#so not only was i missing potentially important emails it also makes me look so fucking bad!!!!!

[re-decorate]

PSA for any new college grads: do not under any circumstances continue to rely on your university email after you graduate

i am begging you to switch to a personal email address bc if not then your university could randomly deactivate your account without your knowledge and it’ll be 9 months until you realize something must be wrong because even though you can still log in you haven’t been receiving any emails

[roo-bastmoon]

You are a sensible jkkr because u atleast try to understand not only the positive but negative points too if we thought about Jikook being in a romantic relationship. So i want to know now what's ur opinion on jimin recent post on weverse in which he's saying that he didn't even knew about the rain and floods in Korea....so it means that he's not in touch with members that much these days?? Specially with his boyfriend??? Specially if it happened in Seoul where his so called boyfriends lives and all the members too??? I mean isn't it strange to think that a couple who u all jkkrs thinks are in a relationship from atleast some years now doesn't even talk with eachother when this happened??? Isn't it also another point out of many that indicates that may b...just may be they're not in a romantic relationship with eachother??? Like the same type of point when jimin didn't even know his boyfriend prefers white wine over red when tae was so confident about it??? Here on Tumblr...some big jikook blogs claiming that purple bunny ears in jimin's and Benny photo was for jk...but nobody talks about things like this??? Doesn't it also important to talk about these type of things too bcz lots and lots of young army's read their blogs too??? And let me clarify this also that m not saying here that a couple should be talking 24hrs even if they're out of the country for their work or something but i just know that atleast couple talk atleast 5mint in one day ??? To talk about their day and what's happening with them and evrything is alright or not and basically just to say they miss eachother????? So it's really strange for me that jimin didn't know about the floods... specially from his BOYfriENd who also lives in the same city!!!!

Your thoughts on this???

Dear Obvious Taekooker Who Somehow Wandered Onto My Blog:

First, let me say I've already addressed the issue around Jimin not being aware of how severe the flooding was in Seoul. You can read more of my take on that HERE. It's a bit concerning that anyone would immediately suspect Jimin's parents, brother, staff, managers, members, friends, news apps and (potential) boyfriend have all cut contact with him, instead of perhaps thinking maybe he's just super busy in a time zone 16 hours behind and he just hasn't checked his phone for a while?

Second, with regard to the red wine preference anecdote... Didn't JK share some red wine with Hobi and Tae when they all went out to dinner in Vegas? I think I remember Tae posting photos of that on his Insta. Maybe they all discussed white vs. red wine then, and that's why Tae knew that JK liked white wine better? I mean, I dunno, but it would make sense.

It would also make sense if they just had dinner other times and the tidbit came up in conversation. Just like how Tae knew Jin had ice cream in his house even though Jin is not a huge fan of ice cream--he knew because Jin gave him ice cream at his house. It doesn't mean Taejin is real (though it would be super hot if it were)!

When Jimin and Jungkook would hang out all night and get up to stuff alone together, they would drink beer, so JK's preference for white wine might be a recent development. Taste buds change every seven years or so. I'm not sure there's a burning need for him to tell Jimin about it, whether they were dating or not.

So as for Jimin not knowing, look... I lived with my mom off-and-on for almost 24 years before I finished my Master's degree and completely moved out; and for the past 19 years after that, we still email every day, talk on the phone several times a week, and visit every other week in person. My mom is my best friend on Earth. And I only recently discovered she hates red wine because she has an allergy to the sulfates in it. Surely you're not suggesting that I am not close with my mom and or don't love her, just because I didn't know a detail about her alcoholic beverage preferences?

I mean, in a Vlive this late winter with JK, Tae, Jin, and Hobi, Tae didn't seem to know JK got a new phone. Isn't it more suspicious not to know about your (alleged) boyfriend's brand new phone?? But, like, no, not really. It's really not a huge hairy deal. Because relationships don't require you immediately knowing every single detail about the other person to be valid. If it starts to add up that you don't know a lot of little details over time, then yeah, that's telling. But I think it's pretty clear that BTS are all close with one another, even if they don't know all the trivia. We are about to get new RUN episodes and I'll bet they get questions wrong about each other left and right. Because even if you live or work with someone for years, you're not mind-melded. It doesn't mean you don't love them.

Third and finally, please go find joy elsewhere and get off my blog. Please. I'm asking you nicely. Please go away. I don't have the energy for a tit-for-tat bout every time you think you have proof Jikook isn't real. This is my happy place where I celebrate Jimin and his bond with Jungkook. I love discussing ideas around it in good faith, and I'm perfectly open to the idea that they are not dating, but I really don't like when people tear apart their relationship, whatever it may be. The fact that you come into my space and use words like "jkkr" and "BOYfriENd"--which is rude and aggressive--tells me you're here to troll, not exchange ideas.

Aren't there better uses for your energy? You could be enjoying Taekook's content right now in your own space. Or you could just be rocking out to BTS' music. You could be out in the world, making it a little bit better place. You don't have to be on Tumblr, worrying about whether or not Jikook text each other frequently. That's for Jikook to worry about.

So pretty please with sugar on top, see yourself out now.

Sincerely,

Roo

[serenityreikiclinic]

Ready For BIG Changes?

Hey there! Are you ready for big changes?

The upcoming eclipse is a significant cosmic event that holds great potential for positive change and growth, personally and globally. However, to make the most of this powerful alignment, it's important to have a clear understanding of the energy and what it entails. 

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Do...

Take time to reflect on your goals and aspirations. Use this energy to manifest what you truly desire. *To do this you MUST clear those blocks that are holding you back! 

Embrace the changes that come your way. This eclipse is a time for transformation and evolution. (Clear the fear)

Grab those opportunities! Be ready for unbelievable opportunities and good fortune!

Focus on self-care and healing. The energy of this eclipse can help you release old patterns and limiting beliefs.

Don't...

Resist the changes that come your way. Embrace the unknown and trust the journey. 

Hold onto old patterns or limiting beliefs. Now is the time to let go of what no longer serves you.

Ignore your intuition. The energy of this eclipse can help you tap into your inner wisdom and guidance.

Let this cycle start without a plan. You need a solid plan in place to begin this new chapter of your life.

To assist you in making the most of this powerful energy, we're excited to offer you our Eclipse Clearings + Personal Live Session package. This offer includes a live personal clearing and a one-to-one Energy Healing Session. This exclusive package is valued at over USD 400, but for a limited time, it's available to you for only $147. Plus, you can pay in installments of $27 a month, so there are no excuses to miss out on this incredible opportunity. (I also attached a PDF checklist to this email for even more info. on the eclipse.)

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[introtopp]

Entry 4

As part of our studies for the subject ‘Transition to Professional Practise’, we were required to submit 3 applications for past internships. As part of the assessment, we had to submit a relevant cover letter, resume and address key criteria for that specific position. 

When completing the assessment, I applied for jobs as commercial partnerships intern at the Victorian Amateur Football Association (VAFA), cricket operations communications intern at Cricket Victoria and communications intern for the Commonwealth games.

It was clear when writing the cover letters that my cover letter for the role at the VAFA was the most detailed. This is because it was the only of the cover letters in which received peer feedback, therefore enabling me to adjust my sentencing and add more detail where needed. 

My key section criteria was also, the most detailed for the VAFA role, although I need to ensure I add more detail to certain aspects, in particular when highlighting my specific team work and technological skills, I need to go into more depth and highlight these skills more specifically. My peers also mentioned the importance of including my personal details at the top of the page with a link to my Linkedin, email address, phone number as well as my home address. This makes it easy for employers to contact me if I am being considered for a specific job.

Due to missing a couple of classes and being quite unorganised, my second 2 applications were rushed and not completed to the standards I’d hoped and expect for myself. When looking back and reflecting, it is clear that both cover letters were far too short. I didn’t go into much, if any detail in regards to my skillset and what I could potentially bring to their organisations. My cover letter for the role at Cricket Australia was rushed so much that I even accidentally didn’t finish a sentence. This is not the quality in which is required when applying for a professional job, and although I know I have the ability to construct a cover letter of a high standard, I need to put far more time into my assignments in order to complete them to a far higher standard.

[hurdlehoops]

SPN did Market Research for Dean & Cas

Disclaimer: Yes this is a sock for safety reasons. Post is long, but please read it.

No shit there I was checking my email, as you do, and I saw I had a screener from one of the market research groups I’m signed up with.  On average, I do a market research thing every 3-4 months because I like non-reportable money. And giving my opinions. And talking to people behind 2 way mirrors without having to go to a police station.   

Market research itself was early December, 2016. First email contact with the screener was late October or early November. 

I see it’s an “offsite,” meaning a market research company is subcontracted by another company who wants to do the market research at their own facility, but doesn't want to find the participants on their own, so they use the Market research company (in this case Schlesinger and Associates) as an intermediary. I can’t remember if this screener identified itself as being for TV, not all do, some might identify only as entertainment, and some might be even more vague until you get into the screener. Regardless of the identification for the screener (TV or entertainment), I fill out almost every screener I receive unless it’s obvious, from the subject, they won’t want me (ie looking for certain types of professionals)- it didn’t matter, then, if the subject matter was something I particularly like, I would’ve filled it out anyway.  

