#fanfiction and not hcs this time

[justaz]

king merlin after meeting lady guinevere and sir lancelot’s baby and falling in love: arthur. i want a baby.

king arthur, not looking up from his paperwork: …what?

merlin: give me a baby.

arthur, sighing: merlin, you studied to be a physician. i don’t think i have to be the one to tell you how impractical that is.

merlin, rolling his eyes: this is why i’m the brighter side of the coin

arthur, finally looking up: wha-

queen merlin using magic to transform her body: i. want. a. baby.

arthur:

arthur:

arthur: *stands up from his desk so fast his chair topples over, multiple parchments flutter to the ground, his tunic is already off*

[killerpancakeburger]

Imagine: Ghost giving you the shovel talk after Soap and you made your relationship official

It's the evening, you two are smoking outside in companionable silence, taking in the star-spangled sky. Suddenly his voice pulls you out of your daydreaming.

"So... you n' Johnny, eh?”

You feel an ominous shiver run down your spine - you do not like the turn this conversation is taking. His tone is steady, like it usually is, but it means nothing when that specter is involved. He could be slicing a throat and his voice wouldn't waver a iota.

If there was anything you learned about The infamous Ghost, in the absence of his identity and the face beneath the mask, it was that the names he used for the people he considered his family were anything but random. Soap was the most common way he refered to his Sergeant, but a Johnny could slip here and there. "Johnny" was personal; intimate; vulnerable; and possessive all at once. Not in the way an insecure lover would act - although...? Maybe...? -, but in the way a pack member would bare his fangs at a newcomer to protect his mates.

There was something animalistic buried within him that would resurface from time to time, when the risk was too great, when the survival of the 141 or of any of its members was jeopardized. Something you would not risk to vex. Simon was extremely protective behind closed doors, it wasn’t a scoop, but you thought yourself safe from his fangs... or at least you did until now.

"Yeah?"

How you hate the interrogation in your voice. As if you were seeking his permission. Like a child knowing they're asking for too much but doing it anyway.

You busy yourself with your cigarette, trying to look unfazed.

"He may sound like a fuckin' playboy most of the times, but he's actually a sensible kinda fella. Doesn't go around givin' his heart to just anyone, y'know?"

You gulp. Take a deep breath. The only way out is through. Might as well be done with it.

"So, is this the part where you swear that no one will ever find my body if I hurt him?"

You're proud of how casual you managed to sound.

He actually chuckles at that. A relaxed, raspy, unbothered kind of sound. Maybe you will walk away with your life tonight after all.

"Got it all figured out, don't ya? But that's good. Saves us some time."

He tosses his cigarette and, for the first time since you’ve been outside, he turns to you and look you in the eye. His stare is as intense as ever.

"We're in agreement, then? Ya'll treat mah boy well?"

"Wouldn't dream of anything else."

"Good lass."

A pause, then:

"This works both way, y'know that, right?"

"Hmm?"

Too busy celebrating your escape from the valley of the shadow of death, you haven't been completely paying attention.

"If he gives ya trouble, I'll knock some sense into that thick head of his."

You look at him again, your face beaming and your chest tingling with a newfound joy.

"Thank you."

You smile, unable to stop the motion of your lips. Your gratefulness is not for the threat he proclaimed, but for the friendship he extends to you.

He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to.

Suddenly a burly arm wraps around your neck.

"What were ya guys talkin' about!? You’ve been there for ages." Pouts Soap.

Glancing over at Ghost, you can see that Johnny has tried to grab him by the neck too, with a lukewarm success, considering the height difference between the two of them.

"Nothin' ye need to concern yerself with", retorts Simon, lying as easily as he breathes.

As Johnny turns to you in hopes of finding an easier target that will confess everything, you nearly miss the conspiratorial wink Ghost sends your way. The action is so far removed from his usual character, you understand that the discrepancy is made to amuse you. So you giggle.

Tonight the sky is full of stars, and your heart full of bliss, the way you feel like your chest might burst with happiness at any moment, with those two men at your side.

