yagirl-evelyn

[idkimnotreal]

i think it is a product of my autistic brain that i never really “know” things, that is, i never feel that a thought i have is right, i’m never really sure about stuff; what i would describe my thoughts as instead (or my process of arriving at a conclusion or decision, which is what most thoughts are about) is having a map of information laid out and being able to access all the pieces of information about something whenever i think about it (every thought i think about has several other thoughts connected to it, it’s about perspective, if i focus on one of those other thoughts then it will have other thoughts connected to it too), but it never becomes more than that - a map of displayed information. 

it’s not that i can’t connect the dots (or thoughts, or pieces of information), but there are so many dots that i can’t ever connect all of them at once, and once i’m done connecting two dots, some other connection is already undone, left behind, and i can’t make out the entire picture. medication (stimulants) helps with this, but then i’m always afraid it makes me have so much tunnel vision that i am finally able to connect all the dots available to me at the time, but i’ll miss out on dots i might otherwise know of when my brain is unmedicated (what i would describe as unmedicated “horizontal thinking” vs. medicated “vertical thinking”). in other words, it makes me able to conclude/decide, but leaves my thinking “incomplete”, which is why i prioritize thinking some things in advance before taking my meds, and think about other stuff while on it as it suits me.

[willthespy]

How to anatomy?

okok i have been putting off replying to this because I’m shit at explaining and also mess up anatomy myself A LOT, but here’s some tips that have helped me.

Watching your surroundings/people IRL. I think this kind of requires for you to be more of a visual thinker, but this especially helps me with facial anatomy. You can also use pictures for this, in which you just… look. Looking and copying again and again really helps, but you gotta know how to look.

I think the most important things to study are the general sizes (of limbs, hands, etc.) and to play around with it a bit, which is easier if you are a digital artist. Then also the muscles and the shapes of every separate part. Also where they connect. For example where the arm connects to the torso and how that looks in different positions.

I also see a lot of people use thick lines in their first sketch, which I genuinely think doesn’t help. Loose, sketchy lines allow you to get a better feel of what you’re making and allows you to build a shape, rather than conforming to one shape at once. Sure, that’s got nothing to do with anatomy, but it helps when studying.

Art references. And also tracing and copying, but in a way that you don’t trace precisely, but check for general rules and use it to study the anatomy. Once again, sketching over instead of harsh tracing helps you understand easier and better imo. By tracing I also mostly mean the body, and I think you shouldn’t rely on it entirely, hence why it’s a study. You learn from it so you can stray away from actual references.

I also look at myself a lot. If I’m confused how an arm stretches? I’ll test it out. This adds onto the looking at others tip.

Breaking the (human) body down into simpler shapes for the sketch and working with lines to measure and guide? in a way (especially in the face area and to determine a clear middle throughout your subject’s body.

LOOKING AT ANCIENT GREEK (or inspired) STATUES. They were genius, I swear. They’ve helped me personally whenever I actually study anatomy to create more fluid and life-like poses, even if I do in fact fail to apply that to my art occasionally.

Limbs and other body parts aren’t straight, but actually more fluid, which is important to know. Of course stylization is a thing, but this fact helped me a lot. Also looking at how ‘fat’ is distributed between afab and amab people (generally) can be nice information to know, which adds to the muscle knowledge.

Practice…. so much practice….. I myself try to draw almost daily, but you also shouldn’t wear yourself out. Don’t draw if you can’t at the moment, but when you feel okay enough to do so, I do think studying helps a lot, even when you just draw a similar pose over and over again. Drawing shouldn’t be a chore, so from experience, don’t force yourself and be dumb like me and overwork the tiny artist working in your brain.

These are just a few! I might have more but I’m tired. If there’s more specific questions or more visual examples and stuff needed, I’ll definitely reply faster though… hopefully.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Walla....kn1ves....genius big brain yandere writer....i just (re)found your Yves work (im sure you saw me freak out in the tags lmao) if you have the time/energy/inspo pls i beg you for a speck, a crumb, a droplette, ANYTHING of my baby Yves x fem!reader. I'm not sure how specific is too specific but I have a truckload of daydreams and prompts for this man dc im down BAD BAD for the way you write him. I'm not sure if this is too specific of a request but can it be yves holding himself back constantly because he wants to *romance* the reader but its so obvious he's itching for more until one day he finally snaps and takes her (specifically him giving her his virginity and whoops maybe going crazy when he finds out she isnt one)? I'm just obsessed with his characterization and want to see him in a ton of situations and feeling/reacting to different things. The stern dom undertones his whole vibe has disguised by a friendly foreign guide 🥵 The drabble of him was sooooo good and such a tease of his personality, it's so enticing hahaha. If that prompt is no good or doesn't inspire you then anything else is fine and ofc if you have no inspiration for Yves at all then that's a-okay too!!! Thank you sooooo much for thinking up that beautiful man and sharing him with us!!! Hope you enjoy your holidays💞💞💞

A/N: Ugh I'm so sorry I took so long in answering 😭😭 I was gonna write like a whole piece but my time has been cut dramatically, so please accept this poor little piece!! I was honestly so overjoyed at seeing your tags, it makes me so happy to see people's reactions to my stuff ┗( T﹏T )┛I wish I could have more time to write for this because I love the concept, I'm a huge fan of the "mysterious foreign guide who's just a little too friendly" kind of trope. Thank you so much for your support anon and I hope you enjoy this!! OG piece here for any of you nerds!

TW: Kidnapping, implied dubcon/noncon, manipulation

It wasn’t hard to notice Yve’s shift in behavior. Well, this shift out of many. When you first met him, he gave off a kind, well-meaning but nervous vibe. He did his best to show you around, to make you comfortable and converse with you in english to the best of his knowledge. That kind persona shifted into something more… desperate; obsessive, once he brought you back to his apartment. He was still kind, still well-meaning and observant to your needs. He apologized profusely when you got upset from how he kept you from leaving, promising that you weren’t missing anything important in class and that he could show you real culture instead! What could you learn from a textbook that would be better than seeing the country itself?

But time and time again, Yves made excuses to keep you inside, to make you stay by his side whether through photoshoots or studying, with him as your “teacher”. You had to learn the basics before taking such a “big” step out into his country, right? Unfortunately for you, Yve’s only taught information on the most trivial subjects. From words like “textbook” to “glass”, you were able to make meaningless sentences that wouldn’t serve you well in conversing with native speakers outside of Yve’s little apartment. Sure, it might help you occasionally, but it got you no where closer to understanding Yve’s rushed mumbling and incoherent rambling. 

With your sudden move to his apartment and his new change in conduct, Yves had slowly become less generous. He didn’t make as much of an effort to talk in english anymore, and made far less points to explain himself. You couldn’t tell what caused this new change-- a change that you were soon starting to accept as Yves showing his true colors. The man was still attentive to your needs, still caring and kind-- but the posessiveness that had slipped out almost entirely seemed to be taking hold. And while you’d think that a growing obsession would make it more beneficial to you-- it in fact, made your difficulty increase tenfold. Yves began to direct you on what you should wear, when you should eat, what you should do for the day.

 Not only that, but his attentiveness to…more intimate needs were far more prevalent as well. Whether it was bathing, or the need that pulsed between your legs, Yve’s was there to try and take care of it. You pushed him away multiple times, awkwardly trying to tell him that you were fine-- but it never seemed to stick. He always just looked at you with a tilted, confused expression, muttering in his native tongue as if he didn’t understand. So when the foreign guide began to sleep next to you instead of the cot on the floor, and began to press his morning erection agaist your backside sleepily, you knew your protests weren’t having any effect.

You would have walked right out of that teensy apartment the moment you felt he didn’t listen-- if you weren’t so afraid. If you weren’t afraid of the loaded handgun in his locked nightstand drawer, or how easily he could destroy your life at your new university-- which he mentioned offhand multiple times in a casual manner-- you would have walked out. The power he held against you, a foreign student with failing grades and no money, was too much for you to ignore. So, you decided to bide you time. It was only a matter of weeks until he got bored with you, you decided. But his new actions didn’t seem to prove that. 

In fact, the lustful, mischievous look he gave you that evening was the complete opposite. His scrawny frame jumped atop yours, hooking his hands behind your neck and leaning in to try and kiss you. He had planned an unusually fancy dinner, lighting candles you had never seen in his apartment before and bringing a bottle of wine with some italian takeout. You tried to question him about the mound of pillows and blankets on his balcony, the sudden romantic lighting, but the male only gave you a broad statement on how it was a “celebration” of sorts.

Yves’ sudden prowling mood after dinner wasn’t a complete shock-- considering you felt his eyes on you the entire evening-- but it still caught you a tad off guard. You tried to reject him, to push him away after each kiss, but it was done with such little effort and such great fear that you stayed silent once he muttered in an annoyed tone in his own language. Yves took your silence as a surrender, friskily lowering his hand under your shirt to caress your abdomen. He rambled against your flesh in half-english as he kissed you up and down, not afraid to let out vocal little noises of pleasure, or grunts of satisfaction ones he heard your breath hitch or a hum of desire come from your lips. 

But it wasn’t until he uttered a sentence with a familiar word, did you actually reply to him. You recognized the term from messing around with your friends, when you jokingly learned dirty words from your textbooks and the internet to use when you finally entered the country. You never expected to actually utilize them unless you went to a club or bar and happened to meet someone. One of those words, was ‘virgin.’ A more tame term compared to the bunch you had memorized, but one that you and your friends had idiotically decided to research. Though, it seemed your stupid endeavors had paid off. 

