#does anybody know what to expect of workshops

[encryptedlunacy]

In order to have fun things like Life Experiences and Hobbies you have to stop avoiding people and go and socialise oh nooo

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

Recovered Footage [1]

-The video begins on an empty stage platform set up in a gymnasium, with seemingly young students chattering in the background. Behind the stage is a large white curtain in place of a projection screen. Within a few seconds, a young-looking woman walks up onto the stage, shaking hands with the Sign Interpreter as she passed him. She’s dressed professionally, in a sweater and dress pants under a white lab coat with a pink-and-purple Relic Featherfly pin on her pocket. The cuffs of her pants are rolled up to her knees to accommodate wolf-like legs and paws, and she has a wolf’s tail flicking slightly under the folds of the coat. She adjusts a small microphone clipped on her sweater as she reaches the center of the stage. She lifts her hands, calling between them-

“Good morning, kids!”

-The chatter quickly ceases, though at least half of the students shout ‘Good morning’ back. She chuckles and rests her hands on her hips-

“And a good morning it is! My name is Juno Lystebrack; I’m a pediatrician, which means I’m a doctor that specializes in working with kids like you. I’ll be your speaker for today’s Fae Anatomy presentation. I want to start by thanking all of you who signed up for our little workshop; a lot of the stuff my colleagues and I cover over the next week is pretty important stuff relating to a lot of you and your cultures. And even if you’re completely human, and it never relates to you at all, we’re grateful to have you. A lot of this won’t be expected knowledge until you’re in middle school at least, but we’re firm believers in making sure it’s accessible to you as early as possible.”

-She pulls a remote out of her pocket, a projection appears on the curtain behind her, and the slide advances to a simple list. She paces slowly back and forth along the length of the stage as she speaks-

“Right, down to business. We’re going to start this presentation by talking about a group that could include any one of you: Hexalians. As some of you may already know, we get our power from our Goddess, Hexalia, through her ‘Gift’. It’s a unique set of magical skills along with a handful of biological changes.”

-She suddenly stops, resting her hand dramatically on her face. Her tone becomes a bit exaggerated-

“Actually, before we get too far: In order to fully understand Hexalian ‘Biology’, there’s another creature on this list we need to mention first. I just can’t think of it… Does anybody know what the first Hexalians started out as?”

-She grins as the kids shout excitedly, her tail wagging slightly. She stands a bit taller, pointing up beyond the camera-

“You don’t have to shout, hon; my ears are pretty good.”

-She leans with one hand around her ear. The camera’s microphone just barely picks up a child calling to her, and her tail wags-

“That’s right, kiddo; Vampires! Good on ya. It’s true; the very first Hexalian was a vampire. In fact, he was a kid, just like you guys. Actually, probably a little older than you guys. Now, there’s a very long story about how and why everything went down. And while I think it’s a pretty cool story, Fae History and Culture is someone else’s lecture.”

-She slips her hands into her pockets as she starts to pace again-

“What you need to know is: Basically, our Goddess took the vampire’s power, and she built off of it. As I’m sure we all know, vampires drink blood. Their bodies process it like any other food, with the added bonus of it boosting their magic exponentially. Hexalia took this ability and, well, adjusted it a little to make her Gift. Just like vampires use blood for power, Hexalians use laughter. We have the passive ability to absorb the ‘energy’ created when people laugh and convert that directly into magic. Pretty powerful magic too if I can say so myself.

Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed that I keep saying things like ‘We have this’ or ‘Our Goddess’. I’ll spare you too much mystery: I am, in fact, Hexalian, so I can tell you firsthand where we get most of our magic~!”

-There’s a noticeable purple glow in her eyes, and she moves her hand as if she’s going to snap her fingers. The camera picks up some nervous laughter and protests. She laughs brightly before putting both hands in her pockets-

“Ooh, a lot of you already know your stuff! You can relax, guys, I’m not gonna do it. I see some confused faces though, so I’ll be nice. For those of you that don’t know, you may have heard the little playground rumors that go around at your age. Well, one of them is very true: Hexalians are, basically, tickle monsters.”

-There’s a mix of murmuring that the camera can’t really interpret. She chuckles, and her tail wags again-

“You can laugh, but life is about efficiency. And having a little fun once in a while, of course. Now, some of you might think to mention: ‘Dr. Juno, you don’t seem like a vampire.’. Well, first, I might say ‘What makes you think that?’”

-She walks in a short circle, glancing at her own tail and paws as a few giggles are picked up by the camera-

“But yes, obviously, I’m a werewolf. That doesn't mean I couldn’t be Hexalian. I said at the beginning that any one of you could be. Some of you might not even know it. And the reason that could be is the same way you and your siblings can get your mom’s nose or your dad’s hair or your grandpa’s eyes; the same way you can be part vampire if one of your parents is or isn’t one; and the same way you can be really good at magic if you come from a line of mages. Hexalian magic passes through bloodlines.

Some might call the biological changes from the Gift ‘subtle’, but make no mistake, they can affect you in some major ways beyond your magic. We will still start with a subtle one though: Hexalia’s Mark.”

-She searches for a button on the remote, glancing up at the curtain as the slide changes. There’s a sketch of a few heart-shaped symbols with subtle wolf prints inside of them-

“Hexalia’s Mark appears on your body when you become Hexalian. If you’re born Hexalian, the mark is usually faint, but it becomes fully visible by the time you’re two or three. We don’t fully understand everything about the Mark, especially in babies and toddlers, but there’s a lot of evidence that it forms based on the magic in your body. It becomes a sort of self-sustaining battery, if that makes sense. That up there is actually a drawing of my Mark. You wouldn’t be able to see it anyway since it’s actually on the bottoms of my feet. Quick bit of bonus information, though: when werewolves shift, their mark becomes pretty much invisible unless they have a powerful surge of magic use. Obviously, it’s still there; its effects are always active. And some people with strong magic senses claim they can still see them.

Anyway, back to the point. What makes this thing more than a flashy birthmark? …I’ll give it to ya straight, kids, it’s really ticklish.”

-She chuckles, shaking her head as the students murmur curiously-

“I’m not kidding, you guys! The Mark is always sensitive to touch. When you’re born with it, your body can adapt before you even need to think about it. But to those of you that consider becoming Hexalian in the future: this thing marks your most ticklish spot. In fact, reports suggest that it gets worse after the mark appears. So, y’know, pros and cons. We’ll wrap up this section with some rapid-fire interactions that Hexalia’s Mark—or her gift, technically—has with certain species.

I’ll start with werewolves, naturally; my area of expertise. It might already be common knowledge for you by now, but we have a sort of weakness to silver and anything made from it. And while you, like me, might think that being pierced with a silver bullet or dagger would ruin anybody’s day, werewolves have most of their abilities weakened if not completely lost during contact with silver things. Hexalia’s Gift helps you…let’s say ‘resist’ that kind of weakness. Now, silver can still hurt me; it’ll still take longer for me to heal any injuries made by silver items, but…Ah, here: if I get a paper cut, that’ll actually heal up completely within a couple of hours. Barely even hurts for a minute. If I got a cut the same size with, say, an old letter opener or something that happened to be made of silver, that won’t heal for about a day. With Hexalia’s Gift, that gets lowered by half, on average. Werewolves report anywhere from fifteen hours to as low as eight.

Vampires. Everyone knows they drink blood. Vampires, actually, might get the strongest benefits; the Gift was made for them, after all. If you are a vampire and Hexalian, you do not have to drink blood. Like, not at all. You still can, obviously, but Hexalian magic is an exact fit to fuel your powers especially. Some vampires and mixed folks still carry the genes that make them sensitive to sunlight. The Gift clears that up too. You’ll probably still hate hot weather, but the burning, completely gone.

Humans, actually, have given mixed results. Several reports suggest that they don’t need to sleep for as long as they used to. Some claim that they find themselves feeling less hungry. The magic heals them all faster, protects them. In short, your mileage would definitely vary, but downsides are few.”

-She turns to advance the slide, but she seems to pause. She sighs, touching the edge of the pin as she looks back to her audience-

“Actually, there is one. I know I said I’d move on, but I think I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t tell you.

Now, I can tell that many of you are Nonhumans or at the very least Mixed-Blooded. Many Fae “Type” creatures have a store of magic within them. Actually, we all do, if we practice magic enough. Those of you that fall into this group have likely been told already what happens if you let your magic run too low. You start to feel sort of sick, or tired, or even like you’re in pain.

Hexalians have… Well, they call it the Burden. Many people believe that it’s been ‘bred’ out through the centuries. Some say it’s a legend and never existed at all; something to deter people from becoming Hexalian back in those days. But there are still rare reports. Since it’s so easy for us to gain magic, we hardly ever see it. But, according to those reports, the Burden is something inside you. Attached to your Mark. If your magic ever runs too low, the Mark will essentially try to start feeding off of you. Hexalians can regain power through our own laughter, after all, but less so. It’s like if you’re starving, your body will pull nutrients from wherever it can.”

-There’s a pregnant hush in the room. She cringes a bit nervously-

“I…I’m sorry, you guys; I don’t mean to scare you! It’s just that magic is very…temperamental. We want to make sure that all of you are at least prepared for what your own bodies are capable of.”

-She looks around the audience. A smile slowly returning to her face as her tail flicks-

“Okay, now, for real this time. Done with Hexalians. Let’s transition smoothly into Va—”

[FILE CORRUPTION ENCOUNTERED; ATTEMPTING RESTART]

[SUPPLEMENTAL FOOTAGE 8746; REGARDING T0C8E0J1SB3U8]

[themculibrary]

Armor Kink Masterlist

1,2,3 Switch (ao3) - StarkLover3000 tony/stephen E, 2k

Summary: What happens when the student becomes the teacher? Tony takes control of his Doctor Strange.

down the rabbit hole (ao3) - starvels (dinosaur) iron man/steve/tony E, 25k

Summary: Steve spends an entire afternoon at the mercy of the Iron Man armor.

He gets exactly what he asks for, and then some.

Hold Me Down (ao3) - tinystark616 steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: Steve asks Tony to wear one of his iron man suits and hold his wrists down during sex.

Tony gives Steve what he wants, and more.

in all and any of your skins (ao3) - Anonymous steve/tony M, 1k

Summary: Steve has a thing for Tony.

Steve has a thing for Iron Man.

This is a problem, until it really isn't.

In Every Way That Matters (ao3) - Sineala steve/tony M, 8k

Summary: There are bright things about the future, and Steve's friendship with Iron Man is one of the brightest. So what if he doesn't know who the man under the mask is? That's not going to stop Steve from wanting his friendship, or even from wanting something more.

Lust’s Effect is Tempest After Sun (ao3) - xDinahQueenx steve/tony E, 4k

Summary: Steve gets dosed with sex pollen, Tony is there for him.

Mark Sixty-Nine (ao3) - Amuly steve/tony, iron man/steve/tony E, 4k

Summary: Tony is irritated that Steve's first hug-and-fly wasn't with him. As the source of many of Steve's other "firsts", Tony has a brilliant idea of how he could take one more. Specifically, Steve's first time being fucked by a machine.

Mark XXX (ao3) - Robin_tCJ steve/tony/iron man (armour) E, 4k

Summary: Oh, look, another filthy, filthy threesome porn. This time, it's Steve/Tony/Iron Man Armour. No plot, mostly porn with a little bit of cracky humour. It's dirty, and I'm sorry.

No I'm not. I'm not sorry. You know what, you're all down here in the muck with me.

not the last time (ao3) - tinystark616 steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: Tony finds out about Steve's armor kink and gives Steve exactly what he wants.

Prototyping (The Make the Sparks Ignite Remix) (ao3) - Sineala steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: Tony is an excellent boyfriend and an excellent engineer, and so there's no way he's going to let his brand-new sex armor fuck Steve without him trying it out himself first.

Sharp Dressed Man (ao3) - copperbadge steve/tony E, 3k

Summary: There are a lot of things you can do with a personalized suit of armor and a naked super soldier.

So turn around and I'll pick up the slack (ao3) - sirona jarvis/tony E, 4k

Summary: This… was not what Tony had in mind when he decided to design himself a new dildo. You won't hear him complaining about the results, however.