After normal, but more detailed than usual demographics questions, the screener asked about TV habits. Eventually,  it said the word “fandom” and asked what TV fandoms I’d count myself in.  It was roughly a list of 20 shows and listed “fandom” (defined as I watch every episode and read additional materials about the show. Note this is not what fandom itself would consider fandom, but people most fandom dwellers would still count as GA).  Beyond fandom, one could indicate they: watch all episodes but don’t seek out more,  watch most episodes, have seen some episodes, watched a few, or haven’t watched.  (I just got a screener for soap operas and realized that part was the same and made note). Therefore, fandom, to corporate, are people who watch everything and maybe buy some swag for the show- magazines/shirts. Then, they asked about conventions I might have attended.  And then asked about my dream vacation, so I babbled a lot about my dream to go to SDCC (I hadn’t at this point). Supernatural was on the list of shows, so I made sure I answered the essay questions about it, because why not? It was my favorite of what was listed.  It was a long screener. I don’t remember the rest. Though sometimes I might remember a detail if a screener reminds me of it. Most fun screener I’ve filled out.

A few days/weeks later, I got a call for step 2- the phone screener for the people that sounded good when filling out the form. And where they try and make sure your answers match or fit that same person who answered them. I passed step 2, and was told there would be homework, and asked ifI’d have time for it, since I would only have so many days to watch the assigned material and write essays about them. 

Homework arrives: I have to watch and write essays on all the bonus features of Supernatural S10. There might’ve been something in there from another year, too. And all the bonus features from some season of  Big Bang Theory.  Essays for all of it, too.  And I mean essays, not short answers.  It was like the SATs, and I was analyzing blooper reels (among other things).  I still don’t get why they wanted essay questions on blooper reels, but I’ll always happily write one again cause that was the funniest essay to have to write! 

I had to both print and bring and email all my answers ahead of time.  I did not keep them.  I’m honestly curious what I might’ve written.  

So in December, I get to go to WB’s market research department. Fun fact: the entrance to that building faces what had recently been the Supernatural poster. I check in. At this point I think it’s a group. Because most market research is done in groups. Also they said I was there for the “DVD bonus features study” 

I wait in the lobby, but I’m surprised there seem to be very few others around. I don’t think I got there too early, but all the others were taken back before me. And they didn’t seem to be there for the same study.  Oh and I wore business casual clothes but had some show-based earrings for fun.  

Finally a nice lady brings me back to a room. She turns off the lights and gives me a fancy remote and has me play with a new system for watching bonus features. I had to start with BBT. Then we did something else. Then I was allowed to scroll through and I picked Supernatural, and answered all the things.  By this point I figured I would be released soonish   because I was supposed to be there only for an hour. And this was at least half an hour at the most. No clock, though and cell phone off.  Maybe this part went faster than I remember, but it was less interesting so it felt longer? Or less interesting compared to what came next. 

We switch gears. I’m no longer allowed to pick what we watch and talk about my thoughts on if SDCC panels belong in bonus features.  (Me: should have a preorder and you get to watch it when the season airs with DVD to arrive when season ends. Silly to watch it after the season when it’s mostly vague spoilers for the first episode or so). Obviously WB doesn’t listen to me about everything.

Oh! In the screener as part of normal demographics, I was asked about my sexuality. It isn’t completely rare (I can talk about another market research where you had to be queer to be part of it), but there were some short answers about representation or something similar. Something that is significant *now,* but at the time I didn’t notice as being too weird.  Since they probably had me listed to the people behind the mirror as X (if they even got my name) Y resident, bisexual, age.  I very specifically said stuff to her about representation cause I wasn’t gonna miss my shot.

Anyway so we switch from dvd extras and she queues up video from another file.

She puts a scene of Supernatural on and has me watch. Then repeats it. And asks questions about my opinions on what’s happening.  Then has me watch and only pay attention to Character D and tell her what I think his emotions are.  Then again but with Character C.  

Complete torture… lol… at this point I’m confused, but enjoying this torture.

So there I am watching the Crypt scene over and over and analyzing it.  And talking about their feelings.  

And then I stop her and say something to the effect of “look I’m bi. There’s not a lot of good representation on what being bi is like.  But from episode 1 I’ve known Dean is Bi.”    And I babbled about how important a macho badass but closeted character is for representation. And that I hoped they did more with that.  I included some anecdotes from other lgbtq friends and straight allies and how they all felt as I did- Dean is Bi, Cas is whatever he wants to identify as, and we felt we recognized our experiences on the screen and hoped for continued and louder representation. 

Bam. My interviewer was called out of the room by the people behind the mirror. Suddenly I’m getting a whole new set of questions

Like this is the most baffling and amazing thing that's happened to me in years. It imprinted in my mind, and I haven’t mentioned it to too many people, because of the NDA and being afraid to jinx things. But now I don’t feel like it matters to be as quiet. Obviously I don’t want WB to go after me but... market research isn’t unusual, just mostly used for spin-offs or new shows not for plot points of shows already happening. At least, that’s my understanding. 

The interviewer  comes back after a short discussion with whoever was behind the glass. Asks a few more questions

We’re now very much going into various things about what I’d just said. I took my shot. And apparently it paid off big time.  At some point she’s pulled out of the room again and given a paper with more questions. Some were about Dean’s bisexuality, or how I, and anecdotally my friends, saw him as bisexual.  Others were about the potential romance. None, that I remember, were about Castiel’s sexuality- I guess that was a given or not important. 

I don’t know if any of the writers were behind the glass from the beginning, but I felt like they stalled to get someone there, maybe.

The interviewer was baffled and made sure I knew nothing that was happening was normal.  They wanted to ask me more questions than they usually care to get out of their market research volunteers. 

So those are the most important parts. Basically almost everything I was asked after that was about character analysis and queerness and a whole bunch of other things that were related (I also mentioned needing more disability rep, too).  I was back there for at least 2 hours.

[hiddlesbummmm]

This story is based off a prompt from an anon - I apologize if it's not exactly what you were expecting, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 💕

Warnings: SFW Tickle Fic

Words: 2696 Ler Loki X Lee Reader

The Sass Queen

Today was not a good day. You weren’t necessarily in a bad mood, but it also wasn’t the nicest mood either. Typically you were a bright and bubbly person and focused on the positive. But today, all the cards seemed to be stacked against you. Days like this made you extremely sassy and blunt. You didn’t beat around the bush about anything and you honestly didn’t even want to laugh or smile.

It all started when you woke up that morning. It was a bright Saturday morning and you had completed all of your homework assignments, or so you thought. Turns out you had missed one in your syllabus that was due last night. You woke up to a confusing email from your professor asking why a smart hardworking student like you was missing such a simple assignment. Luckily, he was going to let you turn it in late, but it came at the cost of a 10% deduction to your final grade. You worked hard to complete this and turned it in by lunchtime.

The next bad thing to happen was while you were in the kitchen making your lunch, you accidentally caught your favorite necklace on the cupboard handle as you turned around to grab a plate off of the countertop. This necklace was one of the only things you had left from your parents. It had been given to you at the orphanage and it had a great sentimental value to it. You quickly slammed the cupboard door shut and it made a very loud BANG sound that echoed throughout the kitchen.

Just as you did this, Loki walked into the kitchen. He had left some toast in the toaster while he ran to grab his current favorite book from his room and had returned to you slamming cupboards. “ Oof did that cabinet look at your funny or something?” Loki snickered. You really were not ready for his teasing right now. You rolled your eyes and quickly grabbed his toast out of the toaster and took a huge bite out of it. Smirking you said “ Thanks for the toast! It was delicious” and then you left the room leaving Loki looking dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe you just did that to his toast!

A few hours later you and the team met for dinner. Saturday nights the team tried really hard to eat a meal together. Steve called it “ Team bonding”. You usually enjoyed it, but after this morning, you didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Wanda had made the team baked potatoes with any topping imaginable. You liked your potatoes simple, so you only had sour cream, cheese, and chives in yours. Bucky saw this and decided he wanted to mess with you a little.

“ Y/n, why does your potato look so naked? You know it won’t kill you to add more toppings right?” He then reached across the table and sprinkled some pepper onto your potato. You gave him a dirty look and quipped back “ Bucky why does your potato look so gross? It doesn’t take a genius to know that a simple potato is the best potato.” You then grabbed the pepper shaker, took off the lid, and dumped it all over Bucky’s potato. Bucky looked at you in complete shock. You just grinned and continued eating.

