#he could behave like this at his usual age (~20) so we could keep them both there too im game for many things!!

[lighthouseborna]

@ensnchekov || starter call.

  They turn the street corner like a dam giving way, flooding commotion into the sleepy afternoon. The noise comes first, shouts of surprise and warning and fury churning up the air and drawing curious glances. After that, the golden retriever streams by in a flash of shining amber fur and fluttering ears. Then the boy sails past, no less golden or swift so there's no question at all: They belong to each other. He vaults a table with relative ease while his dæmon shoots underneath it like an arrow, both to the great displeasure of the man attempting to sell wares from it. On the other side, he has the time to glance backward and, seeing no one (yet), slow enough to scan the small groups nearby.

  “Henry,” the hunting dog urges, turning with obvious intent to keep running. She hesitates, because he thinks wait, having locked eyes on exactly what he was looking for. Unassuming if you were relying on glances, with a build that could not be mistaken for his own, and flanked by a nearly startlingly large cat with keen eyes Henry had felt before he found them. He crosses directly to the other young man and pushes what he held in his hands toward him, into his chest— a book. Just a book, mid-sized and hardcover. Blue and faded with time, yellow folded around the binding, but no other identifying marks. (The content within isn't likely to be helpful either, written in a set of characters long out of use by any nation.)

  “Hold it or hide it.” Issued with low clarity, despite the catch in his breathing. Words that teeter on a fence line of an order and a beg for mercy, though either way an act of trust. “Please,” he adds, pressing lightly on the cover. Henry lingers for a long second, holding a look on at this owl-eyed stranger.. and then the distance is too great. He sucks in a light breath, wincing, and takes a few steps backward, before finally turning to follow his dæmon.

  No sooner does he break into a run than one of his pursuers appears. The dark-haired woman is sharp and thin. Overhead, her kestrel dæmon keens, having spotted their quarry turning another corner down the lane a ways. She follows without more than a glance at the faces around her. Later, two other obvious hunters appear. They sweep at a much slower pace, trying to reestablish a sighting to lead with, but there's nothing for them to find. Eventually, the move on, back the way from which all the chaos arrived. Empty handed.

  Henry reappears some half an hour later, coming from the east even though he'd run off to the south. He walks with a breezy air of a simple passer-by, no hint at all he was ever being pursued.

  “The thing about birds,” he says as he approaches, as if they had been mid-conversation and he was only returning to the field of banter, “they're excellent at looking over things. ..Not so great at looking under.” He finds a wall and falls back against it, casual as anything. Elektryona follows suit, sitting at his left knee. After a second's consideration, she gives up and lays down, huffing quietly. There was a beat in which they both, boy and dog, settled, as if they'd reached some identical, silent conclusion. “Did you keep it, then?”

[moon-struck-net]

Yahoo Japan/Josei Jishin Interview July 4th 2023

https://news.yahoo.co.jp/articles/1d9cf92309815982cc6fa71684362c64fc9763ea

Up until now, the impression I had of age 50 was "the end of your life". I was conscious of Oda Nobunaga's saying that "life has 50 years". But now I understand that "life has 50 years" doesn't mean you can only live for 50 years, it’s about how much can you get done before you're 50. You can't go back to being in your 30s or 40s. I came to feel that what's most important in life is how much you were able to run at full speed up to that point. 

Previously I had been wondering internally how much I could get done by age 30, and I thought that it would be downhill from there and end at 50. So honestly what I'm thinking now is "Somehow I'm still alive," and "I've made it this far," that kind of thing. 

GACKT had his 50th birthday on July 4th. The release of the long-awaited movie that he is starring in- "Fly Me To The Saitama: From Lake Biwa With Love" has been announced for November 23rd. GACKT had previously kept his age secret from the public, and first announced it in 2009 along with the production of the play Nemuri Kyoshiro Burai Hikae, which he was starring in. We asked his honest thoughts. 

The question of whether to announce my age or not wasn’t really on my mind. But at the time, I wondered if it might be time to say it. My fans didn't know either.

The producer I had back then happened to suggest that I tell people my age, so I said "Ok". It wasn't something I particularly wanted to hide. So then I think there were a lot of people who thought "Wait, he's younger than me? He acted like he was older (laughs)."

[Translator’s note: GACKT is talking about how in Japanese culture, younger people usually defer to people older than them, but GACKT was behaving as though he were the one with more seniority]

There was only one reason that I concealed my age. When I was 20 and I moved to Tokyo and started doing music, everyone around me was senior to me. So if I said how old I was I'd immediately be treated as a junior and they'd walk all over me. The roles of senpai (senior) and kouhai (junior) are just decided by age, right? If I said my age, people older than me disrespected me, so I never told anyone my age, outside of my band members at the time. So I made up that I was 448 years old.

If someone was like "You're definitely younger than me. If you're going to have a disrespectful attitude toward me, then I'll crush you," I'd be like "You wanna go then?" Back when I was in a band it was like that all the time.

Most years, GACKT celebrates his birthday with a private party

On July 4th I usually have a concert or a birthday event, and when that's all over and I'm tired out I have a private party. 300 to 400 people attend, so I prepare a large amount of alcohol. In the beginning it was wine, but for the last 12-13 years it's been tequila. Even if each person speaks for one minute, if 400 people are there it takes 400 minutes, 7 hours. It's tough to keep drinking wine for that long, right?

So I thought I'd make it a "tequila survival challenge" party for everyone to participate in. I contact people and tell them that only those who are always in a state of readiness should come. I make them sign a contract at the door too. Saying no matter what happens here it's their own responsibility.

When my birthday party begins, my friends come on stage and immediately drink 10 shots of tequila, so it's tough (laughs). So everyone rapidly fades. At the end only about 30 people remain. At the end everyone staggers home.

I'm all alone when everyone leaves. But I'm totally hyped up and can't sleep, so from morning I start texting everyone. Of course no one replies. When it gets to the afternoon, finally people gradually start to reply "Are you okay?" I reply "I've been texting people all morning. I'm lonely."

At those times I think, "Maybe this is what the battlefield is like." They say people who survived the war and came home, go back to the battlefield. They can't psychologically accept everyday life and feel a sense of emptiness. No one wants to drink any more, and it's not that I want to drink either, but I understand the feeling of wanting to return to an extreme situation. Though people will probably call me strange for thinking things like that (laughs)"

But, when I went on hiatus due to my health issues, I became unable to handle alcohol. I couldn’t drink 5 or 6 bottles of tequila like I used to. On my previous birthday, I only drank about 3.

At the end of last year, in an interview with this magazine, GACKT spoke of writing a will during his one year hiatus. It seems that ahead of turning 50 he had an opportunity to think about his end-of-life plans.

I wrote about 20 wills. Saying things like, "Divide my fortune like this, sell my cars". I wrote about leaving my pet dogs in the care of my sister and my staff, that kind of thing.

I've also told my sister about my burial. I said, "Scatter my ashes in the sea in Okinawa." I don't need a grave. I've never wanted one. I don't want people to visit my grave. It's enough if people will look at the sea and clasp their hands in prayer. I thought about this when buying graves for relatives and things like that. I don't want to be in a grave.

Every year I go back to Okinawa and clean my family's tomb. That's become my role now. I bring at least 20 to 30 staff and clean the graves.

I've been helping clean the graves since my late 20s, but everyone else in my family got old and couldn't do it any more.

Okinawan tombs are big in the first place. Ours is in the mountains, and was rebuilt because it was old, but it's still the size of this studio (where today's photo was taken).

It used to be bigger. I remember when I was 6. We'd go through the sugar cane fields in a car, and then walk the paths between the fields into the mountains, so it was a hard time even getting there. Moss and weeds would grow on the big tomb, and we had to clean off all the dirt too. We tried to go at times when habu (Okinawan pit vipers) wouldn’t come out.

There was an altar as well as the tomb, and the altar and the tomb are in different parts of Okinawa. My ancestors originated in the southern part of Okinawa. So the tomb is in the south, and because my great grandfather founded a town up north, the altar is in the north. So it's not possible to clean the tomb and the altar on a day trip. At the very beginning I went in a group of 6 people, but we couldn't finish and it took two and a half days just to clean the tomb.

I don't want the generation after me to have to do unpleasant things like that. If people have to keep organizing things every year after I die, that will be tough on them, right?

So scatter my ashes. I'll be happy if people come to the sea and I can say "I'm here". And if eventually people stop coming, it won't cause trouble for anyone.

[labarch]

Attempt at a Witch Hat Atelier timeline

We are still missing a lot of backstory for our main cast, but I thought I’d try and write a timeline based on what we know so far, and explore where their storylines might intersect.

I am pulling these numbers out of my hat for convenience sake, but here are some approximate ages for the characters: at the start of the manga, let’s say Coco, Tetia and Agott are all 12, Riche is 11, and Qifrey and Olruggio are 28.

20-23 years ago: Olruggio leaves his birth town Godley and moves to the Great Hall, maybe as young as 5 years old.

While many witches are born in the Great Hall, Olruggio comes from a town called Godley in the North. Yet he doesn’t remember Utowin, who came from the same place. We know that young witches usually start their training between the age of 7 and 10, but since witch society is awfully elitist, Olruggio would have been sent there as soon as his talent for magic became apparent.

Being ripped from his home at an extremely young age could explain his fear of being unwanted and left behind: he overworks himself as a way to feel useful and validated, is defensive about his own feelings, and he gets agitated and sometimes aggressive whenever Qifrey hides things from him.

20 years ago: arrival of Qifrey at the Great Hall at age 8. Olruggio befriends him soon afterwards. The both of them start sneaking out at night to chase Brimhats.

8 year old Qifrey was one fierce little thing, you have to give him that. His abuse at the hands of the Brimhats was brutal enough to break a grown man, but he picks himself up and goes right after them like “Alright jerks, you’ve got some explaining to do and I want my eyeball back!”.

Also it cracks me up that Olruggio was carrying this massive book in their flashback. Gotta love that his reaction to Qifrey’s “Let’s go chase some terrorists!” was “Sure, let me just pack my homework =>”.

Finally, there might be a slightly more selfish motivation for Olruggio’s fast friendship and devotion to Qifrey. Olruggio’s self-esteem lies in his ability to help people, so he would naturally be drawn to someone helpless. It’s unclear how much of Qifrey’s memory was missing: apparently he didn’t know about birthdays. How many other basic concepts was he missing? Did he know how to read? Between that, his lack of knowledge about magic and his injury, he was probably completely dependent on Olruggio at the beginning. Given Olruggio’s wish that they go back to “the good old times” when they were always together, I am wondering whether some hidden part of him misses being essential to someone. It’s well-intentioned, but not entirely healthy, especially if he is using Qifrey as a coping mechanism for his own insecurities.

14 years ago: Olruggio and Qifrey make a pledge of (betrothal) friendship, exchange tassels and attempt the Librarian test at age 14. It is their last adventure together, but Qifrey will continue his investigations on his own, to Olruggio’s disappointment and betrayal. Qifrey starts wearing his half-tinted glasses.

In the pledge flashback, they are wearing their old tassels, but they have swapped them by the time they undertake the third test. Also, when he remembers that pledge, Olruggio says that Qifrey’s investigation “should have ended at the Tower of Books”. The tower is the last likely place where Qifrey could have found answers about his past and a non-forbidden way of getting his eye back. Olruggio probably made him promise that he would stop his search afterwards.

Beldaruit says that he thought Qifrey had given up on his search after the third test, but Olruggio tells a slightly different story. Apparently he thought Qifrey “finally stopped causing trouble” after taking in apprentices, which means he was still behaving suspiciously right up until he became a teacher. Alaira also comments on Qifrey’s interest in the Brimhats in the first volume, so clearly his investigations were common knowledge among his friends, even as an adult.

Olruggio’s anger whenever the Brimhats are mentioned would then be caused not just by his own fear of forbidden magic, but by the reminder that Qifrey broke his promise to him, and refused to leave his past behind. Naturally, Olruggio doesn’t know about Qifrey’s change in circumstances: he is no longer looking to retrieve what he lost, but trying to stop an impending threat.

Qifrey’s discoveries in the Tower of Books also seem to have renewed his disgust towards his own scar: he starts wearing glasses shortly afterwards, even though his eyesight hasn’t yet started deteriorating.

14-5 years ago: in that interval, Coco’s father dies of illness. Olruggio becomes more and more famous for his magical items, and is given the title “Shining Torch” / “Master of Lights”. His glowstone paths become widely popular, and are installed around the castle near Coco’s mom. Both Qifrey and Olruggio pass the fourth test and complete their training.

At this stage, I really doubt that Qifrey intended to become a teacher. Whatever information he found at the Tower of Books convinced him he had to stop the Brimhats’ plan. He was probably planning to complete his training and then go straight on to his quest, not really expecting to return alive.

There are also hints that this was a strained period for Qifrey and Olruggio: Olruggio mentions that he would like them to confide in each other “just like old times”, which implies that they grew more distant after the Librarian test. I’m suspecting that Qifrey was trying to slowly remove himself from Olruggio’s life, hoping Olruggio would be so famous and beloved by the time they graduated that he would forget about Qifrey and barely notice his disappearance. Qifrey’s self-esteem isn’t the best y’all.

5 years ago: Coco receives the magic picture book from Iguin at age 7 at the Silver Night Festival. The Brimhats stop showing signs of activity. Qifrey takes on his first apprentice (probably Tetia, age 7). He interrupts his investigation of the Brimhats and creates the atelier. Olruggio becomes his Watchful Eye.

We don’t know exactly how old Coco was when she got her book, but her tiny chubby face makes me think she was 6-7. Alaira also tells us in the first volume that the incident with Coco’s mother is the first sign of Brimhat activity in five years. I am thinking that after Iguin gave away the book, he instructed the other Brimhats to keep a low profile until his scheme could hatch.

I also wonder whether Coco getting her book might coincide with Qifrey becoming a teacher and creating his atelier. Given that Qifrey is probably tied to Iguin’s schemes, how coincidental is it that Qifrey wandered into Coco’s village and set her fate in motion? Perhaps Iguin contrived for them to live in the same area so that they would meet eventually. Either he somehow influenced Qifrey’s choice of location for his atelier, or he selected Coco as his “child of hope” because of her relative proximity as well as her love for magic.    

7 years old is when we could expect Tetia to have passed the first test. For now we know little about her backstory, but we can guess a few things: she is enthusiastic and ambitious, but gets easily side-tracked by pet projects and struggles to stick to the curriculum. She craves positive feedback and is worried her spells and interests will be condemned as frivolous. It makes me think that she passed her first test early, but was then mistreated by her first teachers for being too childish.

We’ve seen that Qifrey has a compulsive tendency to adopt children in distress. It would fit his character if he became a teacher on impulse. Maybe he had to pass the fifth test in a rush to be allowed to keep Tetia by his side. This also brought Olruggio back into his life, as he was the only one willing to follow him away from the atelier as Watchful Eye.

The complicity between Tetia and Qifrey, and Tetia taking on the role of a big sister for both Riche and Coco, also make me think she was Qifrey’s first apprentice. Tetia is often shown teasing Qifrey, quoting both Qifrey and Olruggio, and imitating Qifrey’s teaching style: I can totally see them as a little family of three at some point in the past.  

4 years ago: Riche starts training under her brother’s master, a creepy asshole, at age 7.

We actually have a clear timestamp for that one in chapter 25, woohoo! Riche’s old teacher can eat a brick.

3-2 years ago: Qifrey and Olruggio learn about Riche’s mistreatment in her old atelier and promptly adopt her. Beldaruit takes on Ririfin as an apprentice. Qifrey’s eyesight starts deteriorating. He adds the light protection glyph to his glasses.

Before that time, Qifrey might have intended to put his quest on hold until after Tetia’s graduation, but now his impending blindness puts him on a time limit. He can’t do a lot about it however, since the Brimhats have been keeping a low profile for years and are not leaving him any clue.

It’s unclear how long Riche stayed at her old atelier, and whether she joined Qifrey before or after Agott. I’m hoping she made it out as soon as possible.