Thank you, villain! (ao3) - Just_Bill steve/tony M, 1k

Summary: Steve and Tony are hit by a truth spell. Tony finds out how much Steve likes the armour.

The Blacksmith's Tale (ao3) - buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) bucky/tony E, 7k

Summary: As the local blacksmith in King Rogers’ kingdom, Tony Stark is highly skilled and in high demand for his ability to forge weapons and armor. Bucky Barnes, the king’s best friend and most talented knight in the realm, not only recognizes Tony’s skill but also commissions special armor to protect him when he rides into battle. As rumors of an impending war reach the kingdom, Tony realizes how important the armor is. Not only will it keep Bucky alive, but it might also save his heart.

The Worst (Thing You've Ever Caught Me Doing) (ao3) - tisfan iron man/tony stark E, 1k

Summary: Impulse control; that was decidedly one of Tony Stark’s biggest problems. As in, he didn’t fucking have any. Which was how he ended up spread out on his workshop table, missing most of his clothes, and being rawed by his own armor.

Torque and Friction (ao3) - BewareTheIdes15 steve/tony E, 4k

Summary: The armor is his religion. And, c'mon, does anyone really expect that Tony Stark wouldn't want to have sex with his religion? He's just never found anybody before who could handle it.

[meandmyechoes]

Kingohger ep13

gosh does anybody die in this show

!! Himeno in brown ponytail!! ♥♥

okay already get the amount of rita from the op shot (scarce)

Jeramie's in the op now!!!!

i saw the choco in store the other day and pass on it because there's no rita, turns out there's only the prime 3 😂

Stop bullying Shiokara 😭😭

Baby Yanma Baby Yanma

Workshop?? New location 👀👀

Shiokara: What is personal space

THAT DRESS IS AMAZING

BABY YANMA BABY YANMA

okay new song 🤣👍

tbh i like it

Ahh i love this montage

are we getting origin flashback with Jeramie visiting every country?

ooh so the gun is from his mother and the dagger his father?

Yanma's ringtone is the cheer he held for Gira 🤣🤣

GAWD Yanma two minutes ago I was moved by how you climb to the top and stay considrate for your people can you NOT play an excrement prank

NO TAKANO-SAN STOP WRITING EXCREMENT GAGS 🤣

("don't you want to know what happened more than 2000 years ago? Before the war?") SHIRITAIIIIII!!!!!!

So are the kingdoms built before or after the war?? If five "kings" defeated the bugnaroks there has to be kingdoms before that? Is Papa Brasieri a prince or a king?? (if he's a king he shouldn't have to fear exile...)

They HAVE to tell us why Rita is hanging out with Kagu that often other than the Sentai numbering system

wait is Rita just responding to a Bug Distress Call and Kaguragi waved them over as if there's a spare seat at their table out on a Sunday brunch

(okay after listening to the raw more clearly Sebastian called them together)

yeah… so that's Rita's best shot this ep…

so surreal to hear "Stop arguing" coming out of Yanma.

omg…

RIP Yanma Gust

That Mirage bug taking the fall for Yanma again 🤣

Love the action going through with the setting that Yanma sucks at swordfighting and would avoid it any means possible (would explain why he invented an extra weapon)

Gira has to have exposed himself this time…?

*claps* Rita designated floor time!! (wait why am i so happy about this)

So if Gira hear Sasorinu from not its God Soul but its mecha, then its consciousness is actually in the mecha, contrary to the literal meaning? But it would fit how Kabutan is controlled against its will with its God Soul in ep4. That would also answer why Gira can control God Kuwagata without a soul stone.

ugh this year's Sixth is so cool

TOLD YOU I DON'T TRUST HIM hmmmm 🤔

ookay Jeramie got himself a retainer (?)

Overall impression:

fairly relaxed. Yanma and Jeramie didn't outright fight because Jeramie is too OP at the moment, but a lot of decent character moments. Shiokara is MVP honestly. Love the whole mood in Yanma's flashback as conveyed by the camera work and insert song. Rita shots are scarce but (4, as I exactly expected). I've been watching stage shows lately (just to fill the void) and with how tight the plot in KO is, kinda miss the MOTW format and this ep is refreshing to see.

ep14 preview:

! yes wanting to know how Himeno's revenge plot would resolve ever since learing about Jeramie's cicada mech!

is this gonna be the same structure of individual focus like the prologue arc...? No...?

MOFFUN TO ISSHO OOOH MOFFUN WE ARE REALLY IN IT NOW

bro don't tell me Jeramie wrote Moffun or IS Moffun

I have no words I'm too excited for next week's episode

I thought 14 is going to be a Nichijou episode like 9 being pre-arc-finale, but the pace adjustment is already done in 13 so 14 is going to have big reveals that lead to all them working together by 15.

What's the next arc if God's Anger is resolved in 14??

We may or may not get Rita origin (but I think their story is more complex than Yanma's flashback this ep, so that could come back again.)

Magazine scans say Jeramie will be in the spotlight but I have no idea what to expect. Some more games with Racles?

[pbandjesse]

We just got a phone call from our insurance that they may have actually approved medication. So that's exciting. Could have come yesterday when it would have been helpful because now I have to have a virtual visit tomorrow. But at least there's progress. And I'll have my visit tomorrow and we'll figure everything out and go over the accident blood work I'm assuming too.

Today was very stressful and honestly I want to put it out of my mind. I didn't sleep great last night but that's okay. It wasn't horrible sleep it just wasn't great. I woke up and didn't feel 100% but I was looking forward to doing needles with the kids and teaching them to sell. James drove me to work and I liked my outfit a lot. I was feeling pretty good.

I got a little frustrated when we got to the McDonald's because James wasn't pulling up and they were like I'm trying not to block the driveway and I'm like you are letting more than a car length in front of you someone's going to pull in front of you and then they didn't speak up and order the thing that we normally order so it was $3 more expensive for no reason. And so I was just a little upset. But it's fine. James would drop me off and go home to wrap presents and I went to go set things up.

I found that they had mostly already gotten the garment left setup and so I went and thread a couple more needles and it's all good. I was a little annoyed that some of them were tangled but it didn't actually matter. I went back to the break room and chatted with everyone. And had my breakfast and things were good.

Then the other school was very early, and my school ended up being late. And that was only a problem because we had a ton of overlapping tours today thought we had to figure out. It didn't affect me but I was aware of it.

I hope to get some kids off the bus and then waited for my group to come. And when they did they were much taller than I was expecting for 8th graders. And the kids on the individual basis were great. The kids does a group or a nightmare. The teacher that was the lead seem to have no control over anybody at all. And at first everything seemed fine. We had some trouble getting them grouped but it was okay. And I went with Jack back to the garment loft to get started.

And while they were a little chatty they were really nice. A lot of yes ma'am Thank you ma'am. And Jack's intro was great and I had a really nice time helping themselves. And it was a lot less of them than we expected so we were able to actually have them do both jobs and everyone seemed to really enjoy that. We made lots of pockets and we did lots of sewing and it was great.

We had lunch next and I chilled for a little while in the back. Talked to Cindy about selling. Got to show off my tote bag that I'm very proud of. Also told Jack about the national guard and how my workshop I guess small business is going really well and he was just very proud of me and that felt really good. I really admire him so it was nice that he was proud and excited for me.

The second program was our biggest issue. That class not only had no self-control, their teacher was so checked out. It was so bad that there ended up being two teachers and I didn't even know one of them was a teacher. Because the other one just left. when we went to get them from lunch we start taking the group out and the teacher asks us to pause. And she starts asking if anybody wants to order pizza when they get back to the school. And to raise their hand. And if they need to cash app her to come up there. And we're just like what. We should already be in the program What is happening. And so we thought she was done after asking and counting them off but no she wanted to actually get them to give her money in this moment. They had a 40-minute lunch break where they could have done this. Because they did not eat lunch. They had a couple snacks but that was it. Also they gave all of them sunflower seeds. In a museum. Insanity.

So we were standing there for like 5 minutes. She was acting very rude to John. Who was just trying to get the program started with some semblance of being on time. I text Jessica because I don't know what to do and no one's listening. And finally we get them back to the classroom and then everyone is talking and that teacher just leaves. No one is listening. I had to stop what I was doing and walk to the back of the room to these three boys who were just being so disrespectful and ask them to please stop talking and they tell me I'm doing too much. Okay. So rude for no reason. I was just horrified on John's behalf because they were being so rude to him.

And then when we finally got to the actual program only like half of them actually participated. And then by the end of course then they wanted to make the project and we had to tell them no because they had to sit down. Most of them still got to do it and like I said on an individual basis they were very sweet. But that teacher was just so out of pocket. Just no control over those kids and also just seemed completely checked out and did not care. It was an embarrassment.

I was so glad to be done with them. So glad though that I did not notice that no one went with them when we took them to the front of the museum at the end of the day to leave. Oops. I stayed behind to clean up and John went to go get a broom so I thought he had gone with them it was a whole thing. Doesn't matter in the long run. Jessica understood that we just wanted to get them out of there.

Me and John just kind of decompressed in the garment loft for a while. I worked on cleaning up and fixing some felt and putting things away in a logical order. James was in the museum working on a couple things and so they came and joined us and we all just talked and bitched and it was great. Made me feel a lot better.

I mostly just cut the felt shapes out and tried to clean them up and then around 1:30 it was time to go. We chatted with Jessica at the front for a few minutes about insurance stuff and my quilting in the garment loft and then me and James left. We have things to do.

We drove out to Glen Burnie to go to value village. We donated a bag of clothes and got a coupon. And then we did some shopping. It was a little frustrating because we couldn't get a cart because there was too busy. And that was a little frustrating but we found some really great stuff. some Christmas presents some stuff for the house that will make things a little neater. Felt really good. I also got a really expensive quilting block for like $3. And that was really exciting. My most exciting purchase though was another code. I don't need a coat. But this one has roses for buttons and it's so good. So I'm excited about that. And it was only $6.

Next we went to Target. And we got a few more presents there. And we just got a couple things that we needed. Eggs and flour and sugar. And I was getting a little too overheated and upset because I was too hot. So I was very glad to get out of there.

When we did leave we decided that we would go over to five guys for dinner. Or I guess a late lunch. And it was really nice just sitting and eating quietly. I was really excited to go home though I was getting very very tired.

When we did finally get home we brought everything inside and put stuff away and took tags off of things. We pulled out some more wrapping stuff from the holiday closet. And I'll work on those things tomorrow. And it was just really nice. We both rested for a bit and then we got to work on some cookies. James wanted to make the jam cookies a little fancier and that was fun. We use a couple jars of our jam and that was really good. We both ate a few of them already in the sugar cookie part is excellent. Probably one of the better recipes we found. And the jams are really good and interesting and I'm really enjoying it. I'm liking trying all of the flavors I've never tried before.

And we just spent the last hour or so working on our video game. We don't have all of the endings but we've pretty much figured out how to get everything. It is sad seeing the one girl die every single time. I'm just like I want to save my girlfriend every single time. But there is no way to really save her.

I did just find out that the people who made this game just announced that they're coming up with a new thing. Which I think is very funny because we just started playing. It's like we spoke it into existence.

Now we are both ready to get showers and get some sleep. I have my virtual doctor's appointment tomorrow and James has work. We were going to go to the pootop party but we're both assuming that James is going to be a little bit to beat up. Which is okay. I only really wanted to go if James wanted to go. So I hope it's just a nice day.

I'm also going to spend some of it making sure that our home is prepared for this apparent really bad storm coming in. Want to make sure that everything is cleaned and settled and ready just in case. We're going to try to leave early Friday morning so that we don't get stuck in anything. I might even insist on bringing sweetp with us. We will see.

I hope you all have a great night tonight. Take care of each other. Be safe. Goodnight!!

[theneverfadinglands]

I would like to add to this that the world is not USA, however Tumblr (and other social sites) like to assume everybody is from US and must abide to US standards of what is appropriate. Yes, things like homophobia, racism, sexism are universaly moraly wrong, but there are far more things in the grey area. I struggle with the culture clash in many interactions online. In my country when you are offende by something you are expected A) deal with it or B) fight the person, but the person is not really expected to change the way they are talking just because it make you uncomfortable. Like where is this going? Towards a world where you are afraid to say anything at all? I’m from post communist country and this reminds me of the stories of my parents and grandparents, the public witch hunt, be careful what you say.. you can say what you want, but you must say the right things. Yes I will mark trigger posts for people who have perhaps some past experiences and my post might trigger it.. however does books in library have triggers? No? Why? Because you as person is expected to be able to stop reading what you are reading when you do not like it and I find absurd I should censor myself. I won’t.

