest and back. He just watched me with a quiet reverence, his eyes occasionally closing with a sigh of relief.

They stayed shut when I moved to his arms, wishing I could just wash away what was left of his scars.

“I’m not worried.” I finally spoke as I took his hands in mine, smiling at the way my fingers could be so much smaller than his and still fit so perfectly in his hands. Using the positive inertia, I wrapped my arms around him and let the water wash over both of us like a third member of our embrace.

His hands stroked my back so delicately that I barely noticed them at all. As much as I enjoyed the dramatic change of pace from our earlier activities, there was something undoubtedly off with the way he was holding me now.

I let it go for a minute longer, just so we could make out way back out of the tub. With a speed that I would never expect from someone who had exerted as much energy as he had, Spencer had wrapped me in a towel and left to fetch me his clothes for me to wear in an instant. We both knew that I’d brought my own change of clothes, but neither of us spoke about it. It was much preferable, we had each privately decided, for me to be swamped in the fabrics he loved.

Not a moment too soon we were laying in his bed, curled into a messy pile of limbs trying to convince the other that our bodies really couldn’t exist without the other. I’m not sure if it was the way his fingers still dusted over me like they would shatter me or that look in his eyes, but I couldn’t ignore the feeling any longer.

“Babe,” I cautiously began, taking his hand and pressing it fully against the cheek he so clearly wanted to touch, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It was curt and unconvincing, so I continued.

“Are you sure? You know how I feel about you lying to me.”

He sighed, rolling onto his back and away from me. His arm covered his face, but I could still see the way his eyebrows furrowed beneath it.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

At this point I was just so grateful that we’d finally made it far enough into our relationship that he didn’t feel the need to lie to me more than once. Still, I was terrified by what he could possibly say next. What was he going to tell me next? That he had a secret child? A wife?

“I just… Sometimes after we have sex I feel…”

He peeked at me, probably noting the confusion and anxiety clear in my features.

“… Like I’m the worst person in the world.”

Those previous emotions were quickly replaced with an exasperated and false gasp as I pulled myself over to him.

“Well, that does wonders for my self-esteem, Dr. Reid.” I laughed, looking up at him from where my head rested against his chest. His heart even sounded troubled somehow.

“No, it’s not that. God, no. You’re amazing.”

“I know, right?” I continued to joke, hoping that it would make his vulnerability at least a little bit easier. It seemed to work, and his arms found their home around me once again.

“I spend almost all of my time, every day, trying to find and stop murderers and rapists. The worst possible people on this earth; people that everyone agrees are evil incarnate, and then I come home and…”

He trailed off, but it was obvious what he was going to say. It was hard to hear him compare himself to the men he hunted. He didn’t talk often about work, but he’d said enough for my chest to hurt at the implication.

“Spencer…”

“How can I feel like I’m a good person when I get off on hurting something as beautiful and innocent as you?”

“I am not innocent,” I scoffed, pushing at his chest to prop myself up again. Positioning myself to hang above him, I smiled when his nose twitched from the way my hair tickled his face. His eyes flickered back and forth, seeing something I’m not sure I would ever understand.

“Yes, you are. It’s one of the many things I love most about you.”

His hand on the back of my head convinced me to close the gap between us. I planted a soft yet meaningful kiss on his lips, but it wasn’t enough to stop the racing thoughts.

“Spencer, you aren’t anything like those guys.” I assured him, running my hand through his damp hair that had just started to curl.

“I’m not always so sure.” His eyes had finally met mine, unsure and petrified all at once.

“Well, I am.” I didn’t know how to explain it to him. He was always the one who had the words to explain things. All I had were quotes from people much smarter than myself.

“Look me in my eyes right now and tell me that you would still enjoy it if you honestly knew I wasn’t having fun.”

“I don’t know.”

I could recognize that he didn’t mean it. Those endorphins he was always talking about were screwing with his head. I’d seen his reactions when I was in pain. He did not like it.

“Spencer. You’re just going to have to believe me when I say that you are a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

His tongue swept over his lips before he bit down on it, trying to swallow his doubts before he could give them any more life.

“I love playing with you, and I trust you with my life because I know you would never do anything to risk it. Okay?”

Spencer looked like he was finally starting to get it. Either that or he had just realized I wasn’t going to change my mind. Regardless, he gave a small pout as he said, “Okay.”

Shimmying further onto him, I swung my leg over his hip so I was practically sprawled over him like a blanket.

“Now tell me you love me,” I teased, settling onto him while he groaned at the sudden weight.

“I do love you.” He laughed when he said it, which was my goal in the first place.

With feigned bashfulness I cooed, “Awww, thanks.”

“You’re such a dork.”

The insult was such a ridiculous notion to me that I was convinced I had heard him wrong.

“Wow, I’m going to pretend like the man with 3 PhDs didn’t just call me a dork.”

I nestled my face to his neck, feeling the way his heartbeat was fluctuating as we began to settle into the calmness of a simple night together.

“It takes a dork to love a dork,” he opined in the dorkiest manner possible. But considering how those words in his voice brought so much joy to my heart, I chose to accept his hypothesis.

“Pffft. Go to sleep, old man.” I muttered, reaching up to loosely cover his mouth with my hand. The feel of his mouth curling into a smile before kissing my palm was all I needed to feel safe enough to sleep.

“Thank you, (y/n).”

“Anytime.”

—————————————————

The next morning felt a lot like the way the previous night had ended. I swear, it was almost like Spencer and I hadn’t moved an inch throughout the night. Maybe we really had been that tired.

Either way, I wasn’t tired anymore. I knew that if I stayed splayed out on top of Spencer while I was this restless, I would wake him up anyway. So I slowly inched off, hoping not to disturb him too much.

To my surprise, he barely stirred. Don’t get me wrong; his arms followed my body and required all of my strength to peel them off of me.

“Babe, I have to get up. I’ll be right back.” I mumbled, practically crawling out of his grip while he grumbled nonsense into the pillow.

He was so adorable that I almost felt bad about leaving him there alone. Almost.

See, Spencer had done so much for me in our relationship up to this point that it was starting to feel lopsided. I didn’t like that. There is something about owing people anything that doesn’t sit right with me.

That’s why, after sleepily brushing my teeth and trying to control the disaster of a bird’s nest on my head that resulted from sleeping on wet hair, I set out to do some good old fashioned chores.

It wasn’t hard to figure out where Spencer kept things - one of the perks of having a boyfriend with such a hatred of germs, I guess.

I don’t honestly know how long I spent topping off the cleaning around his apartment, but it couldn’t have been that long. The place was basically already spotless. Once I was satisfied, I picked up the thing I had been avoiding: my homework.

And that’s when Spencer conveniently awoke, ready to distract me from finishing the last few problems once more.

“I never thought I’d see you willingly doing your homework.”

I turned around from the couch, smiling at the state of my sleepy boyfriend still wrapped in a blanket. Adorable.

“Well, someone distracted me last night.”

“Oh, did they?” He joked as he came over to plant a kiss on the top of my head before making his normal beeline to make his morning cup of coffee.  But after I heard the familiar clinking of mugs, I paused my work with a smile.

“... Did you... did you do the dishes?”

“Yeah, why?” I called back, hearing the loud grinding of the gears moving in his mind.

“And made coffee.”

“Yes.”

I remained looking forward because somehow it made his confusion all the better. His hand was sliding against the counter top before moving to the stovetop, where I heard him moving the grates.

“... Did you clean my entire kitchen?”

“You’re very perceptive, Dr. Reid.”

He laughed, walking back over to me from the other direction with a pleasant, if not goofy, grin. He was going to say something else, but stopped when he noticed the basket filled with clean laundry on the floor next to the couch.

“You did my laundry? How long have you been awake? How did I sleep through this?”

Although he bent over to pick up the basket and turned to carry it off to the bedroom, he kept his eyes on me, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “A couple hours? You must have been tired.”

His eyes narrowed in an attempt to see through me, to learn the secrets of how I had managed to out-Spencer Reid him with my particularity.

“What? It’s not a very big place, Spencer. And most of your clothes are dry cleaned.”

As he walked away, I heard him groan. Like he should be embarrassed by the state of his apartment. Honestly, his starting point was cleaner than even the best deep clean would do for my apartment. If anyone was embarrassed, it was me.

“You should’ve woken me up,” he called from the hallway.

“You looked too cute!” I shouted back when he disappeared around the corner. “I didn’t want to ruin it. You don’t get enough sleep.”

Upon his return, he stood above me with a sarcastic scrutiny. I put my pencil down, looking up at him from my cross legged position on his couch.

“Is this what domestic life with you is like?” He asked, unable to hide his admiration any longer.

“Only when you’re nice to me.” I teased, reaching forward to grab the blanket still hanging over his shoulders to pull him closer to me.

“I’m always nice to you.”

“Then I guess that’s your answer.”

Losing his balance just a bit, he awkwardly stumbled onto the couch, plopping down next to me with the total lack of grace I’d come to expect from him.

“Well, thank you. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

“I wanted to.” I admitted, brushing his unruly curls out of his face. “Because now you have nothing to distract you from paying attention to me.”

He groaned, craning his neck away from me at the words, “Should’ve known there was a catch.”

“Oh yes,” I continued, climbing onto his lap with no resistance on his part. “I was thinking you and I could go to the park and…”

“Don’t say it,” he warned, raising a finger to my lips.

I didn’t care, and shouted past the digit, anyway.

“Please, Spencer! Take me for a picnic! Just once!”

“You know how I feel about picnics.”

Now it was my turn to whine, grabbing his hand between mine and lowering it, leaning forward in the hopes it would distract him.