2 years ago: Agott passes the first test at age 10. She gets accused of stealing someone else’s spell, is rejected from her prestigious family’s apprenticeship, and joins Qifrey’s atelier.

Agott has been treated harshly by her family for not being enough of a genius. She mentions passing the first test at 10, the upper end of the normal age range. She was probably given a hard time for starting her apprenticeship so “late”, which explains why she is now adamant about passing the other tests as quickly as possible.

I wonder whether she felt ambivalent about joining Qifrey’s atelier at first. On the one hand, Qifrey was taught by the Sage of Education himself and is clearly very powerful. On the other hand, he has only a couple students and lives in a weird little school in the middle of nowhere, a big fall from grace compared to her prestigious upbringing. I wonder whether Qifrey went to find her after he heard she was the object of nasty rumours (he knows a thing or two about those), and Agott didn’t feel like she had other options.

0 year ago: Coco and Qifrey meet. Iguin goes “F***ing finally, I thought I’d have to watch that humdrum one-eyed twink bake potatoes for another five years. It’s dragon-slaying time now baby!!!”  

[snickerl]

Of Miracle Births and Other Wonders

tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

The lady behind the reception desk sends Mulder and the two kids up to the fourth floor of the hospital. They find another reception area with another helpful nurse. She tells them a doctor will be with them very soon to give them an update on Scully's condition. The few minutes they have to wait tears every nerve in Mulder's body, putting his patience to a hard test. Then, to his great relief, a good-looking woman in her late thirties approaches them. "Hello Mr. Scully, my name is Dr. Hanson, I am taking care of your wife," she says, holding her hand out to shake his.

"Uh, nice to meet you, Doctor, but my name is Mulder. These are our children, Emily and William," Mulder says, nudging them both in front of him. "How is Scully? I mean, my wife? How is she?"

"Hello everybody," the doctor says good-naturedly. "Your wife is perfectly fine, Mr. Mulder. She is doing great with her breathing technique. Her cervix is at 5 centimeters, so we still have some way to go. The baby is in good shape, she is in good shape, so we believe we will have a smooth delivery in a couple of hours. Are you all coming to the delivery room?"

William is aghast, his eyes saucer-wide. "What? Ew, no way! Gross!" He shakes his head vehemently. "Never ever!"

Mulder looks at his daughter. "Em?"

Emily thinks for a moment but quickly decides against it. The thought of seeing her mother in pain, even if it was for a good cause, makes her uncomfortable. "I'd rather stay with Will. We don't want him sitting here all by himself," she says.

"I don't need a sitter," William snaps, "I'm not a baby."

"But you definitely behave like one," Emily fires back. "Now shut up and be nice so dad can look after mom and doesn't have to worry about us at each other's throats out here."

"Alright," Doctor Hanson says. "The waiting area is over there. There are magazines and a vending machine. If you need anything, ask the nurse at reception. Follow me, Mr. Scully...I mean Mr. Mulder, sorry...your wife will be happy to see you." She leads the way to the delivery room. Mulder presses a kiss on Emily's hair and waves at William who has already plummeted into a chair. "Okay, kids. See you later then," he says and hurries to follow the doctor.

"Say hello to mom from us," Emily shouts after him, "and good luck!" She looks after her father who disappears through a swinging door marked Deliveries, then trots toward the waiting area to join her brother. She places herself in a chair next to him, looks around, gets up again to leaf through a pile of magazines on one of the tables, finds nothing of interest, goes back to her chair, and lets herself fall onto it with a sigh.

"You could've gone with dad, if you wanted," William tells her without looking up from his phone.

"Nah, I'm good."

Both sit in silence for a while. William is totally absorbed in a game on his smartphone, Emily pulls a history book and some pencils out of her backpack and starts reading, writing notes on the pages in different colors here and there. William shakes his head when he sees her doing that. "That's so old school, sis."

"Well, it's good for me. This way, the information stays longer in my brain than when I read it on a screen. You may call it old school, bro, I call it efficient mnemonics."

"Whatever," he sighs, his eyes back on the screen.

"Hey, what you said in the car, that mom doesn't care about us anymore, what did you mean by that?"

"I meant what I said, whatever the baby needs comes first, and we will play second fiddle. Or maybe even third. But I don't care. If things get unbearable, I will ask to go to boarding school. They can play house with the new baby then and I won't be there to bother anyone with my presence."

"You're being ridiculous, Will. Mom and dad will never let you go to boarding school, and I can't believe it will be anything like you just said."

William only shrugs. The narrative in his head has solidified like concrete, and he can't imagine a worse place to be right now. The best he can do is immerse himself in this online game and forget about what is happening at the other side of the door his father vanished through. After some hours of playing (thank God he brought his charger) and a short nap with his head leaned back against the wall, his stomach grumbles. "Are you also hungry, Em?"

"Well, I could have a snack. How long have we been waiting?"

"We came here at 10:45 am, now it's almost 6," William tells her, looking at the big clock on the wall of the waiting area.

"Wow, seven hours already. Poor mom. I wonder why dad hasn't given us an update."

"Do you think something is going wrong and he doesn't want to tell us?" William says, his voice trembling a bit.

"I don't think so."

"It's not so unlikely at mom's age."

"And how do you know?"

"I read stuff."

"You read stuff. Where?" Emily has problems picturing her brother behind a pregnancy textbook.

"On the internet, where else? If you google 'late motherhood' you get thousands of hits. And they all tell you women should have babies in their twenties and thirties, not their fifties. There is a reason for that. Nature doesn't want you to have a baby when you're old."

"Mom's not old."

"For having babies she is. She should be a grandmother rather than giving birth."

"Well, if she was a grandmother, I would already have a baby," Emily points out pensively, then adds a determined, "no thanks!"

"I just can't believe they let this happen."

"Let what happen?"

"Getting mom pregnant. Why? How?"

"Well, I can tell you how..."

"Ew, don't!" William imitates a gagging sound. "But why?"

"I guess it just happened."

"There are ways to prevent getting pregnant, I hope you are aware of that, unlike our parents apparently. I don't want to be an uncle on top of this any time soon. How could they have been so dumb? I don't get it. For all the times mom lectured us about condoms and safe sex, she didn't follow her own words." He shakes his head showing his disapproval and lack of understanding quite clearly. "I will never have sex, that's for sure."

Emily gives a slight chuckle. At fourteen, her brother most certainly doesn't have any idea of the joy of it. When he gets older and starts fancying girls, he might rethink his attitude, but something else is hitting her the longer their conversation goes. "You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Well, what else was I to do? It has been the main topic in our house for the longest time. I guess, sometimes they even forgot I was still living there."

"Bullshit."

William is done explaining his thoughts. His sister obviously isn't getting the point either, just like his parents. "Now are we getting something to eat, or what?"

"You hangry?" Emily asks with a smirk and he is glad she has taken the bait and they changed the topic.

"After seven hours of wasting my time in this stuffy waiting room, I think I am allowed to have a bite to eat. Do you have change for the machine?" The boy is inwardly fuming at his father for once again neglecting him by not giving him money for food.

Big sister overtakes Em again, "I am definitely getting us something more nutritious. There has to be a cafeteria somewhere with sandwiches and a drink with less sugar than what I see in that machine." The idea of having to deal with a cranky brother on a sugar-high isn't very appealing. She gets up from the chair, her mind set on improving her brother's mood with a tasty snack. Plus, the hunt for food will give her something to do instead of mulling over what her mother is enduring at this very moment in the delivery room. "Text me, if you hear something," she tells her brother before she leaves him alone.

He tries to distract himself with the game again, but his thoughts keep going back to six months ago when his world turned upside down. The situation was surreal. His parents had prepared one of their usual Sunday family dinners, Emily had come to join, and with the dessert they served them the news of the pregnancy. His sister's piercing shriek of surprised joy hurt his eardrums and he almost choked on the pie he had in his mouth. His mother annoyed him with science book citations about the finer points of late motherhood and male ongoing virility that made him want to cover his ears entirely and yell 'too much information' at her. The worst was his dad though. The puppy eyes with which he was looking at his mom and the silly petting of her still flat stomach caused a severe tickling in William's throat. To this very day, he hadn't gotten past the shock. He shakes his head to make the unpleasant memories disappear.

And then, of course, what had to happen happens: Emily is gone for about fifteen minutes when Mulder appears in the waiting area with an ear-to-ear smile on his face. "Waiting time is over, the baby's here! It's a girl! A healthy, beautiful little girl," he announces, his voice full of pride and also relief. He looks around, surprised to find William alone. "Where is your sister?"

"Getting us a snack. Is mom alright?"

"She is. She did great. I am so amazed by that woman." Mulder's whole face lights up. "She sent me to get you guys. When will Em be back?"

"I don't know. She's been gone for about 20 minutes now, it shouldn't take her much longer. I mean only if she hasn't met a cute guy she needed to get into a conversation with." William rolls his eyes so hard he sees the back of his head, his voice high-pitched on 'cute guy'.

Mulder is still so high on adrenaline that he doesn't chime in, although he too has been annoyed more than once by his daughter's tardiness, and the reason has often enough been a 'cute guy'. "Okay, gotta go back to Scully, I don't want to leave her and the baby alone for too long," he says. He points toward a long gray hallway with several doors on each side. "We're in room 302 over there on the right. As soon as Em gets back, come and join us. Mom is waiting for you guys."

"But dad," William laments in vain, his father is already around the corner. "Great," he mumbles to himself. First, they drag him out here and make him wait endless hours in an uncomfortable chair only to be here when the baby is born, and now that it is born, they don't have a problem with him standing around for God knows how long until his tardy sister is back. Typical. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, types in 'get here asap', his fingers flying over the screen, and slams the send button.

Impatience gets the better of him soon. There is no more sitting in the chair and playing online games for him now, he is pacing the waiting area, glad that nobody else is there to see him in this state. If Emily isn't back soon, he'll explode, he thinks, but it takes another 20 minutes until he sees her leisurely strolling down the hallway. He sighs in relief when she finally stands in front of him, a cardboard tray in one hand filled with two drinks and something to eat he can't quite figure out, and some flowers wrapped in paper in the other. "It's about time!" he lets her know.

"Sorry," Emily says quite relaxed, "I was just standing in line to pay for the food when I got your text. This hospital complex is huge and a bit confusing to be honest. I'm not sure I took the shortest way on my way back. Healthy muffins, iced tea, and something for your sweet tooth," she says with a grin, holding the tray out to William. "What happened?"

"What happened? What do you think happened? The baby's here, of course, and mom wants to see us!"

Emily gives a girly shriek that hurts William's ears once again. "Yay! Great! You could've been a bit more specific in your text rather than simply summoning me back here. I thought you were just craving the food."

"Yeah, well, there was food right in front of our noses." William points to the vending machine, unable to keep his outstretched index finger steady. "But you had to go on a hunting trip for some salad leaves and made me stand around here alone wondering."

"Where are they?"

"In room 302. They are waiting for us. It's this way." William nods in the direction Mulder showed him.

"Okay, let's go then."

Side by side, Emily and William take long strides toward the room they were told. "Boy or girl?" Emily asks on the way.

"Girl."

"Yay again! Ah, that's wonderful. I have a little sister," she chants.

William isn't sharing an ounce of his sister's enthusiasm. If he had been given a choice, he would have passed on this experience as a whole, but now that they are standing in front of room 302, by opening that door what he has tried to deny will become real. If only his mom is alright, he will accept all that comes with it: sleepless nights because of the baby crying, smelly diapers, more Thai takeout, and an annoying younger sister on top of an annoying older one. If only his mom is alright. Emily knocks and he hears his mother's voice say "Come in!" It sounds weak, he thinks, and his heartbeat accelerates. When he follows his sister into the room, he braces himself for the worst.

[gpsoftun]

101 topics floating around in my head and the Fantastic Four's Team Spirit wins this round.

As my previous posts have detailed, Johnny is at his best when the Four are solidly unified. There's even reason to believe that Reed and Sue's two year breakup had a negative affect he'll never fully admit. By the Rise of the Silver Surfer, Johnny is thriving as an adored superhero and the Fantastic Four is pretty much his whole life. He's going through age appropriate growing pains, wondering if he's doing enough good or if he'll ever be ready to get serious with a girl. His selflessness and heroic capability are displayed near the end when his sister almost dies. He absorbs the powers of the entire team to take out Victor for stabbing Sue in the chest. He gets the edge over Victor with Ben's ground level help. After going through all of that in under twenty minutes, Johnny is reunited with his support system, including a revived Sue.

Stan Lee dreamed up Peter Parker's Spider-Man as the first teenager to be a full-fledged hero instead of starting as a sidekick. Admirable and revolutionary for that time period, it's had the unfortunate consequence of Peter being trapped in his own head. Most of his loved ones have no idea about his crime fighting. Despite his good humor and likeability, Peter is often tragically isolated. Sure it's character building, but really unhealthy. Besides hiding his identity, he's frequently forced to lie to those closest to him, giving the impression he's simply unreliable.

On the other hand, in the comics, Johnny was only sixteen when he rocketed into space with his sister, Ben, and Reed. This was probably done because Johnny would not have been able to handle being away from Sue for so long. She never could have concentrated on the mission if she left Johnny alone on Earth. No one can convince me that they didn't share the mentality of 'if you die among the stars, I die among the stars'. Out loud, Johnny would only claim he's going for coolness and Sue would say she doesn't want to return to Earth to find he's been a little terror. This bond resonates in the Definitive movies and animated adaptations.

While Johnny is most likely in his early twenties in the films, he still behaves at an age that fluctuates between grade-schooler and adolescent. Yes, he's smarter than he lets on and is a great pilot, but skills do NOT equate to sage wisdom. Though a lot of 20-somethings are very immature, Johnny shows signs of being emotionally stunted. Not in a toxic way or to an absurd degree, however. We know Sue was forced to grow up too fast after their mother died. In Johnny's case, his growth was placed on pause or slow-motion at the very least.

Other heroes who have gone through only half of what the Storms suffered usually wind up being anti-social, angry, and broody. Neither Johnny nor Sue took that route. Sue maintained a persona of perfection, utilized faith, and through her mothering of her brother, she became very empathetic and maternal. Johnny prefers to never be serious, performs random stunts of adrenaline, and tries to make a joke out of everything. If he does otherwise, he could easily fall to sobbing pieces. This is reflected in the sequel when he starts losing control of his powers. For the first time in so long, he had a real issue to confront. When his power glitch forced Sue to overexert herself, Johnny feels deeply guilty and his sad faces say it all.

Johnny: I hurt-ed my sister and nobody can hug me. I bow my head in disgrace now 😭

Before that mission, he was already upset after overhearing Reed and Sue talk about leaving the team. Johnny gives them grief about ruining his fun, but their leaving is unthinkable. How many times has he had to face that reality? His father abandoned them, Reed and Ben left, and Victor betrayed him and Sue. Reed and Sue did not know that he was listening, but they probably reasoned that Ben would keep Johnny safe in the field if they did retire. They even thought Johnny might appreciate the departure of rule making big sister and brother-in-law. Insanely far from the truth.

There are other signs of Johnny's delayed emotional growth. For all of his cheeky- sometimes downright infuriating- behavior towards Ben, it comes off like a child wanting his father's attention. His reaction to being reunited with Reed and Ben is to play a joke on and snap a photo of him standing at attention. An already annoyed Ben menaces a momentarily alarmed Johnny but only zips up his flight suit for him- because the pilot prodigy still needs help dressing himself. That and Reed attempting to hide his amusement is all the evidence in the world of the dynamic once shared by those three. Also, really, a camera? Yes, I'm positive Johnny brought that along to take space pics for his MySpace page and not some secret family reunion scrapbook he's working on or anything....

Johnny is afraid when Ben's stuck in the cosmic storm. On Earth, he stays by Ben's bedside then pulls a prank on him five seconds after he awakens from a coma. When they're on lockdown at the Baxter Building, poor Ben stays being his favorite joke target. It could also be argued that Johnny's teasing behavior is his odd but unique way of keeping the depressed older man's spirits up. Too bad Ben didn't see it that way as he winds up crushing his car as punishment when his stunts go too far. Johnny's response to Sue telling him to apologize (did anyone else hear the way she said it? I swear she uses the same tone as when her brother was five) is to have a tantrum and throw fireballs at Ben while his back is turned. This is consistent with the animated adaptations where Johnny bombards him with fire when bored or generally petulant.