As Yves repeated himself, you began to understand the sentence a bit more. The man was seeming to imply… you were a virgin? Something about you both no longer virgin-ing? Maybe he was saying that he was going to ‘virgin’ you? You couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, only mustering up the courage to poorly explain your sexual status to him, first in english and then in a broken version of his language. You tried to repeat yourself, thinking you might have said your statement wrong-- but Yve’s shocked expression and sudden lack of kisses seemed to prove you wrong. 

“You have…. Sex?” Yve put a hand to his mouth, eyes begging you to respond.

“Uh….yes?” You said with an awkward expression; you hoped he was asking what you thought.

Yve’s let out a choked gasp, looking as if you had crushed his heart in your palm. 

He looked down, voice cracking as he mumbled something incoherent, and likely not understandable to you in the first place. 

“I….I i’m sorry?” You tried to apologize, seeing how shaken Yves had become at finding out you weren’t as inexperienced as he. Despite his eagerness, you could tell he was new to trying to initiate something you had already grown long accustomed to, new to being so intimate. It was actually in part of his eagerness that you realized he wasn’t of the same sexual history. He was full of anticipation and desire, throwing caution and logic to the wind to fulfill what he had read in books and seen in films.

 Yves seemed to treasure the act of losing ones virginity far more than you had-- but you had only noticed it now. The candlelit dinner, the mood-fitting music-- your first experience was nowhere near as romantic. 

Yves seemed shaken, his low, almost sob-filled words growing heavier. He grew more aggressive, seeming to realize something now that he had processed this unexpected news. He had assumed you were just as much of an amateur as him-- that he’d be the one to “deflower” you in an act of passionate romance-- a bubble fantasy that had just been popped. But the male realized-- if he couldn’t have his desired outcome, he’d have to make due with what he had. Which was to make sure you’d fall to your knees, experiencing the best night of ‘passion’ that would make you never want to crawl to another man again. 

He was going to claim you-- to make it so those nights you spent with others never counted. 

You could only understand a fifth of what Yves breathily moaned into your mouth, once again jumping your bones though this time much more roughly. Before you could say anything further you had felt his quick hands unbutton your pants, his own thrown to the floor. He didn’t listen as you begged him to atleast let you move to the bed, where you would no longer be visible to prying eyes on the balcony. But he didn’t care-- Yves had already taken off his shirt, intent on ripping yours away too. He didn’t care anymore if this wasn’t going to be special for the reason he expected-- he was going to make sure you would be left with a night you wouldn’t forget.

[catcas22]

Howdy! I hope your doing well! I really enjoy your Elden Ring fics and just your view on Elden Ring lore in general, I also noticed you liked Tolkien's legendarium, so with both of those pieces of information in mind, I have a bit of a weird question that you might not be able to answer, so sorry in advance. In chapter 75 of Prince of death you describe one of the trolls in Rykard's army as "Like a demon of old" and in the passage describing the ride of the Rohirrim, Theoden is described as "borne up on Snowmane like a god of old". Again I'm sorry since you wrote chapter 75 ages ago and probably don't remember, but I was just curious if you could remember if you took conscious inspiration from the line about Theoden. Anyways I'm currently rereading Prince of Death since I took a break from Elden Ring things when the DLC came out (I was a little bitter about the way they treated Miquella.) And I am enjoying it just as much as the first time, you're an amazing writer, thanks for the great story.

As payment for any knowledge you might bequeath me, have a fun fact from me; my paperback edition of Dune has 800(ish) pages, while my copy of Fellowship of the Ring has 400(ish) pages, despite the fact that are roughly the same length, word count wise. I guess I don't understand how books are formatted.

P.S: I believe you somewhat predicted Miquella and Radahn having a "deal" with your first chapter in Grudge Match, congratulations I guess? At least someone technically predicted the "twist".

Hi, thanks for the ask! (And for your patience.)

I don't recall having the like a god of old line specifically in mind when I wrote Rykard's assault on the gate. But I did attempt to draw on Tolkien's style of what I'll call "close bird's-eye-view" for the battle sequences, hovering just above the action to give an idea of what's going on geographically and tactically, while periodically zooming in on individual combatants to give a more personal look at the battlefield. And the Ride of the Rohirrim is one of my favorite Tolkien sequences hands down, so it's entirely possible that the god of old line was rattling around somewhere in my brain when I wrote that.

Regarding the fun fact: Huh. I know differences in formatting and average word length can lead to differences like that, though I never would have guessed it would be such a dramatic gap. Interesting, regardless.

... I guess I did predict it, didn't I? Like most prophetic utterances, the fulfillment comes with a cruel twist.

Thanks for the ask!

[vmures]

⭐️

Hmm, author's choice on director's cut...I think I'll talk some more about Hanging On (You're All That's Left to Hold On To). So here are some random behind the scene's bits from my brain!

You can all credit the fabulous @mia6363 for opening my eyes to the potential and joy of utilizing Bobby Finstock as a character. Her stories that focus on him are amazing and were very inspiring.

When I set down to figure out how Bobby might know about the Supernatural and some of his backstory for this universe I landed on him having a bit of the Sight and that led to him being a Medium.

I'm pagan myself and will admit that a lot of my beliefs and studies did influence the worldbuilding of this fic a lot. As did my absolute love of Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea books, which gets heavily into the power of naming.

Shufflemancy (using music as a divination tool) is actually a thing that I've used when stuck on things in the past. Like most divination tools, I find that it's more helpful in understanding your present and working through thoughts than predicting the future. But it can be a fun way to try to sort out chaotic thoughts and figure out what nagging worry in your brain is going on about.

Other aspects of my own experiences and learning that got women into the fic were the scenes on moving meditation. While I've never been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder or ADHD, I do have C-PTSD and there is a strong possibility that I have inattentive type ADHD and/or am somewhere on the ASD spectrum. Because of the way my brain is wired, I've always struggled with traditional meditation techniques. But noticed that the times when my brain would truly quiet in the way people talk about meditation were moments when I was focused on my body and movement. Dance, martial arts, walking, and hell, even coloring all help me get into that zone.

Additionally, hot chocolate mix in a cup of coffee is a great way to make shitty coffee palatable and create a very cheap mocha. And since I know most support groups are held in places where the coffee is mediocre at best, I wanted to throw in that bit of knowledge. It felt like something Bobby would know and be happy to share with Noah.

The other random fact was that I did not intend to write a stealth crossover with the Owl House when I started this fic. But I'd been watching it and loving it and realized that the character I was designing for Bobby's grandmother and mentor figure was a whole lot like Eda Clawthorne. And when I realized I needed some additional characters to help unfuck Beacon Hills, the idea to include Luz and Amity was just too much to resist. So in this universe, the Clawthorne family is the Hawthorne family and is a long line of witches and emissaries, and Luz and Amity met at summer camp/school rather than through a dimensional portal incident.

[kentray]

Definitely see what you mean about the writing being tighter in previous seasons, there have been moments when I've felt like a gag didn't quite land for sure. My interpretation of that whole thing is just that the intentionality here is the subversion of expectations - Jamie's growth and sudden use of more than one brain cell takes Beard by surprise because he's always been the one they've intellectually underestimated. Re: the prima donna/pre-Madonna thing, I interpreted that simply as wordplay that reflected the theme of Roy & Jamie's conversation about working hard to gain the prima donna status vs effortless talent - but I see how on the face of it, it comes across as a continuity error. Although maybe I'm just digging my nails into the script and refusing to let go because I loved the writing in previous seasons so much 😂

The thing is, I get all those points. I know exactly what they were doing. Jamie was never dumb, he was underestimated for sure. His learning was impeded by his ego and never being taught in a way that inspired him. We saw it in S1 when he told Keeley he appreciated her taking him to cultural events. She had the patience and understanding that Jamie likely never had before in a teacher/mentor. 

I'm not saying that Beard and Roy learning their lesson about being non-judgmental is my issue. It's the larger issue of the show and how it’s message is to teach people without having to criticize or make a dig or be mean. How many footballers could tell you the difference between if it was hypocritical or ironic... how much of the general population could? So it's a joke I'd get in a regular show, but Ted Lasso usually goes above that.

As I mentioned in another comment - how about Jamie knowing a linguistic term based on his interest in and knowledge of fashion. For me, that would have been more pointed. And Roy using pre-Madonna versus prima donna. Beyond the continuity error, all the reasoning Jamie pointed out to Roy? Roy would have been astute enough in cultural terms to know it. So it's against character for both Beard and Roy to make those mistakes. However, if Jamie had again used fashion to make a point, it might have enlightened Roy to the fact that not everything he thinks (canonically) is stupid is useless. So the intentionality would be to learn and for their minds to be broadened while Jamie made his point using his unique intelligence rather than it being about their errors in areas they have expertise. Lifting up rather than insulting.