One example is cultural appropriation, I never met anybody from my country who cared about it - ever. In my city there is Japanese cultural festival held every year, it’s supported by japanese creators and teachers who travel to my country and there are workshops held on kanzashi, kitsuke, origami and other arts, performances and yes, white people are taught them too.. Nobody ever had an issue with it, there is no issue with wearing a cultural garmet the correct way, ot making a carricature of it and being respectful, where is this going? Would learning foreign languages soon become cultural appropriation too? I do not understand it, I’m not going to bother myself with it…

We all as internet contributors are responsible to various degree and should try to spread good messages, however what if the good message is, that people are free to say what they want for this is a free space and who is even the moral police to say what is appropriate? Why I should abide to moral standards of US (as is commonly the default) anyway?

Add to that the language and fact not everybody is native english speaker and it’s recipe for disaster.. maybe try to correct somebody politely when they use wrong term for something? We are not less human than you because english isnot our first language.. try to learn my language. It’s like navigating a mine field when writing about POC or queer people, who the fuck should keep a track of all the terms which are forbiden and what is offensive? I do not want to offend POC or LGBTQ+, if I say something offensive then you should consider I might not know it’s offensive. If I say I do not like black person to play XY character it’s not because I’m racist but my personal preference? I have right to have preferences, if I have a certain way to imagine a character in my head, then sorry.. but I won’t feel guilty about it, it’s absurd.. yes, more POC should be casted in big movies, however this fact has nothing to do with my personal preference since I do not cast people in big movies… I don’t want to be pressured to have X:Y ratio of POC people when writing.. if I write POC I’m attacked anyway because I did it wrong, but how I should even write a black person from US? I can’t even relate to write person experience in US, but you know what? Nobody is going to attack me because white Elizabeth from NYC do not align with their experience, but I’M SCARED of writing POC.

this is gonna be controversial (lol), but y’all gotta remember blogs aren’t celebrities with their own PR teams.

if you find something a blogger said insensitive, it probably is! privilege & social environment leave way too many blindspots for that to never happen. and it’s super okay to alert people to their blindspots! but do so with the awareness that those not used to having their speech policed by strangers may respond with baffled defensiveness if you come at them aggressively.

and when that happens, whipping out the “you’re not the man I thought I married” speech, and giving yourself permission to go into full cuss-out beast mode is like………………unproductive and kinda mean-spirited

[letsberealgenz]

Are you living your purpose?

Have you ever reach to a certain point in your life where you’ve achieved your goals that were once on a piece of paper yet you still feel like there’s something more for you to achieve? You still feel like you need to achieve something but you do not know what it is?

We humans are living actors, in fact we all should get paid because we are so good in putting up this mask that we’ve created for ourselves through our job, the clubs we join, charities we do, dream car, dream house, dream relationships, family, the list goes on and on.

In simple word, I’ve come to a realization we live a life that is based on other people’s dream, expectation, goal, vision, thoughts that were once unfulfilled. What does this mean?

Let’s backtrack to your childhood. How was your personality? What did you love doing the most? What was your first ambition? How did you project your future to be? What was running in your mind?

If today you would ask your inner child, “Hey, are you living the life that you dream of living?” It is more likely for most of us to receive a disappointing feedback. But why is that so?

It all comes back to a life that we’ve gotten used to living to fulfill the unfulfilled dreams of probably your parents, your grandparents, your society, your community, or anybody whom you associate the most during your childhood.

We had this childhood that were once filled with exciting big dreams that would move mountains, create a better world but as we started growing up, we were then more likely forced to fit into a society that had dreams of their own being imposed on us. “Realistic” dreams they would say.

Following this trail, we then get into higher education, job, relationships that we believe it’s our purpose. That we believe it’s our calling which we then finally believed it’s our life.

But there comes a turning point where your inner child had enough of you. This turning point definitely would arrive in all of our lives, we can’t escape from this for sure because it’s from within.

Something that has not been fulfilled within would eventually arrive to the surface. Isn’t this a universal scientific law? But the only unknown is the point when this feeling arrives.

You are lucky if you have this phase of awakening when you’re young because then you have time to create a fulfilling life. The dreadful part happens when you only come to this realization when you’re older.

It works like this, as if you’ve been neglecting your inner child whom was constantly shouting out your purpose, trying to guide you, but you were constantly avoiding, neglecting, ignoring the voice within.

Instead you went on a chasing, running, rushing, listening to seminars, workshops journey to achieve a dream life that you think would satisfy you in the long run.

But you’ve never stop for a second to listen to your soul and ask, “What is my purpose? Is this my purpose? Am I living my purpose?”

Now ladies and gentleman, if there’s one wisdom I’d pass down is this:

Instead of searching for everything externally, instead of achieving materialistic goals, instead of chasing illusion achievements, instead of achieving the ultimate materialistic dream life that is being advertised constantly in the social media and also the physical world. I’m here to remind you, let’s not get into that rabbit hole.

Instead listen to your soul’s inner wisdom, inner guidance that is highly aligned with your purpose. It’s time for you to discover and make a living out of your purpose. Everything that you’ve been searching for was here all this while waiting for you. All you had to do was look for it.

With a burning hope and desire that my writing today would leave a lasting impression on each one of you to keep asking yourself from time to time, “Am I living my purpose? Am I taking actions that align with my purpose on a daily basis?”

It’s time for you to unleash those dreams that has been buried hidden inside of you. It’s time for you to listen to your inner child and create your ultimate reality through your purpose. It’s never too late. The time is now!

Yours, @letsberealgenz

[ranocchiasimpatica]

ok, so i wanted to do the follow up to my first precious plastic post in an amazing way, written super well, in perfect english etc etc etc but i realized that i really wanted to talk about it as a project because i think it's really cool and i also realized that i'm not a journalist or whatever and this is a tumblr post so i can write however i want because there are no expectations yuhu so here i come

Precious Plastic:

as i have already mentioned it is a project to increase plastic recycling. i don't know how to put it well into words so here are some of the best videos that explain what they do:

This is the launch video for the version 4 of their machines. Basically, the project started in 2013 with Dave Hakkens form the Netherlands designing some machines to recycle plastic "at home" - what i mean is that they're pretty affordable and can be operated by one person meaning that anyone with a relatively small investment can set up a small workshop where they make their own recycled products. The machines were upgraded many times and the last version was version 4, that was announced at the end of 2020.

This one is the video they made for their 10 years anniversary. It contains a better recap of their history (what i just wrote about) and it's a nice introduction to their work i'd say.

BUT! -you will ask me- what do they have that is special? we hear about plastic recycling all the time. why do you think they are worth our attention?? why do you put the solarpunk tag when talking about them?

i think it's the principles and the values that guide the project that make it different, and this is shown in the best part of the precious plastic designs: they are totally OPEN SOURCE!

this means that all of the work that they did is up on the internet, accessible to everybody, FOR FREE! and well to make it pretty simple free stuff is the opposite of capitalism.

for example, this is the link with all the instructions to build a plastic shredder:

https://community.preciousplastic.com/academy/build/shredder

and no, it's not just the designs. they also made tutorials and clear instructions, plus they have info on how to create a business, and a lot more.

this is also a project that is helped by the members of the community themselves, the small recyclers (i don't know how it is called, maybe bottom-up participation???): on the community page, anybody can share how they built their own machines, or share a new mould they deigned for a product. The knowledge is shared by everybody, for everybody.

https://community.preciousplastic.com/how-to (community page)

for the casual enjoyers/supporters there is a discord community:

https://discord.com/invite/wMJHykrk4k

and obviously the youtube channel, where they post weekly videos visiting all of the workshops around the world (the last ones were in italy, but they visited workshops in south and central america, in kenya, in indonesia, and many other places).

https://www.youtube.com/@Precious_Plastic

Realistically, i personally do not believe that small sale recycling can be the final solution to the plastic pollution problem. I haven't fully elaborated an opinion on it, but in general i think that the solution would come by starting to consider plastic waste as a resource, almost like a prime source, and ditch oil completely, so that we can keep using plastic where it is necessary (sanitary field for hygene, other examples don't come to mind) but using only recycled one (is it possible? i should educate myself a bit more and then i'll tell you), and this change has to happen on a big industrial level.

But you know what i also think? this kind of change can happen only if we perceive recycled plastic as a valuable material, as the normal kind of plastic, and that's precisely what Precious Plastic does. by making the recycling accessible and making it a tangible experience (there are TONS of educational project that were born from their machines), it creates a virtuous cycle in which we consider recycling the norm, and using virgin plastic the weird thing.

So yeah, i think that's it for today. obviously the precious plastic team is amazing in any possible way aand is part of a bigger project that tackles creating a sustainable world in general called one army (a big lovely peaceful solidal community), and project kamp is another of their cool things they are doing, but i'll talk about that another time. i hope this was a readable post and that it made sense. cheers!

[choptop-sawyer]

Some random Vincent x Reader hcs because why not :)

Vincent Sinclair x Reader HCs

Vincent was very unsure about you at first, if not downright suspicious. He was the right mix of tentative and mistrustful to come off as cold and aloof. After spending so much time with only his brothers, he'd come to the conclusion that nobody else was worth his time.

But he warms up to you after a while. It takes a long time too, because Vincent takes his time with almost everything. If you talk to him about his art, the process gets sped along.

He's not very showy with his love initially. He's still reticent, because he's unfamiliar with the sensation of caring about someone romantically. He may have been liked enough as a child growing up because of his status as Trudy's protege, but people never bothered to get too close. Sometimes he wishes someone would have been his friend or lover, just so he could not look like a fool around you now.

How Vincent shows his love isn't through fancy words (he doesn't like to talk) or physical affection (at least at first, he's half expecting you to try to touch his face) but he does know how to make art, so that's what he does for you.

He would paint or sculpt your likeness 24/7 if it was possible. Everytime you're with him, there's some new angle of your face, some new mysterious curve of your smile, a new way the sunlight plays off your skin. He's a bit frightened of how much awe he's filled with at all the sights of you. But fright can be soothed away when he starts to create. There's also his desire to immortalize all of these moments with you, even if it's impossible.

He works for days in between sculpting figures for Ambrose. He would usually get done faster, but he wants to make sure everything is perfect.

And finally, he leads you to his workshop, gentle hands leading you by the shoulders because he made you close your eyes. When he whips off the sheet over the statue, he lets his secret drama king romantic shine through for a split second.

And when he sees your face, it's more meaningful than all the praise heaped on his art by Trudy or anybody else from his past. If you're happy, it means he created something beautiful. And that's what matters to him.

[punkyflesh]

hello i love your writng! if possible could you maybe do a one shot of cedric x reader where the reader was sent away for an arrange marraige but runs back to him? maybe some fluff? thanks in advance

thank you so much anon! i hope my writing for this prompt does it justice, enjoy!

Runaway from an Arranged Marriage | Cedric X Reader

This had been the day you had been dreading. You were the child to a very wealthy king who had wanted to preserve his wealth throughout the generations of his family - this had meant that you were entitled to an arranged marriage with another prince from the following Kingdom. The Kingdom of Enchancia was not your home; but you had unexpectedly fallen in love with the Kingdom since your family's first visit many years ago and had decided to stay with Roland and Miranda until it was time for the marriage to go ahead.

But what you didn't expect was to fall in love with another aspect of Enchancia - the royal sorcerer. Sparks instantly flew between you and Cedric the moment you first met and he had captured your heart completely. For the first time in a long time, you were happy - but the arranged marriage hung over your head like a bomb waiting for the perfect moment to explode.

There was no way you could admit to your father that you had grown feelings towards the royal sorcerer of Enchancia (especially one with such a damaged reputation across all the nearby Kingdoms). You could picture his face swelling up with anger and pressing the arranged marriage to an even closer date. It was a ghastly thought, so you and Cedric had no choice but to keep your relationship private and secret to those outside the castle.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Roland! You know what day it is today, don't you my friend?" A booming voice came from the entrance of the throne room, followed by a grinning king and a worried-looking Baileywick, looking to Roland with fear. Roland glanced at Baileywick and back to the king, raising an eyebrow with confusion.

