#no joke this is what all im doing this week

[sp6ncers]

platform boots — s reid

summary: reader decides that spencer would look good in her style, and gives him a make over

spencer reid x trad goth! fem! reader. fluff. 2nd person, pov switches.

warnings/content: harassment, mentions of sexual harassment and bullying, established relationship, idiots in love, reader is shorter than spencer, reader gets called a bitch but not by spencer, pet names (silly girl, baby, pretty boy, angel), kissing, kinda insecure reader

wc : ~ 3k

author's note : my 2nd tumblr fic now that im getting the hang of it! this is literally just a cute fluffy fic because i want to and every day i dream of alternative spencer reid 🙂‍↕️ not really any specific season in mind but i pictured longer hair spencer for this, maybe season 4 or 5 :)) sorry if this is ass i got lazy because i so much prefer writing angst ijbol

Being an alternative woman in public is one thing, but being an alternative woman whose boyfriend is practically the complete opposite of you is a whole different issue. You're used to the comments that get thrown at you — after all, you've dealt with that for years, since you started dressing "unconventionally" in middle school. You've learned to ignore the sexualising comments from teenage boys and old men alike, and you can easily tune out the disapproving glares from middle aged women. However, what you aren't as okay with is when people bring your boyfriend into it.

You and Spencer are sitting together on the train home from a museum date, your knees touching as he holds your hand, fidgeting with your rings. You feel the gazes of a group of young boys — no more than fifteen — not far away from where you sit. You decide to ignore them, like you usually do, and you just hope that they don't decide to yell at you like you sometimes have had people do.

Your gaze traces over your boyfriend, and you find yourself unable to suppress a smile. As the days are getting colder, he's been wearing more layers, and it's just so cute. You love the way his scarf is wrapped around his neck and tucked into the dark brown jacket he's wearing. The soft waves of hair that frame his face are even more adorable when they're brushing over the rosiness of his cold cheeks.

Feeling you looking at him, Spencer looks away from your hands and up to your face. "What?" he asks with a smile of his own as he sees your grin.

"Nothing," you reply, nudging your knee against his. "You're just cute."

He smiles shyly, a pink tint creeping across his face. "No, I'm not," he responds. He's never been good at accepting compliments.

Raising a teasing eyebrow, you let a joking scold taint your voice as you say, "Don't argue with me, Dr Reid."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles breathily, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Spencer's eyes fall to the floor, where your chunky platform boots rest beside his battered converse. He always loves it when you wear these boots, he thinks they're pretty with the silver studs you had glued onto them and the maroon laces you'd threaded through the eyelets. He's always admired how crafty you are, how you can make any basic item of clothing into something much more extravagant. Something else he loves about these boots is that they make you a little taller — still not as tall as him, but it makes it easier for him to kiss you.

Moving away from your boots, his gaze follows your legs, clad in two pairs of thermal tights beneath the long black skirt you're wearing. He'd watched you embroider the pattern of roses into the fabric a few weeks ago, practically in a trance. The way your eyebrows had been furrowed in concentration as your fingers swiftly worked was a beautiful thing to watch. He's convinced you could craft the galaxy with your bare hands if you wanted to.

Hazel eyes trace over your thighs and up your torso, flickering across the many layers you're wearing. He counts four — maybe five? — layers, which isn't surprising considering how prone to getting cold you are. The neckline of a lacy purple long-sleeve peeks out from beneath your Bauhaus T-shirt, which is partially hidden by a black zip-up that you had painted a pattern onto in bleach. Over the zip-up sits your baggy leather jacket, something you rarely leave the apartment without. A few necklaces decorate your neck, most of them ones that he had given you.

As his gaze finds yours again, he smiles. A cheesy, cute, I'm-so-in-love-with-you smile. When you smile back, his heart skips a beat. He loves the way the eyeliner cobwebs attached to the thick wing on your eyes shift with the movement of your pretty, black-painted lips.

"You're so pretty," Spencer tells you softly. He looks at you as if you'd just reached into the sky and handed him the moon.

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words — even after almost two years of dating, you still feel butterflies whenever he compliments you. You don't think that feeling will ever go away. You don't want it to. "So are you," you respond, giving his hand a squeeze.