I say all this about the show with love... so much love. (taking a bit from Brett's other show Shrinking here.) :)

[just-some-random-blogger]

part 2 for my most talented hottie-cutie! 'i love your story so much i might just give it an express ticket pass' *imagine a blushing emoji* you flatter me *imagine more blushing emojis bc i'm not typing it on the phone no way-* 'i became a writer was because i disagreed/didn’t like the plot points of the fics' omg i should've knew TT hehe you're rioting, girl. it's so worthy of respect! i love it! ig a lot of ppl love it too hgjdk. you're amazing, really. andand it's really meaningless but i wanted to say that i was so amazed by caraxes TT they've showed him up close and i was screaming TT he's such a kitten TT i want to adopt him TT this pretty kitten TT omg i cried... imagine receiving vide messages with a girl screaming, crying, throwing herself on the road and calling a fucking dragon a kitten? my bestie don't even need to... what about 'maybe you should try'. 1) i'm still insecure of my english. you did comforted me and now i feel more free to communicate. but ig it's not enough to write things. especially when it's about some historical topic. i don't think i have enough grammar knowledge or vocabulary. 2) also concerns the 1 point. my narrative language is 'heavy'. that's what my english and russian (esp lol TT) languages teachers have always been telling me. and i understand why. i've been even insulted (not really but i hate that man) by the comparison with Lev Tolstoy (the worst man in russian literature). it may be a compliment in a way but not really. if you've ever read anything of his, you probably understand what it means. and 1. idk if i can write serious things with this trait of mine; 2. IDK if i can express the things in a way i want to with the 2 previous points?? 3) i used to write fics in my mother tongue and, although i still like some of them, i don't really have inspiration to write now. and probably i wouldn't find a lot of followers anyway? my fics ideas are not really popular. even talking about my asks, you have much more popular requests. (i'm really honored and flattered by the fact you like my ideas TT thank you). and i always seek for approval. i trust you and really like how you embody my thoughts. our alliance you know... if you don't mind, i'll better send anything to you and hope you'll like it. 4) tbh, it's a good idea. and i'm soso flattered by your support TT no but the fact that you said it?? got me sobbing and hugging my laptop soso tight TT i love you soso much for these kind words of yours and your sweet personality TT i'll think about this thing again, when i'm in a better mental state. i LOVELOVELOVE you so so so much!!! you have no clue how much influence you have on me and how valuable your words are TT!! now i'm going to finally prepare for that academic competition. LOVE YOU!! and your talented hands! and your big brain! and your big heart!! thank you soso much for being you!! and for your support! take care!! love you!! have a nice evening/night/morning!! <з

good morn 😌

love lettersss <3 <#

'i love your story so much i might just give it an express ticket pass' *imagine a blushing emoji* you flatter me *imagine more blushing emojis bc i'm not typing it on the phone no way-*

here let me do it for you 😳😳😳🤭🤭🤭😚😚😚😊😊😊 i think those are all the ones wish blush lol HAHHAH

'i became a writer was because i disagreed/didn’t like the plot points of the fics' omg i should've knew TT hehe you're rioting, girl. it's so worthy of respect! i love it! ig a lot of ppl love it too hgjdk. you're amazing, really.

😎😁😁thank you lover. Im so glad a lot of people agree with the brain rot in my head lol. im honored to have your respect and to have people read my works in general 🥺🥺🥺

andand it's really meaningless but i wanted to say that i was so amazed by caraxes TT they've showed him up close and i was screaming TT he's such a kitten TT i want to adopt him TT this pretty kitten TT omg i cried...

ah i see its ur first time seeing caraxes up close HAHAAH yes he is a dear. i too really love the dragons. i also especially love it when the dragons are added to fic and they are somehow personified. i love that for us.

imagine receiving vide messages with a girl screaming, crying, throwing herself on the road and calling a fucking dragon a kitten? my bestie don't even need to...

ur like me fr. i also think dragons are cutesy widdle beans <3 <3

what about 'maybe you should try'. 1) i'm still insecure of my english. you did comforted me and now i feel more free to communicate. but ig it's not enough to write things. especially when it's about some historical topic. i don't think i have enough grammar knowledge or vocabulary.

thats fine. you dont have to do anything you dont want to. though i will say i did start writing fic when i was 11 T_T so yeah the cringe is real. we all start from somewhere. we all cringe HAHAHAH

2) also concerns the 1 point. my narrative language is 'heavy'. that's what my english and russian (esp lol TT) languages teachers have always been telling me. and i understand why. i've been even insulted (not really but i hate that man) by the comparison with Lev Tolstoy (the worst man in russian literature).

💀💀💀💀 lol lev tolstoy T_T apparently (dont quote me on this) as much as a writer as he was it think, if i remember correctly, his stories are actually from his wife, like from her diary. i vaguely remember watching a vid like that.

anyway i personally used to write a lot of narratives/descriptions, because that was the kind of lit/fics i used to read, then i realized T_T i barely finish my work because of it and i like writing dialogue parts more, which is why i changed my style ig lol. i dont think theres anything wrong with being narative heavy, i personally have just deviated from it and sometimes i find it hard to read if i am not in the mood to read, ya know.

i feel it depends on the author. some have this feeling of rambling, but some write so beautifully and vividly.

it may be a compliment in a way but not really. if you've ever read anything of his, you probably understand what it means.

i have only watched anna karenina films lol

and 1. idk if i can write serious things with this trait of mine;

then dont write anything serious. i literally write crackfics AHHAAHH

2. IDK if i can express the things in a way i want to with the 2 previous points??

well you could always try organizing your thoughts through bullet point or graphic organizers

3) i used to write fics in my mother tongue and, although i still like some of them, i don't really have inspiration to write now.

ah that can be hard fr. i usually try to look for prompts or consume media (like watch tv/film listen to music read etc) sometimes you really cant force it

and probably i wouldn't find a lot of followers anyway? my fics ideas are not really popular. even talking about my asks, you have much more popular requests. (i'm really honored and flattered by the fact you like my ideas TT thank you).

first of all because of this ^^ paragraph, i went to my fic that started it all, i genuinely wrote it with no expectation and only because of my brain rot i thought i would get 10 likes in total and i was ok with that. like i purposefully posted it at night because i didnt want to wait and see if people would like it lol, cause yeah it is a bummer that your work doesn't get noticed. i was shocked to see my notifs blow up because of that fic. to be completely honest with you, most of the times many notifs on a story do not equate to it being good or bad, it just means a lot of people got to see it.

i used to prefer writing on ao3 because i got more engagement there, but ao3 lacked the message and inbox options and i tried posting some of my stuff here. this used to be the place where i read kpop fics cos, idk, kpop fics dont do so well on ao3 HAHAH or at least for me. lol i got off tangent there.

point is even i have a lot of fics were i put my heart and soul into and i get like 25 notes and im like DAMN ok, then i fart 1k crack and everyones like AHSFILAHFAS YASS and im like ????? ok ?????? so at the end of the day i tell myself its ok if only one other person likes my fic, all that matters is that that person and me like it <3 <3 <3 and thats a lot in my book lol

and i always seek for approval. i trust you and really like how you embody my thoughts. our alliance you know... if you don't mind, i'll better send anything to you and hope you'll like it.

i would be honored to go through your work if you want me to. i will say if it becomes more than... idk 5k T_T id only begrudgingly go through it because i love you. BUT itd only be begrudgingly if i dont like it, and i know your ideas and I LOVE THEM so lay it on me pal.

4) tbh, it's a good idea. and i'm soso flattered by your support TT no but the fact that you said it?? got me sobbing and hugging my laptop soso tight TT i love you soso much for these kind words of yours and your sweet personality TT i'll think about this thing again, when i'm in a better mental state.

yeah i know how great it feels to have support from someone to purse your creative endeavors or just have someone support you in general. idk my mom stopped being impressed with me when i reached a certain age T_T because T_T i guess im already excellent in her eyes which is why she doesn't go 'OMG SLAY GREAT JOB' or smth she's always like 'oh yeah thats good' aT MOST because she already expected it of me, 'ok' [CRYING] T_T my dad gives more reactions, although T_T not very excited though, but idk my relationship with my mom is different with my dad i cant explain,

MY POINT IS I GIVE PEOPLE THE REACTIONS I WANT T_T

and when i was in my last years of highschool, i went to study music arts and design and T_T my classmates and i were so likeminded and we always encouraged each other and just being in that atmosphere made me realize how important it is to surround yourself with people who get it <3 <3 <3 T_T i miss them

i LOVELOVELOVE you so so so much!!! you have no clue how much influence you have on me and how valuable your words are TT!!

thank you. im honored. truly. i know i say it so much but i mean it everytime. im humbled to have someone as sweet and smart as you look up to me like this. genuinely i love you my dear.

now i'm going to finally prepare for that academic competition.

I HOPE YOU DO AMAZING AND WIN AND SHOW EM HOW AMAZING AND COOL AND GREAT AND SMART AND SEXY AND CUTE AND FUNNY AND AMAZING AND GORGEOUS YOU ARE

LOVE YOU!! and your talented hands! and your big brain! and your big heart!! thank you soso much for being you!! and for your support! take care!! love you!! have a nice evening/night/morning!! <з

thank you T_T im luv u

xxx

[tacit-semantics]

It’s 3am which means it’s finally time. Dirk OCD posting under the cut. cw for in depth descriptions of compulsive behaviors regarding scrupulosity (moral), violent intrusive thoughts (alluded to, non-graphic), and contamination, as well as mentions of self harm. If you’re prone to picking up obsessions or compulsions through reading about them, I would suggest skipping out on this one

So first of all I wanna say that this is not intended to function as a set of assumptions/inferences that point towards dirk having ocd in canon so much as a set of ways in I, as a person with ocd, saw myself in him. It’s a very… enthusiastic headcanon of mine though so this switches back and forth between long winded babbling and then its canon inspiration depending on how excited I am at any given moment. Also, disclaimer: ocd can manifest in a whole bunch of ways, and a lot of them are super specific to the person in question, which is to say that I’ll be drawing a lot (but not entirely, on account of the fact that there’s very much a limit as to what I’m willing to discuss regarding me specifically) from personal experience for the sole reason that that’s how I best understand the disorder. Now, getting into it!

- first things first: he’s got scrupulosity obsessions, I think, specifically moral. Very, very afraid of hurting the people close to him, which in turn manifests as a sort of hypervigilance in everything he says and does. I think that in this context the knowledge of Bro would be equally devastating and necessary in that he’s concrete proof of the worst case scenario, and acceptance of that possibility is necessary to overcome ocd, but also like. I don’t think theres much in the way of mental health accommodations on post apocalyptic earth (much the same as current earth actually), so in practice this would just be Bad.

