#have a looksee

[specialbluehens]

new dialogue from shane after reaching eight hearts with him

^ this was after i gave him a bouquet. maybe he's always said it but i didn't recognize it so!!!

:')

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

Wip Wednesday but I've completely lost the plot. The train isn't just off the tracks it's made it's way to a whole different planet.

Crochet has driven me to becoming the thing I would like to destroy. Or rather, I am thinking about buying yarn that I started a whole project to use up because I don't like it anymore.

This blanket was supposed to use up all my aran/worsted weight acyrlic yarn that are left overs from other projects or scrapped projects or just otherwise not set aside for something specific. I just don't knit using this type of yarn really anymore and it was taking up both a lot of physical space and a lot of space in my brain.

Up until laying out the yarn for photos I was very ok with it being ugly and the colours being wildly out of proportion. Until I realized it's basically a rainbow blanket and that I was really enjoying how it looked. Now I feel the (entirely internal) pressure to make it ACTUALLY look good. Also I don't think I'll have enough yellow to finish out this blanket so I need/want to buy more yarn anyway.

To make it more proportional I'm thinking another skein of the solid red. I'm also considering adding a variegated yarn (Warm Brights colourway) which is uhhhh Not usually something I like, I tend to really really dislike variegated colourways, but I don't mind them as much in granny stitch. And the Warm Brights would do a Lot to smooth the warm colours together. Theoretically the Unicorn Magic colourway of that same yarn would do the same with the bottom half but there's already going to be so much purple I'm hesitant to add even more (I keep arguing back and forth with myself over this I had to delete like four paragraphs of me being indecisive).

This is another case where I start a simple project and can't stop myself from over-complicating it but also hrrnggg pretty rainbow blanket. This man could be so gorg.

[faunandfloraas]

Funniest thing in the world is when I don't look at twt for a day and then somehow in that time there's like 10 random dramas and everyone's vaguely subposting and attacking each other but I can't really determine what started it

[crow-n-tell]

Is that a seamoth????

Mmmm perhaps

[il3x]

[Breathing into a paper bag] I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm so normal and sane about these lyrics in a Kenzie context. I'm so-

anyways. Rant incoming.

So if you wash your hands of where you've been until you flood the second floor

firstly MAN this is a good lyric. this whole bridge slaps. secondly it is very apt for how Kenzie's attempts to make things better always spiral out of control into more collateral damage. thinking especially of how she tried to say everything right after the Incident and ppl thought she'd been coached, ultimately leading to her removal (and trigger event). I'm very sane and normal about the domestic metaphors here but we'll get into that later. This is also fitting for her parental situation; Kenzie tries desperately to control things, wash away the bad, but the tension and danger just keeps building - "flooding" and threatening to explode out from both her literal house and her mind.

Neatly fold your skeletons, but still can't shut the closet door

EVEN MORE A KENZIE LYRIC. As I mentioned, the metaphors around domestic etiquette (washing hands, folding) make me go feral because Kenzie's abuse was inextricably bound up in just this sort of etiquette, and it's permanently affected how she deals with difficult situations, her sense of identity, etc.. She tries to package up all of her trauma and negative emotions in the most polite, palatable ways (Stepford smiling, brushing off negative experiences as "embarrassment"), with the domestic etiquette that was hammered into her as a guideline - and "neatly fold your skeletons" is the PERFECT goddamn metaphor for that. But it's never enough, is it? No matter how perfectly she presents herself as the Good Daughter, immaculate hair, no scars, smiling and grateful - no matter how palatable she makes her past, how much she downplays her feelings - the pain doesn't go away. She can't move past it, she can't even repress it effectively; it leaks into (floods 👀) every facet of her life, causing the emotional volatility that ruins every relationship she tries to build.

