#we've had a lot of mom stuff

[alaydbug]

i've missed them all terribly so

[skrunksthatwunk]

household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight

[spacebugarts]

I never thought I'd be this happy to do the dishes but after over 6 months with no hot water we finally got our propane refilled and I'm so fucking happy to have them DONE

[popcorn-plots]

just some. personal rants i've been thinking about

little bit deep, but my parents don't know i'm trans/enby so I can't really share it with them, but I just had a realization about being trans/enby and how I've struggled a lot with the fact that I don't experience as much dysphoria as someone else. When I was just starting out, I thought I was faking it or somehow doing it wrong because I didn't feel the dysphoria I've heard so much about. Like, I don't feel like I was born in the wrong body, I just don't like certain aspects of it, and I've never felt comfortable being referred to with feminime terms, and a 'girl' is not who I am. But then I kept thinking about the euphoria part, of someone using the correct pronouns, referring to me as a person or a human being, and using the right name and how it's this overwhelming feeling of joy, but I don't feel that. Sure, I'll smile. It feels good to be seen, but I don't feel that overpowering joy. For a while, I had that thought that maybe I'm not trans, because I don't feel the dysphoria or the euphoria. I just exist. I know there's more than one way to be trans, but it never felt like I fit.

Then, I started thinking about it and I wonder if part of it is because of the way I was raised. Not by societal expectations, but by an emotionally immature parent. Being raised without any validation and rarely any praise. Where I had to walk on eggshells around my mom. I wonder if it got to the point where I don't know what pride feels like. I don't know what it feels like to be proud of myself, because why would I? I did a task. Congratulations, move on, there are other things to do. I have no idea how to be happy about something I did. I wonder if because I was never validated as a child, I struggle to validate myself. I have a really hard time even appreciating myself because I spent so much time appreciating others.

I wonder if that's translated into me being trans and not just my everyday life. Where I find it so incredibly hard to feel any kind of pride or joy or happiness from something I did, because I was never appreciated as a kid.

[ihavetoomuchhomeworkforthis]

Chocolate Recipe

Disclaimer: this will not taste or look like Hershey's chocolate or any other storebought chocolate. It's really more of a homemade fudge I guess

Disclaimer #2: you might not have large quanties of honey (we get ours from the farmer's market, they come in big mason jars), and cocoa powder and molasses probably aren't the most common household items. It also takes a lot of peanut butter, which you can probably replace with sunflower or almond butter, but I'm not sure if there are any reasonable non-nut replacements

Ingredients: Cocoa powder, molasses, honey, peanut butter, milk,

(optional spicy version includes cinnamon, cayenne pepper powder, nutmeg, pumpkin pie spice, and salt (but you can pick and choose which spices you really want))

And here's the recipe! (In no particular order)

1/3 cup cocoa powder (large pile)

3 tbsp molasses (pour for a few seconds)

3 tbsp honey (pour for a few seconds after microwaving, or several spoonfuls)

2 heaping spoonfuls of peanut butter

Splash of milk (we have almond milk but any kind will be fine)

Pinch of salt

Optional: [some??] cinnamon, pumpkin pie spice, nutmeg, cayenne pepper powder (a few shakes of each)

Advice:

putting it in the refrigerator will thicken it (to a point) and is a good place to store it

use different spoons for the honey and the peanut butter, or if you don't want to, put in the honey first because peanut butter contaminated with honey is the better of the two options

stir a LOT

make sure to scrape hidden cocoa powder from the sides and bottom of the bowl (it doesn't mix super easily)

also smooshing it against the sides of the bowl can help if you have chunks of cocoa powder

the milk splashes easily, and cocoa powder will puff into the air, so be careful with stirring at first

all the measurements are approximate, so you can add in more of any ingredient to change the consistency and flavor to your liking

(more milk to thin it, more cocoa powder to thicken and make it more bitter, more peanut butter to thicken and neutralize flavors, more honey (or maple syrup) to sweeten)

[inklingofadream]

[id: a tweet from MisaonWheels reading "The never-ending paperwork associated with being disabled is something that is not talked about enough." /end id]

[arolesbianism]

Hi guys :) perfectly normal morning :) nothing that made me almost cry :) anyways what's the latest sekai news guys :) (<- not ok)

[ennn]

Hold the fuck up, this isn’t a real trial.

In retrospect a number of things about the episode, especially the coven's characterisation felt off... and now on rewatch I'm pretty certain this isn't a trial of the Road at all – it's the Salem Seven punishing Agatha.

Clues under the cut with some spoilers from future scenes in trailers / promo clips.

Clue #1 – No screen aspect ratio change

As @wolfcracker points out, for the two previous trials the screen ratio changed once they entered the place (going full screen). We didn't get that for this cabin.

Clue #2 – No phase of the moon decoration at the entrance

We've had these obviously built into the previous trial entrances but there's no sign of one for this cabin.

The coven's so panicked getting chased by the locusts they don't notice it running in. The door is made of wooden planks with tiny gaps in between and you don't see a sign of any moon on the other side either.

Notably, in a trailer and promo shot, you see the moon featured prominently again for an upcoming trial, when Agatha and Billy cross a stone bridge structure and approach an entrance (presumably of the tower).

Clue #3 – Each trial has an element, this cabin doesn't

This was something that seemed odd even before this episode, we saw five weird horror movie-trope settings – assumed to be trials – in posters and promotional materials but there are only four identified elements for the Road.