As you say the words, the train slows to a halt at your stop. The both of you wait until it has fully stopped before standing and heading to the doors. As you do, the boys you'd caught staring at you earlier decide it would be amusing to yell at you.

"Emo bitch!" one of them shouts, his voice cracking embarrassingly. It almost makes you crack a smile.

Spencer squeezes your hand, a silent way to tell you it's okay and to not say anything back, but you're already glancing back at the laughing group with a cold glare. You part your lips to retaliate, but decide that your boyfriend is right. You stick to simply flipping them off as the two of you exit the train.

As you look back at Spencer, he gives you a pointed look. You shrug and say, "What? I didn't say anything." But you know you wouldn't have stayed silent if anything had been said about him instead.

You switch sides with him, slipping your hand into his as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. The walk home is quiet and peaceful, thankfully void of any more cruel comments from strangers. Spencer's hand is somehow warm in yours, despite the frosty air and cold breeze that bites at your skin. Fallen leaves crunch beneath your shoes as the wind nudges them across the ground.

When you reach your shared apartment, Spencer quickly turns up the thermostat as you both step inside. As you both shrug off your jackets and hang them up, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead — likely trying to determine how cold you are.

"Do you want a drink?" he asks whilst tugging off his converse. "Tea?"

"No, I'm okay," you reply, plopping down onto the floor to take off your boots. Unzipping one, you let out a little grunt of effort as you tug it from your foot. "You know what I do want, though?"

"What?"

"I want..." You pause as you pull off the other boot, biting your lip. "I want to put make-up on you. My kind of make-up."

His eyes find yours as he tilts his head slightly. "You do?"

You hesitate, unsure if his response means that he is repulsed by the idea and would rather lick the floor of your building's elevator than let you do that. Looking away, your voice falls quieter as you reply, "I don't have to. It was just an idea. Sorry. It was stupid."

"Hey, silly girl." He sits in front of you on the floor, moving your boots out of the way as he shifts closer. "It's not stupid. Look at me," he says gently, tilting your chin up with his index and middle finger so that he can look into your eyes. "It's not a stupid idea. And you don't have to apologise. If that's something you want to do, I'd be more than happy to let you, okay?"

The slight pout on your lips is so adorable he feels like his heart might explode.

"Are you sure? You don't have to say yes," you mutter shyly. "It doesn't matter, really. You can say no, it's—"

"Baby," he cuts you off in a gentle voice, his tone one that makes your stomach flutter. The motherfucker always knows what to say and how to say it to shut you up. "I'm sure."

Your lips twitch into a nervous smile. He thinks it's so incredibly cute how you're so shy and sweet when most people would assume other things about you based on your appearance. He thinks it's silly how people make assumptions on others based on how they dress. He thinks a lot of things, but his mind goes blank when you lean in and kiss him.

Immediately kissing you back, he smiles against your lips and rests his hands on your waist to pull you just a bit closer. Knees knocking together, you break the kiss with a giggle and tuck his hair behind his ear.

"Do you want to do it now, or later?" he asks.

"Now. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Spencer says, smiling as he kisses you once more before standing up and pulling you to your feet.

So you head into the bathroom together, but you decide he's too tall for you to be able to do it properly when he's sat on the counter. He laughs when you tell him that, and disappears into the bedroom while you gather the rest of your make-up. Once you have everything, you follow after him into the bedroom.

"Sit on the bed," you instruct.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies with a laugh, sitting down with his back against the headboard.

Giggling softly, you walk over and set the various items in your arms on the nightstand. As you move to sit on the bed, straddling his lap, you shrug off the zip-up and drop it onto the other side of the bed. Even while you're doing something as simple as reaching over to grab a headband, Spencer still looks at you like you are the eighth wonder of the world.

You smile at him as you gently push the headband into his hair, keeping it back off his face. It's gotten so long recently — not that you're complaining. You love running your hands through the soft strands, curling them around your fingertips. "You're so cute," you mutter. "My pretty boy."

You can feel the heat of his skin beneath yours as you cup his face between your hands and press a sweet kiss to his lips. Lips parting, tongues teasing each other's, his hands running up and down your sides, pulling you closer by the small of your back.

You break the kiss with a giggle, a string of spit attached between you. "Okay, we need to get started," you say through laughter as he licks his lips.

"One more kiss," he murmurs, leaning in and pecking you gently.

