#I think I may try to do designs for socks or something next

[bluepallilworld]

HEY I MADE A BAD GUYS MUG THAT DOES NOT GIVE AWAY YOU'RE AN UTMV FAN :D

If you want it, I know have a society6 account :3

https://society6.com/product/dark8445873_mug?sku=s6-27459703p30a27v199

@shinechermont hehe it is the project I was talking about (thanks for the inspiration for what objects to use)

[emilio-the-dumb-wrestler]

Dude, I've been so stressed lately, I wish I could not have to worry about my daily troubles, would be so much easier if I was beautiful and had to do less thinking.

Less thinking ? Now that’s something I can definitely get behind. Now beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Here it just so happens you’re going to be at the mercy of me. You won’t be needing to worry about those daily stresses from work that you e been having. In fact. That stress is going to be replaced with trying to find a job. I’m going to put in the body of a man who made a similar wish. Only his was that he didn’t want to worry about where is next job was coming from. Meet Ryan. A man who has a wicked addiction to tattoos. So much so that as soon as he turned 18 he started covering his body with them. Hitting the gym every day helped him stay in shape and kept him good. But his obsession with tattoos may have gotta out of hand. He’s been covered from neck to toe. As I’m sure you’re aware of. Even your hands are covered in the dark designs. And being an avid gym goer Ryan definitely has that bad boy jock look. And he smells like one too. But with his much lower income you’ll need to get used to socks with holes in them as your large feet press against shoes that are too small. You smell of bo and sweat and it’s a constantly smell that not even showering can get rid of. And bring such a smelly tattooed jock it’s obviously hard to find work. So yeah, you won’t be worrying about your daily troubles. You’ll be worrying about Ryan’s. You are beautiful I believe. And thinking? Forget about that dumb word. Ryan never even graduated high school let alone made it to college. You need a GED for that. And Ryan is definitely way too stupid to get one of those. It’s ok. I understand you’re worried now. Barely being able to read. Struggling to count. You know what Ryan always did when he was worried ? He got tattoos.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

2023 Christmas Special

Just General Headcannons about spending Christmas with Blade

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁

🎄 Right off the bat, let's get this out of the way. Blade won't exactly be filled with holiday spirit. This man has been through some shit and no amount of spiced cider or jolly carolers will make him feel comfortable enough to be carefree. However, that's nothing that your love can't sooth. So grab your Blade and give him some extra tender love and affection this holiday season.

🎄 I don't think that Blade would really see the appeal of Christmas as a whole. In his eyes, the holiday is simply about giving gifts, eating specific foods, decorating your house and wearing ugly clothes. Of course, family is also a major part of Christmas but he doesn't think about that on a once over. But, Blade is a reasonable man, so he's open to letting you explain all the non superficial parts of the holiday.

🎄 Let's start with the tree. Personally, I don't think that Blade has much of an opinion of what kind tree to use. While a fake one would definitely be more convenient, he'd like the to have the full holiday experience for his first Christmas with you; so he'd get a real tree the first year. I don't think he'd cut it down himself, maybe get someone at the tree lot to do it since he's never done it himself before. Blade will make you help him set it up in the house though; now matter if you've got noodle arms or not.

🎄 Okay, I think that the best course of action for decorating your Christmas tree with Blade would be to make homemade ornaments with him. It's hitting three birds with one stone; you get to spend time with him, you can show him a Christmas activity you can do together and you get reusable ornaments. I think his favorite ornaments to make would be any of the one's that you can put little photos on or into. The first ornament that Blade made had a picture of him and you decked out in winter gear and standing in front of your newly bought Christmas tree. As for lights, I think that he would prefer the traditional green and red lights over solid colors and rainbow colors.

🎄 Decorating the house is a bit of a hassle when it's with Blade, the poor guy gets cramps in his sides from raising his arms for so long. Make sure to get a step stool next year, okay? For him? Anyway, I doubt that he'd be willing to decorate anywhere but the living room, so your out of luck when it comes to the yard or the outside of your house. Maybe Blade would get a new welcome mat or hang a wreath but that's it. When it comes to the decorations in question they'd probably just be silver and gold tinsel maybe a few paper snowflakes, but nothing much.

🎄 Christmas sweaters? Christmas sweaters. But the question is; can you convince Blade to wear one? Weeeell, maybe. It really depends on his mood to be honest, though if you catch him in a good one you can get him into a sweater. I think that he'd like one with a simple design instead of something really loud and complex; like a grey sweater with a simple snowflake embroidered into it. The ugly ones though? Absolutely not. Blade may be incredibly touch starved and very depressed, but he still has taste. He will wear Christmas socks though, he really likes those; warm, soft and comfortable.

🎄 Let's talk Christmas dinner! I don't know if it's just me but I feel like Blade can put away quite a bit when he's feeling up for it, so try and make a nice variety for him. I feel like he'd be the type to not let different foods touch and that he'd eat the entirety of one thing first before moving on to another. I don't know, he just gives off that vibe. As for his favorite Christmas dishes? I feel like Blade would really like roastbeef with slow cooked scalloped potatoes. For a side, I think that loaded bacon mac and cheese 1would suit him well and for dessert, a slice of pecan pie and a nice serving of struffoli.

🎄 After dinner, you should show Blade the joy of making cookies and gingerbread houses. I actually think that he would do a pretty good job of baking, and by that I mean kneading the dough. You'll let him help decorate the cookies once they're cooled though, right? And he will decorate them; he'll even frost a little gingerbread person to look like you. Though they may not be perfect, they do smell devine, so don't mind him sneaking a few out of the corner of you eye. Don't call him out either, you have no evidence and he'll never admit it. Blade is actually surprisingly mediocre at building and decorating his gingerbread house; he's too worried about how sticky his fingers are getting and how much icing is in his hair to pay attention to the fact that his gingerbread sheets are crooked and piping is kinda wonky.

🎄 Moving on, let's talk about movies and songs! I firmly believe that a favorite of Blade's movie wise is Home Alone surprisingly enough. I don't know, I just think that he has hidden gremlin energy that only expresses itself when he watches light hearted but violent shit. Also, I think that he'd like that the mc is so clever to think of and set up all the traps and such. As for favorite Christmas songs.... I actually don't think Blade cares for any of them in particular.

🎄 Let's talk gifts! If I'm being completely honest, I doubt that Blade would buy you anything. But! He he would still gift you something. His gift would either be something handmade or something that he found on a mission that reminded him of you. No ifs, ands, buts or in betweens. I believe that Blade would also like something personal and handmade, it would make the gift feel that much more sincere to him. Something like a scarf, gloves or socks would be perfect. You could carve or paint him something. Hell, even a woven bracelet would warm his heart. As long as it was made by you he'd be happy.

🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[baby--charchar]

A writing blurb/wip/however you'd like to call it. TBH I'm more self conscious about actually WRITING OUT STORIES, so I wouldn't mind constructive feedback.

‘Charlie had a rough day’ was a blatant understatement of how horribly shit hit the fan that day. But you wouldn't know it just by looking at her demeanor.

When a random gang tried to rob the hotel that morning, she handled it. When the entire septic system on the 7th floor exploded, she handled it. When Vaggie and Angel got in a screaming match over his ever growing drug stashes, she handled it.

It seemed that no matter how terrible, scary, or unexpected her challenges got, she kept smiling, kept going like she wasn't bearing the weight of so much on her shoulders already.

Of course, everyone cracks eventually. In some way or another. Charlie would like to think that she was using age regression to help mitigate those cracks. When she was feeling little, it was okay if she threw a tantrum occasionally or get snippy with Dad or Vaggie. If she let out a little bit of the pressure at a time, in a safe space surrounded by safe people, she'd be okay enough to keep smiling the next day. Of course, things don't always balance out like that in the end, especially with how much energy Charlie spent repressing negative feelings.

Upon coming home to their suite on the hotel's highest floor, Charlie collapsed on the floor in front of the TV. Vaggie watched her calmly.

“You feeling okay, hun?”

Charlie shrugged and brought her fingers up towards her mouth. Vaggie caught that glassy look in her eyes taking over.

“Feeling little?”

After a pause, Charlie nodded her head. Vaggie bent down to kiss her cheek before stepping around her.

“Okay, Princessa. Let me grab your things. Can I call your dad, or do you want it to be just us tonight?”

“...Call Daddy.”

“Call Daddy. I can definitely do that.” Vaggie had Lucifer on speed dial for these nights. He loved getting to visit Charlie when she was regressed, and they've healed their relationship a lot the past few months together. He was also great to tag-team with whenever Vaggie need a break.

After a quick chat on the phone, Vaggie refocused on Charlie. She grabbed one of her favorite outfits to wear in littlespace: a red, long-sleeve dress with gold foil hearts all over it; soft, stretched out black leggings; fuzzy pink socks; and the only part of it that Charlie hated, a simple pink pull-up without any designs or characters on it. Charlie genuinely struggled controlling her bladder when she regressed. Vaggie thought that it may have something to do with her brain not communicating with her “big girl” body properly. But while Charlie definitely needed them, she hated having to use pull-ups with every fiber of her being.

Vaggie approached her quietly, sitting down beside her curled-up form on the plush red carpet.

“Can I get you dressed, Princessa?”

“Mm…kay…” Charlie hummed. Vaggie smiled softly and started unbuttoning her clothes. Pants, blouse, bra, then underwear. Charlie wasn't all that helpful in the process, but thankfully she let Vaggie roll her around a bit in order to wrestle all her clothes off. Vaggie slipped the red dress over her head and pulled her arms through. She already looked so cute in her favorite cozy dress.

Vaggie stretched the pull-up out and subtly slipped it into the leggings. With one swift motion she got them both over Charlie's bottom, and thankfully avoided any fussing or tantrums over the oh-so-offensive pull-up. Lastly, she slipped Charlie's socks on and undid her ponytail.

There, cute as a button.

Charlie sat up with a dazed look on her face.

“Oh, my little one is so tired this evening. It's been a rough day, huh?” Charlie quietly placed her fingers and thumb in her mouth. 

“Oh, nuh uh uh mi amor. I got your binki. Let's try that with a binki.” Vaggie slipped a bright pink pacifier into Charlie's mouth, but no sooner had she done that, Charlie ripped it out and threw it at the wall behind Vaggie's head.

“No!” Charlie snapped. Vaggie blinked.“...Okay. That's fine. But listen to me-  Charlie, listen- be sweet tonight. Daddy's coming over and you know you wanna be kind to him, right?” Charlie scowled at the floor. Vaggie sighed. Oh lord, here we go again. Rough days lead to rough nights I guess, she thought begrudgingly.

[ericaportfolio]

My Friendly Neighborhood Review

Hey Kids! Do you want a mascot horror game that's actually good? Do you want to shoot and watch puppets fly across the room in funny ways? Or do you want to play a game that breaks you to the point of ugly crying due to the messages about selfishness versus selflessness, the trauma of war, grief, depression, death, and depending on which ending you decide, make you feel miserable or hopeful? (Boy, what I wrote there got dark!) Then you should play My Friendly Neighborhood!!!

July 8, 1993, in a very unfriendly city where the citizens that were emotionally affected by the war that lasted for twenty years by watching it from their TV sets (An in-universe version of the Vietnam War in this game), an old studio's antenna starts up playing a canceled kids show that's the in-universe version of Sesame Street, My Friendly Neighborhood, over the news. You play as repair crewman Gordon O'Brian was forcibly sent by his employer, Sprocket Palm Property Management, and their clients, City Network Broadcasting Group, to shut down the antenna at the top of the abandoned studio's hotel. Failure to do so, Gordon, due to his terrible, mean, and rude behavior, would result in getting fired. Upon getting there, SURPRISE, The Puppets Are Alive That A Lot Of Them Want To Hug You To Death!!! Along the way, Ricky the Sock Puppet guides Gordon throughout the studio trying to convince him not to disconnect the antenna. Can Gordon survive the night at the studio as he tries to find a way up to the antenna? Or will Gordon be trapped in the studio forever?

Pros... There's a lot! I can list them all day! The game is a love letter to tv shows and movies made by the Jim Henson Company over the years. The shows and movies had different names to prevent copyright claims in the game's universe. The cute factor is that you'll get attached to Ricky the Sock Puppet. He's like if Scout Prime from Hello Puppets was similar to Kermit the Frog and doesn't curse. If you're thinking, wait Hello Puppets already did possess murder puppets, that seems repetitive! Actually, the puppets aren't possessed. I'm wondering if the creators are saving a twist for another game. (Please let it be Gordon, Ricky, and the Neighborhood characters versus the villains from the in-universe The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth movies after they fell for a trap they thought was a movie deal!) I won't dive into details in this review. Let's say you have to think on your own about what's really happening here. I think for a horror game to do that was refreshing. What you might have fun with in this game is the clever ideas and designs of the weapons you find, the Rolodex and the Novelist being two of them, and the puzzles you come across along the way. However, the best part of the game has to be the writing since it takes a survival horror game and turns it into a dark comedy that would make Mel Brooks proud. If you're a completionist and you finish the game, don't leave! There's More! There are 'secret tapes' scattered around the studio, and once you finish the game, they will unlock cheats and mods to create some interesting experiences the next time you play.

There aren't many cons to this game. Something was happening with the maps, but that was fixed, thankfully. If I have some things I have to nitpick, first, this game has a lot of backtracking to other levels that many would find annoying. However, you'll make discoveries along the way. Just get ready if the previous levels you have been through get harder as more puppets appear. Second, you need to be ready to conserve your ammunition. Once it's gone and used, it's GONE, and your left with the wrench. So plan ahead, or you're dead in the finale! For beginners, this game may take hours or days to beat unless you got the patience to win. As the game continues, some of the puzzles will get harder and leave you scratching your head for a while. There have also been some complaints that the game should be considered a horror game at times, even though there are terrifying moments. Especially in the climax and ending that would leave you shaking unless you wished for more from that. So the cute factor in the game may turn off some who want something darker than this. Yet, if you read carefully the files you collect, you'll discover where the true darkness lurks in this game.

I may need to warn you of potential spoilers to some trigger warnings of war, depression, and references to taking away your own life. In a game about fighting murder puppets, the game does a shockingly good job tackling war trauma not just for the victims and soldiers but also for the citizens back on the homefront, where many viewed the soldiers as villains and getting exposed to the war on their home televisions. Because of that, the citizens in the city were traumatized and depressed by it. Even one worker at the studio wrote about "going into the light". I got a theory as to what happened to them. Something I noticed at the beginning makes sense now when reading those notes.

So there are multiple endings in the game. One is the true ending. Whichever ending you get, get your tissues ready. You might cry ugly tears of joy. Overall, spending money on this game is worth it! Even if you don't have the money, watch your favorite Gaming YouTubers and watch the game as a movie experience. It's not perfect, but it's rightfully up there, along with that antenna. This game may not be for everyone, but if you're a fan of Resident Evil (which I should start watching more gameplay of the game series if able, to be honest), you grew up with Sesame Street and the Muppets, you're a big Jim Henson Company nerd, you like puppets, you're a fan of Hello Puppets and Welcome Home, and you love film noir, this game is for you. So get it while it's still on sale, grab a buddy or two, and get learning in your favorite friendly neighborhood!

I would give this game a 9/10 for Ricky being adorable and Gordon getting some needed sleep.

