#i think it also just bothers me because in the recent couple of years i am unlearning a lot of things about me and what i want

[girlscience]

Why do I feel so immature compared to literally everyone I interact with. Why does everyone treat me like I am some naive baby that needs to be protected. Why does everyone act like I am incapable of putting myself out there to get things done.

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[copperbadge]

I was making breakfast and listening to an episode of Just King Things this morning, which is a podcast I do recommend -- two very smart English teachers are reading the books of Stephen King in publication order and discussing them. This could go extremely awry except they're both highly conscious of his failings as well as his skill, so they do really well handling a lot of his less salutatory content.

They've hit the point in King's ouvre (this episode was about Hearts In Atlantis) that follows his recovery from the car accident that very nearly killed him, where he was struck by a van while out walking. One of them pointed out that it seems as though he came back from nearly dying determined to write the wildest shit imaginable and only write what he wanted, which struck a chord in me this time despite having listened to this episode before. Perhaps because I was thinking about my own writing and where it's going in the short term (there are a couple of short stories I want to do that I don't quite have a way into yet). I generally don't think about the drift of my creativity in the long term because when I do I usually draw the wrong conclusions.

I don't really classify my life, the way some people who've had high-impact injuries do, as before-TBI and after-TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury -- the fairly severe concussion I had in January of 2020). For one thing, given I had to cancel a trip to NYC because of it, it may have saved my life; I almost certainly would have caught COVID as someone with known lung issues in New York at the time. For another, the TBI was way scarier to almost everyone else; for me it was just one more dumb injury I gave myself and I didn't even remember most of it so it hardly registered. I used to open the story of it with a joke about waking up not remembering going to bed the night before, but nobody ever found it funny.

It's true that there are changes it wrought in my life, though. Even practical stuff like making sure my living space doesn't have tripping hazards and continuing to wear a fitbit even though I don't really need to (the fitbit told us, the morning after, exactly when the concussion happened, because it registered a heart-rate spike when I fell). For weeks after, I had to move slowly and put off making important decisions because I couldn't trust my physical or intellectual judgement; I didn't even jaywalk in my own neighborhood because I couldn't be sure I was judging the cars' speeds properly. For about a year after I had periodic post-concussion syndrome which basically just slammed me back into concussion space, which wasn't painful or upsetting but was definitely inconvenient.

And it's also undeniable that my writing shifted after the injury. It's not necessarily because of the injury, since my initial recovery from the TBI and the declaration of quarantine happened at roughly the same time, and anyone who tells you that a years-long global pandemic didn't impact their artistic expression is selling you a line. But the last thing I wrote before the TBI was the first draft of Six Harvests, and aside from the Six Harvests publication draft, which had fairly minimal changes, almost all that I've written has been blue-sky, light-hearted, PG-rated romance. It's been on my mind that I've been writing different subject matter from what I used to, but the timing of it didn't strike me until just recently.

I don't mind, really. I love fandom and I support fanfic in whatever expression it comes, but I'm also happy writing my own stories. While I'm aware it's been years since I've meaningfully written fanfic, it doesn't bother me per se, as long as I'm writing. It bothered me much more when I could write fanfic but not original fic, especially in those last few awful months at my last job. I'm proud of the literary and non-genre fiction I've written in the past, but it's also much more trying and frustrating to write at times, so I'm enjoying having a different sort of challenge that feels more fulfilling in the process. I'm sure at some point I'll go back to literary fiction -- there are ways in which it's hard to avoid turning the later Shivadh novels into literary fiction, being honest -- but for now I like what I'm writing, and I'm writing primarily to please myself and without regard to what's necessarily rational or linear.

Just struck me, is all, that it's by far the most noticeable major shift in my work. I do sort of wonder what will be next.

[bengiyo]

I Hear the Sunspot Wasted Taichi As a Character

I went off a bit in the tags of @lurkingshan's Japanese QL Corner earlier, but I’m still annoyed enough about this to make a proper post. I wanted to leave this show alone because I liked Kohei and Taichi in the early episodes enough, but this show wasted our time for 6-8 weeks in a way that I find unforgivable. They took a loudmouthed, forthright, and well-intentioned character and made him stare blandly for almost two months while actively avoiding his and Taichi’s feelings. I’m so disappointed.

I’m glad @twig-tea has been covering some of what she remembers from the source material, because her added context has kept me from feeling so confused about this show. It feels rather insidious that this show would cut out any of Taichi’s struggles with Kohei’s queerness, and what reciprocity within himself means in favor of Taichi just looking confused at the camera for two months. It feels like a cowardly choice, because they didn’t want their main character to be unlikeable. It’s like they knew, like many J-BL recently, that they would not spend time in what becoming a couple for these two friends would mean. They also got so precious about the physical intimacy at the end in a way that just doesn’t work for me. Substituting food for intimacy doesn’t always work. I don’t even think ending on a kiss fixes this, because no amount of soft intimacy fixes the years of avoidance Taichi subjected Kohei to. 

It really bothers me how this show was so much longer than the film adaptation we got years ago only to be fundamentally worse because it refused to complete the full arc of their story. With the entire story available, why focus only on this initial getting together portion, strip out characterization, and also merge two female characters to create a worse one as a result? This ended up making both Taichi and Maya so unlikeable. Taichi went from demanding that Kohei speak up for himself and make sure people hear him, to someone who actively avoided Kohei’s clear confessions multiple times for two years! This is terrible!

Maya was such a frustrating character, especially because I’d spent time with Nana in Silent (2022). Nana presented a far more nuanced set of grief about hearing people engaging in hard of hearing and deaf people that Maya sorely lacked. Beyond that, her personality shifted with each episode to suit whatever needs the narrative suddenly asked of her. It was not fair to her actress, who never feels like she’s dialed in properly, and it’s unfair to both characters she’s asked to cover. Moreover, it’s unfair to the Taichi character, because so much of his stilted characterization ends up blamed on her entry into the story when it’s not her fault. It’s the writers’ fault for abandoning anything resembling an arc for Taichi.

This really was just such a waste. I really liked the building relationship between our leads in the early episodes, and I thought the actors had good working chemistry. I did not enjoy the entire back half of this show, and it was so annoying to see this show spin its wheels until the very last minute, before changing a key reunion scene for a half-hearted hug to conclude this wobbly narrative. These characters deserved a better adaptation than this, and it’s yet another strange adaptation this year afraid of the story they’re telling. I’m over it.

[about-faces]

Last night, I was once again struggling to actually write smut for a Harvey/Bruce/Gilda fic, when I noticed a very timely new guest comment on my Gilda fic, Bust. It was the first truly critical response I’ve gotten so far, and while that sort of thing would normally send me into a depressive tizzy, I actually found it really interesting!

So instead of actually writing the ship, as I should have been, I wanted to take this opportunity to think about just why the heck I shipped them in the first place.

Here’s how I responded, with added scans to hopefully better illustrate my point, plus some additions that occurred to me upon drafting this post:

I’m actually glad you raised this point, because I would have felt the exact same as you just a few years ago!

I’m gray-asexual, and I used to be a bit bothered by the rise of Bruce/Harvey shippers, because it was their canonical platonic FRIENDSHIP that mattered so much to me. I gradually warmed up to the shippers, because 1.) I realized I was ace and they probably weren’t, and 2.) they at least understood the importance of Bruce and Harvey’s bond, which is more than I can say for LOTS of official DC media.

Still, something bugged me about the ship, and I realized what it was: the lack of Gilda from the equation. She’s always been deeply important to me, especially her scant older appearances, and erasing her for a Bruce/Harvey ship (even one I’d come to appreciate) didn’t sit right with me.

But like you said, it’s not canon, and I’ve always been deeply invested in canon, even the stuff that’s frustrating and contradictory. So yeah, the throuple would have bugged me too.

Except! It all depends on WHICH canon you’re talking about!

So over the past 15 years, I’ve been obsessed with tracking down the entirety of the obscure, forgotten Batman newspaper comic strip from 1989-1991. I’ve posted the entire thing at @batman-daily, and I strongly encourage you to check it out. A couple years ago, I reread it and noticed something really interesting: the remarkable relationship between Bruce, Harvey, and the latter’s wife, Alice, who is Gilda in every way but name. They are all mutual friends, with Alice even going to visit Bruce alone to help/bully him to take care of himself.

It all reads like a perfect long-game setup for a love triangle, or for Harvey—having become Two-Face—to go after his loved ones in a jealous rage, like he did in Paul Dini’s “Two-Timer,” a story which notably showed that Grace had feelings for Bruce.

With that in mind, consider the final story arc of the newspaper strip, wherein Bruce acknowledges his OWN feelings for Alice and PASSIONATELY KISSES HER, all in a hilariously roundabout way to save her marriage to Harvey! It makes sense in context and is frankly hilarious.

And it works! Because Harvey isn’t jealous! The love triangle conflict you expect NEVER HAPPENS! Because they all love one another! And that love saves Harvey in the very end!

Was it explicitly a throuple? No, but nor have Bruce and Harvey ever canonically touched dicks. And yet the love between Bruce and Harvey in canon is true and real enough that shippers who want to make it sexual are perfectly allowed to do so, because it’s the love that matters. At least, for those of us who aren’t afraid to acknowledge the love between men, platonic or otherwise. And that love is rooted in canon.

So consider this: the mutual three-way-love between Bruce, Harvey, and Alice/Gilda is ALSO canon. That comic strip has been officially accepted as DC multiverse canon in the “Crisis on Infinite Earths: Absolute Edition,” which designated it as Earth-1289.

Furthermore, there’s something else you need to consider: the fact that Harvey HAS been used in love triangles against Bruce in several stories in recent decades. I already mentioned “Two-Timer,” but there’s also Nolan’s “The Dark Knight,” the animated “Gotham By Gaslight” film, and the Telltale game. In various ways, these stories serve to throw a wedge in the friendship between Bruce (the protagonist, whose story serves him) and Harvey (the guy who is going to lose it all, the woman included). I hate that shit. I hate the contrived drama that’s meant to stir up needless added conflict between two men who love each other.

And then, on the other hand, you have Mariko Tamaki’s Gilda story from “Batman: Black and White.” Tamaki depicted Harvey and Gilda being in a distant, loveless marriage, where even on their wedding day, he was constantly ignoring her in favor of work. The only person who could actually get his attention was Bruce.

At the time, this felt an awful lot like that problem I was talking about with the Bruce/Harvey shippers: raising up the gay ship while throwing the woman under the bus. In this case, for the purpose of doing an avenging girlboss take on Gilda. I hated that too, especially when Tamaki didn’t even follow through with the gay subtext in her next, miserable Two-Face comic.

You know that meme of a bride, groom, and best man all kissing one another, while the bride flips off the cameraman in the end? @whipbogard redrew the Tamaki wedding scene as that meme, right around the time I reread the comic strip. And suddenly, everything clicked into place for me.