“Jeez Loki, have you been teaching Y/n your sass? She’s acting an awful lot like you! “ Thor boasted as he elbowed Loki in the side. Loki was about to say something but you cut him off. “ Oh please Thor, Loki didn’t teach me anything. I’m the sass queen and even he couldn’t beat me at that.” Bucky, Sam, and Steve let out an “ Ooooh Burn!” In unison. No one dared to sass Loki before. But frankly, you didn’t care at this point. Loki just turned his head and gave you a shocked expression. He wasn’t expecting this sass either. “ Well someone is being cheeky today. Say Y/n, wasn’t it you this morning who stole my toast!?” You giggled slightly at this. Seeing Loki flustered was the only thing lightening your mood today. You quickly shot back “ Yes. Now, what are you gonna do cry about it!?”

Loki then quickly excused himself from the table without another word and went off in the direction of his bedroom. No one else said anything except for Bucky who was whispering to Steve about how his poor potato was ruined.

You walked back to your room. You felt sorta felt bad for being too sassy, but you knew the team still loved you. Wanda even sent you a text thanking you for standing up to the boys because they liked to mess with the team and weren’t used to push back.

As you made your way down the hallway you heard something fall out of your pocket and bounce across the floor. You stopped and looked to see what it was. You quickly realized it was your precious necklace. You signed and went to pick it up. Just as you were about to place it in your pocket again, a soft but deep voice echoed behind you.

“ Whatcha got there Y/n? A gift from your secret lover” You rolled your eyes and turned to face Loki. He was back to his usual self again. You decided the best course of action would be to deflect. You had not told anyone on the team why the necklace was so important to you, and you weren’t planning on it anytime soon.

“I see you made your way back from timeout. For a second I thought you were gonna cry because someone stepped on your moment.” You smirked. You had heard Natasha say that and liked it so much you stole it from her. Loki mock gasped and put his hand on his chest. “ Ouch, I’m crushed by this.” Loki then dropped his facade and took a slow mischievous step towards you. “ Why are you being so suspicious Y/N. Just tell me what you have and I will leave you alone.” You didn’t want to back down that easily. You also knew he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“It's nothing Loki. Why are you so interested?” You spat back. Without missing a beat Loki replied, “ If it truly is nothing why are you so committed to hiding it from me”. Shit. He had you there. Loki must have noticed that he shut you up because he laughed and said “ Well so much for being the Sass Queen Y/n. The King will now take back his rightful throne and his first command is you show me what you have in your pocket”.

You laughed at this. “ Damn what an ego you have Loki. And no, I won’t show you so sorry!” And with that, you tried to walk away. Loki reach out and grabbed your wrist pulling you into his chest.

“ Fine, then I will just grab it myself”. He then started to try and pull open your sweatshirt pocket. You tried to fight back but he was holding you tightly. As Loki was wrestling with you, he kept accidentally poking his fingers into your sides and ribs. You tried to contain your giggles but he hit an extremely sensitive spot and you let out a little screech. Loki paused what he was doing and immediately gave you a puzzled look. He quickly caught on to your reaction and grinned evilly.

“ Oh my my my. What do we have here! A bit ticklish love? You blushed when he said this. This day was going to shit. Now you potentially had two secrets that were exposed today. “ Loki let’s just talk about this okay? How about you let me go and then I'll consider showing you what’s in my pocket?” Loki laughed at your attempt to bargain and only squeezed you tighter.

“ How about no” he whispered in your ear. And before you knew it, Loki had thrown you over his shoulder and was carrying you to a nearby couch.

“ You know Y/n, you have been in quite a mood today and I think it’s time to cheer you up hmm?” Loki lightly dropped you onto the sofa and pinned you down. “ Tell me what’s in your pocket, and I’ll go easy on you. If you refuse, I’ll use my new findings against you until you admit I’m the Sass King and you tell me what’s in your pocket”. You thought about this. On one hand, it would feel nice to be cheered up a little bit by Loki. The team was still skeptical of him, but you had never been. From the first time you met, you didn’t understand why people didn’t like him. He was also extremely hot, so bonus there. The downside was you would have to tell him about the necklace and you didn’t want to tell him yet.

So instead of responding to Loki as a normal person would, you stuck your tongue out at him and flipped him off with your right hand. Loki’s grin just got bigger and his eyes flashed with surprise. He expected you to cave.

“ Well alright love, I didn’t realize tickling you to pieces was an option, but you just picked it! Laugh for me!”

Loki wasted no time. He started poking your sides and ribs looking for that spot he accidentally found earlier. You didn’t even try to hide your laughter because it would be no use. “ Hehehe Loki I’ll never tell you anything. “ You tried to sound threatening but the giggles kinda blew that cover. Loki now saw this as a challenge. “ Is this a challenge dear? Because Gods never lose”.

Loki then dove down and blew a few raspberries on your neck. This sudden change made your nerves explode and you screamed! Goodness, it tickled soooo bad. “LOKI NO WAIT IM SORRY” Now you really were scared. At this rate, Loki was gonna either kill you or make you talk. Loki smirked when you started begging. “ Oooh begging are we? That just means I’m close to making you crack. I just have to find the right spot.” He then roamed his eyes over your body looking for another vulnerable spot to attack while you were getting some air. You noticed his eyes shift to your feet and you started giggling in anticipation. Loki saw this of course. “ Oh I think I have found it! This is your final warning, tell me what you have and I shall spare your feet from my wrath.” You started kicking your feet wildly at this point.

You looked at Loki and nodded your head. “ Okay okay okay, I’ll tell you… the thing that is in my pocket is…is.. uh…it’s NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “ Wow. Well, I shall be seeing you at your funeral dear.” And with a wink, he had scooted his body down to pin your legs down. He slowly removed your socks making sure to lightly tickle your foot the whole time. You were thrashing and begging now. How could you have been so stupid! You should have just told him. You were soon ripped from your thoughts when you felt a finger lightly scratch the bottom of your foot. Your foot twitched and you immediately tried to pull your foot from Loki’s iron grip. “ Any last words dear?” You caved. You couldn’t stand your feet being tickled.

“ YOU ARE THE SASS KING! AND ITS MY BROKEN NECKLACE IN MY POCKET! Please just let me go!” You blurted out.

Loki turned and gave you a shocked expression. He was definitely not expecting that. “ See was that so hard? It really is a shame you didn’t listen to me earlier. Thank you for sharing, but for now, I just want to hear you laugh darling. Try not to be so cheeky next time. And don’t ever mess with my toast”.

Loki then scribbled his fingers all over your soles and you lost it. You had a deep belly laugh and tears came pouring from your eyes. You tried to shake his hand from your poor feet, but it was no use. Loki had weakened you significantly and all you could do was squeal. Loki was absolutely ruthless. He weaved his fingers between your toes and his smile was so wide after listening to your reaction from that. He probably tickled you into oblivion for ten minutes before he slowed his pace to just lightly caressing your feet. You are still giggling maniacally at this point, but the smile you had was real. You enjoyed this time together.

Loki then got off of you and pulled you into his lap. Your face was a bright red still but your breathing was back to normal. Loki looked deep into your eyes as if he was searching for something. He must have found it because he said “ Y/n, why don’t you tell me more about this precious necklace you have?” Your eyes widened. “How how did you know it was important to me? I’ve never told anyone before” you stammered out not making eye contact with Loki.

He just chuckled slightly. “ Dear one, you wear that necklace every single day. When you are nervous you fiddle with it, and you only take it off before you go on a mission because you don’t want to risk breaking or losing it. I know it’s important to you. I noticed you didn’t have it on at dinner and so it made sense why you were in such a foul mood. I excused myself to check your room to see if you had just forgotten it.” He squeezed you reassuringly. “ Please tell me. I want to help you. And if you don’t, I may have to find those cute toes of yours again.” You squeaked when he went to grab your feet again. “ Okay okay, I’ll tell you for real this time.” You told Loki all about your morning. About how you missed an assignment and then broke your necklace. You explained that you honestly didn’t know much about the necklace, just that it was a gift from your parents before they were killed and the lady at the orphanage gave it to you. It was the last thing you had from them and you somehow managed to break it. You broke into tears at this point. Loki rubbed your back and told you to let it all out.

Once your sniffles had simmered down Loki spoke to you in a soft voice. “ Y/n thank you for sharing that with me. I’m sorry that you felt the need to keep that hidden. Nobody here would have made fun of you and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” You nodded and placed your head on his shoulder. “ Do you mind if I take a look at it? I want to see what it looks like up close.” You nodded again and fished it out of your pocket. You handed it to Loki and he held it delicately in his hand. Suddenly there was a burst of green light that exploded from his palm. Once it had disappeared, you realized your necklace was no longer broken. Loki had used his magic to fix it. “ Oh my gosh Loki no way! Thank you thank you thank you!” You hugged him hard and long.

Afterward, you went to stand up to get some water. Loki stopped you and said, “ You know, I wouldn’t mind if you were my sass queen. All kings need to have a strong woman fighting beside them”. You grinned widely at this proposal. “ I’ll think about it. I’m not sure I want to be a queen next to someone who eats boring toast for breakfast” you (obviously) sassed back.

