#you logically go and buy one in every colour

[seud-luachmhor]

1993/1994/2019/2023/2023

[strawb4kdior]

University Caitlyn Kiramman ⭐ -

parings: Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem reader

a/n: this was requested by @jomarch09 - her acct is sooo cute okokok - lots of love guys 🫶

@jomarch09 - my girl this is for you 💙💙💙

~

University Choice: Caitlyn would attend Oxford University, studying Law—her goal is to go into politics or become a top prosecutor.

She excels in criminology and ethics modules, always debating with professors.

Library Queen—Caitlyn has a favorite spot in the Bodleian Library, where she spends hours studying.

Debate Society President—she’s known for destroying her opponents with calm logic.

She keeps her lecture notes colour-coded and pristine, and gets annoyed when people borrow them and don’t return them properly.

During exams, she revises three weeks in advance, while everyone else panics last-minute.

Loves study dates, where she insists on quizzing you between kisses.

Professor’s favourite—she always sits at the front, asks insightful questions, and sometimes gets extra mentorship.

She’s always the first to submit essays, never missing a deadline.

Gets frustrated when people cram last minute and still do well (but never shows it).

Caitlyn is known as "The Ice Queen" at uni—polite, but intimidatingly smart and composed.

Some people assume she’s posh and stuck-up, but her close friends know she’s just socially awkward.

Despite her reputation, she’s got a small but tight friendship group.

She hates clubbing but will go if you beg her (only if she can wear something chic).

At every fancy society ball, Caitlyn looks effortlessly elegant and every girl secretly has a crush on her.

She rarely drinks, but when she does, she gets overly affectionate with you.

Her reputation skyrockets when people realize she’s dating you.

Every law student at uni is a little in love with her.

People assume you got with her because of her family name, but she shuts down any gossip quickly.

Private but proud—she doesn’t talk much about your relationship, but everyone knows she adores you.

Caitlyn’s uni wardrobe is preppy and tailored—wool coats, blazers, tailored trousers.

Wears expensive loafers or leather boots every day.

She has a collection of scarves and gloves for winter, making her look effortlessly sophisticated.

Her casual outfits are crisp button-downs, fitted jumpers, and slim trousers.

Has a signature watch—something timeless and elegant, a gift from her parents.

Owns one perfect trench coat that makes her look like she stepped out of a fashion editorial.

Prefers gold jewelry—minimalist, elegant pieces.

Her pyjamas? Silk or cashmere, because of course.

Even when dressed down, she looks put-together and polished.

Secretly wears your hoodie when she’s missing you.

Caitlyn always picks you up after your late lectures.

If you have different schedules, she leaves you little notes in your bag.

Buys you coffee every morning—she knows exactly how you take it.

Brings you pastries when she visits because she “saw them and thought of you.”

Her favourite thing? Holding your hand in her coat pocket when it’s cold.

If you ever doubt yourself, she reminds you how brilliant you are.

She loves spoiling you—fancy dinners, gifts, anything to make you feel special.

Carries your books when your bag is too heavy.

Takes secret candid pictures of you because she thinks you’re beautiful.

Jealous but subtle—her stare alone keeps admirers at bay.

Cuddles you to sleep when you’re stressed, whispering reassurances.

Always defending you when people underestimate you.

You make her loosen up—she laughs more around you.

She helps you study, even if she’s not taking the same course.

Lends you her scarf when you forget yours.

Caitlyn handles exam stress logically—strict study schedules, timed breaks, and lots of tea.

You force her to take real breaks, dragging her outside to clear her mind.

Doesn’t snap at you, but gets a little distant when stressed.

Handwritten flashcards—she swears by them.

Will definitely quiz you on your own coursework, even if she doesn’t study the same subject.

Only drinks tea—coffee makes her jittery.

If she gets overwhelmed, she takes a long walk and listens to music.

Never pulls all-nighters—she believes in efficiency over exhaustion.

Brings you snacks while you’re revising, even if she’s swamped herself.

Hates group projects because she ends up doing everything herself.

Loves independent bookshops—always drags you inside.

Buys you fancy stationery because “proper tools help with productivity.”

Terrible at cooking—her idea of making dinner is ordering something expensive.

Has a secret soft spot for rom-coms, but will never admit it.

Her essays are always over the word count, and she has to cut them down.

Gives you her scarf when she sees you shivering without hesitation.

Sits next to you in lectures whenever possible.

Always beats you at chess—or any strategy game.

Loves fancy cocktail bars over loud clubs.

Sings quietly when she’s stressed—soft, soothing tunes.

Her dorm is spotless, with everything in its perfect place.

Always has a pack of mints on her.

Loves handwritten letters, and writes you one when she’s away.

Has a favourite café where she always orders Earl Grey.

Talks in her sleep when really exhausted.

Absolutely adores when you wear her clothes.

Fixes your tie or buttons absentmindedly before class.

Gets annoyed when people chew loudly in the library.

Will 100% plan your future together while pretending it’s hypothetical.

She loves you deeply but expresses it subtly—in gestures, in words, in the way she always puts you first.

[mayosmultiverse]

Report Overview

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

BEHAVIOURAL ANALYSIS UNIT

PRIMARY ARCHIVE: "Things That Hotch Would Prefer Not to Know About."

SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION: "Things That Shouldn’t Be in an FBI Database But Are."

DOCUMENT TYPE: Unclassified Internal Report

PAIRING: Spencer Reid x BAU GN!Reader (Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn.. sort of)

WC: 1.3k (This was supposed to be a blurb)

CASE STATUS: Refer to attached report. (No spoilers.)

SUBMITTED BY: D. Morgan

ARCHIVED BY: P. Garcia

CASE NO. 001 | The IKEA Disappearance: A Tactical Search Mission

SUBJECT: A simple furniture shopping trip turns into an FBI level search mission after Spencer inexplicably disappears inside an IKEA.

INVESTIGATING AGENTS: D. Morgan, P. Garcia, Scout (Reader), S. Reid

Case 000 | Case 002 | Case File Index | Criminal Minds Masterlist

There are many mistakes to life. Some unavoidable, and some not.

Well the situation Scout was currently in, they would argue that this would land in the latter. But apparently the BAU has a penchant for trouble and a thirst for dramatics. When all that should've happened was to buy a couch.

Everything was set up and ready to go, Penelope The Personal Hype Women was ready to freely judge and give much needed advice in the bounds of a very pixelated video call, with Derek Morgan, the go to person proficient in interior decor. The two HR baits were meant to help Scout in their gruesome indecisive search, being fully prepared to be bullied into a decision

That was supposed to be it. That was the plan.

But Spencer Reid had not been a part of the original plan.

He originally had no interest in furniture shopping. A place so popular that becomes the host to what he resents the most: Germs. Through every touch, sneeze and snot they systematically increase without any bounds. A place where statistically, 78% of people buy something they don't actually need. So no, he was not interested by the least.

But all of those reservations were knocked down when Derek made an offhand bet.

"Come on, Pretty Boy, what’s wrong? Afraid you’ll get lost in IKEA?" Spencer scoffed at that idea. One of the tactics used to track down unsubs were through geographical profiles. Something he was extremely proficient in.

"IKEA layouts are designed specifically using a concept called long natural way. It's a one way system that helps customers avoid shortcuts by making them stick by a preplanned path. So, theoretically, it is next to impossible for someone with strong spacial and geographical intelligence to get lost"

"So you're saying you can't get lost?" To which Spencer nodded confidently. Morgan smirked, already setting a trap. "Wanna bet?"

And thus, they started a competition based on confidence that had their dignity on the line.

Having been a BAU agent for a while now, Scout should have known that the addition to their ragtag team of furniture finders (which for the record was a terrible name) would create nothing but chaos. Because the moment they stepped into the colourful maze of IKEA, Spencer started analysing the layout. So instead of shopping or giving helpful advice, he was walking through the store like it was some sort of case study.

"Did you know IKEA uses something called the ‘Gruen Effect’? It overwhelms the senses and disrupts logical decision making, which increases impulse purchases." Spencer's eyes were flashing from one place to other but the very enthusiasm in his words were something Scout found endearing. But their track record of being called for a case while on off was pretty bad.

"Uh huh, Fascinating. Would love to know more about this later. But for now, Couch. Please pick one." Scout pried, waving her phone to various options. But in Spencer’s excitement he unintentionally ignored her.

"The showroom paths are designed to mimic a psychological maze. Each section leads naturally to another, that is why around 80% of IKEA purchases are unplanned. Statistically speaking, the everage time spent in the store is 2 hours."

"Man, if you spent half as much time picking out a couch as you do analyzing one, you’d be done already."

"It’s important to understand the mechanisms that influence human behavior." Spencer was still unbothered by his statement.

30 minutes had passed in the search, Scout and Morgan had actually started looking at furniture, distracted by arguments over colour pallets and which was better for durability. What they didn't notice was that Spencer had stopped talking for a very long interval.

"Uh, did The Good Doctor just vanish?" Garcia was the first to notice his disappearance. This was the first time Scout and Morgan actually looked around.

"Oh yes, he's just.. uh" Scout was frowning scanning the room.

"Hold on where is he? Meanwhile Morgan took a page out of Scout's book and full on moved in a circle.

"Hey Derek, can you call him, my phone is.. busy right now" They were not worried. Yet.

But when Morgan gets no answer to the call. That is when it actually sets in.

"Oh. My. God. You lost Spencer in an IKEA." Garcia was now fully invested in this.

"No, we didn’t. He’s gotta be around here somewhere." Morgan tried his best to not let anyone overthink.

"He’s literally a 6'1 genius in a cardigan. How hard can he be to find?"

"Oh, babe. I have faith in you. But also? I’m already making a missing poster." This was going sideways way too fast. Scout's eyes widened in alarm.

"No, no! that is not necessary!" But by the look of Garcia's face it seemed like she had already started. They just had to do this on this very unassuming day?

Morgan took charge and grabbed one of the store maps.

“This man has three PhDs and still got played by a Swedish furniture store.” He grumbled under his breath as he studied the map. Apparently, he left no opportunity to roast Spencer.

“Okay, okay. I’m hacking IKEA.” Garcia took the initiative of using her skills to good use and started tracking Spencers last known location through IKEA's cameras."

"WHAT?!"

"Not in a bad way! Just… mildly unauthorized." Waiting a beat, Garcia went through facial recognition, she finally found the lost genius. And starts guiding them like a real FBI op. "Alright, I have a visual! Target was last seen near the bookshelves."

"Why am I not surprised?" Morgan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"New question, should I make the missing poster or a found in the wild meme. Be honest." Scout was already dragging Morgan towards the bookshelves.

"Garcia, PLEASE NO" Unbeknownst to Scout Morgan was texting Garcia the answer.

When they find Spencer he was in a very deep conversation with an IKEA employee. When he saw the two walking towards him, a minor blush painted his face.

