#That was designed by someone who has never had to clean their own space

[msbarrows]

You know you’re cynical about the durability of architecture over the last half-century+ when you look at this old concept art, and what you’re mostly seeing is:

Leaks, mildew, cracked glass or scratched-to-hell plexiglass, potentially some degree of flooding from the leaks (possibly a dangerous amount if it interacts with inside electricals.

Salt-water corroded cement, salt deposits due to sea spray, potential flooding from high water events, mildew due to constant high humidity, possible wood rot depending on type and treatment of all that wood, problems with wind effects (things getting blown around for example)

Mosquitoes and other bugs, wildlife intrusion, problems with high humidity and possibly with thermal heating from any direct sunlight (welcome to the sauna box), problems during seasonal/storm-based flooding including potential erosion around supports.

Maybe. The pool area is at least providing a small breakwater between the unit and the ocean or lake, and the roofed patio area prevents some of the potential direct sunlight on all that glass. Still likely to have problems with humidity and/or wind spray, and also high water events. Wouldn’t want to see it on any coast subject to wind-driven waves.

Oh look, it’s Easy-Bake Oven: Solar Edition. Seems to be a stacked apartment building maybe, since those are all living rooms? Also, The Neighbours Are Watching. What a horrifying lack of privacy from anywhere in eyesight.

the grip retrofuturism has over me is unreal, I want to live in this future.

all artwork by charles schridde for motorola / 1961

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alley Boyfriends Part 3

Tim has to say that the interior designers had outdone themselves. He knew he was paying good money for them, but he made it a bit difficult by only giving them three days to create a concept to decorate his new penthouse.

While the cleaning and moving crew was hard at work getting everything settled at their old apartments, Danny and Tim looked over designs for their penthouse.

Tim had never really paid much attention to his living space theme or style, having always lived by a minimalist mindset that his parents preferred. But Danny had been insistent that his home had to have life, and minimalistic spaces made him feel like he was staying in a hotel, no matter how fancy.

He vetoed everything that had "simple," "neutral," or "modern" in the description offers. The agent, the interior designer team, had sent to represent them had also brought three tablets filled with examples of their offered packages. They were to pick which one they wanted, and the team would create a concept so no two places were alike for their customers.

The team would do the colors, furniture, and textures, but they had a right to write in demands, such as Danny's not wanting anything painted white or Tim's desire for a soft carpet in all rooms but the bathrooms and kitchen.

Tim was given his tablet- Each one was synced to the agent's primary tablet, which would have the answers to the surveys or personal notes that the boys made- to click through the same list as Danny, but he didn't bother with his own. The themes all looked the same to him unless it was ridiculous- Harry Potter, Wonderland, and Atlantis, to name a few.

It is nothing he hasn't seen before.

On the other hand, Danny had never had someone decorate for him; as someone who grew up in the mid to low-level middle class, his household had always been mismatched furniture that balanced well together.

He looked like an excited puppy, eyes wide as he clicked through photo after photo, asking Tim's opinion every so often. The agent, Tyrone, was happy to answer any question he may have, seemingly pleased that someone appreciated his work as much as Danny did.

Tim had watched him struggle between Hollywood Glam and Regency, so he recommended Hollywood Regency Interior Design, knowing one of Wayne Enterprises Board members had mentioned it beforehand.

It wasn't so garish that Tim hated it, but it had just the right amount of elegancy and "someone lives here" vibe that Danny was searching for.

He watched in real-time as Danny's eyes lit up in joy as he showed him the image on the tablet.

Tim had never cared for how his living space was decorated. Still, after seeing his friend grow excited to flip through example photos and chatting with Tyrone over color palettes and furniture, he realized that Hollywood Regency was likely his new favorite style.

"The main color has to be green," Danny chirped, tapping his finger against different shades of the mentioned color.

"A dark emerald green would be perfect," Tyrone responded, switching his tablet to a series of dark-looking designs, but Danny shook his head without looking at them.

"No, something lighter and brighter."

"Why?" Tim asked, thinking the emerald green gave it a more elegant air. Absentmindedly, he sips the coffee Danny brought from his work. It settles in his gut with a warm, comforting feeling, happy that he was the first to try the new seasonal offerings.

Danny gave him an exclusive one week before they hit the menu, and Tim can die happy. This season, they are a Young Justice theme.

Impulse Lavender Expersso was heavenly. He can't wait to see Bart's reaction when they get announced.

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy. "Green is your favorite color. Of course, we need to have that for the wall painting."

Tim blinks, stunned by the response. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. How had Danny known green was his favorite color? He can only take a longer sip, and he feels even warmer. Tyrone coughs, trying very hard to hide a smile as he flips his tablet around. "How about this one, Mr. Fenton?"

"That's the one! fern green, it looks cool, right Tim?"

Tim considered the images. "It does, but it's a bit too plain."

"We can add golden trimming on the walls," Tyrone immediately suggested, showing them some images that Danny oohed and ahhed to. I know you said you didn't want white, Mr. Fenton, so golden would be the next best option."

"Hmm." Danny considered it before nodding, "Yeah, it looks lovely. Will the furniture also be golden?"

"A few pieces, yes, but to really balance the feeling of the room, I was thinking more of white like this."

Tim zoned out as Danny and Tyrone chatted, picking up the SuperBoy Crusher Coffee.

Eventually, Danny told Tyrone to make the final decision as long as it had some shades of green and was in that style. They handed over the address, gave Tyrone access to the apartment, and continued their lives.

Tim and Danny had not seen the penthouse pass some images on the for sale posting. Now standing in their new home, Tim found himself utterly impressed.

Tyrone was going to get a lot more business from him, that was for sure. He couldn't wait for Danny to see it.

Now that I think about it, where is Danny? Tim wondered, walking over to the large window overlooking the city. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Did he miss his train?

He reaches for his phone, wondering if the new route needs to be clarified for his friend. But before he can click on the call button, it starts to ring. Danny's grinning face flashes across his screen, and his very special ringtone blares from the speakers.

Danny programmed it to Poltergiest after hearing the song while making some Halloween-themed coffees to submit to the Heart Attack employee contest. If he won, he would get a big bonus, and his drink would be added to the October promotion.

Tim had been his happy test subject.

Tim answers the phone in a flash. "Danny? Where are you?"

There is a huff of irritation on the other line. The blaring of speeding cars and wind tells Tim his fake boyfriend is likely outside somewhere. " Tim! You won't believe this! The doorman of our new building won't let me in! He thinks I'm lying about living here. Apparently, I'm not dressed fancy enough. Can you believe it?!"

The CEO thinks about Danny's entire closet, which is made entirely of worn-down T-shirts and faded jeans. It's nothing too bad, but he can see why the doorman would think Danny wasn't among the rich highbrows of the people living in this building.

Knowing Danny's shockingly quick temper, the man probably fought with the doorman, too.

He sighs, heading toward the door and picking up his keys and wallet. "I'll be right down. Hold tight"

Neither bothers hanging up, primarily out of habit, whenever Tim is brave enough to call Danny for some secret coffee fix. He would go quiet if his siblings happened to wander close. Danny just liked having someone exist with him, so silence on the phone call was no issue to him.

Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, he can hear Danny walking back to the entrance, smug in every playable as he taunts, "Just wait until Tim gets here. His coffee is getting cold, and he will definitely blame you."

He walks a little faster, pressing hard on the elevator button, and taps his foot a bit as he zooms down. The doors barely slide open when Tim jogs out of them, rushing to the entrance, where he can see Danny and the doorman, Josh, having a standoff.

Faintly, Tim can pick up the sound of a deep, annoyed grunt. "You again? I told you to get out of here before I called the police-"

If Danny gets arrested, I've never heard Bruce's end of it. Tim panics, turning his jog into a sprint and bursting through the front door to shout, "Danny is my roommate!"

'Josh's jaw drops as Danny cackles, "See! I do, too, live here!"

It doesn't seem to compute in the employee's mind, eyes ranking up and down Danny's coffee-stain outfit. He looks even plainer than normal, which doesn't help his claims one bit. "You live here...with Mr. Drake...dressed like that?"

A frown forms on Danny's face, his eyes flashing with anger, but Tim is quick to step in. He pushes his roommate back while taking the travel mug with the Heart Attack logo out of his hand. It wouldn't be due if Danny flung it into Josh's face.

This was all Tim's fault. He should have realized that Danny would need to learn how things were done in these settings. "He does! I'm sorry about this, Danny. I'll make sure it never happens again."

Josh's face turned pasty white as more smugness dropped over Danny's expression. He leans sideways so he can look into the brown eyes of the doorman without Tim blocking him. "You hear that? Tim is going to talk to your boss-"

Tim tugs Danny's arm, glancing down at his wristwatch. "If we run, we can get to the stores before they close."

Josh and Danny froze, whipping their heads in Tim's direction with confusion. "What?"

Not knowing why they were reacting like that, Tim could only blink in bewilderment. Isn't it obvious? "I'm going to buy you an entire new wardrobe."

If anything, that only seemed to daze Danny as he slowly turned towards Tim with even wider eyes. "What?"

Why was he acting like this? A new wardrobe would make him look the part, and Danny would be able to get into their house without issue. Slowly, Tim explains, "If Josh here thought you weren't dressed the part, I can fix that. My favorite suit place closes in two hours, but we need to have your measurements done, so we may have thirty minutes if we want to come home with a suit today. We have to go!"

He finished his explanation while dragging Danny to the garage parking lot where his car was parked.

Danny stumbles after him, still in a rather large daze, yelps, "Wait, isn't this a bit much?"

Tim rolls his eyes, chugging the coffee with his other hand. He never lets go of Danny's wrist. "You give me the one thing keeping me going in these dark times. Nothing is too much for you."

Danny makes a strange noise in the back of his throat but eventually stops resisting, following Tim with a light chuckle. "It's not that big of a deal, Tim."

"It is."

( Neither is close enough to hear Josh muttering to himself as the terror of losing his well-paying job flashes before his eyes. "That was Mr.Drak's sugar baby. I better tell the rest of the staff before someone gets fired for insulting him." )

Various people document their shopping trips, and by the time they stumble home, Tim's phone is blowing up with messages from his family.

If anything, this does wonders for their fake dating plan.

Tim glances up from his screen, smiling at his friend's expression of wonder as he turns in slow circles.

He typed a quick response, only letting them know not to worry before throwing his phone over his shoulder, knowing it would land on the couch cushions. "How about a tour? I'll let you pick your favorite room."