After a lifetime of never, ever having any serious fandom ships, I fell in love with the idea of Bruce/Harvey/Gilda. Take what the comic strip did and bring it into the mainstream canon I love to spite the canon I hate.

In those great old Gilda stories, she saw through Harvey’s bullshit and knew how to reach him, however temporarily. She could do the same with Bruce. She’d be a valuable third voice for the ongoing toxic relationship between Bruce and Harvey, the one who could love them both while also getting to be frustrated with how fucking stupid and fucked-up both these men are.

Before she was reduced to a ride-or-die killer housewife in "The Long Halloween" (which, I'll grant you, has its own appeal), classic Gilda would actually stand up to Harvey and tell him to cut out his shit or else. I love the idea that she can also see right through Bruce, understanding how very alike he and Harvey are, even if they don't want to admit it.

Writing Gilda this way speaks to me as a longtime fan of both men, while also wanting to try to develop her place, as a woman stuck in the middle of their decades' worth of conflict and angst. She sees these men at their best, worst, and most pathetic/ridiculous, and while she's got the nerve to stand up for herself and call them out as needed, she still loves them nonetheless. For me, Gilda has become the voice for fans just like me, who are helpless to stop Batman and Two-Face from continuing the cycle of violent, toxic friendship, but still loving them nonetheless, and always hoping for the best.

So, at this point, let’s say I’ve at least managed to make you grudgingly accept my reasoning for the relationship. Even if that’s true, I’m gonna guess that the mention of a threesome felt like it came out of left field. I can’t argue with that. I wanted to actually write that as its own smutfic but, being ace, I struggle with that. But I really liked the idea, and as I was writing this, it just really wanted to be mentioned, so I included it.

The response has been positive (until now), which indicated to me that I had been successful in introducing Gilda as a viable third into a slice of fandom which had only shipped Bruce and Harvey. This is fanfic, after all, such things are expected, even encouraged, so I leaned into it.

Now, if I were ever (un?)fortunate enough to write for DC, officially? I doubt I’d have the nerve to go that far. But I’d still want to at least embrace the polycule-coded relationship between those three that we saw in the newspaper comic strip. I think it adds a whole new, refreshing spin on their ongoing dynamics, while being rooted in relationships that were established all the way back in 1942 by Bill Finger.

Finger’s story, at its heart, was all about how love can save a life. How love is the only way to defeat the villain. For Harvey Kent’s part, Gilda’s love was every bit as important as Batman’s unwillingness to give up on his friend. So I’m just taking it one step further within the freedom allowed me by fanfic.

Sorry for the length of the reply, but as you can see, I only came to this shit after several decades of thinking about 80+ years of official material. I hope I have at least been able to lessen your feelings of being jarred out of a story you otherwise seemed to appreciate. For my part, I hope to further develop the potential of this fucked-up polycule in future stories, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to get you on board too. Hope to see you then!

(art by ofossart)

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Inexperienced (S.R.)

Summary: Virgin!Reader has a secret no one expected, least of all Spencer.

Request: The reader is an overtly confident, social butterfly but has a secret… she’s still a virgin in every way, and it really bothers her. She’s also afraid to make the moves on her crush, Spencer, because of her inexperience. A/N: This is about Reader getting her first kiss. Check out the sequel linked at the end! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff (for Part 1) Content Warning: Embarrassment, truth or dare (game), playful teasing, confessions, first kiss, kissing Word Count: 3.5k

MASTERLIST

I’d always tried to tell the truth. Ever since I was a young girl, I found even the whitest of lies to be a little too guilt inducing to be worth it.

In fact, there had been times I’d even questioned whether my truth was, unbeknownst to me, a lie. Because of that, it had certainly been an odd experience to perform my lie detector test when I first applied for the FBI.

Over the recent years, however, I’d perfected my ability to lie — about most things, anyway.

There had been one exception. A very handsome exception who was sat beside me fiddling with the buttons on his cardigan.

Spencer Reid, my team partner of choice and the love of my life.

He just didn’t know about that second part yet.

But of course, my friends had been very aware of my feelings for the BAU’s boy genius, as well as the fact I was absolutely petrified of him finding out. So, as I sat in the comfort of Emily’s apartment, surrounded by my friends and playing a lighthearted game, I thought I would be safe.

“Truth,” I said with confidence. 

I had been very, very wrong.

“Again?! Really?!” Penelope groaned.

Emily was quick to follow, with her fingers and eyebrows raised, “That is the fourth truths in a row. Seventh—if you include Spencer’s.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a record,” JJ confirmed.

The conversation was bouncing so quickly, with each of them having perfected predicting each other’s next sentence. It was a well-oiled team, after all.

But Spencer broke pattern, butting in between quick quips to ask, “Why are we including mine?”

“I mean, by all means,” I shouted with a smile, “feel free to skip me!”

Penelope saw the easy out she’d given be and obstinately refused.

“No way. Nu-uh. If you’re going to be a party pooper, I’m going to make you pay!”

The rest of the team — including Luke this time but excluding Spencer — let out a harmony of “oooohs” in response to the threat.

“I’m ready,” I dared.

I should’ve known better than to dare.

“Do you think I’m bluffing?” she balked.

I really should’ve known better.

“You tell me, Pen-el-o-pe.”

“Okay, Miss Profiler, fine! Then my truth question to you is…”

I had been so cocky, so sure that Penelope wouldn’t dare take advantage of an innocent crush. But once she’d started, with an ever-escalating pitch until her breath ran out, I knew that I was sorely mistaken.

Penelope had a twinkle in her eye and a sickly-sweet smile on her face as she asked calmly, “Why won’t you tell boy wonder over here how you feel?”

The whole team devolved into chaos within a second. The peanut gallery was loud, but the heartbeat in my ears was even louder.

“Pfft, what?” I scoffed.

I hadn’t meant to look at him. Really, it was the last thing I’d wanted to do. But my brain couldn’t resist following her finger until she pointed directly at the boy to my right.

Spencer looked at me, also. We both stared at each other for a second with confusion and — more notably — embarrassment plastered all over our faces.

I wondered which part of it embarrassed him. I’d hoped it had been the attention, but the quiet voice in my head assured me that it was me that he found embarrassing.

“What? Spencer?” I asked.

As soon as I said his name, I watched one side of his lip twitch into a smile. It made my stomach fully flip, and I looked away as quickly as I could. Of course, that just put my attention back on the group currently laughing at how we were the perfect pair of obvious and oblivious.

“Uh-yeah,” Penelope snickered.

“What are you talking about? We’re friends. He knows that,” I stated so matter-of-factly that it almost sounded fake.

We were friends. I just wanted a little more than… friends.

I turned to the man in question again, but this time, his smile was different. It was lopsided and half-hearted, and it made me feel even worse for putting the spotlight on him.

“Right?” I asked him.

For a second, Spencer looked like he wanted to say something. But then he just cleared his throat.

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “We’re friends.”

Just friends.

JJ, the typical mother of the group, had tried her best not to laugh. However, after four glasses of wine and no intentions of driving home that night, JJ’s lips had gotten loose.

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” she slurred in a feigned whisper to the woman beside her.

Emily was less inebriated than the others, it seemed. At least, that seemed to be the simplest answer for why she sighed and waved her hand in an attempt to quiet the group.

“You guys, we better stop or they’re never going to admit it.”

Her attempt failed, however, courtesy of Penelope’s number one fan.

“Yeah, right,” Luke laughed, “I give it a week. Maybe a month.”

Everything was going so fast that it felt like my brain was running in slow motion. I’d been there before. In that loud, suffocating moment where I wanted to say anything to stop the ridicule.

‘These are my friends,’ I reminded myself, ‘they’re just poking fun.’

They were good people. They just didn’t realize that in their banter, they’d stumbled into my greatest insecurity. It wasn’t entirely their fault. I’d never told them.

I’d never told them that the reason I didn’t want to confront my feelings was because it was the first time that I’d really felt like this. For most of my life, I’d convinced myself that the right time was never coming for me.

But then I met Spencer. I met him and it seemed like waiting hadn’t been a mistake, but cosmic design.

I thought Spencer had been like me. I thought it wouldn’t be humiliating to tell him that I’d never actually been kissed, much less…

I thought he was like me. It had only taken one poorly timed joke about his ex-girlfriends before I realized that I had been wrong. It only took one polaroid, one story about the time he sucked face with a serial killer for me to realize that Spencer Reid — bona fide nerd, multiple graduate, scrawny, clueless Spencer Reid — was so far out of my fucking league.

The thought of him learning all of this now, in front of all of our friends, was a little too much to handle. Like the monster in the Tell-Tale Heart, my paranoia grew until I was about ready to confess. The truth was going to come out. I couldn’t lie to him.

My breathing picked up and I felt the wine rising in my throat. No matter how hard I swallowed it, my eyes still started to feel with tears.

‘Not now,’ I begged, ‘Not like this.’

“Dare!” Spencer yelled.

Again, the group descended into chaos. This time, it was quieter. This time, the whispers and snickers were aimed towards the man who’d just done what was least expected of him.

“I-I pick dare,” Spencer repeated, “I’ll go.”

Any relief I’d felt was so, so short lived, though. Because not even a second after he’d finished his sentence, Luke spoke.

“Oh, now you’re brave? Alright, then, white knight, I dare you to kiss her.”

Spencer looked at me, and my eyes shut tightly enough to free a few of the droplets that had gathered on the edge.

I wanted to shout, to say anything at all. But ultimately, it wouldn’t take the pain away. No matter how quickly they began to pick up on the shifted tone, the damage was already done.

Before anyone could say a word to make it any worse – or worse, try to apologize – I’d stood from my seat and bolted out of the room. Just as I turned the corner into the guest bedroom, however, I’d heard a familiar voice calling my name as he followed.

Spencer hadn’t been able to stop me, though.

I shut the door and tried to catch my breath. I tried to shake off the anxiety and shame that had led me to the empty room in the first place.

I wouldn’t be alone for nearly long enough.

Spencer, knowing he was the very last person I’d wanted to see in that moment, only gave me a few seconds of silence before his voice could be heard on the other side of the door.

“Hey, are you alright?”

I stepped away from it like I would be able to hide. When I didn’t answer, though, he became bolder. The doorknob turned slowly, and before I could say no, the light from the hallway was peeking through into the room.

“I’m so sorry—" he started.

“Go away!” I shouted back while frantically wiping tears off my face.

I refused to turn around. I was too scared. Too scared of the pity on his face and my propensity for telling the truth. I was so scared that if I opened my mouth to say anything but a beg for him to leave, I would say something so much harder to forgive.

