#just wanted to practice drawing comic but ended up spending FIVE DAYS on this

[7cfc00]

ep 31 went so hard !! 

no text ver. under the keep reading

[reidingmelodies]

Dinos and Tigers and Donuts, Oh My!

Summary: Spencer wanted one thing this year: for your kids to plan his perfect Father’s Day Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Includes: dad!Spencer, heavy mentions of Father’s Day, mentions and consumption of food Category: Fluff Word Count: 2.6k A/N: This isn’t my favorite, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile all the same! Happy Sunday ♥️

 When Spencer was called away on cases your house seemed to lose a bit of its charm.  Mornings felt more tiring than ever before, the afternoon slumps dragged on for what seemed like years, and dinners, even with babbling five and seven-year-olds at your side, were a little too quiet.

This time around though, things were different.  You woke up to your five-year-old daughter sitting by your feet, her mind preoccupied by one of the search and find books Spencer had bought her the week prior.

The space next to you was empty, a piece of paper lying where your husband previously was, and you knew exactly what it was going to say before you even picked it up.

Good morning, love,

I got called on a case this morning, but it’s local and the team thinks we can wrap it up by tonight.  The kids both ate breakfast- and PSA that they were a little too excited I was going to be gone for the day.  I don’t know what they’re planning, but good luck.  I love you, and I’ll see you soon.

-Spencer

Unlike Spencer, you knew exactly what the kids were excited for, and it had everything to do with Father’s Day being tomorrow- you just hoped he would be home in time to celebrate like he predicted.

You folded the letter and placed it in your nightstand along with the others you’ve found gracing his pillow in years past when your bedroom door opened just the slightest amount.

In walked your seven-year-old son, comically exaggerating his tip toe motions as he stage whispered to his sister.  

“Is Mommy still sleeping?” He shifted his gaze in your direction, all effort to keep quiet out the window when he saw your eyes meet his.

“Mom! Guess what?” you opened your mouth to respond, but your daughter beat you to the punch.

“Daddy left for a work trip this morning!  So, we can make our plan today while he isn’t here!”

There was no denying that your kids loved their daddy, that was for sure.

“That’s so great!” you matched their enthusiasm with ease, getting ready for the day while they kept brainstorming in the background.  

Just last week, you had asked Spencer what he wanted to do for Father’s Day over dinner, and the children were as attentive as ever, eyes wide and lips pursed as they waited to hear the plans for the big day.

But, to their amusement, Spencer’s only plan was that they plan the entire day.  His reasoning was that they were the reason he was a dad so they should be the ones to decide what to do, but really you knew the truth was that he overheard their whispers about having the perfect plan for his day.

A plan you were finally going to be let in on, so it seemed.

The three of you made your way down to the kitchen where you settled down with your breakfast, eyebrows raised in enjoyment at your children.  They were sat across from you with a stash of markers and fresh index cards, and they had a few stacks of previously filled out index cards resting along the center of the table.

Ah- so that’s where they’re going with this.

It had become a bit of a family tradition to have a family scavenger hunt whenever you had a full weekend together.  You and Spencer were all too familiar with the concept of cherishing the time you have with your loved ones, and there were many a weekend where Spencer was called away, or you were busy with a million other plans ranging from extended family gatherings to birthday parties or weddings.

It was all the more reason to make the moments where it was just the four of you count even more- and thus, family scavenger hunts were born.

When they were toddlers, the scavenger hunts centered around finding certain shapes or colors, be it in the house or at the park.  Once every item was checked off you would have a family outing of their choice: the go to choice used to be another trip to the park (the one with the ‘fancier’ slides this time), but with the upgrade to slightly harder scavenger hunts centered on science and math they’ve upped their prize to ice cream.

What could you say? They were Spencer’s kids through and through.

“Wow!” you exclaimed, relishing in the beaming smiles on their faces, “do you guys want to make a scavenger hunt for daddy?”

Two enthusiastic faces nodded eagerly in your direction as your son grabbed one of the red markers.

“Yes! And we can have dino pancakes in the morning and get donuts after our scavenger hunt at the zoo- all of daddy’s favorite things!”

Dino pancakes were a Sunday morning staple in your home- you would use a cookie cutter to cut out a dinosaur shaped pancake, and the kids would eat those while you and Spencer would eat the ones with the dinosaur outline in them (and a few regular ones for good measure).  But donuts instead of ice cream?  That was new.

“That’s a great idea, I’m so proud of you guys for working together to plan this,” you praised, “but why donuts?”

Your daughter peered up from the index card she was drawing flowers on to answer your question, “because they’re daddy’s favorite and it’s daddy’s day!”

“And for our scavenger hunt we want all the animals to spell out ‘best dad ever’,” your son tacked on at the end, already beginning the task of writing numbers and circling them on the front of the card.

That was another newfound tradition for your family.  Now that the kids were learning to read, the two of you would try to have the first letter of each answer spell out a certain word or phrase.  Sometimes, it would be something like ‘I love you’ or ‘hello’, other times it would be the name of a special someone that would be joining you for ice cream afterwards (so far ‘Aunt Penny’ and ‘Uncle D’ were their favorite ones to come across).

You grinned once more, moving to grab your laptop and pulling the Smithsonian’s National Zoo site up to look at their list of animals.

“Alright, my loves- let’s do this”.

***

Three hours, eleven index cards, one snack break, and two very patient children later, your scavenger hunt was finished, index cards clipped and ready to go for the following morning.

Each index card had blank slots, the number of which corresponded to the name of the animal, on the front of the card with three fun facts written on the back.  In retrospect, Spencer wouldn’t even need the slots (or more than one fun fact, to be fair), but you knew he’d make a show of trying to think of each and every animal tomorrow afternoon.

Yet another reason you loved him.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, all of your energy going into spending time with your kids. But once they went to bed, that energy was refocused into prepping for tomorrow to take your mind off the fact that it was nearing 10 PM and your husband wasn’t there.

You couldn’t bear to think of your kids disappointment if he didn’t make it home that night.

Outfits out and pancakes ready to be made, you made your way to the couch when the clock struck 11:30 PM, ready to settle in for a movie while you awaited his return but there was no need- as you walked into the room your husband made his way through the front door.  He looked as exhausted as ever, but the glimmer in his eyes proclaimed what you knew to be true.

He was happy to be home.

***

7 AM the next morning found you face to face with two wide eyed children gently shaking you awake, joy radiating from them as they saw that their father was fast asleep next to you.

With much persuasion in the form of puppy dog eyes, you made your way out of bed and into the kitchen to start the first task of the day: dino pancakes.  

Your little helpers set the table and brought Spencer’s gifts from the coat closet and into the dining room in the meantime, and as you placed the last pancake on a plate two arms wrapped around you and pulled you back tightly.

“Good morning, darling,” his raspy morning voice brought a soft smile to your face, and you leaned your head back to kiss his lips in greeting.

“Happy Father’s Day, Spence,” you laid another kiss against his lips, pulling back as the patter of little feet made their way into the kitchen.

“Daddy!  Happy Father’s Day!”

“Daddy!  Come see your gifts and eat pancakes!”

Two little voices fought for the spotlight, and Spencer kneeled to the ground to wrap the both of them in a hug.  You laughed at the scene, watching as they squeezed him just as hard before grabbing onto his arm and leading him to the dining room table.

“C’mon, Dad,” your son pulled his chair out and pushed his gifts closer to his seat, “let’s eat and open gifts!”

“Gifts?  You guys know I don’t want anything,” his brows furrowed as he looked at you, but you shrugged your eyes and took a bite of your pancakes in response.

“You always say that,” you rightly claimed, “and we always buy you gifts anyway- it’s practically tradition”.

You had a point, there.

Breakfast passed by in a blur of conversation, dad jokes, and present unwrapping.  And just like that, Spencer was the owner of new books to pass his time on the jet, a 5k puzzle you were sure he’d solve in an hour flat, and a homemade Father’s Day shirt with your children’s handprints decorating a globe, the words ’Best Dad in the WORLD!!!’ gracing the blank space.

His eyes sparkled when he saw the shirt, and you swore you’ve never been happier to call that man your husband and the father of your children.

Granted, that thought passed your mind no less than fifteen times a day, but still.

Within the hour, the four of you were out the door and on the way to the zoo, Spencer’s Father’s Day shirt proudly on display.

You drove with a grin, the radio turned off in favor of listening to your children explain today’s scavenger hunt to Spencer.  They were practically giving a word for word verbatim of what the two of you usually told them pre-scavenger hunt, all the more proof that your kids were sponges.

An equally exciting yet terrifying thought.

You were at the zoo within half an hour, your hand intertwined with your son’s while your daughter latched onto her father, everyone eager to start the scavenger hunt.

“Alright, guys,” Spencer began, “what’s our first clue?”

“Mommy can read it!” your daughter piped up and you nodded, grabbing the small pile from her hands before reading the first card of the day.

“Okay, so!  This animal has six letters in its name, and your three fun facts are: whiskers help this animal detect objects around them which helps them navigate the dark, they’re the largest rodents in North America, and when they’re in danger they slap their tail on the surface of the water” you finished your explanation and watched as Spencer’s eyes lit up in recognition, but just as you predicted he dragged the process out instead of guessing right away.

“Hm, it sounds like we should go to the rodent exhibit first!” He proclaimed, and your kids nodded, walking in a row like little ducklings to the exhibit.

The four of you took your time looking at each of the animals, until you came face to face with the animal in question.  “Aha! I think the animal we’re looking for is a beaver,” his answer was met with cheers from both of your children, and you wrote the answer in the blank slots before continuing with the hunt.

At the end of the hour you added an electric eel, sloth bear, tiger, dama gazelle, alpaca, and degu to the list.  Eight animals down, four to go.

Which was fantastic, considering that your kids were starting to get antsy for donuts.

“Okay, guys!  Are we ready for our next animal?” You were walking hand in hand with Spencer, your kids skipping directly in front of you and eagerly shouting in affirmation at your question.

The four of you stepped to the side, and you grabbed hold of the fourth to last index card before reciting the hints.

“Alright so!  This animal is two words, seven letters in the first word and seven in the second.  They have whiskers that look like mustaches, they’re native to the southwest Amazon Basin, and they have claws on each of their toes but the big one”.

“Hmm.. I don’t know guys, what do you think?” Spencer turned to your children, smiling wide when your son giggled in response.

“We can’t tell you, Dad! It’s a secret”.

Spencer laughed, sighing in defeat as your daughter gestured for him to come closer.  He did as asked, leaning down until she able to reach his ear, “I think we should go to the monkey exhibit!”

Her not so quiet whisper brought a smile to both yours and Spencer’s faces, and a grimace to your son’s but to the monkeys you went, where you came face to face with an Emperor Tamarin.

From there you crossed a Von der Decken’s Hornbill and an Eld’s Deer off your list until you had one animal left.

“Alright, my love- last one! This animal is two words, three letters in the first one and five in the second.  They mainly eat bamboo, their fur acts like a camouflage when they climb in trees, and they live in temperate forests in the Himalayas,” you finished your spiel with a quick eyebrow raise towards your children, both of which were not so discreetly pointing at the red panda exhibit just a few feet away.

“Is it a red panda?” Spencer asked, giving both your kids high fives when they jumped up and down in excitement.

“Yay Daddy, you got it! And guess what all of the first letters spell? Best dad ever!” your daughter jumped into his arms and Spencer chuckled, spinning her around and laying a gentle kiss on her head.

“Is that so?” he asked, “you three are too nice to me”.

Truthfully, you didn’t think it was possible to be too nice to Spencer.

“How about our last surprise for Daddy now, my loves?” your question was met with enthusiasm from your little family, and you were back in your car and on your way to Spencer’s favorite bakery in ten minutes flat.

As you pulled up to the bakery, two eager children and one extremely happy father made plans as to what donuts they were going to eat.

It was decided that Spencer would get a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles, your son would get a glazed donut, and your daughter would get jelly.

And you? You had every intention to get your favorite too, but above all you were just happy that another amazing Father’s Day was in the books for Spencer.

The seventh of many.

***

thank you for reading!! if you’d like to join my taglist you can do so here 💕

Permanent Taglist: @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @shadyladyperfection @homoose @rigatonireid @singularityjc @rem-ariiana @reblogsoffanfics @sapphic-prentiss @wheelsup @drspencerreidd @reidemandweep @goldentournesol @ssavanessa22 @alltooreid @miahelen @takeyourleap-of-faith @kuolonsyoja @spencerreid-187 @wifenumberfour

Spencer Taglist:  @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @dayrin085 @spencerreid9 @awritingtree @randomficsandshit  @spareau @stylesgubler @onyourfingertips @winifrede @maddievevo @graciereid @tvandfanfic @csloreen

[ninzied]

that which we call a rose

based on the prompt: a hello/goodbye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

happy valentine’s day, kastle fam!

On the second Thursday of every month, Karen can’t help the extra spring in her step. There’s no point in trying to hide it—she does have an office adjacent to Matt’s, after all—but until she knows what it even is, she’ll let her friends draw their own conclusions.

This month is no exception.

“So…hot date tonight?” asks Foggy, precisely ten minutes after Matt’s said goodbye. Though Foggy’s doing his best to sound nonchalant, he’s clearly been waiting all day to spring the question on her. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in this morning. And that was before we even had coffee. What gives?”

“Not a date,” says Karen lightly. “But a something.”

“Wait.” Foggy looks up from his briefcase, dropping every pretense now. “Yeah? That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Karen.”

She looks a little bemusedly at him. “Thanks, Foggy, but it’s not a big deal. Just takeout and whatever’s on TV tonight, probably.”

“Hey,” says Foggy. “Not gonna lie, but that sounds pretty appealing right now.”

Karen lets out a laugh. “Why? What’s stopping you and Marci?”

“You know how she gets about this kind of thing.” Foggy glances at his watch, and groans. “Shoot. I still have to pick up flowers. I can’t afford to be late—literally. This place had like a five-month wait list for tonight, and I think there’s a surcharge if we hold up one of their tables.” He throws her a rueful smile. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” says Karen, in a tone that she hopes will come across as commiserating rather than slightly confused. Was there some memo about today that she missed?

“And you have a good ‘not a date but a something,’” says Foggy, practically beaming at her. “You can”—he gives a comical wag of his eyebrow—”not tell me all about it tomorrow, sound good?”

“Sure,” says Karen, smiling distractedly. She waits until Foggy has gone, the door closed securely behind him. And then she picks up her tiny desk calendar, which she’d forgotten to flip over to February, and looks down at today’s date.

Oh. God.

…

The signs are everywhere, on her walk home from the subway.

For the life of her, Karen doesn’t know how she could’ve missed them before. Paper hearts plastered on storefront windows. Floral shops spilling out onto the sidewalks. Restaurants boasting their two-for-one specials. And the couples. All the couples, wherever she turns.

By the time she’s at her apartment, Karen is nearing levels of genuine panic.

She hangs up her work clothes as if on autopilot. She pulls on a worn pair of leggings and a soft, oversized sweater before pausing to reconsider, and then she changes out of that too. This isn’t just any second Thursday of the month anymore.

She checks her phone, in case Frank has canceled.

She does have a text from him, but all it says is that he’s running about a half hour late—his latest demolition site is all the way up in the Bronx, and traffic is a bitch right now—but how does she feel about Vietnamese for dinner?

There’s no doubt in her mind that the day has not occurred to him either.

Perfect. I’ll be ready with the wine, she sends back, and immediately wonders what has come over her. Beer would’ve been the more appropriate choice for this very much not-a-date, and besides that, they never drink wine together. Whiskey, sometimes, but they’d finished off her last bottle of Maker’s the last time he was here.

Wine is different. Wine means something. Right?

What was she thinking?

And what on earth is she supposed to wear?

…

Karen answers the door an hour later, back in her sweater and leggings. She breathes a small sigh of relief to find Frank there in his typical attire—jeans, with a faded black henley, and a crooked half-grin as he steps over the threshold into her apartment.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he says back, like it’s just another day. Like this is just another dinner for them to catch up. He holds up a bag and says, “Hungry?”

“Starving.” She reaches for the food so he can get out of his coat, but he waves her gently off.

“’S’okay, I got it.” He looks at her, his gaze going warm. “Think you said there’d be wine?”

And just like that, the rest of her anxiety melts away. There’s still a light flutter of nerves in her stomach, but that’s something else.

Something that she’s always going to feel whenever she’s around him, whether it’s Valentine’s Day or not.

…

Despite how casually Frank is dressed, there’s always a sense of formality to the way he moves around in her place. Like he’s not quite sure whether he’s intruding or not.

He carefully folds his jacket over the back of her couch before taking the food to her kitchen, unpacking each dish as she pulls out the wine.