Danny's eyes snap towards him, and the brightest, warmest smile Tim has ever seen grows across his face. For a moment, the vigilante is stunned by its glory. His heart races, and for a second, he wonders if maybe he had been drinking a little too much caffeine.

He shakes his head. There is no such thing as too much caffeine.

Tim updated their journals later that night after bidding Danny goodnight. He added "Unexpected beauty" to Danny's physical journal right under "A smile that makes the stars pale."

Feeling embarrassed, he drinks his Coco Crush—Danny made it for him at the coffee island that Tyrone had installed in the kitchen—and turns over in his bed to sleep.

He dreams of stardust, laughter and Danny's blue eyes.

[malusokay]

How to be like Song Ji-a

Hey babes! I’m so excited to start my little “it-girls series”, of course, starting with no other than my favourite girly, Song Ji-a. She has it all: beauty, style, and confidence. In this post, I’ll show you how to embody her energy, break down the key elements of her style, summarise some of her best advice, and give you all the details on how to be a bit more like her. <3

Ji-a’s energy:

Confidence is key: Ji-a exudes confidence no matter what she’s wearing or doing. Take some inspo from her and start by showing yourself some extra self-love to build your confidence! :)

Be true to yourself: Ji-a never tries to fit into someone else’s mould, and neither should you! Embrace your unique style and show off your personality through your beauty and fashion choices.

Take care of your body: Ji-a is all about that healthy lifestyle, so hit the gym, try a new workout, and fuel your body with nutritious food to boost your energy and confidence. You can also motivate yourself by buying cute matching workout sets!! <3

Stay on-trend: Ji-a’s always ahead of the fashion curve, and we’re here for it. Keep an eye out for the latest fashion and beauty trends, and don’t be afraid to experiment with different looks to find your signature style. <3

Ji-a’s style:

Simple but chic outfits: Ji-a rocks effortless, minimalist looks with a twist. Get inspired by her style and try adding a pop of your interests to your outfit with bold accessories or unique cuts.

Flawless makeup: Ji-a’s makeup is seriously on point, and yours can be too! Play around with colours, shimmery glitter, and dramatic lips to add some extra charm to your look! :)

Skincare is key: Ji-a swears by her skincare routine to achieve that radiant complexion. So, start taking care of your skin and try out some new hydrating products to get that glow.

Cute Hairstyles: Try out some playful and cute hairstyles or accessorise with some fun hair clips. Don’t forget about your hair care!!

Details, details, details: Ji-a pays attention to every little detail, from her nails to her jewellery. Add some extra touches to your outfit with statement jewellery or cute nail art!! <3

Elevate your lifestyle:

Self-care is everything: Ji-a emphasises the importance of self-care, so take some time for yourself to unwind and recharge with some yoga, journaling, or a good book!

Stay positive: Positive vibes only! Surround yourself with people who uplift you, practice positive self-talk, and write down daily affirmations to keep that positive mindset. :)

Follow your passions: Ji-a is all about chasing her dreams, and you should be too! Pursue your hobbies or dream career, and don’t be afraid to take risks.

Be confident: Ji-a is all about owning your unique qualities and quirks, so let your true self shine and don’t be afraid to stand out from the crowd.

Be kind: Ji-a is known for her kind and generous personality, so spread some love and kindness wherever you go.

How to channel your inner Ji-a:

Embrace minimalism: Ji-a’s style is all about simplicity, so try decluttering your space and simplifying your wardrobe to achieve that clean, chic look.

Not everyone will like you, and that's okay: Even Ji-a has had to deal with haters and jealous people in the past (the whole fake designer thing lol...), yet she stays confident and continuously does her thing! You can do that too!! <3

Try out some K-beauty: Being Korean, many of her favourite beauty brands and products are from Korean brands. Experiment with some K-Beauty products to get that glowing complexion! :)

Be yourself: Above all, Ji-a is known for being authentic; whether she’s on camera or in public, she seems to radiate a sense of self-assurance, which spreads confidence and inspiration to others! Stop worrying about what others might think, you're beautiful <3

As always, please feel free to share your own suggestions in the comments and let me know who you want me to write about next! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[strwberri-milk]

Heyaa!! Hope ur doing ok! If you have time, and if this peaks your interest can i request

Sumeru boys with a S/o who's secretly filthy Rich, came from a wealthy family, they are like Super duper REALLY RICH, when they found out they have to come clean, S/o doesn't told them because wanting to find an honest guy and not after their money.

So now that the characters knew, S/o is spoiling them, like for example, Cyno- buying him all kinds of limited/rare TCG cards all over teyvact at once, Tighnari helping buying the lots of expensive herbs, and S/o casually ask if they can pay off Kaveh Debt because for them- the debt is like pocket money to them. Taking out to a 5 star restaurants not even looking at the bills and just pays for it. At this point s/o just become a sugar mommy

You knew you could trust him from the moment you met him but that didn't stop you from hiding your family and wealth from him. You didn't want to risk anything after all and every day that you became more and more invested you realised that he loves you more than you could have ever fathomed.

He's always been kind to you and when he found out you were rich he thankfully didn't get mad at you for hiding it from him. You knew that if he did you wouldn't be able to stay with him but just his simple question of why and nodding in understanding made you more relieved than you ever thought you could have been.

Whatever it is you buy him he's very happy but he also insists that he never needed it. He was getting by just fine without it but you essentially tell him that he doesn't have to worry about it and that you did it because you love him and simply just wanted to spoil him a little bit because you can.

Tighnari doesn't expect to come to work to find a wild assortment of herbs and equipment that he's been wanting but unable to either expense out or pay for himself. He thought that someone had left it there by accident and was going to try to return it when he suddenly sees a note left on it. He smiles to himself as he realises it's from you, promising to put it all to good use to make sure you didn't waste your money.

You're so excited to show Cyno the new cards you got him, practically vibrating as he realises what you did. You even remembered the way he likes to store the cards he has for collection purposes, putting them away for him already and eagerly pointing at the spaces where you're waiting to buy him more when they come out. He's just as excited as you are, pulling out some of them to set up for a new round of TCG.

Kaveh adamantly refused you paying off his debt the first time you brought it up. He really didn't want you to and hated the fact that he'd be benefitting from your goodwill and kindness to him. That just means you went behind his back and paid it off for him anyway. You also use some of your connections to suggest Kaveh's name here and there, reminding people that he's the one who designed the Palace of Alcazarzaray to help him find some new jobs that are more befitting of his taste. He will spend the rest of his life trying to repay you back for your kindness, absolutely thankful as you constantly reassure him that you were under no obligation to help him out like this.

Al Haitham didn't expect to come home one day to an exclusive edition of a novel he thought ceased to exist. The fact that it's an original is even better, you giving him room to read the book. When he's finished you let him talk to you about it, having your own copy so you could also discuss it with him as he holds you and thanks you for doing something like that for him.

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

I'm always fascinated when someone at the club rants about "how they just invented T'au to cash on them anime weebs", completly oblivious to the time and culture of their creation. So T'au came out first in 2001, and were obviously conceptualized some years prior, which puts them into the late 90s in their original design. This is slowly hitting "the majority of the populance has no relevant internet access whatsoever" levels of "barbaric analog ages".

So imagine where GW sits in the late 90s - its a small studio somewhere in England barely coming to touch with the first elements of the internet, with the most dominant medium being television which... is not really about "exotic" shows from the other end of the world? Those get ported over when they have proven to be a hit in their own country mostly.

And without the internet as we know it today, the anime community just... did not exist. You have to understand that the whole concept of online anime culture centred around piracy, fansubs, fanart, and the creation of the term "weeabo" was a mid-to-late 00s thing, and it took almost another decade before "weeb" was somewhat reclaimed and no longer an online-slur.

There was a whole generation that grew up with (often horribly localized) japanese shows on TV (Pokemon, Dragon Ball, Sailor Moon) which came over with some delay to their release in Japan. By the time this generation came to congregate into online spaces and form any sort of fan-identity and culture, the T'au and their battlesuits had already been a design over a decade old.

"But wait isn't Gundam from the 70s"? Yes, that is totally correct. However, this is the one glaring mistake people make: you cannot compare modern day media content circulation around the globe to the analog ages. Those of us who remember these barbaric analog times know how it was: you just did not know stuff existed. If it was not in the newspaper or on the telly, it might as well not exist unless you knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy.

Sure, the Internet was slowly becoming a thing that found widespread use, but it would still take a while - not to mention the technical limitations. No streaming episodes. You start the download (if you can find someone who hosted the file of a series you had to know even existed first) somewhere around lunch, to hopefully get something to watch in the afternoon. Oh and also that blocked the household's phone-line and if the download cancelled for whatever reason then it was back to square one. Under such conditions, the online community we know today could simply not exist, as the alternative was importing stuff from the other end of the world for quite the money, or hoping a really shoddy localized VCR-tape ended up at your Blockbuster-equivalent.

Of course there was anime before that time, even those regarded absolute classics in the west, but those mostly achieved that rank over here in retrospective. When in the late 00s people wanted to watch stuff and had the ability to do so they shared what was considered "the classics" first (shared to the best of their ability with one episode cut into 5 parts on youtube with sometimes very questionable subtitles).

So even if we assume there was someone at GW in the 90s who was a total "proto-weeb" and Gudam-fan, there was literally no reason to "make knock-off Gundams" because the miniscule western wargaming audience SIMPLY DID NOT KNOW THE STUFF.

You can't make a marketing ploy to reference something your average consumers have never heard off. If anything, the creation of the T'au as a robotic-centred faction was inevitable: they needed a design that could hold their own in the setting, but Necrons hogged the full-robot niche, Imperials were weird cyborgs, Orks the "madman-scrap-tech", and Nids the "biotech". The only thing left here was "not full robot but also very clean and efficient" - and just like that, the Battlesuits and Drones were born.

It was only in later years when the Internet had come into full swing where they decided to go full-suit with releases such as the Riptide, but if we talk about the OG design of T'au and the first decade? Nothing to do with anime or "fishing for weebs". The fish would not be coming to that spot for almost a decade, and it would take a bit more before their numbers were plentyful enough to make it worth casting a line out.

[1-800-local-slut]

Caught

Elle gets a caught starting and gets a talk from someone about her crush on BAU reader.

"Sometimes we let our feelings get ahead of our own skills as profilers. Don't forget you can read many people better than themselves."

"He's a she."

Warnings: none, Elle is a simp, Aaron means well, mentions of drinking

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

Her eyes were stuck. Drawn magnetically to the object of her desires: you. Elle had a big fat crush on you. She thought about you when she first woke each morning, and when she went to bed. She thought about running away with you, leaving the chaos of the FBI behind. She thought about taking your hand and running down the halls of the building before giving you a big kiss and the two of you hoping in her car and driving off into the sunset.