“You can eat before and just feed me fruit. Spoil me rotten.”

My distractions didn’t work, and he didn’t even bother trying to kiss me back. He just spoke hurriedly into my lips.

“It’s not even just the food I’m worried about! Did you see the numbers of Lyme infections in the county?”

My eyebrows popped up, and I stuck my tongue out for a second in my excitement.

“Ooh, Doctor, you can check me for ticks,” I cooed.

Closing the space between us, I gave him a light, chaste kiss. Despite returning it, he also gave back a pout.

“Please don’t make me do this.”

Conveniently, he had forgotten that I was much more experienced at pouting. What I did next wasn’t really a pout, though, it was more like puppy dog eyes and a childish grin meant to evoke the strongest sense of guilt.

He dropped his head back, closing his eyes like he didn’t have an eidetic memory that would burn my cute nonsense into his brain.

“Why does the begging only work one way?”

“Is that a yes?” The excitement was clear in my voice, which must have sealed the deal.

Because he just sighed, running his hands up and down my waist.

“Fine. But I’m going to check you for ticks after and I promise you will not like it.”

This time when his hands made their way down my body, I rocked my hips against his. I could feel his erection already straining under his pants.

And he was acting like he was actually disappointed.

“You always say that and I always like it.” I pointed out, reorienting my heat over his erection and continuing my motions back and forth against him.

“Oh, really?” He tried to act calm, but I felt the way his fingers got tighter, his hips bucking up every couple of seconds.

“Yes,” I breathily whispered into his mouth before melting into a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

It didn’t last long, with his hand threading through my hair and pulling lightly to expose my neck to him.

“Tell me what you like, little girl.”

When he uttered the words, I noticed he was placing small kisses against the same pattern of his hand that had been wrapped around my neck. The thought alone consumed me, and I dug my fingers into his shoulders, gasping at the sensation of his tongue swirling patterns over my pulse.

“You,” was the only syllable I could express.

The light chuckle he gave sent shivers down my spine, his bottom lip dragging over my skin while he savored the newly forming memories.

“I never got to spoil you last night,” he reminded, bringing a hand down to stroke my thigh.

“Oh, I wasn’t disappointed at all.” I was going to continue, telling him that he didn’t have to get me off every time. Then again, I knew that he wasn’t going to accept that answer, anyway. Regardless, he spoke quickly and with confidence when he said, “I’m still going to make up for it. Take off your pants.”

I wasted no time springing up from my position with a cheeky little taunt. “This sounds familiar.”

“But this time you were a good girl.”

The distinction was not lost on me, and I had to admit hearing him call me a good girl in this context turned me on more than I had thought it would. Apparently, I was wrong for thinking I was entirely a brat, because right now I just wanted to hear him praise me.

“Maybe I should do that more often,” I happily hummed as I began to straddle him once more, pausing for a moment for him to lay languid, open-mouthed kisses against my breasts.

He paused just for a second to growl, “Don’t you dare.”

I didn’t bother saying ‘I told you so’ because he was already pulling my hips down so that I could sink onto his length. Biting my lip to try and stifle the full moan, my fingers returned to their place embedded in his skin.

“Fuck,” he spoke under his breath and through a clenched jaw, “I don’t think you understand what you do to me.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. I could only guess the effect I had on him by just how stupid the bona fide genius got when I was around.

When I could look into his eyes again I pushed his hair back with both hands, trying to express my feelings with each roll of my hips.

“Tell me about it,” I purred, my mouth hanging open as he started to thrust up in slow, synchronized movements.

Through the heavy panting and strained motions of his muscles, he spoke with a clarity that demonstrated how long he’d thought about his words.

“I just… I’ve never been able to picture a future until the day I met you.”

My heart stopped for a moment before continuing its strong, hard rhythm against the inside of my rib cage. I wanted to see the look on his face, but he had buried his head into my neck and hair. Each inhale seemed so purposeful, reminding me that I smelled of his soap.

I smiled at the way his hands felt just like they had last night, holding themselves back from claiming me with the rough, greedy nature they so often did.

“I can recall any minor detail from any point in the past. I relive them so often, but the future? That was always this terrifying, suffocating concoction of unknowns until that night.”

It almost felt like I was there again, feeling the bass shaking the chair I was sitting in when I kissed him for the very first time. I thought about the compassion in his eyes when he learned the truth about our situation.

Although it had only a few months since then, it felt like a lifetime ago. I couldn’t and didn’t want to remember a life before Spencer Reid.

Once again reading my mind, he stopped laying kisses against my shoulders to hold my face in his hand, stroking my cheek while our bodies continued in their need.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

When he thrust up this time, his eyes shut and his mouth hung open as he pulled our foreheads together. I continued to watch him, watching how his eyebrows furrowed and he tried to focus on remembering this moment more than usual.

“A future with you, huh?” I whispered, my features softening as he struggled to look at me through his own infatuated haze. “It sounds nice.”

He smiled, and I continued before he could take my lips with his own.

“A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies.” My attempts to excite him were absolutely working, because with each idea I provided, the urgency with which he pulled me down increased.

“Just a normal, domestic life,” I laughed, my legs beginning to shake as he held me against him with each movement, “with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.”

“Fuck,” he muttered without providing any other answer before pressing his thumb against my puckered lips.

I took it into my mouth quickly, lavishing it with my tongue as much as I could before he removed it. His hand then shot down to where our bodies were joined, beginning to rub my clit in rough, circular strokes.

The trembling that was once contained to my legs spread throughout my entire body, the moans spilling out of my mouth without a care in the world for who might hear. As long as Spencer was enjoying my responses, that’s all that mattered to me.

I wanted him to see the things I could never say. The way I felt whenever I was with him.

“Don’t tempt me, little girl. Keeping talking like that and I’ll steal you away from whatever plans you had.” He spoke in my ear with that low register, his voice barely above a whisper.

I could hardly breathe, and I spent all my energy trying to follow his words.

“Take me.” I urged, feeling the tension in my muscles approaching their breaking point. “Take me, Spencer. Please.”

It was with those words that I felt my body give into him, my muscles gripping him and begging him to join me in my release. But he waited, giving a few more rough, deep thrusts into me.

“Just like a true daddy’s girl.” He chuckled, watching as I came undone, my body eventually going half limp in his arms. “You’re already spoiled rotten.”

My skin was sticky with sweat, and the sounds of our bodies colliding together in the dim morning light continued to overwhelm my senses. He seemed to enjoy the way he could clean me just to dirty me all over again, and I almost made a comment about it, but I couldn’t find the words in time.

Instead, I just whined, “I want more. I want it.”

He didn’t respond with words because he didn’t have to, his broken, shaky thrusts spoke for him. Using both hands to slam my body down against him one last time, he gave a guttural moan against the side of my face.

“It’s all for you, little girl.” He said between breaths. I cried out at the sensation of him filling me, my muscles clutching onto him like a vice, begging him to stay with me until he was completely spent.

He took the offer, pulling my body against his and leaning us back while we caught our breath. Eventually, I was the one to speak, my words suddenly sleepy and disoriented from the emotional toll of our encounter.

“Thank you.”

His chest still rose and fell with his deep breaths, trying to stabilize his heart before he spoke.

“For what?”

“Loving me.”

That look on his face was back; the one that begged me not to say the words back to him. I hated it. I wanted to tell him the truth, and now felt like such a perfect moment. But at the same time, I understood why he didn’t want it associated with sex.

‘Right now you just think that because your body is coursing with endorphins and adrenaline,’ I could hear him saying, ‘Once that goes away, you might find you feel differently about me.’

But it wasn’t true. I would feel this way about him forever. I already knew that with every fiber of my being. Then again, there was no point in arguing with him.

I would just continue to show him however I could, through loads of laundry and sleepy kisses. My ‘I love you’s would be subtly explaining who got what side of the bed and whether our children would look more like me or him.

At least for now. Until he decided he was ready, or until I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I really hoped it would be the former.

—————————————————

| Part 13 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #Criminal Minds #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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lacefuneral · 4 years

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Hello! If you haven't done them yet for the ship meme, would you answer 4, 14, and/or 21? Thank you!

(ship headcanon meme)

I’m not sure if this is for spirk or daforge so I’m doing both!

TOS Spirk:

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Honestly? Spock. Between being raised with Vulcan values and not being able to form significant interpersonal relationships (due to bullying/xenophobia) I imagine that he’d be incredibly touch starved. Kirk brushes against his arm for the first time. Just a casual, platonic gesture and Spock’s like “I… am not opposed to this.” Because finally, he gets to experience physical contact from another person that isn’t violent in nature. So he welcomes all of the times that Kirk puts a hand on his shoulder, or pats his back, or tugs at a sleeve to get his attention. It reminds Spock that he is safe and cared for.

So when they actually start dating (and they’re no longer secretive about it), it’s just… PDA city. He wants to reciprocate, send those same feelings back to Jim and more. Spock’s leaning on him, hugging him, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder, and holding his hand (like the whole hand - not just ozh'esta). Stuff that by human standards is relatively tame, and not too dissimilar from what Jim was doing before (if a bit more lovey-dovey), but by Vulcan standards is risqué at best, obscene at worst. Anyway, Jim loves every second of it. He’s like “Hello, my gorgeous Vulcan. Yes, you can sit on the armrest of the captain’s chair and thread our fingers together. ;)”

The crew hates it. Like, there’s no lips involved but they know what’s up. You know the vine of the couple holding each other in Panera Bread? It’s like that.

IS THIS ALLOWED? IS THAT ALLOWED?

