#and of course black kids partie traumatic!

[not-close-to-straight]

SO do you think Billy would change his behavior if he had survived the Mind Flayer?!

I do remember that I wasn't a fan of him when I first saw the show but then I read some wonderful meta posts here on Tumblr (and read a few fanfics of course) and now I think it's sad that he didn't get a chance to grow up. To grow up and get away from Neil and be the person he really wanted to be. Try and be the person he could be.

So, if you have some time, I would love to know your thoughts on the subject 😊

Oh without a doubt. Without a doubt he would have changed once he had a chance to escape.

This is going to ramble a little bit cos I have Big Personal Thoughts about Billy so just stay with me here—

People love to forget that Billy is barely 18 when he dies. Barely 18. Ask anyone over the age of 24 if 18 year olds have any clue what they’re doing and the answer is no. Sheesh, ask college kids if barely graduated high schoolers have any idea about the world and for the most part they’ll tell you no.

18 might make you an “adult” but it doesn’t make you an Adult and speaking from experience, I can PROMISE you that while a lot of abused kids carry themselves as a lot older than their age, in several ways we are in fact a lot more immature than our peers.

I was living on my own in an apartment, no roommates, no help from family or significant others, Working full time and going to college at night at eighteen years old. I was paying my own taxes, all my own bills, dealing with landlords and maintenance/car issues, not on any government assistance and partying until I was black out drunk every weekend. I was a stripper for a while, sexually active etc etc.

For all intents and purposes, full grown adult right?

But. The second I was forced to interact with my parents? Emotionally I was fourteen. I lashed out. I screamed. I broke things. I trashed an ex girlfriends apartment because she (rightfully, in hindsight) told me we weren’t good for each other.

I was an adult and out of the bad situation sure but I hadn’t grown up near enough to handle ANYTHING.

It took me YEARS to get to the point of actively breaking cycles and learning my own triggers etc.

So when people look at 17 and barely 18 year old Billy and pronounce him irredeemable? I’d like them to fuck right off.

Because it takes YEARS to break cycles. It takes YEARS to stop hearing Their Voice in your head. Years to even find out who WE are enough to separate from who we pretended to be all those years to survive.

Billy was barely 18. Working at the pool. Making friends (at least Heather). A scared little boy running from his dad, running from monsters and then FACING monsters and apologizing and dying trying to save someone who literally just showed him a little kindness.

Billy died trying to protect El, who showed him a TINY bit of kindness. If he did that for her what would he have done eventually for Max if he survived? The apologies he would have made. The wrongs he might have righted.

Honestly even if he got in his car and ran away and tried to build a life somewhere else— that’s okay too! Because it takes YEARS to heal and he could only make changes if he had the time to heal.

I think it’s really…. “Ableist” isn’t quite the word I’m looking for but it’s certainly SOMETHING to look at an emotionally and physically abused and traumatized child and decide they are evil when they haven’t even had the chance to BREATHE away from their abuser.

The sexism and racism I learned growing up took me AGES to unlearn. Even though I’d always known I was LGBT it took me years before I could kiss a girl without hearing hatred in my mind.

So yeah. Looking at Billy (or even Jason or that one asshole from season one who torments the Party) and just writing them off as a lost cause villain?

Really smacks of “not understanding abuse” and “not understanding learned behavior” and “not bothering to understand nature vs nurture”

Nurture is who we are raised to be. Nature is who we are in our most vulnerable moments.

And Billy? Billy cried when he was hurt. He looked away ashamed when faced with how much max (rightfully from her POV) despised him. He begged for help when he was lost. Died trying to protect eleven.

That’s who he IS and if he’d been giving the chance to grow up and escape and heal, I don’t doubt he would have been different.

[lennysfridge]

liked by ryan.leonard_4, olivermoore11 and others

y/n.boldy football tailgate soon @amelia.in

view comments

amelia.in life of the party

gabeperreault44 should i be worried

y/n.boldy nah but ryan should

ryan.leonard_4 oh god 🧍🏻

y/n.boldy nothing to worry about baby cakes 😗

ryan.leonard_4 this scares me

_willsmith2 in her true element

y/n.boldy NO BITCHES

_willsmith2 ENOUGH

amelia.in remember that time we walked into him

y/n.boldy don’t traumatize me again

_willsmith2 do u know how many times i’ve walked into u and ryan

y/n.boldy u got no speak

_willsmith2 yes m’am

ryan.loenard_4 nice shades

y/n.boldy hides my black eye that nolan did

nolan.joyce 🧍🏻

y/n.boldy kidding love u

nolan.joyce love u too y/n

_sunny absolute rocket 🚀

y/n.boldy i miss u come visit

olivermoore11 do u miss me

y/n.boldy of course bestie boo but i like sunny more then u now

ryan.leonard_4 this is who i’m dating everyone

y/n.boldy and be proud of it

ryan.leonard_4 oh don’t worry i am

y/n.boldy 😗🫣😝

[gelatomesomeironqrow]

Okay. My unpopular opinions on House of the Dragon season 1 episode 10 as neither solely a Green or Black fan.

Keep in mind. I have not read Fire and Blood. I want to and it's been on my list for awhile now.

Anyways.

From what I know of the book. It is written by third party members who each had their own biases and the book was painted in a certain light so some characters are made out to be what they are not.

Case in point. Rhaenrya was made out to be the usurper when in reality she was supposed to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By the time she becomes Queen she has already descended into Targaryen madness due to the trauma and pain of losing the people closest to her. But of course since the book is told in the point of view of outsider men, they write her off as insane.

Anyways. Overall I really enjoyed House of the Dragon. I thought almost everything was done really well. I didnt agree with the scene with Rhaenys in the Dragonpit and I certainly dont agree with their choices on what to cut out.

Can I talk about how ominous and wonderful this image is?

Vhagar is a war dragon. Aemond, who is still borderline a kid, does not understand his dragon. All he wanted was to have his own dragon and Vhagar was free and right there. Vhagar who was still grieving the lose of her human, allowed this kid to mount her saddle. But even after the years they have spent together, they don't understand each other. Vhagar caught onto to Luke's nervousness when he first landed at Storm's End, Vhagar who caught onto Luke's fear and Aemond's temporary Targaryen madness and anger/embarrassment over his trauma of losing an eye, reacted to what she thought was the response Aemond wanted.

Dragons are intelligent creatures. Vhagar has been to war. Aemond, Luke and Arrax have not.

Luke was scared shitless and so his dragon reacted. Arrax could have kept running but all he/she knew was that their human was afraid and that there was a big dragon chasing them. Arrax attacked the dragon hoping, naively, that that would get the dragon to leave them alone but Vhagar, an older, more dangerous dragon who has been in war, took that as a sign of aggression.

Aemond made a huge mistake that will have major consequences. All he wanted was to antagonize Luke, one of the reasons he no longer has two eyes.

I know. I know. The book version shows that this was not an accident and that it was definitely intentional. That he had been egged on by the Baratheons to prove his worth. (Which could have happened, we followed Luke's perspective, not Aemond's). But the look on Aemond's face at the end, points in the direction that it wasn't intentional. He may now feel the need to pretend that he meant for it to happen. Since being a kinslayer is a really bad label to have.

Anyways. I know people feel like Daemon's character had been ruined by the writing. And in a way I agree. Daemon, in the book, cares deeply about his family and in the show, somewhere along the lines, they lost that a little. But Daemon is extremely independent and has been itching for a fight for a long time. He loathes the Hightowers, specifically Otto. So him, spending the episode plotting defense and offense, is part of his character. Leaving Rhaenrya to deal with an early pregnancy on her own... choking her... was not. In a way. I haven't read the book, so I don't know this for sure, but right now, with the information I do have, to me, it feels like Daemon's love language is physical touch. The way he grieves is by distancing himself or by busying himself with a task that allows him to forget what happened. He could barely look at Viserys when he was in bed. He couldn't fathom or process losing Laena during childbirth. He watched her chose her own death which traumatized him for sure, watching Rhaenrya have such a difficult pregnancy and knowing what could happen. He threw himself into the task of potential war. His first wife. Whom he did not love. He never touched her at all. Only to murder her and even then, he used the horse and a rock.

Anyways. The scene with him choking her... I'm not going to make excuses for that. All I can say is that that was the Targaryen madness showing up since he is the kind of Targaryen that toys with both sides of the coin.

Moving on.

Rhaenrya. She lost her father, her daughter and her second son within days of each other. She never got the chance to deal with Viserys' passing. Her actions, at least to me, make sense. She wouldn't want to jump into war right away. She was being cautious and calculating. She wanted to know what forces they had before jumping on her dragon.

I know people are mad they didnt have her say her iconic lines but who knows, maybe now she will. The book shows her being insane from the start. They show her being bloodthirsty. And the show is showing us how she got to that point.

This is the face of a woman who has lost everything. Compared with Daenerys. She has reached her breaking point and it is all because she never had a chance to properly grieve or process three deaths.

I'm excited for the next season and I have two years to read the book.

[scheodingers-muppet]

okay i have a lot of feelings about this and it’s currently 2 in the morning so bare with me here.

i desperately need to see mike and hopper’s dynamic evolve. i mean, we see how strained it gets in season 3, with hopper not liking him dating el. and i get that’s the more interesting thing to meme about and stuff, but i feel like we often forget the sweeter scenes they share.

i mean, mike hugs hop when he comes back in season 4, but i think my favorite scene from them is in season 2. it really doesn’t get talked about enough. but when mike founds out hopper has had el this entire time and starts freaking out, yelling that hopper’s a liar and hitting him, and hopper immediately wraps him in a hug, letting him sob onto his chest and telling him he’s going to be okay. his focus wasn’t on getting him to understand where he’s coming from or to even stop hitting him, it was to comfort him.

i think hopper might be the only adult in mike’s life that fully understands what he’s going through. joyce knows some, of course, but she’s understandably a bit preoccupied with will. the older kids are still just that; kids. they’re just as scared and traumatized as mike. the rest of the party right there with him. but hopper was able to see that mikes outrage was more than just anger and that he was just a scared kid.

my biggest theory is that hopper sees a lot of himself in mike. hopper seemed to really understand that fear and anger in mike. those moments where mike comes across as cold or annoyed honestly kinda remind me of how we first see hopper in season 1. we know hopper doesn’t really think highly of himself, given the “black hole” speech he gives el in season 2. it’s not unreasonable to think he would hate the idea of mike dating his daughter; cause he fears mike’s like him and he thinks el deserves more than a “black hole”

obviously, this perception is wrong. we as the audience are able to recognize that neither of these characters are black holes. they’re simply traumatized and trying to get through this. but i don’t think hopper hates mike; i think he’s just seen this play out before and he doesn’t want el to have the same ending

[hungeringheart]

3-player session with a Thief of Mind, Sylph of Doom, and Mage of Rage. how would that play out would there be any hope of it ending well

I don't see why not! I think it almost has to end well, really. Let's examine why.

Dramatis Personae

Thief of Mind

Sylph of Doom

Mage of Rage

Lay of the Land

The first thing we should note here is that there is neither time nor space in this session at all. That means the game can't be won normally, as designed -- but that doesn't mean that it can't be won!

You've actually got classpects that will help tremendously -- a Sylph of Doom recontextualizes, repairs and heals destinies, and a Mage of Rage understands despair and doubt and sees a path forward despite what's set in stone. The Thief of Mind is mostly just doing their own thing tagging along with the big damn heroes, collecting information and decisions from let's say the pawn royalty because it interests them -- but mostly what's important here is that you have two classpects capable of filling the niche (through a certain lens) of all the others.

That said, the presence of a Thief of Mind means that Mind is in desperately short supply, and should be present otherwise -- we can interpret this to mean that their instance of SBURB is an MMO, or rather the abandoned shell of one, still online but no longer winnable -- once there were a lot of different minds there, and now there are so few that people invent ways of playing that make it seem like the npcs are people. Kind of like Black Desert -- it's up, but the people in there are mostly all the same kind of weird and uncooperative racists, and the fun of playing with friends is one thing but opening the chat is something entirely different.

Of course the npcs here actually are people - but the Thief doesn't know that, do they?

The Altogether

Your party isn't going to be focused on breeding frogs. I think they come in on a pirated copy of the game and the DRM kicks in or something like that; maybe the disk is scratched, depending on the period you write them in. (I've actually written SBURB as a ritual ARG with characters who antedate digital computing, it's doable!)