Smiling, you stroke his cheek for a moment before straightening up and reaching over to grab your moisturiser from the nightstand. Spencer watches you intently as you flick open the cap and squeeze some out onto your fingertips.

"It's cold," you warn him before you swipe the moisturiser onto his cheeks and gently rub it into his skin.

He doesn't mind the coldness of the liquid, just focusing on the feeling of your hands on his skin. He is pretty sure that your touch could make anything better.

He isn't sure if he is supposed to have his eyes open or shut as you dab some more onto his face, but he keeps them open so that he can look at you. The look of concentration on your face is so pretty.

He also isn't sure what to do with his hands — should he be touching you, or would that be a distraction? He keeps them lightly resting atop your thighs, knowing you'd tell him if you wanted him to stop touching you.

As you finish moisturising his skin, letting it sit for a few moments, you wipe off your fingers on a tissue and say, "You have really nice skin."

"That sounds like something a serial killer would say," he comments teasingly, a smile on his face.

"Shut up!" you giggle. "It's just a fact. Your skin is nice."

Swapping the moisturiser for a bottle of primer, you fall quiet as you flick open the cap. Soft hums of concentration vibrating through your lips, you rub it into his skin so that the make-up will actually stick to his face. His fingertips lightly trace rub circles onto your thighs as he watches you with nothing but awe and love in his eyes.

As you're blending out the white foundation onto his face with a damp beauty blender — he thinks that's what it is called — he wonders if he will look silly when you're done. Of course, he has never thought that you look silly when your make-up is all done, but he isn't you. To him, you look beautiful whatever you wear, however you present yourself. He's just not sure if this will suit him. Although, even if it looks bad on him, he'd let you do it over and over again until the end of time if it would make you happy.

Now that there is foundation spread evenly across his face, his skin feels kind of weird, but not exactly in a bad way. It almost feels tight, like something is pulling on it. It is a strangely nice sensation.

Spencer tries to stay still as you pat in the concealer beneath his eyes, his eyelids twitching slightly.

"Stop moving," you scold playfully, pausing your actions for a moment.

"I'm trying," he replies, his voice a breathy chuckle.

"Try harder."

"You're so bossy."

"You know you love it."

He smiles, amused. You're right, he does love it. He loves anything and everything that you do. Since the moment he met you, he has been completely whipped. Obsessed. In love.

After finishing the grey-ish contour on his nose and beneath his cheekbones, you start on the eyeliner. You decide to do something simple, rather than the more elaborate designs you sometimes do on yourself. Beginning to draw a wing from the corner of his eye, you will your hand to not shake like it usually does; you don't want to end up getting overly frustrated and having to redraw it fifty times.

Somehow, it goes smoothly, and you finish both wings without a problem. You use a black eyeliner pencil on his waterlines and add a smidge of dark purple eyeshadow to his lids before curling his lashes. How come men always have such luxurious eyelashes? you think.

"Okay, I'm not gonna put on false lashes, I'll just do mascara," you tell him, leaning over to grab one of your unused mascaras from the nightstand.

As you do, you shift too much weight and almost fall off the bed. Quickly, Spencer leans forward steadies you with a hold on your waist. "Careful there, angel," he laughs in a teasing tone. "You're so clumsy sometimes."

"Well, says the one who spilt coffee on the counter twice in one day last week!" you reply, giggling.

"I never claimed to not be clumsy," he counters, patting your thigh. "JJ is right when she says that my coordination drops off when I'm thinking."

"A wise woman," you muse.

"Very."

You smile, kiss his forehead, and grab the mascara. As you twist it open and wipe off the excess, you say, "Okay, just blink when I say to, okay?"

"Okay."

So you apply mascara to his stupidly nice eyelashes, dab a tiny bit of highlighter onto the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, and put a simple lip combo on his beautiful lips.

"Okay, there. I think it's done," you say. Quickly, you take it back. "Wait, I need to do your hair."

"Alright," he chuckles as you take the headband out of his hair, discarding it onto the nightstand.

You head off into the bathroom to grab your hairbrush, returning a moment later with it and a few hair ties. You manoeuvre him into the position you want — sitting more in the middle of the bed — and sit behind him on your knees.

"Your hair is so soft," you murmur as you gently run your fingers through it.