Johnny: What'd I do 🐺

Movie Ben's incredulity is very fatherly. This is possibly the only time Johnny faces off against him angrily. Every other time he acts out, Johnny can't run from Ben fast enough. Makes me wonder if he's been on the receiving end of a few smacks from his former CO. The original screenplay describes the parental energy coming off Reed, Sue, and Ben when they see Johnny snuck out to a motorcross competition. And to top it off, he does the 'you can't tell me what to do, Mr. Smarty too Dumby to Fight for your Girlfriend Fantastic' thing with Reed. Nope. Not a spec of paternal issues there.

The moment of Johnny genuinely opening up to Ben is more than just a great sign of their improved relationship. Ben doesn't have all the answers in the universe for him, just his promise that he's there for him. He proves it by willingly helping Johnny in the final fight, despite being back in his vulnerable flesh body. Words are okay but actions do the real talking. Similarly, even though Reed was not too happy with his earlier recklessness, he winds up holding Johnny in a hug after the chaos. He's a pain but he still has his strong support system. Major kudos to the film for doing what too many others fail to, showing that platonic love is just as- if not more- valuable than the romantic kind.

I've previously explained why the team needs ALL Four to be Fantastic. Naturally, this includes Johnny, who does better with the older three to guide him. It could take years for him to mentally catch up with his age group. Since mentioning their sad past is too difficult for the Storm siblings, it's doubtful they ever sought out therapy. This means the little boy who physically lost his mother and emotionally lost his father never got proper treatment for his world turning upside down. As the much older child, Sue was more equipped to handle all of the drastic change for the most part. Though she's always taken amazing care of Johnny- something he acknowledges- that stunted little boy is still inside of him.

That's not a shameful thing but one very true to life. Certain circumstances prevent people from growing up at the rate PhD holders decide we're supposed to. Someone can even be as mature and responsible as Sue and go through it with only small bits of evidence most people never notice. Team Brain Reed has his own emotional struggles no machine can cure. His are a lot easier to hide if you don't know him on an intimate level. Ben served as his protector and blunt mouthpiece until Reed grew into a leader. Even as the head of the Fantastic Four, Reed still needs Ben and Sue to make sure he takes care of himself. Johnny does his part by forcing fun on his otherwise Fantastic brother-in-law.

Johnny: Play with me or I touch allll the no-no's 👶🔥

If there are aspects of yourself you find bizarre and too scary or embarrassing to talk about, you're not the foreign life form or as alone as you think you are. Having someone to express your concerns to can do you a world of good. Honestly, more than you believe possible and no less than what you deserve.

Do better.

Do good 💓

[kalyan-gullapalli]

Post # 152

"Stop telling God what to do!"

The years 1900 to 1930 were called The thirty years that shook Physics. Because, with the dawn of the new century (1900), a new stream of physics emerged that threatened to shake the very foundations of science. It was called Quantum Physics.

Till the early 1900s, the most accepted theories of mechanics were called Classical Physics or Classical Mechanics. These theories, very clearly, explained the laws governing everyday objects - objects that we see and deal with in our daily lives, like cars, trains, balls etc, as well as large objects, like the Sun, Moon, planets, galaxies etc.

Sir Issac Newton, the father of Classical Physics, explained gravity, inertia, motion, momentum, speed etc. Einstein proposed the General and the Special Theories of Relativity that explained concepts like space-time for very distant objects. That won him a Nobel Prize and made him the first ever science-rockstar.

So far so good. Classical Mechanics was doing a great job. It was precise and deterministic - means, we could predict the position of Jupiter on its orbit around the Sun, 20 years from today, using the mathematics of Classical Mechanics.

Of course, there were still many unanswered questions. And a whole host of physicists were working on them. But it was Business As Usual (BAU).

Towards the start of the 20th century, a few Europeans - Max Plank, Niels Bohr, Shrodinger, Heisenberg and many others - observed that the laws governing everyday or large objects do not explain the behaviour of sub-atomic particles (particles within an atom). The discovery of the electrons, protons and neutrons led to a spate of experiments, debates and theories, which together were called Quantum Physics or Quantum Mechanics.

Truth be told, Scientists found Quantum Mechanics bizzare! Even till date, scientists still find the theories of Quantum Mechanics hard to grasp. But none of them could or can, dispute the results of Quantum Mechanics. In fact, Quantum Mechanics is universally considered to be the most successful theory propounded by science. It ushered in the Information Age. Lasers, Semiconductors, Computers, Telecommunications, Televisions, Electronics etc, all owe their existence to the application of the concepts of Quantum Mechanics.

Quantum Mechanics works. Its math works. No problem. The only problem is - no one knows how it works or why it works that way! That's why many scientists believe Quantum Mechanics is more a branch of philosophy than of science.

Quantum Mechanics spooked the greatest mind ever believed to have walked this earth - Albert Einstein. He famously said - God doesn't play dice! You will see what he meant as you read on.

Niels Bohr, the Great Dane (he was Danish), worked to defend the theories of Quantum Mechanics. Exasperated by Einstein’s repeated attacks on the Quantum model, he is supposed to have retorted - Einstein, Don't tell God what to do!

This tension between Classical Mechanics and Quantum Mechanics went on for a long time and was also called The thirty years war.

I have been reading up on Quantum Mechanics for some time now. Like layers of an onion, I keep getting clarity on one aspect after another, all in due course. I am still a long way from getting it all, but I find it all so fascinating that I want to share it with you. And I think a good way to understand all of this is by understanding what was called The Double Slit Experiment. Here goes!

Consider a bunch of marble balls, shot through a double-slit barrier (a barrier with two holes on it) onto a board placed behind it. They will create a distinct pattern on the board, hitting it straight where they were allowed to pass through. The remaining part of background board will be untouched. Why? Because particles travel in a straight line. That's their fundamental nature. That's Classical Mechanics. Simple so far?

What if a bunch of electrons were to be shot through the same double-slit arrangement onto the same background board? How would they behave? What pattern would they create on the background board? Since all matter consists of atoms, and electrons are a part of atoms, so electrons should behave like particles, right? But they behaved very strangely. They created the below pattern on the background board.

There were stripes of alternately bright and dark patterns on the background board. Some electrons even hit the board straight behind the opaque parts of the double-slit barrier. How's that possible? The background board looked something like this.

The scientists conducting the experiments knew what this pattern meant. This pattern could only be made by a wave, not by a particle. The below 4-second video explains how a wave creates this pattern. By the way, this pattern is called an Interference pattern.

How's this possible? Was it possible that electrons were waves? But that is absurd. They were particles - sub-atomic particles.

So, scientists reluctantly came to a bizzare conclusion - Electrons were both particles and waves!

Further experiments were even more bizzare. Scientists now decided, not to observe only the pattern on the background board, but to observe the electrons also. What they found made them think they had gone crazy!

The moment their observation apparatus was switched on, electrons reverted to their particle behavior. But when the observation apparatus was switched off, the electrons took on their wave character. Look at the interference pattern on the background board.

Spooky, right? Someone articulated these observations as below.

Observation changed the nature of electrons! An unobserved electron has a wave function. An observed electron has a particle function.

From here on, it gets even more bizzare, if that is possible.

One quantum physicist suggested that the wave function of an electron suggests the probability of finding it at any particular point. If that point is a crest (a wave's highest point), the probability of finding it there is maximum. If the point is a trough (a wave's lowest point), the probability of finding it there is the lowest. But to find it, you have to observe it. And the moment you observe it, the electron takes a particle nature. With particles, life is simple. The electron is either there or not there. No probability. Absolute certainty.

When Einstein heard this, he blew his top. Probability, my foot! This is not Science, he must have thought. "God doesn't play dice!", he asserted out loud. He said this once too often, without offering an alternative explanation.

Niels Bohr, who was also struggling to reconcile with the bizzare conclusions of Quantum theories, but convinced that the consistency of the results of the experiments was proof enough that the theory was right, retorted, "Einstein, Stop telling God what to do and what not to do."

Niels Bohr was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1922 for his work in understanding the theories of Quantum Mechanics.

Almost a century has passed between then and now. In the intervening times, Quantum Mechanics has proposed many more bizzare theories like Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, Quantum Entanglement, Quantum Teleportation etc. Unanswered questions about a Unified theory of everything led modern science to propose strange and stranger theories like String theory, Multiverses (multiple universes) and Cosmic holograms.

I have just begun my journey of understanding the frontiers of modern science. And I cannot help but observe the stark parallels between what modern science is dabbling with today and the timeless tenets of Sanatana Dharma. More on it later!

[imagining-in-the-margins]

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

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

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

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

“Take off your pants.”

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

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

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

“Take off the rest.”

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

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

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

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

“Sit down.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Language.”

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

“Sorry, daddy.”

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

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

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

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

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

“Keep going,” he mumbled into the skin.  

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

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

“Still wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I want you to fuck me!”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

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

“Fuck you.”

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

“Watch your mouth.”

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

“If you want me to fuck you, I will.”

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

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

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

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do it again,” I giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Speak up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dirty.”

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

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

“Yeah, I think so,” I laughed.

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

“Let me clean you up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, he didn’t make me say anything.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t think like that, little girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a dork.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, (y/n).”

“Anytime.”

—————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, someone distracted me last night.”

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

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

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

“And made coffee.”

“Yes.”

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

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

“You’re very perceptive, Dr. Reid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m always nice to you.”

“Then I guess that’s your answer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know how I feel about picnics.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t make me do this.”

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

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

“Why does the begging only work one way?”

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

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

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

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

And he was acting like he was actually disappointed.

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what you like, little girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But this time you were a good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“For what?”

“Loving me.”

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

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

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

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

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

I really hoped it would be the former.

—————————————————

| Part 13 |

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 24

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: i took three weeks to post, i am very sorry but i’ll now be posting the holiday chapters i was supposed to but i got lost in eating mince pies. hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

   - Bucky, what are you doing? - Y/N smirked as she returned from set, still dressed in a scandalous dress covered by a beige rain coat. Small droplets of water covered the beige waterproof fabric which rolled onto the ground as she made her way further into the small flat. 

Bucky was sat in bed, looking at a pile of clothing thrown next to an open old military green rucksack by his feet. A few worn out brown leathered tags we attached to one of the handles and had she been wearing her glasses, she could’ve probably guessed what it was written on them. The brown haired man rose his head at the mention of his name, eyes widening at what she was wearing. He was used to seeing her in tight, revealing dresses but this dress was something else and he wondered how she could walk with such a skin tight garment. 

    - I’m just deciding what to pack. - he shrugged, trying to forget about the dress his girlfriend was wearing. 

   - Just pack warm. - she sat next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder, an immediate smile extending in her limps. - Mum said it might snow. Can you imagine, a white Christmas?

   - Did they give you a bad time on set?

A bad time? A bad time was an understatement. She had gotten an earful from everyone who passed by her that day from her manager to her personal assistant to even Mr. Hayworth who just screamed about how stupid she was. Even half the cast was upset, not enjoying the publicity it would bring to the movie and while she would normally end up crying in her trailer, Chuck ensured to follow her around to make sure she was alright. Yet, none of it matter. It was the last day of shooting before she got to go home to her parents and forget about the mess she had willingly created. It was only a day before she could spend the holidays with someone who chose her and kept choosing her for the first time. It really didn’t matter if she had a bad time, things were starting to look up for her. 

    - Other than the stripper dress? Not as bad. - she giggled. Bucky looked at her, trying to peak through the coat. - I was thinking ... maybe we should have a nice long bath together? I’ll light some candles, get some nice wine from the shop down the street.

    - You little vixen, I still have to go see my sister. If I take a bath with you I will end up staying much more time than I should. - Bucky kissed the side of her face. - Did you wear that dress just to tempt me?

    - I would never. It is not my fault you cannot control yourself. 

    - That dress is staying until I come back, though.

    - I want to come. - she got up from the bed, pulling the dress from her body and grabbing her white jumper and pair of jeans from the wardrobe. - You’re meeting my family, it’s only fair I meet yours.

    - I’ve told you already, princess. We don’t wanna poke the media, they’ll bite us back with no mercy. I don’t want people hurting you because of me.

    - You can’t sneak me into a care home? My, my, Mr. Barnes, I thought you could get anyone into anywhere. Your CV said so.

   - Are you doubting my abilities, princess? - he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closing to him before starting to tickle her sides. - It’ll be boring to you, my princess. Just stay here, put back that tight little dress and I’ll make it worth your time.

   - No way. I’m meeting your sister. 

   - No baby pictures, Y/N. 

   - I would never. - she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hard felt yet soft kiss. - Only childhood stories. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, handing her the jacket and hat as they made their way onto a taxi. Bucky visited his sister a lot but he’d never mentioned Y/N. Not that he didn’t want to, of course he did. In all honesty, he could speak about his girl for as long as someone allowed him. However, Y/N was still a public personality and he wouldn’t want to let something out that she wasn’t comfortable with people knowing. Besides, he knew how much his sister still adored to gossip and he wouldn’t want to possibly hurt Y/N or be the cause. 

She, on the other hand, was excited. She knew Steve and Steve was the oldest of Bucky’s friends but she never thought she would get to meet someone from his family or that he’d even want to introduce her to someone from his family. After all, he was a war hero and Y/N was an actress from a small town in London who everyone seemed to despise at the moment.

The man drove them up to small complex building of what seemed to be newly built flats. Bucky was the first one off the taxi, running up to her side so he could open the door. It always left her feeling like a school girl; the pageantry, it is. She never believed she would find someone and the fact someone rushed to go and open the door for her and held his hand out.

    - Anything you’d like to confess before I ask your sister? - Y/N teased, hugging him side eyes as he led her to the entrance.

    - Do not believe what she says, I did not date too many girls.

    - Steve disagrees with that.

    - How would you know what Steve agrees or disagrees with? 

    - I called him to wish him happy holidays.

    - I didn’t know you and Steve were friendly.

    - Don’t be jealous, love. I’m not stealing your best friend. - Y/N pinched his cheek playfully as the two of them stopped in front of a wooden door with the number 35 in gold numbers pinned to it.

Bucky knocked on the door, announcing himself before holding Y/N once again close to him. He went through his mind, wondering if there was anything Rebecca could tell which would upset her. Sure, he used to be a bit of a womaniser in his youth but Y/N knew that. He hadn’t gotten anyone pregnant, he hadn’t proposed and ran off, he was off the hook. Still, he didn’t like the idea of Becca telling Y/N about his past quests.

Y/N waited patiently until someone held the door. The first thing she noticed were her eyes, the same as Bucky’s and she could recognise them anywhere. The woman had perfectly styled grey hair and a smile on her lips as she recognised her brother.

    - Who is this lovely girl, Buck? You didn’t tell me you’d bring company, I would’ve gotten some biscuits. 

   - This is Y/N, she’s my girlfriend. 

   - Steve told me you were seeing someone, I just didn’t think she’d be this pretty. Come in, come in. - Becca grabbed Y/N away from Bucky leading her to the living room. - What you wanted is in the bedroom, Buck.

   - Behave. - Bucky told his sister before he went into the bedroom to look for what he had come in from. 

   - I have some photos I think you’d love to see, darlin’. - she pointed the couch for Y/N to sit in before waddling to the big mahogany bookcase. She had a huge collection of books from old classics to new contemporary masterpieces which Y/N would love to read someday. The house itself was cozy, way more comfortable than other care homes she’d seen but she guessed Bucky would’ve only allowed for the best for his little sister. - It’s been ages since I’ve seen one of Bucky’s girlfriends. Not that he used to bring them home, but I used to sneak in and take a peak. You’re definitely the prettiest of all of them. 

   - Thank you. - Y/N couldn’t help but feel her cheeks heat up.

   - Ah, there it is. - she dropped a photo album on Y/N’s lap. - My father gave my mother a photo camera and she went crazy with it. Too many photos. However, when Bucky was born, it was a special occasion. Dad used to say she wanted a professional photo taken with her Jamie. 