A/N: Platonic!Reader x Ghost my beloved 😫 🖤 Tried to make Ghost the less OOC as possible, as usual >_< but man its not a walk in the fookin park.

Trouple potential tho? 👀 sorry not sorry, I can't help it, I love the ambiguity...

[llinstarr]

My poor boy😔

[gambeque]

therapy sesh

[thetismcave]

I really want to read at least one fic that addresses sojiros early treatment of akira (and the fact that he basically said he thinks it would have been the right choice to ignore a person who needs help), the protagonist’s authority/adult related trust issues, and/or sojiro earning the protags trust because I want the development of found family

I want fic recs because I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for >:(

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts no. 30

The sound of the cameras shutter stood out amongst the typical city sounds that floated up to Bruce on the darkened rooftops. His son, or rather what was left of him, continued taking pictures of the Gotham skyline as if nothing was wrong.

As if he wasn't dead.

It took everything Bruce had not to break down at the thought. Instead he stepped forward out of the shadows, "Tim."

Tim shuttered, the gears visable inside his chest vibrating from the movement. It was unsettling. "I told you not to call me that." The Lazarus spirit hissed, "Or should I make you join Oracle and Superboy in the portrait." Tim smiled to himself, "I'm sure it will make a pretty picture."

---

Elsewhere, the "Lazarus form" of Damian was leading a pack of ghost dogs to rampage against butcher shops while another part of the city had ghost Dick as a circus proformer terrorizing an escaped Joker and his henchmen. The batfam decided to leave that one be for a while.

No one knew where Cass's spirit was. All they saw was a mass of writhing shadows and then she was gone.

Jason's ghost was the one no one wanted to face. Not because of how dangerous he was, but because he was just sitting there on his favorite gargoyle. Neon green gauntlets on, matching his neon green shoes and contrasting nicely with the recolor kevlar and cape.

No one wanted to confront the dead Robin. No one.

Except Phantom, that is. He felt responsible since it was him using his parents new invention that knocked thier souls out of their bodies to begin with.

Now Phantom is trying to find a way to shove thier souls back into thier still living bodies before its too late all while avoiding Batman and the rest of his crew and not letting them know he exists.

[alfredosauce50]

Yandere Denmark Headcanons

Ruthless, ambitious, and with a mind for expansion, it’s no wonder he always finds himself in positions of political power. But like all men, he has desires of the flesh, the longing for real connection. He comes onto you as an ordinary man, and you love him as one.

What you don’t know, is that he’s the king. When you learn the truth, you pull away fearing for your own safety. But he holds onto you all the tighter. With the nation obeying his every whim and every pair of eyes and ears working for him, he’s impossible to escape.

Wordcount: 3, 692 Rating: R18+ for sex and violence

The headcanons are on my Patreon for early access ❤️

[politemagic]

The Haunting of Sleep Manor (Sleep Token Haunted House AU)

very very excited to start sharing this series!! the first chapter will be posted by the end of this week (hopefully tomorrow). i've been having a lot of fun writing it, so here's a little teaser 👻🖤

edit: Chapter I can be found over here or on ao3 if you prefer!

They didn’t have much in the way of worldly possessions, so all of their belongings packed neatly into one moving truck. The four vessels of Sleep squished together in the cab as they barreled down the quiet country road. Vessel was humming along to the radio, II lightly drumming along with his fingers against his thigh. IV’s mind had wandered off, his eyes slightly glazed over as he took in the passing scenery, III snoring against his shoulder. At last, they could see the wrought iron gates of Langley Manor, their new home looming at the end of the drive beyond. Vessel veered off the road, pulling up to the gates and shifting the truck into park, causing III to stir from his slumber.