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14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Jim is THE biggest baby when he gets a cold. He just kind of flops over and is like “This is it! I’m going to die!” And Spock just sort of rolls his eyes and brings him his cough medicine, or whatever they have in the future. And he’ll open up a book of Vulcan poetry, and read to Jim in his dulcet baritone until he eventually falls asleep.

Spock, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. He’s exceedingly stubborn, and refuses to stay in bed. Instead, he’ll try to suit-up in full hazmat gear (to avoid contamination) and run experiments in his lab. Until Jim catches him, of course, and does his usual: “Ah, ah, ah! No you don’t, mister!” Drags him back to his quarters, tucks him into bed, and climbs under the covers with him to keep him nice and warm. (Because Vulcans are cold-blooded.) Eventually, Spock relents, and falls asleep while Jim spoons him and gently strokes his hair.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

It’s the places they don’t go together that makes them nervous. There’s always that fear where, if only one of them goes on an away mission, the other won’t be there to protect him from danger. But having the bond helps. They’re able to check in with one another, even from a great distance - even when communicators are unhelpful. And that eases the worry somewhat.

That being said…

Spock always feels weird about going back home to Vulcan, because he has a lot of bad memories there. He worries that he’ll encounter people who harassed him in his youth, or that people will be hostile towards his human bondmate. And Jim worries for Spock, doesn’t want him to feel uncomfortable or afraid of his homeworld. And he reminds Spock of how much he has accomplished, and assures him that he will make a fine ambassador someday. That the xenophobia he faced as a child is becoming a thing of the past, and that he has the same right to be there as any other Vulcan. And that no matter what happens, Jim will always love and support him. The first couple of trips are rough on them both, but eventually they manage to not only feel comfortable visiting Vulcan, but greatly look forward to it. Spock always takes him to museums and historical sights, and Jim eagerly learns about the culture so he can understand his husband better.

Daforge:

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

I feel like at first, both of them would be really awkward about any sort of contact. Because Data isn’t sure when he should hold hands with or kiss Geordi. Where is that behavior acceptable, and where is it not? How does he know if that’s what Geordi wants? Meanwhile, Geordi assumes that because Data is an android, he just… has no interest in that sort of thing. And that, if Data did reciprocate, he’d only be doing it to please Geordi and not because he genuinely wants to do that. But eventually Data asks Geordi if he can kiss him, because he loves him and wants to “Express this through a physical gesture.” And Geordi’s like: uhhhh yeah, of course you can! And the awkwardness completely diffuses after that.

Once Geordi has been reassured that Data genuinely wants physical affection - that the feelings are mutual - he readily initiates it. Lots of arms-around-the-waist-smiling-against-his-back “Hey, babe. We still on for chess today?” Lots of standing-on-the-tips-of-his-toes to give Data a quick peck on the lips. If he’s feeling ambitious (and no one else is around) he might even give Data a playful smack on the butt, which never fails to make the android blush.

But Geordi isn’t the only one who does PDA. Data, for his part, is fond of kissing the back of Geordi’s hand like a Victorian suitor. Sometimes, he’ll kiss Geordi’s forehead (because it’s easier than craning his neck all the way down to kiss his lips). Or, when he’s feeling ambitious (and no one else is around), he’ll abruptly hoist Geordi into the air and carry him bridal style, which never fails to make the engineer blush.

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Data has this On Lock™. Just like he has done with Spot, he’s programmed a vast collection of soups and teas into the replicators that he’s designed for Geordi when he gets sick. (He always requests his mom’s chicken noodle soup, though, so that particular endeavor was a waste of time.) He ensures that the room is kept at an optimal temperature, that the lights aren’t too bright (in case Geordi decides to put on his VISOR), that the sound of ocean waves are playing in the background, the humidifier is running, that there’s a box of tissues and a bag of cough drops nearby, and even gives Geordi a giant teddy bear to hug if he has work to do or if he’s summoned to the bridge.

Otherwise, Data cuddles up alongside him and helps to keep Geordi’s fever down by lowering his own temperature - essentially turning himself into a giant ice pack. He massages out any sore muscles, he rubs Geordi’s back if he throws up, and he regularly updates Dr. Crusher on Geordi’s status three times an hour, just in case. We love a caring boyfriend.

Data doesn’t really get sick, because he’s an android, but he does occasionally experience a malfunction or receives damage during an away mission. During those times, Geordi just softly talks to him and assures him that everything is going to be okay while he performs the necessary repairs. Sometimes he sings to him. I’d like to imagine it’s this song by Billie Holiday. :’)

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21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

After the whole Kivas Fajo incident, they tend to stick very closely together when they’re dealing with cargo freighters, scavengers, and “collectors.” Not just for Data’s sake, but for Geordi’s. His VISOR has been stolen multiple times - with the intention of being traded for bars of gold-pressed latinum. They both watch out for each other, and they do alright - but it’s still stressful to have to be vigilant during these times.

#spirk #daforge #tos #tng #replies #jay.txt #anonymous

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checkdispleased · 4 years

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I absolutely died at “he sees this twink scoring a goal and thinks oh my god it’s happening again” seriously hadn’t laughed harder, but I am wondering about when jack’s feelings changed towards bitty? because I remember being shocked when graduation happened and I’m not sure whether jack had a crush or he was pining or what? anyway glad y’all are back!

Thanks for listening -- it’s good to be back!

That’s a great question, and I think this is one thing where your feelings will be different informed based on how you’re consuming the comic? By which I mean, is your perception of the comic colored by having read it alongside all the extras and, especially, the Twitter? Or are you just looking at strips? By 1.20 the reaction Jack has to BItty getting hit is a direct parallel to what happens at the end of 1.11, so I think that’s the point at which you are supposed to get that Jack cares for Bitty and is no longer hostile toward or irritated by him. (The stuff in 2.1 to me is kind of a red herring because Bitty’s being incredibly irritating.)

In terms of seeing Jack’s crush or pining or w/e develop, where you see it (or if you see it?) will have to do with whether you (a) know what’s going to happen before you read it; (b) were reading the comic along with the Tweets as they were posting; in regard to (a) and (b), (c) involved with the fandom and following the discourse about it; or (d) coming in cold. I’m in populations (a) and (c) so I already knew Zimbits became canon, and so a moment like Bitty bumping into Jack running with George looks flirty, or is meant to be understood as Jack subconsciously flirting -- but I also know that many people following along with the Twitter as the comic was being published ascribed to a theory called “Jack knew first.” They posited that Jack was aware that he liked Bitty and Bitty liked him, and that the moments largely depicted via Bitty’s Twitter were either (1) Jack trying to woo Bitty by buying him coffees and frozen yogurt, or (2) Zimbits were already SECRETLY DATING. I think (2) stems from the fact that the Twitter, before it was locked, got way chronologically ahead of the comic itself. For example, Bitty Tweeted about Jack visiting him in Georgia in real-time on July 3, 2015 -- but at that point the last comic posted was 2.10, in March, and the comic wouldn’t update again with 2.11 until September, and it didn’t get to Jack and Bitty kissing until February 2016. But surely some of the development of those theories has to do with conversations people were having in the fandom at the time, reading tea leaves in the form of Twets and extras and bouncing ideas off of each other? “Jack knew first” was jossed, obviously, but in the comic’s text and by Ngozi in some LS that’s summarized online somewhere.

I’ve also seen a lot of other people remark that the progression of Jack’s feelings for Bitty are deeply unclear, and that they are annoyed that this very important character development is largely contained in annoying-to-access Tweets and backmatter. So like, look, this is unhelpful af, but I really do think how you perceive that progression has everything to do with how you’re consuming he comic -- and also, to a certain extent, when?

The canon answer -- the reading the author/text want you to get -- is that Jack develops a crush on Bitty after they move in together, but he’s not in touch with his feelings and doesn’t realize or understand how he feels until his dad tells him to <go really say goodbye> in 2.17. Like, this is precisely the moment. So he had a crush but he wasn’t pining; indeed, he was so insensitive to his own feelings that his photography class pointed out to him that his entire midterm revolved around Bitty and he just kept going “but it’s of the entire hockey team?” YMMV on how effect or realistic this is.

If Tomato has another view she can throw it in here? This was kind of a sloppy answer, you know, involving not one but two separate listings systems in the same graf.

Surely we’ll think about this quite a bit re: the rest of Y1 and Y2.

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letsbefeminist · 5 years

Text

Text description: Men shouldn’t be making laws about women’s bodies.

I could talk about the irony of this guy being so bossy, but that’s a conversation for a diff day lol

So, Here are the 12ish Secrets to Avoid Having Creepy-Old-Men Make Laws About Your Body:

“Don’t have sex” -Abstinence doesn’t solve the problem, it just avoids it. It would be the equivalent of telling a new driver to just avoid accidents, rather than how to safely & properly drive. It’s incredibly unhelpful & gives no information. Acting as if sex is just some robotic exchange between humans rather than a choice almost always based on emotion is just, yuck & so heartless.

“Use a condom” -Contradiction aside, using condoms are only so effective. Pregnancies happen due to broken condoms & misuse too. There’s plenty of room for human-error; from using the wrong size to not changing your condom enough, to simply getting lost in the moment. Having access to condoms is a huge issue too. Not everyone can afford em or can get them from a free clinic or their doctor’s. This doesn’t mean they should be banned from sex, it means accessibility should change.

“But birth control. It’s not my responsibility to pay for it” - Here we are again with the fact that not everyone has equal access & effectiveness actually varies. You can’t have it both ways. If you don’t want abortions to happen then the only way to ensure that is by granting proper access for all contraceptives & furthering research into other forms of male birth control. Can’t get pregnant is everyone is on birth control.