She pointed at a photo of an woman probably in her early 20s holding a baby wrapped in several blankets, accompanied by a man who Bucky resembled very much. Her fingers traced the face of the baby, a little smile forming on her lips. It was nice to see him like that, normal. No mentions of the Winter Soldier, no pain, none of her constant drama due to her profession.

   - He was the eldest of four and despite what my mother would say, he was always the favourite. The only boy. He got away with whatever he wanted.

   - Bucky has three siblings?

   - Three sisters. Some of them didn’t survive. It was war. - her voice softened with sadness as she turned the page for a photo that Y/N wasn’t expecting to see. The same woman from before, his mother, was hugging a shirtless Bucky who had some boxing gloves on. Her face contorted into curiosity as Bucky exited the room and leaned against the couch, standing next to the two women.

  - What are you two ladies looking at? - Bucky kissed Y/N’s head, putting his hand on her shoulder. 

  - I think Y/N is very curious about your welterweight boxing past.

  - You did boxing?

  - Princess, I was a three-time YMCA Welterweight boxing champion. - Bucky closed the album before any of the photos of him with some of the ladies he used to hang around with showed up. - Becca, we should get going. We have an early flight tomorrow. 

  - You need to bring her more often. - Rebecca got up from the couch to accompany them to the door. - Did you find what you were looking for?

  - Yes, Beccs. Thank you so much for keeping it all these years.

  - Pretty sure mum would come back to haunt me if I hadn’t. Have fun meeting the parents. - she kissed Bucky’s cheek allowing for the two of them to leave. Bucky immediately wrapped his chunky knitted scarf, something his grandma had knitted for him ages ago, around Y/N’s neck, pulling her to his side.

He couldn’t truly remember a time where he was this happy, so full of need to continue living. She really brought him to this sort of weird normality where his past didn’t seem to affect him or at least not as strongly as it usually did. The two walked into grey skies, it was probably going to rain but none of them cared, walking side by side like those couples on Christmas songs. 

   - A boxing champion? 

   - Knock it off, princess. - Bucky helped her into the taxi, telling the driver his address before fastening his seat belt. - It was a long time ago.

   - Do you miss her? - she questioned, leaning her head against his shoulder, watching the horizons run through in blurs. - Your mother. Rebecca said you were the favourite.

   - Rebecca is always saying that. - he scoffed. - I do miss her. She was a swell lady, always caring about us, not complaining whenever she had to travel around because of my father. She was the best mother someone could’ve asked for. She would’ve liked you.

   - You think so?

   - I know so. Dad would’ve liked you too so would aunt Ida. Of course there’s still my nephews and nieces and their kids, but they don’t really want to speak with me ... - she didn’t need to ask why, she could see it in his eyes why and it made her sad. It made her sad to think of his family not wanting to be with him, specially during the holidays. - But I’ve had Rebecca and Steve for all these years. They’re my family and now I have you.

    - Well, I can’t promise my family will like you but they’ll definitely found the fact I have a boyfriend amusing. 

   - You mean to tell me I don’t have any ex boyfriends I’ll have to fight once we get to London?

   - That’s just unfair, Bucky. You’re a three-time boxing champion. 

   - You’ll never let that one go will you?

   - Nope. Dating a three-time boxing champion is a new identity I can get used to. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir​

[generalexcuse]

Alright. I am beating a dead horse here but taking time off of this show and fandom did not work. This will be the last time I ever say something about it but it’s upsetting to me so I need to vent. And to everyone saying “You are an adult man and this is fiction, why are you so obsessed? Weirdo. Learn to differentiate between fiction and reality.” I am going to address these notions as well as other problems I am having here. But really, Inuyasha was one of my first Anime, I have many dear memories and especially Rin was one of my all time favourite characters. Seeing her being mistreated like this upsets me. Ofc it does because if you watch something in formative years it’s not just fiction like a boring sitcom you watch now. Shows and characters are important to people and to simply dismiss it like that even if they would have been equally upset if it wouldnt have become canon, is infuriating. Really this is just therapeutic for me because even after weeks it’s still so baffling to me. Also please excuse the grammar and spelling mistakes. I am not a native speaker.

So the problem is obviously Sessrin and how it’s done because while I absolutely dont agree with this pairing, it would have been fine if it wasnt like it is. 

In the original show, Rin is an 8 yo child and her entire character reflects just that. She behaves like a child and depends on others. She has also been traumatized, doesnt speak at the beginning of the show and dies twice. Both times she is saved by or because of Sesshomaru. In many ways, while she has survival skills on her own, she depends on his presence alone to keep danger away. He also leaves her with trustworthy humans at the end but stays in her life as a protector. Now I like the original dynamic. It’s sweet, innocent and both characters grow because of it. Rin can work through her traumatic experiences, learns to trust others and Sesshomaru becomes a better person.  What happens afterwards only happens offscreen right until Rin gives birth to his children at the crippling old age of 15. 15. My lil sis is 16 now and couldnt consent to something like that. And she is mature af. It’s ridiculous. My blood boils just typing that shit out. And if you give me the ‘it’s legal in Japan’ excuse. In Germany a 14 yo can be with a 20 yo sexually. Still not okay in societies eyes and on tv it’s never shown as something positive. It’s even explicitly forbidden for authority figures like teachers or protectors to be with their protégé before the age of 18 because the chances of even unintentional grooming are too high. 

Now lets take a quick break and discuss how this kind of relationship usually plays out in other fictional pieces. A minor with an adult is something that is being portrayed at times and I dont have a problem with that. The problem is how it’s being done in Yashahime. And I dont mean the nonexisting character development but the fact that even in adult fiction this type of relationship isnt depicted positively. And this show is for young adults and teens that will exist way after all the discourse as the official sequel to Inuyasha. A cult anime. Meaning that in the future young people will watch it. Just like many still watch Inuyasha to this day. It’s on Netflix for fucks sake. Just to preface what comes next.   Some people say, “But cant you differentiate between reality and fiction?!?!?!” Adults can but younger people havent developed this ability to the same extent.   What happened to Rin was statutory r*pe in the USA, illegal even in Germany and should have been depicted as such unless the showrunners and fandom are okay with watching it without criticism or deconstruction. At best it was done with the intention to please the fanbase but really it’s neglectful to anyother part of the present and future audience. Not even most Animes do that. And I get that Sessriners arent into that shit in real life and an adult show could have gone this route because the viewers understand and add the criticism in their heads. Not ideal but whatever to me. But a YA show to go this route is so wrong on so many levels. The younger viewer who will watch this show in the following years might subconsciously internalize that this is acceptable under certain conditions when it’s not criticized properly on the show. That lowers their alertness when an adult actually starts to groom them. How dense do you have to be to assume that the lack of criticism on this YA show is a good thing?? Not everyone who will ever watch this show is an adult or capable of the same reasoning.

But another thing: for the same reason r*pe isnt depicted in a positive light, these types of relationships arent either. Because it’s not a positive thing and most people and showrunners dont want to see or create it as positive. Even in adult fiction, even in other anime, the media critizes and deconstructs what it’s showing because normally the showmakers dont approve but show it for realisitc or dramatic reasons. the same sessrin storyline would fit a fucking horror or thriller series. Just change the music and show it all. No showmakers in their right mind would go “Aye we got a r*pe scene coming up, lets put romantic music and have a pink filter over it.” “But it’s a different time and culture!” People will say and I agree but to have the audacity to assume that back then it was okay or that in todays Japan it’s okay, is fucked up. Think about it for a second. That’s so fucked up to think. Even if the society back then or in Japan thinks it’s okay, does it make it okay? 15 yo girls werent able to consent to adults and bear their children back then. They had to. They were raised with the expectations and they simply grew up thinking that it was the normal thing. But that doesnt make it right. That’s just societal grooming which did not prepare them in any way or allowed them the human dignity that they would have deserved. To now act like it’s all cool to just show the “positive” aspects or to twist it into something positive is so fucked up. Child Brides are a fucked up concept and to portray it as anything else is fucked up and also undermines the experience many girls still have to make. period.

I heard people say that it’s okay to portray it in this way because “Sesshomaru is not human!!!1″ and that’s correct. He is not. BUT, it’s not about being human but about maturity, consens, and independency. Him being a yokai makes it worse imo because there is an obvious power discrepancy. But in this particular fiction a good relationship could have been established (Kagome and Inuyasha for example) on those foundations but they did not because I can only assume they wanted Sesshomaru to smash and the show to pick up at a point where the other characters arent too old to be cool.

“What’s with Sango and Miroku, Kagome and Inuyasha?? It’s the same!” No it’s not. Rin was 8 at the beginning of the show. Kagome was 15 and Sango was 16-17 when they met their significant others. If you now tell me that you think 8 to be comparable to 15-17, I must ask you to get a reality check. Kagome’s and Sango’s relationships were slowburns starting when they already were able to have sexual and romantical feelings. Rin was a child. And Kagome did not kiss Inuyasha until they knew each other for a long ass period of time and bonded as friends and maybe more. Sesshomaru and Rin never were friends in the same way that Kagome and Inuyasha were because the maturity levels are way off. No adult is friends with a little child in the same way they are friends with their adult friends. And normally you dont grow into such a friendship but in the rare case you do, it’s not when she is 15 but maybe 20 or 25. 

Last but not least, Rin is not a character to the audience the same way Kagome or Sango are. Why? Because she was never shown as an adult or 3 Dimensional character to the audience. We know her as a child who wants to be with her trusted group. She is naive, but tough and doesnt have any motivation or drive on her own outside her group. Like every child she clung to the adults around her and her world outside of this group was nonexisting. Kagome wanted to be successful in school, Sango was a demon hunter and wanted to find her brother. Those are motivations and traits that dont circle around the love interest. Rin never had those because she was not developed to that point. Because she was a child and her entire existence was to develop Sesshomaru and to perhaps give the viewer a character to simply adore. What we see is of her: Mistreated child, -> Dead child -> Child being looked after and healing, -> Child not being homeless anymore -> ????? -> Teenager getting knocked up, pumping out main characters and then getting yeeted into a tree. 

This is not the way you treat a beloved character. There is no dignity to her character. “But she is fictional!!1″ Yes she is. But please show me a show that treats its child characters like this without criticizing it. 

I would have loved to see her grow as her own person. Go on her own adventures or learning a craft or developing meaningful bonds with other characters her age. Forming ideas that dont revolve around Sesshomaru alone. You know her being 3 Dimentional and not just there to pump out main characters. And if she then with 20 or 25 met Sesshomaru again and thought he was the hottest shit, I would have been fine with it. Not happy but fine. But in the little time we saw her as ‘not a child’, she still behaved the way she did before. 

[douxspider]

— 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. (2)

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) —  After befriending the bloodied blue-capped boy in the cafe Reader works at, a friendship blossoms between the two. However, unfortunate circumstances occur, and no one’s really sure how to feel about anything anymore.

+ this is the second part to peachy keen! (ao3 link)

warnings: implied/referenced suicide, hurt/comfort, grieving word count: 3,575 published: 9/21/20 ao3 link — part 1, 3

— — • — —

“Ellie, sweetie, don’t touch that.”

You were working behind the counter, rubbing raw dough and flour off on your apron, rushing around the shop to tend to the various customers. While specializing in baked treats, you were the main mistress, while Marilyn focused on baking and cooking up breakfast and lunch for eager customers.

Elaine Beck, a sweet girl of eight years, had recently been fostered by Marilyn. Marilyn, when not focusing on Elaine’s schoolwork, would bring her to the shop to watch over her.

You loved children, dearly, but it was difficult having a sweet-obsessed child in a bakery where the goods could easily be yanked. You find yourself aging more and more every time you told Elaine to keep her hands to herself.

Eyeing the clock, you rolled your bottom lip with your teeth, staring out the window before Marilyn caught your attention, pulling out crepes for a frequent suit-clad visitor. “Time goes slower when you’re staring at the hands, sweetpea.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you organized dollar bills into the register. “I didn’t mean to seem like I’m impatient for my lunch off… I’m just…”

A hand caressed your shoulder, and Marilyn pulled you in to kiss your head, you groaning shortly after and wiping the back of your wrist against your forehead. “Mary! Your red lipstick never gets off!”

Marilyn gave a hearty laugh, ruffling your done-up hair. “Y’er a sweet thing, sunshine. He’s gonna be here, and you two are gonna have fun on your lil’ church date.”

“It’s not a date,” you emphasized, crouching to pull out the baked muffins, “No one goes to church for a date. I asked to come with to hear about that strange preacher.”

The older woman placed a hot coffee in front of a woman, who doused it in sugar, returning to you with a conflicted expression. “Well, I don’t want you stirrin’ up trouble, sweetpea. You’re important around here. You’re important to me.” She smiled at you, hazel eyes shiny with worry. “Don’t want you getting involved in shady business ‘cause of some boy…”

You stared at her, cocking your head idly towards the back, and she sighed and you both made your way there. “What’s your problem with Russell?” You could not imagine Arvin having bad intentions for you. It had been about a month or so since he had come in that rainy afternoon, and since then being in Ohio hasn’t seemed that bad. He had made no moves or adjustments towards you that were defined as uncomfortable.

“Nothin’, nothin’, he’s a sweet boy. Conflicted, but sweet,” she continued, “Y’ain’t wanna be caught up with those who be unsure of themselves…” Marilyn trailed off, wiping her hands with a cloth that had pies stitched onto it, “Goin’ to church ain’t like you, darling, I don’t want you to be changin’ yourself. You’re good just the way you are and don’t let no fool of a man or lass tell ‘ya otherwise. If this boy makes you happy—”

Interrupting, you said, “It has nothing to do with… with romantics, ma’am. I want to have faith,” you mumbled as you turned away from her, pretending to be busy with cleaning silverware. “I want to believe. I want to have a friend.”

Silence fell, and Marilyn gave you a smile with the fruit red lips of hers. “M’kay, darling. You won me over.”

Grinning at her, the bell jingled, and you peered over to see Arvin walking in, tipping a hat to Elaine, who was bouncing in her booth and talking to him excitedly.

Marilyn moved forward, and you leaned back, holding your hands up. “No kisses.”

She sighed, amused, and gave you a bear hug instead.

You pulled your apron off and hung it up before exiting the backroom and curving around the corner, smiling at Arvin, who met your eye and returned the gesture.

“Nice to see ‘ya on this beautiful Sunday,” you spoke up, swiping the sleeves of your dress.

Arvin’s expression softened, and he moved his hand up to your forehead, catching you by surprise. His thumb rolled over your forehead, wiping at it twice before raising his eyebrows, “I’m guessing sweet ol’ Marilyn McCann didn’t let’cha go without a cherrybomb kiss of hers.” He revealed the red stain on his thumb, and you whipped your head back to see Marilyn giving a knowing smirk at you before fixing up dishes. You looked back to him.

“Thank you for that… I would’ve been so embarrassed walking into a church with that on my face,” you sighed.

“Not a problem.”

“Don’t be gone too long, sissy!” You both looked over to see Elaine pouting at you, “I wan’ my icecream. You promised.”

“I did. I will do just that for you, baby,” you said, poking her nose. “If Mary says you behaved, you’ll get an extra scoop with any topping you want. How’s that?”

“Good!”

Exiting the premises, him holding the door open for you politely. Thanking him under your breath, you walked down the sidewalk towards his car.

“New dress?” He gestured to your fit and you looked down at it before smiling.

“Indeed. You give me such hefty tips,” you pointed out, bumping your shoulder with his, his ears turning pinker while avoiding eye contact with you purposefully. “I also needed to dress nice for church.”

Arvin rubbed the back of his neck as he opened the front door for you. “Well, I don’t really want much. Mind as well give the favor onto someone else.”

Once you both settled into the car, Arvin opened with another conversation. “How’s lil’ Elaine holding up? She seemed chipper than ever in there.”

The car started, and you pondered about the sweet girl. She was only fostered because both of her parents managed to go missing, dropping the young thing at Marilyn’s to be babysat and vanishing. “I don’t know. She hardly ever mentions her parents. I don’t think she remembers them at all, she calls me ‘sissy’ and Mary ‘mama.’ I don’t even live with them.”