Vessel hopped out of the driver’s door, unlocking the padlock with one of the many keys from the keyring he’d received from the realtor’s office the day before. The old house came with a ridiculous number of keys, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the various secrets it had locked away. Sleep wouldn’t have selected just any home, he was sure there was something more to this place than meets the eye. He pushed the gates open at last, quickly making his way back to the truck. The gravel driveway crunched beneath the tires as they neared Langley Manor, the vast expanse of land that came with the home sprawling out in luscious greens behind it. Vessel could hardly believe that he was finally here, that any of this was real. But the excited chatter from the others indicated to him that not only was it very real, it was just as amazing as he’d imagined it to be.

(original headcanons can be found here ☺️)

[levisforgottentea]

Baby doll (except it's the whole thing)

Characters: Oikawa Toru, a rich ceo, has a big house and two twin son’s (aged: 16) and one daughter that’s 21 (reader is 22), 

Prompt(S): She got that rich girl LA vibe, Something ‘bout you, Make me your one and only but don’t make me your enemy, Call me baby doll, He’s so pretty when he goes down on me, 

Synopsis: (Name) is a stripper, a pretty successful one too and one day they’re at work, a VIP client comes in and their boss orders (Name) to the room. Little known to (Name), it's Oikawa Toru, AKA their childhood friend’s father.

I believe i made this GN but if not, please tell me so i can fix it:)

It was a Friday and you were at work, a strip club located in the center of tokyo. A very famous one too, with lots of clients and customers. You however were the (probably) most successful one. An average of 3400$ in a week, sometimes more and sometimes less. Even so, you have a modern apartment high above Tokyo. 

“There’s a client in vip room 5. (name) you go over there.” Your boss said sternly before disappearing back to his office. You put your cup down and waved bye to your friends as you went to your changing room, reapplying some makeup and fixing your outfit.

The vip room is luxurious, a decent sized stage, black and golden accents throughout the room and a big black leather chair in front the stage. There were dark red lights in the room, so you couldn’t see your client's face. You heard a glass click against the metal table and a coo as you walked on stage.

Confidence filled your veins as you circled the chair, your fingers brushing over his shoulders and chest. His muscles were firm and flexed. The music was slow and muted everyone outside, so it felt like only the two of you were in the club. You slowly climbed into his lap, your hands feeling his chest. Your client chuckled and you heard his deep voice.

“Oh (Name)… I like this side of you. Won’t you show me your pretty face though babydoll” 

It clicked in your head, shit it was your Bestfriends dad…

He put his hands on your waist, squeezing lightly, he let his hands travel up your back, over your shoulders and down your arms, stopping at your wrists. 

“Baby doll we have 45 minutes” his voice was smooth like silk, the nickname rolling swiftly off his tongue. It was almost scary how he affected you. 

Though he was waiting for some sort of consent before he made any more moves. You slowly nodded and whispered “yes..” he instantly sat up in the chair. Moving his hands to your thighs and standing up. He lifted you up to the stage.

You sat on the edge, he gently pushed you down on your back. He sat on top of you, thighs on each side of you. He held your chin and petted your head with his other.

“What a pretty little doll for me huh..” he smirked as removed the hair from your face. A hand on the back of your head, he let you gently down. 

Toru kissed you gently and started making his way down. Kissing your neck, collarbones and your stomach. Your finger were in his hair, tugging lightly as he kissed your soft spots.

“Toru… you-” You moaned as his hands made their way back to your thighs, his nail trailing right on top of your thighs. The feeling makes the hairs on your neck stand. 

He really is a tease isn’t he?

This is all I'm gonna write, I'm so sorry. First off all I'm not comfortable with writing smut, secondly I'm not doing so great right now haha

[justaz]

realistic zukka: zuko is swamped with being firelord and righting everything wrong w the fire nation that he has No Time for visitors or personal letters, sokka is busy as chief of the swt and building all his little inventions to speed the rebuilding efforts along. zukka doesn’t speak for weeks bc they simply don’t have the time or mental space to think about that.