[golby-moon]

oh no I accidentally started making fakemon for the first time since my fake Fidough and Lechonk evolutions. these were designed for a few people from their discord usernames and from their own vague description of things they might wanna see

-

first up is @whitster-lizzy

I think by the end of a somewhat confusing back and forth that I was supposed to make a combo of Bulbasaur, Medusa, and poison ivy. I took inspiration from the last two, but just could not get Bulbasaur's plump little front half to look good morphed into a tail. instead, I went for more of a 'protector of the forest' thing and added a maternal vibe that Whitney kinda gives off and ended up with this. I wanted to put an emphasis on three for the three leaves of poison ivy, so even its tears (which may or may not be from sad edits and the inability to hug anything without poisoning them :(() carry that, as do the scales sporadically thrown around there. the arms became vines when I was too tired and frustrated to keep trying to redraw actual arms to get them to look right (oops) and the hair is just a mess as I'd expect vine-hair to be

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next is @rauko-is-a-free-elf, who started this whole thing with a comment about someone mispronouncing their name as 'Rocco'

for whatever reason, I came up with an ice bird instead of something that screams 'rock type' idk why either. took inspiration from blue jays (one of their favorite birds) as well as peacocks with the tail and tried to go for sort of a crystal structure on there (along with dots that were supposed to be snow but failed to look like it) while still including the distinctive dark swoops blue jays have on their tails. the wings were supposed to be icicles and that was actually the first thing I designed rather than the head or the body. it really does make use of diamond shapes so I did try to add some rock type elements to it mostly in color scheme though maybe it would've been better without. I'm not really sure why it has a mask other than I wanted to give its face some dark lines like blue jays have but my brush was too thick to add too many little details. so mask👌

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now we have @bleuzombie

I didn't have any sort of a prompt or direction for this one and based it entirely off of their username. I originally took inspiration from Machop in the way of body shape and went from there, developing a vaguely reptilian form somehow that looked a lot more lizard-y before the dark typing came out in the form of skeleton-bits not unlike the Cubone line. the spiky bat there is a reference to The Walking Dead ofc, which led me to develop more of a baseball vibe with the dark line under its eyes representative of the grease baseball played use to reduce glare and with the sorta long sock-like design for the feet, along with the baseball stitching pattern that doubles as what's supposed to represent the stripes like all baseball uniforms have. its hands have always looked boxing glove-y from the very first beginnings of the sketch so I just colored them to match the rest of the color scheme and oh no now it's a fighting type oops

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now @nickelkeep

this one is also inspired by their username, which at first had me thinking about how dragons hoard coins but then somehow got turned into c a t and I don't really know why. either way I tried to keep a coin theme going (especially with its eyes, which are supposed to look like coins) while also making it a dark/fairy as sorta requested and it became a representation of the duality of cat: both angel and devil (also a twist of money being the root of evil and all that). so it got fluffy and spiky at once and now has pitchfork-themed whiskers and a few occult symbols to offset its scarf and heart motifs. I think this one was actually the first design I worked on and to the relief of everyone, I actually used a reference of a cat to get the pose right 🎉

(idk why there's a bad drawing of a nickel I think I was originally gonna make that into a background but I did decide against it in favor of making these look more like official pokemon character reference sheet things. enjoy the bad nickel anyway)

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next one up is @anyreiart

idk what happened with this one. I don't know much about anyrei and their username doesn't inspire much in the way of fakemon (beyond a few seconds where I thought of making a sun-inspired something with the 'rei' becoming 'ray'), so I went with a theme based on what I do know, which is that they paint, along with two pictures that they sent, one of which was Gothorita (the other was for a hairstyle I think but I did steal the funky red and black checkered tie from that because reasons). going off of that, this one is supposed to look like a paintbrush with its body and its edgy anime hair, and its belt continues carrying the paintbrush motif. since I was provided with the request to make it goth, I added thick eyeshadow-esque lines under its eyes and kinda used the hairstyle from the picture while also turning it into a paintbrush that utilizes their favorite color as the paint color. carrying the gothic art idea, I tried to make its lower half (originally meant to be a blobby sort of easel shape before I changed it) into something resembling stained glass windows that was famous at the time (I got confused multiple times while making the stained glass design so it's not all that consistent uh). it was supposed to be dark type, but ended up giving off more of a ghost/fairy vibe after I realized I accidentally made it a ballerina paintbrush (oops)

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moving on to @as-lost-as-sams-shoe

this one is heavily inspired by their username, starting with the scallion, which is a kind of oniony thing. they themself actually added the 'wrapped' part to push the pun a little further, which made me think of Swadloon and its cozy little leaf blanket, which naturally led to the scallion with its massive head and slimmer body (to match the shape of an onion more than a scallion admittedly) to be all wrapped up. scallions have leaves that look like they were cut straight across, which lead to the development of its 'bangs' (which was also inspired by the fact that scallions themselves grow underground and only the leafy parts are seen, adding a 'shy' element) as well as the tassels along the bottom of its leaf-wrap. the lines along its body are made to represent both the rings inside of an onion as well as the word 'rapscallion,' which is a term that can be used to mean villain or bad guy, earning it prison-esque stripes. its eyes are massive as a play on onions making people cry, and the smaller parts of its eyes that I can't remember the names of are based off of onion rings. the skull and crossbones shape is just to make it pirate-y, which is what I can't not picture when I read the word 'rapscallion' for one reason or another

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and finally @zybynarx, who gets a finished one as well as a sketch I scrapped and started anew

I actually had a lot to work with for this one, as they specifically asked for a fire type puppy pokemon. first instinct is ofc to go for a dalmatian, which is the firehouse dog or whatever, and I wanted to make the lower half black as a reference to that scene from 101 Dalmatians where they coat themselves in ashes to appear completely black. I made some firefighter-y stripes and tried to make its back legs look almost like boots which looks, in a couple of word, super weird. I then added tinder fluff on head and a kindling sort of thing on the neck, but when I tried to develop the back half's design, my brain sorta died and I couldn't decide what to do, so I went back to the drawing board fully intent on making like a complete copy of what I'd already tried

instead I ended up with this personification of tinder that's just all fluffy all the way down instead of the almost lion mane of tinder design I was originally picturing. I carried over the themes of adding firefighter stripes to allude to a firefighter's jacket as well as the kindling collar thing the other one had. I kept the bottom half black but made it more like wispy smoke than ash that trails behind it when it moves (which is a lot because puppy). the eyes are two pieces of coal and the nose is supposed to look like a match but doesn't. it looks very fluffy but is probably too squirmy to make a good lapdog. it just has that squirmy ball of energy vibe to it

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whether people really like these or not, it was definitely a learning experience, and I did pick up on a lot of things to keep in mind for future fakemon designs (particularly not to overcomplicate things and go more for consistency, which I did not originally do as I wasn't planning on make them into character sheets at all and didn't plan beyond the main drawings of the fakemon)

this craziness is a result of the @deancasanimebang (which is still accepting artists until October 1st :0)

(08/28/23)

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

rambly fashion rant incoming... I don't know if I'm your fashion anon, maybe A fashion anon? But I had some observations/thoughts. 1. Your comment that the Dior show was boring. Mostly, I agree. I think the sportswear inspired thing that Jones is trying works much much much better as a S/S collection than it does as a F/W collection. Without the interesting color palette and playfulness that is more expected from a S/S season, it just felt very Drab. Balmoral castle in the pouring rain. The callbacks to traditional Scottish attire/fabrics both on the top and bottom were well noted but all I thought flicking through the vogue slideshow was that I'm pretty sure I've seen this exact collection done by Ralph Lauren and that ilk several times over. I still want one of those grey tweed skirts for myself, the fabric looked like it would have great texture up close.

But menswear is always boring. Very very very rarely does a menswear collection make big splashes. I'm waiting on it all to wrap up before I pass my verdict, but if you're looking for drama, Comme des Garcons is always fun, I was really impressed by Lemaire this season, and Rick Owens always puts out a Rick Owens collection which if you're familiar with his work is pretty consistent, but at least it's different. Everyone else seems to have just done variations on loose-fit suiting. I'd love to hear if any of your other anons have opinions on the season as a whole.

2. Jihope's fits specifically. I love the sock-boots so we're going to have to agree to disagree there, but I do agree with the maybe vague consensus that Hobi's fit was a lot more interesting? What I will note though that maybe a lot of people may have missed is that I have a half-suspicion that Hobi's addition to the crew was relatively last-minute. Jimin's jacket fit him /perfectly/. Like- perfectly. Made for him perfectly. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd been to a half dozen styling appointments to get it right. I could talk at length at how bad soo many of the BTS suits are, and Jimin especially has a difficult frame to get right with off the shelf suiting. Hobi's fit was more fun, but someone very well could have grabbed it off a rack, steamed it, and thrown it at him this morning and the effect would have been the same.

3. On the security team/lack of photos/maybe presence at the after party. It did seem to me like the security team was necessary - even Hobi had a pretty significant one, but what I think people are maybe missing is that Jimin very obviously had a meeting right after the show. Do people think he went to the Dior store just to hang out? That was probably a scheduled meeting for him to meet with both his styling team (I saw at least one prominent Hybe stylist with him) and the Dior team to go over the pieces they expect him to wear/present options for the rest of the year based on the collection they just had. That shit is top secret until after the show is over and global ambassador means global team. They could have shot promo too, given his outfit change. The Lunar new year is on Sunday. I wouldn't be surprised if both he and Hoseok are on the next plane back to Incheon tomorrow morning (3 hours apart, can't have those airport photos crossed). He simply did not have time to hang out backstage and take photos like Hobi did. A shame? Definitely. But I don't think it's a conspiracy. As to whether he went to any afterparty? Hoseok obviously went to some LV events last night, his own ig story posts prove that. And yet nothing on the timeline. Just because we don't see something doesn't mean it doesn't happen.

Alright, let me unpack this one by one. Thanks for splitting the thoughts into sections, it helps.

1. I read a bit about the concept for Dior's collection and how it's some tribute to YSL and his work during the early 60s when he was the designer. Either way, I really get your Balmoral comment. I knew it reminded me of something: posh boys with a dash of Brideshead Revisited. It was definitely an interesting choice to have a collection based mostly on sportswear for fall/winter, but what do I know? It does look a bit bland, although some items can work, but it depends on how they're styled and who wears them. For example, I'm thinking of Jimin's outfit from yesterday and if he only had his jacket suit on without anything underneath, it would have looked a bit more eye catching, especially given the color palatte.

I agree that sometimes, compared to women's fashion, menswear can be a bit boring, but not all the time and definitely doesn't apply to all designers. I saw the Rick Owens show. I get it. It's a signature. Good for a show and to have everyone talking about it. I understand its purpose.

Have you seen Saint Laurent? It's my favorite collection of the entire week. It's not some extraordinary, one of a kind, never before seen, but its simplicity (not blandness) and elegance got to me. It's classy and I loved the fabrics they used. This is a case in which I also have to disagree with you about the bad tailloring. I'm not saying it's not happening with some brands (I see it more as aesthetic choice), but what I saw for SL was quite the opposite of that.

Also, have you seen Ten Lee and Jeonghan attending the show? I was mesmerized. Such good choices.

Not gonna lie, I would have loved to see Jimin wearing those clothes. He would definitely have me in a chokehold. But I'm not dismissing Dior. This is just the beginning anyway.

2. Yes, Hobi's fit was a bit more interesting than Jimin's, but I guess that skirt is what makes the entire outfit. And I have to agree, I also thought that Hobi was a last minute addition, but he also attended Hermes today, so maybe he's doing a tour and he did get the invitations way before? Either way, as much as people fawn over him and his presence yesterday, I do think we can agree that this was Jimin's time as guest and it showed. In all matters. No point in having childish fandom debates.

3. To me, it was obvious from the beginning that Jimin going to the Dior store immediately after was part of a schedule. I didn't think about the details, as to choosing the items he would wear in the future, but it was definitely part of business. I also heard he's leaving Paris tomorrow, so that explains it.

4. Lastly, I don't know how you perceived it, but I got the feeling the fandom was quick to conclude that Jimin is not attending any after party. As if they would know. Maybe it's because they have a certain perception about him and they didn't want to see anything similar to the Celine after party back in June. I don't know, it's just a hunch. But what I do know, is that if someone wants to be as private as possible and not have his whereabouts known, that is doable. And nothing would show up on the timeline. Privacy is always an option if one wants it.

[specialshinytrinkets]

(TW for mention of animal death, using pets' meat in food, alcohol abuse, child neglect)

.

So one thing that stood out to me about Grave a year or so ago is the fact that nobody (but [implied] police) stopped him from his burger frying endeavor. May I remind you, at the pet cemetary. Explicitly implied that he dug up animal graves and used the corpses there

You'd think his parent(s) would try to stop it. Which led me to the first idea. That the guy is neglected and did this due to desparation

(An old sketch, 30.10.2021)

Then I remembered this from "The Sock": mr Small mentions a guy lying to him, and now working at the cemetary. Now, it was most likely a human (as human as it gets in Elmore) one, since it was next to a prison. But changing your jobs is entirely possible, which led to the second idea: Grave (Samuel Corpeno) is that guy and left Elmore Jr High school after lying about something to mr Small

("Disturbing Abnormality", 2.01.2022)

Next thing was this: "The News". To be exact, the alpaca farmer guy

Does he remind you of anybody?

Just.... an interesting coinsidence. I know and think this was most likely not intended by the designers and writers, but still. It led to the final piece: the farmer divorced Grave's mother, which led to her drinking excessively [the reason for divorce? more likely than you think] and neglecting Sam

Which snowballed to him possibly doing or saying something at school [since mental instability, this dude ain't fine], that got him into mr Small's office. There, he tried to lie his way out, and this is where:

A. The truth was revealed and he ran away to escape the consequences

Or B (the one I went with). Mr Small got too close to Grave's household problems, and the latter ran away to not get into more serious toruble with legal organs

Either way, the guy first works at the people cemetary, where he becomes pals with Carrie, but gets replaced with Larry. Grave doesn't remember who exactly replaced him, so he doesn't hold much grudge against Larry

(TAWOG - After School Special) (pls read Gumball BOOM comics they are so good) (also human skull is freaky)

So he goes to pet cemetary. Haven't decided yet if he actually worked there or just sold the burgs. He gets caught by the police, which leads him to become a cashier, which brings us to the present time. Working at the same place, Larry becomes a father figure for him, then meeting with Karen and Lily. And so, he gets accepted into the Needlemeyers' family :)

NOW. Why did I tell you all of this information?

... At first, I wanted to tell a story. But now it feels like something that needs a SEPARATE comic, and not just another ramble. Sheesh. At least I spilled the beans about Sammy more lol

Mind you, this is just a retelling of most important RECENT events for him, I still have more content. Not just angst, but fluff as well. Who can forget the noodly glitchy boyfriend Grave has? :)

Stay tuned for more!! I guess.................. See you all someday~ Stay fresh!

[nasa]

NASA Spotlight: Earth Climate Scientist Dr. Yolanda Shea

Dr. Yolanda Shea is a climate scientist at NASA's Langley Research Center. She’s the project scientist for the CLARREO Pathfinder (CPF) mission, which is an instrument that will launch to the International Space Station to measure sunlight reflected from Earth. It will help us understand how much heat is being trapped by our planet’s atmosphere. Her mission is designed to help us get a clearer picture than we currently have of the Earth’s system and how it is changing

Yolanda took time from studying our home planet to answer questions about her life and career! Get to know this Earth scientist:

What inspired you to study climate science?