The only ones in need of love are those who don't receive enough So evil ones should get a little more

This lyric really got me thinking. Is Kenzie so staunchly set on redemption, rehabilitation, and second chances for those who have wronged her, because she wishes those she has wronged would offer the same to her? She befriends Ashley, an ex-S9 recruit; she befriends the Heartbroken; she befriends Chris, whose middle-school-typical assholery drives away the rest of the group, and she keeps extending that friendship even after his betrayal, however far he sinks; she obviously tries to rehabilitate her parents, to give them a second chance (that they don't deserve, certainly not at the cost to herself). Kenzie is all about giving "evil ones" love. And Kenzie is a girl who is constantly rejected and maligned in-universe, and who carries around immense guilt. Kenzie herself does not believe that Kenzie Did Nothing Wrong. Perhaps, she subconsciously counts herself among the evil ones - and perhaps she cannot even conceptualise herself as deserving of more love, except in this oblique, generalised, roundabout manner.

[majimassqueaktoy]

I think if I don't play ishin soon I'll never play it

[plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows]

i have an icecream container full of cherry tomatoes, another two icecream containers full of beans (some of which are about as long as my forearm i stg), and a truly scary amount of plums ripening on three different trees. i foresee a bit of cooking up in my future.

[isadora-greenhall]

🎶✨when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨

hi anon! thanks for the ask 🥰 these are my songs:

labour / paris paloma

the water is fine / chloe ament

i'll take lonely tonight / tim minchin

saturn / sleeping at last

quiet / alisha weir (from netflix's matilda)

[shalmonsdraws]

pip pip let's have a looksee

[sixrealmsbeneaththesea]

Note to self: Madk

[wakeup01]

Playing It Straight

“Roomieee. I need your help with something.” I hear the telltale high pitched cry from my twinky roommate Yuan’s bedroom. The last thing I need right now is his whiny ass distracting me.

“What it is? I have a date with this hot chick in half an hour. You better have clothes on this time dude.” My hand pushes the door to his room ajar and I see him laying down on the bed facing away from me. There was some upbeat trashy pop song playing on his sound system. Yuan begins to gyrate to the beat. “Don’t dance. No dancing.” I order bluntly, turning off his music.

There was being gay and then there was Yuan, who seemed to make it his whole identity. It was bad enough his room was colour coded in pastel purples to match his dusty lavender hair. But he had now painted the whole door too.

“It’s my big butt, I think there’s something wrong with it.” He announces with fake concern, rolling his hips on the bed sheet - revealing more of his smooth slim body than I ever dared wish to see. I make a internal note to ‘mace own eyes later’.

Yuan was not as innocent as he liked to make out and had on numerous occasions attempted to trick me into indulging in his fantasies. Gifting me a bright crop top and calling it a ‘fashionable tank top’ - it certainly turned heads at the gym the one day I wore it, or inviting me to a progressive club with the promise of scoring ‘lots of ass’. And the less said about ‘locktober’ the better, that was NOT a halloween costume. Only last week he had convinced me to listen to some gay as fuck audio tapes while I slept; obviously that crap didn’t work on a man like me. His justification always being ‘you’ll like it, I swear’. This one was a bit on the nose, even for him.

“Dude we talked about this, I’m flattered, really. I get it, I’m a gay bottoms wet dream. I can’t blame you for eying my superior meat.” I puff out my well built chest, barely contained in my tank top. “But fuck, it ain’t gonna happen.” I attempt to not make eye contact with him as he looks over his shoulder at me.

“No, like seriously. Something feels wrong, can you pleeease juth take a looksee. Pretty please.” He pulls down his shorts and moons me as I shield my eyes. It’s like the sun, you’re safe if you don’t look directly at it, right? Internal note: ‘buy more mace’.

“Serious like when you said we were in a ‘mandatory hand holding zone?” I hear muffled giggling coming from his pillow. “Bro it’s probably from all the things you shove up it.” I shudder, trying not to picture THAT in my head. “I’ll look but only if you promise me that you’ll drop that ‘I know you’re secretly gay bullshit.’ My friends at the gym heard that crap last time.”

“Hehe. Ooo thuch a manly jock. Geez, I pwromise. Meathead.” Yuan winks at me and I hated him for it. Hated the weird way it made me feel in my chest.

I sigh loudly for effect and bend down until the cleft of his…cheek is at eye level. I felt so self conscious, how on earth did he talk me into this? I look at my chiseled body just to remind myself, yes I am a man. A masculine man. God, here we go. My eyes briefly glance across his—ew—his raised butt before I quickly look away.