that is, until zuko wakes up in the middle of the night to a face over his, grinning like a madman. zuko’s instinct is to fight bc there has been five assassins this week and it’s only monday. sokka is screeching like a banshee bc if zuko breaks his invention-

the guards burst in and light up the room to find chief sokka of the swt desperately scratching at the ground to get away from a half awake firelord zuko who is currently beating him with the first thing he could get his hands on: sokka’s invention.

they don’t speak for weeks bc sokka is Upset

[everythingwasnormalhere]

Kyle

YASSS KYLE ✨✨

Warning my hcs for him might look a bit ooc for anyone who doesn't literally share my brain 💀

TW: s/h, ED, attempted sewerslide, hospitalization

First thing first, this kid's mental health is Fucked Up

He gets through so much shit as a kid, which mostly keeps affecting him as he grows up

When he's a little kid, he's pretty chubby (it's your fault I hc this XD), because Sheila has him completely spoiled

But since humancentiPad be stopped eating almost completely

He couldn't eat anything without throwing up for months at first

And since then he's not been able to eat much either, even though he doesn't puke every time anymore

So yeah, he has an ED and he fucking hates it

HumancentiPad also left him with mouth scars, he hates mirrors because they force him to acknowledge them :(

His relationship with his friends also gets worse on their early teens

Mainly Cartman

The only thing keeping Kyle sane was Stan fr

Like, even if he was getting progressively worse mentally, Stan would make sure it wasn't too bad

But when Stan went to the psych ward at 15, Kyle completely broke

Between the worry for his SBF (he'd attempted Kyle had almost lost him forever fuck fuck fuck what if it happened again), and the being without him for a whole month, it fucked Kyle up so bad

Kyle basically went into a huge mania, always acting happy and cheerful and laughing even though inside he felt fucking awful

When Stan got back he felt so bad

He still stuck with Kyle the same as always :)

Only way to see Kyle's genuine smile (super rare event) is when he's with Stan<3

The only moments Kyle breaks character is when he's by himself

Like literally nobody's seen him cry since he was a little kid, even though his breakdowns are almost weekly

It's at the point that even Cartman genuinely checks on him sometimes

His immune system sucks and that's why he's sick so often

Mentally, he has HPD, an unlabeled ED and bipolar I

He's in a (hypo?)manic episode almost all the time

But he's never been hospitalized nor medicated for it

So he just. Keeps getting worse :(

Self-injury a lot

He used to hide his cuts but he gave up on it

His literal only coping mechanism is hurting himself :(

He doesn't have a specific style, but all his clothes are colorful and eye-strain-y

He keeps wearing his hat, but now it's covered in multicolor paint after he had a big episode

He reads a lot, he always has a book in his bag

At school, he's best at math and English

Not counting literature, he sucks at that

He's pretty good at geography too

His gender and sexuality are both unlabeled, but he goes by he/they

His parents care about him, but they also don't want to be the talk of all the town by getting Kyle admitted into the mental hospital

Plus Kyle insists he'll be fine so they want to believe him

He still takes care of Ike sometimes and they have an alright relationship, but they don't talk as much anymore

He'll probably be fine, eventually,,, but not yet :(

[whisperinggbreeze]

A god of misfortune? No such person existed. Hua Cheng's frown deepened. "A god of misfortune? I've never heard of such a god. How would he ever get followers?"

Xie Lian barked a laugh at that. "You're right, you're right. I heard an interesting rumour once, that he had gotten banished from heaven and lost all of his followers."

(Something stopped him from asking why Xie Lian would worship a god of misfortune, why he would worship a god that he believes may no longer exist, why he would tend to the shrine so carefully and tenderly when it seemed futile.)

---

part of the chapter 1 draft I'm working on for my tgcf au fanfic! the au premise is similar to one I've seen before but I wrote it a slightly different way:

HEAVY SPOILERS FOR TGCF BOOK 4 HERE BY THE WAY

after wu ming's sacrifice, xie lian (god autocorrect hates his name) was finally driven to become a calamity, but wu ming was saved when on the brink of death by jun wu (because let's be real, when has he ever passed up an opportunity to get 800 years long revenge on XL?) and ascended to godhood as a martial god, as well as the god of luck. hua cheng, having no memories of xianle (barring the basics of his early childhood) or XL, gave himself a new name and settled into godhood.