But his stubbornness was part of the reason why I’d loved him in the first place. I couldn’t fault him for only shutting the door after he’d stepped inside. I couldn’t hate him for reaching out and holding my wrist like it would shatter on impact.

If I could hate him for caring about me, this would be so much easier.

“I’m really sorry,” he whispered. He had nothing to apologize for. Still, I felt how much he’d meant it. I could feel the hesitation and trembling in his thumb as he strokes the underside of my wrist.

He never stopped long enough to count my pulse — not even for the card counting savant. There was nothing nefarious. Nothing stopping me from lying to him if I wanted to.

With my back still to him, he stepped closer. I could hear his regret in shaky breath when he said, “I should’ve told them to stop.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I answered immediately. My treacherous body turned to face him and more. My wrist twisted until it was so easy for him to lace our fingers together.

The words flowed from me so easily as long as I didn’t look him in the eyes.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m not mad at you or anything, I just… I don’t know.”

From my peripherals, I saw how Spencer tilted his head and shoulders down to meet my shrunken figure. Without saying anything, he managed to make me look up at him.

With tears in my eyes and my bottom lip firmly between my teeth, Spencer looked at me and managed to make me feel beautiful.

“If you’re worried about hurting my feelings, I just want you to know that it’s totally okay if you don’t… want to kiss me,” he said.

It almost sounded like a lie.

“I completely understand and I would never want you to do anything that makes you even remotely uncomfortable and—“

“Spencer, that’s not the problem.”

Of all the possible rejections he’d expected, that apparently hadn’t been one of them. The boy genius was caught so off guard that he didn’t even know how to reply. His body relaxed, but his jaw remained tense as he tried to run through what possibilities he had failed to account for.

Coming up short, he was forced to ask the question I’d been dreading.

“So… what is?”

“This is humiliating,” I mumbled mostly to myself.

“Why?” he asked.

I looked into eyes that always made me smile and I felt my heart stop. In fact, time itself seemed to stop. The clocks on the walls got louder and slower, like a countdown to the end of something.

Spencer looked terrified, like he was waiting for something horrible. If the voice in my head was to be believed, I guess he was, in a way.

Something would change if I told him the truth. I couldn’t know what or how, but I knew that nothing would be the same.

But… maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe… it could be better.

“I didn’t want you to kiss me because I…”

I could have lied to him.

I just didn’t want to.

“I really want you to kiss me,” I said. “Just… not like this.”

Spencer’s hand went slack in mine. In a way, he’d let go without actually letting go. Just a gentle shift of his fingers from desperation to shock.

Spencer didn’t pull away. He mostly just… stood there, with his mouth hung open and his mind working slower than it ever had before. But my mind was racing, and my lips felt inclined to follow the train of thought that was now racing down the tracks.

“I want you to kiss me because you want to kiss me. Not because of a stupid dare.”

“Oh,” he said with a shaky exhale.

That was all he’d given me to work with. In a way, it was a blessing, because it didn’t sound enough like an outright rejection for me to stop my loose lips from continuing to spill the contents of my heart in front of him.

“I just wanted… if you kissed me, I wanted it to be more special than that. I wanted it to mean something.”

Like a light switch had flipped on in his brain, Spencer jolted back to his usual energy. That frantic, curious kid trapped in a man’s body was so quick to figure it out.

“Wait, have you never kissed anyone before?” he theorized.

And yeah, he was right, but he didn’t have to say it.

“Freaking profilers,” I grumbled, pulling my hand away from his to cross my arms firmly against my chest. I turned ever-so-slightly away from him before deciding, “You know what? Never mind, I don’t want you to kiss me anymore.”

A bold lie.

Spencer didn’t believe me nor let me get too far. With both hands on my shoulders, he quickly turned me back to him.

“Wait! Wait, is that why you were embarrassed?”

My lips puckered to stop my heart from letting anything else out. My eyes avoided his, no matter how insistent and inviting he was. I pursed my lips tightly enough together that Spencer could hear the answer in the body language.

And with the sweetest, shyest smile I’ve ever seen, he whispered back, “(Y/n) that’s… that’s really sweet.”

It was just so genuine. I was no good at telling when someone was lying, but I had been very experienced in telling the truth.

I knew he had meant it. I just didn’t know why. But in the spirit of truth telling, I decided to simply ask.

“How is that sweet?”

“You want me to be your first kiss,” he said. With incredulity in every part of his expression, he chuckled, “I’m flattered you think so highly of me.”

“I don’t know why, seeing as no one else was interested,” I grumbled.

Spencer did not appreciate the self-deprecating humor. In fact, he was very quick to disprove its contents.

“I promise you that there have been people that wanted to kiss you,” he assured me. Then, with a brief pause after he realized the web he’d gotten himself stuck in, Spencer gave me his own admission.

 “You’re, uh… you’re looking at one of them.”

In that moment, between our lopsided smiles and white flags, I realized how silly this had all been. I wondered for a brief second how this could have gone so differently, how we had wasted so much time obstinately refusing to admit what we both felt out of fear of losing one another.

But we never would have. Still, as I reached out and embraced him without the heavy weight of that burden on my back, I didn’t regret waiting.

In fact, it almost seemed like that was how it had always been meant to be.

“Thanks, Spencer,” I said into his shirt. “Sorry I was weird.”

He just laughed, holding me even closer than I’d ever thought possible as he promised, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

And I knew that he’d meant it. There wasn’t a lie to be found.

Leaving the room after that had been so easy. The world had changed for us so quickly in a matter of minutes that I’d almost forgotten no one else knew what was going on. But I suppose the disruption had been enough of a punishment for their meddling.

I couldn’t hate them when Spencer’s hand was in mine. I couldn’t fault them at all for giving us that push — no matter how humiliating it had been — because in the end, I had everything I could ever ask for. I had everything I needed.

The rest of the night was like it always was. No one said a word about the way Spencer never let his hand leave me in some way, shape, or form. No one even mentioned the fact that our longing stares had changed to something else.

Everyone just had fun, knowing that they had been right about Mrs. Obvious and Mr. Oblivious.

As the night wound down, I found myself dreading leaving. Not only because Spencer had been the designated driver — and a terrible driver, at that — but because that meant he would have to leave.

When he parked the car in my driveway, I thought of what I could do to prolong the inevitable. I hadn’t been expecting him to be quite as much of the gentleman as he was, but I wasn’t going to complain when he hopped out of the driver’s side and ran over to open my door for me.

The walk to my door was silent and felt like forever. I almost wanted to invite him in, but I knew what his answer would be. It had been late, and a lot had happened. I was sure we both agreed that it was alright to take it slow.

I mean, look how long it had taken to get us there.

Once we arrived at my door, Spencer let go of my hand. He still stayed just as close, though. From mere inches away, he looked down at me with an affection so blatant it made my cheeks burn.

I was about to open my mouth to say goodnight when I decided that I had something better to ask, instead.

“Truth or dare?”

Spencer smiled. He swayed even closer, backing me against the entrance and whispering his answer inches from my lips.

“Dare.”

I knew he could feel the way my breath shook. He could see how my eyelids began fluttering shut before I’d given him his instruction.

That wouldn’t stop me, though.  

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Spencer’s hands touched me first. He cradled my face before pressing his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes, unsure if I could handle the yearning in his eyes. I didn’t know what to expect, so I just stood patiently, counting the quick beats of my heart, and feeling the warmth of his breath fanning over my lips.

But then, just before I thought he would kiss me, he moved. Spencer tilted my head down and quickly pressed a gentle, chaste kiss against my forehead.

Even that innocent touch lit my body on fire. I opened my eyes, surprised to find that he wasn’t finished yet. I giggled as his kisses continued — one on each cheek before the quickest on the tip of my nose.

I laughed, a sound filled with excitement and my love for that silly boy. Spencer pulled away then, and I almost had the chance to be disappointed.

But then he kissed me. Without any hesitation, no moment of anticipation, he pulled my body forward while simultaneously pushing it back. He kissed me with soft lips and gentle hands.

Eventually, I had the sense to kiss him back. I knew it would be shier and less practiced, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he smiled against my lips once he felt it. He continued his attempts to kiss me until our smiles and laughter were too much to keep it up.

When he stepped back and away then, I felt no disappointment. I felt nothing resembling anything bad, and Spencer seemed equally satisfied.

He still felt the need to explain himself, though. Just in case.

“Not because of the dare,” he said with a shrug and a smile, “Just because I wanted to.”

Then, with the complete lack of grace that I’d loved him for, he stumbled back down the stairs with an awkward wave.

“Goodnight,” he said before I returned it with a promise.

“Until next time.”

I had a feeling we'd have even more fun with that one.

To be continued...

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[saintbleeding]

Hii~

So i saw this on a tumblr post but is very jonmartin

"Jon and Martin are planning their wedding, they want to have their cat as ring bearer (is this how it's called?) But Martin doesn't know the name of the cat because they always call it different nicknames and jon just doesn't tell him and he don't want to admit that after all that years don't know.

Because jon didn't know either! he thinks that the cat is Martin's and he also is trying to figure out the name."

Martin’s not a cat person.

Honestly, he’s just not really an animal person. Like, in general.

The same isn’t true for Jon, of course. On, like, their second date, Jon—who, up until that point, had been all leather elbow patches on his stupid tweed jackets and “hmm, perhaps” and thoughtful squinting—got approached by a cat in the street, and pretty much melted on the spot.

Martin melted, too, but for slightly different reasons.

So it wasn't really a surprise when Jon moved in and Cat started turning up. Sure, it felt a little bit out of character for Jon not to excitedly announce that, one, he'd gotten a pet cat really recently, and, two, he was bringing it into Martin's place, which is a relatively humble little cottage, but Cat seems to free-roam most of the time, so it's not like she's encroaching on much of the space. And, anyway, it's not like Martin hates cats, so he doesn't mind. He just sort of thought Jon would have said something. But he didn't.

So.

You know.

There's a cat.

She's grown on Martin over time. In fact, it's usually him that wakes up with her purring and headbutting him at fuck-off o'clock in the morning, and Jon's not a heavy sleeper, so if she'd attacked him first, Martin would know.

But she's nice. Lovely little tufts of fur between her toes, and quite a deep meow for such a pretty lady. He'll call her Lady Catherine sometimes, and Jon's got the gall to pretend he doesn't think it's hilarious. Mind you, Jon's terms of endearment for her skew a bit more—pejorative, for lack of a better term? Like, Cat will take the opportunity when Jon is hunched over a stack of student essays at the dining table, and she'll leap onto his shoulders, and do that loaf thing, and Jon always says "unhand me, you infernal creature", or the few times she has bothered Jon in the middle of the night for pre-dawn breakfast service, he's grumbled "vile beast" even as he gets up to feed her.

Martin's tried telling him he shouldn't be encouraging her. But Jon just turns around and says "yes, I know, that's why I chastise her".