As they explore their worlds (which because of how late they came in and who they are, are in ruin and obviously not tailored to them but to other earlier players), they start to come across the consequences of earlier play -- traumatized carapaceans with opposing saint and sinner player cults, whispers from horrorterrors tormented by some past active-class Void or Doom or Light player, all the relics of a responsive SBURB MMO that in its heyday was played mostly by the same unwashed, angry, unquestioning demographic that used to play World of Warcraft.

I think it's safe to say that this is core to the development of your Mage -- they experience firsthand all the rage and pain of what is, after all, a ludic abstraction populated by entities that are perfectly capable of feeling and living whole personal lives, that never chose to be instrumental to anyone's process of maturing even if they literally came into existence as species to do so. (This is sort of what happened to the canon kids, and why Earth C is partly settled by consorts.)

They're probably the type to care strongly about their Consorts, and as a result they're the first to take them seriously and realize that having the status of a game abstraction as the game manual designates you doesn't mean much about whether you "have a soul", to the extent that concept applies to anyone.

The Thief of Mind realizes the same thing in a similar way, but I think they might at least initially go in a different direction with it, trying to consolidate power and solve problems through manipulation, since there are in fact people in there behind those cute little salamander button eyes, and that means they can be psychologically moved and maneuvered into optimal positions, much as the Thief probably does with their friends without thinking.

The Sylph of Doom observes all this and comes to the conclusion that the game is rigged and the situation is fucked and that's a fundamentally unfair position for both the kids and the chess guys and consorts to be in -- their journey is about envisioning a different way and then helping to make it real. Ultimately that might look like pushing the boundaries of the limits of the game, investigating whether the constructs claimed to be necessary really are, and communing with the agents of the ultimate end -- the Horrorterrors, who might in this story be the Dersite gods...

To nobody's surprise, and to further our theme, I don't think the Horrorterrors are exactly in positions they enjoy either.

The way this game is won, then, is probably not by an individualistic if collective victory by the players that erases the world they came into --instead, victory here looks like understanding and giving place to your characters' own rage and the rage in the world around them, influencing and taking on and changing the mentality that that rage produces, and repairing the world and the laws of the world, with input from everybody.

I think this would actually be a lovely story to write and even lovelier to read : )

[rosasanguinem]

Detective Jake Crane - Beyond My Salvation

by Rosa Sanguinem

"And then there's that moment, boy. You have that guy before your run that you've been chasing for months, years, that's become part of your life. That face that you saw when you closed your eyes when you were able to sleep at all. That damn bastard is standing there now, his life in your hands because you have the gun. He took innocent lives in bestial, unspeakable ways. Now your finger is on the trigger. You feel everything at once, anger , relief, tension, desperation and power...yes power boy. You think it would be easy to tell your co-workers he resisted and that's why you had to shoot him down with multiple shots.

Isn't it fair to fire your entire magazine at this guy who completely wrecked you and many others?

No, boy.

That's not justice. It doesn't end the shitty dreams or make your job easier.

Your life will be even more cruel if you think like this.

Don't forget that, boy. We have to be better than this, better than those we pursue. There is no guarantee of justice.

These cases will poison and eat you bit by bit if you let them.

The old man sitting in front of you has been poisoned many times and parts of him are completely eaten away.

So trust me when I tell you:

Don't make the same mistakes I did, Jake."

-

It was about a week after they buried the old man. My mind was still spinning around the autopsy report after his body was discovered nailed to the wall of St Martins Church. Discovered was the wrong word. The godly attendees at Sunday Mass that morning witnessed what was arguably the most traumatic sight of their lives.

"Inspiciamus per eam in abyssum, quia in sua altitudine est veritas."

That was written on the church door with his blood and shreds of his flesh.

"Let us look through it into the abyss, for in its depths lies truth."

I wasn't the type for cryptic metaphors or philosophical phrases. My faith was limited to bowing my head in devotion when I was a guest at a religious event.

To the others in the department, I was the hothead who inherited a case he couldn't possibly solve. A freshman who got the office of a cop legend and was totally unworthy of him.

The colleagues did not hold back their contempt. In fact, they thought the theory about the cult was utter bullshit, despite the evidence pointing to it. But there were clues. Symbols, prophetic messages, ritualistic crime scenes... this went far beyond a bunch of kids partying in a graveyard at night. There was something aggressively fanatical about it, and the murders my mentor investigated before he died were very well organized.

We groped in the dark. And I had to finish it, for him... for us.

In the 90's a real panic broke out in front of occult groups, which turned out to be a mistake.

Now, as I looked at the crime scene photos and flipped through the records, I wasn't so sure.

-

"He's looking for us, isn't he?"

"After all, the sect he is chasing is of a satanic and apocalyptic nature. If it's some kind of sick Bleeding Rose cult that sees the killer as the harbinger of hell and pays tribute to him, we could put Jake on his trail. He might even wisely discover that his mentor has already made links between the two cases, but due to a traumatic incident had to hand over the investigation into the case of the woman killer portraying his victims. The reason was that the daughter of his deceased colleague was one of the victims of the Bleeding Rose. She ran an art gallery, where the killer found her because she was in league with art thieves. She smuggled her partners into the shows under her direction, knowing the safety protocols and sharing in the profits from the black market sales. Of course, she had carefully selected the most valuable items in her care. The murderer had drawn the right conclusions, contrary to the authorities, since he recognized the lies of the gallery supervisor. He lured her into a trap and slaughtered her in the exhibition hall. The mutilated body was found grotesquely draped in front of an easel on which was her distorted portrait. The word "thief" was written in her blood on the floor.

Due to the murder, their machinations were exposed.

Jake's mentor, who had a difficult relationship with his daughter after his wife died from cancer, who always accused him of not being there enough for her and her mother, was broken by the fact that his daughter was dead and in this context it turned out what criminal energy she had.

He then threw himself into work.

However, he was barred from taking on his daughter's murder case due to his psychological condition. Instead, he was assigned a serious case of vandalism and desecration of graves, which was attributed to an occult group.

Little did he know at this point that the cases were meant to have a connection."

[ethereallocs]

An Unlikely Pair

This is not based on the actual events in season 2 so don’t come for me thank you!!!!!!!

Summary: Maddy is a firecracker the epitome of toxic. Fezco is laid back and pretty chill. But what if these two crossed paths and things became a little more complicated?

⚠️Warnings/Content⚠️: Brat/Brat-Tamer, Angst, and Swearing.

Now if you told Maddy that she was going to be totally head over heels for a fucking drug dealer let alone Fezco fucking O’Neill she would’ve laughed in your face and told you to go fuck yourself, but one day it actually happened. This was after she found out about Cassie and Nate, after Nate broke into her room and traumatized the shit out of her. She needed to keep this shit off her mind, but it was easier said than done.

Kat decided it would be a good idea to get Maddy out of the house, maybe a party would get her back to normal. “Come on bitch!!!! Let’s go to this house party!!”, Kat exclaimed. “We can get fucking wrecked and totally forget about all that shit.” She laughed over the phone and even put a pout on. “Okayy…fuck it I’ll come, but if I see that cunt I’m gonna lay her the fuck down, Kat.” She huffed in frustration trying to find the will to get up, but maybe she’d find a guy there that could keep her mind off of everything. She put on a black body con dress that stopped mid thigh and some matching heels and out on some glittery eye makeup and lipgloss to match and her hair was straight and parted down the middle. Kat came by to pick her up and they were on there way.

Pulling up to the party it was the same as usual a bunch of drunk kids all bunched together in one space dancing, making out, and some damn near fucking in the middle of the dance floor. Maddy went to quickly find the kitchen and pour herself a shot of tequila and chugged it down and quickly repeated her steps two more times, before she went to go find Fez to get some drugs. As usual he was on a couch some where smoking a blunt serving the party-goers so it wasn’t hard to spot him. Pulling the money from her bra she looked him up and down before speaking and before she could get anything out his scruffy voice could be heard through the loud music. “What can I get you,Ms. Perez?” “I just need four blunts.” Now of course Fez knew about all the drama and honestly he was surprised she was here he even felt a little sorry for her. He knew first hand she could be a bit much at times, but nobody deserved that from their best friend.

As they exchanged the drugs for the money, he grabbed her hand before she could pull away. “Hey, how’ve you been though? I heard about what play boy did with your friend. That’s fucked up.” Maybe it was the tequila or the fact that she spotted Cassie and Nate walking in, but she was instantly livid. “You know what Fez, how about you mind your fucking business and worry about selling drugs to junkies or some shit.” He laughed to himself letting her win this time seeing why she reacted in such a way.

The night was spent trying to avoid bumping into the two people that broke her heart into a million pieces she could take them both on so she decided to wallow in her own sadness, but of course Nate had other plans. “Hey, Maddy. How’ve you been?” Rolling her eyes she sized him up and downed her drink before she let him have it. “Are you fucking kidding me, Nate. You and my bestfriend have been fucking behind my back…scare the shit out of me and now you’re asking me how I’ve been. Wasn’t that shit enough please get the fuck away from me before I get fucking violent.

Fez could hear the commotion and he wasn’t the type to get in shit that didn’t involve him, but he was always up for beating Nate’s ass again. Approaching the two arguing he placed his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Hey, playboy do we have a problem?” Nate looked over his shoulder and quickly decided to pick his battles wisely, “Nah, man we were just talking. Sorry to bother you Maddy.” Fez approached her and looked in her eyes. Tears were pooling in her eyes and for some reason a tug in his chest was felt when he saw her crying. “Hey, ma are you okay, fuck his ass man.” Why the fuck did he care? “Look Fez didn’t I tell you mind your fucking…” Before she could finish he was cutting her off. “Look I get your fucking upset and everything, but this attitude you’re giving me I don’t like that shit. So instead of acting like a fucking child how about we get out of here smoke a few blunts in my car and just talk alright?” No one has ever been so assertive and yet caring at the same time and honestly she couldn’t say no to that. “ Okay fine.” She said weakly before he pulled her away and out of the party to go find Ash and head out.

Part 2|

[youngbugandtonystank]

what's the difference between what wanda did to those people in wandavision and what tony did with ultron?

I have so many asks about this. Hate asks, and people wondering what’s going on. This is the only one I’m answering.

Both of them are responsible for their actions. I’ve seen people try and take away either Tony’s responsibility for that or Wanda’s engagement and accountability. 

In Tony’s case, the Ultron program was supposed to be a global peacekeeping program to protect the people, acting as a suit around the world to prevent events like the Battle of New York. He was doing it in the name of peace and safety. Tony was rightfully scared because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Wanda intentionally enhanced that fear in him and this drove him to create Ultron with Bruce. He has responsibility for it. Same as Bruce. He owns up to this, he took full responsibility and agreed that they needed to be regulated. 

Tony Stark: A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA... and then Ultron. My fault.

--

Tony Stark: There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.

--

Tony Stark: That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing.

--

If people think he needs to be in jail for it, then I’m guessing the rest of the Avengers too since all of them have made mistakes and killed people too. As a matter of fact, after the events of Wandavision, I’m sure that Wanda should be in the Raft, but because she’s ‘a poor baby’ yall won’t think she deserves that. 

SPOILERS

It’s a big possibility that we don’t have all the info about what happened in Wandavision but we’re going to go with what we know so far. 

In Wanda’s case, she did it to appease her grief and pain, and I can understand why she would get to that point, she’s been through a lot and maybe she was about to lose her mind. Instead of recruiting Wanda after the Sokovia incident, they should’ve given this girl treatment for her mental health problems. She just lost her brother and passed through a very traumatic war zone, of course she needs assistance. Cap and Natasha were the ones responsible for her because they were training the ‘new’ avengers. Sam was with them and he used to be a counselor to veterans with PTSD. He could’ve helped Wanda with some of her traumas. As shown in the series, Wanda did the whole hex business before meeting Agatha, which means creating that little reality was all Wanda’s responsibility. Hayward and Agatha did exactly what Wanda did to Tony (and the avengers/other people) in AOU. They manipulated her and played with her emotional traumas. Hayward showed her Vision’s body parts and Agatha started to pull strings to know how Wanda did what she did and her real powers while orchestrating against her. 