She tells him about work—minus Foggy’s theories on how she planned to spend her evening—and Frank doesn’t say much, but she knows that he’s listening, attentive to her as ever.

Somewhere between the first and second glass of wine is when he starts to loosen a little, leaning his elbows onto the counter, swiping the last bite of spring roll from her plate.

He tells her small stories about how work has been going for him, and each time she laughs he ducks his head down, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

They end up eating half the food before realizing they’re still standing in her kitchen.

Frank takes their wine to the couch, and she turns the TV on at low volume, flipping aimlessly through the channels.

They settle on a cooking show, which would’ve surprised her one year ago, before these Thursday night dinners. Before he teased her for the one frying pan that she owned and resigned himself to eating takeout from then on. Before they learned to laugh about things like what Matt said at work that day, or the fact that Frank hasn’t had to kill anyone with a sledgehammer. Not recently, anyway.

“All right,” he says, pointing at the pasta on her TV screen. “Next month, we’re doing this at my place for a change, and I’m making you that.”

She doesn’t know why she does it.

Maybe it’s his casual reference to next times. Maybe it’s how closely they’ve wound up sitting together, with her thigh snug against his, the arm he’s draped warmly over the back of the couch right behind her.

Maybe it’s the way this not-so-random Thursday in February feels as though it could become something like every day, for them.

“Deal.” She puts a hand on his knee without even thinking about it, smiling as she tells him, “All right, I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.”

“Okay,” says Frank, turning to smile back at her.

It happens so fast, so instinctively that before she knows what she’s doing, she’s leaning in, and pressing her mouth briefly to his as she stands from the couch.

Like this is an everyday kind of thing for them too, kissing each other before one of them’s about to leave the room.

Karen makes it down the hall without any memory of how her legs have carried her there. Oh God. Oh God.

Her cheeks are flaming when she shuts the bathroom door behind her.

…

After splashing water on her face, and dabbing it dry with shaky hands, she looks in the mirror and wills every last part of her being to get a freaking grip. This is Frank, and she can be honest with him. Even if it means being honest with herself.

She knows what this is. She knows what she wants it to be. And she’s done letting either of them think that anything less is going to be enough for her.

Karen takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom.

…

She hadn’t been gone long, but apparently it was long enough.

The TV’s shut off, their wine glasses cleared from the coffee table. He’s not on the couch.

He’s not—anywhere in her living room.

But as she moves closer, she sees his coat still folded there, and then she hears the sound of movement in the kitchen. She doesn’t know whether she’s more relieved or apprehensive at the prospect of facing him right now, but she supposes she’s grateful she even has the option to decide between the two.

Frank’s clearing the counter, so she can’t get a good read on his face. He’s quiet, though, brows creased together even more somberly than usual, and the fact that he won’t meet her eye should tell her everything he’s not saying out loud.

Their leftovers are stacked neatly next to the takeout bag. He slides the bag out of her way as she picks up the food containers, storing them in her fridge. There’s a six-pack of beer on one of the lower shelves, the bottles clinking together as she closes the door.

“Frank,” she says, careful not to look over at him, “I think we should talk about what we’re doing here.”

He swallows audibly. And then he says, “Yeah. I know.”

She glances at him, wishing she weren’t as surprised as she feels. She’d expected more resistance from him, if not outright denial. It’s unfair of her, she knows; Frank’s abysmal track record notwithstanding, he’s still here, despite the fact that she’d just snuck a kiss out of him without his permission. That has to mean something.

Right?

God love him, though, but he can’t seem to keep his hands still. He grips the edge of the counter, and then reaches into the takeout bag, a rustle of paper and plastic that echoes overloudly in the silence between them.

Karen presses her lips together, biting back a refrain about how now is probably not the time for dessert.

Instead, Frank pulls out a small bouquet of white roses.

She stares as he sets them down on the counter. When he looks up at her, it’s with an intensity that nearly knocks her off her feet, and she grips the counter edge too in order to steady herself.

His gaze is unwavering on hers. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

She blinks at him, a part of her still wondering if it’s wrong of her to hope. “You have?”

“More than anything.” He shifts closer, and now she can see the last of the fear in him too, how he’s finally reached past it for something—for more. The edge of her own fear starts to soften, giving way to that fluttering lightness only Frank can make her feel.

Karen steps forward, marveling at the shared heat between them without their bodies actually touching. “And what, exactly, have you been thinking?”

Frank brings his hand up to the back of her neck, and she closes her eyes as he pulls her in.

He kisses her, and it’s everything Karen has wanted, everything she could only pretend that she hadn’t been waiting for all this time. He kisses her, and she knows how long he’s been wanting, and how hard he’s been waiting for this too.

He draws in a hoarse breath when they part. “I wanted to get this right,” he murmurs.

“Well,” says Karen, trying—failing—not to smile, “you want to know what I think?”

He tightens his arms around her. “What?”

“I think this is a good place to start,” she says, and leans in to kiss him again.

[natewrightt]

Can I request number 13 from your prompt list with Five? Thank you! ☺️

13: this might sound weird but can I kiss you?

Summary: Five refuses to believe that he’s in love with a girl

Warnings: none, just fluff lmao

Ship: Five Hargreeves x soft!reader (because I love him with soft readers jsjiwjwue)

Note: in this fic he never time travelled and therefore is around 15. Thanks!

—————————————————————————-

It’s ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Five makes his way home after hanging out with his best friend, Y/N, at Griddy’s. They had been friends for awhile; in secret, of course. He would never let any of his other siblings embarrass him in front of her. They’ve been friends for about a year now, meeting when he saved her from being robbed by a drunk man. And now, the two are practically inseparable.

It’s strange to see the two of them together, considering the fact that they are indeed polar opposites. While he enjoys fighting bad guys and drinking black coffee on a daily, Y/N would rather read a book or go outside. However, the one thing that keeps their friendship would be that their IQ is almost identical. So you can only imagine that their conversations are rather fun.

But why is Five so upset now? You might be asking.

Because he’s in love with her.

Thinking of the thought again, he groans, covering his head with a pillow. Five hated the idea of relationships, he always did. Seeing Luther and Allison together had made him sick to his stomach half the time. However, now it doesn’t seem so bad...

“I don’t love her. I don’t.” He tells himself over and over again, but was interrupted by Klaus coming into his room completely uninvited.

“You don’t love who?” Klaus asks, a knowing smile on his face. Turning red, Five pushes him out, ignoring Klaus’ giggles.

“Now where was I?” He continued. “I love her. I- oh shit.”

——————————————————————————

“Come in.” Luther permitted. He was surprised to see Five standing there. Mainly surprised that he didn’t use his powers to barge in like he usually did.

However, he and the others have noticed small changes in him. Ever since a couple months ago, he’s been more...happy. He’ll spend his days outside of the academy and come home super late, despite Reginald’s countless scolds. He smiles a lot more often and even said thank you when Diego poured him a cup of coffee one time! Something was up, that’s for sure.

“Oh, hey Five.” He greeted awkwardly, rising from his chair. “What’s up?”

“How did you know that you loved Allison?” Five stated bluntly, not realizing it made the boy in front of him go red. After a moment of silence, Luther spoke again.

“Well....uh, you start to notice their little nervous habits.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Five asked, watching as the girl fidgeted with the end of her skirt a lot faster. She seemed more relaxed at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah, yeah...sorry, I just really hate loud noises.” She responded, smiling at him. He nodded and continued drinking his coffee.

“And it’s like every touch that they give you takes you breath away, you know?”

“Ow! Shit!” Five exclaimed. Y/N looked in his direction for a moment to notice a paper cut on his finger. She giggled.

“You know for someone who almost got stabbed last Wednesday I didn’t think you would react like that to a tiny little papercut.” Y/N jokes, going closer to him to inspect the injury. Five’s breath hitches once he feels her warm hand on his, trying to draw the blood away. Once she does, she still notices his stare on her. “Five? You good?”

He snaps out of his trance, blinking a few times before answering. “Fine.”

“Whenever you’re with her, you can feel yourself getting happier just by her existing.”

“Hi!” Y/N calls, waving at Five. “Welcome to my humble abode. My parents aren’t home, so I can show you around! Come on!” She grabs his hand, rushing the boy to her room upstairs.

As she goes on about her comic book collection, he can’t help but smile. She was really cute when she rambled, her eyes sparkling because she just was just so passionate about basically everything.

He loved that about her.

“And yeah, that’s kind of when I knew.” Luther finished, clearing his throat. “Why...”

But it’s too late because he has already teleported away.

——————————————————————————

“Woah!” Y/N gasps as she sees Five suddenly appearing in her room. “You’re really early! We’re supposed to meet in about 3 hours. Do you want some tea?”

He goes in front of her, softly grabbing the girls delicate shoulders. She looks at him confused, but slowly starts to redden when she notices her face just inches away from his. Five gazes down to her lips for a moment before going back to her eyes.

“This might sound weird but can I kiss you?” he asked, already feeling embarrassed. As Five is about to dismiss himself, he’s stopped by soft lips coming on onto his.

He hesitates, eyes widening and closing repeatedly just to see if he’s dreaming. After a few moments, Five feels himself melt into it, his hands sliding shakily to her waist.

She pulls away first, leaning her forehead on his, smiling brightly with closed eyes.

“God, I love you.” She mumbled, barely audible for him to hear.

But he did. “I love you too.”

——————————————————————————

Damn I’m proud. Part 2? Jsushjshs 💕

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Jane Foster’s child

Jane Foster x child!reader

Thor Odinson x Foster!child!reader

warnings:

a/n: no not a foster child, jane foster’s child 😌 also im so super glad you liked those!!! hope these are just as good!!! and im genuinely so sorry these took so long

prompt: anonymous: “Hey! I just read the Tony Stark x Potts!child!reader HC and I loved it! Would you do the same but with Thor and Jane? ❤️”

no babysitter = go to work with mom

dr. selvig gave you a rubik’s cube to keep you entertained

“fuck that! here, y/n, you can play my DS” -darcy

“can you not swear in front of my child?” -jane

you thought tonight would be boring, but then your mom and darcy collectively hit a homeless guy with a car!

“holy crap, we’re all going to jail!” -you

“don’t say ‘crap,’ y/n! we need to get him to a hospital!” -jane

ngl this dude was kinda funky

darcy used her taser and your mom covered your eyes, but you still peaked ;)

ride to the hospital

“don’t touch him, y/n”

“sorry, doc”

and the very next day you guys stole him 💕

“mr. thor, where are you from?”

“i am from asgard! it is much different from this realm, but your’s is adequate, i suppose”

“thanks?”

you could see the way your mom looked at him, though

he ate all the pop tarts >:(

she gave thor her ex boyfriends clothes

“yeah, donald was a real ass—” -you

“don’t say ‘ass.’ darcy curses too much” -jane

“sorry, mom...anyways, donald forgot to pick me up from soccer practice like, a dozen times. he sucked” -you

“this ‘donald’ doesn’t seem like a very good man...also, what is ‘soccer?’” -thor

you grabbed a soccer ball and tried to show him how to play but there was some other stuff the *scientists* had to take care of

you were a regular at izzy’s diner (well, mom was) and they always made you cute pancakes in different shapes!!

“ah, it’s a smiley face! that’s adorable!” -thor

“yeah! they like to surprise me whenever i come in. they’re pretty awesome” -you

*your mom literally beaming at how good thor is with you already*

you and thor were drawing on paper placemats

and then he broke a glass and you started giggling hdhshshs

but he had to leave

“no, thor, please don’t go!”

“i hope to meet you again one day, little one. hopefully fate sees it through”

:((((

no time to be sad bc ur mom’s lab got hijacked by the government

“hey, no fair! that’s my diary!” -you

“sorry, kid. there are constellation drawings we have to observe” -coulson

“aw, you draw constellations? wait, not now. you can’t just take all our stuff. especially that! that belongs to a child!” -jane

“sic ‘em, y/n!” -darcy

“don’t listen to darcy, y/n” -selvig

chilling in the trailer and missing thor bc he was the most interesting thing to happen to you and your mom in a while

and you wanted her to be happy even tho he was kind of crazy

“hey, mom? do you want to watch the stars tonight like we used to do? we could make s’mores?”

“that sounds like a great idea, baby! i’ve gotta go take care of some science stuff, so i’ll pick up some s’mores stuff while i’m out. love you!”

yeah she went to go see thor and he kinda got arrested but your mom came back home so you could watch the stars!

“so, do you like thor?” -you

“what? what makes you say that?” -jane

“it’s cool if you do, i think he’s awesome. a little weird, but at least he’s nice”

then thor and selvig came home and selvig was drunk as a skunk

*poking him while he giggles and tells you about thor*

“i wish your grandfather could have met that guy! he would have loved him...i wish you met your grandfather, too” -selvig

thor inviting you back outside

“i’d like you to teach me more about this ‘soccer’”

by the time you guys were done, it was 3am and you were too pumped to go to sleep

so thor told you stories of his home and battle and family

you didn’t want him to stop, you were fascinated by it all

and uhhhh yeah then earth kinda had some vikings show up

they told you that you’d “make a fine warrior one day”

and then yall got attacked by a ????? a what??? a destroyer???????

“get y/n out of here now! they shouldn’t have to see this!” -thor

you were still nearby and saw thor become thor again

after he was done fighting the destroyer, you ran to give him a hug

“that was awesome! can i hold your hammer?”

“maybe someday, little one”

then you didn’t see him for 2 years

which upset your mom a good bit, you had to help her through that episode. lots of sitting on the couch and eating ice cream together talking about how he wasn’t worth her time even tho you missed him too

but he came back! and then your mom sent everything flying bc she had an “infinity stone” inside her and thor took you two to asgard

“y/n! you’ve grown so much, i almost didn’t recognize you!” -thor

tbh you really digged the outfit they gave you, but also you were on another planet? thor insisted on giving you a tour (by flying you around)

“i do hope you’re having fun, little one!”

worrying about your mom simultaneously bc you overheard she was sick

but asgard got attacked and you and jane were confined to a room in the palace, which sucked because you wanted to see it all

but thor sent guards to bring you anything to keep you entertained

“maybe we’ll skip the mace for now, thank you” -jane

after several events that count as child endangerment, this chapter came to an end and your mom and thor finally made it official

loki called you a rodent and then saved your life so you were kinda iffy about him

about a year or two later, your mom had to travel a great deal in order to get some work done, so you were left in the care of thor, who took you to avengers tower

“oh, my girlfriend’s child is an angel! and they’re so intelligent, just like their mother!” -thor gushing to other partygoers

“yeah, thor, your ‘angel’ is sneaking drinks from the elderly” -tony

*sipping his beer* “they’re a growing teenager”

you did have an amazing time interacting with the avengers

and once they tried grabbing the hammer, you knew you had to get in on it (but you failed like the rest)

“don’t worry, my y/n, you have to be eighteen years of age to be able to lift mjölnir!” -thor

“oh, that makes sense!” -you, while thor aggressively shakes his head at the other avengers. he just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel bad you weren’t worthy yet :(

more child endangerment but really what did you expect?

thor went off world and your mom split it off w him but you did have his email so you were still in contact with him

swearing you saw odin on the street once or twice (fast forward)

and then your mom dusted and thor found you as soon as he possibly could, it was so good to see him

he took you in since you were alone now, you moved to new asgard and became prince(ss) of the new land by relation?? makes sense right

basically you and valkyrie made all the calls while thor grieved for years

but he still took care of you

“y/n, would you like to play video games with me? i think it may be a good bonding experience, what do you say?” -thor

“duh!”

uncle korg made you help him with fortnite while thor was asleep

you wished to wield stormbreaker one day

showing thor earth media! his favorite star wars character is r2-d2 dont ask why

he taught you asgardian recipes and you taught him...earth recipes?

when he was drunk he’d ramble on about his childhood and battle and enemies and jane and loki and hela and frigga and literally anything that came to mind

“y/n, could you please get me a beer? and get one for yourself, too” -thor

valkyrie most definitely gave you some battle training so you you blow off some steam, you were glad she taught you how to fight like a true warrior

thor wanted to teach you battle tactics so you could fight alongside him, but he never got around to it

a raccoon and bruce banner visited later on, proposing a way to get your family back, thor was an emotional wreck

his debriefing on the reality stone was tense when he started crying about your mom and everyone stared at you

“hey, don’t look at me. i don’t control the god, i just keep him company”

ending up waiting 1 second for the avengers to come back from their mission, resulting in you being stuck in the middle of a very heavy battle

“y/n, get out of here!” -thor

“don’t worry, thor! valkyrie taught me a few moves!”

“you make me incredibly proud, little one!”

“i’m not so little anymore, am i?”