Loki’s eyes lit up as you started another challenge. You raced down the hallway running from the God, but before you knew it you were lost in bubbly giggly laughter.

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Allurement: Waves

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

The scantily-leaved trees held on to the last of their dying offspring. But the west-winds seemed to be unbothered, trying to tear away those leaves from the branches as the rest, hued in dull to bright shades of nature danced along on the ground.

And a few crushed beneath (Y/N)'s shoes, it would have been a fun activity: crushing dried leaves under her shoes. But she was rushing towards the car waiting for her.

"So quick!" Park Jimin, as sweet and polite as the man could be, was no less a sassy hellion if he required to be. And of all, he loved to sass around her the best. But most of the time, he did have a good reason to.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I woke up late." (Y/N) was quick to apologise, as she passed him a sheepish smile while taking a seat beside him.

"You are lucky that I like you, besides, we can always drive a bit faster, or take the shortcut? So do put on your seatbelt." he smiled at her before the car roared to life and the wheels came to life and the car went off.

It had not been too long since she had begun working under Mr Kim as his secretary, temporary secretary. About three months or so. But the previous autumn, when he had put forth the proposal of giving her the job, it did not feel long ago, while in reality. it had been a year, a whole, complete revolution of the earth around the Sun and there she was, riding with Jimin to her workplace- the Kim Group of Companies' headquarters, where the respected young CEO sat and operated from.

And within a year, nothing seemed to have changed, the water of life seemed to be stagnant. But she could feel the change, deep, greater changes like upheaval in the ocean, the waves, gigantic, monstrous, terrifying. Threatening to drown her. There was so much that had changed.

Park Jimin was a great company and an excellent friend. She had found out soon after the bond of friendship had been established between the two.

Kim Namjoon was an excellent boss and that, her job as his secretary, as reasonably draining, had so much to learn from. She admired Miss Choi for her efficiency, (Y/N) had so much more to learn, both from her job as well as her employer.

And she also discovered, gradually of course, that behind the all too sophisticated, groomed gentleman laid a clumsy gentle giant who would often burn his fingers trying to make himself a cup of coffee, or even trying to pass on hot food and drinks to her. And it was devastatingly endearing.

But most of all, (Y/N) had learnt that her mother was dying. The illness was eating her mother away, chipping away her health and endurance and there was nothing (Y/N) could do about it, nothing could prevent the inevitable. So she made peace with the fact, even though she knew that deep within, she was dreading the day her mother's sunken eyes would close for eternity. But she came to accept the fact that her mother could not be saved. All she could do was to make peace with the tragedy of life, that lied within the shortness of it.

So on the surface, (Y/N)'s life was calm and stable as a lake, yet the giant waves of changing wind terrified her under the same surface.

----

"You have a meeting with the lead investors this morning, the files and reports have been arranged at your desk." she listed off from her phone gifted by the company. It was not the day's schedule, a day in Kim Namjoon's life was nothing if it could not be defined as 'busy', it was the first half of a typical Monday morning in the company.

As soon as she was done, which was rather quickly, she placed a cup of steaming brew in front of her employer- double expresso with two cubes of sugar- just the way he liked it. Mr Kim smiled at her appreciatively. It was one of the many things she liked about him and admired. He never took his employees for granted, he had never failed to let her know that he appreciated her efforts to keep his day running smoothly and sorting things out for him.

"Thank you (Y/N), I hope you had your share of morning booster as well?" she nodded with a faint smile playing on her lips before handing off the files to him as she began to brief him regarding the topics and issues he and the company had been working on.

The projects and the required consumptions and stock- price data. It was not every day that the investors would gather at the conference room, but since a new project at hand was to begin, a meeting with the investors was required.

"Well, the reports look good (Y/N), did Mr Min mail you the required files?"

"Yes, the deal was explained there. He would be presenting along with you, it is regarding the profit margin and how the chances of loss and risk are low this time," she explained, to which he nodded

"Yes, and I require you to be with me in this meeting."

"Of course I will be with you, Sir, I am your secretary."

"No, I mean sit beside me, you won't be standing behind as you have been. And I expect all your focus on the presentation, okay? There is so much you would be learning from this." she gave him an obedient nod with a small smile.

She did not intend to disappoint him at any cost. Mr Kim was her role model, she looked up to him. Given, that she despised the spotlight and the position of CEO was not for her, but she was found herself to be a perfect fit for the position of secretary.  Despite how demanding her job could get, Mr Kim was an excellent boss and mentor. He was at ease, most of the time. At most, she had seen his eyes grow cold and jaws clenched, perhaps only twice, that too if something went seriously downhill. It was a sliver of what might be laying under the controlled and calm persona. He was a human too after all.

She made her way towards her desk as soon as the briefing was over. Mr Kim's office was massive, and he did not wish to waste time on having to ring her to come to his office, thus he had a desk for her arranged in his office itself. It was kind of a mini-open office, her boss and her working under the same roof, no barriers between them, she could approach him anytime she wanted to and he did not need a phone anymore to summon her.

They had settled into a routine like that. She would begin her day by bringing him his much-needed cup of coffee and listing the first half of his morning schedule, then she could begin with her works of arranging files, stacking reports, sending emails, scanning through and replying to the mails, researching on the potential business partners, making and answering phone calls, deciding and listing appointment and other project-related materials those were deemed necessary by Mr Kim.

And all the months of working under him had been able to provide her with a unique perspective of him. There were so many things she would have never been able to discover otherwise, for instance, the fact that he loved crabs- not on his plate- but on his palms as he would gently cradle those tiny creatures whenever he would come across them. He even owned a crab, a pet crab. She would not have known had he not rambled off regarding his love for crabs while he had ordered gourmet food for them when she was required to stay some extra hours, which was a frequent occurrence. The workload could be a bit too much for him to handle, besides, those extra hours consisted far less of work one would expect and more of them talking, she had finally been able to let him enter her comfort zone, she would be damned if she had not. He had been exceptionally generous to her, he was kind and approachable, time and again he had proved it, both as a superior as well as a person.

He was warm, gentle and funny, unintentionally funny. Especially when he would break his glasses more than once a month, it would be a miracle if his AirPods would not be lost within the first week of purchase. And while his constant misplacement of files and other such important documents had managed to make her purse her lips in annoyance more than once. The warm, dimpled sheepish smile had did not allow the annoyance to remain. Because even if he would be exhausted after a day's of overwhelming work, he would not forget to wish her good night before they left the office, because even if she would be a bit late with her coffee, he never threw a fit like one would expect the boss to do. And because despite his busy schedule, he would manage to inquire about her mother's health.

Mr Kim was different. He was everything any woman would crave for and desire. And despite not being the one with shallow indulgence, she had found herself falling for her employer. It did not happen overnight. It was a gradual process, like sleep.

(L/N)(Y/N) was in love with Kim Namjoon, her boss, the heir of the legendary Kim Group of Companies.

And it had been so easy to fall in love with that man. Despite her previous reservations. And she was well-aware that the love would go tragically unreciprocated. They were worlds apart in more than one ways, the social gap, the economic gap, the professional. Everything laid in front of her to see, understand and accept the fact that her love for Kim Namjoon could not bridge the distance between the moon and a mere earthly admirer. To him, she would be many of the faceless women waiting for his attention and thronging around him if he came to know about her newfound feelings. And she did not want that to happen. She did not wish to ruin the sweet, friendly professional bond she had established with him.

And yet, she could not help the bittersweet blooms in her heart every time she would see him smile. Because she knew that sooner or later, he would be having a much warmer smile, eyes shining with love and adoration for a woman who would own his heart. It was impossible for a man like Kim Namjoon to remain single for long, he was the country's most eligible bachelor after all. Or perhaps he already had someone special in his heart, a secret lover perhaps. The mere thought dimmed her mood and often made her shoulders slump.

Of all the massive, daunting waves threatening to crash upon her, her newfound romantic attachment to her employer was the most terrifying one. Because she knew that wave would come crashing down and drown her. And that single wave against all others frightened her the most because it threatened to cause upheaval on the calm surface of her life and become the cause of her ultimate demise.

****

Taglist(Kindly remind me later if I missed anyone)- @whatpageisthis @amoc94 @theresa-nam-nam-me @dearbambideer @casualminiaturetimemachine @njrwifey @kpopisnicee @illnevertrustmyselfagain @potterbrooke @luvaffaire @bighitfics @mochimochipie @vixenwerr

[trini-trin-trin]

Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

[dontneedadictionary]

FACEIT, TF2, and YOU: What it is, how to play, etc

So you’ve heard of the hit new thing coming to TF2 but you don’t know what the heck its all about? Or maybe you’re trying to figure out how to use FACEIT to play Team Fortress 2? This is the guide for you.

For those of you interested in signing up, consider using this link. For those of you looking to learn more, please read under the cut. I’ll be giving a detailed explanation of what FACEIT is, what it means for TF2, and how to queue. 