Sure you could have more moon phases (like we do irl) but the Ballad that is central the show only mentions four elements: fire, water, earth, and air.

Our first two trials had strong ties with an element: if you failed you'd be killed by that element or something associated with it i.e. drowning or burning.

Now from the promos, an upcoming trial with the anti-gravity effect going on in a tower fits well with the air element. And the threat of death here is associated with going into the air (spikes in the ceiling).

Notice from the flying forms that this trial does go full-frame like the first two we certainly had (clue #1).

Another upcoming trial we know of (that looks like a morgue or asylum-like place) can be linked with the earth given that we see rocks and earth falling in a shot. Death by crushing earth.

This cabin had no element associated with it at all. The threat of death was by... Agatha siphoning your magic? Or in the case of Agatha, to be tortured forever by her mom?

Clue #4 – The trial area doesn't necessarily keep out the Salem Seven

From the promo shots of presumably the air trial (see above), we clearly see the Salem Seven in the tower attacking them. Why then did Locust and the rest of the Seven leave them alone in the cabin when they were right behind them?

Other sus elements

OK, these are more ambiguous and could be the result of bad writing but here's the other stuff in this "trial" that just seems off

The coven turns really really quickly on Agatha and viciously. And they literally just rode broomsticks where it's mentioned it's "about selflessness" and "we fly together or not at all". I mean yeah the people might lie but they were enough of a team that the magic for the broomsticks worked.

The trial's instruction was to just "punish Agatha"? That's oddly specific and pointed. Previous trials had the entire coven in danger (e.g. everyone had to drink the poison). Between this and the above point it feels like someone is mad at Agatha for killing lots of witches over the years. Some people like the Salem Seven.

The trials so far have tested the witch's ability in the craft (potion-making, protection) and how they work together. How does punishing or sacrificing Agatha align with the Road's test of "Burn and brew with coven true / And glory shall be thine" -- which we were just reminded of last week.

Jen calling and dismissing Billy as a familiar is... more mean-ness that I'd expect. You could make a case for her disliking Agatha, but the amount of venom in this moment towards the boy for trying is surprising considering she was trying to watch out for him not too long ago. Of course, it could be her frustration and fear in that moment boiling over.

Pretty much everything at the end after Billy snapping and going all dark and vengeful.

Ultimately we don't know what the Salem Seven can do. Sure they shriek like Nazgûl but turning into animals isn't the most threatening thing? So, bad writing and copium or is this show being truly tricksy and reality-bending?

[tuba-david]

We will have a beautiful night of passion 🍜 🧀 🐔💛

trying to pick which buldak to make for dinner by an extensive and incomprehensible ranking system of how fuckable the little bird is on the label

[nerdykeppie]

Holiday Shopping that fights period poverty for college students? Yep! Read on. :)

After the success of our June/Pride 2024 sales goal, where we managed to eliminate a lot of the debt we accumulated while I was unable to work earlier this year & stock up cash so we didn't have to borrow for payroll during the fall lull and also donate to @queerliblib, we were considering where to focus on this year when a conversation I had with my mom pointed me in the direction of our charity for Holidays 2024: the East Stroudsburg University Warrior Food Pantry, and specifically, stocking menstrual products at the pantry.

Without getting too much into the weeds about the details - which I'll talk about under the cut for those of you who are interested - here's the pitch: we need to hit a gross sales goal of $45K in December in order to pay our bills and payroll basically until Pride starts up. Businesses like ours are very much feast or famine, and we've got to eat and we've got people whose paychecks depend on us having the cash to pay them.

If we hit that goal, we'll donate the equivalent of 1% of our net profit from the month of December in period products -- tampons and pads, specifically, by request of the food pantry, and possibly reusable pads and menstrual cups, if the pantry wants that from us. (At the end of the day, this is about taking care of people the way they need, and we'll listen to the pantry staff about what people are requesting.)

We've currently got our Bottoms & Tops sale going, too, so you can buy 2 tops or bottoms from the linked collection & get 69% off the 3rd item from that collection.

Okay, so for the long version whys and wherefores:

My mom taught math at ESU for 35 years, and she and Dad now volunteer running the food pantry along with a couple of other people. ESU is a state school, and as such is one of the few remaining vaguely affordable schools in Pennsylvania. A lot of its students are self-supporting for one reason or another -- many are "non-traditional"/adult students, have kids, or don't have families that can support them while they go to school. Mom & Dad have pushed to expand what the food pantry offers to personal care items, which has been difficult due to a bunch of boring stuff about money and state entities and also people thinking 'that's not food,' but Mom is stubborn about it, because -- to paraphrase her -- how can you focus on class when you feel gross? This struggle has been especially difficult for menstrual products, and way more so for tampons, because it's a rather conservative area and... yeah. People get weird about it.

I've been really broke, with a young kid, and reliant on food pantries, which rarely, if ever, have any menstrual products, let alone tampons. Period poverty is very real, and it sucks.

Plus, I gotta tell you, if we can send a bunch of boxes of tampons and pads to the food pantry, well... Rumor has it this will help my mom win an argument over whether those items should be carried at all, because what are they gonna do, throw them out? They're here! They've been donated! Wasting them would be terrible. :)

So that's the pitch, guys. Help me make a direct, measurable difference in the lives of people at the school where I went to winter swim team, the school that fed me growing up... and help my mom win an argument about making people's lives better... and get your holiday shopping done while you do. ;) We start counting sales from the minute I hit post. :P

[ravenstargames]

✦ LOST IN LIMBO DEVLOG #19 | 06.02.2025

Happy Pride month besties! 💜 Yes, this year too we'll have a Pride month piece, but it's in the making!