Both of them have made mistakes. No one is better than the other. I don’t understand why some fans want to make someone responsible more than the other or blame one character for the other. While Wanda gave Tony that vision and pushed his self-destructive side to obsess over saving the world, he did create Ultron, what Tony didn’t predict was that the robot was going to corrupt itself. Same with Wanda, while Agatha and Hayward contributed to her trauma, she held hostage and isolated 3,892 people to create her perfect reality, ripping these people away from their identities and free will to fit her own fantasy. Don’t turn this into ‘omg poor her, it’s Tony fault that she’s this way'. I can’t believe I have to repeat this but you don’t see Peter Parker obsessively looking for the person who manufactured the gun instead of the criminal who actually killed Uncle Ben. Ridiculous that I have to repeat this example. 

Oh and about Vision’s body (damn yall have a gift to turn everything into Tony’s fault for some reason). I can’t believe some of you think Tony (while grieving for 5 years) would give Vision to Hayward. You’re either pulling stuff out of your asses or you didn’t pay attention to the show. Maria Rambeau founded and was the Director of S.W.O.R.D. In 2018 (when IW happened), this is where she came up with a new policy within S.W.O.R.D. to ground snapped agents in case they ever returned. Maria was diagnosed with cancer, then two years later (2020), she passed away. Then, Hayward was promoted to Director of S.W.O.R.D., in his first years (2020-2022) he refocused the organization’s work from extraterrestrial operations to robotics, nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, etc. There, that was the 5 years. Then in 2023 it’s when he started project Cataract, which revolved around rebuilding Vision as a sentient weapon. Tony was dead when this happened. How come yall don’t get this part? I don’t understand, do you really think his dead corpse signed some papers to give Vision to those people? LMAO

Instead of thinking Tony would give up Vision just like that, think (possibilities):

Maria was the head of S.W.O.R.D., she might have just been keeping his body safe without doing anything with him. Maybe she trusted Hayward and he, obviously, betrayed her because he’s turning her organization into something else after her death. 

One of the Sokovia Accords regulations states that the use of technology to bestow individuals (the term ‘enhanced individual’ in this book is defined as any person, human or otherwise, with superhuman capabilities) with innate capabilities is strictly regulated by the government, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology. Vision signed those accords ('I'm saying there may be a casualty. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand’) The Avengers were no longer be a private organization and they operate under the supervision of the United Nations. This means they (UN) were the ones that referred Vision’s body to S.W.O.R.D., to a trustworthy leader, Maria. 

Vision died in Wakanda, not in New York. Tony was missing for 22 days after the snap, the rest of the avengers should’ve taken responsibility for his body.  

Why is it always Tony’s fault but never consider that other parties are also involved in this? 

I want to address some other asks with this one. I know some of you are angry because people are starting to blame Tony all over again, so a few things to remember:

Tony did not create the Accords. The Accords were the result of all the collective actions the Avengers have done in their superhero careers. All of them have made mistakes and the collateral damage of that was taken into consideration by the government and 117 countries around the world. He signed the accords because he knew that he could amend them with the support of the rest of the avengers and he knew about Thanos (something big was coming). 

Obadiah Stane (it’s so bizarre for me seeing that some people don’t know who this guy is, I’m guessing that the people who are watching Wandavision are too young to remember or didn’t watch the Iron Man movies at all which is highly probable) was the one selling weapons to the wrong people, not Tony. Obadiah was the CEO of Stark industries and became second-in-command for two decades. He grew jealous of Tony and began cooperating with the Ten Rings in Afghanistan, selling them Stark Industries weapons illegally. Imagine blaming all of it on Tony when Obadiah basically murdered thousands only because he felt a little green. If someone who you trust (he had no reasons to doubt Obadiah since he was like a second father-figure for him) does something behind your back (take into consideration that people like Pepper; who was Tony’s assistant and had knowledge of all of Tony’s activities and responsibilities, Rhodey; who was the liaison between the military in the department of acquisitions and Stark Industries, and Happy Hogan; who was his personal bodyguard and Head of Security of Stark Industries, didn’t know what Stane was doing either), how are you going to know about it? Tony trusted him. And when he realized what was going on he immediately stopped all of it. He worked hard to be better and people overlook that because they want other characters to look better. 

Don’t act like Tony was the only one assisting the military. All of the avengers assisted in one way or another. Natasha (who used to be an assassin) was in the Red Room, trained in the Black Widow Program in association with Leviathan and the Soviet Armed Forces, served for KGB, etc. Bruce Banner used to work for the United States government and was commissioned to create a super serum for them. Same goes with the rest, Sam, Clint, etc. Steve Rogers was a soldier lmaoooooooooooooo like, what happened to Tony with Obadiah happened to Steve with SHIELD/HYDRA in TWS. He trusted the people working in there (SHIELD), served for them, did missions for them and as soon as he found out what they were doing behind his back he turned against them. 

Knowing all of this, how is Tony always the villain for yall? I’m guessing because Tony’s popularity in the MCU, but still, aren’t yall tired of not understanding the plot and having people repeat it to you constantly? Watch the movies if you want to understand the franchise, people. Stop following the crowd. 

Also, Wanda is not a kid, she’s a 35 year old woman in Wandavision, she was 26 in AOU and 27 in CW. Hardly a child. Tony had almost her same age (38) when he realized Obadiah was selling illegal weaponry behind his back. The only reason people don’t fully forgive Tony is because 1. he’s a man and 2. he’s a billionaire. Even if Wanda was poor she still killed and hurt many people over the course of her life. Stop trying to make Tony the villain only to downplay Wanda’s actions. 

Both have killed people, both have made mistakes. They’re both responsible for them. 

[itsthestutterforme]

The Next Step Part Two

Summary: A few kids were able to hear Hanseok's screams in the abandoned house Vincenzo left him in. They called the ambulance in time to take him to the hospital. Months later, Hanseok tracks Y/N down at a party with Han and tries to kill her. Han had something else in mind.

Notes: mention of Jang Hanseok, mentions of Vincenzo plots, SMUT warning, 18+, minors DNI, GIF is not mine

--

Despite it being months since Vincenzo's call saying that Hanseok was dead, Han still kept his eye on you. Once he saw you actively looking for apartments, he squashed it and said that you could keep each other company. Something fluttered in you when he said that he was willing to do anything to keep you safe.

For once, you enjoyed someone staking claim over you. With Han, he respects your individuality and free will. He doesn't restrain you from doing anything but when he thinks you're doing something dangerous, he'll keep you company.

Sean thinks that Han will ask you out or something but you said that wasn't going to happen he only saw you as a friend and he was still in love with Giselle. Sean asked Han the same thing and he was said similar things. So Sean decided to leave you two alone and let you two figure it out ourselves.

"Put something cute on, we're going to a party." Han says, poking his head in to see you doing yoga. "Who are you trying to be flexible for?" He asks. "For me, Han. Yoga calms me." You say, lifting one leg and tucking it on your pelvic bone in the tree pose. Han steps into the room and pushes you into the cushion in front of you.

"Han!" You scold. "Come on, Sean is waiting for us." He says, turning his back to leave but you jump on his back instead. You grab the chips from his hand and jump off his back to make a run for it but he already grabs you. The back of your knees hit the bed, sending you both hurdling onto the bed.

Your hair fans around your head as you stare up at him. A smile tugs on his lips and he asks, "Is that where you wanted this to go?" You were completely baffled by the fact that his hips were hovering over yours and his chocolate brown eyes drifting between your lips and your eyes.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" "Something like that." He leans in so close you could practically taste him. Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart bangs against your chest but your find yourself pulling him closer until your lips collide with his. A softly sigh into the kiss and he plants a hand on either side of you.

You were just getting used to him lips against yours when his phone starts to ring. He pulls away with a grumble and answers his phone with a sharp what. You smile up at him and you could hear Sean asking where you guys were through the phone but Han leans down to give you a few more kisses in response.

"We'll be there. Don't get your boxers in a twist," Han says against your lips. He ends the call and kisses you once more before getting up from the bed. "Get dressed."

"Roger that," you say, sliding to the edge of the bed. "You want your chips back?" "I'm actually in the mood for dessert, but I'll gladly wait until later tonight." He says, giving you a once over.

Feeling a bigger sense of pride, you walk up to him and press the bag of chips into his chest. "I'm going to take a shower, care to join?" You ask. "If I do that, we're definitely not making it to the party.

**

Han and Y/N finally pick up Sean thirty minutes later and he immediately felt a change in the vibe between you two. And he definitely noticed the stolen glances and smiles you would send each other. But he didn't say anything until he was alone with Han.

"So what happened between you two?" Sean asks before taking a swig of beer. "What are you talking about?" Han asks, trying to keep it cool by having his back leaning against the railing and not staring at her like he wanted to do. But at least Sean has eyes on her.

Han has body guards trained on her at all times but he still worries for her. It's like he can finally breath when he sees her. "Alright, well what if I tell you she was talking with a pretty good looking guy right now?" "She's her own person. I don't control anything she does." Han answers, popping a chip into his mouth.

"Oh, look at that, he's snaking an arm around her waist." Sean teases and Han wiped his head around so fast, Sean felt whiplash by just witnessing it. Han looked to see you softly swaying her hips to the music as you sipped on your Sake. No man in sight. Once Han realized that he rolled his eyes at Sean but couldn't hide the sigh of relief that left his lips.

"So what changed between you two?" Sean repeats. "We kissed. And it felt so addicting like smoking my first cigarette. I just want to keep kissing her until I can't breathe. And it scares me man." Han says, crunching on more chips.

Sean's eyebrow furrows when he realizes that you were gone and your normal guards are nowhere in sight. "Han, she's gone." Sean says. "Cut the shit. It's not funny."

"No, I'm serious. Look." Han looks at you were a few minutes ago to see . Little did they know that Hanseok tracked you down and followed them into the club.

He bought off Han's guards so you became easy access. Then he just pulled you into a room and shoved you in. Crawling away from him on the floor, you frantically searched for anything you could use as a weapon. Then your eyes fall on a mirror.

"You almost killed me, you know. Vincenzo nearly did it, but he was so caught up on making me suffer as you requested, that it gave me the chance to be saved." Hanseok explains, pulling off his hoodie to show his scarred body.

"Oh God," you whimper. "I'm going to enjoy this," He says, pulling a knife from his belt. You stand up in a wide stance and put your hands up so you could deflect his blows. Your hands were shaking, your worst nightmare has come to life but you can't forget what Vincenzo taught you after he left Korea.

He came to Japan to visit you and see how you were doing. In return for assisting with Hanseok's execution, he taught you how to defend yourself from any deadly weapon. "What? You really think you're going to fight me?"

"The days where I cower from you are over, Hanseok. You want to kill me? Go ahead and try." You snark, shifting your weight from one foot to the next as you waited for him to strike. "Where the hell could she be? She was just here!" Han snaps, looking around the crowd frantically.

You scrambled out of the room with blood sprayed across your neck from when she stabbed Hanseok in the chest with a piece of glass. He should be dead but knowing that he has a vendetta, he's not going to die so easily. You spot Han in the crowd and ran towards him.

"What the hell happened?" "H-hanseok, he's still alive. He tried to kill me." You whimpered, tears building in your eyes. "Where is he?" Han asked. You could see his eyes darken with anger but chose not to question it. You took his hand and followed him into the room where Hanseok held his chest heaving.

Han took out his phone to call DK who answered on the first ring. "Bring your gun. We have some business to take care of." Han says coldly. "Take her back to my place and don't leave her side until I get there." Han says to Sean, talking as if you weren't standing right there.

"No, I'm staying with you." You start, grabbing a hold of his arm. "I don't want you to see me like this," Han says, pulling his arm away hesitantly. "Come on, Y/N." Sean says and Han reassured, "I'll be fine." You nodded before following Sean to the car.

**

Hours passed and you were on the verge of taking Han's car and going back to the club when Han slowly walks through the door. Sean and you looked at him with wide eyes when you notice blood splattered across his clothes and face. He was practically drenched in it.

"You can take my car back home, Sean. I won't be leaving for a while." Han says softly and Sean nods his head, choosing not the say a word. He leaves the apartment and you spring to your feet. You try to cup his face to get a good look at him but he moves away.

"Han," "Let me get cleaned up first," he walks passed you and turns on the shower. You wait on the couch for him to finish his shower, chewing on the inside of your cheeks nervously. He finally walks back in with black sweatpants and a white tank top.