“You seem to be the kinda sis that spoils,” Arvin pointed out with a grin, causing a feigned offended gasp from you. “Two scoops of icecream for such a tiny thing? She’ll explode. Poor girl.”

You shrugged. “Keeps her little fingers out of the pies.”

The radio played a sweet Paul Anka song, Puppy Love. You swayed to the beat very slightly.

—You'll be back (you'll be back)... 

“So uh… why church, Y/N?”

...in my arms (in my arms)...

Glancing at him, you shrugged. “Why not? I want to see what the rage about that preacher is about.” Arvin winced at this.

Once again...

Arvin licked his lips very slightly, eyeing the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road. “Y’told me you’re no girl of faith. No loony preacher is worth that.”

Someone help me, help me please. Is the answer, is it up above?

“I also said I’d do it if God brought me something good,” you pointed out, leaning towards him with a finger up. You then leaned your shoulder against the door, staring out the window, saying carefully, “And he did. I keep my promises.”

How can I, oh how can I ever tell them?

“This is not a puppy love…” you sang under your breath, turning your head to look at Arvin, whose glance quickly skewed back to the road. “Do you like this song?” You asked.

Arvin shrugged, quirking his lips up. “I uh… I’m not really a music guy.”

You blinked, raising your eyebrows. “Not a music guy? Hm, that’s fair.”

“Can’t really relate with all they sing about,” Arvin explained, “usually ‘bout God or a lover leavin’ them. Not my interest.”

Now, some backstory. You wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Are you implying the one and only Arvin Russell has never had an inamorata?” You grinned, placing your cheek against your palm.

Arvin rolled his eyes. “Nah, don’t be actin’ like that, Y/N.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a ‘I’ve been too busy carin’ for my family to even think about messin’ around with a pretty face,’” he corrected, tilting his head at you. “That’s all.”

You felt yourself grow concerned and conflicted instead of amused. Biting the inside of your cheek, you don’t know if this man had any hobbies that didn’t include beating up assholes that hurt his poor sister. You scratched at the nape of your neck before deciding to speak up, plopping your hand in your lap. “Arvin, is there anything you’ve done just for fun and not just because your family compelled you to? Anything for yourself?”

Arvin looked at you, his eyes round, tightening his grip on the wheel. “I’ve… ah…” he pondered before his face turned more red, and you started to wonder what exactly was going on in his head. Was it something… illegal? Or shameful in the eyes of the town’s Lord? “...I go to the bakery to see you. For myself.”

...Well. You pinched your dress, clenching your teeth together and looking at the road.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if— if you are, I just—”

“You were the good thing God gave me,” you spoke up suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut, “That’s why I’m going to church. You… you’re the good thing that makes me want to have faith,” you explained, catching him from the corner of his eye, seeing a distant look on his face.

You gave a laugh and half-heartedly shrugged your shoulders. “Now we evened each other’s uncomfortable comments out,” you playfully spoke. “So… no worries.”

Arvin pulled into a long yard while the car slowed into a long drawl. With this, he looked at you, and gave a smile that showed his white teeth.

“I think you’re a funny girl, Y/N.”

—

The preaching was over, and everyone was left outside, mostly indulging in conversation. It was a nice day out— sunny, clouds dotting the skyline, a sweet breeze to ease the baring sun. You were currently trapped in a conversation with a rather old lady who was very prominent in getting to know the citygirl.

You mentioned Manhattan and purposefully avoided your roots regarding wealth and your orphan status. Luckily, you didn’t need to speak much, the lady named Darla was more than eager to give her thoughts on everything.

“The new pastor, Teagardin, he’s a sweet man ain’t he?” She smiled, wringing her hands together, “If I were younger…”

You paled at the implication, giving a nervous smile. “He seems like a sweet man.”

“I’d sure hope so.” You turned around to see Preston Teagardin approach you with a smile. “How do you do, miss? Haven’t seen you here before.”

You nodded. “It’s my first time going to this church.”

Preston tilted his head only slightly. “Is that so? Can I catch your name?”

“Y/N.”

He licked his lips, looking at the old lady and raising his brows to give a friendly, polite expression. “Y/N, ain’t that a pretty name, Darla?” Darla nodded. “Well, Y/N, I wanna see you around here more often. Having a fresh face other than mine in this church is sure nice.”

“Regardless of my city heritage?” You decided to tease. While the comment was meant to be lighthearted, a growing resentment was laced behind your words, exhausted from the odd treatment from townspeople.

Preston gave a small laugh underneath his breath. “Nothin’ wrong with being born urban.” He looked at you, and you heard your name. Glancing to your side, Arvin was approaching, a ginger girl at his side.

The ginger girl made eye contact with Preston, and she quickly shied away from it. You paid it no mind, but it was definitely something that would become relevant later on, you’re sure. 

“This is my sister, Lenora,” Arvin spoke up, and you watched his eyes lock onto the priest’s for a moment. Preston walked away.

Lenora looked at you and gave a simper. “Hi, Y/N. Arvin’s talked about you…”

Arvin pursed his lips. “Lenora—”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, amused at the sister-brother banter. “He’s mentioned you before Lenora. I hear you like to read, care to give me a checklist of books sometime?”

Lenora lit up. “That… yeah, I can do just that. Right when I get home, I will.”

You smiled. Arvin cleared his throat, placing his hands in his pockets as he spoke to his sister, “Lenora, why don’t you check on grandma?” Lenora scurried off. When the two of you were alone, Arvin then murmured to you, “Y’don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to, Y/N. I know Lenora ain’t the most bright in the bunch, but—”

“I’ve been where she was,” you murmured to him, watching his gaze slowly fall from Lenora’s retreating figure to yours, brown eyes suffused golden beneath the luminous sun. “It’s all right. I actually do like reading, Arvin.” Arvin’s lips moved to the side of his face. Taking in his features, you felt your heart race a bit at what you were contemplating on doing, but you did it regardless. Your hand moved from your side to bury your fingers in his hair, grinning while feeling the slick strands against your skin. “It’s weird seeing you without that hat on.”

Arvin slumped a bit, attempting to swat your hand away. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he sighed. Though, from the look on his face, he was heavily entertained. “I know. I’ll put the cap back on.”

“No,” you spoke up. Your hand survived Arvin’s waving and ruffled the hair, loose strands cascading the frame of his face. “I like it.”

The boy you were endlessly teasing gawked at you while a bashful expression crossed his features. He sucked on his tongue before murmuring, “...That’s… ah, thank you.”

Glancing at your clock, your eyebrows raised. “I have to go. Lunch break is over… was over two minutes ago.”

Arvin gave a sheepish curve of his lips. “I’ll drive ‘ya home.”

The drive back was lighter than the drive there, until the new priest was mentioned. “Y’don’t trust that preacher guy, do you?” Arvin’s voice was bitter.

“...He seems…” you started, wincing, “I’m not sure. He’s a confident man, I’ll say that. I don’t know much about him to make a judgement.”

Arvin stopped the car in front of the diner. It was abrupt, sudden, and it took you by surprise. Your eyes traveled over to your friend who seemed to be seething underneath his skin. “Arvin?” You asked quietly.

A few glances towards you and he finally decided to face you with a lack of a smile. “S’all fine. You’re late, go do your work.”

Unable to correlate words with your sudden concern over his state of mind, you didn’t bother to acknowledge anything. “Okay…” you murmured, stepping out of the car, giving a wave to Arvin who only nodded his head towards you and drove off.

You watched his car vanish into the distance of the town. Wind blew past you, petting at your bare shins, and you rubbed your upper arm before hearing muffled crashing within the shop and a very harsh command of ‘Ellie!”.

—

The day Lenora died was quiet.

People weren’t rushing to the church, rushing to the Russell household, rushing down the streets, no one was rushing anywhere. It was a quiet day. The streets were more bare than usual, but perhaps it was only a lazy Sunday where nothing really mattered aside from church, the one day Lenora had not gone.

Watching her body fade into the ground wrapped snug in a casket, you felt the paper in your dress shuffle with the wind, scribbles of book titles Lenora suggested you before her untimely death.

Brave enough to glance in Arvin’s direction, too shy to cock your head, you noticed his mouth fit into a tight line, eyes swollen but with no sign of tears. It seems like he has already cried his fair share. Grandma Emma was weeping, her shoulders shaking as her brother held them.

The sun had gone dark, and you sat on a bench with Arvin, who had shared little to no words with you the entire day. Cars would woosh past and it seemed like the entire world was rotating just the same without the dear, sweet step-sister of Russell. The story had been tense, a little too much for you, the superstition that she was pregnant with the priest’s baby and had been encouraged to take it out, even at the cost of her life.

You gave a shaky exhale while the night’s frozen air pricked at your bare skin.

“You don’t need to be with me, Y/N,” Arvin’s accent-heavy voice murmured from the right of you, “I’m alright.”

That’s a load of bullshit. You knew that. You knew nothing about this was okay. You’d heard about Arvin’s parents before, you didn’t need anything more to know that this was opening some deep wounds the boy had thought he had stitched closed a long time ago.

“No, you’re not,” you replied.

There was nothing said after that. Arvin didn’t even look at you with an incredulous expression or open his mouth to disagree. There was no movement, no anything, as the world continued to turn, the stars continuing to move above the two of you.

It seemed unfair. It was unfair that the world kept moving.

You pulled out the list of books she had recommended you. Her handwriting was surely girlish, curly with hearts for dots, but it was perfect for her type of character. Lenora was a good girl. You felt your thumb trail against the ink stains. You didn’t know her too well, you’d be exaggerating your pain if you said this was the worst thing to happen to you, but it was definitely a loss on the town’s behalf, and most importantly, Arvin’s behalf.

“She was lonely.” Looking over, you saw Arvin staring down at your lap where the somewhat crinkled paper was.  “She never defied her faith, Y/N. She was just lonely.”

Her fidelity was admirable. Some part of you knew Arvin wasn’t talking to you, though, more so at. You gave a nod at him, his sad eyes meeting up with yours, and you knew at that moment his heart had been broken into a million pieces. You heard him sniffle and the street lamps reflected the water building at the top of his lower eyelids. He moved his bruised knuckles underneath his nose and you were a witness to his throat closing on itself.

This wasn’t bold. This was a peace offering. You moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you in a hug.

Arvin was frozen still, tense underneath your hold, halting in his breath. You didn’t care if you were breaking boundaries. You didn’t care if this was something he said he didn’t need. You needed it, too, you needed to see him recover.

Unbeknownst to you, he would actually consider all the little possibilities with this hug. His arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against the crook of your neck. You could hear quiet struggling exhales and wetness seeping into your dress. You didn’t care for the dress.

This wasn’t a grown man crying, you noticed. This was a little boy. The way he squeezed against you, lightly rubbing his nose against your skin and giving off quiet whimpers of defeat. The world had wronged him too much. You didn’t know everything, but it felt like the tears falling from his face had infinite knowledge that you didn’t need to be told. This wasn’t the first tragedy for Arvin. For him, he most likely believed it was just another dot on the list of infinite sadness.

“Arvin,” you were quiet to say, “come to my place. It’s quiet. Let me drive.”

Arvin had no disagreements. He was in no mindset to put on his tough façade. You drove the two of you to your apartment, never leaving Arvin’s side as you both stepped up the stairs and unlocked the door.

You didn’t really know what to do from there. You both watched television on your cheap furniture, and as the night went on and mindless conversations passed between the both of you, Arvin had gotten closer. His eyes were sore and at the most random moments you could see a tear roll down his cheek. He gave no reaction to it.

“I’m tired,” Arvin breathed from beside you.

You stared at the television while leaning against the couch’s arm. “That’s fine. I can show you to my room, if you’d like to lay on the bed—”

A presence was prominent beside you. You felt Arvin lean against you and rest his head on your shoulder. “The couch is fine,” he whispered. “This is fine.”

In any other circumstance, you know Arvin would’ve never put you in this position. Though, you didn’t mind this, not at all, keeping in mind you knew he just needed a comforting presence after Lenora. You were more than eager to be his anchor however.

Moving your hand up to his capless head, finding your fingers carding through his smooth hair, you continued to watch the television in silence. This is fine, you repeated in your head. It’s going to be fine.

[rebirth-artblog]

Ok,so i was talking to my brother about my Cats headcanons and imaginary production and we ended up making a list of how old everyone is, thinking of it as them having similar lifespans as humans. I'm also adding a bit of their personality and relationship with the other Jellicles.

From youngest to oldest:

Ectetera: 8 years old

Electra: 10 years old

Jemima: 12 years old, the three of girls love playing together, but Jemima also spends time with the older kittens because they're a little more mature and she's more perceptive than almost everyone else.

Pouncival: 13 years old, he's old enough to hang out with the bid kits, but young enough to still enjoy being treated like a child. He's also big for his age so it's funny to watch him play with the younger kittens.

Tumblebrutus: 14 years old, he's Pouncival's brother and they get into trouble together, but Tumblebrutus enjoys spending time with the older cats since he's a lot more mature than Pouncival.

Victoria: 15 years old, she loves the younger kittens and playing with them. She's also at the age where her idol and example for the perfect boyfriend is Tugger, but she's still older and more reserved. She's super protective of Jemima because she's smaller than everyone else.

Plato: 16 years old, he's also super protective of the younger girls. He helps Victoria take care of them when they're playing together. He's not jealous of the attention Victoria gives Tugger, instead seeing him as an example to follow.

George: 17 years old, I don't have much for him, but he definitely tries to act more like the adults and prefers spending time on his own rather than with the other kittens.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer: 20 years old. Their idol is Mistoffelees because he's the closest to them in age, and he's responsible and smart so they try to follow him and do everything he does.

Mistoffees: 21 years old. We already established he's a child prodigy. He's skilled and smart, so he gets a lot of responsibilities around the junkyard. His favorite job is the unofficial care taker of Mungo and Teazer.

Alonzo: 23 years old. He's slightly younger than Tugger and loves playing with the older kittens, but he admires Munkustrap and will go out of his way to help make sure everyone is safe.

Rum Tum Tugger: 24 years old (same as me!). He loves the attention he gets from the younger cats and acts as the leader for the troublemakers, but he always keeps everyone safe. Extremely perceptive of the others' comfort levels, he makes sure to spend time alone with Mistoffelees making them close friends and building mutual understanding between them.

Casandra: 25 years old. also don't have much on her. She's probably good friends with Tugger and Mistoffelees as the second closest friend they have.

Demeter: 26 years old. She's mature and has as many responsibilities as Mistoffelees so they tend to work together a lot in their daily tasks. Because of her past experience with Macavity, she stays away from almost everyone when they gather in big groups (more the three is a bit much for her).

Munkustrap: 26 years old. we all know him, and we all love him. The protector of the tribe and the most responsible out of everyone. He's forced to delegate work by Misto, Demeter, and Alonzo.

Bombalurina: 27 years old. She admits Tugger is a bit young for her, but she also knows Tugger is more mature than he cares to show. She makes sure Munkustrap doesn't overwork himself as much as she makes sure Demeter doesn't do the same trying to help Munkus. She might have started a secret cat spa for them, and the only reason Mistoffelees doesn't know is because he disappears anytime she tries to make him stop working.

Macavity: 29 years old. He scary and a loner. He's mad that Demeter chose Munkustrap over him, but he also knows she would have never loved him. He tries to scare Demeter because he's angry, not because he actually wants to force her into a relationship.

Skimbleshanks: 30 years old. He's one of the oldest cats, and takes his job at the railway seriously, but he's at the point in life where he rather have fun with his time instead of stressing over what might happen in the future. He's the cool, young uncle that plays with the kittens and is the only one who can make the young adults smile and relax for a while. Everyone has fun whenever Skimble is around.

Jennyanydots: 38 years old. She's the mom of the group and can make everyone be quiet and behave with one look. She also enjoys her time and her youth, reminding herself to relax and be an example of good habits for the younger cats.

Jellylorum: 40 years old. I see her as the scary aunt, if she was older maybe the grandma of the tribe. She's strict and a bit of a perfectionist. She takes care of the younger cats, but would rather if they could be quieter. She takes care of Gus because she's the only one who still remembers him in his prime as fondly as Gus himself.