“Bruh I don’t see a thing. It’s a mans butt. Congratulations.” What the hell am I even looking for? I’m sat on the floor checking out a dude’s…posterior. And for what?

“Come on, look clother.” Yuan insists with a slight lisp, curving his back and pushing his rear higher.” Again, I look at my thick biceps, yes, still a man.

His hands pull at his buttocks and slowly part them, revealing his tight hole to me. Woah. One glimpse was all it took. I should have recoiled but instead I was fascinated. I’d never seen a man’s hole before, it was different…

I hear him say something to me but whatever it was, it didn’t seem too important. I couldn’t stop staring, it was like looking into a black hole, and the more I looked the more enraptured I became. It was distorting my worldview, it made me feel like I had been missing out on something all these years.

“Helloooo! See anything?”

“Uuhhh. Maybe.” I mumble, my head getting closer to his rear.

I pull away his hands and replace them with my own, laying my fingers across his round cheeks and spreading them wider. Wow, it was…dare I say, enticing? The rest of the room faded from my mind as my eyes fall deeper into his needy, winking hole. I lean in and my nose makes contact with his crack. I can’t help myself, I inhale and suck up his scent, it acts like an immediate aphrodisiac. My cock wakes up, poking against the edge of the bed.

“You have been lithening to your programming for me then. Good Meathead. Remember when you were the stuck-up clever one, going to college? That was thuch a bore.”

“Say what bro?” College? Did I…? Nah. That smart shit wasn’t for me bro, my head was like beef central. I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about but I was happy to be a good fucking meathead. Something in my mind told me I was supposed to be. It made me even more pumped about the gym session tomorrow, I gotta bulk up my pecs.

“Make sure to take lots of selfies tomorrow ‘bro’, I need to see your gains.” I continue to breathe in the sweet aroma emanating from his behind. What was I doing again? “So, anything there dummy? How about now?” giggle “Isn’t it likth so big.”

He wiggles his hips and pushes back into my face, my lips making contact with his boy pussy. My eyes go wide. Fuck, this was soo gay. I should be revolted, why am I still down here? I could get up and walk away whenever…whenever I wanted to. Suddenly my mouth felt parched, like I had spent a week in the desert. It became clear where this was going. I’m not sure if I could even stop myself at this point, one tiny thing could tip me over the edge and disintegrate my own self image. It was as If I was having an out of body experience, seeing myself pressed against him. I wouldn’t, I was stronger than this. I was straight. Straight as an arrow… straight as a…

“Eat up jock.”

F—fuck. My lips open and my tongue presses up against his rear, dragging up and down between his cheeks and then swirling around his inviting hole. It was like a dam breaking, once I started I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. He tasted too good. Ready for the main course, my tongue dives deep into him and begins to eat him out in earnest, my mouth sucking at his entrance like I’m slurping on a ice cream filling.

While giving him a very manly rimjob I think of a solution to our problem. I finish up indulging in his sweet cake and pull my face out, slapping his jiggly butt cheeks.

“So what’s the issue?” He asks impatiently.

“It’s empty for one. Huhuhu. But I can fix that bro.” I say confidently, rushing to remove my underwear so I can finally nut inside him.

I push his skinny back down against the bed and line up my monster cock with his lubricated hole. Yuan moans into his pillow like he should. I slide into him with ease and flex my arms, feeling proud at ‘conquering’ my roommates hole.

“Good Meathead.” He praises between loud panting. “Mmm. But I thought you were straight.”

“I am. Unff. Just helping a bro out. No homo. Though I do need to see if there’s anything wrong with your throat after I plant my seed in your hole.”

______________________________

The next day.

“Man that was a fucking lit workout.” I exclaim, marvelling at my bulging muscles. I tense my arms and see my veins pop, sweat dripping to the floor. “Though you losers sure focused a lot on your glutes today. Hey—aren’t you ‘queens’ gonna shower?” I turn as my gym bros stop behind me in the locker room.

“Well… we spoke to your roommate about your progress yesterday.” Xavier states, removing his damp muscle tee - his dark shiny skin reflecting the harsh lights from overhead.

Yesterday…for some reason my memories from the day before were a blur. For the life of me I can’t remember what happened. There was some strange taste lingering in my mouth that had been making my dick hard all day. My roommate was certainly in a suspiciously good mood this morning too and made some strange comments about me ‘being hungry for more’.