"…Why are you in the children’s section?" From couch to children section, Scout was confused.

"I got distracted and ended up near the books. Then I thought I found a shortcut, but it led me here."

"You had a MAP, Genius." Derek pointed out. Spencer looked down and lo and behold it was pressed between his arm.

"The map was misleading." At that point both Scout and Morgan were looking at him in disbelief.

"Are you telling me you.. an actual genius.. were outsmarted by a furniture store?"

"Statistically speaking, 70% of people struggle with IKEA navigation. That’s SEVEN out of TEN." Spencer's hands were pacing and moving around in emphasis.

"Ok, but you have an IQ of 187." Scout took this as their chance to insert themselves in the situation. They weren't going to buy a couch either way.

"…Which is why I wasn’t lost. I was gathering data." Garcia was already cackling, and clicking away on her laptop slightly confusing Spencer. He looked at Scout for answers to which the only response he got was a shaking head.

"So. Much. Confidence." Morgan, again, was copying Scout by Shaking his head, though in a different context.

"A tragic downfall" Scout agreed. This was when Garcia yet again inserted herself in the conversation, effectively cutting them off.

"Guys, please. The missing poster needs a dramatic title."

"He went out for a couch and never came back" Rossi dryly said. He had gone to Garcia for something that seemed so nonsensical now, but was more interested in the particular incident at hand.

"That is completely inaccurate" Spencer scoffed, offended at the very statement.

"But is it though?"

CASE STATUS: Successfully Resolved

ADDITIONAL NOTES: INTERNAL USE ONLY

Target was recovered near the bookshelf.

Scout never got their couch (the real tragedy of the day)

Garcia completed the missing poster. (And enjoyed every second of it.)

Spencer insists he was never lost. (No one believes him.)

Morgan is still roasting him. (For the foreseeable future.)

Rossi’s official stance: "Sure, kid."

TAGGED PERSONNEL: Contact author for notification requests

CASE SUGGESTIONS: Submissions for additional reports are open and under review

[glossypolaroidkisses]

hi my love!! im excited to see what ur blog will contain hehe omg im so ecstatic that u commented that ur interested in the whole right brained reader thing hehe i js want to know ur thoughts on the relationship dynamic of having a more humanitarian reader who likes english, arts everything that's quite opposite to what luigi is like!!

hihi!! omg I’m SO excited too!! i already feel so welcomed!! ok this is so fun, buckle in!! bear with me!!

since luigi seems to be so analytical and anal with his thought processes (like you mentioned), i can see him pre-relationship being a bit skeptical while getting to know you; just because that’s not how his brain works. at the start he’d ask you so many questions. you’d have so many conversations that would give him better insight into your mind, to make sure you’re not just in la la land all the time. it’s giving, waiting for 3rd or 4th date to talk politics?… no. 1st date we’re talking about thoughts on religion, the afterlife, etc.

also, that’s not an insult to right brained/artistic ppl, I’m one of them (if you couldn’t tell lol)! i’ve been perceived as dumb(er than others) because I’m so driven by creativity, english and the arts (NOT scientific or mathematical at all). It's only once someone gets to know me better, that they learn how intelligent I am. right brain thinkers are more likely to be dismissed or overlooked, imo!

someone like luigi may not have been too surrounded by many right brain thinkers let alone dated them, and he would be so curious about what goes on in your mind.

obviously, you do develop a relationship and the dynamic would be adorable. you balance each other out! there may be some minor situations and misunderstandings where his strict, logical, rational self isn’t sure where you’re coming from; but he always listens to you explain your POV, and does come around to understand it. he’s very open minded, esp when it comes to you!

he loves your brain. i mean, he’s so fascinated by it. you find art, beauty, creativity and meaning in things that he could’ve never perceived in such a way. both of your brains work in different ways that are both so important.

whether you come to him about a situation all pouty, or do the opposite, acting stubborn and silent about it until he picks up on your mood shift, coming over to help you.. he’ll have a solution. he’d drop anything to brainstorm a way to help you solve your problems. for luigi, because of his logical problem solving, the solution is usually simple for him to come up with. but then you’re standing there with stars in your eyes like ‘wow luigi😍❤️ i would’ve never come up with that🤩 thank you so much😩’ and he’s just there, giddy, bc you make him feel so smart and useful. he’s so happy when he can help you in any way.

there will probably be a lot of funny moments trying to make decisions together. you might want to decide based on gut feeling, or your emotions, but he’ll be so analytical; thinking of every detail. for example, buying furniture together. you might be like “omg! this couch is such a cute colour, matches the vibe of our apartment and it feels so soft!” and luigi would be like “uhm… yeah! cute! but… (pulls out tape measure) it isn’t the correct dimensions, the fabric isn’t stain resistant, the cushion covers aren’t removable, and it isn’t well reviewed online….😅🥸”

if he’s not with you, he’ll take photos of things he sees while out-and-about, maybe exploring, and send them to you. or!!! when he comes home, he’ll be all excited to show you stuff he took pictures of, wondering what your perspective on it would be, how you would interpret it. he’ll go through the pictures with you and just listen to you gush over something artsy or interpretive, like if he saw graffiti he thought you’d find cool, a quote from a book or painting at a museum. idk!

if he goes book shopping for his own yk NON fiction books, he’ll always come back with a book or two for you. he’ll get home, probably make some sort of joke like “i just chose the book that had the most colourful cover”, when in reality he spent time at the bookstore looking through the books, reading so many back covers to choose one that he knows you’ll genuinely enjoy. or, he’ll just buy a book he remembers you mentioning you wanted in passing. even if he wouldn’t enjoy reading it, he enjoys knowing it brings you joy. and if you talk to him about a book you’re reading/read, he’ll listen as if it’s his favourite genre.

me personally, idk if it’s the eldest daughter in me, but i LOVE being taken care of + i think he’d enjoy feeling helpful. like if i was drawing on an app on my ipad and it crashed or something, i’d go running to him for help.. with anything technology related (even if i had an idea of how i could fix it myself) like heyyy my lil compsci problem solver.. help pls😇

overall, i think this dynamic is so sweet as long as you can both embrace each others differences and find that harmony. he would add more structure to your life while appreciating your perspective, and you’d add more spontaneity, empathy & creativity to his!

also idk if i touched enough on this, but this dynamic is literally a humanitarian power couple. like fighting for what’s right, with his brain and your heart!! best of both worlds for a well rounded perspective!! mwhahaha

thank you so much for submitting that! oh my god that was so much fun I’m not insane i promise (maybe a lil hehehe) it is literally 7 am i am going to sleep now. i just started responding to that ask and couldn’t stop. aaa love it!!

i hope you liked it!! don’t be afraid to give feedback, anyone! i loooovee requests like these!! keep em coming!! mwah

[isacksteban]

First Kiss (Race 7)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.2k words, no warnings) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {This is short, sorry 😭 I'm seeing a pattern of me ending chapters with Strollonso hugging so if u get sick of it uhhhh idc i love it theyre so soft}

last part - masterlist - next part

Lance was in a great mood, coming into the paddock with Nico but quickly being taken away by Fernando.

They'd talked a lot since the older mans home Grand Prix, texting almost constantly and calling so Fernando could ramble about anything and everything (coming close to disclosing undisclosed renault information a few times)

"How are you?" He asked, turning to look at Lance while dragging him away from the paddock

"We were just texting, Nando" Lance laughed, shaking his head at Fernando as they came to a stop

"I missed your voice" The Spaniard hummed, looking up at Lance

"Yeah, yeah. You were just on the phone complaining to me about how Renault is changing their colour scheme next year." Lance didn't mind it, he liked talking to Fernando. It seemed like ever since Fernando won in Spain they'd just been getting closer every day

"That's besides the point!" Fernando laughed, waving his hand as he brushed it off "Do you feel good about today? First time in monaco for Racing Point"

"I do, I've raced here a few times so I know I'll be quick to get a hang of it in a Formula One car" Their conversations just seemed to flow, both of them listening closely to the other

"Planning to look pretty in pink on the podium?" The shorter man teased, elbowing Lance slightly as their hands fell apart

"On that highest step, yeah" Lance flashed Fernando a grin, playfully challenging the Spaniard

"The day I lose to you I will buy the moon in your honour"

They both laughed, Lance taking it as a joke but Fernando was seriously wondering if he could do that

Qualifying went by quick, as soon as he got to the pitlane Fernando ran up to him

"Lancito, what was your time?"

"Uh, 1:14:08"

"De veras?" His eyes lit up, Lance not understanding but going along "Lancito, you're p2"

Now he understood, this time he was the one to hug Fernando, practically smothering the shorter man

"Wait-" He pulled back, hands on Fernandos shoulders "You're-"

"Am p1, of course"

Lance smiled widely, his teeth exposed as he became excited for both him and Fernando

Lance was sat in the Racing Point garage, worrying about whethet or not he'd actually be able to keep his spot.

"Lancito!" A voice called, getting Lance's attention straight away. Fernando had just finished speaking with people from his team so now he could talk to Lance "Nervous?" He asked, Lance making his way to the Spaniard

"Of course not, you should be" Lance smiled, nudging the older man

"Am horrified" Fernando said, a serious look on his face that quickly turned into a small smile as the two looked at eachother, a laugh escaping his lips

Lance hit his shoulder lightly "Hey! This is no joke, I might make a crazy comeback and win the championship"

"Ah, yes, of course, Lancito" Fernando nodded, both of them knowing it wasn't possible but neither caring enough to be logical, they hadn't thought the two of them having a front row start was possible either but here they are

"Don't run into my car to sabotage me, okay? I need my rookie year championship"

"Of course, I'll let you have a head start, mi sol"

"Good!"

They were all lined up, Lances eyes glued to the lights in front of him, watching as they turned on one by one then stepping on the gas as they shut off.

Fernando kept the lead, not to anyones surprise. Lance managed to defend against Kimi who was trying to pass, building a 2 second gap between them and just over a second between him and Fernando.

On lap 23 he managed to pass Fernando, his hands shaking as he gripped his steering wheel, pushing his car as far as it could go. He led for a little over a lap before Fernando took it back, he wasn't too worried since there were still over 50 laps for him to take it back.

On lap 50 he started having problems.

"Brad, what's going on? Something feels off." He radioed in, having to shout over the noise of the track

"We aren't sure, Lance, just keep pushing. Fernando is .8 seconds ahead."

Lance nodded, knowing Brad couldn't see him but too determined to be in first again to think. The only thing on his mind was a podium.

Four laps later his hopes were squashed, his engine practically exploding behind him as he was forced to pull off to the side, half is car still on the track as they called out a safety car

"FUCK" He shouted, slamming his hands on the wheel. He felt his heart beating, he could hear it in his ears, how fast it was going, how much hope he had just a lap prior and now he was pulled off to the side with black smoke engulfing his car.