"You say that every single time you play with my hair," he points out, a smile in his voice.

"And it's true every single time," you reply as you start to brush his hair.

Spencer hums contentedly, his eyes falling shut as you brush his hair. He's always loved when you touch his hair, whether that is stroking it, twisting it around your fingers, or pulling it. He loves it all.

As you brush his hair, taking your time, you wonder if he will like it. You wonder if he's enjoying this. You wonder if he liked letting you put make-up on him.

"I would, maybe, dress you up in my clothes, but I don't think any of them would fit you."

He laughs softly. "Yeah, probably not."

"And my boots certainly wouldn't fit your gigantic feet," you tease.

"Maybe your feet are just tiny," Spencer counters jokingly.

When you're satisfied that his hair is thoroughly brushed, you part it down the middle, separating it into two even-ish sections. You braid each half, something you have always wanted to do with his hair but never asked out of fear of him saying no. But right now, he isn't protesting, which you take as a good sign.

"Okay, all done," you chime happily, letting the braids fall onto his shoulders.

"Done?"

"Mhm, done."

Hopping off the bed, you take his hands in yours and lead him into the bathroom. Before you step inside, you make him cover his eyes as you tell him, "Okay, you can't judge it because I'm not used to doing make-up on other people."

Spencer nods, practically itching to see his reflection. "I won't judge. I promise."

"Good. Okay, you— you can look now," you reply, standing beside him and looking at his reflection in the mirror as he moves his hands away from his face.

His reaction is hard to decipher, but at least he does not look repulsed. After a moment of studying his face, his lips twitch into a smile.

"It looks good."

"Really?" you ask, rocking back and forth on your feet as you fidget with your sleeves.

"Yeah. I— I mean, it's obviously not something I'm used to, but it's... cool," he says with a soft laugh, turning to face you.

You smile, biting your lip. "Good. Okay, good. I'm glad you don't... you know, hate it."

Smiling back at you, Spencer wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. "I could never hate anything you do."

"You're so cheesy."

[punkassfrance]

The Ponderosa Wolves - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Wet Hot American Summer (Work length ~1.9k) This work is rated M to be safe. Expect vulgarity, not explicit content. This chapter contains: mentions of raccoon violence. Owen mentions. Full Series - Next Chapter

Abby

“Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.”

Abby pulls the screen closer to her face as she sits up in bed, her mouth opening as she parses the news before her. The caption beneath the photo confirms what she didn’t want to know.

Baby Moore coming December 2025!

Mel is holding up ultrasound photos on Instagram, smiling wide with Owen’s arms around her. He’s looking down at her with a grin, hands resting on her stomach. They both look too happy.

Abby throws her phone down on the bed seconds before she hears it buzz, groaning and resting her head in her hands. They broke up less than four months ago and he’s already knocked up his new girlfriend? It doesn’t take long to do the math in her head—they must have started dating the week after her and Owen broke up, if not the same day. She doesn’t want to consider the possibility that it was any sooner than that, but it’s not out of the question.

Whatever. It’s not her concern. They’re not together anymore, not even on speaking terms, what does she care? He can father enough children to fill a daycare, it wouldn’t affect her in the slightest. He’s not her problem anymore, and if Mel thinks she can deal with him, more power to her.

Rubbing her face, Abby peeks between her fingers at her phone lying on the bed, screen lit up with notifications. Most are from Nora. She grabs it and opens up their messages, scrolling through. The first message is a screenshot of the post.

I’m so sorry Abs

He’s a total dick

God, poor Mel

Are either of them thinking at all? They’ve only been together three months, neither of them have a degree yet lmao

The math isn’t mathing

Need to call?

Abby smirks at Nora’s rambling. She’s right, of course—it’s a shitty move to pull. Even if he doesn’t owe Abby anything anymore, it’s just stupid. There’s no way he doesn’t know how this looks, how badly this could go, how many ways he could fail and take Mel down with him. As much as she wants to hate Mel, she can’t quite bring herself to. She knows firsthand what it’s like to convince herself Owen is the one.

There’s a few messages from Manny too, one of them a screenshot of the post.

the fuuuuuuuuuuck

this has to be a bad joke

what a dumbass

you want me to kill him for you

that motherfucker im gonna go kill him rn

Abby snorts, firing back a quick I know, right before she responds to Nora.