800 years later, while hua cheng is wandering through the mortal realm, he stumbles across a lonely shrine on a mountainside which is run by a kind young man who introduces himself as xie lian and talks about worshipping a god of misfortune who, as far as hua cheng can tell, doesn't exist and never has.

[llinstarr]

Matt hit will never beat the cadence Remus allegations

[pixelatedraindrops]

RainCode Sickfic (Sequel 3) preview!

(RainCode Endgame Spoilers!)

Behind the mask…lies the pain you’ve kept hidden all this time…

So as I’ve briefly mentioned multiple times, over winter break I will be writing a new fic, aka the third and final part to my RainCode sickfic trilogy. I call the it the “Sickfics of the Heart” series~ :)

The final fic I write will take place in the post game. Where former Number One, Yuma decides to visit Kanai Ward to check on his homunculus Makoto before the year ends as a break. But he finds out he’s not in good shape health-wise and decides to try to look after him.

I will be making multiple references to my first fic “Home is Where the Heart is” so be sure to read that fic first!

This fic will also contain more angst. (that I will make super fluffy in return :3)

Here is the summary of what I have planned.

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

Title: A Heartwarming Reunion

With his memories back, Former Number One, now Independent Detective Yuma Kokohead has recently solved yet another case. One more step towards his goal of eradicating all the world’s mysteries. He finds himself a little tired and realized that it was getting close to the end of the year. He thinks maybe it’s a good opportunity to take a small vacation to recuperate.

New Years is usually a time best spent with family. Sadly, Yuma didn’t have any blood relatives. His secondary family was the Nocturnal Detective Agency, but with the master detectives off doing their own thing, and the chief deceased (or rather wandering aimlessly as an undead homunculus zombie) he couldn’t be selfish and take up their time.

But as he thought back to his time spent in Kanai Ward's city of endless rain as an amnesiac, one person crossed his mind. The person who shared his face, his mind and his build. The homunculus clone he had to battle to solve the city’s mystery. (Though he could not remember what exactly happened) The CEO and now Leader of the clouded city of rain full of homunculi like him. Makoto Kagutsuchi.

Yuma thought to himself that even if they were previously enemies, Makoto was probably the closest thing to a blood relative he had left. So he decides to return to Kanai Ward to pay him a visit, to see how the city is fairing and hoping he had some time off to talk and catch up. And as the city’s leader, he was usually alone. He wouldn’t mind a little surprise visit from his original …would he?

Little did Yuma know, that Makoto may have needed his help more than he originally expected. He overhears rumors in the city that speak concerns of Makoto pushing himself too hard. It turns out their city’s leader was ill, and he had only gotten worse due to his days of continuous overworking and trying to brush it off, by hiding it using his mask.

Yuma is about to experience being a caretaker for the first time in his life, and to his own double. He has a bit of trouble at first, but he has a little bit of help from his heartwarming memories of his previous found family, the Nocturnal Detective Agency. He also finds out more about Makoto in the process. Realizing that he’s been in a lot of pain…that he’s kept masked all this time, all alone.

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

Also yes this edit is terrible... x'D Makoto's sprite art makes it difficult to edit into his body... I tried okay? x-x;

Anyway, I hope you will look forward to it! I will try to get it done by either Christmas or...the end of the year :3c

Also this will likely be a multi-chapter fic.

[tisajest]

Exciting angsty dynamic I want to add to one or both of my fics:

Sirius had a crush on James, he eventually got over it for the most part once James got with Lily, but it nevertheless never fully went away. Even after James died. Sirius’s feelings towards James are kinda fossilized at what they were when James died.

When he learns that James and Regulus saw each other in Hogwarts, he loses his shit for many reasons, including that he ends up projecting his old crush onto James. He initially thinks that James only dated Regulus because he actually wanted to date Sirius and oh there are so many mixed emotions in that.