He got out quickly, moving closer to the barrier as he waited to be picked up. He felt as if he could cry. He had another great chance and it was ruined again. He felt like he couldn't win, like no matter what he was destined to just never get a podium. Every time he even thought about it his car would decide he didn't deserve it.

He was stuck in the garage debriefing for what felt like hours, Brad unsure why this kept happening, all he knew was Lance was sick of it. The teenager was getting restless, he wanted to show his skill, show people he's not just a billionares son but a brilliant driver. It didn't seem possible with the car he was given.

"I just- I'm so sick of it, I keep having any chance of succeeding torn away from me, I just want to do good. Why can't I just do good? Why can't i succeed?" He spoke quick, nails digging into his palm as he felt himself get more and more worked up over it, he wasn't sure why the DNF's were getting to him more, he knew he could do good, he'd done good, but the car would always give up before he could solidify his results.

Fernando left the podium, walking past the Renault garage and straight to Racing Point where he saw the Canadian sitting on a counter towards the side.

As soon as he saw Fernando he got up, going to him quickly. He didn't say anything, the Spaniard just opened his arms and Lance sunk into them, somehow always managing to feel small in the older mans embrace.

"You did good, am so proud, Lancito." He whispered, a hand finding its way to the boys head, stroking his long hair as he tried to make him feel better

Lance didn't speak, he just inhaled, taking in the scent of the world champion as he hid his face in his neck, not bothering to care about the crowds eyes and cameras on them. All that mattered was Fernando was there, his Fernando was there.

[minimarvelh]

oh, to be loved and comforted (words: 3,447)

One amazingly cold autumn day, after another very boring meeting with equally boring directors, Tony, returning to his penthouse, caught one detail that maybe and a quite possibly changed his life. This bug-

(«Mr. Stark: spiders are NOT bugs, WE are arachnids») flew into his eye like a small specific spider and until he stopped and came to his senses, carefully releasing the spider, this arachnid would not leave him alone. A bug he tried his best to ignore- “Although no,” he stopped the narrator in his head.

He did quite the opposite, he never ignored this arachnid, he never ignored all the spider’s requests to bring him hot cocoa or to buy new sets of Lego. So, in the conclusion: he tried to ignore the reason for such feelings about the spider and what it meant, because no way he started to love this clumsy bug.

He hated introspection and analysing what is going on in his own head. Freud has long been out of trends, so why dis he need to use psychoanalysis?

Stupid waste of time.

He considers it too complicated, long, again boring and unnecessary, because the more a person thinks, the more they remember, the more they understand, the more they suffer. Simply. A logical consequential chain of life. Even the reason why he has been drinking for the past 20 years is trying not to think. Therefore, it was funny when literally everyone who was not lazy and not scared of him, tried to make him think about something other than technology and saving the world. Like feelings. Especially when Peter appeared in his life, everyone made it their mission to reveal something to him. Literally everyone hinted at something. Happy, Pepper, Rhodey….Attention, even freaking (he says it lovingly) Dum-e.

So every time Tony felt anything resembling warmth or any vanilla thoughts, he immediately pushed them away.

Like when he unconsciously was starting laughing at the memory of something the kid has once said. And suddenly he was stopping himself, looking in the mirror, dramatically, silently asking “what's going on, Stark? What.the.hell?” The reflection in the mirror was always silent, refusing to answer.

«Of course you're not Snow White, Stark. Even if the mirror could talk, it would rather talk to Pepper than to you.»

Stark himself did not notice that he has long been thinking that Peter is the smartest child, that when someone was showing him photos of other people's kids, he rolled his eyes thinking "meh Peter has bigger curls and bigger eyes", "my child is waayyy funnier than all of yours" etc. From what time did such thoughts begin to appear in Tony’s complicated head, he didn’t know.

When exactly he started to have a soft spot for this kid?

For this kid, with his such childish naivety, spidery recklessness, love to his lego figures and the kindness of which would be enough for the whole world.

When he-suddenly the world lost all of his colour when the crushing glass sound was heard around the whole hall.

Tony began to look around, a burning pain pierced his forehead and he started frantically rubbing his head as he sat on the floor or rather fell on the floor.

Yeah, that’s why he is not doing this thing called thinking.

Although he wonders what would Peter say to this? He is always the way to tell the teen to be more careful and kindly laughing at his clumsiness.

now the score is 1:705

Okay, if that incident with peanut butter also counts as his clumsiness- although Tony would argue that it’s more Rhodey’s clumsiness-nevertheless it would be 2:705.

Way to go!

******************

Evenings in the Tower were something special. For Peter, these evenings were extra special. He has almost no memory of family evenings with Ben and May, which makes him incredibly sad and guilty (not counting thoughts about feeling like a worthless, terrible person for not saving the most precious memories in his stupid head). And also incredibly lonely. No matter how terrible it sounds, he envied his classmates who so casually threw "I have to go home, my parents are waiting for me for dinner" how does it feels when your parents are waiting for you at home?

With the Avengers, with Tony and often May by his side, he finally begins to remember how it feels. Safely, comforting. He has people, a family, who loves him and is waiting for him. And it feels...unbelievable.

This time the tower was surprisingly quiet though. Days like this have been rare lately, but Clint and Nat are off to their families, Bruce is in Switzerland working on one secret research that only one person knows about (and that person is…PETER!! Yes!! He is!!).

The silence lasted 23 minutes, in which he started reading another amazing fanfiction, waiting for Tony to end with his team of directors.

And then thunder cut through the sky. Peter cried, jumping up on his bed and flailing his arms, with panick in his eyes looking from side to side. His tingle or how Ned calls it „the spider feeling” was pounding, along with his heart, which was ready to fly out of his chest.

Fortunately, he didn't knock over the cup that was on the dresser and the coffee didn't spill all over the carpet. Thank you, because he was the clumsiest human alive and already today he had to catch 4 cups in flight.

Peter hated thunder. It was in his top 3 things he hated the most. Also it was the most unreasonable one. Even when he was wearing the noise-cancelling headphones, he still felt the vibrations and his imagination painted the loudest and most terrifying thunder the Earth has ever witness and it made his heart beat even wildly, if it was possible.

And how can he wear headphones around Mr.Stark? They were planning to watch something together and if he would tell him that he has a sensory overload they would not be able to spend time together because he would need to pretend to fell asleep or just be silent + he will make Tony worried + Pepper (who is in Miami right now. Working. A lot. Like always. He doesn’t want to give her another reason to worry.)

Grabbing a blanket and a cup, Peter nonchalantly ran into the living room, hoping that Friday wouldn't alert Tony about Peter's increased heart rate. After the alien sprayed Peter with some sticky poison, which for the first few hours had on effect on him other than an increased heart rate, (but then Peter fell into a small coma), Tony reprogrammed Friday and now she was signaling at the smallest things that were happening with his body.

On more than one occasion, Tony bursted into the room after receiving a signal from Friday, only to see a terrified Peter buried in legos next to him. On all those occasions, Tony was so scared that he was simply forgetting to ask Friday what was going on and just bursted into teen’s room. Therefore, Peter has already embarrassed himself at least 5 times and now his mentor knows that Peter does not just collect Legos, but also plays with them. Wow, when can he die? Please? Can someone kill him?

Although he doesn't think he can ever die, even if he tries, Tony will invent a machine that will resurrect him and he will have to face every embarrassing thing he did again. And also Peter doesn’t want to worry Pepper with his death, so right now dying is cancelled from his plans.

"Friday, where's Tony?", Peter asked, stopping in the middle of the corridor, realizing that he did not know where his mentor was. Maybe he still has his meeting?

"Mr. Stark is currently in the kitchen, making coffee. Should I notify him that you’re coming?" Friday asked sweetly. Tony still couldn't understand how this AI became attached to this child, "also Peter, I noticed that your heartbeat—"

"No, thank you, Friday and NO, DON’T notify Mr. Stark about anything, I’m alright, I promise", Peter quickly thanked her, picking up his speed again, already heading to the living room. Knowing that Tony is next to him will make him way calmer. And he can lie on the couch and talk to Tony at the same time.

He can kill two people with one stone. Or whatever they say? Two birds with one stone? No, that’s sounds cruel. That means two people with one stone was the right one.

Peter slowed down as he walked into the living room, placing the mug on the table and literally running onto the sofa, wrapping himself in a cocoon of blankets.

"Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?" Tony simply asked, sensing Peter's presence. (Dad’s instincts - Happy loved saying) But it wasn’t some mysterious instincts, it was simply having a good hearing and being able to hear the big boom that was followed after Peter jumped on the sofa.

"Coffee, please?" Peter asked, looking around at the couch and finding his Nintendo Switch on it.

Another thunder and he tried to calm himself down by opening Minecraft.

"Wrong, the answer is tea", Tony just smirked to himself, taking out another mug.

"It's not fair!!" growled Peter weakly, looking for the remote control next to him.

"You have had enough coffee for today kiddo. Spiders aren't supposed to drink coffee at all, as far as I know", Tony mused theatrically.

"Okay, then what kind of tea", Peter accepted his fate.

"Green?" suggested Tony, opening the box with teas and turning to the side where Peter was sitting.

"The one that Pepper brought?" Peter asked more cheerfully. This tea was from France and it was incredibly delicious.

"Yeah", Tony was already making tea.

"Okay, then", answered Peter weakly, looking scarily at the window as thunder growled once more, catching Peter by surprise. The teenager jumped up and barely stifled a squeal.

"Well, such an awful weather today", Tony threw towards the window, amused, "I hope Clint has already got to his family, he hates this kind of weather".

With two cups of green tea, Tony sat down next to Peter, who was already building house for a cow in a desperate attempt to distract himself and suppress his panic.

"What are we watching this time? I remember you wanted to finish Avatar-"

"Bob's burgers, please," Peter said quickly.

"Okay, okay, jeez," Tony jokingly said, loving how excited is Peter when someone mentions Bob’s Burgers, petting his curls.

It’s the most comfortable series in this Universe. Just the best thing for such terrible weather.

Thunder banged roaring furiously outside the window. Peter shuddered again at the surprise, not so pleasing surprise, might he add, barely restraining himself from covering his ears.

" Is everything alright, kiddo?" Tony asked, trying not to show his worry, looking at the boy questioningly. He knew that Peter didn't like when Tony worried too much about him, so he tried his best to sound like he cares but not too much. He thinks he does a really good job. Happy doesn’t think so.

Tony just hummed as he turned into the series. If the kid does not want to talk about it right now, he will leave it, for now. He gives him 2 hours.

" Season, episode?" asked Tony, clicking the buttons of the remote control.

"I don’t care, but something from the 5-10 season",muttered Peter, looking out the window and putting his console aside.

Tony pretended not to notice.

"It's vague, there are literally 100 episodes," Tony smiled, looking at the child.

He decided to randomly choose season 9, episode 10.

When everything was arranged and they were sitting comfortably drinking tea, Tony pressed the start button.