No, I’m fine

Gonna shut off my phone for a bit, love you

She lets it power down and sets it on her nightstand, curling up on her side when she hears a gentle knock on her door.

“Yeah?”

The knob turns and her father steps in, smiling softly as he peeks through the doorway. She’s not sure when he got home from work, but he’s already changed out of his scrubs.

“Hey, honey. How was your day?”

Abby presses her lips together as she pulls a spare blanket over her shoulders, pulling it in to her chest. She shrugs, looking down. “Could have been worse, I guess. Registered for my fall classes, got everything I wanted.”

“Alright, score!” His smile falters a bit as he steps into the room. “I, uh…just got off the phone with Marlene.”

Abby sits up at the mention of Marlene. She knows her father talks to their family friend at least once a week, but she doesn’t often hear the details of their conversations. “How is she?”

“Oh she’s alright, just fine, but…Leah’s mom had a bit of an accident.”

Abby sits up, brows drawing together. “Shit. What kind of accident?”

“A really vague one Marlene wouldn’t give me details about.”

“How bad is it?”

He shrugs softly, crossing his arms as he leans against her doorway. “Sounds like she’ll pull through, but Leah needs to go back home for a bit to help out. Marlene’s gonna be short a counselor at camp for a few weeks.” He grimaces softly, glancing up from the ground to Abby.

Abby narrows her eyes. She knows that look. “Okay…?”

“…I told Marlene I’d ask if you wanted to step in.”

She sighs, eyes wandering as she thinks. She’s got a few more months before she goes back to campus; a few weeks at Marlene’s camp wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. As nice as the break has been, she’s getting restless. It wouldn’t hurt to spend some time in the woods after the news she just got, either.

“I mean—” Abby trails off, looking back up to her father. “…details?”

“Marlene’s got four middle school girls who need a counselor coming on Sunday for the next two weeks. You’d go up tomorrow to settle in, she’ll cover your gas. You’ll get paid, of course; I know you’re not going to want to work while you’re studying. She could really use a hand, but if you just want to relax for your summer break, that’s totally alright.” He takes a step forward, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Either way, she needs to know soon.”

It only takes Abby a moment to think about it. “…yeah. Alright, I’m in.”

-

Ellie

“Damn, that sucks.” Jesse takes a sip of his soda, free hand tucked into his pocket. “What are the odds of that?”

“The odds of getting attacked by a raccoon when you’re stupid enough to try to chase them away from your trash? Pretty high.” Ellie pushes a strand of hair out of her face, glancing over at Dina standing by the register. She chews on the straw of her milkshake, lost in thought as Dina pays for her drink.

“They don’t usually attack, though, do they?”

“Smacking it with a broom probably didn’t help.”

Jesse shrugs as Dina walks back to join them, ponytail swaying as she waves goodbye to the cashier.

“Dina, did you hear about Leah’s mom?” Jesse wraps an arm around her as she slides up beside him.

“She got mauled by a bunch of raccoons.” Ellie deadpans, sipping her milkshake.

“Uh, I thought it was just one raccoon?” Dina raises an eyebrow as she taps her nails on the plastic cup in her hands, incredulity tinting her voice.

“That’s not as fun to picture, though. What are you, the fun police?”

Ellie pushes open the door and steps out onto the concrete, holding it open for Jesse and Dina to follow. She inhales the smell of the woods, heat sizzling off asphalt of the empty parking lot. Most of the convenience store’s customers just walk over from the campsite a half mile away; she’s not sure why they have a parking lot at all. Regardless, she’s glad the store is here. The kids love to walk over during their free time, and it’s nice to have a steady sugar supply when the cafeteria is on a health kick.

Summer is in full swing in the mountains. Even in jean shorts and a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, slathered in sunscreen, Ellie’s still struggling with the heat. If they weren’t in-between sets of campers, someone might try to fight her on the dress code, but in the moment she’d rather die than cover up any more.

“Well, who’s filling her position? Marlene’s already got the girls in Leah’s cabin planned out.”

“Dunno. Joel said she’s already put her usual backups with the high schoolers. The only one who has any middle school experience is a guy.”

Dina grimaces, pressing her lips together as the three of them start the short walk back to camp around the edge of the lake. “You don’t think she’s going to cram the girls into full cabins?”