This month has been packed with concept art and getting the new update ready, so there's not that much to write about. Showing all the concept art would spoil the artbook, so apologies if this devlog looks shorter than it should. Don't worry, we are still going full-speed ahead! Let's jump into it!

World, meet your trustworthy sidekick, she who has had your back since the beginning—Evie!

You already know a bit of her; she likes everything related to the occult world, is a prime member of the Faybourne Waterpolo Club, and her favorite color is blue!

Evie's base sprite is finished, so now we gotta jump to her expressions. Those are fairly easy and quick (Raquel's words, not mine), so I expect to start coding kind of soon! ✨

Also, concept art on the MC's dear mom is done! So we've moved on to the sprite phase, and also started working on the concept art of MC's troublemaking grandmother. Kickstarter folks will have ✨juicy✨ previews on that content, so y'all will have to wait for a bit as per usual!

May has been Amon's month. I've been writing the first chapter of his route, as well as editing the prologue following our editor's guidelines. I think this month will be packed of corrections, and I'm excited to tackle them!

As y'all know, demo update 1.1.0 (now 1.1.1, as some characters were very insistent in partaking in some floating activities) went live! This month I've been working on patching stuff as well as refining the android build. I originally used two different projects for the PC version and the mobile one, but after lady and savior Feniks graced me with knowledge once more, I dipped my toes into Ren'py variants; and it's been going great! After publishing these devlogs, I'll start uploading the new android build everywhere 💜✨

Kayden has been working on more mini-CGs to enhance the ✨experience✨of the new prologue! Amongst those CGs, we have the Sovereign's hospitality in the shape of breakfast. I wonder who delivers it...?

So now that we've seen how the concept art / sprite part of it all works with Airyn's addition to the team, we're confident things will be up to speed in the upcoming months! Airyn works like a beast, has amazing ideas, and executes them flawlessly, with the addition of being a great friend of ours!

What else...I'm still working on my investigation plan (my PhD, hahaa...), Raquel is now taking driving lessons, and she's also been working on the Pride Month piece. We got a sketch yesterday but agreed to modify it a bit after some thought. Initially, Gael was going to be the one getting an illustration for Pride Month this year, but things didn't go as planned (Raquel was frustrated with not being able to come up with a good idea for him) and Amon has taken his place. Happens to the best of us!

Work this month has been good! A lot of concept and planning that we can't show (well, Kickstarter folks will see more of it) but that is vital for the development of the game. I'm not going to ramble a lot in this one—sometimes you've to go straight to the point!

Thank you everyone who played our 1.1.1 update; thank you for the comments, well-wishes, feedback, and everything else. Also, thanks for keeping our ask box lively and overflowing! 💜

Let's see each other around!

[grimesve1l]

Splashes

A/n: A part two to this per request of @ilovemenwithlonghairr i hope you enjoy it!! <3

Summary: Y/n finds out her secret isn't so well kept after all

Warnings: Swearing, smut (mdni), oral m!receiving

It's been a week since your mom "caught" you and JJ. Neither of you had brought it up since and you figured your mom didn't know that it was JJ and probably thought it was some kook guy. If she found out you were sneaking around with a pouge she'd never let you out of the house again. At least that's what you thought.

You were heading for the pool when your mom stopped you to tell you that her and your dad had hired a new landscaper. Apparently he was on the way and she wanted you to meet him. You didn't know why she cared considering you never met any of the other staff at your house.

Regardless, you told her that you'd be tanning by the pool and to just come get you when he got here. You made your way to the pool and put on your tanning lotion. After that you laid back on a pool chair and closed your eyes. It had been around ten minutes when you heard your mom calling for you.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked in the direction of your mom's voice. Your heart practically stopped when you saw who was beside her. Standing next to her was none other than your best kept secret (or so your thought), JJ Maybank. He looked somewhat surprised as well when he saw you but that also could have been because of the skimpy bikini you had put on to tan in.

Your mom began approaching you with JJ following close behind. "Y/n, this is our new landscaper, JJ. JJ, this is my daughter, Y/n." Your mom says introducing the you both. You can't help but notice the knowing look she has on her face. You and JJ simply nod at each other, not exactly sure how to respond.

"Well, I have to get to a meeting soon. I'll see you two later." your mom says as she starts walking back to the house. You quickly scurry after her. "Mom, you really hired a pouge to work at our house? What if-" you try to say before she cuts you off.

"Y/n, drop the act I know that's not how you really feel about him." she says. "What are you talking about." you ask, continuing to play dumb. "I thought I saw you passing him a note a midsummers and then the other night I heard you talking to a boy in your room." She explains as you stand in shock at how much she knows.

"When I came in your room nobody was there but there was a pair of dirty work boots beside your bed. Those boots sure look a lot like his, don't you think?" she says motioning towards JJ. "Mom I -" you begin trying to explain. "It's okay Y/n, I was young once too. Just be careful, you know how people on this island like to talk." she says reassuring you.

"So your not mad?" you ask reluctantly. "No I'm not mad. I want you to be happy, that's all that matters to me. Besides it'd be hypocritical for me to get mad at you for being with a pouge." she says in response. Your jaw drops at her revelation. "You dated a pouge?" you ask, shocked.