“About what bro? That Yuan can kiss my ass. Huhuh. Come on, stop checking out each others dicks and let’s go!”

“Uh see, he thinks you’re now ready to be our…” I’d never seen him so unsure of himself before, I roll my eyes at him and slam my locker closed.

“Y’all acting like a bunch of girls.” I swear if Yuan is back to spewing his gay bullshit again…

“Go on. Say it.” One of the others insists, nudging Xavier’s shoulder.

Xavier hesitates and then looks away from me, his cheeks flushing red. “There’s uh, there’s something wrong with my…butt…so could you?” The others fail to stifle a laugh.

I do a double take as Xavier turns and points his toned ass at me, his jockstrap framing it like a wrapped gift. “What the fuck? Bruh what are you doing? Put that shit away.”

“Be a good Meathead.”

I see a flash of my roommates butt cross my minds eye. Uhhh. My cock throbs at the image. Before I know it my legs are kneeling behind my friend, what am I doing? My body certainly seems to be one step ahead, my hands grab at his muscled legs for support. “What the actual fuck. Guys…” I’ve never felt so embarrassed, how am I ever gonna live this down?

A hand pulls on the strap hugging Xaviers left buttock and lets go, letting it snap back into place, a slight jiggle vibrates over his firm rear. Was it my hand? I couldn’t even tell.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe those tapes actually worked. He’s come a long way since he was that scrawny nerd, thinking he was above everyone. Now he’s dumber than all of us. We just need Yuan to join us next. Damn someone make sure to record this” It was hard to take in what they were saying, my mind was fixated…elsewhere. One of them leans down to my side and points their phone camera at my zoned out face. “Dude, we stink…I’m next after you.” Someone pats my back as another hand holds my shoulder in place. “Nothing more manly than licking the salty sweat off a bro’s butt.”

No….

Xavier bends forward, his pert dark cheeks pulling apart - sweat glistening on their surface. And then I see it. What my body craved. His hole. Everything falls into place, my mouth watering at the sight, my eyes entranced. I could no longer deny what I wanted, deny the inevitability of what I was about to do. The depravity would be immortalised on camera too, my dumb face shoved in a mans ass. Oh fuck.

The perfect black void nestled between his tight buttocks seems to suck away my shame as I lick my lips. “So manly.” I repeat to the crowd that had gathered around me. Mmm. Rimming a man’s ass was almost as good as fucking it. I wanted a taste of all the guys, their shiny sweaty bodies, their musk. It was my place in the group, I was their meathead after all. My cock was already throbbing at the thought. Maybe Yuan was onto something with this whole ‘gay’ thing. Yeah, let’s try going full homo. Huhuhuh. Anything for the bros, bro.

Looking down at me confidently, Xavier grips the back of my head.

“Clean my hole bruh.”

_____________________________

A few days later I check in on Yuan to see his progress after a few nights obliviously listening to his ‘jocking’ tapes. Dude, I’m going to enjoy watching him slowly bulk up and dumb down. He’s sat up in bed casually tugging at his cock, mouth agape. The heavy thumping bass of trap music is blaring from his speakers. His room is a complete mess.

“How’s it hanging lil bro?”

“Just…mm—wanking.”

“Can see, Meathead. Hung and dumb, nice. I think you’re about ready to join us at the gym.”

“Hmm. Roomie, I—I need your help with something. It’s my big dick…”

“Huhuhu, there’s something wrong with it, let me be a bro and give you a hand with that stick.” I climb over him and wrap my lips around his cock.

“Thuck…ahem. Fuck yeah brooo!”

[oceanicjessie]

[ This Man Is Going To Be The Death Of Me ]

I fully intended to colour this one in, but my laptop / software was lagging hard. The qualms of having a crap laptop I suppose. I couldn't choose what I wanted in Billys thought box so this is kinda memey in that respect. Feel free to fill in the blanks! <3 These bitches so gay. [ I would love to see this all rendered so, If you want to colour this one in, please feel free to take this transparent version, colour it in, do whatever you want with it! If you do use it, just tag me so I can have a looksee! ]

[mayasaura]

why do you think cytherea targeted the fourth the way she did? we know why she killed the fifth, and we know why she killed people generally, but the writing in blood and the chasing jeanne after killing isaac feels weirdly personal

It does seem personal, yeah. I'm sure it was intended to. I'm also sure it wasn't. I doubt Cytherea even noticed they were people enough to have beef with them.