She smelt your perfume when you were nowhere nearby. When you hugged her, she resisted the urge to take a very deep inhale of your clothing to smell you. And when you roomed together (as you had designated yourself as her bunk buddy) and you two got changed out of your work clothes each night she had to force her eyes away, God forbid she was found out.

Seeing you in pajamas hurt her more, as she was helpless to imagine how it would feel to snuggle up beside you with each night and drift into a peaceful sleep. What would it be like, to come home together? She would cook dinner if you wanted (she'd do everything if you wanted) while you cleaned up around the house (she'll do that too, but she knows you'd never let her do everything alone) fixing up the tornado you two left that morning.

What would it be like, to sit down to eat dinner together? Forget sitting at the table, you'd just cuddle on the couch. Elle doesn't care for your personal space really; she honestly wants to be physically attached at the hip to you.

Hell, she'd leave everything she worked for behind just for a chance to be with you. Which is why, right now in this shitty club you all went too to celebrate closing your last case, she sat there. She sat there, fidgeting with her straw and twirling it around in her drink. Staring at you. Because in such a crowded place, no one would possibly know that she was ONLY staring at you. She had to take her chances when they came.

The lights illuminated your dancing form as you danced around with Derek. Your hair was put up tonight, with pieces framing your face. Beautiful. So, so, so beautiful. She could ignore the smell of 1000 different mixing perfumes; she could ignore the smell of sweaty bodies and the lights giving her a slight headache.

And the pounding music that made it hard to hear her own thoughts. She could ignore how much her wallet cried from the price of drinks (which is why they all decided to just pool their money and buy a bottle because who has 15 dollars for a coquito?) but Elle didn't want to just drink straight liquor. She needed something to balance it out, so she sensibly purchased a Dark and Stormy.

While you tore up the dance floor with Morgan, SSA Aaron Hotchner was a man of his age. So, it was time for him to take a nice seat next to Elle and interrupted her much needed time to take in all of your movements.

Now, it's important to know that when you're a profiler, you know when you're being profiled. From the moment he sat down next to her on the leather purple seats of the club and adjusted himself to feel comfortable in the suit he was still wearing, he was also following her eyes. Maybe he didn't even realize that he was now staring at the younger agent who twirled around on the dance floor and ignored the advances of men who approached her.

Elle realized it though. She didn't care if Aaron knew she was attracted to women. What wasn't to love about women? Women were great. But you were something special. She just didn't want to be caught...feeling. Feeling so much about someone she works so closely work in such perilous situations on a regular basis.

Her entire body screamed at her not to look away. Forcing her eyes down to the table, she tried convincing herself that the ring of condensation around her glass was the most fascinating thing in the world. It wasn't fast enough though.

Certainly not fast enough to get by Aaron who often didn't know what to do with his emotional intelligence. He always knew when something was wrong, he just never really knew what to say or do about it. Not to his female coworkers either. Elle gnawed on the inside of her cheek and thought about anything else hoping the chair would just swallow her up.

Why he was giving her some strange look of pity, she didn't really know. Hopefully he would fill her in soon, because this was getting awkward. As the song changed, you and Morgan excitedly began to jump around, seemingly feeling the grove of this one.

"You know, it's nothing to worry about."

"What?" She looked up, biting the inside of her cheek until it started to hurt a little. Aaron was clearly a few drinks in, because normally he would've offered a supportive pat and then ignored her in favor of pretending nothing was wrong.

"Morgan. I mean, that's just...how he is." Aaron hesitated and honestly it wasn't the dumbest thing to think. Objectively Derek was very handsome. Charming and funny and what not. The only reason why they worked so well, was because Elle was not interested in him. Or any type of man. But honestly, she was a little offended, why she wasn't sure. Actually, she knew why. Because anyone's first assumption should be that she's with you. The thought of anything else killed her just a bit.

Raising an eyebrow, and glancing back between Aaron and the dance floor, she almost laughed in his face. The lights changed across her face and made Aaron look either very pale or like some sort of underwater creature depending on the coloring.

"I think anyone who has sight can see that your here being miserable over it. Morgan is, well, he's friendly with a everyone. Male or female." It came out awkward, and a little choppy.

Oh. Oh no, he thought she was jealous. Jealous of you for dancing with Morgan. Most certainly not. But maybe it would be a little funny to just...see where he takes this. In true Elle fashion she just had to poke a little bit of fun at men.

Taking a deep breath, she couldn't stop the crooked grin that came across her lips and brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes.

"Morgan's not really my type. I do like someone though; it is getting me a little down." Elle shrugged, looking at him innocently just to see if what advice he could even give for this.

"Well, whoever it is, I think you should try. Instead of just sitting here I mean. Sometimes we let our feelings get ahead of our own skills as profilers. Don't forget you can read many people better than themselves. You can think that you've observed each part of someone, and that means they don't like you. Over profiling is a thing you know. Whoever he is, I'm sure you have a pretty decent chance and you're over thinking it." Aaron continued, letting the whiskey talk for him. She chuckled, letting him go on. What was the harm, when could you get more than fifteen words out of Hotch at a time? Plus, it was actually a bit helpful.

What if he was right? What if all those times she thought you were just being friendly, just being 'girl friends' were actually you just letting her know you felt the same or were feeling the same type of fear? What if she was too deep in her own mental prison to really let herself take a chance? Put herself out there and what not.

"Huh." Confidence filled her, as she took a sip from her drink and felt blood rushing through her. Maybe she couldn't ask you out right now. But it was better to do something other than sitting here staring at you like she was getting paid to do it.

"Maybe your right Hotch." He looked up, from fidgeting with his cuff links and tilted his head slightly? What, did he forget what he said already?

He watched her rise up from her seat and stretch. He glanced around the club, his curiosity urging him to look around for who she was intending to approach at this moment. Like clockwork, the two FBI Agents looked at the woman who was laughing with Morgan while they conversed with two random women who were clearly very interested in the two. Slowly the dots connected for Hotch.

"Oh, and Hotch? He's a she."

[cagesofgold]

connie springer headcanons <3

🎵 ivy-frank ocean 🎧

- Connie once a month takes his little sister, Sunny, out on pretend dates to ensure that she knows she should be treated to a good meal and flowers at the door. Connie won’t be letting any little punk date his bundle of joy.

- is actually a decent cook, surprising i know, but he spent a lot of his childhood watching his mother’s careful hands as she crafted various meals, and managed to pick up a lot of things.

- he loves to drive, blasting music, a hand on your thigh and his fav sunnies on, what is there not to like?

- let’s you dye his hair all types of fun colors or some design you saw off of Pinterest. He has good style but he doesn’t take himself serious and doesn’t mind if he has to walk around for two months with smiley faces all over his head. In fact, he loves it. He even let Sunny and Martin draw all over his head like a canvas with hair dye pens, he had unicorns and ninjas embedded in his hair for weeeeeeks.

- his number one priority within dating you, apart from you of course, was to ensure your family liked him. He is extremely family orientated and is most happy when he is surrounded by loved ones. Your family absolutely adored his hilarious self and from there forth he was best friends with your parents.

- wants kids when he’s older, and would be the best girl dad.

- loves movies. He isn’t a guy who would sit and explain the plot of the godfather to you for hours on end but he does insist on decorating your shared apartment with various movie posters. His favorite is “Stand by me”

- would be absolutely heartbroken if you ever watched an episode of a show you were watching together without him. Like genuinely wouldn’t speak to you for a good hour.

-this mf is clingyyyyy, he needs you at all times and has never had the urge to utter the words “i need a little space”, you’re an extension of his personal space, let him stuff his face into your neck in peace.

-loves showering with you, not even in an inherently sexual way, he just adores how intimate it is and the feeling of you gracing his scalp with your nails.

-definitely has tats. In high school he and Jean purchased a tattoo gun and would tattoo people behind the bleachers, but for practice they’d use Connie’s body. Like i said, this mf does NOT take himself seriously and doesn’t care if he has a cartoon dick n balls on his thigh when he’s 80 and sagging.

-is slightly frightened of balloons but pretends he isn’t.

-has two piercings on his ears, his lobes and cartilage.

-absolutely LOVED the barbie movie and was kitted out in full pink. Took you and Sunny to the cinema the night it came out and also paid for dinner after.

- he also took Sunny to a store to pick out a barbie doll.

-english smart, failed every math test he ever took. He still can’t add a fraction…(neither can i)

-loves to press kisses to the side of your face, arms wrapped around your waist and his chest at your shoulder blades.

-will eat cereal at any point, whether it’s morning or not. Would eat it for all three meals.

-despite the fact he can cook and seems to be well adjusted he is unable to survive on his own from the sheer lack of common sense…

-cartwheels when he’s drunk. (and when he’s sober to be honest)

-LOVESSSSS THE CLUB

-doesn’t really get jealous over you, he trusts you and thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, why wouldn’t someone hit on you?

he will however get pouty if he’s literally RIGHT there and the person still hits on you.

-would kill every plant you brought in the house, listen, it’s not his fault he’s got 80 million different thoughts bouncing around his head at all times.

-is more of a dog guy but he wouldn’t argue if you were to get a cat, he loves them too.

-sings everywhere he goes, under his breath waiting in line, in the car, as he cleans, cooks, showers, he never stops, it’s like a continuous string of songs escaping his lips at all times.

-but overall, he’s the best boy friend you could ever have, and he’s already decided he’s spending the rest of his life with you. <3

[inkheartedwanderer]

a tally on the left || s.h.

in which the most embarrassing moment of steve’s life leads him to you.

steve x fem!reader. 

content: tacky leotards, steve in a crop-top, a fitness class. summer of ‘85, instant crush, girly reader (kinda). not very good i’m sorry :( more steve-centric than reader-centric

word count: 4.2k

Steve Harrington never thought the most humiliating moment of his life would come at the hands of two fifteen-year-old girls. Pleading doe eyes, empty promises of never ever bothering him ever again and his own goodwill to blame, he agreed with barely a qualm, just a deep sigh followed by El’s skinny arms around his torso and a less vehement than usual pat on the back from Max.

If he had known what he was really getting into, he wouldn’t have acceded so fast.

It’s times like this, when he’s standing in the middle of the Starcourt Mall parking lot in very short shorts and a fucking crop top -courtesy of a very amused Dustin, and that he’s wearing god knows why-, that he deeply regrets having a soft spot for the kids.