"I'm headed to bed. It's been a long day." He says. "Don't do that. Talk to me. Please." You say, standing in his way. "What happened?" You add.

"Do you really want to know?" "I want to know if you're okay." "Well I don't want to talk about it. Good night." He dismissed before walking upstairs to his room.

You respected his decision and decided to stay in the living room with a clear view of the door. Just in case Hanseok crawls out of his grave and finds his way back to you again. Truthfully, you didn't feel the need to sleep. But after you became hyper-vigilant of the door, your eyes closed on their own.

You woke to a soft hand touching your cheeks. Gasping away, you grab Han's hand. "Hey, relax, it's just me." He says and you loosen your grip on him. Sitting up, you tuck your knees into your chest. "What are you doing awake?" You ask.

"I couldn't sleep." He says, followed by a long silence. "Thank you, for doing that for me. I don't know how to repay you." You say. "You don't have to repay me." "Of course I do. What you did is traumatic. It'll effect you in ways I can't fix." "As long as you're by my side, Y/N. I can get through anything."

"Han," you start, but he turned your chin so you are facing him. "I love you," he says, making your heart flutter. You lean forward and pressed your lips to him. Piling yourself in his lap, you pull away to say, "I love you too."

He stands from the couch and carries you into the bedroom, occasionally pecking you on the way. He lays down on the bed and you straddled his lap. You unbuttoned your shirt and let it fall off your shoulders. Your hands found his chest but he sits up and rolls so you are laying on your back.

He glances down at your bare chest before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. Your head falls onto his soft pillow as he continued to work on your sensitive nub. He pulls away with a satisfying pop before blowing cool air and pressing a soft kiss to your nipple.

He does the same to the other breast and your back arches off of the bed, gasping when your clothes buckle rubs against his crotch. He kisses down the line of your stomach before pulling off your fleece shorts, leaving more kisses in it's wake. He settles himself in between your legs and props your legs on his shoulder.

"Oh God," you whine when he laps your folds painfully slow and kitten licks your clit before lapping your fold again. Your hand rakes through his fine hair and he links one of his hands with yours, resting it on your stomach. You rolled your hips at the same time his kitten licked you clit and your legs spasm as you release yourself into his mouth.

"You taste amazing, ojo." He says. He uses his thumb to part your folds before going to work on your clit much faster now. "Han! Oh God, oh God, oh God," you chant as your grip on his hair tightens and you lift your hips off the bed. He push you back down gently and unlinks his hand with yours so his body could shadow over yours.

His free hand rubs circles on your clit and you moan into his mouth. "Han, please." "Shh, chisana hana." You moan at his pet name for you. Little flower. I think it fits. He captures your lips in a slow kiss that you were so caught up in, you didn't even notice that he pulled off his pants and started to pump himself.

He gently parts your legs and slides the tip along your folds to gather your juices. He slides himself in and your toes curl as his dick brushes up against a sensitive spot in your pussy. He waits for you to adjust and you signal him to move by nodding softly. His thrust are slow but deep and he buries his face into your neck.

You rest your hands on his lower back and he continued to rub your clit as he thrusted into you. A whine leaves your lips as you come apart under him but he continues to thrust into you. He lifted one leg over his shoulder and kept the other one hooked around his waist.

Digging your nails into his back, he moans and arches his back, digging himself deeper into you. "Of fuck," he moans into your neck and thrusting into you faster until you came undone once again. You were seeing stars as he cums after three hard thrusts.

He pulls out of you and lays down next to you, nuzzling himself into you neck and leaves soft kisses. The entire time, it felt like you were floating on a cloud. His touches felt light as a feather but burned into your skin the more he touched you.

It was nothing like sex with Hanseok. Han puts your needs before his own and he actually takes care of you in ways you didn't even know were possible. "Can I tell you something?" "Sure," you lay on your side, resting your hand on the side of your face.

"I think I fell for you and it scares the hell out of me." He confesses and you reach over to trace the side of his face. He waits for you to say something and a soft smile plays on your lips. "I think I fell for you as soon as we met. But we don't have to rush anything. We have nothing but time." You say softly.

"Come here," he says,.opening his arms and you wrap your arms around his neck, hiking your leg over his waist.

[hugh-lauries-bald-spot]

garashir

Who is more likely to hurt the other: *drumroll* JULIAN!!! why do i think this??? cause garak is comfortable with him, its been years and only now does he finally feel safe, and with safety comes ✨resurfacing abandonment issues✨, garak couldnt hurt him!! julian, on the other hand has duties, morals, if he absolutely needed to, he would hurt garak for the greater good, to garak, the greatest good there is is julian.

Who is emotionally stronger: this is like the "which is heavier, a pound of feathers or a pound of gold" there both such traumatized bitches with bad coping mechanisms so i dont think the answer is black or white because theres a diaspora of different ways you need to consider both of their lives and experiences before even TACKLING this question

Who is physically stronger: i think it's julian because of the augment stuff in theory but in practice its garak, julian only uses his augmented strength in dire situations (or if hes drunk and needs a neat party trick), but garak is the one who like moves their furniture or does hand to hand combat because julians role in the marriage (regardless of their marital status) is to sit there looking pretty

More likely to break a bone: julian, mans is built like a twig (affectionate) and also just gives of weak bitch energy (affectionate) whereas garak... like could you REALLY actually fight garak and cause any damage?? like ik he gets punched repeatedly (comedy) but in an actual scenario? doubtful

Who knows the best way to upset the other: oh so foreplay i think they both always try and upstage the other in terms of annoyance, garak being an intelligence agent picked up on what annoys or ticks julian off but he doesnt have the unparalleled cringefail energy of Julian Subatoi Bashir, besides riling up garak is step one to a fun night for those two ;)

Who is most likely to apologise first after an argument: julian. you think Elim "Certifiably Petty" Garak is gonna be the FIRST to apologise?? no way. hell apologise eventually but in a really... garak way ykwim?? subtly admitting hes wrong and with a shit eating grin or smt

Who treats who's wounds more often?: i mean julian obviously, the fondly calling garak idiot in an exasperated way, a soft kiss on the hand as hes convalescing and the like, but if julian so much as stubs his toe garak is preparing a quadrant wide ban on furniture

Who is in constant need of comfort?: Theyre both cuddly and sweet and kinda codependent sometimes, but garak IS a lizard man and a heat seeking missile and hes gotten the taste of love and will be damned if he loses it

Who gets more jealous: Garak is jealous more often and is super vengeful, like you even LOOK at julian in an inviting way and its a gambit to see if you live through the night. but BUT i love jealous julian with my whole heart and have a great many opinions and scenarios if anyone wants em

Who's more likely to walk out on the other: see question one i mean julian has a whole life, a career and, again, a moral code to adhere to, and if need be he WILL leave garak

Who will propose: *alec baldwin voice* i was just thinking about this and i think its *drumroll* JULIAN cause garak wont actually believe julian wants to be with him forever, hell think julian feels like he has to say yes because hes compassionate and too good for this world, so he wont object. Garak feels like hell be coercing julian and since he refuses to hurt him, julian knows its up to him (but of course garak is the kind of gay whos had his wedding planned since he was 7 but figured due to his job and general unlovability in his opinion, a dream was all it was) (note: the alec baldwin thing is an snl reference)

Who has the most difficult parents: REALLY??? i mean both of their parents are so bad, so abusive, and so deserving of being shoved out of an airlock with no mercy. they both did similar things to their kids, changing them, breaking them and rebuilding them in a more suitable vision in their eyes, and without either kid's consent! tain(t)'s abuse may seem worse because he completely used his son while not even acknowledging his paternity, and so one might think that thats the natural decision, but lets not breeze past physically changing a person they deemed unworthy of even a *CHANCE* and completely psychologically remaking them.

Who initiates hand-holding in public: Julian, usually. hes a generally touchy person and physical contact is natural, easy, he does it with as much thought as blinking. garak initiates sometimes, but thats just if someone is ogling his husband and he needs to show them hes accounted for.

Who comes up for the other all the time: i dont actually understand this question but this is how i interpret it, i think garak just randomly pops up in med bay all the time, just like "oops i stapled my hand, why dont you tenderly caress it while addressing my wound and fondly calling me an idiot.", julian is usually pretty busy what with saving lives and whatnot so garak is more than happy to visit him

Who hogs the blankets?: lizard man, i know this because as a person who is always cold i in fact need a nest. julian, the furnace of the relationship, is happy to keep his husband warm tho and usually ends up the little spoon anyway, and if its really THAT cold hell just replicate some fleece pajamas

Who gets more sad: garak. mans has 99 problems and bitches are several of them, whether the bitch is ptsd, panic attacks, body image troubles, his dad, his mom, just plain old missing cardassia, i mean hes lived a life and most of it sucked balls, what can i say

Who is better at cheering the other up: julian the sunshine man, of course! hes his husband's doctor, he knows about his troubles and has many ways of helping! he reminds garak to take his meds, hes got healthy habits to help engrain in their routine, hes got a smile made of honey and sugar and love, hes warm and knows that garak just needs a hug, most of the time and maybe a shoulder to cry on when nobody is around

Whos the one who playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes: garaks silly jokes are usually subtle, vaguely threatening and very dark no matter who hes around (if youve seen nbc hannibal thats basically what i mean), and julian has to remind his feral murder husband to have some tact once in a while, and a slap on the arm or an elbow to the side usually does the trick

Who is more streetwise: julian is younger but also chronically cringe and swagless (affectionate), garak, who was in intelligence, is a gossiper, and has many sources of information, knows whats a la mode and what will be a trend given time, even if he wont partake in it (julian will but he cant wash the cringefail energy from his every action)

Who is more wise: garak has more life experience but is very very cynical, and thats not always the correct way to go. his advice really only applies to him and situations similar to the ones hes been in. julian's is more hopeful, but thats because of his nature and profession, he deals with life or death in front of him in the day to day and garak's cynicism would be a terrible course of action. so when it comes to wisdom, i really think it depends on what you're dealing with that requires either of their advice, but hypothetically, you should ask them both and maybe mix the answers

Who is the shyest: garak. julian is actually, genuinely personable and nice, garak is only cordial but its so clear he wants to die every time he speaks to another person (social anxiety, can relate)

Who boasts about the other more: good god they both think the other is just the hottest, sexiest, sweetest, best lay in history and they WILL tell you about it. i suppose since julian has like no professionalism with like the entire senior staff hell just bring garak up all the time and just blather for hours but when given any opportunity garak WILL talk about julian like a teenager about their first partner and his compliments are plentiful and they all sound like hes praising the moon and stars themselves

Who sits on whos lap: Julian "Trophy Husband" Bashir, and he LOVES it. he LOVES sitting on garak's lap at social functions, at home, in front of miles to make him uncomfortable (garak and bashir will just make direct eye contact with him and smirk). Julian knows hes a pretty twink and is happy to sit in his man's lap and display it.

*SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH* thats all folks

[whitehotharlots]

We are all meaner and more conservative than we were 10 years ago

I’m gonna tell you a true story. Well... I can’t guarantee that it’s absolutely 100% true since I wasn’t a part of it, but it’s true enough that it’s been reported on by reputable news sources. 

I’ll link to the story later on, but while I’m telling it, you should use the magic of prejudice to fill in the contextual gaps. Try to figure out when and where this happened, what the rationale of the involved parties might have been.

Here’s the story:

An 8th grade teacher brought some cotton plants to class. This was part of a lesson plan on slavery, particularly a discussion of how the invention of the cotton gin led directly to the growth of slavery. The teacher sought to demonstrate the immense difficulty of picking cotton by hand, showing students how easily the sharp edges could pierce skin. Less than a day after this lesson plan, a parental complaint led to the teacher being suspended for more than a month.

Okay, story over.

So... where do you think this happened? One of those regressive states where the governor looks and sounds like Boss Hog? One of those places that enacted a horrific ban on Critical Race Theory, where the fragility of white leadership is so immense they won’t even allow children to learn of the brutal realities of chattel slavery?

Nope. This was in San Francisco, perhaps our nation’s smuggest blue city.  And at a self-consciously progressive charter school that focuses on the creative arts. The people who are 100% certain that attempts to ban CRT are due to conservatives not wanting kids to learn about slavery just punished a teacher for teaching kids about slavery. 