“you will always be my little one, y/n. blood or not, that will not change!”

victory, but at what cost? it was a rough ride, you needed to get patched up, but your mom was finally home and thor...he decided it was time to leave earth again

“don’t worry, my y/n. i will see you again.” *tearing up* “i’m so glad i got the pleasure of raising you these past few years. i love you dearly, now go be with your mother”

you straight up wanted to bawl your eyes out right there

“well, y/n, you’re next in line for the throne of new asgard. what is your first command?” -valkyrie

“actually, i think you’d make a much better ruler than me. i’ve got to spend some time with my mother now that she’s home”

“you’re so much like him, you know that?”

staying with your mother, who was diagnosed with cancer not long after returning from the soul stone (a/n: jane getting cancer is canon in the comics and confirmed for thor 4)

“i missed five years of your life and now i’m sick, that’s just our luck, isn’t it?” -jane

she was understandably upset, but she also felt guilty

“mom, don’t beat yourself up. everything is okay, we’re still together right now. i won’t be going anywhere, i promise”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiantfavs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck //

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 83 Review

guess who isn't weeks late this time. my opinion of the series is going up a little bit. it's still not great, but i'm not actively put off by it anymore the way i was after 81. not going to tag as spoilers, but be warned that they are under the cut

i’m sure you all are well aware of this but now, but dear god i love bruno redondo’s art. like, an unhealthy amount. the pink and blue is getting to be a theme with either him or just this run, but i am definitely enjoying it. the movement in this cover is clearly obvious, but well done. you recoznize right off the bat that the cover was drawn to drag your eyes down the page until you get to the bottom, but you enjoy the whole ride there. 

also, redondo’s way of drawing a character in stages of action so we can see just how much they’re doing in a split second of movement is quickly becoming something i like to see drawn with dick, and any other character that has that sort of ease of movement and body sense, like cass or sin or maybe a super. 

and he’s in action the entire time! there’s shot drawn just to show off a shirtless comic book character, the way nightwing is so often subjected to. he’s shirtless because he’s changing his clothes, and that’s all we see, no more and no less. very practical, very well done. i like it.

he looks so cute right here oh my god. the little squint, the hair curls. it’s adorable.

but also like. unless melinda has specifically outfitted the door spyhole so that the person on the other side can’t see dick looking through it (and in all honesty she might have) then everyone on the other side can see dick looking through that door. 

bringing your attention back to the “i can’t see melinda’s fbi file oh no!! it’s redacted!! whatever can we do!!” stupidity. redacted files are child’s play for oracle, and definitely doable for both dick and bruce. so that’s bullshit.

now, melinda apparently grew up with the maroni family, then took down part of the family from the inside. the maroni family is a large and notable presence in gotham, one that bruce pays a respectable amount of attention to. he definitely would have grown suspicious when two members of the maroni family were taken down, and with some investigation, he would have discovered melinda’s plan. and it should go without saying that the majority of things you see batman doing? dick can do it too.

it’s not so much that i don’t like how clever the villains/antiheroes are getting. i don’t like how dc heroes are increasingly written as less intelligent. they seem to be relying on pure fighting skills or luck, which may be the case for a couple heroes, but has never been the case for most of dc’s big name heroes, the bat family included. it’s irritating to me to see this sort of stuff pop up as a major plot point when i know that, if dick or bruce had been written with the amount of skill and power that they canonically possess, this entire mess would have been sorted out years ago.

unrelated but dick and melinda have the same hair

this may just be me, but i was always under the impression that dick doesn’t really have a “double life???”

yes, he’s talented enough to create enough differences between robin/nightwing and dick grayson’s mannerisms, way of movement, voices, and speech patterns so that it’s very difficult to put the two together.

but nightwing has never been separate from dick grayson, not the way bruce and batman is. he’s always leaned more towards clark in that aspect: his hero persona is an exaggerated, stately, larger-than-life version of who he really is. there’s no second persona, no real “dick grayson identity” and “nightwing identity.” they’re the same person with the same goals, ideas, and skills. one just pretends to abide by the law, and one gives up pretense of that.

oh good thank god. if he’d trusted her right off the bat (hehe. bat.) i would have slapped him upside the head. at least he’s still got instincts.

gosh the colouring on this is cool. the red has enough purple and pink tones to it that it doesn’t abruptly ruin the tone of the artwork. but it’s definitely glaring enough to take the reader outside of this personal moment they had slipped into between dick and melinda, to put them back in the present where they’re reminded that oh yea there are people hunting dick down. 

the next panel keeps this up too, in a less severe way. melinda’s bodyguard shows up (i forgot her name sorry :[ ) and subtly places us in the middle of an action scene rather than a private, personal scene.

laughing so fucking hard have our little vigilantes grown so accustomed to breaking into places that it doesn’t even register as a crime anymore??? tim coming in through the fire escape to pick bernard up for their date and being very much confused as to why bernard is freaking out.

i really like melinda’s shirt and now despite all the work i have to do and the fucking conference i have to host on monday i want to spend hours scrolling through clothing shops online trying to find this shirt. the mock neck/neckline is so cool i want it

so roland just assumes that a very dangerous vigilante who is highly talented in combat and a very dangerous bodyguard who is also highly talented in combat had a fight that ended with this very dangerous bodyguard being tied up and she looks completely fine? roland just assumes that her having no visible wounds or bruises means that they got into a fight and she lost that easily? uh. aight then

dick what are you doing. legitimately what the fuck are you doing. why are you posing oh my god. you are injured and tired and in absolutely no position to go hand to hand with one of main enemies. jesus christ run away or head to lower ground or something. don’t just stand around letting the floodlights show exactly where you are.

i don’t understand what he’s trying to do here??? blockbuster fully bought the story that dick fought them both, won, tried to get info out of them and failed, then hightailed it out of there. he didn’t have to draw roland out for a fight.

but it does look cool. the way the light just highlights his silhouette and the blue parts of his costume does look badass. he does get style points in my book for this.

w h a t  d i d  i  f u c k i n g  t e l l  y o u ,  d i c k ?

very classic superhero line and it does sound like something dick would say in a fit of righteous rage but also it makes me laugh so hard because all vigilantes think they’re so powerful that the law doesn’t apply to them. dick vigilantism is illegal. you’re acting above the law and pretending it doesn’t apply to you. hypocritical much?

it happens so often in superhero movies, tv shows, comics, whatever and it makes me giggle every damn time.

pretty decent comeback but before i start seeing people writing blockbuster as a thug i’m going to remind you that he made a deal with a demon for genius level intellect. if this turns into another bane situation i’m going to be a little miffed. he’s a smart man, which makes him a dangerous and infinitely more interesting enemy for nightwing.

this is so horribly in character i want to scream. (or. at least. it lines up with one of the versions of nightwing i have in my head.) he’s running right towards the bullets, miraculously doesn’t get shot, while making a sort-of pun. i hate this so much. i love him.

this is cool. this art is really really cool.

he leaped from a building right towards a helicopter that’s actively shooting at him, but none of the bullets are touching him. none of the corruption of the city can touch him no matter how hard it tries, because he’s too good to be corrupted. Comic Book Logic Can Be Good Sometimes Actually.

batman’s belt what??? swiss army knife who?? sorry, i only know nightwing’s bright blue escrima.

this is one of my favourite things about heroes with exceptional abilities, even more so if the hero is human. the things they can do are so far beyond the realm of normal human abilities that it’s equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring every time they act.

he just used modified grappling wires to hook to the door of a moving helicopter, swung around the helicopter safely without hitting the blades, gained exactly the right momentum to swing upward again right through the opening of helicopter, then fought and tied up the men before they had any idea what was happening. that’s near impossible to do.

it’s stuff like this where i just sort of sigh in contentment. no matter how many times they leave out dick’s detective skills or conveniently forget that he’s actually a master planner and team leader and make him out to be this forgetful dude who makes everything up on the fly because of his “circus roots,” at least they won’t ever take away dick’s sheer physical ability honed to perfection. 

the art, too! in a few panels, dick’s drawn a little lightened or blurred. he’s moving so quickly and fighting so efficiently that he can barely be seen by the enemy. he’s got perfect form all the way through.

and THIS!

there was a helicopter that had five men shooting at him with what looks like machine guns. most people would be dead. some would run away, and be nimble enough to survive without fatal hits. there are very few people, even in fucking comic books, who can look at that hopeless situation and turn it around so quickly and thoroughly that he benefits from it instead.

i just. love nightwing.

it was funny the first time as a comic reader aware of the meme. it’s really not anymore. why the hell would you, in universe, be wearing a shirt that has a picture of your boyfriend being hit in the face by his father. 

okay that was funny. 

look at lil bitewing, so concerned for her human!!! love her sm. 

also a question as to the timeline of things. is nightwing happening before or after urban legends? 

i was so distracted by dick wearing a robe and briefs and nothing else that i didn’t register the second part until later. he slept for two days?? babs, baby, he recently had a very traumatic brain injury. why do you sound so nonchalant?

@TIM X COFFEE SHIPPERS GET FUCCCCKKKKEEDDDDD

ngl i totally forgot about that dude oops

this comic is giving so many reaction pictures. you know how you always use the worst possible picture of your friend for your friend’s contact picture? i’m just getting so many of these.

leslie!!! the titans!!! lucius!!! dick going to go see old friends!!!! the titans!!! this part made me so irrationally happy it really did. gar being the one to just. offer dick solutions with open arms. this was the best

i wish i could just copy and paste this entire scene, but that would take up way too much space, so i’m just going to talk about it instead. 

you gave me my name, nightwing, and you gave me some of the best advice i’ve received in my life: beautiful little throwback to nightwing’s origin. you’d be surprised at the amount of people who don’t know where the name came from, or who don’t know how much clark means to dick. and the fact that dick still looks up to clark as a hero, recognizes that clark isn’t always perfect and yet continues to hold him in such high esteem, and still looks back on advice that clark gave him fondly just warmed my heart so much.

for a man who has fearlessly stood up to darkseid, bruce will do a lot to avoid a conversation: “grrr. i’m the BATMAN. i’m so DARK and MYSTERIOUS. nobody knows the true me. no one ever will. i will be LONELY for the rest of my CURSED LIFE. such is the price of a hero. ignore my farmer himbo husband in the background”

but i don’t think there’s anything heroic about being a billionaire: another nod to how much dick follows clark’s example rather than bruce. yes, this was a very poignant and important criticism, and i think it’s wonderful that this was published in a pretty popular comic book. but the thing is, there is a way to be a heroic billionaire, but only in fictional universes. the way bruce, ollie, t’challa only ever use their wealth to help people. they donate massive amounts of money to charities that they themselves create so they know exactly how the money is being used. they hire people who aren’t likely to get jobs anywhere else and pay them much more than what a base living wage is. they use their power to help push progressive laws and social change. they are helping. 

dick doesn’t fully see it that way. he spent more than half his childhood the son of a billionaire, but still believes that one could be more heroic when one doesn’t have obscene amounts of wealth. whose example do you think he followed to come to that conclusion?

superman looked up to alfred pennyworth?: i mean yea alfred may have been a wildly irresponsible guardian and one hell of an enabler but goddamn if he didn’t love his kid.

you don’t need my input. you’ve thought it all through: ooooooh this line made me grin. for so long, dick’s treated clark as a mentor and a guiding figure. he’s still seen as a kid, an up and coming, snot-nosed titan with dreams of a better world. clark still thinks of him as a kid, despite watching him grow up. but this little line was something i think dick needed sorely to hear. he doesn’t need anyone’s guiding hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t need to ask for permission. he doesn’t need clark to support him the way he did when he was a teenager. he’s all grown up now, and he doesn’t need clark’s help. i imagine it was a bit of a surprise for dick to hear that. 

honestly, i couldn’t think of a better role model: ohhh but it doesn’t stop there. clark just straight up turns the tables on dick. imagine you’re dick, and you’ve looked up to this one hero your entire life, and then one day he turns to you and says that he thinks you’re so kind and smart and worthy of a person that he wants you to mentor his son!? goes to show just how much clark trusts dick.

i swear to god dick probably cries every time he hears clark compliment him because bruce is so rare and sparing with his praise that clark giving him the slightest hint of approval is just a dopamine rush.

also, now deathstroke and superman have both asked nightwing to mentor their kids. the juxtaposition is fuckin hysterical. imagine either of their reactions when they realize what kind of company they’re with

lets talk colours for a second, because i absolutely adore how classic colour tropes have been subverted in this comic, and in this general run really.

warm tones have usually (usually, not always) been associated with light and comfort and friendship and,,,,,well,,,warmth. whereas cool tones are usually used to unsettle, or make a scene seem colder and put the reader on edge. this varies if a comic only uses cool tones, or only uses warm tones, but if a comic uses both, this is generally well-used.

that isn’t the case in this run.

dark red, orange, and other warm tones have been used to symbolize danger, action, attacks. hot pink isn’t usually included in this colour group, but it’s definitely part of it in this case. in contrast, scenes that have cool colours give us the impression of slipping into a comfortable, calm scene with babs, tim, the titans, and other allies. even the beginning scene with superman has this blue, but then it transitions into something more golden coloured. dawn broke over dick, as his new idea came to light, and that was reflected in the art (and the sunrise setting.)

have there ever been times when dick’s longed for the comfort of his mask because he didn’t feel confident as dick grayson? i can’t think of any. i may be wrong, but this struck me as pretty ooc.

am i just??? gay and reading this all wrong??

cause i was under the impression that when someone says they are grateful for your friendship you don’t immediately kiss them. 

or is this like. normal straight mating rituals.

i mean he’s smiling afterward but still babs aren’t you supposed to at least make sure it’s okay first? you guys broke up a while back after you said something along the lines of “i want to be coworkers with you and nothing more because i don’t trust you or feel comfortable around you as a civilian anymore.” like lmao after you say something like that to someone i would assume that you don’t have the permission to just kiss them whenever you want.

show of hands who else got real sad when they realized dick was talking about himself in this.

sure, he could be referencing the things he’s seen blockbuster pull, and the children on the streets. but “i’ve seen money used for enforcement,” sounds a little too close to dick’s entire life being destroyed by one man threatening the circus to pay protection money for me to completely ignore. and “i’ve seen the poorest and most vulnerable blamed and punished rather than assisted” becomes a lot worse when you remember dick was thrown in juvie for a couple months until bruce was able to obtain legal guardianship, and in there, not a authority figure believed him when he told them his parents were murdered.

he’s lived this before.

a. mother. fucking. typo.

fucking why

i mean i’ve stated my distaste for the batfamily groupchat before but like. this is reaching new levels of ridiculousness. jason sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. tim sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. steph sounds like she was written by someone who doesn’t know the first thing about steph and wanted to include her for “family points!!!!!” damian’s supposed to be completely off the grid, and everyone’s searching for him. i do love the way cass texts tho.

well god fuck now i’m crying

dick got a phone call, a sorry, and a thank you out of bruce. i feel so much secondhand happiness for him, if that’s a thing. we’ll just ignore the way bruce looks ugly af and focus on the good parts okay?

and again with the colour symbolism here!

i’m either going to love this or hate this. who knows, we’ll see.

something something hearts something something pink is an evil colour something something. i need to know more about this guy but there’s definitely symbolism there. 

is it just me or does this dude look like the backstabbing traitorous absolutely motherfucking piece of shit villain that killed tadashi hamada in big hero 6?

~~

taggggg list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan  @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption​ @capricorn-stark​ @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer @buticaaba​ 

[orangeoctopi7]

It’s Fine (It’s not fine)

@forduary week 1 is Hurt/Comfort. The one’s definitely more on the hurt side of things, but I promise there’s some comfort at the end!

Stanford Pines is six years old. He’s in his bedroom, reading quietly. He’s just getting to the climax of the adventure story he’s reading when his brother Stanley crashes into the room. It wouldn't normally be a problem, Ford is really good at tuning out the world around him while he reads, but Stan is complaining loudly.

“I’m booooooard!” The boy moans, grabbing onto the post of their bunk-bed and dangling off it dramatically. 

“Whaddaya want me to do about it?” Ford asks in irritation, not looking up from his book.

“Let’s go play on the beach! Or go to the comic store! Or… or something!” Stan suggests. “Anything but just sit around here doin’ nothin’!”

It was a hot summer afternoon. Ford didn’t want to go down to the beach or the comic store when he knew for certain anywhere they went today was bound to be crowded with people. He just wanted to sit and read in his room and enjoy some time to himself. 

“Can’t you go by yourself?”

“Are you kiddin’? Ma would throw a fit!”

Ford heaves a long-suffering sigh, places a bookmark to hold his place, and snaps his book shut before thumping it down on his bed.

“Well we don’t hafta go if ya don’t wanna.” Stan says lamely.

