#i got the white one with b&w print

[asteracaea]

i've resisted for months but i finally ordered an official tour tee lol

the post-show codes work! and it took off the tax and shipping so a $45 shirt (ugh that hurts to say) came out to $44.55 lol

[lexirosewrites]

Idk if ur gonna see this in time for slick sunday this week but here goes: a/b/o high fantasy might b my fave genre so ofc tht means I have a steddie brain worm abt it

Steve is the adopted omega son of the villages midwife, Claudia Henderson. She found him abandoned in the woods as a baby, an unfortunate but common practice for omega boys sometimes.

Their small village isn't far from the capital of the kingdom of Hawkins which is how the news of the summoning reaches their ears within days. The former king was cruel to be sure, and power hungry like he needed it to breathe. So he thought to strengthen himself w the help of a Demon, only he didn't read the fine print & got killed by said Demon & now the Demon is ruling Hawkins bc of right of conquest. Nothing changes drastically overnight but over the course of a year things improve in the kingdom of Hawkins. Their new king was cruel to his enemies but a fair & responsible ruler to his subjects. He established public education efforts for one thing, and opened up the knights ranks to commoners for another. Steve's life didn't change much, he still watched his baby brother & made his family their meals because Claudia was busier everyday tht spring approached, nothing rlly changed till the decree went out.

Tht all unmated omegas of a certain age range were to go to the royal palace for the celebration of their new kings first year of rule, where he will meet them & choose one of them to be his Consort.

Steve goes purely because it's a royal decree & he doesn't expect to make it very far anyway: male omegas r rare sure but they're not considered as fertile as a female omega & in a battle for the throne the ability to guarantee their king an heir must be key. So Steve goes & when he gets to the castle he's bustled in w all the other omegas into one room then this little blonde woman walks out, calls out certain names, & tells those ppl to leave. Steve is not told to leave. They're each given a room complete w a nesting frame & mattress (something tht is fancy to Steve who grew up in a village) as well as nesting materials. They're informed tht the king has scented a handkerchief for each of them to add to their nests. Sure enough atop all the blankets & sheets & paraphernalia is a simple white handkerchief tht smells like the smoke from the fire in his small homes hearth in Loch Nora with a hint of sweetness not unlike maple syrup. He sets abt making his nest to his standards i.e. comfort, comfort, comfort. He tucks in his adoptive mother's cotton headband she wore when working & his baby brothers knitted hat then can't decide where to put the kerchief from his king so he falls asleep holding it to his nose

ANYWAY THIS GOT LONG

So Eddie meets Steve & they fall in love & Eddie doesn't necessarily need heirs but he does need a mortal mate to tie him to this reality more solidly so he was planning to simply choose whoever wasn't repulsed by his scent bc to humans his scent is largely sulphur except Steve doesn't smell sulphur in Eddie's scent this can only mean one thing: Steve is the Demon kings soulmate

ofc Steve gets pregnant after they spend his heat together & he has a cute little half Demon baby w his doting Demon mate

royal au, demon eddie, soulmates!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

[gender-trash]

(i am seriously late in posting about this due to The Problems BUT whatever! its here now!!)

somewhere around late november 2022, i asked my dad "hey are there any out of print technical books you'd like a reprint of for christmas?"

he linked me to a dubious black-and-white pdf of Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy. now, i wound up checking out a copy through link+, and the original edition is a really nicely put together book! the chapters are themed around various types of measurements (length, angle, etc), and they all have these cute little diagrams which the endpapers reuse in a lil repeating pattern... the image captions are done in this really lovely dark red that did not scan for SHIT... tons and tons of diagrams and illustrations and images (both color and b&w)... just, all around, a fucking nice book!! (see also @morrak's post about it here.)

and that made me feel kind of bad about the crappiness of the pdf, which is where the Problems began. i used my phone to take pictures of all the photos and color diagrams in the original and went about replacing them in the pdf, using what turned out to be the world's worst pdf editing software (i also got through replacing all the image captions in chapter 1 of 5 before my dad convinced me to give up). i did NOT finish the pdf editing before christmas 2022 (i was going somewhat off the deep end, because both my housemates were away visiting family and i had zero external structure in my life so it was just me and my cat and this stupid FUCKING pdf wrecking my sleep schedule together); i poked away at it for most of the rest of my time off and then got so goddamn sick of it i put the project away for months. "it'll be a birthday gift instead", i said optimistically (my dad's birthday is in april! it should have been enough time!)

gentle readers, i did not finish the pdf editing by april. mostly because it was such a miserable slog that i put it off until the last possible moment and then tried to make up for it with another death march.

hating both myself and the project again, i decided i was Not going to let myself typeset Anything Else before it was done, and then took a break to bind my immortal (using the renegade publishing typeset! i didn't do any typesetting!!). SURELY, i said, i can finish this in time for christmas 2023.

i'm sure you know where this is going.

in my defense i DID finish the pdf editing by christmas, despite first doing every other possible procrastination project (including a second edition of the little second century warlord book), because by this point my dad had managed to convince me to lower my standards. on the evening of the 22nd i kicked off the print job and said to myself "this will finish printing overnight and then tomorrow i can work on sewing the textblock!"

late on the 23rd, after lots of babysitting and using at least one cartridge of every color ink in my printer, the print job was finally done. (my sweet and lovely cat wants SO BADLY to hunt and stalk the printer while it is printing -- more specifically, the printed pages, i think because they tend to make noise and move and then STOP moving. for this reason, the printer is kept in the craft room, because the cat can be shut out of the craft room and thus prevented from chewing on the pages when i have an all-day book printing job going. unfortunately the craft room was also being pressed into service as a guest room at the time so 80% of the floor space was consumed by an air mattress which i had to repeatedly trip over in order to reach the printer and replace the ink cartridges.)

then i went to my parents' house on the 24th and 25th and apologized to my dad (again) for not having the book finished. but this worked out well because we finished putting together my awesome new book clamp:

(the feet still aren't done being painted so they're just dry-fit on for now but you can still clamp books in it and that's what matters!!)

i came home, sewed the textblock (french link stitch over four linen tapes, with sewn endbands made of variegated embroidery floss over linen cord, and kozo paper glued over the spine)

... and promptly realized i SHOULD HAVE PUT IN MORE OF A GUTTER because some of the text was getting reeeeeeal close to the spine. "it's fine!" i said. "i just have to make sure it lays flat!! what better time than to try out K118 binding, a technique i have literally never done before and which people on the bookbinding discord notoriously have a hard time pulling off first try! i even have tyvek tape for it!"

so it turns out that tyvek tape isn't actually tyvek with glue on it, it's tape FOR attaching pieces of tyvek TO EACH OTHER, which maybe i could have guessed if i'd done even the slightest amount of research or planning. at this point i think it was the 27th and i was still angling to get this thing done by new year's, so no time to order Actual Tyvek.

fortunately, i had ALSO received An Package in the mail with yarn for a totally unrelated knitting project... shipped in a tyvek envelope.

i peeled all the shipping labels and stickers off my tyvek envelope, cut that shit up, and glued it on there.

and THEN it was time for gluing on covers, which i thought was going to be easy because i had actually thought ahead and ordered materials (specifically acid-free museum board), except when i cracked open the box of museum board i decided i Didn't Like It because the surface was too soft and easily dented, so i glued onto it the too-thin board material i'd previously been using (so that the cardboard goes on the outside of the book). this worked super well (the cardboard stuff has a tendency to curl up from the glue moisture, but the museum board doesn't!) and i'll probably use it on other stuff in the future.

i thought the blue bookcloth i used was kind of boring but i showed my dad the available cloth options and he really liked it, so... what do you know? i cut the piece i used on the back cover very slightly too short but it wound up being covered by the leather, so you can barely tell.

and the leather... a scrap just baaaaarely big enough from my bag of leather scraps from discount fabrics... and this the first time i'd ever attempted to put leather on a book... AND YET the only complaint i have is that i didn't manage to put an even amount on the front and back. it's reasonably square and straight!! amazing!!

i am super super happy with how this project came out (especially given the number of problems i encountered) and oh my god check out how much the spine bends

AND, AS A NEW YEAR'S PRESENT, I FINALLY MANAGED TO GIVE IT TO MY DAD

[rexwrendraws]

spotted on the wall behind the white horse theater!!

Happy one year to Bolt in the Blue by @valeriianz ! Truly the best band au fics I've ever read, I am Endless' #2 fan forever (#1 is Hob, of course) 💙🎸✨

+ alt. colors for the flyer & other scans:

i love taking advantage of my art uni's massive (MASSIVE) scanners for literally anything i can. it's got the most gorgeous grit and scan banding that photoshop trickery cant replicate (though i try lol). so, yes, i literally printed out the b&w flyers, scanned them in, then added color and printed them again to stick on my wall haha.

when digitally adding color, i wanted it to really feel like black ink on colored paper instead of trying to print on color paper and then scan it again (i have done this before idk). i think the xerox-y look is pretty convincing! the green, pink, and purple are my personal favs.

an irl friend suggest i try non-black-ink versions to see what i liked. i think they look cool but some of the text gets a bit lost. still, i like the pale yellow+red ink one. (this almost makes me want to try riso printing this to see what it'd look like 👀👀).

^ this is what the white horse metal barrier edit looked like before I added the Huji Cam filter lol. it wasn't feeling convincing enough like this, so i actually took a photo of my laptop screen with the filter and somehow that looked more real than the actual shot from the show lol. (also, because i've stared at this screenshot for so long, the orange/yellow June 12th poster? is everything on it a reference?? loll)

anyway, had a lot of fun making this!! feel free to print if you want!! READ THE FIC EVERYONE GO READ BOLT IN THE BLUE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[19calicos]

Can you make an ikwtl yn style guide please!! I am begging

ANON IM SORRY I TOOK LITERALLY FOREVER TO ANSWER THIS IM HERE NOW THO I'VE THOUGHT OF THIS ASK EVERYDAY

ikwtl yn style guide HERE WE GOOOOO (with layout creds to the number 1 @eggyrocks !!!)

we're going top to bottom guys !!!! yn is a huuuge fan of cool and goofy ass hats. loves to commission people & loves to buy from small brands and local brands from instagram. doesnt wear hats too often actually but when they do they cycle between these three (btw they're particularly biased towards the head trauma cap tho bc that ones 222 cool)

100% lives for sweater weather yup. always fully zips up jackets and LIVES for vintage adidas & nike. suna got yn a carhartt hoodie and they have worn it to DEATH. dreads when its too warm for a jacket bc it also functions as extra padding when they fall and eat shit from practicing tricks

yn has a couple tank tops for warmer days or for whenever it fits their mood. usually opts for something pretty simple but also loves a fun graphic. especially loves the cat one bc it looks like ube! they r very much a sucker for things with black cats on it, when they first got the black cat tank they lowk wore it to death

again yn is hella into cool graphics. they're a total sucker for nostalgic stuff and stupid shit and likes to support artists by buying their art as merch. also thinks screen printed shirts r cool so if they see one they're really fucking with at a flea market, their wallet is in one hand and the other is holding that shirt !

yn also likes painting with bleach. like. a lot. its too fun what can they say!!! they like that it helps them practice their art and they also like that it gives them a totally unique shirt. everytime they're at the thrift and see a plain black top, the voices start speaking to them...... and the voices win. LMFAOO

JORTS WEARER! and dude omfg DONTTTTT MF PLAY W YN'S JNCO COLLECTION !!! it's either these or jeans and if it's not baggy as shit they don't want it! but seriously they're actually blessed by the thrift gods. everytime they see a pair of jnco's that MIGHT fit, they're gripping it with white knuckles and running to the cashier to buy it right away. their jnco collection only keeps growing it's kind of insane

and hey u may have noticed! yn has a pretty limited color palette but it works bc everything goes together. will wear any baggy denim it just can't be white denim or light light wash bc of all the dirt stains they accumulate from falling off their board

always wears sneakers. if they cant skate it in the shoes whats the point! usually just wears b&w shoes but they do own some of the special vans collabs (they're on the vans mailing list so they can keep up w all the new drops), like the charlie brown ones. yn isnt a sneaker head though they WILL wear the shoes they buy and beat them up ok!!

also now that i think about it i do think yn wears a pop of color every now and then. so think of like a bright yellow hoodie and some red here and there. they prefer to wear color as an accent rather than a statement tbh

[dzgrizzle]

Frankenstein The True Story (1973)

This is where my love for the Bloomsbury Group of writers and artists intersects with my love of gothic literature, mad scientists, and monsters. This out-of-print paperback in today’s mail is the screenplay of FRANKENSTEIN: THE TRUE STORY, a 1973 two-part TV movie written by Christopher Isherwood (friend of E. M. Forster, W. B. Yeats, Virginia Woolf, and others) and his partner, the artist Don Bachardy. The original title, “Dr. Frankenstein,” got changed at the last minute by NBC TV. The movie is really very good, although I understand there are some significant differences from the screenplay as Isherwood and Bachardy wrote it. The actors Leonard Whiting and Michael Sarrazin (shown in the second pic) are both beautiful as Dr. Frankenstein and the Creature, respectively (well, the Creature starts out beautiful but then decays). The ever-bewitching Agnes Moorehead, post-Endora, is both campy and dignified, as always, as the landlady who finds herself hypnotized by the mad scientist, Dr. Polidori, played by James Mason. (This version of the Frankenstein story has three mad scientists, not just one!) I’m looking forward to reading the screenplay, then rewatching the movie on blu-ray with commentary track by Sam Irvin — who, as co-executive producer of the magnificent movie “Gods and Monsters,” is no stranger to Frankenstein lore. Sam Irvin has also written the award-winning book, “The Epic Saga Behind FRANKENSTEIN: THE TRUE STORY,” which is in my TBR stack. 

[genderhawk]

I'm unsure what your taste is so I'm including a small summary by everything. the storygraph generally has all triggers listed in their system if you need any content heads up) Unsure if you want non fiction also but I threw a couple of my favorites on there . All of these I got on Libby or hoopla

Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix (Salem's Lot but Southern and with some very profound and insightful things about White Womanhood and public perception. Every female character is fleshed out and realistic)

I Lived On Butterfly Hill by Marjorie Agosin (A YA fictionalized memoir about a Chilean girl during Pinochet's regime) Sisters of the Lost Nation by Nick Medina (Thriller/Horror novel about an indigenous girl whose sister goes missing. One of the best things I have read this year) The Free People's Village by Sim Kern (Alternate history, what if Al Gore won the election? A fascinating look at how many of the problems we live with today are rooted deeper than simply someone else becoming president.) The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker (Set in NYC at the turn of the century, it traces how two beings from two very different religious traditions got there and how they can find a place for themselves. On personhood, the question of fate/free will as it pertains to one's inner nature, and a legitimately emotional story) Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (Rumplestiltskin retelling with intricate worldbuilding and wonderful characters) Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle (Legitimately creepy but insightful look into heteronormativity as enforced by Evangelical upbringing. I love the way the author handles religion in general here) Lark Ascending by Silas House

(A tragedy with a happy ending. This book was one of the first things I read this year and it has stayed with me since. Cannot recommend it enough) Germinal by Emlie Zola

(One of Suzanne Collins' favorite books, it's the story of the 1890s miners strike in France.)

Soul Full of Coal Dust by Chris Hamby (A journalist's investigation into Black Lung and how it affects Appalachian communities as well as the legal fights to hold mining companies accountable for bucking safety practices and refusing to cover medical care. A harrowing read, but an important one.)

The Most They Ever Had, by Rick Bragg (Sister title to the above, this one covers the history of mill workers in the foothills of Appalachia) Black Reconstruction in America by W E B DuBois

(Long as fuck, and honestly probably best read in print, but if you have even the slightest interest in American history, this is a must read) Finally, the Unofficial Recipes of the Hunger Games, by RockRidge University Press. (Fandom Cookbooks often don't do it for me, but this cookbook is not only textually accurate but it tries the foods mentioned in the book to real-life equivalents or what ingredients may have been available as best they can and it's a legitimately engaging read with many great recipes)

You started out with one of my FAVORITE discovered authors this year, I read that + final girls support club AND how to sell a haunted house this year multiple times 10/10

If you liked that one you've gotta try Devolution by Max Brooks bc like.... Imagine if there was a Tesla village? With some big shoes to fill..... Told as if it were nonfiction post disaster

You might also like Uprising by Margaret Peterson Haddix which is a YA novel, historic fiction, about three teenage girls who work in and around a very specific shirtwaist factory in 1911

Everything else is stuff that's either new to me or has been only in the edges of my radar, but all sounds really cool.... I should try to snag camp Damascus tbh firstly and add the cook book to my wish list

[asanders345gd-i]

ARTS345 Final Course Reflection

This design course has been a huge learning experience for me, primarily in regards to my creative processes. The magazine project being semester-long was absolutely the biggest test of this. I've always struggled with internal motivators. The urgency that accompanies a quickly approaching deadline is unfortunately the signal for my hardest and most focused work. In terms of the magazine, I often sacrificed progress for other more urgent and immediate project deadlines. The biggest takeaway here is a need to build on existing time management skills in the grace period between terms, which I fully plan on doing to avoid another frantic semester.

My ideas for subject matter was also much clearer near the project start date. As time progressed, I found myself forgetting what ideas or elements I wanted to include. Ironic for an magazine on ADHD management, but frustrating nonetheless. Creative energy waxed and waned in a similar way. There would be weeks where I hated every single one of my concepts, and didn't end up with anything of substance to show for it. I have been pulling 8 hour homework days extremely often this semester, but the lack of progress by the end of them has been defeating. Thankfully, there are a multitude of online resources describing how to keep stamina during long-term projects with ADHD that will be extremely helpful to me.