"My apologies, I don't believe I follow?"

The king laughed with a shake of his head. He was dressed in his finest clothes, gold and burgundy glamorising his status as king.

"You know! The wedding! I require you to bring them down immediately, we've already got everything we need in our carriage. Of course, you and your family are invited to the wedding, I wouldn't have it any other way - have you met the family of this prince they're marrying? Very wealthy-"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The king rambled on to Roland, but you were already aware of the situation. Your fathers voice was loud enough to disrupt birds flying high in the sky, and the very sense of hearing it made you freeze up and shoot a look at your boyfriend. A look full of sorrow.

Cedric sighed and turned his head away from you. He too, was dreading this day, and had been ever since you had told him of the awful plans locked in place since you were small. He knew the family that you were being married into - wealthy indeed, but also snobby. Although he welded a high power of magic and sorcery, he knew he was powerless against the decisions made by your father. There was nothing he could do to keep you to himself. You'd be travelling far away, across multiple kingdoms, there was just no chance of a secure way of contact between the two of you. Your fate was inevitable.

Suddenly, he felt a strong weight pushed against his chest and lock around his waist. You had grasped him in a tight hug, hungry not to let go for a second, all of your strength gripping onto his lanky body and plum robe. It was obvious you were crying by the way your chest lifted up and down in an irregular pattern, and the sniffles that were muffed by the fabric of his robe. Cedric let out a breath and wrapped his arms around you, reciprocating the hug. His arms were a makeshift barrier of protection, keeping you all to himself and shielding you from anybody attempting to take you away. The sorcerer's head fell against yours, as he used his delicate hands to stroke the back of your hair - soothing and comforting you. You both began to rock in a motion, remaining like that for as long as you could before a gentle knock was tapped on the door of Cedric's workshop.

"It's only me, your majesty." You heard Baileywick's voice from behind the wooden door. It was filled with empathy. Hesitantly, you pulled away from Cedric, staring into his hazel eyes for a second before opening the door slowly. Baileywick was stood with a sad smile on his face, shaking his head. In that moment, you all knew that it was time to go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You all made your way down to the throne room, where your father was still rambling on to Roland about the plans today. He looked worried and shot glances over at Miranda, who looked equally as sympathetic. Cedric stood close behind you, looking down at the ground and clearing his throat softly. You looked up at your father and a sudden shot of adrenaline shot over your body.

"I'm not going."

The sudden interruption stopped your father from speaking, as he chuckled awkwardly and turned his direction to you. "Sorry, my darling?"

"I said I'm not going."

Your father's expression slowly began to drop as he shook his head. "You've known about this for too long now. You are going whether you like it or not."

You opened your mouth to resort, but no words came out. You had to admit to defeat against your father and his forceful manner of action. Cedric reached down and held your hand, slipping his fingers in between yours and gripping onto you tightly. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance and farewell. You turned your head to him and bit your lip, before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek and beginning to move towards your father.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That night, Cedric sat in his workshop, alone. It was the first time that Cedric had been alone in his workshop since you had formed a relationship. He was feeling many emotions, but he mainly felt numb. He sat at his desk, staring blankly into a piece of parchment paper. The family had given him their condolences - especially Princess Sofia, who had given Cedric extra hugs and offered her support to the sorcerer.

A knock at Cedric's window scared him. It was rapid and desperate, causing Cedric to shoot up and run to the window to check what the peculiar noise was.

You were there. And you were on a carriage, alone, with the driver looking painfully annoyed. You were back.

[ridiasfangirlings]

(1/2 songwriter Fushimi au)Fushimi uses data to make songs he knows people could get into for s4 idol group. The songs are great but nothing super special then one day, he gets sick but they need a new song asap. One of the s4 members find an old songbook and sees a song that looks good but they've never seen before and thought it'd be a good one to sing. The song was something Fushimi made after he had a falling out with his ex-bestie Yata who he had a crush on but felt betrayed cause Yata had

Thinking of this as not even just Fushimi using data but maybe while he can’t express his emotions normally he can through his lyrics. Like imagine this as Idol K-style AU, Yata and Fushimi are originally a duo and Fushimi writes all their songs. Yata thinks Saruhiko’s music is really amazing and how does he manage to write such cool songs. Fushimi claims he just uses data to figure out what the most affecting song would be but really even he isn’t aware that the reason he can write all these songs is because he’s writing out all the emotions that he can’t really grasp normally. Then when they get signed to label Homra suddenly other people are writing songs for Yata and Fushimi feels like he’s lost all his talent, the only songs he can write are depressing or angry and not at all the stuff of idols.

Eventually Fushimi breaks things off with Yata and goes to S4. Right after the whole betrayal happens Fushimi returns to the new apartment that’s been set up for him and he grabs a notebook. He starts writing out all these feelings that are swirling inside of him, how much he loves Yata and doesn’t want to leave but feels like he has to, like that person doesn’t understand him anymore and it hurts too much to stay. It’s only at this moment that Fushimi realizes he’s been writing out his feelings all along and he gives this bitter laugh, all disgusted with himself. He almost throws the song away but ends up just tossing the notebook into his duffle bag intending to forget about it.

Eventually in S4 Fushimi becomes one of their main songwriters, now he really is using data to write hits for everyone. One day there’s some concert coming up soon and the alphabet squad unit needs a new song, they intend to ask Fushimi but it turns out he’s sick. Fushimi tells them to just go into the duffle bag he left at the office and take any song in his notebook, he keeps a few extra just in case that he’s still workshopping but they should be decent enough for a live new song preview. The squad are like as expected of Fushimi-san, of course he thinks of everything. They go to look in his bag and while picking it up Doumyouji accidentally dumps out the whole thing, all Fushimi’s stuff getting messed up. Hidaka grabs the notebook on top, assuming this must be the one Fushimi meant, flipping through it. The notebook is mostly empty but there is one song there, everyone leans over to read it and they’re like wow this is so good this is definitely the one he meant us to take.

The concert goes great, the last ‘new song preview’ is a huge hit and recording for the official release starts right away. Fushimi has no idea until like a day before release and he’s irritated, like that song wasn’t meant to be seen by anybody. He can’t stop the release now though, especially because he doesn’t want to admit the reason why he doesn’t want that song sung. The song races to the top of the charts and Fushimi tells himself that it’s fine, Misaki is an idiot so there’s no way he’ll know it’s about him, no one will know but Fushimi and he’ll just wait until the radio stops playing it already.

Of course the song just keeps getting more and more popular and eventually Yata can’t help but hear it. Maybe the first time he hears it is at some joint concert, he has time before his set and he ends up listening in on S4 figuring he should at least know who he needs to be better than. The song’s lyrics immediately hit him straight in the heart, like imagine Fushimi put in all this imagery that normal listeners wouldn’t think twice about but Yata recognizes stuff from his memories of when he and Saruhiko were together. He’s like no way could this be about me, that’s ridiculous, but with every word it just feels clearer and clearer. When the song is done Yata finds himself running backstage and he grabs one of the S4 boys, demanding to know who wrote that song. The squad are all cold to him as one of Homra’s people but someone does eventually tell him that “Fushimi-san wrote it of course.” 

Yata is so shocked he just falls back against the wall,  not sure what to think. Like he knows for sure Fushimi must have meant it for him but then Fushimi’s still been acting the same as always, taunting him and being cruel every time they meet. Yata wonders if this is what Fushimi really wanted to say to him all along though and he decides that if Fushimi can only be honest in song then Yata will answer in kind. He’s never written a song before but Yata’s determined, his next song is going to be everything he’s ever wanted to say to Fushimi and he won’t stop until Fushimi listens, not this time.

[juniorgman187]

Be Forever Young (Reid Fluff Fic)

Summary: After Penelope’s resignation from the BAU, she attempts to set up her tech protégé, Reader, with Reader’s intellectual match yet much older counterpart - Dr. Spencer Reid. 

A/N: The POV switches between Reader and Spencer, just use context clues to detect who the narrator is.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: 21 year age gap, headcannon proposal Playlist: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny Word Count: 6.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Prologue

Events like these weren’t exceedingly rare. They weren’t anything like Halley’s Comet, by any means, where it only happens once in your lifetime - if you’re lucky. But they weren’t exactly sunrises - something that you can count on occurring every day without fail. 

The best celestial phenomenon I could compare it to are blue moons. Rare enough to still have an element of surprise when they came, but not so rare that I should never expect them. 

These ‘blue moons’ are actually the events in which I meet an intellectual match. 

It’s not too often that I find a mind quite like mine, so you’ll forgive me for the reaction it elicits to watch them transcend the physical level and connect with me on the psychological one. There’s only been a handful of people who’ve ever had the exact standard of aptitude to be permissible into this metaphysical world with me, but now - there’s a handful and one. 

The newest addition to the list is her. 

_ _ _

Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia is nearly impossible. Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia about Dr. Spencer Reid is impossible. 

I couldn’t tell you when the first time she brought him up was, but I could probably tell you just how many times since then she’s mentioned him. 

A trillion. At least. 

For months on end, he was the only thing she would talk to me about. Morning, noon, and night. Every single day she’d gush about him with the same unrelenting zeal as she had the day before and the day before that. It was both scary and impressive how she never seemed to run out of good things to say about him. 

���You would just die for his apartment. It’s got this super chic dark academia thingy going on. You’d be really into that,” she would say. Or something to that effect. I was never really listening. 

Not that I wasn’t interested in learning about Dr. Reid - I was very interested in him.

As a superior. 

I first learned of him when he taught my Psych 101 class. Freshman year me was simply enthralled with him as a speaker, probably due to the charm of his awkward humor. I found it eerily relatable and touching, in a way. That was probably my favorite class, minus the assholes who made it less than enjoyable at times. (That’s a story for later).

The next interaction I had with him happened not even a year later when he came back after temporarily teaching to sit in on a philosophy class. Even though he was only auditing the lecture, whereas I was enrolled in the course, he ended up sitting in the seat right beside me. Had he not been gifted with an eidetic memory - a fact I found out during one of my obsessive research sessions - I doubt he would’ve even remembered sitting next to me.

Our shared field of work helped to bring us back together repeatedly throughout college. I would run into him at seminars, workshops, once even at a library where we were both looking for the same book. 

But for the most part, our relationship was parasocial. It largely consisted of me learning from him at a distance. I would use his brilliant research to support my own assignments, read the books he recommended, audit the classes he would teach. 

Rather than accurately interpreting my very limited, very professional connection to Dr. Reid, Penelope was deliberately using it as ammunition for her arsenal of reasons why I should consider dating him. 

“You guys are basically already friends, and nothing is cuter than the friends-to-lovers trope!” Now that she actually did say, and the only reason I remember it verbatim was it was so outrageous I couldn’t not remember it. 

And probably because she just said it to me right now. 

“We’re not friends! We’re ... acquaintances. Colleagues, if you will.” My attempts to gain distance from Penelope and this topic of conversation were crashing and burning. The more I tried to walk away from her, the faster she would chase me. It was inconceivable how she managed to do that and continue to pelt me with her perky persistence. 

“Even better! You know I’m no stranger to workplace romances.”

That I did. One Derek Morgan or one Luke Alvez ring a bell?

“Dr. Reid and I don’t work together,” I reminded her, if only to burst her bubble of insanity. 

“Exactly my point! If you two don’t work together, then there’s nothing keeping you apart.” 

I was stopped dead in my tracks, almost causing Penelope to trip since she was right on my heels. 

“Nothing? Really? Try 21 years.” 

That surely kept us apart. 

Our age gap was one of those glaring disparities Penelope couldn’t wave away with her magic wand. Frankly, it wasn’t an age gap so much as it was an age Grand Canyon. He was a whole person of legal drinking age older than me!

Hell - our age gap itself was older than me!

Maybe there weren’t any contracts or agreements or supervisors to keep us apart, but there was still one significant thing doing that. 

Time. Arguably the most important thing you needed to get right for a relationship to work. 

If there were any chance that he and I were good together, that was squandered by our divergence in age. 

Right person, wrong time ... but wrong time by more than two decades.