- speaking of hypervigilance: his attention always being split between his physical body and his dream self reminded me a lot of how a solid chunk of my brains processing power is always devoted to various bullshit, even if the rest of me’s working on autopilot. I also think he’d be the sort to assume that not anticipating a threat to his loved ones counts as a failure, so he’s always on guard/trying to stop things before they start/jumping at shadows, effectually. For me this manifested as a contamination fear but I don’t think that would track here I think he’d be more along the lines of trying to predict his loved one’s actions and putting out imaginary/preemptive fires accordingly

- this would also work well with his fear of manipulation I think. Like he’s so worried about his actions being controlling that he tries to prod at THEIR actions to ‘protect’ them from him which ends up as a sort of bizarre self fulfilling prophecy

-information hoarder. He’s taken the tests, he’s read the articles, he knows what’s wrong with him (he thinks) but also doesn’t want to use it as an excuse (he thinks) and also gets thrown into spirals when his actions don’t match up exactly with the information he’s gathered. I also think it would be fun to try and puzzle out mental health bullshit through the juggalo-internet. Not fun for him, but for me thinking about it

-hal is basically an extended study in rumination. Dirk needs definitive proof of himself and his motives, and well. Hal is not that, but I can see how he might have been intended to serve that function

-reassurance seeker but like in the way where he continually asserts to other people that he’s bad. In his mind this functions as a warning so that they know to be on guard around him. He worries about this being a sort of manipulation too, of course. Nothings ever easy.

-this gets more difficult when he goes from living alone and isolated to living with other people, I think, because now there’s an added layer of ways he has to worry about hurting them.

-if you didn’t know, a super common way for ocd to manifest is (unwanted and frightening) intrusive thoughts about hurting others in one way or another. I think it’d make sense for him to develop obsessions like these once he starts sharing physical space with other people. Like meals and the like he’ll just be sitting there zoned the fuck out because he’s monitoring every single urge and thought he has so he can ‘restrain’ as necessary

-also think he’d still be Constantly Aware of Everything, Always, even when he’s no longer splitting his consciousness in the literal sense. The thought process might start with something like noticing a chair is slightly wobbly and immediately having to fix it because otherwise it might fall, and if it falls when another person sits in it it’ll be his fault because he knew it was wobbly and didn’t do anything to fix it, and then he applies that thought process elsewhere and it escalates

-the thing is is that all this escalation happens pretty quickly because it’s a very intense set of feelings that you’re sitting with 24/7 so like cut to a month later and he’s pushing cups of water to the center of counters because otherwise they might spill and someone’ll slip and it’s HIS job to make sure they don’t, he’s repeatedly checking food over to make sure nothing’s wrong with it, he’s mapping everything he’s touched in the past week to see if he’s done anything bad or wrong, etc etc. these just keep getting increasingly more disconnected and bizarre like shit gets weird and frankly it might not even register for him that what he’s doing is irregular like from the inside things can seem as reasonable as they’re not

-that said, once you take that hyperawareness and ramp it up in reference to like everything, you realize that it just… isn’t sustainable, which means that at some point he inevitably‘fails’ and that goes as well as you think it does. Like on a good day he dismisses an ambiguous dot on a piece of bread as an obsessive quirk (maybe because he’s tired from other compulsion sets or something it happens) and then two days later someone accidentally eats a bit of bread before realizing there’s mold on it and well now dirk can’t get up from bed for the next three days sorry

-I think there’s a lot of really interesting things to say in terms of control here too. It’s all a bit ironic of course, as in something out of your control making you feel in control even if just for a second, fear of imposition taking a turn into imposition with a different motive, the distance between motive and action for that matter. I am getting off track.

-also dirk strikes me as the sort to have a comprehensive list (either written or mental) of every bad and ‘bad’ thing he’s done, ever. Regularly combs through his memories to see if he can think of others, and considers them obsessively both within and outside of context

-also just. That one convo he has where he’s talking about drowning in himself. I love that one

-physically, think he might scratch himself during panic attacks. Lot of self harm urges (head banging, eye trauma) but those don’t bother him nearly as much as his fears of hurting others. He’s unsocialized as fuck, and I think that as such he might not necessarily realize that he processes distress and anxiety in harmful/irregular ways

-I also wouldn’t be surprised if there was like this super noticeable gap between how he perceives himself and how other people perceive him too that’s pretty common. I don’t think he would have a fear of people finding out that he’s ‘bad’ by his standards though for the sole purpose that he assumes they already know

-Anyways from there it’s just like a various grab bag of related bullshit/uncategorized neuroses and obsession/compulsion sets. I think he has trich and maybe dermatillomania too. Autistic, definitely. Probably some other stuff. Comorbidity king. Sometimes he has to finish a compulsion set to sit down but he just finished a different one and is too tired to start again so he just stands on his phone for an hour. Has weird stress dreams. Bites his nails.

-all in all, ocd tends to latch on the things you care about- hence why so many intrusive thoughts are so ego dystonic, hence the fixation. Dirk, in canon and in this spiel here, loves the people he loves very much and just does not want to see them hurt and- unfortunately- sees himself as a threat thus. Well all of this.

-this concludes OCD dirk hour. If you have anything to add, please feel free! But also please be respectful about it, especially considering the subject matter.

EDIT: wrote a sequel to this, found here. It's not as put together as this one, but it's definitely a thing that exists

[jadedresearcher]

Zampanio, House of Leaves and Fanwork

So I figure my obsession with Zampanio has lead me to be more active here so MAY as well post a ramble or two while I've got the spoons.

Zampanio *changed* things for me. In a way that House of Leaves ALMOST did for me but somehow it just didn't...click?

I'm not gonna weigh in on the debate about which inspired which, but without going into spoilers for either, the idea that an IDEA can itself be the only thing wrong/supernatural/unsettling about a story just grabbed me.

The Minotaur of House of Leaves isn't going to come grab unwary readers at midnight or whatever.

The Shambling Horror of Zampanio probably isn't either! 

And THATS where I feel this urge to ramble.  I feel like part of the fandom has this obsession (pardon the pun) with treating the Horrors as if they are like, Slenderman or some shit?

And I mean, you do you, if that's what gets you unsettled at midnight more power to you.

But...

For me...

I just love the idea that it's all conceptual. It's ideas all the way down.

Because I have a Shambling Horror of my own, you know?

Recently people started creating this like...psuedo-accidental-ARG about one of my past selves? Spreading rumors that I died and leaving comments in the web of connections that self had? 

And MAN did that get me thinking? There's this version of me out there, stored in pages long forgotten and artificial intelligences frozen in the past. With preferences and speaking patterns and knowledge wholly foreign to my current self but...also...

It's me. I can see it.

Me but not me.

A flanderized version of me? A more real me?

What is a Shambling Horror, in the context of Zampanio, but a version of you taken to some extreme?  Either before or after some Major New Chapter of your life.

Obsession is a powerful thing. 

It changes you.

And so we come back to House of Leaves.   Where a major theme of it is that NONE of what you know may be true. It might be bullshit all the way down.  It IS fiction, after all, or have you managed to forget that even after so many footnotes throwing you out of the suspension of disbelief?

The only concrete, true thing we know about House of Leaves is that people create derivative works of it.  Incredibly sprawling, unsettlingly obsessive derivative works of it. 

And when I saw what the fan works of Zampanio were like my thoughts kept coming back to that single core fact in House of Leaves. 

What if it's the same thing there?

What if that's the point?

What if that's all fandom IS but a memetic hazard endlessly reproducing in all our minds, fueled by obsession?  Similar but different. A Spiral and not a loop.

So yeah.

The Magnus Archives was definitely an important lens to understand the thoughts I had when exposed to Zampanio.  And that helped me recontextualize my thoughts on House of Leaves. Lobotomy Corp has given me a fun lens for throwing wrenches into my fan works.

Obviously Homestuck and SBURB were highly formative for me.

Maybe that's the POINT of Zampanio.  I don't think I've seen a single fan work of it that wasn't in SOME way connected to some other fandom?  Roblox. Rain world. SBURB (thats how i found it, like a GlitchFaq crossover?). The Obscure Game. Polo. Minecraft. House of Leaves.  Polybius. The Magnus Archives. The Way Ahead... Honestly more than I can remember off the top of my head.  (is the entire concept of greek myths a ‘fandom’?) Can a fandom be parasitic?

Or...can it be a mimic? (A Stranger, if you’ll allow me the conceit)

Can a fandom wear the skin of other fandoms in order to spread its memes into new brains. If Memes are the DNA of the Soul...what is Zampanio doing to ours?

[thiaquiche]

Okay so I had meant to post more about You Are Here sooner than this but man is Easter weekend ever exhausting lol ANYWAYS. Onto content :P Weiben’s addition to the main post got me really excited to talk about what my ideas for the PLA protagonist in You Are Here are, so that’s what you’re getting today lol.

As I mentioned in my initial response to Weiben, the PLA protagonist in this AU is also the protagonist of DPPt, specifically Akari/Dawn. Akari/Dawn has amnesia like Ingo, but also like Ingo, her memories are fairly easily brought back with exposure to things and people from her previous life. Now, I haven’t reached the point in the game where the sky actually turns red, so all of my understanding of this part and beyond comes from fanworks, but my initial plan was that Akari/Dawn was still banished as of when the train people arrived at the gates of Jubilife Village. And oh boy this got long so putting everything else under a read more:

As the train people descended the mountain and headed towards Jubilife, Akari/Dawn either spotted them in the distance or found out about them later through the Ginkgo Guild. Bitter and upset about her banishment, she devised a plan to sneak back into Jubilife Village, posing as one of the train people and planning to let the villagers and Kamado think she was gone forever. With the help of Cyllene’s Abra, she changed into the clothes she had been wearing upon first waking up on Prelude Beach all those months ago and snuck into the village, posing as a reserved teenager named Johanna (the name coming to her from somewhere in the back of her mind) who had been missed in the initial head counts. She accepts blankets and a change of clothes from Anthe’s store, is given a bit of floor space for her to sleep and put her things down inside the already jam-packed Galaxy Hall, and joins the Construction Corps.