“It’s fine.” Ford assures him.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is ten years old. He’s at recess, trying to lie low. Stan got held back for the whole half-hour because he’d been caught trying to sneak the class pet, a newt, into his backpack. This of course leaves Ford at the mercy of Crampelter and his thugs, who have little to no mercy on any given day. 

“C’mon freak, fight back!” The towheaded bully taunts him, holding Ford back by the forehead as he tries to struggle past the blocking arm for his backpack, held just out of reach. “I know I seen you taking boxing lessons back at Mel’s Gym!”

“It’s ‘I saw’ or ‘I have seen’, and just b‘cuz I’m taking lessons doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to pick a fight I know I can’t win!” Ford protests. 

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” Crampelter scoffs, before grabbing onto one of Ford’s hands while he continues to reach vainly for his backpack. “But y’know what does sound fun?”

“Let go of me!” 

“Seeing how flexible your extra fingers are!” Crampelter starts to push Ford’s pinky finger back with his thumb, stretching it to its limit.

“Stop it! That hurts!”

But Crampelter just keeps pushing and pushing until Ford is sure some tendons are going to pop, when a shrill whistle echoes across the playground.

“Hey! Crampelter! Drop the freak!” The teacher on recess watch commands.

The bully finally lets go, and Ford stumbles to the ground, holding his injured hand close to his body.

“Here, lemme look at that.” the teacher pulls Ford’s hand away to check it. “Eh, ‘snot bleeding or broken, you’re fine.”

As they walk back from school that afternoon, Stan rants over and over that Crampelter Will Not Get Away With This, plotting various methods of revenge, most of them too fanciful to ever come to fruition.

Ford is silent the whole time, his gaze turned towards his shoes.

“Hey.” Stan suddenly stops his ranting and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mumbles.

“I promise I’ll try not to get held in for recess again.”

“I said it’s fine.” Ford assures him, knowing that hoping Stan won’t get held back from recess again is like hoping it won’t snow in January. Technically possible, but highly unlikely. 

* * *

Stanford Pines is fourteen years old. He’s a freshman in highschool, and he and his brother are in detention after he was caught letting Stan look off his algebra test.

It’s not that Ford has anything against sharing his answers with his brother. It’s not like he has any sort of moral high-ground here. It’s just that Stan is always so carelessly obvious about it!

“I said I was sorry, alright!” Stan hisses at him, trying not to draw the teacher’s attention.

“We’re not in middle school anymore, these things actually go on our record now!” Ford hisses back. “You have to be more careful!”

“Well maybe if you would actually slip me your paper instead of making me crane my neck over your desk! Nobody’s gonna notice if you hand your test in two minutes before everyone else instead of five!”

“That’d be even more obvious! Maybe if you wore your glasses for once!”

“Maybe I would, if you could hold your own in a fight!”

“What does that even have to do with anything!?”

“You don’t wear glasses in a fight, genius! That’s just asking for them to get broken! And I know I’m always having to step in and save your skin, so why would I even bother wearing them in the first place?”

“Hey!” The teacher overseeing detention snaps at them. “No talking!”

The boys shut their yapps and go back to studying, or at least pretending to study.

“I’m sorry.” Stan murmurs, once he’s sure the teacher is no longer paying attention to them.

“It’s fine.” Ford grunts back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He is begrudgingly walking down to the beach with his brother.

“C’mon Ford, it’s October, there’s only a few more days of weather nice enough to work on her left! And the dumb science fair isn’t until April!”

“I still have so much research to do before I can even start!” Ford complains. “Not to mention procuring parts, testing different models--”

“That all sounds like stuff you can do once it gets cold.”

“I should be in the building phase by then!” 

“Alright, look,” Stan jabs a finger in his brother’s direction. “If you wanna spend the last few warm days of the year cooped up in the library, that’s your problem. But I’m gonna enjoy the sunshine and the beach, and finish fixin’ up the Stan’o’war. We’re so close, I can practically taste the treasure and babes!”

“...Fine.” Ford grumbles.

“No, no. You go do your nerd thing. I’ll put the finishing touches on this thing we’ve been working on together since we were pipsqueaks.”

“I said it’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He’s just come back from the most humiliating moment of his life (thus far). He confronts his brother, the offending evidence crinkling in his clenched fist. Stan tries to play it off like it’s not a big deal. Like he expects his brother to say It’s Fine.

It is most definitely not fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 20 years old. He’s showing his new roommate around their humble apartment.

“I really ‘preciate this, Stanford.” Fiddleford McGucket tells him for the sixth time that day. “Most folks wouldn’t offer to put their TA up in their apartment, ‘specially not when you’re lucky ‘nough to get yer own place!”

“Well, I’ll be starting the Doctorate program myself, next year! That makes us equals, in my mind.” Ford says proudly. “And I’m happy for the company! The only reason I have the apartment to myself is because my last roommate and I parted over… differences.”

“Heh, you too, eh?” McGucket chuckles. “Least you weren’t kicked out, like I was!”

“Why were you kicked out?”

“Oh, several reasons. I think the robot in the kitchen was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Ford laughs. “Well, I for one would love to have a robot that does our dishes and cleans the counters.”

McGucket grins and leans against the table.. “See, I knew we’d make great roommates!”

Unfortunately, McGucket’s leaning is more than the wobbly table can take, and it tips over on its side, scattering textbooks and papers everywhere. The two friends begin cleaning up the mess, McGucket apologizing profusely. 

They’ve almost finished putting everything back onto the table when Fiddleford picks up an old photo of two little boys standing before a derelict little boat.

“Well bless my soul! Is this you, Ford?”

Ford’s heart skips a beat. He hadn’t realized he left that photo lying on the table!

“Ah, yes, that’s me. That was the day I decided I wanted to be a researcher--”

“And lookit this little fellah next to ya!” Fiddleford interrupts Ford’s soliloquy. “He looks just like you! I can’t believe I’ve known you for three years, and you never told me you had a twin!”

“Er… it just-- it never came up.”

“How in tarnation does yer own twin brother never come up?” Fiddleford asks incredulously. “So, what’s his name?”

“Stanley and I are not on speaking terms.” Ford says stiffly. “I haven’t spoken to him since I was a teenager.”

A multitude of expressions dance across Fiddleford’s face before Ford can hope to interpret any of them. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He finally says.

“It’s fine.” Ford says tersely, snatching the photo back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 21 years old. He’s trying to get a good night sleep before his first dissertation tomorrow. 

Trying being the operative word.

The past year rooming with Fiddleford McGucket has been great, for the most part. Ford loves spending time with an intellectual equal. McGucket accepts all of Ford’s idiosyncrasies, and Ford accepts all those of his friend.

Well, almost all of them.

It didn’t take long after they started rooming together for Ford to realize one of the several reasons McGucket had been evicted from his last apartment had nothing to do with his penchant for robotics, and everything to do with his penchant for late-night banjo playing. As much as it cut into Ford’s sleep schedule, he didn’t have the heart to complain to his roommate about it. He knew he had plenty of his own bad habits that were difficult to deal with, like his coffee addiction, his antisocial behavior, his tendency to start a project and just leave it laying wherever he was around the apartment, and his few dozen subscriptions to cryptozoological newsletters.

The digital clock on Ford’s bedside table reads 2:20 AM when the music finally, thankfully stops. He sighs and turns over in his bed, hoping to finally fall asleep.

When he wakes in the morning, groggy as a hung-over sailor, Fiddleford at least has the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, did I keep ya up last night? I kinda got lost in the music an’ lost track of time.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mutters as he pours himself a large mug of the strongest coffee he can brew. This is the first roommate he’s gotten along with since… since he started college. He can put up with this.

“Well, if’n ya need me to, I can start headin’ up to the practice rooms in the assembly hall fer my jam sessions--”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 31 years old. He’s spreading thick globs of slimy aloe vera on his hands. He’s been letting his muse take control of his body while he sleeps for about a week now. Bill says he’s not used to the limits of a physical human body. He’s injured Ford’s body just about every night so far, but last night, when he picked up the hot coffee pot by the pot instead of by the handle, was the worst by far. 

“This keeps on happening, Bill. You need to be more careful.” He gently chides his muse.

“WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT’D HAPPEN? WHY DIDN’T THE IDIOT WHO DESIGNED THAT THING INSULATE THE WHOLE CONTAINER INSTEAD OF JUST THE HANDLE? YOU COULD DESIGN A COFFEE POT WAY MORE EFFICIENT THAN THAT!”

Ford smiles, blushing. “Perhaps I’ll get around to modifying it someday. But for now, as I was saying, could you please be more careful with my body at night?”

“HEY, YOU’RE ACTUALLY LUCKY THIS HAPPENED. IF I HADN’T DROPPED THAT POT, I WOULD’VE TRIED DRINKING IT THE SAME WAY I DO IN MY NORMAL FORM, AND THEN YOU’D PROBABLY BE BLIND. SO WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME!”

Ford pales. “Er, perhaps I should help you practice using my body first, just to decrease the risk of that sort of thing.”

“OH, I’M SORRY! DO YOU NOT WANT MY HELP? DO YOU NOT WANT TO ACHIEVE GREATNESS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE?”

“No! No of course not! That’s not what I meant!”

“DON’T FORGET, I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU, SIXER! I’M AN AGELESS BEING OF PURE ENERGY! THE ONLY REASON I’M HELPING YOU SPEED UP THE PROCESS ON BUILDING THE PORTAL IS BECAUSE I KNOW HOW PATHETICALLY SHORT YOUR MORTAL LIFE IS. YOU’RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO TRUST ME. OR ARE A FEW BUMPS AND BRUISES TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO HANDLE?”

“Of course not! It’s fine! I’m fine!” Ford insists, finishing bandaging his burns.

* * *

Stanford Pines is… probably 45? He’s not quite sure. He’s lost track of time after traveling the multiverse for so long, especially after the Do-Over Dimension.

He’s making his way through a crowded alien market, hoping to find something he’ll be able to use in his Quantum Destabilizer, and also hoping not to be recognized by any bounty hunters. It’s annoying, having to wear a hood and goggles and mask everywhere he goes, but that’s just the way it has to be now.

It’s fine.

It’s only until he can complete the Quantum Destabilizer. After that… it didn’t matter what happened after that.

It’s fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 62 years old. He’s sitting in a hospital bed. Despite what that may suggest, his life has finally taken a turn for the better. Bill is gone, Weirdmaggeddon is over, and, miraculously, no one died. Stanley was going to be ok. The kids didn’t hate him. He’s achieved his goal of destroying Bill Cipher, and survived! He’s fine. They’re all incredibly, wonderfully, fine.

The doctor is giving his vitals one last check before officially discharging him from the hospital. It’s obvious that under normal circumstances, Ford would not be leaving the hospital any time soon, but thanks to the incredibly persistent insistence of his family, and the fact that the hospital is already absolutely filled to the brim with people who were injured during Weirdmageddon, and the fact that Stanford was instrumental in stopping Bill, they’re making an exception. 

“Alright, you’re free to go!” The doctor finally says, handing his clipboard over to Ford to sign. 

“Hooray!” Mabel cheers as her uncle signs his exit papers. “Now you’ll be able to help us set up for our birthday party!” She slings an arm around his neck to hug him, completely forgetting about the thin layer of bandages around his neck. Ford can’t suppress a yelp of pain.

Mabel reels back, hands flying to her mouth. “Ohmigosh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Ford forces a smile.

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“Mabel, really, it’s fine.”

“Ford.” Stan says firmly. Ford recognizes the expression on his face from the last few days. It’s the look he gets on his face when he’s remembering something painful. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asks, confused.

“Saying ‘It’s fine’ when it’s not.”

Ford raises an eyebrow. “Stanley, it was just an accident. It really is fine.”

“Oh, yeah, of course this was…” Stan stammers, apparently coming back to the moment. “Mabel’s not-- this was just an honest mistake. But you say… uh, or at least, you used to say that a lot. Even when I could tell it wasn’t really fine. You gotta stop that.”

Ford shifted in his bed uncomfortably. “I’m just being polite.”

“There are ways to say things aren’t fine while still being polite.” Dipper points out.

Ford can feel himself flush. “I’m not good at that. I always come off as rude… or angry.” Saying it’s fine is just easier. He can just move on and forget about it. Control his emotions. Remove them from the equation for the time being, process them later when he’s alone, so nobody gets hurt.

Stan takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “You just gotta trust us, that we’re not gonna leave you just ‘cuz you get angry sometimes.”

Is that really what he’s been afraid of this whole time? That certainly seems to be a part of it, but not the whole. All the same, he does at least feel that he can trust his family. And he can try to be more honest with them when something is bothering him.

“I think I can do that.” he says as he gets up from the hospital bed, ready to go home.

[boymeetsweevil]

the most magical place in hell

Grouping: (For Science) Reader x JK

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings/Themes: implied sex, 5 is a crowd annoying friends since that’s the vibe these days, d*sn*y please don’t sue

Prompt: “For Science, I miss this couple sm. Any scenario would be fantastic! For inspo, did JK and OC get to go on a vacation, (jk expressed he wanted to in his journal) if so how did that go? Any fun new experiments?”

A/N: This commissioned fic is part of the Changes with Luv project, hosted by FicsWithLuv. Here you can find more information about the project, cause, places to donate, and ways to commission a piece or offer your services if you are a content creator. Thank you!

On the third day of the cruise, Jungkook rolls over in his sleep. His hand reaches for you. His palm meets the bare skin of your shoulder already moving despite how pale the morning light is under his lashes.

“What’s happening,” he mumbles before grabbing more greedily at you. There’s not too much resistance as you let yourself be dragged a few inches across the sheets.

“We have to get up. Breakfast starts in 10 minutes, remember?”

You lean down to press a peck just above his brow bone and he groans. As you pull away, there’s a sweet waft that hits him and lets him know you’ve already showered and gotten ready. Now it’s his turn.

He gives himself just until you gather your things and shut the door to the room. Then he’s pulling himself out of bed with every ounce of energy he has left. He brushes his teeth with his eyes closed, does a perfunctory shower with the lights off like it’ll give him some more sleep. But he’s still dead tired as he throws on an outfit and heads out the door.

The walk to the dining area was exciting 3 days ago. The decadent decor, the view from the high balcony separating his floor from the others, the grand 20’s style atrium with Mickey Mouse memorabilia incorporated throughout. Everything used to be exciting 3 days ago. Sadly, the first day passed and things quickly lost their charm.

As he scoops a smiley-face omelette onto his plate in the buffet line, he searches for your face in the crowd of families scarfing down their first meals of the day so they can take their kids to the waterfall pool on deck 6. By the time he reaches the end of the line, there’s still no sight of you among the tables. So he ventures outdoors where there’s less seating but considerably more sun. He thinks back to his quick routine in the room. Did he remember to put on sunscreen?

When he finds you, you’re stretched out on a beach chair and taking in some of the sun. His mood is partially lifted when he sees just how content you look getting warmed like a lizard on a rock in your tiny bikini. He stands over you deliberately just to see you pout and pull down your sunglasses with a huff.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Who’d you think it was?”

“I thought it was Hoseok about to ask me to take his profile pic again.”

Jungkook chuckles a little before sitting in the open seat next to you. “Couldn’t have been him. Too early.” “That’s true.” You sit up then, peering at his plate. “What’d you get us?”

“Us?” His smile is warm. “I thought you’d have eaten by now with the way you left the room.”

“I was looking for an empty spot for us. It was your job to find the actual food.”

“No one else would willingly wake up this early,” he cuts a fraction of the omelette before holding the bite up to you. “But I guess it’s only fair.”

You open your mouth happily.

“Permission to board the S.S. girlfriend?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m wasting fuel in the port,” he continues to hover the fork just outside your reach, even when you jump forward with a nip.

“Permission to board,” you grumble.

He laughs like you told a great joke and gently feeds you the bite. With soft eyes, he watches you point to different things on the plate and dutifully feeds you your fill. This might be the first time he’s been able to spend a few moments alone with you since the five of you got on the cruise. He finishes up the bit of toast you couldn’t finish and the few blueberries that didn’t interest you. He must be staring because you turn to him in your reclined position and return the favor.

“You’re looking a little red. Did you put on sunscreen?”

“I think I forgot. I was trying to get ready fast so you wouldn’t have to sit around alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” you reach into the bag you brought for sunscreen. “Yoori was with me. She left for the gym maybe 2 minutes before you came out here.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

Jungkook scowls a bit as you rub the lotion onto his face. That Yoori and Hoseok, and probably even Taehyung, might be spending more time with you on this trip than him is starting to be the horrible icing on this shitty vacation cake.

“Why don’t we take some time to—” He begins but a large shadow looming over the two of you makes him stop in his tracks.