I could see the smallest fragment of hope wither away in Garcia’s eyes, and it actually hurt to have known that I caused that. Her voice was more solemn when she said, “You don’t have to date him, I just want you to go on a date. Get to know each other better. Who knows? You might finally graduate from colleagues to BFF’s.” 

Not that I was seriously considering the possibility of growing closer to Dr. Reid, but there was one question lingering in my mind.

“Does he even want to go on this date? Have you asked him how he feels about it?” 

Part of why I was wondering was on the off chance that she’d tell me he had the same objections towards this that I did, which would be good news for me since it would mark my reluctance as a sound judgment. If there was anyone whose opinion was worth something, it was his, right? After all, he was the provable genius in the same compromising position as me. 

“Trust me, he’s been dying to do this.” In spite of her preface to trust her, I didn’t. I couldn’t be sure if she was suggesting that he’d been dying to go on a date with me or if he’d been dying to go on a date in general.

No offense to him, but I guessed it was the latter, and if that was the case, he was only being a team player because she hadn’t told him it was me she was setting him up with. Already suspecting that I’d probe further to navigate through her vagueness, she cut in with one last Hail Mary. “One date! That’s all!”

Whether you believe me or not, 100% the only reason why I said what I said next was to put an end to this madness. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Maybe 99.99%.

_ _ _

I never knew how I could lose so much time. Sure, if anyone asked, I could probably account for everything I’d done in my day, second by second. But still, there was this cloudiness, a fog, inhabiting my brain, casting this haze on whatever else dwelled in my mind, too. 

I couldn’t focus on anything for more than 4 seconds at a time, and while that wasn’t incredibly concerning for the average human, it was disconcerting for me. 

What was going on? 

What is going on?

“What’s going on?” 

Suddenly, a hand began to wave in front of my face. “Yoo-hoo? Anybody in there?” JJ wondered aloud, causing me to realize it was her voice that asked the question from before. 

“Yeah, sorry,” I shook my head to regain some clarity, but that did me no good. My foggy brain still remained. It goes without saying my words were worth nothing as well. JJ saw right through me in a way that never failed to scare me shitless. I could never conjure up a lie good enough to follow that look she’d give me. So I settled for the truth. The question that cast the haziness in my brain to begin with. 

“What do you think about me dating again?” 

If I thought that first look was bad, then the one she was giving me now was something of a nightmare. At least with the first, I knew what she was thinking. With this one, I hadn’t a clue. 

To relieve us from some of the insufferable silence, I found myself speaking again in my defense. “Garcia mentioned something earlier about setting me up with someone and it got me thinking.”

Thinking about Max that is. 

Being my most recent girlfriend, it made sense why she was freshest in my mind. That being said, we’ve been broken up for 14 months, which in any other context would seem like more than enough time to start dating again, but therein lies the catch. 

We didn’t just break up. She said “no” when I asked her to marry me, which, if you ask me, is one hell of a way to break up.

So from that perspective, it obviously begs the question: is 14 months too fast to move on from something like that? 

JJ sharply inhaled. “Well, are you ready to start dating again?”

I still didn’t have an answer for that myself. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook on how long you have to wait until it’s socially acceptable-”

“Lemme stop you right there, Spence,” She placed her hand on top of mine. “You can’t just do whatever statistics or studies or science say is right all the time. You not only need to be more in tune with your own needs but accepting of them, too. Screw what anyone else has to say about you dating again - including Socrates, including Einstein, including Aristotle ... including me. Do whatever you think is acceptable by your standards - not society’s. Do what you wanna do and I’ll support that.”

There was something special about having JJ’s approval. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted. 

“I’m ready.”

Born ready, as Penelope herself would say.

_ _ _

I was starting to get suspicious that maybe I had an invisible string attached to me and on the other end of that string was Penelope. It was the only explanation as to how she managed to trail behind me at an isochronal pace. Perfectly equidistant, perfectly equal intervals of time. Must’ve been some form of magic that she was able to synchronize that connection for as long as she did as we pranced around the office, basically chasing me.

“Okay, I know the date isn’t until Saturday, but I really think we need to amp up your wardrobe choices ... like stat.”

Hearing that I was seeing my superior still didn’t settle well with me. I don’t think I could ever get used to the thought. 

I should’ve been offended at her suggestion to change my clothing taste as it implied my stylistic choices weren’t up to par, but a part of me, a very small part of me, knew she was right. And just because I wasn’t keen on the idea of going on a date with Spencer didn’t mean I didn’t want to look nice for him for it.

“I’m assuming you’ve got some ideas in mind,” I said in a teasing voice, knowing that’s precisely why she brought it up.

“See! You are a genius! Exactly why you and Spencer are meant to be together!” Her exclamation was just as loud as it was outlandish. 

“Alright, calm down sparky,” I shot a warning look. “It’s just one date - we’re not soulmates.” 

Then, talking in the quietest voice I didn’t think Penelope was capable of speaking with, she said, “Not yet.” 

I knew the minute I showed even the littlest bit of interest in Penelope’s fashion guidance, I’d end up draped in ruffles, sequins, glitter, tulle, rhinestones, or all of the above. Nothing again Penelope’s personal style - it’s just not mine. 

I was scared to ask, but I had to know. “So what were you thinking?” 

Before my very eyes, Penelope’s constantly-there smile transformed, something akin to the mischievous grin of the Cheshire Cat. “I was thinking …” 

In a Mary Poppins-esque fashion, Penelope produced a dress that in no feasible reality should have been able to fit within that little Hello Kitty side bag. 

I suppose it must’ve been absolutely backbreaking for Penelope to refrain from choosing a multicolor or at least pattern-riddled dress, so as compensation for the fact that it was only one singular color throughout, it had to be a bold one. 

Red. 

“Not too shabby, right?” Her eyebrows jumped on her forehead, knowing she’d made a good choice. 

And a part of me actually died saying this, but it was pretty perfect. 

_ _ _ 

My life didn’t flash before my eyes, per se, the moment I finally arrived at the delicatessen. It was more like a very specific, singular memory had flashed before my eyes. 

That story for later? This is the one. 

Psych 101 was my best class in Freshman year ... by a long shot. Come rain, wind, or snow, I was always excited to go. It was a standout course on its own, but not because it was terribly spectacular or the most fascinating subject in the world, but more so because of how it changed my own person. It challenged me, like all worthwhile things do. 

There were more judgmental meatheads - boys, if you will - than not, who would jump down my throat for being a smart ass or a teacher’s pet if I so much as answered one of Dr. Reid’s questions. Par for the course, really. 

As a result, I had a proclivity to avoid raising my hand. It wasn’t that I was hyper-fixated on managing my reputation, just that participating wasn’t worth the eventual harassment from my dimwitted classmates. 

Nonetheless, one day, I felt compelled to answer Dr. Reid when he asked what our thoughts were about the sampled, pretense manifesto.

No one else was jumping at the chance to speak, perhaps they were just as cowardly as I was, and it was clear that he was going to stand there waiting until someone finally would. The silence was painfully awkward for everyone and so I felt obligated, as a student who was actually enrolled in the class for credit and not just to audit like 90% of the other girls here, to break it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand hesitantly inched up into the air until it floated just high enough above the student in front of me’s head. As soon as I knew he saw it, I let it plunge straight back down. 

“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n)?”

I could already feel the dirty looks and snide comments coming before I even said a word. 

“I know we’re all collectively referring to this unsub as a man, and while that might just be a general assumption or Freudian slip perhaps ... I think the language is steeped in betrayal and contempt. And it would be ignorant not to notice how it reads more like the wrath of a woman scorned than your typical jilted male lover.” 

“Lover?” Someone two rows back snickered quietly, clearly to mock my choice of words. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Brad who had said that. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid was impressed with my answer. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he nodded his head. If he had heard the commentary of one Brad Sterling, he made no visceral reaction to it.

With an extended hand, palm facing up, he gestured for me to, “Please. Stand up.”

I fumbled my way up and out of my seat to possibly delay the shit I’d get for this mere action.

“That, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like to have courage,” He underlined his words with a grand flourish of his hand in my direction. “Putting yourself on the line even in the event you’ll be mocked and ridiculed or deemed wrong. That’s something you’ll need if you are seriously considering being part of the BAU, or the FBI at any capacity.”

My face was flushed from the acclaim he was showering me with. Suddenly, I was glad I volunteered. 

Taking me completely by surprise, Dr. Reid wasn’t done yet.

“So, Mr. Sterling,” He began, directly calling out the boy in the back who without a doubt made the remark. I wouldn’t have had any reason to believe he heard it since his attention never diverted away from me long enough to catch the comment, much less the culprit. I wonder if he’d heard all the times Brad made jokes at my expense. Was he finally at his wits end with the sarcasm? “Make fun all you want, but might I suggest that if you like a girl, you do the opposite of that.” 

His sickly sweet drawl was followed by a short wink at me as if to say ‘I have your back’, and I was lucky to have already been in the process of sitting back down because my knees would’ve given out underneath me from the sheer exhilaration of his praise. 

The thought never once crossed my mind that Brad was so fixated on me because he had a crush, but it all made sense once it did. And if I didn’t know any better, Dr. Reid only humiliated him and brought it up because the realization dawned on him, too.

Was it possible that Dr. Reid was ... jealous?

In the spirit of complete transparency, that suspicion may have lit the tiniest wildfire imaginable in my chest. A wildfire that, even now, has yet to extinguish. Perhaps that little flame is the 0.01% of the reason I said yes. I could only imagine what kind of omnipotence it would soon gain if this date went well. 

If he could light such an enduring kindle with simple praise, think about what would happen if he smiled at me. If he laughed at my jokes. If he held my hand. 

If he kissed me.  

Dr. Reid’s validation would be something I actively sought from all walks of life, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was how far that desire would take me.

I would have never guessed it would lead me here. 

Standing in front of a fancy restaurant in a pretty red dress with the tenuous hope that the professor inside might just like it so much that he’ll end up liking the girl wearing it, too.

_ _ _ 

No matter how many times I adjusted the bouquet of poppies, they sat perpetually crooked on the table. Much like the dark gray tie around my neck that tightened around my throat with every passing second. I had to keep messing with it to loosen the noose-like grip it had on me. Who knew if it actually was becoming more restricting or it was the flourishing bundle of nerves in my stomach that made it harder to breathe. 

I was never very good at lying in wait patiently. Especially if I was expecting something. Now that I was expecting someone? I could say with perfect clarity - I was not good at waiting. 

I don’t wanna seem the way I do 

Every time the door opened, my eyes flashed to it instantaneously. And every time it wasn’t her, a little part of me was disappointed. It was still too early to say for certain that she was standing me up, but my mind was doing what it did best. It wandered. There was nothing else to do after all. 

Except maybe adjust those blood orange poppies one more time.

I’d picked them out specifically because Penelope slipped in a not-so-subtle comment about her dress being “a perfect match to the color of papaverales” - her words exactly. I thought if she went through that much trouble to find a color coordinated plant and say the scientific name for me to decode, it was worth picking up a bouquet of them on the way. 

It was only the most ironic occurrence in the world that when I went to rearrange them one last time, I devoted my full attention to the action, missing the very moment I was on the lookout for the past hour and a half. 

I didn’t even see her until the red poppies camouflaged into the identically colored setting of her dress. 

Then there she was.

All the disappointment in the world was worth that first time I saw her with fresh eyes. 

I was dumbstruck for a moment, long enough that it warranted an apology for not standing up sooner. 

“(Y/n)! Hi!” I accidentally squealed. I couldn’t control myself, let alone control the pitch of my voice apparently. 

I could see, in her, youthful naivete where, in others, I saw their age. She paradoxically had not aged a minute, and yet a new womanhood was piercing through her ultimately adolescent appearance. 

“Hi, Dr. Reid,” She said through a laugh and a smile, shaking my hand politely and professionally. She was greeting me like I was still her professor and she’d just happen to run into me on an errand. Next, she’d be attempting small-talk for as long as it took for me to let her go. 

Unfortunately for her, I had no plans for that. 

But I’m confident when I’m with you 

“Please, it’s just Spencer,” I reminded her, hoping to break down that governing image of me she surely maintained. 