Almost immediately, people begin drawing comparisons - Galaxy Team members and existing residents of Jubilife compare her and her above-and-beyond work ethic to Akari/Dawn, often with a tone of remorse in their voices, while a few train people from Sinnoh compare her appearance and her choice of Pokemon to the missing Champion Dawn. The train people’s comparisons are waved away with variations on “I get that a lot, hahah”, but internally she’s reeling as the memories flood in - they were right, she is the missing Champion. She just didn’t know it.

The strain of acting like a normal person from the future, while all the wrong memories are flooding in (she can tell you the names and type specialties of Sinnoh’s Elite Four but not what a television is) and while trying to avoid anyone who might be keen-eyed enough to recognize her as Akari/Dawn and throw her out again is gargantuan, and she’s kind of falling apart. Getting a haircut and dye job from Arezu helps, but eventually people start to notice things. The way she has Hisuian-style handmade Pokeballs for her team despite having never left the village to catch anything, the way her team is made up of the exact same Pokemon as Champion Dawn right down to the Weavile that shouldn’t exist in ancient Hisui but that Akari/Dawn had managed to find in a space-time distortion as a Sneasel, and the way she knows things a train person shouldn’t and doesn’t know things that she should all add up to make her, at the very least, a strange character, if not outright suspicious.

Now, as I’ve kind of hinted by the fact that I haven’t settled on whether the protagonist’s name will be Akari or Dawn, I have two separate ideas for how things could go. The Akari route is what I had been thinking when I had initially brainstormed this AU with my friend, and frankly my lack of knowledge is really screwing me with this one so I don’t know how to resolve this timeline and it’s probably not gonna be the main one for this AU, but I wanna share anyways in case anyone wants to do anything with it. The Dawn route is inspired by Weiben’s galaxy brain idea of putting Johanna on the train, and actually does help the story keep flowing, so I’m leaning towards that being the main timeline.

In the Akari route, the PLA protagonist forgot her name along with everything else when she fell into Hisui. The name Akari is her grandmother’s name, and it came to her before her actual name did when she was found by Laventon on Prelude Beach, for some reason. In this timeline, the train people and the people of Jubilife don’t know that the missing Champion of Sinnoh and the banished Survey Corps member from the sky are one and the same, until Akari cracks under the strain of maintaining her cover identity. She confesses to being both Akari from the sky and Champion Dawn to someone who she thought was safe, perhaps Professor Laventon and Captain Cyllene, and through one of them (probably Laventon) accidentally blabbing, the information gets out. Frankly this is the part where I wasn’t sure how to resolve it, and if anyone has any ideas, please feel free to share.

In the Dawn route, meanwhile, it doesn’t take long for people to begin connecting the dots and realizing that the banished, amnesic Survey Corps member Dawn and the missing Sinnoh Champion Dawn are likely the same person. This doesn’t go over well with the train people, especially the ones from Sinnoh, and especially especially Dawns’s mom. Johanna is seeing red and has to be talked down from just marching straight into Kamado’s office and beating the ever-loving shit out of him if he doesn’t give her her daughter back this instant. But kicking the crap out the man won’t bring Dawn back from the wilderness. Once the initial rage has cooled, she demands to be transferred to the Survey Corps so she can go out and search for Dawn. Other train people in the Survey and Security Corps are more than willing to help her out as well while they’re on expeditions or guarding posts out in the wilderness. Try as they may, though, their efforts are futile - Dawn just isn’t out there.

When Dawn catches wind of the fact that her mother is searching for her, she decides to risk discovery and talk to her. Dawn leads her mother to a private-ish corner of Jubilife and tells her everything - the amnesia, the banishment, sneaking back into Jubilife, remembering who she used to be, everything. It’s a tearful reunion. Once the tears stop flowing, though, Johanna’s righteous, motherly fury is back with a vengeance, and this time no one can stop her from breaking down Kamado’s door and demanding he lift her daughter’s banishment. He really doesn’t have much choice, but to save face he lifts it under the pretense that Dawn being the Champion of the Sinnoh League and Johanna’s long lost daughter is enough to have proven her innocence, and not because he’s one wrong step away from being mauled by mama bear Johanna and her Pokemon. (The Survey Corps really needs to step up their game - first Warden Melli, and now Johanna bursting their way into Kamado’s office unopposed doesn’t exactly reflect well on their competency, haha.)

I would assume that once Dawn is un-banished, the plot of the game should be able to continue at least somewhat similarly to how it does in canon, aside from the fact that Jubilife’s population has swelled, but I honestly don’t know, I haven’t gotten that far yet. Thoughts and additions are welcome!

[hansolmates]

shiver | 12

banner done by the faaaabulous @dee-ehn​ / @dnrequests

summary; your childhood crush jeon jungkook has changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, coercion, manipulation, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment, religious questioning, mildly sexist thoughts w/c; 688 a/n; aa aa my boy namjoon finally makes his appearance. since it’s only a drabble series, i like to imagine in this part shiver mc has been bucking up the courage to ask namjoon this question for awhile but has only sat in casual conversation for a few minutes at a time in passing. she’s persistent! enjoy  [shiver masterpost]

Jungkook doesn’t quite understand why you’re sitting so close to Kim Namjoon. Kim Namjoon, the man of the hour apparently, because you’re currently squeezing yourself in his cubicle when he was the one who invited you over. 

In fact, you should be gone because all he asked was for you to pick up and drop off his missing portfolio. He really shouldn’t be so distracted, curious, and just plain old nosy. He can’t afford it either, not with Professor Yang breathing down his back as you two speak. Jungkook is a simple man with a wide berth of talent, but he needs to sacrifice one for the other. And since Jungkook has been grueling for months for the summer symposium, he forces himself to ignore your presence and focus on Professor Yang’s quote-unquote “inspirational” speech. 

“So, do you believe in it?” 

“Believe in what?” 

“The concept of virginity.” 

“Jungkook mentioned you might be like this,” Namjoon’s dimples are so deep and prominent you can fill a lake in them, and you wonder why Jungkook brought you to meet his friends at some lame party when you could have heaps more fun waxing poetic with Kim Namjoon. 

In passing between one of you and Jungkook’s bedroom trysts, Jungkook mentioned that his friend Namjoon is one of the reasons he got his shit together and apologized to you. It made you take a liking to this intelligent stranger immediately, curious as to who could get through Jungkook’s thick head. You’ve had a couple intriguing conversations with him in passing, whenever you see Jungkook and him having lunch together. Originally, architecture wasn’t his route. He dabbled in Gender Studies and Sexuality, further enticing you to voice the inner workings of your brain onto this tall vessel of knowledge.  

“Did he call me a pervert,” you reel back, crossing your arms. 

“No, more like sexually repressed,” Namjoon echoes, “but in the most affectionate way possible.” 

“Answer my question,” you insist, trying to divert yourself away from the center of this conversation, “now.” 

Namjoon makes a face of complete suffering, one you parry with a cute smile that always works on the Aunties at the church. Sighing, he pulls out a sticky note. You watch as he pulls out a pen, scribbling quickly on the neon green square. 

“Let’s do some word association,” Namjoon slides the objects towards you, “write as many words as you can when you think of the word on top. 

Blinking, you click the pen to life and glare at the word on top: Sex. 

And so, you write. Purity. Shame. Dirty. Pain. Pleasure. Confinement. Need. Want. 

Namjoon doesn’t even want to see the things on your sticky note when you’re done. Instead, he balls it up, puts it in your fist and curls your fingers together. 

“Your church puts fear in you,” Namjoon says blankly, and it strikes you at how apathetically the words escape from his mouth. Of course, you expect it. Namjoon isn’t part of your church, he isn’t part of this society within a society that constantly fights and loves for you. Trying to see everything from Namjoon’s perspective is jarring, but enlightening. “Virginity is a concept. The more you cling to it, the more you feel like you’re doing something wrong.” 

This isn’t wrong, you think to yourself. It may be a little unorthodox, yes. However, not once have you doubted yourself, or regretted any intimate moment you’ve shared with Jungkook. He supports you, he lets you try and enjoy and doesn’t shame you for it. In fact, he goads you. He lets you explore, he lets you be yourself. Namjoon suddenly goes off into a tangent about virginity and the obvious sexist implications that go with it, but you’re only half-listening as your attention drifts to Jungkook. He’s looking over some mini-model with his professor, and it reminds you of a play train set you used to play with him after mass when you were younger. 

He notices you staring. Jungkook looks up from the model long enough to raise an eyebrow at you, and smile wryly. 

Jungkook isn’t wrong, he’s wonderful. 