What happened? Has Republican malevolence grown so powerful it now infects areas where Republicans themselves have no power? There’s precedence for such a thing, after all: Trump’s evil was so immense he somehow opened those immigrant child prisons years before taking office.

No, sadly, this seems like an intra-Dem conflict. Hasan Kwame Jeffries, a Famed Race Dimwit, summarized it thusly:

“You just can’t, despite your best efforts actually recreate what slavery was like,” he said. “Any kind of simulation, any kind of re-creation, any kind of that hands-on kind of teaching, just pushes you into the area of re-trauma, traumatizing children and there are better ways to go about it.”

Now, obviously, putting the black kids in chains and allowing the white students to whip them would have been a bridge too far. If that had happened, I woudl have been like “omg this teacher needs to go!” But that did not happen. Nothing close to that happened. Yet Jeffries seems to be suggesting that any material evocation of slavery, even one designed to denounce it, has that same emotional affect as something as extreme as a full-on recreation--that black kids have, like, that power from Dune where so much as touching certain objects connects them with the magic aura of their ancestors.

This... this is insane, right? You all see how this is insane? 

Here I could take an easy potshot at the fact that Jeffries’ own TedTalk is titled “We Must Confront the Painful Parts of US History.” Were I a less classy fellow, I could perhaps feign an attempt to discern the all-important dividing line between “serious confrontation” and “showing kids raw cotton so they understand a lesson more clearly.” Alas, I shall refrain. 

Instead, I hope to draw your attention to the bleak irreconcilability of our present political moment. As I warned way back in 2015, adjudicating the appropriateness of course materials according only to the emotional reaction of students will lead to arbitrary punishment, which can only make classrooms more regressive:

In 2009, the subject of my student’s complaint was my supposed ideology. I was communistical, the student felt, and everyone knows that communisticism is wrong. That was, at best, a debatable assertion. And as I was allowed to rebut it, the complaint was dismissed with prejudice. I didn’t hesitate to reuse that same video in later semesters, and the student’s complaint had no impact on my performance evaluations.

In 2015, such a complaint would not be delivered in such a fashion. Instead of focusing on the rightness or wrongness (or even acceptability) of the materials we reviewed in class, the complaint would center solely on how my teaching affected the student’s emotional state. As I cannot speak to the emotions of my students, I could not mount a defense about the acceptability of my instruction. And if I responded in any way other than apologizing and changing the materials we reviewed in class, professional consequences would likely follow.

In the blog post that preceded that Vox piece, I explained how the ominous rise of wokeness had caused myself, and several other instructors I knew, to purge our syllabi of works and discussions that were intellectually in line with the goals of progressivism, but could nonetheless plausibly be said to cause psychic discomfort:

There are literally dozens of articles and books I thought nothing of teaching, 5-6 years ago, that I wouldn’t even reference in passing today. I just re-read a passage of Late Victorian Holocausts, an account of the British genocide against India, and, wow, today I’d be scared if someone saw a copy of it in my office. There’s graphic pictures right on the cover, harsh rhetoric (“genocide”), historical accounts filled with racially insensitive epithets, and a profound, disquieting indictment of capitalism. No way in hell would I assign that today. Not even to grad students. Here’s how bad it’s gotten, for reals: last summer, I agonized over whether or not to include texts about climate change in my first-year comp course. They would have fit perfectly into the unit, which was about the selective production of ignorance and the manipulation of public discourse. But I decided against including them. They forced readers to come to uncomfortable conclusions. They indicted our consumption-based lifestyles. They called out liars for lying. Lots of uncomfortable stuff. All it would take was one bougie, liberal student to get offended by them, call them triggering, and then boom, that’s it, that’s the end of me.

Strangely, this was the part of my argument that aroused the most criticism. Liberals and Republicans alike were certain I was lying. The Republicans thought that since colleges are commie indoctrination centers there’s no way the works I’d mention could raise objections. The liberals, meanwhile, were sure that this fancy new means of punishing people we don’t like was so righteous and good that it could only ever be wielded against evil people and evil ideas. Very few people, even those who claim to study this stuff professionally, are capable of understanding a social or cultural problem being caused by a bipartisan trend. There’s no way that an effort to silence and punish the Bad Guys could ever yield negative consequences for the Good Guys.

But, whoops! It turns out mandating that everyone become meaner and more paranoid actually does stifle productive discourse. 

By definition, the mandate the we prioritize impact over intent/context is going to lead to more regressive discourse. The cotton lesson may have been pedagogically sound and politically progressive, but that doesn’t matter because its hypothetical impact could, possibly, have led to “re-trauma.” And I stressed the word hypothetical there because no coverage of the piece reported a single perspective from a student in the class--it was just a parental complaint about something that maybe kinda coulda happened. 

As is evidenced by the rise of sensitivity readers, the woke project has gone beyond using social justice as an excuse to regulate your arbitrary pet peeves. The job of the scold is no longer simply policing norms that already exist; social justice only happens when we proactively fabricate new norms based on hypothetical offenses. This means that punishable offenses are going to become more obscure and absurd, effectively rendering it impossible to engage in any of the very difficult discussions we’re supposed to be trying to facilitate, unless they fit into an increasingly narrow template that’s so radical and disruptive it’s gotten the unanimous support of the DNC as well as every major bank and corporation. 

[juniorgman187]

Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past.  Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital. 

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer. 

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid. 

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing. 

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner. 

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England. 

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place. 

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return. 

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.” 

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s. 

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do. 

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order. 

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore. 

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream. 

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia. 

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would. 

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was. 

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out. 

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second. 

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned. 

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all. 

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand. 

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind. 

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too. 

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive. 

My eyes. 

“Here, take my jacket.” 

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping. 

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for. 

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then? 

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.” 

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me. 

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.” 

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid. 

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look. 

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing. 

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first. 

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.” 

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer. 

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body. 

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.” 

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories. 

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities. 

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me. 

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy. 

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been. 

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did. 

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands. 

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion. 

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine. 

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years. 

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain. 

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me. 

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time. 

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that. 

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us. 

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it. 

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.” 

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties. 

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.” 

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?” 

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive? 

“Jeez, you must be really smart.” 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went. 

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.” 

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more. 

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was. 

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there. 

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me. 

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored. 

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring. 

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted. 

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there. 

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist. 

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him. 

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!” 

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!” 

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name. 

“What’s yours?” He yelled back. 

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time. 

“Next time?” 

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away. 

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me. 

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order. 

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal. 

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?” 

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders. 

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.” 

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize. 

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes. 

But that’s not the worst part. 

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her. 

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.” 

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage. 

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace. 

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that. 

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.” 

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer. 

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back. 

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence. 

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.” 

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being. 

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded. 

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.” 

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed. 

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.” 

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition. 

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.” 

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further. 

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-” 

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.” 

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.” 

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?” 

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about. 

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions. 

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends. 

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away. 

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily. 

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?” 

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.” 

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.” 

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.” 

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell. 

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed. 

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued. 

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.” 

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed. 

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).” 

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently. 

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something. 

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off. 

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything. 

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear. 

I love Spencer. 

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair. 

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!” 

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?” 

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession. 

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter. 

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door. 

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-” 

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him. 

I learned, that day, that you do only live once. 

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was. 

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else. 

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.” 

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.” 

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago. 

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing. 

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own. 

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust. 

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back. 

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.” 

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard. 

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you. 

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion. 

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it. 

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine. 

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy. 

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle. 

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it. 

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking. 

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat. 

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.” 

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was. 

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out. 

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom. 

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back. 

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him. 

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask? 

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself. 

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth. 

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable. 

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.” 

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip. 

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory. 

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.” 

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again. 

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did. 

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?” 

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.” 

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently. 

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago. 

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself. 

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly. 

I was pregnant. 

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater. 

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess. 

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them. 

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection. 

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain. 

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth. 

“I think I might be pregnant.” 

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head. 

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy. 

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too. 

“Well, have you taken a test?” 

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?” 

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing. 

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.” 

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now. 

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently. 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time. 

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked. 

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.” 

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face. 

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?” 

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?” 

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire. 

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.” 

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace. 

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.” 

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.” 

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face. 

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!” 

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed. 

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade. 

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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[thatshithurted8]

Overdose

Summary: In which a traumatic accident causes Rafe to change for the better.

Word Count: 4.3k

Trigger Warnings: Mention and depiction of drug use/addiction, overdose, depression and a little bit of violence.

Genre: Angst, fluff and a tiny bit of smut

The first time Rafe Cameron laid eyes on you was at the first party of the summer at Kelce’s. You were taking shots off of a random Kooks belly button before snorting a line of coke.

The crowd around the kitchen island continued to cheer as you repeat the actions you just did mere seconds ago. Rafe gulps looking you up and down, admiring how your shirt hugged your breasts perfectly and how sexy your legs looked underneath your short skirt.

Despite being surrounded by a group of people starring at you, you could feel a certain pair of eyes on you, basically burning into the back of your head. You look around the crowded room and your eyes meet Rafe’s blue ones in the living room.

You smirk at him, but due to Rafe’s drug induced state he was suddenly panicked that you caught him starring. The blue eyed boy quickly turns around in his seat and focuses on the pile of cocaine in front of him that he was dealing.

As Rafe cuts up a line for his next customer the empty seat beside him on couch dips, signifying that someone had sat down. Rafe glances over then back to the coke then back to you who were now sitting beside him.

Anxiety washes over him and he didn’t know why. “Can I?” You ask looking between him and the white line on the table in front of you two.

“Yea.” He says, his voice betraying him and cracking a bit.

You simply giggle and pick up the rolled up one dollar bill before bringing it to your nostril and snorting the white substance. You let out a few sniffs and put the money back onto the glass table. Rafe watches as you open up your purse, but for some reason he didn’t want you to pay, even though he would get in shit with Barry. Maybe it was because he was too high or maybe it was because you were the most intoxicating girl he has ever seen, despite just seeing you for the first time.

However, you don’t pull out money for the line you just snorted. Instead you pull out two little baggies each containing a different colour of ecstasy in it. “Pick your poison.” You say smirking at the boy in front of you.

Rafe gulps the part of him that had any bit of common sense left didn’t want him to take it. The last time he had ecstasy he tripped so bad that he almost drowned in Toppers pool, claiming he saw a mermaid in it.

Even though there was still a small sensible part of Rafe still in him, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing at the blue one which was shaped as a smiley face.

“Good choice.” You say putting the other one back into your purse and opening the small baggie. Rafe watches as the blue pill falls into the palm of your hand before you bring it up to your mouth where you place it on the tip of your tongue.

Rafe furrows his eyebrows at your actions, but his confusion goes away once you pull him close to you by the collar of his shirt and kiss him. You exchange the pill from your mouth to his before pulling away and biting his bottom lip softly.

Without saying another word you grab your purse and stand up, walking away. Leaving a very turned on Rafe.

Every time Rafe was at Barry’s he was slightly intimidated and nervous since he was out of his element, but his giddiness of getting his desired drug almost always over powered the negative feelings. Almost was the key word. Rafe was having a shitty day and he just wanted his fix when he ran into you for the second time, causing his heart beat to accelerate.

As Rafe walked into Barry’s chateau his eyes darted all around, trying his best to avoid the judgmental gazes from the Pogues inside. The hate filled gazes coming from the Pogues scattered throughout the shack continued as the Kook Prince walked down the hall towards Barry’s room.

“Yo Barry!” Rafe calls out once he was standing outside of the drug dealers room, he could hear voices coming from the other side.

Shock falls over Rafe’s face when the door opens revealing you and Barry. You wink at him before turning away from the door and back to Barry to continue your conversation.

The brunette watches from his spot in the door way as you pull out a small stack of cash from your purse. You count it and hand it over to Barry who quickly counts it himself. Once he calculated that all of the money was there he turns and opens his dresser drawer, pulling out a small ziplock bag containing 4 of the pills you gave Rafe the first time you met him and another bag of weed.

“Thank you.” You say taking it from him and putting in your purse. “But what happened to the free ounce of coke you usually give me for being a loyal customer?” You ask with a smug smile. Rafe furrows his eyebrows, he’s never gotten a free ounce of coke for being a loyal customer.