Leaning against his car, hands on his hips and duffle gym bag on the concrete by his feet, Steve waits for El and Max to get out of the vehicle with their backpacks. He’s not exactly sure why Max wants to do this in the first place, it seems precisely like the type of activity she would hate, from the outfits down to the music; but El is very excited, has been since they asked the boy to tag along a few days ago, and has apparently talked Hopper’s ear off about it to a point of near madness.

“Okay,” Steve claps his hands and motions for the girls to get closer, “here’s the plan. We walk in fast, get over with this batshit insane idea of yours, and dip. Clear?”

While El is agreeable and nods, Max rolls her eyes, a smug smile gracing her lips.  Steve raises a questioning eyebrow and she snorts, “I can’t take you seriously while you’re wearing that.” Her eyes travel up and down his body, settling on the dark hair that covers his abdomen. 

It’s remarkably awkward to be ogled by a child. “It was the only clean t-shirt I had left.” Steve tugs at the end of his top, a muted blue monstrosity that he will burn as soon as he gets home, and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers, eyes closed, willing himself to breathe deep and be a supportive friend. Babysitter. Whatever. “Let’s just do this, okay?” 

El squeals with joy and laces her arm through Max’s, the girls leading the way towards the mall in their bright, colourful attires and matching leg warmers. They whisper with each other, heads close, their giggles reaching Steve, who’s a few feet behind thanking whoever was in charge of this whole mess for scheduling it so early that the parking lot is virtually empty.

We need an adult, they’d said, no one else is free. He can pinpoint now, as he replays the conversation in his head, all the times he could’ve said no. But he didn’t, because he’s an idiot (a good friend if he says so himself, but an idiot nonetheless); and now he’s crossing the upper level of Starcourt in the dead of summer, peak season in full swing, about to spend his morning doing aerobics.

The name of the small studio glows in pink neon letters, mocking Steve with the promise of cheesy music and cheesier moves. It’s a modest rectangular space that someone painted in bright coloured stripes, painful to the eyes, with wooden panel flooring and a large window wall facing -much to Steve’s dismay- the inside of the mall. 

A small crowd of mostly middle-aged women is gathered on the left side of the room, all sporting leotards with tacky prints and tights. The only other man in the room is sitting down on a small bench, fastening his shoelaces. He’s very fit, all defined muscles and shiny hair, and seems delighted to be there. 

Max pulls El to the far end of the studio, the designated space for everybody’s bags, and both girls giggle as they stare unabashedly at the others. Steve drops his stuff in the corner and stands next to them, grimacing. “Will you tell me why you really wanted to come here?” He’s beginning to question the girls’ motivations for this early-morning adventure.

El looks at Steve with a mischievous smile and whispers “The inst-” Her face drops and she looks at Max, frustration crossing her eyes, then sighs. “Uhm, the teacher is cute.”

“Instructor.” Max offers her friend, then turns to Steve. “He’s like, the hottest guy ever.”

Steve huffs, ignoring the not-so-hidden dig at him in her words, and crosses his arms. “What about your little boyfriends?” 

“Mike is visiting his nana.” El’s hand fiddles with the yellow scrunchie holding her short hair up. She suddenly looks a little bit sad, her brown eyes clouding, eyebrows pinched together in the middle.

“I dumped Lucas last week.” The redhead shrugs nonchalantly at Steve’s bewildered look. “He forgot our seven-month anniversary. He’ll apologise soon. Meanwhile, we will enjoy the view.” She points towards the door, and Steve turns around.

The teacher can’t be much older than he is. He walks across the room with a powerful stride and too bright of a smile for this time of the morning, greeting the older, most likely regular attendees. His eyes land on the girls as he puts his stuff aside and takes his jacket off.

“Hey, you two,” he’s still beaming, a cheery tilt in his voice that makes Steve cringe, “aren’t you too young to be here?”

“We’re with him.” Max points at Steve, who gives the teacher a tight-lipped smile and a wave of acknowledgement, feeling entirely out of place.

That seemed to be enough for the guy, whose smile grew, showing two rows of perfect white teeth. “Well, alright. Some of the moves may be too intense, so just go at your own pace, alright?”

He claps twice, loudly, and motions for everyone to get into place. Like a well-oiled machine, every person knows their spot. Steve follows the girls to the back of the room, feeling all too exposed, and uncharacteristically nervous. 

At the press of a button, loud, synth-heavy music starts playing from a brand-new shiny set of speakers. It’s exactly the kind of songs Steve was expecting, the ones he loves to scream in the car when no one’s watching, but not the kind he wants to jump and dance to, surrounded by complete strangers and two teenagers who will never let him live it down.

Maybe, he thinks, he can make a run for it and hide somewhere until the class is over. The backroom of Scoops Ahoy, he thinks, is perfect. If only his new co-worker and personal nightmare Robin Buckley weren’t working the morning shift today… she would pay good money, Steve’s sure, to see him right now. Possibly take a picture and send it to the local newspaper. They’ve only been working together for a little over two weeks and she’s made it her mission to keep track (literally, on her whiteboard, the words you lose earning tally after tally) of every single embarrassing moment of his life. She would have a field day with this.

Now, Steve’s always been athletic. He was a great swimmer, regularly winning races and regional championships as a preteen. Then, in high school, he moved on to basketball, and he was the star player until he graduated. He’s fought monsters with nothing but a bat and adrenaline and made it out alive. 

This should be easy, right? Just moving around a little bit. That’s what he thought.

Fifteen minutes later, beads of sweat cover his forehead, light brown strands of hair falling over his eyes. Patches of perspiration stain his shirt, the cotton fabric hot against his clammy skin. To his right, El and Max are definitely going at their own pace, making up their own moves and laughing at each other.

Steve deeply regrets every single decision that’s brought him to this moment.

He doesn’t notice you, at first, too busy trying to follow the steps and not make a fool out of himself. It’s only when the instructor tells the class to grab a mat from the pile at the back of the room and sit down for the flexibility exercises that he finally sees you in his peripheral, to his left.

With your hair tied back in a ponytail that sways behind you every time you move, cascading over your shoulder when you crouch to settle on the floor; you’re a doll dressed in pale lavender and sunshine yellow, soft colours hugging your frame in all the right places as you sit down, legs apart, stretching your body towards your right, towards him. 

Steve has to fight the urge to stare, failing miserably when you raise your head and your eyes lock. You smile, pretty pink lips curling upwards, turning your cheeks into round bright apples. He likes the way your nose scrunches, how you unintentionally try to hide behind your shoulder, shy under his gaze.

He can feel his face grow hotter, fire under his skin, a drum inside his ribcage. You’ve got the kind of face that makes him want to melt, the kind of smile that sends his heart into a frenzy; and he almost misses the small hi that leaves your lips. You blink up at him expectantly and stretch over the opposite leg. 

Steve is frozen in place, knees bent awkwardly, a sweaty, heaving mess. But he reacts, and he hopes you keep on looking at him the same way. “Hey there.” He reaches out to touch the tip of his right foot unsuccessfully, his muscles protesting the pull, and winces.

You’re leaning forward now, your chest almost touching the floor, and your smile widens at his words. “You doing well over there?” 

The boy inhales loudly and nods, a bashful smile across his lips. “I’m not very flexible, apparently.”

A chuckle floats between the two of you. “Here, let me help.” You crawl away from your mat and kneel behind him, placing one small hand on his back and another on his thigh. Your skin is warm as you press your whole body weight against him gently, helping him reach. He would complain about the sharp pain on the back of his legs, but he’s at a loss for words -it has been a long time since he felt the touch of a woman, and what once seemed as natural to him as breathing -chatting up pretty ladies, that is- is now nearly as scary as facing a hungry pack of demodogs ready to pounce at him.

"Hey, what's your name?" You whisper, close, very close to his ear, your breath hot on his nape, igniting his cheeks aflame. How he manages to mumble his answer is a mystery, but he does, and he can hear the smile in your words as you tell him your own name. A pretty one that suits you just right, he thinks.

Steve grunts when you lean back, relief washing over him as he sits up straight. It startles him,  how he immediately misses your body on his body, your warmth on his skin. He wonders if you can see the effect you’ve had on him because you immediately place a gentle hand on his shoulder and ask, “Are you alright?” 

“I- I think I just broke something.” A god, he wishes he doesn’t sound as profoundly mortified as he feels.

“Is this your first time?” Smiling, you sit back down on your mat and bring your tummy down to your knee. Although there’s genuine curiosity in your words, they come out low and raspy and they make Steve blush -again. 

For the first time since the class started, he’s happy to be sweating, thankful for the loud music that conceals the loud thumps of his heart against his eardrums, and he prays that the flush that tints his skin is enough to camouflage his reaction. He swallows the lump in his throat, coughs, and nods. “It might be my last.”

Your giggle makes his breath hitch. "You just have to get used to it. It took me a few weeks." 

Steve could tell since he first saw you you're not new to the class. As if it were muscle memory, your motions seem to flow from one to the next. It's methodical and easy; each movement calculated, almost innate. He forces himself to keep his eyes on yours and to answer with what little voice he finds. "I don't think this is my scene."

“And what is your scene, Steve?” You say his name with a lilt and a chuckle, like you’re hiding a secret and daring him to find it out. And maybe it’s the way you’re looking at him, a little bit shy and a little bit daring, or the strands of hair that have fallen out of your ponytail and now frame your face all pretty. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s too overwhelmed and not thinking straight and you’re the only girl who hasn’t looked at him like he’s a complete loser in too long, but he wants to find out.

The class is nearing its end, the music now softer, and the instructor moves on to stretching. He’s running out of time. It’s now or never. So Steve smiles that smile that used to get him both into and out of trouble, the one that’s soft and warm and a little cheeky and makes his eyes crinkle at the corners; and he rejoices in the way a deep pink blush graces your face this time. 

“Are you hungry?” 

You raise an eyebrow and a wide smile -certainly a little playful, maybe a little smug- stretches across your lips. “Oh, I’m starving! I haven’t had breakfast yet.” You both stand up, mats forgotten on the floor.

That smile and the obvious enthusiasm in your words take Steve by surprise, his brief surge of courage crumbling down like a house of cards. When you get used to rejection, much to his dismay (and he would never admit it), it’s easy to set your expectations low; but your eyes are shining, and all too pretty, and his smirk falters. 

Two loud claps from the front of the room signal the end of the session and a collective sigh of relief makes the corners of your mouth twitch in amusement. The instructor turns off the music, and Steve is sure he would feel ecstatic about the silence, finally, if he weren’t so flustered.

“I- Well, I…”  The boy can feel his brain freeze and turn into mush. He throws a thumb over his shoulder and clears his throat. “Wanna go? Together? For breakfast?” Well done, Harrington, you dingus.