Starting in early middle school I became interested in the explanations behind the weather maps and satellite images shown on TV. I liked how the meteorologists talked about the temperature, moisture, and winds at different heights in the atmosphere, and then put that together to form the story of our weather forecasts. This made me want to learn more about Earth science, so I went to college to explore this interest more.

The summer after my junior year of college, I had an internship during which my first assignment was to work with a program that estimated ocean currents from satellite measurements. I was fascinated in the fact that scientists had discovered a way to map ocean currents from space!

Although I had learned about Earth remote sensing in my classes, this was my first taste of working with, and understanding the details of, how we could learn more about different aspects of the physical world from satellite measurements.

This led to my learning about other ways we can learn about Earth from space, and that includes rigorous climate monitoring, which is the area I work in now.

What does a day in your life look like?

Before I start my workday, I like to take a few minutes to eat breakfast, knit (I’m loving sock knitting right now!), and listen to a podcast or audio book. Each workday really looks different for me, but regardless, most days are a combination of quieter moments that I can use for individual work and more interactive times when I’m interfacing with colleagues and talking about project or science issues. Both types of work are fun in different ways, but I’m glad I have a mixture because all researchers need that combination of deep thinking to wrap our minds around complex problems and also time to tackle those problems with others and work on solving them together.

When do you feel most connected to Earth?

I’ve always loved sunsets. I find them peaceful and beautiful, and I love how each one is unique. They are also a beautiful reminder of the versatility of reflected light, which I study. Sitting for a moment to appreciate the beauty and calm I feel during a sunset helps me feel connected to Earth.

What will your mission – CLARREO Pathfinder – tell us about Earth?

CLARREO Pathfinder (CPF) includes an instrument that will take measurements from the International Space Station and will measure reflected sunlight from Earth. One of its goals is to demonstrate that it can take measurements with high enough accuracy so that, if we have such measurements over long periods of time, like several decades, we could detect changes in Earth’s climate system. The CPF instrument will do this with higher accuracy than previous satellite instruments we’ve designed, and these measurements can be used to improve the accuracy of other satellite instruments.

How, if at all, has your worldview changed as a result of your work in climate science?

The longer I work in climate science and learn from the data about how humans have impacted our planet, the more I appreciate the fragility of our one and only home, and the more I want to take care of it.

What advice would you give your younger self?

It’s ok to not have everything figured out at every step of your career journey. Work hard, do your best, and enjoy the journey as it unfolds. You’ll inevitably have some surprises along the way, and regardless of whether they are welcome or not, you’re guaranteed to learn something.

Do you have a favorite metaphor or analogy that you use to describe what you do, and its impact, to those outside of the scientific community?

I see jigsaw puzzles as a good illustration of how different members of a science community play a diverse set of roles to work through different problems. Each member is often working on their own image within the greater puzzle, and although it might take them years of work to see their part of the picture come together, each image in the greater puzzle is essential to completing the whole thing. During my career, I’ll work on a section of the puzzle, and I hope to connect my section to others nearby, but we may not finish the whole puzzle. That’s ok, however, because we’ll hand over the work that we’ve accomplished to the next generation of scientists, and they will keep working to bring the picture to light. This is how I try to think about my role in climate science – I hope to contribute to the field in some way; the best thing about what I have done and what I will do, is that someone else will be able to build on my work and keep helping humanity come to a better understanding of our Earth system.

What is a course that you think should be part of required school curriculum?

Time and project management skills – I think students tend to learn these skills more organically from their parents and teachers, but in my experience I stumbled along and learned these skills through trial and error. To successfully balance all the different projects that I support now, I have to be organized and disciplined, and I need to have clear plans mapped out, so I have some idea of what’s coming and where my attention needs to be focused.

Another course not specifically related to my field is personal financial management. I was interested in personal finance, and that helped me to seek out information (mainly through various blogs) about how to be responsible with my home finances. There is a lot of information out there, but making sure that students have a solid foundation and know what questions to ask early on will set them to for success (and hopefully fewer mistakes) later on.

What’s the most unexpected time or place that your expertise in climate science and/or algorithms came in handy?

I think an interesting part of being an atmospheric scientist and a known sky-watcher is that I get to notice beautiful moments in the sky. I remember being on a trip with friends and I looked up (as I usually do), and I was gifted with a gorgeous sundog and halo arc. It was such a beautiful moment, and because I noticed it, my friends got to enjoy it too.

Can you share a photo or image from a memorable NASA project you’ve worked on, and tell us a little bit about why the project stood out to you?

I absolutely loved being on the PBS Kids TV Show, SciGirls for their episode SkyGirls! This featured a NASA program called Students’ Clouds Observations On-Line (S’COOL). It was a citizen science program where students from around the globe could take observations of clouds from the ground that coincided with satellite overpasses, and the intention was to help scientists validate (or check) the accuracy of the code they use to detect clouds from satellite measurements. I grew up watching educational programming from PBS, so it was an honor to be a science mentor on a TV show that I knew would reach children across the nation who might be interested in different STEM fields. In this photo, the three young women I worked with on the show and I are talking about the different types of clouds.

To stay up to date on Yolanda's mission and everything going on in NASA Earth science, be sure to follow NASA Earth on Twitter and Facebook.

🌎 If you're looking for Earth Day plans, we have live events, Q&As, scavenger hunts and more going on through April 24. Get the details and register for our events HERE.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com.

[luimagines]

Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms. 

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you. 

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.” 

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”

[spenciegoob]

A Short Film

A/N: hey hey hey... mid writing this I realized how much I jumped the gun and thought this was a good concept, but now that I’m thinking too hard about it, maybe it’s not. I also wrote too much of it to back down now, so hopefully someone out there enjoys this as much as I did in my head lol.

Summary: Spencer steps way out of his comfort zone to ask his film major girlfriend a question.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: nothing really...  Spencer hardcore struggling with technology

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

___

“Hey Garcia, do you think you could help with something?” Spencer asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and not looking up from the floor of her office.

“Of course, Boy Wonder? What can I do for you?” Garcia answered while excitedly turning her chair back to her wall of screens.

Spencer grabbed the extra chair in her office and mumbled, “Actually um,” causing Garcia to completely abandon her position and fully face the genius.

“Spencer, are you okay? Is something wrong?” Spencer couldn’t blame her for asking. He was sweating more than usual, his face was bright red and he hadn’t stop fiddling with his hands since he shut the door.

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just, uh, I don’t really know how to ask this,” Spencer stumbled back. It was the truth after all. No life experience had prepared him for such a request, one that in the grand scheme of things was not a lot, but to Spencer.

To Spencer, it was everything.

“That’s okay. Take your time,” Penelope stated back, and coming from anyone else, Spencer would have believed it was sarcastic in nature. But he also knew that Penelope was one of the only people he could never find judgement or maliciousness from.

You were the other.

“So Y/N and I as you’re probably aware have been together for 2 years now, and you also know that she just got her degree in cinematography and design, which is really funny if you think about it because I know nothing about any of that, but she knows everything. You know, sometimes she’ll explain to me what she sees through her eyes and it’s nothing like what I’ve ever been able to. I’m rambling now but I want to do that,” Spencer spurted out, and once he was done, he took a breath so deep Penelope whole-heartedly believed if he spent one more second talking, he may pass out.

“Woah there, slow down. First of all, that’s adorable. I love Y/N so much. Second of all, how exactly am I supposed to help you see things that way? Shouldn’t she be more help?” Penelope questioned, now completely confused about Spencer’s intentions with this very early morning visit.

“She can’t exactly know. It’s kind of a surprise thing,” Spencer answered shyly. He hadn’t even gotten to the punchline and yet, he was contemplating every move.

Was this a good idea?

But when he saw the way Penelope lit up before she yelled, “Tell me everything, and spare no details. None!” He knew he would stop at nothing to make this perfect.

“So here’s what I was thinking.”

That was 1 year ago today, and since then, Spencer has tried to figure out what to say when he revealed his big project. He stood in front of the mirror every day for 365 days trying to find the perfect way to put it. Still when you sat on your shared couch gazing up at him in amusement, confusion and adoration all at once, his mouth was dry and his throat clamped up.

“Spence, you’re starting to scare me. Are you okay?” You asked, watching as your boyfriend stared at you like a deer caught in headlights with a laptop and assorted cords in his hands.

“Uh, yes! Yes I am okay. I just need to um, this needs to go. You know what? I wasn’t told how to do this part, can you help me?” Spencer paced back and forth between you and the TV four times while he was talking before he stopped defeated in front of you. He wouldn’t have asked for help unless he was certain Penelope was smart enough to insert a black screen in the beginning of what caused the laptop to burn a hole in his hand.

“Yes, of course,” you said, slightly chuckling at his confusion. Spencer Reid and technology, whilst tragic, was also very adorable. “What are you trying to do?”

“I need the video on the laptop to play on the TV,” he stated simply. At least he knew what he wanted. That was a new, first step in the right direction.

“Okay easy. Just hand me that cord, and,” you drew out the ‘and’ as you bent around the TV and plugged in the cord. “Perfect. Now just plug this end into the laptop and hit play.” You handed Spencer back his end of the cord, watching as he examined the object and the side of the computer to know where exactly to put it. It almost felt like watching a toddler try and find the rightly shaped hole for the triangle piece, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t endearing.

Before he could break anything, you stepped in. “I know you’d be able to figure it out, but it’s that one.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled back sheepishly. 

“Okay so a little back story. A year ago today, I asked Penelope to teach me how to record videos on my new phone. Thank you for that by the way, the camera on it is really cool, and I’m not just saying that because it’s one of the only things I know how to work. Anyways, I started secretly recording videos of you, of us, anything that reminded me of you, and me talking about you. So I sent them over to Garcia and she pushed them all together, and I think what I’m trying to say is I made a short film? Home video? It doesn’t really matter, but I’m showing it to you now.” Spencer didn’t acknowledge the shocked look on your face as he settled next to you and put the laptop on the coffee table.

But as you watched him find the video and set up, your jaw stayed slack. Spencer Reid, the world’s biggest technophobe, figured out how to use an iPhone camera just for you. While to others it may not seem like a lot, to you. 

To you, it was everything.

“Spence, I don’t even know what to say. This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” It didn’t feel like enough. The amount of awe, and love that filled your chest was so comforting, so warm.

It felt like home. It felt like Spencer.

“You don’t have to say anything, just watch,” he stated before hitting the spacebar, something he’s seen you do plenty of times.

The video started out with Spencer crouching down slightly to where the phone was set up against a bookcase in front of the couch.

“Is it recording?” He whispered, and when he realized it was, he took a step back and gave a thumbs up before rushing to sit on the couch. You couldn’t help but let a full smile stretch across your face, an involuntary act when it came to Spencer.

“Hey, love bug. It’s Spencer, but wait you knew that because you can see me.” There was a small pause as Spencer squinted to see if you could actually see him from his position on the couch. When he realized he was in frame, he continued. “This is totally weird that I’m technically talking to myself right now, but I hope future me gave you an explanation. I tried to wait for a good time to start recording this, and in the two weeks I’ve known how to work that thing,” Spencer said as he pointed to the camera. “We’ve been on a case. I came home tonight, and you’re sleeping right now, but if I stay quiet enough I can say what I need to.”

You looked over at Spencer as he was twiddling with his fingers. Something he only did when he was nervous. You reached over and grabbed one of his hands, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but when you tried to pull away so as to not truly disturb his fidgeting, he caught it. So, you intertwined your fingers together, and continued to watch past Spencer.

“I came home today, and all I wanted to do was hold you. Granted, that’s every day, but today was just, it was really hard. When I came home you were asleep on the couch. One time you told me you didn't like to sleep in our bed while I was away, something about it being too big. At first, I was mad because your poor back, but today I changed my mind because the amount of steps to get to you was much less.”

Spencer unlocked the door to the apartment, resting his head against the wood as he inserted the key into the lock. The most recent case had ended with the death of both the latest victim and the unsub, and he couldn’t bear another second of remembering the scene play out in front of him.

All he wanted to do was lay in her arms, but when he opened the door, the apartment was completely silent.

And then he saw a little fuzzy sock clad foot sticking out from underneath the huge, fluffy blanket on the couch. Slowly, he walked towards you, finding you fast asleep with a t-shirt of his tightly snuggled up to your neck and face.

Spencer got down on a knee in front of you, and brushed the hair that had fallen over your eyes. Slowly, they fluttered open at his feather touch, only to widen with realization.

“You’re home!” You squealed, throwing your hands around his neck. Immediately, he reciprocated the hug, tighter than usual. Spencer tucked his head into your neck and inhaled the scent of your shampoo, a grounding technique he would never tell you he developed. The hands he delicately placed at first across the expanse of your back grew heavier, drawing your body closer to his. 

You pulled your head back, him following your movements, and stared deeply into his eyes for a second. The moment you two locked eyes, he knew the jig was up. Spencer knew you could see right through him, and he knew that even if you weren’t there to witness what he had, you saw it replaying over and over in his eyes.

“You must be tired, let’s get you to bed.” Your words shocked him at first. Usually, the people in his life would ask insistent questions on his mental well-being, and while they were greatly appreciated, Spencer was never one to open up when asked to.

You, however, didn’t meddle, you didn’t push. You simply gave him a place to feel safe as you two settled under the duvet together, never letting go of one another even for a second. You held the back of his head, slowly brushing your fingers through his curls as he laid against your chest. Your fingers were medicinal to him, softly taking away the pain and violence of the day, and replacing it with security, comfort, love.

“No one’s ever been that excited to see me before, let alone knew how to take care of me the way you did. I just,” Spencer trailed off and looked towards our bedroom, where you stirred in your sleep looking for him. “You’re about to wake up and wonder where I went. Now you know what I was doing in “the bathroom” for 30 minutes actually meant. Alright, see you next video, love bug.”

The screen cut to Spencer obviously holding the phone close to his chest, the only thing in frame the space where his shoulder and neck met. The soft chords of the start of Vienna by Billy Joel can be heard from outside the room he was in. 

“Okay, I’m gonna have to sneak up on you. I’m sorry in advance.” 

Spencer finally addressed the camera. As the Spencer on the TV quietly left his position in what you could only assume was your bedroom, you looked over at your very real Spencer softly smiling at the TV.

When he caught your stare, he said “Watch, this is my favorite part.” Turning back to the TV, you watched as Spencer carefully tiptoed to the living room, placing the camera to lean against the vase in the middle of the dinner table to face the kitchen.

In the kitchen, you watched yourself very poorly sing along with Billy Joel using a whisk that you just got done washing as a microphone. The blush that crept up your neck and to your cheeks with embarrassment still felt the same as it did that day.

You hadn’t heard Spencer sneak up on you, not until he was right behind you and let out a soft chuckle at a note you missed. Spencer had never seen someone jump out of their skin as much as you did when he made his presence known. 

“Jesus Spencer, you scared me!” You yelled before a smile crept up your face. You couldn’t help it, even in the most embarrassing times, not when Spencer looked at you like that.

“Sorry, love bug. Although, I didn’t mean for you to stop the show.” At that you hit his chest with the whisk/microphone, both of you laughing fully now. “Come here.”