Martin stays impressed that someone so smart can be so stupid. Which he means affectionately, obviously. If he didn't, they wouldn't be getting married.

Which is great, by the way. It's great.

Does present some—unique problems, though.

Martin's got absolutely no bloody clue what her actual name is.

Which, you know, it's not like he's filling out adoption papers or anything, but at some point after some late-night banter it became part of the plan that Cat should be the ring-bearer at the wedding.

And he can't not know the name of a member of the party at his own wedding.

So he starts sleuthing.

"Hey," he says one evening, when GBBO is over and they're just sitting there with the telly on mute.

Jon looks up from his thorough inspection of Cat's beans, her paw gently clasped between his thumb and forefinger, and goes "Mm?"

"Been thinking."

Jon lifts one eyebrow. "Mm?"

"We could get her a proper little collar and everything."

Jon blinks a couple of times, then smiles. "Oh, for the wedding, you mean?" Martin nods. "Oh, yes, it could match your tie."

Okay, that's adorable, but also, unfortunately, not the point.

"Ooh, yeah," he says, then: "Oh! And, like, a little engraved name-tag. Really fancy."

Jon's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," he says, tone completely unreadable. "Silver or gold, do you think?"

Martin's suddenly wondering if it's a trap.

"Dunno," he says, turning his eyes back to the brightly-coloured advert on the screen. "What's her vibe, you think?"

In the corner of his eye he sees Jon's jaw working silently as he searches for something to say.

"I think your input should be taken into consideration," he says, lifting his chin as Cat stands, stretches, and headbutts him. "Since... you know."

Martin considers whether or not Jon's messing with him, because frankly, he very much does not know.

"Mmm. Well! Uh- I- I like gold. Would match our bands."

"True enough," Jon says. Cat leaps onto the back of the sofa, and they're both silent till she curls up there and falls back asleep.

Jon doesn't seem very eager to say anything else.

Bugger.

"So..." Martin says, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. "Um... what's the spelling, again?"

Jon's blurry form sits up straighter, and when Martin puts his glasses back on he sees his mouth open in shock.

"Might I ask why you're asking me?" Jon says, which doesn't make any sense.

"W- um. Y- you know, you're the English teacher."

Jon inclines his head to the side, frowning. "Hmm," he goes. "W- I- I- yes, I—mm." He lowers himself back against the sofa again. "The usual way."

Martin sighs.

"Right," he says. "Okay."

The silence gets a bit fraught, then. When Martin stands up to take their mugs to the kitchen, he might be a tiny bit huffy. It's possible.

Jon follows him, and he stays huffy, because it's easier to keep up than neutrality when he's trying to hide that he's a bit annoyed and a bit embarrassed.

"Everything alright?" Jon says, leaning casually against the fridge as Martin puts way too much effort into scrubbing both mugs clean.

"Mm."

Several seconds pass.

"Could I say something?" Jon asks, a bit hesitantly.

If Martin had to guess, he'd put money on "you're a negligent idiot for not paying enough attention to know my cat's name and I hate you".

"Yeah."

Jon exhales audibly behind him, as though amused.

"With all due respect and affection, darling—" He pauses till Martin is finished aggressively rinsing the mugs. Martin still doesn't turn to face him, though, because he's a tiny bit scared of where this is going, honestly. "If you've forgotten how to spell your own cat's name, that's not, strictly speaking, my fault, is it?"

Martin turns around.

Several things occur to him at once.

First, Cat's a dirty freeloader who owes Martin like fourteen months of rent.

Second, it might, legitimately, have been a coincidence that she and Jon moved in around the same time.

Third, he can't remember a time he's heard Jon use any method of address on her except for creature, or beast, or the ones Martin uses himself.

Which means, fourth, Jon doesn't know her bloody name either.

Because she's not his cat.

Well.

"Okay," Martin says. "Let's assume I have forgotten. Couldn't you just—help me out—and spell it?"

"Martin," Jon says disparagingly with a frown.

"Jon," Martin says, trying really hard not to smirk.

Jon does that thing where his mouth starts in a flat line, but as his irritation grows, his nose scrunches up, and the line of his mouth slowly rises up his face until he exclaims inarticulately and throws his hands in the air in defeat.

"Fine!" he says. "Fine, okay, alright, fine. I—I don't—I don't know. I don't know! I meant to ask, but I felt negligent not having known when I moved in, and then, after a month or seven I couldn't very well come out and ask, could I? And then—good heavens, it's been more than a year, there was no subtle way to recover!"

Martin's not laughing at him.

But he is laughing.

Breathlessly, uncontrollably, doubling over—to the point where Jon actually crosses the few steps separating them in the tiny kitchen to place a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him upright with a concerned look on his face.

"Sorry," Martin manages eventually, wiping tears from his eyes. "Christ, sorry, I'm just—"

He takes a deep, measured breath.

"I've got to tell you something," he says sheepishly. Jon puts his hands on Martin's shoulders and looks into his face with the earnest sobriety that, even now, gives Martin butterflies.

"Anything," he says, still frowning intensely.

Martin averts his eyes. "She's not my cat either."

When Jon stops laughing, he spends the rest of the evening lecturing Cat in his Not Mad Just Disappointed voice ("identity fraud is an extremely serious matter, young lady, and you are terribly lucky you have such sweet little eyes, or I might be compelled to take legal action against you, please let go of my nose").

Oh, but they do end up getting her an engraved gold name-tag for the ceremony.

It says 'Lady Catherine (Beast)'.

[jils-things]

I would never fall in love again until I found her

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into"

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you

[3.25.23]

ouueeehh we're back to my corny love letters like last time 💜 again absolutely NO pressure reading these, because it WILL get lengthy 💜 this also serves as a personal love letter that i can archive!

ahh, steven st.one. a wild card in my f/o list. i never thought i'd find myself to like him... i've always tried my best to avoid the pretty boy design after i've gotten older which is why i was oddly in denial during my early steven days hehe... the earliest memory i have of him is just me battling him in my ruby emulator back in the 4th grade - but i don't think i actually remembered him too well, i only thought he looked like a silly anime version of the classical composer be.ethoven and tbh, i still like to think he does look like him in the rse style lolll 💜

for the whole, actual story - it was just last year - i was reading the r/s arc, of course. it was one of those days in school where i had nothing much to do and snuck my phone to read manga to pass some time. at some point, my classmate joined to read with me - it was at this moment where steven debuts properly and it caught my classmate by Surprise. she thought he looked very handsome! to which i teased her... strangely enough, this exchange impacted me? maybe it's because someone acknowledged what i was doing and even bothered to briefly read along with me - so in a way steven kinda bookmarked that memory.

so after that exchange, i just kept on reading. everytime he had something to say, i couldn't help but just stare at his face? he looked nice, i guess? he's also very gentle and polite... i kept this thought of mine for quite sometime until i was discussing the manga arc with my p.okespe mutual and he mentioned him. i somewhat confessed he looked nice and that was the biggest mistake i've ever done because what my friend did after was absolutely blow me with art after art of the pretty rock collector and i was STRUGGLING. it ultimately came down to this one cute panel in the o.ras chapter where he was blushing and I wasn't the same person since then 🚶🚶🚶and funnily enough, i told myself I wasn't going to fall for anyone because of the manga and whoopedoo p.okespe!steven my beloved the greatest man ever. i mean i love the game counterpart as well, they're nearly identical - it's just the manga that totally swept me... sighhhh

steven is such a nice character to begin with, he's honestly a very humble and nice champion. he's not showy about his identity and would rather be alone by himself to indulge in what he wants. he is willing to give up a very respectable position in the po.kemon league just to pursue his interests and with that i see a man not after power and fame but a man who just wants to find joy in what he does even if it demotes him. on top of that, he's just a sweet gentleman. he was raised well of course, and you can see it clearly in his acts in the story. i love him very much for that and who wouldn't want those traits?

i was really absolutely embarrassed to be all over this guy at first - it took a whole month for me to actually share to my blog about how i liked steven and took awhile to adjust to that fact that i opened up about it 😭 but the community was very kind and supportive about the pairing and if i'm being honest, i think stevaide made a super lasting impact on my blog recently and it's really so comforting to picture them as a young loving married couple with ruby. it made me feel unashamed with what i can do with my silly ships. i'm still very glad for the endless support for steven and jaide.

soo, yes. happy memoryshipping 💜💚 thank you for making my times of struggle more bearable if not perfect and thank you to everyone who enjoys this ship even if it was just a little bit :]

credits to @/cafekitsune <3

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 19: motel

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“There was an accident because of the storm, the road is closed,” Spencer informed you, from the driver's window, shortly before getting back into the car.

You had been delayed leaving the station about the rest of the team and, to your bad luck, the traffic caused by the winter storm in Minnesota hadn’t even allowed you to go to the runway where the jet was.

"And what are we going to do?"

“Well, we can't go another way and if we go back to the city there is a high probability that we will also suffer a car accident.”

“I saw a motel on the way here,” you exclaimed with resignation. “We can stay there and see if there is a landline, because my phone is on the fritz and Hotch isn't answering me.”

Spencer agreed with your idea and pulled the lever to take off, turning back the way you had come. Watching him drive was one of your favorite things, because you knew that he only did it when you were the one in the passenger seat and he looked very cute with that concentrated expression on his face.

“The cold is getting into my bones, at least I hope they have heating”

“Would you rather be here or in Miami?”

“You know I hate the beach, it offends me that you're even asking that,” he laughed, as you watched him wrinkle his nose in that slight way he did when he talked to you. You didn't even know if he was aware of the gesture, but you adored it.

You turned on the radio to fill the silence and on the way to the motel you tried, without success, to communicate with the rest of the team to find out if they had also gotten stuck in traffic or if they had managed to get through it. Apparently you weren’t the only ones who thought of staying there after the hopeless panorama on the road, so when you arrived at the reception the woman informed you that there were no normal rooms available.

“We only have the special room, it costs eighty dollars a night”

"Eighty dollars?" you asked scandalized. For a motel, from your point of view, it was overpriced.

“It has a jacuzzi, a mini refrigerator, and a couch for couples,” the woman explained to you, without much interest in the decision you made, while you opened your eyes widely.

“Did you hear that? A couch for couples” you said to your friend with fake enthusiasm, who was holding both luggage bags with one hand, seeing him later shake his head at your behavior. You were like a pair of siblings and that meant being ashamed of each other on more than one occasion.

“Just give us the room,” he extended his debit card to the woman and after collecting, she gave you a key, half-telling you where you should go to find the supposedly special room.

“Oh, and do you have a phone we can use?”

When you contacted your boss you realized that they had also been trying to call you and that, as you had imagined, they had managed to get to the jet. They agreed that they would stay somewhere else until you could join them and the next morning, when the storm was over, you would all fly back.