Cursing Robin mentally for how her jabs have begun to seep into his own vocabulary, Steve braces himself for your rejection because why would you want to hang out with such a babbling idiot? 

To his surprise, however, you simply shrug one shoulder and say, “Now?”

Steve blinks once, then twice and, as if in a trance, he finally nods. “Yeah.”

You smile again, this time a wide, pretty smile that lights up your whole face, innocent and sweet. “Sure! Let me go grab my things.” 

As you turn around and head towards the back of the class, a spring in your step and your ponytail bouncing behind you, Steve lets out a deep sigh and rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. He wants to kick himself silly. His plan was to ask you out on a nice date -breakfast at the diner right outside of town, pancakes and coffee; ideally, after a shower, when he’s not sweaty and, he remembers suddenly, wearing the ugliest outfit known to man. 

A cough startles Steve. He turns around to find two sets of eyes fixed on him. Max’s eyebrows are furrowed, but Steve can see the barest hint of an amused smile tugging at her lips. El is giggling, hiding behind her friend’s shoulder, and the boy would buy the coy act if he didn’t know better.

“What?” He says, curtly, tugging at his shirt with a sour face.

“Pretty.” El states, voice soft, stealing glances at you while you stuff a small pink towel into your equally pink bag. 

“I know.” Says Steve, still wary about the girls’ intentions. “I-”

Max, never one to not speak her mind, cuts him off way too loudly for his taste. “Are you taking her out or what?” 

Steve huffs. He plays with the strands of hair that fall flat on his forehead, too damp to stand up in his usual quiff, then gives the redhead a stern look. “You cannot talk to me like that, alright?” The boy points his index finger at the pair of friends. “Not today.”

“You’re still wearing that,” Max says, waving her hand lazily at his outfit, “and I’m still not taking you seriously.”

“Ungrateful children…” Steve complains, throwing his head back with a whine. 

“So, are you taking her out or what?”

“Yes, I am!”

“Then what about us?”

Steve’s head snaps back down and stares at the girls with raised eyebrows.  Unbelievable. “What about you?”

“You said you’d drive us back home.” El giggles, her arm wrapped tightly around Max’s.

The boy’s mouth drops. “But… I can’t.”

“Is everything okay?” Your voice makes Steve turn around with a jump, and Max and El chuckle under their breaths. You’ve put on a soft-looking jacket and your bag rests at your feet, and you look lovely. 

Steve grimaces. “Everything is fine, I just…” 

You raise one eyebrow, eyes jumping from the boy to the two girls who now snicker unabashedly behind him. "I can just go home if you're busy or something-"

"No!" Steve waves his hands frantically in front of your face. "No! I just-" 

Steve is certain his poor neurons have never ever worked this fast -not when Nancy pointed a gun right at his face, not when Billy Hargrove beat his ass-, yet so slow.

It feels like a movie reel in motion in his head, Steve travels the mall mentally to find a place to keep the kids entertained, just for an hour or two.

And just like a revelation, a miracle, an oasis in the desert, the light bulb turns on and he's never been so grateful for his job before.

He smiles. You smile back. Max and El take a step back. "Do you ladies like ice cream?"

                                                             -

The way from the studio on the top floor, down the mechanical stairs and across the food court to Scoops Ahoy takes your little group a dreadfully long time. For Steve, it’s never-ending. He’s not used to feeling self-conscious, quite the opposite, actually, but he’s struggling to cover his midriff with his duffel bag. 

Steve leads the way, rushing towards the stairs, trying to avoid the families and groups of tweens that arrive early, hiding from the scorching late June sun inside the cool shade of the mall.

He sees Lucas Sinclair’s little sister, Erica, sitting on the steps across the big fountain and tries desperately to cover his face with his hand and stepping up the pace. She can be mean, has been mean before -when Robin refused to give her more free samples of cherry ice cream or whenever Lucas walks by, so Steve doesn’t want to risk being seen.

You’re happily chatting with the girls, who are bombarding you with questions about your outfit (from JCPenney) and your bag (Sears), where you live (on the other side of town, near the library), if you attend this class often (every weekend like clockwork). 

It’s almost cute, Steve thinks, how El’s eyes shine with curiosity when you answer, and the genuine smile that has replaced Max’s smirk. Maybe, if his plan doesn’t work, you won’t mind them coming along.

When you finally reach the ice cream parlour, the mall is buzzing with energy. The calmness from earlier this morning has been disturbed by loud voices and laughter, babies crying and kids running around. 

There’s a line already at the counter, and Steve can see his co-worker, Robin, a sullen look on her face, handing a chocolate cone to a young girl. He doesn’t really want to do this, because he’s certain her mockery will be endless.

But when he turns around, you’re standing there, so beautiful even after that workout, happy and patient, and he really, really wants to take you out. You’re looking at him with a smile so big your eyelashes touch.  There they are again, those red apple cheeks of yours. He could just take a bite.

So Steve Harrington swallows his pride, squares his shoulders and takes one step ahead. "Wait here." He tells you. “You two, follow me. And behave. Please.”

El and Max follow him into the shop, ignoring the line and the objections -and threats- of those waiting. 

“No-fucking-way.” Robin Buckley is already bending over laughing when Steve reaches the counter. Her eyes are settled on his top, a hand over her mouth to perfunctorily conceal her amusement. “Is this a dream, Harrington? Please, don’t pinch me. I love it.” 

“Don’t say another word.” He pleads, brown eyes wide and desperate, one finger up in weak command. “I need a favour.”

Robin bites her lips, torn between her need to cackle as loudly as her lungs will allow her, and the pity she feels at how utterly hopeless the boy in front of her looks. She coughs, barely hiding her delight. “I’m all ears.”

“See that girl over there?” Steve turns around, waving discreetly at your figure while you look up at the Scoops Ahoy sign, amused. When Robin, who’s leaning on the counter,  hums, but remains quiet otherwise, he goes on. “I’m taking her out. Like, right now.”

“Wow. You got a date with her wearing that? Right.” Robin takes a step back and grabs a cone from the glass display case by the cash register. She resumes her duties, scooping ice cream for the unhappy customers behind Steve with an even unhappier expression herself. “Comedy is not your forte, dingus.”

Steve rubs his face, sighs deeply and walks behind the counter. “I’m not joking, we’re having breakfast together.” He waves at you when you make eye contact with him, your smile perennial, your eyes bright. His legs are shaking, willing him to run towards you.

“And what’s this favour you need? Do you want me to go with you? Help you not mess up, Stevie boy?” She snorts, and so does Max from her spot, sitting on a boat-shaped booth. 

“Ha-ha, funny, Buckley, really funny. No, I need you to keep an eye on these two.” 

His younger friends smile, all fake innocence and girlish charm.

“You want me to babysit.” Robin deadpans, matter-of-factly.

“No.” Steve grimaces. “I mean, yes, kinda. But this is an emergency. Please?”

Robin looks at him, up and down, once, then twice. The boy can see the gears in her brain turning and plotting, and he knows nothing good will come from it. She stays silent as she grabs two cones and places them neatly on the metal holders, and as she takes two big scoops of chocolate brownie ice cream (Steve’s favourite, he notices with a sour look) and sticks a little plastic spoon on each one.

“What’s in it for me?” She finally says, placing a maraschino cherry on top of one of the scoops and looking at her work with a pleased smile.

“Anything.”

“Okay.” Robin takes the cones and hands them over to Steve, who looks at her, bewildered. “You’ll do the weekend morning shift the rest of the summer. Wait here.”

She walks into the backroom, leaving a perplexed Steve behind, and comes back shortly after holding her Polaroid camera and grinning maliciously. She’s too quick for Steve, the camera flashes before he even has time to react. The white paper rolls out from the front, and she snatches it and starts shaking it eagerly.

In any other circumstance, he would fight for that picture, he would tear it to pieces and burn them so nobody could ever see the Steve Harrington wearing a sweaty, ugly blue top.

But this is the nicest Robin’s ever been to him, the first time she’s agreed to help him without complaining, and Steve is not going to wait for her to start, so he shakes his head, still puzzled, and slowly walks back towards the door. 

“The rest of the summer, Harrington!” Her voice travels across the store.

Getting up early every day for the next two months to work at an overrated ice cream parlour is almost as bad as getting up early on a Saturday to take two teenagers to an aerobics class. But your face lights up when you see the ice cream, and you thank him earnestly when he gives you the one with the bright red cherry on top that matches your cheeks.

Even though he knows she doesn’t like him, and even though he’s still not sure he likes her that much either, Steve turns around and gives his co-worker a thumbs up in gratitude. He smiles when he sees her take out her blackboard and draw a thin, black tally on the left.

                                                  🌷 🌷 🌷

a/n: i’m baaaaaaaaack. this is probably one of my worst stories (i like my original idea, but i’ll admit i wasn’t sure where to go with it) but i am a bit rusty and need to fall back into it.

i’ve missed writing so much, but i needed to get out of the house really badly. i hope you don’t hate this one. as always, likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. much love!

[angelofchaos001]

Meet Shale!

Okay I made a proper introductory post for Shale! (Schist will come once I figure out their design) I'll make them a separate post for all the dialogue I came up with.

some spoilers for the game but not a lot, also tagging time: @doodlebug091 @mellow-mooon @sawyer-is-eepy @a-crawling-chaos (Just poking at my followers/moots who I know like Outer Wilds)

Alright! Let's start the bidding at this beauty of a reference. I know it's got some messy colors and no I don't know which layer the two random dots are on to erase them, but I'm proud because I drew this without needing to reference someone else's posing art. I just used my own arms and legs to figure it out and winged it and it looks like a person. I'm proud.

While we're on the topic, I might as well discuss my thought process for their design. This is Shale when they're not busy exploring dangerous ice asteroids. I tried to make the design look comfortable, and that's the main thought behind it. Shale likes scarves. They like fingerless gloves. They like baggier shorts. They despise long pants. They don't like wearing bright colors. They like grays and browns. It's Shale in their peak of comfort.

And then we've got this one! Also done without a pose reference. I actually did draw a whole spacesuit originally, but then covered it up with that big coat they're wearing. Anyway, Shale's suit is designed to be bulky, thick, insulted, everything they'd need to explore space properly. But to add onto that, they brought the scarf and coat for extra warmth on the Interloper. A lot of their patchwork fixes were done by them on the fly, and they even made their viola case all on their own. Shale uses yellow as their bright coloration because they hate the color orange. They have a ton of rope, ice picks, and grippy boots because they knew they were going to an ice place. And that antennae on their helmet is meant to pick up distant signals, so far it has not picked up anything new.