Let's look at her goals:

She's using the heirs as bait to get John's attention, but doesn't want to make the real stakes apparent. So she kills them off, one by one, slasher movie style. She's playing with them, creating a narrative so that when the terrified survivors call for help, John is curious enough about whatever theory they've come up with to come take a looksee.

That's probably why she planted the idea of vengeful angry ghosts so early. She knows it's something that's bound to get John's attention without alarming him enough for him to be on the defensive. His old house is haunted by violently angry revenants? That doesn't sound right, but you never know with ghosts. Seems both interesting and a bit concerning, he'd better take a look.

The Fourth specifically were targeted because their investigation into Abigail and Magnus' murder posed a threat to her plan. They had found Dulcinea and Protesilaus' ashes in the incinerator and raised the alarm, which put them way too close to asking the right kinds of questions. Like: "Whose ashes are these?" and "Is this connected to the other murders?" They had to die, and they had to die in a way that drew attention away from their investigation and lent credence to Cytherea's angry ghost narrative, or the story they had to tell when they called John might be a little too close to the truth to get the intended effect.

So. Giant bone monster in the basement laboratory, a sleeping child skewered in a locked room, and ominous writing in the victim's blood. A tableau designed to be so horrifyingly personal it doesn't occur to anyone it might have been pragmatic.

[9w1ft]

oh that must mean she wore something to the show

well, let’s have ourselves a looksee…

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙒𝙊: 𝘏𝘐, 𝘐'𝘔… 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘐'𝘔 𝘈𝘕 𝘈𝘓𝘊𝘖𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘊

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you meet someone new at your aa meeting and have some conflicting feelings about going out to dinner with spencer.

word count: 2229

warnings: aa meetings, mentions of overdosing, and self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of fainting, and mentions of ambulances.

a/n: HEHE okay, so i don't have much to say about this chapter, just that i'm super happy about the feedback i'm getting. i'm so happy you guys are as excited about this series as i am!! but we get a little looksee inside of how the reader feels about spencer 👀👀

masterlist | series masterlist | AO3

Now picture this.

You’re a bright eyed, bushy tailed twenty something year old artist that’s excited for all that college has to offer.

Then, one day, while your father is standing in the kitchen making dinner, he sways for a moment before hitting the ground with a loud crash, the cutting board he had been stationed over tumbling to the ground with him.

It’s a mess and your mom screams in terror from where she’s sitting next to you on the couch, tears already forming in her eyes as she falls over herself to get to him. You shoot up from where you sit, you’re frozen in place, staring at the scene in front of you paralyzed in shock.

She shouts for you to call an ambulance and you vaguely remember dialing the phone number and speaking to the person on the other end. All you know is that your mom is gently tapping his cheek but he’s not responding. She presses her forehead against his and she begs for him to wake up.

You don’t know what to do. All you can do is stare.

Time is irrelevant as he’s carried out on a stretcher, you and your mother not far behind as you both climb in the back of the ambulance. The lights on top of it glow a bright, blinding red and you see someone run out from the house across from yours, standing in the middle of the road as they watch the entire scene unfold.

The vehicle was moving too fast to get a good look at their face through the door windows by the time you realized it, but you knew it was Spencer.

It’s always been Spencer.

You were nervous.

Today was your first AA meeting and you found your knee bouncing up and down from where you sat in the passenger seat of the car.

“Honey, you’re going to be fine.” Your mom speaks from behind the wheel.

“I know, I know.” You say, yet you shift nervously. “Fuck, I need a cigarette.” You swear, chewing on your nails. “This is a good thing!” Your mother says cheerfully. “New beginnings and all that! Maybe you’ll even meet new people there. Lord knows you need friends.” The last part is mumbled but you heard it.

“Mom!” You exclaim incredulously, looking at her with your mouth ajar. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just… I can’t be your only friend in this, you know that. And those people in there know more about what you’re going through than what I do.” She was right and you knew it.