After that you followed the man down the hallway and when you entered the room you realized that she hadn’t lied about the furniture, that it amused you in a completely immature way. Spencer warned you not to even think about touching that couch because it would contain, at the very least, millions of germs and unknown fluids that you didn't want to expose yourself to.

“You won't let me use the jacuzzi either?” you laughed, pouting after speaking. You didn't even feel like diving in, you just wanted to bother your friend a little by forcing him to tell you about all the hygiene problems that accommodation places like that had.

“In fact no, I highly recommend not using it. According to a report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 208 disease outbreaks associated with treated recreational water have been confirmed in recent years, primarily from swimming pools, hot tubs, and public water parks. These outbreaks resulted in 3,646 cases of illness, 286 hospitalizations, and 13 deaths, but health experts suspect the true numbers are even higher, since many illnesses are never reported.

“I have a strong immune system,” you said without giving it much importance, while you opened your suitcase to start taking out a change of clothes. Although you were not going to use the jacuzzi if you wanted to take a good bath and you only hoped that there was hot water to save you from the tremendous cold that was outside.

“I don't think so, actually. Cryptosporidium is a parasite, living in fecal matter, that can cause gastrointestinal illnesses, including diarrhea. And they can be transmitted by an infected person who uses, oh surprise! a jacuzzi”

“But you're paranoid, how much chance is there that a person infected with that crypto-whatever stayed in this specific room and used the jacuzzi?”

You probably shouldn't have asked that, because if you had asked it ironically, he took it seriously. Spencer started ranting about statistics that you couldn't even imagine how he knew while you continued getting your things ready to get in the shower.

When you walked to the bathroom your friend followed you and when you crossed the door you were scared to think that he would do it too, however, he stopped at the door frame and leaned against it.

“Do you know that there is another disease that is quite common in hot tubs? It is Legionnaires' disease, caused by Legionella pneumophila. It is not so risky in people our age, but…”

“Reid,” you interrupted him, putting a hand on his arm so he could pay attention to you. “I have to take a shower, what if you keep telling me when I get out?”

“Are you going to shower? That shower is probably disgusting!”

“And I am too, in case you haven't noticed.”

“You don't even wear flip flops, you're going to get athlete's foot.”

“I swear you're insufferable,” you whined, pointing a finger at him. He knew you weren't serious, but he still decided to get revenge for what you had just told him.

"Oh yeah? Now you will have to shower while listening to all the statistics of deaths from diseases transmitted in motel spaces”

You closed the bathroom door, laughing, but that did nothing to muffle the sound of your friend's voice, which seemed to recite data as if it were a recorder. At one point you tried to sing to cover the sound, but even that wasn't enough and that's when you let out a snort loud enough for him to hear.

"I hate you!"

“You know you don’t!”

And well, he was right. But you weren't going to tell him.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my mom to stop singing?

okay so a couple months back i (a uni student) moved out of my old apartment and back in with my parents while i try to find a new one. the only issue is, since i first moved away, my parents had moved into a smaller house than they had when me and my siblings were growing up. they now have their bedroom and my dad's study, but no additional bed or guest rooms. for this reason, i have been sleeping on their living room couch.

my mom also doesn't have a room of her own, so her laptop is also in the living room, as is mine. so basically the living room is our shared domain for the time we spend at home. i have class and friends to spend time with, so i'm away relatively frequently (though i'm on winter break now of course), while my mom is retired and is at home basically 95% of the time year-round.

me and my mom both listen to music a lot and our tastes do not overlap basically at all. i listen mostly to indie, folk, rock, the kind of stuff white queer kids love, while my mom's music is almost entirely soulful christian pop about big j and stuff.

up until recently, my mom didn't wear headphones. she'd play music directly from her laptop speakers. this obviously bothered me somewhat, but i hadn't said anything about it. recently (i.e. a couple weeks ago) i asked her if she'd consider starting to wear headphones, which she has for the most part, though sometimes she forgets. i just kinda let her do whatever if she does, i haven't mentioned it again since.

so that's the first time i asked my mom to be quieter, and i don't think i'm an asshole for that. my worry is about the second time. you see, over the last week, she's taken to singing along to her tunes. maybe she did that before and i just didn't notice over the actual song itself? anyway, i can definitely hear it now.

and of course it's not the best musical performance, it's a lady with little singing experience belting along to her favourite songs, but it's not really about the quality of the singing. i don't like the music she likes and would prefer not to listen to it, is all.

today, whilst she was singing, i gently asked her: "could you stop singing?" i didn't mean forever, just in that moment. i really tried to say it in a nice way, and i don't think i sounded particularly rude? it should be noted, though, that my parents do seem to think of me as some kind of sensitive sally intent on criticizing every little thing they do. that feeling does kind of go both ways, but i admit sometimes i can be harsh on my mom, because she can be overbearing and a bit neurotic, and i don't really get to have the space i wish i could, especially not now when i'm living with them.

anyway, so i ask: "could you stop singing?" and my mom says something like "okay- well, i would prefer not to." the way she said it really made it sound like i had hurt her feelings. so i said, "okay. that's alright. you can sing." she stopped singing and has been sort of running around for the last 10 minutes or so restlessly doing random things.

my parents are that kind of people who are really really deep in "politeness" and genuinely baffle me since i'm autistic (like, a couple of days ago we had some leftover cake, and my dad straight up forced me to take half of what was left over even though i said i didn't want it. i still don't really know why?) so i'm sure even though i said "okay, nevermind then," my mom didn't believe me.

while she was running around doing random things, i told her, "sorry if i hurt your feelings." and she said, "oh, it's nothing." i genuinely don't know if i'm in the wrong here. i feel like, on the one hand, this is a space we have to share, and i should have the right to ask her not to make noise (i always wear headphones and never sing along to music or vc with friends when my parents are around), but on the other hand, it's her house, and she should have the right to sing in it, right? i don't know.

TL;DR: i asked my mom to stop singing in the only space for our computers in the house and i'm pretty sure it upset her. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[prince-liest]

How did you figure out you're aromantic?

Oh, god, what a short question for such a long process, hahaha. First off, didn't figure it out until recently, age 27, but here was the approximate (and very truncated in the amount of internal conflict and introspection involved) step-by-step process:

Figured out I was queer in high school because I felt the same way about women as I did about men! Spent about 5 years thinking I was bisexual.

Figured out that I'm not actually attracted to men when I read a post describing the experience of compulsory heterosexuality and related with it intensely, which was a very freeing experience. Spent 6 years thinking I was a (nonbinary) lesbian!

Hooked up at parties a couple of times out of curiosity and then took up my best friend's offer to fuck and realized that I got the same amount of skin-crawling distaste about that as I did about sexual contact with men, thus realizing I was ace.

Let that domino tip over into the, "Actually, identifying as gay has for a long time given me the same anxiety as I used to feel when I thought I'd have to date a man, and also I'm 27 years old and have never, ever actually wanted to date another human being. When people ask me what my ideal partner is like, I start listing off ways in which they should not bother me or demand my time or be part of my life. Maybe I just don't want... anyone." domino, and the subsequent "I'M FREE!! (from trying to date women)" euphoria was identical to the "I'M FREE!! (from trying to date men)" euphoria, so.

That's where I'm at!

I'm a generally introspective person, but I'm also really great at gaslighting myself into ignoring my own discomfort, so largely it's been, haha, a diagnosis of exclusion. First I excluded men, then the discomfort with women grew large enough that I was able to exclude them as well. Reading about other people's experiences and realizing where they paralleled my own was immensely helpful! So was being close friends with a very poly person who slowly and fully unintentionally changed my perspective on how I view relationships in a very poly-and-relationship-anarchy-as-default way, which incidentally is extremely compatible with aroace queerplatonic ideals and definitely softened me up to be ready to accept that particular realization.

Also, please let this be a sign that just because you identify with one "thing" doesn't mean that you're committing to it forever! <3

[hannahssimblr]

How did you improve so much in a year at building and taking screenshots?! Forever in awe

hahah thank you so much! I'm so happy with my improvement - the answer is ~magic~

nah, really, it's just that when I started Lucky Girl back at the end of 2022, I knew absolutely none of the screenshot tricks - I only ever got ts4 as a way to tell the story, and hadn't played it at all in the years prior. I ended up trying to take screenshots in a game where I didn't even know how to work the teleport function - and you can tell, I fear.

I was also using another platform to share my story at the time, and a lot of the content there kinda looked the same - vanilla, screenshots taken with plumbobs on and the walls down etc. I wasn't using Tumblr so I didn't have any inspiration. Coming here really pushed me to be better and taught me a lot of tricks and new things to add to my game to make it look better - the short of it, is that I just really didn't know better, and I just wanted to write the story. The screenshots felt secondary. I look back and cringe tbh, but I distinctly remember not really bothering that much with them, and thinking that 'just okay' was good enough.

Since then I've learned so much!

The first was how to teleport, and use MCCC to get sims to do couple poses off the lot

I got TOOL and figured all of that stuff out - including to create the illusion of varying heights etc.

I added in more details to the sims, changed any hair and skin issues, and added in skin details galore

I use WW for posing whenever I need something a bit more complex

I got over my fear of having too much CC in my game and just got so much build/buy cc - this made it possible to create the kinds of houses and rooms I imagined in my head - also, experience building helped a lot. In the beginning I was so intimidated, and frankly, unable to make things looked good that I relied on builds from the gallery 90% of the time.

Weirdly, even though I studied film in college, I never applied my knowledge of composition to the screenshots - I just started doing that, and generally trying to think more cinematically.

I got more use to using photoshop to fix screenshots, mix them together and crop them to be more compositionally pleasing. I also did that tutorial about changing the BG of a scene - I do that as a last resort, but it really works.

RESHADE - this was the biggest one. That DOF really changed my screenshot game - there's a point in lucky girl where I started using it, and you can see the instant difference.

Lighting mods - I use sunblind, and I also use the ghibli replacement clouds. I have a few others also to fix the shadows and lighting in general

Being more intentional with poses. I got a bunch of new ones with more subtle expressions that I felt suited the tone of my story better. I think the exaggerated ones are super cute, but they always seemed too much for my story. I also got animations for even more natural movement in scenes. Sometimes I'll make my own, too, if I can't find exactly what I am looking for

The eye trick was a huge gamechanger - I use it almost every single shot, and truly couldn't live without it.

Relight is a recent addition to my game - I only figured out how to use it around the end of part 2 of Lucky Boy. I don't use it a lot, but it was great more some of the dramatically lit festival scenes, and whenever I want some lamplight on a character (Or to just balance out a dark part of the shot)

camera mods have helped me gain more control of my scenes, along with the CTRL 5/6/7/8/9 camera saving trick. I use this a lot too, especially when I need to characters to look at each other with the eye trick and they won't do it at the same time (recent example below)

All of that is basically how I did it! It was a whole process but I'm so pleased because I look at the old screenshots and just think, damn, I've come so far!