Now it's time for what nobody came here for, the infodump about their history and personality!

Shale developed a fascination with space at a very young age. Extremely young. All it took was young Shale getting one look through a telescope to become completely obsessed with the idea that they, someday, would join the well-known travelers out there and do something legendary. Sometimes, when things lined up right, Shale got to opportunity to talk to the travelers over radio. They loved hearing stories of Feldspar's glory and dreamed to be immortalized like they were.

Once they were allowed to join Outer Wilds Ventures and start learning how to be an astronaut, Shale wasted no time being both a delight to teach and an absolute headache to watch over. Whenever they weren't learning or doing their part in the village (Shale helped keep the observatory clean), they were working on their own little project. With some help from Slate, they attempted to make a jetpack just like the spacesuits had. They got precisely two attempts at this before they were shut down, but the first attempt went off mostly fine. Despite the device not working, Shale landed mostly safely in the water and their only injuries were some scrapes and a sprained ankle.

Shale never stopped writing new ideas, but didn't physically attempt any more jetpacks for a while. Instead, they focused on studying and getting closer to the other trainees they were learning alongside. They did grow close to the protagonist, and another recruit named Tin, though weren't able to click as well with the slightly older hearthians, Schist and Bismuth. Most of their time was still spent with their mentors, but whenever hatchling wasn't working with Hal on the translator, Shale liked to be around them.

When they were a little older and nearing the end of their training, Shale made their second attempt at the jetpack, and came out with a promising result. However, this attempt went far poorer than the previous one. For one, they moved the attempt location to avoid being caught by anyone, sneaking away to some of the further-out geysers with Tin (in case something impossibly went wrong). They even snuck a spacesuit (yoinked from the Zero-G cave), since their plan was to launch from a geyser and leave the planet, just for a moment (They didn't take the jetpack there because the entire point here was testing theirs).

The plan went smoothly, with Shale indeed getting launched from the geyser and coming close to leaving the orbit of the planet, except for the part where their jetpack failed. Catastrophically. It actually exploded on their back, pretty much destroying the "borrowed" suit, but more critically, burning Shale badly. Luckily, they had brought someone else with them, so Tin was able to (try and) catch them so the fall wouldn't kill 'em and then get help for them.

Shale got taken to be medically treated, and everyone agrees they're incredibly lucky to have survived as well as they did. In spite of the massive burns, the suit protected them from the worst of it and it was really only their back that got hurt severely. While the smaller burns along their neck and arms healed fine, much of their back burns scarred and took a lot of time and effort to heal.

So. Obviously Shale got in massive trouble.

Such trouble that not only did they move their launch date back (both for recovery reasons and punishment reasons) significantly, but the others considered forcing Shale out of the space program. In the end, Shale was allowed to stay a recruit as long as they 1) Did not try that again 2) Agreed not to sneak around again 3) Helped repair the suit they'd broken and 4) Spent some time after healing not being in the program (think getting suspended). While in this suspension period, Shale got to watch Schist launch off, still fantasizing about that being them.

Shortly after Schist was Bismuth, and as Shale's own launch date approached they were eager. Tin launched a few days before their own, and so Shale spent a lot of time reassuring them that it'd be fine and they'd do great things. Eventually, it was finally Shale's turn. After camping with Slate (and having an amazing conversation about 'Why did you do the stupid thing' - 'Why did you let me do the stupid thing'), they set off for their ambition: The Interloper. They were determined to find out where it came from.

This ambition proved harder than they'd thought, but it didn't deter Shale from their goal. They became an avid studier of ghost matter by extension of their Interloper studies, and theorized a lot about what happened to the core of the asteroid and it's origins. They also spent some time studying how to make ships designed for deep space, hoping that the frozen Nomai ship they found on the asteroid could hold the answer for that.

Some time later, Tin sent everyone frantic radio messages to come back to Timber Hearth and that they'd discovered something new. Tin desperately tried to explain how they'd found a new hidden spinning disk thing, but as time passed with Tin being unable to provide real evidence, Hearthians began dismissing their claims. Shale was one of the last to give up on Tin's ideas, but eventually waved them off as mad like everyone else. They feel bad for Tin and their situation, but don't disagree with their grounding and truly believe their friend went a little crazy.

After that, some time passed, and then we hit the events of the game. They did radio Hatchling plenty of reassuring words before their launch, though!

[sleepysuburb]

chinnery, pauline, bernice and mrs levinson 😩

these feel TARGETED

under the cut because i have a lot of hcs and they might get long

chinnery

he'd love a pet of his own more than anything, but can't have one for obvious reasons. instead he has a bunch of those little animatronic toy animals with touch sensors, so he can pet them to decompress after work.

once he starts drinking he finds it extremely difficult to stop. more than once he's gone for a half pint to take the edge off and wound up blackout drunk and sobbing. at this point barbara's fairly used to him being in floods of tears in the back of her cab.

he smells like disinfectant, silage and wet wool. it's not unpleasant, just musty and weird.

he's hopeless with dating. yes, he's tried it - but as soon as someone finds out he's THAT vet, they make an excuse to leave and never talk to him again. even attachments wouldn't help him and to this day he's devastated they put 'not at all kind to animals' on his profile without even asking him.

pauline

he can't sleep without his nature soundscape cassette. either it's birdsong and rainfall, or a sleepless night.

bernice

she's an astrology freak and treats herself to a trash mag every few days, mostly so she can check her horoscope.

she's rarely sick, so when she is she makes it a whole event. constant complaining, duvet on the couch, game shows, cartoons and bargain hunt on the TV all day... whoever's there looking after her has to make her chicken noodle soup - and feed it to her - and keep her topped up with lucozade, otherwise they're "ruining it".

tells people she drinks black coffee, but she actually loads it up with mental amounts of cream, sugar and syrup.

she has hoarding tendencies. it's a constant battle to keep her space clean and tidy, because she has a habit of trawling charity shops and grabbing any bric-a-brac, clothes, books or soft toys she takes a liking to. no, she's not getting rid of her garfield plush collection, she's imprinted on them all and it would be like chucking out family.

her eyesight is horrible and she's blind as a bat without her glasses. one time in prison she got into a fight and broke them, and requested to be sent to solitary until they were fixed so she wouldn't have to worry about fumbling her way around.

her favourite pen is the one mickey gave her at the end of his restart course. that's what she'll say if you ask her in front of him, but her actual favourite pen is a metallic pink gel pen she never uses to keep it in pristine condition.

under her clothes she's absolutely covered with tattoos, all blue linework and traditional designs (mermaids, anchors, stars, angels and devils...)

mrs levinson

she has a massive unlicensed weapon collection, but being the vicar, everyone turns a blind eye.

she hates christmas, but her favourite holiday is halloween; she likes drenching herself in fake blood and revving a real chainsaw at trick or treaters to scare them away, and then steals the sweets they end up dropping.

the communion wine hasn't been wine for ages, but somehow nobody's noticed she swapped it for vodka with red dye in it yet.

despite everything she loves her job because she enjoys hearing everyone's business. it gives her a huge amount of power to know the intimate details of everyone's life, who's shagging who, who's got crippling depression, who's stealing from work... she could ruin everyone's lives in an instant, but she likes to bide her time until someone really pisses her off.

she's a bottle blonde. for years she had mousy brown hair and hated it, thinking it made her look plain and dull. pretty soon after she bleached it, iris bleached hers too in competition, so now it's a constant battle to see who can maintain it the best.

she's cycled through lots of self-employed jobs to try and find purpose after eddie's death - counselling, making her own jewellery, countless pyramid schemes, the massage parlour. none have worked out.

she does some "romance" (read: dirty) writing in her free time under a pen name, and it gives her a real ego boost to go out in royston vasey and hear people discussing her books without knowing she's sitting right there.

any 'designer' clothing or bags she bought after eddie's death are likely cheap fakes. nobody except her would ever know, but she does sometimes get paranoid that someone's going to see the wonky coach logo on her handbag and call her out for it.

she has hookups occasionally, with both men and women, if the loneliness gets too much for her. her sexuality is complicated and she doesn't want to label herself, but as time goes on she's finding herself favouring women more and more.

[sapphire-weapon]

About Leons undone laundry and empty whiskey bottles, I'd actually love for you to break it down and hear more headcanons about how his mental health physically manifests. I don't think it gets Depression Room bad (because he moves around so much for work... does this boy even HAVE a permanent address?). Other than the whole furlough thing, which is the first time OG really considered how awful he's doing. What did his private life look like during that debacle? But he's for sure messy when he's comfortable alone. And I actually adore that human aspect headcanon. 😅 Messy, reworn clothes? For sure. I think he treasures his leather jackets though! Because they're something that he can actually OWN. He has to change into work appropriate clothes practically all of the time, but the jackets? All him. Always clean and in mint condition.

I've sort of been under the impression that Leon is one of those guys who technically only "works" a few months out of the year -- and I say that because of the way his skills seem to be used/the way he gets "deployed."

Infinite Darkness was what really solidified that for me, because like -- if there was any piece of RE media that was going to show Leon actually having a physical office, it was going to be ID. He doesn't have that, but he does seem to need to be within arm's length of the White House at any given moment. So, I'm sure that he owns a house that's within 10-15 minutes driving distance from the WH -- but I also think that the inside of it is kind of unsettling and bizarre LOL

Like, Leon definitely makes six figures, but he gets free health insurance through the government, he's never been married, doesn't have kids, and hasn't had a serious girlfriend since high school, probably. He has so much money and nothing to spend it on. So, the interior of his house is bougie as fuck

but

it looks like he's squatting in it.

Like, someone is definitely living in this house, as evidenced by the fact that there's dishes in the sink to be washed, and there's a jacket or two hung up beside the front door, and the cushions on the couch are slightly out of place, and there's a random hoodie draped over one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and things like that. But the decor is so completely depersonalized that there's absolutely no hint of who this person could possibly be. There are no photos on the walls, nothing stuck to the fridge, no actual art pieces to speak of. His house looks like it was lifted right out of a homestyle magazine, and he's just living in between the pages of it.

I think the only reason why his house doesn't get Depression Room bad is because he never goes anywhere and lives a mostly minimalist lifestyle. His interior design is on point, but he doesn't own a whole lot to make a mess with in the first place, and he never finds himself in any position to amass random things here and there to just be tossed aside and forgotten about. The walk-in closet in his bedroom is a fucking mess, but that's a mess he keeps contained to just the closet.