Peter, as always, thought that he could easily hide his dislike of something and Tony would still be completely sure that Peter is not afraid of anything (except stop-motion animation. When Tony showed him „cute” video with stop-motion animation, Peter literally screamed at his face.).

But every time the lighting cracked, Peter could not control himself and physically shuddered harder, curling up on the couch and pressing his shoulder to Tony, seeking warmth of his body.

"Oh my god I love Louise so much! Yes, Louise, PUNCH THIS STUPID BOY," Tony shouted at the screen as it could hear him.

"Yeah, Louise you’re a-OH MY GOD" another boom of thunder hit them.

"What is wrong kiddo?" Tony immediately looked at him with the concern in his eyes.

"N-nothing, I just wasn’t expecting thi-this", he weakly showed something started as happening at the screen.

"You didn’t expect this skeddle?" Tony skeptically looked at him, still anxiously looking if Peter is hurt and covers the injury.

"Uhh yeah? I expected that but when it actually happened I didn’t know that it would be, like, right now."

"Okay, are you sure you’re alright, kiddo? If you don’t like this series, I can turn something else".

"No!! I love them! Just wasn’t expecting." his explanation was weakly unconvincing.

"Okay," of course, Tony wasn't convinced, but he dropped his suspicions. Kid will tell when he’s ready. Maybe he was really not expecting this?

"Oh my god, how I love this episode. Logan deserved it." said Tony, laughing and turning another episode.

"Yeah, i really love what Louise did but he deserved everything that cam-", he stopped himself waiting for another thunder to be over.

But Tony didn’t wait, during this evening he noticed enough warning signs that something was deeply wrong with the kid.

"Peter, what's wrong?" Peter did not have time to understand anything, as Tony had already stopped the episode and carefully looked into his face.

"Everything is fine, Mr. Stark", Peter tried to answer as casually as possible.

"And if you will try to tell truth this time?" Tony raised an eyebrow, taking his cup and sipping it, giving Peter space, "come on, you know that you can tell me everything and I mean it. Everything."

Peter signed. He really wants to tell someone and he’s really tired and scared, so there is not so many options.

"I-I'm afraid of thunder," Peter let it out in one breath, nervously crumplinghis hoodie in his hands.

Tony looked at him in silence, then nodded and got off the couch.

"Oh my God, Mr. Stark, I'm sorry," Peter began to apologize, but Tony didn't listen.

"Friday, turn on the soundproofing protocole."

"Done", Friday immediately answered, following the Tony’s order.

"Do you have your headphones here?" Tony asked worriedly, "how is your sensory overload?"

"um yes?" whispered Peter, squeezing into the sofa.

"Then why aren't you wearing them?" Tony froze, looking at Peter questioningly.

The question made Peter stiffen while he was attempting to shrink down where he was sat.

"They uhh, they are.." Peter did not know how to say.

Tony waited patiently for an answer.

"They don't help with all sounds and I still hear thunder" answered Peter. Enough mumbling, Peter, Mr.Stark will soon turn gray by the time you finish explaining.

"And of course you didn’t tell me that," he sounded very unamused, staying silent for a second.

And then it looked like he remembered something and went down to the workshop.

"Okay, maybe I made him angry somehow?" Peter tried to scroll through the whole conversation in his head.

If Tony went to his workshop it means he will not come in 20 hours at least. And he probably blocked Peter from entering it. Or maybe he thought that Peter has sensory overload and he decided to give him space??

"Well, in any case you'll have to watch this series yourself, then." sighed Peter, reaching for the remote control and turning on the series.

"Hey, you can't watch it without me!!" said an indignant voice from behind, and a second later Tony entered the living room with headphones in his hands.

Peter couldn't help the mischievous giggle that escaped him. Yeah, he was villain in this story. Also, he was so relieved that Tony came.

"Um, I just thought you went to work in the workshop?" Peter nervously smiled, sipping his tea.

"What a wrong assumption, kiddo, if I went to work I would take you with me", simply answered Tony, "I went down only to get headphones. I haven't finished them yet, but we'll see what they can do".

He helped Peter put on them.

"Well what?" Tony asked expectantly, worry still didn’t leave his face.

Peter listened. He felt a very slight vibration, which was similar to the silent mode on the phone. With a sigh of relief, he looked at the man and smiled.

"Thank you Mr. Stark", he said gratefully.

After that there was silence and then there was sign.

"I'm sorry, Pete, I completely forgot that you have sensory problems and of course you would have them when there is literally thunder outside. I should have thought about that", he sounded so guilty, and the guilt himself flashed through Peter.

He just should have tell him, instead he chose to be drama queen. You always try to make everyone not to worry about you but with that you make them worry even more. There is no escaping.

"These are not sensory problems", Peter said, sounding a little miserable.

"Hmm? Tony asked, sounding a little anxiously.

(Ps. you can literally see they are dad and son)

Peter scrunched up his nose.

"Um, it's..it's not related to sensory issues, although it's a little related, but not completely. It's just that I'm stupidly afraid of thunder", Peter explained.

"I don’t have a lot of sensory problems, I’m just..scared"

"Hey, kiddo, there is nothing wrong with being scared", Tony started slowly, "we all afraid of something and it’s not stupid" he carefully moved closer to the kid.

"C’mere" simply. He pulls Peter into his arms. simple hug. He murmurs soothingly.

It was minutes and Peter wanted them to be hours so bad.

"What else can I do?" whispered Tony.

"Thank you Mr.Stark, but you have already made so much for me".

"Come on, kid, give me something to work with. There is have to be something" asked Tony again.

"Okay..maybe we can sit next to each other?"

Tony stared at him blankly.

"I think Mr. Marker is saying that he would like to be comforted by your hugs-"

Peter blushed and waved his hands dismissively.

"Friday, no no no I don't-", for the first time, he got a little angry at Friday. Well, he wasn't exactly angry, because it's not her fault that Peter got his tongue stuck in his ass and he was embarrassed by simply existing, but she's his friend, how could she leave him like that??

" Kiddo, if hugs will help you, I'm all for it", Tony just shrugged his shoulders like it's not a big deal.

Peter fell silent.

"If it doesn't bother you, sir, I'll be very grateful," whispered Peter quietly, looking anywhere but at the mentor.

Tony raised an eyebrow at him in surprise as he sat closer on the sofa.

" If you call me Mister again, next time we'll only watch Desperate Housewives till your thirties".

"Oh no, no, please, Mr.-", Peter began to beg theatrically, but he was interrupted.

"Ahh, the choice is yours", a smile crept on his face while he twirled his finger in front of Peter’s nose.

"Please, you don't need to-Tony," Peter laughed softly, looking at the mentor with a smile in his eyes.

A hand ruffled his hair, making teen sheepishly smile.

"Okay, okay, sit down, little boy, because I can already feel myself falling asleep," he yawned expressively.

Peter carefully sat closer as large arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer. Peter nuzzled into Mr. Stark's shoulder, inhaling the scent of Stark's t-shirt.

Thunder crackled again, making Peter a miserable again. Okay, maybe they work better than his headphones but still not the best. Tony’s hand apologetically moved from his head to rub at his back, while he sweared. Peter leaned on Tony.

Knowing that Peter likes to hear Tony tell something, he decided to test this theory.

"Do you know an interesting fact? When they started the production, it's Linda Belcher who-", yes, he did a little research about this show, it's his kid’s favourite show. oh..he meant his intern’s favourite show.

Peter listened with deep interest to what Tony was saying, barely flinching when the vibrations caught him by surprise. But at such moments, Tony always squeezed him a little harder and he was calming down, burying into his side, smiling when Tony told something especially funny.

Soothing by the cartoon that Tony put just for the background, Tony’s interesting facts and stories and his warm hugs, Peter's eyes began to slowly close as he blissfully fell asleep.

The storm was over.

[sleepy-vix]

How to annotate your books like i do

i'm writing this because i am bored :)

📰🪶

what you will need:

- a bunch of annotation tabs in a variety of colours (you can buy these on amazon)

- a pencil (preferably tiny so it's not always in your way, but that's up to you.)

- no pens. too permanent and they bleed

- no eraser

- no ruler

- no highlighters, colour pens, or colour pencils

- a pencil hook holder thing that you attach to the plastic flat thing that your annotation tabs are on and put your pencil through. compact. keeps all your stuff together when you're not using the pencil

- a book. obviously

- a drink: optional, and unrelated.

How i make the key:

choose colours that match your book. I usually pick out 5 based on intuition. This is how i make my key:

- the darkest colour is for sad/ horrifying/ basically wtf moments

- i always have one for quotes

- i sometimes have one for fun fact; depends on the book

- i like to have a tab that i label as "hm" which basically means "ooh interesting idea proposed here" (not all books will let me have this tab. like a fantasy book wouldnt have this tab, but a dystopian book would. i love it when books allow me to add this tab ^^)

- sometimes i have one for beautiful descriptions and writing

- i have one for cool protagonist moments

- i have another for 'cool character moments: side characters' (i only give side characters their own tab if i find that i am very attached to them. like i was reading the poppy war, and i was bookmarking kitay moments alot so i decided to give him his own colour)

honestly, i do alot of this based on my intuition, and i like to adapt it as i go along

also here are some more general facts abt my annotation habits:

- i usually leave space in my annotation key because half way through the story i will probably add more to the key

- i don't believe in having a tab for plot points. i'd much rather write my thoughts on foreshadowing and plot theories in the margins of the book with my pencil. i see no need to give it a tab

- my pencil is everything. i try to use pencil to express my thoughts whenever i can. i only tab when i really loved a scene or line and feel that my future self would want to easily flip to it

- i don't force myself to be articulate in my written annotations cus there's no space to be. most of the time i just wrote lol, aw, draw a skull, draw a straight lined face, or draw a crying face so that my future self can see what i was feeling when reading it

- i don't like underlining a whole paragraph, i feel like it looks clunky. so instead i draw a bracket like this [ in the margine so it draws my attention to that entire paragraph and future me will know that i found that entire paragraph to be interesting

- my lines are messy, and i love it. it breaks my reading rhythm to bust out a ruler and meticulously rule my lines, i just wing it and move on

- usually, in my annotation key, to start with, there are no tabs for ships. i usually add that in later on if there is any that i care about. if there is romance that i don't care about then i simply won't add a tab.

my annotation experience is very personal and it's done for my future self, or anyone that would like to see my personal thoughts on the story.

i don't care to annotate in a logical way. i won't make tabs for every main character or every plot device or every romance ship. that makes me feel like i'm shallowly categorizing the scenes in the book... ykwim?

- ooh also, by the end of the book, if i find that i am head over heels in love with it, i'll usually go back and draw on any blank space i can find (i try to draw the scene that is happening)

btw none of these photos are mine

thanks for coming to my ted talk

[vulturesrottencorpse]

what do people have against closed fantribes??

i see lots of hate for closed fantribes and I honestly don't get it. Actually, I do, sort of, but I also don't.