Ok, so first thing’s first: what is FACEIT? 

FACEIT is an Esports company founded in 2012. It has been hosting leagues and community matchmaking for games like CS:GO and Dota 2 for a while. But this isn’t really too important in the grand scheme. What you need to know is that FACEIT has taken an interest in creating a skill-based, cheat free, matchmaking platform for casual Team Fortress 2. 

What this means is that after the closed beta for TF2 ends later this month (March), you will be able to queue into community maps hosted by FACEIT. These servers are heavily monitored with anti cheats so that they will not be infiltrated by hackers and bots which have currently been the plague of Casual Team Fortress 2. 

Currently, FACEIT boasts zero bots, zero hackers, skill-based matchmaking, free prizes (australium weapons and rare cosmetics), no autobalance, no random crits, no random bullet spread, and more. 

You can learn more about these things in plenty of youtube videos like these:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvfEmlJ_N48

But what does FACEIT mean for TF2? FACEIT poses a chance for TF2 players to experience a more serious casual setting without the current issues plaguing the game. It also means that TF2′s community could grow. Potentially, if FACEIT goes well, Valve could be inclined to improve the future of the game. 

FACEIT currently is one of the best options for people who like playing TF2 seriously. It’s not technically competitive, but it is a more competitive way to play. Consider it like playing something like Competitive Overwatch casually. You should take the game seriously, not play as a friendly, and not abandon the game. 

If you’re someone who wants more from your TF2 experience and want a challenge, this could be for you! That being said, I caution that it isn’t for everyone. It’s a very different way to play TF2 than a standard causal game is. Maybe give it a try and see if you like it! 

-o-

So how all does it work from the technical side of things? How do you play?

Well, I’ve got the guide for you! (This will get long, I’m sorry).

Currently (3/14) the client only offers a closed beta. To get access you will need to be invited by FACEIT to the closed beta. However, you may be able to get access to this by inviting a friend (I’m not 100% sure). 

If you have full access, or this is written after the closed beta has ended and the client opens to the general public: start here. 

First thing’s first. When you download the client, it may require you to verify your email and phone number before you can queue. This is a component of the anti-cheat. Additionally, it may require that you download the anti-cheat software (this will require a PC restart). I suggest downloading it regardless of it is required. This is merely to help prevent the infiltration of hackers and bots. 

The anti-cheat download can be found in the bottom left of your screen. Just download the software and make sure you log in afterwards via the same button once it has been successfully downloaded. NOTE: you cannot install the anti-cheat with TF2 or another game open. 

Once this is setup, you should be able to queue with no issues. 

From the play menu, you can queue for Solo or Team games of matchmaking 12v12 TF2. It will let you know how many players are currently queuing for the game mode if you hover (hence 21 in this screenshot). 

There are currently 8 available maps. You can select your preferences here. However, much like in competitive game lobbies, you will have the option to vote for the map chosen for the match. I’ll come back to this in a moment. For now, you need to know how to make sure you make it into a match.

When a match is ready, there is a VERY short period of time to accept the match. Less than 30 seconds to hit accept. If you miss this window, you will have to requeue. If someone else misses this window, you will automatically requeue. The client will automatically play a loud trumpet flourish and you just hit the button to check in. This is to ensure no inactive players and afks.

This is what the window looks like when you’re accepted into a game and the maps are still being chosen. Team leaders (priority towards people with premium passes) will choose and select a map for the game to be played on. If you’re not a team leader, you can request that certain maps be played or not played. 

After the map has been chosen, you will be provided an IP address to paste into your developer console in TF2. If you don’t know how to enable your developer console, please follow this guide. 

You have less than 3 minutes to connect into the match. If you make it in during this time, you will be partaking in a few moments of warmup. It’s just like pre-game in Casual TF2 servers. From here, the game functions similar to competitive. One team attacks and sets a standard. The other only has to beat that standard time or amount of points capped etc. (I believe that KOTH maps are best out of 5).

If at any point your team is really getting beaten and you feel the need to forfeit. You can type “!gg” in the chat and a vote to forfeit will start. 

If you leave the match early, you will be penalized. So you should really only queue up if you have an interest in completing the game. Even if it goes poorly, you should stick it out or use !gg. 

Once the match ends, it will automatically close. Similar to an MvM lobby!

As you play, you’ll be able to work towards points to win prizes (they’re expensive but still possible to get!) as you play the game. Here’s an example of some of the prizes.

There are also missions to help you unlock points. Here are some examples of those:

You will also be able to rank up and unlock points that way. Newer players will have to work up through the ranks. The XP to earn these rank ups comes from playing the game. You can earn your way to the Face Melting rank just by playing the game. 

An example of how the ranking system currently works is shown here from Big Joey’s youtube video.

As you can see, the higher ranks will be based on your skill as a player. There are also other things in FACEIT such as ladders and tournaments. These are more complicated and explorable on the actual site or platform itself. So I’ll let you guys check that out on your own.

Overall, there are a lot of fun things about FACEIT! Hopefully this guide helped you understand what it is, how to play, and what there is about it. Please let me know if you have any targeted questions about it in my inbox and I’ll be sure to help provide any info I can.

Have fun y’all and give it a try! This is a cool alternative to casual play. 

[enigmaticxbee]

S9 Rewatch - Dialog

Voiceovers: Not very many classic voiceovers this season, the most memorable of which is Scully’s lovely speech to William set to Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons, Op.37b: VI. June over images of Mulder and Scully throughout the show in 9x06 Trust No 1. She also has a closing VO in 9x05 Lord of the Flies. 9x10 Providence opens with a voiceover by the cult leader Josepho and Morris Fletcher opens 9x15 Jump the Shark with a recap of the Lone Gunmen’s arc on this show and their own. In 9x19 The Truth we hear many of the characters testimony at Mulder’s trial in voiceover over clips from the show’s mytharc - why CC thought a clip recap show was the best format for the finale...

Catch Phrases: The return of the catch phrases for the final (OG) season and especially the finale. Mulder uses “trust no one” as his email address in Trust No 1. Mulder and Scully both use “the truth is out there” in The Truth and Trust No 1. Jeffrey Spender uses “I want to believe” in 9x16 William and both Mulder and Scully use it in The Truth. As usual they still talk a LOT throughout the season about “truth” and “trust” and “belief”.

I’m Fine: Scully’s clearly not ok this season, only pretending “I’m Fine” once this season, in 9x01 Nothing Important Happened Today. Reyes also says she’s fine in 9x04 4-D.

It’s Me: Unsurprisingly very little “it’s me”ing this season - only once from Scully in The Truth. No phone calls with Mulder this season of course. Scully has phone conversations with Doggett and Reyes in 2 episodes each and 1 with both of them.

Scuuullllaaaaayy! Muullllderrrr!: Just Scully yelling for Mulder at the train station and in the quarry in Trust No 1. They really missed out on some potential great yelling for each in The Truth when they’re escaping before the helicopters bomb the Anasazi ruins. She does yell Wiiilllliiaaaaam into the dark in 9x10 Providence the way she always yells Muullllderrrr! even though he’s a baby and can’t respond 🥺

Memorable Lines:

- Scully: He’s gone. He’s just gone... It makes sense in its own way. That’s all I can tell you. (9x01 Nothing Important Happened Today)

- Scully: One day, you’ll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite - your protector and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys - a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance shall befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your your heart. And in that moment you will be blessed - and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart. (9x06 Trust No 1)

- Snarky!Scully: A spacecraft, Agent Doggett, if you can wrap your brain around that. (9x09 Provenance)

- Scully: Sir, does it look like we’re here to play checkers? (9x13 Improbable)

- Scully: William was a bullfrog... (9x16 William) 😭

- Scully: You know a person in so many ways. Ways that a test can’t even begin to know. (9x16 William)

- Doggett: So close, Dana. I’m sorry you don’t get your proof. Scully: Me too. Well, maybe I’ve had it these past nine years. If not proof of the paranormal, then... of more important things. (9x18 Sunshine Days)

- Guard: What are you thinking? Mulder: About my son. About his mother. (9x19 The Truth)

- Mulder:... I failed in every respect. I deserve the harshest punishment for my crimes. (9x19 The Truth)

- Scully: You say this is greater than us, and maybe it is, but this is us fighting this fight, Mulder, not you. It’s you and me. That’s what I’m fighting for, Mulder. You and me! (9x19 The Truth)

- Scully: You wouldn’t tell me. Not because you were afraid or broken... but because you didn’t want to accept defeat. Mulder: I was afraid of what knowing would do to you... I was afraid it would crush your spirit. Scully: Why would I accept defeat? Why would I accept it, if you won’t? Mulder, you say that you’ve failed but you only fail if you give up. And I know you - you can’t give up. It’s what I saw in you when we first met. It’s what made me follow you... why I’d do it all over again. (9x19 The Truth)

- Mulder: I want to believe that the dead are not lost to us. That they speak to us as part of something greater than us - greater than any alien force. And if you and I are powerless now, I want to believe that if we listen to what’s speaking, it can give us the power to save ourselves. Scully: Then we believe the same thing. Mulder: Maybe there’s hope. (9x19 The Truth)

[amidstsaltandsmoke]

Smutty one liners- 5

Here ya go, anon! Thanks for the prompt! Set in the universe of my nerdy OLWY babies. Hope that you like it! 5. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

Dany woke to the shrill sound of her phone's email alert, promptly and groggily reaching over and blindly muting it before it had the chance to throttle Jon from his rest.