"I sure did. It was a summer i'll never forget but your grandparents hated the idea and made me get with your dad. It doesn't matter now. I've gotta go but you have fun, okay? she says before leaving. You stand still for a moment, thinking, before heading back to JJ.

He quickly looks up from his phone and places it beside him as you approach him. You explain your conversation with your mom to him. "I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You two both going after pouges and all." he says laughing. "Shut up." you say, playfully pushing him. "So what do you have to do?" you ask, referring to his work.

"Actually your mom didn't tell me to do anything. Just said she wanted me to see the house and stuff." he replies. "Well, we've got the house to ourselves." you say giving him a mischievous look. "Don't wanna waste an opportunity like that." he says back as he takes a step closer to you. You let him lean in close enough to press your hands against his chest.

Right as he's about to kiss you you push as hard as you can and send him straight into the pool behind him. "What the hell?" he says once he surfaces. You laugh as you watch him swim towards the stairs. "You think this is funny. Your gonna get it now." he laughs as he gets out of the pool.

He gets rid of his wet short and boots before he goes to chase you. You let out a shriek as you run to get away from him. He quickly reaches you and lifts you up off your feet. He walks you over to the edge of the pool. "Any last words?" he asks playfully. "I'm sorry?" you respond hoping that'll be enough for him to put you down.

"That it?" he asks, getting ready to throw you in. "And i'll give you kisses?" you say, still trying to plead with him. "Thats sweet but no." he replies before tossing you into the water. "JJ-" you yell before you land in the pool. He jumps in after you and swims over to you. "You think I could still get those kisses?" he says wrapping his arms around your waist. "You wish." you say, lightly splashing him.

He laughs before pressing a kiss to your forehead. "This feels good. Just us being together like this. You think we could ever be open about it. Like in front of other people and stuff." JJ asks holding you close. "I hope so. I mean if my mom can be okay with it surely others on the island can be too." you respond.

You two eventually got out of the pool and headed upstairs to your room. "You gonna take a shower?" you ask as you begin to untie your bikini top. "I am now." he says, removing his wet shorts. You go to the bathroom to start the shower when you feel JJ come up behind you.

"Get in, i'm gonna throw your clothes in the dryer." you tell him. He gives your ass a smack as you turn around "Don't take too long." he says as he enters the shower. You make your way back to the bathroom and slip in the shower behind him. You wrap your arms around his waist making him jump. "Damn, you scared me." he laughs. "Did I?" you say trailing your hand down his abdomen.

You begin pressing kisses to his back as your hand wraps around his shaft. You begin to pump your hand up and down as he throws his head back. "Going to the laundry room got you this excited?" he jokes before letting out a moan as you rub your thumb over his tip. "Turn around." you tell him. He does so immediately and you drop your your knees.

You take him in your mouth and begin bobbing your head back and forth. He grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail as he follows your movements with his hand. He groans as he feels his high building. "Baby, I'm about to cum." he warns you. This only makes you quicken your pace as you prepare for his release.

"Shit." he says as he cums down your throat. You pull away and swallow whatever's left in your mouth. He pulls you up and crashes his lips against your own. "You're so good." he says pressing his forehead against yours. You both finished your shower and went back to your room.

You got JJ's clothes and changed into something comfortable for yourself. Now you were both laying in your bed wrapped up in each other. Neither of you said anything as the two of you just soaked in the peaceful moment you were having. This is how you ended your day together, simply lying down and enjoying each other's presence.

Taglist (Go here to be added <3)

@ilovemenwithlonghairr @akobx @rafessweetgirl

Find more of my stuff here :p

[luveline]

would you ever be willing to write the day spencer and stripper!reader met in the grocery store? i’ve always loved the concept when you’ve referenced it in the story, i would love to read it👀 you’re absolutely incredible and i can never say anything not anon to you because my blog is flooding you with notes constantly and i’m embarrassed😅

thank you for your request ❤️ fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for domestic violence and workplace abuse

There's this weird organic grocery store by Spencer's place that's far too expensive, but it's a ten minute walk, so that's where he goes. (Weird in separation to organic.) 

He needs a lot of groceries now he's home for the week. Bread, vegetables, rice, flour if he wants to try and make pancakes, which he does. He also needs a new pen to write a letter for his mom, but Leaven is slightly too small for a stationery section. 

He doesn't know what he'll say to her in this one. Maybe that the cases he's going on are easy, or that he's been reading about crows. She's not feeling well lately. It might help her to know he's doing gentle things, even if it isn't true. 

No, he thinks. Can't lie to her. He never lies to his mom. 

Eggs. Sugar. Coffee grounds. He fills his cart. It'll be a lot to carry on the way home, but better to do it in one go. He likes keeping busy but he's a human being, too, and he's looking forward to spending at least sixteen hours in bed after dinner tonight. 

You look tired, too. 

Your back is turned, but Spencer knows it's you. You must live close by, he's been seeing you duck in and out for months. Usually with a loaf of bread or a single box of painkillers tucked in your pocket. You don't steal, he'd be able to tell, and he wouldn't say anything if you did, anyways. All he knows about you is that you have a nice smile when you have the energy, and your voice is like silk. Purposeful or by nature, he's yet to guess. 

You're standing by the end of the aisle near the checkouts with a basket hanging from your fingers. All you're buying today is a box of pancake mix and a bag of peas. 

Weird, he thinks with a smile. Spencer likes weird stuff. It's quirky. 