Toward the final submission date, however, I'm really proud of my ability to pull things together. I went from few solid final designs to ones I really love in about a month. My goal was to experiment with a lot of high contrast black and white imagery. Color can be something I include to an excess with varying levels of successful execution. I love the visual puzzle nature of silhouette and figure-ground work and have been interested in working in that style recently. Aside from black and white ink illustrations, I felt type would be a crucial element here. For headers, I chose to create extremely large type in dynamic placements that demands one's focus. Here I discovered just how much I love working with dynamic type. It was a challenge to arrange the letters on the page, especially with their half-letter size, but the payoff after seeing it physically printed was well worth it. My approaches were usually either very large text or very small, which in context of my subject matter, was so useful for creating and retaining visual interest. Photography was my biggest uncertainty in terms of subject matter. I initially took photographs of natural shadows I found in the world, but I felt they were a bad fit for something largely black-and-white. Suddenly, though, I remembered the B&W 35mm photographs and scans from an intro photography class I had taken. After hunting, I tossed a few in and realized they fit perfectly. I loved using existing assets from previous courses, as it helps me not forget their successes and allows me to build upon those.

In assembling the work, I began to feel a bit uneasy. Craft is not always my strong point, and I especially didn't want to make too large of a mistake considering how long the spreads took to print and trim. I thought about using the demo method from class, however, I found my notes were so quickly written that I didn't understand the process. To solve this problem, I researched saddle stitch binding and selected it for the final. For a first try, I think I did pretty well. No catastrophic tears or rips, and the pages hold together pretty well. I would love to keep doing this for projects and personal work, just maybe with a smaller page count.

As a whole, I feel I got a lot from this course in terms of self discovery. My art and design work has really matured this semester and I think the magazine is a perfect example of such. In taking what I've learned technically and internally, I feel a much greater confidence in everything I do going forward. With some edits, I will be adding this project to my professional portfolio.

[mint-moon25]

20 JAN 2024 - SABBATH - SATURDAY - MAIN - LIBRARY

NEW YEAR - AUTHOR - FAIR - INSIDE - BOTH FLOORS

EVERYWHERE - AUTHORS - AUTOGRAPHING - COOL

OLD - WHITE - MALE - SUPER - NICE

HE - SAID - LATE - FEE - OF - BOOKS - FORGIVEN

REMOVED - 4 YRS - AGO - 1ST - ONE - 2 TELL ME

ONLY - FEES

BOOKS - LOST - OR - DAMAGED

HE - SAID - ‘COME - 2 - HIM - WHEN - LOST’

FEE - WAIVED - I SAID - ‘LOST - WON’T - HAPPEN

WITH - ME - LOVE - BOOKS’

NO - FEES - 4 - LATE

WENT - 2 - FIND - WHEN - MY - NICHOLAS SPARKS

BOOKS - LARGE PRINT - EXPENSIVE - $31.95 AND

$34.95 - LOVE - LARGE - PRINT

SHARED - LOVE - JUDITH DEVERAUX - HISTORICAL

ROMANCE - ONLY - ONE - I - READ - EVERY - WORD

BUT - SHE - CHANGED - LEFT - FAMILY - THEY MEET

PRINCE - CHARMING - PRODUCED - CHILDREN - SO

NEXT - BOOK - THEIR - KIDS - GROW - AND MARRY

THEIR - CHILDREN - ABOUT - FAMILY - SHE - LEFT

THAT - WITH - MODERN - PLUS - LIVED - IN - YES

ENGLAND - IN - AN - OVER 300 YRS - OLD HOUSE

EXCUSE - GRAMMAR - SHE - LEFT - HISTORICAL

WITH - MODERN - SO - DON’T - READ HER - YES

ANYMORE

NICHOLAS SPARKS - 15 BOOKS - ALL - NEW YORK

BESTSELLER - I SAID - NY TIMES - BECAME - NICE

HIS - STORIES - ARE - ORDINARY - BUT - GREAT 4

LIKE - JUDITH - WENT - 4 - FAMILY - ABOUT WHEN

THEY - MARRY - AND - WHO - BUT - WHEN - THEY

CONCENTRATE - ON - STRANGERS - ILLITERATE

I - SKIP - THOSE - PAGES - 3 OR - 5 - NO - LIKE EX

HE - IMPLIED - LEAD - MALE - DYING - OF - TERMINAL

CANCER - THAT - HURT - ME - SO - I - COULDN’T YES

READ - 25 PAGES - BUT - I - GUESS - RECUPERATED

HIS - DREAM - COME - TRUE - HIS - WIFE - DAUGHTERS

TOLD - HIM - I’M - BUYING - ESTATE - STABLES - IN - YES

ASHEVILLE - NORTH CAROLINA - SELF - MAGAZINE 2016

‘SAFEST - CITY - 4 - WOMEN’ - HAPPIEST - CITY - ROOTS

OF - PEOPLE - JOLLY - ENGLAND - ALSO - TOP 10 - BEST

ONE - OF - BEST - CITY 2 - LIVE IN - CHEAP REAL ESTATE

ONLY 40 DEGREES - BLUERIDGE - MOUNTAINS - COLDER

AT - MIAMI - 20 DEGREES - BILTMORE - ESTATES - THEIR

CASTLE - ANNUAL - OVER - $200 - FIRST - YEAR - CHEAP

NEXT - BRING - YOUR - OWN - HORSE - 10% - OFF - THEIR

HOTELS - SHOPS - TOUR - THEIR - CASTLE - THE - MAJOR

ACTIVITIES - THERE HERE LIKE - BAYSIDE MARKETPLACE

BUT - FREE - THOROUGHBRED - HORSES - GETTING 3

ONE - A - BABY - OVER - $100,000 EACH - HOW - $$$$$

I - GET - THIS - SHARED - JORDAN - $6 MILLION

TRY VIRAL VAULT . com

TIK TOK - UPLOADED - 2 VIDEOS - DAILY - FREE

ONE - MADE - JUST - THAT - $4,000 - DAILY - HIS

OTHERS -  SHOPIFY - ONLY - TIK TOK - ADS

MADE - OVER - $100,000 - 1 MONTH - NOW MORE

AMAZON - 4 - HUB LOCKERS - SHARED - HOMEWOOD

SUITES - 24/7 - NEAR - NOVOTEL - HE - KNOWS

AMAZON - PRIME - OVER - $1.29 BILLION - DAILY

JORDAN - PROMISES - $10,000 - MONTHLY

SHARED - GOOGLE - SEARCH

START - DROPSHIP - MOSTLY - ALI EXPRESS - CHINA

$5,000 - $10,000 - THEN - $25,000 - THEN - $250,000

MONEY - I - NEED - HIGHEST - BUILDING - COMING

CONDOS - 2 POOLS - ROOF - AND - 7TH - FLOOR

STARTS - AT - $2 MILLION - $25 MILLION - & MORE

GETTING - ONE - 4 - THE - SWIMMING - POOLS

LOVESVILLE - NC - 50 MIN - FR - ASHEVILLE IS

HORSES - ONLY - NO - CARS - GOING - THERE

TOLD - HIM - MARCUS - SAVINGS - INTEREST BEARING

$0.03 - I - RECEIVED - HE - SAID - IT - WAS - MORE $$$$

B 4 - I - SAID - MAKATI - CITY - NEAR - CAPITAL MANILA

BRINGING - MY - MONEY - THERE - 4 - INTEREST BEARING

CAN - COMPETE - WITH - OTHER - COUNTRIES - BUT USA

BAD - INTEREST - BEARING - SO - BAD - BUT - OURS - YES

AUTO - TAXED - SO - I - CAN - AFFORD - MIAMI - AND - SO

LOW - STILL - REAL - ESTATE - AT - ASHEVILLE - NC

GREAT - CONVERSATION - SHARED - HOW - 2 - MAKE $$$

SO - WITH - LIBRARY - CARD - GOT - MY - DUES

BOOKS - AUTO - REPEATS - TWICE - UNLESS - SOMEONE

REQUESTS - BUT - SINCE - NO - LATE - FEE - ANYMORE I

DON’T - HAVE - 2 - WORRY - THOUGHT - ALL 3 - SAME DUE

DATE - SAID - THOUGH - 2 BOOKS - SAME - THICKNESS - 1

IS - SLIGHTLY - SMALLER - THE - FONT - SO - THEY - CAN

PUT - MORE - WORDS - INSIDE - SO - WAS - WORRIED

HOW - I - CAN - FINISH

DOES - TITLES - AND - WHEN - DUE

PUTTING - IN - MY - NOTES - AREAS - BUT - NO LATE FEE

ONLY - WHITE - OLD - MALE - SHARED - WHAT HAS FEES

NICHOLAS SPARKS - LIVES - IN - NORTH - CAROLINA

MEETING - AND - GETTING - HIS - AUTOGRAPH

I - LIKE - LOOKING - 4 - CHRISTIAN - BOOKSTORES ON

ONLINE - THEY - SELL - USED - BOOKS - WITH - JOEL

OSTEEN - AUTOGRAPHS - I - SAID - I - BUY - THOSE

APPROVED - BY - HIM

CONFIRMED - SENIOR - PASTOR - HOUSTON - TEXAS

WIFE - SAME - VICTORIA OSTEEN

AUTHORS - ALSO - LOVE - DR JERRY SAVELLE BOOKS

DR JESSE DUPLANTIS - KENNETH COPELAND - AND

GLORIA COPELAND - THEIR - BOOKS - I - BUY - CAN

GET - THEIR - AUTOGRAPHS - WHAT - I - WANT ALSO

1ST - EDITION - IN - EUROPE

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSON

AUTOGRAPHED - ABOUT - $1,000 - $10,000 - EA BOOK

BUYING - THOSE - I’M - INTO - BOOKS - LIKE

‘THE - LITTLE - MERMAID’

I - HAVE - A - SHOPIFY - ONLINE - STORE - HOW - 2 BUY

ALL - THESE - PLACES - RESIDING - ALSO - IN - MIAMI 4

I - LIKE - NO - STATE - TAXES - ONLY - FEDERAL - IN - FL

LIKE - VERY - MUCH - ADDING - ASHEVILLE - NORTH

CAROLINA - NOT - LEAVING - MIAMI - NO - NO - LOVE

NO - STATE - TAXES - AND - NO - SNOW - ALSO LOVE

STRONG - WINDS - MIAMI - RIVER

INTEREST - BEARING - IN - MAKATI - 2 - INCREASE MY

MONEY - AND - TAX PAID - ONLY - ONE - WHO - DOES

SO - BLK - FEMALE - BEHIND - SO - CONVERSATION

ENDED - THUS - HERE’s - THE - LIST - LARGE PRINT

NICHOLAS SPARKS

‘THE - NOTEBOOK’ - 16 DEC 2023 - 10 DAYS - FR NOW

SMALLEST - BOOK - CAN - FINISH - TONIGHT

NO - LATE - FEE - RENEWS - 2 MONTHS - TOTAL AUTO

UNLESS - REQUESTED - BUT - NO - LATE - FEE

‘EVERY - BREATH’ - REAL - THICK - 20 DEC 2023

14 DAYS - FR - NOW - STARTING - TONIGHT

NEXT - YEAR - DUE

ALREADY - READ - A - LOT

‘AT - FIRST - SIGHT’ - 06 JAN 2024

GOT - ALL - 3 - FOR - THANKSGIVING - WEEK

BUT - COULDN’T - READ - ANY - BECAUSE OF

STREET - CLEANING - AND - TWICE - NOW 2

THEY’RE - DOING - EVERY - WEEK MY GUESS

BIBLE - ‘WORRY - NOT’ - HAPPY - HOLIDAYS

ADDING - 15 LBS - FOLDABLE - 14 INCH - HGT

OVER - $62 - MY - NEW - ABOVE - WHEELS &

COT - ATTACHED - ABOVE - SO - NICE - THEN

I - PUT - SLEEPING - BAG - ON - TOP - 4 - TRUE

4 FT - HEIGHT - HOW - LOW - SHOULD - B - 5 FT

STILL - ROOM - ABOVE - SIDES - STRONGEST

WINDS - AND - FR - FAST - CARS - NEVER PUT

FEET - OR - HANDS - 2 CLOSE - 2 - EDGES - IN

INSIDE - TENT - DON’T - PUT - FEET - HANDS

ON - TENT - INSIDE - STRONG - WINDS - AND

CARS’ - WIND - AS - SPEEDERS - SUPER YES

STRONG - MOVEMENT - SO - HEAVY - IS HAI

NEEDED - 2 - KEEP - ON - THE - GROUND AS

AFTER - DEADLY - HURRICANES - SEASON

01 JUN - 30 NOV - THE - STRONGEST - AUG

TO - OCT - EACH - YEAR - DECEMBER - AND

JANUARY - 75 MPH - WINDS - JANUARY - YES

BEING - THE - COLDEST - USA - AND WORLD

SO - EXCITED - ABOUT - SLEEPING - BAG ME

ASLEEP - AFTER - 5 MIN - AND - CONTINUOUS

NEVER - HAS - THAT - BEEN - MY EXPERIENCE

LOVE - CAMEL CROWN - TENTS - MOST - YES

GORGEOUS - INSIDE - CAN - READ - BOOKS 2

GREAT - LIGHT - INSIDE - BUT - I - CAN - STILL

SLEEP - BECAUSE - NICE - SOFTNESS - 4 MY

EYES - CAMEL - DISPLAYED - L - AND R SIDE

BLUE - SO - DOGS - AND - CATS - CAN - SEE

THIS - SHADE - BLUE - BEAUTIFUL - JUST - 1

OPENING - MOSQUITO - NET - HALFWAYS - 2

CLOSE - SO - NOT - 5 FT - ALL - THE WAY ALL

THE - TIME - SO - MY - ZIPPERS - BUSTED

TENT - FRONT - NOT - ALL - THE - WAY SO

MY - HANDS - 2 - GET - FOOD - LEFT - EACH

SATURDAY - 6:30A EST - OR - IF - DADS ARE

LIKE - MOMS - WORRIED - ABOUT - TEENS 2

THEY - BRING - UP - THAT - BOTTOM - 2 SEE

THEIR - KIDS - SAFELY - SLEEPING - 4 - YES

NECESSARY - PEEP - NOT - JUST - WHEN

THEY - ILLEGALLY - PUT - TENT - FLAP UP

‘UNREASONABLE - SEARCHES’ - BY - NON

OWNERS - 4TH - VIOLATED - THUS - LOVE

LOVE - WHERE - I - AM - SW 2 ST - AND THE

FRONT - OF - TENT - FACING - SW 2 AV - FL

FR - MIAMI - HAPPY - HOLIDAYS - TUMBLR 2

[dzpenumbra]

6/27/23

Alright, let's dive into this head-first. I'm having a bit of a meltdown.

I streamed tonight. I did some work on my abstract piece, about an hour. Then I ate dinner and watched skate videos on-stream, then played Session. A guy I didn't recognize came in. He said he found me through another stream like a year and a half ago and really liked my art and wanted to support me.

He DM'd me and we chatted after. And I've been in full panic-mode since. Because this guy legitimately wants a tattoo design commission. And I'm over here like... bro, I haven't done a commission in like... 7 years? At least?

He tuned into my stream when I was drawing the owl that is my profile picture on here. I drew that on stream in colored pencil, it took me over 40 hours. He wanted that piece on the back of his shoulder.

I'm gonna level here. I don't know how to price my shit. I am absolutely lousy at it. I always have been. And I have always underpriced my shit, and the vast majority of my work has just been given away for free. Because I have really low self esteem and cave under pressure way too easily... and just get super anxious. It's overwhelming. And I just, the whole fucking process is horrible for me. I hate talking money. I don't even like talking about bills that I'm getting. Just money as a fucking concept is just really fucking uncomfortable for me. Obviously not a great problem to have in fucking America, yeah?

I scrambled and... tried to find a scan of the owl, so I could just... give him a scanned copy? And then charge less. I don't know, I have an idea how to charge for hand-drawn shit. Originals. Art. I can price things that are already done. But like... prints? Scans? I don't know. And this is a tattoo, it would be weird if someone bought the original piece and this guy has a tattoo of it. I don't know. It just all feels weird all around.

I've gotten really settled in to this place of just worrying about making things. Just keep creating, just keeping making new and interesting things. This whole sales piece is absolutely nerve-racking and immobilizing. And I feel like it immediately makes me look unprofessional.

So... I did the math on the piece... 40+ hours rounding down, at $25 an hour... that's $1000 as a base... Hand-drawn original, realism, full size. I priced it to him as $1500. I'd let the original go for that, I guess. I still have the original, it's sitting in my portfolio.

So I just told him that as a reference point, so he knew what he was getting into. And he came back with some corrections. Reduced size, black and white, less detail. He wanted 7"x5", a Barn Owl, B+W and I guess a bit stylized (i.e. less photorealistic detail). So... I quoted him $350. And he came back with $300. On the premise that he's going to have to pay the tattooist 300-350 as well, plus a tip.

Quick tangent here. Really think this one over. Who do you pay more? The original artist of your tattoo, or the person tracing their work into your skin? I mean... you don't want the tattooist to fuck it up, sure... But like... are you saying the act of tattooing someone else's work is worth more than the act of creating the art in the first place? And... you don't have to tip me? I hadn't really thought about it much before, it's a weird thing. Especially since I've designed several tattoos for former friends, and they went to an artist who fucked up my work. In the end, the buyer was the one who got fucked, but yeah. It just kinda sucks.

Anyway. I'm afraid I might've lowballed myself there. And then he brought me even lower. And now I'm just like... well... it better be right. Because now we're agreed. And now I have to do a commission.

It's not the end of the world, I'm just freaking out. I don't want to fuck it up. I don't know what medium to use, I don't know whether to do digital or pencil. If I do pencil, how do I get it to him? Do I mail it? How do I process payments? PayPal? I guess? Do I keep records of this shit?

I feel way out of my depth. And I feel like I have to act like I know what I'm doing. Which I tried to do, I think it worked well enough. I just feel like I'm going to fuck this up. And the hardest part? I don't have anyone to talk to about it. At all. No one to run prices by for second thoughts, no one to help me research stuff, no one to reassure or ground me. I'm just swimming in the anxiety and self-doubt and depression, barely keeping my head above water.

I hate this. I should be excited. I should be happy. And it's one fucking commission. This will cover like... two orders of groceries. And will likely take me a full week of work.

I don't like this way of working. I like coming up with my own ideas and putting the pieces together. I don't like trying to guess what someone else is picturing, and trying to get close.

This is all very foreign. Very weird.

The weirdest part? In an alternate timeline, this is what I would've been doing full-time for 10 years now. Plus the actual tattooing too. Getting out of college, my first idea was to start a company that I tentatively named "Evo Customs" which was a design company that would put customized art on anything. Skateboard, helmet, shirt, computer tower, you name it. Then I transitioned into pursuing tattooing. I was heavily encouraged by my friend, and we spoke to my then tattooist about it. She was a one-woman operation working out of a pretty small town. She pointed me in the direction of the program that she went to, and offered for me to finish up my skin-time hours with her, and she'd sign off on an apprenticeship and I'd be good to go either work with her or open up my own shop. Welp... I went and did the program, and I came back, and I went to her... and she said "what are you talking about?" And then she hired some teenager to work her register and apprentice under her instead. And I was absolutely crushed, devastated.

All of my tattoo designs - the one I did for my friend's ex-wife (for free), the one I did for my former best friend (for free), the one I did for my former best friend's husband (for free). Even four of my own tattoos which were all self-designed, she inked them all. And she just walked the other way and acted like it never happened.

I was never able to find another artist who would take me on. I just transitioned into tattoo design instead. I had all my tattoo equipment in boxes for years. Inks, cups, ointments, bands, needles, my machines, stencils, all of it. Last year, I threw it all away. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I felt like I just gave the fuck up. But, I think I gave up long before that. And this was just... cleaning house. Stopping myself from clinging.

When I went to vocational rehabilitation in winter 2019, right before the pandemic hit, I mentioned my past aspirations of being a tattooist to the person who was working with me. They urged me to go to a shop about 40 minutes south of me. They had a connection there. I really struggle to just... interact with strangers in a professional setting. Which is pretty clear right here tonight, I get super insecure and super anxious. I act confident, I'm sure it doesn't read as though I'm anxious, but I'm fucking losing it inside. So... it's really hard for me to do. I can't really explain it, it just is and no matter how much I try to puff out my chest and "be a man" and just ignore it or whatever, it just tears me apart. So, because of that, I really just needed a professional connection. And this was supposed to be it. This was the first one I had gotten, an in. Someone to vouch for me.

They set up an appointment with me in the middle of winter at fucking like 8 AM. So I get there early, and I'm sitting in the parking lot for like 20 minutes freezing my balls off drinking coffee. Then I go inside and they have me sit in the waiting room. And I flip through their art books and they had some pretty cool shit, but I was just trying not to completely freak out. And then the guy brings me back and I introduce myself and then pull out my phone and start showing him some pictures and he just has no fucking idea what's going on. At all. He was just like "okay, so which of these pieces did you want done?" He scheduled the fucking meeting and he thought I was there for a tattoo, not a fucking job interview. I don't know if the fucking state agency that set that up dropped the ball or if it was that guy... but I got a nice talk from this dude on how he trusted someone to be an apprentice once and he "learned that fucking lesson" because the guy went and set up his own shop... like an hour away... in a different county... and he saw it as "competing with him". And he didn't want to "train his competition". In fact, his entire shop was... him, his wife, his daughter and her boyfriend or fiancée. And that was it. So... I went there for fucking nothing. And that whimper was the death of my tattoo career ambitions. I completely tapped out after that. And last year, when I had to move and sort through all my shit? I finally tossed my tattoo gear. All of it. For good. The only thing that survived was my Kuro Sumi outlining ink, which I used for the goat skull and staining the wooden beads on my necklace. That's why it's such a powerfully symbolic medium for me, because of how much gravity in my personal life is attached to it.

Can you tell this commission is making me flash back to some really devastating memories? I'm trembling a bit and my chest is a bit tight.

It really hurt to lose that purpose, that direction. Even more so that... I just sorta let this social anxiety barrier stop me from approaching other shops. I fucking hate this emotional brick wall that stops me from going. I hate it so much. Like seriously, if one friend went with me? To a local tattoo shop, or something. I would gladly go. But alone, I am way too timid, way too passive, too chill, too back-seat. My interest in working at their shop wouldn't even come up in conversation unless they brought it up. I'd have to like... become a regular. The awkwardness of it just makes my skin crawl.

And what upsets me the most is that some people love doing that. And they won't help me. It's so aggravating. Like... this is clearly one of my greatest weaknesses that has completely crippled my ability to establish myself as a professional artist, and it clearly stems from mental health stuff... and I can't get a single living organism to help me do it. I just need to... wait... and slowly chip away at my mental health barriers... until I can do it myself. It might take a year, it might take 10 years, however long it takes to gradually get to the point where I can comfortably interact like a human. And meanwhile, I'm surrounded by others who can easily, intuitively do this. And could easily help me out, and vouch for me in the process. But they don't. Because "I should be doing it for myself".

Can you tell I'm a bit upset about this? XD

There's nothing more frustrating to me than having a small nuanced problem... that's hard to articulate to others, that they don't seem to really understand because they don't share that problem. For instance - having a trauma response associated with going grocery shopping pre-food-delivery-apps. People who don't suffer from this have no fucking idea how massive of a difference just going along with that person to the store can be. And it costs like... nothing. But I've always heard shit like "can't you just do that yourself" "why do I need to do that for you?" Shit like that. Like I'm just fucking lazy. Not like it takes me 45 minutes to pep talk myself into going out there, then I'm wading through a lava river of emotional overwhelm and every bell in my head that says "your life is in danger and we don't even know what from" is clanging. And I'm alone through it. And I have to fake a fucking cheery conversation with the fucking checkout lady.

Since those days (that was probably... close to 10 years ago when I had that grocery store problem, I've gotten much better with it over the past several years) I have developed experience and a "script" for those kinds of interactions. I learned. It took me a long time, lots of practice, lots of exposure, but I got there. This one? The work one? Negative. I have very little experience, and all of it has been bad. And honestly...

I'm just getting really sick and tired of having to be good at everything and do everything myself.

I had this butting of heads with my therapist before. "What's the point of a social network if I'm going to have to do all this myself anyway?" Like... all I've looked for in life is a wingman, someone to vouch and make introductions, to help in literally any way. So I don't have to go around and method act being a fucking extrovert. I have been in extreme isolation for over 4 years. I am not good at pretending to be an extrovert. I should not be expected to be good at extroverted behaviors, I have no idea why anyone would expect me, of all people, to be in any way good at that. It should be expected that those encounters would be extremely overwhelming for me.

Who the fuck am I ranting at? XD I don't even know anymore. I'm just sorta shaking my fist at the sky pissed off that I don't have anyone to like... brainstorm this stuff with. Run price quotes by, shit like that. I don't know.

And I guess I'm just kinda upset because... I don't really want to do commissions. I kinda just want people to be supporting what I'm doing now. I worked pretty hard to develop the rhythm I have now, where I cultivate a mindset for creativity to form, then seize it when inspiration strikes and... I'm trying to incorporate streaming into the process. I finally, like... a year ago?... took the plunge and dedicated myself towards Fine Art. My intentions being... work that is displayed publicly. Private ownership feels... secondary, optional. I decided to move more towards trying to get stuff in galleries. Again... with some pieces.

Okay, you know what? Maybe I'm freaking out because I don't know. I don't know what I do. And I'm kinda having an existential crisis because of it. Over winter, I polished stones and made jewelry, and made a custom painted hoodie. Spring, I did The Path (a fine art video/digital art piece), the goat skull and about 10 abstract ink pieces. Now, I'm working on a mini Zen Garden and my Fractal digital abstract piece which will probably eventually be an ink and cloth tapestry.

Everything I have done, I'd have to brainstorm pricing individually. I have given it zero thought. The necklace and the mala I could come up with a decent price for, I guess. The hoodie, too, or a custom piece like it. Even the skull, or my abstract drawings. But I literally haven't even given it thought. I don't want to care about that. I wish all I had to do was just worry about the process. For the past decade, that's all I've known. And this is all very foreign and bewildering. I don't want to "screw it up".

So yeah. I went with 300, took the 50 under asking price. Don't really know why. I just did. And he sent me some reference. And I'll just figure that out tomorrow. The pose, the size, the medium, how to pay, all that. I'll just wake up after my night of what I'm sure will inevitably be night terrors at this point... XD Put on a pot of coffee and just... figure out what I'm doing.

I was saying today on stream - I want to get back into representational work. I want to do a piece that is of something. And I was considering doing the Blue Jay that visits me. I wish I could break through these intense overwhelming emotions and see the good in this.

This is such high praise. A person who has barely spent any time around my work... wants to pay me $300 because he fell in love with my work a year and a half ago and wants to get it tattooed on his body permanently. I think I'm in shock. And denial, a bit. I think my self esteem is so devastatingly low that... I don't fully believe it's happening? And I'm adding a shit-ton of pressure to make sure... I "get it right".

I'm scared. I'm scared I'm gonna fuck it up. The piece itself, or already fucked up by underpricing myself. I was going to ask for half up-front and then half when I finish. I think that's fair. Just so neither of us flake out on it. Once I get the details ironed out on exactly what he wants, but before pencil touching paper.

God, I hate business. Ugh. I just want to draw and create and make cool, interesting shit. And have people donate or something. Idk. I'm just not enjoying myself right now.

That said, I got my package today. Sheets that actually fit my "new" mattress, the sieves and a suncatcher that's like a multifaceted prism that catches sunlight and refracts rainbows around the room. I'm excited to see that in action now that the smoke has cleared a bit.

Man, I almost got away from the topic of freaking out. XD I'm scared of disappointing this guy. I'm scared of fucking up the drawing, or taking too long or something. I'm sure I won't... I'm just... I'm very anxious. So... to remedy this... I'll just not stream that piece. And apologize to him about that, but... yeah, fuck it, I can just say I've been dealing with a lot of anxiety lately and I feel like I'd do better work behind closed doors. I'm sure he'll understand. It's usually just the sketching phase that I feel like that with. When it's just starting to take form. Once I've got that down, I'd be fine with streaming the piece taking shape.

Anyway, enough of that. I need to wrap up. Besides this giant turn of events, my upstairs neighbors were being loud as shit. The boyfriend was back over again last night, they were really loud, then there was an actual child visiting and running all over the apartment, and they were talking really loud. All evening. Until like 10. And that's just what it is. I was cranky about it. I wish I could be happier for other people. Maybe that's why I crave the late late hours. It's so quiet, so peaceful, so still.

I also shaved my head and my beard today. Buzzed, gone. Fuck it. The only reason I grew it out was because the doctor told me the clippers were giving me micro-abrasions and those were getting infected, but... we ruled that out. And he has no idea what this is. So I decided to just go back to shaving my head. It makes me a bit more insecure to have these big fucking weird pimple-like swollen red spots on my head, and have them super visible because my head is shaved... but what the fuck am I supposed to do? I can't even get in to see a doctor about it, no one knows what this is. I did an antibiotic regimen, it did nothing. I do steroid cream, it makes them fade quicker, but they just come right back in different spots. I'm just waiting on a specialist. So, I might as well be comfortable in the process. And the cream is easier to put on when my head is shaved, so... there's that. Going on 2 years of dealing with this shit, I'm gonna be so much less anxious once these things are gone.

Okay, I'm going to do tarot and go to bed, it's super late.

Past - Two of Wands, inverted (Planning, scrutiny, taking risks and moving a plan forward.  The active force needed to put a plan into motion.) Present - Four of Wands (Stability, a sense of completion.  A major milestone, taking a moment to reflect on accomplishment so far, before moving to a new future.) Future - Three of Cups (Celebration, calling in good fortune, joy.  Social gathering, a heartfelt belonging in a community.)

Alright, we're starting with inverted Two of Wands. I actually pulled some cards when I was setting up my webcam earlier today and Two of Wands came up. That was my first reaction. It was inverted then too. Two of Wands is planning, surveying the landscape. Inversion representing a blockage, barrier or dissonance around this symbol. Difficulty or struggle planning or seeing ahead. Hmm...

This is connected to Four of Wands in the Present position. And it made me smile. Four of Wands is a milestone, a memorable event and the ensuing celebration. The image this artist provides is a birthday party. Fitting, that's what I should be doing now...

And this concludes with Three of Cups. Upright, for once. Fucking rare in my readings! (At least it feels that way, definitely rare in my life...) Three of Cups is the "party card", it's a celebration shared with loved ones. It's the card I immediately thought of when I saw Four of Wands, because I was like "I could call this the 'celebration card', but I already have the 'party card'."

Okay, with the definitions all added in... let's stitch it all together. So... I've been struggling to take risks and move shit forward... but I've landed here. Somehow. And this is actually a milestone. A pretty big one. And this will lead to a celebration, one shared with others.

I'm going to add this on while I'm here. When that guy came into my chat, complimenting me and being super friendly and nice? I thought he was fucking with me. I thought he was full of shit, or like... scheming something. He mentioned a streamer's name "buddha" who I... I have like... never been in their room. It was there like... maybe once or twice? Years ago. And this guy said he knew me from that chat... and came to see my art... and fell in love... and a year and a half later he wants to commission me to get my art. When I have like zero fucking viewers. It was really hard to believe. I felt like I was getting conned or scammed, like he was setting me up for something. I feel bad that I was a bit harsh and skeptical of him. Just getting that out there.

The bonus placeholder card was inverted Two of Cups, a new one. That one is a strong connection forming, but... with the disruption of inversion. So... that's a thing.

I'm fucking wiped. Physically, emotionally. Super drained. Heavy workout, giant anxiety/depression/trauma episodes for two hours straight. I'm just bushed. I'm gonna go pass out, hopefully sleep decent and figure all of this out tomorrow over coffee.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Giovanna moved into a plain white New York City apt. and turned it into a peachy dream. In the entrance, the butterfly poster hides the circuit breaker box. 

I really loved this sofa w/the peach checkered carpet, but she changed it out.

This is the new sofa. I really like the old one better.

She covered the counter with peach print paper.

There go the disco balls, again. I really need a few.

In her desk corner, Giovanna was so happy to score the chair for $25 on Facebook Marketplace. I guess it depends on the area you live in, b/c I never find any bargains there.

In the bathroom, the sink cabinet was black, so she painted it white, painted the ceiling peach and got a new shower curtain.

https://www.instagram.com/___giovannna/

[gender-trash]

last november/decemberish i made the egregious mistake of asking my dad if there were any out-of-print technical books he wanted me to print and bind as a christmas gift, especially given that i now have a wide-format printer; turns out the answer was "yes, many," and he sent me three crusty-ass pdfs of which i selected the least crusty.

however

it pains me, deep in my soul, to turn out a work product with my name on it that's That crusty, and some of the photos etc. (originally meant to be full-color) weren't parseable anymore. so i got my grubby hands on a copy of the original via interlibrary loan (there were EXACTLY three copies in the link+ system which covers a bunch of public and university libraries in the bay area, and i ended up with santa clara university's, which was kind of neat because Back In The Day i took a bunch of physics and math classes at SCU) and manually photographed every image in it on my phone (best camera i have). then i spent approximately the week prior to christmas in a deathmarch slog 1. de-skewing, color correcting, and pasting in all the photos in god's worst pdf editing software (xournal++), 2. retyping all the image captions (originally printed in this lovely dark red that got viciously mangled by b&w scanning) and screenshotting them + pasting them in, and 3. for those photos that are sufficiently clean or unimportant that i don't need to edit + paste in replacements, but that have large black areas in them, covering them in semitransparent white rectangles so i don't wind up printing big black areas on my poor inkjet.

needless to say, this is the worst, most tedious process i can think of except for actually re-typing and re-typesetting the entire book in latex, a process which tempts me every time i work on this albatross around my neck. i only got through part 1 of 5 before christmas so i gave my dad a different book (bought from the bookstore, like a loser) and the promise that i would Definitely have it done by his birthday.

and then i stopped working on it for several months because IT SUCKED AND I HATED IT SO MUCH

and then partway through april i was like "oh shit, his birthday is in two weeks". so now every evening is this cold war with myself where sometimes the project wins and i piddle through another section of part 2 and sometimes procrastination wins and i do a medieval twin-cord binding of my immortal. anyway his birthday was technically today but we are celebrating it next week so i have a LITTLE more time to get the bitch done

whenever i complain about it to my dad he's like "just give up!! just print it as-is!" (accompanied by profuse apologies because he didn't mean for me to go to anything like this much effort) and on the one hand it would feel like giving up but on the other hand i would be FREE OF THE ENDLESS TORMENT but on the third hand there would be a VERY visible delineation halfway through the book where you can tell i Just Didn't Care Anymore

[sadlysoulx]

How Haikyuu characters would react to you seducing them

(they have a crush on you)

Please bare with me coz I don't know how do you✨seduce✨ a person. So if the following doesn't count as seducing and considered as teasing, please forgive me🙂👍

Hinata

-you sat on his lap

-•/////•

-he died on the spot🙂

-But jokes aside, he would stutter and fumble with his hands, not looking at you.

-He can't stop fidgeting because he doesn't know where to put his hands; on your waist or on your thighs? 🤷🏻‍♀️

-"U-uh, Y/n? Where d-do I put my hands?"

Kageyama

-he was drinking his milk when you walk up to him, took his carton milk and sip from the same straw.

-(pretend there's no kuroona virus😃)

-he would blush when you hand it back to him casually, half-empty.

-And then you winked before walking away.

-He didn't mind sharing his milk with you😏

-"Y/n B-BOKE!"

Yamaguchi

-He was literally breathing peacefully until you came😭

-he was sitting there, so you walked from behind him, bend down and brush your lips against the crook of his neck.

-His breath hitches🤭

-When you started to lick a bit he started to bounce his leg.

-"Y-Y/n. . . W-what are y-you doing?"

Tsukishima

-You knew seducing him is a bad idea😬

-But reader-chan is stubborn 🤦🏻‍♀️

-you visited him in his house and you saw him relaxing on the couch. Smirking, you walked up to him and straddled his lap.

-He froze.

-Jack 2.0 😭😭😭(Titanic music playing in the background)

-he tried to hide his flushed face on the crook of your neck.

-"You're an idiot. . ."

Tanaka

-👁️👄👁️

-You didn't even tried to seduce him💀💀💀

-You were just staring at him and then he would blush😭

-he would broadcast to the whole world.

-"Y/N-CHAN SEDUCED ME!"

Nishinoya

-same as tanaka-senpaiiiiiiii🙂

-You were like just ✨breathe✨ and then noya be 😍

-"Tanaka! Y/N SEDUCED MEH!"

Suga

-You were passing by the empty hallway when you saw Suga walking up to you without knowing.

-you smirked and called him. He looked up and smiled at you.

-You walked up to him but didn't stop, so he walked backwards until he felt the wall behind him.

-he realized the situation you were in so he got really nervous 🙇🏻‍♀️

-he avoided eye contact so his eyes went like:⬅️⬆️↗️↘️⬅️↘️⬆️

-Lmao sorrryyyy💀

-You laughed and walk away leaving him flushed.

-"WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT FOR Y/N?!"

Daichi

-You realized he gets enthusiastic when you call him captain

-but then you found out it's a different story when you call him daddy😩

-when he walked you home, you accidentally called him that.

-he got nervous, fidgeting everywhere and then would scold you.

-but he secretly likes it.

-"Y/N! If you don't want others to think we're in a relationship, then don't call me that. Unless you want us to be in a relationship. . ."

Asahi

-You both decided to study together.

-he was memorizing a while paragraph and then when he looked at you, he finds you smirking and staring at him.😏😏😏

-he stutters in his whole paragraph, his cheeks flushed red when he sees you like that.

-"T-the w-world war t-two is one o-of the— Y-Y/n? Is there something in my f-face?!

Oikawa

-both of you were eating ice cream and then you saw some swipes of it on the corner did Oikawa's lips. 👁️👅👁️

-You mindlessly wiped it off his lips and ate it.

-(again pretend there's no kuroona virus👩‍🔬)

-he stared at you for a momment processing what you did and then smirked.

-"oh you noti noti, seducing me like that. . ."

-sOrRy 💀💀💀

Iwaizumi

-Say it with me THAT ARMMSSSSS💪

-you were sitting beside him in the bus stop waiting for the bus.

-he was wearing a 🔥sleeveless top🔥 because a while ago was practice

-You ran your hands up and down his arm, amazed by how a third year can have such amazing muscles.

-he froze and then looked at you.

-blush painted his cheeks and he liked what you did.

-But he won't admit🕳️🏃‍♀️💨

-"TF you're doing?!"

Ushijima

-🔥😏💪👁️👅👁️😍😛😜😉

-Do anything to this guy he won't get affected.

-try to seduce him, he won't get affected but would give you a 3 hour lecture.

-That is UNTIL you straddled his lap.

-you thought he would scold but then smirked as his face flushed the faintest pink.

-he leaned in, and whispered to your ear.

-"Did you brush your teeth?"

-SORRYYE 💀💀💀

-he actually said:

-"Y/N. . . What are you doing? Sit down and let me tell you why that is wrong,"

-you were right. . . 3 hour lecture. ☹️

Tendou

(help I run out of ideasss)

-You went out of the school showers after taking a bath.

-You sat beside Tendou, smirking up at him whole running your hands through your wet hair.

-he smirks back, even though there was a slight blush dusting his cheeks.

-"You look hot, little one,"

Kuroo

-Both of you were waiting for kenma to get out of his classroom.

-the hallways were empty so you decided to have a little fun.

-(as you know, the males Nekoma uniforms consists of black pants, white long sleeves polo shirt, black vest and tucked in red tie)

-Kuroo doesn't have his best on so you pulled on it and bend him down to your level.

-Kuroo was taken aback by shock, a blush printing permanently on his cheeks.

-his bad bish mode was off. . .❤️

-Kuroo:😳

-You:😏

-kenma watching: 👁️👄👁️

-hotel: trivago

-"U-uh Kenma! I also dunno what to is Y-Y/n d-doing. . ."

Kenma

-you saw him playing with his Nintendo so you sat down beside him.

-your body was twisted to face him.

-your left hand playing with soft hair.

-your face dangerously close to his, so that he can hear you heavily breathing 💗

-He got all blushy blushy •/////•

-You can hear the defeat song playing on his Nintendo switch.

-"Look what you did to me. . . I lost the game. . ."

Lev

-You were just putting lotion onto your legs and Lev be like🤭

-Yaku mom mode on so he smack the head of Lev

-Little did he know you were actually seducing him 😏

-"its not my fault Y/n's so hot—" *gets smacked by yaku again*

Yaku

-After tossing balls to Kenma for his sets, you walked up to yaku, all sweaty 👀

-yaku be like 🤚🙂 gurllll for what reasonssss

-you watch him ran away from you.

-you: 👁👄👁

-"Y/N WHYYY DID YOU EVEN DO THAT?!"

Bokuto

-He always slaps your butt💀

-He always butt slaps you, sometimes he forces you to join him to butt slap Akaashi 😭😭😭

-akaashi: 👁️💧👄💧👁️💢

-so this time you wanted to get revenge to slap his 🎂

-Once the two of you are alone, you slapped his butt hard.

-Bokuto was blushing hard and his eyes are wide open.

-And then suddenly he rans away.

-"AGAAAAASHIIII! Y/NNN BUTT SLAPPED MEEEEE!"

Akaashi

-You heard Akaashi has a hand insecurity :(

-when both of you are sitting alone together, you slowly touched his hand and you felt him shuffle uncomfortably.

-you sighed before taking his hand and interwinning it with yours before raising up kissing it, looking him dead in the eye.

-he blushes before looking away.

-"Idiot. . ."

Kita

-You pinned him to the wall

-(☉-☉)

-he quietly stares at you while he blushes as hard as he can.

-"Wtf are you doing? Suna is watching us right now. . ."

Suna

-lazy boi™

-poker face©

-add both of those= no reaction from him™©

-you sat on his lap and he pushed you away.

-But believe it or not he regretted doing it cuz he wants you close by.༼;´ ༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

-"You little elf get off me!"

Atsumu

-lets get this straight.

-you guys are together now. . .ᕙ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ

Osamu

-he offered you his onigiri.

-instead of taking a new one on his bento.

-you took the one he already bitten off with.

-You walked away smirking.

-Osamu: . . .

-"WAIT WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!"

Sakusa

-You asked him for an alcohol spray.

-he suspiciously gave you his.

-you sprayed your hands with it.

-Sakusa=proud daddy

-"well. . . That was hawt. . ."

Whew! I took 2 hours straight writing this I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for all the notes you gave to meeee. I just started and my blogs are already getting a lot of attention ಥ‿ಥ

Follow for more! (・∀・)

Requests are openʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

Anyways thank you for 23 followers sis I only started a few days ago but this is already alottt🥰

[acaseforpencils]

A Case for Scanners.

Non-artists often assume that once a drawing is completed, the art process stops. As most professionals will tell you, that's not the case! Capturing an image for reproduction, and making sure that it represents the original work well, is oftentimes an art form of its own. Since this topic isn't something that has been given a lot of air time on here, I thought it would be fun to ask some folks who do a lot of non-digital work, with (seemingly little) processing, if they had any hard-earned advice on how to get a final image!

I hope everyone is having a nice summer, and that you all are making lots of art! —Jane

Roz Chast

Find this print here!

How do you get images of your work? For reproduction, I use a basic Epson scanner I got on Amazon a few years ago (my old Canon one died). Cost maybe $175. My only complaint is that it only goes up to 8.5 (maybe 8.7) by about 11.5 inches. If the image is bigger, I scan it in parts and put it together. The Epson scanner is excellent. You can scan up to 1200 dpi which was useful when I did drawings that were 9 by 12 inches and they were blown up 9 by 12 feet, and they looked FAB. I was amazed. I also once scanned an embroidery that the NYer used on a cover and it worked fine.

But for just sending someone a quick pic of something, or posting to Insta, I use my camera. Oh, and for pysanky eggs, I use my camera. LOL, wouldn't be good to smash them flat in the scanner.

What are your best tips for getting a good image? If the item you want to scan is a little rumpled or wrinkled, press down hard on your scanner lid before scanning. Also, I use Photoshop to optimize the image--mainly brightness and contrast and to remove patch shadows etc. And for embroideries and pysanky eggs, I use my camera and photograph them in natural light outside. Not in bright sunshine or dark shade-- in between.

Does your method differ when capturing a colorful image vs something black and white? Not really. But I do adjust for brightness and contrast with Photoshop, no matter if it's in the scanner or the camera, b & w or color.

Joe Dator

You can find this print and more here.

How do you get images of your work? I scan my images. Ever since The New Yorker stopped accepting original artwork, the cartoonists have had to scan their own work and send it as a digital file. It's been a source of some frustration for me, as I used to rely on the top-of-the-line scanners at Condé Nast's imaging department, but now the quality of my published work is dependent on whatever modestly priced scanner that I can afford to have at home. For a while I was using a Brother and then an Epson all-in-one printer/scanner, though neither were very good at capturing the nuance of wash shading. I've now got a Canon 300, which is a dedicated scanner, and is somewhat better, though not by much. It's adequate for its very low price, I suppose. All of this has led me in some cases to scan my work as line art and then add the grey or color areas digitally, or sometimes to bypass scanning entirely and just create digital art.

What are your best tips for getting a good image? It's always better to go a little bit darker and then lighten the image after the fact, because that way you've captured the information that is there. You can subtract information if there's too much of it, but you can't add in formation that wasn't captured in the first place. I always take a very high resolution scan, 600 dpi, and then adjust the image in Photoshop, mostly with the Levels feature. I'll also go in very close to the image and go over it with the eraser tool, removing any dirt or blotches that I see. This is made much easier if I remembered to Windex the glass before scanning! Best tip: clean the glass first! I have wasted hours of time cleaning up images because I forgot to wipe the glass clean before scanning!

Does your method differ when capturing a colorful image vs something black and white? No difference in how I capture the image from the scanner, but the way I will clean the image up in Photoshop differs slightly, because for a color image I will use the Levels as well as the Hue/Saturation and Color Balance features.

Amy Hwang

Find this image here!

How do you get images of your work? Flatbed scanner

What are your best tips for getting a good image? I used the photo setting to scan my work. For watercolor paper that isn't completely flat, I'll weigh it down with a stack of copy paper and place a heavy hardcover book on top of that. I'll also weigh the sheet down with my hands as the scanner bulb moves under it. 

Does your method differ when capturing a colorful image vs something black and white? No. 

Ivan Ehlers

Find this print here!

How do you get images of your work? If it’s a work of ink on paper, I’ll usually do the ink drawing first and then scan that just to be safe in case I screw it all up with the wash/color. If I screw it up, then I will do a digital wash/color pass in Photoshop. If all goes well, then I’ll scan the drawing again and adjust digitally as needed.

What are your best tips for getting a good image? Take the time to figure out your scanner and to learn which values will get lost in the scan and how to deal with that, either preemptively on the drawing itself or digitally after it’s scanned.

While scanning, if it’s a black-and-white image, scan in black-and-white. You’ll get more of what you want without the scanner trying to make sense of random color information that may exist on the paper. And the higher the resolution, the better the image (and information within the image) will be.

Once you get that image imported, throw it into Photoshop and hit Command-L to mess with the levels. This is where you’ll find the sweet spot of making the lines/wash darker, the mid-tones lighter (if you want to erase the background) or darker (if you want to show the wash/paper more) and your contrast (again, if you want to make the background paper ‘disappear’).

Also, depending on how the work is showcased (digitally, printed small on newsprint, professionally printed on expensive materials), you will learn what matters and what really does not. If people are just going to see the image on their cell phones, it doesn’t matter if the image doesn’t look absolutely perfect when zoomed in 6000%. If it’s for print on newsprint, there’s a limit to how much detail will show and how much color information will transfer. It's easy to get lost in a spiral of saying "It doesn't look exactly like the original!" Look at photos of original paintings, then go see them in real life. It never looks the same!

Does your method differ when capturing a colorful image vs something black and white? Black-and-white images are much easier to capture/edit in that the amount of information is dramatically lower than that of a color image. When working with black-and-white images, your concerns are mainly with levels (see above).

When working with color images, you still have to deal with the levels but add to the equation a step of color correction (or color mixing for those who consider the term ‘correction’ inherently pejorative and indicative of an error).

Getting color right is the hardest part. It’s like trying to find the simultaneous determination of position and momentum of an electron—You can either get a good line quality and contrast, or you can get good and true color, but you can’t get both. (This is of course me being dramatic. You can get both, but you better have a much better scanner than most of us can afford.) 

If you need to ask how much a really good scanner is, you can't afford it.

Carolita Johnson

Find this print here!

Scanners are great for flat work without ripples. I flatten my stuff under two very thick, heavy pieces of plexiglass and with a piece of paper on either side of the original against the plexiglass after a very light fine misting with water if it’s too rippled. 

Otherwise I remember Andy Pilsbury at TNY used to take photographs of fine color art — especially if it had a lot of texture— in his special studio.

Jenny Kroik

Buy this print here!

I use an Epson scanner. Mine isn't great, so I have to do a lot of Photoshop tweaking for color precision. I've been meaning to get a better scanner for ages! Get a nicer one, and you might not need to do as much color-correcting. (I got the cheapest one for like $70).  Scan stuff at at least 600 DPI.

Also, my laptop has a retina display. I think they all do that now, I'm not sure.

Navied Mahdavian

Find this print here!

How do you get images of your work? I use an Epson V600 Photo scanner. I've used a few scanners and it's my favorite. 

What are your best tips for getting a good image? I usually scan at 600 dpi for finished images. I use Photoshop to clean up an image and adjust black and white (make whites true white etc.). 

Does your method differ when capturing a colorful image vs something black and white? I usually do black and white, so I'll use the greyscale scanning setting. If I do use color I just switch it to color. Otherwise, all the same. 

Michael Maslin

Find this print here!

How do you get images of your work? An Epson V550Scanner....probably 5 years old, still works well. 

What are your best tips for getting a good image? Don't have tips. I just make sure the image on the screen looks as close as possible to the original piece. As I'm dealing with a simple ink line with some pencil added on, it's not a complicated replication. Rarely have to do anything with/to what comes up on the screen.

Does your method differ when capturing a colorful image vs something black and white? For me, it's fairly simple as the drawing is an ink line with a small amount of pencil added. I've noticed that color pieces invite messing around with "saturation" and those other tools. I almost always end up liking the "adjusted" image better than the original. 

--

If you enjoy this blog, and would like to contribute to labor and maintenance costs, there is a Patreon, and if you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee, there is a Ko-Fi  account as well! I do this blog for free because accessible arts   education is important to me, and your support helps a lot! You can also  find more posts about art supplies on Case’s Instagram and Twitter! Thank you!

[insomnihan]

han's SECOND DREAMCATCHER CONCERT EXPERIENCE

BICYJ-

FIRST OFF OUTFITS THERE ARE SKIRTS AND SHORTS NO PANTS THIS TIME

STARTED WITH MAISON OH S HIT THAT HIT DIFFERENT

PLS THE WAY I WANTED TO BE A HANDONG FANSITE FOR A DAY AND I WAS F UXKING SHAKING AS SOON AS THEY WALKED OUT

HANDONG IS SO F UCKING BEAUTIFUL YALL REALLY WERENT F UCKING LYING THAT SHE WAS MORE BEAUTIFUL IRL I FEEL LIKE I WAS BLESSED BY GOD

THAT IS A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT HER™ MY EYES WERE ON HER THE ENTIRE NIGHT GODDAMNIT

THEYRE ALL SO F UCKING F I N E™!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i got some solo videos of handong but theyre absurdly shaky <3 theyre beautiful <3

sua singing a little bit of copycat how about i ASCEND- (she wanted us to sing it too but we just yelled <3)

them continuously calling us angels :cccccccccc

yes to them talking about in n out (and handong saying she wants a pinks hot dog)

we kept woofing after every performance............. EVERY. PERFORMANCE.

LOCKED INSIDE A DOOR IS T H A T B I C T H LIVE

STARLIGHT IS R E A L L Y THAT B I C T H LIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO DOT EVERY MEMBER HAD A CHANCE TO DANCE TO IT YOOHYEON THREW MAJOR A S S™ TO IT I ALMOST PASSED AWAY WHY DID SHE THROW IT SO DAMN HARD-

HANDONG GETTING ON THE GROUND ON ONE SIDE AND DAMI JUST BEING A BAD BICTJ ON THE OTHER OHH ITS BAD FOR THE DADONGISTS

ALSO WHY DID SUA GRAB JIU LIKE THAT DURING THEIR TURN BICTH I WILL D*E!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE WAY SUA JUST GRABBED A CHAIR AND DANCED TO NO DOT ON IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

yes i recorded handong doing winter <3<3<3

sua shushed us a few times (sorry queen were so f ucking stupid for you <3)

in the frozen and silent nighT YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

TENSION ENG VERSION (we practiced the line we all needed to scream and it sounded like a MESS™ the first time)

jiu was given a small sign thing of heR HEAD ON THE BODY OF THE TINY HEADED KINGDOM BEA R-

and then yoohyeon got a shirt with pies face printed all over it

yoohyeon and sua breakdancing at one point????????????

BLACK OR WHITE BELOVED 😍😍😍

B R E A K T H E W A L L!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THEY PERFORMED S C R E A M BICTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PIRI ODD EYE BOCA DEJA VU PERIOD PERIOD PERIOD PERIOD👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

A I R P L A N E

wake up and MAYDAY ENCORE BICTJ??????????

and ofc new days my beloved <3<3<3

I NEED TO GO BACK IMMEDIATELY TAKE ME B A KC

thank you again to @f-scott-inebriate for the tickets i am eternally grateful <3<3<3

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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