For a solid few minutes, her sleep-addled mind couldn't determine the reason she would be receiving said notifications on a Sunday, unless it was…

Shit!

She bolted upright in bed, Ghost suddenly jolting with her where he warmed their feet at the end of the bed, half of his face smushed from where it had lain. She gave him a quick scrub under his chin and he resumed his position while, with squinted eyes, she tried to find the suspect labeled URGENT, and thankfully it was sitting right on top of her inbox.

The only time she ever had alerts turned on on weekends was for projects that could potentially be terminated without rapid response, or important work matters that required immediate attention else they lose a deal to a competitor.

As it happened, her eyes hastily scanning the email's contents, this particular affair was both, and there was a video call happening at five a.m. - in four bloody minutes!

As frantically as she could without getting Ghost worked up or disrupting Jon beside her, she scrambled out from beneath the sheets only to be cruelly reminded by the chilly morning air that she had not a scrap of clothing on.

Fuck, she mouthed, positive that her hair was a rats nest at best and there was no clothing in sight; last night they'd been particularly ravenous with each other, and if memory served her correctly, articles of clothing were scattered all throughout the house.

There was no time for a scavenger hunt; given she was at Jon's house, she certainly hadn't thought to bring any business attire, so the only option she could think of off the top of her head was to examine Jon’s wardrobe. And, by some luck, she found a wrinkle-free, plain black button-down on a hanger that was a little on the bigger side, but they wouldn’t be able to tell much. Hopefully.

Everything else...there was no time for. She would have to sit in on the call in only the infamous shirt and nothing else, and hope it didn’t show on her face. In a matter of ninety seconds she managed to brush out her hair, twisted it into a single braid over her shoulder, threw on a quick layer of mascara, and dashed her way down to the kitchen with her laptop. The sight of Jon’s espresso machine had her audibly whining to herself, but there’d be time for that after the meeting.

She switched on the light and propped herself up onto the chair, crossing her ankles, and logged on with seconds to spare. Just before she joined in, she made sure that the camera was well-placed; it was freezing to her warm blood, and the last thing she needed was for her nipples to be on display popping through the thin material. Once all appeared decent, she joined the virtual room where Tyrion, Samwell Tarly, a couple of corporate head honchos, and various other important figures sat.

She felt mortifyingly self-conscious, even if she was the only one aware of her apparel predicament. Still, she carried on as naturally as possible, her voice level and clear and expression not giving anything out of the ordinary away.

Until thirty minutes into some legal jargon, Dany spotted some movement in the next room ahead, peering up over the lid of her laptop to discover Jon approaching: hair fluffed and ruffled, sleepy eyes, lips in a pointed pout while he tried to figure out what was going on, his torse bare and pajama bottoms hanging precariously low on his slim hips. She nearly salivated until she remembered she was on bloody camera. No worries there, since the rest of her body was doing the reacting for her.

She offered as best of a smile as she could without becoming a distraction to the rest of the group, but welcomed his warm kiss once he reached her, just out of camera view. He had gone to give her thigh an affectionate squeeze, and she squeaked, tossing her hand over her mouth and instantly muting herself on the call. Then she remembered she had put her hand over her mouth, lowering it back down, silently thanking herself for not lighting the room too bright so they wouldn’t notice how red her face was...especially since several had curious frowns at their brows.

Briefly, she glanced at Jon, who hadn’t moved, and had a most mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand was still cuffed over her thigh, dangerously close to where she could not deal with right now, else she would probably get fired for some level of indecency.

Dany turned her attention back to the screen, clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders, tuning back into the conversation. It was actually quite exciting - one more step until Mr. Tarly’s series would be brought to the small screen.

“Dany…,” Jon murmured, and she had to really force herself to pretend she didn’t hear the desire in his voice, responding only with a falsely uninterested hum. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

“I- what are you doing?” She wondered aloud, her lips moving very little despite her audio cut for the moment. She could see her own eyes widen in her camera view as Jon ducked down and knelt before her on his knees, and she about choked when she felt his hands gently pry her legs open and apart.

“Jon!” She whispered sharply, muffling herself as she clasped her fist in her other hand and rested her mouth against it - more as a disguise than anything else, even though he hadn’t quite done anything yet.

Her blinks turned rapid as his hands crawled up the tops of her thighs, undoing the bottom buttons of the shirt, her stomach tightening. His warm lips settled on the side of her knee, his hands curled into the crease of her hips, keeping his voice low but loud enough that she could hear him over whomever was speaking through the speakers (she was only half paying attention at this point). “Want me to hold off?”

The professional side of her urged her to say yes, but the more rational side of her was screaming no, to which she found herself letting one hand slide under the counter to tangle in his hair in encouragement. He grunted in agreement and gingerly tugged her a little closer to the edge of the seat; his breath on her already wet center making her jaw tighten.

First, he used his thumb to glide over her cunt, spreading her mess up to her clit, testing her reactiveness - to which she nearly slid out of the chair and straight onto his face.

“How long have you been like this?” He husked, spreading her apart and tracing every crease and crevice.

A forceful pant blew against the hand she kept firmly perched in front of her mouth, hoping beyond hope she still appeared casual, beginning the slippery slope of losing who was saying what now. Something about legal fees, waivers…

Jon chose that moment to plunge two fingers into her core, and she gripped his hair perhaps a bit too severely, but his retaliation was to pull her clit between his lips, and it took every fiber of her mild consciousness to not throw her head back and scream. But a muffled whimper slipped by, and with every pass of his tongue, or his fingers working in tandem with the heat and slide of his mouth, the only thing she could hear anymore was the thrum of blood flooding her ears. And her face looked so tense in the square box of her video capture that she appeared to be on the verge of crying (which wasn’t all that untrue; her eyes were watering in a valiant undertaking to not inform twelve other people what was happening a mere few inches below her screen).

To give her something, she bit down hard on the inner side of her index finger, and then-

“Er, Daenerys, what are your thoughts?” Tyrion queried, automatically forcing Jon to a halt and her hand flying to her mouse to unmute herself.

“I’m...sorry, can you repeat that one more time? My connection is a little...unstable…,” she laughed nervously, but was screaming internally - partly because it was too close of a call, but also because Jon was sucking a line of kisses along the crease of her thigh, his beard lightly chafing her folds.

At least she disguised her dormant moan with a cough.

“Of course,” Tyrion continued, his face turned slightly downward, but overly curious eyes darted up at her. He reiterated the question she inadvertently missed, and Jon went back to his feasting...and she made a bloody face that was so very clearly one of pleasure, the flat of his tongue swiping up the length of her and landing on her clit again.

Her face was so hot that at this point, she had to assume the rest of the 'room' were professionals at utilizing their poker faces, because if she were them, it would be clear as day what was going on over on her screen.

When Tyrion mused that he was pleased with how enthusiastic she looked over the prospect of the subject at hand, she grit her teeth and squeezed her thighs around Jon's head to trap him there. She needed a minute to recollect her wits, and he was far too talented for her to trust she wouldn't orgasm right on camera. And with her luck, someone will have been recording this session for later reference. She would have to move across the country and change her name and never face those people ever again.

Thankfully, Jon showed her a little mercy, reducing his slow sweet torture to caressing her thighs with his hands. To get Tyrion off her back, Dany expressed her plain enthusiasm for the agreement they were establishing, and fluffed her explanation enough that she knew they wouldn't need to call on her again.

The very second she silenced her microphone, she opened her legs again and Jon dove back in, which was probably a mistake since she'd already been driven close to the brink and he wasn't giving her a moment to graduate into it. Her hand slapped over her mouth, her brow twisting just in time to slam the lid to her laptop down at the conclusion of the call.

Finally, her fingers gripped the edges of the chair and her face turned toward the ceiling, exhaling several lengthy breaths she'd been storing in her lungs for several minutes. Jon's hands roved up her front, popping open the remaining buttons and filled his palms with her breasts, rolling them between his soft fingers.

Jon paused to lift her quivering legs over his shoulders, allowing her to relax them along his back. She sunk one hand through his hair again, the other grasping onto one of his arms as he dedicated all of himself to her pleasure, drawing sharp gasps and gulps of air out of her between his attention split between her clit and her center.