Spencer took your hand, pulling you softly to his chest where you laid your head to his heart. Wrapping his hand around your waist, the two of you started to slowly sway to the music. You both were incredibly offbeat to Vienna, but listening to Spencer’s heart, you realized that the tempo you were dancing at matched up. Unbeknownst to you, due to the adrenaline of being scared, Spencer could feel your heartbeat on his abdomen, and was swaying to that.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, dancing to the in sync beat of each other’s hearts.

The clip of you dancing however only lasted 10 more seconds as the next scene of Spencer bundled up for the fall played. You had met Spencer during the fall, and fell in love with the way the red, yellow and orange leaves contrasted against his honey eyes. This clip was no different.

“Hey, love bug. I’m on my way to deliver this coffee to you in between classes, but I had to stop so I can show you my new friends I’ve made along the way.”

The camera panned down to 4 little ducklings surrounding Spencer’s converse, most of them just waddling around, but one was insistently pecking at the rubber toe of his left shoe. Spencer pointed at the little deviant and said ‘that’s you’ before bringing the camera back up to his face.

“I may have made the mistake of feeding them the fruit I was bringing you, which reminds me I should probably go get you more. I don’t think you’ll be mad though. How could you? Look how cute they are! I kind of want to take them home, but I definitely know that’ll make you mad. Anyways, I just wanted to show off that you’re not always the animal person in this relationship. See you soon, love bug.”

“Oh my god, Spencer. That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, but to confirm your thoughts, yes, I would’ve been mad,” you stated, the giddy smile never leaving your face, and giggles spreading themselves through your words.

“I know, I know. They belong in the wild,” he said back, holding up his free hand in faux defeat.

A new scene presented itself to you, this one being Spencer setting up the camera on the bathroom sink while brushing his teeth. You knew you were approaching by the music slowly getting louder.

You entered you and Spencer’s shared bathroom, Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John playing out of your phone. He was brushing his teeth, and you followed suit, not stopping the small dancing as you did.

You looked at Spencer, and started moving side to side, your free hand grabbing the crook of his elbow to join you. Looking in the mirror expectedly, you watched Spencer look up at the ceiling before joining you, a smile on his face.

Slowly, the two of you fell into a rhythm to the beat of Elton John, making funny faces to each other in the mirror as you did so.

You reached out fully to lean your head on Spencer’s shoulder as you watched.

The scene on the TV shifted once again to show a very flustered you standing in front of the TV with Citizen Kane paused. Your hair was in a messy bun, and you were sporting one of Spencer’s old Caltech t-shirts, and fuzzy black pants with little pumpkins printed everywhere.

Spencer was also wearing the same fuzzy pants.

“Spence, I’m gonna sound crazy here,” you sprinting off the couch after pausing the film you were currently trying to study for your film analysis class. 

“You’re not off to a great start here,” Spencer laughed out. Spencer once told you that no matter what he thought about a book or film, he wanted to listen to you ramble about it for hours. The first thing he fell in love with about you was the way you challenged his thinking, expanding his mind to the possibilities of learning about the difference between production design and cinematography. You taught him something that no class, book or person could ever.

Your mouth dropped open, an over exaggerated gasp leaving your lips, your hand meeting your chest softly. 

“Meanie.” Spencer and you chuckled at the antics, and when the laughs died down, you continued. “Here me out, though.”

And from there, you went into a deep dive about the unreliable narrator, and how it affects camera placement in the scene you two just watched. 

“Oh my god. I talk that fast?” You asked Spencer, who just let a breathy laugh out at your realization.

“Don’t worry, I think it’s adorable,” he whispered the last part, the smile on his face turning from one of hilarity to one full of love.

30 seconds into your rant, you realize the phone he was attempting to hide close to his lap. Your eyes flicked between the camera that was pointed at you, and Spencer, who’s face filled with confusion as to why you stopped talking.

“Are you recording me?” You asked, a smile never leaving your face. Oh no, he’d been caught. Spencer has to think of a believable excuse, and quick.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I just uh... I figured instead of you trying to write it down later, you’d want all your notes now.” Perfect!

“Damn, that was good,” you said, nodding softly at his swiftness. You couldn’t be mad he lied, how could you when the truth was this beautiful?

“I know, right? I came up with it on the spot,” Spencer joked with you. As if TV Spencer knew he was interrupting a moment, a throat clearing came from the video. The Spencer you saw was from 3 days ago, and was sitting in his car in what looked to be the Quantico parking garage.

“Hi, love bug. I’m days away from showing you this, and I still don’t know what to say. I hope the me you’re with now has figured it out. So, uh, yeah. That’s it. Uh, take it away, future Spencer. Actually, you’d be present Spenc-” The video cut off, courtesy of Penelope Garcia.

“Y/N,” Spencer started, turning to face a very emotional you fully. “I still haven’t found the right words. None of them could express my love for you, and perfect doesn’t come close to describing you. I know you have a thing for supporting evidence, and I think I just provided a lot to prove that the best thing to ever happen in my life is you.” You let out a small giggle, the tears welling in your eyes breaking free. “Oh no, if you cry, then I’m going to.”

You let out a full laugh now as Spencer wiped the tears falling down your cheeks before continuing.

“Before you, I was reckless. I didn’t care what happened as long as I did something to help. Now, I have a reason to be careful, a reason to care. I can’t do that to you, and if I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you, I need to live.”

You inhaled softly as Spencer reached into the pocket of his pants, taking your hand in his.

“Which brings me to my question,” he said with a small smile and cocked his head. Slowly, he dropped down to one knee in front of you.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” Spencer opened the velvet box to reveal a simple silver band with a square cut diamond delicately placed on top.

“Spencer Reid, yes. I will marry you.”

With shaky fingers, he slid the ring on your fingers, the fit perfect. You couldn’t wait any longer, and grabbed his face in your hands to pull his lips to yours. Your lips molded together in perfect harmony, lulling you deeper into Spencer’s embrace. 

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you, too,” Spencer answered, only pulling back far enough to mumble before kissing you again.

Note to self: thank Penelope Garcia.

____

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[thetravelerwrites]

Birch (Centaur)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Female Human/Male Centaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Centaur, Reader Insert Content Warnings: Communication Disorder, Social Communication Disorder, Anxiety, Autism, Autistic Reader, Semi-Verbal Autism, Semi-Verbal Reader, Overbearing Mother, Verbal Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Ableism Series: Shelter Forest Words: 4758

Commissioned by an anonymous party, Birch finally gets his own story! The reader, who has a communication disorder, meets and somehow befriends a beautiful centaur named Birch, who lives in the woods with his family and is known throughout the town as being a bit of a playboy and a flirt. When he realizes how poorly the reader is treated by her mother, he immediately tries to rescue her. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You first saw him when you were thirteen year old. You and your mother came to Coleville to beg for work after your father had kicked you both out of the house for another woman. You and your mother worked in the laundry and kitchen of the town’s most popular tavern, washing bed sheets and tableware, so you hadn’t really had the chance to meet him when he came into town to trade. You were only ever able to watch him from a distance

He was massive, friendly, and beautiful. His horse body was the size and color of a buckskin Andalusian, with a pale tan body fur and black socks. His skin was suntanned from working in the fields of his home farm and he always wore a simply-made tunic. His hair was short and black, and his tail was long and black, but his eyes were a bright, clear blue. He smiled easily and seemed to get along with everyone. You fell in love with him as soon as you laid eyes on him.

Well, no, you knew even then that it wasn’t love, it was just fascination and infatuation, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were overjoyed every time you saw him. Not that he’d ever notice you. You were just a plain, poor, chubby laundress with red, chapped hands and a future of working in a tavern for the rest of your life. Why would he even glance at you?

You wouldn’t be able to speak to him, even if he did. You were terribly shy and timid. You’d always been that way and couldn’t help it. Talking to people, looking them in the eye, facing confrontation, it all made you terrified and shaky. You barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t your parents, although you really didn’t speak to them that much, either. You were sure the most used word in your vocabulary was sorry.

When you were younger, your parents had hoped you’d grow out of it, but you never did. Once you hit puberty and was still unable to speak, your mother began to despair of you, pushing you to talk and berating you when you couldn’t, which only made you withdraw more. You couldn’t blame her for being exasperated with you; you were just as frustrated with yourself as she was. She never said it, but you knew she blamed you for your father rejecting you both.

Even though Birch usually came alone, you were sure he must already be married or have a lover, though he was openly flirtatious. You knew he’d had a few girls in town on occasion, having overheard them bragging about their nights with him, though they all seemed to be one-night trysts or affairs that didn’t last long. Perhaps he wasn’t even interested in settling down with anyone and was the playboy type. He was gorgeous enough for it.

Once or twice, he came to town with his family members or to visit family members who had settled here, like his brother Cetzu, the lizardfolk man running the orphanage with his wife. They were all a strange lot: some were human, most were not. You only ever saw one other centaur, and he looked nothing like Birch; he was a younger, smaller piebald named Yew with black skin, white hair, and pale eyes. You’d heard rumors that there was a mixed family in the woods, living on a farm, and that they were all sorts, but it didn’t really seem real to you until you saw them all together.

He’d come to town one day to buy seeds and supplies and came into the tavern for a drink. For centaurs, alcohol was basically food to them, so they drank heavily and often. A lot of centaurs you’d known got pretty rowdy, but Birch was always mindful. He held his ale well and knew when to stop before getting fully inebriated, careful not to make an ass of himself. He was considerate. You liked that about him.

You were working in the kitchens at the time when he arrived, and he sat at one of the tables designed for four-legged folk. It was a long table with no chairs or benches, but flat cushions instead. He folded his legs under him and flagged the waitress, smiling his dazzling smile, and ordered ale and some roasted vegetables. You were neglecting your work, but even if it was just a few seconds, you wanted to commit his image to memory as often as you could.

“Oi!” The waitress, Cathy, hissed as she came toward the door of the kitchen to put in Birch’s order. “What are you doing?!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” You said, barely audibly.

“Go take him his ale,” She said. “We’re understaffed. If you’re going to be in the way, the least you can do is be useful.”

“I…!" You protested, but she pushed past you into the kitchen to yell at the cook. With you heart in your throat, you rushed to fill a clean tankard and skittered it over, setting it down on the table in front of him without looking at him.

“Ah, that was fast,” Birch said, his voice deep, rich, and wonderful to the ear. “You’re a lovely little thing. Are you new, sweet pea? I haven’t seen you in the tavern before.”

You looked down at the ground and didn’t answer. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to stay and try to be friendly, or retreat back to the kitchen, so you were frozen there with indecision, looking at the floor.

“Hey now, don’t be shy, love. I don’t bite,” He said, you assumed in an attempt to be flirty, reaching for your hand. You snatched your hand away impulsively and ran back to the kitchen.

Your heart was racing and your mind reeling. Why did I do that? You thought, covering your face with your hands. He probably thinks I’m crazy or a complete shrew! I should never leave the back rooms again and just stick to washing dishes.

After a few moments, though, your mother pulled you away from washing by the arm.

“What did you do?” She asked angrily. “One of the customers is asking for you!”

You panicked. “I… I just… I brought him his drink…” You whispered in terror.

“Come on,” She gripped your arm and pulled you back out into the tavern common room, where Birch was still sitting. He looked at you with a frown. Oh god, he looks annoyed, you thought nervously.

“Miss,” He said, and you stared at your feet, unable to look up. “I think I may have frightened or upset you. I’m sorry, I sometimes forget that not everyone is receptive to my personality or sense of humor.”

You were completely unable to speak and kept your head down, your shoulders hunched.

“Say something!” Your mother hissed at you, and you could only shrink into yourself further. “I’m sorry, sir,” Your mother said in exasperation. “My daughter is as timid as a field mouse. She can’t speak to other people and she never looks people in the eye. She can barely even speak to me. She’s always been like this.”

“Oh,” He said, sounding concerned. “Is she unwell?”

“Probably,” Your mother replied in annoyance, and you pulled away even further. “Though the doctors can’t tell us what’s wrong with her. She usually stays in the kitchen and laundry away from the customers. I don’t know what possessed her to come out here and bother you.”

“C… Ca…” You stuttered, struggling to speak in your defense, looking back toward the kitchen, where Cathy was hovering by the door.

“Oh, did Cathy ask you to bring me my drink?” He asked kindly.

You nodded fervently.

“I understand. I’m sorry that she put you in an uncomfortable situation, and I apologize for making it worse.”

Your mother sighed wearily. “Sir, don’t apologize to her. It’s not your fault that she can’t function like a normal adult.”

That hurt. You were on the verge of tears and hugged your arms around yourself, desperately wanting to escape back to the kitchen.

“Even so,” He said, his voice cold, but softened when he addressed you. “I’m very sorry, miss.”

You nodded once and shuffled quickly back to the kitchen, unable to keep the tears from falling. Your mother rejoined you a few minutes later.

“You could have at least apologized to him,” He said, taking the plates as you washed them to rinse them off and put them in the rack. “Why do you have to embarrass me like that? How hard is it to say ‘thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry’?” She sighed sharply and wiped her hands. “Don’t you dare get us fired.” And she walked off, leaving you weeping into the dishwater.

Cathy heard the entire thing and came over sheepishly.

“Hey… I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your ma,” She said. “I forgot about the speaking thing. I was just in a rush and I didn’t think.”

You shook your head. Cathy was the one person who you might call a friend. She was a little brusque and had a short fuse, but she was one of the few who didn’t make fun of your stuttering and silence or look down their nose at you.

“Listen, Birch is a really nice guy. He plays around and has his fun with the girls, but he’s never hurt anyone on purpose. He wasn’t trying to make fun of you or make you feel bad.”

You nodded shortly. You knew that. He was being friendly; that’s just how he talked to people. But being humiliated in front of him was a torture unlike anything you’d felt before, and it hurt.

The next day, you were feeding the chickens in the coop outside of the tavern when you looked up and saw him exiting the tavern. He noticed you right away, and you turned immediately and tried to flee.

“Hey, wait!” He called. “Wait, please!”

You stood with your back to him but you stayed put. You heard him trotting up to you, his hoof-beats heavy.

“Hey, listen, I wanted to apologize again,” He said. “To just you this time. I don’t know what your mother’s problem is, but what she said… that was uncalled for. You didn’t deserve that.”

You turned to face him but you didn’t look up, focusing instead on his large hooves. You shook your head. No, he was wrong. You did deserve it.

“You can’t help how you are,” He said. “It’s not your fault. I have a little brother who has trouble talking to people, too. It’s the exact opposite of your problem; he says exactly what’s on his mind with no filter. He can’t control it and it embarrasses him sometimes. It’s not the same, I know, but I understand that it can be hard.”

He was so nice. You were able to lift your head a little, but you still couldn’t look him in the face.

“My name is Birch,” He said. “What’s yours?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, so you shut it again.

“Hmm,” He hummed. “Can you write?”

You shook your head.

“Um… sign language?”

You answered no again.

“I see,” He said, sighing. “I… I’ll be honest… I don’t want to leave you here with that mother of yours. I’m not sure what kind of relationship you have with her, but the way she talks to you…” He pawed the ground in annoyance. “It bothers me. Does she do that a lot? Make fun of you in front of other people?”

You shrugged, embarrassed.

He sidestepped in an anxious way and swished his tail. “I have to go back home later today,” He said. “Are… are you going to be okay?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“Well… alright,” He said. “Look, um… if you ever need to… you know… leave this place, talk to Cathy. She knows where my family’s farm is. She can help you get there. If you need to.”