“Use common sense. Don’t put yourself in a situation to be raped.” -Interestingly, we’re not allowed to have sex, but! we’re not ‘allowed’ to be raped, and! we’re supposed to anticipate other people’s motives -so be psychic. Then! we’re supposed to treat everyone as hostile whilst not! discriminating against men in any form. I mean, I’m sure a lot of folks used common sense however, some things are out of our control, but hold on! we’re supposed to have control over other people’s actions too.

“If you are raped go to the damn hospital.” -Shock is very real thing. Fear too. Along with shame, embarrassment, anxiety, the mental, emotional & physical ability & toll it takes to go to the hospital. Though there is a standard of treatment/care for victims, there is no specific reaction to being raped & policing victims feelings is not the way to get them help.

“Tired of this bullshit. 99% of women wanting abortions weren’t raped or victims of incest.” -I’m sure this is somewhat true, but a traumatic experience isn’t the only justifiable reason for an abortion. An abortion is valid so long as the person getting it, wants it.

“Don’t want a damn kid don’t have sex and don’t get damn pregnant!!!” -Don’t want any nightmares, then don’t go to sleep!!! It just doesn’t make sense, why just avoid the issue rather then solve it through better access to contraceptives & comprehensive sex education?

“Take some damn responsibility!” -That’s why some get abortions. They are taking responsibility by understanding that parenthood is either not for them flat out, or due to personal circumstances, they can’t raise a child. They’re responsible for their well-being also.

“Do your research and see how many rape victims who got pregnant had a bad feeling about what they were getting into before they did it.” -I don’t know how to be psychic & then not psychic at the same time. As if bad vibes or intuition aren’t real or somehow having a bad feeling about a person means a crime wasn’t committed against you.

“How many women were drunk or high at a party and got raped.” -So men are the only ones allowed to party, drink or get high? As if smoking a blunt should give anyone the right to commit a crime against you. Drinking too much should be our biggest concern, not whether there’s a rapist at the party or not.

“They shouldn’t of been there to begin with.” -Been where? At home? Work? The park? Out walking the dog? Grocery shopping? School? Checking the mail? We’re not out looking for rapists, they’re out looking for us... cause that’s what criminals do. They look for opportunities to exploit & people to victimize. They come in all shapes & sizes & it’s impossible to know whether someone is a rapist or not.

“Don’t make what the guy did right. I wouldn’t want my daughter to put herself in the situation.” - How does one blame the victim the whole time & then turn around & act like they’re not siding with literal rapists? No daughter has ever put herself in the position to be raped. The rapist did.

It’s so disheartening to see that someone would side with a rapist, rather than believe that women should be allowed to make personal decisions for themselves.

#ive seen some of this ishh lately & its sending me to an early grave oh my #reproductive rights #abortion #anti abortion #anti choice #pro choice #feminism #anti feminism #radical feminism #radfem #rape tw #incest tw #long post

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explosionshark · 5 years

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I believe fandom should be a self-policing community. I think "call-out culture" as executed by attacking people for ideological purity points without allowing room for growth is reductive and unhelpful, but I also think much of the criticism around call-out culture is a poorly disguised derailment by people who don't want to be held accountable for the shit they do/like/support.

I don't believe in doxxing, I don't believe in threats and harassment but I do believe in accountability. I believe that harmful tropes in fandom spaces need to be starved of oxygen, like a fire. They need to be starved in the dark.

I believe it's the responsibility of fandom as a community to listen to our most marginalized members, to find the things that hurt them, to look at the creators of these works and say "no, not here, this place is not for you, we don't want you."

No reviews, no kudos, no bookmarks, no rec lists, no views for toxic violent fetishism.

I grew up in fandom in the early 00s when adult/minor pairings were incredibly popular and rarely criticized. I'm aware it's still an issue in fandom but there's been a hard push back against pedophilic works in fandom over the years, it's nowhere near as popular as it once was, it's reviled widely by the majority of most fandoms.

In F/F fandoms, we're at that moment again right now with harmful, fetishistic transmisogynist tropes becoming increasingly prevalent and normalized in our spaces. A/b/o and g!p fics that appropriate fetishized version of trans women's bodies to get cis and afab people off. An undeniable majority of these stories paint trans women as sexually aggressive, dominating and often abusers, playing into tropes that actively and regularly harm members of our most vulnerable community.

I'm sick and tired of my fellow cis lesbian and bi women passively and uncritically consuming this shit. I'm tired of something that hurts our trans sisters being allowed to flourish in our fandom spaces, making them unsafe and hostile.

One of the worst perpetrators of these tropes was announced as a panel member at Clexacon this year. She already has a massive following an an extremely successful patreon - she gets PAID for this.

It's time for an accounting as a community. You can't reblog generic "fuck terfs" posts and support this shit. You can't meme about all the respect trans women juice you're drinking while participating in something that's harming them.

We've gotta get our house in order. We've gotta be accountable. We've gotta put our money where our mouth is. We've got to say no this shit.

(I'm a cis lesbian so if trans women think I need to shut the fuck up and stay in my lane, I'll happily do so)

#transmisogyny tw #the person i'm talking abt is rae/d//magdon btw

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nemossubmarine · 5 years

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Warhammer 40k: Wrath & Glory RP #1

So about 2 years after finishing KoNS, I’m starting another “another RP”. This time it’s gon’ be some space adventures as we’ll be playing Wrath and Glory which is set in the Warhammer 40k universe. There will be guns, some cyborgs, maybe some aliens? We’ll see.

But first, let’s meet the player characters:

Cayenne Pepper (played by @fuzzybooks), a rogue trader of the Pepper dynasty, spice merchants. Being only the 75th cousin in line of the head of the family, she’s mostly safe from assassination attempts. Got herself a nifty little space ship called Santa Maria.

Gorm Oddmundson (@raddigested) is a Space Wolf scout. This little cub is far away from home and for some reason without his pack. He is looking for that good, good glory.

Gimlet (@xxyumeganxx) in an ex-inquisitonal acolyte. Having left the inquisition after some inside trouble he now is roped into looking after a newly awakened psyker Saef.

Saef (@arctic-urpo) was a ganger until his whole gang got wiped out of existence in an unfortunate event he doesn’t want to talk about. Now he is a psyker and has wanders the world with Gimlet as to stay out of trouble.

Then, onto the story!

Our party of heroes have arrived in the Adeptus Mechanicus controlled Forge World of Triplex Phall, located in the Eastern fringes of the Empire to meet with a tech priest.

The Pepper family wishes to strengthen their bonds with the Tech Cult, so they have agreed to take on some work for them to gain some favors.

Cayenne Pepper has been ordered to do this job, and has taken Saef and Gimlet, new hirings to the ships precisely for this with her.

Gorm is here because the Pepper family has ties to the Space Wolves, and Cayenne decided having one could be useful.

The tech priest is not currently in his room, so our heroes are told to wait, and wait they do.

Gorm introduces himself to everyone, and asks for everyone’s names and comments on Saef’s nice pants!

He also asks why everyone is here on this mission: Cayenne’s answer is business, Saef is just following orders and Gimlet admits on being interested in the Mechanicus.

Gorm takes this moment to wax poetry about his home-world of Fenris. Aah, Fenris, its icy peaks and glaciers are beauty incarnate!

They talk among themselves about what to expect, the tech priest’s ad hadn’t been exactly specific.

Gimlet says he has heard there might be Inquisition agents on the planet they’re heading.

Gorm comments that he hasn’t much experience with Inquisitors as he has never met one and Gimlet says that he hasn’t either.

Gimlet talks about wanting to know history especially related to the AdMech. He also seems to be curious in this particular tech priest that has hired them.

Gorm asks if Gimlet is the writing type, as he is in need of a person to write down his glorious adventures!

Gimlet agrees.

Cayenne tells about the galas that her family does, helping orphaned animals.

Gorm asks if there’s any pets on board her ship.

She says yes, some cats and dogs. There’s also an indoor park and a shark tank!

Gorm says he isn’t much of a cat person himself. Definitely more of a dog person.

Gorm takes this moment to relay the tale of his childhood, where he was thrown into the sea, swam to find a kraken who raised him. Hence why he is called the “Child of the Kraken”.

This lovely tale is barely finished when the tech priest arrives. Much like the rest of his kin, he is rather haphazardly put-together figure with several extra limbs and eyes.

He leads our heroes to his lair, a tower-like room filled with shelves and computer screens.

There’s also a cream-colored cat that jumps onto the priest’s shoulder.

The tech priest shakes Cayenne’s hand with the hand that still appears to have some skin left on it, even still it’s cold and unpleasant.

He introduces himself as E-E \\ 821.

Now onto the mission at hand.

A four person group of Mechanicus has disappeared on a mission in the planet Styria R867, led by E-E \\ 821′s sergeant K303 2:82. The tech priest wishes them to be found.

The planet itself is a curious thing, it is unreachable for hundreds of years at a time, because of a storm and only comes out of it for 10 years at a time. Even then it is incredibly hostile as far as living there goes, but it does host a small population of human settlers, who mostly do mining.

The Imperium presence on the planet is really sparse, there’s members of Ministorum on the planet but not much else.

There used to be some kind of ancient civilization there, and the storm occasionally uncovers ruins.

The Mechanicus went to the planet to survey the ruins to see if there’s a need for the Mechanicus to ready a bigger mission, and to possibly find the origin of the storm so that the Imperium could use it better.

There is a settlement of Hellhole, where the Mechanicus were last seen. A Sister of Battle resides there, and she could be useful informant.

If the Mechanicus are dead, a data disk must be retrieved from the Sergeant’s body, that is the condition in which our heroes are paid for their services.