Barry chuckles and smirks at you. “You were a loyal customer, but your parents shipped you off to rehab after your last incident and this is the second time I’ve seen you since then.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him playfully at him bringing up your last overdose, causing Barry to laugh. Rafe has never seen Barry so care free as you two openly flirted.

“Well don’t be upset when I find a different dealer.” You say winking at him before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, passing by Rafe who was patiently waiting his turn. As you walk by the Cameron boy takes a quick glance at your ass.

“You wouldn’t dare, you already know I’m the best in the game!” Barry calls out with a smile on his face as Rafe walks into the room, the smell of your perfume lingered.

“Who was that?” Rafe asks after hearing the screen door shut signaling you left.

“That Rafe was Y/N Y/L/N. She’s trouble.” Barry whistles with a smirk on his face, while closing the drawer to his dresser and turning towards to the brunette.

After that it seemed as if you and Rafe ran into each other everywhere. You two would acknowledge each other, but every time Rafe built up the courage to talk to you it was like you disappeared. However, the start of your friendship was surprisingly at Midsummers.

Almost instantly Rafe found you in the crowd of Kooks when him and his family walked out of the country club and into the patio area. It was actually quite hard to miss you though.

You were wearing a long black tulle dress with poufy sleeves made out of the same light fabric. It had a square neckline that reached your bellybutton and on top of your head you adorned a crown with black roses which had long sticks similar to Rafe’s step moms, coming out of them. You were the only girl there wearing something so dark, but yet still classy.

Ever since Rafe met you he has always admired how you dressed. Everyone on OBX were beach kids. Meaning their style was laid back, and then there was you. You were challenging the norms on the island just from your fashion sense.

The whole night Rafe spent admiring you from afar, pretending to listen to Topper and his problems with his annoying sister. You on the other hand didn’t even notice he was there, after all you were on your phone texting one of your friends you met in rehab when the Cameron family walked in.

It wasn’t until later in the night you finally noticed the boy in the baby blue suit who was walking into the country club towards the bar. When your eyes laid on Rafe’s figure you had to admit he looked good, hell he always did, but you weren’t interested. Your life was already fucked up and at least you had the decency to not drag anyone down with you by creating meaningful relationships.

“Can I get an old fashioned.” Rafe asks leaning up against the bar. The bartender simply nods his head before turning around to make the drink. As he waits Rafe looks around at the basically deserted bar and sees you sitting a few stools down, nursing your lemonade. It was basically the end of the night and a lot of people had already left. His heart beat quickens, but he decides to finally talk to you, seeing there was no other distractions.

“Hey.” He says softly sitting down on the stool beside you.

You look over and perk up when you see Rafe, trying your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Hey.” You simply say, allowing an awkward silence to fall over you two.

After a few moments Rafe speaks up, his hands becoming clammy. “I’m Rafe. You’re Y/N right?”

“I know who you are.” You say making direct eye contact. A blush creeps it’s way across the boys face at your words and actions. Seeing your eyes he realized that you were high. “And I think you know who I am as well.” You say with a wink before taking a sip of your lemonade, ultimately finishing it.

Just as you finish your drink the bartender comes over and places Rafe’s drink down on top of a napkin. You request another drink, but ice tea this time as your eyes fall to the alcoholic drink in front of you.

“Why didn’t you get something else?” Rafe asks with a chuckle, acknowledging your interest in his drink.

“Cause that prick over there didn’t buy my fake id.” You say nodding over to the bartender that was busy getting your drink. Rafe smiles down at you. Of course you had a fake id.

“Well lets see if it’s obviously fake or not.” The brunette suggests. In high school Rafe and some Kooks including Topper and Kelce used to make fake id’s so he knew all too well how to spot a fake one.

You sigh opening up your clutch and hand over the small card to the boy beside you once you fish it out. As your hands briefly touch during the exchange a rush of heat washes over both of you, but you try your best to ignore it.

You watched intently while Rafe analyzed your id in his large hand. For some reason it made you nervous how close he was to you.

“Well for starters you can’t smile in the picture.” He says looking back up and handing the card back over. “And Annie Position? Really?” He says with a playful smile at the fake name. When he said it out loud it sounded like he was saying ‘any position.’

“Shut up. My parents found my old one and I haven’t had enough time to get a new one that’s good.” You say with a laugh as you sheepishly put your fake id back into your clutch.

Rafe looks up at the bartender to see if he was listening, but he was distracted by Topper’s mom ordering a drink. “Well, just between you and me.” He says leaning closer to you so only you could hear him. “I used to make those, but 100 times better. I can reopen shop for you if you’d like.”

“I do anything to make my parents mad so I’m in.” You say with a smirk. Rafe smirks back at you his eyes glancing down to your lips then back up to your dilated pupils. Rafe was planning on getting high tonight, but he never got the chance due to the fact he was busy admiring you from afar.

Without realizing your breath hitches and you lean in slightly, but you are pulled away when the bartender comes back and places your ice tea on the bar. Rafe internally curses to himself, now it was going to be awkward.

But to his surprise you grab your glass off of the counter and clink it with his for a cheers before bringing it to your mouth. The fact that you seemingly didn’t let the now awkward and sexual tension between you two made Rafe even more attracted to you.

You place your glass back onto the bar beside Rafe’s, the ice cubes clinking against each other. Rafe looks down the bar to see the bartender tending to Topper’s mom once again.

Seeing as it was the perfect opportunity the brunette slowly switches his glass with yours, glancing over his shoulder every now and then. You watch with a smirk on your face as he does this. Once his drink was now in front of you he nods towards it signaling you to drink it.

“You sure?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Our drinks are the same colour how’s he supposed to know? And besides I saw you basically drooling at the sight of it when I got it.”

You nudge Rafe with your elbow as a smirk crosses your face. It was a sweet gesture done by the boy who was known for not being sweet. You bring the glass to your lips and the boy is surprised, but tries to contain his laugh when you down the liquid in one go.

With a sigh and lick across your lips you place the drink down on the bar before standing up and grabbing Rafe’s hand. He instantly obliges and allows you to take him where ever you wanted.

That night you two got faded with each other on your parents huge boat. After Midsummers you two started to hang out frequently. Thus creating your strong friendship that Rafe prioritized over anything, even drugs. It wasn’t until Halloween that you guys went from friends to friends with benefits and that was when Rafe realized his true feelings for you.

Being a Kook meant you had the ability to go all out for every holiday and Halloween was no exception. So that’s what Rafe did. Seeing that his dad and Rose were on a business trip and Wheezie was at a friends house it was the perfect opportunity to throw a party.

With time you were able to convince Rafe to dress up as shark boy since you were dressing up as lava girl. Little did you know Rafe had full intentions of being shark boy to your lava girl the moment you asked him, he just liked seeing you beg.

Both you and Rafe craved control desperately as Ward controlled him while your parents did the same. So when you two stumbled into his room after snorting lines and grinding on each other for the pass hour, both of you fought for dominance of the situation.

Rafe lightly pushed you onto his bed and started to rid his body of his costume, but you instantly lean up on your knees and pull him down onto the bed before straddling him. Before he had the chance to react you crash your lips against his in a needy and lustful kiss.

As your make out session deepened you two continued to fight over who was being on top, but Rafe ultimately gives in, being too turned on to keep your guys’ little game going.

A red tint covered Rafe’s face while you rode him, your fuchsia wig still on your head and surprising perfectly in tact. Your make up was smudged, but Rafe couldn’t care less.

The way you felt around his cock was intoxicating. He places his hands on your hips to help guide you while his back rested against his headboard, but Rafe forgot that you were the one in control.

Almost instantly you move his hands up to your exposed chest and he squeezes your breasts in return, causing a moan to fall from your mouth. Even though he wasn’t in control, hearing you moan still gave him satisfaction that he was helping you get off.

You keep your hands on top of his as you continue to bounce up and down, the headboard was hitting against the wall mercilessly, but neither of you two seemed to care. You lift up off of Rafe’s cock, leaving you empty before slamming back down and bouncing again. This causes you to throw your head back, a pornographic moan leaving your mouth while your one hand found it’s way around Rafe’s neck.

Squeezing slightly around Rafe’s neck you grind your hips back and forth. The combination of your pink wig, pink garters, your dominance and you choking him sent Rafe into over drive. He starts to thrust his hips up into you, meeting yours half way, causing your skin to slap together.

Both of you could feel the coils in your stomachs begin to snap and as they did Rafe seemingly had an epiphany while he watched you come undone on top of him.

He was in love with you.

Over the past few months Rafe became a frequent faucet at your house and you at his. With that being said it wasn’t a surprise when your older sister opened the front door to find Rafe on the other side.

“You know where she is.” Your sister says with an annoyed huff before returning to her kids that were painting in the dining room. Rafe knew what she meant and walked through the house to the door leading to the backyard.

Even though Rafe has only met your parents and older siblings a few times he wasn’t a fan of them. Not only did they remind him of his parents and sister they treated you like shit. You were the black sheep of the family compared to them. Although you have tried to clean up your act to appease them similar to the way Rafe has done before, nothing you did would make them happy. You were a failure in their eyes. But how could you compete when your siblings are so successful they could buy half of figure 8? Rafe knew the feeling of being the disappointment of the family all too well. That’s one of the reasons why you two clicked so well, you guys related to each other.

As he walked outside into the backyard he heard your sister talking to her husband about how you need to go to university or college. Rafe scoffs at this knowing that even if you did go to post-secondary school they would still find a way to ridicule you. It also didn’t help that you were home schooled most of your life.

Rafe mumbles to himself about how shitty your family is as he walks down to the pier and past your brother and dad talking about a business deal to where your family’s yacht was docked. You had the tendency of staying there when you’ve gotten into a fight with your parents or when you simply wanted to get high without being caught.

The brunette wipes his clammy hands on his pants as he steps on board. Every time he was with you, you had the same effect on him. He makes his way inside and instantly freezes once he walks inside.

On the ground in front of him you laid unconscious a package of coke scattered on the floor beside you. Immediately he rushes to your side and shakes you.

“Y/N wake up!” He yells, but you remain unconscious with your eyes closed and the dust of the white powder sticking to the skin around your nose.

Rafe continues to shake your seemingly lifeless body, but when he continues to get no response he runs onto the outside part of the boat to get help. “Help someone help!” He yells causing the vein in his neck to stick out.

The brunette quickly gets your dads and brothers attention and they’re making their way over when he runs back inside to you. Seconds later your dad and brother rush inside causing Rafe to turn to look at them.

“Someone call 911!” He yells as tears threatened to spill. Listening to Rafe’s commands your brother fishes his phone out of his pocket to call the emergency number while your dad joined Rafe on the floor.

Your father calmly moves your hair out of the way and places two fingers against your neck to find your pulse. Rafe watches intensely as he does this, it felt like an eternity later when your dad finally had a reaction to finding your pulse or not.

However, the expression that fell over your fathers face was not what he wanted. He slowly moves his hand away from your body with a deep sigh before bringing his hand up to cup his mouth. By now your mom, sister and brother in law had joined to see what all the commotion was about.

“What Mark?” Your mom screams and Rafe watches as your dad simply shakes his head no.

“She’s gone.” He says sadly, causing your mom to shriek while your sister began to be consoled by her husband.

“No no no!” Rafe yells turning back to you, caressing your cheek. “Come on Y/N wake up! You’re okay! Please wake up you’re all I have!” The Cameron boy cries as your mom and sister began to sob into each others arms.

As the paramedics came aboard the boat they escorted Rafe and your family out, but Rafe felt as if he was experiencing an out of body experience. This couldn’t be real, it had to be a fucked up dream he was having. Suddenly his breathing becomes laboured as he takes in the surroundings of your backyard. Your family huddled together as the paramedics prepared your lifeless body for the stretcher.

Seeing you be rolled out on a stretcher in a body bag sent Rafe over the edge. It was the last straw to cause his world to come tumbling down. Without thinking about the consequences of his actions Rafe storms over to your trembling father who seemed genuinely upset before punching him square in the face. The force of the punch caused Rafe’s hand to crack so he knew he did damage, but yet he still felt nothing.

Your family screams at him as your father, Mark stumbles back and clutches his now bleeding and probably broken nose.