You nodded again, and he turned to leave, but an unfamiliar impulse compelled you to rush forward and take hold of the hem of his tunic. He stopped and looked at you, though he could only see the top of your head.

“Th…” You gulped, your throat dry, your heart beating in your throat. “Tha… ank…you…” You managed to choke out. “H… Haz…zel…”

“You’re name is Hazel?” He asked, a smile in his voice.

You nodded emphatically.

You felt him put a hand on top of your head and and sort of rubbed his fingers against your scalp. It felt nice, even though you weren’t used to physical touch. Your mother wasn’t exactly the affectionate sort.

“You take care, okay?” He said, taking his hand back. “I’ll be back in a few days. I look forward to seeing you again.”

That evening, you were in the room you shared with your mother as she brushed her hair for bed when she mentioned nonchalantly, “I saw you with that centaur man today. What did he say to you?”

“...he… nothing…” You said vaguely.

“Then why did he touch you? And why were you touching him?” She asked, her voice flat.

“I…” You gulped. “I… don’t know…” You said truthfully.

“Oh, really? You don’t know? You don’t know why a man like him would touch you? You know his reputation in this town. He’s trying to take advantage of you because you're simple.”

“He was… just… being nice…” You said softly.

Your mother snorted. “Men aren’t nice without a reason. I thought you’d know that by now.” She threw down her hairbrush onto the night table and lay down in your shared bed. “You’re not going to have anything to do with him from now on, do you understand? It shouldn’t be difficult for you to manage that, should it?”

You didn’t say anything, just sat at the table and stared into the fire.

“It’s for your own good,” She said, facing away from you. “I know I’m strict with you, but… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You have no problem with me getting hurt when you’re the one doing it, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t say it. You knew she was right, though. He was a flirt and a bit of a libertine, and you thought that perhaps he was only being nice to you because he saw you as low hanging fruit. It hurt to think of him that way, but it was the only thing that made sense.

He did return in a few days, an older woman riding on his back. She was lovely, even at her age, and was wearing trousers and a practical shirt, but no bodice or ladies coat. Her brown hair was caught back in a tight braid, a few strands of grey weaved in and out.

You saw them arrive from the window of your room as you were getting ready for the day. He was as handsome as always, and you watched him wistfully. As if he could sense you, he looked up and saw you at the window. He smiled at you and waved. Remembering what your mother said, you were unable to smile back and walked away from the window without acknowledging him. You hoped he wouldn’t be too angry at you.

Before you could start work in the laundry, Cathy called you out.

“Birch and his mother are here,” She said, keeping her voice down so that your mother wouldn’t hear. “They want to see you.”

“I cant…” You said in your normal whisper. “Mama will be angry…”

“Don’t worry about your ma right now,” Cathy said dismissively. “You don’t deserve the shit she gives you, you’re just too shy to tell her off. Just go see what they want. Maybe it’s a chance to get out from under her thumb.”

You had to admit, you did wish for that. You loved your mother, and she loved you in her own way, but you knew she resented you and it was just… exhausting, dealing with her reproachfulness and cutting words every day. You were just too scared to leave on your own.

You thought long and hard about it, looking around to see if your mother was anywhere near. When you didn’t see her, you looked up at Cathy, looking just past her behind her ear instead of at her face, and nodded. She took you by the hand and led you out to the dining area. Birch and his mother were sitting at the four-legged table, with his mother having dragged over a chair to sit with him comfortably.

“Oh, good, there you are,” Birch said. “When you didn’t react this morning, I was worried something had happened. Mama, this is the young woman I was telling you about.”

He told his mother about you? Why?

“I see, I see,” The older woman said. “My name is Ryel, I’m Birch’s mother. Your name is Hazel, right?”

You nodded, unable to look up.

“Goodness, you are rather shy, aren’t you, dear?” She said sympathetically. You chewed your lip, unable to respond. “My son tells me you’re illiterate, is that correct?”

You nodded.

“I imagine that makes communicating with other people very difficult,” She said.

You nodded again.

“So, how about this?” She said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you come to the farm with me for the summer? I’ll teach you how to read and write, and in exchange, you help me out around the farm. How does that sound?”

For the first time in your life, you were surprised into looking someone in the face. She was smiling warmly at you

“I’m getting older and I could use an assistant. My children all have their own work and families to look after and I’d feel as if I were taking advantage of them if I expected them to follow me around and help me all day.”

“Mama, you know we’d do it happily,” Birch said.

“I know that,” She said, hushing him. “Even still, I’d prefer to hire someone for the task, and if I can help them at the same time, why shouldn’t I?” She leaned forward. “What do you say, dear?”

This is exactly what you wanted. A job that was away from your mom. This was your chance. You opened your mouth, as if to answer, when you heard a sharp voice behind you.

“Hazel!” Your mother said, irate, and stalked out of the kitchen toward you, grabbing you by the arm. “Stop bothering these people! Get back to the laundry.”

Birch’s back leg kicked slightly in irritation, thumping the wood of the floor, but Ryel kept her composure.

“She’s not bothering us in the least, madam,” She said calmly. “I’ve actually come here to offer her a job.”

Your mother scoffed. “A job? Doing what?”

“As my assistant,” Ryel said. “I’m a jack of all trades type, you might say, and I’m willing to take her on in exchange for room and board, plus an education.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Your mother said, her grip rather strong on your arm. “My daughter is not capable of making her own decisions.”

“How old is your daughter?” Ryel asked.

“She’s nineteen,” Your mother replied. “But I’m afraid she’s a bit slow. Trying to teach her wouldn’t benefit either of you.”

You frowned, upset. That wasn’t true, you weren’t slow. In fact, you thought you learned rather quickly, you’d just hadn’t had the chance to learn very many new things.

“Be that as it may,” Ryel replied, her voice still even. “Your daughter is an adult and has the right to choose what she wants.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said. “Besides, even if I allowed this, I don’t want her anywhere near him.” She jerked her chin toward Birch.

Birch bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know what kind of man you are,” She hissed. “How many lovers you’ve had in just this town alone? How many broken hearts have you left in your wake? I know you have ulterior motives for wanting to take her from here, and I won’t stand for it. She’s simpleminded and vulnerable, and I won’t let you dishonor her and return her to me used and broken.”

“Stop talking like she can’t hear every vile thing you say about her!” Birch shouted, slamming his fist into the table, making you jump. “I would never do something so shameful! You don’t know anything about me! ”

“Son, calm down,” Ryel said, putting her hand on his. “My son is a grown man of twenty-eight and has desires, true, but I’ve been to this town quite often and I haven’t found any such string of broken hearts, as you call it. Many sighing and wistful girls who long for his company, sure, but not one of them has come to me with tears in her eyes claiming he lied or misled her. He’s open and forthright about his intentions, and I respect his decisions. You should do the same for your child.”

“Don’t talk to me about my child if you can’t even control your own,” Your mother said venomously. “Hazel, let’s go.”

She tried to lead you away, but you refused to move. There were hurt and anxious tears in your eyes and you couldn’t look at anyone, but you refused to let her pull you away.

“Hazel!” She gripped your arm and yanked you painfully, and you wrenched your arm from her grasp, shaking your head.

“It seems like she’s made her choice,” Ryel said. “The least you can do as her mother is respect her wishes.”

“Be quiet!” Your mother said. “Leave us alone!” She grabbed your hands and started to pull you back to the kitchen. Birch got to his feet.

“Let her go,” He said, his voice a low growl, knocking her hands away from you. He stood between you and your mother. You dared to reach out and place a hand on the fur of his back to steady yourself.

“What’s going on here?” The bartender, Brian, asked. He also owned the tavern and knew about your condition. He didn’t speak to you much, but he also didn’t tease you either. You could handle understanding silence a lot better than persistent expectation to interact. “Are you alright, Hazel?”

You were shaking and crying, so you could only shake your head.

“These people won’t leave us alone,” You mother said. “I’d like them to leave.”

“Now, Rita, these people are good customers and friends of mine. I’m going to need more of a reason than ‘they’re bothering me’ to kick them out.”

“We simply offered young Hazel here a job on the farm,” Ryel said patiently. “I’m afraid her mother is interfering with her decision.”

“Is that true, Hazel?” Brian asked. “Would you like to take up this job?”

Trembling, you nodded.

“Well, then, that settles it, doesn’t it?” Brian said. “These are good folks, Hazel, they’ll take care of you.”

“Like hell they will,” You mother retorted. “She can’t make decisions like this. She doesn't understand.”

Brian sighed. “Rita, your girl’s not stupid, and it’s high time you stopped treating her like she is.”

Your mother looked like she’d been slapped in the face. You looked up at Brian in shock. He smiled kindly at you.

“Why don’t you go up and pack your things while your mother and I have a little chat, eh, dear?” He said.

You attempted to smile at him, though you worried it looked a little like you had indigestion, and went to pack. You took a few minutes to sit on the bed and breathe, clutching your chest, feeling a panic attack poking at your brain. You couldn’t believe it. You were really leaving.

There was a knock on your door and Ryel poked her head in.

“Are you alright, dear? That was quite the fuss,” She said.

You dried your face and nodded, getting up to start putting clothes in a bag.

“I sent Birch outside. He was getting rather angry, and I didn’t want him smashing any of Brian’s furniture.”

You looked out the window. Birch was standing in the courtyard with his arms crossed, stamping the ground and stepping constantly, as if he couldn’t stand still. His brow was furrowed, his jaw was working, and his tail was swishing back and forth without stopping.

“He’s worried for you, dear,” She said, following your gaze. “One thing our entire family has in common is that we don’t like seeing people mistreated. You’re mother may have her reasons for acting as she does, and perhaps it is out of some misplaced notion of love, but there’s no doubt in my mind at all that she mistreats you. You can’t help the way you are, and no amount of her cruel words are going to fix that. In fact, I’m more than certain it makes it worse.”

You sighed sadly in agreement. As you stood there, Birch looked up at your window. He smiled, a little sadder than before, and waved up at you. This time, you raised a hand and waved back.

The door opened and your mother walked in, glaring at Ryel.

“I’d like to speak to my daughter alone, if you please,” She said, her voice low and hostile.

Ryel looked at you questioningly, and you nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” She said, and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Your mother just stared at you with her arms crossed, shaking her head slightly. You looked down and away.

“I guess I should just be glad you won’t be around to humiliate me anymore,” She said, and you shrunk in on yourself. “I don’t like this at all, but it seems I have no say in the matter. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

You knew she was hurt and was lashing out. She wasn’t exactly sweet and caring on her best days, but she could really cut a person to the quick when she was upset.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” She asked you, and you could hear tears in her voice. “Nothing at all? You can’t muster the courage to apologize to me for that display downstairs? For leaving me without a thought to my feelings? I’ve spent the last seven years protecting you and providing for you after your useless father threw us out, and you do this to me? And you have nothing to say?”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you walked up to her and put your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, Mama,” You said softly.

She started to sob and put her arms around your shoulders. It had been years since she’d last hugged you.

“You’d better start sending me letters as soon as you learn how to,” She said, her voice breaking. “If I don’t hear something from you in a few months, I’m going out there to drag you back, you understand me?”

“Yes, Mama,” You whispered, and took a step back. Picking up your bag, you opened the door and walked out. Ryel was waiting and smiled when she saw you.

“Ready?” She asked.

You nodded.

Back outside, Birch was waiting. He stopped shifting around anxiously when he saw you and his mother exit the tavern.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Everything’s just fine,” Ryel said. “We’re ready to go.”

“Would you like to ride on my back?” Birch asked, turning.

You shook your head fervently, mortified.

“Are you sure?” He said. “It’s a long walk back to the farm, over four hours. I can get us there in half the time.”

“She’s feeling shy,” Ryel said. “For centaurs, letting people ride on their back is a special privilege afforded to few. I’ll ride with you.” She grinned at him. “He always makes an exception for his mother.”

He grinned at her in return. “You just assume I do.” But he took out a quilted riding blanket that was rolled up and tied to the bottom of his pack and handed it to her, and she set it on his back. Climbing the steps to the tavern, she vaulted onto his back. She instructed you to do the same. Blushing furiously, with both Ryel and Birch’s help, you were able to scramble on in front of her.

“Let’s go,” He said, and he took off at a trot out of town.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[amysubmits]

Known & Owned

She left her ring on the pillow Right where it wouldn't be missed She left a note in the kitchen Next to the grocery list It said

You don't even know who I am You left me a long time ago You don't even know who I am So what do you care if I go

This song was on the radio while I was in the car the other day. I remembered my mom playing it often when I was a kid. Turning the radio up loud when it came on. 

I have always liked sad songs that feel like they are true for someone, even if they aren’t my story. I don’t think that’s the case with my mom. I think this one resonated with her. I imagine that living out the story in this song would be a nightmare for most anyone. 

It got me thinking though about how there are definitely varying degrees of intimacy that people seek, and in different ways. I think everyone wants their partner to know them. But, maybe what depth it requires to feel like someone really knows you varies from person to person. Or perhaps how well known we want to be, varies. 

-------

Recently @cynicaldom and I got talking about scent preferences, somehow. I had said something like “it smells good, but not on ME.” and then I tried explaining how I can find some things to smell good in general, but I may not want that as a personal care product scent. Or I may like a smell in a candle but not as a laundry detergent scent. That scent has to ‘match’ the type of product that it is. I went to bathroom and pulled out a really old bottle of shampoo from under the sink, took the lid off and offered it to him to sniff. Like this? This smell is okay, I guess. But I don’t want to smell like this.”

He smelled it. “I think that smells really good!” 

“Kinda but not for on your body?”

“What? No. I really like that....that smells like YOU.”

Like me?

“Yes! That’s how your hair and our old bathroom smelled when we lived on (road).”

I started laughing. “Oh my gosh. We were living there when I used this! I can’t believe you remembered that smell...”

It tickled me that he remembered my hair smell. As I was laying in bed that night trying to fall asleep, I was remembering it. And I got thinking about how multiple people in the past I’ve had experiences of commenting on someone’s new hair color or new haircut and had them reply that their partner never even noticed. 

One memory in particular, the woman had cut off easily 6+ inches of hair, making her hair way shorter than she had kept it for many years. When she said her husband hadn’t noticed I said “Wow, i’m sorry” or something similar and she shook her head and said ‘men.” I know it was sort of a joke relating to a stereotype of men being oblivious/not caring. I know she knows not all men are like that. It still just seemed so sad to me. The joke didn’t help lighten it any. 

---

A few days later I was working on making a curbside grocery order. I was telling CD what I was adding and he was telling me things to add, too. I had mentioned to him the day before that I want to go back to the type of deodorant I used to use. The last few months I had tried something different that I thought was working at first, but wasn’t now. Anyway, while trying to place this order I said I couldn’t seem to remember what my old deodorant was, I knew it was something clinical. “It was Secret, wasn’t it?” he asked. “I don’t think so, these don’t look right” I said after searching Secret on our grocery store’s website. A moment later he showed me his screen, pointing to an image on google search results. “Wasn’t it that one?” 

He was pointing to the exact one I used to order, correct scent and everything. 

It turned out that they had redone the labeling so that’s why the grocery store listings didn’t look right to me. Google brought up the old design that matched the one I had bought before. 

Still, I thought it was funny that he remembered my deodorant and I didn’t. 