Pivoting her head back down, a pitiful whine passed through her lips seeing his wild bedhead of curls situated between her thighs, his fingers tweaking her puckered nipples. He was plucking every taut string in her body to breaking point; her toes curled against his the smooth skin of his back, wanting nothing more than to be able to lift her pelvis and grind against his face if she knew she wouldn’t fall straight onto the floor. When he lowered one hand and sunk one finger into her constricting walls, she jerked in her seat with a soundless cry, and then he was pumping two at a time, his pitch black eyes drifting upward to latch onto hers. Reading her reactions to measure the pace and the movements that would push her over the edge.

That look was all it took.

Chest heaving, his name spilled from her lips and somewhere along the way, he weaved a hand in hers, all while he brought her down from her high and collected every last drop from her cunt, leaving her as useless as she was a boneless sack of skin and muscle. She could feel how loose her hair had gotten from its hold. Her head found solace on the back ledge of the seat, eyes having fluttered closed when she felt Jon rise, looping her legs around his waist as he braced his hands on the cushion and kissed her.

Keeping her eyes shut, she smiled against him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and trapping him there.

“Good morning,” he greeted gruffly.

Dany hummed in agreement and sucked on his lip before sliding her still-vibrating toes down the sides of his hips and pushed his pajama bottoms down until his flushed cock sprang free. “‘Morning to you,” she returned, reaching between them to stroke him with a feather-light grip. Jon’s face morphed into one of slightly anguished delight, hips surging to seek more.

“I need you,” he murmured, groaning with the squeeze of her hand.

“You can have me,” she kissed him, “if you can get me out of this chair first.”

His arms wrapped around her and in one swift movement he settled her atop the counter.

[theanxiousstudentblog]

What I've learned from the first year of university: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Three years later than expected, I finished my first year of university. At first, admittedly, it didn't feel like much; I submitted my final assignment, logged off of my student account, and went to watch the new series of The Real Housewives. It wasn't until a few weeks had passed that I was finally hit with how much this milestone meant to me and all the emotions that came with finally getting through the first academic year as a university student. This may not seem like a big achievement to some (I remember how in sixth form we were always made to believe that the first year of university was a piece of cake and way easier than A-levels) but, for me, it has been a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs. These emotions and thoughts are what have inspired me to write this post, specifically the feeling that university can be very very different from what you expect.

How I got here.

When I was younger, one of my sole dreams was to go to university. This may have seemed odd to some as I suffered from extreme anxiety when I was younger and actually refused to go to school between the ages of 7 and 9. However, it was never the academic side of schooling that worried me but the social side and being away from my family. I loved learning and I knew that I wanted to take my academic career to the highest possible level I could. The idea that I could pick any subject that I was interested in and do a whole course solely centered on teaching me as much as I could absorb was infatuating to me. It was for this reason that I spent so much effort making sure that I achieved good grades, despite my time off. I had my sights set on a prestigious university in London and in 2018 I received an offer to study there. However, instead of feeling excited about my future, I was engulfed with a feeling of dread. Unfortunately, due to events in my private life, my anxiety which had previously been kept under control by CBT and medication began to skyrocket. I would later learn that I developed complex PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) during this time. For the sake of keeping this blog post to a somewhat reasonable length, I will keep this account brief by saying that these difficulties eventually led to me pulling out of the London university and I decided to go to a local uni closer to home after taking a year off for my mental health (for a more detailed account you can look at one of my previous IG posts published 24/05/20).

Expectations vs...

I was excited for what awaited me at my local university; it was close enough to see my family whenever I wanted but still gave me the independence that I felt I needed to grow. Moving day came and went and it seemed to be going pretty smoothly, albeit some hiccups that came with my anxiety. It is important to note that I gave the university's wellbeing service a heads-up about my conditions before moving in so, at first, I felt confident that if I had any issues they would be able to work through them with me. However, over the next couple of weeks, my anxiety grew and grew, finally reaching its peak when my housemate turned around to me and told me that I needed to shut it about my mental health issues and stop hanging out with her. This triggered a major episode in my PTSD and I suddenly felt like I was spiraling out of control. However, despite my attendance beginning to drop and the multiple times I was having to leave lectures early due to panic attacks, I still sustained a level of confidence that my university would be able to give me the reasonable adjustments that the wellbeing team had spoken to me about before starting the term. Sure, they hadn't got back to my emails with any tangible support in weeks, but they couldn't just leave me like this...could they? All throughout my schooling, I was made to believe that educational settings were environments where any appetite to learn was nurtured and fed; education meant an opportunity to achieve anything you worked hard enough for, despite your background, disability, or start in life. Wouldn't universities be the ultimate conceptualization of this meritocracy?

Reality

Unfortunately, this vision would be quickly shattered by the stark reality of my treatment by my head of department and the well-being team. I go into more detail about this treatment in the IG post mentioned previously, but in summary I was given two choices: I get my attendance back to 100% with no support/reasonable adjustments from the university, or I leave/defer until I was "better". There was no comprehension from the uni that this wouldn't have a definable recovery date; I've been dealing with long-term mental illness since I was a child and it is something I've learned to live with alongside the appropriate support. To wait until I was "better" would potentially mean waiting forever. On top of that, I went out of my way to prove to my department that I was keeping up with my work and had achieved top marks on the most recent assignment but little recognition was given to my current grades. From the weeks since I started at university I'd met multiple people who had little passion in their subject or who were just at university because they thought it was what they should do. No hate to these people (I think the pressure young people face to go to university is a whole 'nother issue in itself) but I couldn't help but compare myself to them. The university didn't care that they had a whole student population of disillusioned young people who were indifferent to their academic fields but drew the line at a motivated student who suffered from mental illness. It became clear this wasn't an environment for people like me who were simply viewed as a wrench in the works. In December 2019, I was given no other option but to drop out of my university.

Starting again and the lessons I have learned

What was the worst blow to my mental health? Being kicked out because of my mental health...Having to leave university was a massive blow to my self-esteem and I began to catastrophize what that meant for my future. Luckily I had my family for support and my mum pushed me to look into the Open University, an institution based on distance learning. I enrolled part-time for the start of February (unfortunately I had missed the cohort to start full-time) and decided to focus on my therapy. This actually worked out great for me as in 2020 I was diagnosed with PTSD and started EMDR so being a part-time student gave me enough space to process the emotions that came up in my treatment. The Open University has been so helpful in making sure my needs are met and I have been so grateful to finally find an inclusive learning environment. It is definitely not how I planned to be experiencing university and I still do feel some disappointment in not getting the full "student experience" but it has also taught me some valuable lessons and given me a new insight into how far our education system still needs to go. These are the things I have learned:

Education isn't about degrees or academic prestige. Education is about a person's desire to learn, whether that be through books or the sheer act of being. Everyone requires different conditions to which they need to learn and thrive, and unfortunately, many academic institutions tend to expect us all to be cut from the same cloth. Despite this, no one can take away your passion to learn, and as long as you're living, you are learning.

There can be no equality without equity. The truth is people enter schooling from all different backgrounds and circumstances and it is not enough for institutions to treat everyone the same. In terms of mental health, many people are quick to say they recognise that mental illness can be just as debilitating as physical illness however until they put the actions and policies into place to make environments more tolerant and accessible then their words mean nothing. This means taking the time to talk to individual students about what they require and realise that the most important thing that a university can do is create a place where EVERYONE can learn. Schooling creates the foundations on which the future of our society is built and the fact that inclusion is barely making it on the blueprint is scary to me.

COVID has shown that in this digital age, attendance ISN'T everything. If only I could go back to that final meeting with my head of department and tell him that in a few months time everyone's attendance would be at 0%! Seriously though, this is a wake-up call to how simple accessibility can be if you just invest in a good digital learning platform that allows for people who can't attend in person to still be included.

You can be an academic and still put your mental health first. Despite what my first university led me to believe, my time at the OU has shown me that you do not have to sacrifice one over another. In fact, it has shown me that my mental health recovery and student journey can work hand-in-hand, encouraging each other along.

But most importantly...

It has shown me that despite the pressure to make your university years fit into a nice, neat package of fun, good grades, and self-enlightenment, it most likely won't happen like that. That's okay, let it go and keep moving.

[fancyfearful]

Terms of Service (Celia Lede x Gender Neutral! Reader)

(Happy International Women’s Day/Women’s History Month, y’all! Please enjoy some quality fun time with a true girlboss.)

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WARNING/DISCLAIMER: Mature/Explicit themes, and ‘potential simp behavior’ are in this fic. Celia is a queen, idc.

Word Count: 2,042

(Edit: I forgot to tag @gatobob​ , who owns this character, whoops!)

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            You were scared at first.

            After all, you had gone from being naked and terrified in a dimly lit showroom, to waking up several hours later in a rundown, abandoned office building located far away from your home. A pair of handcuffs kept your wrists bound behind your back, but whomever kidnapped you had been 'generous' enough to dress you in semi-casual office clothes, though they were a bit too loose on your body.