[cryptiql]

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

[shoichee]

okok hc or fic: reader was teiko’s “head” manager(?) and her talent was being a medic (if someone gets injured they’re back on the court in under a minute type thing) and training plans. suddenly momoi’s talent blooms, she starts working w/ everyone in the team (+ reader’s crush akashi) and people think she’s a better manager than reader. because of this, she overworks + collapses in front of her best friends kuroko + kise (don’t let akashi know yet i have plans for that 👀)

HELLO? YES OFFICER? I JUST FOUND A BANGER REQUEST RIGHT HERE? YOUR BRAIN IS SO BIG AND SEXY IVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE THIS🏃🏻‍♀️💨 part 2 here and part 3 here AND update: part 4 here

Akashi x Reader

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

you had a knack of being a natural chiropractor in loosening up tense muscles instantly (for more fluid play) or easily putting in back dislocated joints

basically you have crackhands

in your free time as a hobby and a job as the “head manager” (that Akashi announced to the team himself), you’d often bury yourself in anatomy studies and gym plans on the internet and databases to review over Akashi’s team training routines to see if they were effective and safe; oftentimes, you’d return back with improved plans, and as time went on, Akashi entrusted you with creating the plans yourself completely

you took on the job so eagerly to impress the Teiko captain, if you were being honest to yourself

your enthusiasm even inspires Momoi, Teiko’s other manager, to work harder

no one in Teiko knows physiology better than you, and as expected, it was also your best subject along with health

Kise often looks at you in horror and respect at how you don’t cringe/flinch at the loud cracks resonating across the room or court when players come to you for instant relief (the origin story of how he came to call you (y/n)-cchi was the very fact that you manage to put back his dislocated shoulder in 3 seconds flat one game)

when Kuroko first joined the 1st-string, he was a walking magnet for injuries, and you ended up being there for him every single time… nosebleeds? check. sprained ankle? check. nausea from over exhaustion? check.

both you and Kuroko relish in the fact that everyone in the team can never understand how the both of you do some incredible things with your hands

both of you being quite dexterous, you both often teach each other your specialties for fun; it’s almost shocking to see Kuroko effortlessly loosening up a stress knot and you pulling off a well-done palm pass

you admit, you do juggle a lot of responsibilities… from being a makeshift nurse, to a chiropractor, to a budget gym coach, and even to being moral support

Momoi often reminds you to take breaks being the caring person that she is

you often showed her the ropes and tricks of being a manager, on top of your duties, and you find it really endearing that she’s so earnest in learning from you

even if you enjoyed doing what you do, part of the massive workload is to try to get into Akashi’s good graces

talking to him about basketball duties is easier to achieve than talking to him outside of the extracurricular

you might be a tad bit insecure about it; after all, what middle schooler is already so accomplished in academics, sports, and everything you could think of? wasn’t he also studying to take over his father’s company??

to you, who only starred as Teiko’s humble manager, it felt hard trying to establish common ground for conversation outside of basketball

so you stuck to working hard at your position, hoping that your work ethic would get his attention one day; you were a firm believer of actions over words, so you hoped your actions would come off as genuine

picture you and Momoi running across campus with stacks of papers for the team… it makes most of the teammates’ hearts melt at the sight

your work certainly got you praises from other teammates, but out of all players, Kise was the one who figured out your motive

you felt absolutely morbid; to think that Kise, of all people, would figure you out like the back of his hand

Kise being sweet as he is, offers to help you get with the captain but you merely prompted to threaten to break his arm if he spilled your crush to anyone else

“(y/n)-cchi… I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes, Kise?”

“It’s really cool that you’re working so tirelessly for the team, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason why you work so hard.”

“O-Of course I do! I want to see you guys all succeed!”

“Then I’m curious as to why you always look at Akashicchi—o-ow, ow, ow!! (y/n)-cchi, I’m sorry! So can you please let go of my—ow!”

“H-How did you know?!”

“I-It was as obvious as day, (y/n)-cchi! I’m pretty sure even Kurokocchi found out about this before I did!”

“N-No way!!”

“Tell you what, I’m super duper knowledgeable in this stuff! You can count on me for this sort of advice—OW!”

spoiler alert: Kise was right in that Kuroko definitely noticed your attraction to Akashi before anyone else… he just never brought it up to you

one day, Kuroko comes up to you to whisper:

“(y/n)-san, have you realized that Akashi-kun has been observing you recently during practice?”

“W-Wait! Is he looking over here right now?”

“Not that I think. He’s occupied with the coach right now.”

“D-Do you think this is a good sign?”

Kuroko gives you a small smile before he replies, “I would like to think so. Keep working hard, (y/n)-san.”

and you do, you’re constantly on top of your game for the next season until Momoi suddenly gets more recognition for her “precognitive defense” skills

her newfound talent was extraordinary and never-before-seen, and her ability became more critical to Teiko’s victories than your own skills

you were happy and proud for her, because after all, her achievements were extremely deserving to be praised

it’s only when some 1st-string players started making offhand comments about how you weren’t really needed in the 1st-string and was more suited to the lower strings that placed seeds of doubt into you

these people would often compare you to Momoi in how she improved much more despite you being in the team for longer

there’s also talk about how your skills are more useful for 2nd-string and 3rd-string players because Momoi’s ability is already sufficient enough for Teiko’s starters

after all, how would a player even be injured if they can predict their opponents’ moves to avoid such incidents?

there’s also the fact that Akashi has been calling Momoi more frequently to research on upcoming teams for analytical data because her talent has become very useful to ensuring victory

the same peers and adults who gave you praise were the same people who began to ignore you or dismiss you; that being said, the collective change in attitude is definitely subtle enough that it would fly under most people’s radars

Kuroko was the first to notice and defend you against a small group of players who were bold enough to badmouth you in the gym

Kise would find out a little later about the somewhat unpleasant gossip about you and would pull the “no you” reverse card, returning back with MEANER underhanded comments that would send these shit talkers CRYING HOME (manga Kise strikes here unexpectedly eh?)

Murasakibara is someone who would be slightly uncomfortable with the gossip about you, especially since you’ve always been so helpful and kind to the team and himself; he’d either leave the room himself or easily scare them away with his looming height and presence without saying a single word when he enters the room “minding his own business”

Midorima is a bystander judging from how he’s reacted to the Teiko dynamic changes in the actual show // he, of course, wouldn’t like the nasty talk about you but would actually mind his own business, choosing to focus on himself and what he has to do to contribute to his team; he assumes that you would work hard the same way he is and let your contributions do the talking

now Akashi surprisingly wouldn’t hear much of the gossip, since his presence alone SHUTS them up and commit to their practices like normal; after all, it’s very clear that Akashi doesn’t tolerate this type of behavior in the team (example: Haizaki), and it’s more apparent that he wouldn’t hesitate to drop kick them out especially since he has a soft spot for you (which Kise never fails to bring this up to you, but you think he’s reaching too much into it) // TLDR; the teammates mostly have the common sense to not utter anything bad about you… maybe one kid would slip out and get punished for “bad sportsmanship,” but Akashi merely assumes that it’s just one bad apple and not necessarily… the many others as well

Aomine???? bro he ain’t even at practice wdym (HELPPP LMAOO) // jokes aside, if he catches wind of players shit-talking outside of the gym… say at the convenience store or when he’s walking home or something, well… they wouldn’t have a good time…

Momoi simply chastises the gossipers when they try to talk shit on you to make Momoi herself look good, and it leaves? such? a? horrible? taste? like, she wants to believe that they’re just really poor jokes and not what they really believe in, and the teammates merely reassure her that they’re just bad jokes and that they “wouldn’t do it again;” poor Momoi wholeheartedly believes them

the weird talks about Momoi being “the better manager” just signalled to you that you haven’t contributed enough to the team yet, and it motivated you to work even harder

oddly, you weren’t jealous of the fact that Momoi was receiving more positive attention than you

you were more afraid of the fact that you were going to get left behind, and this fear only tightened its hold on you when more teammates (who used to talk to you a lot) have changed their tunes when they speak with you now, compared to them talking to Momoi

and you felt that the Generation of Miracles would do the same too… including Akashi

it wasn’t an irrational fear for you because he’s already been calling Momoi a lot more frequently for help than you recently

so you even offered to mop the gym floors after practice, offered to stay later than usual to be the one to lock up the gym for anyone (cough, Kuroko) who wanted to practice whenever they wanted

at one point, you even tried to do what Momoi does: researching on upcoming teams and making your own predictions (that didn’t really work, and that cost you a few nights’ worth of sleep every single time)

not to mention that you still had regular school like any other student? you were the epitome of a mess

Kuroko was with you in the empty gym, you putting away the extra basketballs in the storage closet while he practiced his dribbling, until he heard a crash in there and a few basketballs rolled out the door

you collapsed right when you rolled in the basketball cart

POOR KUROKO HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO // he just tries to give you a piggyback ride as he abandons his plans of practice and tries to jog to the nearest local clinic

that’s where he bumped into Kise, who was heading home after an evening shoot when he saw the two of you

chaos ensue as Kise freaks out and Kuroko had to calm him down himself after answering the never-ending questions

at least the doctor there gave relieving news that you only collapsed from over-exhaustion and that the bruises from the fall were very faint

Kise makes a joke to Kuroko about, “What’s with you and (y/n)-cchi falling to the floor and fainting? You guys can’t be that alike.”

when you shortly regain consciousness, you were met with a… very stern Kuroko and Kise, who were both ready to hear your explanation and to scold you to oblivion

to your surprise, they were understanding; Kuroko understands the feeling of not being enough and working hard to meet other people’s expectations, and Kise understands the struggle of juggling multiple things in his schedule (come on, student, athlete, and model?)

they still scolded your ears off:

“(y/n)-san, you idiot. Why didn’t you ask anyone to help out?”

“That’s…”

“(y/n)-cchi, do you think we’re undependable?!”

“Er, no, that’s…”

you were still dizzy from the fall and the lack of proper sleep (and maybe nutrition if we’re being honest), and you were just a ball of stress

you kind of begged your best friends not to tell a SOUL to anyone about this incident, especially to Akashi… you didn’t want to look even more incapable in his eyes than you already were

they do agree on one condition: for you to take AT LEAST a day or two off school to completely recover and rest up (you reluctantly agree; besides how were you going to explain the bruises that can’t be covered to your peers?)