Especially since that was one of Regulus’s insecurities about their relationship at the time and it causes him to lash out.

[ottomaticangels]

(FIC) A Quick Rundown on Death – Criminal Minds

ao3 ★

The Beginning of the End starts like this: Spencer Reid can do everything alone.

OR; Spencer recalls the many times he’s had to fend for his own skin.

The Beginning of the End starts like this:

Spencer Reid can do everything alone. 

He can cook, he can clean, eat, sleep, bathe, change, learn, read, write, and basically everything a child learns to do in a normal household. He brushed his teeth, he slept on time, and he had clothes to wash every wednesday—only wednesday, but he wasn't sure why specifically wednesday, when thursday was right there—and he had parents that loved him! He had a cat at one point, too.

He recalled that he was fuzzy, the fur warm in between his fingers. If he sunk his hands deep enough, he would feel the cat’s main body, which he found to be cool at the time. He always found it interesting how they were pink-ish under their beautiful coats, and how they looked funny when they came back from the rain! The purrs, the paws excitedly running around the house; he couldn't remember its name, and He didn't know if it was actually his pet, or maybe it was a stray, but he remembers the faint jingles of his make shift collar.

Spencer also had his own clothes, some were hand-me-downs from relatives he had never even seen face to face before, but most from his mom when she buyed him clothes, they were always so pretty and everything he wanted, the textures were what he liked, and most were the colour purple when he expressed favour to the colout. And sometimes his dad gets him stuff he could wear but most of them were silly t-shirts that were itchy and sometimes too big for his body.

And He could clean; Spencer enjoys the process of cleaning. The act of transforming a cluttered, or otherwise messy area into something that looks brand new. The looks were the added benefits, but he was mostly in it to get rid of the germs. He didn't like those, ever since he became aware of their existence. Maybe younger than 10.

And sometimes there were bad times. 

Sometimes he'd slip and fall on his knees and get bruises, sometimes he'd get lost on his way home from the library, but even that didn't deter Spencer's mind from his truth—His truth being that he loved his world, and his life of cozy shelter. In his little bubble of safety filled with everything he'll ever need. 

He had keys to the house, with their lights always off. it was to save for electricity bills because He and Mom couldn't afford the electric bill, so that's why Spencer was saving up money for a flashlight, because he really hates the dark. There are monsters out there, statistically he knows there are none under his bed, it's only sometimes. His mom always tells him about them so he knows what to look out for. Maybe they were fuzzy like his cat friend, and maybe they purred too. Maybe if it was true, he could befriend them! Spencer can sometimes be lonely, even if he can do things on his own.

Spencer was taught how to do things at one point, he faintly remembered the feeling of hands guiding his tiny baby hands onto the toothbrush, and awkwardly pushing them back and forth to clean his teeth. He wasn't sure if they ever got cleaned during that time of his life. Spencer was only ... 4 years old. Spencer couldn't remember a time where he had never brushed his teeth—Spencer loves brushing his teeth, it was a wonderful thing—He enjoyed the taste of toothpaste, his least favourite part is when he has to clean his tongue and throat! It was just unpleasant.

He remembered the sensations of getting dressed, he was sure he was crying. As babies do, it is simply natural. He remembered his first words, an excited “Mama” because he loves his mama, so very much. He had learned how to walk too, it was a very fun experience, although new because that was his first encounter of bipedalism; the period of life where a new born learns to be bipedal. The term for creatures that walk on two legs.

He finds himself walking, most days. His shoes worn and old and dirty. He was only 7 when his dad stopped taking him on car rides—after that, he had always daydreamed of taking a bike to places he needed to be. The act of walking long distances scared Spencer, what if he walked too far and he lost his way home? Logically that didn't make sense for him, he remembered. It takes 3 lefts exactly to go to his library, though many many rights and straight lines have to be taken, but 3 lefts exactly—but he heard this is what happens when someone is anxious, they make them less aware of the logic in favour of proving themselves right that, yes, something bad will happen.