“Hey,” a man with thick blond hair and even thicker muscles nods down at you. “You were at the adult lounge last night, right?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open. Thor—or the actor who plays him during the Marvel day activities—has come up to your spot. He’s got the Ragnorok breastplate on with board shorts adorning his chiseled lower half. From the top up, he looks just like the real thing.

“Wow. Yeah I was, I’m surprised you remember,” you hold a hand over your eyes so you can look up at “Thor”.

“How could I forget. You and your beautiful friend were quite the sight yesterday.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks.”

In all his excitement, he overlooks the flirting. Jungkook stands up from his seat then and sticks out his hand. “Thor” shakes it hesitantly.

“Hey. I know you’re not the real thing, but it’s great to see you. I wasn’t at the adult lounge last night, so we didn’t get to meet.”

Jungkook makes sure to puff out his chest so “Thor” will notice the print of his button down shirt. Tiny little hammers.

“Do you like the shirt?” He beams. 

“Thor” squints down at the animated hammers.

“I can’t say I really know what’s on it, but sure.” 

“They’re...they’re Mjölnirs.”

“Mole-whats?”

You gasp, clapping your hands over your mouth. 

Jungkook drops “Thor”’s hand at the same moment, disappointment turning down the corners of his mouth.

“Nothing. They’re just drawings. Have a good day, man.”

“Thor” chuckles before looking back down at you. “Cute kid,” he says before sending you a wink and making some comment about getting to rehearsal.

Yoori returns from the gym that moment, nearly running into “Thor”. He gives her an appreciative once over which she returns smugly. Her expression changes as she approaches you and Jungkook looking like you had both seen a car crash.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you respond quickly with a subtle look at the back of Jungkook’s head to tell her ‘not now’.

“Well,” she plops down on the end of Jungkook’s beach chair, “How was breakfast?”

“It was fine,” Jungkook sighs and scoots back so she’ll have some room. “We finished a little while ago. Now we’re just making plans for the rest of the morning.”

“Couple stuff...I’ll go get myself a plate, then.”

You wait until Yoori’s disappeared into the dining area to turn to Jungkook. He doesn’t look angry per se. Just resigned.

“What were you saying before?”

“Hmm,” his eyes are far away, “I was just saying we could take some time to ourselves.”

He wants to say he feels like he’s barely seen you since he stepped on the ship, but he doesn’t want to make you feel bad. The funny thing is that you weren’t even looking forward to the trip before the first day. The tickets for this Marvel cruise were a last minute gamble. You had dropped many not-so-subtle hints about wanting to go somewhere a little less kid-friendly, but he’d waited until the last minute.

At first it seemed like the best possible last choice a person could have. You were all fans of the comics and movies with the exception of Taehyung and Yoori. Taehyung was more of a DC fan and Yoori just sort of let the movies wash over her. You’d been worried that the week would be torture for you with all the screaming kids around. But you were actually having the time of your life. Meanwhile Jungkook was having a less than ideal time.

“Sure. Like what?”

“Maybe we could relax? I’ve had research video meetings the last two nights, so I haven’t really been up for the late night stuff. And I’m just barely up for the morning stuff.”

“Hmm. What about the spa? I haven’t been there yet and it’s on my list.”

“The spa?” Yoori comes out with a mountain of waffles and rumpled-looking Taehyung and Hoseok behind her. “Yeah, let’s go to the spa!”

“Actually, I think Kook just wanted to—”

“I heard it’s actually pretty decent on this boat. They have a hot rock massage where all of the rocks look like the Tinman’s suit.”

“The Tinman,” Jungkook practically chokes.

“I think she means Iron Man,” Hoseok grins sleepily. “Anyway, I’m down for the spa thing too. Never too early to have a tiny lady go in on my thighs.”

“You’re literally so nasty,” Yoori glares back at him.

As your other friends bicker, you flash Jungkook an apologetic look. He shrugs because that’s easier than fighting it. He relishes the second plate of food you get for him and lets you feed him the bites in between kisses and mini-reapplications of sunscreen. It’s all the rest he gets that day. The spa is probably the least relaxing moment of his life.

He doesn’t even get to sit near you. Instead, he gets roped into the men’s section where Hoseok’s tiny lady goes too hard on his thighs and the resulting yelps make Jungkook’s ear drums pound. Taehyung falls asleep two minutes into the Iron Man hot rock massage and snores in a way that’s nearly identical to the 60 year old guests napping nearby.

You emerge from the women’s section with Yoori looking like you’d smell and feel like a rose petal. But Jungkook doesn’t ever find out if you do, because he’s being thrown right back into more “fun”. Somewhere in the back of his mind—between Black Widow meet and greet and the Ant-Man lunch show—he thinks that he would probably be having actual fun if he had some time to breathe. Although, he figures it’s enough to just breathe you in. He feels slightly less drained looking at your smiling face and wide eyes as a wild Hulk appears behind you at the pool after lunch, spraying you lighty with comically huge muscles and a comically tiny water gun.

“You’re not coming?”

Jungkook groans, partly out of guilt and partly out of exhaustion. It’s nearing 10:30 at night and you’re getting ready to go to the adult lounge again. This time it’s for all-things-Spiderman trivia and drinks. He wants to want to go. But he can’t find the strength. He figures too much sun and too much socialization is the answer.

“You’re not staying,” he counters as he does his best to sit up in bed. There’s a nice soft glow bleeding in from the giant picture window of the suite that looks onto the water and there’s some Loki pajamas calling his name. Your tight little dress is calling to him too. I’d look better on the floor, it says.

“I figured this would be a lot more lowkey than everything else we’ve done today. There’s no water and no noisy families. Or screaming Hoseoks.”

“You heard that earlier?”

“I did,” you grimace. “He must have really pissed off that masseuse.”

“I’m pretty sure he just talked with her like he talks normally.”

“Can’t fault her for that, then.”

There’s a beat of silence as you test the security of some strappy heels. Naturally your eyes wander from the shoes to your boyfriend. He’s tapping away at some emails on the ship’s slow wifi no doubt. If you couldn’t tell how tired he was from the slope of his shoulders and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes, the giant yawn he barely stifles is a giveaway.

“Maybe I could just—”

The door to your suite swings open, revealing Taehyung looking frightened in a silky peach button down as Yoori pinches Hoseok’s ear.

“You’re coming, right? Please tell me you’re coming.”

“She’s coming,” Jungkook pipes up from the bed. His eyes never leave the screen of the computer as he types away, but he blinks slow and long. Your heart aches a little.

Taehyung breathes out a sigh of relief and links arms with you. You get one last look at your exhausted boyfriend before you’re pulled out of the room entirely.

“Do you think they’ll even bother asking about the Garfield version?” Taehyung’s question shakes you out of your worry.

“Pfft, no.”

On the fourth day of the cruise, Jungkook is awakened earlier than he wants yet again. A large clap of thunder and the bolt of lightning flash from the other side of the window. He crawls quietly around your sleeping form and throws on his glasses. There’s heavy rain too—a sure sign that the pools and sundecks will be closed. Out of habit, he checks his email and sees a message from the ship coordinator.

Esteemed Guests,

As some of you may know, two performers at last night’s dinner show in House of Mouse theatre (Deck 5, room 6B) showed signs of a stomach bug during the performances. For the safety of the rest of the cast, staff, and guests, we will be postponing today’s shows to sanitize the performance rooms and allow the actors time to recover. Room service will still be available.

We know this is a large inconvenience, and to thank you for understanding, please check your trip accounts for a refund for today’s fares. Additionally...

Jungkook can’t help the fist pump and small hoot he lets out. The email gives him the same feeling he gets on those days when he wakes up hours before his alarm only to discover his professor had cancelled class for the day. With a skip in his step, he returns to bed.

When he wakes up hours later, it’s natural. You’re still spooned to him, still soft and warm and pliant in sleep. He runs the tip of his nose along your neck while the fog of sleep lifts. The smell of your soap and skin is warmed with sleep. The sniffing must tickle you, because you stir before arching against him in a morning stretch. He moves so he doesn’t get in the way of your swinging limbs and smiles to himself. It feels like it’s been forever since he last got to hold you like this without the threat of someone whisking you away.

“Morning,” your voice is gravelly from disuse. “What’s going on. What’s the plan?”

“There’s no plan.”

You’re still half asleep, but you have the social awareness to let your voice go high with incredulity. “No plan?”

“No plan. They sent an email.”

“Read it to me?”

He reads the formal apology while you turn in the covers so you can embrace him while you wake up. By the time he’s done reading, you’ve sat yourself up to look at his phone screen as well.

“Sounds good,” you chirp.

“Really? I would have thought you’d be disappointed about not having a packed day. You’ve been zooming around since we got on board.”

“Yeah, but this was supposed to be our time together. It’s only natural that your friends would tag along.”

“So they’re my friends now?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Only when they’re annoying.”

As if on cue, the front door sounds with knocking. Taehyung is the one who calls out about breakfast plans, but you know all three of them are out there. It’s almost a menacing thought.

“Your friends are here,” he groans. His head falls back onto his pillow defeatedly. They’re likely to burst in any second.

“Don’t worry.”

The sound dies down momentarily when Yoori mentions the extra keycard you gave her for emergencies. Hoseok and Taehyung continue to jiggle the door for sport while chatting idly. Meanwhile, you crawl underneath the sheets and re-emerge on Jungkook’s side of the bed. You look him over, as if searching for something. He’s about to ask what you’re looking for when you reach out and pinch both his cheeks suddenly. While he’s mid-yelp, you swoop in and nip at his lips. It’s quick but it was just harsh enough that his face looks blotchy and his mouth starts to swell.

He whines. “Is this because I called them your friends?”

“Just trust me,” you hiss before your hands disappear further down the sheets to tug off your own underwear and throw it towards the door.

A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Yoori, Hoseok, and Taehyung. Their smiles are bright until they take in the scene. Jungkook’s hair is a mess, his cheeks are flushed, and his mouth looks like it’s been lightly ravaged. Though you’re mostly covered with the sheets, the underwear that is very clearly not on your body and the way the sheets drape over your head as you lay between his knees tell a very convincing lie.

“I think I just caught that stomach bug.” Yoori says lightly, still smiling. Hoseok peers behind her, looking mildly interested.

“I hate it when I remember they have sex with eachother,” Taehyung buries his face in his friend’s shoulder looking mortified as Yoori slowly closes the door.

“Yeah, it’s kind of like walking in on your aunt and uncle doing it. But, like, 12 times worse.”

Jungkook basks in the new silence for a few moments before it’s replaced with the rustle of sheets.

“What are you doing” he trails off to a whisper as you tug the waistband of his underwear down. Your hands still.

“You don’t want to have boat sex?”

“No, no, I do. I wanna have boat sex.”

He nods intensely and you laugh at how earnest he still is. Jungkook’s cheeks flare up, now doubly red from quiet excitement.

“Guess I should have just proposed this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you hum thoughtfully while moving on your knees to straddle his hips. “I can't see how this would have ruined anyone’s fun.”

“I can think of a couple people’s fun we just ruined.”

“I really meant my fun. Speaking of which,” you settle onto his lap and begin to grind.

He shudders, head falling forward with a sigh. This, he thinks, is the real happiest place on earth.

[fallout-lou-begas]

I mean no malice behind this, your art has actually given me the kick in the pants to finally put down comic ideas I’ve had to paper. I used to end up getting dejected because I’d idly check tumblr while doodling and see a beautiful drawing that would take me hours to achieve the same level of quality captioned “just a terrible five-minute sketch”

Anyway I’m finally going to draw my clone trooper OC, who’s basically just the Star Wars version of Oddball from Kelly’s Heroes

I'll admit I was a bit confused for a second because I had no idea what could possibly be malicious about your message lol

But this makes me very glad, anon!! I'm so happy and I strongly encourage you. That exact kind of phenomenon is why I'm so transparent about my own process, about my sketches and pencils and how exactly I color. I don't think everybody should feel obligated to put in the hours of figure drawing and shape practice required to become a master-level technical artist. I do think it's satisfying and rewarding to challenge oneself and to do the best you can with art, but it's also enough to draw however you want because you like to draw and want to draw. Truth be told, my entire artstyle is the way it is partly because of my own technological limitations (I color in GIMP, for chrissakes, lol) but also because I want to draw fast. If I have to spend more than a few days on one drawing or one page, I get way too itchy to move on, so the rough-hewn look of my art is intentional if only because I don't care to smooth it out (most of the time).

Also, to quote one of the greatest comic artists of our time,

[sunshinesholland]

the one (and all the others) | t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 3.16k

Summary: Everyone in your life knows how much of a hopeless romantic you are. You’re constantly diving into things headfirst, and expecting a fairy tale ending. You tend to laugh off any remarks your friends make, take them in stride, as it’s kind of commonplace in your friend group to joke about your romantic escapades. But this time it feels different.

Warnings: swearing, angst/pining, mention of shitty past relationships, allusion to PTSD 

A/N: Again, it’s kind of based on some personal stuff. Getting back into writing is easiest when its based on self experience for me. I have the rest of this mostly written out, so let me know if you like it!

part one || part two || part three

New York winter has brought with it snow, accompanied by a brisk wind that harasses anyone caught outside. Lucky for you, you’re inside and warm in the shelter of your favorite cafè with a good friend and hot coffee.

“He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me since first semester,” you gush, “he said whenever he sees the film I did my midterm on in class, he thinks about me.” 

You’re practically swooning, your vanilla latte in one hand, and an earl grey tea in the other. Zendaya, reaches for the cinnamon among the array of wooden sticks and sweeteners as you continue your story.

“Yeah, I’m sure the guy has watched Love Jones so much the past four months,” she comments, smile on her face as she takes a taste-sip of her coffee. Satisfied, she begins walking with you to the usual table. It’s tucked in the corner with a view of both the wooden-framed windows and the small stage where a guitarist plays softly. 

You continue speaking as though you didn’t hear her smart remark, “I mean he’s got an accent, and he’s really cute too, Z. I didn't even present the analysis that well, you know I had work and that huge paper for music theory class due,” you babble, and she just sips her coffee and listens.

The bell atop the cafe door chimes and the cold breeze from outside manages to reach you in the corner. Your eyes flicker up to Tom as he begins walking over, shaking the snow out of his hair, his curls slightly damp and his cheeks pink.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asks, shrugging off his jacket and sliding into the seat beside you.

He smiles at you as he grabs the tea you’ve ordered for him, a silent thank you despite the fact that you do it for him every time you arrive before him. 

“I was just telling Daya about the guy from our film history class last semester,” you grin, “you remember him?”

How could he forget? You gushed over him then too, and the bastard was bold enough to make advances towards you during class discussions. Not to mention the times when he would stop the two of you on your way out of class to flirt, while Tom would have to wait for you and watch it all unfold.

You and Tom have known each other since day one of university, when you complimented him on the Spider-Man pin on his backpack. It was the pin his baby brother Paddy had given to him before Tom left to attend university in the states, and your complimenting of it instantly made him warm towards you. He’s been friends with you since he held the elevator for you, the same day you both realized you’re neighbors at the same apartment complex. He’s been your best friend since the day you stayed up all night with him after having only known him a month. He was stupid enough to put off writing an important paper for his literature class until last minute and you still stayed up with him all the same. You brewed coffee and kept him company, making him laugh all night long all while encouraging and motivating him. 

And he didn’t realize at the time but he’s been in love with you since he called you at 11 PM, heartbroken, and despite the fact that you went to sleep hours ago and had work early the next morning, you didn’t let him wait past the second ring before answering. You were up and knocking at his door moments later, still in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, half awake. You met his bloodshot eyes and hugged him tightly, there to be whatever he needed at that moment. You let him ramble and cry into your shoulder while you stroked his hair. You watched over him while he drank to numb the pain, and you were there to rub his back the next morning for the aftermath. He knows he isn’t exactly special, you’d do this for anyone you care for and somehow it makes him love you more.

When he did realize his feelings, he didn’t make a move, as you were in a toxic on-again, off-again relationship, and you didn’t need anything else on top of what you were going through. The love from the way you valued him as your closest friend was enough for him. It’s possible he would have outgrown the crush, but after one night, everything changed. And the worst of it all is that the two of you don’t talk about it, or even acknowledge that it happened. But that’s how it always goes right? It’s good until it’s not.

Tom is pulled out of his thoughts and reminiscing when Zendaya asks, “When’s the date with prince charming then?”

“It’s this weekend,” you mumble, looking past her to avoid her eyes.

“This weekend? Y/N, you said you’d come to Laura’s party with us,” her tone is criticizing because she’s fine listening to your interactions turned romantic narratives, but abandoning plans you’ve already made with your friends is where she draws the line. 