---

I have always loved the ways that CD notices me, and really, truly sees me even in the detailed, tiny ways. It’s always meant a lot to me, and brings me warm, fuzzy feelings. Whether it’s somewhat silly things like remembering my old deodorant, or more meaningful ones. It feels so good when he remembers some detail I’ve shared about my childhood, that I don’t even remember having told him. Or the way he asks what’s wrong when I think I am doing a perfect job of acting fine. The way he notices my emotions and behaviors is particularly important to me. The way he reads my quiet, my nervous-hyper, my closed-off, my needy, my sensitive. All the tiny details of other things wouldn’t matter if he didn’t know my emotions, I think. It’s an essential type of intimacy, for me. 

I want to know him in the same ways. I remember feeling a bit silly when I teared up when he once told me about a book he liked a lot as a little kid. Harold And The Purple Crayon. My ADHD betrays me with the details of things, but I try to overcome it because I want to know and remember the detailed pieces of him. How he wants his shirts hung up. How he wants his socks folded. I want to be able to tell when he wants attention and when he wants space. Exactly how he likes different foods prepared, how much seasoning, how long to took it so it’s ‘just right’, how he wants it plated.  

I think it’s a factor of compatibility, how deeply you wish to try to know each other. I also think it plays into our D/s. He has to want to really, deeply know me in order to take care of me well while making the decisions. I have to value his preferences in order to try to follow them when serving him. 

It also ties into a sense of ownership. I’ve noticed that some see ownership as a lack of attachment, almost. For example, I’ve been asked before if I need to have my needs ignored in order to feel owned. I don’t - at all. I think for me, feeling owned is being seen and understood as deeply as possible. 

No specific kinky act makes me feel owned more than being seen and understood. The kinky moments where I practically burst with feeling owned are the ones where he reads me perfectly. When I start doubting my ability and he chooses that exact moment to reassure me that I’m doing a good job because somehow he knew my confidence was slipping right then. It feels magical, but it’s not magic, it’s knowing me that well, and that’s what ownership ultimately is to me. 

[guardianofthepeanutwrites]

Skirts and dresses Part 4

Part1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 5

Tag list: @purplefreakwolffish  @mayucerise​

This chapter is for @sarcastich​​ and @starkeraddictbaby​

Thanks to Gypsywoman13 for beta-reading!

CW: genderfluid Loki, Kinda asshole Thor

PeterParkerBingo2021: square Pet Names (card below)

Thor & Loki

Because Peter had been fairly young when he moved inside the compound, they had put his room next to Tony’s quarters since he was the one in charge of their youngest member. Then one day a door appeared in the middle of his room, connecting it to the Stark’s private quarters. They had a long discussion about boundaries: “Ask before putting doors in my bedroom” and “don’t threaten people because they hurt me” etc. Tony had argued it was easier (it was, but that was not the question) because they spend more and more time together. Which was true. 

Tony and Pepper had started to teach Peter some things about business practice. They took him to smaller meetings and introduced him as Tony’s intern; it suited Peter very much. That, plus his patrols, as well as other Avenger business, like training, and his new business classes...Peter was now even busier than he already was.

Except on Sundays. Sundays were days Peter could rest, sleep, visit his aunt May, hang with Ned and MJ, and watch movies with Bucky the other Avengers.

Every Sunday morning, before leaving their quarters, Peter and Tony would eat the most decadent brunch that Peter would let Tony buy him. From all the changes that happened in his life since he got adopted by Tony Stark, Sunday brunches were certainly Peter’s favorites. He loved those calm moments with the man that he admired so much. He also loved that he could put on whatever clothes he wanted because FRIDAY would only let people in the know enter.

That Sunday, they were finishing their meal when Steve entered. He briefly stopped at the soft pink hoodie, gray and pink plaid skirt, and long white socks Peter was wearing before dismissing it and greeting the two men.

“So, Steve, what can we do for you?” Tony asked, forgoing the pleasantries. Peter knew Tony hated being interrupted during Sunday brunches, and saw that Steve started to move from one leg to the other, a bit nervous. Peter frowned.

“Oh, I-I mean, I wanted to apologize for-” Peter tried to interrupt Steve, he had told him many times that Steve was forgiven, but the man was stubborn and didn’t let him talk. “I know, you already told me, but I- I made this for you.” Steve gave Peter a piece of paper. 

On the paper was a beautiful drawing of Peter in the purple dress that he had been wearing when Steve had discovered his secret. Peter was startled out of his stunned silence when his dad gently took the paper from his hands.

Tony simply whistled when he saw the drawing. “Aunt Peggy had told me you could draw, Rogers, but this is something else.” Steve looked at Tony, in shock.

“Au-Aunt Peggy? But you-you weren’t-” 

Tony snorted, irked. “I went to her grave later, Rogers, because there was an emergency, and if there was something Aunt Peggy could understand, it was emergencies. She was Howard’s friend, and my godmother.” Peter, who had been told the story, silently stroked his dad’s back in support as he continued. “We also fought a lot when you came back.” Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Tony didn’t let him. “Not that it’s any of your business, Capsicle, but who do you think covered the truth about Howard’s death? Who do you think had enough power for that? Peggy Carter. She let me think my father killed my mom because he was a fucking alcoholic.”

Steve looked as if he had swallowed a lemon, grimacing. “I didn’t know. I am sorry, Tony.”

Tony lifted his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He lifted the paper with Steve’s drawing on it, looking at it pensively. “You’re very talented. We should make you an art studio. There is an empty room with great lighting.” Tony turned to Peter to watch him. “What d’you think kid? Wanna design it?” 

Peter felt excited to be offered this opportunity; he nodded with way too much enthusiasm. It made Tony smile, proud.

“You’re gonna make some blueprints, and we will see with the Captain what he needs and likes. No, Cap, don’t argue, it will be good training for the kid. Now, Steve, if you don’t mind, I was having brunch with my kid.”

Peter only had 30 seconds to thank Steve for the drawing and promise him he would make the best art studio there was before Steve left. After Brunch, Peter framed the drawing and put it on his shelf with the piece of his first skirt and the picture of his dad in a dress.

--

Later that day, while Peter and Tony were looking at a movie, before heading out for a diner with Aunt May, someone crashed into their quarters through the window.

Tony was ready to fight in seconds; his watch changed into a piece of armor around his right fist, while his left arm pushed Peter behind him, only to find that it was Thor, son of Odin, that had crashed on the ground. Peter couldn’t help but find it kind of cute that his dad would try to protect Peter with his body when Peter could take the most damage.

“For fuck’s sake, Point Break, what the ever-loving fuck?” Tony let the gauntlet recede back into his watch and put his hand on his heart. “I have a heart condition, you know? And we have doors. FRI, baby, tell everyone in the compound there is no immediate emergency. Put the compound in code orange until further notice,” Tony turned to look at Peter, seeing the pink skirt, the hoodie, and the panicked glances his kid was giving, then added, “Tell them there is no need to come and lock the quarters immediately.” 

Peter relaxed some and started to play with the hem of his skirt. 

“I apologize, Man of Iron. It seems like I missed the door.” Thor stood up from where he had crashed, and he opened his arms to hug Tony. “It has been too long my friend. How are you doing?” Tony frowned, but he let the god hug him. 

After they separated, Tony started to give instructions to FRIDAY for the reparations while Thor turned to look at Peter. There were a few seconds where Thor paused to take in how Peter was dressed before he widened his eyes.

Before Peter could react, Thor bowed deeply before speaking. “Good day, Lady Peter.” 

Peter winced. Why would he be a lady? Just because he was wearing a skirt?

“I-I, no, Thor. I-I am a man.” Peter hated how his voice shivered. 

Thor righted himself, beaming at Peter as if nothing had just happened. “Good, how are you doing Man of Spiders?” 

Peter looked at the god, completely lost by what had just happened. “I-I am fine? Thank you, mister Thor,” Peter said with a small voice. 

The god nodded happily. “I am happy to hear that.” Thor promptly turned to Tony. “Man of Iron, I am in great need of a favor.” 

Tony scowled looking at the damage. “Is it more important than repairing the hole in my wall?” 

Thor’s face became serious in a blink, making Peter shiver. “I am afraid it is really important, my friend,” Thor said in a deep voice. 

--

The meeting had been going on for hours, and Peter was exhausted. 

Thor wanted their help to get some information out of his brother Loki. The Asgardians had a reason to think that Loki hadn’t been the one behind the invasion and could even have been a victim of the scepter like Barton and the others, but Loki wouldn’t talk. Thor hoped that maybe someone on Earth could help them because they had tried everything.

The news was welcomed by an uproar, led by Hawkeye and Fury, and had calmed down after Thor had explained that if his fears were correct, there was something worse coming to Earth. He also promised that they wouldn’t need to bring Loki for them to interrogate him and that there was a magic mirror they could use to talk to him.

It was decided the mirror would be locked in Tony’s lab, the most secure room at the compound.

However, they all forgot Peter had unlimited access to the room.

--

The first time Peter saw Loki, Peter was walking along the glass walls of the main lab. He could see Natasha and Maria Hill looking frustrated at a mirror. In the mirror, there was a gorgeous woman with long, raven black hair; she had piercing green eyes, green lipstick, and she was wearing a stunning, black leather dress. 

If Peter hadn’t been gay, and stupidly in love attracted to Bucky, he knew that he could have fallen for this beautiful lady.

Then his brain started to work again and realization clicked: The woman was Loki. Loki was wearing (and rocking) a dress. He looked like a woman, but how? When she/he/the God of Mischief saw Peter, they winked. Peter startled and simply walked faster to the B-Lab where Bruce was waiting for him.

--

Peter couldn’t get Loki out of his mind. The God didn’t look uncomfortable wearing a dress or looking like a woman in front of his enemies. 

After some days, Peter decided to go to the main source of information about Loki: Thor.

“Oh, yes, Loki sometimes, uhm, switches? Mother always said to respect the gender he looks like, but you know that Loki is my brother, so it was difficult at first.” Thor massaged his neck, uneasy. “But then, Loki started to play vicious pranks on the people who would call him a man when he was dressed like a woman. So, I learned to, uh, call Loki a lady when he wears a dress.”

And then Peter understood. “That's why you called me a lady the other day!” 

Thor nodded. “But luckily you don’t ask me to call you a woman.” 

Peter frowned. “Why do you say luckily? I mean, I don’t think there is anything wrong with asking someone to call you a woman if… you feel like a woman?” Thor, confused, looked at Peter and was about to reply, but Tony (since when had he been in the room?) answered first, making Peter and Thor startle.

“No, there is nothing wrong, Peter. Loki is genderfluid, which means that they don’t identify themself as having a fixed gender.” Tony, who was at the door, walked into the room and up to Peter. “We asked Loki and he said you could use the pronouns depending on what he looks like. It’s easier because Loki is a shifter, and can change depending on his moods. But if you ever meet another genderfluid person, you can just ask them what gender they identify with at that moment.” 

Peter nodded. It made sense. 

Thor looked a bit crushed when he started to speak again. “So, it’s not only Loki?” Tony simply shook his head. “Oh. I think I need to talk to my br-Loki.” With those words, the god left the room.

--

Peter did some research about genders - Tony helped - and he concluded that he was a man that liked to cross-dress and that there was nothing wrong with that. Peter had felt very loved that his dad, who was always so busy, had taken the time to explain all of those terms to Peter until they found the ones that felt right.

But Peter was a curious person, and it was what led him to be bitten by a radioactive spider in the first place... Peter wanted to talk to Loki. He wanted to talk about the dress, and about being genderfluid. He knew that the god was not a good being, but Loki was already in prison. What could go wrong?

--

“The mighty Avengers are sending me a child, now? Interesting.” Loki’s bitter words made Peter flinch. Peter silently closed the door behind him, before he entered the lab.

“No. I- I mean, I am an Avenger, but they didn’t send me.” Peter nervously played with the plaid shirt he was wearing that day.

“Then why are you here?” 

Peter lifted his head and looked directly at Loki for the first time. He noted that Loki was in a male form. 

“I learned that you are genderfluid. I- I just wanted to talk.” 

Loki’s face softened a little bit. “Oh, yes. People of Midgard have been strangely open-minded about it.” His face then hardened again. “What do you want? Do you want to see the shift? Do you want me to become a female?” 

Peter winced. 

“What? No! Only if it’s what you want. But, no, who would want you to do that? You’re not some kind of animal.” Peter was horrified, just thinking about it. Loki huffed but said nothing, watching Peter with piercing eyes. Peter took a deep breath and gathered his courage. “I-I like to wear dresses. It is called cross-dressing here.” 

Loki looked at Peter like he was analyzing Peter’s very soul. “Why are you telling me this, human?” he seemed perplexed.

“I saw you in that dress the last time, and you were gorgeous. I mean, that dress, it looked like it had been made just for you.” Peter couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice. Loki raised an eyebrow, but Peter could see that he was fighting a smile.

“That would be because it was crafted for me. I am a prince of Asgard, little one.” The reply was unexpected, and Peter felt his eyes open with shock that was rapidly replaced by glee.

“Oh yes, my da- Mr. Stark let a tailor come to the tower, and he wanted to tailor some things, but I wasn't ready yet. Mr. Stark said that the man could come back later. ” 

Loki didn’t fight his smile this time.

“And why weren’t you ready, yet, dear?”

--

Peter and Loki talked a big part of the night until Peter started to yawn too much, then Loki sent him to his room. As days went on, after his patrol and doing some homework, Peter visited every night to talk about stuff with Loki.

--

“By the Norns! Dear Spider, why would you not simply tell the man that you want him?” Loki asked, sitting against the wall of his prison.

“What? No! He doesn’t feel that way about me,” Peter answered stubbornly while painting his nails with a green nail polish that had been approved by Loki.

“You won’t know until you try, dear.” Peter shrugged and changed the subject.

--

Of course, after a visit one night, they were discovered. While Tony and Natasha (and Bucky) hadn’t been really happy about it, there was nothing they could do or say to change Peter’s mind.

--

“You what?” Peter asked, dumbfounded.

“I stabbed the mongrel,” Loki answered, way too smugly if you asked Peter.

“Because he slapped your ass? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Oh my sweet, sweet, little Spider. If you let men get away with unwanted touching, they will think it is alright to do it again and again. No one should dare touch a lady like that without consequences.” Loki played with the knife that had been in his hand since they started to talk that day.

“Yes, but still, Thor is your brother.” Peter never had had a sibling, but if he had, he wouldn’t have stabbed them, for sure.

“After that, neither Thor, nor any of the savages he called ‘friends’, ever touched me without my consent.” The smile Loki sent his way made Peter shiver.

“Yeah, ok, fair.” The god did heal fast, so Peter guessed that it was okay-ish.

--

Peter had been surprised when a raven had given Peter two identical letters one morning after breakfast. He was even more surprised when the letters ended up being Loki’s complete confession. One had been addressed to ‘The Mighty Avengers’ and the other to ‘Sweet Spider’. 

Loki explained how he had fallen into Thanos’ lap after the destruction of the rainbow bridge; he mentioned the torture, the scepter, and how the beating that the Hulk gave him had helped him evade his conditioning. He also laid out Thanos' strengths and weaknesses, including how and when to beat him.

At the end, Loki wrote that he would never have written his confession if it weren’t for Peter. 

Peter then took the last page, where Loki had drawn them both and had it framed to be placed on his beloved shelf.