Bustopher Johns: 45 years old. He was, and still is, the flirt of the older adults, like Tugger is now. He's also seen as the responsible dad of the tribe, and everyone makes sure to be in their best behavior when he's around. Especially Mistoffelees because he was chosen as Bustopher's apprentice as the most educated cat in the tribe.

Grizzabella: (was) 50 years old. She was once the most caring, motherly cat around, and the young adult either mourn her exile, or they're still hurt because she abandoned them. Mistoffelees, as I said before, doesn't really remember her, but does feel sad whenever he thinks about her.

Old Deuteromy: 70 years old. Everyone secretly calls him grandpa whenever Munkustrap and Tugger aren't around. They wouldn't mind, but they think it's weird people call their dad "grandpa." He loves everyone single member of the tribe, and he cares for them equally. However, he has a soft spot for Munksutrap, Tugger, and Mistoffelees. Muskustrap works too hard so Old D doesn't have to, and he appreciates everything his son does for him. He knows Tugger is a drama queen, and he encourages it since he was a drama queen in his younger years. Mistoffelees spend a lot of time away from the tribe, so everyone else needs time to include him in the daily activities of the junkyard, but Old D doesn't want Mistoffelees feeling like is being rejected and will spend time telling him about different kinds of magic and praising any improvements Mistoffelees makes, even if it's doing 25 conjuring turns instead of 24.

Gus: 80 years old, maybe closer to 90. He's the real grandpa of the tribe. He loves to tell stories of his acting career to anyone who will listen, which usually ends up being Munkustrap, Tugger, Skimbleshanks, Mistoffelees, and Alonzo, his unofficial Raffish Crew. Jellylorum loves to praise his legacy as a great actor, but the "Raffish Crew" love to act out his stories just to see him smile again. He is also the reason Munkustrap wrote "The Awful Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles," he even helped Munkus write the character of the Rumpus Cat as a modern, and nicer, version of Growltiger.

[bettercallsabs]

After Dark

Here we go peeps.I'm back with some new trash! Here's a new unedited series (yes another one). This was an original story converted to reader insert so it does contain character descriptions, if this bothers you, don't read any further. Otherwise, please enjoy! Sorry, I'm a bit rusty. Haaaa

Warnings: language, swears, things.

Word count: 1.5k

Steve Roger's x Plus Sized Reader

My tag list is open, so never miss a post!

I dropped out of college my first semester after my father disappeared  leaving me to care for my teenage sister.

My name is Y/N.  I'm 20 years old. I'm working at a trendy night club as a waitress. 

…..

"Y/N, get a fucking grip." Grace yells as she stomps down the hallway.

"No Grace, I won't! You're 15 years old, christ! You shouldn't even be having sex." I snap back at her.

It had just been my sister and I for nearly two years. Ever since the disappearance of our father, raising my sister alone had proven to be a real walk in the park… not. 

Was I ever this bad as a teen? Holy shit. 

"Sorry I'm not a prude like you." 

Grace's tone is sparky, as she rests a hand on her hip. 

I fold my arms across my chest, shifting my weight onto my right leg, rolling my eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of my head. 

 "I am not a prude."

"You're 20 years old, and a virgin…"

I let out a long sigh, shaking my head as I stared hard at my baby sister. 

"That doesn't make me a prude. Christ, Grace! I'm just concerned! You're being reckless! Do you know what could happen? God forbid you get an STI or worse..  You're not even on birth control!"

"He used a condom dummy."

I clutch my face in my hands,  letting out a heavy breath in frustration. Why is my sister the way she is?

"Enough. This is obviously a pointless discussion, or lack there of.. I'm taking you in on Monday to get you on birth control, because lord knows you need it." 

Grace scowls at me as her eyes roll hard in her head. "Whatever Y/N."

I glance at my watch 6:32 p.m. Shit. I'm going to be late! 

"I have to go to work. Please…. Just behave, okay?" 

Grace turns and gives me the middle finger before trotting her way up the stairs.

That girl is going to age me 10 years.

Shaking my head, as I breathe out a soft sigh, I quickly grab my keys and purse from the counter, rushing out of the house. The last thing I need today is to be late to work…

……

"Alright ladies listen up." 

Terrance, more commonly known as Terry, the owner of the club, stood before us, his chiseled jaw tight as he leaned against the bar. 

"My son has a meeting here tonight, so be on your best behavior. I expect the utmost professionalism from my ladies. Y/N and Charlie, you're working the VIP section tonight."

"You could have given some warning Terry, I would have dolled up more!" Charlie, a fellow waitress, looks in Terry's direction, a playful frown peaking on the corners of her full lips. 

I feel my stomach churn, I've never worked the VIP section before… it's a big deal. Bigger clients, bigger tips… 

I swallow hard, forcing myself to speak up. I wish I was as outspoken as Charlie, she really has that 'I say what I want, when I want' attitude. 

"Terry... I never work VIP... if this is an important meeting, shouldn't Lydia or Tanya-"

"Charlie will show you the ropes. Now let's make some money." 

Terry claps his hands before heading off to his office. No one wastes anytime. The convened staff disperse in every direction, hurry back to work to finish preparing for the club to open. 

"Don't worry hun!" Charlie squeezes my arm in support. "We're gonna make some good money tonight! Steve  and his boys are so damn fine and gracious tippers. It's a win win. Eye candy and stacks baby." 

"Really?" 

I nervously fidget with my fingers before running them through my long blonde hair.

"Yeah girl, of course! So, Papa Terry is putting a lot of trust in you tonight. Word of advice hun, obviously by now you know this club is a special one, so what you see and hear tonight, keep your mouth shut, and you'll do just fine." 

I nod, understanding fully what she means. Afterall, rats have never made a good name for themselves.

There's a lot that goes on in the club that terrifies me, but the money is too good to pass up.

Charlie smiles at me, a soft genuine smile, as she wraps her arm in mine. Something about her makes me feel oddly safe and at ease.

"I like you Y/N, so I'm going to give you some more advice here. Stop being such an uptight girl!"

"I can't help it."

"Yeah Y/N, lighten up a little, jeez.  When was the last time you got laid?" 

Lydia, another waitress appears from behind us as she jumps into the conversation. 

My eyes immediately deflect to the floor, suddenly feeling more self conscious than usual. 

"I should really get back to it."

"Oh come on Y/N, don't be such prude."

Lydia laughs, but I feel the irritation building within me.

"Why does everyone call me that? I am not a prude!" 

My voice is harsher than I intended it to be. 

"Woah girl, chill." 

Lydia looks at me, seemingly shocked by my outburst. 

"Sorry. I'm really not a prude though. Just because I haven't…" I trail off mid sentence, my gaze now focused on the floor in front of me. 

I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. 

"Y/N, babe, are you a virgin?" 

"Lydia, keep it down.."

"It makes so much sense... You being a virgin explains so much." 

"What's that supposed to mean Charlie?" I huff, folding my arms over my chest. What did she mean by that? Was being a virgin a bad thing?

"Who's a virgin? I sure as hell know it's not Lydia." 

A booming laugh echoes from behind me, my blood running cold with embarrassment.

Lydia's head snaps in the direction of the laughter, a scowl now pasted on her full lips.

"Oh shut up Bucky, you old windbag!"

Lydia smacks the large bicep of a tall tatted man hard enough that the sound echoes off the club walls..

 I shyly duck behind Charlie, trying to make myself invisible, the last thing I need right now is to embarrass myself any further.

"Lydia, you need to work on your strength, hit the gym or something." The one called Dawson smirks at Lydia, who sticks her tongue out. "But seriously, who's a virgin, my curiosity has peaked."

"Pfft, I don't think any girl that works here could be. They are just fucking around."

A rich baritone voice fills my ears. I peer my head around from my very obvious hiding spot, Charlie. The man that belongs to the dreamy voice is even more so. He is tall, so deliciously tall, and his eyes are blue like icy glacial pools. Lord, he is like sex on two legs.

"Hey now! Don't be making those kinds of assumptions. Some of us very well could be. Just because we work here doesn't mean a thing. We dress like this for the tips baby." Charlie rolls her eyes at the two men, resting a hand on her hip. 

"Ha ha Charlie, you've got jokes I see. Who knew you were such a comedian?" 

"Who is that?" I whisper in Charlie's ear. 

"Ah yes, introduction time." Charlie points in the direction of the ridiculously handsome men.

"That's Mr. Roger's  son, Steve ." She points to the one with the mesmerizing blue eyes. "And the stupid one is Dawson." 

"Hey! Watch your damn mouth Charlie!" Dawson glares at her playfully, before his eyes land on me… so much for being invisible. 

"Who do we have here? Fresh meat?"

Charlie pulls me forward, resting her arm on my shoulder. "This is Y/N. She's been around for a bit now, but tonight is her first night working VIP, so be nice to her!" 

My eyes instantly flick to Steve , who is looking me up and down. Butterflies build in my just, as my heart flutters. I bite at my lower lip, trying to contain the wave of anxiety washing over me. When his eyes met mine, it was like the earth stopped turning, there was no one in the room but us. I could truly lose myself in those hypnotic blue eyes. 

"Damn! She thicc! I'd like to-"

"Watch your mouth Dawson."

 Steve 's voice is low as he scowls at Dawson through gritted teeth.  Dawson takes a step back, settling himself behind Steve . 

Steve 's eyes fall back to mine capturing my full attention with his intense gaze.. And just for a moment I'm lost in those icy pools.. 

As quickly as they came his eyes left mine, giving their focus to Charlie. 

"Tonight's meeting is important, so you will need to be extra courteous. Feel me Charlie?" 

"Aye aye Captain." Charlie jokingly salutes Steve , who doesn't look the slightest bit amused. 

"Come on ladies, we have jobs to do. Let's get ready to get this money. It's going to be a good night!" 

Charlie smiles, looping her arm in mine, as we head into the VIP section. I glance over my shoulder, dying to get one last peak at Steve . Our eyes meet once again, and I feel my heart shudder in my chest… shit.

…….

ForeverTags:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@itsanerdlife

@sea040561

@dsakita

@princess-evans-addict

@mariekoukie6661

@flashfanfics

@patzammit

[shattered-mirror-fanfic]

HAHAHA! I’M EARLY THIS TIME! Anyways, before you read: This is your warning about how in this chapter there’s mentions of child abuse, blood, death and scientific experiments on a child. You have been warned.

Ao3 Link: Chapter below cut for those who read it here on tumblr: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/84899077

The walk home from school was dull as always, walking along the grey path, connected to a grey street, little color in the world. Despite being only six years old, Desdemona had many responsibilities, especially after their soul fully developed. 

The routine was simple: walk home, get homework done, change clothing, get a snack, curl up on the couch with the snack, a blanket, and their favorite doll until their dad got home. Usually on Thursdays like this, Desdemona feared when their dad would get home because he would yell at them and have them turn off the tv and get in the car. This new addition only started when their mom disappeared. One day, at 3:20 when she was meant to get home, she didn’t show up. It wasn’t Des’s fault, they were only a child and their soul wasn’t even fully developed, they were only wondering what if’s, it shouldn’t be their fault that it became real. 

No matter, they had other worries. They didn’t have any homework so they went straight up to their room, changing out of the light blue and white uniform shirt and white shorts into a comfortable black and white striped t-shirt and brown overalls instead. They grabbed a blanket and pink axolotl doll from their bed and went downstairs again. Before going into the living room, they popped into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of cheese puffs from the pantry that were hidden away at their height so their father couldn’t confiscate it. There weren't many of the puffs left so they took the bag with them. They went to the living room and climbed onto the grey couch, covering themself and their plushie with the blanket. They grabbed the discarded remote and turned on the tv, pressing random numbers until they got to the cartoon channel. 

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to an hour, and the front door slammed open as the episode faded to black. 

“Turn that tv off right now! Get up and get in the car, traffic was held up enough already!” The tall man who entered had yelled. Desdemona hated their father on Thursdays, he was always so mean and would only let Desdemona eat stale animal crackers that tasted both bland and too sweet. Regardless, the child slid off the couch and went to the door, putting on some boots and grabbing their father’s hand to be led to the car.

They were set in a booster seat and buckled in with the stupid animal crackers and doll. Their father slammed the door shut and got in the drivers spot, driving off down the road to their destination. 

Roughly twenty minutes had gone by when the car stopped outside of a large grey building located along a dirt path. Desdemona dreaded this place, there were no good people there, only mean men in big white coats. The place was bland and basically greyscale, no pictures or paintings anywhere, it was like a prison. Desdemona’s father led them to a room with only a bed, a few chairs, some counters and cabinets. Without instructions, Des hopped on the bed and waited, swinging their legs while their father sat in one of the folding chairs in the corner of the room. The child held their plushie tightly, letting their dirty blonde hair fall in front of their face, hearing only their father wishing for a normal child before three of the mean men in white coats came in and began their tests.

~~~

Souls develop in a human by the age of five, beforehand their souls are usually white, empty and still developing their traits. For Desdemona, their soul didn’t develop correctly, and by the time the trait showed itself, it was too late to guide their soul differently. It was malformed and full of hate and malice, the only things they were shown before, not an ounce of KINDNESS was present in soul tests, the only trait that had developed into a positive range was DETERMINATION, and even then, it was very weak, and couldn’t manage being the dominant trait on it’s own. 

It was very rare for souls to be malformed, and even rarer to have all but one trait be malformed. Oddities like these seem to be caused from one parent having a malformed trait, which in Desdemona’s case, could be their father having malformed kindness, after all, he was a “businessman”. It could be possible for a soul to be malformed in another way, where all the traits exceed limits, the soul exhibits all traits to an extreme and displays all the traits equally among the heart. But this has only remained speculation. 

~~~ “Des, wake up.” They heard their father say. There wasn’t a clock in the room, but even then, they knew it had been at least five hours since the doctors gave them the medication that put them to sleep. Desdemona sat up and saw their soul was exposed, it was black and inky, with a little dot of red on the side where a doctor most likely had injected raw determination into their soul to make it normal. 

“Sorry dad, I’ll be better…” The child weakly said.

“Listen Des, I know you hate me, I’m just still upset about what you did to your mother.”

“I didn’t do anything! It’s not my fault!” Desdemona cried. Their dad sighed and picked them up and carried them to the car, putting them into their seat before settling into his own and beginning the drive home. 

“We’re having mac and cheese again, and I want you to behave tomorrow and remember…”

“No showing my soul to anyone.”

“And if someone asks?”

“Say it’s determination and dodge other questions...”

“Good, sorry the tests ran a bit late, your soul is just needlessly complicated.” 

The drive was boring as always, the sky was illuminated with the end of a sunset, but it wasn’t anything. Des fell asleep in their seat, only waking up when the car drove over a bump that jolted the end of it. 

Tomorrow is another day.

~~~

Stepping onto the schoolyard was a chore, it was tedious, unnecessary, the educational systems flawed anyway, and yet it is still done because in our minds we believe that we would not make it anywhere without wasting time here. Desdemona wished they could just stay at home and learn from the internet where they only learn what’s necessary for a future career.

But, no, the elder gods demanded that all children (which is all people under 18) are required to attend hell to understand what awaits them if they step out of line. Unfortunately Desdemona was not one of the “gifted” ones that were made to believe that they were smart when in reality it’s just a facade to let the parents know which kid needs therapy before 16. 

In reality, Desdemona was just standing paralyzed at the school gates, knowing nothing excited them. They were tired, full of hatred, and bored. They looked around, seeing all the happy friends playing chase and other games, no one was alone, this saddened the blonde child at the gate. Until a new face appeared next to them.

“Hi! Who are you?! Names [REDACTED]! What’s yours?!” A boy excitedly spoke. Desdemona stared at the white-haired boy, stunned. Someone wanted to talk to me?

"My name is Des...Desdemona."

"That's a cool name! Say friend, what's your soul trait? Mine's determination!" The boy continued to speak. Desdemona stared at [REDACTED] before answering.

"Determination...at least I think…"

"Well can I see?" Before Des could say no, the teacher came out and called the kids inside for class time. "Hey, we'll talk after class ok? Bye friend!" And the boy left. He was always interesting.