HELP WHY ARE KISE AND KUROKO THE BEST LIARS TOGETHER ON CAMPUS LITERALLY NO ONE SUSPECTS A THING… except Akashi, the ever sharp captain, felt something was amiss

especially since some Teiko players emanated a feeling of relief at the news of you not being here that day, or the next

Akashi would play detective sleuth and find out what’s really going on sooner or later

End Note: gonna cut this off here b/c I KNOW this anon got a juicy part two i FEEL IT

[lemliv]

You know what I’ve got time so uhhh here’s some basic art tips I’ve learned while at Art School™

This is gonna be long and I namely specialize in digital figure drawing but this can apply to traditional as well. These are also just 5 guidelines off of 2 years of knowledge so forgive me if they seem scattered these are just the ones that most impacted me.

quick definitions

Contour lines: These are the lines that define the outline of a shape. Think most cartoon line art - it gives you enough information on the features.

Cross contour lines: define the shape. Think of drawing a bottle with tape on it in a gridded pattern. The tape isn’t straight across - its curved. These help your drawings look more 3D

- Never reference other people’s art for poses

In fact if possible, work from life. That’s not an option for everyone especially now a days so just make sure you’re working from photos of real people. Whether you mean to or not your brain will pull from their style and whatever mistakes or decisions they made you will make. Drawing inspiration from others art is fine !! There’s just lines of befitting you in the short term versus the long term. That being said...

- Trace what you like. Do it. (Just don’t post it as if it’s your own)

This is like the one thing artists tell you not to do. It’s A LIE!!!! Kinda... Tracing over photos or art helps understand proportions and what makes them work. The kicker is you don’t want to do just do the contour lines - do everything and then some. Figure out how the limbs are connecting, the direction of the hair, if it’s a landscape figure out the vanishing point. Get some real information off of it to see how they solved problems. And then Do Not Post It. If you happen to post it directly credit the artist you drew and if they’re from the renaissance say it’s a (the artist) masterwork study.

- Fail fast and hard

This one is probably the most important, at least to me. Last year I did probably over 50 large scale figure drawings in a quarter long class and I think only like ONE. But they all helped me improve my speed, realize what was off with my proportions, and allowed me to be critical without destroying myself. Some of them I was only allowed 3 minutes to do and so it’s easier to accept what’s wrong and then work to not make that mistake when it takes you 3 minutes. Not everyone can work with charcoal from a model so the at home alternative that I still do today is going on to timed poses sites and trying to draw those in the time limit given. I recommend traditional just because it’s typically faster for this type of thing. You might not be able to keep up - that’s okay, allow it to be unfinished and continue. The sites at the end usually display the photos back to you so you can fix them later if wanted.The point is just for practice so no one has to see - and please don’t compare yourself to others. Instead compare it to the work you did yesterday and you’ll see the improvements.

- Art Styles are a solution to a problem

Technically I learned this online, but I was in art school so it probably counts. I think a lot of people online are obsessed with having a pretty art style or looking like their favorite artists. When what art styles are is basically you as an artist deciding what you want to draw and what you don’t. Think animation - typically it’s more cartoony / simplified because no one wants to draw all that detail for thousands of frames. So maybe you don’t want to draw every hair strand - simplify it into groups. You don’t want to draw a complex torso so you translate it into a square like shape. It’s all making decisions that help you ! Because sure, you could draw like Da Vinci did but why the fuck would you ??? (Unless you want to - and if so good for you I do not have the patience /gen) so when looking at other artists work see how they solved the problem of that complex forms we see every day rather than just seeing parts of a whole you want to take.

And this one is just a personal rule that I have myself

- Know when to be critical, and when to just have fun

I’ve seen so many of my friends stop doing personal art because they’ve forgotten how to not be critical of it. Not every moment is a race to make your best piece and for it to be perfect or even “correct.” Have art that helps you grow and learn more, the stuff that shows your technical skills. And then have art that makes you happy. That you do for yourself or for fun. Art schools often ask for both because they recognize that that detailed study of a bowl of fruit isn’t who you are as a person, but it does show you know your way around some value. Art is ultimately self expression! There’s the starting points and rules but they are there so you can learn them and then break them!

There’s so so much more I could say and I know this is so much !! But for now this is my knowledge for today !!! Also due to the nature of art, not everyone is gonna pledge by these rules and that’s okay. This is just what worked for me and kept me sane :]

I didn’t proof read this! Because my class starts soon!! I hope it’s comprehensive!!!

[writing-in-april]

Cinematic Coincidences

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

(Spencer’s POV)- listen I just love his POV lol

Summary: Spencer can’t bring himself to go on another date that’s been set up for him- so he stands his date up. Spence seemingly can’t catch a break and runs into the date he stood up.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my seventh fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! This one was requested by @andiebeaword (I added a reference for your love of hallmark movies in this hehe)- this is the original request- I tweaked the characters involved just a small bit lol I accidentally end up defaulting to using the people on the dream team lol- im going to start working in later characters in the show into some stuff in upcoming works (I’m also rewatching the later seasons so that’ll help get me inspired) Im always looking for feedback on my fics or really to talk about anything with my followers so feel free to drop into my inbox- here!! Thanks for reading- y’all have been so sweet 🥰 and hope y’all enjoy!!

Warnings: Insecure Spencer, Getting stood up for on a date, Morgan and Garcia (just the team in general) not really understanding Spencer fully, one tiny sexual innuendo- I think that’s it nothing too bad this time around

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.4K

This was not what I wanted to be doing today. Garcia had once again inquired about my love life- along with Morgan of course, wanting to find out about all the juicy details. I didn’t know why they continued to ask when it was obvious that my love life was about as exciting as watching paint dry.

I gave my normal response to these types of inquiries, brushing them off without sounding too hurtful. Unfortunately Garcia would not be satiated by my response, apparently she was now fed up with my dull love life and felt like she needed to be personally involved. Garcia was very near and dear to me, just like Morgan, but I couldn’t deny that this grated my nerves.

“We’ll make you a dating profile too! Maybe you’ll find someone cute to date- or maybe get some?!” Garcia was chipper as usual, with her eyebrows wiggling at her suggestion that I should have a one night stand. All that I felt from her words was dread.

The dangers of online dating swirled in my mind and I tried to protest, it came out more like a stammer though. Morgan then patted me on the back and piped up, giving his own opinion, “Yeah- I think it’ll be good for you, pretty boy.”

Again I wanted to protest, beginning to stammer out another reason why I didn’t think it was a good idea. I sighed heavily when I was cut off again, by Morgan and Garcia already planning on what pictures they were going to upload of me. At least I knew that they had my best interests at heart, they wanted me to be happy with someone- or get some like Garcia had mentioned earlier. Still, it didn’t change the fact that there was no way I’d ever want to go willingly on a date with someone I had met on the internet.

—-

My thoughts had not changed since Morgan and Garcia had set up the dating profile for me. There hadn’t been any person I had been on a date with that had successfully been able to keep me interested beyond a few conversations.

“No luck with the online dating?” Morgan had teased when I had walked in with my head held low. This endeavor was just making me realize how picky and undesirable I was. Why couldn’t I just find someone pretty and be happy with it?

Morgan’s face twisted from a smile into a frown when I didn’t answer him, making my way silently to my desk.

For the rest of the day the team tiptoed around me, sensing my sadness. There was part of me that was angry at them for thinking that I couldn’t handle a few bad dates. But, they were right. I couldn’t handle the sting of rejection or the disappointment of a date that didn’t live up to my expectations.

Emily always seemed to know how to cheer me up, so I did attempt some small conversation in the break room while we were both getting our coffee. She never gave me any pity like the others who just flashed me sad looks, unwilling to make any effort to help- or like Garcia and Morgan, they helped in the wrong way even if their intentions were pure.

Her solution to my problem did make my ears perk up a bit, “Hey- I saw that you’ve been down and that it’s been about the online dating Morgan and Garcia made you get into.” I nodded my head in confirmation then gesturing for her to continue while I poured copious amounts of sugar into my drink. Emily opted for mostly cream instead of sugar, stirring her coffee a little, then continuing her thought,”I wondered how you would feel about being set up on a blind date. It’s someone I know so maybe that would make you feel better about going on it? Instead of having to deal with technology that I know you despise.”

Emily had a way of seeing exactly how I was feeling and not just spitting out facts without solutions like the others. Her solution made me nervous of course, there would probably never be a date that I wouldn’t be nervous for. However, this option made me feel a little bit more hopeful about my prospects in the dating pool. It was someone that she knew and trusted enough to suggest them as a potential match for a coworker. Emily didn’t trust easy, I could trust her judgment on this despite my nerves.

I gulped down a large sip of my overly sweetened coffee, collecting my thoughts before then answering, “Alright- I’ll go.”

—

The date that I was supposed to go on was at a quaint cafe near work. Emily had even made the effort to make sure that I had been there before so I might be more comfortable.

At first I had been extremely excited for the date, even going so far as to pick out my outfit. I would have worn my purple button up, that was the one I got the most compliments in. Emily had told me some stuff that my date was interested in so I made sure to brush up on my knowledge by reading about the topics. I had even called back to the restaurant menu in my mind, preparing myself by picking out what I wanted beforehand. On one of my dates set up through the dating app I had stumbled on my choice for food, making the person unnecessarily snappy. I had to cover all my bases to minimize potential awkwardness on my part.

Self doubt began to creep in after I had gotten fully dressed. I had gotten ready way too early in anticipation for the date, now sitting on my couch tapping my foot impatiently. I looked at my watch that sat over my long sleeves watching the clock tick closer and closed to when I was supposed to leave.

Biting my lip in worry, my mind couldn’t help but wander over into my self doubts. I couldn’t help but ask myself why anyone would want to date someone as tall and lanky as me- or why would someone want to go on a date with someone that couldn’t keep their mouth shut about random topics that no one cared about.

My self doubt swallowed any confidence that I had begun to build up in preparation for the date. I knew Emily would be furious with me tomorrow when I went into work, I didn’t want her to find out through her friend though. Deciding to get it over with I pulled out the phone I never used and texted her, telling her that I wasn’t coming. I told her to give my regrets to my date, who at this point was probably waiting patiently for me at the cafe. Sighing in defeat I then retreated into my bedroom again, crawling under my covers.