“Why not?” You whine petulantly. 

She laughs, shaking her head.

It doesn’t take that long to get to the place where the meetings are held, and you stare at it from the window.

“Not that I totally don’t want to get sober, but do I have to?” You turn to your mom with a pleading look. “Jesus, how did you manage to live in New York if you can’t even handle a smaller gathering like this?” 

“I had to stop taking my anxiety meds.” 

Then it clicks and she softens.

“Listen, you’re just going to go in there and listen to other people speak. You don’t have to share anything if you don’t want to, but I want you to at least try and meet new people. Please.” She pleads. You stare at her for a moment before sighing.

“Alright, fine. You’ll pick me up when it’s over?”

“Of course. Now go before you’re late and everyone stares at you.” 

“God you’re the worst.” You groan as you get out of the car. She pauses for a moment before saying, “Good luck!” As you walk away.

AA goes as you had expected it to.

There were fifteen or so people, a little bit bigger than you would have liked, but it was comfortable. No one called on you or forced you to share if you didn’t want to. 

Hearing other people’s struggle was strangely comforting. You hadn’t realized how much your alcoholism had isolated you, separated you from making connections with other people and even yourself. 

Maybe that’s why it’s been hard for you to process the overwhelming feelings you’ve been experiencing lately. You drank to forget and not feeling anything was really just the norm for you. That’s probably why things between you and Luke hadn’t worked out.

Aside from that, you’ve come to learn the names of a few of the pledgers.

The first one was Nikki, a grunge looking Asian-American woman with cropped dyed hair. She ran in a few bad circles when she was younger, grew up in a trailer park and when her girlfriend overdosed in their hotel room, she finally decided it was time to get clean.

Then there was John, an American man with buzzed hair that was an Army Vet that drank to forget the battlefield and chose to get clean after his wife left him. If he didn’t then he wouldn’t get any kind of custody of his kids, let alone visitation.

Then there was Miranda, the oldest AA member that was currently a sponsor. She was a Hispanic woman with a stern demeanor, but she was actually quite kind when she spoke at the podium.

You felt for them all, truly. You found yourself in little pieces of their stories, and it was nice to feel seen.

When the meeting was over, you retreated outside where the other members lingered and talked. You stood off to the side, bringing out your box of cigarettes and sticking one between your lips.

“Can I bum one off you?” You heard someone ask from next to you. Your eyes widened a little at the sight of a suit wearing Miranda, but you stuck the box out towards her, and she took one.

“You got a lighter?” You asked gruffly and she nodded. “Yeah.” She reached into her pocket before you leaned forward into the flame, breathing in the fumes.

“You new?” She asks after her puff. You throw a sidelong glance at her. “Mhm.”

“How’d you like it?” She questions. “Think you’d stick around?” You shrug. “Kinda have too. I got this deal going with my mom; she lets me live with her only if I get my shit together.”

“Sounds like a good woman.” Miranda says, rocking on her heels slightly. She takes another puff before blowing it out. “A great woman.” You admit, taking a drag yourself. “How long have you been around?”

“Two or three years give our take.” She says nonchalantly. “Shit,” You blow out with a whistle. “Good for you.” And you mean it. “Wasn’t easy, but I don’t regret it. I think if you actually commit to it outside of your mom, you’d feel the same.” 

“I’m trying.” You sigh, “But withdrawal is kicking my ass.”

“Ah, the good ol’ days.” She comments sarcastically, but the words aren’t aimed at you. 

“You have a ride home?” She asks after a moment of silence. “Yeah,” You respond, flicking the ash of the burning filter to the ground below. “Cool.” She digs around in her pocket before presenting you a business card with her number on it.

“If you ever need to talk, just give me a call, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” You look up at her. “Thanks.”

Miranda flicks the cigarette on the ground, putting it out with her foot. “See you around.” She says before turning around and walking away.

You follow her, putting out the bud and stomping on it just as your mom’s car swings into view.

Tonight wasn’t a date, just a meal and catching up between friends, but God, why are you so nervous?