[kyotakumrau]

2021.03.10 USEN STUDIO COAST 1st session with Toshiya and Kyo

They changed the tables for some reason, going from two bigger rectangle ones to four one person round high tables.

Fujieda and Takabayashi came on stage, F greeted fans as usual and asked for the applause for the band members.

After a moment of waiting with bated breath, Toshiya appeared and Kyo after him.

Kyo wore a big light grey coat, white shirt, black (most likely Madara)short shorts, white socks with red print and big sneakers.

Toshiya had white shirt, pearls?, and black slacks.

They sat in order Ta, T, K, F from right to left.

T: [As it's an official event] so, I'm Toshiya, the bassist from DIR EN GREY.

K: I'm Kyo.

F: It's 1st time for T to attend a talk event this year, how do you feel?

T: normal.

F: you've played here even as the venue has a new name. But it's been while. How do you feel K?

K: just usual.

F: you don't feel like it's been a while?

K: not really.

T: playing at Rock-May-Kan definitely made me feel it's been a while. The place is so small. We played with no audience, it was a first time in RMK which felt so strange.

F: rehearsal felt normal.

T: yeah.

F: anything from then?

T: it was nice to see all the staff.

F: how about you, K? We watched the live footage in February, anything feels different?

K: ... I don't remember it anymore.

F: the recording was done a long time ago.

K: Can't remember. At all.

F: I want to ask... (K just started staring at him and that was the end of it😂).

Next, F talked about the leaflet (he also mentioned how awesome it is that camera can move and zoom in this time, was it for K?😆), the photo being quite shocking/impactful. Was shooting hard? Finished really quickly, right?

T: Yeah.

K: it was refreshing. I said it was refreshing/cool, I didn't lie. It's like coolness in summer. It's auspicious/celebratory. Celebrating being born. When you're being born it's never pretty. So I didn't lie before, not even once, I said it's like a cool wind, I just didn't say anything about the celebration part to avoid spoiling it.

F: so far K said Oboro is refreshing, like Taiyou no Ao, Kaoru said it's refreshing, but more like Myaku remix. Shinya said it's like '肉付きに龍(flesh and dragon)' How about you, T?

T: you will know when you listen to it. It's not something that can be explained with words.

F: what about TDFF?

K: it's also refreshing. I listened to the file yesterday, it's like a cream soda, refreshing with a bit of a mellow hint.

F: Vanilla flavor?

K: maybe not just vanilla, mixing other stuff in until it almost spills.

F: what do you think T?

T: ...so, refreshing then.

F: ok, it's refreshing.

K: and auspicious.

And auspicious.

F read the info about the May show in Tokyo Garden Theater and fans clapped.

T: it's been over a year since our last show in Japan, I'm really looking forward to it. In this condition holding concerts is not entirely called for, but we as DIR EN GREY have decided to do it. If you're able to please come.

K: it's been a long time since the last concert. But. Isn't it a weekday? Utterly a weekday. It's almost like bullying [the fans]. Shouldn't we try to book a better date for such an important concert? This is really so much like us.

F: it's just after Golden Week (a week long holiday in Japan).

K: people will be so busy getting back to work. (after F encouragement to say something inviting) So, I'm looking forward to the show when people will have to work because it's weekday (sarcasm by Kyo 👌)

Next was merchandise corner. F again asked us and band members to look at the flyer.

F: T, are there any items you really like?

T: all of them.

F: Shinya uses the tote bag in private now.

K: Did you actually saw him use it?

F: he had it yesterday.

K: huh.

Ta: can we really say yesterday was using it in private though?

Next F showed us the hoodie and the towel, holding the towel up.

K: you should present it more properly.

F held it properly so we could see the whole towel, but K continued to give him dissatisfied look😆

Next F talked about the travel pouch saying it's useful when you travel on the tour you can hang it as it has a small hook.

K started to point out the problems with F explanation, where to hang it, isn't it better to just put on the table, the hook is then useless. A hook for a bag you will put on the table, what. You're terrible at explaining the merch.

😂

T: isn't that for shower room?

F: to put shampoo in and so on?

K just stares at F, that face oh my🤣

F: we talked about it being for shower stuff but we worried about it being waterproof.

K: You actually don't know, do you?🤦‍♂️ are you a scam? Why don't you know??? You should know more about the items!

F: I will properly check!

K: with who?

F: with the merchandiser!

K just looked at him😂

F: but you can probably use it safely in the shower💦

Kyo stared...🤣

F: T, do you have any favorites?

T (after giving him a look): I said all.

F: you, K?

K: the hoodie. The picture in the back was done by my tattoo artist, on my request. I really like it.

F passed them their keychains, K just kept staring at them.

T: why are there 2 types?

F: I wonder. It's for Ochita, so one normal outfit and one bloody. Details are really nice.

And then it was time for the questions from fans.

F: there are many questions about movies, anime etc you've watched recently. K?

K: Evangelion. Not gonna spoil it, but please watch it on a big screen.

T: I want to watch Eva!

F: Ta, are you also an Eva fan?

Ta: I watched the old series, haven't seen the new ones.

Ta: there are many Q to and about F. "Most band members are from Kansai, F do you feel alienated by that?"

F: I'm from Tokyo, but not even a bit.

Ta: where exactly? Do you go back a lot?

F: my old neighborhood doesn't change, it's actually around here. Definitely no alienation.

F: "what's your favourite icecream?" There are many Q asking about sweets. How about you, K?

K: Icecream, I like Cola flavoured Sacre. And the melonpan with icecream inside, when I see that in the shop I always buy like 3. Recently not many shops have it.

F: so when you see it you always get them.

K: Yes.

F: get like 3.

K: Yes.

F: how about you, T? Recently it's a bit cold.

T: hah! I don't recently eat icecream. But I like fruity ones. I like rum raisin.

F: any questions you like, T?

While T was deciding which Q to read K just popped his papers on F's desk😂

T: "what was your first impression of other members when you first met? And how have they changed?"

F: so T will tell us about K.

T: the impression when we first met?

K: was it at Farm? In Nagoya?

T: Farm? I went to see some taiban event at GIO and we met there.

F: where is GIO?

T: in Ichikawa. And we talked there. Has he changed? Of course he has, but I thought he is someone who can laugh very carefree.

F: it was a taiban event of different bands.

T: yeah.

F: How about T, K?

K: it's bit muddled, but I remember best T playing guitar. And the strongest memory I have is T going crazy playing guitar.

F: how about other members? Kaoru?

T: I remember we didn't talk much, just said hi.

F: you met them at GIO. what about Die?

T: he was very talkative, very easy to talk to.

F: Shinya?

T: just passed by.

F: you didn't talk?

T: Just hello.

F told them how D described meeting S. Then he asked Kyo about Kaoru.

K: we met at taiban event, he was playing guitar in a band called Charm. I was impressed with his photo on the flyer. I thought he was very cool, and calm.

F: what ablut Die?

K: I found him through a flyer looking for new band members I thought he was cool. and then there was a taiban.

F: what about S?

K chuckled first😂: I remember he had a bob hair and a very long earring, just one, like a chain. And that earring was moving when he was talking. I remember that.

Ta: has he changed?

K: His looks changed, but he didn't change inside.

Ta: oh.

K: Just gradually ...got weirder. I think he hates humans. But he has many friends he does riddles with. He knows so many people, too many, he uses social media so much, I have no idea who he's hanging out with, but he even has photos with Dewi Sukarno. He probably doesn't hate humans, just hates his band members. Hates people who know about the past.

😂

Ta: "S said he's using tour merch like tshirts, how about you?"

T: 使うやつが使うね・I use stuff that's ok to use. From this event I'd use the travel pouch and usb.

K: I use our items a lot, like towels or hoodies.

F: "what's your favourite meat cut?"

K: skirt steak.

T: skirt steak or offal.

F: I love skirt steak too! - he the continued to talk about meat how good are some parts until he noticed both T and K looks🤣

F: " do you prefer bath or shower? What time do you take bath?"

K: in the evening. But when I have a fresh tattoo I can't take a bath for about 2 weeks, then I take a shower.

F: do tattoos hurt in a bath?

K: They hurt or sting. It's like an injury so like a cut it stings in a bath. Did you think tattos are like a stamp?!

F: it seems it's tough.

Ta: you know tattoos are allowed in our company...

I loved Ta's jab, but what came after this from Kyo was just pure ❤️🤣

K: I will even buy a tattoo machine and do it so you F can get a tattoo.

F: what kind of desing?

K: a giraffe. On your back. Wouldn't it be more scary than oni or a dragon? I'm serious (he was trying so hard not to laugh😂), it's the scariest option, a giraffe.

F: you would design it?

K: Of course. A yellow one. Guys who have scribble/doodle like tattoos are the really scary ones! A yellow giraffe.

F: Let me think about it.

K: please do!

🤣🤣🤣

F: how about you T, a bath or shower?

T: sometimes a lomg bath, sometimes a ahort one, sometimes a shower.

T: "do you eat sweets?" I don't really. if anything, then chocolate.

F: what type?

T: My favorite was Kirinokibune (霧の浮舟, a bit like Aero. Has been discountinued).

F: I'll check it, you K?

K: isn't half of me sweets?😆

F: what do you like recently?

K: cookies, chocolate cookies.

F: from Morinaga? (big chocolate company in Japan, you can find it in every supermarket etc)

K: Morinaga? I don't like soft cookies, they have to be hard, chocolate cookie with chocolate. Recently,  near Harajuku station there's a shop with a red fluffy character that looks like MUCC, I love their cookies.

Then F suggested sth only older people would know it and if looks could kill F would be anihilated by K on the spot🤣

F: last Q, let's choose something easy to answer.

F: "what do you like to eat with rice? I like umeboshi (pickled plum)"

T: in Nagano we eat nametake.

F was a bit clueless how to eat it etc and made T explain more.

F: you K?

K: I don't care. Don't you just eat it with side dishes? No one eats only rice with pickled plum? It's not postwar period!

F: so what side dishes do you like?

K: Sushi.

🤣

F: ...sushi?? Isn't that a bit different??

K: you eat fish with rice, no?

F: so what sushi do you like?

K: fatty cut of flounder fin(あぶりのえんがわ)

And finally last comments:

Toshiya: thank you for today, DIR has decided to hold a concert with audience in May, please come if you can. But you have to decide that for yourself. We made our decision.

Kyo: I don't have anything, as usual. ...your t-shirts will increase, it's hard for people living far from Tokyo, nothing much to say.

F: you mean you will like to see everyone in May and so on?

K: I said I have nothing to say, didn't I?!💢

[lilbabycee]

shame on you (blame on me) // ransom drysdale

↳ summary: you find out some shocking information about your fiancé that makes you question who’s to blame.

↳ request: for the prompt: i really need some angst in my life so maybe a super angsty cheating fic with ransom? - anon

↳ relationship: ransom drysdale x reader

↳ word count: 4.7k (oops)

↳ warnings: angst angst angst!, explicit smut, cheating

↳ author’s note: i love ransom and this actually made me sad - please enjoy! x

You’ve always considered yourself a fair person.

Throughout your life, you’ve been taught that you should take a step back, assess the situation you’re in, and look at it from a different angle. But as you’ve had to learn over the years, looking at too many angles can make you dizzy and as hard as you try, those scales of justice have a mind of their own and can easily tip one way or another when your back is turned to face another perspective. It’s a tedious game to play and you can’t win all the time, but for you, it’s always been enough to just try. 

And try as you might, there will always be people interfering with the balance: people with ulterior motives and nefarious agendas, people who will do anything to see themselves in first place, people who want so desperately to be able to do it all. Life is an exchange, a give-and-take that you must navigate with the precision and confidence of a synchronized swimmer trying to keep up with the shadow of themselves in an ocean of doubt and self-loathing, and you find that those who only want to take and take without giving are those who, more often than not, end up alone when it’s all said and done. 

But you’ve always gone out of your way to make an attempt to steer people away from going down that path, encouraging them to give more of themselves to people who deserve it and open up their hearts up to people who may change their lives. All of your friends like to joke that you have a god complex and you can’t help but agree that maybe you do.

It’s inexplicable why you feel so responsible for the lives of others; strangers, friends, family alike, you bear the weight of their choices on your back. You chalk it up to extreme empathy and your parents insist that it’s because you’re just inherently good. Maybe it’s because you feel as if since the minute you were born, the scales have been tipped in your favor. Perhaps you’re compensating for all of the privileges that you were handed because of who your parents are and what your socio-economic class is, the silver spoon that you’ve been trying to spit out of your mouth for your whole life. All you know is that you so deeply crave justice that it makes your head ache some days. 

So yes, you would - modestly - consider yourself fair.

That’s why it shocked so many when you fell in love with Ransom Drysdale. 

You met him at a charity fundraiser that you were hosting to build schools in less economically developed countries all over the world, an initiative that you’d been working on for years and held so dear to your heart. Your mother has been close to Joni for her entire life and knew the Thrombeys and Drysdales because of business, so when she told you that they’d be attending, you didn’t think much of it.

“Darling,” your mother calls and beckons you over, pulling you into her side with a bright smile on her face as she stands next to a group of well-dressed patrons. 

When you’re standing next to her, you must be mindful of the way that the emerald green satin of your gown sweeps the floor. With a slim diamond choker wrapped around your neck and rings that cost five-figures adorning your fingers, you usually prefer to indulge in simpler pleasures but for events like these, you give into hedonism and allow your mother and stylist to spoil you. You press a barely-there kiss to your mother’s cheek as she gently holds onto you, running her nails up and down your arm comfortingly.

“Honey, these are the Drysdales. This is Linda, her husband Richard, and their son Hugh.”

You smile politely at both Linda and Richard and are about to give their son the same treatment when you feel the heat of blue flames licking up the exposed skin of your leg that peeks through the thigh-high slit in your dress. But the fire doesn’t stop there; it spreads up your stomach and lands in the valley of your breasts. A part of you wants to be angry that this man is ogling you as if you’re a piece of meat, the prey that his predator has been waiting to pounce on, but a part of you revels in it. You know that you look good - it’s no secret to anybody at this event - but to have someone unabashedly appreciate that makes your heartbeat speed up.

Since he can’t tear his eyes off of your cleavage, you take the opportunity to give Hugh a once-over of your own. 

His black loafers are designer - you can tell by the way all of the little golden g’s on the velvet of his shoes are linked together - and so are his black socks, something which makes you have to physically prevent yourself from rolling your eyes. The black, grey, and white checkered pants he’s wearing hug his thighs just enough to see the shape of the muscles in his legs and the outline of his sizable length - you don’t let yourself look at that for too long. The letters on his belt match his shoes and you’re momentarily astounded at how narrow his waist is. Under a waistcoat and suit jacket that are both printed with the same pattern as his pants, he’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck that clings to his torso like a second skin. From what you’ve seen, you can assume that he’s heavily muscled underneath his clothes, and when you see his broad shoulders and big arms, you’re proven right.

Luxury virtually seeps out of his pores and it nauseates you.

But you’re intrigued nonetheless. His eyes lock on yours and you find yourself drowning, trying to swim through a choppy sea of grey and blue. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and a shy smile lifts your lips when he extends a hand out towards you.

“Nice to meet you,” his voice is deep and his jaw is squared as if he’s biting back his words. You delicately place your hand in his and marvel at the way his palm swallows yours. His skin is warm and soft and you’re close enough that you can smell notes of bergamot and cedarwood that make your usually poised stance melt. 