I used to be one of those people who hated closed fantribes and would rant about them for ages until I found one really amazing one (won't be naming and less "popular" tribes BC I know someone's gonna go out of their way to harass them.) that switched my perspective completely

The main thing people have against them is that they are from an already existing piece of media (wings of fire) which hey that's actually true, that was my reason for hating them, however if you take that logic and apply it to any other thing like adopts, p2u bases, commission art, ect ect, then shouldn't everyone hate that too?

The second, and biggest reason is the prices I guess. People will rant about some certain poptribes (dewwings seem to be the main target) because they're expensive. I have some news for you. The artists who create drawing designs, or any designs from other fantribes, are all INCREDIBLY talented, and artists have the right to price their art how THEY think is fair. I thought everyone knew this but no, apparently not when it comes to this specific thing. Yes, dews can go for over 200$, but that's from auctions where people are actively choosing what they use their money on. You are not forced to buy a dewwing, or any closed fantribe. Me for example, I'm too young for a job or a bank account, yet I own a few, and several other closed fantribe characters, because more often than not there are alternative ways to get them!! I got my rare dewwing for FREE. completely free, through character trading. Some people also take art as payment!! What I'm saying is, 1, artists don't have to cater their prices to how YOU think is fair, they are the artist, they decide how they price. 2, said artists are super talented! Heartspark? WOW, absolutely stunning designs every single time! Honeybee st? GORGEOUS, genuinely makes the best designs I've ever seen (imo), eldragonis? IMMACULATE use of colour and anatomy, WOW. and that's just to name the most populous ones! Guys, they are popular for a reason! Their art is amazing, they spend their time creating these gorgeous pieces, just for people to attack them and tell them their prices are too high and not worth it? 3, you do not HAVE to pay money! There will always be ways to get characters from closed species for those who may not have the money to spend, if they didn't, let's be honest, they would fail as a community. Nobody is grabbing you by the throat and screaming at you to spend 200$ on this legendary trait dragon character! So then, why should you care if people who do have that money to spend use it on that? It's their money they can spend it however they want.

Instead of veiwing closed fantribe owners as scummy money hungry evil overlords, and start viewing them as they are, artists making a living by doing what they love!

(psssst, this post isn't an invitation to start drama, if U wanna share it opinion plz do it respectfully 😭 <3)

[beardisable]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD okay.

so i watched the 8 hour jack stream(jesus) aka watched genloss top to bottom again and listened to his theories and stuff(i really vibe with the "kidnapped as kids" angle more now) and started thinking about some theories he and chat mentioned and.

now im thinking with like. ok its probably a pretty common theory, this post was what prompted this additional idea of mine actually, but ill explain it a bit: the theory that, since sneeg and charlie can come back over and over again, and they have referenced like, refusing to do the cooking challenge in ep 1, and how charlie was playing the mouse trap but ate the cage, they have obviously done the same kind of scenes we saw ranboo do, right. and then in the Announcement video we see the same kind of "missing poster" type headshots of them, with the caption "Found them!"

i dont remember exactly where it was confirmed that showfall made the missing person posters, but like. yeah. these images are for missing posters like ranboo had. and with sneeg being caught by the security in ep 3, he had tried to escape, just like ranboo and charlie. and i feel like this wasnt the first or last time they have tried this!

also, during that screenshot the announcer says "our hero will meet a cast of crazy characters, who you may recognize", aka the audience has seen these "actors" before in other things! this is their first live show but what have they made before...?

then, with one of the Very first lines Ranboo says in the first episode, "it wasn't supposed to be like this"... showfall/hetch made it seem like this is ranboos first show and he's being tested for how well he does as The Hero.

I dont think what we saw is Ranboos first time starring in a showfall production.

its the first live thing like the announcement video said but i think hetch lied when he talked about how its a test, i think Ranboo's been here at least a few go arounds, if not tens/hundreds/thousands of times. WHICH MEANS in the end when he gets his memories back... theres an infinite amount of possibility of things they could remember for what they have been made to do in the past :) Bc remember, while this is comedy->horror, it was still relatively tame and non-explicit (at least by my personal standards?) so it is quite possible they have been in more R rated horror stuff, slashers, gore, actual saw, some kind of even worse psychological horror things, but also that they might have had incredibly good experiences like love and joy and community and anything positive too, and to remember all that in a rush... oh boy so i believe it is a circular reproduction, maybe they run through scenes repeatedly over and over while perfecting every little detail and getting different takes of genuine emotion but every time Real and a First experience... some kind of purgatory(omg christian hell reference) or endless torture or such...

ok that got really maybe unneccessarily angsty so heres my other thought:

i love me a fucking colour theory and colour symbolism! it bothered me a bit how like. in the promo game we get ranboo, then green friend/the villain(obviously charlie, tho the villain part still confuses me a Bit since its not quite true?), the blue friend/the taken(obvs sneeg) and then the red stranger/the saviour. and like it would logically follow that the red is hetch right?

jack when theorising said the titles are self descriptive, which i buy into, at least for the first episode context, charlie is the villain role, sneeg was taken(put in a cage and later snatched by the sharkciclester), and hetch was trying to help and save ranboo from this situation! but then in the second ep we also have red puzzler, and red niki? i WISH niki had. any kind of bigger role to build a Saviour type off of her but i dont think she does :( the puzzler is an option, since they make it seem like the puzzler tries to save ranboo? and thats actually a whole other thought like. since we know hetch was not actually helping ranboo, was the puzzler Genuinely helping them, and somehow showfall found out and killed him?? idk ANYWAYS that colour coding falling apart a bit made me think about how ranboo is also red!! rgb trio yknow??

if the titles are self descriptive... well i dont think Ranboo really felt like The Hero much, especcially not in the end...

I think Ranboo is actually meant to be the Saviour.

Esp with the jesus coding! I believe this kind of thing has happened many times before, with sneeg/charlie/ranboo/others realizing that shits fucked, and trying to escape, only to be caught and put back in the production. I think Ranboo(main character syndrome) was in a previous iteration the Saviour, who tried to help sneeg and charlie and others get out of there, to save them, save everyone. but they failed. got captured. once again waking up again with a "it wasn't supposed to be like this..."

and so the cycle continues, and the content wheel keeps spinning.

(ive only been in tumblr tags so feel free to link me any other ppl who arrived at the same conclusion)

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Take My Hand, Let Me Save You Like You Save Me | Soukoku

Based on Heaven and Back by Chase Atlantic. 

Angst but then fluff. I'm not that familiar with Corruption and how it works so please correct me if I get anything wrong. This is set before Soukoku start dating.

Words: 4,194

⚠️TW: drugs, drug use, and almost drug overdose | Dazai typical suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, and depression.

NOT PROOFREAD (no beta we die like Oda)

(A/N: This is way more angsty than I intended but there is more fluff in later chapters. Under the cut due to length. This has been edited for grammar. At the point I was writing this I didn’t know that No Longer Human is always active so we’re just going to ignore that little fact. Also, the logic behind Corruption is nowhere to be found. I was a very new fan when I wrote this.)

Dazai’s Perspective

Mori's office is filled with every kind of lethal pill imaginable, and I just had to grab a non-lethal one, a hallucinogenic one, I think. I was crying at the time, my eyes blurring at the edges until the fog spread and the tears spilled over.

Now my eyes blur for a different reason, visions of bright, flashing colours and mangled corpses dance in and out of my view. I can't take this, it's not working, I need more.

I dump a few more pills into my palm (3 maybe 7, I can't tell) and swallow them with the stolen whiskey. It tastes bitter, an acidic burn, fire, but I'm flying and I love it. The pain distracts me from everything else and the light feeling is a bliss I never thought I'd ever get to feel.

I stand up (fall down? I can't tell which direction is which.) and notice for the first time, the fluorescents of the warehouse. Gosh, they're beautiful. They should be in a museum not in this dingy warehouse. Who would bother buying lights this nice for a place like this? Then again Mori is like super crazy rich. I tilt my head and they move with me, incredible! I spin, and so do they, making swirls across the grey beams. I wish Chuuya were here to see this. Chuuya makes everything better. He'll be so upset that he missed this.

Suddenly the swirls are taking over my thoughts, I can only think in spirals and my brain feels like it's being rolled up into the spirals. It doesn't feel . . . bad? Anything's better than the pain, I guess? My stomach lurches, being pulled into the spiral as well, and I vomit neon green and pink onto the warehouse floor. It's beautiful and then gone. Then back again, then gone, taking the floor with it. I hear a distant thud and the lights feel farther away.

Pain pounds in my head as the lights come back. This time they're blurred, black eating at the edges. I watch, entranced, as the black and the lights fight. I can't decide who I want to win, they're both so beautiful. The black is winning and I am falling, falling, falling (but wasn't I already down), slipping deeper. Does it feel bad? I don't know. I can't feel anything. Is that a bad thing? Isn't this what I wanted?

Yes. I've always wanted this. Even numbness is better than the pain, and if this is how I get it then I'd gladly do it again. This is what I've been looking for, something I'm not even sure I could get from death: the feeling of already being gone, like I'm no longer human, a machine, a monster. It's not nearly death but I'll take it.

I hear a voice drifting in and out but it sinks to the bottom of my black ocean, along with any remaining fight I had left in me.

Chuuya’s Perspective

Where is he? Where is that shitty bastard? He said he would be home tonight. But that look on his face. I knew he was lying.

"Why the fuck did you let him go, dumbass!" I think to myself. I thought privacy would be a good idea but now it doesn't matter, I have to get to him before he hurts himself.

When I turn the corner, I hear soft sobbing and heavy breathing coming from the warehouse. I know it's him and I dash inside.

He lies curled up in a corner, eyes rolled back in his head, not himself, like when I use Corruption.

"Dazai! Wake up!" no answer, "Wake up, shitty Dazai, wake up."

His corpse-like person stays the same but he's still breathing, he has to be.

"Dammit!!!" He still doesn't stir, panic, turning to pure terror as it claws up my throat, combined with hot anger I feel like I'm about to combust. "No, fuck you! How could you do this?" I ask the unresponsive boy, the words turn to please as they leave my mouth. Desperation now joins the swirl of emotions, "I loved you, I love you! And you go and leave me like this! What about me? What about me, huh? Are you just gonna leave me like this?" I punch him, "Answer me, asshole, I said answer me!"

But at this point, I can see it's useless. His corpse is still, with no breath rising or falling from his still-warm body. The tears come suddenly and I let myself lay over my dead partner, friend (more than friend?). I cry for him, and his situation, and his death, and for what we could've been. I wanted it, oh how I wanted him to return my feelings but it all feels so stupid now, now I just want him alive.

I don't care if they find me like this, draped over the boy I love (and will love until the day I die, even after), I hope they do. Someone deserves to pay. The anger pulses back again, stronger. White hot rage, blacking out my vision. Arahabaki. The Rage only lasts for a second then I'm back, the feeling gone again.