               The only thing you knew was that the person responsible for bringing you here had the voice of a matured woman. However, the sound of sharp heels clicking against the ground warned you of their arrival, seconds before she entered the small breakroom where you were being kept.

               Upon meeting the well-dressed, businesswoman for the first time, you learned a few things. Her name was Celia and she was noticeably taller than the average woman, even with her heels on. But if looks could kill, then the mocha-colored eyes that looked over your body would've ended your life in seconds. You weren't sure if she was tired, irritated or both but regardless, Celia staring at your body made you feel uncomfortable.

               During her 'introduction', Celia informed you that your new purpose in life was to be her personal stress reliever, and that resistance of any kind was unacceptable, including trying to escape. She also pointed out something you had somehow missed earlier; an ankle bracelet attached to your leg. With a knowing smirk, Celia informed you that it came with a built in GPS to make sure that you wouldn't be able to leave without her knowledge. The brunette before you also mentioned something about several other 'secrets' that you'd find out about later, which did nothing to calm your nerves as she casually reached into the hidden pocket on her overshirt.

            Celia pulled out a thin, bright red dog collar, dangling it between her fingers before making her way over to fasten it around your neck. She had made it a little too tight on purpose, and when she stepped back to see how it looked, the brunette couldn’t help but scoff.

             “There, now you look like the dog you are. I hope for your sake you’ll be easier to train than the last one. It’d be a shame if I had to put down another pet…” Celia warned, dropping her voice to emphasize her point.

                 “Now, how about we teach you some new tricks?”

*****  

               The next few days had gone by faster than you expected, thanks to Celia’s rigorous training.

            Most of your time was spent acting as living footrest or chair, while she took her sweet time reading through and answering important, work-related emails. If Celia had a good workday, you’d play games like fetch, where she’d reward you with cookies shaped like dog biscuits if you did well. But if you didn’t retrieve an item fast enough, your cruel captor would deliver punishment by whipping your back and torso with her chain flogger. And on bad workdays, you’d be subjected to a game of ‘cat and mouse’, where Celia gave you a few seconds to hide before hunting you down; if you were found in six minutes or less, she would beat you to the point of bruising with the nearest blunt object in the room. The stapler was quickly becoming one of her favourites items to carry around, and even a good workday couldn’t save you from whenever Celia felt the urge to watch you squirm. Her eyes practically lit up whenever she subjected you to several new piercings on your arms or legs, a high only the most forbidden of drugs could provide.

            But today—or night, you couldn’t exactly tell what time of day it was down here—was different.

           The familiar, yet haunting, sound of heels clacking along the ground was replaced by something that sounded firmer, and heavier in comparison. And for the first time since your arrival, you were worried that someone or something even worse than Celia would find you here.

             However, seeing the familiar face of Celia suddenly appear in the doorway of the shabby office that had become your bedroom was bittersweet. But instead of her usual business attire, she donned a skin-tight, black body suit with thigh-high stockings, and her trademark red heels were replaced with thick, black wedges. Sure, you had noticed her figure from time to time, but the sudden style change made it even harder to look away. Instead, you tried to focus on the medium sized bag she was holding in her left hand.

                 “Ah, there’s my favourite dog. You look surprised to see me.” Celia says, making her way into the room before plopping herself down onto the desk nearby.

            Her tone sounded lower than usual, and the end of her words were a bit slurred. If you had to guess, she had probably had a few drinks before coming here, something that wasn’t uncommon. Whenever it happened, Celia was a bit of a wildcard. She motioned for you to come closer, making you gulp nervously as she reached into her bag to retrieve a long chain with a clasp at the end. Sheepishly, you avoid eye contact while Celia attaches it to the collar around your neck, grinning proudly before she roughly tugs on your new leash.

            “Now you’re really starting to look like a proper pet!” she comments, only to pat your head in a condescending manner. “And so well behaved too, isn’t that right?”

            You nod slowly, feeling your cheeks burn in shame. This wasn’t right. Her backhanded compliments shouldn’t have affected you like this, but these moments with Celia were the only times you could interact with another living being. It was better than trying to keep a stray pill bug for company again, only for it to end up escaping.

               “You should be grateful, you know. I turned you into something useful, something with value…” Celia adds, keeping one hand on your chain while the other tightly cupped your chin. “I saved you from being someone’s pathetic plaything. And yet I still have to tell you when to say ‘thank you’. How is that fair to me? Shouldn’t you know better by now?”

          You nodded again, only to be struck across the face with a harsh slap.           “Answer me!” Celia snarled, her face scrunched up in annoyance. She was losing her patience, and that was the last thing you wanted her to do.

                “Y-Yes, miss Celia. I’m sorry for not knowing better.” You replied. “Thank you for giving me value.”

       “Good! See, that’s what I like about you. You’re a quick learner, but there’s still something I’ve got to put to the test.” The brunette murmured, letting go of your chin before she pointed to the floor. “On your knees, pet. Let’s see if that face is as comfortable as it looks.”

               You were visibly confused as you tried to process her request. Did she mean what you thought she meant, or--?

“Are you deaf? Because I’m pretty sure I just gave you a task to complete. And if you can’t do it, then I’ll replace you with someone who can...” Celia commanded, her voice booming and steady. It was the kind of tone that could melt you within seconds or break you without warning.

               As quickly as you could, you dropped to your knees, trying to the ignore the dull ache that came with having them hit the floor too hard. Celia wound the excess length of your chain around her hand a few times, before yanking you towards the space between her parted legs. A muffled grunt escaped you as Celia’s legs wrapped around your neck and shoulders, keeping your face pinned against the smooth leather of her body suit while she kept an iron grip around your chain. The sweet scent of a strong smelling body spray invaded your nose, and although you wouldn’t admit it out loud, the fragrance was alluring.

“Well, pet? I’m waiting. Show me how grateful you are to be here.”

 It was at that moment that you started to think she was right. Not because you didn’t miss your old life, or your freedom but because in a weird, twisted way, serving Celia gave you a purpose. And all things considered, your kidnapper could’ve been much worse; she kept you fed, clothed, and even though the building was falling apart, it still provided shelter from the elements.

               And with this in mind, you started to kiss along her inner thighs, turning your face and neck as much as Celia’s grip would allow. She wiggled a little, smirking as she watched her current pet creep closer and closer towards one of her most sensitive areas, making the brunette smirk deviously.

With a shaky sigh, Celia pressed her hips forward, testing the waters of her new toy by lightly grinding her crotch against your face. The combination of your tightened collar, Celia’s thighs, and the added pressure of that damned leash was making it difficult to breathe, but Celia didn’t care about your declining oxygen supply. If anything, your struggling only made her legs clench even tighter, and you could barely make out the twisted pleasure on her face as she slowly tried to suffocate you, her eyes twinkling in delight while she leaned back a little.

          Your tongue pressed itself up against the thin fabric covering over her body suit, earning an unexpected moan from your mistress before you closing any distance that remained between you two. Any other time, Celia would have punished you for touching her without permission, but in the heat of the moment, your hands wrapped themselves around her thighs, digging your nails into her stocking as your mouth worked to pleasure her as best as you could. 

         Paying attention to the sounds she made was paying off, making it a little easier to find her sweet spots, but you didn’t dare to move the dampened leather covering over her opening. Not without her say, at least.

         But the loud moans and high pitched whines coming from your captor were enough to awaken something in you as well; a small part of Celia was at your mercy, and this was a chance you couldn’t pass up. And so, you doubled down on your efforts, licking, kissing, suckling, and nibbling on every ounce of flesh and fabric between Celia’s warm, plush thighs, using your tongue to express the gratitude that she craved.

           Eventually, your efforts paid off in the form of a loud, breathy moan from Celia as she shuddered, clenching her legs around you so tight that your vision went black for a second or two. The bottom of her body suit was absolutely soaked with a mixture of her own juices, your saliva, and a bit of sweat between you both, yet the pleased chuckle Celia let out calmed your nerves. She only made that sound when something good happened.

            “…Ooh…Haven’t done something like in ages…” she sighed as she relaxed her grip.

            You were able to catch a glimpse of her face, her cheeks tinted bright red as she moved lose strands of hair away from her eyes. The firm, hardened expression typically worn by Celia had been temporarily replaced with a softer, more inviting expression. If it didn’t put you at risk to get kicked, you might even have kissed her. Nothing serious, as it just would have a quick peck on those plump, dark colored lips.

               “Don’t look so lovestruck, dog. Just because I had a few drinks before showing up and felt like trying something new doesn’t mean that you’re walking out of here anytime soon. You’re mine for as long as I want you to be.” Celia huffed, yanking on the chain to remind you of your place. And with a sheepish smile, you nodded.

            “Yes, miss Celia. Of course. Thank you.”

                        How you ended up in her possession was irrelevant. It didn't matter.

           What did matter, was your value. Your worth. It was about what you could do for Celia, not the other way around. It was about acknowledging your rightful place under the command of a superior entity, and that entity was her.