“Spencer,” She tried again; doing it more to be obedient to my instruction than to satisfy her own desire. It sounded so unnatural to her, just as it did to me. I found it adorable, actually. It seemed like she was breaking this unspoken, and very much illusionary rule to say my first name. “It’s nice to see you again,” She added after I pulled out her chair for her.

“Is it?” I asked when I rounded the table to get to my seat. “I get the feeling you’re a little disappointed.” The only reason I pointed it out was that it was true, not just that I’d observed the notion grow more poignant in her face for the past minute.

“Not at all,” She shook her head, which luckily for me, drew a line of congruence between her body language and verbal language. At least, she was being truthful. “It’s just that I’m sort of embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” I repeated in astonishment, unable to cultivate a list of reasons that would justify her feeling that way. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to provoke that emotion, and it nearly broke me to consider her internal being substantiating it. 

“Embarrassed isn’t the right word, but I can’t find a more accurate one for what I’m feeling,” She shied away from my eyes when she lowered her head as she spoke. 

“You could try to explain it to me?” I offered gently. It took an overwhelming amount of self-restraint to not offer my hand with it. It would’ve been so easy to slide my hand across the threshold to enter her territory of the table, but who knows if doing so would just make her that much more uncomfortable. 

“Well for one thing, I don't really go on dates,” From this alone, I could already relate to her enough to laugh at the fact. “Don’t laugh at me! You know how dangerous first dates can be,” She swatted her hand in my direction to chastise me. 

“I do! I do! I think it’s really good that you’re protecting yourself to the point of avoiding dates,” I was teasing the implication that she wasn’t asked to go on very many, which was thankfully delivered well enough to make her laugh again. 

“Hey! Many people have wanted to go on dates with me, thank you very much. You included.” 

“Me included.” I nodded in approval. We sat in a short period of silence while we exchanged one soulful glance, borne from the insinuation of what I just said. 

“And for another ... I respect you too much as a figure of authority to see you in that way.” 

_ _ _ 

“In what way?” 

Rather than tossing me a lifeline, he was feeding me to the sharks. Forcing me to dive into the deep end. He wanted to see me struggle to stay afloat in the sea of his sticky toffee eyes. He knew I'd get suspended in them when he gave me that look. How much I’d be willing to get lost in them just so I could wander in the depths of his honeyed orbs for a little bit longer. 

That look ...

“You don’t find it weird?” This was the most honesty I could’ve demonstrated. 

“Find what weird?” For someone with such a high IQ, you’d think he’d be quicker on his feet. 

“This! You - me. On a date!” I gestured to the space between us. “You’re ... well frankly, Spencer, you’re old enough to be my father.” 

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He genuinely cared about the answer.

“Only in theory. Not in actual life,” was the most precise response I could give.

“So what is making you uncomfortable?” Again, I could tell my answer mattered to him. 

“You were my professor once, and now I’m just supposed to go on a date with you and see you as my equal when I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, putting you on a pedestal? Do you know how much pressure that puts on me? To be perfect?”

“Who says you have to be perfect? Who says you’re aren’t already?” 

That one caught me off guard. I had to gulp down the lump of shock. 

“You think I’m perfect?” 

“That, or you’re pretty close to it.” 

Lately all I feel is bad and bruised

I could’ve smiled, I could’ve thanked him, I could’ve fallen at his feet and thrown my dignity down there along with it, but I just laughed. I laughed. 

“That’s ridiculous! You barely know me.” 

“You’re wrong,” He simply replied with a firm shake of his head and a cavalier sip at his drink. It showed just how confident he was in his answer. How cocky he was. 

“How am I wrong?” 

He cleared his throat as though he were preparing to deliver the world’s greatest speech. Then, he leaned forward, motioning with his fingers for me to do the same. 

“If I’m remembering correctly, which you know I am, you were the student who had the gall to raise your hand and correct me on my gender identification of the unsub, right?” 

The second the sentimental thought, ‘aww he remembered’, came into my head, it was soon followed by, of course, he did, idiot. Eidetic memory, remember?

Tired of tripping on my shoes

“What does that have to do with me being perfect? Or so you claim?”

He was piercing deep into my eyes now, his gaze overwhelming my senses and sending shockwaves akin to the feeling of butterflies everywhere … and I mean everywhere.

“Bravery is the audacity to be unhindered by failures, and to walk with freedom, strength, and hope, in the face of things unknown.” 

I recognized the quote as one of Morgan Harper Nichols, but the words went right to my chest like they were his own. 

That damn wildfire just got a whole lot bigger. 

“I’ve always thought about how if I could be unfazed by failure or even just the prospect of it, if I could just be strong enough or have enough hope to face what I couldn’t predict, I’d be set. I’d be golden,” He paused. “I’d be perfect ... but you? You, little one, have already got that figured out. So whether that means you’re perfect on your own because of your bravery or you're a perfect match for someone fainthearted like me, is up for you to decide. Whichever interpretation of being perfect you choose would be correct, but you should know - I meant both either way.”

But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating

When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody

Even when we fade eventually to nothing

You will always be my favorite form of loving

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked when he finally refound his voice. 

“Since the minute I walked in.” I replied after refinding mine. 

_ _ _ 

“You always take girls to your apartment on the first date, Doctor?” Asking this in the name of taking a jab at him was the most clever way I could think to conceal my underlying motive of trying to gauge how giddy I could let myself feel about the fact that he’d taken me to his ‘super chic dark academia’ themed residence - Penelope’s words, remember?

“Well, in my abundant dating history,” He sarcastically began, “I can’t say I ever have, no. You’d be the first.”

That shot another quick bolt of lightning to the wildfire in my heart that I’m ashamed to admit made the heat reinvigorate. The flame must’ve been too much for my chest to contain so it had to relocate to my face, where my cheeks were left to burn under his gaze and thanks to his admission. 

I was the first. 

He must’ve seen the glint localizing on my countenance and decided to speak on it. “Why does that amuse you?”

“I don’t know,” I dumbly but truthfully replied. He didn’t need any more information to get his answer, though. Because even if I didn’t know what amused me about being his first, I never denied that it did, and that was more than enough confirmation for him. 

“You promise to be here when I come back?” He wagged a cautionary finger at me like it might persuade me to stay and hold me accountable if I didn’t. 

Spencer needed to go into his room to collect an item that ‘shall not be named’ but was apparently essential for our super secret plans tonight (secret to even me) and he was leaving me in the living room while he did so. I guess being the initial girl he took home on a first date was okay, but being the initial girl he took into his bedroom on a first date was crossing a line. 

That was alright with me, though. I was in this for the long haul.

“I promise I pose no flight risk, Your Honor,” I taunted with a coy tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t snoop around some.” Hey, at least I was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

“Snoop around all you want,” He laughed ruefully, demonstrating an openness I quite envied and admired. “You’ll probably learn a lot about me that way. And you won’t even have to talk to me to do that!” I knew he was only saying that out of self-deprecating tendencies he harbored, but I couldn’t help feeling that a small part of him actually believed that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.

“Spencer, you know I do like talking to you right?” I caught him just before he ran into his room. Already halfway in the door, I could still catch the megawatt smile on his face. 

“So stay then,” His smile grew impossibly bigger. “We can talk all you want when I get back.” 

The door closed, and then suddenly reopened to let just his face through, a face that said, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

After a few minutes of loudly sorting through his room, I heard the sanctimonious cry of victory. “Found it!” 

I could hear the little pad of his feet and he happily trotted out of the room. “Ta-da! My stargazing kit.” He said it as though he were introducing the basket he was holding to me, and me to it. Like it was a real person he wanted me to know. I almost felt obliged to say, ‘Hi stargazing kit! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m (y/n)!’

“Let’s go,” He smiled, reaching for my hand. 

I unabashedly took it, because although it meant that I was truly leaving his apartment, I had a very strong feeling that I would be back here again one day. 

_ _ _ 

We were lying there on this big quilted comforter that was stashed away in that stargazing kit of his, staring up at the sky, drunk on the sound of our occasional fits of laughter. 

“It’s Earth Day, you know that?” I wondered aloud in a state of complete euphoria.

“I actually did,” He said through a sheepish laugh, almost as if he was admitting the knowledge of it against his own will to protect my fragility. 

From out of nowhere, there was a small tug on the skirt of my dress. I looked down to find Spencer’s hand there, playing with the fabric until it lay perfectly on my leg. 

I coughed to possibly relieve the tension brewing in my loins. “So then you know the Lyrid meteor shower is tonight,” I moved the tiniest bit closer to lean into his touch.

“At exactly 4:33 a.m,” He moved too.

“Is that why you brought me here? To watch the shooting stars? To make a wish?” I thought for a second that I would appear exceedingly childish - more so than I already did being 21 years his junior. But he didn’t judge me at all for the kid-like notion of making a wish on a shooting star or the implication that I still believed in those things. 

In fact, I piqued his curiosity, telling by the way he moved only his head to the side to watch my reaction. “Say I did. What would you wish for?” 

In the throws of dreamy elation, I softly murmured the only honest answer. “To be older. But not the unfulfilling 9 to 5, loveless marriage, ‘I do my taxes for fun’ older. I want to be old in the ways that the stars and the sky are old. I want to be infinite.” 

“...To be infinite.” He whispered my wish back, sounding sort of in awe of me. 

Just then, the overhead horizon grew larger. With no buildings or people to block the view, it was just us, the stars, and the sky. I could actually feel that I was lying on a planet. It was so wide. So infinite. 

“Can I hold your hand?” I asked softly, in a manner so vulnerable it scared me.

Without any words or hesitation, he put my hand in his.

“The universe seems so big right now. I just needed something to hold onto.” I explained quietly, practically with the hopes that he wouldn’t hear me. But he heard.

“I’m here.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two people, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. We weren’t divided by power, or age, or space. We were ourselves and no one else. 

My eyes fluttered shut again and a smile stretched across my face. “Stargazing was a good idea.”

The world and the sky and the stars and I - we were all infinite. I couldn’t have felt bigger in my own body. In the best way possible, I was taking up so much space. I was occupying the earth. I was made up of matter. I mattered. 

Just as I began to open my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a fading shooting star. Though I had wished to be older, I still felt like a child. Then it hit me. I didn’t feel older because I wasn’t older.

I was infinite. 

Yes, I was a child, but not in the pinch your cheeks, bottles and pacifiers, babyish way. I was a child in the ‘you have a life full of possibilities ahead of you’ way.

You are young. He tells me with his eyes. And that is a good thing. Be forever young. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

If you’re on this taglist, I strongly suggest commenting, reblogging, or liking! 

CLICK HERE TO JOIN A TAGLIST

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid​ @spenxerslut​ @you-sunshine​​ 

[behaein]

"hmm? do i not look like a drummer to you?" she raises her brow in a teasing manner before letting out a chuckle. "maybe i should have worn more baggy pants? or like a half-ripped shirt?" haein takes a look down at her outfit as she shrugs. she's joking with yuji because she understands why she may be surprise. the drums didn't seem like the first instrument anybody would think of when they saw haein, she got that.

she nods in agreement. "exactly! i always thought we should have had at least one movie where the drummer was the star and not the vocalist or songwriter." she sticks her tongue out in distaste before pursing her lips together at the thought. haein was mostly joking, but she does think such a movie would have been interesting. it certaintly would have felt outside of the box.

"well, the good thing is that they're not expecting us to be pros at the instrument by the end of this whole ordeal. we'd be lucky if we can even get the basic beat down." she's searched the drums up on youtube before, so she knows there's probably a basic rhythm they'll be learning. does haein think she'll do a good job? she's not exactly sure, but it does sound like it'll be a lot of fun.

"what made you choose the drums for this workshop?"

“really?” yuji asks, mildly curious. drums isn’t the first instrument that comes to mind to try out just on your own. yuji had gravitated towards the guitar in her youth. she tried piano to appease her family, and she loves making dreamy synth beats in her idle time. drums isn’t her first thought by far, but– it’s certainly interesting to try. “that surprises me.”

humming at the question, yuji’s brows furrow as she tilts her head in thought. “they do– but they don’t usually focus too much on them though. unfortunately.” at least the ones she’s seen; feels like they often let them be more of a background character. disappointing, she thinks. “i think they always have the best outfits, though.” simple, but eyecatching, usually.

tongue poking against the inside of her cheek, her eyes flicker from looking over the drumset, to haein– studying her quietly. she’s nice, friendly as a default, but yuji expects it at face-value. she does seem interested in the songwriting camp enough to sign up for drum lessons though. that gives yuji enough to work with.

“there’s a lot of pressure for dummers though. their role is pretty important.” almost baseline, in a sense. “makes me a little nervous.” the corner of her mouth quirks up in a ghost of a smile.

[mysticgoblinwriter]

Driving In A Cold Sweat; There Is No One On This Highway

Warnings- Murder, infidelity, swearing, food imagery, shitty parents, i made Steve the villain who’s in the HOA and a politician, adult content, dark!reader, cheating, a bit of flirting, mental health joke (mental health is NOT a joke, y’all), religion symbolism, dark!steve, peggy x bucky,

Word Count- 1.9k

kudos to @blackberrybucky for being my soundboard, and @fandomsandxfiles for being my beta reader. Love y'all

a/n- This is inspired by Hypothermic by Goodnight Texas.  Its really dark, and I surprised myself writing this but I like it. I also changed the landscape to desert. Leave comments if you want! As many as you like, I fangirl over my work too. All writers should, its selfcare.

IF YOU WANT SOMETHING FLUFFY AND SOFT TURN AWAY NOW; MINORS DNI

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE. A REBLOG IS APPRECIATED. A REPOST IS NOT.

Bucky looks you up and down, taking you in like you are the gods own ambrosia.  “So, doll.  What brings you to this shit hole?”

You laugh to yourself.  “I murdered somebody.”- was the sentence that also inspired this but its not in the actual story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The radio gave out miles ago.  It was emitting nothing except for crackling and static.  Every now and then it would cut back to a sermon, funnily enough it’d been the same one that was on when you started your trip.  Sunset was a little ways off.  If you looked hard enough you could see coyotes just off the asphalt.  Alive, yes.  But just how long had their souls been gone?  Someone was screaming.

A man.  You’d heard that scream before.  Seared into you memory like that steak you had for your 15th birthday. It was right next to you.  Oozing blood and raw-red.  You could hear the clink of the knife as it scraped against the plate.  Shaking your head to clear it, you notice an exit with a gas station.  “Now’s a time as good as any to stop.”  Gravel crunches as you slide up next to the pump. The neon beer lights from the bar across the road are calling.  But you can’t answer. The gas handle is slick and grimy, you’ve felt something like that before, but you can’t remember what.  A fuzzy noise in the back of your ears gets your attention.  Another truck has pulled in.  Right in the spot next to yours, never mind the dozen others that are free.  A bulky man steps down, his face hidden by a rangers hat.

You could tell he worked out though.  And had hair in need of a washing.  Clunk.  The tank was full.  You thought it best to leave before anyone could place you, but your stomach needed something other than greasy two-bit fast food.  You glance around, looking for any sign that promised a hot meal.

“Looking for something, doll?” You let out a small gasp.  He was staring straight at you now.

“Does this shithole have a place to eat?  I might have to start eating the cactus.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Yeah, there’s a diner about half mile down the road.”

His face brightens like he just thought of something.  “You wanna meet me there?  I’ll buy dinner?”  You weigh the options.  You can’t have anybody recognize you; but your cash is getting low and however you can stretch it, you must.  You nod once.  “Sure.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The diner is every trope you’d seen in the movies your pops watched when he got off work.  Flies buzzing, neon sign flickering, checkered tile.  It even had the shiny red leather booths.  What a dream.  “Getcha a seat anywhere, honey.  I’ll be right over,” came a perky voice from the back.  Presumably a waitress. You choose the booth near the back exit.  Its always good to have a backup plan.

The man said he needed to get something at the mini-mart, that you could go ahead and he’d catch up.  Somebody screamed right next to you, causing you to jump out of your seat.  You whip your head around.  No one was even in the dining area.  It sounded so real.  Like you could reach out and grasp the shattering inky blackness.  You take a couple of deep breaths.  Try to remember your happy place.  Tahiti, its a magical place.  Or so you’ve been told  You just picked it from a magazine that was open on the coffee table the night your mother set fire to the curtains in the living room.  The flames had licked up the page, burning the island resort into ash.  Boots thudded as they made way to where you were.  He slides in across from you.

“Um, the waitress’ll be right out,” you said softly.  He barely heard it over the rickety air conditioning.  He nods to show he heard.  He’s sitting close.  Closer than you’d thought another human would ever sit next to you again.  His hands are rough and calloused.  The sleeve cuffs of his hoodie are frayed; as if someone clawed at them.  Eyes traveling up his body, you take in more details.  The hoodie isn’t faded, its brand new.  He wears a bracelet of leather on his right hand, with a charm you can’t quite see.  His necklace is corded hemp, plain and understated.

A light stubble that’s maybe three days old covers his jaw.  His eyes... are piercing right through you. You take in a quick breath, not being able to look away.  You’d never seen that shade of blue before.   He’d been watching you watching him.  Quirking an eyebrow, ”See anything ya like, doll?” You start to sputter an answer but the waitress comes over.  “Sorry about the wait.  Here’s your-”  Blue eyes interrupts her, “We don’t need those.  I’ll have the special and she’ll have the ‘Its Impossible To Go Away Hungry’ plate”  “Okay, then.  I’ll get that right out to ya folks.”

You glare at him, he mirrors it with dicky nonchalance. “Why did you order for me?”  He leans forward, tilts his head the right the tiniest fraction.  “You’re starved.  I really don’t give a damn what kept you from eating but I ain’t gonna let you go without giving you a meal.  The steak plate is the biggest meal they have.  You can take a to go box, that is if you don’t eat the whole thing.”

“Oh.”  You cast out a huff, “Well, thank you.”  He flashes a killer smile. Pearly white teeth in a straight line.  Not an imperfection to be found anywhere.  A silence falls between the two of you.  You can’t decide whether its comfortable of not.

“My name is Bucky.  I thought you wouldn’t like eating with a stranger.  I like to doodle in the margins of my books sometimes.”  “Please tell me not library books.”  He scoffs as if you suggested the impossible, “Never.  Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Jury’s out on that, Bucky.”  He looks at you more intently now.  “Really?  Same could be said about you.  When I first spoke to you it was like a deer in headlights.  Ya running from something, sugar?”  He’d said it jokingly but you didn’t laugh.

“No.  Nothing like that.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shirley came back with your plates, and two root beers.  She left the check at the end of the table and Bucky swooped it up.  The meal passed by in the comfortable sounds of silverware clinking and ice clacking in the cups.  You both ate in record time.

You were careful to save enough for a second meal. That went into the to go container.  Now both cups were drained and plates scraped clean.  You start to slide out of your seat, mumbling a thanks but Bucky stops you.  “Wait, won’t you sit here a while longer?  I’d be kinda sad sitting here alone.”  After a moments hesitation, you resume your position.  “What do you wanna talk about?  It can’t be the weather.  Its been dry as bones for weeks.”   He ponders for a moment, “You.”  He shifts a little, resting one ankle on the opposite knee.

“I want to know what you’re running from, and see if I can offer...a distraction.”  That shocks you.  “Life?  Aren’t we all running away in some form or another?  I just happened to take the mobile route.”  You shrug, “What do you want me to say?  It was all shitty so I left it behind.  And as for the distraction part, I got a whore last night, so don’t bother.”  He is silent.  Just sits there and gazes at you.  You cock your head, getting impatient.  “Am I allowed to leave now?  Or do you want to talk about our feelings?”

“I slept with my best friends wife.”

“I-I’m sorry you what??”

“I slept with my best friends wife.  He owns half the town, what with him being mayor and all.  I couldn’t take it anymore, he’s always been the golden boy.  Always been the beacon of light.  I just wanted a slice of what he had.”  He looks up, his eyes are dead.  “She was willing, and I just... took her.  There on his desk.  He’d been out for lunch with some bigwig, and I made her cum twice on my cock.”  He chuckles darkly.  “That’d been the first time.  All the other times don’t matter, he doesn’t know about those.  But he does know about the time in the craft shed.  Peggy did pottery.

Had a nice little workshop, it was connected to the mansion they had.  I wanted to bring her pleasure in the place where she gets frustrated often, so she’d have something else to think about.  Steve caught us on the floor.  A big bunch of daffodils in hand.  Stupid, those weren’t even her favorites.”  He was gone now, lost in memories, not even knowing he was talking.  “Said he had come by to take her to lunch.  That was always like Steve.  Expected her to clear her schedule at the drop of a hat but never doing the same for anybody. He didn’t even get mad.  He just walked away, muttering something about his office.

Peggy said she could talk some sense into him.  The next day I found her in the garbage when I took out my trash.”  Your sharp inhale and big eyes do nothing to catch his attention.  “Steve comes strolling out of nowhere, said that she was a threat to his image.  Said that I need to leave or face the same.  I asked why he left me alive and he said ‘So you can remember the pain until you lay down in the ground and the mice and carrion drag your body up from its silk cocoon to feast.”

But that’s not all.”  He said the last bit so quietly, it was as if he said nothing.

“What?”  He’s crying now, tears are forming rivers in his eyes.  “She knew.  She knew  he was going to be there and that’s how she wanted to go out.”  Your puzzled expression makes him laugh.  “Don’t know many politicians, do you?  Good.  Keep it that way.  That day when the mail came I got a letter.  From her.  It said how she wanted to divorce Steve ever since he became the HOA president.  But she couldn’t.  He had threatened her once, just once and what he said was so blisteringly awful.  And he did it.  He is a man of his word, after all.  He kept his damn word.”

“So...she used you as an out?”  He winces.  You hadn’t meant to sound like that.

“Yes.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Out in the diners parking lot you say goodbye to James.  Wait.  No, no.  His name is Bucky.  He’s got a green  Chevy and blue eyes.  Or was it red?  It doesn’t matter anyway.  You back out and head for the next state, ignoring the blood leaking from the tarp in your trunk.  The screams have stopped.  And the moon is bright.

[cattyanon]

So eventually Sonic wakes up standing at (some place) which is deserted. Knowing what this means he feels like throwing up. He’s being used as a puppet to kill people with the excuse of survival.

He sprints into a forest as he thinks about what he’s going to do next. He’s clearly too dangerous to be near people right now. Sonic settles on isolation for the time being. He doesn’t want to risk hurting anybody with something he doesn’t know how to control.

For a moment he considers staying with Tails before he remembers that’s impossible. He had momentarily forgotten about what he was forced to do, too focused on not hurting anybody else.

And without the parasite there to distract him, what happened hits him all at once.

Tails.

T a i l s .

His brother. Gone.

And he couldn’t even do a thing. He just stood there and watched it happened. There was a feeling of pure terror he felt just thinking about it. He couldn’t save him. He couldn’t do anything.

And the terror he felt only grew when he felt his tails droop and hit the ground. Another horrible reminder of what happened. He hates it. He hates it so, so much. At this point he’s crying.

He wishes he didn’t have those two tails. Thinking about them being there felt so wrong and yet for reason they were so easy to move and he absolutely hates it. Why does it feel so natural? It shouldn’t feel so natural, none of this is natural! 

He needs help. He doesn’t want to but he knows he needs it at this point. But who? Who does he go to for something so horrible?

Thinking about it he eventually decides that Amy might be his best bet for this. I mean, she did accept him even in his werehog form. He’d have to be careful though. He doesn’t want to hurt anybody else.

Shit, now I gotta figure out where tf Amy lives... aaaand the only mention of where she lives is in Sonic Boom which is not the canon this takes place in. I guess I’ll just base it off her house in that then? Let’s just go with that.

So Sonic arrives at the house near the beach Amy lives in and stands in front of her door for awhile. She’s going to immediately question him on what happened when she saw his eyes. 

Was he even ready for this? Chaos, was it even a good idea to get Amy involved?

Sonic is starting to think that maybe he should just leave when the door suddenly opens. It’s Amy. And as expected, once she realizes who it is, bombards him with questions.

He gets her to calm down with the questions and they both walk inside. Amy comments that she was about to go shopping but whatever reason Sonic has to be here must be important.

He sits on the couch and Amy notices something very strange she didn’t notice before. She’s extremely tempted to ask but... it probably has something to do with why Sonic is here. She’ll just ask him if he doesn’t bring it up.

And since she knows this is Sonic, the one who doesn’t like sharing his feelings, she knows she needs to go slow.

Amy is patient and with time Sonic eventually recounts everything that’s happened that he remembers. She tries to hide it but she’s absolutely horrified. And it definitely happened too. There’s no way Sonic would joke about something like that regarding Tails.

So Amy is barely keeping it together as Sonic laments that he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to hurt anybody but eventually this thing is going to come back and make him hurt more people.

“It’ll insist I’ve run out of reserves eventually. I don’t want to hurt anyone but I don’t know how to make it stop either!”

Amy asks him to give her a moment to think up something.

She eventually gets an idea. “Well maybe if you eat more than usual that’ll keep you filled up? You should probably also try and get a handle on these giant shadow hands you’ve told me about too.”

Sonic then thanks Amy for her advice and says he’ll think about it and asks if she doesn’t mind him sticking around for awhile. He can’t bring himself to go back to the workshop. Just thinking about it makes him feel queasy.

Amy agrees and says that while Sonic thinks about it that she’s going to do her shopping. (And now she’s also going out to wrap her head around what she was just told because wtf)

So Amy heads off to go shopping while Sonic walks along the beach contemplating about what Amy said.

And what she said definitely made an amount of sense. If he ate more than he already does it would probably fill up whatever reserves the thing (he doesn’t know it’s a parasite) was talking about.

Then there’s the whole learning how to control those weird giant shadow hands. It was probably possible. He did do it that one time in Station Square even if it was an accident.

Eventually Sonic comes to a stop. He really didn’t want to do this, it would just serve as a reminder of what happened, but he couldn’t risk hurting somebody again.

He couldn’t risk doing that to Amy as well.

With a new found resolution, Sonic decides to give controlling the hands a try. He can’t end up hurting somebody close to him again. (What he doesn’t know is that it wasn’t him who actually used the hands to snatch up Tails. That’s right, I’m making him feel guilty for something he didn’t actually have control over at the time. Mwahahaha!!)

Anyways Sonic ends up looking like an absolute maniac from an outsider’s perspective while trying to summon a hand. 

I think I’ll leave it here so I can try to really get into the details of Sonic summoning a hand for the ‘first’ time. I wanna try writing how it’ll feel. Try and hone some writing skills in the process, you know?

Anyways there will be angst coming up. If you’re interested in what the next super angsty thing is gonna be just look in the tags.

[jelly-pies]

Dancing From Now On

Read on AO3

Pepper remembered their first dance. Contrary to public knowledge, it had not been at the annual Stark Industries gala.

Tony and Pepper's first dance took place months before that, alone at the mansion, late after a long day of work. The music had been Pepper's idea, to relax. But the dance had been Tony's.

"Getting better, Potts." Somehow cheerier than usual, he spun her slowly around the workshop. "Nobody will ever know you had two left feet. Hardly believe it myself, if my toe wasn't still throbbing."

Pepper huffed. "Not all of us could afford dance classes, you know."

"Well, it's not that hard, see? We're just swaying." Tony pulled her in, an inch closer, meeting her eyes. And for one moment, Pepper was purely dancing with the friend she was secretly in love with—not the boss who depended on her, or the playboy whose one night stands she escorted out of the mansion every few weeks. Just Tony. "Just dancing."

Their casual flirting was one thing. But this was getting dangerously close to something else—so Pepper ended the moment. JARVIS stopped the music, and when Pepper looked back after collecting her things, Tony suddenly looked away as if he'd been caught staring.

Maybe he had.

"So, you're good?" Tony asked casually, hands fiddling with some tools he picked up. "No stumbling over anybody's feet at the next gala?"

"We're good." Pepper matched his light tone. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You're very welcome, Ms. Potts."

"And Tony... " She paused at the door. Did she imagine that expectant look he sent her way, or was it just the lighting? "Um… that contract you still have to look over. Don't show up tomorrow without it."

"Which one?"

"Tony."

He chuckled. "I got it. Have a good night."

Maybe it was just the lighting.

"Good night," Pepper answered, and exited the room with deliberate steps.

She turned back before the landing. Tony was facing away, bringing up holo-screens, flexing his hands—and suddenly she remembered the feel of those calloused fingers against her own, drawing her closer.

Tony looked up. Pepper turned away, determined not to be caught staring.

But maybe she had.

Pepper remembered their first dance. And she remembered how it led to much, much more.

-

Their second dance, that one was at the Stark Industries Firefighter's Family Fund benefit. A backless blue gown, a little banter, an almost-kiss on the roof. Another moment Pepper ended before anything could begin, even though she half-wished something  would begin—had been wishing it those dreadful three months of Tony's disappearance.

As Tony left to get them drinks, Pepper turned away to hide a growing blush. She didn't see the way he looked back at her from the door.

Tony reentered the building, and didn't see the way Pepper looked after his retreating back, either.

-

Years later on another rooftop, after a disastrous Stark Expo, the kiss became real.

They even had a witness, who deadpanned, "You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape."

Tony put his arm around her as they faced Rhodey, and Pepper couldn’t help thinking how that gesture must make them look like a real couple. She found she didn’t mind. All of a sudden, plans of her resignation as CEO didn't seem so urgent.

Tony turned back to her as soon as Rhodey left and challenged, "How are you gonna resign if I don’t accept?"

Pepper laughed, letting the action release her anxiety and near-death stress and girlish romance. "I…" And Tony was leaning close. She stopped him with a finger on his lips. "Tony, if I don't… we can’t…"

"Come on, it’s us. We’ll figure something out." And there was that look again. Pepper wasn’t so quick to blame the lighting this time. "Ms. Potts?" Tony took both her hands. "Pep?"

It was too late to stop this moment, and Pepper knew it. But the doubt must have still shown on her face because Tony took one look and continued, "Remember when we danced? The first time, Malibu? You crushed my toes about a hundred—"

"Please let that go."

"—but we made it work."

Pepper took a breath. "We did."

Tony smiled, eyes shining—that's how Pepper could always tell if his smiles were real. She could also tell that both of them were done holding back… whatever this was.

"We are pretty good at dancing," Pepper replied.

Tony couldn't see her face as they embraced, but if he did, Pepper was sure he could tell her smile was real, too.

-

A private night at Stark Tower after the New York attack, that was the third dance. Or fourth, or fifth, maybe. Pepper wasn't sure she needed to count anymore.

She was only sure of two things. Swaying together in their home, with JARVIS playing soft music overhead, her arms around the love she had almost lost—and had accepted she would come close to losing, over and over again, for the sake of saving the world—Pepper was only sure of these: that she wanted herself and Tony to have a thousand more dances to come.

And that she could never know which one would be their last.

-

They danced that night on yet another rooftop, after the events with the Mandarin.

They didn't dance after Ultron.

Or for several months after that.

But the next time Pepper and Tony finally held each other in their arms, they held on tighter, and neither let go for a long, long time.

-

This wasn't how Pepper imagined it, for several reasons.

Tony’s smile was different. There was a sadness in them that lingered like ashes, but he smiled anyway, holding her close—which was a feat with Pepper's growing belly, but they made it work.

There were fewer guests. Several seats they left vacant on purpose, scattered around the lakeside like lonely souls. Some people held the belief they were there, in spirit, and that's what mattered. Pepper wasn't so sure; pure sentimentality had prevailed on her to leave the seats out.

Apparently sentimentality ran high this evening. The band played the song she and Tony had first danced to, oh so long ago, in a mansion long since blown to bits, by an AI, a friend, long since gone.

There was no publicity in what had once been anticipated as the event of the decade. A single ray of sun through gray clouds instead of all-around sunshine, in what was supposed to be the happiest day of Pepper and Tony's life.

But the people they loved—those that were left—celebrated with them, and that was enough. A simple reception at their new house, and the wedding was over.

After the lake grew quiet and the stars came out, the newlyweds slow-danced through the night, just the two of them.

This wasn't how Pepper imagined their new life would start. But start it did, with a dance.

"Getting better, Potts," Tony whispered beside her temple, their heads pressed together.

"Not so hard without the floor length gown. I know that was my idea, but God, don’t let me do anything like that ever again."

Tony chuckled and spun her slowly until she faced away, then wrapped his arms around his wife, their four hands interlocking on top of her belly.

Pepper had long lost count of their dances. But she knew this was one she would always remember.

It was Tony who broke the silence. "You guys still here? Scoot."

Pepper turned where he was looking: Rhodey’s wedding presents on the mantelpiece, staring at them—two plushie seals. And she laughed. Tony could always make her laugh.

“Fighting over a grape?” Pepper recalled.

“I never really got that image, to be honest.”

“Hm.” She turned back to Tony, cupped his cheek, and leaned in. “Let’s see about that.”

-

"That’s it! You’re doing it!" Tony spun their daughter around until the song ended, and Morgan collapsed in giggles on the floor. Tony scooped her up and tickled her with his stubble, making the giggling grow louder.

"Dad!" Morgan laughed. "Mommy, save me!"

Pepper swiftly rescued the toddler, only to drop her on the couch and blow raspberries on her stomach a second later. "In this house—" another tickle, and Morgan squealed— "nobody—escapes—dancing!"

Morgan finally succeeded in pushing her away as FRIDAY started the next upbeat song, and soon all three were back on their feet.

-

“Not that it's a competition.” Tony walked in. “But she loves me three thousand.”

“Oh, does she?”

“You were somewhere on the low… six to nine hundred range.”

Tony could always make her laugh.

Even the night after the Avengers came to visit. The night their new life, that Pepper knew in her heart could never last long, started to melt away.

Tonight there was no music, no dancing. Only the crackle of the fireplace, the weight of the future, and Pepper’s words hanging in the air— "But will you be able to rest?"

Tony didn’t answer her. He didn’t need to.

But Pepper held his hand, and Tony kissed her cheek. And when they finally went to bed, they held each other tighter.

-

Tony held her hand, and Pepper kissed his cheek. "You can rest now."

Tonight there was no dancing.

-

Two cylindrical compartments stood along the garage wall, one of them forever to be empty. In the other, Pepper put her Rescue suit away by herself. Crossing the room, her fingers couldn't help lingering over Tony's reserve helmet—Tony's desk—Tony's tools—Tony's presence. She could always feel it in his workshops.

Their first dance had been in his workshop.

The memory jolted her, pulling Pepper's eyes back to the last gift Tony left: her Rescue suit slumped in its compartment, looking as battered as she felt. Pepper remembered what it was like to take the suit to battle. To fight side by side with her husband, gauntlets firing in sync, guarding each other's back. A team to the end.

Did that count as a dance? Because otherwise, Pepper realized, she didn't remember the last time she and Tony danced.

She remembered their first, though—would always remember it. JARVIS’s song, their wedding song, strained in her ears—she could almost feel Tony's calloused fingers around hers—dancing in his workshop late at night.

But in this workshop, on this night, Pepper could only cry.

-

Pepper still danced.

She danced with Rhodey, and they leaned on each other, the way they had learned to do long ago.

She danced with Happy, bouncy little head bangs as they cooked Christmas dinner together, and for a moment the house was full of music again.

She danced with Peter, years later at his wedding, whispering "We’re so proud of you" in his ear.

She danced with her daughter. Morgan always pulled her to her feet whenever a lively song came on the radio— "In this house, nobody escapes dancing!" And they laughed. And they danced.

Pepper still danced. Just not with the one person she most wanted to dance with again.

-

When years had passed, and Morgan was grown, and the house was quiet most hours of the day, Pepper developed the habit of sneaking out on the balcony on clear nights, and looking up at the stars.

Some of her favorite dances with Tony had taken place under the stars. Like the rooftop. And their wedding.

Pepper didn’t remember which dance had been their last. But she remembered the first. And the second. And the thousands that came after that. Maybe that was enough.

In the quiet of the lake house, with only the strains of their wedding song echoing in her ears, and the stars above her, forever her witness—Pepper danced.

-

-

- "Ang Huling El Bimbo (The Last [Dance])," The Eraserheads

Lahat ng pangarap ko'y bigla lang natunaw

Sa panaginip nalang pala kita maisasayaw

(All of my dreams are suddenly gone

Only in dreams can we dance from now on)