More examples of the same scenes redone, because it's fun

[ariaste]

Hi! Regarding your recent post about how you taught your writing workshops, I was reading through it and was feeling very inspired (you sound amazing as a teacher), but I also really wish I had a community like that. Since I'm currently focusing on an original work, I was wondering how do you go about finding fellow writers/betas that you can trust with work and form a mutual writing relationship with? I've looked for and joined many communities like Nanowrimo and discord servers over the years, yet nothing seemed to click? So yeah sorry for the bother but I was wondering if you had any advice :D

Re: "you sound amazing as a teacher" -- aw thanks! I was an INCREDIBLE teacher. That might sound kind of vain to say with so much assurance, but it truly was the first time in my life where I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was doing a really, really fucking good job. (And that's WITH my anxiety, so like. Oof.) I just set out on purpose to be the kind of teacher I always longed to have when I was an apprentice writer, and that got me most of the way there. The rest was just spite for all the shitty creative writing classes I'd had before LOL. I'd already seen all the mistakes myself from the other side, so I just came up with better ways of doing things. And then day one of class, I had them all do a self-assessment of what they wanted to learn in the class, what fears they had, etc, and I was really struck by how universal the sense of insecurity and under-confidence was in all their replies. So that just confirmed what I already suspected, to wit: my ONE JOB (and again, this was a "writing and publishing scifi/fantasy" class) was just to hammer in the idea of, "Your ideas ARE cool, the things you think are cool ARE IN FACT COOL, you ARE allowed to write about queer dragons or whatever and that's an awesome thing to be doing and I'm HERE FOR IT." If the one thing a student takes from a creative writing class is more confidence in their writing and more trust in themself, then the goal has been achieved. If a teacher says anything else, we're verging on snobbery (Iowa Writer's Workshop can go get fucked btw)

ANYWAY.

Finding a beta you click with is a lot like finding a friend or a romantic partner who you click with. That is: there's a lot of fish in the sea, but not all of them are going to be right for you, and sometimes it takes a while to find that special person. It sounds like you're doing all of the right things, though, so just keep at it.

That said, a couple lifehacks: do NOT talk about your work with the vibes of "hey, i'm looking for a beta, does anyone want to beta for me?" because (at least in my experience) those acquaintances often turn out to be sort of transactional and shallow -- think of people who walk into any situation like "hey will you be my girlfriend? i'm looking for a girlfriend. do you want to date me as my girlfriend??? will someone please be my girlfriend?" rather than trying to make genuine connections with people as *people* versus the role that the girlfriend-seeker wants to put them in. (Exception to this: Fandom-specific servers where you are looking for a beta for a fic. Then it's less weird to ask out loud for a beta, because you've already established a mutual shared interest/passion. It's not cold-calling in the same way, you get me??)

Instead, aim to project vibes of "I'm having so much fun playing in my sandbox :) I am having so much fun by myself, maybe too much fun in fact [psychically broadcasting that the fun is in such abundance around here that there would be enough to share if someone happened to wander past...]" Post about your work, talk about it in public, give people little excerpts or tidbits you're proud of. Look for people who express interest in the sort of fun you're having, and then start up conversations about it. Look for people who are having the sort of fun of their own that you're interested in, compliment them on it and ask questions, and build a relationship. (If they're writing the sort of thing you're into, chances are that you're writing the sort of thing they're into. Not always, but frequently!)

Sometimes it is possible to take an existing friend who is interested in your work (or at least supportive of it and loving of you) and kind of train them into being a great beta reader even if they themselves are not really a writer. It takes a lot of self-knowledge of what you're looking for and what you need in terms of feedback, it takes some patience and trust in your relationship with them, it takes the ability to negotiate boundaries and ask really good questions, and it takes a friend who is game to try and who likes the sort of things you like. (Personal recommendation: Don't try to get feedback from someone who isn't even interested in the genre that you're writing. A dedicated literary fiction fan is probably going to have a REAL hard time appreciating your gruesome scifi horror book for what it is, and if they're not familiar with the genre conventions, their suggestions are predisposed to be kind of Weird and Not Right For What You're Writing. Accept their love and support, but also accept that neither of you are going to have a good time if they try to beta for you.)

Trying to build relationships in an open community like a forum or a Discord server is a good way to cast a wide net, but all deep lasting relationships happen on a single line between you and the other person, so look for opportunities to talk to people one-on-one in DMs to build that kind of creative intimacy.

It takes time! But if you're open about the things that are bringing you joy and you're talking about them and setting them out in plain sight, the right people will eventually be drawn to your joy/fun like moths to a flame. Humans cannot resist that shit.

If you've been doing that and it's still not working, check in with yourself -- is your project actually bringing you joy, or are you going through the motions? Readjust, reorient yourself, try again. Lean into it. Go hard or go home. If you're really truly genuinely having fun by yourself, then your eventual readers will too.

If you're doing all THAT and it's STILL not working (that is, if people are expressing initial interest but you can't hold their attention and they wander off once they read your work), then that's a signal that you've got a tension problem.

GOOD LUCK. You will find your people eventually, just keep going! :)

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 10

Hello! So I’m wondering if people aren’t seeing my posts, I got someone on one these (don’t remember if it was this one or Roads...but they said that somehow they had missed the last three). I also noticed that a couple of the writing tags *I* follow didn’t update when they put out a new part of their story, I only noticed that they put it out because I dig through the #steddie tag several times a day.

So let me know if you’re still seeing my tags or not.

The application process has begun! Just a note on Argyle’s last name. The fandom doesn’t have one for him and they usually don’t give him one. It took a lot of research (the character looks Native American but the actor is an American born to two Mexican parents.) So after some seriously thought I landed on Rivera.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3  Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8  Pt 9

***

The first guy’s name was Keith Langston and he had been learning to tattoo through buying large swaths of pig skin. The guy’s portfolio was entirely of pig skin tattoos.

“Have you ever tattooed human skin or on a live person?” Steve asked looking over the portfolio turning each page slowly. “It can even be yourself. Or even just drawing on yourself?” He added, because that’s how he got into tattooing.

Keith scoffed. “That’s what I’m here for. To tattoo other people. I only go to the best to get my body tattooed.”

Steve smiled. “And who are your favorite artists?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Like only the greats. Leonard Killgrave, Ollie Peterson, Trent Sullivan. You know, those guys.”

How Steve managed to avoid wincing, he could only attest to years of customer service. Because he had never heard of any of them. And Hopper was no slouch in the social aspect of being a tattoo parlor owner. He knew most of the shop owners and good portion of the artists under them. They weren’t from Indy that was for sure.

And then it hit him. They weren’t from Indy. They were probably from Chicago or New York, maybe even Boston. This prick was traveling out of state to get his tattoos.

“I see,” was all Steve said. They talked some more about Keith’s abilities and where he hoped to be in five years.

“Well, you got to where you are in five years,” Keith sneered. “I fully expect to world renowned in that time.”

Steve’s eye twitched. “Thank you so much for your time.” He handed back the portfolio and didn’t even bother to stand.

Keith stormed off muttering about asshole douchebags who thought they were still in high school.

Yeah, Steve was not hiring Keith.

The next one was Eden Bingham. She was the Goth chick with the fluffy black hair and the piercings.

“Hello,” she greeted as Steve stood up to shake her hand.

“Hi,” he said, “tell me about yourself.”

Turned out she was Suzie’s older sister. She had moved out from Utah to get away from her strict parents and to be closer to Suzie after she married Dustin. Suzie was the one that had told her that he was looking for an apprentice and to try for it.

During the course of the interview, Steve was a little disappointed. Eden was good. Damn good in fact. And had been tattooing her friends and roommates for the last year, indie style. But he knew their personalities would clash so hard. And it wasn’t about the aesthetic. It wasn’t.

But he knew where she would flourish though and made a note to have Robin call Hop. Hop’s most recent apprentice had moved up to a chair and chose to move to Chicago to purse their career there and needed a new apprentice.

He thanked her for her time, stood up and shook her hand.

“Hey, look,” he said gently. “I don’t think you would be happy apprenticing under me.”

She smiled. “Probably not.”

“But I know someone who’s just barely had a spot open up,” Steve explained. “He hasn’t had time to put out feelers yet. I think you’d two would be a better fit.”

Eden’s eyes went wide. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

Steve nodded. “And not just because you’re Suzie’s sister, either. Because I think you’re good and deserve a shot. Even if it isn’t with me.”

“Thanks!”

He walked out with her to get Hopper’s number and address. She walked out talking excitedly to Suzie on the phone.

Robin bumped his shoulder. “That was nice of you.”

Steve blushed. “Hop will love her.” He looked at the remaining two. “Who’s next?”

“Argyle Rivera,” she murmured.

Steve turned to him. “Argyle, come on back.”

Argyle leapt to his feet. “Brochacho! I’m super excited.”

Steve smiled and led him to the back room. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Argyle handed him his portfolio. “I think it’s so cool you asked for a physical portfolio, dude. Most cats only want a link to some website.”

Steve grinned. “I don’t mind those, it’s just harder to talk while scrolling.”

Argyle grinned back. “Yeah.”

Steve opened it up to see the most beautiful Mexican styled tattoos he had ever laid eyes on in his life. Growing up in Hawkins made for a very thin Latino or Hispanic population so he didn’t see much of this kind of work, but he had always admired it.

“This is amazing,” he breathed. “How long have you been doing this?”

Argyle blushed. “I haven’t really done much. I used marker for the most part because permanent isn’t really my style, bro. But I’ve done a couple stick and poke stuff that was fun. And I am all about the fun. So a friend suggested I should try for this.”

“So you’ve never used an ink gun?” Steve asked.

Argyle shook his head. “Nope!”

Steve and Argyle talked for a bit longer and Steve was really impressed with how open and outgoing he was.

“How do you feel about doing tattoos not in your usual style?” he asked. This was the kicker for most artists.

Argyle lit up. “That would be awesome to learn how to do, dude! I love my style but branching out is what life is all about.”

“And how would you feel about starting off only doing simple tattoos, like the small ones or basic designs?” Steve asked.

Argyle’s face spread out into the biggest grin. “Everyone’s got to start out somewhere, my man!”

Steve was really leaning towards Argyle now. Which was too bad, because he really liked the spunky blonde. No, no, not like that.

He led Argyle back to the reception area and then Robin called the last out. “Chrissy Cunningham.”

Steve smiled at her. “Come on back.”

She jumped up and followed him. “You aren’t going to murder me for the no tattoo remark, are you?” she asked with a grin and a wink.

Steve burst out laughing. “If I killed everyone that thought that, Indy would be down three-fifths of its tattoo artist population.”