You avoid her eyes, looking down at your cup and then out the window at passersby on the street. You don’t want to be a bad friend, really, but it’s one night and you’ve been looking forward to the date since he asked you last week. And you really don’t like parties anyways. You don’t make a habit out of canceling plans, you truly try to be as reliable as possible, there whenever your friends need you. Your only fault is that finding love is almost as high on your list of priorities as your friends.

“I know but I’ll come to the next one. She’s always throwing parties and what difference does it make to miss one? I don’t even like parties either, I wouldn’t really be fun to have around anyways,” you try to reason your way out of the guilt.

“Yeah. Sure. Let's just talk about something else, okay?” She huffs, not wanting to argue and knowing you won’t cancel on prince charming. 

“Okay… Tom when are you going to ask out Perrie from downstairs? I think the whole complex is getting second-hand embarrassment from the poor girl’s obvious and multiple advances,” you grin, because anything to do with romance is welcomed by you. It doesn’t just have to be your love life.

He already feels sick because while Perrie is a lovely girl, she’s not you and no one else is either. Answering the question why he won’t ask out the pretty, single, and clearly interested girl is something he barely admits to himself. But lucky for him Zendaya is who she is in that she always seems to know what to do. Though she’s never had it officially confirmed, she knows on some level about you two. She’s your roommate and the three of you are all close and in the same friend group, and honestly, how could anyone miss the way you look at each other? More often than not, she gets back from work and finds you two asleep on the couch, scrunched up together under one blanket. If she comes home, and you’re not in your room all she has to do is walk across the hall and you’ll likely be at Tom’s. But again, Zendaya is who she is, and so she allows you two to define what you have the way you want. But she sees the color drained from Tom’s face, and for his sake, she changes the subject.

“Or... we could talk about the fact that I got offered my first modeling job!” she exclaims, effectively taking the heat off of Tom.

Your supportive friend nature kicks into overdrive, Perrie from downstairs long forgotten, as you gush over how much your friend and roommate deserves this and so much more. Tom gives Zendaya a half-hearted smile, which she returns before chatting with you about the details.

—

“I really do think he could be the one,” you smile back in the mirror, while Tom searches through your display of Spider-Man comics. 

You’ve been best friends for so long and you live across the hall so it’s only natural that Tom comes to keep you company when you get ready for your dates. No matter how often he's there, or what feelings he has, he wouldn’t ever turn down an opportunity to spend time with you. 

He grabs your favorite issue, the front page worn as a result of how often you read it. You could cover them in slips and store them on a dusty shelf, preserving their value. But you’re a firm believer of loving what you have, not shielding it away to protect it, and maybe that applies to more than just comics. He drops onto your bed unceremoniously, looking up to meet your eyes in the mirror. You finish curling the last section of hair that frames your face, unplugging the iron afterwards.

“I don’t think you can really call him the one, if he’s the tenth you’ve called that so far this year,” he replies light and jokingly, despite the insensitive words he’s spoken. He’s the only one who’s never poked fun at your dating habits, but maybe it’s just the mention of the prince charming from film history.

Although he may be joking, he’s right. You glance down at your vanity, a mess of makeup and hair products showing just how much effort you’ve put in the last forty-five minutes. No matter how many first dates you go on you’re always saying things like this. Most everyone in your life makes remarks like this and usually you would let it slide and laugh or brush it off. But it’s Tom, who knows better than anyone the heartache you’ve experienced and how even though you refuse to admit it, it’s a coping mechanism. You’d like to think your past doesn’t define you and so you tell yourself you’re in love and hopeful, but the trust issues and self sabotaging comes shortly after. Tom should know that, having seen the relationship that was responsible for the cycle and the beginning, quick middle and eventual end of every relationship since. 

So you’re immediately defensive at the fact that your best friend would make some comment like this. He lifts his head up at you, as you spin around to face him.

“And why can’t I?” You ask and Tom opens his mouth to reply but you’re continuing and challenge him further, “What’s so wrong with being a hopeless romantic, with feeling things deeply?” You question, not waiting for a response as you continue.

“There’s not one person in my life who hasn’t said shit like this to me! Out of all people I thought you would understand,” you raise your voice, hurt evident in your tone. 

“You know how hard it was for me. I’m just doing my best to hold myself together, and I’m an adult, if this is how I decide to cope, I’m allowed to!” You’re shouting now, standing and pacing around your room in frustration.

“I’m just hoping there’s someone out there who is willing to love me kindly and fully, and I think I’m perfectly justified holding out for that,” your voice softens, your back is facing him, posture slumped as you huff, overwhelmed with emotion. 

Your frustration is tangible in the air and Tom blinks, placing down the comic book before scooting to the edge of the bed towards you. You tend to laugh off remarks, take them in stride, and it’s kind of commonplace in your friend group to joke about your romantic escapades. 

He feels unbelievably guilty, he never would’ve said something if he was aware you felt even one one-thousandth as upset as you’d just displayed. He had been there for the awful relationship that had you sick with heartache. He’d been the one Zendaya would come to when you’d refuse to leave your room for anything but classes, if even that. He just feels idiotic for not connecting the dots, he just thought you were strong for having such an open heart after everything. You’re always compassionate and supportive others and you’ve definitely helped him through his fair share of heartbreak, and wow he feels like a dick. Whether it’s orchestrated by heartache or not, he admires that you’re willing to keep trying despite everything. He only wishes he was brave enough to bare his like you always have.

“Hey,” Tom speaks softly, reaching for your hand and slowly turning you around to face him, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I never realized this is how you felt,” He mutters, tone gentle, coaxing you to turn to him.

Tears have managed to well up in your eyes and if he didn’t feel like a huge jerk before, he absolutely does now. But it’s really not about him, it’s about his best friend who he’s unintentionally made feel invalid in her feelings. You’ve never once asked him to justify how he’s feeling, or poked fun at him for his emotions. Well, except... maybe when he broke his pinky finger in a fit of anger, after having punched the face wall when his team lost the European championship (though you did apologize for it and you grabbed him ice right after). 

“It’s, erm, it’s fine, it’s stupid anyways,” you mumble back, voice unsteady as you try to blot your tears away with your sleeve in an attempt to prevent your makeup smearing. You’re just overwhelmed and it all bubbled over. Tom has never said anything like that before and it was dramatic to blow up at him like that, you think. 

“It’s not, N/N, and you know that. You’re crying and I know you hate crying and so I can tell you’re upset. Even if you don’t want to admit it, I’m still sorry,” He apologizes, rising to stand with your hand still in his. He pulls you into a hug, resting his cheek atop your head. 

“Thanks,” you murmur into his shoulder. It’s not completely his fault, because you really hadn’t voiced any sort of animosity for the jokes made about it. You never really talk about how hurt you are by the past either, not anymore than in passing at least. 

You just stand there for a minute, his hand stroking your hair absentmindedly, and he’s messing up your curls but it’s comforting because it’s Tom. Thinking to ask him to stop isn’t even on your mind. 

He’s thought about it before, but now more than ever he just selfishly wishes he was there before your ex, to see you unguarded and truly hopeful. Not as a coping mechanism, not as an extreme reaction to hurt, but to love because it’s all you know. Because maybe then things would have played out differently for the two of you.

He’s lost in his thoughts, stroking your hair and his other hand rubbing your back, your ‘getting ready’ playlist ends. Somehow the algorithm has decided to play One by Ed Sheeran, soft, melodic and completely dissimilar from the upbeat tracks playing a moment ago. But Tom couldn’t be more grateful, because if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend you’re at the before, and he had the guts to ask you out on the first day of class. If that was true, when you’re in your room with him now. You’d be aware of how he feels about you, and you’d feel loved in that kind and gentle way you’ve been hoping for, because you’ve never known anything else.

The soft ballad ends and when you glance up at him, the façade he’s formed fades away before his heart has the chance to beg it to stay.

“I don’t really want to go on this date anymore, I probably look a mess and I’m just...not in the mood for not finding ‘the one’ tonight. I’ve got you, and that’s enough for now,” you confess, smiling up at him. 

You say that, because as cheesy as it sounds, friends are a kind of soulmate too, and you’ve already found them. You can always look for ‘the one’ some other time. This revelation would feel sweet to any other friend, but to Tom, it hurts just a bit that to you he’s just a placeholder. 

He manages to crack a half smile at your heartfelt statement, because no matter how he feels, he’s lucky to have you. Even if only as a friend.

“So how about we order a pizza and watch New Girl for the fiftieth time?” You question, oblivious and smiling up at him before pulling away from the hug and wiping at your wet eyes.

Any other time he would stay in with you, happy to watch you laugh to the point where he’s grinning at just your reactions. But he’s gotta be a good friend too, because well, he’s in the same boat as you. Except he’s found the one, and he doesn’t want to leave. Yet he knows the right thing to do is to go to the party he promised Zendaya and Jacob (and previously you) that he would attend. Though he still isn’t happy to admit it to you.

“I was going to go to Laura’s party tonight…” Tom grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck, because he knows you don’t like parties and you’re likely emotionally exhausted on top of that. He’s only going because he’s made a promise, and really— trust him— there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend time with his favorite person.

“Could I maybe go with you?” You ask, because being with friends, even if you don’t like parties is better than sulking at home alone. 

Tom cracks a smile, and it’s easy to fall back into friend-mode with you. Because that’s what comes when it comes to you, before anything else.

“Well, I mean if you clean up I suppose I can just take you with me,” he teases you, “because I cannot show up with you like that.” He jokes and laughs as you shove him. 

This kind of banter is normal and makes your heart feel just a little less heavy in your chest, because Tom always manages to make you feel better.

“Okay, just let me text him and let him know I won’t make it, and then I’ll try and look better for you,” you reply, laughing all while rolling your eyes. 

You’ve got your phone in one hand texting, while your other wipes away at the makeup on your face. You’ve got a focused look on your face, squinting a bit because you don’t have the best eyesight and refuse to wear your glasses on first dates. But you look lovely to Tom, despite the crease between your eyebrows, your slightly opened mouth, and still smeared mascara. 

part two

[mellomedia]

Youth Culture

For Media & Society’s first blog post, our class watched Euphoria, Mid90s, Mean Girls, Kids, and The Breakfast Club. If you haven’t figured out the theme yet, it’s youth culture. Most of these films were set in the 80s and 90s before this current generation. This is the first generation where our lives are saturated by mobile technology and social media (Divecha, 2017). But no matter what generation, youth culture has many common behaviors, or misbehaviors.

Often when I watch a film or read a comic book, I wonder if I relate to the story or anyone in it. I looked for anything in common I might have with one of the characters in the five films we watched. I can identify with Ray from Mid90s the most. I’m not a die-hard skateboarder like Ray. In fact I can’t skateboard at all, but I dedicate all my time and energy into art and animation. While we have different interests, I can relate to Ray’s passion for something he enjoys and the energy he puts into it. Ray is the top skateboarder in his group and practiced every day. All my spare time is spent drawing and taking online animation courses. My goal is to always do better than what I did yesterday. Words to describe Ray would be the same way I describe myself: down to earth, not concerned with fitting in, my own person, caring, always willing to help, and a very loyal friend. When Stevie joins the skateboard crew in the film Mid90s, he finally digs up some money to buy Ruben’s old, used skateboard. Stevie gets injured while attempting an insane jump over a hole in a roof and breaks his skateboard. Ray sees how much Stevie is trying to fit in, no matter how many falls he takes, he gets back up. Ray has a big heart and builds Stevie a new skateboard. As I mentioned, I’m not a skateboarder, but I enjoy trying to make people smile with my art. I enjoy drawing a cartoon of a friend to help them to get out of a funk or just listen to whatever it is they are going through. 

These films all share a few common themes. One theme is belonging. I admit I looked up the term “fitting in” and it was compared to belonging. Fitting in is defined as to be like other people in a group – what they wear, how they act, how they look. (Pace, 2018) Belonging is a basic human need – it is about acceptance – being where you want to be and being where you are wanted (Pace, 2018). A few examples are Stevie (Mid90s) wants to be accepted into the skateboard crew; Brian (The Breakfast Club) brings a flare gun to school as a suicide attempt because he didn't feel he was good enough; and Cady (Mean Girls) is the new girl trying to get accepted by The Plastics.

My freshman year in high school definitely falls into the theme of belonging. I struggled with speech and have a learning disorder. And at the time I had zero confidence in socializing. I’d walk over to a group of kids in the cafeteria just to try to get involved in the conversation, but I couldn’t form sentences quick enough to jump in. I would be the weird kid just standing there. One day my speech therapist asked me what I wanted to improve and I told her I wanted to gain confidence in socializing. She told me the best way to do this would be to just try to talk to more people. Well in high school that worked with some kids, but not all. I’ll never forget one day in the cafeteria I was trying to find a place to sit and eat lunch. I saw an empty chair at a table where a ‘friend’ was sitting. The group was taking turns roasting one another. At one point another kid challenged me. I was doing fine until he said, “You know people are only nice to you because they don’t want to hurt your feelings.” That hurt like hell. He was referring to my speech impairment. I got up from the table and walked away. And that ‘friend’ at the table didn’t defend me at all. One girl came running over to make sure I was alright. I was pissed and hurt. I was not alright. Just so you don’t think I went off the deep end and had a miserable high school experience, I actually gained a great friend in high school that day. Alex, who was a senior, saw me leave track practice early. My head just wasn’t into track, so I went to sit in the empty cafeteria hoping to clear my head. He asked how things were going and I told him what happened that day. He told me, “It’s not easy finding out who your real friends are. But don’t change for anyone and don’t try to be like anyone else. Just be you.” I’ll never forget how he took the time to talk to me. After his advice, I could care less about belonging.

Another common theme between all five films is rebellion. When they aren’t skateboarding, most of the characters in Mid90s spend their time partying, drinking, and doing drugs. In The Breakfast Club, each character is in detention because they rebelled in some way. Why else would they be in detention? Every character in Kids was a rebel, actually more like a criminal. I bet the writer of the film was too.

A third theme is “bro” culture. “Bro” culture is defined as people who are bullies but at the end of the day they have your back, like a brother (Sloothunter42, 2018). Two great examples of “bros” are John (The Breakfast Club) and Ian (Mid90s). Throughout The Breakfast Club, John constantly insults the other kids in detention. He even insults the principal. The group escapes detention to wander the hallways. When the principal sees them, John saves the group by telling them to go back to the library while he distracts the principal. This link shows you the scene I’m explaining: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Iq7MRlHg5I (Hughes, 1985). Not something you would have expected from a bully, but you would from a “bro.” In Mid90s, Stevie’s brother, Ian, beats the crap out of him every chance he gets. But when Stevie is laying in a hospital bed after a car accident, his brother is there by his side. He even shares his precious orange juice.

Now onto one of my favorite things in life, music! I put together a playlist that relates to my adolescent experience. In no particular order, here are 10 songs and what each means to me. But let me point out that some song lyrics mean something to me, while with other songs it was the energy it gives off. I’m all about positive energy. First song is “Mr. Blue Sky” by Electric Light Orchestra. I first heard this song during the movie Guardians of the Galaxy. This song kept me motivated and positive during high school. If I was having a bad day, this was my ‘go to’ song. I also listened to it every day on my way to school. Next is “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley, a.k.a. CeeLo Green. This song reminds me of my mind, imagination, and the stuff I think about. I always have a trillion things going on in my head. I guess that explains my poor focus skills and super procrastination. “Inner Ninja” by Classified is another upbeat song. A few lines that always stuck in my head are, “I find my inner strength and I re-up; Here we go, I know I've never been the smartest or wisest; But I realize what it takes; Never dwell in the dark cause the sun always rises.” My junior year of high school I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It has and still is life-changing and as much as I don’t let it change who I am, I’m human. But as the song says, don’t dwell on the negative, look for the positive. I always remind myself of the positive. “Through the Fire and Flames” by DragonForce always fueled my brain when I was tired of doing homework or studying. To me the lyrics mean to keep moving forward no matter how difficult. Just look at what your goal is and don’t give up. Plus this song has one hell of a guitar solo that is very motivating. Michael Jackson is one of my favorite artists and “Man in the Mirror” reminds me how important it is to try to do good in the world and make a positive change. Regardless of culture, color, religion, and disability, we are all capable of making good changes in the world. I tried this on a much smaller scale in high school by volunteering at the food pantry and community events. “Clint Eastwood” by Gorillaz is one of many songs by this group that I like. It’s not so much the words I relate to, but I love the animation in their music videos. I remember the first time I saw one of their videos I thought how cool and mysterious it was that we only see the singers as cartoons. We are never shown who they really are. I like the fact that it’s different. Different is good in my world. “Intergalactic” by Beastie Boys reminds me of breakdancing and dancing in general. I love to dance and looked forward to every prom and homecoming dance at high school. “Without Me” by Eminem reminds me that no matter how much people criticize you, you can be very successful at what you enjoy doing. The last song on my list is “Take Me Out” by Franz Ferdinand. To be honest, I just like the beat of the song and it’s one of those songs I listened to over and over in high school.