“God, I hope not.” Ellie shudders. It’s only happened once before, but the cabins only have so many mattresses. Sleeping on the floor for two weeks had fucked up her back for the rest of last summer.

“Ugh, that would suck,” Dina says, raising the straw of her fountain drink to her lips.

“What do you care? You ditched us for the high schoolers.” Ditching might be a bit dramatic, but it’s not exactly wrong. Last year, Dina had been in the cabin right beside Ellie’s, both of them working with middle schoolers and sneaking over in the middle of the night to mess around when the girls were asleep. Their arrangement had ended unceremoniously when Dina got serious with Jesse in the last few weeks of camp, but Ellie didn’t hold a grudge. Dina’s been her best friend for too long, Ellie doesn’t want a life without her in it one way or another.

This year, Dina decided to work with the older kids in the high school cabins across the lake. Marlene didn’t hesitate to move her over, always desperate for counselors willing to wrangle teenagers. She’s still no more than a ten minute walk from Ellie’s cabin, but it’s ten more minutes than it was last year.

“I mean, it would suck for you.” Dina shrugs. “And I don’t want to listen to you complain about your back all summer again.”

“Just say you hate me. Can’t believe my favorite side chick hates me.” Ellie sighs dramatically, throwing her head back as the sun beats down on her face. Fuck, it’s hot out. She takes another sip of her chocolate milkshake.

Dina rolls her eyes, stepping away from Jesse’s side to loop her arm around Ellie’s. “Aww, Ellie. We all know you’re my side chick.”

Ellie’s right in the middle of an overdramatic eye roll when she feels her phone buzz. She pulls it out and squints to see the screen in the sunlight. It’s a message from Joel.

Do you want to come with me to get Sarah tomorrow?

Ellie grins. Sarah has been buzzing with excitement about going to camp all summer, even more when Joel promised the girl she’d be in Ellie’s cabin. For reasons Ellie will never understand, her little sister is thrilled to spend time with her. She messages him back.

ye

She almost puts her phone away before she sees a typing bubble pop up. Dina tilts her head at Ellie, lowering her cup. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just Joel.” She snorts as she sees his response.

You can’t even finish a word?

sry forgot you were born in the 1900s

She sends it off with an old man emoji and tucks her phone back in her pocket. “Just asking if I want to go pick up Sarah with him.”

Dina smiles. “She excited?”

“Oh yeah, can’t wait. I’m sure she’s pretty sick of Tommy by now.”

“Shit, I’d be pretty sick of Tommy too if I had to spend the whole summer with him.” Jesse shakes his head, looking away from the deep blue lake beside them. “Can I have my girlfriend back?”

“No,” Ellie and Dina say in unison, pulling closer to each other.

He shrugs, taking another drink of his soda. “Fine. You can borrow my girl since you can’t get one of your own.”

Ellie reaches over to shove him, Jesse breaking into a laugh as he stumbles to the side of the path. “Whatever! Remind me how long it took you to ask Dina out?”

“Three months,” Dina chirps, smirking as Jesse rights himself.

“Didn’t someone have to dare you?”

Jesse rolls his eyes, looking to the sky with a straight, exasperated face. “Why do I hang out with you two?”

“My ass?” Dina suggests.

“I’m a lovable scamp?” Ellie shrugs, raising an eyebrow. “Really hope it’s not my ass.”

“No, that’s why I hang out with you.” Dina nudges her.

“Damn straight.”

Hi everyone! This idea popped into my head and I can't seem to get rid of it, so here we go! This is going to be a lot more lighthearted than my other fic. Unrestrained summer fun. Yes, Ponderosa Lake is a real place in Washington, but for the purposes of this story it's a fictional lake in the mountains of California. (Yes, the Sierra Nevadas. I grew up in the area and I love it dearly.) I don't THINK there will be any major triggers, but please let me know if you spot something that deserves a warning!

I'm so excited for the series! Comments are always appreciated! Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested!

Series taglist: @ellabslawyer @rareanduselessbird @hotwheels4hotgirls @polarhues

[2014enthusiast-x]

pulling up to english class to read my book, listen to music, sip my iced latte, and annotate lana songs

[weirdglassthing]

LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando Alonso & His Relationship With Cards

I'm sure we're all familar with the cards on the back of Fernando's Vegas GP helmet by now, but did you know his relationship with cards goes a lot deeper?