She laughed too. “Fair enough.”

“And since we’re on the topic,” he said, indicating for her to sit down, “you don’t look the type anymore than I do.”

She grinned. “I got my first tattoo when I sixteen. My mom didn’t want me cutting my hair so much so that I told her either let me cut my hair or let me get a tattoo, she let me get the tattoo.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit! I’ve never heard of that. It’s hair. It grows back.”

Chrissy grinned. “Her words were ‘At least a tattoo could be covered up, I’d have to look at the terrible hair cut!’.”

“That is fucking insane!” Steve said. “Can I see it?”

She nodded and pulled up her shirt sleeve. Steve could see the nine (yes nine, Pluto counts) planets and at the top was a howling fox.

“That’s cool,” he said. “Can I see your portfolio?”

She handed it over and Steve looked at it. She didn’t seem to have a firm style yet.

He found out they had both gone to Hawkins High. “Wait, no way.”

She nodded. “We all knew who Steve Harrington was. The basketball players all wanted to be him and all the cheerleaders wanted to be with him.”

Steve blushed into his hands. “Oh god that’s awful.”

Chrissy laughed. “Well, most of the cheerleaders anyway.”

“Not you?” he guessed.

“Kind of a large lesbian,” she said with a grimace. “Makes it a tad difficult.”

Steve laughed. “Fair enough.”

He talked with her a bit and then led her out like he had done with Eden and Argyle. He said goodbye and locked the door up behind him.

He turned to Robin. “What did you think of them? Be honest. They probably said a whole lot while they were waiting their turn.”

Robin nodded. “Argyle got Eden’s number.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Yeah, okay I needed that. Did he really?”

“Oh yeah,” Robin said. “It was mildly hilarious how well they hit it off. You couldn’t find a weirder couple.”

Steve put his hand over his heart in mock protest. “Have you supplanted our relationship as the weirdest ever? I’m hurt. Hurt I say!”

Robin laughed so hard she snorted. “All right you drama queen, weirdest romantic couple. How’s that?”

Steve beamed at her. “Perfect!”

She laughed again, shaking her head. They talked about the two candidates and both were really good.  

“I don’t want to pick between them,” Steve whined, hitting his head on the desk.

“So don’t.”

Steve lifted his head. “What do you mean?”

Robin licked her lips slowly. “Steve, I’ve been doing the numbers, if we add in the potential of what they can bring in, by the time school starts back up again not only will we have enough to pay for both of them to stay on, but Erica too, and the new receptionist.”

Steve jerked back. “Wait, what?”

She nodded. “I’m not lying, dingus. I’ll swear on it. In fact, we could probably hire the new receptionist by July.”

His eyes went wide. “Really?”

Robin took his face in her hands. “You are open and friendly. First timers and people who are just nervous in general love coming to you because you put them at ease. People who just want to get a tattoo as memorial or just as a one-time thing, love coming to you. There is this whole untapped market that you accidentally slid into and made it your own. We just need more people so you and I can enjoy our lives for a change.”

Steve blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “You are so good at this. Don’t sell yourself short. You deserve this.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it. Call them both and have them come in tomorrow at nine so that we can go over a few things and have them learn how to open.”

Robin nodded. “Sounds good.” She picked up the phone and started doing just that.

Steve watched her with a growing smile on his face. He had a really good feeling about this summer.

***

Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21   Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25 Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Epilogue

I figured as controlling as Chrissy’s mom was in the show about her weight, she would be controlling about the hair too. And ngl this is exactly what my oldest sister did to my youngest niece. It’s hair. It’ll grow back. Nope. The tattoo on my niece’s arm is the one I described here.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination 

[ivykim]

WHAT'S IN IVY'S BAG?

SYPNOSIS: ivy has been invited to do a photoshoot for Dior. not only will she be doing a photoshoot. as a promotional video, she would be doing a small q&a and a 'What's In my bag' video. how will it go?

ivy's outfit: miss dior

MASTERLIST

ivy was invited to do a photoshoot for dior. it was actually ivy's first time going through such schedule. there have been multiple offers given to her however, the company ultimately never agreed to sign the contract.

so this was ivy's first ever chance to do so.

"are you nervous?" the interviewer behind the camera asks. ivy laughs a little.

"a little. this is my first time I'm without enhypen so it's a little awkward."

ivy waves to the camera, "hello. this ivy from the kpop group ENHYPEN. today, I will be doing a Q&A along with showing what's in my bag."

she brings out her dior bag, it wasn't a super huge bag just a simple shoulder bag.

"actually, I just recently got this bag, and I was soooo obsessed with it. I own a couple of bags from all the sponsors we have, like prada. however, this is the bag I've been using most. I even bring it to practices because it has enough space to fit in everything I need."

ivy pulls out a pouch. she opens it. "oh okay, there is a Polaroid of enhypen. right! this pouch is where I keep all the Polaroids i took. hence there is a bunch. I was going to put them in the scrap booking journal I have."

— "how long have you been doing scrap booking?"

"mmm, for as long as I was 10. I liked keeping memories. my mom was also someone who loved scrap booking hence she kinda influenced me to take up on the hobby."

ivy shows one of the Polaroids. "this Polaroid is something that I treasure most because this was the first time heeseung and me ever had a friend anniversary. friendsary as I call it."

— "you and heeseung have been friends for almost 10 years. how do you two manage not falling for each other?"

"simple. we are idols. it would ruin our career." she laughs. "I'm kidding. honestly, it is a taboo subject to talk about as idols. between a girl and guy, surely people would think there is something going on. for me and heeseung...we kinda just grew naturally comfortable with each other. we are best friends. friends who care about each other. so I don't think we could ever cross that line."

while it was partially true, she had to keep her relationship a secret. otherwise, a huge scandal would happen. ivy couldn't do that to the group.

she pulls out the next item, her makeup pouch. "oh, I kinda forgot i had this here. this is my makeup pouch. all the essentials."

they showed all of her makeup products that she uses and bought.

— "do you normally wear makeup?"

"on normal days when I don't have schedule, I don't really bother." she giggles. "if I actually bother, I'll just put on light makeup. maybe like lip balm and a little eyeliner."

she pulls out her casing for her jewelry. "ah, this. sunoo actually bought for me this because he saw how my necklaces always got tangled up hence I have this." she points to the ring, "this ring is actually a friendship ring between me and jay. I think ENGENEs have seen me wear it a lot."

"oh and this necklace. a Tiffany and Co. sunghoon bought this for me because he knows I like wearing simple necklaces. it has mine and his initial on it." she points out.

SHVY

— "you seem very close to your members. have you ever thought about dating them?"

"oh umm, no. like as I mentioned before for heeseung. I don't think I could date any of them as they are like family to me. they are people that I care about platonically hence there wouldn't be any romance in that aspect." she answers respectfully. she knew something was up. it was suspicious of them to ask this.

she eyes the staff discreetly. it seemed like they were smirking at her. they spoke to each other as they discussed the next question to ask her. ivy just tries to focus on her main task. she pulls out the next item she had in her bag, her phone, tablet and 2 sets of earbuds.

"as I'm travelling, these two are my biggest essentials. I'm constantly on my phone and tablet as I write songs on them. I also alternate between the two buds. if one of them dies after I use it, I can charge it and use the other one. this also happens a lot in the plane so I bring both of them."

— "as enhypen travels around a lot and you guys are constantly at the airport, what do you do during your free time in the plane?"

okay, decent and okay question. ivy gives them a warm smile, "we usually catch up on the very much needed sleep as our schedules are packed. though it didn't directly say their schedules were pretty much fucked up, in a way she wanted to poke at belift for making them go on tours and practices a lot.

— "do you and the boys usually sit together?"

okay, kinda weird discreet question again. "umm, most of the times. we usually sit two people so we're paired up. most of the times I sit with heeseung and ni-ki."

with no further questions, ivy continues to pull out her last item from her bag.

"this is my favourite perfume. it's the miss dior eau de parfum. I've actually been using this since debut as my mom gifted this to me after I was announced as part of the debut line up."

— "that is really sweet! are your parents also close to the other boys?"

"yes, of course. my mom really treats the boys like their kids and my dad says that he has 7 sons that we wished he had." ivy giggles a little. "I do think that would be a lot for my parents if they had 9 kids. my parents already had a hard time taking care of me and my younger brother since we were rowdy kids back then."

ivy remembers, she pulls out something from her bag and it was a cute keychain. "oh, I just remembered about this. so recently, my younger brother had visited seoul with my mom. I had also tagged along with them and we got matching keychains. these were handmade so it's even more special."

– "as an older sister, do you and your younger brother ever fight?"

"well, instead of fighting. me and my brother used to argue a lot. there were disagreements, and sometimes we hurt each other. in the end, we do make-up. i will say, between me and my younger brother, our sibling relationship has definitely got better as to compared to when we were kids. maybe it's just that we are both adults/almost adults. hence, we realised that maybe we should grow up and cherish our time together. I don't see my younger brother often since he stays in America with my family."

– "thank you for today, ivy. is there anything else that you would like to add?"

"be sure to check out the latest magazine to see me on the cover page! please like and subscribe to the channel. oh and please support us for the next ENHYPEN promotion!" she makes hearts and blows kisses to the camera.

– "and cut."

after the director says so, ivy's lets out a sigh of relief quietly. somehow, this was even more nerve-wracking than performing in front of thousands of ENGENEs. she thanked and bowed to all the staff that helped with the photoshoot and video. she had to keep the sweet idol persona as she didn't want any of the staff to think she was rude in any way. even if the staff that asked the questions were a little suspicious.

ivy walks over to the changing room. she notices heeseung waiting there with a bouquet of flowers. she turns around to check on the door to see if it was open. one of their makeup stylist shuts the door and ivy hugs heeseung.

"hi pretty, how was the photoshoot?" heeseung's sweet voice resonates.

"mmm, it was good. I was satisfied with the photos. I think ENGENEs will like it."

"so this might beat the bite me concept photos?" heeseung teases.

"oh, I don't think so. that photoshoot was like top tier. ENGENEs were calling me goddess." ivy sassily flips her hair. heeseung laughs.

"yes, baby. you are a goddess. my goddess." heeseung pecks her lips. ivy wraps her arms around heeseung's neck.

"do we have any other schedule after this?"

"mmm, we have to go Indonesia for our fate plus tour."

"so airport."

"mhm, have you packed yet?"

"no. it's been hectic." heeseung pats her head.

"I'll help you, how about that?"

"yeah. that would be great."

and so they went back to their dorm and got ready for their flight to Indonesia.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Congratulations!

Can you do “Why do you need my approval?” W/Santiago Garcia?

Thanks!