So that wraps up my Youth Culture blog. I hope it gave you a better understanding of how I relate to the assigned films. But let me make one thing clear, I do not relate to anything in the film Kids. Not one thing.

Below is my self portrait of what goes through my mind. 

Artwork by: Marcello Laudato

[aislingeu]

hello!! i’m kq ( aka kelsey quinn! ) i’m twenty five, livin in the est, usin she / her pronouns!! much like the good buddy who turned me on to this rp, i don’t know a ton about percy jackson!! but mythology was one of the few subjects that held my attention in school, so i hoe i have a good handle on it! :D for now, i manage a comic book store from thursdays - sundays, so i’m scarce those times but i’m usually on discord!!

⟨ ABIGAIL COWEN. CIS FEMALE. SHE / HER ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, AISLING DUNN is actually a descendant of H Y P N O S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old PAINTING MAJOR from DUBLIN, IRELAND has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite CLEVER & COARSE.

this got way longer than i intended im so sorry... 

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

she was born on march 12th, 1997 to a pair of irish musicians ( conor and dierdre dunn ) and, unwittingly, one greek god ( hypnos ) in dublin, ireland. her parents met and married shortly after her conception and neither of them suspected that conor wasn’t aisling’s father, until she was claimed.

as an only child, her parents didn’t have much to compare her too in terms of overall strangeness. for years, they wrote off her abilities as kids just sayin’ the darndest things. they remained blissfully unaware of the impact of their daughter’s words, rolling their eyes fondly, when she told them about the man in the cave, who came to her in dreams. they smiled and laughed, when she strangers at the supermarket that she thought erwin was a fine name to give a teddy bear, no matter what anyone else said. how were they to know that she was unearthing the fond childhood memories that passersby had almost forgotten? 

when she enrolled in primary school, they realized that she was... strange, if not special. she was recognized as a bit of a space case, often staring at nothing in particular, while her teacher droned on. her worksheets were seldom turned in complete. instead, aisling began gifting poorly drawn family portraits on the blank sides of her papers, likenesses plucked from the memories she explored when her mind wandered, in class.

eventually, after her skill had developed and people stopped writing off the stick figures as ‘coincidentally accurate’, people began to truly take notice. they speculated that she was a medium, silently communing with the dead and painting their pictures as she did. how else could she know what her art teacher’s late father looked like? and what color tie he always liked to wear? she had to be a psychic. recipients of her art were always so focused on their perception of the little girl with the gift of sight that they hardly even realized what she had tweaked, brightening up their darkest memories, just so they wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. she hardly even realized, herself.

without a reason to believe otherwise, she told the man in her dreams that she was a psychic, but he knew differently. he told her that that wasn’t so. she was special, yes, but not in the ways that the world thought her to be. hypnos let her in on the secret he’d been keeping for the past twelve years and, just like that, aisling could make sense of herself. once she knew the truth, she chased sleep. she spent as much time as she could, communicating with the one person who understood who she was. he saw her hunger for belonging and pointed her in the direction of the camp nearest to her hometown.

after a summer away, she came home faced with a challenge in morality that she’d never considered, as a child. she came home to a world where she could no longer fit. her party tricks had lost their luster the moment she realized that true value of a memory, however sad, was worth far more than the cheap smiles that her alterations had afforded. with that realization, her art took a darker turn. unable to shift the memories she saw into the light, they haunted her. she now saw their fears and heartbreaks for what they were: unchangeable. and, now, they lived within her, too. putting them to paper was the only way to get them out. but, pieces like those weren’t the kind that could be sent home to mom and dad. pieces like those were the kind that got her meetings with guidance counselors and haunted, fleeting looks from those whose memories she’d never meant to disturb. after a year of that, aisling went back to camp, full time.

once she was a year round resident of the camp, she found herself more comfortable around people who understood; there was nothing she had to hide, among those who were like her. each one of them was fighting an uphill battle of their own. they didn’t have to hide it. even if she never allowed herself to get too close, aisling never felt all that far away, at camp.

at eonia, aisling spends most of her days painting, sleeping, or working. raised by a pair of mortal musicians, finding a job at fireside records felt like a natural progression. where her godly parent thrives in silence, she finds her comfort in noise. it’s easier to block out the things she doesn’t need to see when there’s something immediate for her to focus on. at the other end of that spectrum, aisling finds her mind most open in visual arts club, trying to keep her other creative skills sharp, while she keeps her primary focus on painting. in search of inspiration, her mind reaches out in tendrils, dipping into another’s until she finds something she can work with. she only needs to leave the room before they’ve realized what she’s borrowed. 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

aisling is a naturally empathetic person, always wishing she could do more to help those around her. unfortunately, she knows that she can’t always honor that instinct. her abilities and self-imposed limitations have left her with a hardened exterior that isn’t easy to break through. those who pass through her walls see a softer side: a steadfast friend, always there to put a peaceful end to their sleepless nights or calm their worst nightmares, with a gentle run of her fingers through their hair. but sometimes, she’ll wall herself away from even those she’s closest to after she finds herself in the middle of a particularly harrowing memory. because of this, maintaining close bonds for long is a difficult thing. given her propensity for accidentally rifling through the fondest and most fearsome parts of peoples’ pasts, she’s been known cut them out of her life when she sees something that she has the urge to alter.

𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

MEMORY RETRIEVAL — for as long as she could remember, aisling knew things that she shouldn’t. at first, her parents just dismissed her gift as imagination and observation combining in a perfect, creepy storm. it wasn’t until she started attending school, picked up her finger paints, and started to draw out moments from the pasts of strangers that people started to truly take notice. sloppy scenes from the librarian’s wedding day graduated into well sketched portraits of her bus driver’s dalmatians. she liked to take those happy moments, immortalize them in art, and hand them off to the owners of the memories. she liked to make people smile. sometimes, she took that a step further. too young to see the value in sadness, aisling would tweak the memories that were harder to bear; even if she couldn’t bring someone happiness in the present, she hoped she could bring them comfort in the future. it wasn’t until she was claimed that aisling saw the flaws in her intervention. it wasn’t until she was taught the consequences that she knew she had to stop. although the memories came to her unbidden, they didn’t belong to her and she had no right to change them. instead of focusing on the alteration of memories, aisling opted to try to learn how to shut them out. like her other powers, though, there’s a direct correlation between her emotional state and her ability to keep a wall up. when she’s feeling something strongly or hasn’t gotten enough sleep, she sees things that she doesn’t mean to.

HYPNOKINESIS — you are getting very sleepy… what proved to be a fun tool at sleepovers had more practical applications than aisling knew possible. the skill of inducing sleep was easy enough to come by and influencing dreams was as simple as altering memories. and while ( without intending to ) she’d been known to cause visions when tensions ran high, refining those visions into ones that took the shapes she wanted them to took practice. even more difficult than that was learning to astral project, but that became a necessity, coming hand-in-hand with building her mental walls. when the uninvited memories start to weigh on her, she’s learned that it’s best to remove herself from the immediate vicinity. even if she’s only technically leaving in her head. 

OTHER ABILITIES — ( levitation ) a skill she only possesses in sleep, predominantly when her dreams are eliciting strong emotions. ( seeing the gods in dreams ) this is how she formed and maintained a relationship with her father, despite her parents being unaware of their daughter’s godly lineage. on occasion, she’ll encounter gods that she’s less familiar with and, in most of those cases, she’s been known to force herself awake.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

there are so many cool, fun things runnin through my brain right now!! i think it would be lovely for her to have forged a friendship with an insomniac or maybe someone prone to nightmares that she could help! and those fun customer service relationships with record store regulars!! or maybe a former friend or significant other, who aisling left behind? maybe even altering their memory slightly, if the parting of ways was ugly! who knows! the possibilities are endless!! and i’m always up to hearing other peoples’ ideas because the Sweet Lord knows i am not the most imaginative person in any given room!!!

thank u for reading ilu!!! 

[iraprince]

Do you have any tips for getting an audience of tumblr or Twitter. Sometimes I just get frustrated when a drawing I spent 6 hours on gets 3 notes or 2 likes and a retweet.

i think it’s really hard to have one size fits all advice for something like this — the internet is so vast, i only really know how to navigate my own specific niche of it, and different artists will always appeal to different audiences, so stuff that worked for me might not work for you. BUT i can try my best — i just can’t guarantee any of this is replicable bc especially with the new age of incomprehensible algorithms i just never know what’s going on at any given time

first off, a big disclaimer for transparency: a lot of my Big follower gains have been from my Hashtag Relatable mental health comics getting tons of notes. i do NOT!!!!! recommend making mental health content to try to get popular!!! i think doing so will put fucking worms in your brain!!! it will poison you and your brain will dribble out your ear holes like soup. i think that it is already complicated enough to navigate all the weirdness of like... making vulnerable stuff like that available for consumption, and doing it in Hopes of going viral and getting lots of followers can imo literally only end poorly. hhhhhowever, i would feel really weird if i like... glossed over the fact that i know that’s where a lot of my followers have come from, or acted like that didn’t happen, so. i just have to like, mention it. my takeaway here is if you’re going to make mental health content FOR YOURSELF because you WANT to, brace yourself for it to potentially circulate, and be ready to feel really weird about it, but i do not recommend it as like... a way to purposefully grow an audience.

ANYWAY. with that nagging out of the way. actual advice

1. fanart, but only of stuff you really actually like. it is literally just a fact that it’s easier for people to feel invested in and care about characters from stuff they’re already invested in than original independent content. it’s not wrong to court that! but i think u should only pour energy into fanart of stuff u actually like — not bc chasing after whatever the current BNHA-type thing is rn is “selling out,” who gives a shit, but bc the end goal is to have an audience who WANTS to see what YOU want to make. you want people who care about your specific set of aesthetics and interests, not ppl who will unfollow en masse the second you fall off trend. (if you DO tend to really like what’s super popular, there’s nothing wrong with that! that’s lucky for you, genuinely.)

2. self promo all the time. this one can be hard bc it feels embarrassing at first. you feel like you’re spamming people or being annoying or self centered. but listen: people follow literally hundreds of accounts. you remember every time you’ve boosted your drawing; most of the ppl who follow you probably didn’t even see it. and if they see it twice or three times among the literally hundreds and thousands of posts anyone sees per day that is not a big deal. stuff gets lost! timelines and dashboards move fast! i cannot count the number of times i’ve seen something cool and thought “oh i’ll check that out” and then five minutes later i’ve forgotten bc of information overload. you have to constantly remind people that you exist and that you make things and i promise you you’re not being as annoying as you think you are. (i know you guys don’t see this in practice from me much on tumblr; that is bc i don’t really like it here and i don’t understand the vibes. i never shut the fuck up on twitter)

3. follow and engage with your peers, not just people with 10k+ followers who have already “made it” or whatever. this is not advice about growing an audience so much as advice for not feeling super shitty while you’re trying to grow your audience. i’m not saying that people with tons of followers/bustling online shops/enamel pin empires are like a completely different category of person of whatever, that’s not my point; clout is not direct deposit and just bc someone is popular doesn’t mean they’re coasting by without worries; etc etc. but my point is that i used to only follow very popular, established artists who were, in my mind, “out of my league,” and i spent all my time beating myself up for not being them or being consumed with jealousy and resentment. but... spending more time with artists who are kind of at the same ssstage of figuring things out as i was, as much as any individual journeys can ever be “the same,” was much more encouraging and inspiring and energizing, and helped me reset my concept of what “success” means for independent creatives into something more healthy. don’t wear yourself out chasing after people who seem to be moving way faster than you, especially if it’s making you feel like shit! find some people who are walking at a pace you can relate to, take interest in their stuff, talk and form connections. you’ll feel better.

4. just draw the stuff you want to even if you don’t think it has audience appeal. literally just draw exactly what makes you happy. this sounds like i’m trying to pull some corny Just Be Yourself! Believe In Your Art! shit and i mean yeah i guess but i also mean that literally from experience there was a significant surge in interest + appreciation of my work when i went apeshit and just decided to do the most self indulgent shit possible no matter how cliche or tacky or cringe or whatever it was. people respond to sincerity and passion, i really believe that. people can tell when you’re having fun and they like it. who doesn’t wanna be around someone who’s always having fun

that’s about all the stuff that i think could be considered like.... more or less universal. i dunno!!! just keep at it. the internet is a nightmare i don’t really know how it works

[designsfromtime]

Is the Customer Always Right?

If anything, I am guileless when it comes to offering all ya’ll a behind the scenes peek at what a “day in the life” of a historical costumer can offer. Sometimes I worry about coming off as ungrateful when I share a problematic situation, but I believe being honest allows me to embrace my humanity, and gives you all permission to do the same. It looks like fun creating all these gorgeous costumes, and it is! - - but there is an unfortunate ugly side to owning your own business: Dealing with entitled and difficult customers. 

My career has taken many twists and turns over the last two or three decades. Before I retired in 2012 at 52 and began designing costumes full-time, I was a medical transcriptionist. I owned my own transcription service as well as working for a huge opthomalogical practice back in California. As such, I have taken many, many training seminars in customer service. It’s been drilled into my head that for every one person who is dissatisfied they will tell ten more people. 

With those statistics in mind, I have endeavored to focus on customer service both in my tenure as a medical transcriptionist, as well as today in my costuming business. But the fact of the matter is that not every client will be a good fit for your particular business or your personality, but I do feel somehow I have failed  clients even when they become overly demanding and, dare I say, self-centered, and I have to cut them loose. 

Look, I get it! Plunking down 2K for an entire ensemble is a HUGE investment for any client! I don’t take any of my clients for granted - ever.  I endeavor to give each client equally of my time and attention. As a general rule, I am extremely conscientious about responding quickly to messages and inquiries. I go to great lengths to explain my process and educate about cut, textiles, and construction of historical clothing and lay out what they can expect, even though I find myself repeating the same spiel over and over. 

I’ve mentioned this several times before, but I have heard the horror stories from both clients and cast mates: costumers (even those touted as scions in the costuming forums) taking a client’s money and receiving their fabrics, only to ghost on them and not respond when the client tries to get them to honor the commission and actually MAKE the gown they paid for, or they do not respond to the client’s requests when asked to refund the money AND return their fabrics only to find this same “costumer” has not only ignored them but used THEIR fabrics for a gown which they put up for sale on Ebay. Another nightmare story is about some of the vendors on Etsy who promise to ship a gown by a certain due date, take the client’s money and when that date comes and goes and the client contacts them they LIE and say, “It’s in the mail!” - Only to learn that they haven’t even finished it! Worse, when the gown arrives it started falling apart the first weekend they wore it at faire and she paid $600 for it! Then there is the account of a vendor in the Ukraine who ran out of velvet to finish a client’s Italian gown and rather than waiting and reordering the fabric, they made the gown but SCRIMPED on the fullness of the skirt and shipped it as is without consulting the client. In THOSE situations I would agree that the customer is RIGHT. I haven’t found myself in the same situations as these “costumers” because I would NEVER treat a client with such disregard - but I have found myself in a nightmare scenario more than once that involves the client becoming difficult for no justifiable reason.

I’ve been fortunate that in the seven years since opening my studio here in WA I have only had FIVE clients who made me want to pound my fist against my computer screen and question why I am in this business. Yes, they were that frustrating!  One of those instances I wrote about in a post called “When It All Goes South” I’ll spare you the details of the other four, but usually the common denominator has been that they didn’t respect my time and my busy schedule, or the efforts I made in the consultation process. That sounds very benign, but a to relate a situation that happened this week wherein I spent 1.5 months exchanging 70+ detailed and lengthy messages, and provided them with dozens, and dozens and DOZENS of fabric options and they kept asking for more, and more, hoping that one of them will fall into the Goldilocks zone, it became frustrating. We hadn’t even gotten half way through the consult process because the client was stalled on fabrics. I didn’t mention the fact that after she paid her deposit she changed the style of the gown multiple times. *face palm*

You may be reading this and shrugging your shoulders and asking “What’s the problem?” The problem in the case I just described is that choosing fabric is only the FIRST step in the design process, but also I have deadlines imposed by the clients. If they don’t comply I can’t meet those deadlines. Until a client chooses their main fabric I cannot begin to offer any ideas for the overall design aesthetic, nor can I choose a complimentary color for their sleeves and forepart, not to mention the embroidery pattern to be used, or sussing out whether or not they will need a trim that may take up to 4 or 5 months to ship - such as the case of a gold bouillon trim I ordered from India recently which she stated she was interested in using, not to mention it requires 4 to 6 weeks of hand tacking!  The expectation of this client was that I would be an endless fountain of “options” - and because she was investing 2K I should spend as much time as she wanted footering around window shopping for fabrics while her timeline is ticking away. When after a month and a half I began to draw a boundary and tell her I need a decision if she expects me to meet her deadline because there is a ton more work I need to do on her consult, she felt I wasn’t giving her ENOUGH of my time and stated that because I was pressed on time for current engagements I could not offer any additional efforts to her as a client.  This, after spending MORE time than is usual with this client, I am to blame?  