I. Magic Tricks

You've probably seen or heard someone at least mention Fernando's propensity for card tricks. As far as I can tell he was doing them(publically) as far back as 2003 all the way to as recently as 2018. Even once performing a card trick, with a condom and a teddy bear(!??!?!??!!), in front of Valentino Rossi who said "How was that possible?"(x)

But how did this start? According to James Allen, "Fernando admits to having been heavily influenced by his grandfather, a mercurial figure, who taught him magic and card tricks, still one of his passions away from the race track."(x) And I'm not sure the validity of this one, because I couldn't find an actual source, but apparently he once said: "My parents are responsible for the two things I like doing most - driving and magic tricks. They bought me my first go-kart and a magician's kit."

In several interviews he described it as his hobby off track, and that he loved learning new tricks and surprising others in the garage with them! So clearly cards are pretty important to him both as a hobby but also to who he is as a person since they've been with him just as long as racing has.

II. Card Symbolism in His Helmets

This is the reason I originally made this post, but I thought I should also explain the origins of his card fascination first. As I said, we probably all remember the cards on the back of his helmet in Vegas, but did you know that wasn't the first time he had cards on the back of his helmet?

From 2008-2013, he used to have a pair of cards on the back of his helmets. The symbolisms of the cards themselves as well as the evolution of their design is really fascinating to me! Even more so with the recent development of the card choice in 2023.

Fernando said he wanted to reference his two titles in some way on the back of his helmet and after his friend sent him several ideas, he decided on having two cards(an ace of clubs and an ace of hearts, sometimes pictured with 05 and 06 on them as well), saying: "I picked the cloverleaf [the ace of clubs - Ed] to give me luck, but the only pity is that it doesn't have four leaves!"(X)

2008.

Here's the very first appearance of the cards! They're displayed flat, with the 05 and 06 clearly visible

2009.

Very similar to 2008, but with a slightly different design, and they're maybe a bit more straight with less shadow?

2010.

This is the first major change! I was sad they didn't have the years on them anymore, but then I realized they're sparkly to match with his signature lightning bolts on the top of the helmet!!

2011.

Honestly I'm still somewhat unsure if this is the actual 2011 helmet? It's pretty difficult to find clear photos of the back of helmets from older seasons. It's easiest to find them on replica sites or auction sites so I'm not 100%? But anyways, I like that this has the championship years on the underside of the cards

2012.

This is when I started getting weirdly emotional about the helmets. Do you see how they've progressed from being a centerpoint to being curled up and sad at the bottom of the helmet? Not listing the year anymore??

2013.

Same thoughts as 2012. And after this season, they cease to exist (just like his ferrari chair in the garage, WOAH CALLBACK), until cards make a reeappearance in his Vegas helmet, albeit in a different form

2013 Monaco(Honorable Mention):

For some reason 2013 helmets were easier to find proper pictures of, so I happened to witness this absolute beauty. The creativity of this helmet genuinely blows me away??? Wanting to keep the card motif, but making sure to incorporate it into the rest of the puzzle piece design?? Mwah! There was another special 2013 helmet but they didn't change the cards at all so I really applaud this one

2023 Las Vegas(The Return of The King):

The magnificent return! But look! The cards are different cards! Instead of being two aces, it's now an ace of hearts, a four of hearts(his driver number of course!) and, the, now iconic, representation of himself as a Joker. I literally could not believe my eyes when this helmet was released and I saw the Joker card, what a fucking silly old man....I really wonder if he felt nostalgic having cards on his helmet again or if he didn't think about it all and was just like, "ah cards because Vegas!!!"

III. Why Does This Matter?

*The rest of the post was factual, this is moreso my personal thoughts on the symbolism of the cards/designs

This post spawned from me recently watching the 2010 Bahrain gp and noticing "hey wait a minute...are those CARDS ON THE BACK OF HIS HELMET!?" It's a really tiny detail that's unfortunately covered up by the HANS device pretty much whenever he's wearing the helmet, so it's really difficult to spot! But I became fascinated with the fact that he had cards on his helmet before that recent helmet, and now here we are!

