#i said it's probably because he kept ranting about things that are scientifically Wrong

[enjoy-purple-skies]

Coining a new term applicable only to Cecil "trees don't grow on seeds" "peanut butter is a type of rock" Palmer: misinfodumping

this is factually correct and i will not be taking suggestions

[agaypanic]

I don't know why there isn't, but I need more Bimbo Reader who love to give hugs. Well, at this point it's about Malcolm having a bad time? things just don't work out for him? ( I'm sorry, I'm not good at ideas ) so he goes around complaining a lot more than usual and well it's almost all the time, then Reader has no idea because she's busy with gymnast competition so she has no time for almost anyone, at some point Malcolm ends up exploding over everything or reaches his limit ( He suffered an ulcer FOR keeping his complaints to himself, HOW BAD MUST HE BE TO GET TO THAT LEVEL?????? ) so Reader when she finds out everything ends up giving him cuddles and hugs trying to help him look for the good things in the situation ( One of us must be the sunshine of the relationship )

Just FLUFF, PURE FLUFF UNTIL I GET DIABETES. By the way, sorry for putting so many brackets, I'm an imbecile and I can't explain shit

Sunny Days (Malcolm Wilkerson X Reader)

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Summary: Busy with competitions, you have no clue about Malcolm’s current sour moods and bad days. But when you hear about your boyfriend reaching his limit, you know just how to help him feel better.

A/N: i know nothing about gymnastics so any mentions of it in this is pretty vague

***

Malcolm was having the absolute worst week of his life.

In reality, it was probably just a bit below average. But Malcolm was known to be dramatic and to have a sucky life. He thought that if there was a God out there, he was totally out to get him.

It was just one crappy thing after another. Getting put on the graveyard shift with his mom and Craig, being roped into signing up for loads of extracurriculars to impress colleges, getting stuck with taking care of his baby brother when it was one of his brothers’ turns. Pile minor inconveniences on top of that, and Malcolm was starting to become a ticking time bomb.

“Damn it!” Malcolm shouted, throwing his pencil somewhere behind him before slamming his fists on his desk. Dewey turned the page of his comic, not even looking behind him to see his distressed brother.

“What now?”

“The stupid lead on my damn pencil broke!” In frustration, Malcolm crumbled up the piece of paper he had been working on.

“We have pencil sharpeners, Malcolm,” Dewey replied calmly. “Why are you so moody all the time? Well, more moody than usual.”

“Everything! Everything sucks! The only time I have to sleep is right now because I have to work at night, and I can’t sleep because I’m behind on three different assignments. But I can’t complain about it-”

“Too late.”

“-because no one will listen, and no one can do anything about it! Never grow up, Dewey; your life will just suck more.”

“Why don’t you tell Y/n? Isn’t that what girlfriends do, listen to their boyfriends complain about every little thing that goes wrong in their life?” Malcolm sighed, rifling through a desk drawer for another pencil.

“Y/n is at a gymnastics competition; it’s like a whole week. Whenever I’m free, she’s doing stuff. Whenever she’s free, I’m doing stuff.”

“Wow,” Dewey said, getting up from his bed and leaving for the kitchen. “Your life really does suck.”

***

As the days passed, Malcolm became more and more sensitive to every little thing that would go wrong. He’s had to hold his tongue in class and at work, especially in front of his mom. But one day, it all boiled up to the top, and he exploded.

Malcolm was eating lunch with his friends, trying to tune them all out. It wasn’t anything personal; he just didn’t have the energy to listen to some scientific rant when he was trying to focus on not falling asleep right on the table. His friends kept getting louder, clearly very invested in whatever debate they were having.

“Malcolm?” Cynthia tried getting the boy’s attention. “What do you have to say about this?” Malcolm ignored her, which was strange to everyone because he always seemed to have an opinion on everything.

It felt like everyone was suddenly badgering him, wanting to hear his thoughts when all he wanted to do was not think about anything anymore. Stevie pushed Malcolm’s shoulder, just trying to get his attention, and Malcolm lost it.

Malcolm just started shouting, immediately making his friends flinch back. There were obscenities and insults and just pure anger. The group was positive that this all had less to do with them and more to do with something else that was going on in Malcolm’s life. But they couldn’t ask about it. One, because they were a bit scared to do so. Two, because Malcolm grabbed his backpack and stormed off.

Malcolm was lucky that his mom wasn’t home when he got there, because he didn’t know how he’d explain why he was home three hours early. Plus, he had only cooled off a tiny bit while he walked home, so there was a chance he and Lois would have a conversation that was similar to a nuclear bomb. Malcolm figured a nap could do him some good, but he just couldn’t seem to fall asleep when he lay down. Instead, his mind raced a million miles an hour, riddled with guilt and exhaustion.

He lay in bed for what seemed like forever when he faintly heard the front door open. It was either Lois coming home from wherever she was or his brothers coming home from school. Either way, he didn’t find it in himself to care, so he rolled over to face away from his door.

A hand landed on Malcolm’s shoulder, but before he could say anything or slap it off, he heard a voice he had been missing all week.

“Hey, Malcolm.” You greeted softly, climbing onto the bed to be closer to him. “Feeling better?” Malcolm turned over to lay on his back, looking up at you as you hovered over him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Competition’s finished, silly.” You grinned, and Malcolm realized that from all his irritation, he had forgotten that today was the day you were coming back from your big meet. He felt horrible for forgetting the day he had been looking forward to, but the guilt washed away as you started playing with his hair, giving him that sweet smile you always do. “And Cynthia texted me about your little… thing.”

Malcolm groaned at the mention, squeezing his eyes in embarrassment.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked softly, repositioning yourself to mold yourself into Malcolm’s side, hand still running through his hair.

“Everything just sucks,” Malcolm muttered, leaning into your touch.

“Oh, things can’t be that bad, honey.” Your boyfriend gave you an unimpressed look that made you giggle. You could see him trying to hide a smile from it.

“I’ve been working the graveyard shift for like two straight weeks.”

“At least you don’t have to work right after school.” That was true. Despite his memory, Malcolm would probably have forgotten about his homework if he had left it until late at night.

“Mom and my friends made me sign up for like a dozen different extracurriculars because-”

“-It’ll impress colleges.” It sounded so much better coming from you, even though he had heard that same thing repeatedly. “Anything else?”

Malcolm tried to think of something else, but every little problem seemed to have melted away.

“You weren’t here.” You grinned at the response.

“But now I am.” You leaned over to give Malcolm a kiss before speaking again. “You gotta remember to take it one day at a time, Malcolm. Even if you have a cloudy day, there’s still a sun waiting for you.”

“That was so cheesy.” Malcolm couldn’t help but laugh, but you knew it wasn’t in a mean way. “But thanks, Y/n.”

“No problem.” You kissed Malcolm again. “Wanna take a nap?”

“Please!” Malcolm bundled you in his arms and buried his head in the crook of your neck, quickly starting to doze off.

[cyndrastic]

aight update on the future au:

polls not over yet but it’s leaning heavily at McCormick, so i’ll give you my pcov designs and some headcanons for the McCormick parents rn cause out of all the adults they’re my favs 💕💖

i love them so much you don’t understand (also surprise surprise Kenny married Butters [changed his name to Vic], no one could have ever guessed that considering one of my first art posts on this account was a bunny comic 🙄)

anyway they both have mullets cause i just really like mullets, and Vic shaved the side of her head cause that’s my headcanon of what butter’s hair is in the show (cause his little tomato puff makes no sense) and i feel like he would have kept those.

more details and explanations for some things under the cut (aka im ranting about my fav characters and how they work as a couple with little bits of au lore sprinkled in)

Vic-

you may notice i’m jumping back and forth between he and she for Vic, and that’s cause he uses she/he. Don’t get me wrong, I love Butters and Marjorine, but i’ve seen the argument between them so many times. “Butters is a Cis guy!” “Marj is a trans girl!” fuck it Vic is a gnc icon and picks whatever gender he wants depending on whatever the fuck he wants and he’s hot both masc and fem. and i mean very hot. Butters in the show gets a couple descriptive things, namely in the “It’s Butters!” song hes said to have dimples, and more importantly when his father thinks he’s wearing his mom’s makeup when he’s not. that means this kids got perfectly flushed cheeks, nice eyelashes and eyebrows, and unblemished porcelain skin even at 8 years old. that paired with his blonde hair and presumably blue eyes (i’ve never met a blondie without blue eyes), emphasized cheek bones we see in the pcov special (implying he’s got a more slender face and likely more slender and long figure in general, which is the what literal modeling agents tend to look for btw [i would know my grandma and mom were models because they were both pretty with thin frames and lanky limbs]), and the scar over his left eye makes him insanely attractive.

the scar especially gives him something to stand out with; make people remember him (sometimes he even takes out his glass eye just so people get a good look at his empty socket and that image can be seared into their brains). being androgynous also helps make everyone, whether they’re attracted to men or women, find him hot. no one even knows if Vic is short for Victor or Victoria, and that’s the point. also due to how he grew up in this au (spoiler alert, Vic’s life was awful for a lot of years between beginning of high school and when he reconnected with Kenny as an adult [that’s an understatement Vic is by far the most traumatized character in this au]), he doesn’t feel particularly comfortable with being on one perfect end of the gender spectrum; girl or boy. So no matter how he’s presenting, he’s always going to look somewhat androgynous.

Kenny-

Kenny is kinda the same, i just wanted him to look more cool and unhinged. I got rid of the full beard cause i can’t draw it and also hated it, but i added snake bites cause they’re cool. I also got rid of the beer on his shirt cause I feel like after being raised by two alcoholic assholes he wouldn’t drink much as an adult. oh yeah and he’s a he/they now cause you can’t tell me princess kenny didn’t awaken something in him. i feel like he would go to a fancy award ceremony for some massive science breakthrough in a gown. he’s the typa guy to accept some prestigious award for his scientific findings in a slutty silk dress. Basically everything I changed in Kenny’s design was to make him look more like the wacky uncle who gives children weapons (spoilers he is). i kept how the pcov specials made his stockier cause honestly i just like him a little bit bigger. I feel like that’s a treat to himself. he spent so long in a home where he’d probably have to starve some night cause they couldn’t afford to eat, so when he becomes an extremely successful adult, he can give himself the luxury of eating three meals a day or eating junk food that was too expensive for him. he can finally afford to be a little bit heavier; it’s just proof that he’s made it this far from where he came. He’s also more of a mad scientist in this au a la Dr. Mephesto, but far more ethical in what/how he runs experiments.

both-

Their dynamic and characterization in this au is by far the most fleshed out because of how much I like these two characters, and it’s genuinely my favorite couple in the au. I might make a whole separate post on how they operate as parents because they’re both so horrifically worried that they may accidentally follow in their own parents footsteps. Yknow, generational trauma and whatnot. They’re also both insanely unhinged. Both of them are just balls of the walls crazy, which stems from both of them being traumatized (i mentioned Vic is the most traumatized in this au, Kenny is the second most cause of dying thousands of times over his whole life).

Kenny has lost all grasp of physical or mortal fear cause by this time in his life he’s died so much he’s lost any sense of connection to injury, even to other people. It’s difficult for him to register that other people are mortal because it’s such a foreign concept to him, and that can lead to some issues in the lab given that it’s such a dangerous place to work. Meanwhile, Vic has the people she cares about, and has a hard time grasping that people she doesn’t care about aren’t just stepping stones. She was used her whole life, then used and hurt people as an adult (yes she was an NFT bro, no she’s not anymore), but now she has a hard time not snapping back into the NFT thing and scheming every cent out of whoever gave her a dirty look at Walmart. Kenny and Vic can and generally do help each other out with these things, but they can also be each others worst instigators (“oh yeah you should absolutely do that consequences be damned” “no he had it coming to him don’t worry” “yeah fuck him up! beat his ass!” typa shit. they support each other non-conditionally but sometimes that leads to them getting arrested).

[kikizoshi]

Why Fyodor Believes Himself Justified in Killing Children: A 'Crime and Punishment' Correlation

This is just something I noticed rereading Crime and Punishment, and because I've always thought of Fyodor's reason for, essentially, killing that little girl in front of Kunikida, well, it was obviously to create a mental problem for him, but I kept asking myself, "how could he justify killing a little girl for that, even if it was important to his plan, when she was innocent?" I came to the conclusion almost immediately, mostly because of his expression in the manga panels below and what he'd said thus far, that he didn't feel good killing her, but it was Right in his mind, because her life would have been a miserable, sinful one, and to die even before she turned seven (for why that age specifically, see: Ivan Karamazov's children rant, "Children while they are quite little—up to seven, for instance—are so remote from grown‐up people; they are different creatures, as it were, of a different species."), before the age where sin can truly manifest, he would therefore be saving her from a worse fate. So while he isn't happy about killing a child, and takes no pleasure in it, he nevertheless sees it as for the best (both because her soul is now free of this wretched world, and Kunikida's mind is damaged like he needs).

This quote below reminded me of my conclusion, and I think makes a pretty good example of that kind of thinking.

Raskolnikov, the main character of Crime and Punishment, had just, probably, saved a young girl (probably around fourteen to sixteen? but they're not sure) from being "taken advantage of" while she was either drunk or drugged, I'm not sure (she had already been raped before that, it's clear, but he saved her from it happening again on the street). She wasn't in her right mind, and he just saved her, and gave the cop he left to look after her essentially the last change in his pocket, to make sure she could take a cab safely to where she lived. Since that was his last bit of change, however, he immediately started berating himself, confused as to why he would do such a useless thing. This is what's directly after:

'In spite of those strange words he felt very wretched. He sat down on the deserted seat. His thoughts strayed aimlessly.... He found it hard to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longed to forget himself altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life anew....

“Poor girl!” he said, looking at the empty corner where she had sat—“She will come to herself and weep, and then her mother will find out.... She will give her a beating, a horrible, shameful beating and then maybe, turn her out of doors.... And even if she does not, the Darya Frantsovnas [prostitute recruiter, I think] will get wind of it, and the girl will soon be slipping out on the sly here and there. Then there will be the hospital directly (that’s always the luck of those girls with respectable mothers, who go wrong on the sly) and then... again the hospital... drink... the taverns... and more hospital, in two or three years—a wreck, and her life over at eighteen or nineteen.... Have not I seen cases like that? And how have they been brought to it? Why, they’ve all come to it like that. Ugh! But what does it matter? That’s as it should be, they tell us. A certain percentage, they tell us, must every year go... that way... to the devil, I suppose, so that the rest may remain chaste, and not be interfered with. A percentage! What splendid words they have; they are so scientific, so consolatory.... Once you’ve said ‘percentage’ there’s nothing more to worry about. If we had any other word... maybe we might feel more uneasy.... But what if Dounia [Raskolnikov's sister] were one of the percentage! Of another one if not that one?"'

Here's the full chapter if anyone's interested.

I was reminded of Fyodor's expression here in this scene, because that Crime and Punishment passage was a good example of what I already felt Fyodor believed.

And here as well:

Both scenes are the only time I think we've seen Fyodor have a genuine reaction to the deaths he's caused (probably because they're children, not yet entirely sunken into the world's sin, yet having been born, still too old to be saved in this life), and he has a similar reaction each time. Ah, and by "genuine" I don't mean that he was entirely ingenuine the other times he's killed. I just mean that, well, he's usually wearing a figurative mask, and he doesn't seem to be in either of the instances where he's killing the children, so I think it's a good stepping-off point for what he's really like without all the lies and manipulation.

Boat Boy, or Karma, had a similar fate awaiting him as the little girl. Karma's life was as low as he could probably be, and he had no way of climbing out, and there wasn't really any light at the end of the tunnel, no salvation in sight. His biggest hope was a pipe dream upon which's realisation—in such an unrealistic world where it would come true—would only serve to entrench him further in the world's evil and sin.

The little girl was similar. Considering her adult figure was the type of guy to use armed children (and his siblings at that) as distractions to escape on his own, and she herself was doomed to grow up a criminal, her life wouldn't have had any hope for its future.

Fyodor saved them, Karma and the little girl, from that fate. I don't know if his Ability had anything to do with cleansing their souls or something—that's another, super involved discussion—but I do think he genuinely felt like, though not a good outcome, it was the best that he could have done for those two children.

Not that he's right.

And, yeah, that's about it. It's definitely worth bringing up Ivan Karamazov's whole children rant, but that's another book, and it would just take a lot more time overall to pick out quotes, explain exactly what Ivan was saying and how it relates to Fyodor, and this is just meant to be a quick post.

This is the chapter where Ivan Karamazov talks extensively about children, the cruelties committed against them, etc. if anyone's interested. Please be warned that it's fairly triggering.

It can be (somewhat) summed up in this early, non-triggering quote from Ivan:

"But, in the first place, children can be loved even at close quarters, even when they are dirty, even when they are ugly (I fancy, though, children never are ugly). The second reason why I won’t speak of grown‐up people is that, besides being disgusting and unworthy of love, they have a compensation—they’ve eaten the apple and know good and evil, and they have become ‘like gods.’ They go on eating it still. But the children haven’t eaten anything, and are so far innocent."

(I want to note that I don't base all of my understanding of Fyodor's beliefs on what Ivan Karamazov believes, I just think some of what Ivan Karamazov believes lines up with what Fyodor would probably believe.)

[qslovebot]

Midnight Escapade: Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer Reid and the reader have been crushing on each other since they met, but neither of them cared to admit it. When doubled up in a hotel room for the night, reader tries to convince Spencer to go with her at 12:30am to get frozen yogurt to cheer him up and it turns into much more than a snack run.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: Swearing, mutual pining (a long time of pining leads up to this fic), food, mention of Sept 11, 2001, self-doubt, fluff, kissing

Word Count: 4533

The case was solved, closed, and finally, your eyes could rest. The case you had just finished was particularly stressful to not only you, but your fellow BAU members as well. You all hadn't slept for nearly twenty-nine hours and Hotch decided it was best you all got the rest you deserved at a nearby hotel.

The ride there, you struggled to keep your eyes open, but Spencer Reid was on another greatly interesting rant about a show he liked, so you figured you would try to stay awake to hear it. You always listened to him because a lot of the time, the rest of the team dismissed him and his oddly accurate monologues. They grew tired of Spencer talking so much about things they didn't understand but you were rather the opposite- and that's probably because you liked Spencer so much.

The two of you met when he was introduced to the BAU. Praised for his mind, he introduced himself to you with a shaky voice and a meek handshake. You instantly admired him from his geeky personality outwards to his tall, thin self with a face sculpted by artists. Little did you know he did the same, but immediately thought of you as out of his league, so he stayed quiet.

You had been friends since then, pairing up on cases as your minds seemed to work like a perfectly oiled machine when together. Like Penelope and Derek, you two were known for the science jokes no one understood and shared looks of adoration that the both of you somehow didn't recognize as romantic. But everyone else saw it.

Derek Morgan teased a lot. He talked to Reid about working with the 'pretty girl' every day, poking him in the side and messing with his hair. The geek and the girl who was smart as hell, but didn't make it her dominant trait.

A doctor and the outgoing agent who matched the loudness of Penelope Garcia at times at karaoke night. You brought more liveliness to the BAU- more music, more spinning, more levity in dark cases. Spencer was always trying to hide a smile when you walked in, trying to pretend he hadn't been waiting for you to bring him coffee each morning. You didn't need an eidetic memory to remember his order and that, for some reason, always sent him over the moon.

But you were here now, listening to him wrap up his story as you fought the sleep that was looming over you as the car came to a stop outside the hotel.

"-And that was the end of it all. I think it's so fascinating how they wrapped everything up into this intricate timeline of interactions and moments and backtracks. We should, uh, watch it sometime." He said as he hopped out of the back, holding his small bag and yours.

You sleepily hopped out after him, hoping you didn't look like you felt, because you truly felt like hell. "Yeah, I'd like that," was all you could really mumble out. He passed you your bag and you smiled your thank you.

Emily held you up by the shoulders as Hotch sent through the check-in information. "Some case, huh?" She laughed as you rubbed your left eye. "I suppose we can't make this a girl's night of post-case celebration if you're dead asleep."

You groaned, "You wanted to do that? Damn it, Em, I'm sorry-"

"You need beauty sleep, (Y/N). I'm not mad or anything, I'll just take a bath and pull out an adult romance novel." A smirk played on her lips as she raised her eyebrows. You chuckled tiredly. "Seriously, no worries."

"Did I hear talk of a romance novel?" Derek shuffled over. "Which one are we reading? 50 Shades of Grey?"

Spencer stepped in, "Did you know that 50 Shades of Grey is actually fanfiction written about Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Saga? If you go further back, Stephanie started Twilight as written alternate universe fanfiction where the emo-slash-hardcore band My Chemical Romance were all vampires. But My Chemical Romance was started by musician and comic book creator- who published a series of comics called The Umbrella Academy in 2008, unrelated, his name was - Gerard Way, who created the band to make music that expressed the trauma he was given from witnessing the twin towers falling on September 11th, 2001."

Emily looked at him, jaw open. "So Nine-Eleven essentially created a badly-written and toxic sex novel, years later?"

Spencer nodded, eyes flickering to you for a brief moment. Derek grinned at Emily, "So you have read 50 Shades of Grey, huh?" He teased. She swat at his wiggly fingers away as Hotch walked over, brow furrowed.

"Rooms need to be doubled up tonight. Morgan, you can come with me. As much as you may hate it, I feel like (Y/L/N) here might collapse on the spot, so we can't go anywhere else." He handed Spencer and Emily a key, expecting them to make their own choices. Of course, Emily knew exactly what she needed to do when Hotch walked off. You were about to turn and go with her, but she bolted off, reaching for JJ.

You looked up at Spencer Reid who had his mouth in a shy, straight-lipped smile. You both knew what this meant, but you were glad you'd get to crash somewhere, floor or not. The room was on the fifth floor, so you took the elevator with Spencer in silence that you were sure he was granting you until you reached the door of your room.

"I will... take the floor tonight," he said, sticking the key in the lock. "You're tired and I'm just going to get dinner and um... read."

His watch read 4:34 pm- it was so much earlier than you had thought, but you were almost collapsing. "I'm sorry," were the last words you could reply with before you walked into the room, got into the bed, and you were out, cold.

You had never had such a fulfilling sleep. You woke up feeling clean, fresh, renewed and restored. There was no groggy feeling that you had accidentally travelled to another dimension while asleep. The room was dim, except for the lamp that was on in the right corner.

When you peered over the edge of the bed, there was Spencer, laying on his stomach with few pillows under his chest and elbows, a book in his hands. He looked peaceful, quiet, calm. "Spence," you whispered. He practically jumped out of his skin and you couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god, I'm sorry." You grinned.

He smiled sheepishly, setting down his book. "You're awake."

You nodded back, "How long was I out?"

"Since 4:34, so... 8 hours and 20 minutes. It's only 12:22am." Spencer sat up and against the wall while you adjusted yourself to sit cross-legged. You were still in your clothes from earlier and it surprised you to see Spencer in less preppy clothing.

Well, less preppy for him. No cardigan, no dress shirt, just a t-shirt that read 'math is as easy as pi' with the pi symbol made of cherry pie and his regular khaki pants. "Aren't you tired?" you asked, smiling from his shirt, back to him.

"No, uh, I actually got about four hours in the middle of your eight. I usually don't dream anymore but I actually dreamt I was falling, which is a sign of..." he stopped himself, but he was with another profiler, what was the use, you could already fill in the blanks. He continued, "Which is a sign of insecurity and inferiority, but I don't believe in dream analysis..."

You furrowed your brow, watching his eyes look down at his hands. "Are you feeling insecure and inferior, Dr.Reid, because need I remind you that 99% of the time, it's your brain that leads us to solve the cases."

He shook his head, "Thinking myself over, I'd-I'd say it doesn't revolve around work." The stutter was back. He hadn't talked to you with a stutter in months, you'd assumed it was just because he wasn't as comfortable around you then, but now it was back. Spencer Reid needed to be cheered up, something was wrong.

"Well you know you can tell me anything, right? I've kept secrets about my friends since grade one, I can keep yours." You slipped off of the bed and walked to your bag on the table in the far corner. You could feel Spencer's eyes on you as you went, so you shot him a smile over your shoulder. He reverted back to looking at his hands.

Through situations and being friends, you knew Spencer was insecure. He was bullied constantly as a child, some going as far as to strip him down and beat him. Disgusting, self-esteem-ruining acts you wished you could remove from his eidetic memory.

You took off your button-up blouse to stay in your white t-shirt that lay underneath. You hadn't the time to remove it before falling asleep. Thinking about that- you probably had bedhead too. Your balled-up shirt was shoved into your bag and you pulled out a brush in exchange, to get the knots out of your hair.

"I could really go for frozen yogurt right now," you said, running the wooden brush through your hair. Spencer narrowed his eyes at you, a little confused. "I haven't eaten dinner."

"It's nearly 12:30 am..." Spencer said. It looked like he was running through his vast mind to find a scientific explanation as to why you might have wanted frozen yogurt at half-past midnight. You let him, a teasing smile on your lips as you pulled the top bit of your hair up. "Are you pregnant?" He asked, out of the blue, entirely serious. Seemed like the only logical explanation he could find. You nearly choked on the air.

"No, Spencer, I am not pregnant!" You laughed. His face tightened as he went back to searching his mind. "I just want frozen yogurt. Regular cravings, not... pregnancy cravings. Are you coming?"

He looked at you, oddly surprised he was invited. "Why?"

"Why not?" You picked up his jacket from the hook and tossed it to him. "Nobody has to see your cheesy math shirt."

He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, but went right back to being analytical, a mumbling rant with hand gestures.

"The average half-cup serving of frozen yogurt alone has about 17.3 grams of sugar and plus various toppings, the sugar is upped to at least 25 grams. But, versus a half-cup serving of vanilla ice cream, the sugar is only about 14 grams and with toppings can be upped to about 22. Fat-wise-"

You interrupted him because this was seemingly the only way to lift his mood and he was making excuses to stay here and wallow. "Come on, for once, let's be able to act like the youngest members of the team. Once, Spence. I don't need a play-by-play on how much sugar is in it- though I did find that interesting-I just want frozen yogurt and I would like you to come with me. I'll pay for yours if you want any, just... please?"

He met your eyes with a curl falling down his forehead and quickly looked back at his hands. You'd been friends for nearly a year and four months and he still couldn't look you in the eyes for long. He really wasn't good at refusing you at all, either.

Spencer nodded and you practically beamed. Maybe this would help to take his mind off of what was bothering him, even if the distraction was brief. You jumped on the spot and slipped on your own jacket and grabbed your wallet, ready to go and by the door.

He had a small smile when the two of you stepped out, his hands behind his back. You locked the door behind you and the two of you walked silently to the elevator, careful not to accidentally wake anyone else in case they decided to peer out into the hall.

In the elevator, you turned and looked up at Spencer who was fiddling with his hands. "You look nervous, Spence. It's frozen yogurt, not a pretty girl."

"Well I'm with-" he stopped himself again and actually started laughing his breathy laugh, squeezing his own hand so hard his knuckles turned white while his cheeks and nose went a little pink. "You..." He finished, rocking on his heels.

You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. Though you mentally disagreed with him sometimes on your appearance, you smiled and looked back up at him. "Thank you. You're pretty too."

He shrugged himself further into his jacket, hands still wildly fidgeting. "Thank you..."

You both stepped out of the elevator the moment it got to the ground floor, looking for air that wasn't filled with odd tension neither of you could explain. You two walked through the lobby and into the cool midnight air outside, where things were open, dark, and still.

You shut your eyes for a moment and opened your arms to face the gentle, cool wind that blew your hair and hit your face gently. Inhaling deeply, you opened your eyes again to Spencer in a similar state, but much less relaxed looking. Instead, it looked like he was trying to calm himself down.

"Spence, you look out of it," you said, folding your arms over your chest. You had gotten him outside, now maybe instead of distracting him from whatever it was, you could help him through it. It was part of being a friend- profiling wasn't needed to see he was thinking long and hard over something that bothered him. "You can tell me what's wrong."

He started walking down the street toward the neon lights that shone bright with the word 'fro-yo', you stepped quickly to follow. "If I like a girl.. h-how am I supposed to go about telling her?" He asked, not even looking at you. His forehead was creased and his hands in his jacket pockets.

So this was about a girl he liked. Spencer Reid had a crush. Of course, you were oblivious it was you, but Spencer Reid was romantically interested in someone!

Yay?

An odd feeling of happiness came with finding this out and there was an uprising feeling within you like the first drop on a rollercoaster, but it lingered... and it was much less happy. You ignored it, of course, letting your outer emotions display themselves.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, the human encyclopedia- have you finally found a girl that puts you at a loss for words?" You teased, pressing the back of your hand to your head for dramatic effect, struggling to keep up with him.

His mouth twitched, "Maybe."

"Well, to be honest, Spence, just... tell her. Just go at it- ask to kiss her, maybe, then confess after. Or... or, you could confess, see how she takes it, then you can see if you should or shouldn't kiss her based off of if you get rejected or not." You told him, catching him by the shoulder to get him to slow down at the entrance of the frozen yogurt place.

He was much taller than you, so that came with him being that much faster, but that didn't matter now, he had stopped. Spencer looked at you, concern in his eyes, panic. You smiled kindly, "She won't reject you. I don't know any girl who would even think of it." Reassurance, because he needed it.

His eyes trailed to the ground and he ran a hand through his hair, opening the door for you. "And w-what do I say?" Spencer asked when you both went inside. You were the only two there and the cashier must have been in the back room.

You hopped over to the flavours, "I mean, whatever feels right, Spence. If you feel like going on a long, romantic, poet-written rant about how much you like her, do that. If you're afraid to bore her, you can wait for her to speak, but the truth is if she can't listen to you rant, she probably isn't worth going for."

He evaluated your words while you casually got yourself vanilla frozen yogurt. He also scanned the flavours, probably mentally shaming the company for marketing this as somewhat healthier. You giggled watching him try to figure out how to get the yogurt out of the machine as you put raspberries in yours.

"(Y/N), uh..." he said quietly, gesturing you over. The genius's mind was scrambled enough to miss the lever in front of him. You took his cup from him and pulled the lever, to which he made an 'o' shape with his mouth and nodded comprehensively.

"Chocolate mocha," you smiled, handing it to him as he stood there sheepishly again. "Good choice."

You spun back to your yogurt, adding a bit of honey over the top of it all. He followed, choosing raspberries as well, silently adding them. He still didn't seem at rest with the girl thing, you noticed by the way he was failing to open the scoop-box of cookie crumbs. He had long fingers, usually nimble ones, but not so much right now. Spencer was too stressed to work properly. Error in the system, you may have joked if things weren't so bad with him.

When you were both finished, Spencer tapped the little service bell on the desk and a little woman, maybe mid-30s came out wearing the merchandise of the shop. You both placed your cups on the scale and she weighed them for the price, but both you and Spencer pulled out your wallets.

He put his card out faster, so you swat his hand with your card and paid while he mumbled "Ow..." Of course, you checked to see if he was really hurt, but he had his small, crooked smile back on his face. He was okay, maybe he was feeling better?

Saying good morning/night to the lady, you both stepped back into the midnight air, starting to walk, but not back toward the hotel. You'd think with what cases you two had worked on you'd be a little warier, but with each other, you both felt safe. You walked a few steps, eating your yogurt, before Spencer spoke up again. "Is it a bad thing I'm so clueless as to what women like? Everything I know about women is scientific. Chocolate releases endorphins, flowers are associated with beauty and love, but... other than that... I don't know anything."

You swallowed your bite as Reid took his, waiting on your answer. Just as you always listened to him, he always listened to you. He probably valued your opinion over Derek's at times. You waved your spoon in the air when you spoke, "I wouldn't say bad. Everyone starts somewhere for everything. If anything, a man who is willing to learn is more attractive than one who wings it and doesn't ask comprehensive questions to up the relationship quality."

"Asking questions, got it. Should my confession include a gesture, though?" He spoke with his mouth full. Spencer really wanted to get this right- it was admirable. But there came that uneasy feeling again. It was more like an ache this time. Perhaps it was the awkward hours of sleep throwing you off?

You sucked it up, shoved the feeling down. "Really, Spence, it depends on the woman. Do I know her? Maybe I can help- that is unless you want to profile her to get her interests? I can help with that too-"

"No, I-I don't want to profile her, I want to stay away from that, we do that on a near-daily basis."

"We?" You questioned. Reid froze, but kept walking, looking a little petrified. He put more frozen yogurt in his mouth, maybe to shut himself up. You grinned, "We as in you and her are both profilers or we as in you and I profile others together, so you don't want to profile her with me?"

"I don't want us... to profile her," he cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

You sighed with a breathy laugh, "Good, because I was starting to think you were after Emily."

He chuckled, "Oh, no, not Emily. She's too scary for me anyway. Uh..." He swallowed hard, the way he always did was he was anxious or nervous. I saw in his face he'd come to some sort of conclusion. "Don't... don't yell at me for this, alright?"

"Yell at you? Spence, I wouldn't..." You were confused. He set his frozen yogurt down on the bench he had stopped in front of and stood back in front of you, pushing his hair behind his ears. He looked at you with his doe eyes and the wind blew his curls back in front of his face, he looked to the ground. His forehead still creased between his brows, but his eyes were soft and sweet, his nose was slightly scrunched and his mouth was twisted to the side as if he was once again mentally calculating something. You granted him back the silence from earlier, wondering what was going on in that mind of his. That was... until his eyes met yours and he looked so desperately lost and longing and like he ached inside... and you no longer wondered.

You let out another long sigh. She was you.

This girl that he was trying to understand how to win over, she was you. He asked you because he needed to know what you wanted. He was nervous because he was practically confessing to you and you, a profiler, were too blind to see that.

He watched your face for your reaction, waiting for something good, but you were too shocked to react right. He unfroze, hands flying to the roots of his hair and he spun away from you. He started rambling, obviously thinking everything had gone wrong. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, (Y/N). That- that wasn't how I had things planned and I was so certain that maybe you-hm- liked me too."

His words made it true. This was, in fact, happening at 12:56am in the middle of a foreign city. Your words spilled out, stern, focused, serious. "Kiss me then."

He spun around again, "What?"

"Confess, then kiss, remember?" You recounted carefully, looking directly at him, stepping closer.

"But I didn't get to do my whole monologue thing-" He was grinning pretty hard now, all signs of stress removed from his face. He looked brighter than the neon froyo sign, in happiness and disbelief right down at you. You were pretty sure you looked similar as all the pieces fell in place in your mind. It all fit.

"I don't care." You beamed back. "Do it after."

So without wasting another second, he grabbed your face and kissed you. He kissed you with a year and four months' worth of frustration, lust, confusion and past jealousies. His hands holding your jaw, his fingertips in your hair and your hands on his chest, holding fast to jacket. The kiss was a little messy the first two seconds, but every second after it was enjoyable and sweet and oddly powerful. He also tasted rich, like chocolate mocha, but you knew where that came from.

He pulled away first, which surprised you, but he didn't move very far, in fact, he mumbled against your lips as he tucked your hair out of your face. "I think I've liked you since you and I first met. You didn't hate my science jokes and instead of being annoyed with my informational rants, you listened to me. I wasn't expecting you to be so involved with me since you're, well... you're you and you're loud and fun and sweet and beautiful, but we worked so well together how could I ignore what I felt?"

His hand was a little shaky still, but his fingertips on your cheek were gentle. He continued to quietly ramble, "I decided maybe I'd do something with myself that wasn't devoted to the BAU so I thought maybe I'd- I'd tell you this. That I think you're beautiful and smart and talented and maybe you'd understand and feel the same way and now that I know maybe you do, I feel oddly put back to how I'm supposed to be. And... I think I'm supposed to be with you. If this is too soon or... ruins our friendship, I'm sorry and I'll slow it down, but I won't stop liking you."

You couldn't believe that in a three-minute span you had gone from painfully oblivious to so extremely wide awake. But it was in the best way possible after a year and four months of you also being painfully crushed by your secret feelings for Dr.Reid.

"It's fine, Spence," you said quietly, smiling at him with the most happiness you had found in months. "More than fine, I can't believe this is real."

He tucked the other side of your hair behind your ear, "You might have DRC, then. It stands for dream-reality confusion and is a difficulty or inability to determine whether an event or experience occurred during the waking state or whether it was part of a dream. I can assure you that you aren't dreami-"

You reached up and pulled him onto your lips by the back of the neck, smiling into it. This would be the first time you've ever shut him up. He welcomed it by kissing you back again, softer this time. Now that he was sure you wouldn't hate him for it, it felt a lot more natural, a lot more at ease. His passion was still there, as was yours, but this was how things were supposed to be. There was no longer a rush.

The two of you started laughing after it all. Both of you laughed at how painfully oblivious you both were and he went on a small explanation as to why we don't see our own tells and how feelings of romantic relation cloud the judgement. You went over every time the rest of the team had made a comment you both secretly loved or some you dismissed because it was an ache to hear.

Spencer opened up about his fear of rejection and you did the same and that too resulted in more laughing because here you were, so afraid, but you had both been in it for so long. You deserved to have each other after all this time not only because you fit, but because everyone saw it too, far before either of you did.

An innocent, fun, midnight escapade to cheer Spencer up turned into him finding a truly happy state of mind. You took that as a win and success as you tossed frozen yogurt containers in the garbage and found your way back to your room where you told Spencer it was okay to sleep in the bed as long as he was nice.

So he let you turn out the lights and lay next to him, your head on his chest in the way you had done before when it was only an achingly platonic move. He played with your hair, stared at the green walls, ranted about the history of the colour green and soon after, the both of you went right back to sleep, entirely happy.

Tagged: @ellyhotchner @softhairedhotch

[fakeloveaskblog]

Yay Loceit! (Ignore me, I have Loceit brainrot.) Can we see the zoo date? I would love to see the zoo date! (Is there a possibility of encountering Remus and make it a conjoined date? But, like, we don't tell him that's what it is? Because we don't wanna overwhelm the guy.)

(Words: 2712)

Janus: "Don't worry dear fiend. I have Loceit brainrot as well.....ALSo yes!! I totally haven't been waiting to tell someone all about the date. Pff totally not...So basically..."

When Janus arrived by the entrance of the zoo Logan was already waiting outside. They excitedly waved at each other before running up and clashing in a loving hug.

"So how is my one and only still not poisoned boyfriend doing?" Janus asked with a slight giggle in his voice.

“Very well now when I am with you”

Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His boyfriend already had a big grin on his lips but it only grew with the kiss.

He had on a blue suspenders, jeans and a t-shirt with some dude printed on it. The snake had tried to dress extra nice for his first ever date (!!) so he had his long black skirt and his finest purple shirt.

“That is...Jean-luc Picard..right?” He pointed at Logan’s t-shirt.

He flapped his hands around “Correct! I see that the star trek watching is teaching you a lot!”

“Well I do have a good teacher so of course”

The compliment left rosy blush on Logan’s cheeks. He took his boyfriend’s hand and intertwined their fingers before walking into the zoo. It had a big outside area for different larger animals and then a bulding to the west filled with frogs, fish, snakes, etc, etc.

Neither of them were that interested in the large animals. Though Janus did snark about how he looked like a seal and Logan stopped to take photos of the bears so he could show them to Patty later.

It wasn't until they passed a sign Logan suddenly let up into happy stims. He pointed to a house with big look through windows.

"Birds!"

He dragged Janus along with him to one of the windows. kestrels, subirds and kingfishers were flying around and vibing among trees and hung out fruit treats. A small crowd around them was also looking at the different birds.

Logan pointed between his boyfriend and the birds as if Jan hadn’t already seen them. He kept stimming his arm back and forth.

"Their aerodynamics are so fascinating don’t you think. Aside from humans they are the animal that are consistently closest to space and all because of their biology. They are like natural born astronauts”

“I respect any creature who can leave any and all social situations by flying away. Big dick move as some” Remus “says” Janus replied.

“If birds had too big dicks I think it would disturb their flying but yes I get your point” He let out a dreamy sigh “Oh what I would do to be able to inspect bird teeth, not to even talk about their wings!”

Logan squeezed his hand and smiled at him before dragging him over to the next bird. It was several big secretary birds. They were walking instead of flying.

"These ones are known for eating snakes" Lo commented "Are you feeling frightened?"

"Ah yes darling, I am already close to death from fear" He replied in as much of a monotone he could muster. They both chuckled.

Logan went on a long ramble about how the different biology of the species made the flying look and work different. His voice went a bit louder than it usually was, it always got like that when he was excited. Janus wouldn’t have minded it if there weren’t other people there.

He nodded along to his boyfriend’s rant but kept glancing to the people around them. Some of them were looking at Logan. Janus gulped. Suddenly holding his boyfriends hand hurt.

Janus quietly moved his hand away. His throat tightened. The people weren’t looking anymore but it felt like they did, like ants crawling up his skin. It had probably been a stupid idea to wear the skirt.

Obviously Logan noticed but he didnt say anyrhing about it. He finished his rant and asked "Do you want to reunite with your relatives- I mean look at the snakes now?"

"I uh “ He forced a confident smirk “Of course darling. It it prime time to return to my people!!”

They walked away from the birds and went down the sunny path towards the house that stored snakes among other things. It was lined by neatly cut trees and homes for mammals. They didn’t hold hands.

Janus kept fiddling with his gloves to the point of not even looking where he was walking. He bit the inside of his cheek until it was bleeding.

“Are you feeling alright?” Logan asked.

“Never been better!”

“If it is about the hand holding feeling nervous is nothing to be embarrassed about. When I first held hands with Patty I got so flustered I proceeded to walk into a swing and break my glasses”

Janus glanced around to the people around them “Ah yes that is definitely why I’m acting this way. Spot on dear” 

His boyfriend looked in the same direction he did “Oh alright I understand now” He patted him on the shoulder “Well I will have you know I have taken part in multiple physical fights to protect Patty from harassement, I did win most of them. I will of course do the same thing for you”

He said it so casually Janus nearly lost it “Exscuse me wHAT?”

Logan leaned down so they were eye to eye and put his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders “Sweetheart I can and will break someone’s nose for you”

“That’s the most romantic thing someone has ever said to me”

“I would go for their kneecaps as well”

Janus clasped his hand over his heart and gasped in an overly dramatic tone “Oh such erotiscism you’re showing today!”

“I am legally obliged to show it off every now and then”

He straightened his back and continued to walk down the path. Janus hesitantly reached out to take his hand. Shame tugged at his heart but he buried his face against his boyfriend’s arm to try and ignore it. Logan gently moved his thumb up and down his skin in response.

“....I do still advise that you talk to Picani about it. I am aware it’s hard but if what you’ve told me about your mental health is true I believe it would be beneficial. I could help! I know Picani! Very intimately!”

“Darling please you don’t have to keep reminding me you’ve fucked my fake therapist” Janus sighed “I don’t know if I deserve to take up his time, I’m not That bad”

“Sweetie that is first degree bullshit” Logan replied very gently “There is scientifically no way to accurately compare two people’s mental healths to conclude which is worse. Trust me I did a study on it in college! Do I need to brag about my degree more?”

Janus let out a half hearted chuckle “I’ll think about it. Let’s focus on the snakes for now”

“Thinking about it is good enough for me” He pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They entered the building. The first room was lit in a calming blue because of the giant windows showing off octopuses and rays swimming around. A sign was pointing over to the frog and snake rooms.

Janus looked around the room in awe and- HOLY HELL REMUS WAS THERE. He sat crosslegged on a bench in front of the octopuses. He had headphones on and was focusing on the sketchbook in his hands. 

In a panic Janus started to drag his boyfriend with him to the frogs. Logan saw how flustered his boyfriend had suddenly become and looked around. He saw Remus as well and stopped in his tracks which forced his boyfriend to also stop.

“Does that happen to be the other guy you have a romantic interest in?”

“We’re here to look at snakes not at men Loganson!”

"Aww" Logan flapped his free hand "There are few things i like more than getting to see my partner being loved by someone else they love! We must talk to him"

"Oh- Oh god-" Janus let out while being tugged along.

Remus flinched when Logan shoved his ready to be shaken hand almost into his face. His whole body tensed to an uncomfortable degree.

"Greetings! I have no idea who you are!" Lo exclaimed.

He took off his headphones and looked up at him with panic in his eyes "Uh yeah" He saw Jan and immediately let out a breathe of relief. His shoulders relaxed slightly. "Hiya snakey~ Is This dude your snack?"

Janus was dying. He was dead. This was hell.

"NO! He's my sworn enemy! I'm here to use one of the sharks to kill him!"

Logan gasped "You are? How rude. Such a waste of the shark’s time when a bullet would do"

"Yeah!” Remus added “Anus! If that even is your real name-”

“It’s not”

“-I thought you would be much better at murder! Shark murder is sooo the 70's. Where's the orchestrated acrobatic dance knife throwing???"

Janus let out a dramatic huff "You simply don’t understand how hard it is to be a strong independent complete idiot and a serial murderer at the same time"

Logan nodded in sumpathy "Stranger would you like to accompany us on the rest of our zoo experience?"

He closed his sketchbook. Pages had been filled with doodles of the octopuses "Sure! I'm Remus by the way"

"Ah yes" They began to walk down the hallways lined by animal habitats. He held onto Janus’ hand "You were killed by your twin according to Roman mythology"

"I know!! That's why I chose it"

"Fascinating. I'm Logan. My parents chose it because of the X-man" His parents were also huge nerds.

“Hah dorks!” Remus said while skipping alongside them “Why are you holding hands? Is that a rule at zoos? Oh shit have I been doing zoos wrong???”

“I don’t think so. We are only doing it” Lo glanced at his still flustered boyfriend “.....to aggravate homophobes....yes...”

“COol!! Can I join?”

Logan nodded. Remus proceeded to take Janus’ free hand and happily tugged at it while skipping along. Jan had been wrong. NOW he was dying. His face was so hot from blushing he swore he could melt chocolate on it. The only way this could get ‘worse’ was if he suddenly grew a third arm and Remy appeared to hold it.

“Murder frogs!!” Remus exclaimed while stopping outside a window.

Inside sat several poison dart frogs in a pond surronded by leaves. They were in pretty neon colors and small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Remus jumped up and down from excitement before pressing his entire face up against the glass.

“They’re the most poisonous animal in the world!!! Snakey you should murder Lo with this one!! These bitches can kill like 10 people with 1 poison thingie!!! it’s so cool!!”

“I have read that they can live to up to 15 years so they have ample time to kill hundreds of people in their lifetime” Logan replied.

“!!!! You are SO right!!! That’s my life goal as well!” Remus turned to look around the room and his eyes turned as big as a cat’s “Fucking hell. Look at how THICK that lizard is!!!”

Janus kept being dragged around between the two while they explored the animals. The saw toads stacked on top of each other, insects swarming around and exactly 1 incredibly friendly chameleon who climbed across a tree to get as close to the glass as it could.

Just holding both of their hands was so much to take in but hearing them rant facts to each other while looking so so happy made his heart feel things he didn’t know it could feel. He wanted to kiss them both and beg them to please never ever shut up.

The zoo melted away as he daydreamed about living as a poly relationship. Getting to see them both be this close and happy every day. Getting to hold them both like this every day. Getting to fall asleep next to them. Oh he was so-

“Hey Snakey you’ve been pretty quiet” Remus interrupted “Whatcha think?”

“dfshkjskj” Janus very eloquently let out. He buried his flushed pink face in the fabric of Logan’s shirt.

“Huh. Exactly what I was thinking! Onwards to the snakes!!”

The snake room was oval shaped. The walls were made up of windows into different giant vivariums decorated with branches, warm rocks and food. In the biggest vivarium several big samar cobras were lazing about. They were both big enough and venomous enough to kill a man.

Janus let go of his crushes to press his palms against the glass and wave at the snakes. He looked back at his boyfriend with a big goofy grin “Look at these babies!!”

“They are indeed very pretty”

“They eat rats! Their venom is able to destroy tissue so if you get the venom in your eyes it can create total blindness!! They-” He stopped himself. Stopped his stimming as well “Sorry. I’m rambling”

Remus patted his shoulder “No. Go on. I wanna hear, about the other snakes as well. I promise” Logan nodded along.

Janus hesitated, but they both looked at him with such loving looks he quietly continued “Okay well what I was going to say was...”

They went around and looked at every snake. The other two happily listened to him infodump about every species there. Sometimes they held hands. Sometimes they all stimmed together. Janus was smiling so much his cheeks hurt.

They stayed sitting by the snakes. Janus leaned his head against the glass to bop his nose to the snakes while Remus and Logan ranted to each other about their favorite obscure sci-fi movies (they also exchanged numbers). 

The three of them had a sudden realization that they all loved murder mysteries and decided they had to have some sort of murder mustery movie night some time in the future.

(Logan also saw a poster about how around Christmas snake petting spots overseered by snake experts would be open. He didn’t tell the other two. He figured he would use it as a surprise Christmas gift)

Eventually the zoo got close to closing. It was Logan who had to drag them both away from the snakes and octopuses. The 2 drama kings acted like Lo was dragging them away from their children.

Once they stood on the street outside the zoo Remus said goodbye. For a moment it looked like he was moving in to hug Janus but he decided not to. He disappeared down the street to catch the bus.

“So” Logan turned to his boyfriend “Was it a satisfactory first date?”

Janus rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and moving up on his toes to kiss him on his nose “It was absolutely horrible darling! I hated every second of it!”

“Glad to hear it” His voice softened “I’m proud of you honey”

“It was just a date. It’s nothing. Nothing if it’s with you”

“Well I shall still be proud, because you can not stop me, and I shall still be percentage wise incredibly in love with you” He pressed a loving kiss to his forehead “I will see you at work then”

“Not if I’ve gotten my invisibility spell to work by then muhahah” Janus slowly let go of him “Love you!”

Janus stood by the entrance watching as his boyfriend (it still made him giddy to think that) went to his car. He gulped and tensed his shoulders once he was all alone. He walked over to a more desolate spot and sat down on the side of the payment.

He scrolled through the contacts on his phone while the image of Logan’s smile repeated in his brain. He let out a shaky breathe as he moved the phone up to his ear and listened to the signals.

“Hiya Janister!” The cheery voice of Dr. Picani rang out.

“Hello...I.....I would....I’m just looking to ask if there’s a chance I could book a time for solo therapy? I’m...I’m...honestly not so sure if I’m completely okay...or if my childhood was okay either, but I’m sure I want to get better”

[buckleyydiaz]

Her.

Moreid, 2.3k words, on AO3 here

Warnings: Cheating, Discussion of past child sexual abuse, Discussion of sex (no actual sex) (let me know if there is anything you want me to add!

Spencer hadn’t meant for things to get this far. At first he hadn’t even realised what it was. A fellow scientist messaged him, wanted to talk to him. When she had asked him to hang out, he had said yes. In hindsight, he regretted that more than anything. He should have realised, should have said no.

But he went out, and when she kissed him, he didn’t push her away. Spencer didn’t even know why he didn’t. Even as she took things further. He never stopped, never thought. But it was too late now to turn back, to change what he had done.

He tried to keep it a secret, fully aware of how much it would hurt Derek, but the guilt was quickly too much. So sheepishly, he approached Derek, praying that he wouldn’t be met with anger, with a request to break up - even if that was without a doubt what he deserved.

His wildest imagination couldn’t have prepared him for what his partner would say. At first he just looked slightly up to meet Spencer’s eyes, broken. He sat down and cried. Derek had never looked so vulnerable, and Spencer wished more than ever before that he could go back in time, say no, do anything to save Derek this pain he now suffered.

Spencer was so quickly forgiven, he could barely believe it. 

“It’s okay, I swear, I love you. We can move past this.” 

“Derek, you don’t have to forgive me. I know I did the wrong thing, I don’t expect anything from you.”

Something in what he said seemed to further upset his partner.

“You will never do it again, right Prett… Spencer?”

“I will never do it again. Derek, I swear to you. I regret it, and would do anything to take it back.”

The tears on the older man’s face tore Spencer’s heart in two. What Derek said next seemed so painfully out of character, something so weak from a man so remarkably strong.

“I’m so sorry… I will try to be better, I will do everything I can, so that you don’t have to leave me again.”

Spencer nearly began to sob at that. It wasn’t up to Derek to change, he had done nothing wrong, but he had a feeling it would be a long road to get Derek to see it that way.

“Der, I swear, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who did the wrong thing. Not you.”

A switch seemed to flip somewhere deep inside Derek’s mind.

“Spencer, if I were a better boyfriend, you wouldn’t have had to go to… to her. I know I have my flaws, and I am trying my best to be good enough for you. If you need to though, you can go to her again, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you promise not to. I know you probably need something that I can’t give you. If you are going to see her though, can you tell me? If you tell me what I need to change though, I will try, I swear. Just ple-” he let out a choked sob, “please don’t leave me, Pretty Boy.”

Seeing the man who was normally such an alpha-male type sitting on their couch, tears streaming down his face was killing Spencer. As much as it killed him to leave Derek alone in his state, he knew he had to take a step back, give them both a chance to calm down and think this through.

“Hey Der, I’m going to go out for a walk. I’ll be back soon, and I’m not doing this to leave you, I just think we both need a chance to think this through. I love you so much.”

Derek nodded from the couch, “I love you too. Please come back soon?”

----

When Spencer left, Derek managed to get himself up from the couch. 

“Hey Clooney,” he called out to the dog, his voice rough from the tears he just couldn’t seem to stop.

Clooney barked in reply, running to follow just behind Derek’s feet, as he slowly made the way to his bedroom.

He lay down on the bed, thinking about what mistake he made that tipped the iceberg, that made Spencer realise that he alone could not be good enough. 

Maybe it was the long hours he had been putting in at work, to help lift the burden off of Hotch, who was much better off spending time with Jack than doing paperwork. It had cut into the time he had to spend with Spencer, but he still tried his best to spend as much with him as he could.

Maybe it was that he didn’t spend enough time with Spencer doing his geeky and nerdy things. He had tried his best to be involved, but sometimes he chose to go to the gym instead of going to a chess competition, or picked an action movie instead of a new sci-fi one that would be more Spencer’s thing.

Maybe it was because he was so stupid in comparison. Spencer had such a bright, intelligent mind, and he must have gotten bored with him never being able to keep up, always getting lost as soon as he began talking about some classic literature, or some complex scientific or mathematical concept. It would explain why he slept with a scientist.

Maybe it was that he still wasn’t fully comfortable with sex. He tried, and he did his best to please Spence, but he still didn’t feel comfortable bottoming, and only rarely was he okay with topping. Given Spencer had gone and slept with a girl, that could be it, he wanted to fuck Derek, and Derek wouldn’t let him. 

Even thinking about it made him uncomfortable. Thoughts of Buford overwhelmed him, and without Spencer by his side to help him, as he had every time the memories got too much for so many years now, he didn’t know what to do.

Derek got up from the bed, reaching into the closet to grab one of the jumpers from Spencer’s section, one that his partner had accidentally bought a few sizes too big years ago, one that smelt like his Pretty Boy from being worn frequently. He pulled it over his head, breathing in, feeling just a small bit calmer.

Derek climbed into their bed, letting Clooney jump up with him, despite being against the normal rules, just to help him feel not quite so alone. 

Derek swore to change himself, uphold his promise to Spencer and be a better boyfriend so he wouldn’t have to go and find sex with someone else, that would surely turn into romance eventually, because his partner was not the kind of person to go out and have meaningless sex in the long term.

Derek wasn’t going to lie, and say it didn’t hurt that everything had turned out the way it did, but the onus was on him, not on Spencer. So he was going to start leaving work earlier as much as he could, doing all of the things Spencer wanted to do, even if they sounded horrendously dull and boring to himself, and he would have sex. He would do it to please Spencer, because he would rather live with the memories of Buford haunting him even more, than live in a world where he wasn’t with Spencer.

------

It had been a few weeks since the horrible conversations had happened, within which Spencer had noted a significant change in Derek’s behaviour.

Despite Spencer’s constant reassurance that Derek was a great boyfriend, and that he loved him so much, he kept changing. In many ways, he had been being even kinder, more caring and considerate of Spencer’s needs than ever before. If it weren’t for two factors, Spencer would have thought the change was a good thing.

The first factor was obviously the day where everything came to light - Spencer cheating on him, and Derek thinking Spencer didn’t want him. Spencer knew that as much as it had hurt him to see his boyfriend looking so fragile as he swore to do better, and much as it had torn his heart in two to come home to see Derek lying on Spencer’s side of the bed, in his jumper, desperately clinging onto Clooney, dried tears staining his dark skin, he had come out of the whole ordeal unharmed. He still had his boyfriend, despite fucking up, seriously. Derek on the other hand was all types of not okay.

The second thing that alerted Spencer to just how wrong everything was were the nightmares that seemed to have multiplied since their discussion. Almost every night, Spencer had been woken up by kicking, screaming, or soft, broken pleas from his boyfriend, lost in bad memories in his tumultuous sleep. Spencer could easily guess what they were about, and was left having to, because when Spencer woke him up, every time Derek would refuse to discuss them, in a very stubborn way. At least his stubbornness hadn't completely changed.

He had enjoyed Derek leaving work earlier to go out on dates, or just so they could lounge around the house or play with Clooney. He was overjoyed when Derek actually tuned in to his rants about Russian literature and physics and all manner of things that he didn’t understand, and when he agreed to come and watch Spencer play a chess competition, rather than choosing to go and do something else. But he hated why he was doing it, that this plan he had to ‘earn’ Spencer’s love seemed to be costing Derek any peace from the haunting thoughts and memories inside his head.

It was a Friday evening when everything truly came to a halt. Derek had left earlier, bringing a pile of reports in his bag. They had gone out to a lovely Italian restaurant, enjoying the romantic atmosphere, and when they got home, the logical next step was for them to have sex.

They hadn’t had sex in any way since everything came out into the open, and Spencer was cautious given the nightmares that Derek had been having. But Derek was enthusiastic, so he hesitantly decided to go ahead and do it.

But once they were both on the bed, naked and touching each other, Derek said something that shocked him. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he panted.

Spencer immediately recoiled in shock, suddenly realising that his instincts that something was wrong, were right. He stayed silent for a moment, and Derek began to look uncomfortable, quickly gathering his clothes and redressing.

“I’m sorry… I thought that was what you wanted?”

Spencer once again felt horrible for what he had done. Of course that would be the conclusion that his insecure boyfriend would jump to. Knowing that what needed to happen next was discussion, Spencer quickly redressed as well.

“Der, you don’t need to do this for me,” he said, reaching out to hold the hand of his boyfriend, who was cowering on the other side of the bed, as far from Spencer as he could, looking ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you wanted this? I worked out why you slept with her. Well, there are a few reasons. I don’t give you enough attention, and I never understand what you talk about or what you want to do.”

There was silence in the room for a moment, Derek too afraid to continue, and Spencer unwilling to interrupt his partner saying what he needed to tell him.

“Pretty Boy, I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault. If I had just gotten over myself and let you fuck me… You never would have had to find someone else to...”

As Derek’s voice trailed off, Spencer hated being right. He had gone and fucked a girl, so Derek would assume Spence wanted to fuck him, when in actual fact, it was just a stupid mistake, and despite his incredible mind and incredible memory, he couldn’t remember or figure out why he had made it.

Spencer let go of Derek’s hand for just a moment, and he flinched, sure that he was going to be left alone, again, that this would be the final breaking point. But just a moment later, Spencer had crossed the bed to sit next to him, grabbing him in his arms and holding him tight.

“Derek. I need you to know this. I can live without ever having sex with you. I can live without sex, or anything even close to it, if that is what would make your life the best. I didn’t have sex with her because I wanted to have sex with you, I did it in a total lapse in judgement, and I wish I could take it back. I love you so much, more than anything.”

Derek looked up from Spencer’s chest, where he had his head resting.

“I don’t want you to live without sex. I want to get there. I just can’t.”

He looked full of defeat, but Spencer was quick to reassure him.

“Well that's good too. I won’t give you any statistics for it, because I know you’d hate that,” they both let out half hearted laughs, “But I think you can get there, and I will be there with you every step of the way. But never feel any pressure from me to do that. You are fine just how you are.”

A slight smile took over Derek’s face. 

“I love you Pretty Boy,” he said before pausing, “You’re good at those emotional speeches.”

They both laughed, lying down, cuddled in each other’s arms, their relationship stronger than it had been for a while.

“I love you Derek, so incredibly much. Never forget that.”

[ohmrlove]

Heya! Could I please ask for headcanons from each of the boys dealing with a situation where the MC has been kidnapped and held hostage for 3 days, and they themselves are being demanded to hand something over (e.g something material/a specific person in high power)? The MC suffers something from minor to severe injuries. Not life-threatening but enough to hurt.

Interesting and dramatic! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Warning for mild violence. Nothing too descriptive, I think.

Also, it’s kind of long.

🍷 Victor 🍷

Being who he was, Victor fully expected the ransom to be money-related. It was.

He’d gotten the money together within hours of the first email showing you chained up in some dingy stone-walled cell.

He gave a press conference that said he was ready to hand over the money, to just contact him again. That had apparently spooked your captors; they didn’t contact him for two AGONIZING days.

He was collaborating with LPD as quietly as possible, afraid a strong counterattack would convince them to kill you

Victor had more enemies than he could count, and he had no clue who was behind it

That was the farthest thing from his mind as LPD fitted him with a bullet proof vest, a mic, and camera before sending him to the designated site

The briefcase was rigged with traps set to go off when too much money was removed. Things like dye packs and a nasty shock mechanism an engineering company was happy to supply

Victor walked through an old stone building--a fake castle?--and stared down the little bug that tried to intimidate him

Victor felt his face and neck grow hot with rage, Evol pulsing in his fingertips as he debated letting time slow down so he could beat this scum within an inch of his life

How had they found out about you? He worked with so many people! Why not take Goldman?

The businessman in him was begging to be sensible but Victor could never be very sensible when it came to you, could he?

Using his Evol to slow down time, Victor rushed the creep. It was a full-on scuffle, Victor quickly getting the upper hand when he used that briefcase full of money like the brick it was

Cuff link missing, blood on his suit jacket, and some buttons hanging limply from his shirt, Victor sat back to catch his breath. He wiped blood from his lip.

The guy was out cold; he’d probably broken some bones. He looked robbed, himself; Victor was very thorough--and angry--as he practically maimed the cretin to check for an ear piece or extra weapons

The assailant didn’t have time to contact friends and that made Victor feel a little better. Maybe it was a smaller operation than they assumed

He called for police backup to help sweep the place and found you in a cell at the back. It looked like something used for photographs, like a fun zone.

The chains from the picture were cheap and fake; they broke easily as he forced them open. The zipties around your wrists were much harder to get off, and Victor apologized as he wedged his big fingers between the plastic and your wrists to snap them.

It took effort, to the point where he had to brace a foot against the bars, but he got them off and that’s all that mattered.

You were very dehydrated--your lips and skin told him that. You felt like you had a fever, and your skin was raw and tender from fighting the binds. One half of your face was bruised and Victor choked with tears as you practically peeped his name, your voice weak and dry.

“It’s okay,” he held you in his arms for a minute, supporting your neck. You’d probably been in that same position for three days. It probably hurt like hell!

How was he even holding you? He was shaking so much...

“You’ll be okay!” Victor was rambling now, afraid to run to the entrance in case he hurt you anymore. “You’ll get the best care, I promise! Just hold on.” he rearranged you to let you rest against his shoulder.

 “And pudding?” he barely heard it.

Pudding? At a time like this? Maybe it’s because you were starved. But, then again, you were always going on about sweets.

“Of course, dummy...” Victor bumped his head against yours and carried you out. Once at the hospital, he didn’t leave your side. When you were discharged, he stuck to you like glue for the next two months.

📢 Gavin 📢

This is a situation they were all trained for, something they were cautioned could become a reality because people were sick and cruel. They were dirty, willing to do anything to get the upper hand.

Why wasn’t he ready? Gavin almost felt sick. It’s like what victims always say ‘Well, that could never happen to me!’

But it did, and now he was desperately trying to get his head on straight so he could coordinate with the negotiators. He’d almost been taken off the mission, as it was so personal, but he agreed to go in under a different captain to avoid conflict

He expected a prisoner swap or further negotiations on a trial, but this guy was just ranting on and on about how LPD backed a conspiracy instead of the facts. They’d tried the wrong person (according to the rant).

They did it wrong, didn’t look at it enough, missed the clues...

Sources were still out on whether this was a legitimate mental break.

Gavin hadn’t slept since he’d seen you on the news report. The standoff was on day three and he couldn’t even remember how many shift changes there’d been between snipers and others waiting to finish the situation

So far they’d brought in three different family members to try and calm the guy, but he wasn’t having it.

His adrenaline kept him from being tired and he tried to use that energy to playback HOW this guy could have gotten you. Did he just have bad luck? Were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Had this guy been stalking him...or you?!

He listened to yet another screaming match between a relative and the suspect. Gavin’s heart beat in his ears as the negotiator kept the phone call on blast for everyone to hear. Something set him off and suddenly you were sailing over the building like a rag doll

Gavin felt his Evol explode, bowling over the cluster of people around him as he shot off to catch you.

He don’t know if he caught you or if you hit him, but Gavin held onto you like your life depended on it (it did)

He hovered there for a few moments, unable to do anything but laugh as you whined about smacking into him. You had some cuts and bruises, and one of your eyes was black but you were okay!

Gavin took a big, shuddering inhale as he pressed you to his body, fingers tangling in your hair

He probably hugged you way too hard, but he’d apologize later

He received clearance from the captain to ride in the ambulance with you, and he did. You were really disoriented as they took your vitals and figured out what drips to give you but you still reached for his hand.

Gavin wrapped both hands around your battered one. “I’m here.”

🔬 Lucien 🔬

There was no witty remark or playful sarcasm. Just burning rage and a cool calculated feeling.

Lucien wasn’t usually the self-absorbed type but he knew he could outsmart whatever idiot took you

He wasn’t surprised that they wanted top-secret research. Most evil entities do for one reason or another.

Lucien was more than ready to hand over gibberish copies that looked like the real thing but wouldn’t have any critical information. Things that, with the right graphics, would look like what they wanted. A bunch of scientific bullshit, basically.

They were after a few specimen, too, and Lucien had a near-impossible time convincing himself not to straight-up poison them with some toxic bacterial strains. Engineering bacteria was within his skill set and he’d love to see them suffer slowly

Forgeries take time, especially the types they were asking for. The three days past unbelievably slow--Lucien could hardly focus. The end goal of protecting you and making these look realistic enough to trade helped him pull through

Meeting at the docks was a bit cliche, something he’d only seen in the movies, but that further confirmed his suspicions that the info needed to travel and would be used for something big

He’d made LPD aware of the situation, the two parties agreeing not to broadcast any information. They could have the fanfare after catching them in the water.

Lucien adjusted the folder, jostling the pages so the hidden scalpel slid into the sleeve of his lab coat. There were only two men for the small boat, and you were sitting tied up on the edge of the dock. A cinder block sat nearby, undoubtedly tied to you.

All it would take is one nudge and--Lucien focused on the guy speaking, handed over the folder with an empty look, and stabbed him as hard as he could when the cool metal hit his palm.

The first guy got three or four stabs in the gut, Lucien swinging the scalpel up as the second one came at him. He definitely sliced him. Lucien was foggy on the rest.

He threw an elbow and lunged for you as that block slipped off the dock. Lucien hugged it to his chest, pulling with all his might to keep you dangling over the dock. Time seemed to drag forever as he curled his head and waited for the second guy to start stomping his back out--something

All of a sudden lights were thrown--big spot lights used in sea searches. Engines roared to life as LPD boats flooded the docks. One came to rest beneath you, and they coaxed him into letting go. He fell with you; he’d never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Drowning would be a terrible way to go, and you didn’t deserve it.

The fall would give you more bruises and you were already covered in them. Your throat was a little dark, like they’d grabbed you at one point, and Lucien had never wished so hard to return the favor.

He gave up trying to test your pupils with the pen light because all he could see was sheer hysteria. Lucien cradled you in his lap as they cut the block off, rocking you back and forth. “It’s okay, I’ll take care of you.” he smoothed out your hair.

🎤 Kiro 🎤

If any big scandal were to happen, he expected it to happen as Kiro the idol, not Key.

The ultimatum was quick to trend on social media--someone was calling Key out and they had a hostage.

A grainy video was attached and Kiro’s heart nearly stopped when he saw it was you.

He went to great lengths to conceal his identity as Key, so how did they know? He’d been pretty excited about that Key exoneration segment when it aired; maybe they considered him a VERY popular Key sympathizer. Someone who had influence over the real Key.

He was just starting to introduce you to his fanbase as his most favorite, his love, his Miss Chips. Maybe it was his fault...

His manager and the others were also shocked, and there was little to stop him when he left in a panic

It was quite traumatic, seeing your loved one held hostage. No one expected him to cooperate with his schedule after that.

Kiro barricaded himself at home, working feverishly in all the back channels as Key. He wouldn’t stop until you were safe!

You were probably being held by a criminal organization, as all the ‘tests’ revolved around funneling money and getting them air time.

It was difficult work, setting up paths that couldn’t be traced while dropping anonymous hints to LPD. Kiro was trying to make it seem like your kidnappers were arrogant enough to play a cat-and-mouse game with LPD.

After almost three days, he found their location. They could hide things with temporary blocks and back doors, but Kiro wasn’t your average hacker. They made a mistake to call out one of the best. Especially when they couldn’t compare.

These people were dumb enough to stream from a computer, and all it took was sending the coordinates to the LPD after stripping some protections. He even attached a few screenshots of the live stream for proof, and he got to watch in real time as they busted the place and got you out of there

Kiro didn’t know if he wanted to cry, collapse, or sleep

All three, really.

He changed into ‘Kiro’ clothes, made several phone calls to hospitals in the area, his manager, and even chief of police so he could figure out where they’d taken you.

Kiro’s adrenaline was back, the only thing saving him from falling asleep during the ride. He made it all the way to your hospital bed, unable to comprehend how you could look so pale and beaten up

It nearly broke his heart to see you like this, and he hated that he couldn’t use his Evol on himself to calm down.

“Kiro? You found me?” you were so drugged and tired you probably didn’t know what was happening.

“I’ll always find you!” Kiro scrubbed tears from his eyes with one hand, the other refusing to let yours go

Seeing you was so relaxing. He could hold you and feel your pulse beating in your wrist and he was so relieved!

Kiro could finally rest, and he did. He woke up right beside you, in a bed of his own, being treated for exhaustion and malnutrition. Your hand was still in a death grip and he couldn’t be happier.

Wow, this was super long! I hope you liked it! I tried to make them all original :o

[inkribbon796]

The Other Side

Summary: Anti’s bored, and he does terrible things when he’s bored. Virgil just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So the heroes have to save the day, without roughing Anxiety up too much in the process.

Encore: Right Here, Right Now

   Virgil lived with Deceit and Remus, and he hated every part of it. The place they stayed at was in one of the worst parts of town, and they’d been living there for over a year now. It was never warm enough. Deceit’s first order of business when acquiring the place was to get his hands on a number of heaters and keep the room they slept in warm. But unless you were in that room, it was freezing.

   So Virgil walked out of the apartment in normal clothing and hung around King’s Park, just crowd watching. He had his headphones in and his hood drawn up.

   His favorite thing about the park was that if you wanted to be left alone, people left you alone. Except for the hiccup with Yan and the police one night, even Dark’s enforcers and network stayed out of the park. It helped Virgil feel like he had some type of privacy.

   He stayed at the park for a while, and when he finally got hungry, went for a walk to figure out what he wanted, making sure to go in costume so that people would keep leaving him alone.

   Something that turned into a bad idea when he heard the sound of a power box on top of the radio arching. Virgil looked back to see Anti scratching his claws against the electrical box, Natemare was standing next to him with a bag in his hands. Both of the chaotic villains were smiling at him.

   Anti was the one who spoke, “Hey, kid, where’s yer old man?”

   “I’m not a kid,” Virgil spat back, trying to get away from the edge of the roof. He was preparing to summon his spider legs to escape. Maybe he could get back to Dark’s area.

   “Can’t fly can ye?” Anti took the bag from Natemare, and the other glitch demon turned into electricity and slipped back into the wires of the electrical box, a smile still on his face as he vanished.

   “I can cling to walls, I don’t need to fly,” Anxiety trying to sound tough even though his heart was beating almost out of control.

   “Good,” Anti smiled. “Yah know, Dark’s usually really tight-lipped about the stuff his boys collect fer ‘im, but he must have gotten wasted because he was carryin’ this . . .”

   Anti pulled out what looked like an MP3 player but it looked like something that was probably cursed. “. . .  Around like he was proud of it. An’ I figured ye should have it.”

   “I’m not touching that,” Virgil snapped. “It looks like it’ll possess me. Why would you even give me that thing?”

   Anti shrugged and the thing went up into a string of code, “Cause it’ll make him furious, an’ he won’t let me get close enough to his desk ta piss in his coffee.”

   “Then why give it to me, he’ll just think I took it,” Virgil argued.

   Walking over, Anti tried to set his hand on Anxiety’s shoulder. Virgil ducked away immediately.

   “Why so nervous, guess ye live up to yer name, huh Anx?” Anti laughed. “Well, I’ll see if I can pawn it off to some third rate drug dealer, that’ll flip the town on its head.”

   “Yeah, just keep that thing away from me,” Anxiety sprouted out his spider legs and just left, trying to get as far from Anti as possible, and was surprised when no one was following him. So, eager to calm down he grabbed a quiet spot of roof with enough of a protection for him to sit on and lean against, he put in his earphones again.

   He was listening to some MCR at first and it was helping, but slowly in the background static began to build and Virgil was getting sleepy.

   It wasn’t until he collapsed onto the ground in a head that Virgil realized something was wrong with him. The world seemed fuzzy and he could barely move his eyes.

   His panic got worse when Anti appeared in front of him, smiling. Natemare was next to him, holding the MP3 player, hooked up to his own ears.

   “Yah know, I think yah got a good head on your shoulders, taking somethin’ from me would’a been a dumb idea,” Anti smiled as he took the player from Natemare but was careful to still keep the headphones in Natemare’s ears. “Shouldn’ta let us walk off with it, though.”

   Virgil could feel he was crying as the static in his head began to build, it was getting harder to think, harder to breathe. Anxiety couldn’t even blink anymore, his eyes were just staring at Anti.

   “So let’s have some fun, it’s been ages since I’ve had a puppet,” Anti grinned and pressed something on the MP3 and Virgil’s body stood up of its own volition. “You’ll love it, N. It’s the best.”

   Virgil was mentally shaking because his body refused to as Anti tossed Natemare the MP3, the other glitch demon was smiling.

   For the heroes it was a normal day of patrols, and Logan coming in and out of their routine. All Logan would say was that he was conducting research as a favor to the Host and if he needed assistance, Logan or the Host would ask.

   Logan was with Eric and Randall, keeping his watch on them more than anything else.

   “At this rate, you’ll make it full time,” Logan smiled, talking to Eric.

   “R-Really?” Eric smiled hopefully.

   “Your control has greatly improved,” Logan praised.

   “Hey, what’d I tell yah,” Randall grinned.

   Eric smiled warmly, and then looked back down the street before he paled, pointing, “Uh, guys?”

   Logan and Randall looked down the street, but it looked completely normal.

   “What do you see?” Logan braced to grab his TASER.

   “My dad,” Eric looked like he was about to vomit or curl up into a ball in sheer terror.

   “Eric, he’s dead,” Randall reminded.

   Eric took a fearful step back and Logan finally saw something, but it wasn’t Derek. Suddenly Logan was alone on a stage with bright lights shining down at him. Everything felt wrong, like he’d been forced to down five cups of coffee, each with about three shots of espresso, one right after the other. He could see a couple wrinkles and old stains on his favorite button-down shirt and tie.

   “Thomas Sanders,” a disembodied voice in the darkness called out before Logan was hit with a string of trivia. Some he could answer, others he couldn’t. Every wrong answer or even slightly incorrect one was met by a harsh sounding buzzer. It barely took three questions before Logan realized he’d been caught in Anxiety’s fear powers, how he’d been caught so flatfooted was beyond him.

   The whole ordeal was a little too frustrating and taxing on Logan, and the situation seemed to be already spiraling out of control.

   “You’re not real,” Logan tried to fight the illusion, but it felt like he was hitting a brick wall with nothing but his bare fists. As if he knew it was fake, could see a way out, but he couldn’t free himself by just denying it.

   Logan kept repeating it, trying to find some crack in Anxiety’s fear illusion. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder. “Lo.”

   Logan turned around to see Patton, who looked like he was about to crumple into a terrified heap himself. “Sorry.”

   “For?” Logan began before he was knocked out by something behind him. The logical side falling to the ground in a heap.

   He woke up an indeterminate amount of time to the sounds of someone arguing. It gave him an instant migraine and he groaned in pain. “Where are Randall and Eric?” Logan asked immediately.

   “Oh look, now he’s awake,” Roman said. “They’re sleeping their ordeal off.”

   “No thanks to you,” Logan groaned, holding his head. His vision was swimming could someone obtain some painkillers and water.”

   “Yeah,” Patton said, “give me a minute.”

   Roman opened his mouth, but Logan cut him off.

   “You will wait until my headache has abated,” Logan ordered. “Or I will not listen.”

   “Fine,” Roman responded grumpily. He was given a little respite to relax and massage his temples.

   When he signaled, Roman began, taking a deep breath before letting out a long rant, “Virgil used his fear powers to blanket half the town in a crazed fear spell and now he’s using it to take over the town. This proves he’s evil and needs to be stopped. See this is why we don’t trust villains because they betray, and-or kill us, and really we should have seen this coming. Patton doesn’t believe me, and I need you to talk sense into him.”

   Logan just stared at him, waiting to see if he was actually done or not. Then he looked around. “Iplier I need a scientific explanation.”

   Roman groaned, “Come on, Lo.”

   “Dude, your friend is whack and took out half the city in a gnarly fear trip,” Bing interrupted.

   Logan groaned, “I was talking to the Doctor, I’d rather have Roman’s explanation than that one.”

   “It was pretty cool though,” Roman praised, offering a fist bump and Bing’s fist tapped his. Dr. Iplier was coming over to explain the situation in terms Logan could understand without a headache

    “S’no problemo dude, glad you liked it,” Bing smiles. “But, uh, Anxiety’s probably not working alone.”

   “Explain,” Logan turned back to Bing.

   “So, I went to scout out what was going on, ‘cause the magic whatever doesn’ work on droids like me and Googs, but Anxiety was with Natemare an’ Anti,” Bing rambled. “So I got out of there, they totally didn’t see me.”

   He was with both of ‘em?” Logan asked.

   Yeah, it was super weird, dude was just staring out into space,” Bing reported.

   “Do you have any video logs on the subject?” Logan demanded. Bing nodded and hooked up the closest Ipad anyone had on hand as he began to play a short clip of Anxiety standing in front of Anti and Natemare, the two of them talking as Anxiety was just staring. Standing unnaturally still.

   “That’s a bit creepy, even for him,” Roman admitted.

   “Something’s wrong with him,” Patton cut in. “Normally he doesn’t have good posture but his back’s like a piece of plywood.”

   “Hold up a sec,” Iplier interrupted, and rushed to the door that contained both his and Henrik’s side offices. “Hey, Henrik, get out here, I need your opinion on something.”

   It took a minute, but Henrik was walking out with Iplier, the two of them talking quietly.

   Once the German doctor was standing with the group he looked at the clip, his frown becoming a tight, worried line, “Zat is not gud.”

   “What?” Edward asked his friend.

   Henrik took the recording back a couple seconds and pointed to Virgil. “He is copying Anti.”

   “Is this a possession thing?” Dr. Iplier asked. “Anti can still do that right?”

   “He’s what?” Patton exclaimed, bringing back Logan’s headache. “What are we going to do? We can’t leave him like that.”

   “Patton, don’t scream,” Logan rubbed at his temples.

   “This is awful,” Patton took the Ipad, looking heartbroken. “He must be so scared. What can we do to stop Anti?”

   “Well, a little nap usually helps,” Henrik admitted. “But he might not like us after’vard.”

   “But he’ll be free, that’s good, right, Roman?” Patton turned to him.

   Roman hesitated, but after looking at Patton and then the Ipad, he sighed, “Yeah, Mopey Frown doesn’t deserve it.”

   “That doesn’t explain what we’re going to do?” Dr. Iplier. “If it was just Anti and Natemare would could probably send a couple guys and have Logan use an EMP bomb.”

   The American doctor turned to Logan, “Do you still have one?”

   “Yes,” Logan admitted hesitantly. “But Anxiety is purely organic, and even if he wasn’t the range on them is too close. I would become consumed by his abilities.”

   “What about Emile?” Bing spoke up. “You guys and King said Em’s got some kind of emotional empathy power like Patton, you just need to see him. Stand five blocks away on a rooftop.”

   Patton made an uncomfortable noise, “Yeah, but Anxiety doesn’t like Emile, and Em can’t really do anything if the person’s fighting him. Anxiety’s gonna fight us on every word. Emile’s a bit of a squishy target. Can’t really fight against either Anti or Natemare.”

   “You know who can though,” Roman’s face lit up. He looked over at Logan with a huge smile, leaning in closer to him.

   Logan groaned. “Fine, if we must.”

   “We kinda do,” Roman’s grin didn’t go away, it only got wider.

   “Don’t pretend you hate it,” Roman told Logan. “I know you like being Remy.”

   “So you two are going to fuse?” Bing asked.

   “Yes,” Roman summoned and iced coffee. “Hold this for me, we’re going to want it in a bit. Don’t drink it.”

   “You got it bro,” Bing promised.

   Quickly Roman pulled Logan into the main area and was still all smiles as the creative Side held both hands up to snap his fingers and the space around them shifted. A twenty foot area around them turned into an old fashioned pub and Logan was now sporting a white button-down shirt and a black vest. Roman in a red vest that wasn’t buttoned.

   “Let’s get started,” Roman smiled.

   “I won’t cut out halfway into the song again,” Logan warned. “I still have a headache.”

   “Oh, I’m counting on it Specs,” Roman smiled. “I wouldn’t dare stop a show tune halfway.”

   Roman snapped his fingers as music began coming from the very room around them.

~::~ One Hour Later ~::~

   Silver and Jackie were walking down Main St. with Remy walking behind them. The fused Side’s sunglasses over his eyes, drinking his iced coffee.

   “So you two coming with me?” Remy asked.

   “As soon as Anxiety’s done, we’ll take care ‘a the demons,” Jackie promised.

   “Nice, I’m not exactly demon proof,” Remy smile, taking his still free hand and snapped his fingers at Jackie.

   Remy set his coffee on top of the closest and safest surface. “Let’s do this,” the fused Side yelled. “Anx won’t stop himself.”

   With that Remy stepped into the start of the fear bubble, as the other heroes had taken to calling it, that part of the city was in various states of disrepair. The people trapped in this part had either been rescued or were still causing destruction. Remy felt Virgil’s powers trying to affect him but with two different minds and two different fears, it seemed like it was having a hard time locking onto Remy himself.

   Remy did try and knock out as many people as he could, just so they couldn’t keep harming themselves or others. He tried to put them in safe locations. The rest of the heroes could clean up behind him.

   It didn’t take long to find Anxiety, neither the glitch demons or Virgil were exactly trying to hide.

   “Hey crawler,” Anti caled out time Virgil. “You missed one.”

   Virgil turned as if he’d been jolted and Remy could see the panic on Virgil’s face. A panic that seemed to become more frantic when he saw Remy. “No. No. No. No.”

   Oh, he looks bad. Roman thought.

   Indeed, we need to make this quick. Logan agreed.

   “Hey, Anx,” Remy greeted, sand already appearing at his fingertips. He was trying to keep calm and keep a pin on where Anti and Natemare were. “You look like you could use a nap.”

   Anxiety’s spider limbs shot out and his hands went up. He took a fearful step back.

   Anti snatched the MP3 from Natemare’s hands. “Where do ye think yer goin’ huh?”

   “Hey,” Natemare snapped at him, but Anti was messing with it and Virgil took a jolted step forward.

   The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Remy or Logan immediately started studying Virgil.

   Now! Logan commanded and Remy smiled. Then he bolted for Virgil who looked even more terrified than before.

   “Come on, V for Vendetta, work with me here,” Remy quipped, trying to get close enough to him to grab at the headphones still in his ears.

   Virgil dodges, which both Remy and Roman thought was unfair someone with huge spider legs could still be so agile. “No, get away from me,” Anxiety shouted back, he stuck a leg in a piece of metal, probably from a car or a newspaper box and flung it at Remy.

   The fusion barely dodged in time, and it almost hit Anti.

   “Hey, watch it!” Anti hissed.

   Remy glanced back, “Well that works too.”

   Virgil kept throwing things at him, bits of rubble, pieces of smoking rubber, rocks, metal; and Remy kept dodging, trying get Anti and Natemare hit in the process.

   It turned out that the fusion got to Virgil before the other villains could get hit. Remy tackled Virgil and panicked Side was trying to throw Remy back off.

   “No, get off me,” Virgil was in a sheer panic and Remy reached up and grabbed the headphones off, knocking Virgil out with his sleep sand instantly. Anxiety slumping to the ground as the fear effects dissipated almost instantly.

   “Shoot,” Anti frowned, walking towards Remy. “Well that was fun at least.”

   “Woah, back it up, jazz,” Remy warned, standing between Virgil and the two glitch demons.

   “Nah, he was gettin’ borin’ anyways,” Anti smiled, “Hey, interested in a cursed artifact?”

   Jackie ran in at full speed, blinging fast with his super speed and slammed his fist into the glitch demon, screaming at the top of his lungs the instant he made contact. Anti violently fractured, but Jackie was now holding the destroyed MP3 player that the two glitch demons had been using.

   The speedster cursed and looked around, spiking the device to the ground. Remy was quick to scoop the thing into his pocket and grab Virgil, pulling his arm over his shoulder. “Hey, I got Wednesday Adams,” Remy quipped. “Let’s split.”

   “Pass him,” Silver flew over and Remy let the other superhero take the unconscious Anxiety and fly away with him.

   “Take him to Iplier, he trusts him,” Remy ordered before turning to Jackieboy Man who was trying to take on Anti while trying to avoid Natemare.

   “Come on, Lo,” Remy muttered as he pulled the arm of his jacket up, Logan’s arm brace firmly strapped onto his wrist. “Tell me you calibrated it.”

   Remy pressed a couple buttons, using Logan’s memories of the device to time up an EMP blast and grabbed onto of the fake bombs out of his pocket before rushing into the fight and throwing the thing at the two villains. It exploded on contact.

   Anti and Natemare screamed and then they were gone. Jackie held his hands up, his nose bleeding and a bit disorientated from the light that had come from the fake EMP bomb.

   “They gone?” Jackieboy asked.

   “For now,” Remy agreed, holding his own heart. “I’m surprised it got both of them in one go.

   Remy and Jackie spent some time with the authorities and the EMT’s, Silver and some of the other heroes arrived to help. Virgil had been dropped off with Iplier, still unconscious from Remy’s sleep sand. After the situation was manageable, the heroes headed back to the base. Mostly to relax, Remy immediately headed over to the medical ward where Ipler and Patton were, tending to a still-unconscious Virgil.

   “How’s he doing?” Remy asked.

   “You really knocked him out,” Iplier admitted, “but his vitals are stable.”

   “Good,” Remy relaxed. “He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”

   “Hopefully not,” Patton whispered. “But he’ll probably be confused when he wakes up. I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls”

   “Sounds great, Patt-attack,” Remy lowered his glasses to the end of his nose. “How you doing? Wasn’t any time to ask earlier.”

   “I’m good,” Patton smiled.

   “Good,” the fused side asked. “How’s Em?”

   “Doing well,” Patton’s smile got wider.

   “Hey, am I ever going to actually meet Em?” Remy asked.

   “As much as I’d like to, I can’t,” Patton looked away.

   “A guy’s gotta try,” Remy shrugged, and snapped his fingers over Virgil. The petty thief’s nose twitched, and he groaned. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

   Virgil’s eyes immediately shot open and his eyes started to look between Patton and Remy. He screamed and bolted off the table.

   “Calm down, we didn’t arrest you,” Remy pushed his glasses up his nose in a Logan-esque manner.

   “Did you need to wake him up so abruptly?” Patton frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval.

   “Where am I?” Virgil demanded.

   “My office,” Iplier interrupted. “The heroes brought you here to recover so you wouldn’t have the news poking at you while you slept.”

   “Uhh,” Anxiety looked around, calmed by the fact he clearly wasn’t in handcuffs. “Thanks. I’ll just go.”

   “You’re in the Heroes’ base,” Remy reminded, using Roman’s creativity powers to summon himself up a new frappuccino. “Prolly don’t wanna just walk out there just yet.”

   “What?” Virgil balked.

   Remy slurped noisily at his frappe. “Yeah.”

   “I thought I wasn’t under arrest?” Anxiety reminded.

   “You’re not,” Patton agreed.

   “Haven’t even been read your rights,” Remy cut in. “Certainly can’t keep you here without cause since you obviously didn’t want to be there.”

   “So, I can go,” Anxiety stood up.

   “Let me level with you,” Remy grabbed a chair and sat down. “You know what I am, right?”

   “That’s a stupid question,” Virgil told him. “Of course I do.”

   “Then you know I speak from experience when I say you’re in every position to start making deals,” Remy told him. “Stay, talk a bit, and then if you still want Patt and I can walk you out so no one bothers you.”

   “Why should I believe you?” Virgil spat.

   “Because I’m not Dee,” Remy took another sip of his coffee. “Sides, Logan says your chances are good either way you take it.”

   “So what do you guys want?” Virgil asked, sounding suspicious.

   “Well,” Patton cut in. “You could join us.”

   Anxiety just stared at him, a little surprised laugh slipping out of him, “Excuse me? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

   “Anx, do you wanna spend the rest of your life trailing after Dee and Remus, cleaning up their messes?” Remy leaned in. “Cause that’s what you’re gonna be doing. If you’re really happy with being part of the League then commit and do it, don’t go off and rescue people and then claim to still be one of them.”

   “Remy, be nice,” Patton warned.

   Virgil was quiet, looking uncomfortable.

   “Anx, pardon Rem,” Patton pleaded. “We don’t want you hurt. And I couldn’t stand to see Anti using you like that.”

   “What do you care?” Virgil spat back. “Like you three ever cared, I got stiffed with the box and you three were too busy goofing off help me.”

   “I regret that every day,” Patton started tearing up. “That I didn’t say something to you first, but I don’t wanna see you keep getting hurt. Logan doesn’t either.”

   “Neither does Roman,” Remy interrupted.

   Virgil glared at him.

   Remy held up his hands, “I can’t turn back into them right now to give Ro a chance to prove it to you. All I can do is ask you to give us time to prove it. Please.”

   The hostility in Virgil’s eyes started to soften. It took him a bit to answer, he started playing with his hands for a bit. “I’m not doing patrols, and I don’t do press conferences.”

   “Deal,” Remy looked at Iplier and Patton. “I’ll talk to Silver and Jackie.”

   “Hey, wait,” Virgil’s anxiety spiked. He stood up, “you can’t just do that.”

   “It’ll be fine,” Remy promised, holding the door open for Virgil to step through on his own. A couple leaps of faith.

   Nervously drawing his hood over his face, Virgil followed him and Patton, Iplier bringing up the rear of the group but giving Virgil room to flee and move if he needed to. When they entered the main area of the base, Virgil hid behind Iplier.

   “E’erythin’ okay?” Jackie asked, looking at Anxiety.

   Iplier looked at Virgil, letting Virgil stay behind him. “Yeah, I think so.”

   “Good,” Jackie nodded. “Anxiety, if you’re on the level, welcome to the group. Take a seat, try and relax.”

   Patton smiled at Virgil and went off to go make some cinnamon rolls.

   “Th-Thanks,” Virgil told him, looking around the room. His heart was still hammering out of his chest, but no one was attacking him or yelling at him. Virgil was so calm he’d completely forgotten about the deal he made with Dark weeks ago. Anxiety was just working on calming himself down.

   Later that night, Anti walked out from the Void and in the middle of Dark’s main warehouse, shaking his head to clear some of the residue bits of the EMP black. He was more than a little angry. None of Dark’s enforcers guarding the place stopped him. “Hey, Dinodark!”

   Dark walked out from his office, leaving the door open, a smile on his face as he snapped his neck to his right and straightened out his tie. “Ahh, Anti, you’re alive.”

   “What did that thing actually do?” Anti asked. “I knew yah weren’t paradin’ it around fer shits an’ giggles.”

   “It served its intended purpose,” Dark shrugged. “I have to thank you for being so predictable and helping out. Anxiety drags his feet and I wanted him out of the League.”

   “Well, the hero’s have a new chump working with Logic,” Anti warned. “He had Logic’s tech.”

   “A new apprentice?” Dark mused. “This new hero have a name?”

   “Don’t know, couldn’t be bothered,” Anti shrugged, pulling a knife out. “You owe me, shitbag.”

   “You stole something from me with the intent to harm my network, I owe you nothing,” Dark reminded. “I could have had Anxiety thrown out without your help.”

   “Ye owe me Google fer the next month,” Anti argued.

   Dark scoffed, already turning around before Anti literally snarled and lunged at the greyscaled entity. The two starting a scuffle between two of them. Dark’s enforcers moved out of the way as Dark’s aura clashed with Anti’s knives.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

EoA ships fluff headcanons part 4

Who secretly melts inside when the other says their name? Eleteo: I feel like it’s equal melting on both their parts. For Elena, this sort of love is nothing like she’s felt before. Everything is just so *special* when Mateo says it. He makes her feel like the most important person in the world which is definitely saying something. He’s just so sincere and warm, and the way he says her name with love and adoration and respect makes her fall for him even more. Mateo makes for a lot of the same reasons. He’s not a “nobody” wizard hiding in his basement. She makes him feel like he can do anything, that he’s worth so much more to her and it makes him want to be more for her, and so it continues in an endless cycle. Gababel: Isabel does. Like I said before, it’s not hard to get her to blush whereas Gabe is concerned, and when Gabe says her name especially in the beginning of the relationship...just lots of red face. Part of it is from the disbelief she still has, as well as how it just feels like she is being singled out. She’s gotten kinda used to being Elena’s little sister, burgeoning scientist, it’s hard to believe she can step out of the shadow and be noticed especially by Gabe. But she is, and the way he says her name makes her feel safe, and respected and with such warmth...yes, she loves it, and him. Estenaomi: Esteban does. He is a secret softie and so he secretly melts when Naomi says his name. It is so often that her softer side is hidden under her sassy exterior so the times when she says his name with fondness that she gives no one else, it’s special to him. Especially whenever he feels like his abuelos are nagging him with how he can’t be more like Elena or be more mature, and then he knows, he has Naomi, who (almost) never says his name in a tone of deep disappointment and he hopes to never disappoint her ever. Estoma: Doña does. Since almost no one knows her real name, and Esteban rarely says it in public, so when he does it is in some deep or romantic talk which just makes it even more special. He says it like it is the most beautiful name in the world, it just like ❇️ It goes a long way to making her hate it a bit less. Who nose boops the other more often?

Eleteo: Elena does, she is affectionate like that and it makes Mateo a blushy mess. Gababel: Same as above. Isabel does it more often and it gets Gabe so flustered especially since she usually draws it. She goes on her tip goes and Gabe is expecting a kiss but gets a nose boop and smart remark or compliment. Estenaomi: I feel like it is even. Like Esteban can sometimes do it condescendingly like when he was teaching Naomi to dance but Naomi dishes it right back at him when she’s teasing him. Estoma: Doña usually in the middle of Esteban speaking. She says it’s like an automatic “shut up” button which he doesn’t appreciate.

Little habit that entertains the other? eleteo: Elena is always entertained by whenever Mateo imitates someone else since it is usually so exaggerated or when he gets annoyed. She is not entertained by his annoyance per say but his arms get so frenzied and he is all animated and not the usually calm and collected, it’s a bit funny like when Esteban “ate” his mom. Mateo is entertained when Elena gets all sassy and competitive like in the Scepter Training shorts. It’s always fun to hang out with Elena when she starts doing her hair flips, and sometimes he starts goading her competitiveness just a bit. Gababel: Gabe gets entertained when Isabel sees a scientific mistake in some sort of scientific journal where there isn’t suppose to be any artistic license or suspension of disbelief because it is supposed to cold hard facts and she goes in a long rant and Gabe just smiles. Isabel is always entertained by whenever Gabe incorporates his guard training into little things he does like throwing fruit or olaball or snowball fight because she finds it cute when he shows off and how proud he looks. Estoma: Doña is entertained whenever someone gives a speech Esteban wrote because you can always see Esteban in the background, mouthing all with the words with cringing and enthusiasm whenever the person gets it wrong or right. Sometimes Esteban accompanies Doña shopping and he is always a bit entertained with the way she has her assistant behind her carrying bags and taking the stuff while she points to it and says “Mine.” Not “I think I’ll buy that” or “Maybe this one?” Just, “Mine. Mine. Mine.”  He sometimes asks her if she even looks at what she’s buying or if it depends how shiny it is. Estenaomi: Like Elena, Esteban sometimes gets his entertainment from when Naomi is annoyed or freaking out because it’s usual the other way around when Naomi is telling him to calm down and not be dramatic or it’s not a big deal so yeah. The shoe is on the other foot. Naomi is entertained by Esteban’s constant feud with anyone who has not heard of or doesn’t agree hat Avaloran chocolate is the best. Because Esteban just gets so personally offended but she also can’t blame him because chocolate is worth fighting for.

Who overpacks?

Eleteo: Hmm I feel like Mateo would. Not with clothes but just with additional spellbooks for “light” reading whenever Elena is at her political meetings even though he ends up not reading half of them because he is spending time with Elena. Gababel: Isabel does. As in line with her overthinking nature, she packs everything they could possibly need in case of an emergency by sea or land though Gabe tells her not to worry  because he’s there, he’ll take care of any emergency😉 Estenaomi: Esteban does because he cannot *possibly* go to Paraíso without his black linen suit or his matching red bolero jacket or his Flores family heirloom dagger or his hairdryer or well, there’s more but you get the idea. 😋 Estoma: Again, it would be Esteban. But I feel like Doña would overpack in the return trip from all her shopping. Who moves in with the other, and who decorates?

Eleteo: Well technically we saw that already with Mateo moving into the palace and the wizard quarters were already decorated but when they officially move move in as a married couple it is still Elena who decorates the room with some of his books even though he says they can keep them in the workshop and bringing in some of the baby pictures Rafa gave Elena which again, is so her idea because she finds baby Mateo adorable. Gababel: Well obviously Gabe has to move into the palace since it is so spacious that there is room for everybody and it is technically Blanca who swoops in to decorate along with Isabel because though Gabe can be very neat in his guard quarters, he has no idea about aesthetic and neatness in his room. Plus Isabel likes to keep his things in line with her own system of organization so it’s just best to let her take over. Estenaomi: Well since the two are sailing around the world together, it is Esteban who moves in with Naomi and he decorates his part of the room with his own sense of flair with fancy drawings and clothes and of course, his moisturizing/hair stuff. Honestly his stuff takes up more of the bathroom then hers does. Estoma: Probably Doña moves in with Esteban after they get married since the palace is very big and I can’t see Esteban wanting to be separated from his family. And she decorates it. Though there are the usual disagreements of his stuff blocking hers, there is no need for that many vases in one room etc.

Who watches the other sleep? Eleteo: Undoubtedly Elena because Mateo has little catnaps around the palace or sometimes he studies so hard he falls asleep where he is sitting and that’s where Elena finds him still hours later, and she just smiles at him because he looks so peaceful when he’s asleep. Gababel: Gabe is the one who watches Isabel go to sleep, benefitting his stay up and guard work so Isabel doesn’t quite have the same stamina for staying up late unless she’s reading something really good. Gabe can’t help his heart swelling with love and disbelief that she is lying beside him and he just cuddles her closer. Estenaomi: Hmm I feel like it would be either of them. More likely Esteban would find her asleep standing up at the bow so he has to take over but Naomi has watched him fall asleep, and like Gabe can’t believe she’s spending her life with him. Estoma: Esteban since I picture him as the night owl so he’d stay awake longer and watch her with a small smile on his face.

Worst date ever? Eleteo: It was all going well when the whole staff came upon them along with the Grand Council with a list of things that needed to be done now and by done now I mean done that morning when Elena was kissing Mateo. It turns out in all her busyness, Elena forgot to cancel all her appointments and forgot to inform them of her date. They tried to salvage by continuing somewhat romantic activities in the few 1-2 minute intervals but it was hopeless. Estenaomi: It was a real disaster date. First, Naomi gets splashed with mud all over her new dress, then Esteban burns his tongue on the spice and accidentally spills his water on Naomi, they miss their carriage ride to the olaball game and ended up with a night back on the ship where they just rested. Well rested for like half an hour. Then they realized the food they had was a little suspect when the food poisoning hit them. Estoma: I imagine in the beginning, they kept their dating on the down low just to make sure it would work out and you know, not be a mistake they’d regret the rest of their lives. Well one night they go to the opera and surprise, it was also Francisco and Luisa’s date night. And since they assumed there was nothing going on between them, they invited themselves along to sit next to them and join them for dinner. Gababel: Another abuelos crashed date. But not exactly. Gabe and Isabel were pretty well established as a couple so obviously they were together for Christmas time. Just for their families to meet up and chat while they sneak out with some mistletoe. Well, Blanca, Roberto, Luisa and Francisco got to talking and all the baby stories came out. All of them. All the ones they hadn’t want the other to hear. Isabel was mortified when Luisa started to bring picture albums. And there was nothing they could do as the adults kept pulling them in to the conversation.

Favorite feature? Eleteo: Both love each other’s eyes. They are truly the window to the soul but Elena’s love for Mateo’s soft sweet smile and his curls come at a close second. Estenaomi: Esteban adores Naomi’s freckles, you knowing counting them. He finds them so uniquely her. Naomi likes Esteban’s swoopy hair which she should considering how much gel and time he spends on it. Gababel: Though it might be considered shallow Isabel likes Gabe’s arms. Not only because they are mascular but they just make her feel safe. Gabe likes Isabel’s mouth, anything that comes out of it so informative and special and sincere even when she is babbling, and then of course there is the kissing. Estoma: Doña likes Esteban’s face. I mean it is so expressive, at times incredibly sweet, hilarious and sinful all at once. Esteban likes her hands, she uses them a lot and are perfectly well manicured. What they did after they got married?

 Eleteo: Once they walked out the hall, just before the ceremony there was lots of swinging around and kissing and surprisingly, silence as they took each other and the moment in. They did it. After all the drama and dangers, they got a perfect happily ever moment and then they kissed. Which was promptly ruined by Luisa, Naomi and Isabel reminded Elena she had to get changed. But once they got on their honeymoon they got to kiss again. And again. And yet again.   Gababel: Once they left the crowd and crossed the threshold of their honeymoon suite, they actually did a kinda adorkable happy dance. They were married to their best friend and soul mate, and after that little dance, Gabe picked Isabel up again and they started to spend the rest of their lives together. Estenaomi: Well let’s say the day after they made their impulsive, not that sober marriage, they. Got over their hangovers and realized what happened. At first it was a bit awkward, saying they could always have it annulled but then it led to their talk that yes, they did see themselves heading for marriage, they actually weren’t so horrified by that they were currently married. I mean they did what to spend their lives together anyway. So they started a second celebration to their decision that they were going to stay married. Estoma: After the ceremony and before the rest of the party, they took a moment to repeat their vows in private because they were trying too hard not to cry in public and kinda missed it as it was being said. As you can imagine, it was much better the second time with their undivided attention and maybe some choked up moments. Most romantic kiss?

Eleteo: For Elena it has to be her first kiss with Mateo. Now, Elena is usually very confident but love...that’s a whole different ballgame. She wasn’t sure how he felt and moreover, the whole feeling was just so vulnerable and uncertain and yet she felt so right next to him. So when they first kissed, it was like a sign that everything between them was going to be perfect. They were perfect for each other. The kiss made Elena stop thinking and just be complete with Mateo.For Mateo, the moment after the priest said “You may now kiss the bride” during the ceremony. It was like fireworks went off. Everything was perfect. The world was safe. He had a whole new family and Elena, beautiful Elena and he were cementing their bond for eternity. Nothing could top the thrill he felt.  It felt like he was complete and he was at home. 

Estenaomi: The most romantic kiss for Naomi was the surprise first year anniversary date. Esteban had been so annoying with the way he kept the whole thing a secret. But the surprise was totally worth it when it was a gondola ride down the canal. Also frustrating was that he refused to kiss her till the ‘right’ moment which was also worth it because it was in the moonlight as they went under the bridge. Esteban’s most romantic kiss was his second one with Naomi. They had kissed once before but they thought it didn’t mean much, it was just drunken fun. But weeks later, Esteban being the impulsive boy he is decided to do some risky move during one of their adventures and nearly fall off a cliff and Naomi snapped kissing him alternating with yelling about how hurt he could have gotten. But Esteban knew at that moment how much she cared for him since Naomi rarely lets her emotions get the better of her.

Estoma: Like Elena, the most romantic kiss for Esteban was the first kiss they had. Sure, it wasn’t supposed to happen. They were fighting and the heat built up and exploded. But it was also amazing because it was the first time he had been kissed or any sort of affection in years. Plus that unique nervous thrill that yes, she actually might like him back. It was just wow. Doña’s was what started out as horrible trip to her village that Esteban mistakingly thought would be closure. But it was salvaged in the end when they took a walk through a grove of apple trees and blossoms, and as the sunset over the horizon, they kiss. And Esteban asks that this was what she wanted her first kiss to have been like? She’s shocked he remembers that she said and of course, it just made it more sweet and romantic.  Gababel: Isabel’s most romantic kiss came with one of the sweetest gestures Gabe ever did which was to surprise her in Satu for some big intellectual science award prize she was receiving. He hadn’t told her, no one was meant to come since they were busy with royal/baby duties but Gabe managed to get her entire family with homemade signs and after she got her prize she launched herself in his arms with a big kiss. Gabe’s most romantic kiss was the first time he came home from battle after starting his relationship ship with Isabel. He had been worried. Very worried because this was the first time he was going into battle knowing Isabel waiting for him on the other side and of course, that just made him more determined to live.  It had been a horrific battle, he almost lost his leg but he made it and he came home and there was Isabel and it was the best, sweetest kiss of his life. He was home, he was safe, and he was with her.

Showtune songs Esteban: I dreamed a dream (Les Miserables), Evermore (Beauty and the Beast), Waiting in the Wings (Tangled), Nobody needs to know (Last 5 Years), Learn to live without (If/Then), Wait for it (Hamilton), Once upon a December (Anastasia), Empty chairs at Empty Tables (Les Miserables) 

Doña: She used to be mine (Waitress), Learn to live without (If/Then), Money money (Caberet or Mamma Mia), Diamonds are a girl’s best friend (Moulin Rogue)

Estoma: Fine (No ordinary day), Anything you can do I can do better (Annie Get your gun), Elephant Love Medley (Moulin Rogue), Here goes (Rent), Take a break (Hamilton), Something that will last (First Date), Out of the darkness (Ever after)

Naomi: Legally Blonde (Legally Blonde), So much better (Legally Blonde), I can do better (Last Five Years), One day I’ll fly away (Moulin Rogue) Estenaomi: I’ll never tell (Buffy), First Impressions (First Date), No day but today (Rent), In his eyes (Jekyll and Hyde), I’ll cover you (Rent), Something to believe in (Newsies), It takes two (Into the Woods), Seventeen (Heathers), Bad idea (Waitress)

Gabe: History has his eyes on you (Hamilton), Empty chairs at Empty Tables (Les Miserables), One Song Glory (Rent), Sandy (Grease) 

Isabel: Once upon a December (Anastasia), Hopelessly Devoted to you (Grease), Moments in the Woods (Into the Woods), History of the wrong guys (Kinky Boots), When he sees me (Waitress)

Gababel: In a crowd of thousands (Anastasia), It takes two (Into the Woods) That would be Enough (Hamilton), Somewhere (West Side Story), There Once was a man (Pajama Game), As long as you’re mine (Wicked), All I ask for (Phantom), Most amazing thing (Little Woman), You matter to me (Waitress) Eleteo: Under your spell (Buffy), If I never knew you (Pocahontas), Come What May (Moulin Rogue) 

Eleteo: Under your spell (Buffy), If I never knew you (Pocahontas), Come What May (Moulin Rogue), Your Song (Moulin Rogue), Far longer than Forever (Swan Princess), Sunrise (In the heights), As long as you’re mine (Wicked), Next Ten Minutes (Last Five Years), Out of the Darkness (Ever after), Something to believe in (Newsies)   Mateo: Go the distance (Hercules), I’d give my life for you (Miss Saigon), How could I have known (Secret Garden), Something good (Sound Of Music) 

Elena: Empty chairs at Empty Tables (Les Miserables), Defying Gravity (Wicked), Just breath (In the heights), My shot (Hamilton)

Who gets drunk first?

Eleteo: Elena rarely gets drunk. You can’t let the crown princess/queen get drunk in public. But because of that lack of exposure, getting her drunk is really easy. Like three cups of wine easy. And that’s when her not so discreet Flores side comes out with a vengeance and with lack of balance. Mateo is pretty easy too but they decided never at the same time because one of them needs to be sober to drag the other out of the room. It’s like this https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WSF9CKO8wIQ  Gababel: Isabel. Even as she grows, she is much smaller than Gabe making her a lightweight and as you said, the things she says when she is drunk. Lots of curses and no filter especially when it comes to talking about Gabe’s mountain range of abs. This most often happens at physicist parties. Crazy things go down with physicists trying to use experiments on alcohol levels. Estenaomi: Esteban gets drunk first. Once more, it is more of his trait that he can never refuse a dare, nor can he refuse a drinking contest. But even if he wasn’t in a drinking contest, he is used to sweet wine not strong hard beer and so he gets plastered one jug in and Naomi has to drag him before he gets into a fight or worse, starts describing their intimate life in way too great detail in front of people they know. Estoma: Doña. But it’s less than staggering drunk but more it makes her sleepy and amorous. She’s a lot more likely to start moving into Esteban’s lap and lying her head in the crook of his neck and saying she wants a foot rub or to go to bed. 

[myownpersonaldemons]

Self-tober Prompt 23

Lost

Sans/Reader

WARNING: TW: Passive suicidal thoughts + existential nihilism

Sans wasn’t a stranger to losing.

Timeline after timeline after timeline he lost something or someone in some form or another. Constantly. He’d watched his own brother be slaughtered mercilessly. He’d seen the air fill with dust as the kid stormed their bloody warpath through the Underground to meet him in the Judgement hall. He’d fought for as long as he could until he too had lost.

Every so often there would be a pacifist run…and the first one he’d had hope that the kid wouldn’t just RESET and everything would go back to ground zero. Except. It did. Again and again. He stopped putting faith in the kids random pacifist tendencies. Sure, they weren’t killing anyone…but then why RESET? Why make all these friends and then RESET it just to slaughter them all?

It didn’t make sense.

But Sans had stopped trying to make sense of it a long time ago.

Even if this run was a pacifist run…and it had been years since they had made it out of the Underground and were living on the surface. Frisk would just RESET again sooner or later when they were bored. As if this entire thing was their game and they were all just their pawns.

It fucking sucked.

Of course, he was the only one who truly remembered the RESETs.

He was partially glad and immensely burdened by that thought. There was no one to talk to about it. No one would understand. It was just like when he tried to talk about Gaster after his father and mentor disappeared after falling into his machine and into the Void. People were confused…and even if some of them vaguely remembered someone they couldn’t figure out who it was. In the end it just frustrated them and they simply stop talking about it.

Sans had been losing for so long…he stopped trying to win.

Papyrus encouraged him to take up a job at the university with Alphys. After all! Sans was brilliant and sciency! So! It was the perfect fit! Except….Sans didn’t want to mess with science anymore. Sure, he loved figuring out the secrets of the universe and bending physics, but after his own father died because of that shit? Nope. Not happening.

Except Papyrus kept encouraging…and looked sadder and sadder each time Sans declined. Sans knew that Papyrus was trying to hide his own feelings regarding Sans’ depression, but it was hard for a normally very outwardly emotional monster like Papyrus. When they sat down and spoke about it…Papyrus admitted he didn’t want Sans doing something for him, instead of for himself. Which is why he tried not to show his sadness about the whole situation.

The open communication between the two just expanded from there…and eventually Sans took up the job…part-time at least.

Alphys introduced him to her assistant, you, on his first day. You were brilliant and quick-witted, and all smiles. Literally. You could be elbow deep in mechanical parts with a focused look on your face, but the slightest upturn of those beautiful lips. The lips that Sans admitted he’d thought about kissing many times since meeting you and warming up to you.

Still, he kept his feelings to himself. After all, anyone as contagiously happy as you were would just be brought down by him. He didn’t want to see that smile wipe off your face because of him…or for you to be disappointed in him on those days where he just couldn’t get out of bed. After all…why should anything he do matter? Frisk was just going to RESET.

You had surprised him after a year of working together when you asked if he wanted to hang out after work together. It had been an offhanded suggestion, one that you had done not even facing him as you looked over some equations. He’d been stunned, and thought of a way to decline without hurting your feelings. Instead, you had turned around, an embarrassed smile on your face and you quickly said, “Sorry! Nevermind, that was stupid, forget I asked.”

“sure. ever been to grillby’s?”

Sans quickly found out that he laughed more with you…his smiles were more real rather than just how his face naturally was, and he came home feeling a bit…more hopeful that there wouldn’t be a RESET. It soon became an almost daily thing where the two of you would head out somewhere after work to chat, hang out, and generally eat food.

Still, there was that pesky thought on his mind.

Frisk was just going to RESET so why even bother with all of this? Why bother with you? Why bother pleasing his brother? It was all just going to end.

Then…one day, he’d taken you star-gazing on a nice clear, warm night. The two of you were sprawled on a blanket in the grass and staring up at the clusters of millions of stars overhead. There was no sound but the distant croak of frogs, chirps of crickets, and the creaking of tree branches off to the side.

“Hey…Sans,” you spoke up after endless silence. His eye lights shifted towards you and his SOUL clenched. The normal upturned corners of your lips were shifted downwards.

“yeah?”

“Do you ever just feel…like nothing you do…matters?” you whispered, eyes pinned on the stars. You didn’t wait for a response from him, powering on, “I just….go through the paces, you know? Wake up, go to work, go home…it’s just. Yeah, I’m doing what I wanted to, and I love my job…and it’s not like it takes up all my time and Alphys totally understands if I need time off. But like…I don’t know. This is all going to end one day, and will anything I ever do mean anything to anyone?”

Sans rolled to his side during your quiet rant, and then reached for your hand and squeezed it. For a moment you didn’t respond, but then you squeezed his fingers back.

“i get it. probably more than you know.”

You peered over at him, and then rolled onto your side as well, not releasing his hand. “Yeah?”

“no matter what you do it’s never…enough, yeah?”

You nod silently, eyes flickering to study the pattern on the blanket beneath the two of you.

“people see your smiling face and think you’ve got nothing going on inside?”

Another nod.

Sans was silent for a while before he quietly added, “you think your life doesn’t matter and that if you weren’t there…nothing would change?”

A nod, and then he saw tears forming in your eyes.

“well…i’d miss you if you weren’t there,” he murmured, “and i get it. you can talk to me about it...when you don’t want to smile, i’ll be there for you too.”

You were silent, and then you squeezed his hand. “I’d miss you too…and…the same goes for you. Sans…I’m here for you.”

“heh…uh…thanks…” he said, glancing away, “but…-“

“But nothing. Even if the reason you feel that way is different from the reason I feel this way…the feeling remains and I get that…and you get that. Even if you don’t feel comfortable enough to tell me everything, just…know that I’m here for you for what you are comfortable telling me,” you said, squeezing his hand again.

The two of you lapsed into silence, and he finally looked up at you. The tears that were in your eyes were gone, the faintest dampness to your eyelashes the only proof that you had been close to crying.

“i’ve lost so many times that i stopped keeping track...” he murmured softly, “i’d like to know what it feels like to win…just once.”

You nodded your head softly, and then reached up and stroked his cheek. “You will…I just know it. You’re a brilliant guy, Sans...and a sweetheart. If anyone deserves a win, it’s you.”

Sans wanted to kiss you…but he didn’t think it was appropriate to do that after you just confessed you felt…just like him. Worthless and like nothing you ever did mattered. He wanted to know why you could smile so much even though you felt so empty. He wanted to know how you could joke and cheer people up without even the hint of anything wrong darkening your eyes. He wanted to know who you were beyond what you just showed people.

He wanted to know the soft, vulnerable person in front of him…and he wanted to show you all of who he was. Not just the lazy jokester who somehow had multiple scientific degrees.

Until then? He refrained from kissing you…until you wanted to kiss him.

Even if you didn’t feel the same way about him, ever, at least he finally found someone else who he knew could understand him.

A friend.

[rootfauna]

A Handmaiden’s Tale. Specifically, Mine.

I’e been debating on whether or not to make this post for a while now, and I’ve decided that the benefits of saying my piece outweigh any hate I’ll get for this. It’s really long but I have no more fucks to give. 

I am so, so, sick of the trend in radical feminism of calling women who aren’t radical feminists “cocksuckers” “wastes of time” “dick riders” “sellouts” “cowards” and “handmaidens”. Anti feminist women and liberal feminist women can be incredibly annoying and have made me want to put my head through a wall, and I honestly can’t blame anyone for making a snide remark about them here or there. But I absolutely cannot wrap my mind around the fact that a group of women who supposedly A) understands the misogyny of using a woman’s (real of hypothetical) sexual interactions with a man as an insult against her, B) acknowledges the realities of female socialization in a patriarchal society and C) understands the potential dangerous outcomes of a woman speaking up against misogyny, can go around unabashedly talking about women this way. Every time I scroll through my dash I’ll come across at least one post lamenting how young girls are indoctrinated into believing their worth lies in their beauty, femininity, and (hetero)sexuality. Why then, do I see so much vitriol directed at the ones who believed it? 

The last time I spoke about this I was accused of ‘making it all about myself’ because I shared a snippet of my personal experience. Well, I’m about to share more than a snippet. Yet this isn’t about me, and I will be the first one to tell you that I am nowhere near unique in this sense. So I guess this is actually the experience of thousands and thousands of women, this is just how it happened to me:

To start with, y’all need to understand where I grew up. If the ‘y’all’ wasn’t a big enough clue, I grew up in bumfuck nowhere USA. Here’s another fact that’s vital to my story: I was born in 1991. That fact, coupled with my geographic location, meant that when I started school in 1996, corporal punishment was still legal (to be carried out by the principal) and up until around that time my mother could still legally sign documents as “mrs” *insert my father’s name*. 

Growing up in this environment meant that gender roles were highly enforced around me and that at an early age I saw deviance from them met with hatred and scorn. I could name plenty of examples, but really, haven’t we all seen that? Even the respectable women who dared not be housewives never rose to a more prominent position than a teacher, bank clerk, or selling Mary Kay. Before the age of about 10 I have absolutely no memory of seeing a woman in a position of skill and power beyond these things except for Terry Irwin on tv. It might be noted that I grew up wanting to be a zookeeper. I don’t remember the first time I heard the word “feminist” but from my earliest recollection it was not a good word. Then, as today in my neck of the woods, “feminist” is an insult. I can remember sitting in the back seat of the car listening to my father and his friend ranting about something they heard on the radio about how “the feminists” (word spat out like tobacco juice) were ruining something or other. It was clear to me that whatever these feminists were, they were bad. 

Things really kicked into gear once I got into middle school. What had been a vague concept in the back of my mind was now pulled to the front of the classroom. I distinctly remember sitting in 7th grade biology and learning about the inherent differences between male and female brains. The teacher explained how our brains were wired differently, and that male brains were designed so that logical and analytical thought came naturally to them, but expressing emotion and communicating did not. This, the teacher said, is why men often erupt into fits of anger rather than say how they feel. On the other hand, female brains were designed to have ease of communication, and to be more aware of our own emotions and those of others. They were not designed for quick, logical, rational thinking. Don’t get me wrong; it was never taught to me that women were incapable of logical, rational, thinking, just that we were biologically at a disadvantage to men in that regard. I tried (like other girls in the class) to have some pride in my lady-brain. I’m wired to be better at something than a boy! Ha! Though it was around this time I began to shift my focus away from scientific pursuits and towards the arts. 7th grade was also the beginning of outright public sexual harassment that no adult seemed to give a shit about. There was “thong Thursday”, for example. We 12-13 year old girls were encouraged by the boys to wear thongs and lean over so that they could see the tops of them, or to wear our jeans low enough for them to peek over. This happened openly in the halls, but never once addressed by the adults. And woe to any girl who spoke out about it. That much feared “feminist!” accusation could be hurled at her, and she’d be publicly humiliated and mocked, and no one would dare help her lest they be feminist by association. There was also ‘grab-ass Wednesday’ which makes absolutely no sense but is exactly what you’re thinking. 

The official school lesson on male and female brains resurfaced again, this time in 10th grade sociology class. This time in addition to the physical differences in the brains, we learned about inherent differences in behavior and societal roles. It was honestly something taken straight from some MRA’s drivel; men evolved to be the Strong Hunter Protector of the species, brain different, this why big words make man ANGRY he hit you because his brain can’t make his mouth talk feelings he want to BREED. Woman want BABY lots of emotions need man to protec blah blah blah. To us at this point, all of this was objective fact. Also at this point, the effects and impact of female socialization were starting to become disgustingly apparent. Around this time the security officer at the school was fired for ‘having sex’ with a fourteen year old freshman. It was so SCANDALOUS because...what a SLUT! It would not occur to me until YEARS later that maybe sex between a 14 year old girl and the adult male security officer hired to protect her was...uh, rape. As high school continued, so did the development of our female anti-feminism. I’ve seen radfems on here discuss how men are socialized to think that their thoughts and emotions are objective fact, but I’ve never seen it pointed out that women are socialized to believe so, too. As interactions with boys became more frequent their attention became more and more prized. When a boy said “you’re beautiful” or “you’re not like the other girls” or “you’re smart” it was seen as a pure and shining compliment, a shining nugget of truth. If a girl said the same thing? You never knew, she could just be two-faced, she would change her mind in a matter of seconds, or just be on her period. Of course, we began to strive to receive more compliments from boys because what teenager DOESN’T want to be respected and valued by their peers? 

By the end of high school several of my peers were married and/or had a baby already. I had intended to go to school for journalism, but in a sudden fit of either teenage rebellion or wisdom, I took the plunge into working with animals. This saw me moving about a thousand miles away from my home town, my parents, friends, and all forms of social support. As it turns out, animal training and handling, particularly dog training and handling, is an incredibly male dominated field. Even compared to my previous life experience, it was extremely misogynistic. I found myself working long shifts at night, often with only male coworkers who were near universally older, larger, and stronger than I was. Here, I was expected to laugh it off when one of them said that if the world were about to end, the first thing he’d do was rape me. Or when my boss joked about raping me. Or when one of them (more or less out of nowhere) said that he didn’t think there would ever be a female president because “when I think “president” I think “man””. I did what I was supposed to do and took some satisfaction in their approval despite my first, suppressed, twinge of discomfort. In a strange city, in a strange area of the country, sleeping during the day and working long hours, I had little elsewhere to look for friendship and social interaction. So I made friends. Long night shifts with no one else to talk to and little else to do will do that to people. Of course, I wasn’t the ONLY woman at my place of work. I was friendly with the other women but the lifelong effects of being socialized to view women as inferior kept any of us from growing too close to each other. After all, despite growing up elsewhere they had similar upbringings. When they weren’t present the men openly chatted about who they thought the woman had slept with, how smelly her vagina must be, what her nipples probably looked like, and I held my tongue still under the delusion that if I was Good and Not Like the Other Girls, they wouldn’t speak like that about me behind my back. Feminism was only mentioned to mock women, or, more importantly, to bring up how the the country was sexist against men. The men lamented about how “in this country a man can’t be raped I guess” and “female special privileges” and “the DRAFT” and I believed them, because I didn’t have much of a reason or incentive not to. Women were viewed and treated as walking cries of rape unless they laughed when groped. 

I called one of these male friends one night, in tears. My kitten, a tiny little thing named Ginkgo, had escaped from my apartment and I pleaded with him to help me search for her. He came over and we searched in vain for her. I was heartbroken, sobbing, and desperate for comfort and when the hug I was given became lustful I tried to refuse. He argued that I had woken him up in the middle of the night to come all the way to my home to look for a lost kitten; I owed it to him. That it wasn’t fair for me to refuse him and that it was selfish of me to expect compassion and company for nothing in return. And at that time in my life, I believed him. It was only fair. Afterwards, alone in my apartment, I was confronted with the reality that the only reason anyone would ever show me compassion, love, or kindness was because I was female and therefore potential sex. At the time, I was beginning to realize I was asexual (though it would be many years before I had a word for it). It was like I had been shown that my worth, my worthiness of love and life, and all my achievements were housed in my sensuality and sexuality. And I didn’t posses either. Dark times, I tell ya. Of course, there was no chance of me seeking sympathy from any female friends or acquaintances for what took place. Years later when a man in a bar shoved his finger inside me and I smashed a beer mug over his head I was berated by my female companions for overreacting and ruining the night. Further blows to any sense of being anything other than “woman” came in the form, ironically, of my achievements. I excelled at dog handling, particularly scent detection and received many an award for it, each time being told by my male peers that the only reason I received it was because I was a woman. I took my awards with a pinch of shame, believing I had taken it from a more deserving man. 

 It was around this time I first dipped my toes in the shallow end of feminism. I got a Tumblr! I was about 23. The internet wasn’t too big a thing when I was growing up and I got my first social media account when I was 17, the year I moved out. Until I logged onto the blue hell site, I didn’t use the internet outside of facebook (with only my irl friends there to form an echo chamber) and looking up definitions of words. Now, for the first time, I discovered that feminism wasn’t taboo everywhere. Fascinating! Of course, the “feminism” I found was pretty much identical to the patriarchal world I lived in, just with more lipstick. But it was a step. Secret radfem blog? Shit, I had a secret libfem blog and was still terrified of being found out by people I knew. I had good reason, too. When I tried to, very tentatively, voice some opinions that were not male-approved, I was met with swift and immediate backlash. I mentioned to a male coworker that I didn’t want children, which ended with him screaming at me to go out and have a hysterectomy right now if I really didn’t want any because I was being stupid and of course I wasn’t serious otherwise I’d just rip my uterus out. Or when I voiced concern over that one politician that said women should be forced to deliver stillbirths naturally because that’s what happened on his farm and was publicly berated for being a crybaby and a little girl, freaking out over ‘one weird fluke’. Still, I grew more and more interested in feminism. I spent a year deeeep in the libbiest-of libfem glitter-choked hells until one fateful day: I saw a study that proved there was no such thing as brainsex. 

My entire perception of reality was irreparably shattered. Over the course of a few days, I was forced to realize that I had been lied to my entire life. I had been lied to by my teachers and the adults in my life as a kid, I was forced to realize how deeply sexist and inappropriate the boys at schools were being, that I was taught in school to excuse male violence as not their fault, that no one ever owed anyone sex, that what my coworkers and ‘friends’ were saying was blatantly false and not ok, that I was just as capable of pursuing a scientific field as a man, to realize just how much the most important people in my life really hated me. And I was forced to confront the fact that I had backed myself into a corner, cut off any escape routes, and that I relied on the acceptance of these men for my safety and job security. That made the next few years......uncomfortable. And yet, bit by bit, little by little, I’ve pulled myself away from that world and set up a new life for myself. I’ve said goodbye to a lot of people. I’ve hurt a lot. I’ve cringed a lot. The antifeminist keyboard smashing seen on radfem posts is something I could have (and probably would have) typed myself back then, safe in the conviction that I was right. 

“No one held a gun to your head and forced you to be an antifeminist” I’ve been told. That’s true, I guess. At nine, after riding my bike to the one small library in town I could have checked out a book by Dworkin (whom I’d never heard of) from the feminist section (which may or may not have existed) instead of Animorphs. I could have walked around shouting “hey, anyone want to be a feminist so I can see how it’s done?” to try and find someone to look up to. I could have, upon getting internet in my late teens, immediately googled “how to be a feminist”, but I didn’t so my bad. Certainly there were girls who grew up in similar circumstances who were always feminists, and certainly there are women who grew up with outlets for feminism that are antifeminist, but I feel my story is a much more common one and in the end at least I made it. I think most radfems have had a libfem phase and I think most of us would cringe at it, but in so many ways I’m grateful for it. Not only did it introduce me to the movement that would change my life, but it was inviting and welcoming. I cannot, and DO NOT want to imagine what would have happened if, seeking to find voice for my discomfort, I had come across radical feminism first and saw the words that were beginning to cut so deeply echoed by the women who claimed to be for women. Cocksucker. Waste of time. Stupid. Coward. Being told I ‘lapped it all up’. The thought of it really makes me uncomfortable, and I think the only message it all would have sent was “Your entire world is against you and hates you but also you wanted it and it’s your fault.”. 

I see radfems speak often about non western women and how they face and view sexism. It’s quite universally accepted that non western women are acutely aware of biological sex and wouldn’t stand for this gemgender floridesexual nonsense and that’s lauded as a sort of....kinship I guess. When I see radfems speak about non western women in this way, I feel they have a sense of kinship with them, like they’re one of the radfem crowd. I wonder, however, what the women who grew up and lived in those environments would really think about everything radical feminism stands for? Surely some would agree completely, but how often do you see women in these situations agree that rape is sometimes (or always) the girl’s fault? Or that women should not be educated? Are they still our sisters, or cock sucking cowards? And is the extension of sisterhood dependent on their hypothetical ability to, if they hold these beliefs, listen to what feminists have to say and change their minds to agree? Let’s say the woman in your gifsets is presented with these resources and never changes her mind. What then? Even still I've seen it said that anti feminist women will never change so there’s no point in trying. I see libfems pointing to non western cultures with ‘other’ genders and saying ‘see? see? THEY agree with me! They’d agree with liberal feminism!’ and I see radfems pointing to non western women and saying ‘see? see? THEY agree with me! They’d agree with radical feminism!’ and I can’t help but see these cultures and women within them being pressed into an ideal of one argument or the other purely for internet posturing. 

I’m very disheartened to see the movement which once seemed so academic and helpful to me seeming to become a ‘cool girls’ club. Sisterhood, compassion, and help, but only for women who think the way we do. Others are there to be mocked. It’s eerily similar to the way we laughed at the ‘other’ girls in high school, completely full of ourselves and thinking we were so much better. 

When I think of anti feminist women, I see the little girl being told men were prone to violence instead of talking because that’s how they were built, I see the girl being called a whore for being raped by someone she was told to trust, and I see the women pitted against each other, who have never had a feminist role model, and the girls who harbor a strange feeling of discontent and isolation they can’t articulate. I don’t see wastes of time. 

If you’re still reading, thank you. 

[magic-magpie]

Revision’s Never Been This Fun

I wrote this a while ago, during Easter time. I was revising for my exams, and I decided to make a ~ fun revision tool ~ by writing a fanfiction of Arthur and Alfred studying for their exams. I was supposed to make more for my other sciences, but I got lazy. I thought I’d upload this here in honour of me getting my results in about four hours.

Warning: There are Chemistry facts (those are in bold in case you want them for E X A M  K N O W L E D G E), Chemistry jokes, sex jokes, and Chemistry sex jokes. Yes you read that right.

3,605 words.

Expect crack.

“Alfreeeeeeeeed...” 

“Jeez, that’s the fifth time you’ve moaned my name in three minutes. If I couldn’t see your hands I’d have thought you were jacking off.” 

“... Jacking off isn’t actually a bad idea. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to masturbate. Don’t mind me.” 

“Wait, Artie, what’re you- Artie get your hands out from there and put them up!”

Sighing reluctantly, Arthur lifted his hands up into the air, but promptly dropped them in favour of flopping down onto the table in front of him- a table laden with textbooks, revision folders, highlighters, discarded chocolate wrappers, and cans of various fizzy drinks. He was at Alfred’s (who he was happy to say was his boyfriend) house for the entirety of the Easter holidays, as the two of them knew that they revised better when together. They were in Year Eleven, which meant that their GCSEs (A.K.A. their most important exams to date), were just over a month away. So no, Arthur was not at Alfred’s house to have fun, as you might have thought. Sure, they had played games and such, but most of their time was spent with their heads buried in soul-sucking textbooks that would be their salvation. 

Today, however, Arthur was just not feeling it. By that he meant less than usual. Well, he never felt it, but he never felt it less... It made sense in his head. 

“Relax, Alfred. I’d rather have sex with you than wank in front of you... Much more exciting, don’t you think?” Arthur said, smirking salaciously up at Alfred from his slumped position on the table as Alfred rolled his blue eyes that Arthur had come to adore. 

“I’d rather our first time be somewhere more romantic than bent over a table and fucked over empirical formulas and Fleming’s Left Hand Rule,” Alfred replied, grinning in spite of himself, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Arthur could see the humour of the situation; he was normally the one telling Alfred to get back to work, not this way round. 

“I don’t know, being bent over the table and roughly pounded into from behind by your large cock would certainly be a pleasant-“ 

“Are you always this freakin’ dirty when you’re hella bored, or what?” Alfred remarked, laughing. “Besides, you haven’t even seen my dick.” 

“That can be easily remedied,” Arthur purred, licking his lips and wiggling his thick eyebrows suggestively, making the both of them burst into peals of unadulterated laughter. 

“Okay,” Alfred finally said, wiping away a tear and readjusting his silver-framed glasses, “as much as I’d love to re-enact your favourite porn book, I think revising for exams is more important. Then we can go have sex anywhere and everywhere.” 

“Even the mattress store?” 

“Even the mattress store.” 

“What about in a play gym?” 

“Sure, after the kids have all gone.” 

“...We can totally do it in Fortnum and Mason’s, right?” 

“You’re trying to distract me again, aren’t you?” 

“...Fuck.”

Alfred lightly slapped Arthur upside the head, and went back to poring over his Physics textbook, his eyes roving over the evil printed words. Arthur sighed, knowing that he shouldn’t disrupt Alfred any more. They had had their banter, that was enough. Every moment was precious. He wasn’t at Alfred’s house to lark about- he was there to study. 

So it was that Arthur sat up straight in his chair, and focused his attention onto the thick textbook in front of him- Chemistry. Alright... It wasn’t his worst subject (that was Maths, he kept scoring Bs in that), so he should, theoretically, be able to concentrate better. It was easier to concentrate when he didn’t feel like all life was hopeless because he understood nothing on the bloody page.

The primordial soup theory states that billions of years ago, the Earth’s atmosphere contained hydrocarbons (e.g. methane), ammonia, and other gases. Lightning struck, causing a- 

Arthur groaned loudly, smacking his head against the book. He hated Chemistry. Well, it wasn’t that he hated learning about the subject. He just hated studying it. But for all intents and purposes of this situation, he hated Chemistry. 

“You alright there, dude?” Alfred said, chuckling. 

“No. I mean, what the fuck is a primordial soup theory?! This is Chemistry, not fucking Food Technology! If I wanted to learn about bloody soup, I’d have signed myself up for Food Tech!” Arthur ranted. 

“I thought the reason you didn’t take Food Tech was that the teacher actually banned you from the kitchens ever since you set fire to the chicken stir fry in Year Eight?” Alfred reminded, earning himself a glare from Arthur. 

“I-it’s a mixture of both!” Arthur retorted defensively. 

“What’s a mixture?” 

“Huh?” Arthur asked, baffled. 

“What’s the scientific definition of a mixture?” Alfred elaborated, an expectant smile on his face. 

Oh. Alfred was quizzing him. He should be grateful. The bloke was trying to help him revise. 

“Isn’t it...” Arthur started, deliberating over his words, “Two or more compounds or molecules not chemically bonded together? 

“Pretty much, yeah!” Alfred replied, grinning. “The textbook definition is ‘a substance made from two or more elements or compounds that aren’t chemically bonded to each other’, but you’ve got the gist of it!” 

“Nice,” Arthur said, fairly pleased with himself. All he needed to remember was the ‘substance’ part and that it was ‘elements and compounds’, not elements and molecules. 

“Here’s your reward,” Alfred said, and suddenly crawled onto the table to kiss Arthur’s forehead, a light pink tinge to his cheeks when he sat back down. Arthur blinked, feeling himself blush slightly. Sure, he was full of dirty phrases, but the truth was that the two had only kissed once. 

“Y-you only got a forehead kiss ‘cause your answer wasn’t entirely accurate. If you get a completely right answer, then you’ll get something better,” Alfred explained, lifting his gaze to meet Arthur’s once again. He seemed to gain more confidence in this method when he saw Arthur’s smile. 

“I’d better be getting kiss after kiss,” Arthur said. 

“If not, then you’ll just have to revise until we’ll be making out by the end of it!” 

Arthur waited expectantly for his question as Alfred rifled through the Chemistry book, hoping that he’d be able to answer it correctly - both for a kiss, and his own peace of mind. For Arthur hated to get things wrong. 

“What is cracking?” 

“...The breaking down of long-chain hydrocarbons into short-chain hydrocarbons by way of thermal decomposition?” Arthur answered, a little hesitantly. Alfred’s beaming smile told him that he had got it entirely correct, making him smile too. 

“Yup! Well, the definition doesn’t say anything about thermal decomposition, but it is a thermal decomposition reaction, so you’re allowed it. Which is cool, because now I get to, um...” 

“Kiss me.” 

“Yeah. That.” 

Alfred hoisted himself up onto the table and crawled across to Arthur, who already has his head tilted upwards, his bottle-green eyes warm and welcoming. The American flashed him a slightly-nervous smile as he bent down and met Arthur’s lips with his own. The kiss was sweet and loving, and tasted of chocolate and fizzy drinks- a mixture that shouldn’t have worked, but did. Worked very well indeed. 

They pulled apart- albeit a little reluctantly- and Alfred went back to his seat, his face just the tiniest bit flushed. Arthur could sense that his own countenance was the same. 

“Well...” Arthur said, feeling a smile tug at his lips, “...That was cracking.” 

The two stared at each other- then they were laughing, loudly and raucously, both still a little giddy from their kiss. 

“It’s a pity our ‘cracking’ kiss didn’t produce any alkanes or alkenes...” Alfred said, giggling. 

“It was definitely a thermal decomposition reaction, though. I mean, that was hot,” Arthur added, grinning from ear to ear. 

“How hot does the vaporised long-chain hydrocarbon need to be in cracking?”

It took Arthur a second to realise that Alfred was asking him a question. He was too busy thinking of how much exams had affected them that they were now making Chemistry jokes. 

“Oh, um...” Arthur racked his brains for this piece of important trivia. Come on, Arthur! It’s probably the most simple thing you’ve ever come across! He knew it was 400ºC to something, but what was that something? 

“...400ºC to 800ºC?” Arthur replied tentatively, pouting in annoyance when Alfred groaned. 

“Dude, you were so close! It was 400º to 700ºC!”

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, I was debating that, too! You have no idea how painful this is. So, to crack something,” Arthur said, going over the process. Who knows, perhaps Alfred would give him a kiss for his Extra Credit efforts, “you vaporise the long-chain hydrocarbon by heating it to a temperature of 400ºC to 700ºC, and then pass this hot-as-hell vapour over a catalyst, usually aluminium oxide. The vapour ‘breaks’ into different, shorter-chain hydrocarbons.”

“That’s exactly it!” Alfred said happily, “Well, instead of saying ‘vapour’, say ‘long-chain hydrocarbons’, and say ‘split apart’ or ‘crack’ instead of ‘break’, but you’ve got it!”

“I always had it, no need to patronise me,” Arthur huffed, although there wasn’t any real disgruntlement in his voice. He knew Alfred wasn’t being patronising on purpose.

“Aw, are you being a grumpy-guts?” Alfred said teasingly, earning himself a kick under the table.

“To quote Orianthi, shut up and kiss me,” Arthur said, smirking despite the blush that had arisen once again, “I earned it.”

“You sure did, Artie,” Alfred agreed, crawling across to kiss the blond Englishman once again, even gaining the courage to (hesitantly) put his hands on the back of Arthur’s head and ever so gently pull him into the kiss more. Arthur’s heart beat faster at this, and he didn’t even make a conscious effort to respond, but he ended up taking hold of Alfred’s loose Captain America tee-shirt and pulling him closer just a bit, just enough to let Alfred know that such actions were fine with him.

“Next question?” Alfred said once he had sat back down, his lips just a little bit redder and shinier from being kissed. Arthur couldn’t help but think the look was brilliant on him.

“Bring it.”

“Okay, how d’ya make an unsaturated oil hard, and what are the conditions?”

Arthur bit his lip, tapping his finger erratically on the table. He felt pressured to get this right, as if Alfred was silently begging him to be correct. He knew it was by using hydrogenation... Now he just had to remember the conditions required for hydrogenation...

“Ah, I’ve got it!” Arthur exclaimed excitedly, practically giving a little jump in his seat. “You make it hard using hydrogenation, which is reacting the unsaturated oil with hydrogen in the presence of a nickel catalyst at 60ºC! The unsaturated oil’s double carbon to carbon bonds are then opened up, because bonds are formed with the hydrogen!”

“Correct, correct, and even more correct!” Alfred responded just as excitedly, his wide smile mirroring Arthur’s. This time, he wasted no time in getting up onto the table and eagerly pressing his lips against Arthur’s, the both of them immediately melting into the kiss, Alfred’s hands already in Arthur’s hair, and Arthur’s not wasting even a second before they were tugging at Alfred’s shirt, pulling his wonderful boyfriend closer to him. He loved the taste of Alfred, the scent of Alfred, the feel of Alfred. Arthur and Alfred fit together like the coastlines of South America and South Africa- perfectly, like jigsaw pieces. Wegener would approve of their relationship, as it mimicked one of his pieces of evidence for continental drift. Arthur liked the sound of that; he enjoyed the idea that their relationship on the small island of Britain was reminiscent of something so large-scale, so irrefutable.

Needing air, the two broke apart, resting their foreheads against one another contentedly, akin to two reactive atoms that had formed a covalent bond with each other and were now happy and stable. Viridescent eyes met cerulean ones, and the two smiled at each other, not really wanting to get out of their current position.

“...Hey, Alfred?”

“Yeah?”

Arthur coughed, his smile replaced by a cheeky grin, “I have a question for you.”

“Fire away. Revision’s revision, no matter who’s giving the questions.” Alfred responded, looking ready.

“So, we know how to make an unsaturated oil hard, but do you know how to make me hard?” Arthur asked. He had tried to keep a straight face, but his lips had uncontrollably stretched into a grin, one which only widened as Alfred spluttered and stammered before laughing with hilarity. His cheerful laugh was like music to Arthur’s ears (he could go into sound waves and all that, but that was Physics, and Physics was a story for another day), pure, wholesome, and joyous. Arthur wouldn’t have minded if that was all he ever heard for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t think I should react you with hydrogen...” 

“Please don’t- hydrogen’s extremely flammable. Which is, incidentally, one of the disadvantages of using hydrogen gas as a fuel. One of the advantages is that reacts with oxygen to form only water, making it very clean,” Arthur informed matter-of-factly. However, his demeanour changed when Alfred suddenly leant down so that his lips were just next to Arthur’s ear, softly brushing it, his breath gently tickling it.

“The exact opposite of you then, huh?” Alfred whispered, and Arthur shivered, “You, with all your dirty thoughts that would put even the most perverted person to shame. You, with your dirty desires of bending me over this table and taking me right here. You, with your dirty burning need of hearing me scream your name in unbridled pleasure, moaning Arthur at the top of my voice. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Arthur stared, completely taken aback by Alfred's provocative words. He had had no idea that Alfred, of all people, was able to use the mere power of his words to make him all hot and bothered- hotter than the iron and nickel core of the Earth.

"So?" Alfred said, pulling back from Arthur's ear and smirking coyly, "Did I answer your question correctly?"

He was redder than anything, but there was something alluring about his flushed cheeks combined with his seductive, beautiful smile. Arthur looked down at his crotch, and quickly crossed his legs, feeling himself redden. If there was one thing able to turn him on in the world, it would be Alfred.

"Answering by demonstration, I like it," Arthur said, "You've made me harder than high-carbon steel, and that's saying something."

Next thing they knew, they were laughing.

"I was trying to be sexy, and then you just compared your erection to a freakin' alloy!" Alfred chortled. Arthur shrugged in response.

"We are doing Chemistry revision, I might as well. But anyway, you need your reward, don't you?"