100 Follower Celebration: Don’t Be Stupid

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!Reader

Warnings: Aggressive and Possessive Santi, language, allusions to creepy older men, bad Spanish because I’m a no sabo

A/N: Hello angels!!! I know that this isn’t my typical bread and butter but… this is my guilty pleasure and I had soooooo much fun writing this. A couple of housekeeping measures… I am a no sabo kid. To my non Latinx friends that means that while I am Latinx, and did speak Spanish as a primary language for the first 5 years, I was moved to another part of the country and lost my ability to speak Spanish. So I’m trying to learn it again. It’s hard. For my Spanish speaking sisters and brothers, give me so grace, because I am trying. Secondly, I think I have two more 100 follower Drabbles, and then we can finish Interviews for New Beginnings and the other requests I got! Love you all so much my darlings!! Have a wonderful dayyyyy - Mo 💕

Summer nights in Florida were always far too hot. It was the price of living in paradise. The heat of the afternoon's sun baked into the pavement and stucco walls now radiated back onto your thinly covered body. The surrounding water made the air far too wet, and immediately upon going into the outside air did you feel the thin film of sweat and honeyed air cling to your face, arms and legs. Summer nights were brutal in heaven.

But you would never leave it. Not for a million dollars. And neither would your Delta Force boys.

It was on these brutal nights where you tried to beat the heat and the stickiness by going out to the dive bars in Ybor City, the smaller and rowdier younger sister of Tampa. The crowds were easy to get lost in, and the music was thumping no matter where you stood; which was just the medicine you and your friends needed on a night like this.

In the back corner of such a bar, you were squished between Frankie and Santi, trying to fit in the massive and unruly Ben and Will to this too small table. "Whats good boys!? And baby girl, looking beautiful as always." Ben laughed out with a toothy grin. He was always all too happy to be with you all. And if a night out also involved a couple drinks, he was more in paradise than usual.

You laughed mirthlessly at his flirtatious jokes. He always threw one your way whenever he got the chance. You only wished that Pope would do the same.

Though you met the rest of the boys when you joined the Delta Force, you had actually known Santi since middle school. Your mom moved you both to the apartment next to his back in the 6th grade. When the creepy older men were harassing you on the way down to the school bus, Santi stepped in. And from that day on you never walked to the bus, or rode the bus alone. He kept the creeps and bullies away. You helped him with his math homework. Perfect partners. Best friends. A perfect pair. And God how you were in love with him.

You both had had your flings and boyfriends and girlfriends. But they all came and went. You were there and he was there when it eventually went to out the window. Some times you wondered if maybe he felt the same ache in his chest as you. But you pushed it to the side. He never saw you that way. He never would. You were best friends. A sister to him. It would never be more. And it never bothered you until recently. Maybe it was because you were getting older. Maybe it was because your girlfriends were having babies and in serious and solid relationships. Yet you were still here. Drinking barely cool enough beer with the Delta Force ding bats. You loved them. You loved them more than life and would and have put your life on the line for them. But you were getting older. You wanted to be seen as a woman. Not just another teammate.

Santi smirked and ruffled your head like a child, messing up the hair you had corralled into a pony tail, "Chiqitita muñeca is pissy tonight. Heat is getting too much for her."

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away. Frankie looked up from his ever present hat, "Pissed because she is stuck next to you and you won't let her up. Querida vamos. Let's get you another drink. This white boy at the bar has been giving you eyes all night and I wanna put him out of his misery."

Benny and Will whooped and laughed and your eyes widened, "Fish stop no he's not."

Frankie stood up, stretching out his long limbs and shaking his head, "He is. C'mon you haven't been putting yourself out there and it's dumb."

Frankie was right. You hadn't. In the past 3 years you hadn't even gone on a date because you were hoping, HOPING, that Santi would maybe make a move. That he would do something. But he hadn't. And you were tired of waiting. Frankie pulled you by the hand out of the booth and out of Santi's orbit. You smoothed out your cotton sundress, turning to the rest of the boys in the booth you hold yourself out to be appraised, "Yay or nay? Do I look gross?"

Will gave a thumbs up while Beni gave theatrical worshipping bows, "Hot sexy hot sexy hot sexy. Go get em tiger."

You noticed that Pope hadn't said anything, you turned to him waiting, "Pope??"

Eyes stern and cold he didn't even look up from his beer, "Why do you need my approval?"

You stomach dropped, and your face crumpled. Frankie rolled his eyes, "Coño la madre, don't listen to Pope you know how he gets when he's PMSing. You look nice. C'mon white boy is waiting. "

White boy was indeed waiting for you. His name was Connor. Clean cut. Not a Florida native which you clocked before you even made it up there. Worked in financing in downtown. Loved the Florida lifestyle but was still getting used to it. Super polite. Cute. And wanted to get to know you and buy you drinks and call you pretty. Soon any insecurity you had about Pope was miles away.

Frankie was pleased with himself, and brought back a round of beers to the table. Will and Benny were snickering in their seats, and Santi... well... Santi was fuming.

"What the fuck was that Fish?"

Smirking, he took a sip of his drink, "Que paso? No te queires chiqitita si?"

"Cabron, tu sabes quiero ella."

Benny cut in, "Hey hey hey. Don't let the gringos out man! Pope why are you getting pissed off? Nothing happened?"

Will spoke up, "He's pissed because Frankie basically delivered Chiqi to khakis boy over there."

Benny shrugged, "And??"

Will turned to him, looking as if Benny had grown another head, "And... Pope has been in love with Chiqi this entire time?? And Frankie knows that?? Benny did you get too many punches to the head or something?"

Benny’s eyes widen. The pieces fitting together. Will rolled his eyes, but Santi couldn’t care less. He was enraged with Fish. And Fish didn’t even care!! Fish knew that Santi had been in love with you for years. That he wanted you more than anything or anyone. That he had purposefully cut in on past relationships to keep you to himself. That he had building the courage to finally ask you to be his and only his. And yes here comes Fish. Delivering you to some… to some guy at a bar?

Frankie finished his beer and looked into his best friend’s eyes, “Hermano… I love you man. But you’re being a little bitch. No in fact you’ve been a bitch. Chiqi has been free and available for three years and you’ve done nothing about it. She’s clearly head over heels for you and you have been tiptoeing around it for no reason. You’re stupid. Chiqi deserves more. And if you’re angry about it you can go fix it.”

Frankie held his arm opened, lighting the way to you. He saw you laughing, your smile bright, things that he wanted to reserve for him and him alone. The things he had said were for him. The moment he saw Khaki’s hand brush up on your thigh, he saw red. He downed the rest of the beer that Frankie had gotten for him, and pushed his way out of the booth. The whoops and laughs from his brothers faded into the buzz behind him as he made his way to you.

“So… if it’s alright with you, I’d really like to take you out to dinner. Maybe next week?”

Connor was cute you thought. Not the same breathtaking handsomeness that Santi had, but Connor looked sweet. He looked honest. He would do for a boyfriend. You smiled, about to accept and give him your number, when Santi shoves himself in between you and Connor. “Oye Chiqi. Come dance.”

Connor gets up to look at you, “Hey man she’s with me relax.”

Santi turned around, “She’s not actually she came with me.”

You pushed Santi’a shoulder, “What the hell bro? Connor I’m sorry. This is Santi, we grew up together and he’s stupid protective and drunk. Santi can you please go back with Frankie I’m talking to someone.”

Without looking away from Connor Santi answers, “mm not drunk. I’m just making clear what’s mine.”

Connor looks at you and then Santi. Before he sheepishly smiles, “It was nice meeting you. I hope you guys figure things out.”

Connor walks away and you feel the rage building inside you, as Santi triumphantly turns back to you. You shove Santi’s shoulder, barely moving him, “You’re such a fucking asshole Pope. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Dance with me.”

“I’m not fucking dancing with you.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls you to the dance floor despite your protests, your skin burning in shock and anger where his hand clutches your wrist. You make it to the center, him hungrily grasping at your waist. You’re pissed off but also so confused at this change in temperature. Santi won’t stop looking at you. Those dark lashes attempting to hypnotize you back into his orbit. He brings his mouth to your ear, “When’s the last time you danced with me Chiqi?”

You scoffed, but brought your arms to wrap around his neck as he tugged you closer, chest to chest, “Senior prom. After Michael Vazquez left me for Torrence Sheltzer. And I stepped on your toes all night.”

He laughed, “Michael was such an idiot.”

You stay like that. The bass coursing through your body, right in time with the pounding of your heart against Santi’s chest. He was always a good dancer. Too good of a dancer, it was almost obscene the way he had you moving against him. You don’t know how long you had been spinning, and you had to rest your head on his shoulder because of how light headed you became.

“You shouldn’t have done that Pope. He was nice.”

“He was a wimp. Wouldn’t be able to take care of you.”

“What you’re going to chase away any man who comes up to me? I’m tired of being alone.”

“You’re not alone. You have me.”

“You know what I mean.”

He pulled your face off his shoulder to make you look in his eyes, “I do know. And i know what I said. You have me. You’re mine. I’m yours.”

You feel tears in your eyes. Either from the smoke, the alcohol, or the embarrassment, “Santi stop being stupid. You’re being mean. You know I love you and you’re making fun of me.”

He presses his dry lips to the tear that escapes your eye, then puts his forehead to yours, “I’m not Chiqi. I’m not. Chiqi I’ve loved you since the 8th grade. I’ve hated every one of your little boyfriends and I’ve coveted you for years. I’m not joking.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything? Why didn’t you come get me when I was right here?”

The tears fall more now. And he keep kissing your cheeks to remove them, “Because I’m an asshole. I’m a fucking asshole who was too afraid of you saying no. Too afraid of when you left. I didn’t want to lose you. But I can’t take it anymore Chiqi. I can’t take another boyfriend. I’m selfish. I’m a selfish asshole. I want you for myself. I want you to yell at me and call me stupid as long as it means you never leave my place and you never leave my side. Cmon Chiqi…. Let me call you mine.”

You stared at him. He was telling the truth. He was being raw and real and you knew that this wasn’t some act. This was Santi in his rawest form. He wanted you. You brought your hand around to squeeze his cheeks together, “I want you to take me on a date. A real one. Not the bar or the bowling alley with the boys. I want dinner that you pay for. And flowers. And for you to wear a real shirt.”

He shakes your hand off and smiles, “Tomorrow night. I take you to The Colombia. I pick you up. With roses.”

“Do I get to order flan?”

He smiles even wider, “Only if you let me feed it to you like those stupid romance books you read.”

You shove him and he laughs and pulls you closer, “Kiss me and seal the deal Chiqitita. C’mon don’t be mad. Kiss me and tell me you’re mine.”

You couldn’t keep yourself from laughing, making him work for your kiss. You finally relent, pulling him in for the best kiss ever. The best kiss of your life. Until tomorrow’s