There's something to me about how the design of the cards evolves over the course of six seasons from the cards being front and center to being smaller, more folded up and closer to the bottom of the helmet. As I said, the 2012-2013 ones genuinely made me depressed because it feels, symbolically, like his hopes for getting another Ace are becoming more and more unlikely and falling away until they eventually fall falt and fade away entirely after 2013 and disappear for basically a decade.

But when they return? They're not the same cards! Instead of representing Fernando's championships, they now represent him as a person, displaying his driver number and his persona of being a Joker!! Though I do think it's interesting he happened to keep the Ace of Hearts, even though he talked more about the Ace of Clubs before. I'm not sure it's actually this deep in reality, but I like to think that it's him not letting his championships(and the lack thereof) define him, but rather letting who he is as a person shine and be the centerpoint instead! But on a sadder note, as @suzuki-ecstar said to me, maybe the Aces aren't there anymore because he's lost all hope for a chance at a third Ace entirely :(

[pumpkinrootbeer]

say what u will about barry allen but no other superhero has had a worse time. you come in, take up another heros mantle, be a hero for however many years, DIE!!! actually die not comic death but die to the point you are functionally irrelevant for 20 years you completely cease to be that character and the vast majority of people grew up with a different flash, get resurrected you're back now (yay?), writers don't know what to do with you because there's already another flash and there has been for the past two decades so the entire universe kinda hems and haws about what to do with you until they take you out of your main comics and just have you chill in the justice league, then you lose your powers and are once again no longer the flash.

I need a "where are they now" but for Barry Allen flash. dead for Twenty Real Life Years. come back to life. reset the universe. just to lose your powers and be booted again from the superhero title. God himself hates this man

"Oh wally got erased from existence" "well x happens to Batman" it's not even about what happens in the narrative it's like. you're the only mainstream superhero ever that stopped existing for two decades and when they do decide to bring the character back they have no idea what to do with you so you're eventually forever relegated to the sidelines And also you're not the strongest or the most skilled or the fastest flash and they keep retconning all the special stuff You did in specific and refuse to let your narrative exist beyond Dead Mom. bartholomew baby I'm so sorry

[spaciebabie]

at first getting diagnosed with cptsd was like, "yay my trauma has been validated (it always was valid)!" and i really thought that was going to be it, but then i started to do research as i do whenever i realize i have something and learned that!! the way i experience socialization is!! quite horrid actually!!

[ratatatastic]

ekky saying "i didnt know they were coming" in concerns to practise being open either suggest staff do not tell players when it happens (not fucking likely) or ekky just does not pay attention to anything at all which makes this paul quote

even funnier in retrospect and not a "pauls just joking around you know how he is" moment as he tends to do no this man just DOES NOT LISTEN???

[azumasoroshi]

top ten worst feelings when you accidentally irreversibly delete the ao3 comment you were writing and you have to rewrite all your screams and writhing of agony with like 50% less enthusiasm. like the AUTHOR gonna know the difference but i will and i feel BAD

[gorespawn]

also while we're here i would like to share the two iterations of tumblr user gorespawn that have existed since i abandoned this blog back in like early 2021. Who wants me

[girlivealwaysbean]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

[aggressiveguitarnoises]

why am i so interested in south american cultures and history. and why do i keep stopping myself from learning about them

[sanchoyoscribbles]

black friday sale- 30% OFF your VERY OWN AquaBot Kitty Edition! ™️

Only this weekend! Hurry and grab yours TODAY!

>https://tokyomiracle.net/<

(this is a silly craft I did back in october! I thought posting her for a fake black friday ad would be funny :3 she's about 6 inches tall! I have the full process of making her posted on kofi for members, if you'd like to see, the link to my kofi is in my pinned post ^_^)

[daddy-socrates]

sometimes i forget that i started this blog to be about philosophy. anyway i've already told all my group chats so here's one for the blog: just got off a video call w the admissions director at my tied-for-first-choice university and i cannot tell if he thinks i have a shot or if im too much of a loser for their very cool program.

he did give me the very good advice to email faculty i want to work with to introduce myself and get to know them and their work, so maybe that's indicative of . good rapport idk

off to write emails and hope professors deign to respond. please i want to keep doing epistemology. what does it matter

[bestfictionaldinosaur]

Multiple losses from candidates I wanted to win, thanks for nothing guys

[zymstarz]

yeah sure that's how i'll [re]come out