I learned from an extremely difficult client in 2018 not to allow a bad situation to malinger and hope for the best. In that particular case it went from BAD to WORSE, and I had to dig in my heels and refuse to bend to her ever growing ridiculous demands. If I cannot work with a client in the consult phase, and I’m pretty damn patient ya’ll, then I have learned the actual construction process will only unravel further. 

As a side note, normally by the time I’ve exchanged two dozen messages with a client, I have their fabric sorted, and I’ve sourced a complimentary color for their sleeves and forepart, found their trim and/or the embroidery pattern, sketched their gown, and presented them with a design board.  Sooooo. . . I offered this particular woman a refund on her “non-refundable” deposit minus my consultation fee of $100 for the hours and hours and HOURS of research I spent over that 1.5 months offering her more and more options to consider. She was pissed that I was unwilling to allow her to take months to decide, and no amount of “explaining” the urgency or my time constraints seemed to sink in. No matter what I said she is convinced that “I” was the problem. 

So, is that situation a failure on my part? Should I be willing to set aside another client’s commission to cater to this woman’s demands? What’s more, is the customer ALWAYS right? 

There is an oft-quoted catchphrase in the business world that states: “the customer is always right.” I’ve heard that in many training seminars. Lalana showed me  comic wherein it stated “The Costumer is always right.” I laughed, but there is a prevalent attitude that WE must meet the customers’ needs even if it means we often go to ridiculous extents to please them. However, treating customers like they are always right can be self-destructive for entrepreneurs like myself and here’s why.

In an article by “Entrepreneur” they offer FIVE reasons why the customer is NOT always right and why: 

1. Businesses Have Limited Resources

Entrepreneurs like myself are not omnipotent, neither are employees - or in my case, my assistant Lalana. Most businesses, especially the fledgling ones, operate with limited resources including limited time, funds, and energy. Every business experiences its share of grudging customers, who, no matter what might be done to satisfy their needs, will continue to complain.

Feeling guilty and culpable for such petulance is actually unwise and it affects your business in a negative way. If the necessary steps have been taken to address the issues of a customer, then a business owner should close the matter and move on.

'Businesses are not dependent on individual buyers. It is actually immature to spend all the energy to satisfy someone who does not intend to be happy. It is important to address the requirements of hundreds and thousands of other regular clients, and also show solidarity with the employees,”

2. It Adds Misery to Employees

Any business will invariably have its share of malicious, rude, snappy consumers. Amongst 50 customers there will at least be 5 who will end up rubbing you the wrong way. Now, reacting to such folk with appeasement and guilt is utter naivete! 

Making employees believe that the customer is always right, is tantamount to making them feel dejected. Between supporting your employees and taking sides with an intolerable, enraged customer, it is best to choose the former (the employee). Customers must get this message that though they are important they are NOT indispensable, while supporting employees always pays extra dividends.

"With constant support from the owners comes a sense of loyalty amongst the employees who then provide better service to customers. It's axiomatic that happy employees always go an extra mile to make customers happy." 

3. Customers Are Not Omniscient

The creator of a business and the team that works with him know best about the product or service they offer. But customers are often upset because the products don't function the way they want them to - or in the case of my costuming business, they may have expectations around how much time I am able to spend in a consultation, or that through no fault of our own we cannot accommodate their specific vision they have of a particular gown. In the recent experience, the client kept asking for color combinations that are not available in the fabrics she insisted upon. All I can do is offer an alternative and try to compromise by offering options. But the attitude that a client knows best leads to an expectation that I be willing to go to any extent when they demand unrealistic or even ludicrous things.

Often customers will try to establish that they know better and try to share opinions or advice on how a product should look or work. Irrespective of the sector of the business, it is risky to give customers the liberty to think they cannot be wrong. 

The key is to establish with customers, in a very amicable way, that the maker of the product is the final authority - In my case that would be ME. I go to great lengths to educate customers on my products and service in order to help them understand my expertise or why I use a certain procedure. I won’t take on a project that I am not passionate about, but more especially when my knowledge is discounted and they wish me to create something that doesn’t fit into my design aesthetic I will decline the order because there needs to be a state of sympatico between designer and customer. 

4. It Pits Management Against Employees

The message that the customer is always right, is demoralizing, and results in bitterness against management and indicates that the organization favours the customers more than the workforce. In reality, taking  the side of the employees generates happier customers because your employee, or yourself, will have a more positive attitude. 

5. You Don't Want Every Customer

Not all customers are indispensable and businesses must accept that. It is better to let go of a persistently complaining and abusive customer who only end up creating stress amongst the employees (or myself). This is irrespective of the amount the customer pays for your product.

Disgruntled customers can wear away your spirit, involve a very high quantity of resources, and add to your stress levels. It is sometimes sensible to lose a customer for protecting the company and its workforce.

"To stay in business for a long time, entrepreneurs need to avoid unreasonably disgruntled customers. Getting rid of bad customers might cost a little profit, but it's healthier in the long-term goals of the business,"

The full article can be found here: https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/308548

While these “talking points” are focused on the Management versus Employee relationships, they are valid across the board for a small business owner whether or not you have employees. All of the angst and frustration and demoralization felt by employees or managers who are forced to capitulate to an over-demanding or self-centered and entitled customer is just as keenly felt by me (the owner). It puts me in a grumpy negative head space and it effects my attitude in the studio, which in turn affects Lalana who has to put up with my grumpy ass, and wears down my energy to the extent it affects my usual generosity to the rest of my clients. 2K in commissions just isn’t worth the hassle!   

So, while I’m still working through the guilt and the regret of having to cut loose a client as I did this week, I’m learning that my work will speak for itself, and for every ONE client I have a negative experience, I have MORE who actually appreciate me and are reasonable enough to understand I have deadlines and they are 50% responsible for the success of their commission. I may not be in a place of full acceptance that I could not have made this particular client happy, but I feel justified in drawing a boundary that just because a client spends 2K in my store, it does not give them permission to behave like an entitled premadonna. 

[rann109]

What the hell happened to Wereworld by Rann?

Hello folks. I know it’s been a long time. The little webcomic I did over on comicgenesis was last updated by me on 1-13-13 and frankly I’m surprised it is still up. I’m surprised comicgenesis is still up.  

I don’t know if the folks in charge there are doing anything now, but last I checked there seemed to be only the barest minimum of maintenance going on. A quick perusal of the forum indicates that not much is working and creators are just kind of on their own. The glory days of the site seem to be long over. 

I am starting this blog to answer questions a lot of my comic’s long-suffering fans might have been asking for years now. 

This is my very first Tumblr post. I chose them because (so far) it’s easy to use, they’re popular, and most importantly, free! I also like the old-school blog feel. I don’t know how many of you will actually FIND it. I’ve planned on doing this for years now and I was going to make the announcement via the Yahoo group but, alas, Yahoo has ended their groups service just as I resolved to do this. Probably because nobody uses them anymore. I can’t really blame them, but as a result I lost contact with all of you.

This is going to take awhile to unpack. It’s been almost nine years, after all. Damn. 

Before going into details, I’ll just say Life happened. It has been a chaotic time for me, as well as, I’m sure, for you. But I’ll get to the first and biggest reason I stopped the comic:

#1- BURNOUT

Yes, the artist’s arch-nemesis, burnout. I got to a point where the thought of picking up a pencil to draw was the last thing I wanted to do. It came as a shock, really. As passionate as I was in the early days I thought it would never end. I loved drawing and creating characters and stories as much as anything I ever got into. As my ability improved through dedicated practice I was proud of the work and loved the feedback. But over time I grew less and less interested in updating Wereworld. I guess about ten years of dedicated work on a project that doesn’t seem to have an end anytime soon and receiving no pay for that work can do it to a person. I really got tired of trying to compose a page, draw it, ink it, update my page using html, and post the finished comic all in the same day. Other days of the week were out of the question as I had little enough free time as it was and I had to, and wanted to, do other things during that time.

#2- FAMILY 

And everyday life seemed to begrudge me even the little time I ended up spending on Wereworld. Like, everything would be going smoothly, but as soon as I sat down, put on some music to get “in the zone”, that’s when life would come kicking down my door to demand my undivided attention. Every Sunday I could count on my phone ringing, family wanting my attention and loading me with worries and problems before going merrily on their way, leaving me in a bad mood. No comic THIS week. AGAIN! My “Why bother?” kicked in and I began to plan on just waiting around, doing nothing, waiting for crisis #2076 to come banging on my door. Nobody except my wife understood how important that little bit of time was to me and how important it was for me to be in the right STATE OF MIND to work on Wereworld. All it took was a comment or a five minute call to screw me up. They are the kind of people who measure a thing’s worth by how much money you’re making because of it. And since I wasn’t making anything on it, they saw no reason not to bother me during my drawing time. The “emergency only” stipulation I made about calls tended to be loosely interpreted. (My sibs are all married with children now, with all the problems that come with it and it has been pretty damn quiet for me here on my end in the past few years, LOL!) 

#3- DEPRESSION

No, not clinical depression. Not the kind that pushes people to the brink and start thinking of ending ending it all, but the combination of little to no time to spend on creating and my growing burnout pretty much marked the end. The situation made me feel depressed. But I have many other activities and a happy life with my wife (who was always very supportive of my various obsessions, including WW) and it was easier to refocus on other things instead of mourning my waning motivation to create new comics.

#4- WORK

Yep, work. Gotta pay the bills and eat. I lost my career job when the place I worked finally shut its doors after a long decline after 9-11. I did a little bit of everything after that and pretty much all of it sucked. But you gotta do what you gotta do.

I’ll end this post for now, as the day is getting on and there’s other things I have to do (yep, still!), but there’s a lot more to this and I’ll be back VERY soon to update this blog. And you CAN believe me this time! 

11-24-20, AAnnd I’m back. On to number five. 

#5- DISCONNECTION

The longer I went without updating the comic, the less connected to it I felt. I had in mind to finish the thing someday but not on the Comicgenesis platform. And time just sort of slipped away. I’d still think about the story now and then, but it wasn’t an all consuming thing like it was before, not even close. And I started working on other stories which I’ll get into later.

#6- GUILT

I still receive a fan email once in awhile, hard to believe. At first I answered everybody, but over time as it became more apparent I wasn’t going to get back to it anytime soon, I stopped replying. I felt guilty about leaving everyone hanging, and the longer it went, the more guilty I felt until I’d wince whenever I got an email concerning the old comic. I was going to send a letter out via my Yahoo group, but like I mentioned before, they stopped the service just as I was about to do it. That added to my guilt even more!

#7- OTHER INTERESTS

I have always had a variety of hobbies and interests and I was good and ready to get back into some of them or start new things altogether. My first passion is knife making and I have been into that in the past years since. Not full time, I don’t want to burn myself out on that too, but I have made and sold a good little amount in the past few years. I took a leather armor maker’s master class and had a lot of fun at that, I rebuild vintage road and mountain bikes, and scour the countryside for resalable items at yard and estate sales. To name a few. I also wrote and published a book on Amazon, so that’s out there. It’s called “Abagail Reese and the Supersonic Witch” if anyone cares to check it out. I had a lot of fun writing that but it hasn’t made me much change so I kinda redirected my creative focus on my knives, which actually does pay. I have a few other stories kicking around in my mind but I don’t know when I’ll ever get to writing them down. I’m sure as hell not going to try to illustrate them myself. As slow as I work and as rusty as I am, forget it. They’d be novels. Unless I found a great, fast artist who worked for almost free, lol! 

[ofelvie]

joe keery. cis male. he/him.  ／  elvie croft just pulled up blasting spooky boy by danny gonzalez  — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old youtuber, i’ve heard they’re really scatterbrained, but that they make up for it by being so loyal. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say 80s horror, buckets of halloween candy, and blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there demons! *ba dum tss* my name is sam and i’ll be writing elvie, a brilliant harvard law graduate who threw away any shred of credibility he ever had in order to make silly videos on the internet. more info under the cut. feel free to message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊: elvin tupelo croft

𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘: el, elvie, the ghost guy

𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖓: salem, massachusetts 

𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍: october 31, 1995

𝖟𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈: scorpio

𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: demisexual

𝖔𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: lawyer youtuber

𝖕𝖔𝖘. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: loyal, open - minded, exuberant.

𝖓𝖊𝖌. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: scatterbrained, obstreperous, impulsive.

𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞: shawn spencer, psych ; fox mulder, the x files ; stiles stilinski, teen wolf.

ii. history

elvin tupelo “elvie” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). an only child, his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a store in town that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimiores, etc. fun fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that elvie is as well.

as it turns out, beneath of the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this...eccentric...environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston. 

he was five years old when he saw his first horror movie ( an apathetic teenage babysitter let him stay up long past his bedtime to watch nightmare on elm street ) and from that moment on he was HOOKED.

when he started school, two things about him became apparent: 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested, and it turns out that he has a through the roof genius level iq and he also has adhd, which he was put on a few different medications for until something finally seemed to work for him.

he could have been one of those child prodigies who finished high school at the age of ten and then college at the age of fourteen, BUT his parents decided that they didn’t want him to miss out on the experience of going through school with people his own age.

as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he…was picked on. mercilessly.

so, he didn’t really have any friends...............................at all.................................but he didn’t mind. he was perfectly content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.

he started his youtube channel when he was a teenager and it was…trash honestly. it was basically buzzfeed unsolved if buzzfeed unsolved consisted of one ( 1 ) dorky teenager yelling at the air in the middle of abandoned house at 3am, but it turned out that people found it entertaining. his first few videos were flops, but he would soon start amassing subscribers in the hundreds, then thousands, then hundreds of thousands.

so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. at the same time, his youtube channel was starting to gain momentum. his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and elvie, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he wanted to focus on his youtube channel, but his dad was absolutely not having it.

he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. elvie ignored them all and moved to los angeles so that he could finally focus on his youtube channel.

it’s been almost two years since he moved and he likes it in california!

iii. extras

his name is elvin but basically no one ever calls him that. his own parents don’t even particularly like the name. long story. most people call him elvie and some who are super close to him just call him el.

while he is the “ryan” aka the believer of his youtube series, he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat like ryan the poor guy. in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE SCARED OF ANYTHING, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.

has the most cartoonishly exaggerated boston accent that one could ever hope to hear, except he doesn’t seem to realize it at all. 

10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.

he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.

he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.

he is legally permitted to practice law in the states of massachusetts and california, so basically: he’s a lawyer! however, this is not at all common knowledge because...

most people don’t know how smart he actually is because he intentionally plays dumb and he’s really good at it. being high all the time and his natural chaotic energy is quite helpful in hiding his intelligence. he just doesn’t like to be seen as smart, so the whole once - brilliant law student thing? not common knowledge whatsoever. he tries not to mention the college he attended by name at all, but if he has to then he lies and says that he went to salem state.

and yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas that probably aren’t even allowed on campus named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever. 

he has slight Daddy Issues™. slight. when he was born, his dad was hoping that he would get a star athlete kid who would go on to follow in his footsteps and one day become a successful, respectable lawyer but instead he got…elvie. he’s never outright said that he’s disappointed but he didn’t need to. elvie’s a really difficult person to rattle but every time, without fail, he ends a phone call with his dad and he’s in a bad mood for the rest of the day. 

his car is this PIECE OF JUNK giant turquoise van that he painted to look like the mystery machine. her name is laurie strode.

even though he makes constant pop culture references about horror movies and the 80s, but outside of those areas he’s completely clueless about pop culture. like, he can recite the entire scripts of the shining and empire strikes back and ferris bueller’s day off word for word, but if someone tried to talk to him about the new post malone song or the latest marvel movie he would just stare blankly.

he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.

he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he's held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.

.he’s good at…A LOT of things because he’s a really fast learner. he can play the guitar, he can draw, he did drama in high school. he just has to watch someone do something once and then he can usually immediately do it himself. this skill doesn’t extend to physical activities such as sports, however. he’s terrible at those.

he’s basically a cartoon character

iv. wanted connections

friends

cousin  ( their grandparents would probably be from boston but otherwise anything really goes for this )

his weed dealer lmao

smoking buddies

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

has stolen his adderall

maybe someone who knows how smart he really is

exes and flings

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with these, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )