#they are all very flawed and stupid. however i do love them nonetheless.

[moon-song-and-star]

One of the really fun and interesting things about ace attorney is that actually none of the mcs are normal functioning human beings and they're all deeply flawed. I kid you not, I have spent at least a solid minute DESPISING nearly every main character.

From Edgeworth's disappearing/reappearing act, not to mention literally quoting his own SUICIDE NOTE in COURT in aa2:

And then for a lot of the aai games he actually acts above the law a lot because he's the best detective around and he values the truth more than anything, which while justifiable is a very extreme take,

To the absolute ass Nick was to Apollo during ajaa, which i don't have receipts for but you remember, and also not telling apollo and trucy they're siblings, which actually continues a trend where he tells caustic lies to people to avoid hurting them in the moment,

To that absolutely horrendous SHIT Apollo pulled during turnabout for tomorrow, which includes but is not limited to assisting terrorism (encouraging aura blackquill to continue the trial), asking his close friend and colleague athena be arrested for murder, and ACTUAL SISTER be held at GUNPOINT by a murderous terrorist, all because he couldn't cope with not having trust for like a day. If he had waited for literally a day, the trial would have continued AND the TWELVE random people and FUCKING TRUCY could have escaped the space station, but no, please polly, do egg on the ACTUALLY murderous and radicalized Blackquill sibling who spent 7 years hating an actual child SURE GREAT IDEA.

Even the side characters have absolute no concept of normal, with simon blackquill being a convicted death row inmate for most of dual destinies, Athena having enough trauma to kill a horse, trucy and maya with abandonment issues, pearly dealing with everything morgan and dahlia did, and Lana and ema's whole thing, not to mention the von karma fiasco.

Honestly the most normal person in the games is Klavier, who is a world famous pop star with an insane and violent serial poisoner as a brother.

I love these characters to death, nick and miles are my blorbos and I adore pretty much everybody, but damn if these games aren't great at making flawed characters. Ask my parents or friends, they'll tell you how angry ive gotten, lmao.

And I haven't even played SOJ or TGAA yet.

[adorethedistance]

Party Hard - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: drinking, partying, intoxication, non sexual stripping, swearing probably, 

Words: 6343 (which, if you know me, is a FUCK ton)

Summary: Going from tipsy to full on drunk is a terrible idea, but especially when you’ve got a secret to hide that could mean the difference between preserving and ruining your relationship with your best friend.

A/N: A couple items before we get started: I think I’m back on my bullshit? I mean I wrote this fic and it’s three times the length of my normal fics. Also I wrote this headassery as a literal self insert me(ace) x someone and so there are a couple flaws here and there that make this something I’m not 100% proud of. Owen picks the reader up a few times and I’m aware this kind of thing can really effect someone’s experience with this fic so I do apologize for the lack of inclusivity in regards to body type/ableism. I’m falling really behind on school work because I just can’t find the motivation which either means y’all will be seeing a lot more of me soon or absolutely nothing at all. Not sure which yet.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Charlie rests his left arm on his best friend’s shoulder, tipping back the half-full angry orchard bottle he’d been nursing for the better half of an hour. Owen’s stare is immediately broken and he crosses his arms defensively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Turning to meet his friend’s smug stare, Owen shoots Charlie a glare of annoyance before returning his attention to the girl on the dance floor. Surrounded by a gaggle of her closest friends, Y/n is dancing and singing her heart out to Fergalicious with Chelsea, Leila, Savannah, and Carolynn. The bunch of them share in sporadic laughs as they exchange ridiculous dance moves just to add to the fleeting moment’s laughter. An assortment of screeches and squawks blend together as they all prepare to sing the rap section of the song. Observing the level of excitement the girls have over the verse, Owen can’t help but laugh at the spectacle.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Charlie inquires between sips of his cold drink.

“What?”

“Y/n. Why have you not asked her out.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah. Because you haven’t asked her out.” Owen rolls his eyes before turning 90 degrees to fully face the smug guitarist. He turns about-face to prove a point, but another symphony of squeals at the next song choice drags his attention back to his other best friend on the dance floor. “You’re so whipped.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! Look, if you don’t ask her out tonight, I will.”

“You’re not even into her,” Owen protests unceremoniously. Setting the molasses colored bottle on the counter next to Owen, Charlie steps back and copies his position of crossed arms and a relaxed stance.

“You’re right, I’m not. But you are, and if that’s what it takes to light the fire under your ass then I’ll do it.”

“She wouldn’t say yes.”

“Are you sure? I mean, the only way to know for sure is to ask.” And with that, Charlie is off, speeding toward Y/n at a pace that launches Owen into an impulsive chase. To prevent his friend from doing something stupid, Owen shoves him in the opposite direction from the group of girls on the dance floor. What he hadn’t anticipated was Charlie moving so far so fast. Owen has longer legs, he’s supposed to be the faster one, not Charlie. That’s why he hadn’t anticipated turning away from his musical friend to come face to face with a very flushed Y/n. Her lip-gloss coated lips are parted as she catches her breath from all the dancing. They look so soft and inviting that Owen can’t help but stare, and doesn’t realize the several looks of confusion among the girls around him.

“Everything okay, Owen?” Snapping out of his hyper focused stare, Owen blinks a few times, trying to generate a reason for coming over.

“You’ve been dancing for a while.”

“...Yeah?”

“Let me fix you a drink?” His statement comes out as more of a question but the breathless girl agrees nonetheless. Owen extends his hand to her which she gladly accepts but not without a quick word to her friends.

“I’ll be right back, I’m getting a drink.”

Her friends aren’t stupid, quite the opposite actually. And they see right through Owen’s facade of fixing her a drink because she’d been ‘dancing a while’. Please. As if they didn’t know a desperate attempt at flirting when they saw it.

The pounding music from the backyard begins to fade and muffle once the pair step into the Shada’s beautiful kitchen space. Owen leads her to the kitchen island where he has her take a seat on one of the barstools in front of the high countertop. Stepping around the fixture, Owen busies himself with whipping up a drink for Y/n at the makeshift bar on the island. He doesn’t even have to ask what it is she wants. Ice, pink whitney, club soda, and a splash of lime juice mixed together in a red solo cup Owen had considerately written her name on before going all mixologist-mode.

“Your usual.”

“Thank you, sir. You know, I’ve only had a handful of barbecue chips since I got here, and I’m already tipsy, so this actually might get me completely drunk.” Taking a sip, Y/n hums out of pleasure, “Why do you make my favorite drink better than I make my favorite drink?”

“So you have a reason to keep me around.” At the sound of Y/n’s laugh, Owen cracks a smile in time with his favorite sound in the world. The blonde haired man leans forward to rest his weight on his left forearm. He stares at her with adoration seeping from his gaze, before lifting his own cup to drink with her.

“What is that?” she asks, sitting up taller to try and see into Owen’s cup over the island.

“Jack Daniels.”

“I want some.”

“No,” Owen answers swiftly albeit softly. Y/n, however, is not feeling as conciliatory.

“No?”

“Have you ever tried whiskey before?”

“Well, no-”

“You’re drinking a fruit flavored cocktail that’s like 30% nonalcoholic. A sip of this would knock you off your little ass.” Y/n frowns at his words and employs a fake pout of anger to guilt her now laughing friend. Despite her smile, she whines,

“You suck.” Owen merely shrugs unapologetically before sipping and wincing at his drink of choice. “So… how did your date go- with Amy?” And there it is. The question that’s been at the forefront of Y/n’s mind for the last 24 hours.

Owen met this girl Amy at a more professional house party type of event and they hit it off right away. They spent the night invested in conversation, sharing in a cacophony of laughter. Y/n had no right to be upset, but she was. Amy was drop dead gorgeous in that Mini length red, velvet dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her figure was snatched to the gods, and she was about 5’3”; a seemingly irrelevant thing to notice, but Y/n knew that was the height Owen loved in a partner. At least, based on all his previous flings. And not to mention, her beautiful golden blonde hair that extended all the way down her toned back. Amy was perfect to all standards including that of any straight man with eyes and undoubtedly Owen’s. They spent the entire night together, Y/n long forgotten despite having been Owen’s plus one.

Y/n on the other hand didn’t exactly view herself as the drop-dead gorgeous supermodel type. Seeing how Owen took an interest in her at that event, it was no wonder Y/n was jealous. In fact, she had been so jealous that she allowed their flirting to ruin her entire evening.

She had been invited platonically as Owen’s guest, but Owen didn’t feel guilty about leaving her alone once he saw Charlie was by her side the whole night. Little did he know Charlie was only there for her because Owen wasn’t. It was pity company. Pity company that she was grateful to have as she cried into a few gin and tonics. Y/n avoided telling Charlie about her feelings for the adorable drummer, but with the way events transpired, he had figured out what it was that had upset her.

Charlie so badly wanted to give Owen the guilt trip of a lifetime. And he did once he and Owen were alone, heading home in Charlie’s orange hatchback car. He did so by telling Owen about how his best friend had spent the entire evening crying into gin and tonics. ‘Y/n doesn’t even like gin and tonic’ was all Owen could come up with.

When he inquired about why his best friend was crying, Charlie said he didn’t know, but it may have had something to do with the fact that the person who invited her spent the whole night ignoring her; he left it at that, leaving Owen to connect the dots, sort of. Owen had come to the realization that Y/n must have been crying over him, but why? Unable to comprehend a reason, he pushed the situation to the back of his mind. So far back that when Amy texted him that same night, he immediately responded and eventually set up a date for them to get dinner alone Friday evening.

The date was fine. Objectively there was nothing wrong with it. But every time Amy took a sip of the gin and tonic she had ordered, he couldn’t help being reminded of Y/n that night. It took Owen a solid thirty minutes to finally conclude that maybe Y/n was... jealous? Of what? Of Amy? Quickly reviewing a long list of qualities, identical to the one that Y/n had thoroughly checked through when she first saw the blonde, Owen realized she was indeed jealous of Amy. But why? What did Amy have that Y/n didn’t?

Oh.

His initial conclusion in the car with Charlie had to be right. Y/n was crying over him, and seemingly jealous of Amy, all because Amy had his attention. Why was that a problem?

Oh… no. No, Y/n does not have feelings for him. Y/n is... well, Y/n. His best friend, his partner in crime, his confidant, there’s no way she’s in love with him. There’s a different reason as to why she’d been crying into drinks she didn’t like. And that different reason is why her text replies have been short and cold when he had asked for date night conversation pointers. And that different reason is why her smile kept faltering on FaceTime when he was asking for fashion advice for his date.

Y/n is not in love with her best friend.

Owen had spent the past year pushing down his feelings for the girl that threatened to bubble over the top. If Y/n was truly into him, he would’ve acted on them. But she isn’t, so he didn’t. At least, that’s what Owen told himself…

“It was alright,” he offers lamely as a reply to her inquiry. Y/n simply nods and takes another swig of her drink to dull the ache in the center of her chest.

“Just alright?”

“Okay, it was better than alright. She was great.” There’s a hole burning in the center of her heart, and against her better judgment, she expands the deficit by asking for more information.

“What does that mean- that she was ‘great’?”

“You know…” Owen trails off in search of the right words, some words, any words, but nothing comes to him. To sell her nonchalant demeanor, the hopelessly devoted girl is staring down into her cup as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. She didn’t expect Owen’s eyes to be boring into hers when she looked back up, so she quickly musters a polite smile. Maybe the average onlooker couldn’t tell it was fake, but Owen knows something is off. He just knows. Because he knows her.

“How did those conversation pointers pan out?” She’s deflecting, he thinks.

“One of them worked.” I’m just feeding into it, he thinks.

“Only one of them?” He’s holding back something, she thinks.

“Well, yeah. We didn’t really do much talking if you get what I mean.” I don’t think I can handle this, she thinks.

“I see…” The pair stands together in a silence so tense they felt like strangers. It’s awful. Y/n and Owen hate every second of it, but what could they do? In a moment blinded by upset, Y/n reaches across the island to grab the newly opened bottle of grey goose and pours what must’ve been no less than three shots of liquid into her cup. No club soda or lemonade this time, she chugs down the rest of her drink in a flash; Owen stares at her in disbelief and shock.

Y/n hates being drunk, she likes being the designated driver, she’s never had straight up liquor in her life, and she’s a lightweight, that’s for damn sure. Owen knows all of these things and is even more surprised to see her reaching for an almost empty bottle of gin.

“Hey. Maybe you should take it easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a lightweight and you know it. Put the cup down.” When Y/n shakes her head no, something in Owen snaps and his desire to be gentle is long forgotten. “Y/n. Put the drink down.”

“Why do you care, Owen?” In taking time to respond, Owen sees the opportunity and goes for it, taking the cup from her loose grasp and splashing it down the drain of the vegetable sink. “What the fuck?!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink. Come on.” It’s only a matter of time until Y/n becomes an incoherent human being that’s impossible to wrangle, so Owen is very aware he’s on the clock. Snagging two Arrowhead water bottles in one hand, he takes Y/n’s hand in the other and brings her into the Shada’s den. There are only a few other people in the room, one is a couple and the other a pair of pining idiots, to which Owen becomes slightly wary. Not that the dynamic would change much. He and Y/n are practically a couple according to everyone around them.

Chelsea and Charlie are sitting fairly close together for just friends, on the chocolate brown loveseat facing the couch that Owen has plopped his increasingly intoxicated friend onto; Leila is sitting in a single armchair that a very tipsy Taylor is hanging over the back of to hug her shoulders. Upon seeing Y/n’s pouting expression Chelsea seeks more information,

“You good, fam?”

“He threw it down the sink!” She’s fading faster than Owen had hoped.

“I did. I poured what would’ve been her fifth and sixth shots down the sink.”

“Jesus, Y/n, are you trying to kill yourself?”

“What are you, a cop?” Even tipsy she’s still sharp as a tack. If Owen wasn’t frustrated with her at the moment, he would’ve probably laughed. But he is, so he didn’t. Slipping back into caretaker mode, he hands her one of the water bottles he snagged from the cooler on the way out. In her typical stubborn and petulant fashion, Y/n weakly throws the unopened bottle onto the couch cushion next to her. All their friends laugh but Owen isn’t having it.

“Y/n.” And it only takes a firm call of her name for the slumped over lightweight to glare at him but oblige. She retrieves the bottle and sticks her arm out straight toward Owen’s still standing figure.

“I can’t open it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucked up,” Leila comments.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you fucked up period,” Chelsea adds on. Charlie laughs lightly before resuming whatever conversation the four of them had going pre-Owen and Y/n’s entrance.

Satisfied with the small sips she’s taking of her water, Owen relaxes and takes a seat next to her on the couch. The temporary break in her temper tantrum allows Owen to save his breath; he opens his own water bottle, taking a few drinks which ended up being half the bottle. He’s given her a good bit of room on the couch but it isn’t good enough for Y/n. It takes her a few failed attempts to screw on the cap of her water but once it’s properly sealed, she moves closer to her best friend. The water has acted like some magical temperament cure as Y/n’s previously permanent pout has disappeared.

Owen knows he and Y/n are close enough to where cuddling wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But the way she’s burrowed into his side, picking up his seemingly ‘heavy’ arm to place it around her own inebriated frame, laying her head high up on his chest, and unintentionally resting her hand on his lower abdomen, something feels off. Her hand isn’t dangerously low, but low enough that the side of her limp palm has met the waistband of his jeans. Owen can’t help but feel his skin tingle and burn under her touch. Why is he so affected by her touch all of a sudden?

Owen is pulled from his snowballing thoughts by the sound of Y/n’s muffled voice against his chest. He leans down as far as he can which places his head on top of hers gently.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry,” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. A tiny drop of warmth on his shirt under her head triggers Owen’s memory: Y/n’s an emotional drunk. She doesn’t get drunk often but when she does, she goes all in and becomes somewhat manic as a result. That accounts for her previous anger. Now it’s sadness, so in about ten minutes, she’ll be easily excitable and bouncing off the walls.

Y/n had carpooled with Leila and Chelsea to the party, and though Owen was upset about her not picking him up like they’d briefly talked about at first, he’s suddenly thankful for the arrangement.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Unhhh.” The lack of a coherent response is enough for Owen, and after finishing the rest of his water, he sits up on the couch.

“Where’s your house key? Hm?” The prospect of losing her key is absolutely devastating to Y/n as she begins to weep. Her imminent distress in response to Owen’s question has all their friends laughing once more; Leila speaks up,

“Check the left chest pocket of her jacket.”

Owen nods, noting the directions, and gently rolls his friend over on her back. Deciding against using her strength, Y/n flops over onto her other side which still allows Owen access to her pocket. His long fingers dwarf the button fastener on her jacket that she often struggles to open, and sure enough her sky blue house key is in her pocket just as Leila said.

“Thanks,” he acknowledges Leila before taking Y/n’s cold hands in his own larger ones to help her stand. It’s a bit of a struggle to stand and as a result, the fading girl leans a bit of her weight into Owen’s side. “You gonna say bye to our friends?”

Y/n nods a goodbye to each person in the room, moving from left to right naming Leila, Taylor, Chelsea, and then Charlie. Upon saying bye to Charlie the small girl starts to cry again, harder this time, much to everyone’s confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Charlie looked a-at me like he didn’t l-like me.” The entire room bursts out laughing, Owen included this time, but she’s still crying. “It’s no-not funny.”

“I know. You’re right, it’s not funny.” Owen’s exaggerated sympathy goes undetected by the very emotional Y/n as she presses her face into his grey long sleeve shirt. She reaches up to hug her arms around Owen’s neck for stability as she adds more tears to the tiny spot from before. “Can you walk?” He asks genuinely as more of her weight leans into him. The only response Owen gets is a few soft sobs, and in reaction to her messy state, lets out a subtle eye roll. He shakes his head before bending down to place one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulder blades, sweeping her off the ground before she can protest.

“Would you guys tell Jer thanks and that I had to take her home?” A symphony of affirmations and goodbyes usher him out of the house, and once outside Y/n’s crying diminuendos into short sniffles and the occasional sigh.

“Here, be careful,” Owen panics as his friend nearly bangs the front of her head against the roof of his car. Once he cautiously places all her limbs in the passenger side, Owen shuts the door and hurries over to the driver’s side as if Y/n could hurt herself in the next five seconds. He places the key in the ignition but before he even touches the gear shift, he turns and looks quizzically at his best friend. The sniffling and sighs coming from her puffy face have lulled her into an almost unconscious state; Owen puffs out a frustrated sigh as he reaches across the entire car to grab Y/n’s seatbelt for her.

Another thing about drunk Y/n is that her emotional state makes her more likely to give in to physical impulses. So after she registers Owen leaning across her lap for the seatbelt, she grabs his shoulder so he doesn’t move away. The action surprises Owen and he turns his face to look into her half-lidded eyes. He’s trying to make sense of the action but his trailing thoughts are interrupted when the girl in the passenger’s seat leans forward slightly to put her face against Owen’s neck.

“I like your smell.” Owen tries so hard not to laugh in fear of upsetting her again, but he can’t conceal the smile growing on his face. He then gently pulls away from her grasp in order to actually start driving,

“Okay. Thank you.”

The car ride is composed of mostly comfortable silence with the occasional inebriated comment or nonsensical sound from the girl in the passenger seat; Owen had been so captivated by Y/n’s uncharacteristically relaxed state, he’d been driving on autopilot and instead of turning left to get on the highway that runs south to where her apartment is, he’d gone north to go to his own place. No big deal, Owen didn’t plan on leaving her intoxicated and alone, and she’s stayed the night plenty of times before now. What’s one more night? It isn’t until he puts the car in park and helps her out of the vehicle that Y/n clocks her surroundings.

“I don’t live here.”

“You don’t, no, but I do,” Owen replies simply before he slides out of the car. Y/n stays in the car as if Owen told her not to move, and looks up at him confusedly when he opens her door. In her tipsy state, she is able to recognize what Owen is doing and smugly places her hand over the buckle of her seatbelt. With her tiny palm over the red button, she begins giggling maniacally.

“What are you doing?” Owen asks with a frustrated sigh although he can’t help the small smile overtaking his features at the sound of her growing laughter. He doesn’t get a response, just more giggling which lets him know he’s going to have to do things the hard way now that she’s in a lifted mood. “Kid, you have to get out of the car.”

“You can’t make me.”

Owen takes a step back from the open door to reevaluate. Y/n always tells him to work smarter, not harder. Another one of her many bouts of wisdom is that you can keep the attention of children and adults alike with a vastly dynamic change in volume. The question is will she notice Owen using this tactic on her in her drunken state?

“Hey, Y/n/n,” his speech drops to a low whisper. “I’m sad, can you hold my hand?” The change in volume works exactly as described; completely convinced by the sincerity of his whispering, Y/n gives him her right hand. “Can I have the other one?”

When she nods a small ‘yes’ and gives him both of her hands, Owen finds himself fighting the urge to laugh at how easy that was. He takes both of her cool hands in his larger left one to reach across her body and release her seatbelt with a swift CLICK.

Luckily Y/n didn’t tangle herself up in the seatbelt, but she had other ideas for causing trouble. Owen helped her out of the car but once she was standing on her own two feet, she began running away from him. With a slam of the car door and a string of breathy curses later, he chases after his best friend before she can hurt herself on literally anything in the parking garage. The sound of Y/n’s laughter carries through the vacant space, and despite all her best efforts, Owen quickly catches up to her. Her giddy intoxication allowed for the suspension of disbelief that she could outrun the much taller Owen Joyner, but she’s sorely mistaken when his strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. Y/n’s bouts of laughter are contagious; Owen finds himself laughing alongside his best friend. Setting her feet back on the ground he asks,

“Are you going to run away again if I let go of you?”

“Yeah,” she chokes out through the tail end of her laughing fit. The candidness of her reply prompts Owen to throw his head back, shaking it as if in disagreement with the universe itself,

“I appreciate your honesty.” And with that, Y/n screeches in glee as her best friend maneuvers her body in his grip to lift her over his right shoulder.

“Owen!”

“You did this to yourself, kid.”

The silent elevator ride up to his flat is comfortable relative to the current position they’re in. Y/n’s no longer fighting being carried but instead entertains herself by tapping out an intricate beat on the surface of Owen’s back.

“Guess what song this is.”

The beat she’s playing is close to incoherent and Owen tries to stifle his full laugh in fear of making her cry again. He’s been successful so far, but now having Y/n over his shoulder, she can feel the movement of his abdomen that was unintelligible by sight alone.

“Your favorite song,” he guesses insincerely.

“No, my favorite song doesn’t sound like that. It was sicko mode.”

“That was not sicko mode.”

“Owen, how come you don’t wear a badge?”

“What?”

“Because you’re the song police?” Owen can’t help but snort out a laugh even though the comment was made at his expense. Still sharp as a tack.

Once the pair reach the front door of Owen’s ‘bachelorette pad’ as Y/n liked to call it, he sets her back on the ground albeit reluctantly as he recalls why he was carrying her in the first place. Thinking quickly on his feet, Owen forms a plan that’s more likely than not foolproof.

“Hey, Y/n/n?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is still right behind him thankfully.

“Can I have a hug?” After a few seconds of silence in the hall, Owen begins to doubt his plan until he feels the weight of his best friend leaning on his toned back. With her cheek pressed against the middle of his spine, Y/n brings her arms around his waist, clasping her hands tightly together. Her semi-public display of affection allows Owen some time to unlock his front door. Once he props the door open, Owen realizes that Y/n probably isn’t going to let go any time soon and opts to waddle through the threshold with her still attached to him. He’s able to turn around and lock them back in for the night which makes the girl begin to laugh.

“Was this your plan all along? To get me drunk so you could lock me in your apartment and hold me prisoner for the rest of my life?”

“And I would’ve gotten away with it, too...”

“If it weren’t for those meddling kids and their dog.”

True to his imagination that Y/n wasn’t letting go any time soon, Owen swivels her around his torso so that he could hold her to his side rather than support her with his back. He now has his right arm over both of her shoulders as she continues to hug her best friend. The way she leans her head onto his chest makes Owen’s heartbeat the tiniest bit faster. ‘She’s drunk, she doesn’t know what this does to you’ is the mantra blaring through Owen’s subconscious. Shaking any and all sort of romantic thoughts out of his head, he begins to lead her back to his bedroom.

Flicking the lights on proves to be a mistake once Y/n starts groaning miserably, and Owen decides the floor lamp is a better option than the overheads. Much to Owen’s surprise and relief, Y/n moves to sit on the edge of his bed on her own volition. She’s not upright for long as she collapses into the sheets of his unmade bed that contemplated neatening before leaving the house; hindsight is 20/20.

“Hmm. I like your smell,” Y/n parrots despite already bringing up the topic on the ride home.

“This is the same cologne I always use.”

“No. I like your natural smell.”

“What?”

“I was reading up about pheromones the other day. And there was this thing that said when couples like each others’ scent, it’s like a primal way of seeing if you’re immuno-compatible with someone so your offspring have the best chance for survival. It’s an evolutionary thing for the survival of our species. Ants have pheromones, too.”

Sometimes she has trouble remembering to feed herself, but leave it to Y/n to remember extensive information about pheromones whilst intoxicated. The concept is intriguing to Owen, so he proceeds to ask questions, ignoring the tug on his heart he felt after hearing her say the word ‘couples’.

“So, if I like your scent, we’re immuno-?”

“Compatible, yeah. But it’s mostly me because you can sniff out my period.”

“I can what?”

“I read that men can tell when a woman is at her most fertile because that’s when they like her smell the best. They did a study where a bunch of men were introduced to a few different scents, and without fail, the one they liked the most or would describe as ‘sexy’ or ‘attractive’ was the scent they took from the woman who was ovulating.”

Y/n continues talking about what she learned about pheromones as Owen picks up a bit of the mess around his room. She returns to the topic of ant pheromones as he digs through his surprisingly large closet for something for his friend to sleep in. His temporarily bubbly best friend also notes that he should ‘sniff her now because she’s ovulating and he would like that’ which makes him laugh into the drawers of his waist-height dresser. Returning to find her still slumped over on the bed, he pats her leg and beckons her to sit up. After Y/n’s upright again, Owen hands her his classic black ‘BEANS’ t-shirt and a pair of briefs that won’t properly fit her but will fit better than a pair of his actual pants.

“Can you put these on for me?”

“Yeah.” Owen’s conflicted with both wanting to respect Y/n’s privacy by leaving the room, and prioritizing her safety, and not leaving her unattended at any moment. He comes to a compromise which is staying by her side but turning a full 180 to face the wall of his bedroom. A couple of moments pass until Y/n begins whining frustratedly.

“Owen.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t ubns-” her words become incomprehensible as she begins to cry again and Owen turns around to find her struggling with the buttons on her shirt, her jacket long discarded on the bedroom floor. This shirt: her white, cap-sleeve crop top with a peter pan collar that she wore for anything mildly significant, this was her favorite. Owen remembers her fussing about how she ruined it only to find that she just forgot to steam it one day. So with a little heat and water, Owen had fixed the shirt like nothing ever happened, and he’d do it a million times over again if it meant he got to relive seeing the smile that graced her face for the first time again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do the buttons.” She runs the back of her right hand against her tired eyes to wipe away her tears and Owen internally curses himself for the way the small action makes his heart flutter.

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen to me, you are okay,” he sinks to kneel in front of Y/n as she sits tiredly on the edge of the bed. Owen doesn’t miss the slight tremble of his hands as he reaches up to unbutton her shirt, but he prays that she will. Through tiny sniffles and teary eyes, she watches his hands effortlessly work down the length of her shirt, each button modestly dancing between his fingertips. Once the short top is fully unbuttoned, Owen returns to his normal standing height and Y/n attempts to shrug the fabric off her body. She struggles lightly and knowing her frustration is imminent, Owen reaches down to gingerly push the sleeves off her shoulders. The light graze of his rough, calloused skin against her own skin sends electric-like shocks through the both of them; yet neither of them believed the other felt it too.

Owen hastily withdraws his hands and, without warning, Y/n quickly removes the bralette she was wearing. Owen’s eyes widen slightly at her lack of inhibition. He does his best to be a gentleman and swiftly redirects his gaze to the white ceiling fan that has all of a sudden become the most intriguing object in the universe. His lower peripheral vision indicates that she’s finally slipped the black tee over her head, but she begins sniffling more fiercely as she struggles with taking off her jeans. Owen sighs and drops to his knees once more in spite of himself, and aids his best friend in slipping the material over the length of her calves and off the tips of her toes. Hoping to speed up the process, he grabs the briefs he had brought her and unfolds them in preparation for helping her into them. His efforts are all for naught as Y/n forgoes the need for any more clothing and slides under the covers of his unmade bed. Owen then turns to leave the bedroom, opting to set up on the couch for the night before Y/n’s small voice is cutting through the comfortable silence.

“Where are you going?” He sighs,

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll get you some water and Advil for when you wake up tomorrow.” Y/n then nods acceptingly and allows her eyes to flutter closed as he leaves the room. Despite how tired she feels, Y/n won’t quite yet let herself sleep--not ‘til Owen is beside her. When he returns he sets the ibuprofen bottle on the nightstand before uncapping the Kirkland brand water bottle he had in the fridge. He coaxes her into sitting up just one more time so she can drink some of the water before falling asleep. She sits and rubs her tired eyes as she drinks and Owen has to physically force himself to look away from the adorable sight. He just wants to take care of her forever but things have always been strictly platonic between them.

The risk of making their friendship weird or awkward was just too great.

“Goodnight kid, I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Owen leaves without awaiting a response and lets out an annoyed sigh before setting himself up on the couch in his living room. He was so focused on getting Y/n to bed safely that he forgot to grab clothes for himself. Not a big deal. He simply strips down to just his underwear and climbs underneath the thick Pottery Barn throw blanket Y/n had gifted him as a housewarming gift. That and a fire extinguisher because ‘you don’t notice its absence until you need it’ she claimed. The memory makes Owen smile and he allows his eyes to close after a long day.

A long day that was about to get longer. Owen finds himself sinking further and further into sleep until he hears the padding of footsteps that are now in his living room. He’s too tired to open his eyes, and it’s not like he doesn’t already know who it is. What does surprise him, however, is the feeling of the familiar weight squeezing between the couch and his turned back.

“What are you doing?” He half mumbles into the night.

“You’re warm.”

“That was not the question, Y/n/n.” After not receiving a reply, Owen turns as best as he can to look at his friend who’s nestling her way into his sleeping arrangement for the night. “Kid-”

“I just wanna be with you.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out of irritation, exhaustion, and a sliver of adoration before sitting up on the couch, “Come on.”

He stands up, fully expecting to have to drag her back to the bedroom, but finds relief in seeing her struggle her way off the couch. Slipping her tired hand into his unexpecting, larger one, Y/n allows her friend to lead her into the bedroom for the second time that night.

Owen considerately lifts the covers for her to climb back into before getting into the other side of the bed.

“Owen.”

“Hm?”

“Guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

“No,” Y/n speaks in a casual tone as if she’s not divulging into her biggest emotional trepidation to date. “I love you, Owen.”

Owen can’t help the way his heart seemingly stops. The way the butterflies in his stomach are going wild. The way he wants to smile like he’s the biggest lovestruck idiot on planet Earth.

She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She won’t remember this tomorrow.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

She won’t remember that tomorrow.

***

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[lovelykhaleesiii]

Jealousy Isn't Good

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Tom Holland (characters) x fem!Reader (Arvin Russell and Peter Parker)

Words: 1953

Summary (requested by @peeves6261427): “jealous tom/arvin/peter where the reader knows they’re jealous and tries to tease them but then tom/arvin/peter just go FULL dom” 

Warnings: jealousy, smut, fluff, dom!Tom Holland (+ characters mentioned)

A/N - I fucking love a good angsty + smutty imagine... hope you like just as much as I did writing it AHAHA :) x 

TOM HOLLAND: 

Now, when it came to Tom’s jealous side, he was terribly awful at hiding it.

To your complete surprise, it was actually a recurring thing... It wasn't that Tom had trust issues, he just would notice how others would try to “flirt with you”, according to him.  

However, you struggled to see this and saw no harm in these interactions, as most of the time you believed people were just being friendly. 

When he did become jealous he acted like a complete, stubborn child.

He would give you short, sharp answers, always be temperamental. 

Often in the moment you’d catch him making quick glances at you as you’d be talking to whomever. 

He’d take a deep breath in, his fists would clench to the point his knuckles turned white. 

“Tom, love, you’re doing it again...” 

Tom knew how to calm himself, however his mood would be foul for the day. 

He had a reputation to hold and did not want to jeopardise that, even if it took him all his strength to not even speak against it. 

He really hated the way some would stare at you, eyeing you up and down, especially at premieres where you were all dolled up. 

Tom would become super protective, especially amongst places where there were crowds upon crowds of people: you found that his arm would always be tightly wrapped around your waist. 

Occasionally, a verbal fight would even break out between the two of you because of this... Until Tom would realise your perspective. 

“And what about you Tom?! What about the millions of girls across the world that worship you? Do you see me complaining and whining?” 

You were happiest with Tom, and you’d mentioned it repeatedly to him... He knew you were with him for the long run, he just despised the fact that people didn’t realise this. 

He’d be the type that needed reassurance that you only had eyes for him, and to make up for his childish behaviour... Sex was the only answer.  

This also was the best way he could showcase his dominance over you: he was always in complete control when it came to sex, especially after an episode of jealousy. 

Tom would definitely be the type to leave love marks all over you, hickeys were his thing. He’d try not to leave them in obvious places where your skin would be exposed, again for his reputation especially with kids, however on the rare occasion that he’d lose himself... There wasn't nothing that a decent palette of makeup couldn’t cover up!

God sometimes he’d even surprise you with a quick, soft bite on your skin... He was playful like that. 

Definitely loves to spank you, again seeing his red hand-print form on your ass cheek just sparks joy in him like nothing else. 

And Tom, definitely loves being called Daddy. 

Nonetheless, it was a flaw in Tom’s character... He was the jealous type and it was something you were okay to live with. 

ARVIN RUSSELL: 

Now this man... Would literally go off. Not immediately, it would just constantly be building up inside until he could no longer keep the fury bottled up. 

Having to pick up Lenora from school, you also took to this privilege, which always meant Arvin would be waiting right outside for the two of you. He was protective like that. 

He was also, however, an impatient man: thus, on the occasional days that a few of your colleagues took up your time after school for a quick chat, often about an assignment or homework... He’d grown quite enraged. 

Especially due to the fact that he'd rarely see you during the weekdays from being busy with school. He didn’t want to attend and rather just work, although it took a toll very so often that he’d miss you. 

Being such a small town, didn't help the cause, whether it was walking down the street arm in arm, or catching up at the local diner, someone would stop and chat, minimising your time together even more. 

However, the jealousy would strike most with other male counterparts. 

Arvin, according to his own words “knew what these boys in this town were thinking...” 

For his age, and greatly due to his unfortunate circumstances growing up, Arvin mentally and emotionally matured rapidly for his age. 

Physically, he was also quite strong and didn’t hesitate when faced with a threat. 

Especially after the incident with Lenora and the boys at school... Arvin had a reputation that was built on sheer intimidation. No one dared to mess with anything that even remotely “belonged” to him. 

And he’d made it very clear that you were his. 

However on the downside, when a boy was “downright stupid” (again according to Arvin), and took a chance on you, or even tried to take advantage of you... Arvin would violently lash out. 

It was hard to intervene, especially when matters got physical. 

Arvin was obviously the dominant one: he’d precisely plan his attacks, when exactly to strike. 

Word would spread, and yet everyone would keep quiet... Some would even argue that Arvin did the right thing for standing by you.

“I-I just don't want people thinking the wrong things about you, baby.”   

However you did mention how upset you’d become, witnessing Arvin taking matters into his own hands: and worst of all, you’d hate seeing him hurt with minor wounds to show. 

During these times after the altercations, would be the most intimate. Arvin would apologise and promise to try never to lash out again, although you knew that was a lie. 

It was these moments he showed his most vulnerable side: he’d confess to how much you meant to him, how much he wanted to keep you safe and overall, how much he’d love you. 

“You are the absolute world to be Y/N, baby... You need to know I’d do anything for you.” 

Bless him, you thought. You knew violence was never an answer, although considering Arvin’s upbringing, it was mostly all he’d known, all that he was exposed to. 

“God, Arvin... I can take care of myself, you know that. A-And if I do ever get in trouble, you know you’ll be the first one I come to.” 

However what he dreaded the most was being apart from you. The fear that when you weren't together that’s when something terrible would befall you, killed him deep down and regardless of what you said, or no matter how confident you were of protecting yourself... He knew he’d always be there until he planned for the two of you to leave this “godforsaken town.” 

And of course, the sex helped him a lot. 

Arvin was the dominant one in the relationship throughout everything. He felt he needed to be in control, and obviously still took into consideration your thoughts and feelings.

However when it came to matters of life and death or even remotely close to your safety, he took serious. He prioritised your safety over his own, and that said a lot. 

When I tell you this man would have a breeding kink, I meant it: having children did frighten him a little, although the thought of having them with you, made him feel motivated to have a family of his own. 

He loves when you dry hump the fuck out him, seeing how you moan his name as your face to face with one another, the way your tits be jiggling/jumping the more intense you got. 

He preferred to have sex in remote, isolated locations. He preferred to silence and peace of mind. Only being in each other’s company. 

Often the sex happened in his car, and the moments after would be intimate just like after a fight. 

He loved you and you loved him... You both knew you were meant for one another. 

PETER PARKER: 

Having met Pete, there was no way you’d thought there could ever be a bad bone in him, however it seemed even the perfect Peter Parker struggled with a few minor flaws. 

Peter tended to get jealous, however over specific people that he saw as a threat. 

He was extremely calculative, and knew who posed a risk to his relationship with you.

He often wouldn’t speak up about it, letting it slide and seeking advice from Ned and Aunt May on what to do, however they’d often persuade him to believe it was nothing major to worry about, and that you only had eyes for him. 

And they couldn't be more right. 

Peter trusted you greatly, as you did with him. 

He didn't trust the cocky guys that would shoot their shot with you, and often it did infuriate him. 

At nights, when he was out overlooking the city for whoever would need the help of their friendly, neighbourhood Spider-man, he’d take the time to contemplate to himself. 

However, if he got really desperate for some help, he’d even ask his fellow Avengers... Tony wasn't much of a help, he’d just tell him to either spoil the hell out of you, “take her out to a nice restaurant, the chicks dig that intimacy shit.” 

Steve, on the other hand, was actually the most helpful. 

And they had all met you (and adored you), so they knew exactly who Peter was dealing with.

“Just talk to Y/N, I’m sure she’ll be most understanding... Usually when a guy feels this way about a girl, it means you want to take things seriously,” Captain reasoned. 

And from their Peter knew exactly what he had to do. 

Dates was a regular think, you made sure of that! Despite needing to balance school, work and Peter’s hectic life as an Avenger... You both proudly managed well. 

So taking both Tony’s and Capt’s relationship advice into consideration, Peter thought it would be perfect to just say what he needed to say.

“L-Look Y/N... I know I may not often say it or be the perfect boyfriend, but I-I just wanted to say...” 

God you loved how nervous he'd get. 

“What is it Pete?” You intervene with a bright smile on your face, trying to encourage him to just speak his mind. 

And it seemed to have worked, as his tense shoulders had finally relaxed and he returned with a smile. 

“I-I love you, Y/N. I mean, I-I really am so in love with you. It just bothers me that I see you talking to some guys a-and to think that maybe, one day... They might convince you to leave me.” 

Your heart broke silently to a thousand pieces: not only was this the first time Peter actually said the words “I love you”, however to hear that this was what had been worrying him this entire time. 

“Peter, please don’t ever think that! I could nor would I ever, leave someone as brilliant and caring as you... I love you, Pete, you need to know this.” 

And after what would have been the most sacred dates of your life, you knew exactly how to end the perfect night. 

As you both had politely left the restaurant, thanking the staff for their incredible food and service, you turned to Peter, your hands cupping his chiselled face. 

“Now how about you show me just how much you love me, huh?” 

Sex with Peter was often gentle and very personal. 

He wasn't over-the-top in control, always making sure you were comfortable and relaxed. 

However when you both had gotten into the rhythm of things... A whole, new side of him would peak. 

Definitely a boob guy... He’s rough hands would always be massaging your tits, especially when he ate you the fuck out. 

[kcatta-wodahs]

Asexual MC + Obey Me Undateables!

im just out here lookin for my ace fellows who still want a demon hug

Diavolo

READY FOR THIS HOT TAKE?!

Diavolo is like “oh yeah me too tbh”

And you, knowing his demeanor, his flirts, and frankly, his demon form -- don’t believe him.

You’re like.. Uh what bro did you hear what I said.

But no, he wasn’t lying.

Diavolo is ace. That’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy sex. Actually, he enjoys it quite a lot, but he doesn’t have that attraction that other demons have mentioned so often.

He grins at your reaction and tells you that he’s more than happy to abstain if that’s what you wish for them. 

Regardless of what you decide, he is 100% supportive. And honestly he’s thrilled to have found someone else like him

Funny thing, being the prince of a bunch of demons, they all kinda expect him to be some sort of lustful god, so he’s quite pleased that he doesn’t have to maintain that image for you.

If you do decide to have sex in the future, he is very communicative and open. He knows that you both have different levels of comfort with what is happening, and he wants to ensure that you’re having a good time.

Sex in your relationship becomes a fun activity to do once in a while, one that is purely for each other.

You’re very happy to know that the joy he gets from suddenly snuggling you is genuine. That he’s not looking for anything more. 

You become much more open about your affection after the conversation as well, and the way his eyes light up around you is magical. 

And guess what. That means you’re a fuckin ruler too, my friend. Ace Power Couple.

Barbatos

Does he already know? I’m not sure how his time travel thing works.

Time travel fucks me up

But nonetheless, he’s one of the few who you tell before actually entering a relationship. 

It just kind of comes up.

You’ve taken the habit of coming by the palace on weekends and keeping him company in the early hours of the day.

You’ve both got an interest in reading, so the weekend is when you meet up to discuss whatever books you’re on currently. This one happens to feature cheating in a romantic relationship.

“Just? Don’t? Fuck? Them?” you express your frustration quite emphatically. “Like. It’s not that hard??? It’s not that hard!” 

He is so very amused by your outrage. “Isn’t it? There are quite a few people it’s near impossible to resist.”

You whine and fall back in your seat, crossing your arms and almost pouting about how stupid people can be about sex.

“Sometimes I’m glad I’m not like everyone else about this. If needing a fling is bad enough to ruin a loving six-year relationship, I’m not about that life.”

He raises an eyebrow and gently questions what you mean, to which you explain being ace. He is attentive and nods along with your explanation.

Filing every bit of information away for himself. 

He guesses that Plan C of just straight up seducing you wasn’t going to work. He hopes that you like Plans A or B.

Solomon

Being some form of queer himself (im guessing pan), he knows theoretically what asexuality is when you mention it to him.

He tries to tease you about your nervousness to come out to him, rebutting by sharing his orientation with you.

But seeing the worry in your expression, he frowns and asks what’s wrong. 

You eventually admit that you feel like you stabbed him in the back.

Getting this close to him, and then admitting that you didn’t want to be sexual?

Isn’t that what leading someone on is?

Solomon is honestly baffled by your fears, and he cups your cheeks with a serious gaze.

“If this were only about sex, you would know,” he insists. “I would make it quite clear.”

You ask if he’s disappointed, and he shakes his head. “I’ll be disappointed if Mammon notices the traps we laid before falling into them, however, so we should probably leave the crime scene.”

You remember where you are, and the amusing hexes that Solomon had placed in front of Mammon’s door, and your grin returns as the two of you escape.

Simeon

Honestly, you were unsure of what would happen. He was an angel, so like… does being ace mean that you’re more pure to him? Do angels have that fucked up concept of purity?

Or are they just as sexual as the other races, but more.. Divine..? You don’t know. Its not as if your classes on angelic history really go into detail about angel sex.

You do know that Lilith was expelled for loving a human, however, so your fears hollow out your stomach well before coming out to Simeon.

He is sympathetic, having known Lilith, and his expression turns sad.

“Even angels, even our father, can make mistakes,” he murmurs to you. “But the celestial realm has agreed to this exchange program, and should be ready to accept the inevitabilities that will come along after peace settles.”

He smiles reassuringly, and while you do feel a little better, you realize that that answers NOTHING about angel sex. Gah.

So, you just force out what you had been meaning to tell Simeon anyway.

He smiles when you finish talking, and takes your hand, as gentle and accepting as ever.

He assures you that there are far more intimate things than sex. If you didn’t have that need, then he wouldn’t ask for it.

Instead, he ends up explaining that angels have a form of mind-linking that often takes place before and during intimacy, whether sexual or not. If you’re not opposed to this idea, sometimes the two of you just sit on the couch basking in the feeling of each others love. It’s soothing, peaceful, and warm.

Separately,  Simeon really loves seeing you nude. Not for any sexual reason, but because he finds you to be absolutely stunning. And I’m saying YOU (yes YOU) with all your flaws and insecurities. He loves them. Your form, your shape, whatever it is, it is the definition of art to him. You are a masterpiece.

[cordeliaflyte]

Would love to know your thoughts on the rutger bregman book when you finish it!!!

dearest merle! it took me months to answer this ask - something i'm ashamed of - but i finally got around to finishing the book today.

the below is a condensed version of the ten pages of notes i took while reading it, which are rather chaotic and repetitive at points - but in my defence, bregman repeated his own arguments too.

one of the main arguments that bregman makes is that "evil" or "immorality" - which we'll define as causing unnecessary harm - are rarely caused by the individual, but rather the society they live in. i agree - nothing exists in a vacuum. however, society, as a nebulous concept, isn't imposed on us by some imperceptible power - it is crafted by people. people in society have different levels of power, and the harm they can cause to others is directly proportional to said power - but be it on a micro or macro scale, our actions have an impact on others and while they are influenced by the society we live in, we must nonetheless strive to minimise the harm we cause - and few of us do.

bregman illustrates many of his arguments with heartwarming stories about people coming together in times of crisis - take, for example, natural disasters - and overcoming adversity, selflessly looking out for their neighbours. but crisis very often leads to the creation of divisions, an us vs them mentality, and a complete disregard for the safety of others. the current pandemic is a prime example - see the widening of class differences, the rise in racist hate crimes, and people refusing to take safety precautions because they are inconvenient to them.

another argument repeated quite often throughout the book is the fact that media cherry-picks the most sensationalistic and senseless acts of death and despair, because human suffering is simply more interesting that the mundane - people talking to friends, creating art, laughing and learning. again, i agree with him - many of the more tabloid-adjacent news outlets would have you believe that the everyday norm is dismembered heiresses being found on riverbeds and charming, precocious children being held for ransom in tiny basements. the news doesn't often focus on the mundane - but the mundane isn't just love and work and friendship and boredom and chores, it is also, for billions of people around the world, sexual violence, familial abuse, workplace and housing discrimination, etc. these things aren't sensationalistic either - they're frightfully common, frightfully boring, and thus, they're rarely reported on.

throughout his book, bregman mentions that when he told people what he was working on, they approached the idea that humans are good with a large dose of cynicism, simply because we are raised to believe humans are selfish (which isn't the case worldwide, not all cultures are individualistic). they pick the easier choice - accepting the image of the world and their fellow humans that they are presented with at face value. i'd argue that it is the tendency of humans to pick the easier choice, to obey, to avoid challenging their worldview that leads to - for a lack of better term - immorality (see definition in point 1).

often, when bregman presents his feel good stories about people cooperating in adversity, he also mentions troubling details that, again, show undue harm being done. one of the examples he used were six boys from tonga, aged 13 to 16, who were shipwrecked on an island, and instead of descending into a "lord of the flies" style madness, they built their small community on the basis of communication and cooperation, never resorting to violence, and acting mature beyond their years. after a year spent on the island, they were rescued - and promptly arrested, an event which was probably racially motivated. and the reason they were shipwrecked in the first place was attempting to flee their school, where, according to their reports, they were neglected.

bregman contrasted the example of the boys forming a peaceful society on a small island with the chaos that always ensues when adults in reality shows are put in similar situations. the contestants are pitted against each other by the show runners, who seek to frustrate them and make them lose control for the amusement of the audience. whenever contestants try to cooperate, form a mutually beneficial society for a short while - a radical idea - they are punished. "goodness" - i.e. harm reduction - and radical thought being punished just don't seem like particularly helpful examples for the "humans are inherently good" thesis

bregman seems to be a big fan of primitivism, constantly citing civilisation as a source of harm - a position i'm always sceptical about, because personally i love vaccines and dental care, but i know this is a knee-jerk reaction and bregman isn't plotting a return to a land without dentists. but what i do take ire at is the idea that humans are somehow "corrupt" versions of their natural selves and that our lives have grown too complicated, and only a return to "primitive" society can return us to the aforementioned natural selves.

tied to the previous point - his arguments remind me of the "noble savage"'... archetype? he seems to paint a picture of "primitive" indigenous people as role models for those "corrupted" by civilisation, who in turn must be saved by a return to their "purer" selves, instead of individuals with flaws and agency.

speaking on indigenous populations - bregman also invokes the inhabitants of the easter islands. for a long time, the world at large believed that a hundred years or so before colonization, the islanders effectively perpetrated a genocide, killing off a large proportion of their population - a claim which was later disproven. yay! humans can live in peaceful societies without committing genocide, and thus, are not inherently evil! disregarding the fact that european colonists later massacred a large part of the islands population, and sold most of the survivors into slavery?

i was very excited for one of the chapters, entitled "after auchschwitz". i was interested how bregman would reconcile his argument with the tragedies of the twentieth century - the holocaust, but also genocide, and to a lesser extent war in general.

(this chapter, i might add, was preceded by a quote by anne frank - you know the one, about the inherent goodness of people. i was hoping that bregman would comment on the fact that anne wrote the quote before she and her family were sent to a concentration camp)

so you can imagine my surprise when the chapter was not, in fact, about concentration camps or genocide. but rather about. unethical 70s sociological experiments.

no really! a chapter titled "after auchschwitz" was, in fact, primarily about the stanford prison experiment. an experiment that was, granted, inspired by concentration camps, but still. it's misleading to invoke "real", large scale violence, and focus instead on "simulated", small scale violence.

we all know that the stanford prison experiment was, as far as experiments go, rubbish to legendary degrees. it doesn't prove anything - but it does, perhaps, show that people under large psychological duress are capable of evil, even when they themselves are not "evil".

it is, i'd argue, the human tendency to obey authority and especially to conform to societies standards that poses the largest danger. disobedience is man's original virtue and whatnot.

and when he does briefly refer to concentration camps, bregman treats them like a very 1940s phenomenon, disregarding the fact that they have been around for much longer and still exist today.

in cases like that one experiment with electric shocks. you know the one. do not, perhaps, show an innate tendency to violence, but rather people succumbing to pressure. but history is full of unprovoked instances of violence, of pogroms and lynchings. there is usually an instigator, yes, but judging from reports, people in the right mindset don't need much persuading to butcher other people.

also re: electric shock experiment - those who thought they gave the assistant lethal shocks showed extreme guilt and some even cried but like... so what? what use is a conscience if it doesn't stop you from, to your knowledge, killing someone? are your feelings really more important than your actions?

he doesn't say this, but a lot of the arguments he presents do seem to boil down to "people aren't evil, they're just stupid!" which doesn't sound more encouraging, i'm afraid.

an alternative takeaway would be "people are good, unless they have power" - which isn't exactly a radical, revolutionary idea. most people have heard the maxim "power corrupts". but the thing is that almost everyone holds some amount power over others - the oppressed factory worker in a poor nation who works 12 hours a day for pittance might still execute power over his wife, who relies on him for money, and she in turn might hold power over her children, and so forth. and that power is often used to cause undue harm and exercise control.

he criticises machiavellianism, saying it doesn't reflect how society works, and one of his proofs is that his philosophies were espoused by bismarck, churchill, and stalin - hardly admirable figures in terms of (you guessed it!) causing harm. but i don't see how that discredits machiavelli? like all of the above were very succesful

and he keeps repeating the primitivism argument throughout the book which gets tiring. like i'm truly sorry you were born in the last 5% of human existence thus far when, in your opinion, humanity started going to the shits, but it's getting a bit tiring

he cites money and nations as concepts as harbingers of the current (negative) state of humanity, saying they're very recent concepts and have no basis in reality. they're artificial concepts, sure, but their effect is very much real, and while achieving a nation-less, money-less society is possible on a small scale, i think that at this point they are such large aspects of life that reigning them in seems impossible.

and invokes the noble savage again and again, showing himself in favour of tribal societies, depicting them as egalitarian - i'm sure many of them are, but many also have a strict hierarchy or like. practice fgm. once more he seems to treat tribal people as a monolith of goodness as opposed to... people.

he also cites prehistoric people, their egalitarianism and low rates of violence but. forgive me for my ignorance because i did not research this. how do people know. doesn't the definition of prehistory include a lack of records??

he also mentions that in small, tribal societies, conformism can be a good thing, as it makes people act for the communal good. this is another knee-jerk reaction of mine but i think of conformism as society's most significant vice, so this strikes very much against my beliefs

later on, he also says reproduction is another proof of humanities goodness. perhaps it's a controversial opinion, but i disagree. i find it hard to find reasons for reproduction that aren't egoistic. it's survival instinct, sure, but it's not an "inherently noble pursuit".

later yet, he brings up schools which grant large degrees of freedom to students and shows how they're good for developing their minds. this might be a me thing but i know from experience that when i'm granted freedom without structure, i do nothing - though perhaps that speaks ill of me, and not humanity.

there have, in fact, been many studies on schools like this being helpful to student development and i certainly won't argue with them - but let me nit-pick. bregman says that fewer students have adhd in these schools, as it is a condition caused by being locked inside a room all day which is not only offensive, but also just plain wrong

and also while showing how granting children freedom lets them develop (which i naturally agree with) he brings up that "dangerous playground" study. you know the one. this isn't a coherent argument, this is just my bias speaking , but as a child, i promise i had no desire to play with rusty nails in abandoned warehouses. i liked my boring playgrounds with wooden swings.

then there is a chapter on communism and how it could be a remedy to societies ailments. but bregman and i seem to operate on very different definitions of communism. he naturally starts with saying maoist china and stalinist russia and cambodia under pol pot weren't really communist which... sure, if you want to argue semantics, i'm all for it, but it's an old and essentially useless argument. if "real communism" has never been tried (as the author claims) - why?

and then we pass to perhaps the most bizarre fragment of the book. paraphrasing only slightly: "but why are we now so opposed to the word communism? when we pass each other salt at the dinner table, is that not communism? when we selflessly hold a door open for someone, is that not communism?" i.... no?? no it's not. that's not what communism is girl stop

he then also says facebook is actually communist in many ways since a lot of its value comes from photos people willingly share for free. i could not make this up if i tried.

i think that in most terms i agree with bregman on policy - direct democracy, school and prison systems, changes to the criminal justice system - and our reasoning is partially similar, but i don't think the information we both have access to proves that humans are inherently good.

and then come perhaps my least favourite arguments because i for one am a spiteful bitch but yes. it is time for christian ethics 101 and turning the other cheek.

he cites ghandi and mlk as examples of turning the other cheek working. i think ghandi went too far with his policy, what with saying "jews ought to have marched silently to their deaths or committed mass suicide to make nazis feel ashamed" and like. we do remember they killed mlk, right?

as an example of turning the other cheek, he cites humane prisons in norway, where prisoners are granted much larger freedoms than usual and are on equal footing with the guards, who aren't armed and act more as councillors. i don't really see how this is an example of turning the other cheek, though - the guards are not the victims of the inmates (it was a prison for violent offenders - many of them murderers). i agree with him that prisons, if they must exist, should treat inmates humanely and with respect, but i don't see how this relates to the turning of the cheek. statistically, many of these men probably murdered their mates in a drunken dispute, or killed their wives - and i don't think turning the other cheek would have helped their victims.

he also cites south africa in the sixties as an example of turning the other cheek, when anti-apartheid activists would meet up with pro-apartheid activists and talk - this included nelson mandela who had frequent talks with the leader of a white supremacist paramilitary organisation of afrikaners staunchly opposed to black south africans getting the vote. and it worked - the man, whose aim was starting a civil war, relented. but racism isn't a simple matter that can simply be solved by talking. and it is often a pragmatic policy which i don't disparage, but turning the other cheek and having to treat someone who refuses to acknowledge your humanity with an exorbitantly disproportionate amount of respect is inherently degrading.

skipping ahead, in the epilogue bregman lists ten rules he tries to live by, and one of them is, i shit you not, "don't punch nazis". and punching nazis doesn't stop them from being nazis, but turning the other cheek gets people killed

the rise of fascism is perhaps one the largest threats we are dealing with and fascists are not just isolated and misinformed (and in this day and age, ignorance is a choice). they are dangerous.

this is by no means an essay or an exhaustive list, just a slightly chaotic and much overdue collection of opinions which i don't know how to put under a read more. take care <3

[zims-left-shoe]

Hi, I absolutely adore your stuff!!! Its my birthday soon and I would be forever grateful if you could write me something for Zim? I dont really mind what it is or what it's about. I'd just be happy for cute headcannons. Thank youuuuuuu!!!!💞😘

Sure!! I finally got to this. I’ve been wanting to write some headcanons anyway, but I have a lot in my ask box so I just haven’t gotten to it yet. This is basically a list of various headcanons that are cute (in my opinion), they don’t really have a specifc theme! 

Cute Zim relationship headcanons (all are my personal opinion)!! 

Irkens are touch starved, since the entire empire is basically one big military. Love within Irken society is incredibly taboo, as is physical affection. Most forms of physical contact between Irkens tend to be painful (i.e punches, kicks, strikes). The whole concept of romantic relationships was a bit of a culture shock to Zim. 

That being said, the very first time you had attempted something in that vein (even if it was something as simple as a hug or taking his hand), he wasn’t quite sure how to react. At first he was very jumpy. However, if you would pull away, he would immediately bring you back in. 

In the beginning, you would have to be the one to instigate anything romantic. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t want it (he was pretty much hooked on physical affection the first time you held his hand), rather he was too proud to ask for anything. He didn’t want to be seen as weak, begging for attention. He was Irk’s finest soldier after all!

Eventually, he had stopped caring about that. Once he gained confidence with the whole thing, he would make the first moves quite often. Because if he wanted it, he would take it (within your comfort level of course).

Zim is a clingy bastard. Too conceited to admit it, but clingy nonetheless. If you ignore him for too long, he will begin to bug you in the most obnoxious ways imaginable. Trying to work or be productive? He’s basically the equivalent of a cat, he’ll just lay right across whatever you’re trying to do, or right on top of you to prevent you from accomplishing anything. If he can’t do that, he’ll bitch and moan until you acknowledge his existence. If you somehow manage to ignore him after all of that, he’ll get all schmoopy and lay on the ground all depressed like (basically that one scene from ETF) until you go convince him you still love him.

(more under the cut)

Despite being cautious with hugs at first, he learned to love them. Again, he would never say this aloud, but they make him feel warm and safe. Zim would never verbally ask for a hug, rather just slither his way into your arms. This happens often, especially when he’s unhappy. Sometimes he’ll even use his PAK legs along with his arms, although he’s very careful when he does this since they can be sharp; this usually happens if he thinks you need to be protected from something, even if it’s not a physical threat (breakdowns worry him, he believes you to be in danger from something he can’t fight).

Holding hands is something Zim likes a lot. Not only does it feel nice, he’s discovered it to be a very effective way to show the world that you are his, and that he is yours. He tends to be a bit jealous and overprotective, so if he feels that there is even a minor possibility of your relationship being threatened, his clinginess goes up a thousand percent. Anytime you walk anywhere together, you better believe your hands are linked. 

Cuddles are also a thing he loves dearly. Once he gets comfortable, Zim is definitely a cuddle bug. It’s like a hug but better! And if you’re at his place, there is a ninety percent chance GIR is joining in. Just like one happy family! Again, if he initiates it, he won’t ask for it. You could just be sitting on a couch and he’ll slowly curl himself into you, gradually latching a limb at a time onto you, until you’re both just a mess of tangled arms and legs. But, oh, if you even make the smallest remark about him being cute, he’ll throw a hissy fit and say that he’s just doing this for your sake, not his own enjoyment (and then two seconds later he’ll be purring and chirping in your arms, content as can be).

Zim is competitive as hell. He’ll turn anything into a competition if you let him. If you remain passive and assure him that, yes, he is the best, he’ll leave it at that. However, if you don’t back down and try to give him a run for his money, expect an all out war. You can use this to your advantage. For example, want him to be overly-affectionate for the day? Challenge him to see who can do the most nice things for each other. Even if he says that’s stupid, he’ll still accept the challenge and suddenly you have the sweetest alien in the universe. He will never back down. Ever. So these little games will be drug out for as long as you let them. It’s best just to let him win after a day or two. 

Dates with Zim are either the most outlandish thing you’ve ever done, or the most charming and romantic. There’s no in-between. And they can go from zero to a hundred real quick. Typical Earth dates make no sense to him in the slightest, so even if he does try to take you on a cliché date (dinner and a movie, stuff like that), it will most likely go horribly wrong as a result of poor planning. Those dates tend to be the funniest, but they frustrate him to no end since he clearly can’t get them right. He tends to be more successful when he stops trying to think like a human, since he really can’t. Lots of dates in space ensue, which tend to be both exciting and amazing. Although everywhere he takes you isn’t anything special to him, he can tell you’re having the time of your life, which is enough to satisfy him. GIR probably tags along a lot (not only is he a great robot son, he makes an excellent wing man).

Kissing is a very strange experience for him. Zim has never understood the act itself or its appeal, and at first found it rather disgusting. Eventually he gets used to it, but he’s still completely confused by it. It’s not his favorite thing, and he definitely has to be in the mood for it, but he’s more willing to take part in it. Especially if it becomes competitive; pray for yourself then, because you have a monster on your hands. And if someone just won’t get the hint, kissing is his way of telling them to step off before they lose a limb; he’s a jealous little devil when it comes to you.

As time goes on, you’ll begin to notice that several articles of clothes of yours have gone missing. Zim likes to take jackets he thinks you won’t miss anymore, because as previously mentioned, he’s a clingy bugger, and so when you can’t be around him, he’ll put one of those on while he works down in the lab or is doing repairs. If he gets it dirty, he’ll sneakily throw it with the rest of your laundry and take another one.

Zim is extremely proud to have you. He will show you off to anyone and everyone who will listen, including his Tallest (who seemed rather confused). At first it was embarrassing, but you had just learned to roll with the inevitable. 

If you ask very nicely (i.e. offering cuddles and feeding his ego), Zim could be convinced to give you a lesson on flying the voot cruiser. Does it go well? Well, Zim’s piloting skills are...not consistently amazing, his teaching skills even less so, but you didn’t kill yourselves. You would have thought he would be pissed after the ship was docked in the hangar in worse condition than it had left, but surprisingly he was even more motivated to teach you to pilot an Irken ship. Mainly because it was a way to spend time with you in a way that he could understand, but nonetheless he made flying lessons a regular thing. 

Expect gifts constantly. Despite his evil plans going horribly wrong all of the time, Zim is actually incredibly skilled when it comes to tech. So, he makes you things. A lot. They tend to be things that are actually useful, with far more advanced technology than anything available on Earth. Plus, Zim is a million times more helpful than an IT guy. Your phone or laptop not working? You can take it to Zim and within five minutes not only is your original problem fixed, but the device itself has been completely upgraded with Irken tech to give it more functionality and efficiancy than you could have ever dreamed of.

Overall, despite his flaws and being a massive pain in the ass, Zim is a cutie in his own right. :)

[actualbird]

nobody asked but here i analysed polygon’s “unraveled” and bon appetit test kitchen’s “gourmet makes” and i think they are similar and use three key story elements to their success | a 1.9k word long analysis by an unhinged creative writing fresh grad trying desperately to use their degree to connect two dots

If you asked me who my favorite internet celebrities are, I would not hesitate for a second to answer. Brian David Gilbert from Polygon and Claire Saffitz from Bon Appetit Test Kitchen. They’re awesome! They both host popular YouTube webshows about video games and cooking respectively, two things I am terrible at and don’t do very often. And yet I am enraptured by every episode of their shows. Why? How?

My thesis is this: Polygon’s “Unraveled” and Bon Appetit Test Kitchen’s “Gourmet Makes”, while wildly different shows on many levels, are extremely similar in how they use three key story elements very, very, well.

These three story elements are 1) Plot, 2) Character, and 3) FAWWIEOT (it’s an acronym, I’ll explain it later, I promise)

Let me start with the first and most basic story element these two shows wield amazingly: Plot.

Plot is, in simplest terms, what “happens” in a thing. This is what you’ll find on a movie’s Wikipedia page summary, the details of what went down, the events that took place, the things that occurred. There are many different types of plots because there are many different types of stories, but one of the most basic kinds of plots is very clearly illustrated by something called Freytag’s Pyramid.

Freytag’s Pyramid is a very simple plot that is moved forward by a non-negotiable in many, many stories: conflict. All is well, the line is straight, then a challenge arises and things start to escalate. At the climax, a decision or a group of decisions are made that leads to a de-escalation of the conflict, bringing things down until we are back at a flat line and the conflict has been resolved.

Every single episode of Gourmet Makes can be plotted onto Freytag’s Pyramid

Nearly every single episode of Unraveled can be plotted onto Freytag’s Pyramid too (with the exception of some, like a number of the categorization episodes, the Kojima name generator)

I know what you’re thinking. “So what if Gourmet Makes and Unraveled fit on some funky pyramid? What does that mean?” Well, dear reader, it reveals to us just one of three reasons why these shows are so enjoyable.

Freytag’s Pyramid is basic as shit, and yet it is one of the first plot structures taught to fictionists because people, up to this day, like it. Why? Because Freytag’s Pyramid fulfills two very important desires that we, as humans, love. 1) The desire for there to be a problem and 2) the desire for that problem to be resolved. It scratches our eternal itch to want to watch shit go down but doesn’t leave us up on a cliffhanger, it gives us our catharsis.

Gourmet Makes gives you the entertainment of watching Claire struggle with her task. Then Gourmet Makes shows you Claire slowly and surely rising above the challenge (notable in literally every episode of Gourmet Makes). Unraveled makes you watch BDG work himself up into a frenzy trying to do something stupid, but then Unraveled shows the payoff of...of watching BDG do something stupid, but this time towards some kind of resolution (very notable in the latest Unraveled “How to increase your stamina with terrible video game tactics”).

It is clear to me that Gourmet Makes and Unraveled both use plot in a way that gives viewers satisfaction. But what keeps them coming back for more?

Well that leads us to the second story element: Character.

People love Claire Saffitz and BDG.

Don’t believe me? Look through the tags of literally any gifset of either of them. Here, I did it for you. Here’s some tags for Claire:

And here’s some tags for BDG:

It’s pretty obvious to see that these two are well loved, but why? It’s not just because they’re both good looking, it’s because Claire Saffitz and BDG, with how they are presented in their shows, are good characters.

Claire Saffitz in Gourmet Makes isn’t scripted. She brings her own human frustration, determined hard work, and joyous glee to the show and it makes watching the show all the more enjoyable. BDG in Unraveled, however, is scripted, but he brings to the table his chaotic performance and ‘off the shits’ lecturer energy that brings the viewers in. Regardless of their differences, Gourmet Makes and Unraveled are similar when it comes to character because of one thing: they actually have characters.

What am I talking about? Well, for a period of time on the internet, people in the cooking media sphere and the video game media sphere settled for video content that was divorced from who was presenting the information. Videos like the ones from Tasty where everything was filmed top down and you only saw two hands perfectly putting ingredients into a bowl. Videos like the myriad of video game walkthroughs or video essays that are presented only by a disembodied voice who also seems allergic to actually having fun. This is content that hinges on the fact that people like seeing cooking or video games and that the presenter will mostly just be a background thing.

Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon both did not want to succumb to this style of presenting information. They both made the decision to bring their presenters into their video content, highlighting their respective presenters’ personalities, quirks, and styles. This is evident in all of Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon’s video content, not just Gourmet Makes and Unraveled. Do I watch Bon Appetit's show It's Alive because I want to actually make foccacia? No, it's because I love how Brad Leone  mispronounces words and makes me laugh. Did I watch "Fixing Anthem’s boring mech’s with ballsy design" because I actually give a shit about video games? No it's because I love how Pat Gill jokes about fake testicles and also I think he's hot.

The fact that there are actually characters for us on screen to see, makes Gourmet Makes and Unraveled good shit. We’ve got a plot with clear conflict, but that means nothing if there are no personas for us to root for. Gourmet Makes and Unraveled gives us these personas. They give us Claire Saffitz whom we want so desperately to see smile and succeed. They give us Brian David Gilbert whom we want so desperately to see go a little bit crazy. They give us people to connect to, and that often bridges the gap to viewers who honestly don’t give a shit about cooking or video games. Viewers like me who just keep coming back to Gourmet Makes and Unraveled because of the fact that these are characters I care about, these are characters who I want to see smile after finally nailing the recipe or slowly take off their suit as they tell me shit about Zelda I don’t understand.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled utilize plot in a way that makes these webshows satisfying, and they use character in a way that makes these webshows accessible and keeps people invested.

But they go further.

This brings us to our last story element, not exactly a common or rudimentary one, but an important one nonetheless: Fucking Around With What Is Expected Of Them.

(I know there’s probably a legitimate literary term for this, but sue me, quarantine has kept me stuck in my house since March, so I may have forgotten the exact words I learned in class. FAWWIEOT will have to suffice.)

The gist of FAWWIEOT is that stories have been around for fuckin ever, and because of that, there are clear patterns and tropes that stories follow. FAWWIEOT is the recognition of those patterns and tropes, using them, but finding a different outcome or flair to make themselves special, to make themselves stick out. Kinda like when you’ve got a fic on AO3 tagged with ‘friends to lovers’ but also tagged with like, I dunno, something completely random like ‘character is also a dragon’. Use the tropes, but do something different. Give the audience something they already know, then throw in something new to make them remember your content specifically.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled FAWWIEOT (I’m using the acronym like a verb now, this is my post, I’m allowed to) very purposefully using an important technique: Flaws.

The standard trope of a cooking show is the chef easily talking to the camera as they perfectly put the ingredients together. All the food comes out perfect on the first try and everything is heavenly and wonderful. Classic cooking shows like Barefoot Contessa (hosted by Ina Garten) and Everyday Italian (hosted by Giada de Laurentiis) followed this pattern, and it made for good television.

But who fucking watches television these days? Everything is online now, and the internet is vicious. If you aren’t interesting, the internet will throw you out to the gutter. So how did Gourmet Makes set themselves apart?

By showing you that things aren’t perfect after all. Gourmet Makes shows you every trial that Claire tries, they show you her successes, but also her failures. They show you when she gets tired and hopeless, they show you when she bounces back and tries again. Gourmet Makes made a cooking show that was flawed, and people loved it.

And what about Unraveled? The design of Unraveled, from BDG’s suit and mug to his presenting style, key us in to the fact that we are watching some sort of lecture. Some kind of educational performance. Personally, this makes me think that Unraveled is FAWWIEOT-ing academia and basically any other media where an “expert” talks at you.

The standard pattern of experts talking to you are basically like TedTalks. You have somebody very well versed in the topic trying to explain to you something, showing you their hypothesis, their process, and their findings.

Unraveled FAWWIEOTs expertise by making BDG research the most crazy shit like OSHA regulations or the Geneva Convention, make the wildest hypotheses like ‘Monster Energy in the morning will be a good idea’ or ‘Sonic is blasphemous’, and then, ultimately, completely unravel himself. The expert in Unraveled isn’t an all knowing being who is always right, he is flawed (and loses his marbles, more often than not.) And we love it.

FAWWIEOT-ing is key because of how it gives us a pattern we know, and then does something new. Novelty is important on the internet, and Gourmet Makes and Unraveled have made a name for themselves on the unique way they Fucked Around With What Was Expected Of Them.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled are two of my favorite webshows on the internet as of now, and there are many reasons why, many reasons I didn’t include in this post. What I wanted to do here is to highlight how these shows use story elements to be good content because at the core of these videos, even if they aren’t literary fiction, they are good stories. Good stories with a plot that satisfies us, with characters we can see and love, with new twists that keep us on the edge of our seats.

Good stories make for good content, and Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon have me as a subscriber for as long as they continue on this road.

Thanks for reading!

(Read my other Polygon-adjacent analysis essays at actualbird.tumblr.com/tagged/nobody-asked-but

If you have any suggestions or ideas for more Polygon-adjacent analysis essays I can write, send me an ask!)

[captainjanegay]

Where I’m Meant to Be | Stucky | Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU | Chapter 1 | 4.6k words | Ao3

Summary:

Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: This fic was supposed to be just a short one-shot for the Stucky Bingo but somehow, it's at 11k at this point and it's nowhere near done. I have two more chapters all done and ready and a vague outline for the rest of the story. It's my first time posting a fic chapter by chapter so it's both exciting and kinda scary. I hope you'll like the story enough to stick with me for a while. 

My sixth fill for the @stuckybingo2020​ ♥

.

At some point in his life Bucky didn't mind spending hours at airports and he found traveling —even work-related —quite enjoyable. But that was when he was young, stupid and alone. Now he's older, just as stupid and has a wonderful girl in his life. 

The girl in question is now standing next to him, little arms crossed and a sullen expression on her face. She's repeatedly kicking at the leg of the chair he's sitting on. There's no real force to it —she's only 7 after all —and she's not doing it to do any real damage to anyone or anything. It's just little taps, really and she's doing it out of boredom. But dear lord, Bucky's about to explode.

"Alex, sweetheart," Bucky says, slowly breathing out through his nose. "Could you please stop with that kicking? It's a bit annoying."

"But papa," she whines, drawling out the word. "I'm bored!"

"I know, love and I'm really sorry but papa’s gotta do something important for work," he sighs, trying to run a hand through her hair. She ducks and flops onto the chair next to him, an angry little pout on her face. "I have to finish it before we go on the plane. I'll do it as quickly as possible and then I'll be all yours, ok?"

It's not really surprising when he doesn't get an answer. With another sigh, he leans to the side and presses a kiss to the top of his daughter's head and then turns back to his laptop. 

From the very moment she woke up today, Bucky knew it's gonna be a long day. She was cranky and teary all morning, not wanting to say goodbye to Natasha and it took a good hour to calm her down. Then Bucky had to basically beg her to eat something before they left for the airport. It wasn't a great day. And Bucky knew she didn't do it just to make him miserable, she was just as frustrated and tired as he was. On top of that, he has to edit and upload a report from the conference and the airport Wi-Fi is so bad Bucky is close to tears himself.

The work would probably take less time if he wasn't getting distracted every minute or so and glancing to the side, making sure that Alex is fine. Or relatively fine, the bad mood excluded. At the moment she is slouching on the plastic chair, still pouting. Felicia—a pink stuffed Triceratops —is placed on her lap so at least Alex has something to occupy her for a moment.

Bucky tries his best to get through the documents quickly but he doesn't want to miss any errors either. He gets lost in the work for the entirety of about five minutes when he hears something truly surprising.

Alex laughs. It’s so unexpected after what seems like hours of complaining, crying and whining that Bucky’s head snaps up from his laptop and he looks at his daughter.

She is still sitting by his side, Felicia pressed closely to her chest and there is a smile on her face. It’s definitely not aimed at Bucky, though. So Bucky follows her line of sight and… oh.

It’s not like he didn’t notice the guy sitting across from them before. Because he did. It would be rather impossible not to notice this guy. He is tall and well-built and could look intimidating if it wasn’t for his bright blue eyes or tousled golden hair or the gentle smile or the fact that he’s wearing the softest beige sweater Bucky has ever seen. He is both ridiculously handsome and cute at the same time. So of course, Bucky noticed him before. But now he tries to figure out what about him made Alex laugh. It doesn’t take long, because the man is holding up his notebook, showing the page to Alex.

On the page are three little, cartoon-like doodles. The first one at the top looks unmistakably like Alex—her brows are furrowed, arms crossed and a little storm cloud is hovering above her. Underneath there’s his daughter again but this time she’s laughing, her eyes only small slits and a little sun peeks from behind the cloud. The last drawing, just next to the smiling Alex, is of Bucky. His head is partly hidden behind a laptop screen and there’s a look of utter concentration on his face. Above his cartoon persona floats a swarm of little gears, question marks and lightbulbs. Bucky snorts. It’s probably quite accurate.

Noticing that Bucky is staring at the drawing, the stranger startles and his cheeks turn red.

“I’m not some creep, I promise!” he starts explaining himself, before Bucky even opens his mouth. “I just—she seemed so upset and I’ve heard you said you have something important to do so I just wanted—Man, it’s weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry I promise I just wanted to help, not bug your kid without permission.”

“It’s not—,” Bucky starts, slightly taken aback. “It’s very sweet of you, actually. Thank you. Really, that’s just—I don’t mind. And Alex here seems to enjoy your drawings.” Bucky smiles down at his daughter and then at the stranger. His smile falters a bit and he sighs. “I’d really love to chat some more but I really need to get this shit done and the airport Wi-Fi is truly horrible.”

“Oh! Bad word!” Alex gasps, covering Bucky’s mouth with her little hand. “You said a bad word! No sweets for you!”

The stranger laughs at that and Bucky probably shouldn’t be as charmed as he feels right now. He just kisses Alex's hand and leans away from it.

“OK, sweetheart. Promise not to eat any when we get home,” he says solemnly. “But papa really needs to work a little longer, OK? Ten more minutes, I promise. Try not to bother the nice man too much until then, yeah?”

She lets a long-suffering sigh but she agrees.

“I’m Steve, by the way,” the man says, smiling at Bucky. 

Before he gets the chance to answer, Alex chimes in, “I’m Alexandra. And papa’s name is James but only mama and people at work call him that. Everyone calls him Bucky.”

The man — Steve — lets out a small laugh. “It’s nice to meet you both. Alexandra, do you want me to draw you something specific, while we let your papa work?”

“Oh, can you draw Felicia? She’s a...,” Alex furrows her brows in concentration, “tri-ce-ra-tops! That’s a dinosaur!” 

Steve leans forward from his chair and smiles at her. “She’s so cool! But weren’t dinosaurs kinda dangerous?”

“Some of them, yeah. They ate other dinosaurs. But the ones like Felicia only ate plants, so she’s cool.”

Steve lets out an attentive hum but something in his expression tells Bucky that it’s not new information for him and he’s just indulging Alex and letting her share what she knows. It makes Bucky feel a wave of sympathy towards this Steve guy.

Soon enough, a new page of Steve’s notebook gets covered with doodles of various dinosaurs, based on Alex’s jurassic knowledge—it’s a bit flawed, but Bucky is proud of her nonetheless.

It takes Bucky a few moments to stop sending glances towards the two. It’s partly because Steve—no matter how sweet he seems to be—is still a stranger. Steve might be bigger than him, but Bucky would end him if he tried to do anything to his little girl. But there are no red lights when it comes to Steve—and Bucky always prided himself on his ability to read people.

The other thing making it hard to go back to work is the fact that the scene he’s looking at is quite an adorable one. Both Alex and Steve are sitting at the edges of their seats, leaning over the passage between the two rows of chairs and their eyes are fixed on the notebook propped on Steve’s knee. They’re chatting, exchanging random facts about dinosaurs but since their knowledge is limited, they switch to talking about modern animals soon enough. Steve listens intently to whatever Alex has to say without patronising her. And sadly, Bucky has met a fair share of adults for whom it was impossible to take Alex seriously just because she was a kid. It calms Bucky enough to actually focus on his work for a little longer.

Some peace of mind does wonders for his concentration and the ten minutes he promised Alex are actually enough for him to finish editing the reports. The WiFi is still a bitch, though. However, after staring at the loading circle for what feels like an eternity, he is able to send the documents. With a triumphant little cheer, he turns off the laptop and slides it back into his bag.

Steve looks up at him and smiles. Alex completely ignores him, though, still too focused on whatever Steve was drawing. Bucky feels a bit betrayed. When she looks up, she glances at Steve first, probably to ask why the drawing has stopped and turns to Bucky when she notices Steve looking his way.

“Oh, you’ve finished the work, daddy?” she asks and when he nods, she smiles and reaches to wrap her arms around his neck. “It took you some time. But I’m proud of you.”

Bucky laughs at that, shaking his head slightly, “Thank you, sunshine. I see you were having fun with Steve while I was busy?”

“Yeah! Steve drawings are so pretty! He drew you riding a dinosaur!” Alex giggles, pointing at one of the little drawings.

Raising his brows, Bucky sends Steve a questioning look but the other man just shrugs and rubs at his neck. “It was her idea,” he says with a sheepish smile.

The doodle Alex is pointing at is indeed of him sitting on a dinosaur's back. It’s the one with the long, giraffe-like neck, Brachiosaurus if he remembers correctly. The cartoon Bucky’s arms are wrapped around the base of the reptile’s neck, his hair fluttering behind him and his mouth is open in either a big smile or a scream, he’s not sure. Either way, it’s a very cute drawing.

“Well,” Bucky says. “I’m not a fan of horses but I’d totally ride a dinosaur if I had a chance. Shouldn’t he have a saddle, though?”

It’s not even that funny but Steve still laughs and Bucky smiles at that. His daughter is less impressed or at least tries to appear so. She rolls her eyes but there’s a grin on her face.

“You’re so silly, daddy. They didn’t have saddles back then! And besides you’d need a very, very big one for a dinosaur!”

Bucky hums in agreement and looks up at the departure display. Noticing that their flight’s gate is open, he nudges Alex lightly.

“We gotta go, sweetheart,” he says. She perks up a bit but then glances at Steve with a small pout. “Sadly, we have to say goodbye to Steve. On the bright side, we’re gonna be home soon, yeah?”

Alex nods and slides off her chair. Steve looks up at the display and straightens up.

“Oh, my flight’s boarding, too. But you know what?” Steve asks and then rips the page with all the dinosaur doodles and holds it out to Alex. “You should keep this, if you want.”

Hearing this, Alex’s whole face lights up and she takes the drawings with gentle hands, as if afraid to mess it up. “Thank you, Steve! Those are so cool I’m gonna keep them forever!”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Steve smiles. He looks up at Bucky. “It was nice to meet you, guys.”

“Likewise. Thank you again for the help. It was very nice of you,” Bucky says sincerely.

“It was my pleasure. My knowledge about dinosaurs is so much better now,” Steve’s smile grows even bigger and Bucky chuckles.

Bucky leans to help Alex put on her little backpack, since she refuses to put down the drawing and then reaches for his bag. He rests his hand on his daughter’s back and turns to Steve one last time. He’s still sitting at the edge of his seat and is watching them. A smile is still plastered to his face and at this point Bucky is sure that it’s his default setting.

“Bye, Steve. Have a safe flight,” Bucky says.

“Bye, Steve. Thank you for the dinosaurs,” Alex adds, making Steve laugh.

“You are very welcome, Alexandra,” he says. “Have a nice day, guys.”

Bucky gently steers Alex towards their gate. Before they disappear behind the corner, he turns away to look at Steve one more time. The man is already looking back and he waves at them when he notices Bucky staring. Alex waves back enthusiastically and Bucky just ducks his head, feeling flustered all of sudden. He used to be more collected around nice, attractive people. And Steve definitely qualifies as both.

***

Some time later they finally make it to the plane. Alex flops down onto the middle seat and eventually — after a long discussion and promises that he won’t ruin it — she lets Bucky put the drawings she got from Steve into the folder he keeps his documents in. When the treasure is safely put away Bucky straightens to put his bag in the overhead compartment.

“Oh,” he hears a voice behind his back and a low chuckle quickly follows. “Fancy bumping into you here.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder and the surprise makes him try to close the compartment while his other hand is still holding the bag. He yelps in pain, making Alex look up.

“Steve!” she says with a smile, completely ignoring her father’s distress.

“Hello again, Alexandra,” Steve shoots her a quick smile and looks at Bucky, concerned. “You’re OK? I didn’t want to spook you.”

Man, he really got bad at keeping his cool around attractive people. Feeling a blush creep up his neck, Bucky nods. “No, no, you didn’t. I’m just a clutz, this happens a lot, ignore me.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him but he doesn’t say anything more. For a moment they just stand in the narrow aisle, looking at each other. Finally, Bucky’s ability to think kicks back in and he moves to the side.

“Sorry, you probably want to get through to your seat.”

“Actually,” Steve says and glances down at the boarding pass in his hand. After checking it, he points to the seat by the window, on Alex’s other side. “That one’s mine.”

“Oh,” Bucky looks at the seat and then at Steve. His cheeks still feel warm for some reason but he hopes he's not blushing too visibly. "That's great. I'm just gonna—"

Bucky shifts to the other side and takes a step back, making room for Steve.

"You're flying with us back home?" Alex asks with a hopeful glint in her eyes. "Will you draw something more for me?"

"Alex, come on. Don't abuse Steve niceness like that," Bucky scolds her gently but before he can even finish the sentence, Steve starts shaking his head.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. I often doodle when I get bored anyway so I'd be honoured to draw for you again, Alexandra," Steve grins at her.

She actually lets out a little happy squeal when she hears that and Bucky's heart skips a beat. He's absolutely charmed by the way Steve treats his daughter. He really seems like entertaining some random little girl is the best thing he could be doing and while Bucky - absolutely objectively - thinks that Alex is the most wonderful little girl in the world, it still seems unusual. And he positively melts every time that Steve uses her full name, just because that was the way she introduced herself the first time. Most adults Bucky knows don't do that with other adults, not to mention kids. And Steve is just so… kind and genuine, it takes Bucky off guard but it's a really nice surprise.

"Ok, fine," Bucky says with a smile. "You have no idea what you've brought on yourself. Is it possible to strain your hand from drawing too much? The flight's almost two hours, right?"

"Does your dad always complain this much?" Steve asks Alex and she giggles in response. He sends Bucky a glance over her head and he has a smirk on his face. Ignoring Bucky again, he says to Alex, "Hey, have you ever watched Sesame Street? There was this one grouchy green guy."

Bucky just sends him his most unimpressed look. Steve doesn't seem affected. Alex is delighted. And in truth, Bucky has to bite the inside of his cheek to contain a smile.

It turns out that on top of being nice and lovely, Steve is also a little shit, because he draws a Bucky-version of Oscar the Grouch - with a grumpy expression and wild hair, sitting in a garbage can. It's actually amazing. Bucky doesn't say that out loud, but he snorts when he sees it, so that might betray him a little.

This time — prompted by the mention of Sesame Street — the conversation resolves mostly around animated movies. To Bucky’s surprise, it turns out that Steve is a huge Disney fan. He doesn’t even try to hide it. Not to brag but Bucky knows his way around animated movies — partly because he has a 7-year-old daughter and partly because who doesn’t like animated movies? But compared to Steve and Alex? He knows nothing. They use names he doesn’t even recognise - who or what even is Flit? Judging by Steve’s drawing it’s some kind of a bird, apparently. When Bucky can’t remember — he knows it, of course, it just slipped his mind — the name of the redheaded princess from Brave, he is given the most disdainful look he’s ever seen. Both by his daughter and by Steve. Bucky still tries to participate in the conversation, at least for as much as they let him. He never expected his own daughter to team up with some stranger against him. It hurts.

The pain is all forgotten when Steve and Alex start quietly singing Under the Sea from The Little Mermaid together. Bucky can’t help a laugh that bubbles from his chest at the sight. How is Steve even real, Bucky has no idea. He is over six feet of muscle, his bicep is bigger than Alex's head and he could probably bench press Bucky and here he is, sitting next to Bucky’s little girl, drawing a picture of Megara, because she’s his favourite Disney princess and singing a song from The Little Mermaid.

This guy can’t be real.

About half an hour into the flight it turns out that Bucky was wrong — Alex does leave Steve alone but it’s only because the tiredness catches up to her and she falls asleep. And she’s sleeping with her head resting on Steve’s arm. It’s a really nice arm, Bucky has to admit, a nap on such an arm would be good and comfortable even for him, probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that he feels left out.

“Sorry,” Bucky says quietly. “You probably want your arm back, I can just—”

He offers to move Alex’s sleeping body but Steve just shrugs with his free arm, careful not to jostle the girl.

“Don't want to wake her and I really don't mind," Steve says, smiling at Bucky.

"You sure?" Bucky asks and after getting a nod in confirmation, he chuckles and shakes his head. “I keep trying to figure out where the catch is but I’ve got nothing. You’re just naturally this kind, aren’t you?”

Steve barks out a laugh and then slaps his hand over his mouth to quiet the noise. He looks down to make sure he didn’t wake Alex.

“Oh there’s plenty wrong with me,” Steve says with a chuckle. “For one I’m usually really awkward around kids. Alexandra’s such a great girl, though. But I do like to help and try to be nice whenever I can.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. “You think you’d side-track me by complimenting my daughter? You’re totally right, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Steve makes the ‘bring it’ gesture and grins. “Come on. Hit me with your best guesses.”

“OK. OK, fine,” Bucky says and shifts in his seat so he can look at Steve more directly. Crossing his arms, he asks, “Do I have a limited number of guesses?”

“It’s not that long of a flight,” Steve shrugs with one shoulder, grin still in place.

In a theatrically thoughtful gesture Bucky strokes his chin gauging Steve with his eyes.

“You… secretly work as a hitman” Bucky says slowly, “or like, an underwear model. Which is not a bad thing to do.”

A blush creeps up Steve’s cheeks as he laughs again. “Those are… pretty far off. Why those two?”

“Well, you’re built appropriately for both from what I can see,” Bucky explains, enjoying the way Steve cheeks go darker. Maybe he’s not so helpless at talking to attractive people as he thought. It feels a whole lot like flirting.

That terrifies him for a moment. He didn't do flirting in what feels like ages. He doesn't have time for this. Should he even do this? He has a daughter, he shouldn’t just—

Bucky takes a deep breath and smacks himself mentally across the head. He’s not doing anything bad. He’s just talking and having fun with an attractive stranger. Maybe even flirting a bit. And that’s OK, this is allowed, he doesn’t have to go anywhere else with that. It’s not like he’s ever going to see the guy again, anyway. Natasha would punch him for denying himself that. So he will make sure not to mention it the next time they talk.

“Well…,” Steve rubs the back of his neck. “I am not. Hitman or— I’m neither of those. I’m actually an illustrator. Mostly freelance stuff. I paint sometimes, too. But that’s mostly for fun.”

“OK, fine. Somehow I can believe that. You seem like an artsy type,” Bucky agrees.

“No hitman vibes anymore?”

“Who says a hitman can’t enjoy painting in his free time?”

Steve laughs, throwing his head back. Somehow he manages to keep the left side of his body completely still, mindful of Alex sleeping on him.

“I don’t know if there’s a point in trying to convince you, but I’m really not.”

“Sure. Probably what a hitman would say,” Bucky waves a hand at him but smiles. “That’s cool though. Being able to get paid for doing what you love.”

“It is. Sometimes you get frustrated enough to hate it but it’s still pretty cool,” Steve agrees. “You don’t like your job?”

Bucky scrunches his nose, making a non-committal sound as he tries to find the best way to explain. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s fun. Interesting, exciting, sometimes frustrating as hell, too. And the responsibility can be incredibly stressful. It’s just…  I never took time to think about what I really like doing in life. And since the job was good enough, I just stuck with it.”

Steve hums, nodding along to Bucky's words. "It's never too late to figure it out, you know?" he says. "I mean, I don't wanna impose and tell you how to live your life or anything. I'd never. I just— I think it's an important thing to know."

"You might be right," Bucky agrees. He glances down at Alex. "I don't think it's a good time for me to experiment, you know? Besides — if there's one thing I know for sure that I like it's having this little rascal around."

The smile on Steve's face turns soft. But only for a moment, before it turns back into that smirk he had earlier. "Any guesses left? About my dark side?"

"A few," Bucky grins. 

It's a bit of a lie because he really struggles to see Steve as anything but perfect but he can try. It's just a game they're playing to kill time after all.

"You are that kind of guy who can eat garbage food and not move a finger and still look like you've just walked straight out of a gym. I hate those people. It's so unfair."

"Are all of your guesses based on how I look? I kind of see a pattern here so far."

Bucky opens his mouth to protest but there's something in the way Steve looks at him, with a raised eyebrow and one corner of his mouth quirked up that makes him close his mouth without a word. He might be blushing. Maybe he's being too forward. It's probably not appropriate to talk about a stranger's body this much.

Before he gets the chance to apologize, Steve answers, "And you're wrong, again. I like working out. Takes my mind off things, helps me clear my head when I need that. Besides I used to be small and sickly my whole childhood. Couldn't even play with other kids for too long without getting an asthma attack. So I'm kinda compensating for that," he jokes.

"Really?"

"Yeah. All pointy elbows and bony knees."

"Huh," Bucky says. "Bet you looked way cuter than me when I had my bowl cut. We all had our dark moments."

Steve laughs again and Bucky really enjoys the sound of that. He really enjoys Steve's company in general, which is weird considering they've just met. It usually takes him much more time to get comfortable around people. Maybe it's the fact that they'll go their separate ways as soon as the plane lands makes it all easier.

"I'm kinda disappointed, you know?" Steve starts after a moment. "I thought you'd guess at least once. Or at least would be more creative with those."

"Who says I'm done? It was all on purpose, I was just assessing, gathering intel. I'm a scientist, I don't know if I've mentioned that before," Bucky points a finger at Steve. "You've got to be methodical about stuff."

Raising his hands in surrender, Steve tries to keep a straight face. He fails miserably.

"I wanted to say that you secretly hate dogs or cats but that would be just too harsh," Bucky says. "I don't think you're a monster."

"I love dogs," Steve confirms. "Always wanted to get one but my flat's too small and I doubt that'd be good for a dog. I don't have anything against cats but I feel like they don't… like me that much."

Bucky chuckles. "I feel like there's a story there."

"Just— My friend Sam has a cat and she absolutely hates me. I can't leave my phone on the table cause she pushes it off, but she doesn't touch Sam's. Every time I'm there she follows me around and hisses at me for no reason. She peed in my shoe more than once," Steve says and tries to look hurt when Bucky starts laughing. "It's not funny! I haven't done anything to deserve this. I tried to bribe her with food, I tried to pet her but I only got scratched for my efforts. And she doesn't do that with anyone but me."

"So that's your dark secret? That your nemesis is a cat?" Bucky asks with a grin.

"It's… definitely true."

“Can’t say I’ve seen that one coming,” Bucky laughs.

Steve shrugs with one arm. “I’m full of surprises.”

Clearly, Bucky thinks, shaking his head at the other man.

.

Title: Wrap me up (in your love) Creator(s): niallhoranbitches Card number: 065 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745402/chapters/67911988 Square filled: B2 - Airport Rating: Teen and Up Archive warnings: None Major tags: Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue. Word count: 4591 

[ghostiewriter]

prologue | tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

Summary: JJ’s life is thrown upside down after a school trip. Now he just decide what to do about his newly found powers and discover just how much his life has changed.

Warnings: contains strong language, a teeny sliver of sexual references, just the three boys being dumbasses? a small smidge of angst (it barely counts) and some fighting, kinda amateur but he’ll learn eventually

Word Count: 8.2K (I’m so sorry)

A/N: ahhh so here’s the prologue! Hope you guys enjoy, it’s a bit of a mess and it wasn’t meant to be this long but oh well! This is just to kinda set up the world, I promise the chapters won’t be this messy! There will be way more Kiara in the next chapter as well, don’t worry! Like I said, this is just a filler chapter! Also this is unedited and I am kinda unwell so lets hope this makes sense :) feel free to leave any feedback!! 

masterlist // taglist // ao3

JJ prided himself in always loving an adventure. A random trip at 3am when one of his buds felt down? Hell yeah! An exploration through the streets of New York when he decided to ditch his Spanish final? Let’s go, dude! A spontaneous road trip with his boys during summer? JJ was down! But this? This just felt like some sick joke.

Admittedly, JJ wasn’t listening in class when the trip was announced. And as Pope liked to remind him every couple of minutes, this whole situation could have been avoided if he had listened in class. But can you blame the guy? A whole day off school to visit some big corporation uptown where he was getting a free lunch—JJ would be stupid to reject that. Yet, JJ should’ve known there would’ve been some catch, some flaw in this trip. And that flaw was that he had to spend the day walking around Cameron Industries, the biggest nerd fest on the East coast.

JJ was bored out of his mind.

Pope was ecstatic beyond belief.

John B was ready to punch JJ in the face if opened his mouth to complain one more time.

“Why call it a trip when all we do is listen to these dudes in lab coats droning on about some weird gene thing? Like c’mon! A trip is meant for relaxing. Where the fuck am I gonna relax around here, huh? The fucking gift shop—“

“Shut up,” John B hissed at the blonde, smacking JJ’s arm for good measure, to which the blond dramatically whined at. “Just please…shut up. You’ve got one more hour until lunch, alright? Don’t ruin this for him.”

JJ huffed as he glanced over at Pope, who was eagerly questioning every scientist they came across. As much as it pained him to agree with John B, he did have a point. There weren’t enough fingers in the world to count the amount of times JJ had dragged Pope into some anxiety-provoking, impulsive situation. The least he could do is suck it up a little and mope silently as they walk through countless fancy labs that probably each cost more than his apartment complex altogether.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so chuff,” JJ huffed, his fingers twisting the rings that adorned his hands—a force of habit when he was uncomfortable and bored. “You usually back me up on this kinda stuff—“ But JJ didn’t need to finish his question. Oh no, because the answer was right there.

JJ smirked as he turned to John B, one eyebrow raised in question. However, his friend seemed much more content staring at Sarah Cameron from where she stood near the front of the group, smiling towards the tour guide like they were close friends. Which they probably were considering they were standing in the building her father owned.

Ward Cameron. Renowned scientist, billionaire and founder of Cameron Industries. A true inspiration. What started as a hopeless experiment in his high school chemistry lab ended up forging Ward Cameron’s path to success in the biggest multibillion-dollar multinational corporation that held the future for chemical engineering. JJ just thought he was some lucky rich kid that had daddy’s money to support his dream.

And it was for that reason that JJ rolled his eyes, nudging his friend out of his daze. “You do know you don’t stand a chance, right?” JJ commented.

Harsh but true. JJ and the rest of the kids that attended this trip went to Midtown High School. True to its name, it was smack bang in the middle of two very different livelihoods. Uptown Queens: home to the kids who live of old money, designer clothes and trust funds. And Downtown Queens: home to working-middle class who would spend the rest of their lives making a sliver of the uptown folks’ wages.

Take a wild guess which area JJ is from.

However, some old dude in the 60s decided to try and bridge the gap between the classes and thus, the school was born. All it did was let each know how much they resented the other. Yet, John B had fallen into the alluded mind-set of that old geezer and set his eyes on Sarah Cameron, the most uptown chick you’ll get. And of course, JJ was there to remind him of that very fact and push him off that imaginary bridge. It was a fool’s hope to combine the uptown and downtown folk; it was a fool’s hope to try and make them get along. It won’t happen now nor ever.

John B flipped him off. JJ only grinned in response.

Nonetheless, that ended up being the most exciting part of the hour. JJ shuffled along at the back of the group, his eyes constantly wandering around the labs. Did he have any clue what any of it was? Hell no, but he was naturally curious and couldn’t help his hands from wandering. Sue him, he was a teenage boy with ADHD and a knack for getting into trouble—he was bound to do something stupid.

His interest in science perked up a bit when he noticed a small enclosure of what looked like completely normal spiders, yet as their tour guide spoke, they were anything but normal.

“Our team have been working on taking the genetic code of three separate species of arachnids and combining them to form a super-spider. One which can survive and reproduce and live as any other would. It is the first step in the future of genetic engineering and modification. With this technology, we could find cures to diseases that were deemed impossible to cure. We could form a stronger, better human race—“

“Isn’t that unethical?” A voice interrupted. Everyone’s head snapped towards the curly-haired girl that stood by Sarah Cameron’s side. JJ knew very little about her—considering this was honestly the first time he had seen her—and he wasn’t complaining…nor was he actually listening to what she was saying. “I mean, won’t this just introduce a future of designer babies and a superiority of the genetically modified over the natural?”

“I understand your concerns,” The tour guide—a young redhead who honestly didn’t look a day over twenty-two but then again, JJ guessed everyone around here was some sort of genius. “But I can assure you there are a number of protocols behind this research that would prevent such a thing from happening.”

“Can you really stop the rich from getting what they want?” Ironic considering she was a rich, uptown chick.

An awkward silence washed over the group before the teacher quickly cleared their throat and directed the tour guide to continue.

JJ—being the foolishly bored teenager he was—made his way over to the unknown girl, standing next to her as they looked at the spiders in the enclosure.

“Poor things.” She sighed sadly. JJ only raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

“You know,” He began, his voice smooth and suave—the usual JJ charm he used on girls. “I totally agree with you on all those…ethic…things…” He trailed off, risking a glance towards the girl who only narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?” She questioned, nodding her head for him to continue.

“Yeah, I mean, save the animals, am I right?” He grinned, nervously scratching the nape of his neck. The girl seemed unamused.

“Uh huh, sure thing, buddy.” She stated before turning to catch up with the group. But JJ’s voice stopped her once again.

“How about I take you out some time? And then you can tell me all about all this ethic stuff.” He proposed, his usual charming smirk on his lips. He was a lady’s man, he knew he was gorgeous and JJ would be a fool if he didn’t use it to his advantage. One small date to charm her before JJ wiggled his way into her bed, then boom—they never have to speak to each other again. Plus, this girl may be one of Sarah Cameron’s wee minions, but JJ didn’t let class get in the way of his ‘love’ life. He just resents the lot of those uptown kids in every other aspect of his life. No harm in fraternizing with the enemy, right? What other people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It’s just a little bit of fun.

“Do you even know my name?” She asked him, her arms crossed over her chest. It took a lot of self-control for JJ not to follow the movement. He cleared his throat, leaning one hand against the enclosure.

“Uh…Samantha?”

“Nice try, asshole.” And with that, she turned around to join the group.

JJ stood there, a little dumbfounded by the encounter. He was taken aback not only by the fact she had just rejected him, but with the sass in which she did so. He would be lying if he didn’t say it was a little hot, but he expected it. Uptown kids always thought there were better, superior to the downtown kids.

But JJ didn’t wallow in his rejection for long when he felt a sharp, stinging pain on his hand. He glanced down, seeing a spider on the back of his hand and his instant reaction was to shake it off. “Little shit!” He hissed, looking down at the small bite mark on his skin.

“Hey, dude, you comin’?” He heard John B call out. He glanced around, unable to spot the spider. He shrugged, JJ has had worse than a small spider bite. He’ll survive.

“Yeah, I’m starving, let’s go!”

Little did JJ know that was his last day as a normal, hyperactive teen.

**********

“I’m telling you something is fucking wrong with me!”

Both boys looked at their blond friend with sceptic looks. It was Saturday morning and far too early to deal with JJ nonsense. Especially when they could barely understand what he was going on about. It was around 6am when John B and Pope received a very distressed call from JJ. Neither one was very sure for what reason, all they heard was ‘freaky’ and ‘fuck’ multiple times during the call. But he sounded like he was really going through something so they eventually went over—arriving at JJ’s place at 7:30am. JJ was too on edge to even try and call them out on it.

“Dude, breathe,” Pope muttered, watching JJ run holes in his carpet from how much he was pacing. “Calm down a little—“

“I can’t calm down, Pope!” JJ snapped, looking at his friends who seemed far too calm. “Like I don’t know if I am freaked out or pumped but just—“ He paused, seeing the look of confusion on his friends’ faces. He huffed and pulled his shirt off, looking at them expectedly. They didn’t react.

“JJ, did you really call us down here on SATURDAY MORNING because you have another birthmark that looks like George Clooney because I will literally murder you—“

“No, no!” JJ hissed before pointing down to his abs, and then his arms. Then he began flexing, yet he was met with blank expressions again.

“Dude, as much as I love staring at your abs, what the fuck are we meant to be looking at?” Pope asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“They are different!”

“They are?”

“They are!”

“Uh…how?”

JJ scoffed, as if it were obvious. “They are more defined!”

“…more defined?”

“Clearly!”

John B let out an unattractive snort, pushing his hair back as he leaned back against the wall, all his worry for his friend now gone. He was honestly concerned it was something important. “What’s next? Is your hair too perfect, J? Need a bag to cover how gorgeous you are?” Pope snickered along with him.

“I mean, I am having a good hair day…” JJ trailed off before shaking his head and turning to the two of them again. “But that isn’t all, okay? It gets freakier!”

Both boys looked at JJ with amusement from their spots on his bed.

JJ rolled his eyes before he stretched his hand out, his palm facing the ceiling with his two middle fingers pressed into his palm. Not even seconds later, a THWAP echoed through the now-silent bedroom.

Both teenagers looked down at the string of substance that just existed their friend’s wrist, completely shell-shocked. It was John B who spoke first, looking away from the white substance on JJ’s bed.

“Is that like…the same as…did you just—“ John B points down to his groin area, only for JJ to grimace.

“Dude, no! EW! I didn’t just jizz from my wrist!”

“It looks like you just did.”

Pope quickly kneeled down next to the bed, hesitantly reaching to touch the stuff, ignoring John B’s comments on how disgusting it was. “It feels like…silk,” He murmured in confusion before pulling his hand away, noticing how it stuck to his skin. “And it’s sticky.”

John B gagged in the back, but JJ ignored him. “It’s like glue, a really strong glue! And then after like twenty minutes, it disappears!” He told Pope as he reached for the scissors to help his sticky situation.

“How did you do that though?” Pope’s mind was reeling with the possibilities, the science behind the completely inhumane thing JJ had just done and he had witnessed with his very own eyes.

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Does it have anything to do with that weird-ass bump on your hand?” John B perked up, nodding towards JJ. All three boys’ gazes shifted to his left hand, where in fact there was a small red bump, no bigger than a grape at most.

“Nah, dude, that’s just from the spider bite yesterday.” JJ answered with a shrug. Pope chocked on the air, looking at JJ like he had three heads.

“I—you mean the fucking GENETICALLY MODIFIED SPIDERS FROM THE LAB?!” JJ winced, trying to shush Pope but there was no avail, this boy was going off on a rant. “Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell anyone yesterday? JJ, those could’ve been poisonous or had long term effects or—“

“Made you some weird mutant with cool powers.” John B added. He quickly shut up when he received the ‘look’ from Pope.

“We have to tell someone at Cameron Industries.” Pope concluded. JJ was quick to pipe up, taking a few steps away from Pope on instinct.

“What, no way! They are gonna stick me under some fancy microscope or inject me with needles full of…stuff! I’m not going back into that geek galore!” JJ stated. Pope looked like he was ready to open his mouth, and start spouting out arguments as to why JJ should head over to the professional scientists over his weird, overnight mutation. But it was actually John B who came to a more mutual conclusion.

“Or we just do our own tests,” John B shrugged, both boys turning to look at him with fairly discombobulated expressions. “C’mon, Pope is basically a scientist and he is smart enough to figure out whatever the hell is going on with you!”

“I don’t have half the equipment they would have—“ Pope tried to argue.

“Look, we aren’t going to find out anything through a microscope. The best way is just go out there and test what he can do. How hard can it be?” John B grinned.

Pope wanted to argue that it was very hard. Though he had read countless papers on the genetically modified spiders, even he didn’t know enough to do a full conclusive examination on JJ and his new state. He didn’t have half the things he needed, but when he looked over at JJ and saw a much more relaxed—and hopeful—expression on his face from when he had suggested returning to the lab, Pope sighed and shook his head a little.

“Just so you both know, I am going to say, ‘I told you so’ when this goes downhill.”

**********

That is how JJ, Pope and John B found themselves standing on the roof of JJ’s apartment complex, the busy streets of New York oblivious to the scientific discovery that is happening above them. JJ couldn’t tear his eyes off the skyline, finding something about it much more relaxing that the potential of just what his new body could do. He was scared—no, scratch that—he was nervous, anxious if you will. JJ couldn’t lie that a part of him was excited. It felt surreal, like something out of one of those comics he used to nick from the uptown kids. Then again, JJ wasn’t very fond of the idea of being some new scientific discovery. It made him feel like he would end up like one of those poor frogs they had to dissect in biology—poor fuckers.

“Okay, so the spiders were made from three separate species to optimize their physical properties—being able to adapt to new environments, heightened senses to avoid predators, enhanced strength and speed, stronger material to create webs for larger prey—all that jazz. No research has been done on the psychological properties though.” Pope rambled, his hands moving wildly whilst both boys stared at him with clueless expressions.

“Which means?”

“JJ could have some really cool powers but could also be going totally insane,” Pope said with a sheepish shrug. “Like I’m talking full Tasmanian devil mode here—“

“Very reassuring, dude.” JJ stated bluntly. He took it all back, he wasn’t excited. He was terrified now. He glanced down at the small bite on his hand, which was slowly deflating as time passed. JJ wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried that the second the bite disappeared, it could mean something really bad—like him turning into some massive humanoid arachnid that attacks the city. He shivered at the thought. “Right, let’s just get on with this.”

John B clapped a hand on his back, a small smile on his lips. “You’ll be fine, dude, alright? You’re in good hands.” He tried to reassure JJ. And JJ knew that everything Pope was saying was just to help him understand what was going on too, but he couldn’t help but think there was a small part of Pope that enjoyed using JJ as a lab rat. He was a scientist, could you really blame him?

“Yeah, I know.” He said with a curt nod.

“Let’s try the web again, see how far you can shoot it.” Pope piped up, moving to stand on the other side of JJ. “The average spider can shoot a web to about four feet, but these spiders have the DNA of the Darwin Bark Spiders which can shoot webs up to eighty-two feet. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you could reach the same, maybe more.” He then gestured for JJ to try it out, pointing towards the building opposite then, which was only around eight feet away, at most.

JJ took a deep breath before extending his hand out, the THWAP sounding clear despite the ongoing traffic down below. Yet, the web barely shot out a couple of inches before landing on the edge of the roof with a disappointing splat.

“Well then…” John B trailed off, all three boys staring at the failed web shot.

“You clearly weren’t trying, just concentrate!” Pope said with a clap of his hands. He only received a blank stare from JJ.

“I was trying, dumbass! It’s harder than it looks. It…feels weird, man. Like a sneeze…from my wrist!” He huffed, but Pope only nudged his shoulder to try again.

JJ sighed and turned to face the opposite building again. He raised his arm, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to imagine the web shooting out and reaching the opposing roof. He tried to imagine more web fluid being shot out his wrist, he tried to imagine like he actually knew what he was doing. Not even a second later, the THWAP sound was heard and suddenly there was a white rope of silk extending from JJ’s hand onto the next roof over.

“Holy shit!”

JJ grabbed the web, giving the web a light tug. He was expecting for the web to break, for his hand to be covered in web fluid. But instead the web remained, strong and sturdy as though it was bolted onto the roof.

“This is crazy, dude.”

He snapped his hand back, watching the web breakaway from his palm and flop, hanging from the brick wall like a pathetic piece of string. “That was cool as fuck,” He murmured as he glanced down at his wrists in shock. He gently ran his thumb over his wrist, a delightful shiver running down his back. It caused him to smile a little, thinking about just how far he could shoot these webs.

“Dude, you could swing around like Tarzan now.” John B snickered. JJ gave him a deadpan look but he couldn’t help himself from glancing down at his wrists again.

“You think?”

“Only one way to find out.” John B grinned.

Pope’s eyes widened slightly as he quickly began to shake his head. “You don’t know if the web is strong enough to hold his weight, he could hurt himself or—“

“You calling me fat?” JJ gasped with a pout, a hand placed over his heart. “You offend me, Pope. Thought you were better than this.”

“If calling you fat will stop you from swinging off a building like an idiot then yes, I am calling you fat.” He hissed.

JJ grinned, his eyes quickly searching around before he noticed a large satellite pole sticking out from one of the nearby buildings. It was a bit further away, but JJ let the pride of his last success get to his head. “I can do it, bud, don’t worry about it.”

“That’s my boy!”

“Don’t encourage him!”

“He can do it!”

“How the fuck do you know that!?”

“Sixth sense, my dude.”

JJ blocked out the bickering, taking a couple of steps back from the edge of the roof. A running start never hurt anyone, right? He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck from left to right. Never once did he let his gaze shift away from the satellite pole. He crouched down a little, already feeling the adrenaline build up in him. “Diver down, boys.” He grinned before he began sprinting to the edge of the building. As he reached the edge, he pushed himself off and extended his arm out, imagining the web wrapping around the pole and seconds later it did. He held the web tightly in his grip as he felt himself swinging towards the building. Whoops and cheers could be heard, though JJ wasn’t sure if they were coming from him or the boys back on the roof.

“JJ, THE WALL! LOOK OUT!”

But JJ was a little too pumped up to even comprehend what Pope was screaming until he noticed the brick wall getting closer. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ The words echoed in his head and he tried to think of a way to slow himself down. But it was useless as he found himself colliding with the wall, his eyes clenched shut on impact.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, his limbs sprawled out like a starfish. A part of him thought he was dead, that maybe he hit the wall way too hard, he had a lot of momentum after all. But the muffled screams coming from his friends was enough to tell him that he was very much alive. “I’m alive!” He yelled out, slowly beginning to blink his eyes open, finding himself face to face with a brick wall. “What the…” He trailed off when he glanced at his hands, finding them attached to the brick wall.

His heart was pounding when he looked down, seeing that he was attached to the wall, very far up from the ground, with nothing suspending him. His mind was reeling, almost as though he was waiting for himself to fall and his body to meet the ground. But it never happened.

“You’re like an actual fucking spider, dude!” He heard John B yell, as though he was right beside him, which caused him to wince a little. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing them still very far away on that roof.

JJ shook his head and glanced up, seeing the edge of the roof a couple of feet from where he was stuck on the wall. He took a deep breath before slowly removing one hand, and when he was sure he wasn’t going to fall, he moved it up higher. Slowly, JJ found himself scaling the side of the building, his heart beating wildly even as he pulled himself over the edge, both feet finding the solid ground of the roof. He turned back to look at his friends, both of whom looked shocked beyond belief.

“What the hell…” He could hear Pope whisper, which only caused JJ’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

“This is a lot more complicated than I thought.” He muttered to himself, only now realising that the bite mark on his hand was long gone.

**********

JJ winced a little as he heard the bell ring, indicating the end of this period and the start of lunch—his favourite subject. Yet, JJ wasn’t exactly jumping out of his seat as usual. It was now Monday and everyone was back at school. JJ, Pope and John B had spent the better use of the whole weekend to run around, using JJ like some lab rat and seeing just what he could and couldn’t do. And JJ was fucking exhausted. The amount of times he had face-planted into a wall was beyond funny and he had learnt the hard way that the more on edge he was, the more sensitive he was…well, to everything. The sound of the chairs screeching against the floor made him cringe, the bright LED lights made him want to cry and the feeling of his sweater against his skin was scratchy and uncomfortable. JJ sure as hell wasn’t hyped for his newly found powers if this is what the rest of his life is going to be like.

The blond sighed to himself as he shoved his stuff into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and heading towards the cafeteria once he left the class. He kept his head down, finding the small shuffles of his vans against the floor were helping him from cussing out every single student that bumped into him, making him honestly want to scream and stay six feet away from everyone. He tried to reassure himself that he was half way through the day, that he only had a couple of hours left and then he could preferably go hide in a hole somewhere for the rest of his life. Okay, that is a little dramatic but a dark hole sounded great to JJ right now.

But here’s the thing, JJ is a Maybank. He has the good ol’ Maybank luck, which means even when he feels shit, the universe is out to make his life worse. And the universe sent that in the form of Rafe Cameron and his loyal little minions, Topper Thornton and Kelce Smith. Midtown High’s own version of the Plastics, some may say.

By some, I mean JJ. But hey, don’t judge. He was forced into watch Mean Girls by one of his flings awhile back and he won’t lie, the movie slaps. But that is besides the point.

“Oi, Maybank!”

JJ inwardly groaned at the sound of Rafe’s voice. He would much rather hear nails on a chalkboard than whatever Rafe had to say. JJ wouldn’t consider them bullies, they were simply the top tier of the uptown kids who had some sort of superiority complex. And JJ had no issue on challenging them, it was far too easy to wind up a bunch of rich kids who weren’t used to being called out on their bullshit. And it just stuck. They would say something stupid to try and provoke him, and most of the time JJ’s words were enough for them to leave him alone. He had the satisfaction of punching Rafe in the face a few times, but usually Pope and John B were quick to hold him back. After all, it would backfire on JJ if he got into trouble with an uptown kid.

“What do you want?” JJ huffed out, glancing up at the trio. The sight of the three of them almost brought a smile to his lips. Uptown kids and their need to follow trends, they wore the same outfit in different variations and it honestly made JJ want to laugh. The classic preppy look with their pastel sweaters and tennis shoes, it made JJ want to gag. But he contained his vomit as Rafe spoke up.

“Aw, c’mon, Maybank. That all you got today? A bit pathetic.” Rafe snickered, the other two laughing along with their leader. JJ rolled his eyes. The funniest thing about them was their outfits.

“As much as I’d love to talk to you little pastel powerpuff girls, I have much better things to do in my life,” JJ said with a sarcastic smile on his lips as he side-stepped the trio, attempting to make his way past them. He really didn’t have the patience to deal with them today. He had happily planned to steal food from Pope and take a nap for the hour. But the second he felt Rafe’s hand on his shoulder, he knew that wasn’t going to be happening.

“Watch your mouth, Maybank.” Rafe spat, his hand tightening on JJ’s shoulder. The act made him want to cringe away and rip off his skin. The feeling of his hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing that little bit of skin near the neckline of his sweater, it made JJ want to gag. It felt horrible. He wanted that feeling gone.

“Piss off, Cameron.” He scoffed, harshly jerking his shoulder so Rafe’s hand would lose its grip but it only tightened. In an act of desperation, JJ did the only thing that seemed reasonable. He shoved Rafe away. Now normally, it would be enough to have Rafe stumble a few steps so JJ can make a quick exit. But JJ just so happened to have forgotten that this wasn’t like every other normal time. He wasn’t normal anymore. So, his shove was much more than a wee push, it was more like completely winding Rafe. JJ couldn’t help but cringe when he heard the sound of Rafe’s body colliding with the lockers before he slumped to the ground, a dent now evident in the lockers from the collision. Topper and Kelce looked at JJ with mixed looks of confusion and fear before rushing to their friend’s aid.

“Oh my god, Rafe!”

JJ’s head snapped to the end of the hallway where he could see Sarah Cameron, but she wasn’t alone. Beside her was the curly haired girl from the trip. His eyes widened a little when his gaze met hers, but he was only met with a glare from the mysterious beauty.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed at JJ as the two girls got closer, now seeing the full effect of what JJ had done. JJ gulped a little, his fingers tapping the side of his legs as he tried to think this through. What could he say, ‘oh sorry, kinda lost control of my new powers, I’ll be a little more careful next time’. Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.

“He started it!” JJ blurted out, only to mentally smack himself at how childish he sounded. “I barely touched him, he was being dramatic!” He added but the looks of uncertainty didn’t reassure him that they bought it. He was in the lion’s den here, a downtown kid surrounded by the privileged. He was never going to win. So, he did the only sane thing any downtown kid would do. He got out of there as quick as he could.

“He could be concussed!” Sarah Cameron spoke up for the first time, a frown on her face as she met JJ’s gaze. He could almost feel the judgement oozing from her.

“Maybe he will finally have some brain cells knocked into him!” And with that, JJ ran out of that hallway and didn’t stop running until he was far away from the school.

**********

“I’m sorry what?”

Following the fiasco on Monday, JJ’s week hadn’t been much better. Most of it was spent avoiding the uptown crew whilst simultaneously keeping a low profile, which is very hard for someone like JJ. He was used to being the class clown, milking any attention he got. Now he felt like he was under house arrest or something, trapped to keep to himself and work out what the hell was happening to him. But true to their commitment of being his best friends, John B and Pope were right there beside him. It had been a long and stressful week but they made it through. It was a little exhausting on them but they had each other to lean on. JJ was just glad he wasn’t alone.

But now, sat in Pope’s bedroom on the Saturday night, looking between the two boys with a very concerned look, JJ wasn’t sure his weekend was going to be any more relaxing. He knew the three of them combined weren’t the best combinations. They probably shared a brain cell between them and even then, it mostly resided with Pope and his weird, random facts. They had come up with some really strange, out-there ideas before—like the time they tried to give John B a perm with household products or when they convinced themselves they could do a road trip in John B’s crappy van. But this was the icing on the cake. This was enough for JJ to confirm that his friends had completely lost their mind.

“Think about it!” John B continued, practically rolling on the balls of his feet in excitement. JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt him. To be honest, JJ wasn’t even sure where to start with how bad of an idea this was. “You have these super cool powers that are totally useless to everyday life, so why not put them to use? You could be like—the next Batman or something!”

“Batman was a rich dude who made gadgets. He doesn’t even have any powers. How the hell would I be like Batman?”

“Okay, bad example,” Pope piped up. “But just think about it. You could make a difference, be a hero!”

“A really badass superhero!” John B added.

JJ looked at them with a frown on his face. This now just seemed like a deranged joke. He was waiting for them to laugh, to say it was just a silly joke and move on with their usual weekend plans. But they didn’t. They continued.

“I mean, we could be a team! The three of us! You’ll go out and do all the crime fighting, Pope can make crazy gadgets and do all the…tech stuff and I can be your guy in the chair, you know?”

“My guy in the chair?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy in the headset…surrounded by screens…telling you where to go when you need extra help and stuff.”

“What?”

“Like Pope would set it up, but I would be the mastermind behind it! Like you’re stuck in a building and can’t find a way out, I would help you find a route. Your guy in the chair!”

JJ only shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples to try and not completely lose his temper.

“And like every superhero ever, you’ll need a suit. So, I went looking through some stuff and I found my mum’s sewing machine,” Pope fumbled around in his pocket before he pulled out a small bunch of red fabric. He threw it to JJ, which he easily caught. JJ then realised it was like a ski mask, with two small holes for his eyes. “It’s not much but we can work on it, keep your identity secret and everything.”

“Oh, and you’ll need a badass name! I was thinking like Night Monkey, or—“

“—Spiderling!” Pope interrupted with a grin, clearly proud of it. But JJ had enough.

“Can the both of you just shut up!” He snapped, both boys instantly quieting down, looking at JJ with concerned looks. “Okay, are you out of your mind? Me? A superhero? Hate to fucking break it to you but I am not the superhero type guy, alright? I’m not your friendly neighbourhood nice guy helping old ladies cross the street or getting cats out of the tree! I could give zero fucks about the law cause all its there for is rich idiots to manipulate and use to ruin lives of people like us!” JJ cried out to them, letting go of any hope he had on trying to keep his cool.

“People like us don’t become heroes, alright? We are usually the ones that get locked up. And knowing my luck, I will be thrown straight into some loony house, in a straitjacket because of these powers! You guys have to be absolute fools if you think any of this would work.” JJ huffed as he stood up, shoving the mask into his pocket before making his way to the door. “I don’t care about other people, alright? I care about you guys, my mum and most importantly, myself. Why the hell should I risk my life for a world that won’t appreciate it anyways.” Both boys stood there stunned, looking at JJ with wide eyes and parted lips.

“JJ—“

“No, okay? Superheroes are meant for comic books and movies, not real life, alright? Grow up.” And with that, JJ slammed the door as he left the apartment.

JJ scoffed, muttering to himself as he walked through the dark streets of New York, deciding to take the longer route back home. He needed the time to clear his head, grasp his thoughts. He didn’t know what the boys were thinking, he was definitely not fit to be a hero. Were they out of their minds? Give a guy some abnormal powers and suddenly he should be putting on a cape and preaching morals. That wasn’t JJ, that would never be JJ. He was selfish, arrogant at times and beyond prideful. But he was aware. He knew what he was and he knew he didn’t have what it took to be a hero. Pope and John B needed to stop being ignorant and see that.

He rolled his eyes at the thought and continued his way back to his building complex, hands shoved in his pockets with his right-hand clenching around the fabric of the mask. Small puffs escaped his lips as JJ started regretting taking the long way home. It was October and winter was promising to come early, JJ could tell that much by the stinging cold against his cheeks. The cold was just the cherry on top of his bitter mood.

Yet, as JJ continued to make his way home, he could hear the sound of people talking, causing a frown to form on his face. JJ had walked this way many times, especially during the night, and the chance of passing someone down these streets were fairly rare. Maybe the odd one here or there, but a group of people? Definitely not common.

At first, he ignored it. He had gotten used to the heightened senses over the week, being able to hear things from a distance even when he didn’t try. For all he knew, he could be hearing the muttering of some people a few blocks over. So, he ignored it and carried on walking. But then it started getting louder and clearer. JJ felt his whole body go on alert, the hair on his arm standing up, like his body knew something was off. He could feel it in his gut, a horrible realisation that this wasn’t going to be his usual walk home.

It wasn’t until when JJ turned the corner that he realised just what he had walked into. There stood around five men, all wearing masks that covered the lower half of their faces. They were dressed in all black, probably to draw less attention to themselves, but JJ could see the glint of guns in the light of the lampposts shining down on the street. They stood outside a building, three of them seeming to try and block the view of the other two. It was then when JJ’s brain actually caught up with what he was seeing and realised what the building was. A bank. These guys were trying to rob a bank.

Well shit.

The way JJ saw it, he had two options here. He could turn around, pretend he didn’t see anything and let them get on with what they were doing. Chances were they would either get caught by the police or he would see that the bank had been successfully robbed tomorrow morning on the news. Or JJ could do something about it. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, only to see that it was dead. Of course, it was the good ol’ Maybank luck. He shoved it back into his pocket and looked towards the five men.

Then an idea popped into his head. A stupid, insane idea that was nothing short of self-deprecating and downright dumb. It was short of one of the worst ideas he had ever had. JJ had done a lot of weird stuff in his life but this definitely tops it all. And the worst part was that he was going through with it, because as much as he hated it, it was his only choice right now.

“I’m gonna regret this.” JJ huffed to himself as he snatched the mask out of his pocket and pulled it down over his face, adjusting it so he could see through the small holes Pope had made. He let out a breath, shaking his shoulders a little as he tried to pump himself up, get his adrenaline going.

“You got this, it’s not like they have guns or anything,” JJ muttered to himself as he placed his hands on the wall of the building across from the bank, the one he was currently hiding around so the bank robbers wouldn’t see him, before he began to scale the building. I mean, who would expect the enemy coming from above, right?

He stopped around half way up the building, thanks to the heightened senses he was able to still see the criminals clearly. He watched them closely, seeing only the three men that were on lookout where the one with guns. “Oh, let’s hope this works.” He whispered to himself before extending his arm out.

“What the fuck!” One of them called out as his gun was snatched from his hands in the blink of an eye, his two friends following a similar reaction. JJ wasn’t even thinking about where he was throwing the guns, just as long as they were nowhere near these dudes when he confronted them.

He watched them freak out, yelling at each other as they looked around for the culprit to their missing guns. He heard the half-ass threats they used and tried not to snort before he shot a web to one of the lampposts nearby and swung down, landing gracefully at the top of the lamppost.

“Guys, I hate to break it to you but someone lied, bank doesn’t open until tomorrow morning.” JJ called out to them, giving a small shrug. All five heads snapped up to look at him, and the glares he was receiving was enough to tell him that these guys weren’t big jokesters.

“Piss off, kid, this is none of your business.” One of them replied in a blunt, scruffy voice. It honestly made JJ cringe a little.

“You see,” JJ sighed. “I’ve made it my business so…” He trailed off before snapping his wrist, a web shooting out to stick to the head of the closest criminal and with a firm tug, his head hit the pole before he slumped to the ground.

One of the men growled at JJ, clearly not happy about some weird kid interrupting their wee heist. “You had your warning, kid. Come down and play with the adults.” He taunted before JJ noticed the glimmer of something in the light. A knife. Of-fucking-course the gun wasn’t the only weapon they had on them.

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” He commented, shooting a web to wrap around the criminal’s wrist, prepared to pull it out of his grasp, only for the robber to tug the web instead, sending JJ flying off the lamppost and falling on his ass to the ground. “Fuck!” He hissed as he quickly jumped to his feet.

“Life is unfair,” The criminal muttered before reaching to punch JJ but he easily dodged it. The speed and agility with which he moved with clearly distracting the criminal long enough for JJ to kick him hard enough that sent him stumbling back into the wall. JJ barely had time to process it before he snapped his hand to the left, stopping a fist that was inches away from his face.

“Nice try, asshole.” He huffed before twisting the criminal’s arm before sending a swift punch to his jaw. There was a satisfying pop sound that told JJ he would be preoccupied for at least a couple of minutes.

He then noticed two of the criminals trying to corner him, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little under the mask at just how cliché it seemed. In seconds, JJ has webs shooting out each wrist, attaching to the chests of each men, before yanking the two towards each other. Groans echoed through the empty street as both men collided with each other.

JJ’s head snapped to the side when he heard an angry battle call as he saw the man with the now dislocated jaw running towards him. JJ crouched down a little before he began running towards the criminal, his arms hooking around his knees. He kept running forwards until JJ felt glass smash around him and the two of them fell through. He quickly got up, wincing at the window he had just broken before turning to the criminal and giving him a good smack in the face—he definitely wasn’t holding back with his strength on that one.

JJ began to work fast, not knowing how long each of the criminals would stay dazed and unconscious for. In no time, he had them piled together, a healthy amount of web fluid keeping them tied together. They wouldn’t be going anywhere—at least for twenty minutes. But it was just JJ’s luck that he didn’t have to worry about that time limit because not even seconds after he finished, he heard the sirens and saw the blue lights flashing down the streets.

Police cars began to surround the bank, creating a semi-circle to prevent any possible escape. Officers began to exit their vehicles, guns set and loaded and now aimed towards JJ. “This is NYPD, keep your hands where we can see them!” One officer called out.

“Shit,” JJ muttered to himself as he raised his hands in the air, watching as officers slowly approached the crime scene.

He watched as a look of confusion washed over their faces as they took in the scene: the smashed window, the five tied up men, the weird silky rope that was binding them together and of course, JJ in his crappy mask.

He watched as they evaluated the situation. Watched as they tried to piece it all together before one officer—the badge telling JJ her name was Captain Peterkin—stopped in front of JJ with raised eyebrows. “Did you do this?”

“Sure did, ma’am.”

“Why?” Another officer perked up, JJ could see his badge said Officer Shoupe.

“They were robbing a bank, what did you want me to do? Sit around making daisy chains until you showed up?” JJ immediately defended, glaring as best as he could with the mask on his face.

Peterkin smiled a little before she cleared her throat, JJ’s attention shifting to her. “Then I guess we owe you a great deal of thanks for your work.”

“All in a day’s work, can I leave now? I’m sure the security cameras will give you all the answers you need.” JJ stated as he already began to take a few steps away from the crime scene, walking backwards.

“Can we at least know your name?” Peterkin asked.

JJ looked down at his wrists before he snapped them up, watching as the web attached to nearby building. He looked at Peterkin and couldn’t help grin under his mask as he answered her question before tugging on the web and swinging away into the night.

“Call me Spider-Man.”

Taglist: @alphinias @popcornhook @loveyatopluto @teamnick @peanutbelley @iccyyyybitch @jiara-maybank @donkey-is-my-spirit-animal @carissarose16 @unspokenfaith @largedenominationsplease @jiaaras @homebody-nobody @smileymikey @hvitstark @shaymq7 @hmspogue @falseungodlyhours @aarchiess @rcsales @raeoffuckingsunshine @jjskiaras @parker-holland-osterfield @thesadprose

[randomfandomimagine]

I Still Love You (Jaskier x Reader)

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt

Fandom: The Witcher

Tags: Angst, songfic

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury

Word Count: 3k words

Requested by @caritobbg: Hello! Could you write a ficlet with Jaskier and a Fem!Reader where they are with Geralt in a tavern and, as she saw Jaskier flirt with other women, she was encouraged to sing a song that she would have written (it occurred to me Love of My Life by Queen) and then she runs from there to the woods when she finishes singing it and is attacked by a werewolf. Jaskier goes off to look for her alongside Geralt who was also concerned and had given his friend reasons to realize how she felt about him?❤️

A/N: This is angsty and bittersweet but I quite like how it turned out, hope you like it! 

Jaskier x Female Reader

_

Everything about him seemed absolutely flawless. You were so madly in love with Jaskier that you found even his flaws endearing. For this very reason, you couldn’t help staring at him and admiring his handsome face, and the way his soft brown hair fell over his piercing and beautiful ocean blue eyes, which fondly stared at you.

He seemed to have noticed you were quite absent, because he chuckled and tilted his head at you in an adorable way.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Jaskier asked you, gently nudging you and accompanying the gesture with a bright grin. “Are you tired, love?”

“A bit” You admitted, still lovingly staring at him. “Although it’s nothing that your company can’t fix”

“You’re such a flatterer” He fondly wrinkled his nose, leaning in to tap his finger against your nose. “As if your lovely company isn’t a blessing”

You stared at each other in silence for a moment. Seeing his bright grin stirred something within you, reminding you how beautiful it was and how smitten you were.

“If you don’t mind…” You started, trying to confess what had been eating you inside for such a long time. “I wanted to tell you something, Jaskier”

“I’m all ears, love” He absently leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms and intently listening to you. “What is it?”

“You may know already…” Although you nervously chuckled, you truly hoped he had noticed something. As perceptive as Jaskier could be, he seemed completely oblivious to the nature of your affections. “But the truth is I see you a certain way”

“Uh-huh… go on” He nodded his head, even if his eyes were now focused on something that seemed more interesting to him than you. “Sure, right…”

“I have stopped talking” You told him, even if you knew he wasn’t listening at all.

“You’re absolutely right, Y/N” Jaskier continued to nod his head as though he was catching every word you said, which he clearly wasn’t. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to tend to”

Like moved by an invisible force, the bard quickly scurried off to the other end of the tavern. The murmur that surrounded you filled your quietness, though it was not enough to fill the true void of the silence.

Jaskier had found an attractive blond woman who he started enthusiastically talking to. The mere sight was too painful to stand and so you turned your head away.

He seemed to find her to be better company despite the fact that he had never seen her before. Somehow, she was more enticing than you even if you and Jaskier had known each other for so long now, even if you had traveled together and endured countless hardships with each other.

Your eyes suddenly stung with unshed tears. In an attempt to distract from that woe, you searched Geralt with your gaze. Soon you spotted him sitting at the table still, enjoying his solitude in peace as he calmly drank is ale. For the first time since you started traveling together, you understood why he isolated himself in such a way. It was the only way to avoid getting hurt.

With a will of their own, your eyes searched Jaskier once more. He was dedicating her that smile, the one he usually saved only for you. Or so you thought. You could have sworn you felt how your heart broke, as though it was made out of glass and it shattered into a million pieces, causing the shards to consume you from the inside. At the same time, however, a burning anger erupted inside you. Did he not see how much it hurt you? Did Jaskier not realize how deeply in love you were? Or did he just decide to ignore it and continue courting other women? Whatever the case, you were tired. Tired of waiting for him, of holding on to hope that he might reciprocate someday, that he could love you back.

Forgetting about the pain and trying to hold on to that anger, you walked directly towards him. Not paying mind to the woman he was so bluntly flirting with, you shoved him a little.

“Oi!” He complained, watching you up and down in a mixture between confusion and outrage. “What’s the matter with you, Y/N?”

“I’ll tell you in a way you can finally get it through your thick skull, bard” Even if you were still angry, your voice only held all that pain that you felt inside.

Jaskier frowned sadly, frozen in place even as you took the lute hanging from his back and claimed it as your own. You felt his eyes follow you as you adamantly stood on a table and began strumming the chords, gathering the attention from everyone at the tavern. Geralt’s golden eyes fell on you as well, and you paused as you exchanged a glance with him. Recognizing the resignation and empathy in his eyes, you continued on. Ready to finally pour your heart out to Jaskier, or at least what was left of it.

That song had been hidden for too long, locked in your heart and in your mind. You were never brave enough to bring it out into the world, especially not when the bearer of your affections was unbeknownst to it all. It had been a difficult decision, but you had chosen his definite friendship over a possible romance, but you couldn’t handle the consequences any longer. That romance would never exist. It was but a mirage, an impossible daydream.

Moved by the sorrow that made your chest hurt, you began singing the ballad you had composed, that one which so perfectly explained your feelings as he hadn’t been able to recognize them on his own.

Love of my life, you've hurt me You've broken my heart, and now you leave me

When your eyes met with Jaskier’s, a lump formed in your throat. His saddened frown had only deepened as he intently listened to your every sung word. His face, however, blurred as the tears inevitably arrived to your eyes. In spite of it all, you pushed through and carried on.

Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me Because you don't know what it means to me Love of my life, don't leave me You've taken my love, and now desert me

It all suddenly became too much. The song was interrupted by your strong sobs and you felt unable to continue. The world became a place too hard for such a hurt girl like you. Shaking your head, you jumped down the table and returned by his side. Your bottom lip trembled as you reached him, and yet you still tried to lift your chin up in pride.

For once, Jaskier was rendered speechless. He observed you in silence, and the distress in his beautiful lively blue eyes somehow was yet another blow to your bleeding heart.

“You’ve broken my heart” You repeated as though the song hadn’t ended, angrily pushing the lute against his chest and facing your back to him.

“Y/N… did you write that?” He finally asked once you did. When he realized you weren’t turning back to him, a sudden urgency arrived to his voice. “Wait, h-hang on!”

His heart wildly raced, bringing a dull ache to his chest with every beat. Jaskier felt guilty and stupid, having been too frivolous to truly understand. You had been trying to tell him something important, and he only got distracted by a pretty face. As if you weren’t beautiful and right in front of him all along.

He blindly followed after you, yet a strong had pushed against his chest to keep him in place. Jaskier tried to pass the witcher by, but Geralt was adamant on intercepting his friend.

“Leave her”

“N-No! She’s upset and-“

“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now, Jaskier”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you really that fucking stupid?”

“What?”

“You really didn’t realize her feelings?”

“Well, now I do… She was trying to tell me but-“

“She’s been trying to tell you ever since she joined us”

“Come now, Geralt… If I were to truly believe every woman I talk to is enamored with me…”

“Yes, but that one really loved you. And she just walked away”

Jaskier froze in place, quitting his attempts to go over the witcher’s block. He gulped, realizing the implications of what Geralt was saying. It made your behavior all the more understandable while at the same time all the more heartbreaking. And it was all his fault.

“Jask… you stupid, stupid man…” He chastised himself under his breath before looking back up to his friend. “We should go after her, should we not?”

Geralt’s expression suddenly shifted, from utterly annoyed to alert. The bard had seen that expression many times, and a nasty feeling arrived to the pit of his stomach.

“W-What?” He uttered in fright. “What is it?”

“The woods” Geralt clenched his jaw as he retrieved both his swords. “It’s filled with werewolves”

“Shit” Before the witcher could say anything else, Jaskier began running.

He ran outside of the tavern, leaving behind his long forgotten female companion. He ran like he had never run in his life, completely ignoring the way his heart hammered against his ribcage or the feeling of not having enough oxygen in his lungs to breathe. Jaskier run as though the most important person in his life was in danger, because she was.

Perhaps he had been too blind or too stupid to realize you were the person he cared for most, but you were. Perhaps he had been completely oblivious to the feelings you harbored for him, but you did nonetheless. And it was his reckless behavior that gave you such spite, caused by him, that threw you to venture into the lion’s den.

As he ran breathlessly, not caring to wait for Geralt, Jaskier realized… he would never forgive himself if something happened to his dear Y/N. _

By the time they arrived into the woods, it was nighttime. The pair had looked for you in many other places, being sure to check quickly in case the worst case scenario was the reality: you had ventured into the dangerous woods on your own, feeling sad and miserable and being more vulnerable to an attack.

Jaskier couldn’t breathe, he could not focus as his mind could only return to you. He heard it just as he immersed further into the woods, with Geralt closely following behind. A woman was screaming, and he shivered at the thought that it was his beloved Y/N, who was in deathly peril.

“Y/N!” The bard yelled back, already moving to go to your rescue.

“Jaskier” Geralt stopped him, pulling back at his doublet. “Wait”

“What?” The aforesaid replied in outrage. “Y/N is out there, probably scared out of her mind right now, and it is all my fault, and you want me to w-“

Another sound interrupted him, one that took his breath away. It had sounded like a wolf howling, but the bard had enough experience thanks to the witcher to realize it was no ordinary wolf. No, that sounded far too strange to be a normal creature.

“A werewolf” Geralt muttered, pulling out his silver sword.

“How can you be so sure?” Jaskier stuttered, intently looking at his friend.

With no need for words, the witcher only pointed a gloved finger upwards. Following that direction, Jaskier realized what he was saying. There was a full moon looming over them, magical and mysterious as well as intimidating, if not for herself, for the creatures that lurked in her name.

“I’ll get the werewolf” Geralt whispered, finally letting go of him. “You circle around it and find Y/N”

Determined, Jaskier nodded his head and stepped away from the place the howling sound had originated from. He was adamant on his mission, as finding you seemed the most important thing he would have to do in his life. He only prayed that you weren’t injured.

Searching for any signs of your presence, he moved slowly, too afraid to miss any of the signs that you might be close by. The dry leaves crunched beneath his boots, yet no sound seemed loud enough to overpower that of his racing heart and his erratic breathing. His hands nervously closed and opened as his fingers nervously fidgeted.

“No…” Jaskier suddenly felt dizzy when he spotted something crimson staining the leaves. “Y/N?”

They were only a few droplets of blood, but it was more than enough to have Jaskier stop in his tracks and bend over weakly. His stomach churned, his mind was racing with terrible thoughts of what could have happened to you.

“Y/N? God, I hope you’re alright” He whispered. “Where are you, love?”

Just as he took another step, something caught his attention. A whimpering noise sounded to his right, and so he didn’t think twice to head in that direction. What he found was a figure, huddled behind a tree trunk, hiding her face on her knees and bawling her eyes out.

“Y/N!” Jaskier threw himself to his knees, gently laying a hand atop your shoulder.

“No!” You moved away from his touch, waving your hands in the air as though trying to swat him off you. “Don’t hurt me, please!”

“It’s me! It’s me, love, it’s Jaskier!”

When you dared look up, he paused. You were still breathing rapidly, tears rolling down your cheeks as your bawling started coming to a halt.

“T-The werewolf!”

“It’s alright, Geralt’s gone and get it”

The air turned cold as you grew silent. Jaskier watched you in anguish, wanting to ask if you were alright but nearly fearing he had lost the right to even ask that. It was his fault that you were there on the first place. Bearing heavy thoughts of your own, you remained quiet. You locked eyes with Jaskier as contradictory feelings overwhelmed you.

Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me Because you don't know what it means to me You will remember, when this is blown over And everything's all by the way When I grow older, I will be there at your side To remind you how I still love you

Back, hurry back, please bring it back home to me Because you don't know what it means to me

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, even though his voice came out strangled and it was barely audible. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m-“

Much to his astonishment, you threw yourself to him. Your arms urgently wrapped around his neck as you cowered into his shoulder. All possible unwell within you both seemed to vanish as you collided in an urgent embrace.

“Oh, thank the gods I found you…” Jaskier sighed in relief, cradling your head as he held you tightly against him. “Are you hurt? I saw…”

“It scratched me…” You pulled away, holding your arm up to show him the garments torn to shreds and the superficial wound still pouring blood. “But it didn’t bite me”

“Thank the heavens…” He embraced you again, being taken by such relief that he now experienced an entire different kind of dizziness as he gingerly pressed your frame against his chest. “I’m so sorry, love, none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been so bloody stupid”

You were silent as you let him hold you. While your fresh wound was a duller ache, your head hurt as your love for Jaskier as well as your resentment for his demeanor fought for dominance within you.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” He uttered, knowing how to interpret your silence. “I don’t blame you, honestly, I would-“

“Now you know” You interrupted him, realizing he was about to ramble as he usually did. “What do you have to say about it?”

“Yes, it is absolutely my bad” Jaskier vehemently nodded his head. “Had I realized what your true feelings were, I could have saved you so much pain and… I suppose I just didn’t see the signs that you-“

“Jaskier” You only called him, bearing unshed tears in your glassy eyes.

“I don’t know” He honestly replied, feeling more genuine and vulnerable than you had ever seen him. “I don’t know if I love you back, I just know that I care about you”

“I still love you…” You stuttered, letting out a nervous chuckle to hide the fact that your tears had overflown and were now rolling down your face once more.

“And I… I love you too, but… I don’t know in which way I love you, I just know I was terrified out of my mind when you ran away” He sighed, passing a nervous hand through his thick brown hair. “I might realize I hold romantic feelings for you soon or I might not, but… I want you to know that you hold a special place in my heart one way or the other”

Not knowing what to do or say, you only nodded your head. Feeling uncomfortable, you instead tried to stand up and Jaskier didn’t lose one second to help you to your feet.

“I promise you one thing, though” He tenderly held your hand. “I won’t ever allow myself to hurt you like this ever again”

“Okay…” You could only mutter, still recovering from the pain that day held for you.

“Come here, love” Jaskier wrapped his arms around you a third time, this time never wanting to let you go. He clung on to you, just like you were. Perhaps you loved each other in different ways, and whether that would change or not, you had each other at the moment.

The bard looked up when he thought he heard something. In the distance, he spotted Geralt standing there, carrying the blood stained sword. The two looked at each other as they were facing one another, and nodded their heads. They didn’t say anything, only resigning themselves to the way things ended. There was nothing to say anymore after all.

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[star-anise]

Oh dear, I’m sorry to bother you, but I would like to ask for your advice on something related to several of your top posts- Are there any cues that one would be able to observe within themselves that could help with a diagnosis of, well, being gifted? I’ve been told as such my entire life, but due to the number of students that are superior to me, I’ve come to doubt what was previously thought of me; I fear I might become obsolete.

I feel the need to answer a different question than the one you’ve asked. I think it will still help. I’m going to use IQ here, for all that it’s an intensely flawed measure, because it’s well-researched and we can do math with it.

“Giftedness”, as most school systems define it, is more than two standard deviations (SDs) above the norm. Because of how bell curves work, that’s approximately the top 2% of intelligence. The higher intelligence goes, the rarer. Which is to say if people are randomly distributed, the odds are that every 50 people will produce 1 person 2 SDs above the norm. However, the higher you go up, the rarer it gets. Above 3 SDs is 0.01%, which is 1 in every ten thousand. Above 4 SDs is 1 in every thirty thousand. You would need to comb a randomly-populated city of a million people before you could come up with enough people to fill a classroom of 30 people–and they would be every age, from infancy to centennarian.

Which is to say: The smarter you are, the less likely you are to ever meet anyone else as smart as you when you’re young. This means that you’re very likely to define “being smart” as “always being the smartest person in the room”. And if your peers treat you as weird and your teachers fixate on your intelligence, you may come to associate “being smart” as “my entire reason for having worth in this world.”

So as long as you keep seeking higher education and greater challenge–as long as you keep going towards those magnets that draw other people of high intelligence–the odds slowly increase that someday, you’ll meet people as smart as you, if not smarter.

And for a lot of us there’s a really rude shock where suddenly we’re not the smartest person in the room, and the internal dominos start to fall: If I’m not the smartest, am I even smart? If I’m not smart, do I even have a use anymore? What do I even have to offer the world now that I’m stupid???

I hit that level in high school, when I sought out an IB school and met Matt, who would be my best friend for the next three years. Matt hit that level when he went to university to study physics, and realized he was the least-intelligent person in a professor’s lab. Occasionally I’ll meet people who appear not to have had that experience yet–who are either awkwardly humble about it, or deeply arrogant. For some of them, I am the first person they have ever met who’s smarter than them, and they generally either crumble into self-hatred and self-doubt, or they light up and go, “Oh my god! You’re like me!”

It is very definitely possible to remind yourself that you are still smart, still capable, and still worthwhile. But I would encourage you to use this as an opportunity to also branch out.

Most other kids, when they were very young, hit challenges they couldn’t master–and they learned how to feel good about themselves anyway. They might not have been the smartest, they reasoned, but at least… they made their friends laugh. They coloured pictures in a way that satisfied them. They tried very hard. They loved dancing to music. They liked to feed the family pet. They could define themselves by many different experiences and relationships, and find sources of self-confidence and pleasure that had nothing to do with school or intelligence.

If you’re using words like “obsolete”, it sounds like you didn’t get that. You missed out on the opportunity to get to define yourself as having worth and function in a variety of ways; to be complete and self-justified just for being alive. 

This is a really important thing. It’s essential to a world of human rights. We’ve tried worlds where people had to justify their existence–you have to be this hardworking to deserve medical care; you have to be this virtuous to deserve peace and happiness; you have to be this intelligent to be allowed to propagate your genes. And overwhelmingly? They result in human misery. To allow a world where you can be deemed “obsolete” and lose all right to community, happiness, self-worth, or meaningful work, is to allow a world where suffering is the default state. And, well–some people are, but I am not okay with that.

So I am accordingly not okay with the amount of pain, isolation, and self-hatred you’ve lived with. I think that no matter how smart you were or weren’t, you should have been treated as worthwhile and lovable regardless of you performance. I think you should always have had friends who understood you and didn’t think you were weird. I think you should have been given chances to try something you didn’t completely have the abilities to master, and been able to fail at it and learn to be okay with failure, in a way that reinforced that you were fundamentally good, lovable, and capable of doing good and worthwhile things.

It is a lot harder to go back and do that work now that you’re an adult. The same way it’s harder to learn a second language for a first time as an adult than as a six-year-old, it’s a lot harder to learn these emotional skills. Your brain’s emotional systems are hugely dominated by the formative experiences you had as a child. It might take pain, doubt, questioning, outside help, finding a counsellor who works with Gifted adults, or trying medical treatment for depression or anxiety to get there.

Anyway, to answer your original question: It can be really grounding to get out of the rarified air of academia and get in touch with adults who didn’t have to score incredibly well on tests to be there. If you go to something not selected for academic prowess–a general adult exercise class, or knitting group, or community group, or bowling league–you’ll see the incredible diversity of intellects, personalities, and life experiences. You might meet people as smart as you, who have great careers and blow off steam through this recreation; smart people whose life has led them down a non-academic path; people of normal intelligence, who nonetheless have robust lives and interests and concerns and are a lot less excruciating to talk to than carefully age-matched peers of your childhood; and people with cognitive impairments or developmental delays that mean they need special accommodation to be able to happily live, but do nonetheless manage it.

In short: Get out of your own head, because there are very few reference points, and find yourself in a wider social matrix that isn’t rigidly sorted by test score.

I was also immeasurably helped as a teenager by joining a nerdy hobby (medieval re-enactment) full of Gifted adults who would sit around the fire and tell me the unexpected stories of their lives (”I was a smart kid, but then in uni I discovered that being a graduate student in chemistry is awful, so I became a teacher. Then I met my wife and fell in love, so I moved to Canada to be with her, and Canada won’t accept my teaching license and I don’t want to go back to school and be poor. So now I’m the assistant manager of a bookstore”). These served as a powerful antidote to the message that if I wasn’t on a “30 Under 30″ list of blazing comets taking the world by storm, I was a complete failure.

I can’t give you my own experiences, but I can suggest some places to look for those antidotes: Late Bloomers by Rich Karlgaard, What Should I Do With My Life? by Po Bronson, and The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown.

[mamanars02]

I AM PROFESSIONALLY CONNED BY MY HUSBAND A SELF PROCLAIMED GOOD GUY Oo day, ang Ganda ko pero naloko ng pangit. Pano ba nangyare? Ganito bhie, Mahaba ang kwento pero di kasinghaba ng titi ng asawa ko. Year 2011, I met my husband in KSA. I am still young back then, and still madly inlove with my year LDR boyfriend. My husband courted me, even though he is aware I was in a relationship, he tried. He befriended me and since he proclaimed himself as a very good guy with some flaws in life, being a father of a teenage girl, so, I thought back then, OMG he was such an honest GUY. OO, naniwala ako, uto uto ang peg. Then, my 7 year relationship ended. Chance nya na.. Grab the opportunity ginawa ng Lolo nyo. Brokenhearted, I gave my husband a chance. Brokenhearted, I made a choice to give in to him, sexually, in KSA (di ako malibog, nagtry Lang ang gaga, bilis nga, di ako nasiyahan.) He proposed to me then on, not in a very romantic way as I would like to imagine. He just handed me the ring and just said the word, Marry Me. (Walang ka sweet sweet, kahit I sang langgam di malasahan and proposal kasi Walang tamis) But I am so young back then,fresh pa ako bhie, and he is 11 years older than me, gurang na sya in short. Kinilig pa rin ako (or pinaniwala ko sarili ko siguro that time) , even though my heart sank hoping he would have proposed formally. We planned our wedding, but he is not that participative. Parang, o sya, planuhin MO lahat aatend Lang ako. It is like I am marrying myself alone, but when it comes to meeting me, to have sex with me, I can feel the excitement he is showing me (wagas ang libog ng Lolo nyo) . His family never did the traditional pamamanhikan nor meeting my parents to pay respect for taking my hand in marriage. How ignorant of me in those times. I guess I am really blinded by the old guy. He just called my parents through phone and say, “Hello Nay, Tay, I would like to marry your daughter.” and conversation ended. I felt the pain and hesitancy of my parents back then. Their anxiety and fear for me, their one and only princess, being taken by this middle age guy, a total stranger who never came to meet them. I am a fucking asshole. My family ignored those facts and questions in their mind. They love me, and they saw the excitement and happiness that I am getting married. (I am so lucky with my parents) As months has passed, I started doubting myself to get married to him, I noticed some flaws. I started to feel being used as a trophy girlfriend, a sexual object. Parausan Lang feel gurl??? I was ready to end our relationship, and the unfortunate event happened. Our affair has been reported by our fellow Filipino colleagues. I was so scared and helpless, afraid of getting jailed and deported. I am not ready to become a young jobless woman. My siblings need me, financially to support their studies. I can’t afford seeing my siblings’ future taken away because of my stupidity. Gaga kasi, gurl. Yan ang napala ng pag explore. So, I got married in an instant, in the Philippine Embassy of Riyadh. The place where Filipino couples getting married in a conservative, strict country like KSA. I got married in a rush, without the presence of my family. Me… Alone… And that’s how my husband had the chance to con me. Pano ba? Sexually,.. Hmmmm… He drained all the youth in me, wow.. Maka drain Lang eh no? Having me in bed almost every day and night, Kung pwede nya ako chukchakin ng 5 beses, ay gagawin nya.. Nakuha nya kasi ambata eh. I am not sexually accomplished, but I pretended to be. He is harsh at times, he wanted to see how I react. His foreplays are rough. And I want it to end, so I did my role of being sexually in to it. I dreamed to be a good wife. A wife that will fulfill my husband’s needs, physically, sexually, emotionally, even financially. I wanted to become a mother as well, so we got pregnant in one try. I thought he will become a caring husband, an excited father to be thought it is not his first time. But, in the first check up I had, he

chose to spend his time with his so called friends rather than assisting me and be with me in my first ultrasound. I was hurt. I never expected that. Mabait sya, my mind says. Months has passed, my pregnancy is very much stable. Still working tough even on my 38th week. Malakas to, bhie.. In those months together, he was insisting on taking bank loans. I am hesistant. I am not the type of person who likes to have UTANG because I want my salary complete. However, he had me say Yes. I took a loan and it was approved because my salary is high enough to meet their required scale. Just like that, when I received the loan, he took charge of it. Sent the money to his parents, telling me they will starts to build a house for us in their place. Since I believed their words, I just went on with the flow, not knowing his father is taking a Chunk of money as well to gamble. I was able to deliver my first child normally. I was such a happy proud mother. He is as well but since having a child in KSA is difficult without having someone to take care of my son. We have to sacrifice and send our son home to the Philippines. It was my first, greatest heartache and it will always be until now. I tried to be strong for my child’s future and my husband is giving 500 riyals share for my son monthly out of the 4000 riyals he is receiving from his salary, while I share 2000 riyals, Mas Madatung ako eh.. I did not bother to ask for more not unless it is my son’s birthday or it is Christmas time. Di ako demanding, Promise. Because I tried to understand his situation that he has another child to feed and my salary is higher. The loan I took, I am paying 2/3 of it monthly, while he shares 1/3 of it. Trying hard ako maging perpekto ng asawa. Every vacation we will divide our weeks from my place to his place. Nevertheless, another ill fated event occurred. We had a fight in his place. And his father suddenly involved himself in our argument and threw us out from their place, in the house I spent my money with which his father gambled as well. Lakas ng loob Kaya sigawan kami, PUTANG INa LUMAYAS KAYO DITO! Ako naman, e di layas. Masunuring Bata. He let his father throw us out in the middle of the night. Yet, I am strong (though sa utak ko, tang Ina pigilan MO naman ako asawa ko, and my situation be like, ASA KA GURL). So, I took my siblings with me and went to our relatives house. I could not fathom the fact that he let me wander in the middle of the night with my siblings. Parang, bahala ka kahit mamatay ka situation. Ganon. Nonetheless, ignorant me. We patched things up, I could not let my child grow up with a broken family. And the same goes by. My life revolved with same routine. Giving money, covering my child’s expenses and I let it all happen. My mistake,maganda pero gaga naman.. I believed in him. Really. Sabi nya kasi mabait sya. With the pangako also to fix the ownership of our house. (Asa PA more, ne.) And there it goes. Years passed, I got employed by a better employer in Saudi, higher salary. And again, he convinced me with another loan. And I gave in, tanga Lang pero maganda. Yan nalang pakonswelo sa sarili, pagbigyan na. So, I gave half of my loan to my husband. Then, I don’t know how cursed I am or him? His contract ended. Though there is a new employer willing to take him in. He refused. He said, he wanted to be with our son.. Ayyyy… natouch ako dun, gurl. So, I let him go back to Philippines, with investment plans, business plans and all even having a baby. Dami naming drawing, ay. Hanggang drawing Lang pala. Even, going home and taking care of our son, drawing din ay. Umasa ang Bata sa wala.. I did not oblige him to give monetary assistance to our son since July 2020 for the fact that, I wanted him to save the money he received from his severance pay in order to add up to our planned investments (planned talaga Yun, planado.. Planado nyang isugal at waldasin. ) Moreover, with cash assistance from me until he left to Philippines. Sugar mommy Lang.. Kagwapo ba? Hindi,

pangit po talaga asawa ko. Nabudol Lang talaga ako. When he arrived in taguig, first 2 months he is okay. That even when, he even asked for 100k, nag pauto uli ang gaga, PAK! MONEY TRANSFER, automatic ako bhie.. He said everything is going according to plan. (according to plan pala Para magwaldas) until, the mid of December 2020, he started having mood shifts, parang lalaking nireregla, inaaway ako tapos aamu-in kasi gusto ng cybersex. I tried to be more understanding, ang bait ko Kaya, because maybe because of LDR situation and the stress of pandemic. In spite of the mood swings, the indirect accusations and his possessive behaviors shows. From 2011 to 2020, of course, medyo kilala mo naman asawa mo e no.. From the eve of my birthday December 23, to the day of my birthday December 24, Pati pasko hang gang New Year. He was so fucking possessive that all I could do was to have a video call on him almost 24hours a day. If he wants cybersex, I have to give in, I have to show my body and play with it. Pokpok na pakiramdam ko.. Medyo first class naman siguro. Because if not, he will accuse me of having an affair. Speaking, he even says I have a man beside me and he hears the voices of the man. And me like, WHAAAAT??? My momo ba sa kwarto ko? And take note, he records our video calls. Then early January 2021, I was surprised by a post of a stranger to my FB account on my son’s picture, accusing my husband, a theft, a con man, stating ‘that your husband namely BLAH BLAH Blah owes me a 100k and promised to pay me back but he did not, you’re a family of thieves and so on. ‘ Nawindang ako, bhie. Agad Agad, delete post, teng ene.. Sa picture pa ng gwapo Kong anak. I confronted my husband, sya pa galit bhie and gradually, he admitted that he owes money to some people, and he cashed out all the money to his friends, and alcohols and gambling. BABAE? Meron ba?? Malay ko.. So, Nothing left. That’s when I thought, Kaya pala Kung ano ano akusasyon kasi sya mismo may kalokohang ginagawa. DEFENSE MECHANISM USED – PROJECTION Again, supportive wife here (tanga Lang, day, wishing ba) I said, it’s okay, it’s only money and so on. And I gave almost 40k just to have an end and have him start again to apply for jobs. I gave him links and ads and places to apply back abroad. Pero, ASA PA MORE. Waley.. Despite of what happened, the endless fight, accusations pa more, and demanding for money did not end. The messages of people I don’t know kept coming-in in my messenger. And my vacation day is here! I was very excited to be with him and make a baby. But fuck him, kahit sa eroplano iharap ko daw cp ko sa bawat taong katabi ko, gago sya. Para akong tangang inikot ang cp. And he was not satisfied at all, tagalan ko daw iharap ang cam.. E di wow, wag na.. Awayin nalang nya ako kesa ireklamo ako ng passengers. And hello Philippines during pandemic, quarantined in a high standard hotel. And of course, my great husband wants to barge-in in my hotel, because sabi nya I have a a lalake in my room.. May nakikita daw at naririnig, and me be like, Saan banda sa kwarto yang nakikita MO? Like, I really wants to see and hear it as well. Kaya, e di wow uli.. Ang lakas ko naman sa OWWA at coast guard Para bumali ng quarantine protocol.. I really tried.. I tried… and I tried… and I tried to fix our marriage… message after message of people I never knew and people I knew hoping I would be the one to pay the debts of my VERY GOOD HUSBAND, still surprises me. To the point that, Even looking at my messenger or FB gave me a phobia. I am so helpless.. Like, sheeeet… anong nangyare gurl? Saan ako kakapit. And my husband even wants to take charge of my son’s bank.. But no way..! LIKE TAMA NA, ULOL.! LALABAN ANG INA! BUT I REALLY Tried… nag effort ako… nagpakatanga ako.. Who wants a broken family for their child, right? Wala di ba? I tried to hide the flaws of our marriage from our son. I cried secretly, I hid the phone away when his father starts to shout at me. But you see, my son is smarter than me. He saw my tears, my

sadness. He caught his father shouting at me at times via videocall. Huli sa akto ni bulilit. Pero di ko Alam. My vacation ended with a failure to have a complete family bonding but accomplished mother and son bonding. I tried to fulfill my son’s needs with my existence alone. And hello me ngayon… nganga… Still lost… basag na basag… I tried to fix myself up… I have to, for my son’s future, I may not be accomplished with my marriage life, but thankfully God blessed my career as a Frontliner. My son’s has no one now but me. My husband still asks for money. I changed my FB name to Korean characters. I unfriended my husband to avoid those people he owes some money and people sending me, KAWAWA AKO KASI NILOKO AKO. Tama na uy. Masakit. Sobrang sakit.. Tao po ako… animal ang ugali pero Hindi bato.. But I am hiding all my tears and wounds from the people surrounding me even though they knew, ginago ako ng asawa ko. They did not bother to ask, they respect my silence and I thanked them for that. But in reality, I don’t know what to do. I felt stuck in a quicksand, slowly drowning in sorrows, sadness and frustrations. I was left behind, drowning. Tortured with this unexplained pain and agony. I am conned by my husband. I spent money on a house which will never be mine. I spent money which will never come back to me.. I was left, zero…. And I don’t know what to do… How can I help myself… When I don’t even know if our law can protect me and my child.. It is me and my child… Against a MAN who is supposed to be our protection but rather, the Man who thinks nothing but himself, he himself is a danger to me and my son. His delusions and hallucinations still continues. Baka may third eye asawa ko???? I don’t know. His unending hurtful messages kept pouring in. Even a recorded sound of the bed na yumuyogyog, he will send it to me. His unending demands of money. Like wow, bat di sya magtrabaho…. Sugar mommy ako??? Ako??? Gandang sugar mommy mo naman, bhie… I just wished…. I just hoped… The government will someday established a law for the wives who has been conned financially by their own husbands. May VAWC, PAO, PCW, et cetera but how come it is near yet so far…. I just don’t know the proper law to fight against him… I can’t annul him, it’s too expensive.. Hanggang sa patayin nya nalang siguro ako.. Legal separation? OMG, how about the house.. In short, sya nag enjoy sa bahay na dugo at pawis Kong pinundar. Our son? How can I demand monetary assistance when he is jobless… I asked legally, and nothing happened.. It only benefits him, not me and my son… Kaya wow.. Hanggang sa mamatay o mapatay nya ako ay.. Our Family Court aspires to fix marriages as much as possible, and it is good.. But does it means, wag maghiwalay, magpaabuso ka Hanggang sa mamatay. (sighed) So, here I am… What I am now? You can say, I am a wife, sexually and physically used by my husband according to his own time of desires and needs. I am a wife, who is financially and emotionally, mentally abused by my husband. I am a wife PROFESSIONALLY CONNED BY MY HUSBAND BEFORE HE CONNED OTHER PEOPLE.. I am his long term conned victim.

[kueputuwarnaijo]

confession cookies | bokuto koutarou

Bokuto Koutarou tries to confess to you at school, just before he leaves for the school trip. He tries to confess with a box of cookies, which he tried to bake himself.  

Bokuto can’t stop fidgeting, and it’s pissing Konoha greatly. He clutched the box tightly in his hands and sweat beads started to form on his forehead. Honestly, nervous really is an understatement in this case. 

“Can you stop fidgeting?!” Konoha yelled, as he looked up from his locker, his voice dripping with annoyance. “You’re starting to make me nervous too, and I’m not the one confessing. By the way, if you’re gonna keep clutching the box like that, there’ll be no more cookies to give to her.”

“Huh?” Bokuto said as he looked at Konoha, who was busy with his locker. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You’re gonna squish the box with your hands if you keep doing that.” Konoha answered flatly, his gaze still focused to his locker. “Wow, my locker is indeed messy as hell.”

Bokuto looked at his hands, which were clutching the box tightly. He quickly put the box on the table located next to the lockers. He pulled the chair under the table and sigh deeply as he sat. He examined the box carefully, making sure that there are no flaws.

Today is the day where Bokuto will confess to you. He had prepared a box of homemade cookies, which he tried to bake on his own (but failed miserably). He eventually got one of his sisters to help him bake the cookies, while the other one helped him prepared the box. Nonetheless, it’s still a gift from him.

“Are you done?” Bokuto asked. “I don’t want to miss this chance!”

“Yeah, yeah, wait a minute.”  Konoha replied as he closed his locker, locking it, and put the key in his pocket. “Let’s go, Lover Boy.”

“I literally couldn’t sleep last night!” Bokuto exclaimed as they both walked down the hallway. “It feels like my heart’s gonna explode! I just wanna give her the box now!”

“Wait, you didn’t sleep last night?”

“Nope! Not one bit!”

“Damn, you like her that much, huh?”

“Yup!”

The both of them walked down the stairs quietly. Konoha could see that Bokuto is very nervous, well more like nervous and excited at the same time, but still extremely nervous. He can’t stop fidgeting and couldn’t focus on yesterday’s club activities. He’s been rambling about this day for the past four days.

“So, have you figure out what you’re gonna say yet?” Konoha asked as he closed his locker, locking it, and put the key in his pocket.

Bokuto looked at him with confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean, bro? Say what?”

Konoha stopped in his tracks and stared at him in pure disbelief.

“... are you... are you serious?”

“What? I really don’t get it, man.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“WHAT???”

Bokuto stared at his friend, clearly confused. “What are you trying to say, dude? I don’t understand.”

“Listen, Bokuto,” Konoha said slowly, his hands gripping Bokuto’s shoulders. “Girls like guys who can sway them up with words, you know? If you messed up, there’s a huge chance that she’ll laugh and reject you, and trust me, the gossip will spread like wildfire in this school.”

“WHAT?!” Bokuto yelled as his golden eyes widened. “YOU HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING WHEN YOU CONFESS??”

“DUH!” Konoha slapped the back of his dear friend’s head. “Do you want to be known as ‘The Famous Volleyball Captain that was rejected by a second-year’? You’ll be the talk of the school for at least a week! Hell, even the teachers will know about the news of your rejection!”

Bokuto is now very frightened. “How... How do I not know about this? Why didn’t any of you tell me? She’s definitely gonna reject me!”

“We thought you knew!”

“How can I think about cool words just 5 minutes before I gave her the cookies? Bro, you know I’m not that smart!”

All of his excitement has been replaced with fear. Can he really do this? Can he really confess to you? He didn’t prepare any cool words that he could use to sway you. He only brought the box of cookies. Bokuto can feel his hair slowly deflating as his optimism hits rock bottom.

Konoha cleared his throat. “Now now, let’s stay optimistic and calm and not in emo mode. You have a confession to do!”

Bokuto didn’t have the energy to answer his friend. He kept thinking about how you’ll reject him because he didn’t have any cool words to say.

‘I should’ve paid more attention in class.’ he thought grimly. ‘I could really use Kuroo’s brain right now.’

“She’s in the same class as Akaashi, right?” Konoha asked. “Why don’t we call Akaashi to discuss this problem? Akaashi is smart, he’ll now what to do.”

Honestly, Konoha just wanted an excuse to get Akaashi to deal with this problem. He forgot how clueless Bokuto can be.

“GREAT IDEA!” Bokuto exclaimed. “Let’s go get him right now!”

The both of them quickly walked (well, Bokuto sprinted) to the Mass Hall, where the second years are currently doing last minute studying for their finals. In this school, the third years started their finals earlier, because they have to study for the college entrance exam. 

The Mass Hall is filled with the second-years trying to cram the last bits of information to their brain, and you are not an exception. You were listening to Akaashi’s last minute explanation about trigonometry but then someone burst in, literally. 

“AGHAAASHIII!!” Bokuto called as he barged in to the Mass Hall. “AGHAASHIIII, COME HERE PLEASE!”

Everyone’s attention quickly shifted to the third year who stood in front of the Hall’s entrance. Everyone knew who he is, but they didn’t expect a third year student who was supposed to be on a school trip to burst in twenty minutes before the first final exam. You clearly didn’t expect this, and neither did Akaashi. Akaashi sighed and quickly walked over to the energetic owl-like captain. 

“Quiet down, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replied as he sent apologetic stares to everyone in the Mass Hall. “Everyone is currently studying for finals.”

“Ah yes, sorry,” Bokuto smiled sheepishly, and he caught you smiling at him, which made him blush. “I need to talk to you outside, now.”

Akaashi followed him outside without speaking a word, poor boy must’ve thought that this was something between life and death. He saw Konoha waiting outside the Mass Hall.

“What’s wrong, Bokuto-san? Konoha-san? My exam starts in twenty minutes, I hope this won’t be long.”

“It’ll just take a minute,” Konoha replied. “Tell him, Bo.”

“Do you know any cool words that could, um, y’know, sway a girl?” Bokuto asked. 

“Pardon?” Akaashi said as he looked at Bokuto and Konoha. “Cool words? I don’t understand the point of your question, Bokuto-san.”

“There’s this girl that Bokuto likes. She’s in your class,” Konoha explained. “Bokuto wants you to help him prepare some cool words so that he can confess to her.”

“I just need some cool words to sway her!” Bokuto added. “I brought her a box of cookies! I just don’t know what to say to her...”

Akaashi knew exactly who they’re talking about. “Wait here, both of you. I’ll be right back.”

Akaashi went back inside the Hall. Just as he disappeared, Bokuto felt the excitement coming back to his body. Konoha knew he can always rely on Akaashi to make Bokuto feel better. 

“Calm down, Bo,” Konoha put his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Everything will be all right. Just... take deep breaths.”

After a couple of minutes later, Akaashi came out of the Mass Hall. However, he’s not alone. Akaashi had called you to go outside with him. Konoha’s eyes widened as he realized that calling Akaashi was huge mistake. Meanwhile, Bokuto kinda felt betrayed. How can Akaashi do this to him? How can he send him off without any preparations? 

“Bokuto-san has something to say to you,” Akaashi said as he looked at Bokuto, who was gaping at him while clutching the box of cookies. “Go ahead, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto felt that his throat was so dry, he couldn’t even form a word. Poor boy is so nervous that it looks like he’s about to faint. His brain scrambled to fine information about anything that sound cool. 

“Hello, Bokuto!” You said as you gave him a smile. “What is it that you want to tell me?”

“I....”

“Yes?” 

Bokuto tried to remember every cool word that everyone has said in this life, but his brain couldn’t function. He tried to think about Kuroo, his best friend from another school. Kuroo is a pretty cool guy, so he tried to remember the scientific things Kuroo said. His mind is completely blank, so he went with his instings. 

“MAGNESIUM!” He yelled loudly, startling all three of you. Bokuto could feel the color draining from his face as he realized that he had said the wrong word.

“... What ??” 

“I.. uh... I mean...-”

Bokuto has never felt this stupid in his entire life. Why, why did had to remember the fun part of Kuroo’s song now? Right in front of his crush? Konoha and Akaashi were both flabbergasted. Konoha bit his tongue, trying not to hold his laughter in, but the poor boy failed.

“HAHAHAHAHAAHAAHA!” Konoha laughed loudly, completely ignoring Bokuto’s pitiful face. “MAGNESIUM?! HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHH-”

“Ssst!” Akaashi whispered as he elbowed him. “Be quiet, Konoha-san!”

“I...”

Bokuto’s head snapped to look at you, who were trying to talk and hold your laughter at the same time. Bokuto’s hair were starting to deflate and honestly, it’s the cutest thing ever.

“I’m sorry, but chemistry is not my best subject,” you replied. “I’m sorry Bokuto, is there anything I can do for you? If not, I would like to excuse myself and go back to studying inside.”

“WAIT!” Bokuto grabbed your hand. “Please wait. I... I just want to give you this.”

He gave you the box that he’s been holding in his hand. You opened the box and you realized that he gave you your favorite cookies. You looked at Bokuto, whose own face is red with embarrassment. 

“Are these... cookies?”

“Yes! I made them all by myself!”

“Thank you, Bokuto!” You said happily as you gave him your best smile. Bokuto loved that smile of yours. 

“So, please give me a second chance!” He said as he tried not to cry. “Please, please, don’t reject me!”

“Huh?” you asked, your head tilted in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t--”

“PLEASE!” Bokuto pleaded, no, the boy practically yelled. “JUST ONE MORE CHANCE, I PROMISE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEA--”

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi interrupted the pleading captain. “Please refrain from making so much noise, a lot of people are studying inside the Hall.”

“Sorry,” Bokuto replied gloomily. “Just,  please. One more chance.”

“Of course, Bokuto,” Your cheeks started to turn red. “First of all, thank you for this amazing gift, I’m really grateful. Second, may I know the reason why you gave me these cookies?”

Bokuto looked at Akaashi and Konoha for reassurance, and the latter gave him a thumbs up. “Tell her, Bo!”

“I like you,” Bokuto said as he hold your unoccupied hand. “A lot, actually.”

“... you do?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Why?” Bokuto looked confused. “Because you’re so nice and caring, you’re fun and your jokes are really funny! You have the best smile! I liked you ever since we started going home together back in August.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. Did the cute volleyball captain just declared that he likes you? 

“I couldn’t hold my feelings for you anymore. I know I didn’t have anything cool to say, so please please please give me another chance! I’ll do better when we become a couple, I promise!”

You feel your heart skips a beat. This is the cutest confession you ever had, as well as the only confession you ever had. You look down at the box in your hands, and then you look at Akaashi, who smiled proudly. Then, you look at the third-year in front of you.

“So... uh... will you be mine?”

[ootori-sibs]

Kyoya's second shot

Episode nine: Monday madness!

Monday was… well it was certainly a day. It had started with Tamaki telling Kyoya how Haruhi had been distant during their date, Kyoya comforted him with harsh words that had soft undertones- he didn't want to be too soft, especially not in the classroom. He didn't say anything good about Haruhi in his comfort however, only assuring Tamaki that he's obviously not done anything wrong, it would be cruel for Haruhi to be mad at him. He wanted to plant these thoughts in his head, that Haruhi was the one to blame, that Haruhi should never be with him- friendship was fine of course. Kyoya didn't want them to stop being friends, he just wanted Tamaki to be single so he wasn't morally abhorrent when he came onto the king.

The lessons were boring, Kyoya understood most of the material already, so he just doodled in his book, writing down some of his feelings and actions.

10:01 - Haruhi had been distant with Tamaki, this is a good sign.

10:10 - Class is so boring, at least Tamaki is here. He makes everything worth it.

10:17 - Why do his eyes reflect light like that? I never understood how a man can have just beautiful purple eyes, it's incredible. When his head tilts forward to reread the task on the worksheet, I can see each strand of hair reflecting light individually, it makes me feel so much better to know that this is what I'm working towards, he is everything I've ever wanted.

10:25 - We've got a theme today I believe, villains if I'm not mistaken. I don't remember what the costumes look like, only that mine is nothing but a suit and hat, just incredibly business- of course that would be my villainous niche; though I'm really more of a conspiratory villain if you think about it, or perhaps a Disney type. I wonder how Tamaki believes he should act as a villain, that ought to be interesting.

10:40 - There's something about how Tamaki speaks when he's thinking, when there's no emotions behind his words. When he asks me a question, when I know more on the subject then he does, when his voice turns so soft, so gentle. There's something about how he listens to what I explain to him, taking in all the information- each and every word. It's so wonderful to be listened to.

11:09 - When we get married, what last name will we have? It makes sense for it to be his, but I'm sure that would make father furious. Possibly a hyphenated one then, though which name would go first?

When the morning lessons finally finished, Kyoya had filled out an entire page and a half with a mixture of doodles and journal entries, it was beautiful. He walked with Tamaki slowly, listening to the blonde begin to get excited over today's theme. Tamaki's voice was wonderful, sometimes you could pick up his french accent a little more on certain words, and the way he blends the three languages together when he's excited, Kyoya loves it, it's one of his favourite things about Tamaki.

They reached the club room, ready to spend this break setting up for the lunch session. Haruhi and the twins were already there, sat down and talking, Kyoya could guess what they were talking about by the way they all looked at Tamaki as he walked in the room- Kyoya was once again a mere shadow. He slid up beside them, arms crossed, "what were you saying about him?" They seemed startled by that, sharing a glance between each other, Haruhi was the one to answer.

"We weren't talking about him."

Kyoya lifted on hand, placing it on the back of her chair. He smiled softly, adjusting his glasses and leaning forward just a little, "how dare you lie to me," his words sounded soft, but everyone could hear the venom behind them, "I saw you all look at him, and he told me how cold you've been to him of late. What, were you saying?"

Haruhi looked startled, glancing to the twins who looked torn, and not wanting to step in, she sighed, Kyoya could see the understanding in her eyes, "look, Kyoya-senpai, I understand that you just want the best for your best friend, but it's really none of your business what I say. I said nothing negative about him, that's all I will tell you. But please don't be so rude about it."

He felt himself tense up, the room was suddenly a chess board, Haruhi was his opponent. He stared her down, aware that if he pushed too hard then the twins would come to her defence again, but maybe there was a way to get them on his side- she was still the outsider after all. "You might not be aware of this Haruhi, though in sure we've explained it to you time after time, but around these circles, reputation is everything. So forgive me for ensuring you don't down talk about our king, he's our friend first and foremost, you have no power to hold over him."

"She wasn't holding any power over him…" Hikaru spoke, almost to himself, but it was exactly what Kyoya needed.

"Well, don't take my words as gospel, but when I spent Saturday with him," he sighs softly, making sure they all see the worry in his face, "he kept talking about how he's terrified he'd somehow upset you, I had to distract him. I have no idea how you manage to scare him like you, but let me assure you of this, Haruhi; if you hurt him any more then you already clearly are, I will not be forgiving." There was truth in his words, he wouldn't ever forgive her if she purposely hurt him, but he trusted she'd never do that… though he did worry about how distant from him she was. No, the real effect of his words was how the twins reacted, sharing a glance between them, they looked upset when they turned to Haruhi.

"You hurt the boss..?" They spoke in unison, the conflict clear in their voice.

Haruhi started, "no, not like that- I didn't hurt him at all! Not intentionally anyway…" she trailed off, clearly wondering if Kyoya was telling the truth. That was all Kyoya had wanted, heading over to help Tamaki with a satisfied smile.

He helped Tamaki fit the diamonds into the fake skull's eyes, not sure why he hadn't done this beforehand. Tamaki smiled to have the assistance, glancing over to the others just as Honey and Mori arrived, "are you lot not going to help? Come on!" He waved them over, they all stood up, smiling and ready to work. He was like magic, hypnotising each and every one of them. They were all ready to do whatever he asked of them, and he knew it, he was so powerful… and Kyoya loved power.

The rest of the set up session went by without anything notable happening, then the second set of morning lessons went by, just more doodling, no words to speak of. Then came their lunch session, they all packed into the dressing room, getting into their outfits. Kyoya hadn't noticed his waistcoat had a corset before now, it tightened at the front however, so he could tighten it on his own. Unfortunately, he discovered that it hurt if he pulled the string tight enough, so he was the last to finish getting dressed, having just sat there, tightening and loosening the corset.

It was hard to pull it all the way, but if he used some of the furniture as an aid he could get it really tight, he was just loosening it again as the curtains were pushed back slightly. "Kyoya-senpai? Are you almost ready?" Haruhi was peering in, seeing Kyoya sat on the stool, breathless and blissful. It must have looked strange, the usually quite collected shadow king, sat there looking decidedly not put together. "Are you ok..?"

He felt embarrassed suddenly, standing up and adjusting it slightly, "I- yes Haruhi, I'm fine. I'll be out in a second." He couldn't meet her eyes, he didn't want to know what she'd thought of that, he hadn't gotten flushed so he knew she had enough sense to realise it's not what anyone else would have assumed, but he hoped she wouldn't realise his flaw.

"What… what were you doing? Were you struggling to tighten it or..?"

"Haruhi," he spoke bluntly, clearly embarrassed, "I suggest you purge this moment from your thoughts, though I promise it was not what you'd assume." His hands shook, he was so stupid! How could he have become so enraptured in the pain? At school nonetheless! He felt low, and sighed as she closed the curtains separating him from the outside.

12:12 - Corsets are painful and asphyxiating, Haruhi saw me whilst I was hypnotised by the pain. I hope she does not assume anything- everything she could assume is bad for me. I should buy a corset.

He quickly put his outfit on, keeping his corset as tight as humanly possible. He adjusted the suit jacket, and made sure the gloves fit like- well, gloves. He stepped back into the club room, ignoring the look Haruhi gave him as he took his place at the table made up to look like a desk, of course his niche would be business…

He glanced over to where Tamaki was positioned in his little throne, surrounded by black and gold silks and velvet. He had the skull in his hands, and was posing with it, ready for the girls to come in and see him. But what really took Kyoya by surprise was the outfit, it didn't just take him by surprise, he swooned. It was some sort of take of the traditional prince outfit, an old fashioned european style military coat in black and gold, open, revealing the rest of his outfit like they were theatre curtains. He wore a loose, ruffled shirt, only the very lowest buttons done up, you could see the soft skin of his chest and for some reason it felt so much better then when he was shirtless- Kyoya could feel himself turning pink under the makeup. His trousers were black and tight fitting, though they were only a regular cotton, his large black boots took away from the trousers, the gold heels a rather brash display of wealth, one that matched the crown placed atop his head. It looked… interesting.

But the thing that was best about themes, it how much Tamaki got into character; even before the girls arrived there was a cruel glint in his eye, the way his lips twitched up into a grin said nothing but pride and unchecked ego, even the way he moved said he knew exactly what he was doing and how to get his own way. It was exhilarating, and Kyoya would be lying if he said he wasn't bothered by it, of course not in a bad way… just in a way that he probably shouldn't be at this moment in time.

So he opened his laptop, just as the girls came in, hoping to distract himself with finances- but there wasn't even that much for him to do, so he decided to create a whole new email account for the club and save all of the information there. They already had a website so an email wouldn't be too much work, he wished he had access to the website, he'd be so much better at it then the twins. Some girls sat there, strange, he never usually had any guests. He greeted them with a curt nod nonetheless, "ladies," he welcomed them without even looking, continuing to type.

They giggled at that, asking what he was up to, he told them he was doing business, one laughed, suggesting that his business was evil. Kyoya raised an eyebrow, cocking his head towards her with a sly smile, "now why would I tell you that?" He knew the girls went for it when he dropped his tone an octave, and it wasn't that hard- he found it funny that the same tactic that he used to scare was the same that sent those girls into flustered giggles. He hated the attention the girls at this school gave him, he much preferred when the other hosts got that attention instead of him, it made him feel uncomfortable to be looked at like that… he didn't even swing that way. He did consider the fact that he had been looking at Tamaki like that, but Tamaki was his friend, Tamaki was bi, Tamaki enjoyed being looked at- Kyoya only dressed like this because it was mandatory.

He just put up with the girls, being nice, playing the part- he'd never been so glad to be cast as an evil businessman, he could keep doing the finances as he spoke to them. It was worse with the fact that he was struggling to breathe with the corset so tight, but he managed to appear completely fine and okay until the girls all left. The moment the door closed, he slammed his face into the table fairly hard, staying there with a heavy sigh of relief. When he lifted his head he noticed some of the others looking at him in worry, "I…" he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to say, so he just answered honestly, "can't breathe."

Haruhi just huffed, "you should've asked for help with the corset then, I asked you if you were alright and you said you were fine." The twins laugh a little at that, finding it so funny that Kyoya would have difficulty with corsets.

"Oh were you having trouble Kyoya?" Tamaki looked slightly concerned, stepping forward a little, "need me to help you undo it?" His tone was so soft, so caring, so innocent- but Kyoya suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed by the whole idea, standing up and holding his hands up in front of him.

"Oh there's no need, I wasn't having any trouble, I simply had it too tight."

It was clear that Haruhi at least was suspicious of him, and Honey seems suspicious of something else- of what, Kyoya wasn't sure. Either way, the conversation ended there, and they all went to go and get changed back into their uniforms. Kyoya didn't really want to take his corset off, so he wore it under his shirt, noticing how it pinched at his bare skin now he had nothing to protect against it, he wondered why Tamaki had ordered this specific waistcoat, it wasn't the one they'd looked at, they'd never even spoken about corsets. There was a tiny part of his mind that thought, maybe, just maybe Tamaki did it because he likes corsets, they are commonly feminine… and Tamaki likes feminine…

13:25 - The corset is wonderful, I wonder if Tamaki likes it. I hope so. He's wonderful. I don't like the guests looking at me like that, but if it were Tamaki~ That is my favourite thought.

Kyoya was… embarrassed by the amount of hearts doodled around that entry, though he couldn't help being so smitten. He sat in class and he absolutely couldn't focus on the lesson, he was just staring over at Tamaki, he was so pretty… Kyoya can't help but let out a sigh, though it was laboured due to the corset. He loved the fact that Tamaki had kept the eyeliner and black lipstick on during class, he looked some kind of ethereal, it took Kyoya's breath away more effectively than any corset could. He doodled little sketches of Tamaki's eyes in his book, being surprisingly good at it.

It felt wonderful to doodle like that, freeing his mind for the eyes he loves so much… Tamaki's eyes are purple, they're shiny and beautiful and the same colour as Kyoya's flowers, the flower was everything, Tamaki was the morning dew, the petals… and that made Kyoya the thorns, the protector, the one who drew blood. He would be glad to cause harm, especially to himself, but to anyone really, should Tamaki ask. He knew he'd never ask, but he didn't care, he knew he was smitten enough to do so. He'd do anything for Tamaki, he'd sworn it to himself when he first met the guy, back when he hated him, he swore he'd see to Tamaki's every whim… and he now knew it to be true.

He was in a trance-like state it seemed, as Tamaki had to shake him gently by the shoulder by the time they had to get up to go to the club room, he took Kyoya by the wrist, smiling softly, "come on Kyoya! Let's go and meet up with the others, only one more session to go!" He seemed to understand that Kyoya didn't enjoy entertaining guests, promising that there's only one session left before they can all go home. Kyoya simply nodded, and they headed back up to the club room, walking practically shoulder to shoulder, their hands brushed a couple of times and Kyoya felt a buzzing in his chest, sure they'd held hands before but this was different, he was in love.

[sign-from-god-complex]

cuddles and catnaps

Summary: Logan was absolutely exhausted. Thankfully, Roman’s there to help.

Pairing: Platonic logince 

Warnings: Brief description of emotional numbness, very non-serious mention of hypothetical murder and lots of sleep-deprivation/insomnia-related things.

A/N: I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to write the logince conversation I wish they’d have in canon. Just let my boys get along!!! It’s what they deserve.

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It was a quiet night, and Logan was awake.

This wasn't uncommon necessarily—rest did not always come easily to the logical side and it had been a particularly busy week—but it was frustrating nonetheless. He'd tried to relax, tried breathing techniques and distractions and anything else he could think of but it was no use; Logan simply couldn't sleep.

It had been a problem for the past few nights, in fact. Logan's mind wouldn't stop whirring with all the potential outcomes or solutions to the most recent dilemma Thomas was having and he was unable to untangle his thoughts from it.

He thought that he managed to get an hour or so of sleep last night but honestly he couldn't say for sure; things were beginning to blend together slightly.

As the clock hit 3 am, Logan decided to give up trying. He recalled hearing about how merely pretending to sleep makes you feel more rested than if you were to get up and stay awake but, quite honestly, if Logan had to lay here one more minute he felt he may figuratively explode.

Slipping out from under the sheets, he walked over to open the door and head down to the commons, hoping that if he generated a change in scenery it might prompt his body to allow him at least a nap. Best-case scenario, he would manage to fall asleep on the couch while watching a documentary.

He crept down the hallway as quietly as possible, noting the absence of light from under the doors of his fellow sides. It was common for them to be in bed at this time—provided Thomas was as well—but it also wasn't unheard of for them to be a little too worked up to get to sleep, much as Logan was right now. It seemed, however, that the others were asleep, which simultaneously comforted and distressed him.

It was obviously beneficial for the other three to be getting optimal sleep and rest. Not only was it better for them but it was better for Thomas as well—things tended to go awry when any one side was particularly sleep-deprived. 

Roman's reaction to lack of sleep was actually quite typical. You could tell Roman hadn't been sleeping well simply because he seemed tired. Not sleepy, that was vastly different. No, Roman tended to look exhausted, trailing around and reacting sluggishly to any input from the other sides. His usual vigour and bounce were missing, replaced with mostly blank looks and absent stares.

It was actually the easiest of the four's behaviours to recognise and the other sides always rushed to get him to bed when they picked up on it. They could always afford a day off for Roman's health.

Plus, of course, Thomas's productivity greatly suffered when Roman wasn't at his best. Without Thomas's creativity, videos were extremely difficult if not impossible to complete, with any attempted acting being subpar and any attempted writing being worse than that. That's not even to mention the kind of slump Thomas fell into when Roman became particularly exhausted; it was upsetting to witness their host look so dejected and quiet. Truly, taking a day off was always the best course of action.

Virgil's response to sleep deprivation was mostly avoidance. He tended to put as much distance between himself and the other three as was possible, and luckily enough, the three of them had quickly learnt to spot it.

Getting Virgil to sleep was actually vastly more difficult than Roman. Roman generally whined slightly but was really too exhausted to protest all that much; Virgil, however, got angry when he was tired. His jabs were never taken personally past the first time it occurred—the others understood that Virgil's lashing out was not out of malice but more out of frustration and a feeling of being overwhelmed—though it was still jarring. Virgil was usually angry for them more so than at them nowadays but with exhaustion he became terse, snapping at anyone who dared to lend a helping hand.

Though it took slightly more effort, they usually got through the facade pretty quickly, watching Virgil just entirely deflate and forcibly cuddling him to sleep.

And when Virgil was tired and angry and distant, Thomas was a wreck. Thomas dealt with his emotions far better than Virgil did but that didn't mean he didn't feel them. When Virgil was like this, all the little things that Thomas could normally deal with managed to get to him—sharp noises and abrupt motions causing him to flinch and glare and any small inconvenience suddenly becoming the indicator of a horrible day. Thomas's optimism tended to fly right out the window when Virgil hadn't slept and it was troublesome, to say the least.

Patton became considerably stressed when he was tired. It was something that seemed to tie in quite closely to his general need to bottle up his feelings. Instead of dealing with his insomnia, Patton would stress clean, would obsess over every tiny detail and was just not capable of turning off for even a second. It wasn't uncommon on days like that to see Patton puttering around the mindscape, fixing things that didn't need fixing and straightening things that didn't need straightening—picking at every perceived flaw he came across.

Getting Patton to bed was potentially the hardest. He was always so worked up, so tense and so fixated that it was like dragging Logan away in the middle of hyperfocusing. Patton wouldn't fight them the way Virgil did but he just wouldn't take a single breath and it would take several hours of calming distractions and soft blankets to get him to drift away.

Thomas did not tend to be productive on those days. When Patton was as consumed by his thoughts as he was, Thomas couldn't concentrate in the slightest, instead, he tended to opt for rewatching old episodes of his favourite TV shows and steadily ignoring his growing piles of responsibilities with some form of detached concern. He knows he should be worried but quite honestly, he couldn't bring himself to feel much at all besides numb.

Patton would always apologise over and over in the wake of the incident but Thomas was always very kind in his responses, citing that it was probably time he took a rest day anyway.

Logan wasn't exactly sure what his own reaction was to being sleep deprived, not the way he was aware of the other sides. It wasn't something he'd had to pay all that much attention to, considering with the others he was always needed to help resolve the situation, however, with himself he clearly was not. There was one thing Logan was sure of, though.

Lack of sleep made Logan stupid.

It wasn't necessarily the nicest way to put it but he would be lying if he said he didn't think it was accurate. 

When Logan was tired, he made mistakes—stupid mistakes, mistakes he couldn't really afford to make. They didn't always have real-world consequences, such as accidentally spreading Crofters onto his cell phone instead of his toast, but sometimes they did. Sometimes Logan calculated the risks incorrectly or gave Thomas faulty information and the guilt ate him up inside every single time. It wasn't as if he was doing it maliciously but that wasn't the point, the point was that Logan should be more careful. Exhaustion just made it harder for him to do that.

And one of the kinds of frivolous mistakes Logan tended to make in his fatigue was with his emotions.

Logan kept his emotions largely under lock and key, however, when he becomes tired they tend to get the best of him, generally presenting itself in some unwarranted and entirely uncalled for tears. His crying could be due to anything—it could be due to a change in schedule or a misplaced document or even a lack of milk—or it could be due to absolutely nothing at all. Logan hated it. He hated feeling out of control and he hated the pitying looks he received from the other sides as they tried to comfort him and make him sleep.

Because another mistake Logan made with his emotions when he was tired was his want for physical affection.

Logan was willing to indulge in physical contact for the sake of the other sides—for example, if Patton was sad and required a hug or to help Virgil stay calm and relaxed as he tried to get some sleep—but Logan did not need those things himself. He found them to be largely unnecessary and marginally uncomfortable—though he wouldn't tell the others that because he's still willing to suffer through it for their sakes.

Sleep-deprived Logan, however, never seemed to get the memo.

When Logan reached a certain point of exhaustion, he found himself craving the warmth of the other sides. Wanting soft hands threading through his hair and limbs tangled in with his, wanting to feel limitless and infinite in the darkness and yet so small in relation to the vast expanse of the universe. He wanted to go somewhere in the imagination where they could see the stars, to feel the wind brushing past his skin but feeling secure in the knowledge that he was safe and warm and loved wrapped up in the others’ arms.

Fatigue also made him maudlin, though he would not for the life of him admit it.

Logan descended the stairs, wincing somewhat as one of the steps creaked under his foot and pausing for a moment, waiting to receive confirmation that he hadn't awoken any of the other sides. Hearing nothing, Logan continued his journey, settling onto the living room floor with a quiet exhale. He glanced in the direction of the couches and hesitated as he noticed a glow coming from the television. Though the brightness was turned down quite considerably, the TV was unmistakably on.

Knowing that he was the last person to leave the commons that evening lead Logan to the conclusion that he was incorrect in his assumption that the other sides were all asleep in their rooms. All he could see on the couch, however, was a pile of blankets and cushions.

Possibly he had just forgotten to turn the TV off after he left. Or, maybe, one of the others had come down at some point during the evening before once again retiring to their rooms, and they had forgotten to turn it off. He had to admit that it didn't seem likely that he had left the TV on, though given his current state it may not be entirely out of the realm of possibility.

Logan took a seat next to the pile of blankets on the couch and after grabbing the remote from in between the couch cushions, changed the channel over to the Discovery Channel and turned the volume down low. It seemed to be some documentary on symbiotic animal relationships or something to that extent, and while Logan would normally be interested he was quite honestly too tired to really follow along.

There were a few minutes of Logan attempting to parse the images on the screen before he decided that a blanket would likely be conducive to falling asleep. He went to grab one off of the top of the pile—the red knitted one Roman tended to prefer. In this action, however, he uncovered a body.

And Logan, still too tired to process anything useful, fell off the couch.

His immediate assumption was that Virgil had murdered someone and tried to hide the body under every blanket and cushion he could find in the house. He quickly—though not as quickly as he would have liked—dismissed this as a nonsensical thought. Virgil was far too anxious to kill anyone. He entertained the idea of Roman having killed someone for a slightly longer moment before also rejecting the idea. Roman had morals, or something to that extent anyway, even if he was far more likely to think that hiding a body under a mound of blankets was a good strategy.

Finally, Logan realised that he’d been sitting on the floor for approximately 3 whole minutes and getting up to take a look at the body on the couch may be the most reasonable course of action. He shook his head with a sigh. He really was off today.

Rising to his feet, Logan peered at the figure on the couch. Though the person was primarily obscured by the mountain of blankets, he could see a glimpse of red and gold pyjama pants. They looked startlingly similar to Roman’s pair—a Christmas present from Patton that had since become his go-to—thus, Logan concluded either this person was dressed up in Roman’s clothes or it was Roman and he was inclined to believe the latter.

Logan removed a few more blankets from the pile in an attempt to validate his assumption and was greeted by brown hair, closed eyes and a soft expression. It was, indeed, Roman.

Now, Logan had a decision to make. Either he could turn the TV off, leave Roman to sleep and head back to his room where he would remain alone until the other sides woke up for breakfast…

Or he could wake Roman up.

He knew the desire was selfish but with Roman looking as peaceful as he was he couldn’t help but wish to join him in his cocoon. It looked so warm and Logan was so, so tired. 

He only really considered it for a moment before giving in. With enough sacrificed Crofter’s and endured teasing, Roman would forgive him, and he was too exhausted to have any sense of self-control.

Logan placed his hand on Roman’s shoulder, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to wake him up without jarring him too much. As he was pulled from sleep, Roman made a sound similar to those "startup noises" that cats make when you first touch them, blinking open his eyes. Something about it was strangely endearing and Logan tried to ignore the way he felt his chest warm at the sight.

“Lo?” Roman mumbled, rubbing at his eyes sleepily, “What’re you doin’ up?”

“I was… unable to sleep.”

Logan shuffled his feet awkwardly, feeling a sense of embarrassment rush through him. Dear lord, this was utterly pathetic. What was he thinking? He had absolutely no need to awaken Roman, just because his skin felt so cold and he was so, so tired and he only wanted to be held and warm and loved- 

Ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. Roman, at most, tolerated his presence and Logan was firmly overstepping his boundaries here.

Roman stared blankly for a few seconds. “Oh…”

“I apologise for waking you, Roman,” Logan said, attempting to rectify his obvious mistake, “I should go back to my room now.”

He made a motion to turn back towards the stairs, trying to fight the disappointment in his chest and the craving for warmth that was still gnawing at him but was interrupted by Roman putting out a hand to stop him. Roman shook his head a few times, blinking quickly as he tried to wake himself up a little bit more. 

“No, no, wait. What is it?”

“I was just…” Logan cleared his throat, trying to steel himself for Roman’s possible reaction. “I was wondering if I could…”

He trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the mountain of blankets Roman was still encompassed in. Roman’s face broke into a small smile and he reached out to grab Logan’s hand, tugging it gently, just enough to prompt him to take a step forward.

“C’mere, nerd.” Roman’s voice was incredibly fond and Logan was slightly worried that he may start crying just from the sound of it.

Ducking his head, Logan climbed onto the couch near Roman, trying not to startle as Roman grabbed his arm and pulled him into the blankets beside him.

The blanket pile was incredibly warm and soft. Almost the second Logan landed, he could feel his heart rate decreasing—already infinitely calmer than he had been upstairs. He closed his eyes as he felt Roman wrap his arms around him, tears leaking out the corners of them without his permission.

Gods, this was so much better than being alone.

He could feel Roman pressed against him, warmth sinking to his core and melting away all of the stress and tension his body had been holding onto. A hand had sunk into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and giving him a pleasant sensation to focus on to calm his thoughts. He pressed in closer to Roman, burying his head in the crook of his neck as his body betrayed him and he just started to sob.

He hated this—he hated it because it was never his choice, just a constant build-up of emotions that expanded in his chest until it burst—but Roman felt safe. So maybe, just once, it was okay.

There was gentle shushing, whispered affirmations as Roman held Logan’s shaking frame as tight as he could and ran his hands lightly along his skin. He didn’t know how long they remained there—whether it was 5 minutes or an hour—but once Logan was able to catch his breath he choked out an apology. An apology that was quickly brushed off.

“You have nothing to apologise for, Lo,” Roman insisted, carding his hand through Logan’s hair and watching the other lean into it, “I want to help you. I know I haven’t always been… the best, when it comes to dealing with you but… I just need you to know that though I may argue with Logic, that doesn’t mean I’m arguing with Logan.”

Logan untucked his head from Roman’s shoulder, bringing his gaze up to give him a confused look.

“We are the same person, Roman.”

Roman screwed up his face for a moment. “No, no, I mean… just because we argue doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you, you know? We, by definition, are always going to have differing opinions but even though I'm bad at admitting it, I do recognise your things are important too. I’m just stubborn. And despite our disagreements, I do enjoy having you around, Logan.”

“Oh.” 

Logan blinked, processing that for a moment.

It wasn’t as if he’d thought Roman hated him; he didn’t believe any of the sides truly hated each other (except potentially Virgil and Deceit, though even that, he theorised, was born from a place of caring too much). Simply, Logan had felt as if Roman put up with him mostly out of necessity. As Roman had stated, Logic was crucial—despite how little he liked to admit it—and, of course, it would be unwise to disregard Logan completely. Roman’s admission was certainly… unexpected.

“Well… you too, Roman,” Logan replied softly.

Roman’s eyebrows shot up, face vulnerable and uncertain. “Really?”

“Of course.”

There was something about being here—enclosed in Roman’s arms so late in the night, the only illumination of their forms coming from the TV behind him, the air almost silent—that made Logan feel as if the consequences of being open may not be as bad as he feared.

So, instead of ending his statement there, Logan pushed on.

“I don’t… understand a lot of the things you consider to be important. I don’t understand fantasy or metaphors or how to please people. If I was left in sole control of writing the scripts for Thomas’s content, though the final product would be educational and factually accurate, it would be… boring. I am boring, I know this. I just… I don’t appreciate having to rely on other people—and I don’t like not understanding things—and more often than not, I take that frustration out on you. That is unfair of me.”

Roman chuckled, low and quiet, and it felt like an acknowledgement of all the mistakes they’d made and all of the mistakes they would no doubt continue to make. “I suppose we both have things to work on, then.”

In response, Logan simply hummed. He felt drowsy and content, reassured that despite what he may have thought, everything between them was okay. They lay there for a while more, Logan teetering on the edge of unconsciousness before Roman spoke again, breaking the silence between them.

“You aren’t boring though, you know that, right?”

Logan made a questioning sound, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“I mean, you get so excited about space that you wave your hands around as you explain things and you have such strong opinions about the smallest of things and you’re stubborn and quick-tempered and absolutely brilliant.” At that declaration, Logan did open his eyes, seeing Roman looking down at him with a shy smile on his face. “You could never be boring, Logan. Not really.”

“Thank you.” It was a whispered response, tired and grateful, but Roman heard it nonetheless.

Logan moved a hand up in front of his face to stifle a yawn and he saw Roman grin, drawing Logan closer into his chest. “Sleep now, nerd. You can talk about how much you love and adore me in the morning.”

“You are incorrigible,” Logan replied but his tone was teasing rather than cruel.

In response, Roman gave a breathy laugh. Evidently, he decided it wasn’t worth it to argue, instead, reaching to grab one of the blankets and tugging it over their bodies. He clicked off the TV, tossing the remote onto the couch away from them.

“Goodnight, Lo,” Roman said, voice barely more than an exhale. 

Logan mumbled a vague response, feeling himself relax completely once again, his eyes falling shut and breathing steadying out. Rather than circling, planning and plotting a hundred different scenarios for tomorrow or solutions to problems that don’t even exist yet, Logan’s thoughts were quiet. All of his focus was on the heat of Roman’s body and the darkness covering them both like a blanket.

And, after just a few short moments—Logan feeling safe and warm, wrapped up in Roman’s arms—Logan finally fell asleep.

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

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[hinasho]

my thoughts on lavinia & iona (mostly iona)

i’ll start first with:

lavinia:

i’ve seen a lot of ppl hate her but i actually like how they wrote her character (for the sake of my own sanity i will not be referring to anything that happened in the final episode). i like that she was snarky, and wanted money, and had sticky thief fingers, and didn’t easily trust people, and was kinda judgemental and etc. she had her own motives and characteristics that separated her from others. she felt like her own person with actual flaws.

and i think they hinted at interesting things abt her. she was in denial about the truth of her quest, looking for her mother, bc her mom’s abandonment hurt her in more ways than one. i like that she’s not just a sweet, innocent, and nice girl. she pushes buttons, she causes problems, she invades people’s personal space, and will curse an authority figure out even when standing in a room surrounded by his helpers (the monk).

she’s an asshole and i’m very glad they wrote her like that instead of making her just the nice, sweet love interest. like, i’m not saying i like her (i’m pretty neutral on her tbh), but i do like how she’s written.

iona:

it’s almost the opposite in regards to how i feel abt iona. i like her, but i don’t really like how she was written.

i like her aggressiveness and slight arrogance. and i like her backstory, that she is the way she is bc she doesn’t have any parents, any household to “live up to”. she’s prickly bc as an orphan that’s how she’s survived. and i love the moments in between when she’s happy and we see her be a kid. the snowball fight was adorable and her getting easily frightened by foldo’s scary story was just as endearing. she has a decent amount of sides to her.

and i liked her and jaro’s dynamic. her finding more connection with the red riders/scoundrels was interesting and as she was an orphan, i’m hoping they go with a found family route for her. especially the nice scene at the end where jaro turns around to journey with her.

HOWEVER -> there were several things i didn’t like that they did with her character:

they did the very stereotypical and actually kinda harmful trope of “girls are just smarter/more mature than boys” with her. when it was just her and the Novices, the boys were always the stupid goofy ones and she was the one eye rolling at them or actually doing the work of tracking down tiuri or coming up with the plans or etc. this is NOT as progressive as the show thinks it is bc it just enforces the idea that girls cannot have the same childish naïvety and be as happy go lucky as boys can. girls can be idiots, they can be part of the slackers, they don’t have to be the more responsible one all the time. her being this stereotype was very annoying to see.

another thing i didn’t like: when lavinia joins the group, her and iona hate each other. they’re growling in each other’s faces the entire time. and you know what i just realized that most if not every scene where two girls interacted ended with them antagonizing each other?? darya and alianor, the black knight’s wife and lavinia, and now with lavinia and iona like?????? what gives??? can we have ONE instance of girls/women being at least a little friendly to each other damn

and like everyone has also said, the only reoccurring goc being a turned villain was bad. yes, i did think her dynamic with jaro was interesting and i like the tangent of her feeling more at home with a different group than the knights. BUT, she was the only goc with a main role. (i’m not counting tiuri’s mom bc come on). and honestly? i would’ve been fine with her switching sides storyline if they had kept the scene where she was crying and opening up to them in the castle and apologizing as genuine. my heart squeezed for her and if it was real it would’ve been a nice climax to all her character’s been through. her finally acknowledgeding that she Does have feelings and has grown to care for this ragtag group. but nope, it was just a con and “surprise she’s still bad!” twist. super disappointing.

tbh i feel like most of my issues with iona’s writing could’ve been resolved if there were just more girls of color. did iona REALLY have to be the only other girl in the Novices? no. we already know misogyny isn’t a thing in this world bc alianor easily became queen without question. so why was she the ONLY girl? and why the only reoccurring goc?? more gocs wouldve fixed a lot. and hopefully, we’d even have seen more friendships and bonding happening between them.

conclusion:

so yeah those are my thoughts. i liked the writing behind lavinia’s character (fuck that ending big time tho) and i liked iona’s too. there were several things i didn’t like abt the direction they took iona’s character, but i still like her nonetheless. and like i said, i really think a lot of issues could’ve been easily solved if there were more reoccurring gocs on the show.