I feel something inside me break.

If Corruption is activating while I'm touching Dazai, then he really is dead. It hits me in the stomach, worse than any punch from an enemy. I should be worried but I don't care if I destroy everything. I don't care if I destroy myself. I don't want to live without Dazai Osamu and I deserve whatever I get for leaving him alone like this. I promised I promised he wouldn't die alone, and yet here I am, doing too little too late as I guess we always knew I would. The one mistake I can't take back.

I try to summon it back, the Rage. I want to hit something, I want to hit myself until I can't anymore. But a noise distracts me, wheezing, then choked breaths. Dazai struggles to sit. A gasp leaves my lips. He's alive, undeniably so, but how. It's been at least 5 minutes.

I can feel his heartbeat, slightly too fast but strong, in his chest, and his breathing the same. Did I . . . bring him back? No, Arahabaki did. For the first time, real gratitude for the god surges in me but I have to focus on Dazai now.

He opens his brown eyes, they're wide with surprise and wet with tears. But not the deep and curious look that only I know, dull and sad. I'll take anything.

He gets up, seemingly perfectly fine, just sad. He sits back down, head between his knees, hands covering his eyes but I can see his shoulder skating with the silent sobs. Distraught. I can't take him in pain like this. My body moves before I can think about what I'm doing.

I hold out my hand.

He doesn't take it.

"Please." it comes out too desperate, "please" I try again softer. He lifts his arms and nods, grasping my hand. The connection makes me feel safer than I ever have. "Let me help you," He's still looking down. "Like you've helped me so many times."

"You don't owe me." is all he says

"I do, but that's not why I'm doing this. I'm doing it because I'm human and so are you, I want to help you and . . ." I swallow the lump in my throat, "I care about you, more than you'll ever know."

This makes him look up, our eyes lock, a thousand words unspoken. "Now please, let me save you like, you save me"

He stands up and I don't really know what to do so I put my hands around his waist, an awkward kind of hug, my palms feel hot. Soon we're fully embracing each other. Dazai letting me support his weight, support him. I want him to see things how I do so faster than I can talk myself out of it I hold him tighter and let myself float a metre above the ground.

We stay there for a while.

Then Dazai whispers something into my chest, the words a soft vibration, like a cat's purr.

"Hmm?"

"I said, the city looks beautiful from up here."

The words leave my mouth without my permission, "Most deadly things look pretty."

He smiles an actual smile. It hides itself beneath a neutral expression quickly but I know it was there and I'd do anything to see it again.

"You look beautiful up here," he whispers, I don't think he meant for me to hear but I'm so close to him that it's impossible not to, the quieter. "Chuuya always looks beautiful"

I feel myself blushing, my heart skipping a beat and picking up again in double time.

All of a sudden the warehouse feels too small so I fly up to the roof. Dazai's eyes widen in surprise and he holds me tighter, bandaged arms snugly around my waist. I try to ignore the feeling in my stomach and focus on the roof.

It's different. I've never flown with someone else before and I thought I would have to remind myself to be gentle but adjusting and softening my movements for Dazai comes easily to me, an unconscious action.

I touch down on the roof and the wind swirls around us, playing with Dazai's hair in a beautiful way. I watch it tangle around for a moment before snapping out of it. I could stare longer if I wanted to. Dazai has his back to me, staring out at the city. Almost on the edge.

I follow his gaze to an empty green lot, overgrown with only a small warehouse.

"That lot has been empty forever," he says in a monotone

"Yeah, I don't think it's Mori's."

"They tried to sell it a while ago," the slightest tint of emotion enters his voice, but I can't identify it, "but no one wanted to buy it."

"I can see why. I'd probably be more trouble to fix up than it's worth."

"I think it's a nice place." The emotion is unmistakable now: longing. "Private, nobody pays attention to it, no super close neighbors, quiet, but you can see the whole city from the roof." Longing for a home, a place to settle, a place to be his answer when someone asks where he's from, where he belongs. I know because I want these things too.

"You've been there?"

"I used to hide out there."

There's silence, we're still speaking, just not with words. He tells me with the way he steps closer to the ledge.

"Yeah, it could be pretty nice. I bet someone will buy it, some super-rich real estate person, and then sell it." I feel Dazai's shoulders slump as I finish the sentence. I want to say sorry but I'm not sure what for, or what to start with because I have so many things to say sorry for.

"Before I joined, it was my place, the closest thing to a home that I had. Now I live here of course but I–"

"I get it. You don't want it going to just anyone." He gives me a small smile for my understanding, but he's almost off the ledge now. I won't let him go again. I won't.

I grab his waist and pull him away from the ledge, back to me. Close, close, closer until we can feel each other's heartbeats.

Music echoes from the distance, a street party. It seems to grow louder, and so does my heartbeat. The first move is mine, the next is his and before we know it we're moving to it together, gliding, spinning, twisting, not in synchronisation, but the movements seem to all fit together. Dancing. I'm dancing with Dazai Osamu and my heart soars.

It feels like I'm floating and then I realise, we are. I've taken us up, just above the floor of the roof. We dance up here uncaring free, the feelings running wild even if only for one night. I let myself go higher, the feeling in my chest unravelling and releasing the tension as we move together.

This feeling: raw, pure, intense, and wholly human. Puts me on a high, grounding me at the same time. And maybe humans don't feel this passionately, maybe I'm not human, but if being inhuman allows me to feel like this if it allowed me to save the love of my life, it can't be so bad.

Dazai’s Perspective

It's a habit at this point. Constantly pushing further even after I've gone way past way too far just because fuck it. Stepping closer to the ledge, farther from life until all I can see is the ground below. It wouldn't even be jumping, just falling. The smallest shift of my body weight forward, a motion nobody would even notice until it's already too late. Another step.

You might wonder, Wouldn't I miss Chuuya? If I'm dead I can't miss anyone. If I could miss him though, I would, but it doesn't matter. He'll be fine. He might have saved me but I know he doesn't care about me the way I would like him to. It's obvious, he hates me but I still can't let him go. It'd be better for all of us if I just fell.

He'll find another partner, move on, and forget all about me, be the youngest living Port Mafia executive. He'd like that. I start to lean forward a bit. Arms grab my waist, strong, warm, and secure. He pulls me closer, and closer and closer until there's no space left. I still want to be closer.

Pop music begins to blast from a few streets over, loud and clear from up here. The lights of the city seem to dance in time to the music and Chuuya looks as stunning as ever, wind tousled red hair and blue eyes bright with emotion . . . humanity.

He's everything I don't want, everything I know I'll never have. And that just makes me want him all the more. I don't want his humanity or his emotion for myself, I want him to want me with all of himself. I want him to love me with all of his searing passion until I burn from the inside out.

I said Chuuya would be the death of me but I didn't say it with malice. I would love for him to end. For him to take my life away with the sheer force of our contradicting personalities. Death by his hand would be . . . perfect.

The brutal conclusion to a brutal life.

Suddenly I'm knocked off my feet, or not knocked, but rather the ground disappears from under me, but I'm not falling, I'm floating.

Chuuya.

It's my instinct to hold on tighter to Chuuya but that would only make things more awkward so I let go. I expect to fall but I don't stay where I am. Ah, Chuuya must be controlling my gravity field. I don't mind, not at all.

He catches my hand, a look of pure exhilaration on his face, and I use the rebound to spin him away, catching him again. His touch cancels out everything else as if he's the one with the nulling ability. This is better than any drug, the pain is no more. All I can feel is Chuuya. He feels good, better than. I know I may never get to do this again so tonight I dance with Chuuya. I allow myself to get as close as I want to. He doesn't protest.

He may not love me in that way (but he must have at least some affection for me or he would never be letting me do this), but I know that as long as I have Chuuya I can live with myself.

Chuuya’s Perspective

It feels like we could've danced forever but eventually, we end up on the edge of the roof. Not like last time, nothing like last time. This time Dazai sits in my lap, (which I'll admit is a bit awkward because of the um *cough* height difference *cough* Hey, shut up, inner Dazai voice!), and shockingly he makes an effort to curl up smaller to fit better. My heartbeat accelerates, sending warm tremors through my chest. His touch does to me, the opposite of what his ability does to me. I wish he knew what he does to me.

I feel him shift closer. What the hell is happening? Who is this and where's shitty-bastard Dazai?

Dazai’s Perspective 

Dancing with Chuuya fills me with a feeling I don't recognise, but it burns, and I like it. The burn is different from the acid burn that the whiskey provided, it's slower and deeper, starting from the points where Chuuya touches me but then consuming me from the inside out. This burn isn't acid, it's a pure holy fire, like Chuuya himself. I'm sure I could manage without it, but why would I want to, it wouldn't really be living. I'm tired of this half-living I've been doing and I wish I'd realised sooner but now that I have this I know there's no chance I'm ever letting him go again.

It's difficult because Chuuya's just so small but I manoeuvre myself even closer, soaking up his fiery warmth and leaning in until the city noise disappears and his heartbeat and breathing are the only things I hear.

I can feel my shoulders tensing, waiting, wanting. Wanting him to lean down and kiss me. His fire gives me a nervous feeling and the heat is so distracting that I can't form the words.

Instead, I tilt my head up pathetically and hope he notices me for once.

Chuuya’s Perspective

I’m sure the Yokohama skyline is beautiful tonight but I can’t take my eyes off Dazai, I don’t really want to either. The wind picks up and ruffles his soft brown hair, giving me the irresistible urge to pull my finger through it. With how close we are it’s probably okay. Then he looks up.

I close my eyes.

I wish he didn’t. It makes me want to punch him sometimes (that’s usually why I do punch him), the way he flirts so shamelessly with everyone, no matter the gender, he just loves to flirt (and then break hopeful hearts), so much so that anyone could tell it’s an act, not even to mock them but just for his own amusement. Damn him! I usually would punch him right about now but I could never hurt him when he’s like this.

I open my eyes, accepting my fate, willing myself to resist.

His eyes are full of something deep and mysterious, yes, but it’s his lips that hold my attention. The way they’re slightly parted, if I didn’t know better I’d say he was doing this on purpose but I do know better and this oblivious idiot has no idea what he’s doing. If I didn’t know better I’d say the look in his eyes is want.

His lips look so soft, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dreamt of kissing them. And now he wants me to. I’m not sure. But I can’t stop myself.

I have to lean down to him for once as I press my lips to his. Immediately a tingling sensation hits me, scalding at first then pleasantly warm. And, oh. I was right, his lips are soft and warm.

Then panic shoots through me. I open my eyes to see Dazai's own eyes wide in surprise, I know the horror will come next. Have I just ruined everything? What should I say, how can I even explain this?  The dread wells inside me, turning me to stone.

“I—” My throat is the first to go and the words die on my tongue.

And then he’s kissing me back.

It’s different now that he’s kissing me as well. His lips are still soft but more solid and forceful. This time he presses his body into mine until we’re held together so tightly it feels like we’re one now, instead of two.

The hardest thing about kissing Dazai is stopping, but at last, we do.

“Dazai . . .” There are no words that adequately describe the experience.

He sighs, “Please, use my given name.” I freeze, “Call me Osamu.”

“Osamu,” I whisper into the night, testing out the word. It feels right, leaving a pleasant sensation on my lips. The memory of where his own lips had just touched mine. Pulsing desire.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” I say to the night around us. It feels good to get the words out.

His smile is brighter than any of the lights around, “That goes for me as well.”

The music from the street below is still playing, but quieter now as if everything has faded out leaving only Osamu and I.

It’s so nice that we let the confessions and feelings hang in the air for a while as the sky slips from dark blue to black and the feelings get brighter . . . hotter.

It happens so easily, as if we’ve been doing this for years (we should have been), our lips are connected again pressing feverishly, hungrily against each other. Osamu’s hands are in my hair, pulling, but not so hard it hurts.

When we stop for breath I tug away the bandages covering Osamu’s neck and begin to explore.

——————————

We lay on the roof, the music long quieted, staring up at the full moon. The bandages on Osamu’s neck hang loosely like a necklace, both of our hair sticks up and Osamu is using my coat as a blanket against the nighttime chill.

—

When the moon finally begins to slip away I ask, “Are we going to talk about this?”

“About what?” Osamu asks. I look at him confused. He smiles, “We’ve been in love all this time, what will change now that the words have been said. It isn’t like we’ll be able to be affectionate at work.” He explains all this matter of factory then smirks, “After work on the other hand . . .” He lets the implications fill my mind. I shove my hat over his eyes.

“Perv!”

“You asked, I was just answering!” He laughs and takes off the hat holding up too high for me to reach. I don’t try to reach it, he puts it down over his face.

“You know that’s not what I meant! I just mean like kissing not . . .” I hope he can’t see my blush from this angle.

“I know, of course, teasing Chuuya is just so fun. But we can kiss as much as Chuuya wants.” I don’t miss how he uses my name instead of one of his many nicknames, and he said nothing would change. I don’t mention it.

The truth is we’ve been partners for so long hardly anything needs to be said.

And yet, I want to say it, to hear his answer.

It still feels kind of awkward, the words cumbersome as I try to phrase the question, “So . . . Boyfriends then?”

Osamu doesn’t answer right away, then sighs, “Boyfriends.” He says the word in a bored tone, a smile like gold lights his face, “I don’t want Chuuya to be my boyfriend, I love Chuuya so much more than a boyfriend. Boyfriend is such an impermanent word. There has to be a better one, no?”

His words make me feel cool inside, like how people say love makes them feel warm. Osamu’s love makes me feel cool and refreshed, like the relief when he uses his ability on me, a pleasant tingling sensation. Like Osamu’s own cold touch. It’s distracting and I can’t answer him.

Luckily he has an answer of his own. “Partners.” He says with finality.

“Partners.” I agree.

—

We don’t speak again until the sun appears on the horizon.

“I want you to promise me something, Chuuya.”

I look at him surprised by the suddenness of his request.

“I want to annoy you forever, so . . . promise you’ll remind me to live okay, for you.”

His words make me freeze. Dazai Osamu, the boy obsessed with death, wants to live. The cool feeling washes over me again.

He sits up and moves closer to me until we’re shoulder to shoulder with his hand our my waist. “I want to, I do but sometimes it’s hard. The darkness takes over and I forget everything I have to live for, when that happens, please remind me, okay Chuuya.” He looks at me like a lost puppy, tears brimming over, a little bit happy and a little bit sad, I think. “And I can’t promise that it will work, or that I’ll make it, but with you, I know I can at least try, and I will try, so hard, for you Chuuya, my beloved.”

“Okay, Osamu. I will.”

We seal the pact with a kiss and watch the sunrise together. It isn’t a bad way to spend a night, not bad at all. Now we enter the new day together, as partners.

[somethingimworkingon]

How to save your brain from being eaten by AI (maybe): keep a sketchbook

At the beginning of May I started bookmarking photographers who are using AI in interesting ways, to add to my Instagram collection of digital art references (#artdirectionneversleeps). Later that month I did my own first experiments using NightCafe to visualise ideas for a client. It was entertaining and frustrating, partly because of my lack of prompt skills, and partly because the "styles" you could apply to your "artwork" looked exactly like bad fantasy art from the 1980s.

However, by June, photographers I was working with were using Midjourney to conceptualise setups – still with a bit of that tacky SciFi book cover feel, but it was proving genuinely useful to talk about how sets might be designed, for instance. By July, I was seeing film directors use AI for pitching storyboards, and my lovely students at Condé Nast College of Fashion and Design using it for presentation mock-ups.

That's just three months. From AI being a "what?" to becoming a completely logical, natural part of the image-making process, for at least some parts of the creative industries. The speed of change is head-spinning. And this is just the beginning.

Meanwhile, also in May, I was teaching at CNC on a really fun module about Brand Identity Design. Part of this involved the students keeping a sketchbook, to explore and develop their ideas. One of my lectures was about WHY people keep sketchbooks, and I illustrated several points with quotes from designers, architects and artists, and pages from my own sketchbooks from waaaaay back in the day.

Because WBITD, when I was an art student, I kept sketchbooks constantly. Not only was it a course requirement, for me it was also a way to stave off boredom and depression: it's hard to think negative thoughts when your brain is absorbed in analysing the curves of a hand or a coffee cup or a flower. When my best friend and I used to Interrail around Italy, I would draw our cafe tables and the local streets, and we'd get rewarded with extra drinks and desserts by kindly waiters.

Somewhere around the mid 90s I gave up sketching, partly because life got more hectic, and partly because smartphones got invented. When Emma and I started the BID course this summer, it had been a very long time indeed since I cracked open a sketchbook. And, erm, even though I did buy one – a lovely, spiral-bound, hard covered book with wonderful heavyweight paper, from Seawhite of Brighton – it took me another few months to start using it.

Two things pushed me into finally starting: firstly, it's #drawugst and I thought I should try a drawing a day, every day, during August. I started on Tuesday, August 1st, with a graphite pencil sketch of my aloe plant. I did it in semi-darkness, around 9pm, and my hand-eye coordination felt a but rusty, but following the heavy curves of the plant was satisfying.

On Wednesday I drew fallen agapanthus blossoms, playing with coloured marker pens (of which I have a ridiculously huge collection, almost never used). This was a reminder of the importance of not trying to control the end result while you're sketching. Because you just can't.

Yesterday evening I scribbled our messy after-dinner table. I used the graphite pencil, a Koh-I-Noor Hardtmuth charcoal pencil, and an Edding 1225 calligraphy pen – and blackberries. The fruit, not the redundant communication device. Blackberry juice is a fabulous art material – it gives this beautiful purple inky result, and it's such a pleasure to smear all over the paper. I'd picked the berries earlier this evening on Wormwood Scrubs, just to add to the satisfaction of the whole experience. (And this morning I made almond milk smoothies with the rest of them.)

The other thing which made me finally restart a sketchbook after all this time is AI. I can see that it is just going to get bigger, more powerful, and more indispensable in my industry. I'm not going to worry about losing my job to a bot (I don't have "a job", anyhow), but I am concerned about what it will do to our creativity.

When you use one tool extensively it starts to train your brain, you develop habits and shortcuts. It's one thing to have tricks for making the most of Photoshop, or to have routines when you set up an InDesign document. But when you're trying to generate ideas you need to keep an open mind. To look at things from different angles. To look again, look harder. Try wacky ideas. Draw with your food. Stick things onto the pages. Doodle. Take a line for a walk. Write notes to self. Be creative. Be messy. Be human.

[corvidsforhire]

Now I'm imagining a timeline where Dick didnt become a cop and when he needed to get an Actual Adult Job just went back to being an acrobat and joined an e-circus.

Except he realised early on cant just go around with his actual face because people will recognise him as the son of a billionaire, and just book his shows to see a celebrity rather than for an acrobat.

He cant really wear a mask either. A full face mask would be impersonal and limit his crowd work. Plus it might scare the kids! And an eye mask might make it too easy to recognise him as Nightwing.

So, naturally, the most logical thing to do would be to use make up.

It's not clown make up! It's not! It's totally different! It just needs fancy and colourful enough designs to obscure his facial features. And of course its a circus-esque design, hes got a theme to stick to here, damn it.

Of course none of the bats really notice or care. It's just his day job and while he does occasionally show off videos of him and his fellow performers rehearsals, they don't have any reason to track down the privately booked performances he does. Plus the whole thing started back he was still pissed at Bruce about the Robin thing so it wasnt like he was actually telling anyone details about his new day job, and later it was just a normal part of his life that there wasnt much reason to talk about.

Then Jason came back and clowns are A Thing now.

The bats stumble upon one of Dicks performances in full costume and Jason is absolutely scandalised that his brother is now a clown. After everything that's happened to him. It's the highest betrayal.

Dick, meanwhile, is desperately trying to get across that he is not, in fact, a clown. It's not anything close to clown make up! Wearing make up and being in a circus does not make you a clown! Hes never even been to clown school.

The rest of the bats do not buy Dick's not-a-clown arguement either. Not necessarily because they don't agree, but because they dont really give a shit and this is perfect bullying material.

Stephanie is constantly nailing Dick with new clown insults. Tim is actively provoking both sides of Jason and Dicks new feud with off-handed comments. Cass doesn't say much either way in general, but it makes the simple staring straight into Dick's eyes and calling him a clown out of the blue even more brutal. Duke takes Jason's side with the 'do you even care about my (and the rest of Gotham's) trauma' comments. Barbara actually fully agrees with Dick and has known about this the whole time, but joins in with Jason and Duke on occasion just to mess with Dick. Damian hadn't even known that Dick had an actual job before this and is now indignant that it's a clown of all things.

Bruce would just really like it if they stopped yelling about this over comms. And if Jason stopped blowing up every slightly circus related thing in Gotham and Bludhaven.

Dick: So, you know how I’m part of an online circus?

Jason: What the actual hell is an online circus?

Dick, exuberant: It’s like... an on-demand Cirque du Soleil! People book us for events—birthdays, concerts, whatever—and performers log in from all over the world.

Jason: ...so you have clowns.

Dick, visibly sweating: Well, it’s more than clowns! We have aerialists, jugglers, fire-eaters—

Jason, standing up, looming over Dick: But you have clowns.

Dick, desperate backpedal mode: Technically, yes. But they’re like artistic clowns. Highbrow. Minimal honking.

Jason: Minimal honking? You’re telling me there’s still honking?

Dick, defensive: Controlled honking. Tasteful honks only.

Jason, crossing his arms: Joker-level honks?

Dick, horrified: Joker doesn’t even have a clown permit! He’s not qualified.

Jason: He went to clown school.