Alfred let out a little yelp as Arthur pulled him down into a bruising kiss, their lips clashing and moulding together perfectly. Spurred on by his hard-on that wouldn't go away, Arthur cautiously flicked out his tongue to run it across Alfred's lower lip, and then broke it off, his heart racing and his breaths quicker. Alfred was staring at him, wide-eyed behind his thick glasses. His blue eyes, looking much like the water vapour which had condensed into oceans when the Earth had cooled all those millions of years ago, were alight with amazement, and perhaps something a bit more... Lustful. The American slowly brought his hands up to touch his lip softly, as if remembering the feel of Arthur's tongue. Arthur himself had enjoyed his little trial, and yearned for more.

"...Let's answer some more questions," Alfred said, seating himself back down in his chair. Arthur smiled, knowing that this was Alfred's way of saying 'Holy hell that was awesome and I can't get enough'.

"Let's see..." Alfred muttered, flicking through the textbook at top-speed, "Ah, here's one! Now, this is a three-part question, and you have to get all three parts for a proper kiss."

"Challenge accepted," Arthur said.

"What's produced when calcium carbonate reacts with an acid?"

The answer came tumbling off Arthur's lips without thought, "A calcium salt, carbon dioxide, and water."

"Part one- correct! So, for part two, what's the salt produced when calcium carbonate reacts with sulfuric acid?"

"Calcium sulfate.”

"Two down, one to go! What's the salt produced when calcium carbonate reacts with hydrochloric acid?"

"Tch, that's not even hard - Calcium hydroxide."

"All three correct, kudos Artie!" Alfred slid himself across the table to eagerly catch Arthur's lips in a kiss. Arthur responded by teasing Alfred's bottom lip with his tongue, and almost gasped when Alfred parted his lips. It was only a small parting, but it was still there, was still a bold, daring move. Alfred was inviting him in, was giving him his permission. Smiling under the kiss, Arthur's hands wandered upwards to place themselves at the back of Alfred's head, his fingers tangled up in Alfred's soft golden hair. And then, then he slowly slid his tongue into Alfred's mouth, and it was as if ethanol, biodiesel, and hydrogen gas had all been burnt to give the two a sudden surge of energy (only alternative fuels, not fossil fuels; their love did not increase global warming). Their kiss was suddenly fiercer, tugging at each other, needing bodily contact. They were in such a heated passion that Arthur had barely realised that Alfred had slid off the table and onto his crossed legs until he felt Alfred rub against his thigh. A moan escaped the American's lips, and then Arthur did the same, glorying in the breathtaking kiss he and Alfred were sharing, like two atoms sharing an electron in a covalent bond. Their relationship was not similar to ionic bonding, where one gives and the other gets. No, they shared every bit of love they had And, just like covalent bonds, the bond Arthur and Alfred had was strong, brilliantly strong.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their breaths mingling like the mixture of vapours in a fractional distillation column. They were gazing at each other with amazement and bewilderment, the fact that they had just made out for the first time still sinking in. Arthur’s hands had travelled south to Alfred’s hips and were keeping them close to his own, whereas one of Alfred’s hands was on Arthur’s back, and the other was fisted in Arthur’s hair.

“...I kind of wish my dick was a calcium hydroxide solution,” Arthur said before he could stop himself. It was as if his mind-to-mouth filter had been switched off for the day. Alfred blinked, looked at him oddly, rolled his eyes, then grinned.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why the hell do you wish for your dick to be limewater?” He said with a chuckle.

“Because then I could ask you to blow it without sounding dirty. I could say that it was for science. We could be testing your breath for carbon dioxide,” Arthur explained, grinning when Alfred laughed harder. He loved to make Alfred laugh.

“But then your dick would turn cloudy, and that would be rather strange,” Alfred pointed out.

“What, and a liquid dick wouldn’t be?”

“...Good point. Y’know, I’d rather blow your dick as it is, rather than some weird liquid... Solid... Thing,” Alfred said, his eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to imagine just what a calcium hydroxide solution dick would even look like.

“Plus, the results we’d get would be rather inaccurate, don’t you think? Calcium hydroxide reacted with carbon dioxide makes calcium carbonate and water,” Arthur informed.

“What would the products of our ‘experiment’ be?” Alfred questioned.

“Cum, and a flushed, panting Arthur.”

“...This experiment actually sounds pretty good,” Alfred commented, laughing. He then retracted back to his seat across the table, and picked up the Chemistry textbook once again. Arthur smiled, admiring the sublime view of Alfred (and no, he did not mean the Chemistry definition of sublime); the way his hair looked like it had been made of sunlight, the deep blue of his eyes, the way he seemed to give out energy to his surroundings, much like an exothermic reaction.

“What?” Alfred said, finally sensing Arthur’s gaze on him. Arthur blinked, having been pulled out of his reverie by the loud (albeit addicting) American voice.

“Oh, nothing... Just wondering how far we’ll end up going by the end of this revision session. I mean, after six questions you were already on my lap. We’ll be fucking in all kinds of positions by the end of Chemistry Unit One,” Arthur said, grinning. He knew perfectly well that they wouldn’t be having sex (they were still fifteen, after all), but it was fun to tease Alfred with all sorts of lewd comments. Alfred rolled his eyes, although his grin mirrored Arthur’s.

“Are you always this perverted whilst revising?”

“You’re the one who devised the ‘Make Arthur all hot and bothered if he gets a question right’ game,” Arthur countered. Alfred put his hands up in defeat.

“Fair point. But it made you want to revise, didn’t it?” Alfred said, smirking coquettishly.

“Oh, it made me want to revise all day and night,” Arthur replied, sending Alfred his own seductive smirk.

They suddenly dissolved into laughter, like sodium dissolves into chlorine to form the ionic compound of sodium chloride. These filthy phrases and sexy smirks were very out of place amidst the open textbooks and discarded chocolate wrappers, but Arthur and Alfred knew that there was no better place to use them. 

Who knew revision could be so entertaining?

[iwillbeinmynest]

An Owed Debt- Bucky x May(oc)  Chapter 3

Authors notes: So, I understand that this isn’t an incredibly popular fic but I’m really having fun writing this so It’s definitely happening. I hope you grow to enjoy it the way I already have. :) 

Notes/Warnings: Teenaged angst, Stress, (very brief) mentions of blood work and needles.

Bucky fought against the sand bag for nearly two hours after May finished the dishes. He was sure he had ruined any chances of getting to know her better when he pointed his gun at her. How could he have been so careless. Rule one: be aware of your surroundings. Well, at least she didn’t cry at that.

 He cleaned up the living room and grabbed his head phones. He stopped at Mays door and knocked lightly.

 “May? I’m going for a run. You gonna be okay by your self for a while?” He asked as he ran his fingers through his now sweaty hair.

 May swung the door open wide, surprising Bucky. “Can I join you?” She asked genuinely.

 “Uh,” Bucky was taken back and had to blink a few times before he could regain his composure. “I mean, I run kind of fast. I don’t know if you can…keep up.”

 May’s face fell slightly. “Oh, yeah, sure. Of course, it was dumb, sorry. Enjoy your run.” May backed up to close her door when Bucky stuck his hand out and stopped her.

 “I guess, because I had a longer session with Pete, I could take a slow jog tonight.” He said reluctantly.

 May blinked a few times and her face scrunched up. “I’m sorry, who’s Pete?”

 Bucky didn’t realize he had said that out loud. “Oh, it’s the dummy. The red one shaped like a guy. Steve named him, it, not me. You wanna run or not?”

 May suppressed a grin and nodded. “Yeah, let me change real quick.”

 “’Kay.” Was all Bucky got out before the door was closed in his face again. Bucky went to the kitchen and grabbed an extra water bottle for May. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to this run but he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to apologize for bringing up her mom earlier.

 Doing this for Monty, he reminded himself.

 May emerged from her room in leggings, a long sleeved shirt and trainers. Her music was already basting from her headphones and she nodded his direction. Bucky wiggled a finger at his ear and raised his eye brows. May pulled the ear buds out with a roll of her eyes.

 “Yeah?”

 “You gonna stretch first?” Buck asked.

 “Right.” She put her ear buds back and waited for Bucky to lead the warm up.

 After a silent stretch, Bucky handed her the water bottle he pulled for her and she followed him out the door. They ran down the stairs and out the door onto the gently buzzing streets. New York City was overwhelming most of the time and the night didn’t ever seem to slow down, but Bucky knew the best route to take to encounter the least amount of people.

 May’s eyes darted around at this unfamiliar territory. She tried to focus on Bucky and not the anxiety that threatened to creep up. She turned her volume up another few notches and fixed her eyes on the bounce of Bucky’s deep brown hair.

 Bucky looked back at May to make sure she wasn’t too far behind and was surprised to find her as close as she was. Who was this kid? Bucky was running slow but to an average person it was still pretty fast, not super soldier fast but enough that he was impressed that she was keeping up.

 “Not bad.” May heard him say when he turned his head back. May turned to volume up higher, almost painfully so. How was she still hearing him? She just wanted a quiet run. Was that too much to ask for?

 May’s lungs began to tighten and she knew she was reaching her limit. She ran just fast enough to tap Bucky’s shoulder and jerk her thumb backwards. Bucky nodded and Slowed to a stop before jogging back the direction her came.

 “It’s farther than I thought she’d get.”

 May grunted and ripped the ear bubs from the sides of her face. “Can you not? You know I can hear you, right?”

 Bucky stopped and looked at her like she had lost her mind. “What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything.”

 May rolled her eyes. “Can we just go back to your place, please?”

 Bucky shook his head and shifted his weight. What was with this kid? “Yeah,” He said curtly. “Sure.”

 They both ran faster than before, ready to be separated from the other. When they approached the door to his building Bucky kept running, leaving her alone on the side walk.

 May ascended the stairs slowly, her legs already weak from the run back. She breathed through her nose to try and control the ache in her lungs and after the third flight she was able to inhale with out a cramp in her side. She used the key Steve had given her to open the door and she locked it behind her. She had half a mind to put the chain on the door too but he would probably break in anyways.

 No matter what she did, she couldn’t figure this man out. He took her in but didn’t want her here and then he belittled her on the run and left her when they got back. Screw this, she thought, I don’t care. May connected her music to her Bluetooth speaker so she could hear it while she took a cold shower. She shivered under the shower head and tried to only focus on the electronic beat of her music.

 “I hate you.” She heard and she squeezed her eyes shut. Oh no, It was starting again. What time was it? 11:45 pm. Yep, that’s about right.

 “Go do it yourself!”

 “I wish you were more like your sister.”

 “I want to throw that stupid X-Box out the window!” The voices suddenly flooded her mind and she winced, squeezing her head.

 “Shut up!” She screamed. She hurried out of the shower and got dressed. She put her head phones back in and cranked up the volume to a deafening level. But no matter how loud or high-pitched her music got, she could still make out the sounds of dozens of voices shouting and screaming at her.

———————————————————————————-

 Bucky ran farther than he ever had. All the way from his apartment to the Avenger’s Tower. He was breathing heavy when the elevator opened up to Steve’s floor.

 “Buck, what are you doing here? Where’s May? Is everything okay?” Steve asked with furrowed brows upon seeing his best friend out of breath and sweaty

 “She’s fine, I think.” Bucky rolled his eyes as he brushed past Steve and headed to his massive kitchen for a glass of water. “I left her at my place.”

 “Left her? Bucky she’s just a -”

 “This was a mistake, Steve.” Bucky cut in. “You need to relocate her now. I can’t keep her at my place anymore.”

 “What happened?” Steve prodded. He crossed his arms and leaned against a counter.

 Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. She just hates me. She snaps at me or bursts into tears and I’m not even sure what i’m doing wrong half the time.”

 “She hasn’t even been with you fro twenty-four hours, Buck. Just give it some time.” Steve smirked. He misunderstood Bucky’s discomfort for anxiety.

 “Do I talk to myself?” Bucky asked abruptly.

 Steve looked at him curiously but went on to answer. “No, not that I’ve ever heard.”

 “What about in my sleep?”

 “No.” Steve shook his head and widened his stance. “You scream on occasion but you don’t really talk. Why? What does this have to do with May?

  Bucky set his empty glass down and looked Steve in the eyes. “Something’s off about her. She keeps telling me to be quiet when I don’t say anything.”

 “I told you her dad was experimented on by Hydra and we don’t know what she can do yet.” Steve explained.

 “I think I can help with that.” Tony sauntered in, tablet in hand, with Wanda behind him.

 “You finish the tests?” Steve asked.

 Tony nodded and wiggled the tablet back and forth. Wanda stepped out from behind him. “How about I save us the rant and put it plainly?” She smirked Tony’s way. He pouted, clearly loving his scientific monologues but shrugged it off.

 “I suppose it would be a waist of my time.” Tony grinned and Wanda rolled her eyes.

 “What can she do?” Steve pressed, a small wave of urgency in his tone.

 “Let me put it like this. She’s like me only much simpler. She can hear other peoples thoughts. But that’s all. She can’t send thoughts or manipulate the mind and she doesn’t have this.” Wanda lifted her fingers and wiggled them through the red electric haze.

 “So, she’s-” Steve started.

 “A one way radio.” Tony smirked. “Hardly a threat.”

 Bucky shook his head, “So, she’s hearing my thoughts?”

 “A person projects their thoughts sometimes with out knowing it.” Wanda started. “If someone is overly emotional, tired or inhibited, say by drugs or alcohol, the persons thoughts become louder and if she hasn’t learned to control this she wont be able to keep them out.”

 “According to my tests,” Tony added. “She’s fairly new to all of this. She’s been hearing things for, probably, a few months at most.”

 “So, she has no clue we know.” Steve shook his head.

 “As far as she knows, the blood samples I took were just to make sure she’s healthy. Which she is, by the way.” Tony smiled.

 “So, when does she get a new place to stay?” Bucky asked.

 “Not for a while, I’m afraid.” Tony scrolled through his tablet, not looking at the super soldier as he spoke and very clearly not ‘afraid’ for Bucky’s discomfort. “She still needs to be monitored and you’re still the best person for the job. Four weeks tops.”

 “Two.” Bucky countered.

 “Three,” Tony looked up. “And I’ll buy you new boxing equipment.”

 Bucky clenched his jaw and nodded. He filled up his water bottle and headed towards the elevator, ready for another run back home.

 “Don’t forget, Buck,” Steve caught up to him while he waited by the metal doors. “She doesn’t know we know and she’s just a kid.”

 “No promises, I can’t tell you I won’t think about it.” Bucky stared blankly at the elevator doors, already deep in thought.

 “For Monty, okay?” Steve stood in front of him to meet his eyes.

 “For Monty.”

Forever tags: @heismyhunter @beccaanne814-blog @tatortot2701 @pickledmoon@whimsicalrebirth @marvel-lucy @thisisthelilith @james-bionic-barnes@thedreamingowl @poemwriter98 @kimistry27 @annie-lujan @buckyandsebsinbin @lilasiannerd @gypsy-storm-15 @cassiopeiassky

An Owed Debt Tags: @17sullivan @themistsofmyavalon

[theliterateape]

I Could Be Wrong, But…

by Don Hall

For some reason I like to use the name “Carl” to act as a neutral placeholder for my straw man points. “Jack” is too overused and “Carl” seems racially ambiguous enough.

This guy was actually Carl.

Carl is a truck driver from Washington State, parking in the truck plaza daily lot across the street and attached to the casino I manage. After checking in on the plaza staff (it is considered essential in Nevada), Carl asks me if there is anything to do in Vegas. I respond that, no, we’re still in shutdown but it’s looking like June 4th will be our re-open date. There are a few dine-in restaurants around but no casinos or bars. No movie theaters.

“Unbelievable,” he barks. “I’ve just about had it with these Communist Governors.”

FULL STOP. RECORD SCRATCH.

I’ve been struggling with my ability to openly communicate with the Other Side of Things. The realization that I tend toward debate and trying to win the argument isn’t serving any pragmatic purpose, I’m looking to truly communicate with people whom I disagree. Carl is an opportunity to practice.

Instead of stating my opinion on his comment, I ask “Which governors are communist?”

“Cuomo for one.”

“What makes you say that Cuomo is communist?”

He pulls out his phone. He scrolls through a series of screens.

“Cuomo stated — and I can show you the video — when asked what people who have businesses not considered ‘essential’ should do to feed their families and, you know, pay their bills — he said — ‘there are plenty of essential jobs available for them.’”

“How is that communist?”

“Deciding what is essential and what is not makes him a dictator!”

“Hmmmm,” I muse. I land upon a verbal placeholder that for the next forty-five minutes served as both a self deprecation and an opportunity for Carl to fully explore his own perspective for me. “I could be wrong, but I’m not sure that’s what communism is. I mean, I don’t really know but that doesn’t sound right.”

He dives back into his phone, looks up ‘Communism’ and reads for a bit.

“Huh. Well, I guess he isn’t communist but it’s still tyranny.”

“Interesting. Good clarification. How is it tyranny?”

And the game, as it were, was afoot. I refused to argue my point. I wasn’t trying to win. I simply asked him questions and looked for clarifications. About ten minutes into the back and forth, Carl sussed up that he and I were on very different sides of the partisan fence. His game then became to test me, to see if he could get the argument he was now looking for.

I decided to only offer my own opinion on something if first asked. For those who know me well you understand how almost supernatural is this feat. I also decided to be as blunt and plain spoken about my answers. No quotes of facts I had read. No references to expertise. He was looking for those to dismiss so the less I provided the more chance we wouldn’t be formulating arguments while pretending to listen.

We landed on whether churches could be shut down during the pandemic. He was furious that any pastor would close down worship because of the government. He quoted the Old Testament from his phone and revealed that he was a fundamentalist Baptist. He asked me if I was atheist. 

“No. I’d say I’m agnostic. I don’t believe there is a higher power but, given I’m not really in a position to know, I’m not arrogant enough to dismiss the idea altogether.”

This answer leaves him visibly disappointed. “Oh. If you’d said atheist, I had a joke.”

“What’s the joke?”

“What’s the best atheist holiday? April Fools Day. Because the Bible says that he who denies the existence of God is a fool. Get it?”

I smile. “Yeah. I get it.”

“I bet we totally don’t agree about abortion.”

This was a fishing expedition on Carl’s part.

“You think? What do you suppose my position is?”

“You’re probably pro-abortion.”

“Hmmm. I could be wrong but I’m not sure anyone is pro-abortion. I mean, maybe it’s just that I’ve never met anyone that is, like, ‘YEAH! ABORTION IS AWESOME!’”

“Then what are you?”

“Oh. I’m pro-choice but I’m pro-choice pretty much across the board.”

“So you think killing babies is OK?”

“Yup. I am in favor of killing babies.”

Carl isn’t sure what to make of this answer. He stops moving for a moment, taking it in. “Wait...what?”

“Oh, I get the scientific debate between the fetus and the baby, and when does human life really start and all that. I’m not a scientist so it’s just more honest to acknowledge that, yes, we are killing babies and I’m OK with that.

It’s sort of like looking at how we deal with real people versus abstract people, you know?”

“Abstract...?”

“If you tell me your mother contracted COVID at a Wal Mart because she thought masks were a part of the hoax and she might die, for you she’s a real person. For me, she’s an abstract person — don’t know her, never met her, just met you. Abstract. If your mom dies, it doesn’t affect me in any way.

It’s like the COVID deaths in general. 100,000 Americans have died from it but that number allows me to see them all as abstract. They’re real to somebody but not to me. I don’t know anyone who has died from it.

Same with abortion. Unless my wife or my niece or a friend of mine gets one, all those babies are abstract. I mean, do you care about the 300 or so Indonesians killed in the tsunami in December?”

“What? No. I didn’t even know about that.”

“Exactly. They are abstract so we don’t care. Humans are quite good at finding ways to make others abstract. Aborted babies aren’t even interesting enough to remember so who cares? I mean, All Lives Matter, my ass, right?”

He wanted to talk about the Second Amendment and gun control. I agreed with him that the Second Amendment was sacrosanct and should be followed to the letter. “Are you a member of a militia?”

“No.”

“And you own guns?”

“Yeah.”

“I could be wrong but, according to the Second Amendment, you have to be in a militia to follow the Constitution and own guns. So, the government has every right to take your guns, right? That’s the letter of the Second Amendment?”

He kept bouncing from gays (“Homosexuality is wrong” but “I have a gay friend.”) to Obamacare to why he ignores his GPS (“It’s a woman’s voice and I’ve been trained to ignore that sound!”).

At around forty minutes in, I was exhausted. This was fucking hard. I told him I really needed to get back to work which was a lie — with the casino closed my work at this point is that of a night watchman. I really just wanted to escape this conversation.

As we parted, I offered my only unrequested opinion.

“You know,” he said. “This is how all people should talk to each other. We don’t agree on much but we’re walking away as friends.”

“I don’t think we’re friends, Carl. I could be wrong but at least we’re parting friendly.”

I don’t know if I accomplished anything. I doubt I convinced him of anything but it wasn’t the typical ranting at one another. As I’m trying to get better at this communicating with the enemy sort of thing, the act of not treating him as an enemy might be the first step.

In fact, the most startling thing about this entire encounter was that I simply did not notice until thirty-five minutes into it that he was proudly wearing a red MAGA cap.