Which Spencer found frustrating.

Sometimes it gets very lonely, and sometimes his mom disappears, it happened with Dad too, but that's okay. Spencer knows how to take care of his mom on his own. Sometimes dad comes back, but only briefly, and they still loved him, so all was well.

Yet Spencer could only wish for a friend. even so, Spencer Reid could still do whatever he needed to do, alone.

‘15. Embarrassment is a withering existence but it's better than being left alone by yourself, with no one to talk to but the walls.’

The Beginning of the End starts like this:

Spencer realizes who he is, and what he's meant to do. He’s supposed to go out there and help his Mom, and to persevere into the depths of the world’s deepest oceans and rise to dive in deeper. That was his metaphor for surviving in the world, because he had found that it wasn't as safe of a place than he thought it was—but he was only 16, He didn't want to burst his bubble of fantasy.

Even though young, His quest for knowledge was a fruitful one with many experiences, equally bad and good ones. He enjoyed being able to recall the literatures he's collected from each campus he attended, he enjoyed the times he spent learning new things, and writing, and reading things he could never have read in the public library he went to as a kid. Every day was new.

But sometimes new wasn't appealing to Spencer. Sometimes, he just wanted to stay put, because he was content just staying there. But he knows that's not how the world works, but it worked too fast—Spencer needs to breathe.

And that was how Spencer made a friend named Ethan, who he quite liked. He was his dorm ‘supervisor’ but really he was only there to keep watch of the only minor in the university campus, which was him, because outside of his childhood room, sometimes there were monsters there too. “There's some nasty people out there kid.” he told him one day, bringing a comforting pat to his shoulder as he cried and cried and cried from his bed. “But you'll get through it, you're tough.”

And Spencer was tough. He really was, He could list so many things that made him better than those that let people down, out of his mental list of positive tells, the top contender was ‘90. Kindness is what makes Humanity, so that's why Hatred must co-exist.’ which was a fitting sister to 67; ‘I acknowledge that the world is not black and white, people have different views on everything. There are optimists, and pessimists, the world is different, that's why they co-exist.’

Both were favourites, because it showed him the ambiguity. There are people that shove and people that pull, but sometimes there's more people than just the two. Spencer aspired to be the Kindness, and kind was apparently tough—so Spencer was tough, in his own way.

But he if he looked harder, he'd notice how easy kindness is to come boy, long long ago. He felt the kindness in between his fingers in the form of warm bedsheets gifted by Ethan, he felt the hatred in himself as he got them wet from his tears, and yet there was a lukewarm where Ethan came to hug him and told him that it'd be alright. The feeling as the Humane words lulled him to sleep.

“Let me tell you this, Spencer,” he whispered quietly when he noticed that he had started to drift. “with my entire heart, there are bad days, and whatever they tell you, it's alright to have bad days. It's hard to avoid them, and dealing with them, really, even if it's just sleeping to wake up to a new day or a new hour from before, that's a job's well done.”

“What I'm saying is that I'm proud that you're crying, it shows me that your brain is working on the instincts that human biology has adapted through out evolution.” he informed him softly, cradling him until he was wandering in a state of sleep—

And even if he wasn't awake for it, Spencer felt kindness in the form of a blanket being draped over him, and an extra pillow being placed behind his head, as well as the feeling of care in its entirety, as Ethan closed the curtains, and moved to leave the room. 

“Good night, Spencer.”

Because if it was just kindness and hatred, what else was there to tell?

The Beginning of the End starts like this:

Spencer yawned from where he sat curled up on his armchair, setting down his book with little care on wether or not he had a bookmark placed or not. He could remember the page easily so it was alright—He was on Page 600 of Moby Dick, which was a fine round number, which he liked. ‘I work myself; and at night my bodily sensations are akin to those I have so often felt before, when a hired man, doing my day's work from sun to sun.’ he easily remembered—

It was a story known to many as; a story about a crew maybe with a whale and the whale has the weird name, although that was a blantatly immature, he enjoyed that interpretation immensely.