“This is your fault! All of you! If you weren’t so hard on her she wouldn’t have turned to drugs. You guys killed her!” He yells his voice going hoarse as more tears streamed down his red face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you man?” Your brother in law asks standing up to Rafe, but the brunette doesn’t take this threat well and punches him in the eye causing him to stumble back much like your father mere seconds ago.

Tired of Rafe’s bullshit your brother leaves your dads aide and walks over to the young adult and punches him square in the nose, his knuckles grazing his eye. Rafe stumbles back and trips over a rock causing him to fall to the ground.

Rafe didn’t bother to get up, instead he remained laying on the ground with his tears and blood rushing down his face. He was familiar with feeling numb, but the numbness your death brought on could never amount to the emptiness he has felt before. This was a whole new ball park of feeling hopeless and empty.

-

A sigh escapes Rafe’s mouth as he sits in his parked suv. He looked at the building in front of him and debated on whether he should go in or not. The past few days have been extremely hard.

Your funeral was yesterday, but Rafe wasn’t invited after the stunt he pulled by punching your dad and brother law in the face. Because of that he stood from a far as your body was lowered into the ground. He wasn’t able to give you a proper goodbye, but the Pogues who barely know you and Barry the person who fed you the drugs were invited. And now you were laid to rest six feet under after your heart stopped working.

It wasn’t fair. Your parents and siblings are the reason why you turned to drugs. They always found a way to degrade you. Hell they were the reason for your first overdose. In fact the first time your plan was to not wake up. Rafe was seemingly the only person that understood you for who you were and still loved you unconditionally. And you did the same for him. The Cameron boy hasn’t felt that type of love from someone since his mom died when he was 10.

Rafe looks down at his hands in his lap, his wrist was adorned with one of the bracelets you made him. It was red and black, both of you guys’ favourite colours and you added beads that said ‘fuck buddies.’

With a sigh Rafe grabs his phone and keys before getting out of the car and walking into the building he has sat in front of for the last hour. He opens the large door, his hands becoming clammy and he wanted to turn back and leave, but he knew you would want him to do this.

The brunette is greeted by a kind and warm looking lady sitting behind a receptionist desk. “Hi, how may I help you?” She asks with a bright and welcoming smile. Her smile in a way reminded him of yours.

“Hi, uh this is a rehab facility for drug users right?”

“Yes it is. Do you or anyone one you know want to be admitted?”

Rafe stuffs his hands in his pants pockets and starts to rock back and forth on his feet. “I would like to please.”

[mammonsvulva]

Hi there! I just discovered your page and i loved the bachata headcannon!

On that same line, can you do a female latina headcannon? Like, more specifically, Colombian, you know, an MC that's like normally fluent in english but when mad she just burst on angry spanish screaming session with latin curses and a strong accent and also just getting really mad if deemed as Mexican by default? I'd love that! Thank youuuu (also feel free to ignored this if it's not of your fancy)

I hope you have a great day!

Of course! I really hope you like it! :)

(I tried to incorporate things some of my relatives say as Colombians please don’t hate me🥲)

The Brothers + Datables and a Latina MC with Colombian Habits

Lucifer❤️

Lucifer has always been amused by the boldness MC portrayed, that is until Mammon pissed her off

MC actually f*cking explodes, calling Mammon “culicagao” (like a bratty kid) and a bunch of profanities out of rage

Actually leaves Lucifer surprised, who could she hate so much that she’d put a curse on them?

Is actually kind of scared to speak up after she went silent, kinda just stares at her like “what the fuck do I do”

“I’ve told Mammon A THOUSAND TIMES. IM NOT F*CKING MEXICAN”

(Oooohh Mammons gonna get his ASS WHOOPED)

“MAAAAAAMMMMOOOOONNN????”

Mammon💛

Could learn a thing or two from MC, had some strong clap backs

Is counting his money when OUT OF NOWHERE MC just starts incanting a literal curse

Literally has his quaking in his boots dude, like he’s genuinely terrified

He can’t keep up with anything she’s saying and feels like his time to die has come

Doesn’t say A WORD when she calms down, jumps when she starts apologizing for reacting like that

“W-w-what happened? ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )”

“I LOST 10 GRAND IN BLACK JACK! ITS FUCKING RIGGED!”

Is genuinely more cautious for a while, kind of traumatized him

Mammon thought it’d be a great Idea to take her to meet one of his witches, MC already didn’t like her but listen to this

First thing the witch said was “Aren’t you that Mexican transfer student or whatever?”

(‘Oooh Ms. Girl you fucked up’)

Leviathan💙

Wishes he could have MCs confidence, ‘how does she respond like that 0•0’

He’s reading Manga while MC just lost on the same level for the 5th time

Accidentally shifts to his demon for he got so scared

Has to whip his tail up and grab the controller before she could slam it, genuinely terrified for his well being

Once she calms down she goes to give him a hug, to help with her frustration

*PANICS* “I-I can h-help you with that level, if y-you want..”

MC watches as he beats it with ease and heaves a sigh of relief, literally such a stupid game

Gets just as offended as MC when somebody said “I went to Mexico on vacation once, what was it like growing up there?”

Will let her handle it and he’ll be her Moral Support <3

Satan💚

Loved that MC was always ready, he was like that too being the Avatar of Wrath

Is genuinely amused when MC burst out swearing because she got a bad grade, he actually thought it was hilarious

Thinks of like a game to keep up with everything she’s shouting, makes her more upset

“What the fuck are you laughing at juemadre de la-“

“You’re Hot when you’re mad, Did you know that?”

Makes her go silent immediately, why is he like this, making people wanna act up on DIAVOLO

When they’re BOTH mad at something it’s like a f*cking BOMB RAID bro

They both just keep adding more, even when Satans speaking a Demon Dialect and MC is speaking Spanish LMAOO

When an arrogant soul decides to purposely mislabel MC as Mexican, the fool needs to count his seconds with MC and Satan both getting on his ass

Asmodeus💞

Has always liked the spunk MC had, it entertained him to watch her bicker with his brothers

Surprised, but not happy AT ALL with the fact that MC could blow up like that

Gets on MC for lashing out, “MC! THIS IS TERRIBLE FOR YOUR SKIN, DO YOU WANT WRINKLES?”

Gets MC to tell him what made her loose her cool like that

“That stupid b*tch from class posted saying “That Mexican transfer student isn’t pretty enough to be this annoying”

Almost explodes as bad as MC did

“MS. GIRL SHE SAID WHAT? Lemme hop on Devilgram and end her career real quick💖”

Devilgram post- Asmodeus 19:34: “Aw sweetie, Not everybody can be as gorgeous as MC and muah, but don’t go trying to drag her in the dirt with you. Filthy🥱”

No mercy on the haters💔

Beelzebub🧡

Like Asmo, found it entertaining to see MC bicker with his brothers every now and then

MC just couldn’t keep calm anymore when she messed up the recipe she was working on AGAIN

Beel becomes more concerned than scared, ‘Is she ok? :(‘

Gets up to hug MC, hoping it’ll help calm her down a bit

She explains that she kept ruining the dessert no matter how hard she tried

“MC, it’s ok to do it wrong, because it helps you learn how to do it right :)”

She’s tried again, except this time with Beel to help her :)

Gets upset when someone defaults MC as Mexican, knowing how much she hates it

He may be a teddy bear but man don’t f*ck with his Chef

Belphegor💜

Thought MC was amusing with the way she made sure everyone knew she wouldn’t take any BS

MC just happened to stub her toe while Belphie was sleeping, and now he’s awake, and heated

“What the f*ck happened?”

Is actually more concerned than upset, she wouldn’t lash out like that for no reason

When MC explains that a picture of her in the RAD Catalog still ended up being there even though she made it clear she was against it

“Oh, MC- you look good in every photo, I wouldn’t be upset about it”

Assures her it’s not a big deal and then invites her to come take a nap with him

Will mean mug the f*ck out of anyone who assumes MC is Mexican, because he finds extremely disrespectful (as it is)

Might commit homicide if they keep saying Mexican but I ain’t no snitch

+

Diavolo♥️

At first took MC as disrespectful, but learned it was only when she felt she was being disrespected (then by all means, go off)

Surprisingly, Diavolo speaks Spanish, but he still kind of struggles to keep up

He’s just laughing the whole time too, like MC isn’t furious

Later, MC calmly explains just some random student pissed her off again

“Who is this student you say? Do I need to have a chat with them as the Demon Lord of The Devildom? :)?”

Dia actually admires how passionate MC is about her home country, agrees that it’s disrespectful to mislabel someone

Because he can, Dia starts to learn about Colombian culture and throwing parties just for MC

Starts saying shit like “politas pa la rumba!” (I’ll buy beers for everyone¿) just to sound cool to MC

Barbatos💟

Barb doesn’t understand how someone could be so beautiful but so hostile sometimes, overall doesn’t really mind though

Is surprised that such things could conde from MC, kind of chuckles thinking about it

He figured he should try and step in to calm the situation

“Is there anything I can do to ease you, MC?”

It ended up being that Diavolo was completely ignoring her and brushing her aside when he never did that with Solomon

Asks if she’d like him to talk to Dia about it, since he may approach it better than she will

Barb will quietly correct anybody who believes her to be Mexican, just so MC won’t have to deal with their arrogance herself

Takes his free time and makes dishes from Colombia, or Colombian themed cookies or cupcakes to make MC happy :)

Simeon🤍

Is trying to teach MC better ways to respond to idiots, more Angelic ways

When MC blows up for the first time in front of him, the literal shock she sent him into omfg

*GASP* “MC?! WHY ARE YOU SAYING SUCH VILE THINGS?”

Like, HELLOOO? SHE DARES TO SAY SUCH THINGS IN AN ANGELS PRESENCE?

Helps to calm her down after showing distaste for her words

“You’re lips are to beautiful to speak such sinful things”

Will go on to give MC a long but kind lecture about why exploding like that is bad for her Aura and whatever

Will politely make it known that someone was wrong for assuming MC is Mexican, does get a bit irritated though

He now goes up to MC when she’s getting upset, to remind her to breathe and comfort her with a deep hug :)

“See? It’s ok MC~ just breathe in and out for me, ok? :)”

Solomon⚛️

Will piss MC off on purpose just to see her pop off, he LOVES it

Literally her #1 cheerleader when she blows up, adding on to what she’s upset about

“Period MC” “No way she said that! What a fugly b*tch” “Right, she’s just a hater”

Hypes her up all the time, even when she’s obviously in the wrong

Sol needs ALL the tea, pulls up like “who we talking shit about?”

Will get on someone’s ass just because, now think about when someone mislabels MC😳💥

Gives MC a sense of pride hearing him say “Cagué” when he messes up a potion, he obviously picked that up from her

Luke⛅️

Gets kinda (really) scared when MC becomes a little aggressive

Actually bursts out crying because he was scared MC was mas at him

MC traumatized this kid so bad, he ran to Simeon like he was getting chased be some demons

“M-m-mom is really m-mad and *sobs* I’m s-scared *sobs more*”

MC IMMEDIATELY feels super bad because she scared away his soul

Simeon, having talked to her about it already, mouthed “Apologize now.” In a very not polite manner, kinda scaring MC too🚫🧢

Has MC apologizing PROFUSELY, trying to explain it wasn’t Luke’s fault

Once he calms down, they go to bake cookies like usual, except this time he’s sniffing the whole time :( 💔

I really hope this fit what you asked for :( </3

[vonderbarr]

can you tell us more about your midnight cowboy essay?

Sure! I wrote it over 10 years ago and I can't lay my hands on it, but I’ll talk about it a little. For the paper we were supposed to compare a piece of media and its adaptation. It might have been for a History of Film class. There are a lot of differences between the book and the movie, but most of the changes made were to simplify and streamline the story. It's really a great book to movie adaptation. Obviously big spoiler alerts if you haven't seen Midnight Cowboy.

The first thing that came up was the main characters hair colors. In the book their hair colors are actually switched making Ratso Rizzo a blond and Joe Buck a brunet. That's pretty unimportant in the grand scheme, of course, but it's the first thing I noticed. After seeing the movie it was tough to picture Ratso as a blond.

Joe Buck's back story is really streamlined in the movie, but the emotional beats are all there. The book goes a lot into Joe's childhood being raised by a series of blondes, eventually ending up with his grandmother who gets taken out by a lot of younger cowboys who Joe grows up idolizing. His mother also went on a lot of dates with cowboys and it’s suggested that she was a sex worker.