The tech priest is very fond of swerving questions by asking clarifying questions and then answering those instead of the first question, but our heroes still get a lot of information.

Cayenne asks for something to show the Mechanicus to show that our heroes are authorized by their commander.

E-E \\ 821 gives her a badge of the Mechanicus symbol with some damage on it.

They leave. Gorm doesn’t take his eyes off the cat, because he is suspicious, and just before the doors’ to the lair close he sees the tech priest give the cat a little pat on the head with his mechanical claw hand.

Before getting too far, Gorm has one more thing that he wishes from the tech priest, so they return.

Gorm wishes to have something with the sergeant’s smell on it.

As the tech priest starts climbing up his tower to find something that fits the description, his cat decides to take this moment to jump down in front of Gorm.

Despite Gorm showing no inclination for playfulness, the cat seems to be ready to play.

Gorm asks someone to get rid of the cat before he loses it.

Gimlet swoops in and attempts to befriend the cat, but she gets scared, smacks him on the hand and finds safety on Gorm’s shoulders.

Luckily before Gorm wolfs out, the tech priest returns, gently swoops up the cat and places it back on his shoulders.

For Gorm, the tech priest hands out the sergeant’s undershirt.

Gorm and Gimlet make a hasty retreat before the cat can do anything else bad, while Cayenne and Saef stay to say proper goodbyes.

Gorm says bye from the other end of the hallway, and the tech priest opens up a speaker right next to him to bid him goodbye.

After leaving, they talk a bit in the hallway, Gorm comments on having difficulty with robot-people.

Cayenne says eye-contact is important and instructs him to pick an eye and stick to it.

Then it’s off to Styria R867!

Cayenne has her servo-skull to give a tour of the ship to the other three.

Gorm takes Saef to the tax-free shop to pick out moomin mugs for themselves.

While there he comments that he has heard good things about Saef’s gang, and he wishes to be Saef’s gang friend.

Saef doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about this, but he mutters a “sure” and keeps on looking at the mugs.

Gorm asks if they should ask the other people to be in the gang as well, but Saef says he should take care of recruitment.

Then the last bit of business is deciding whether to be a violent or non-violent gang.

Saef says he’s alright as long as he gets to fight, which sounds pretty violent.

As Santa Maria has warp travel capabilities it doesn’t take our heroes long to get to Styria R867.

They get teleported on the surface of the planet little ways away from Hellhole. And immediately get attacked by three scorpions. (as one occasionally does)

Gimlet immediately gets face-full of poison from a stinger shot. Gorm rushes that scorpion and gets a hit in with his cool-ass chain-sword.

Gimlet retreats a bit and takes care of the poison before anything else.

One of the scorpions attacks Gorm, but can’t get through his armor.

Cayenne takes a shot with her plasma gun, absolutely annihilating the third remaining. Unfortunately her gun jams.

Saef takes this moment to show off his psyker powers, smiting one of the scorpions.

Gorm finishes one of the remaining ones and Gimlet shoots down the last into bits.

Gorm turns around and demands to know which one of our group is a psyker.

Saef rises his hand and Gorm tells that he doesn’t appreciate magic.

I guess that’s it for their awesome little gang.

Cayenne gets a bunch of unhelpful comments about her weapon such as, try turning it on and off again (Gimlet) and smash it against a rock (Gorm).

She knows her way around a plasma weapon however, and cleans it up no problem.

There is no more incidents as our heroes reach the settlement of Hellhole. Situated against the mountain they are mining in, the settlement consists of houses made out of mis-matched metal plates. There’s an AdMech ship parked on the front.

A woman clad in the black-and-white armor of the Sisters of Battle comes to meet up with them and introduces herself as Portia Bailey.

Upon hearing our heroes want to discuss the missing mechs, she suggests they do so in her house (well, more of a shack).

Sister Portia is a bit of a rambler, veering off-topic quite often, but from what our heroes can gather, the Mechanicus went to a ruined castle on the other side of the mountain.

Sister Portia has been to the castle before, but it was filled with traps and generally unsafe, she tried to warn the Mechanicus of this as well, even saying she could come with, but the Mechanicus were rather secretive.

In fact only the sergeant (or as Sister Portia says, the weird horse-legged one) did talking, the rest communicated among themselves in sign language.

After the Mechanicus left and weren’t heard from again, Sister Portia went to check the castle and noticed that the ancient machines in the castle were powered up again and the giant doors to the castle were locked up tight.

Sister Portia knocked but no answer.

She surmises that maybe the Mechanicus just wanted a castle, but admits that she has no real proof they are still alive.

She suggests our heroes travel to the castle at night, as they are less likely to be attacked by beasts as the nights still get cold-ish around here.

Plus they could catch glimpses of movement in the castle.

Before leaving the Mechanicus’ ship is there, although locked.

Sister Portia says she’ll look the other way if our heroes want to take a look. Which they do.

Before they can get to the ship, they are stopped by two kids, Layla (11), who is really interested in big Space Marine man (Gorm lets her hold his chain-sword) and Laurel (8), who asks about the big ship in the space.

Their mother calls them away before they can waste too much of our heroes’ time.

Gorm breaks the lock on the Mechanicus ship, and our heroes take a look around.

Cayenne looks over the sergeant’s room, and finds a data pad where the captain’s logs are generally kept, but she can’t crack the code of it. She still takes it with.

Saef goes over the other people’s living areas and notes that they are bereft of any signs of living or personal belongings.

Gimlet takes the bridge, and extracts the black box of the ship, but he has no tools to listen to the recordings inside.

Gorm checks over the cargo bay, and notes that the Mechanicus, especially the Sergeant appear to be extremely well-armed.

He also finds a device for listening to black box recordings. So that’s what they do next.

They pick the latest recording; the only speaker appears to be the sergeant, who admits to some uncertainty about the situation, saying he hopes “that Eden is right”. His musing are interrupted by something and he laughs and reprimands someone named Tora for their (sign) language. He then notes that it’s best that he does the talking while the rest can communicate via sign language.

There’s few oddities on the recording.

Gorm is convinced something is up with the sign language and wishes they could have visual recordings of the Mechanicus.

(also we found out both Gimlet and Cayenne know the basics of sign language, though very specialized language only)

Gimlet notes that it is odd for the Mechancius to laugh, as they pride themselves in getting rid of their humane qualities.

Cayenne noticed the two names spoken, Eden and Tora, neither of which appear in anyway in their mission statements.

Gimlet suggests they could maybe ask the kids about anything odd the Mechanicus might have done while here, and everyone thinks it’s a good idea.

They find the kids in the mesh hall with their mother, who doesn’t want to talk about the Mechanicus.

Gorm tries to persuade the mother to come with her outside but only manages to her to clamp up even more.

Gimlet asks her to get them some food, which she agrees to, buying our heroes few moments with the kids.

Laurel, the boy, whispers what he knows into Cayenne’s ears. Apparently he had caught a glimpse of some of the non-sergeant Mechanicus without their hoods/helmets and he says they had pieces missing on their faces.

When they noticed Laurel they got really angry, and he ran away, which Cayenne says was a smart move.

And that’s enough information gathering for one day. Next time our heroes start heading for the castle! What mysteries will await them there? We’ll see.

#wag rp #wag rp writeup #campaign tag: tomb raiders #long post #nemo roleplays #im glad you guys got to bond with my fave npc #the cream colored cat :P #and by bond i mean be bothered by her #her name is felis catus and she is the best #reminder to self write something for the cptn's log #they're bound to break into that next sesh :P #woof i was meaning to write fic today but this took longer than i expected and it's already 19 #and by longer than expected i mean i should have expected it would take long #ah well maybe i can get something still done today #tomorrow is eurovision #but it's not like i have anything else :P being the une #mploymed person that i am #anyway i was rather happy with the first session #even though i had to throw out some clues there i had not planned in advance #so now gotta figure that shit out #it helps that i am basing the mechanicus somewhat on my kill team mechs #altho there are some heavy heavy alterations on the story obvs #since this is a completely different situation #but at least i know my admechs relatively well #i hope my players enjoy the admech stuff too :D #they are in no way obligated to follow that story any more than finding them mechs #but we'll talk about that once we get there #aka at the end of this thing

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elliesrandomessays-blog · 6 years

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Clickbait Title: How Todd in the Shadows killed Pop Music.

Non-Clickbait title: How the change in the social preconceptions of Pop music as a genre resulted in Pop Music making itself irrelevant.

For around a year now critics of American Pop Music have been lamenting the near complete overtaking of Pop music as the predominant music of choice by Hiphop. It's an unique time to be a fan of Chart Music. If you go on the Billboard Hot 100, the literal definition of what is popular in the USA at any one time you'll find a list that is primarily Rap music, not Pop. The top 20 at the time of writing currently has 13 rap songs amongst its ranks, and it doesn't peter off as you scroll down through the 70's and 80's. It gets worse if you're slightly sharper on your definition of Pop because pure Pop music only has at best 3 songs in the top 20. Hiphop is seeing a dominance of mainstream culture right now and has managed to almost entirely remove Pop music from the cultural zeitgeist and many critics want to know why. Why is Pop music no longer Pop music.

This could be the legit hot 100 or the Hiphop hot 100 and there’d be no difference.

I will quickly acknowledge the unfortunate duality of the term 'pop music'. It functions both as shorthand for music that is popular, regardless of genre or origin; and as an explicit label for the genre of pop music. Much the same way that indie can both mean independent, and the genre of indie. This is unhelpful bit of lexical crossover that's contributing to the general frustration so I'll spell the leading question out explicitly: why is capital-P Pop music no longer pop(ular) music.