Because Moby Dick was a funny name.

He groaned as he stretched his entire body along side the sound of his vinyl records. The soothing hums stimulating his senses just right, as his brain juggled three train of thoughts; the song, the book, and the wonderful mechanics of how vinyl works.

He swayed to the music as he stood up, the engaging sensation of peace inviting him in with a loving lure, although Spencer couldn't dance—he enjoyed moving to the slow rhythm of music, which was an enchanting thing. He truly doesn't know where he'd be without it.

As he danced, he moved slowly to the sofa right next to the armchair, inching himself closer until he felt the nice cuchions sink beneath his weight. Maybe he should have been doing something productive, but productivity is a concept, not an action and he found that right now; where he was at calmer mind, was the most productive he's been. Because it was progress.

He ran his fingers left and right, allowing himself to ground in the moment. ‘88. Societal self-worth is unimportant, people aren't worth anything. Existence is a pay in itself, and forcing someone to exist in a terrible existence have no real end-point.’ he sighed carefully, breathing in the scent of his apartment—which was nothing, except for the coffee he had brewed earlier that day. Spencer didn't like unnecessary scents.

He held his breath in, ‘203. Kindness to once’s self should always be the start—because if you cannot be kind to the one who needs the most, how do you expect to be kind to those that aren't you?’ and let it out. It was a calming sensation, that washed over him, the feeling of tension leaving his body.

Days like this, where Spencer really took care of himself, was one of the days where the world felt right. One of the days where he focused on one thing; calmness before the storm. It was only the beginning of what Spencer could call his personal hell; Zugzwang, written over and over in the colour red. Zugzwang; The etymology of the word includes “zug,” which means “move,” and “zwang,” which means “compulsion.” In chess, the definition of zugzwang is when a player must make a move that will worsen their position. If a player is in zugzwang, every move available to them puts them at a disadvantage. The colour Red; the color of passionate love, seduction, violence, danger, anger, and adventure. 

That was Spencer's personal hell, and he would have to face it during the entirety of his professional time until the BAU solves the case, and slams it close. But something in Spencer told him that that was hopeful, but he could try.

Spencer sighed. ‘I just got myself relaxed, but here I am again .. worrying.’ he frowned to himself, but he didn't feel an inch of disappointment. ‘It's alright.’

Spencer’s eyes wandered from furniture to furniture, trying to stimulate his eyes and brain with anything that'll distract him—until his view laid splat onto the peak of his window. Just a sliver to show the beyond of his home, but not enough for anyone to see inside it, which was perfect for Spencer's sake.

He could see that the world was a dim blue gray in behind his curtains, a nice musty yellow that he swaps periodically from his usual curtains during laundry day—laundry day was on wednesdays, Spencer knows why, now, and it was because it was the ‘middle’ of the week, and Thursdays were simply too busy—and it looked strange in his apartment, but he had limited options. Either the yellow, or risk the outside world of seeing who he really was, or what he does—Sometimes Spencer still changes in his living room, the FBI academy don't train their federal agents for that scenario, but it was emberassingly frequent.

‘211’ He always tells himself, ‘Forget your shame, it will be the bane of existence’

And Spencer found it deceptively vague, but it was true. Gideon had told him that—many many phrases in his mental list were a mix of other people's now, not just his own like it was—and he got attached. ‘211’ he would whisper, even when alone, not just in the field, or in a high stake situation during work.

Spencer layed himself down onto the sofa, deciding that it was finally time to sleep. forcing his eyes shut, and monetarily looking at the darkness before the fear desolved in his fatigued state. the the lack of blankets left him feeling naked in the coldness of the night, but he could manage. He didn't feel like getting up.

—‘It’s 5:18’ his mind supplied as he continued to stare at his eyelids longingly for a night's rest, but appatently he had missed that chance as light peaked through his window and into his apartment.

And he couldn't help but smile. He had stayed up again.