But I'm sure he's taken girls back to his place and their reactions have been: "... Are you sure you live here? Are you sure anyone lives here?" Because his house feels like a liminal space -- because, in some ways, that's what it is.

So, I think Leon's depression mostly manifests as him forgetting that he hasn't actually left his house in a week because he has a home gym -- so where else would he even go? He gets stuck on Netflix binges and weird documentary rabbit holes and suddenly he realizes he hasn't actually used his voice in like three days.

He has to go out of his way to physically remind himself to leave the house and go interact with other humans -- and once he does that, he starts to see how bad he let the depression get for a period of time. Fandom disagrees with me despite the fact that I'm objectively right, but Leon is extroverted in nature; being around other people makes him feel better. But his job/lifestyle forces him into a state of isolation, so it's easy for him to forget that.

[writingsbychlo]

Hi!!! So ummm, in a modern au, what do you think each of the batboys would do for living?

hope you are ok<3

i am okay thank u <3

i ended up writing way more than i intended lol so i put it below the cut. this seriously made me want to write some modern!au stuff for them

rhys is a ceo of a company he inherited from his father. he’s spent years trying to make it clean and honest because when he got it there was so much bad politics and hate surrounding his company. his family were not popular at all. rich, but hated. he introduced fair wages, longer maternity leave, clean energy, charity galas, a lot of stuff. he’s now very popular about about 8 times richer because of it. a good sum of that money comes from interviews (where he says things like “I didn’t make improvements for the money, I did it because it’s right. the money doesn’t hurt though, now I can spoil my wife even more.”) and also brand deals because he’s hot and companies like to advertise through him. he gets a lot of fancy watches and custom suits.

azriel worked for rhys’ dad doing shady shit before he died and rhys inherited the company. when they were 13, at a sleepover, rhys dared az to try and hack his fathers company. he did. but he was caught. instead of reporting it rhys’ dad promised not to tell the cops if az signed a contract to work for him when he was 16. poor baby az did it because he didn’t want to get in trouble. the literal day after az’s 16th birthday he cashed that in and had az start hacking for him. which turned into ‘spying’ on business partners and reporting back what they’re doing and who they talk to online. which turned into paying them vaguely threatening visits when azriel had a growth spurt to 6ft5 and broad af at 17. by 18 azriel had definitely been forced to do some illegal shit way worse than hacking but couldn’t get out. he’d practically signed his life over. when rhys inherited the company at the ripe young age of 21, he made azriel watch as every single copy of that contract was shredded. then they took the shredder out into the garden and burned the whole pile of pieces. azriel cried. azriel also decided if he hadn’t had to drop straight out of highschool to work for rhys’ dad he’d have wanted to go to college. he wants to take law now, so nobody has to go through what he did and get stuck. rhys offers to pay for a top university for him. az refuses, he took online night classes for three years while working a low level job at rhys’ firm. he’s now a ‘private investigator’ for rhys and a ‘bounty hunter’ on the side. because sue him, he kinda likes scaring the bad guys, he just never likes hurting the good ones.

cassian owns a boxing gym funded by rhys. he didn’t know it was funded by rhys for a long time. he had ALWAYS had the dream, all through high school he always knew what he wanted to do and he told az and rhys constantly. it teaches self-defence and cool courses like sword fighting and archery and has kids clubs for martial arts at school times. it has women only evenings, it has a teens only evening, cassian always wanted everyone to have a safe space. he’d described it perfectly, and rhys had found him the perfect building for it. and bought the building. and had someone pretend to be a landlord to give him a really low rent agreement. and then also paid if cassian’s designers and decorators to give him low rates. and then bought him a whole load of equipment and said “i found a wholesaler. no you can’t see their website they don’t have one, it’s a CEO to CEO thing.” cassian only found out when visiting az at work one day and seeing all the legally documents in a “cassian” file in azriel’s usually locked desk drawer. rhys has az do the legal work for it. cassian was MAD at rhys. but also touched. but MAD. they had a big argument and he promised to pay rhys back, rhys refused to accept any of it. they argued some more. it ended with cassian getting rhys to increase the monthly rent he pays back and with rhys crying a little bit and clinging to cassian and saying “why can’t you just let me give you things? it’s not like I can’t afford it!”

side note; cassian says ‘I don’t see you forcing azriel to accept expensive gifts!’ to which azriel growls and says ‘he bought my apartment. building. because I said I thought rent was too steep for me back when I was working down a couple floors and going to college too, he refuses to let me pay him proper rent now.’

[kinocomix]

devlog 17: things my therapist told me

the script for TSTW is still coming along. the first couple of scenes are the most sensitive ones because they effectively have to hook the reader when little has happened in the story, so I can confidently say that those 8 scenes have been polished enough that I don’t have to worry about them anymore. Now, the main plot begins.

here’s the soundtrack for the rest of this devlog: 

I don’t think there could ever be a fully professional way to talk about the things that heavily affected you as a kid. As an adult, I had to wrestle with the fact that there’s never really a good time to talk about feelings and be happy. There’s always someone in the world suffering more than you, someone dying and something terrible happening to the children of a country being genocided by zionism (free palestine).

Today I’m going to talk about the themes at play in “The criminal mastermind’s pocket diary”, the project I’m working on while writing the script for my other comic, which is coming along well. While a lot of what I’m going to talk about will pale in comparison to the suffering of others in the world, I find it valuable to remember that in order to fight the dragons that plague the world we must confront and quell the evil within each and every one of us.

With that in mind, one thing I haven’t mentioned about the central point of killouette is that in more than one way, her experience is very much my own. Growing up in Beyrouth it seemed like there was one of three options: you’re either born with money in which case your safety can be bought via being in safer areas and schools, or you’re in a middle/lower class area where you’re stuck with the other two choices. One is to pass the time on the street and acquire the culture thereof, the other is to be an indoor kid. My parents, who had good intentions, decided that the best course of action to not have me become a thug was to never let me leave the house except to go to school or family outings. Combine that with a poor financial situation and a tiny house, it meant that growing up I didn’t have the internet, and could rarely take up the space required to do activities. Doing something as simple as reading a book was complicated because most of our books were stored in the sofas which were designed to maximize what we could do in our tiny house. It doesn’t end there, you see my mother has always been a clean freak, so she valued tidiness over most other things. Now imagine all that for a second. An understimulated child, often told they’re “gifted” who could never explore the world or do many things inside either. you can see how that’s a recipe for someone with the personality of a blank sheet of printer paper.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. I still had some fun because I, in addition to being cursed with the gifted label, had an overactive imagination. So the underside of beds became forts, and broken appliances became experiments. The few friends I had at school became a window into the outside… I eventually became a normal human being but there’s something about that entire period in my life that made me feel very bitter towards my parents. Why were you throwing your anxieties onto me? Why couldn’t I just join the scouts? Why couldn’t I stay over at a friend’s house for longer than two hours? Looking back at all of that having gone to therapy I’m thankful for it. I don’t think I would have fallen madly in love with the craft of comics had it not been for me overcompensating for all those missed years. Part of me really wants to heal that inner kid in my head who still wishes for some adventure though. That’s killouette.

Killouette’s parents are much like mine. Not evil, just a little overprotective. Projecting just enough that it’ll seep into killouette’s behavior as an adult. But now, as a kid, I’m giving her something that I wished I had when I was a child: privacy and space. Killouette has her own room and her parents don’t feel the need to constantly police her as long as she’s in there. That might not seem like much, but I think that would be enough for a smart kid to do some pretty amazing things.

you may have also noticed that Killouette doesn’t have any noteworthy character flaws, and it should be obvious at this point that the goal of me making this is in part to empower her. With that being said I am fully aware that while my experience is relatively common, it’s far from universal. This is why the cast is so varied: each child represents to some extent a different way of growing up. I can’t do them all sadly, but I think the grounds will be covered pretty well with what we have. 

there’s also other kids to consider, so I have some things I want to explore with them as well. I don’t want to spoil too much but here’s a quick fire round: Talbas has anger issues because of neglect and video games. bata has well meaning parents but the constant taunting and threats of being sent to far away places cause anxiety in the way she acts. motsik has the most ass, dogshit parents. 0/10 not having a good time. abuse central, destination anywhere else. falefil is spoiled and his parents haven’t taught him certain things about respect and money. that tends to influence his behavior. zmik is the closest to killouette, except he is a version of her closer to me allowed to leave the house. he’s included in the cast partially as a way for me to extent empathy to a younger me, but also for anyone who might be going through something similar to what i did as a kid. lastly there’s claude. claude is for all intents and purposes, if we were to put her in a realistic framework, some weird mish mash of immigrant and orphan child genius. i imagine claude would experience some alienation from some people, but i’m not worried about the story getting sidetracked since her friends have her back and the adults in the story are losers anyways.

On a more general note, I’ve been noticing how my approach to writing has been evolving to suit whatever project I'm currently working on. It was weird at first cause I thought a writing technique is something that you’re just stuck with. With prior comics for example the main concern was always “how do I portray what’s happening in the most raw way possible” whereas with TSTW it’s more “let’s try to be more efficient with the framing of the ideas, as long as it feels right”. With Killouette, it’s not about showing things in the most realistic way possible because if that was the case, for starters this amount of genius kids would not be two buildings apart in some suburb in beyrouth and killouette would not be able to hide the amount of things she does. but that’s not the point. a bunch of what happens in the story could happen with real kids in real life, and the point of the book is to capture a young sense of ambition and wonder. the type of mischief that leaves you laughing and being impressed  instead of wondering what’s happening in the world. I’m not here to tell you about kids committing actual awful actions, I'm here to show you kids having a good time despite it all. that nothing can stop life and the desire for it. 

If the kids of Palestine can still find it in them to laugh and have fun, the least I can do is have some imaginary abused kids triumph over their circumstances.

next week, we’ll be improvising some doodads and seeing how we can recycle previous unused work.

devlog updates on Tuesdays.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

five good things

Seeing as I've been at this for ten years and I haven't done one for a little while...

I am so enjoying pinging back and forth with the lovely @mihrsuri on in-universe historical nerdery in her Tudors OT3-'verse! This sort of meta self-referentiality brings me so much joy and I'm so enjoying playing! <3333333

I have the week after next off work for my birthday and oh I cannot wait. Work hasn't been nearly as draining since I got myself onto HRT, but I'm still tired and in need of a break.