The movie combines two traumatic incidents in Joe's life into one series of flashbacks. In the movie a teenaged Joe is caught with a girl in the backseat of his car and they are both gangraped by a group of men. The viewer learns this via a series of disturbing images and barely there scenes that spells out the situation as clearly and artfully as a 60s film can and, honestly, still hold up pretty well today.

In the book the girl is used by teenagers and young men, they literally line up each night to have a turn. Joe is the only one she has ever enjoyed having sex with and they start up a secret relationship, but her father finds out and has her committed. Later, Joe is living with a male hustler who he finds attractive in a conflicted way. It's been a long time since I've read the book, but at some point Joe is raped by him and, I think, another man. Again, the scene kind of fades out to the point that I can't remember if they drugged Joe before or not. It’s still clear what happens, though.

Ratso's backstory, however, is completely different. In the movie the pair visit Ratso's father's grave and he tells a story about how his father was a shoeshiner. It gave his father back pain and after he died they couldn't get the boot black out from under his nails so they had to bury him in gloves. It's a poignant scene and one I really like, and it's a good, short background that explains why Ratso tries so hard to get ahead and refuses to do work that he feels is beneath him.

In the book, though, Ratso gets lost among the many kids in the Rizzo household. Ratso was born with a club foot and was ignored by his parents to the point that he almost died of pneumonia because no one noticed he was ill. There’s a line about finding him curled up under the stove nearly dead. Every week Ratso’s father would take the family out to eat and they took up the biggest table in the place and his father was so proud of his gigantic family. Slowly all of Ratso’s siblings and his mother either die or leave until it’s just Ratso and his father sitting at a shitty two-top by the kitchen every week. At this point Ratso is his father’s favorite by default, but all his father does is feel sorry for himself instead of trying to have a relationship with his only remaining child.

It could have been done, but I can understand why they cut Ratso’s backstory considering the movie focuses mostly on Joe. Even though the book is from Joe’s pov, Ratso’s childhood takes an entire chapter and I think it would do it a disservice to reduce it to flashbacks. It might also be confusing since all the flashbacks in the story are from Joe, while the only flash-forward fantasy is from Ratso. This makes Joe a reflection of his past and Ratso the forward thinker and planner.

Both the book and movie show Joe’s arc from an idealistic young man who needs to be saved or taken care of to an adult who’s willing to take care of others. The book especially does a good job of this. The relationship between Joe and Ratso in the movie is more homoerotic than in the book. This is partially because near the end of the book as Ratso becomes more helpless and their roles switch, Joe starts to think that he’ll get married to a girl and Ratso will be like their child. In the movie there’s no inner monologue to clarify Joe’s feelings towards Ratso. On set, both Jon Voight and Dustin Hoffman picked up on the homoerotic subtext in the script and may have played it up. There was an article I read where Dustin Hoffman was talking about how the characters should have been sharing a bed, for example.

This is getting away from me, but I do want to mention a scene that I think was perfectly transferred from book to movie. Joe gets invited to a party by this hippy, Andy Warhol-esque couple and there’s a scene on the stoop in front of the building. Ratso is getting sicker and he’s sweating and most likely feverish, but Joe is super excited to go to this party. On the stoop Ratso gets really self-conscious about how sweaty he is and his general appearance and Joe comforts him. He untucks his shirt and uses it to wipe Ratso’s face and fix him up and Ratso just kind of holds him and leans up against him. It’s exactly like the book and is a great example of adapting a scene from book to film.

Like I said, it’s been about 10 years since I read the book and wrote the essay and a few years since I’ve seen the movie so bear with me on my memory here. The essay was, I think, 5 to 10 pages and I have no idea where it might be, but this is just a little bit of overview/what I remember.

Fun Facts! Dustin Hoffman put rocks in his shoes to get Ratso’s limp right and in one take coughed so forcefully that he vomited on Jon Voight’s shoes. They obviously didn’t use the take, but it’s the scene where they’re crossing a bridge in profile.

I think most people know that “I’m walkin’ here!” is an adlib because they didn’t have money to shut down the street for filming and that taxi really almost hit Hoffman. I think most people don’t know that the suit he’s wearing was found in a dumpster by the costume designer.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Mystery Girl

For the cute @multifandomfix 💝🌹​

Hope you will like this gift!

"No, Gil! Don't tell me you agreed to this!"

"Sorry, Malcolm, but those are the orders of the hierarchy. Besides, having backup can't hurt you!"

The profiler shook his head, annoyed: he didn't need this!

Bright repeated to anyone who would listen that he preferred to profile criminals alone. Why pair him up with a stranger?

Grumbling, the young man nervously ran a hand through his hair. The police didn't want to let him work properly.

JT, one of his friends, patted him on the shoulder and said jokingly:

"Congratulations, Malcolm. You're about to discover an unknown concept: teamwork!

"Very funny, JT."

Dani, his colleague and best friend, tried to make him smile.

"Don't worry: I'm sure you'll be fine. You might even get along with your new partner!"

Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"I think you're very optimistic, Dani. They're going to send me some pimply, snooty kid from the best police academy who's more likely to get in my way than help me!  So, sorry, but I'm not enthusiastic!"

"What do you know? You've never met them!"

At the same time, Gil joined them.

"Bright, your new partner is waiting for you in the office! Try to hide your bad mood!"

Letting out a long sigh of annoyance, Malcolm headed for the room, ranting in anticipation of this unwelcome partner.

"I hope Malcolm doesn't get upset!" muttered JT.

"The way he's in a bad mood, it's not looking good!" whispered Dani.

"Don't worry, both of you. When Malcolm meets our new profiler, I bet he will be different!"

Meanwhile, Bright walked into the room, expecting to run into an arrogant young graduate who would have already criticized his work to no avail without knowing a single detail about the case. Instead, he came across a lovely young woman who was reading the report of the initial investigations.

Forgetting his sour mood, Bright tried to make a good impression on the newcomer. 

Quickly combing his hair and checking his breath, he cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the lady who looked up from her reading.

"Hello," she replied.

Malcolm noticed that she had a lovely voice. Charming must have been her middle name.

Smiling kindly, he introduced himself:

"Hello, you must be the new profiler. I'm..."

The young woman interrupted him with an amused smile.

"I know who you are, Malcolm Bright. I've heard a lot about you."

"Yes, I suppose you've heard that I'm crazy, insufferable, dangerous, and the spawn of a terrible serial killer. Don't bother with that: I hear it all day long!"

Placing the file back on the table, the young woman continued:

"Yes, I've heard that, but those aren't the only things I've heard. I understand that you are intelligent, perceptive, cultured, observant, and stubborn! All in all, an interesting person to work with!"

Bright was surprised!

"Wait, does that mean you asked your superiors to come and work with me?"

"Yes, I did. And from what I can see, you fit the description well: your clothing shows a comfortable lifestyle. I would say that you are very well off financially. 

On the other hand, the paleness of your complexion and the dark circles appearing under your beautiful brown eyes indicate a poor sleep pattern, which can lead to one of two things. 

Either you are an incorrigible party animal, or you are a man whose mind is always racing and troubled by traumatic memories. In your case, I'd go for the second hypothesis. You are a more complex person than most people want to believe."

Crossing her arms, she asked defiantly, a smile on her face:

"Now, Mr Bright, your turn: what can you deduce about me? Apart from the fact that I'm not a pimply little pretentious graduate!"

Malcolm winced: she had heard him!

"I assure you I had no idea who you were. Otherwise, I would never have allowed myself to say such things!"

"Judging without even knowing the people? Big mistake for a brilliant profiler like you, Malcolm!" laughed the young woman.

"Even the best make mistakes."

"If you can give me as much correct information as possible, I'll give you my name. If not, I'll let you search all day. Are you up to the challenge?"

"Challenge accepted. Well, let's see: who are you, mysterious miss?"

He circled the young woman, looking for the slightest detail that might give him information.

After a few minutes of observation, he gave his conclusions:

"From the look of your clothing, you are in a decent financial position. You are not a multi-millionaire, but you make a good living. You like simple, comfortable styles, probably because you like to look elegant and efficient at the same time.

Your posture and stature tell me that you are an athlete. I'd say you've done quite a bit of dancing, but your muscularity shows that you're a martial artist. Am I right?"

"I have a black belt in karate and judo, and I practice taekwondo, as well as ju-jitsu and Muay Thai. And I did a lot of dancing when I was younger."

"Haha! I was right. Well, as for the rest, I'd say you have an excellent photographic memory: you put that file down exactly where you took it. You are also a brilliant observer because you have deduced details of my life just by looking at me. 

I suppose you are an artist in your spare time. I saw in your bag a sketchbook and a box of pencils. Both are well placed, which betrays your meticulous side. 

Finally, I would say that you are a hard-working, kind and mischievous person. Your superiors must appreciate you enough to accept your request to come here. So, what do you say?"

Amused, the young woman clapped slowly.

"Well done, Malcolm Bright. You've lived up to your reputation. Everything you have deduced is correct."

"You will find me delighted. And now, to finish the introductions properly, may I know your name?"

"Of course: my name is (Y/N) (L/N), a certified FBI profiler."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss (Y/N) (L/N). Something tells me we'll work well together."

"That's what I hope."

Hiding behind the door, Gil, JT and Dani were relieved to see that Malcolm and (Y/N) seemed to be getting along well. Now, let's hope that this duo can be effective against the criminals that have New Yorkers on edge.

A few months later.

Sitting on a bench, Malcolm and (Y/N) enjoyed a hot chocolate while enjoying a beautiful autumn day. The two profilers wanted to have a quiet moment, away from the eyes of their colleagues and Malcolm's family! 

"Are you going to tell them the truth about us, or are you going to let them stew for a while longer?" the young woman asked.

The profiler smiled mischievously.

"I think I'll let them work their brains out for a few days before I tell them everything. Just for the fun of seeing their faces when they learn the truth!"

"I didn't know you were such a tease!" joked (Y/N).

For all answers, Malcolm took the young woman's hand in his and placed a kiss on it.

"I'm a man full of surprises, my dear. Just like you!"

"You sure didn't expect me to kiss you first!"

Malcolm pretended to be offended.

"But I thought of it first!"

"Oh, did you?"

"Certainly. Let me prove it!"

The profiler leaned over and kissed his girlfriend on the lips. 

Unfortunately, this sweet moment was interrupted by a ringing mobile phone.

"I think you should pick up the phone!" the young woman pointed out.

Grumbling, Malcolm picked up his mobile phone and picked it up:

"Hello?"

**"Hello, big brother!"**

"Good afternoon, Ainsley. To what do I owe this call?" the profiler asked.

**"I just wanted to let you know that Mum's inviting us to dinner at the house tonight. She's counting on your presence. Is that so?"** asked the reporter.

"I'll be there. It's not like I have a choice!" quipped Malcolm.

**"I'll take that as a yes... Oh, by the way, she'd like you to invite your mystery girlfriend!"**

At these words, the two lovers looked at each other in amazement: would Jessica know?

Controlling his stress, Malcolm replied:

"I don't know what she means, but I don't have a girlfriend!"

**"Oh yeah? Well then, you can tell me who the pretty lady you just kissed lovingly is!"**

Looking around him, the profiler spotted his little sister standing at the other end of the park and waving at him, a smirk on her face.

A little annoyed, Malcolm asked:

"Is your favourite pastime spying on me?"

"I admit it's very distracting. But I promise I won't tell Mum. I'll leave the great honour of making the introductions to you."

"I'm sure you'll be glad to, dear little sister."

"See you tonight, big brother. And give my regards to your lady of heart!" 

When the conversation was over, (Y/N) smiled:

"It seems that someone has found out..."

"And unfortunately, it is my sister."

(Y/N) kissed her boyfriend on the cheek.

"Honey, I can't be your mystery girl forever anyway. They're going to have to know that!"

Malcolm smiled.

"I have to admit, you're right. In any case, my love for you will never be a mystery again."

Now that their secret love affair gets revealed, Malcolm and (Y/N) will have more time to unsolve differents mysteries...

Thanks for reading! 

I hope you enjoyed the story!

Please don’t hesitate to request me a story and see you soon!

Take care! 😍🥰😘