You don’t know why you’re so worried about your appearance, but you had changed into three different outfits in the past twenty minutes. You forced yourself to settle for a plain black V-neck shirt and a pair of dark wash jeans that were lost amongst the pile, leaning down to slip on a pair of your plain black Converse.

It was nice but casual. Perfect.

Checking the time on your phone, you had about thirty or so minutes before you had to be there give or take, but you felt restless and wanted to leave early.

Rushing out of the room, you find your mom squished into the crease of the couch with reading glasses perched on her face and her latest crocheting project on her blanketed lap, her knees bent to the side.

“Are you watching Love Island?” You ask with an amused scoff. She directs her attention towards you, ripping her gaze from the TV. “Why yes I am.” She gives you a once-over before nodding her head in approval. “You look nice, are you heading out somewhere?”

“Uh…” You flush. “Yeah… I’m having dinner with Spencer, so I just wanted to know if I could borrow the car tonight?”

“Spencer?” She asks with an intrigued grin. “Since when did you start talking to him again?” You groan. “He came over to see you yesterday when you weren’t home. I invited him in, we talked, and he asked me to dinner.”

“So, he asked you on a date?” She suggests with a wiggle of her brows. “What?” You sputter, “N - no! We're just going to catch up! So, the car, yes, or no?” She laughs aloud, throwing her head back before gesturing to the keys sitting on the coffee table.

“My baby’s all yours, but no smoking in it alright?” She threatens vaguely. You roll your eyes, huffing. “I wasn’t going to anyway. ‘Didn’t want to smell bad.” You say as you reach for the keys. “Oo, wanting to smell good for Spencer I hope?”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the worst?”

“All the time, but you love it.” She relents with a cheeky shrug, her hands resuming their weaving. “I can’t say I don’t.” You say softly. I love you. She smiles gently. “You call me if you need me, yeah?” You nod. “I will.”

“You be safe! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Or actually you should, might do you some good.”

“You’re relentless!” You shout as you exit the house, but there’s still a smile on your face, nevertheless.

Being able to drive again was therapeutic to say the least, you were always too intoxicated to drive, and you weren’t all that interested in getting a DUI. 

You remember always being the one that drove Spencer and yourself around, the man having preferred things like walking, taking the bus, or the train, basically anything that wasn’t an automated vehicle that he had to operate.

You didn’t like when he’d go on public transport by himself, so you had worked hard to get your license. He had questioned your eagerness to take him to and fro, and it had eased your mind.

Things were so simple back then.

You remember sneaking Spencer over to your house for the first time, convincing him to sneak out with you, then, when you were adults, going out during the nighttime willingly to talk about anything and everything under the stars.

When things were simpler, when you weren’t broken. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat and your nerves begin to itch again.

The cravings were still there, but the cigarettes and routine caffeine from the coffee you drank helped to subside it some. But when you face an emotion like this, the need for a drink shoves itself to the forefront of your mind, begging you to do anything but confront it.

You don’t want it to be like that anymore. You want to feel.

You want to feel happy, reminiscent, wistful, grief, depression, hurt; you want to feel everything that comes with being a human, and maybe sitting down and explaining to Spencer what exactly happened would be a good place to start.

The restaurant is a humble thing, small and quaint, but popular.

You figured that you could go and claim a table since you were early, but you felt rooted to your seat, hands still gripping the steering wheel despite the ignition being off.

Fuck, what are you going to do?

You really, really didn’t want to dive into the heavy shit tonight, but you have no idea exactly how to go about this. So much change can happen in five years – you were the prime example of that – what if he’s someone that you don’t know anymore? You used to pride yourself on knowing everything about him.

But now… now it feels like you have no idea how to start.

You slump back in your seat, hands falling in your lap to pick at your cuticles, your teeth finding home in the flaky flesh of your lips. 

This was Spencer. Spencer who loved Doctor Who and was a total germaphobe. Spencer who already knew how to speak different languages and loved Comic Con and cosplay. He was your Spencer, your genius.

Your Spencer? Where did that come from?

That thought drove you crazy enough to wrench yourself out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind you too harshly. You wince.

“Sorry, girl.” You apologize with a grimace, patting the roof of the car. Good, now you were going crazy talking to your car. Just great.

This was fine, just dandy!

You could do this.

Really, you could!

You think.

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