~~~

The school day was done in an instant, and Desdemona found themself walking back home. The clouds greying above, making the air cold and damp.

"Desdemona! You should wait here until your father can get you! It's going to be a downpour!" They heard the teacher cry. They were only a little out of the gate, so it probably was best to listen. They walked back to the roofed area that the teacher was under, along with their new friend [REDACTED]. "I'll call your dads, do you mind waiting here?"

Two shakes of the kids heads and she left.

"Hi Dessie! Can I see your soul now?" Desdemona's new friend asked. They were conflicted, but ultimately, they trusted [REDACTED]. They pressed and hand against their own chest and out popped the pitch black soul. "Wow! I haven't seen a soul like that before!"

"My dad doesn't like me showing my soul…" 

"It's cool though! Don't feel bad!" The comment made Des smile, it was great to have a friend that accepts their oddities. The two talked about all sorts of child nonsense afterwards. About ten minutes had passed when the teacher came back out, her face was one of distress.

"Desdemona, your father will be here shortly, [REDACTED], I'll walk you to where your mother is, ok?" The kids nodded. They waited a few minutes until a car pulled up and out stepped Desdemona’s father carrying an open umbrella.

“C’mon Des, I have to take care of paperwork before eight.”

“Dad! Can my friend come over? Please?” The blonde child asked, running up to their father.

“What?! N-...fine, whatever keeps you happy, but you know the rules. Ma’am, is that ok?” The grown man asked, directing his attention to the teacher.

“Well, I would have to inform [REDACTED]’s mother, but if she agrees, then it’s fine.” The teacher responded. Desdemona smiled and ran back to give [REDACTED] a hug while the teacher pulled out her phone again. 

~~~

The ride home wasn’t dull for once, this time, it was fun! Desdemona and their friend sat and chatted the whole time, talking about the most random of things. When they finally got home, Des bolted upstairs to change into their usual after school clothes as fast as they could so they could get back to their friend. They could talk and play for the rest of their short lives the whole night! It was so much fun, and it was only sunset when Des’s father said that [REDACTED] had to get ready to go home. 

“Des, can I ask you something?” Their father asked, leading them to the kitchen while their friend was packing their bag still. 

“Sure!” They had left the kitchen and went to the empty backyard with only a tree and some bushes. 

“When did you think you could keep it a secret that you showed your friend your soul?” Des choked at the sentence. 

“Father, I’m sorry, he didn’t tell anyone and no one else saw!” The child spoke, tears forming in their dark eyes.

“Well that’s where you’re wrong, as your teacher saw and informed me when she called to ask if I could come to pick you up.”

“Dad! I’m sorry! I’ll be better! I can make it up to you!”

“Too late, Desdemona.”

~~~

When [REDACTED] finished packing his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and looked around, not seeing their friend at all. 

“Hey Dessie?! Where are you?!” He asked to the open room. I should investigate! And off he went, looking around in every room for their friend, he never saw them leave so who knows where they went! Only after going downstairs again and seeing his friend’s father walk into the kitchen from the backdoor with red hands, did [REDACTED] figure out where their friend was. 

Into the back yard he went! Only after sneaking by Des’s father and opening the slightly ajar door, did his smile and his heart sank. There, laying on the ground in front of the willow tree, was Desdemona, unmoving, and in a puddle of a dark red liquid. [REDACTED] rushed over to kneel in front of their now deceased friend. 

“Dessie...please wake up, why won’t you wake up?!” He shouted while tears formed in his eyes. “Dessie! Please! You’re my only friend! Why can’t you wake up?!” He shook his friend’s body and noticed the black soul, shattered in half. The boy grabbed it and held it close. “Please wake up! Please wake up! Please wake up!” 

Then, the feeling of [REDACTED]’s skin being torn off in pieces hit, and he let out a sharp cry of pain. The shards of the black soul soared up and [REDACTED]’s red soul was drawn out. “I need you to wake up!”

Silence…

The screaming had stopped, the black soul was absorbing new determination provided by the red one. [REDACTED] fell onto his side and let his eyelids grow heavy. 

The only other thing he could remember from that day were police sirens, an ambulance, and being paralyzed, forced to stare as his friend was covered in a white blanket, and carted off. 

~~~

That was the last of Desdemona, a child born with a destiny to die at the hands of a cruel father just because they had an imperfect soul.

Not even time remembers the life it took, the only one who could remember the blonde child was the one with their soul. The boy grew up on a quest to bring back their once friend, no matter how much their hate and death corrupted them. 

[volahre]

babe for the weekend - chapter 4

read on ao3 | 1805 words | rated Teen and up audiences for later chapters | Fox Mulder/Dana Scully | Weddings | set in late season 6 | UST | eventual resolved romantic tension

When an old friend from high school invites her to her wedding and she brings Mulder along as her plus one, Scully reflects on her life, her place in the world, how much she has changed and what she really wants.

I originally started this to explore the topic of growing up, aging and feeling like you are missing out within the character of Dana Scully, but it has become so much more than that - but read for yourself!

chapter four

Between the vineyards lay a small cottage with a large meadow which Dorothy and Robert had chosen to be the location for their celebration. The ceremony had gone smoothly, a teenage girl who turned out to be not only Robert’s niece but also a piano virtuoso contributed to the celebratory atmosphere with pieces by Handel and Bach.

“Champagne, juice, or mixed?”, one of the waitresses asked Scully once she had gotten up from her chair and straightened her dress. Smiling, she thanked the waitress and took one of the champagne glasses while waiting for Mulder to follow her. “To the newlyweds?” she asked once they stood facing each other. “And to love”, Mulder answered, looking straight into her eyes with an expression she could not quite read. It was new, something she had only seen appearing on his face recently.

“And how do you know Dorothy and Robert?”, an old familiar voice appeared behind Scully as she was waiting for the buffet. She turned around and saw Marcus speaking to Mulder. Great. She took a deep breath. “He’s with me”, she said and put on a smile, looking at the face of the man she once, though much younger, more inexperienced, and certainly more naïve had called the love of her life.

“Oh, Dana!” Marcus laughed. “It’s good to see you”.

She kept on the smile. “It’s good to see you too.” This really was strange, to say the least. What was she even supposed to say? Gesturing behind Marcus, she cleared her throat. “Have you…come here with anybody?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied, a particular glow appeared on his face. “Wife and two kids, they’re waiting at our table. I can introduce you later if you want”.

She nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find each other again.”

“But tell me about your company, Dana”, Marcus said before looking at Mulder. “Marcus Watson”

Mulder took Marcus’ extended hand. “Fox Mulder. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Fox”, Marcus said. “I see you guys are not married yet?”

“No!”, Scully said, way too abruptly. Trying to conceal it with a laugh, she continued, ignoring the look Mulder gave her. “No, we’re not married.”

“I see”, Marcus smiled. “Where did you guys meet, if I may ask?”

“Oh, we met- “, Mulder started, but Scully interrupted him. “We work together at the FBI”.

“The FBI?”, Marcus appeared a little startled. “Last time I checked, I heard you went off to med school.”

Scully let out a small sigh. “I did, but I ended up in forensic science. But he,” she gestured at Mulder, “has a degree in psychology. Didn’t you do that too, Marcus? How’s it going with that?”

“Well, it’s going amazing, if you ask me! Got myself a practice set up and together with a few colleagues we’re focusing on dysfunctional families. But you, FBI, huh?”, Marcus looked at Mulder, who shrugged with one hand in his pocket.

“Well, I just hope I can help people find closure. And some minds are hard to get into, frankly. And sometimes it’s not even the minds as much as something greater than what could be limited to just one person.”

Scully looked at Mulder, surprised he had not brought up the specifics of what they did. “Mulder and I, we work together on a division called the X-Files.”, she said. “Cases that have been deemed unsolvable.”

“And you solve them?”, Marcus asked.

“Well, I’d like to think so”, Scully said, looking at the floor.

“Often times it’s about perspective,” Mulder said. “Some might appear unsolvable if you look at them from a traditional standpoint, but I like to think that if you go a little outside the box and look at them with an open mind you might actually find out the truth.”

“Ah, I get you, buddy”, Marcus said. “I have to deal with some real monsters as well, if you know what I mean!”, he laughed.

Scully frowned as Mulder laughed, though appearing highly uncomfortable. “Well, I suppose that’s different…”

“Come on, Mulder.”, she said, pulling him by his arm. “Buffet’s ready.”

They were seated across from each other at the end of a table full of people she didn’t know, which didn’t bother her much as she hoped it would spare her of more awkward conversations.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he would be like this”, Scully said later as they were eating their dessert.

“Hey it’s fine, Scully”, he said, grinning. “Sometimes your adolescent crushes grow up to become real monsters”.

She chuckled at his attempt to imitate Marcus. “Shut up, Mulder.”

“No”, he said, causing her to throw a confusing grin at him.

“You’ve got pudding on your face, wait”, he grabbed his napkin, and before she could say anything, he leaned over the table and carefully cleaned up the edge of her mouth. Remembering that she had to breathe, she took in a sharp inhale and felt a blush appearing on her face again. In the spot where his fingers had almost touched her, so close to her mouth, she felt a slight tingle.

“Thank you”, she said, hoping he would not question her blushing after him touching her. He had been invading her personal space for years and she had gotten away with barely blushing at most. So why was this happening now?

“I need to get some air”, she said quietly after finishing her dessert and got up, grabbing her purse.

“You okay?”, Mulder had gotten up almost as fast, his eyes filled with concern as they found hers.

“Yeah, I just need to get away from all the people for a bit”, she said, quickly looking away.

Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she walked down the little street that had led them to the location. After about two minutes, she found a bench with a view overlooking the hills. If she stayed for a few hours, she might be able to watch the sun go down from here, judging by the way it stood now.

Taking a deep breath, she took off her shoes and relaxed her back against the wood. The whole idea seemed like a mistake. Coming here after years of barely keeping in contact and therefore not knowing how to talk to anybody, bringing Mulder and putting him in an even more awkward situation than hers, it was like she had wanted to please people but had ended up just being selfish. Selfish, Dana. Her entire life, her entire career she had tried not to be selfish, always acted in the favour of others. But now her feelings, her fear had gotten in the way. Selfish.

She worried about Mulder. What was she even going to tell him? Sorry I’m behaving so weirdly; I just saw a guy I had a crush on almost 20 years ago and it made me realize that – but what had it made her realize? She had not come to any conclusion as to why the situation had felt so incredibly awkward, not just because of Marcus, but because of the combination of Marcus and Mulder. Apart from….no, definitely not. And this was certainly the worst place to consider the matters of her own heart. This was a celebration of love, but not hers.

Love. She recalled that moment in the hospital a few months earlier, when they were working in interior terrorism and Mulder had gone on a reckless spree diving right into the Atlantic Ocean, ending up drugged and exhausted. He had told her he loved her then, and she had brushed it off as a side effect of the drugs. But later, on her way home, she had recalled the moment with a particular sting in her stomach.

“Here you are”.

She looked up and saw the man in question standing there, his eyes – what colour were they now? – glistening in the light of the warm Californian sun.

“Oh hey”, she said quietly.

“The seat next to you taken?”, he said in his usual sarcastic tone but she couldn’t help noticing that there was also an obvious softness to his voice.

She chuckled. “Sit down if you want to,” she said, taking her purse so he had the space to sit.

“You wanna talk?”, he asked once he had sat down, putting his arm across the backrest behind her.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It’s just all so much…so much more than I expected. All the old feelings that never really went anywhere, so much left unresolved, washed out by years of growing apart.”

He nodded, that unreadable expression on his face again. “I’m sorry if this is too personal, but do you still like him?”

“No!”, she said just as quickly as she had earlier, almost as if she was speaking out of reflex. She despised herself. “No”, she said again, with a slight smile. “I think we really have grown into two completely different people with completely different lives. Plus, he seems happily married and has kids”, she sighed, realizing that this was another aspect in which she could never be quite like those people.

“Hey, shhh, it’s alright,” Mulder said, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder in small motions. As if her brain didn’t already feel like it had melted all sense of rational thought away, the electric signals he was sending through her body with his touch was doing the rest. Slowly, she leaned into his embrace and looked up at him. “I’m so sorry, Mulder.”

“For what?”, he said quietly. His arm had followed her and was now gently stroking her upper arm.

“For making you go through this crap”, she laughed. “You don’t know anybody, which arguably puts you in an even more awkward situation than me, and now I’m running away, and it just feels like I am making this whole thing about myself.”

“Now I’m gonna have to stop you right there, Scully,” he said, “you are not making this about yourself. In fact, I don’t think that many people even noticed you leaving. And even if they did, they probably think you just got a phone call or something. And hey,” he continued after a little pause, “I really don’t mind being here with you. Trust me. I’d rather do this with you than have you go through this on your own.”

“Mulder” she said and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I hope I can take this as a compliment?”, he said, and she could feel him smile against her hair.

“Anyways, what I wanted to say…” he continued, “Weddings don’t have to be perfect, Scully, and it’s okay if you need some air sometimes. But as I was leaving, they were setting up the dancefloor, so I thought I’d let you know.”

She sat up and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

[flashfuture]

Follow up questions because I’m a Nerd and I love learning: is there any evidence to suggest frequent inclusion of women in Scandinavian warfare? Or is finding something like women’s armor rare? Was there a standard definition of any queer terminology in any ancient civilization? Did any Norse culture ever find its way to the Middle East???

I feel a bit like an over eager student writing this but uh...I’m very curious. 👀👀

When talking about women in Scandinavia you run into people describing how it appeared these women would take on the role of men in the absence of men. But I think there is an issue in that we’re assuming the role of women in these societies would match the role of an Ancient Greek woman (which is a whole other thing but I digress)

They’ve found that some of the founding fathers of Iceland were women, thirteen of them to be exact. women could inherit land and money from their parents. Women could be involved in legal matters and hold official positions. 

There is lots of evidence that women were very frequently going raiding. They have been debating recently I believe if the term dregnr a young warrior really was only applied to men. Young women were described in the same vulgar terms as dominators and something we discuss in ancient Rome was the ideal of male “hardness” basically just being the top dog in the room. Women were the same in Ancient cultures if not expected to hold themselves differently but Skalds (the poets) describe the women just like the men. 

Another thing quite recently (1993 so really recent in terms of historical archives) is the idea of the surrogate son. Basically, if a man died with no son to inherit a surrogate son would be chosen over a daughter. It has recently been noted that they very well could have been describing the daughter as a surrogate son. Someone to take up that male role of head of the household. This suggests in the sagas we have noted women but there is also a possibility for women to be described with male traditional words because of the role they were playing. 

And we have found tons of armor that looks ceremonially and some battle worn for women yep. All women could fight though it was excepted they could defend themselves and their home front. Against potential attackers and wild animals. 

Plus in the 13th century, the Christians introduced the Law of Gulathing which were sets of rules for people to follow. Women were then banned from cutting their hair like men, dressing like men, or in general behaving like men. This suggests It was common enough for them to throw it in the laws that banned traditional things that Scandinavians did that did not fit the Christian narrative or way of life. 

-- This is gonna go under the cut for the rest cause wow I got long lol. 

Okay queer terminology. You’ll see lesbian which was women who fucks women. and you’ll see penetrator a lot. These were slave cultures also so the idea of sleeping with another citizen was defiling them you shouldn’t do it.

In Ancient Athens, you saw men preferred the company of men over women because they didn’t think women were of value they were only good for producing heirs. There was a thing called pederasty where a wealthy man in his 20s, the erastes, would court a young wealthy man from the ages of 13-19, the eromenos, and teach him and keep him as a lover. Their debate over Achillies and Patroclus for example wasn’t if they were sleeping together but who was fucking who really. Because Patroclus was older but Achillies was the hero so was he being emasculated or were they breaking the age rule? That was their debate cause these things mattered to them 

They were kinda the exception to the citizenship rule. The Spartans felt the pederastry was weird because it involved citizens but they were all in with the homo. Obviously, this was all very public and you’d be scorned if they thought you were being penetrated.  

All in all, being penetrated was something women and slaves did and the last thing you wanted to be was a woman.  

Another thing to consider was these cultures had a lot of problems with excess. So too much sex or food and in Rome you were a uh Cnidus? Idk I can only spell it in Greek which is staggeringly unhelpful but basically, you can’t control your urges. Based off that time someone tried to fuck a statue I think or something like that

The Norse had a similar word ergi which meant you had too much heterosexual sex actually, you were too promiscuous. In the 12th century we know in Iceland homosexual acts like sodomy were banned under Christian canon (Thanks Richard I of England) so there is that. Pre-Christian influence there seemed to be no stigma around this minus don’t force yourself on your friends that’s rude but slaves were fair game. (I wrote a paper on the weird stereotypes of Vikings being the sexual aggressors when the literature of the time suggests the Lotharingians were way way more likely to commit those acts. At least according to French who were besieged constantly by everyone all the time.)

níð was an insult for the ancient norse which basically you had displayed unmanliness. Or you liked to take it up the ass to be plain about it. (Ancient people were vulgar as shit the Romans were obsessed with sexual threats to the point where its just in common day-to-day speech.) Ragr was a term that meant you were unmanly which is much more severe and you could like legally kill someone for saying that up till the 13th century. 

There is actually some debate that the concept of unmanly comes from making fun of the Germans. So like if you were Ancient Germanic or Ancient Brittania you were the savages of the day. Which is interesting when you consider the rhetoric those two countries put out. Like literally no one like the Germans or the Brits they thought they were filthy uncivilized and cowardly people. 

Also fun from the 7th to 10th century in Norse culture there were these figurines called gold foil couples. In it a couple would be portrayed which was a way of proclaiming themselves married before the gods. It was a very religious practice for them. There are figurines depicting people of the same sex in the gold foil figurines. 

Basically, we can thank Christianity for why we think the Vikings didn’t do homosexuality or homosexual acts. Because well they didn’t want them to starting in the 12th century again thanks Richard for having the worst break up with your boyfriend in the history of break ups. 

And onto gender which if you know Loki from Marvel him being genderfluid is based entirely on mythology and is common in Norse writings. Okay so essentially we think of seiðr or magic as something women do. And they did too. But men did practice it. This was seen as a third gender in Norse culture, the seiðmaðr a man who practices magic. Hence Loki moving between the three as he’s a known magic-user. There was also this concept of gender mixing, biological men buried in traditionally female clothing. But there is no way for us to know if that is this third gender or potentially they were more excepting of what we would call transgender. 

Because most of the writings we have come from the 13th century where Christianity really took over and just started making shit up. Like we have evidence they were trying to cover up things about Norse culture they didn’t like. So men who practiced seiðr were actually ergi and not a different gender, just an unmanly male. 

So yeah lol these were acts they did so verbs can be found really easily. But we have mostly Icelandic stuff cause Christians they did fucked up shit 

--

And the Vikings in the Middle East. They went all over. We have this assumption they were raiding whenever they went. Actually, the thing is they only raided northern Europe because they rightfully assumed those guys couldn’t fight back. 

But they had trading agreements easily with the Greeks, Persians, and Abbassids mostly. There is a woman from Sweden who was buried with a ring that was inscribed with “For/To Allah”

The Arabs had the term Rusiyyah to describe the Vikings because they came so often. They noted that the Rusiyyah were not good at practicing hygiene but also describe their bodies as being “in perfect form” They liked a good ripped viking and I can appreciate that. They were like “they’re filthy but damn are those rusiyyah built” 

Baghdad had the first real market place and they had paper from China so they were printing stuff into books which the Vikings found very interesting. There was so much international trade but the British and Germans who we mostly hear from now were so technologically unadvanced there was no way they could have participated with these other older cultures. 

There is money found sometimes that was certainly viking in nature. They didn’t really have money like the Arabs at the time preferring to trade in goods. So they offered furs and silks along with weapons and slaves. 

And it is possible that there was culture exchange as all cultures were being exchanged back then. We know some vikings converted to Islam as Arab writers commented that they missed pork dearly but were committed to the Path of Islam. 

The Slavs or Rus (Russians) of the time were also annoyed with these viking raiders because their shit would get stolen and then sold to Arabia where they’d have to buy it back usually. 

So yeah lots of trading going on. And many Vikings like I mentioned worked as bodyguards or mercenaries. We don’t know much of what the Vikings thought except that the writers in Arab noted they were very polite to their hosts if not aggressive with each other in a playful manner. 

Lol you really let my nerd pop off here. I’d have to do more research into the Norse effect on the Middle East though cause I only know about the other way around off the top of my head here. 

[this-is-quite-homoerotic]

Another Janto AU idea I’ll probably never write

Okay, this one’s a bit weird. TRUST ME THOUGH, I WON’T LET YOU DOWN!

(Warning: there is no underage, I swear. In case it looks like that’s where I’m heading, I promise I’m not.)

I’ve been thinking about the Jack&Owen father/son dynamic and the Owen&Ianto brothers dynamic and.

No-aliens Modern day AU where a young Jack marries Owen’s mum after a short and tumultuous love affair when Owen’s a kid. The marriage doesn’t last, Jack starts growing out of love with her when he sees how she treats little Owen, who at this point would be 7 or so, and soon other flaws he’d been too enamoured to notice start becoming more and bigger issues until the couple breaks up.

Jack is in his early 20s, and if you’d ask him before he married he’d have told you he wasn’t anywhere near ready to be a father. That doesn’t stop him from imprinting on Owen within minutes of meeting him, however, and with the way Owen’s mother treats him, he actually ends up taking him in the divorce, after many rows and a few teary discussions, because he loves the kid, and he can see that she was not actually in the position to raise anyone, for a variety of reasons that I won’t elaborate on here. She does visit him, Jack is always happy to facilitate her visits with Owen, but not terribly often.

It takes a few years, but Jack eventually adopts him legally, with his mother’s blessings. He talks to Owen every step of the way, always listens to what he has to say, always respecting (within reason) what he wants. Through mutual agreement, they never change Owen’s last name.

Jack isn’t the best father ever, by any stretch. It’s a learning curve, and there’s a few big stumbles. But he loves that kid so much, and for the first time in his life Owen has an adult and parental figure who listens attentively to what he has to say, who always asks for his opinion before making any choices that affect him, who would kill and die for him, who loves him, unconditionally, and it makes a difference.

So Owen grows up with love and support, and once he hits puberty he’s only a tiny bit nervous to tell his father he’s bi since Jack has been dating people of all genders on and off since he divorced his mother. Owen was consistently suspicious of all of them, and privately thought none of them was good enough for his father, but he never said it. He did want Jack to be happy, after all. None of them last too long, and in the end it’s always just the two of them. Jack seems happy enough with it, so Owen doesn’t worry.

Anyway, his coming out goes great; Jack is so proud he cries a little and he insists on hugging him even longer than usual. (Jack is a hugger, Owen has resigned himself to it.) Owen huffs and doles out the eye-rolls and the ‘it’s-not-a-big-deal’s and ‘oh my god, dad, you’re so embarrassing’ but he’s secretly very pleased. Jack takes him to pride for the first time that very year, and it becomes a yearly tradition.

Owen befriends Ianto Jones by proxy at first: Ianto was in his group of friends and they ended up hanging out together a lot, first in a group and later more one-on-one. He’s alright, even if he is two whole years younger than him and a bit of a nerd. There is one (1) instance when Owen almost got mad at him, when Ianto asked if he’d been adopted (after another mate of his mentioned something about it). But after he’d replied defensively, he realised Ianto wasn’t trying to be mean about it. At all. 

“That must be great, though. You know for sure that your dad wanted you, was willing to fight to keep you.” That’s how Owen found out about Ianto’s not so great home situation.

So they became mates, and soon Owen starts inviting Ianto over.

Now, the problem with being raised by a young, stunningly attractive single parent, of course, is that all his friends are more likely to have a crush on his father than they are to like him that way. Not that Owen fancies Ianto or anything. But it’s weird, Jack is old.

Ianto, like most of Owen’s female friends and some of his guy friends, develops a crush on his father. Fucking hell. The little shit keeps sneaking furtive little glances Jack’s way, and whenever Jack actually addresses him, he smiles beatifically and pretends he’s not the acerbic juvenile delinquent he really is (as if Owen would hang out with him if he was that boring). He perks up whenever Jack is around; smiles all the time. It’s bizarre.

Jack doesn’t notice. Once the initial weirdness wears off, Owen thinks it’s hilarious that his father can’t see through Ianto’s polite, helpful little boy facade. So he doesn’t say anything. He just enjoys the show. It goes like this: Ianto comes over, they hang out for a while. Jack gets home from work, Ianto gets starry eyed and promptly becomes this alien perfectly-behaved A-student right in front of Owen’s very amused eyes. Ianto’s crush goes right over Jack’s head the entire time. Owen gets to laugh at Ianto being flustered and/or pretending to have perfect manners, and Ianto gets whatever dopamine rush he gets from staring at Jack. Win-win.

They keep in touch when Owen goes to uni and later when Ianto goes to a different one, but they don’t see each other very often and eventually grow distant. Yadda yadda, life happens and eventually they re-connect.

Ianto introduces Owen to a friend of his, Katie, obnoxiously telling her that while he isn’t as hot as his father, he’ll do. (Katie fully believes he’s joking until Owen brings her home to meet Jack. She still thinks Owen is hotter, but she can see what Ianto meant, certainly. “That’s love for you,” Ianto laments. “It blinds you.” Owen pretends to be offended.)

The thing is, Owen falls head-over-heels with Katie. He’s absolutely gone on her, and after discussing it a little to make sure she’s on the same page as him, he pops the question. Ianto is, of course, invited to the wedding.

So that’s how we get to 25-year-old Ianto seeing early-to-mid 40s Jack again for the first time in almost a decade. For the first time ever, Jack sees him right back.

Understandably, Jack feels a little guilty about noticing how nicely his son’s younger friend looks in a suit, but there’s no harm in looking, right? The ceremony is lovely, Jack cries (and so does Owen, though he glares when anyone mentions it), after which they swiftly move on to the party.

Deep into the night, late enough that the bride and groom have retired to start their honeymoon, Jack is having one more drink as he watches the mostly drunk guests dance and toast to the happy couple. He’s feeling old and maudlin and so happy for his son that his chest could burst, when Ianto makes his move.

Talking leads to snogging leads Ianto pushing Jack up against an out-of the-way wall and whispering all the dirty things he’d like to do to him in that sinful Welsh accent leads to them falling in bed together at Jack’s hotel room and staying there for the next several hours (not all of them spent awake).

Jack, having had no clue that Ianto had harbored an intense teenage crush on him and had been dreaming about this for literal years, figured it was just a one-night-thing brought about by loneliness or boredom.

The morning after, however, Ianto formally asks him out.

Jack protests (only a little, and with no real force behind it) that he’s almost twice Ianto’s age, surely he can’t mean to actually date him. Ianto assures him that he does.

They go out to have a very late brunch. It’s their first official date, and Jack has more fun than he’s had in years. Ianto, who’d only thought of Jack infrequently if still fondly during the years he hadn’t seen him, is positively giddy. Turns out seeing Jack again was all it took for the attraction to come roaring back. But now he can really get to know Jack as an adult, beyond the fantasies he made up as a hormonal teen. The real man holds up surprisingly well against the fantasy. 

Ianto confesses his teenage crush, confesses that he wondered what Jack might look like after all these years when he realised he’d be seeing him again at the wedding, but he never in a million years had expected Jack to somehow look even more delectable than he had back then. (Jack doesn’t blush, but he wants to. They end up right back in his hotel bed once they’re done with brunch.)

Truth is, Jack hadn’t expected it to last, not really. He’d hoped to have some fun with a gorgeous young man before said man got bored and moved on without him. He didn’t expect to fall in love. He certainly didn’t expect, wouldn’t have believed that sleepy morning when he’d woken up in the arms of a warm, sleep-soft Welshman who asked to take him out on a proper date, that a man young enough to be his son and handsome enough to have his choice of partner would be falling in love with him.

Owen choked on his own laughter when Jack told him Ianto had taken him out on that first date. “I cannot believe it. He did it. He actually did it. The absolute mad lad. It only took him a decade, but he did it. That crazy motherfucker. Fatherfucker. Oh my god, fatherfucker.” Then he started cackling again. Jack was too relieved he wasn’t upset about it to be offended. Despite Ianto’s reassurances that there had never been anything other than strictly platonic friendship between him and Owen, Jack still had the tiniest of worries that Owen might have harbored a crush on Ianto back in his teens. He’d invited Ianto more often than any of his other friends, and the atmosphere had always been different with him, though Jack had never managed to put his finger on how, back then.

Owen laughed even harder when Jack carefully broached the subject. “Are you kidding me? He was too busy ogling you to ever notice me, thank Christ. Would have been awkward if he did, I always saw him more as a little brother, really.” Well, didn’t that make Jack feel supremely awkward. His son saw his latest lover as a little brother. Weird, even by Jack’s standards. At least Ianto’s teenage crush confession was true. Still a bit weird, but flattering, now that that kid had grown into a gorgeous young man who still found Jack 'disarmingly attractive’ (his words).

“Of course you have my blessings,” Owen griped good-naturedly when Ianto called to ask. In retrospect, calling him during his honeymoon with the woman he loved who he’d only met because Ianto had introduced them had been a good tactical decision. He was feeling charitable towards him, and he was too high on love and sex to begrudge Ianto this.

“Thank you. You can call me ‘Tad’ if you want,” Ianto countered, because he was still a little shit with a sarcastic streak a mile wide and a penchant for annoying Owen even when he was technically begging for his blessing to date Owen’s father.

“Fuck off,” Owen told him, but there was no bite to it, he sounded amused if anything, and Ianto knew then that Owen had meant it.

“Of course. I won’t rush you. I can wait until it feels organic, son.”

Owen hung up on him. Less than a minute later, Ianto got a text message that said. ‘If you break his heart, I’ll kick your arse xoxo’. He sent back a string of heart emojis.

A year and a half later, Ianto called Owen to tell him he was planning to propose. Owen demanded to be his best man.

The year Owen turned thirty-one, Jack and Ianto adopted two siblings (a little boy and a baby girl). They named Owen their godfather (yes, both of them).

That day, as Owen was asked to sign the papers that would legally make him the children’s guardian in case anything happened to their fathers, he remembered the day he met Jack, when his mother had brought him over for the first time. He remembered, a bit blurry due to time, the talks Jack and his mother had had with him when they were in the process of splitting up, how Jack had fought to convince them both that he should be the one to raise Owen. He recalled, like a much-beloved photograph he took out to stare at when he needed it, the well-worn memory of walking into their new house for the first time, and realising that it was real, that Jack really did mean to adopt him, that he’d really be living with him from then on; that Jack really wanted him. He remembered all the times Jack had told him that family wasn’t blood, family was love, and trust, and commitment. And he remembered, with perfect, stunning clarity, a 15-year-old Ianto telling him he’d like to adopt when he was older, even if he ended up with someone who could get pregnant.

He also remembered a 15-year-old Ianto making heart eyes at his father in their living-room while Owen struggled not to laugh at him, and really, one had to respect a man who stuck to his convictions. Ianto certainly knew what he wanted and put in the work to get it.

At least he was pretty sure he could trust Ianto with Jack’s heart.

(Epilogue:

Because Ianto has a terrible sense of humour, he spends an entire summer calling Owen ‘son’ and ‘kid’ and ‘sport’. Owen makes a face the first couple of times, but he’s brought around pretty quickly between 1) the way Katie laughs whenever Ianto does this, and 2) the bewildered looks it gets them whenever someone hears it, because not only is Ianto younger than Owen, he also looks it. It makes for interesting situations.

So rather than be annoyed, Owen starts to enjoy it. He decides to lean into it, starts calling Ianto ‘tad’ and ‘dad’ and ‘father’, and one memorable time ‘the man who literally birthed me’. Katie chokes on her drink and laughs so hard her abdomen hurts for the next day. Jack actually falls off his chair laughing. Ianto looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, the little shit.

And they were a loving family who were disgustingly happy for the rest of their lives and never had tragedy befall them, not even once, the end.)