You turn to see which checkout is empty and Spencer's smile abruptly drops. 

You have a bruise across half of your face. It isn't strictly fresh —he can see the split skin on your cheek starting to close in on itself, and your purpled eye is open (though barely). You're frowning. Spencer knows how bad it hurts to get hurt like that. For a split second he can't believe someone could do that to another person, and then he remembers the hundreds of women he's had the privilege to meet at their most vulnerable, who trusted him, and he thinks maybe he's capable of helping another one. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You meet his eyes with a funny smile. “Hey. Sorry, am I in the way?” you ask, your voice stretched, thin but not weak. 

“No, you're not, it's… I see you here all the time.” 

You hold your breath. When you talk, it rushes out. “So?” you ask wearily.

“Are you okay?” 

Your funny smile fades as Spencer's had. He supposes that's the talent of cruelty. Even when it's over, it's not truly over. Your bruise still hurts, and Spencer still needs to know you'll be okay when you go home tonight. 

“I see you all the time too. We've… we've actually spoken before, haven't we?” you ask after a moment. 

“Yeah, about spirometry. I was out of breath running and–” It doesn't matter. You asked him if he was okay, and he explained that he was, just that his lungs don't hold much air on account of his own laziness, and it doesn't matter. “Are you? Alright? It's a bad bruise.” 

“It's getting better.” 

It might be, but there's something so raw about seeing you standing there in your sweatpants too big for you and a hoodie with a hole in it, purple and yellow contusion across your eyes and nose like the clumsy stroke of a paintbrush. Spencer will admit to feeling sorry for you.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, knowing this isn't the right place. “There's the cafe at the front? Let me pay for my stuff and–” 

“I'm really okay–” 

“You had a cast on your wrist two weeks ago and now you're here with a limp and a really bad bruise,” he says softly, imploringly, “I just wanna talk to you about it. You don't have to say yes, I'm not trying to be weird, but I–” 

You cut off his mile a minute speech with a small smile. “Okay. I'm not, you know, doing anything anyways. It'll be nice to sit down.” 

Spencer knows it's dumb, but he wants to show he has good intentions. He takes your basket out of your hands and nods toward the cafe past the checkouts. “I'll come and meet you.” 

“You don't have to,” you say, gesturing at the basket. 

“The damage is done, right? This place is ridiculous.” He doesn't like the way you're holding your hip. It makes him feel sick, even though there's no proof one way or another to say you've been hurt beyond your bruising.

He pays for his things and yours and meets you at the cafe. He's half expecting you to have bolted, but you sit at a table near the entrance, completely still. 

Spencer puts his two bags under the table and offers you your pancake mix and peas in their own bag. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“It was my boss.” You look at your fingers, spreading them slowly over the table top. “I’m a dancer. Sorry. I know you’re going to ask.” 

“And he hit you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Spencer knows the number for every women’s shelter in every state, but he doubts it would matter to you. He can tell already that you’d say no. He can tell you’re scared, even if you don’t realise it yourself. “Is it getting worse?”

You can’t offer him anything else. He understands how that feels. There have been moments where he desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone, what was going on in his life, but he always holds his secrets like a perpetual ache in his throat. It’s like he can’t tell someone, even if they ask. 

Sometimes he just wishes they’d ask twice. 

“You can tell me. It won’t sound stupid,” he promises. He’s in some odd place between Agent Reid and young, terrified Spencer, determined to help you, but not sure how. “It’s getting worse, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say, the weight of tears on your tongue. 

“You’re a dancer. Is he just a boss– Does he… abuse you financially?” 

You laugh wetly. “He’s not my pimp.” 

He can feel his face heating up.’“No, but do you get paid on time? Everything you earn?” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t get paid on time. He takes a percentage, and somehow there’s always another percentage, and then discipline. And now…” 

“Now he’s hitting you.” Very badly. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

Spencer frowns gently, talks softly, “I didn’t mean to imply that you were.” 

“No, I know, but I need you to know I’m not stupid. When we talked before, you– you’re so smart, I bet you know so many smart people.” 

He’s not sure where you’re going with this. Perhaps you don’t want to talk about being hurt anymore. It must be a kind of torture to be hurting and know that that hurting will come again. There isn’t an end in sight for you, just right now. 

“Can I buy you something to eat?” 

“I have money,” you say, taking your small purse from your pocket. There are a few notes wedged inside. 

“You can’t take painkillers on an empty stomach, and you should take painkillers again soon. You had some before you came, and they’re wearing off.” He meets your confused frown with a frown of his own. “Your hands are twitching like you want to move away from yourself.” 

“You’re very perceptive,” you say in that smooth murmur. Power clawed back, he thinks. You’re protecting one of the things you can control about how you’re seen when everything else is far from it. 

“I’m a profiler. Do you,” —he tries not to sound hoity toity— “know what that is?” 

“No.” 

“I’m an FBI agent.” You’re laughing as he takes out his badge. He joins you. “I know it sounds like I’m making it up.” Spencer offers you his identification passport slowly, so you know he isn’t wielding it around to be an asshole. “I’m in the behavioural analysis unit. We analyse the way people act. That’s why I know you’re in pain.” 

You take his badge, looking between his photo and his real face with a growing smile. “If you need all that to know I’m in pain, you’re not as smart as you think,” you tease, gesturing to the mottled skin of your bruise sweetly. 