There are many small factors that contribute to this such as the changes in the way music is consumed; Hiphop as a genre has been a lot quicker to adapt its method of distribution to the age of streaming than Pop being the big one that most people point to as the root cause, but I think there's a much more substantial change to the way the general media approaches Pop as a genre that has split it's audience down the middle. Essentially dividing and conquering.

I would put the main issue being with the form of Pop music criticism that began to spring up around 2010. The wave of Poptimism that I'm referring to technically began as far back as 2004 with the rabbit hole of Rockism and the philosophical rejection of the idea that disposable is an inherent negative but it picked up the majority of it's momentum around the time the Club Boom began to reach its third act (think: when Ke$ha became a thing). It's hard to ascertain exactly why it happened but the consequences of this change aren't hard to see, with the most tangibly visible effect being the sudden rise of Todd In The Shadows. While I wouldn't call him directly responsible for this shift - Todd moving from a novelty who applied the standard YouTube-Media-Criticism to Chart Music up to one of the largest influencers of the post-TWGTG style ('post-' being used in the same context as 'post-'modern) was largely driven by the sudden proliferation of Poptimism, and he in general serves as good synecdoche for much of the change in attitude that occurred around the time. So while this shift has nothing literally to do with Todd and his content, he's a good symbol of it, on top of him being a large feature of the surface-level of the change. For ease of reference from this point I'm going to refer to this new attitude as Toddian.

After Toddian-Poptimism rose there was a new critical eye being applied to Chart music and it felt like the charts had entered a golden age - unparalleled since the 80's. Pop music from Adele, Jason DeRulo, Carly Rae Jepsen, fun., Meghan Trainor, Taylor Swift, Justin Timberlake and many more managed to be in a position where they were both massively commercially successful and given the respect (and occasionally even acclaim) they deserved from critics for being well constructed, enjoyable music that had impact on people. In spite of the assumption that you're old enough to get in to a Club, the Club Boom was seen as a very immature time for music and you could read this Toddian era as being representative of a maturation of Pop Music, and the world responded. Serious, snobby, oldschool music critics weren't afraid anymore to include a Taylor Swift song on their year-end lists when none would've been caught dead doing the same with Flo Rida. And a whole Youtube subgenre of Chart critics grew in the garden Todd had planted. The musical artists of this time were respected for being good Pop Music, not respected for being good in spite of being Pop music: this era spelled the death of the Guilty Pleasure.

So, Question: why did it all stop? The Answer: the devil is in the details of what this new wave of Poptimism was actually doing to Chart Music. If you look at the general trend of what Toddian criticism liked and disliked there's one running theme that even at the time I was skeptical of and has since proven destructive to their own intended goal: Retro.

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Remember the time we let a 30 year regression become nearly the most popular song of all time?

The overwhelming trend with Toddian criticism is heaping a majority of the praise on genre-throwbacks and a reporting with a general air of unease newer genres that lack history. Synthpop, R&B, Funk, and Indie-Rock are regular appearances on 'Best songs of X year' lists. House, EDM, and Traprap are regular appearances on the opposite. In retrospect looking at these lists the general impression is not that Toddian criticism exist in order to promote Pop music as a place where legitimate artistic statements can be made and forward movement is being made, but rather to quash any potential movements away from the genres that the vague umbrella of nostalgia is comfortable with. Bar the odd breakthrough from Hiphop, Singer-Songwriter and memeworthy dance songs the charts of this era and especially the hit songs that were regarded as worthwhile can near universally be pinned to a specific retro era they were appealing to. Right across from 60's doo-wop to 90's synth-funk and every possible step inbetween, the critical process turned into "They seem to be going for a [decade]-era [artist] vibe on this new track" with lists ranking them on how much that critic enjoys each of the eras relative to one another.

Even within the context of individual artists careers you can see this. Justin Timberlake in 2014 releases 'Can't Stop the Feeling!', a piece of retro summertime-funk and it becomes one of the most well regarded pieces of popular music of the decade. In 2018 JT releases 'Filthy' a piece of modern Pop music that interpolates elements of modern dance and electronic and he's career is immediately killed. Calvin Harris spends decades regarded as the lowest Chart Music gets. In 2017 he released Funk Wav Bounces and suddenly 'Slide' is a critical darling. The next year he releases the equally quality House song 'One Kiss' and no one cares. Taylor Swift. 80's pop album 1989 is adored. Modern pop Reputation is hailed as an artistic bomb. The Weeknd. Moody PBR&B was rejected. Peppy 'Can't Feel My Face' is a "modern classic". David Guetta, Zedd, Martin Garrix and similar EDM producers are all seemingly ignored when they briefly entered the spotlight with only Avicii and Clean bandit getting acknowledgements because they spliced Electronica with Folk and Classical respectively. Imagine Dragons, one of the few rock bands unironically trying to push forward into modern Pop styles of production and aesthetic when pure Indie were adored yet are now regarded as "worse than Nickleback". Which is a phrase so incredibly toploaded with subtext that I could double the length of this essay just digging into those three words. I could go on longer with these but I'll leave the rest as names for you to think about yourself: Pharrell Williams, Bruno Mars, Ariana Grande, Fall Out Boy, Jason DeRulo, Bruno Mars, Katy Perry, Charli XCX, Bruno Mars and Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars.

Over the course of half-a-decade, the Pop music industry went from rewarded greatly, to heavily disincentivized to promote modern Pop music. Some would seep through the cracks such as Tove Lo and Julia Michaels but the lukewarm and actively hostile responses they respectively got were just further perpetuating the problem. Why would any rational record label want to invest time and money into artists trying to sound modern when all the Toddian eye is going to do is reject them in favour of someone who's tearing ideas directly out of Billy Joel's playbook. This lead to the inevitable crowding out of newer acts who were experimenting in modern genres. The last truly modern act to break in to the upper echelons of popular culture were probably The Chainsmokers. With Roses, Don't let Me Down and Closer all being incredibly popular with no retro era to support themselves only. And they also served as the Toddian eye's most brutal target. Literally being regarded as the worst album of the year.

(I'm aware that Todd himself actually liked The Chainsmokers. So this a good time for a reminder this isn't about his opinions specifically).

The obvious immediate rebuttal to this was posed to be within minutes when I posted the initial thesis for this essay on Twitter: if modern-Pop was killed by an overpraise of retro-Pop. Why isn't retro-Pop dominating the charts instead then?

The problem there is one that many fans of retro-Pop don't want to hear, retro-Pop was a fad, and that fad has now died. Or rather, retro-Pop was a rare occurrence of a meta-fad. It had a significantly longer lifespan than the 2004 indie-rock fad that gave us Mr.Brightside and the 2017 Spanish fad that gave us Despacito because rather than being one specific gimmick that popular culture was enamored with, it was composed of dozens of smaller fads that when placed one-after-another produce the illusion of a trend. If you actually look at the nitty-gritty no particular subfad of retro survived more than one or two artists releasing an album each. Doo-Wop was only popular long enough to give us Meghan Trainor and Charlie Puth while Michael Jackson was only popular long enough to give us The Weeknd and Jason Derulo. ect. ect. So the reason that Run Away With Me by Carly Rae Jepsen and Bills by LunchMoney Lewis weren't commercial successes in spite of seemingly being exactly the kind of retro hit that was at-the-time popular was because neither song were released when that specific era's fad was the in thing. Sure they were retro, but we already had Taylor Swift snap up dreamy 80's pop and DNCE had already filled the quota of glistening-pop-Funk so why would they need another?

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There was no way that this essay was going to exist without a nod to E• MO•TION at some point.

By early 2017 we had already essentially run out of genres to co-opt without going into music that's so old it's nearly measured in centuries. So that put the music industry into a Catch-22. They can't invest their promotional time and money into retro-Pop anymore because the fad is well and truly dead (you can't make another Uptown Funk because Uptown Funk already exists) and the general public is going to reject it as a late-to-the-party grasp of desperation. But they can't invest into modern-Pop because Toddian critics are going to reject it outright because it doesn't appeal to the core aesthetics that they like and are going to heap tepid reviews on it which will seriously damage any attempts to market the thing, you can't advertise a 3-star review. The retro-Pop well dried up, and now in the final quarter of 2018 everyone regrets cementing up the old well. Eventually all fads die.

Now it's time to bring Justin Beiber in, who I imagine so far has been the biggest ? lying under this whole argument. Beiber was huge around the same time of the final years of the retro-Pop fad and wasn't making anything remotely retro. He was making incredibly forward-pushing, futuristic sounding dance-pop that had yet to really have an era before now. But he's the final piece of this puzzle: the fad that overtook retro. Justin Beiber was riding the next wave: Tropical. Major Lazer started it, Beiber rode it to the top, Sia and Ed Sheeran followed behind him. That fad had the lifespan of a normal fad - around 14 months. Then that naturally morphed into Spanish music. Then that fad died and nothing came in to replace it so Pop music was left with a hole and nothing to fill it. Once again that left the pop music industry with the more general formulation of the Catch-22. Fad has died so can't promote that without looking desperate, can't promote new Pop music because no one wants to swim in a lukewarm pool where the lifeguard secretly wishes you were someone else.

Hiphop itself is pretty much irrelevant to the story. There's nothing special about Rap as a genre apart from the fact it just happened to be the 2nd place racer when 1st place's tires blew-out. That's not to say that Rap wasn't doing some legitimately incredible things and isn't worthy of success. But all I'm saying is Post Malone, Cardi B, and Kendrick Lamar would've been top-40-popular anyway and there was simply no one else in the way to stop them *not* going to number 1.

This has all had the consequence of turning Pop music, in both forms, into niche genres. Now that the general public isn't consuming Pop because it's what the miasma of popular culture tells them to like Pop has to start appealing to people who're actual Popheads, and when your audience becomes niche-sized they're small enough to make the critical decisions themselves. No one wants to listen to retro-Pop stars that the big labels are offering anymore because their audience now is so small that the audience is cutting out the middlemen and just listening to old music (it's no surprise this has all been at the same time as Africa by Toto's sudden rebirth) while on the other end no one wants to listen to the modern-Pop that labels offer anymore because their audience is making active decisions and is instead listening to Alison Wonderland and Virtual Self. Some like myself have even defected as far as Bill Wurtz.

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Seriously, if you’re a person who considers yourself ‘in to’ music and only think of Bill Wurtz as that weird guy who made the history videos then you’re missing out.

I'm not even going to pretend that there's a solution to this problem. Even if I had one I'm an insignificant enough cog in the machine that I couldn't enact it. But I can give my perspective on where the future of the Charts lie.

The main thing to keep in mind is that this is all cyclical. Eventually the general consuming public will get sick of Hiphop and whomever is in 2nd place when that happens is going to capitalize on the exact same sort of collapse that got us in the current situation. Arguably this will happen a lot faster since Toddian was a relatively large shift in critical style compared to 2009 but Hiphop has always had a higher degree of scrutiny applied to it for both fair and unfair reasons. And Pop music isn't totally dead either, arguably the nadir has passed and it’s on the way up not down at the current moment. As much as I dislike it, Weezer's cover of Africa shows there's at least a way back in to mainstream consciousness for Pop music if it decides to go down that route. And acts such as LSD, Bazzi and Halsey are still managing to claw their way into high listen counts through sheer force of quality.

So for now, I'd say enjoy the ride. And enjoy the brief time that Toddian Criticism has put us in where the radio not giving you Pop to listen to puts you in a place where you hear Tessa Violet for the first time instead

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#Pop Music #Pop #Hot 100 #Poptimism #Popheads #Charts

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rpbetter · 3 years

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Hi, my knowledge is mainly from the blog. You're right, I think Rolescape can benefit from more varied takes. I want to add my two cents. I just wish there was another way to do it. I don't know if I can stay on the server that long because I get bad stage fright. I joined briefly, but I felt like I was walking into a clique that already formed. I just don't like servers. That's another problem I have with this I guess. It feels unfair, exclusionary to people like me. Can you share any tips?

Thank you for replying back! I didn't want to just imply what your experience was, especially as that easily comes off as a snooty, "well, if you were in The Server you'd know!" kind of thing that I am not cool with.

I absolutely understand! Despite running this blog, my RP blogs, and trying to be a reasonably social presence, I'm really not very socially inclined. I actually held out on joining the RS server for months, had to have a friend vet that it was relatively chill, not an incredibly busy atmosphere. Honestly, and y'all can despise me for this, free pass, I don't like discord in general, it's just become the only option for messaging off of tumblr, and that's what I keep it to - messaging friends and trustworthy, not hyper-social, mutuals. Servers and other group chat situations give me hives lol I'm only somewhat joking! I hate it. It overwhelms and exhausts me.

So, notably, RS's server is not like that. There are some busy moments when several people are joining at once, there's a conversation going in a channel, or the developer drops something new/asks for feedback. That's really it, though, and even then, I've yet to see anyone having to like, rapid-fire answer to get a word in edgewise. I've not been stressed out enough to (and I do mean this absolutely literally, I have a trichotillomania issue, hats are my besties, shhh y'all don't tell anyone my Secret) pull my hair out or anything. The opinions expressed are incredibly civil, everyone is very respectful. Even when you can tell that things are getting a bit intense between differing opinions!

It really helped my anxiety over it to have someone already there, someone who also has some anxiety issues and gets socially overwhelmed, no less, who could tell me that it was a chill place. Maybe knowing that will help you as well! I would totally, and too bluntly, tell you if I felt like it sucked there.

On that same note, if it would make you comfortable enough to join and eventually be able to speak up there, I'd be happy to PM you my discord so you'd know of one person there. Again, as a rather private and less social person, I totally understand if that wouldn't help you, and you can just know that I am, in fact, there.

Because you're right...when you enter any established space, even if people don't treat you that way, you feel like an outsider. They've established roles in the server and friendships with each other, you haven't. It's totally natural to get a clique vibe and be uncomfortable! Making the only way you can get over that really difficult, as that way is to dive in.

Now, again, full honesty, cheery people kind of freak me out lol but the folks in the general chat are pretty welcoming! If you could always respond to them and get some comfort level established by jumping into a recent conversation then, or asking a question that might start a short conversation with them. Like, asking how everyone's day/night has been, or how they're liking the server. Just little, casual questions like that to get someone talking. If you are there when I usually am (overnight, America, CST), it's very slow and quiet, only one to four people are very active then, so it's a great time to interact with fewer people.

Do you enjoy pets? They have a pet channel if so! That's always a great sort of place to make yourself comfortable and meet people in a purely friendly atmosphere. Pet people want to share and talk about their pets, they also want you to share yours. These are positive conversations waiting to happen! If it's your deal, check out this channel, you'll see recent pictures and discussions surrounding the pet(s) in them that you can then add to the conversation on. "Adorable cat! This has to be a cat thing, mine does it too, see -picture of your cat on clean laundry-" If there has been nothing new recently, add a funny or cute picture of your pet or a pet you know that you enjoy.

There are also the "fun stuff" and "self-promo" channels. With the former, you might find a way to join a conversation about something shared or, again, share something in the same vein of humor you see present. The latter, you might end up finding someone sharing their RP blog(s) who you know and didn't realize was in the server as well.

Then, there is the "feedback and questions" channel. I found it easier to just jump in there on a topic that I felt compelled to join in on. The same might happen with you! It's easier for me to speak about something I care about than it is to engage in casual conversation, especially with people I don't know. If you feel the same way, this might be your answer in getting a push to feel comfortable enough to say something.

Again, I very much understand where you're coming from, Anon! Servers in general are not meant for people like me either. They're inherently exclusionary when you have problems functioning and feeling comfortable in those environments...I can't even properly enjoy servers set up by friends when either more than two of them are actively speaking or even a single person is especially "busy" (effusive about something, excited/excitable, etc. none of which are bad things, friends who see this lol y'all know how I am and I appreciate that you love me regardless). I 100% feel you, no judgment here!

If it isn't something you can do, at least you tried, right? You should still feel proud of trying, of caring enough to try. If you try again, it's okay to just lurk quietly and be aware of what is going on, too. For however long you need to. Maybe a topic will spur you into commenting like it did me! If you see something you like, say it. I don't think there is ever enough detailed positive commentary either. Most people just say that they like something, pop up a sticker, etc. and it's good. Having run businesses, sites, forums, blogs, and yeah, discord servers, I know how unhelpful non-detailed positive feedback can be. It's great you like this, but what do you like about it? That is useful application in other things, as well as being something I know I should try not to change in the future flippantly. So, if it's easier for you to establish yourself as existing there by saying something positive, by all means, do that first!

Otherwise, like the concern over leaning too much in the purity direction, no one was nasty to me for giving a different opinion than the more vocal people. It wasn't brushed aside or treated with hostility. No rushed to talk over me or refute anything I said, either. Definitely a less awful environment than tumblr has trained us all to expect!

It is additionally worth noting that I was not the only person in there with a different take. There are people who will politely and respectfully counter issues like "but survivors" and they are engaged with by the developer with just as much interest as the other side. Chances are, you're not the only one who feels the way you do, so long as you're expressing yourself politely, your feedback is welcome and going to be treated as such. It just seems to me that, as on tumblr and twitter, the most vocal and capable of public opining group happens to the purity police.

Probably because the rest of us have had our already present social anxieties and difficulties exacerbated by the purity police at some point or another, making it more difficult for us to speak up. Whereas their experience is being able to run on mob mentality, having their experiences forcing themselves to socialize rewarded. So...maybe not letting the entire phenomenon win is helpful, too?

Whatever you decide to do, whenever you decide to do it, I appreciate that you care enough about your concerns to have tried and even asked for tips on how to try again. That's awesome of you!

#answered #anonymous #rolescape #purity culture #discord servers #general advice

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strike-at-the-heart · 6 years

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@suzumesoul (x)

There was one benefit to the constant struggle of trying to find Hanzo: Genji was becoming incredibly adept at tracking people who didn’t want to be found. In the quiet, he settled himself in a tree close by, perched very much like a bird, on a branch that looked too thin to support a normal person’s weight. Being ignored did not bother him as much as it once would have. It was infinitely preferable to a fight.

When Hanzo spoke, Genji’s head turned to glance at him, then the visor turned away once more. For several seconds, it seemed as if he might not respond at all- then a staticky sigh blew from him, and Genji spoke.

“I do not do it to spite you. Nor do I do it because I believe things can ever return to what they were- I would not wish for that even if they could. No, it is just…”

Somewhere, a bird cried out. Genji paused to listen to it, looking out at the snow and the sky, feeling more deeply than ever the rift between himself and his brother, and something in him ached.

“I survived, Hanzo. Maybe you do not see that as a blessing. Maybe you see it as a failure on your part.” There was no judgment in his tone, no bitterness- only a calm, unhappy sense of understanding. “I would understand. But I hated you for years- both for trying to kill me, and for leaving me alive. Forgiving you,” Genji said, quietly, “is the hardest thing I have ever done, and I do not want it to have been for nothing. I do not want us to exist in separate worlds when it is a miracle that either of us still exist at all. If I do not follow you,” he added, “you will disappear; I know you will never come to me. And maybe that is selfish of me, to push my company on you when you do not want it. But if the alternative is letting you vanish into the obscurity of an incredibly dangerous and isolated life, I do not know what else I can do.”

Perhaps as Genji had likely expected, there wasn’t an immediate response from his brother, nor an immediately visible reaction with how the angle Hanzo sat respective to him partially obscured his face. The only indication of change seemed to have been a sudden stillness that overtook Hanzo’s chest as Genji had uttered ‘maybe you see it as a failure on your part,’ as if the words had caused him to hold his breath–but a few seconds later, and that same unreadably neutral body language had resumed.

As the silence continued to draw out, so too did the uncertainty that there would even be a reply.

“... It strikes me as incredibly naive,” Hanzo finally broke the calm, his eyes still ahead on the landscape below them, “to preemptively forgive others–particularly others that pose a threat to you.”

Hanzo turned his head just enough to steadily stare back at his sibling from over his shoulder. Even seeing Hanzo’s expression didn’t make it any easier to discern what he was thinking, as all it seemed to convey was a harsh, uncomfortable tenseness–something decidedly unhelpful when it was still unclear if the tone of his comment was meant to be threatening or not. Perhaps now would be one of the few times his commonplace outright hostility would’ve been welcome to at least act as some sort of clarification, but it had been almost tempered during their past several encounters; instead, ever since Genji had lent his aid to his wounded sibling, it had been mostly replaced by what seemed to be a begrudging restraint. It never seemed to waver into outright tolerance however, as whenever it seemed like it might–

“You do realize,” Hanzo continued after a pause to furrow his brow, his voice composed and dispassionate as he spoke–and yet so abnormally low and lacking in inflection as to hint it was forcibly so, “that I cannot merely abandon my principles to appease you, don’t you? Sentimental appeals do not change that. Necessity is rarely something to be enjoyed–but it is still necessity.”

#suzumesoul #⋙━{ ic }━➣#⋙━{ THREAD }━➣#''letting you vanish into the obscurity of an incredibly dangerous and isolated life''#between this quote and searching for his brother in the woods #genji's literally a fucking cryptid hunter and he's absolutely aware of it #also '‘maybe you see it as a failure on your part''#[hanzo voice] don't fucking @ me

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ifuckinglovestvincent · 7 years

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St. Vincent by Immo Klink for Spex Magazin für Popkultur #376 (September/October 2017)

English translation thx to a lovely L chat anon: After the success of her last album, what's next for St. Vincent? Three years, a Grammy, a successful series of concerts complete with weirdo costumes, her own guitar design for people with breasts and a magazine cover with Marc Jacobs. "New York" is her latest haunting single that yearns for older times, and expresses love for her adoptive home. The song's style also refers back to the musical simplicity of Clark's previous work. An uncomfortably hot Summer day in London would have passed as some bizarre fever dream, if before the release of her latest, and as of yet untitled new album, St. Vincent was drinking Berlin beer with our editors and happily giving the inside scoop. Despite meticulous planning prior to the interview in July, its spontaneous nature meant it was hard to know what to ask. Annie had recorded two purposefully blurred guitar songs, one to be discussed before the conversation and one during. A female assistant dressed in a black cape and some extravagant shoe-work acted as door woman to the entrance of a room at Park Studios containing a wooden box, the inside of which was painted neon pink. Inside sat Clark like a high priestess in black light. An appropriate setting to share secrets. However, she is at first rather silent when asked concrete questions about new songs, but in the end the setting works conclusively. The discomfort is part of the concept. Interviewer: Annie, thank you very much for the mysterious reception. Will you now foresee my future? Annie: (laughs) We will see. I: It smells very good in here. Is that incense? A: The scent is coming from a candle. Meetings should be an experience for all the senses. I: You said once that for every album you've had a figure in your head around which all themes have been built. For Strange Mercy it was alcohol dependence, the bored housewife, with St. Vincent a cult leader. What has been in your consciousness regarding these songs? A: Manic Panic meets Poison Ivy from The Cramps. I: We are currently sitting in a pink, florescent box. There seems to be a color concept happening here. A: Yes, the color palette for this album is completely florescent. Florescent colors are very bright and at first seem cheerful, but can soon become too intense and then aggressive. This is exactly like my coming album. I: Would you consider this album to be the logical next chapter following St. Vincent? A: I don’t know whether you can apply logic to music. Before I wrote the new songs I knew only three things. I wanted the songs to be strong and powerful. I wanted to programme beats. And I wanted a steel-pedal guitar. I began with these three anchors. I: Most of social media expressed surprise regarding the fact that New York was not a guitar-based song. A: Really? I put so much guitar in it. I: So was it your plan to not make a rock record? A: I’ve never done it before. I definitely wanted to have big guitar moments on the album. Have I ever really made a rock record? So far very few people have heard the new songs, and there isn’t much known about the album. I’m looking forward to the interpretations and criticisms. But if someone doesn’t feel it’s a guitar record, should we not question both possible realities? I: Possibly. Do you already have an album title? A: Yes, but I still can’t reveal it to you. I: Perhaps then we can speak about something more tangible. You current tour is named after one of your new songs “Fear the Future”. A: This is intended to as an order; be afraid of your future! I: What should we be afraid of? A: Oh boy! We are living in insane times, and it’s only getting worse. I don’t know if you’ve heard: America has chosen Donald Trump, a woman hater and compulsive liar, as its president. America has said to someone like this: “You seem to be the right leader!” I: Do you believe Trump will complete the four years of his term? A: That would shock me. The countless scandals within the first six month of his presidency have sustainably ruined his reputation. Besides, I don’t have the impression that being President suits him very well. The only possibility we have of getting rid of this fear of the future is to name these things. “Fear the Future” means I am trying to regain control and make something constructive out of all the chaos. I: What strategies do you follow in order to cope with these fears? A: I don’t sit around all day worrying about the future. Today more than ever the personal is political, and the political has become personal. A lot of us move around in this world alone, meanwhile for many people it is a political act - for a great many marginalised people it is naturally the latter case. I have long thought about what I can do. Some of my friends are politically active, for example in the Black-Lives-Matter movement, or have previously worked for Obama’s administration. It seems to me most sensible to use the platform I have with my music to, for example, raise money for Planned Parenthood or other charitable organisations. I: At the beginning of this year you celebrated your directorial debut with the premiere of The Birthday Party. You chose to present your film not as horror, but as a black comedy. What role does humour play when it comes to fear? A: The absurd is definitely our zeitgeist. To go further, to drive the whole thing to the extreme, can be incredibly funny. I: Does this exaggeration work for you as catharsis? A: Definitely. The album deals with the themes of power and seduction in such a striking way that one could almost feel it as fraud. Sexuality is no simple matter, but I present it in a very obvious way, wherin there is also a lot of humour. I: I also heard the new songs as asking for a conquest. A: Songs sagen manchmal mehr über denjenigen aus, der sie hört, als über den Künstler. Ich kann also nichts, dafür,, wenn Sie überall Vaginas sehen (laughs). I: With all the careful production before release, does it not bother you if you feel you are misunderstood? A: I put a lot of time and energy into this record. I love this album. However once it is released there is nothing I could possibly say or do to make you love it just as much. That is out of my hands, and that’s the way it should be. It is no longer mine, it belongs to everyone who hears it. I can at most give you a pair of important details: I recorded majority of the album in my studio in Los Angeles. The rest I recorded in New York. I: In New York you give a nostalgic look back at a place that appears to no longer exist. Is New York still the city you… A: ...love the most at heart? Absolutely! You know, every love is complicated. For me it simply stopped being my main place of residence. In the end I started spending a lot of time back in Texas, or I was working in my studio in LA, so just wasn’t in New York anymore. I: Nostalgia can also be another way of reacting to current unpleasantness in the world - a very comfortable one. A: I have a terrible memory, therefore nostalgia doesn’t really work for me. I don’t think the past tense is all that helpful anyway. Of course can learn from their mistakes, this has made the history of mankind. Earlier grief is inflicted again and again, but prevents us from moving forward. I: A common thesis states that certain adverse circumstances can strengthen cohesion and solidarity in disadvantaged communities. A: Yes, but the most important thing for marginalised people now is to not fight one another. A byproduct of patriarchy is women fight other women. That helps no one. I: In Germany there is a lot of hostility among left currents, when their principles really belong together in solidarity. For example in feminist circles. A: Yet feminism is not a fixed idea, it is constantly changing. There is place for diverse stances. Feminist ideas find themselves in an ever wider context, on which they may have stumbled along the way. At home, I also know that women are mutually shamed, because one does not correspond to the ideal. It is unhelpful to argue about whoever embodies feminism. I myself do not engage myself with a group, but prefer to let actions speak. Being a strong, independent woman is for me the strongest sign. (A bell sounds) I: Is our time already up? A: Almost. I have a few answers recorded. Would you like to hear? I: Of course! A: (Plays around with her mobile phone until a distorted voice rings out) “David Byrne’s brain is a national treasure.” (noise) “The name St. Vincent comes from a Nick Cave song called ‘There Goes My Beautiful World’. It refers to the line ‘And Dylan Thomas died drunk in St. Vincent’s Hospital’.” (noise) You knew that, or you would have said so. Thank you for not asking. I: You’re welcome. But since we’re talking about names: Who is this Johnny you keep singing about? A: Johnny is a recurring character who has accompanied me for three albums now. For me he’s like a friend, a family member and a fiance. I: But now he lives on the street. A: There’s always hope.

______________________________ Buy the issue here Original translation post from L Chat

#Is she using the media as concept art ...#mixed media #St. Vincent #Annie Clark #Spex #LP5

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