Dick: No, he shot up a clown school. That’s different.

Jason, sitting back down: You know why this pisses me off.

Dick, quietly: Yeah, I do.

Jason: It’s weird, right?

Dick: Super weird.

Jason: Sometimes I feel like you should be more messed up about clowns. Like, my level of messed up.

Dick: I know, bud.

Jason: It’s just... I feel alone in this whole clown thing.

Dick: You’re not alone. Gotham as a whole has a no-clown policy. Did you know circus clowns refuse to work here?

Jason: Of course. Otherwise, your little e-circus would’ve been torched.

Dick: By Joker?

Jason, thinking about that one time he shot up a department store window for displaying clown shoes: Uh... yeah. Yeah, Joker.

Dick: Well, for what it’s worth, you’d be great in the online circus.

Jason, deadpan: You saying I’m a clown?

Dick, grinning: No, but you are a high-value performer. People would pay top dollar to see Red Hood juggle guns.

Jason, pulling a gun from his holster and spinning it effortlessly: You mean like this?

Dick, mock clapping: Bravo! Now add some honking, and you’re ready for the big leagues.

Jason, standing up, gun still in hand: You have three seconds to run.

Dick, already halfway out the door: for the record, I'm a performer, so this retreat is performative and just to keep you happy-slash-entertained

Jason: get out!

[vonteasevintage]

S.O.S: Save Our Sanity! Packing a Travel Emergency Kit

It's fine....it's cool......until a button pops off and all hell breaks loose!

Hell hath no fury like a pinup who worked endlessly on perfecting every single aspect of their look for a show.

It happens. It's unnerving. But....you can be prepared and can deliver a blow back to the invisible force trying to ruin your day, or you can help save someone else's day!

If you're like me and have to travel to get to different events, having one of these kits on hand helps relieve an extra worry you can cross off your list. Even going to local shows, it is good to have with you tucked away in your purse in case the inevitable decides to strike.

I'm also a sucker for buying copious amounts of cute printed organizational bags and whatnot. There are many cute bags out there to store your items! I used a logic in school where I would get cute stationary items, and it would actually make me get excited to use it in class. Same goes for getting cute items for things I normally would forget about to make it so that I would be so excited to see it, I couldn't help but to remember to pack it as one of my first items to go in the bag.

Here are some items I suggest bringing along for the trip to keep handy:

Mini sewing kit (These can be found anywhere, including your local dollar store, and comes in handy if needing to fix something or make a small alteration)

Safety pins

Band-aids (because blisters, and bumps happen)

Compact mirror and lipstick for touch up (check the teeth beforehand after reapplying when refreshing the colour! )

Water (Please, please, please remember to hydrate!)

Candy of sorts (Let me tell you...this is a game changer. The adrenaline you will feel after being on stage will make your body get a bit wonky sometimes. This helps bring your blood sugar levels to normal after that surge of adrenaline wears off!)

Heel tip replacements (I never knew I needed to pack these until I had one of mine crack on me and was left with a metal nub in its place. Luckily this happened during practice on a well loved pair of heels, but the fear it struck still hit the same. I carry a bag of these on me in my kit that I ordered off of Amazon a year or so ago)

Bobby pins (Last minute styling, or simply securing your hair accessory piece better - especially if you are outdoors and it is windy out - can be a big help!)

Shoe / heel pads (I already mentioned this in a previous post, but these will save you from dreaded blisters or just being uncomfortable in general while wearing heels for a certain amount of time)

Flats (Keep flats in the bag in case you wanna swap out for something when tired of heels. I recall getting a pair of ones that folded up into a cute little coin purse style bag years ago. Those can help if you want something to slip on when heading home for the day or whatnot!)

Glue/ duct tape (In case life , I mean, props fall apart...duct tape fixes everything, right?....RIGHT?)

Clear nail polish (Not only is it good for when doing a top coat, BUT can save your stockings in a pinch if a run decides to try to cause laddering. Nip it in the bud!)

Female Sanitary Products (It happens. If it's around that time of the month either waiting in the rafters to strike, or is trying to join in on the fun during the one time you wish it wouldn't, it's better to make like a girl scout and be prepared! Also, if it decides to strike someone else, you can help them out as well if needed)

Of course, there are different things, let it be extra prop pieces, accessories, makeup , etc that you feel would be necessary for your emergency bag. This list is just simple basics to lay the foundation for your emergency kit, and it's up to you to deem what else would make it unique to you!

If you have any items you feel are must haves , please feel free to share!

xo Bree Von Tease

[outrageousbirb]

On top of everything else that my suicidality impacts; it also impacts my ability to go through my possessions to clear them out.

Like it's extremely difficult to make reasonable rational decisions when your brain responds to almost every question with "why bother? Can't we just die instead" or "counterpoint. We should kill ourselves" or "why would you keep that? So your loved ones have even more of your shite to deal with after you off yourself? How selfish are you?" Or "sure throw that away, then if you need it again you'll have to ask for help getting another bc you're a useless piece of shit who can't do a single thing right, like basic employment, you lazy piece of shit"

So yanno. It's fun.

I tend towards ruthless when it comes to purely sentimental items - mostly bc I struggle to genuinely feel anything bc of how numb I am. I got rid of all the clothing from my childhood and teen years that I was holding onto when I turned like 20, bc I was like "I'm not having kids. I have no room for this stuff. It's all in good condition. Any day now I could off myself and then when mum clears out my room she'll find these and likely breakdown sobbing bc she failed to save me or smth. So if I get rid of them now, I get the drawer space back, and we avoid that whole breakdown also. Cool, a twofer." And handed them to my mum with a "these can go. I'm done with them"

I miss my orange half zip jacket. I wore it for years, until it stopped fitting. I miss my generic superhero swimsuit, it looked so cool. I had this pink striped panda hoodie that was so cute, and I never wore girly clothes like that, so it was something special for me. I had this one t shirt I got from a charity shop - it was recycling themed with this stupid graphic that I thought was so cool. I can't remember what it said now. I wish I had a photo of it. I still remember the day I bought it, and the shop. It was the same year I got my grandma little porcelain cats for Christmas, when I was still in primary school.

I couldn't tell at the time if I was keeping them because I actually cared or just because I knew people usually kept beloved stuff from childhood and I had good memories attached to those items. I figured it didn't matter if I wasn't gonna be here much longer, so I did what I thought was the mature thing, and passed them on myself so my family wouldn't have to deal with them later.

And then I kept living.

Idk. I try to have logical reasons for keeping stuff. I keep things for practical reasons - I only keep books if I intend to reread them, otherwise they go straight into the charity pile. I try not to hold onto clothing I know I'll never wear again, even if I liked it once, or it was my favourite. I try now to be more conservative with my bag-buying, because although I love them, I'm aware how little I actually need tons of bags of similar sizes and colours, and how much more I prefer bags which actually meet my size or wear needs - closures and capacity predominantly.

But this means that I end up with a bunch of clutter that's all theoretically useful, but currently in my way. And I don't organize it or store it properly, bc I'm too depressed and adhd to figure it out. So it just grows like a fungus in drawers and shelves and boxes that now matter how often I remove sections, I'll turn around and it's the same size again. It's exhausting. And I can't use practicality as reasoning to sort through it, bc it's useful, and emotions are out, bc of the aforementioned "but we're gonna kill ourselves" track running through my head 24/7. So I just don't ever make any decision ever.

[casabyjj]

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[blems-way-to-speak]

He read the note twice, just to be sure, saved the coordinates to his systems, then put the note into his pocket with a determined frown. Alright then. He nodded once to himself, then bustled around the room, trying not to wake Andromeda or his brother as he prepared himself to take a trip into the human world once more. He needed to buy tools, didn't he? He wrote a note, explaining where he was, what he was doing, and when he would approximately return and taped it to the wall by the door. With one last soft smile at his sleeping, growing family, he eased himself out of the room and started toward the entrance. Hell awaited him on the other side of those doors...

Bright sunlight blinded his optics as he stepped outside and onto the rough pavement. Aw, hell. He mentally noted that on his list; to get sunglasses. He pulled up a map of the city on his HUD and started heading for the nearest Home Depot. On his walk, he marvelled at the birds, trees, and flowers along the way, grinning stupidly as he imagined the house Titan gave a picture of surrounded by trees, in the woods, where possible wildlife would make an appearance every day. He also spotted mothers walking with their babies in strollers, and thought of his own unborn children fondly. That little pulsing lump of code...he wasn't even sure how many babies were in there. He just knew he'd love them all...or love the single one that came from it. Before long, he reached Home Depot, avoiding traffic as he made his way across the parking lot. He felt eyes on him as he entered the doorway, and he tensed. It smelled like paint. It smelled like wood. It smelled like glue, and metal, and tools. But most of all? It smelled like humans. He squared his shoulders and set his emotes to default, scanning the aisles as he made his way through the store. He needed hand tools like hatchets, wrenches, and screwdrivers. He needed to know how to do house repair and how to survive in the wild. He grabbed everything he thought he needed, then pulled up the internet on his HUD to double-triple check. Ah. He forgot nails. Screws. He figured he could use wood to repair issues in the house as they appeared, and probably find a way to contact Titan if he needed other materials (like PVC piping and such)...his logic mind was going crazy as he thought things over, standing smack dab in the middle of the aisle. "Excuse me?" He glanced down. A small old lady looked up at him with a kind smile and he tilted his head at her. "Yes ma'am?" "Would you be a dear and hand me that hammer from the top shelf?" He paused, then carefully handed her the hammer in question. The little woman gave him a shaky thanks, placed the hammer in her cart, and waddled away. What a strange interaction, he thought.

By the time he left the store, he was burdened with so many bags of tools that his arms were full. They weren't necessarily heavy, considering he could carry a car with hardly a problem, but they were rather cumbersome as he walked home in the setting sun's light. He was satisfied. Prepared. He walked by a human daycare and paused, watching the children through the windows. Maybe he...wasn't prepared. Well. Looks like he'd have to make another trip tomorrow, hm? To a clothing store, or maybe just Walmart. Hm. Maybe he'd pick up baby toys while he was at it...maybe bring Lilac and Andi along, too. Maybe buy a couple of colouring books for Lilac and a box or two of crayons.

When he finally got back home, he relaxed, letting the front doors shut behind him. Now he just had to put these tools away.

Slips a paper beneath the door for @blems-way-to-speak to take.

It's a set of coordinates for a location about a couple hours away from the theater. In the middle of nowhere, it seems. And a picture with his jagged scrawl on there.

This is a home for you and Andi. And that little guy too. Four rooms. Two rooms to shower in. Lots of space. A kitchen for you to teach Andi how to not kill someone. There's a generator there that sustains itself and will power the house and is connected to a charging station. It's far away from humans but I'm sure you'll manage when it comes to supplies. Still unfurnished though. Sorry about that. Hope you guys take care of each other. Let me know if you need anything.