What else OH YEAH WE HAVE A NEW CAR :D :D :D the little Vauxhall failed his MOT for the first time in 12 years in early January and we'd already had to have quite a bit of work done on him, and then the missus' friend was selling an Audi TT for a very sensible price and I've always fancied a TT, and after a certain amount of identity-crisising because I have always been very economical and couldn't quite get my head round the idea of being allowed to do something frivolous, well...I now own an Audi TT. XD It's the nicest car, although it's five years older than the Vauxhall it's in fantastic condition and so much nicer and omg I love it. And the little fella has gone to my friend who had been without a car for 18 months and borrowing and hiring because second-hand prices in London where she lives had gone through the roof because of the ULEZ scrappage scheme, so...win win win all round. :D

The @bi-widower-dads February fic recs are out (here and here) and some kind soul recommended love remains - thank you SO MUCH! <3333333 I've been feeling a bit discouraged lately but between that and some lovely comments on my fics and a lovely message from @seagull-energy and collaborating with @mihrsuri I am feeling rather better :)

There are hundreds of pink blossoms on one of my peach trees (the other one only has buds on it but this one is in full bloom - bit weird, they usually flower at the same time, but the slow one is more shaded than the other so who knows) and it is absolutely gladdening to see.

I have discovered that John Lewis stocks Lumene so I have been ordering myself some lovely Finnish skincare - Lumene stopped shipping to the UK for a while (thank you so much Brexiters ugh) but they seem to have started up again now; but JL has been having some good offers lately so I've been taking full and shameless advantage. Also now apparently I am middle-aged and middle-class enough to have a John Lewis account XDDDDDD

We are in the throes of having a new boiler fitted (the guys are here right this minute), after ours finally gave up the ghost at the end of January. We've been getting by on the immersion heater for hot water and electric heaters for warmth and mostly the weather has been fairly mild so it hasn't been too bad, but omg I am so looking forward to having a working (and more economical) boiler you guys. Also our plumber is hopefully going to sort the bathrooms out for us later in the year and omg I've wanted that for YEARS (it sounds grander than it is, we have a tiny house, just we have a bathroom, an en-suite with a shower in it, and a downstairs loo), they're such shoddy quality thank you developers who built our house and so hard to clean because they're all hard-to-reach corners and dust-gathering ledges and ridges, definitely designed by someone who'd never done a day's cleaning in his life...so we're going to redesign them and hopefully get a bit more space and stuff that's easy to clean and clean around, I cannot WAIT.

I've been doing 'five good things' for just over ten years, I can't quite believe it. It hasn't caught on yet, but there's still time!

[conkniving]

banner resource. banner edited by @thvnderr

tw: drug abuse, murder/death mention, child neglect

i. the lovers' mask

a tale called the moon's anguish that has circulated anchorage for the past several decades has prompted some young lovers to exchange masks as a promise of devotion. what design would your muse theoretically think fits them?

fallon encompasses the phrase "blind in love" partially because she never knows until it's too late that she had been in love, and partially because she can't see any way out of it. for the better or worse. a perfect depiction of that would be a venetian mask without eyelets. stark white, littered with scratch writing over the entire face of it, containing pop culture quotes and quotes from the person in question — all to guide fallon in her sightlessness.

some might consider them leading a double life if they knew about...

stating something about the bastards is too easy an answer. it's nearly a given, though no one would dare publicly question fallon about her affiliation if they didn't fear immediate retaliation as they should. rather, a double life could be said about the covert addict life. it's easy to hide behind the booze and the pot as just facets of her lifestyle, a cigarette always to adorn the lips. but behind the backs of those she loves the most, tucked in dark corners and walking lonely streets, there's the surreptitious use of coke. and the desire for something more. stronger. intravenous...

what would be their own deal breaker in a relationship? would they die for love or kill for money?

betrayal. most can be forgiven but to stab fallon in the back after she trusted she could bare the vulnerable side of herself is to ensure a swift end to any relationship. and it won't be clean either. but if one were to be lucky enough to get beneath the armour, to touch the flesh and its weaknesses, she would certainly die for love. that's not to say she wouldn't kill for money, either.

they only have enough change for one call at the phonebooth, and someone with glaring red eyes and a spatula is standing across the street. who will they call?

stella, clarifying she only has a couple minutes to pull up before fallon takes care of this herself. or truthfully: sarai. just to let someone with medical expertise know where she is — whether it means fallon's the one who winds up injured or the creep is unclear.

ii. the zeitgeist of the 90's

their favourite slasher film is...

the slumber party massacre series. in general, fallon likes any slasher or horror film — the more b-rated, the better. satisfying her penchant for trashy media, the series is the sort that she can throw on her tv and let play in the background softly as if it's any other vinyl record to another.

in their free time, they enjoy going out and...

thrifting. it's not like fallon has a lot of cash to throw on on non-essentials: rent, food for her and cerberus, the gang, and her drugs. sweet thing grunge looks good second-hand, and she has an amateur hand at repairing an article to her standards. there's a balance of looking dirty and actually being dirty, the latter of which she despises. thrifting at consignment stores is a random activity that might draw the eye of those perplexed to discover her sifting through the racks, and then it starts to make sense. big headphones crowning her head and shielding her ears, a couple hangers draped over a shoulder while she inspects the cargo pants she knows she can dye black in her tub to fit the aesthetic; and if she only happens to find a shirt or belt she likes, it's easy to slip it on as part of the outfit and no one is the wiser.

a fashion fad of the times they adore that their friends would despise is...

the spiky space buns hairstyle. even a singular bun, as long as it's got straightened ends that jut out as if they're truly sharp, fallon will wear them despite the fact it's not exactly "hard" of her to do so.

how often do they order delivery from peppy's pizzeria? have they ever seen the walls ooze green slime in the pizzeria or the animatronics move on their own during their time in anchorage?

often. fallon doesn't like to cook unless it's easy and there's not enough in the budget to splurge on something more than dehydrated packets of ramen. peppy's subpar pizza is perfect as part of a hangover remedy or a pick-me-up after a long day that's become day. and due to those occurrences that often warp reality ( and not to mention the years of drug use ) fallon has caught movement in the peripheries that she chalks up to her own psychosis and paranoia playing tricks on her.

when they believed in christmas, were they told krampus would pay them a visit for being on the naughty list?

christmas wasn't a fixture in fallon's household even after they moved stateside. the whole knowledge of krampus came from fallon's own delve into folklore in high school, satiating that need for the dark and gritty, and was the whole inspiration for her own snowman she entered into the contest simply because she thought it would be funny to include something grotesque among the adorable entries. what she does believe in? karma. and it certainly divined exaction on her for that act since the krampus snowman had been "stolen" and implicated with the new year's atrocities. in a way... did krampus pay a visit for fallon's naughtiness?

what tall tale or superstition were they told as a child that still gives them the heebie jeebies?

when fallon first heard about w*ndigos. something about cannibalistic fiends morphed of humans prowling in the wilderness all across the world frightened her terribly as a child. even now, when she looks out into the woods from the motel, she can envision a twisted creature staring back, hopeful to devour her heart.

iii. the curse of the spider

are there family secrets or so-called curses that haunt them? ones that are known publicly or follow them figuratively?

until recently, fallon never spared another thought about her parents since she had moved out more than a decade ago. not as though they ever attempted to contact her either. which was fine, but perhaps she would have hoped they cared enough to tell her that the debts they left unpaid for so long had begun to catch up to her. haunting her now, both in the relationship it destroyed and the paranoia that she were to be snatched up at any moment, is the price of her head for her father's sins.

which of the seven sins would corrupt their morals?

wrath. that blind fury. it could turn her against every virtue she holds dear, the very people she would never want to lay a hand on. it wouldn't let go until she blinking back to awareness and she's left with the aftermath of her own possession.

the world remains the same for decades now. is ignorance bliss? or is there the shaky sense something is amiss that can't be ignored?

ignorance is bliss. fallon doesn't care ( or doesn't even realize ) that the world doesn't appear to have changed in an abnormally long period of time.

dreams are often influenced by the subconscious and sometimes distorted. in their deepest, darkest nightmares, how do they view themselves?

like a kicked dog. that she will never amount to anything more. that her time will come and pass, and no one will have noticed. utterly forgettable. unlovable.

iv. the crooked frame

what is their death wish? the perfect crime was constructed and someone else took their place. how did they originally die?

fallon is largely unaware of her own imposter. and she hopes that when her due is ready to be collected, that it goes swiftly. a bullet to the back of the head. dead before she hits the ground. originally? she had already been her parents' collateral once. a test subject sold off to wipe the slate clean and rid themselves of a burden. only, she came back... and different. wrong.

the muse couldn't be the one behind the tunnel of love outage because when the power went out, they were...

fucking stuck in there. the bruises on her waist indicate the fervor in which she escaped the metal confines of the ride trying to bar her there.

what would they consider their calling card?

haphazard drawing of a spiky, feral rat. in the dirt. in graffiti. in blood.

those with intermediate technical skills have used cracks and vpn's to improve the internet connection, but anything post-dating the 1990's is only accessible through the dark web. has the muse ever accessed the dark web? have they used it for any nefarious means or to purchase services?

fallon has never personally accessed it with her complete lack of technical skill. but she does have contacts, and therefore, been able to use the dark web for personal and work purposes. some jobs have been completed in order for some quick cash to supply the bastards, and she has been able to stock up on paraphernalia through these means.

[soraldiguess]

Back when I used twitter before I migrated here like a month ago. Someone posted this scenario, if not this image, and I unironically would block anyone that said they didn’t bring back the cart (unless they had a really good reason). This was before NFTs were an easy spotter to block someone btw. That said one thing that I might have learnt from that thread, do American’s not have Trolley Bays? Like the carpark has spots in it that are designed for Trolleys where the trolley person picks them up from. The other thing that horrified me from that thread was, do American supermarkets not have someone who’s sole role is to pick up trolleys? Because I saw a lot of “yeah leave the trolleys out, cause it gives me a break from checkouts” and like there is so much wrong there. I have done a trolley shift at my retail job twice and firstly there is so much work already there to make it its own thing, and secondly, this is with the inclusion of the trolley bays. And like I have seen images of Walmart parking lots, where I worked is a fraction of the size. And in my case, if you didn’t put a trolley in a bay, massive dickhead behaviour. Not only would it take up space to park, but like it is adding unessarary work, the same kind of stuff that like someone leaving their rubbish in store with the intent of “it’s their job to clean that up” it actually isn’t. I have like 5 roles when I am doing instore stuff that I am never short on, please don’t litter and please don’t leave your trolley there. But if America is as bad as what I have gotten the impression of, then I will say there is at least some excuse (still hate you if you use the, it’s their job excuse thing, because clearly it isn’t). As an Aussie though, there is bays all around, you are just a wanker if you don’t put your trolley in one.