Spencer buys you both cold sandwiches from the front of the shop and a drink to wash down your aspirin. It’s awkward, he guesses, but he’s used to that by now, and under it he can feel your palpable relief. You trust him to not hurt you, if nothing else, and he can work with that. 

[fashion-runways]

okay it's been over a year and i keep saying i'm going to make a new post and it's too exhausting to even think about the whole thing so i keep pushing it-- here's the link to the old post if you want a more detailed thing i wrote back then.

anyway, a year ago, out of the blue, our apartment got raided by the police, they broke our front door, they broke a bunch of shit inside, they took a bunch of our stuff, they barely gave us answers or an explanation, they took my dad and made it seem like he would have to sign some stuff and answer some questions and come back, but it's been over a year (since june 2022) and he hasn't come back, and his case is still up in the air. they're barely working on it. they didn't pay for all the shit they broke, they haven't returned all the shit they took, we had to spend a lot of money on that, i had to take a loan to buy a new computer so i could keep working and studying, on top of spending even more money on basic needs for my dad in jail and lawyers, plus blood pressure and anxiety medications, plus he's old and he was scheduled an eye surgery that he obviously couldn't go to so he's like, practically blind in one eye now, also new clothes for him to wear there (there's a bunch of rules for that), honestly i already lost track of how many things we had to pay for. it's been incredibly stressful and it still is even now that we've gotten used to it. he's been detained for a year for something that they still don't even know if he did and the case is barely moving, i don't know if they're like... i don't know, waiting for the man to die in there since he's already old so they don't have to admit they don't have enough proof for all the mess they made? i don't know. like i said back then, please don't ask me for details on the case or show up in my inbox trying to play tiktok true crime and guess what he did/didn't do. it happened a few times and it's extremely triggering, please don't. please.

this blog is basically my job. it's my primary source of income, i don't have anything else, no matter how many interviews i go to, in the country/city i live and in the state our economy is, if you don't have contacts it's impossible to get a job. i'm always signing up to free programs to learn new things while i don't have a job, try to make my cv bigger, but it doesn't matter. if you don't have someone saying “please hire my friend/family member” or you don't have 500 years of experience, they won't. so like i said, donations people make to this blog are how me and my mom (and my pets) stay afloat. it's what we use to pay for food, general groceries, transportation, electricity, wifi, water, gas, health insurance, stuff for my dad in jail, meds for my mom who has diabetes, food and meds for my pets. i don't go out much, i haven't gotten a haircut in a year, i barely spend money in anything that makes me happy except once in a blue moon when i stop feeling guilty lmao i had a redbubble account also that helped a little too, but last week it got suspended without an explanation as i was uploading new designs, so i don't even have that now. i made a new account on teepublic, but all my designs in high quality are locked behind redbubble and i can't even log into because of the suspension. it's... complicated, and it's a lot, but it is what it is.

i'm always keeping an eye out on new collections, new designers, new cool things. like i said, i love fashion, i studied fashion, and i know a lot of you use this blog as inspiration whether it's for yourselves or for your art, so i don't want to post all similar stuff all the time, i want to post all kinds of styles and brands as much as i can. which is why when i say if you like this blog, if you want to support me, sending even the smallest amount of money helps me keep going. living in latin america, the exchange rate is kind of insane, so truly any amount of money donated helps. unfortunately, i never stop needing money to survive and help keep my family afloat, but in the past year more than ever.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my (new) teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. if my redbubble account gets reinstated, i'll add that link eventually too. and as always, thanks for loving this blog and for loving fashion like i love fashion, even when i post crazy looking stuff, and thanks for helping. you have no idea how much your support helps, but it really does, i don't even know if i'd be alive right now if it wasn't for this blog.

[cheralith]

— reroutes. feat. oliver aiku || wc: 2.1k contains: gn!reader, no pronouns used, teacher!reader, dilf!oliver, single parent!oliver, miscommunication, fluff, alcohol consumption a/n: people keep saying that oliver is dilf material usually based off his looks so sure what the hell . let me entertain the thought and feed the masses also a reupload since the og wasn't allowing me to edit for some reason

trying to butter up the president of the parent-teacher association over a candlelit dinner to gain his approval and vote for you as a a worthy candidate incoming principal isn't exactly the easiest task in the world, nor is it your vision of spending a friday evening. but with adult life comes sacrifices, even if it means you'll be missing out on the season premiere of your sitcom.

you've heard rumors about him from other teachers in passing—quite the charmer with a natural flair for leadership, hence why he's been on the board for a few years now, even longer than you've been teaching the second grade at this school. many people on the association look up to him, his approval being worth more than some of the district's, a smile and nod at a suggestion being made being worth more than gold itself.

hence why his vote is the one you need to gain the most—if oliver aiku is in favor of something, then surely it must be good.

the single father to one of your shyer students, he's the complete opposite of her. where rena is quiet, soft-spoken, and spares her words, oliver seems to exude this calm confidence—a calculated rationale weaving into every sentence he says with that baritone, caramel-rich voice of his.

you smile tightly as he rests his cheek on his fist, bright and attentive hues of malachite and amethyst daggering into your stiff figure, that typical smile on his lips that you've seen he gives everyone.

"you know," he starts, tone smooth and sweet. "it's rare that rena has a favorite teacher. but she seems to talk about you a lot these days."

"oh does she?" you laugh, trying to filter out the nervous edge as best as possible. "i'll admit, she's one of my more creative students. she seems to really love arts & crafts."

oliver shares his chuckle with you. "oh i bet. she's always asking me to put up any art she takes home on the fridge. trying to get into it is almost impossible these days with how much stuff is on there—you should see it, really."

he takes a slow sip of his wine, his eyes scanning you for a reaction at his last few words and his eyes lid attentively when you fidget in your spot. oliver uses the swirling ruby in the glass to hide his growing grin.

"ah well," you flicker your gaze toward anything that isn't him, his stare piercing every possible fiber of apprehension within you. "i'm glad. y-you know, for students like rena, they'd really benefit from art walks! i visited one of the charter schools nearby that does them every few months to help cultivate—"

"oh yes, we've been looking to dabble in those as well," oliver says dismissively, ceasing your words in a gentle, clean cut. "maybe one day... if the district increases our budget."

a sharp inhale ensures your composure doesn't falter at the lack of concern. there's many projects you have in mind if you were ever the principal of the school, but you need his approval if they were to ever go through. the voice of the parents mattered just as much as the district's after all.

you fold your hands affirmingly. "well, i've also noticed that we don't have an actual sci—"

"are you doing anything after this?" oliver cuts in again, a smile that's a bit larger now still on his face intently.

you pause, breath hitching. your eyes lift from the food on your table to him. your eyes narrow.

"excuse me?" you ask.

oliver leans back in his seat almost a little too casually. it's only then you notice two of his shirt buttons are undone, exposing a hint of his plated chest. "rena's at her mom's this weekend. i was just wondering if you had any plans after. because if you aren't... i'd love to spend more time with you. somewhere a little more private, perhaps?"

he sends you a knowing wink, a twinkle in his eye that flashes intimately at you. at first, you're confused, trying to understand what he's implying—until...

oh. oh.

"oh—" you choke out. "—my god. excuse me?!"

oliver blinks, smile faltering at your dropped jaw. "what?"

"you thought this was a date?" you rasp.

perplexity takes over his handsome features, oliver tilting his head and sitting up. "sorry, i'm confused. was this dinner not about that?"

"no?!" you're trying your absolute hardest to stay professional, but it's hard to do see when you runover his interactions toward you in your head. the kiss to your knuckles when you met him at the door, the intense eye contact, the unbuttoned shirt... oh, how could you be so stupid?!

you stiffen. "i'm terribly sorry that i gave you the wrong impression. but i only invited you over for dinner so i can discuss what my future plans would be as principal."

oliver is quick to interject himself. "oh. well. i apologize then. i'd be happy to talk more about that matter if you'd like."

the audacity of him to bypass it so casually, as though he wasn't lusting over you for nearly an entire hour when you were trying your absolute best to woo him with your ideas, with both of you ending with nothing but dust in your hands at the end of it all.

you shake your head and start packing your things up, which alerts him.

"no, i'd rather not," you mutter, taking out some wads of cash and pushing it over to him to cover your cost of the food. "i don't think we should proceed this conversation further. at least not for now."

he grabs your hand before you can proceed any further—strong and firm. maybe even desperate, dare you say? "hey, hold on. i swear, i'm really intrigued by your plans. especially the art walk. how 'bout we just finish this dinner and talk things over?"

"i've been trying to do that since we came!" you exasperate loudly, your sharp tone making him flinch a little, especially as you gather some onlookers who glance your way. "i'm sorry, but i'd rather not dabble in a one-sided conversation for another hour."

you plop your phone in your purse and quickly shuffle on your coat, offering him only a disappointed look before you leave, one that pinches an unknown twinge in his chest.

"have a nice evening, mr. aiku," you mutter solemnly, leaving him in the dust.

the next time you see him is the following monday, when he picks up his daughter with the rest of parents.

you're working with another one of your students, introducing him to another book that you think he may like, until you feel a tap on your arm. you excuse yourself from the boy and come face-to-face with rena, who holds up a collaged butterfly she was working on made from spare magazine parts from the crafting table proudly. her eyes that match a familiar two-toned hue sparkle at you.

"look!" she exclaims, her normally-soft voice now replaced with a more voluminous one—a self-curated confidence that you helped bring to life. "i even made it your favorite color. do you like it?"

she lets you hold the collage up to the light, the colors glistening. "oh, it's beautiful, rena!" you praise, your smile being mirrored by hers. "you should put it somewhere you can see it in your house."

she shakes her head, noir pigtails bouncing as she giggles. "it's not for meee..." she sings and then points to her left, where the door is. "daddy said i should give it to you instead!"

your voice suddenly falters, the mention of her father making you look up and suddenly catch the gaze of oliver, who stands idly at your classroom's door. he scratches the back of his neck when you stare at him.

you turn back to her, your eye twitching a bit. "are you sure, sweetheart? i'm sure your father would love to have this instead of me. i think you should keep it somewhere safe."

rena frowns. she seems almost unimpressed.

"he said it himself!" she protests, "it's yours! i'm gonna get my stuff from my cubby now."

abruptly, rena shuffles away without the art piece and to her designated shelf, leaving you. you sigh, standing up and making your way to oliver, who has yet to move his earnest eyes away from you.

"i think this is yours," you murmur and offer rena's piece to him.

oliver shakes his head and pushes your hand back, his larger hand enveloping yours for a slight moment, the leftover desperation from saturday still ghosting his skin.

"she really wants you to have it," he says quietly. "it'd make her happy. really."

you open your mouth to try and reply, but when nothing comes out, you nod and take the piece back, planning to display it somewhere for the children to see. before you can turn on your heel and return your attention back to the boy from before, oliver catches your wrist and shuffles something in your hand.

you turn back and open your palm, seeing the bills you left for him on friday night back into your hand and look up at him.

oliver chews his cheek. "i've got friday's dinner covered. think of it as an apology for um..." he flickers his eyes toward the other parents that wait for their children to finish packing up, not wanting anything to conspire if he said the wrong thing. he leans toward you, his hand shielding his words. "... getting the wrong idea."

he lets out a shaky laugh, trying to break the tension between you and him, though it does so to no avail when you only react with a thick silence. "i mean, i was gonna pay for our dinner regardless, but—"

you hold your hand up, the shake of your head making him stiffen. "it's fine. really. i apologize myself for not making my own intentions clearer."

oliver swallows dryly. he then moves himself out of the classroom and motions you to follow suit to hold a more private conversation, away from the eyes of the children and parents.

"listen," he mutters lowly to you. "again, i'm really sorry for sending mixed signals. i mean this when i say it, but i really do want to talk over your plans as principal one day more sincerely. i should've done it earlier, but..." he lets out a loose laugh, scratching his cheek.

he lifts his gaze to you, the familiarity of eye contact making you squirm.

"... you were just so pretty, i really couldn't help myself," he continues, forcing you to inhale sharply, even though you can detect the sincerity. "rena praises you a lot at home, so when i finally got to meet her favorite teacher formally, i didn't expect you to be so beautiful. and the fact you had asked me to dinner just made me go over my own head."

his buttery words attempt to make you melt, but all they really do is just make your nerves go rigid, your consciousness telling you not to trust them.

you stay quiet, letting him finish.

"i think you'd make a great principal," he says. "and compared to the other contenders, you've definitely got my vote. i'm sure you'd have no problem wooing the others on the board."

your toy with your fingers, pushing the brief spark of happiness over his approval away, not sure if you trust his words as you suspect with a gut-feeling they've been recycled for you.

"i'm glad to hear that. but i'd rather you vote for me because of my mission, not because i'm just another pretty face," you state with a hard look in your eye.

oliver shakes his head, a slight grin lifting on his lips. "that's just another bonus added. i mean it when i said i'm intrigued by your ideas, and i really would love to discuss them over another dinner... if you'd let me?"

he blinks slowly at you, almost fondly, with a slight desperation in his gaze.

your jaw tightens, doubt inking your tongue as you try to find the right words. you merely take a step back when you can't find them, teeth biting your lip. rumors spread fast, and the last thing you need is for people to gossip about the fact you may be privately conspiring with the president of the pta when all you initially wanted to do was just simply persuade him with a presentation of your ideas.

"i don't know," you hesitate. "i'll think about it..."

you try to escape back into your classroom, but oliver grabs your wrist again tenderly and makes you look back at him.

there's that earnestness again in his eyes, the one that really tests your guard and makes you put it down for the moment you capture it.

"you still have my number, right?" he asks quietly. your lips tighten, but you nod, making him sigh out in relief at the fact he hasn't been blocked yet. "okay, good. if you make up your mind, i'm just a text away."

a blank look is his only reply from you, with the mercy of a soft nod, right before you enter back into the classroom and tend back to the leftover children who still wait for their parents to pick them up.

her backpack jangling behind her, rena says a happy goodbye to you as she clutches her father's hand, chiming that she'll see you tomorrow and waving excitedly back at you.

you return it back with an affection on your face, a softness in your eyes at her drastic social improvement as you follow her figure out—all the while not noticing the way that oliver looks at you in the same tender manner.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I love your style and all the stuff you post about your fashion but it also makes me lowkey jealous. I transitioned about 5 years ago and I hate the way my body looks in clothes. I feel like being able to dress nicer/more historically could help me feel better, but also my lifestyle doesn't really support it. I'm a dancer so I kind of have to wear basketball shorts and tshirts because it's not like I can do and teach dance classes in a vest and button up.

The last time I got to dress nice was about a year ago for my sisters wedding. I do have a good amount of nice clothes from when I had a job that was more aligned with that type of dress, but even when I was picking out my outfit for the wedding it made me feel bad because my mom shot down every outfit I picked out no matter how much I liked it.

I want to feel better about myself and the way I dress but I don't really see any way to do it. It feels like the longer it's been since I've transitioned, the worse I feel about myself and I hate it.

Sorry for the rant. Keep doing you, you look great all the time and I love it.

Rant away, I know how it can be. 🫂

But fwiw, I work from home, so actually have to make an effort to not dress in a t-shirt and lounge pants (I am starting to put together more casual fits now), much less leave the house.

So, my nice clothes serve double duty for my enrichment.

For the past several months, my partner and I try to have regular "look cute" time. We try to find an event like an art show or something to go to once a week, but sometimes we just, like... go to a historic cemetary and a cafe for a date. Sometimes, I just go on a hike by myself.

And that is a big chunk of our vintage outfit wearing time. We use getting nice clothes as an excuse to get out and about. But we've also lowered the bar for what counts as a "special occassion" for "cute time" and I have literally dressed up just to get ice cream and then later hit up the hardware store for an errand, lol. And once I am dressed nice, I like lounging in my vintage clothes because they are plenty comfortable and why change into something else until it's time for bed.

Tldr; You can carve out lots of times to wear fun clothes, if you become an "eat off the good china every day" sort of person. :)