“Likewise, Hugh,” you manage to say, overwhelmed by the charm and class of the man before you.

“Call me Ransom, sweetness; only the help calls me Hugh.”

And just like that, your rose-tinted glasses shatter and you blink hard, rescinding your hand from Ransom’s and nodding at him briefly. You can’t help but wonder how much more pretentious this son of a bitch can get, but your mother hasn’t failed to notice the way that the two of you sized each other up. So when you’re eventually walking away from the family of three, she gives you a knowing look that you’re all too familiar with, a look that makes you scoff and avoid her eyes.

“So,” she draws out the word and nudges your shoulder with hers, “he’s cute, no?”

“Mom,” you groan quietly.

“Come on now, darling, he was a very handsome boy. And I saw the way he was looking at you-”

“Sure, Mom, but did you hear him? ‘Only the help calls me Hugh’ - he’s so far up his own ass...and what kind of name is Ransom anyway?”

Your mom shrugs, the corners of her lips twitching up into a cheeky grin.

“Doesn’t matter, love - I think he’s cute and you should go speak to him. And if you don’t, who knows? He might snatch you up in that auction later tonight.”

And he did. Every year at the benefit, you auction yourself off for a night out which you only continue to do because it proves to be an extremely valuable source of income for your charity. You’re standing up in the center of that stage, the host for the night yelling out the bids for the auction, and through the blinding lights, you’re able to see white signs flying up with ridiculously high amounts of money printed on them. You’re sure that this is almost over when you see fifty-thousand dollars stuck up in the air, but then the host says:

“One-hundred-thousand dollars to the gentleman in the checkered suit right over there!”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing and a part of you hopes that it’s not Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you haven’t seen anybody else wearing such a distinctive suit; your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. Even in the relative darkness, you meet the blazing blue of his eyes with an inaudible gasp and the sly smirk on his lips makes you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop a smile of your own from spreading on your face. 

So when he wins a night of your time for one-hundred-thousand dollars and he leads you off the stage with a large hand on the small of your back, you can’t even bring yourself to be a little irritated at the way he leans into your body to whisper “gotcha” teasingly in your ear because he does have you. 

Fair and square. 

---

But you don’t know how you’ve ended up here. Over three years and one marriage proposal later, you’re sitting here pitifully with your head in your hands because you can’t believe that this is what it’s come to. You’ve tried many times over the past few hours to cease the incessant shaking of your hands but it’s relentless, your anxiety and distress running through your veins and seeping through your bones. 

The last four hours of your life have uprooted everything that you’ve ever believed in, everything you thought you knew about fate and order and love because it’s all a fucking mess. When Harlan handed you the flash drive, he warned you that you should only look at it if you think that you’re ready to accept that your reality will be flipped on its head and the expectations that you’ve allowed yourself to build up so carefully like tiny little brick towers will not only be knocked over, but destroyed beyond repair. 

You brushed him off jovially, thinking he was just being overly dramatic like he usually is, because you and Ransom had just gotten back from tasting wedding cakes and you were in your own little bubble of serenity. With a brief kiss on his cheek, you floated out of the room on cloud nine as he watched you leave with deep despair in his eyes that you were too distracted to notice.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have just thrown caution to the wind and plugged the memory stick into your laptop without really thinking about it first; you don’t think you’ll ever forget the way that your heart plummeted into your stomach at the images of your fiancé with his arms wrapped around a slew of different women. 

Something inside of you immediately wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they caught him from a bad angle, maybe the other women were the ones who initiated it. But you backtracked because who are you to blame anybody else except for Ransom? That wouldn’t be fair and a part of your brain knows that you have to come to terms with the fact that he’s more like his father than he would like to admit. 

You still don’t know why you kept looking, continued to scroll through the pictures even though looking at your soon-to-be-husband’s lips on other women made you feel as if you were going to throw up your breakfast all over your laptop. The more that you stared at the candid photos, the more you realized that the actual infidelity in itself hurt, but what’s even more painful is the cold look in his eyes when he’s with them. 

They didn’t mean anything to him yet he still did it, and that’s what gets you. 

Maybe you deserve this: maybe it was always meant to end up like this. It’s hard not to think that this could be the way that this relationship was always meant to pan out, that maybe this is fate balancing out those scales. You knew from the moment you met him that you’d have your work cut out for you with Ransom, but you were never one to back away from a challenge. And it wasn’t as if you were actively trying to change him but sooner or later, Linda came to you with praises spilling from her lips because she couldn’t believe who her son had become within the first year of meeting you. He’d transformed right in front of your eyes, and it filled you with a glowing sense of pride to see how much more caring and open and honest he was. 

Early in the relationship, you’d wanted to establish that you wouldn’t treat him like a charity case. Everyone is flawed to some extent, sure, but there are behaviors that you will always find inexcusable, and the two of you had sat down and laid them out. You had a feeling that you would need to set some ground rules with Ransom and he was surprisingly lenient, establishing his own terms and conditions in return. 

The two of you had laughed hard about it later on because it all sounded like some kind of business deal or contract. 

You could laugh about it now too, especially since the number one most important item on both of your lists was to remain faithful. As a couple, you think that you have a very direct form of communication. Ransom is not one to hold back his discontent and frankly, neither are you. Neither of you is afraid to argue and you do it often, but it’s never grown into anything more intense than a few hours of painful silence and is always resolved before you fall asleep. 

You’d always thought that if you ever found yourself in a situation like this one, you wouldn’t be able to forgive your significant other. But never in your life have you felt such an intense connection to another human; your souls have intertwined so intricately that you don’t know whether or not you’re willing to jeopardize that.

“Princess?”

His voice echoes through your shared house and you can hear him hang up his coat, cursing as he kicks his shoes off and pads up the stairs. He stops outside the open door to your bedroom, spying the back of your open laptop and your still body lying on your stomach with your face turned away from him.

“Babe, you’re gonna flip your shit when I show you what I found today,” he drops the bags in his hand and walks around the king-size to press a kiss to the top of your head. You can pinpoint the exact moment when he realizes that something’s wrong. He freezes in place, feet seemingly rooted to the ground when he gets a good look at your face. The puffiness of your eyes, your wet lashes, and the tear streaks down your cheeks all alert him that something’s not quite right. 

That’s when he sees it. 

The last picture that you looked at was by far the worst. It shows him balls deep in a woman who you actually know fairly well because she’s worked closely with both you and Ransom for years on a number of your projects. She was initially hired as his assistant but soon evolved into something more like a friend to your family and his alike. You decide that it’s definitely worse when it’s someone you know.

The room goes entirely silent because the universe has pressed pause on this moment, all so he can fully realize the gravity of the situation. 

“Baby, let me explain-”

“I actually don’t think I want you to, Ransom,” you respond tiredly, your voice raspy from lack of use and your head heavy as you sit up in your bed. You pull your knees into your chest as you run a hand over your face to wipe away any leftover tears. 

Ransom flinches and you know it’s because you’ve called him by his name. With you, it’s usually baby or sweetheart or honey but not this time. He wants so badly to be your love again but the light in your eyes has gone out and he doesn’t know whether or not that’s even possible anymore.

You’re exhausted more than anything else. You’ve cried all your tears and are ready to never think about this ever again, but he’s sitting in front of you looking like a kicked puppy and you know that you need to be fair and give him a chance to explain himself. That’s what you’d want.

“Please, sweetheart, let me,” he begs, eyes searching yours and hand cautiously hovering right over your jaw, not quite touching but the heat emanating from his palm is enough to make you tear up again. It’s a small comfort that you know you’re going to miss.

Nodding, you hastily place your hand over his, pressing it to your face while a sob escapes your lips. He wraps both his arms around your waist as you curl in on yourself and sink into his body, taking deep breaths even though your nose is being assaulted with the familiar scent of oak and vanilla that makes you long for a simpler time. 

There’s a drawn-out pause before he starts speaking, his chin resting on the top of your head as he mulls over his words. 

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he says for about a minute, letting the words hang in the air while the only sound in the room is that of your loud sniffles. 

“I’m so, so sorry, sweetness.”

He’s always called you that: sweetness. He once told you that you’re like honey, soft and sweeter than anything he’s ever had the pleasure of loving, and then laughed when you returned from work that night with a bag of those pastries you like from the bakery up the street. He could never stomach them no matter how hard he tried, but you always thought that was hilarious because he inhales those biscoff cookies like air. 

But you don’t feel very sweet right now as he spews apologies and excuses, spinning you sugar-coated lies and candied falsehoods with the confidence of a practiced storyteller. There’s a bitter taste on your tongue that you want so badly to spit out, tell him what you really think of him in this moment and how he’s not the man that you came to know. It was foolish of you to think he’d changed.

And when once again, quiet falls over your room in the light of the mid-afternoon, you only nod again, choosing to reserve your words for when you have something to say. Because as of right now, that sour taste still lingers on your tongue but you have no desire to rid yourself of it any longer. You’ll let it stay, allow it to fester as a reminder that you’ve been blind and naive but never again.

It ends here.

Ransom starts to stir noticeably when you don’t say anything, playing with the cotton of your shirt and your limp fingers. When you hear him speak next, something’s changed in his tone and you can feel the bass in his voice through his chest. 

“Y/N, baby, please say something- anything. Scream, yell at me, just fucking do something, babe: you’re killing me here.”

You scoff at the notion of you killing him because the irony of it is too funny to resist. But you decide to put him out of his misery, finally blinking up at him and meeting his eyes. They’re filled to the brim with cold rain that sends a chill down your back, dark and stormy and wet like the English countryside and you can almost smell the petrichor. 

“Can we just go back to before?” 

Your voice is cracking and your request is simple, but it’s enough for the few tears brimming in Ransom’s eyes to spill over onto his cheeks. You’ve only seen him cry twice before and it tugs at your heartstrings to see him like this, so open and more vulnerable than he’s allowed himself to be with anyone else. He’s already nodding rapidly but you’re not done.

“Can we go back, just for a little while? I just-”

You have to pause because the claws of despair are raking your skin as it crawls up your throat. 

“I just want it to be like before. I love you so much that it hurts and I just want it to be like before.”

He’s nodding eagerly now and his lips are already on yours, anchoring you to him because your love’s not enough to do so anymore. You push yourself up onto your knees so that you can grab his face between your hands, the face that you love so hard that it’s suffocating you. He steals your breath when he slips his tongue into your mouth and you feel lightheaded when his big hands slide underneath your shirt. Guilt plagues your thoughts but you push that aside for now: perhaps because it’s time for you to be selfish and you’ll allow yourself this, perhaps because you’d rather focus on the way that he tastes like cinnamon and the salt of your combined tears and he feels like home. 

The moment he wraps his arms around you to push you onto your back, you lean further into him because you want him as close to you as possible, trying desperately to become a part of him once more. The kisses he plants on you are like sugar and you want to inject them so that maybe you can be his sweetness again. The way your lips move in tandem makes your heart soar because it’s always been so easy - except when it’s not. 

Your shirt is thrown across the room, leaving you in only your panties and almost completely bare underneath his gaze. He stares at you reverently, silently worshipping you like a Madonna as rivers of tears pour from your eyes. His lips wrap around one of your peaked buds earnestly, his fingers rolling the other gently between them. The shock of pleasure that shoots through you almost makes you cry harder but you just bury your fingers in his hair, his tears hot on your soft skin. After he goes to give your other nipple the same attention, you pull him back to your lips. Without hesitation, he strips himself of his cable knit and shirt together, tossing them off the bed while you help him undo his belt. No words are exchanged when he kicks his pants off and your hand slips into his boxer briefs to stroke his hard length heavy in your hand because there’s nothing to say.

He pulls his underwear off too and after he does, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of yours and strips you entirely. You take a beat just to admire each other, chests heaving and eyes glassy. Ransom’s face is flushed and you’re sure that your eyes are red but you’re still as beautiful to each other as you’ve always been.

He buries his face in your neck and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath. Your nipples are pressed against his muscled chest as you just lay there, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. When he slips himself into your wet heat, the stretch of his thick cock lights your body on fire and you cry out. He rocks back and forth until he’s fully sheathed, and his entire body shakes with a sob when the two of you are completely joined together. 

Your souls have fallen out of step but in this moment, they’re dancing again.

The rolling of his hips against yours is slow as he takes his time tearing you apart, molding you to his body because he doesn’t want to let you go either. He drinks in the sound of your whimpers like ice water while his body overheats with passion and when your hand tightly grips the hair at the nape of his neck, he picks up the pace, rutting into you with unbridled ardor and whispering your name like a prayer. With his lips buried in your skin, you can’t quite make out the muffled sounds of his cries until he moves them right next to your ear. 

“I love you, I’m sorry, I love you.”

And he says it over and over again and each time he does, it becomes more broken and you can feel the agony weighing down his voice. You’re so close to the edge and you can feel he is too, his thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he reaches down to rub at your clit so that you can finish at the same time. 

Broken pleas fall from your lips, a litany of “please, please, please” as he gives you exactly what he knows you need. Your nails rake up and down his back as he moves and his breath hitches. What you don’t expect is for him to pull away from your shoulder and prop himself up on his forearms to stare you dead in the eyes. You can’t handle the intensity so you try to avert your gaze, but he whines deep in his throat.

“Please, baby, please look at me - I love you, please,” he urges you tearfully, trying to catch your darting eyes.

Once your stare reluctantly locks back onto his, he laughs wetly, his quivering lips curving into a weak smile as he kisses your cheek sweetly. The sentimentality of it all is what pushes you over the edge, your entire body shaking with the aftershocks of your release and the sobs that continue to wrack your chest. A second later, Ransom stills his movements, moaning quietly as he spills into you. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, crying and breathing each other’s air as the dance of your souls starts to come to an end. You wonder what it’d be like if this was different, if you were weeping with happiness instead of sorrow. 

To halt that train of thought in its tracks, you extricate yourself from your fiancé and lock yourself in the ensuite.

When you come back out, Ransom is underneath the covers, eyes trained on you. You don’t say anything but you do crawl back into bed next to him, allowing him to smother you with kisses that usually make you giggle and pull you deep into his chest. 

Ransom takes a breath before he speaks. “Stay. Please, sweetness. Don’t go - I want you to be here when I wake up.”

You just nod, combing your fingers through his hair as you can see his eyes start to get heavy. 

“Sleep, baby. I’ll be here.”

---

It’s 1:22 a.m and you know you can’t stay. 

Ransom’s always been a deep sleeper and you’re lucky to have woken up in a moment when he’s not holding you in a vice-like grip. You flip back the covers and head to your closet, grabbing the nearest articles of clothing that you realize too late belong to the snoring man in your bed. 

It doesn’t even matter anymore. After putting them on, you grab a duffle bag from the bottom of your closet and start pulling clothes from your side of the wardrobe off of hangers, stuffing as much as you can into the bag before sliding the zipper across. 

You’re on your way out but you can’t resist peeking over your shoulder to ensure that Ransom’s still asleep,  and you can’t help the small smile on your lips when you see that he’s still knocked out, mouth wide open with an arm hanging off the bed. Your head pounds from all the crying you’ve been doing but a burst of glee numbs the pain at the sight of the man-child in front of you. You’re a breath away from dropping your bag and slipping back into bed with him, your baby, your honey, your sweetheart.

But you don’t because he doesn’t deserve that and you deserve some time for you. And as the door clicks behind you, you can’t help but think that this is only fair. 

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