——

Emily hadn’t been furious with me- well that was a lie, at first she had stomped up to me the next morning to chew me out. She became more disappointed than anything when she found out my reasonings. She hadn’t mentioned anything about how the person I was supposed to be going on the blind date with felt. Not that I really wanted to hear about it, it would only make me feel worse. All I got from her was a small remark mumbled under her breath, “Idiots- the both of you…”

For the next few weeks I tried in vain to push thoughts of my failed blind date out of my head. I had avoided going in the general direction of the cafe. Luckily I took the metro everyday to work otherwise I’d have to drive by it every day, and I already hated driving.

I was at the bookstore for used booksjust around the corner from the cafe that was supposed to hold my date a few weeks ago. This was the closest I dared to go near it in a while. Since then I hadn’t been able to go there anymore, even though I loved the coffee there. Immense guilt had wormed its way into my brain when I had tried to order something there a week ago. All I had done was stammer at the cashier before bolting out of there, just another addition on the list of embarrassing things that I’ve done in my life.

I was flipping through an old edition of pride and prejudice out of boredom, there hadn’t been anything interesting stocked on the shelves since I had last been here. Then a voice piped up through the air that had a bit of dust flying through it,

“Excuse me, sir- if you’re still looking at that book would you mind if I looked at the ones on the shelf behind you?”

It took me a second before I realized the person was talking to me. I then removed my eyes from the book to blink up at them a few times, then registering what they had said to me and moved out of the way.

Their eyes were still glued to mine, the bookshelf behind me that they had wanted to look at forgotten. An awkward chuckle was all we both could seem to manage as we looked each other up and down. Emily had shown me a picture on her phone of my date so I would have been able to spot them at the restaurant. My cheeks flushed hard once I realized who was standing before me. There was no doubt who this was, the date I had stood up the night before.

Silence then fell between us and not the pleasant kind, it was most definitely awkward. I couldn’t imagine how they must have been feeling after I hadn’t shown up last night. They probably had sat

“Um- hi…” They spoke hesitantly, wringing their fingers in trepidation. My jaw opened and closed a few times, trying to come up with anything to say.

“Hi!” Was all I could manage to squeak out, plus a small wave in their direction.

They wrung their fingers a few more times, seemingly trying to come up with a response. I was surprised they hadn’t hit me with one of the books near them out of anger. It would be a normal response to being stood up for a date, the trepidation and silence just served to unnerve me further. Eventually they spoke again, saving me from anymore awkward silence which in my opinion was worse than awkward conversation, “Um- sorry for um, standing you up uh- a few weeks ago.”

That made my eyes bug out of my head- they had done the exact same thing as I had? Insecurity soon swept in, trying to tell me exactly why they had not shown up without hearing their side of the story. I looked down at the book I was holding, reading a few words for a moment of reprieve. Taking a deep breath I asked quietly, not admitting to my own faults yet, “W-why did you um- not go? If you don’t mind me asking…”

A deep sigh was what I got at first, one that obviously had a lot of stress in it. They then did provide me with an explanation, despite their obvious embarrassment, Well- It had nothing to do with you- a simple explanation would be saying it was my insecurity’s fault.”

Not that I would ever want anyone to feel insecure, but I would admit that them saying that did make my own stress melt away. They had not gone for almost the exact same reasons that me. I decided to be upfront, giving them my own reasoning- though I wasn’t even sure they realized that I hadn’t gone as well. “I don’t know if Emily told you, but I um- stood you up as well. It wasn’t because of anything bad! It was really for the same reason as you.”

They then broke out into giggles after they had processed my words for a second, which were much more relaxed than the awkward ones from before. I didn’t blame them, it was a pretty funny coincidence that we’d both stand each other up only to run into each other not knowing what we had done.

“I feel like we’re in one of those cheesy Hallmark movies right now…” Their comparison only confused me, I had no clue what they were talking about.

“What’s a Hallmark movie?” More giggles came from them at my questioning, though for once I didn’t feel like I was being laughed at. I felt like they were laughing at the whole situation, not at me specifically like so many people had often done. Also, I couldn’t help but admit to myself that their giggle was very cute.

Once their giggles had subsided a little they asked me something that almost no one would ask the person that had stood them up, “Maybe I could tell you over a coffee? If you want to of course- Emily told me about how much sugar you like in it.”

My interest was peaked, making me further regret having stood them up in the first place. Though I tried to push that thought out of the way considering we had both done the same thing. It was time to let that go so I could go on a date with them finally. Seeing them in person and being able to glimpse part of their personality made me want to know more.

“Alright- sure.” I set down the book I had been passively reading, now completely disinterested in it. There was something far more interesting in front of me now compared to a classic book I had read over ten times.

We both walked around the corner, to the cafe that we had originally had our date scheduled at. Conversation flowed easily between us, showing me that Emily had been totally right to set us up initially. Her words now made sense to me, we were both a couple of idiots.

We then got our coffee, which had been much smoother of a transaction compared to the last time I had been here. I took note of how much sugar and cream they liked, just in case we were going to do this again. Sitting down at the closest booth I then asked, “So tell me about Hallmark movies?”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (Message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith 😡😡😡

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

[cacoetheswriting]

fluff alphabet - spencer reid

A = Attractive (what do they find attractive about the other?)

It would be safe to say you’re strangerly attracted to his genius. Many people find it annoying, how he spits facts completely unwarranted, but not you. His vast knowledge of quite literally anything is what sparked your interest in the young doctor in the first place.

Spencer on the other hand is captivated by your smile. The kindness behind it; how truly genuine it always is. He especially likes when he is the reason that smile spreads across your face, from cheek to cheek, illuminating your perfect features.

B = Baby (do they want a family? why/why not?)

Definitely yes, and you know Spencer would make a great dad. He has a way with kids and it comes to him so naturally. Frankly you can’t wait for the day you get to tell him you’re expecting.

C = Cuddle (how do they cuddle?)

One arm wrapped securely around you, pulling you in as close to him as possible. Your head resting on his shoulder landing just below his chin. He smells your hair taking in the scent of your shampoo before placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

D = Dates (what are dates with them like?)

He likes to take you out to the movies where you share popcorn and a large soda. A lot of coffee dates where he enlightens you on books he read or reread and you fill him in on the latest pop culture gossip. Nothing too adventurous but never boring.

E = Everything (“you are my ____” (e.g my life, my world…))

“You’re my home.” Spencer whispered, his hands cupping your face. You blinked a couple of times registering what he just said but before you got a chance to respond he continued. “When I’m with you, I feel so comfortable and at peace. I can truly be myself around you, no judgement or scrutiny.” He took a soft breath. “When I’m with you I feel at home and that doesn't make much sense to me but you’ve told me before that not everything has to make sense. Especially when it comes to love.”

F = Feelings (when did they know they were falling in love?)

One evening at a bar with your friends you repeated a fact to the group that Spencer had told you earlier in the week. It caught him off guard because no-one really listens to the rambles that come out of his mouth. Yet here you were, the biggest smile on your face as you reiterated: “chewing gum boosts concentration.”. You glanced at the young doctor from across the table. His eyes lit up as they locked with yours. That’s when he knew. 

G = Gentle (are they gentle? If so, how?)

Spencer is one of the gentlest souls you have ever met. He has an incredibly pure and kind heart. He always puts you first and would never dare to do anything that could hurt you. Your happiness is his priority and even though he’s not the most physical person he always does everything in his power to make you see how loved you are. 

H = Hand/Hold (how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?)

For many reasons he isn't the biggest fan of public displays of affection. But when he does hold your hand, he traces down your fingers gently with his own before intertwining them. He’d then lift your hand to his lips and place a soft kiss on your knuckle.

I = Impression (first impression/s)

At first Spencer found you quite hard to read. He’s usually not good at social cues or interactions therefore it took him longer than the rest of the team to really get to know you. 

You on the other hand were instantly mesmerised by the young doctor. The wealth of knowledge he possessed was captivating and in a way inspiring.

J = Joker (are they into pulling pranks?)

Definitely; Spencer loves a good practical joke. He also has quite a good sense of humour. Not everyone always understands his jokes but they never fail to make you giggle.

K = Kisses (how do they kiss?)

When Spencer kisses you he does so with all his might. Unlike his usual gentle demeanour, when he kisses you it’s always with immense passion. He cups your face with his hands and pulls you in as close as humanly possible. 

L = Love (who says I love you first?)

You do - however completely by accident. “Did you know nutmeg can be fatally poisonous?” Spencer asked as the barista handed you a brown paper bag with a pumpkin dessert bar inside. “A little dash of nutmeg in a pumpkin pie or on your eggnog gives it extra flavour Spencer.” You noted flashing him a smile. “Too much nutmeg, however, can be toxic. Two to three teaspoons of raw nutmeg can induce hallucinations, convulsions, pain, nausea, and paranoia that can last for several days.” He stated. You couldn't help but laugh. “I love you Spencer but I’m not going to die because of a sweet indulgence.” It took you a second to register what you just said. Your free hand travelled to your mouth covering it with a soft gasp. “Shit Spencer, I didn-” “You love me?” He interrupted. All you could do was nod in response. 

M = Memory (their favourite moment together)

After a particularly hard case Spencer drives you home, like he has done so many times before. He walks you to the door of your apartment and waits until you are safely inside. He places a soft kiss on your forehead and says goodnight - which is when you ask him to come inside, stay the night. Rather than going to sleep however you stay up baking what turned out to be the worst brownies either of you have ever tasted. 

N = Nickel (do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?)

Spencer is not an overly material person. He prefers to shower you with words of affirmation and subtle compliments. Although when he does give you a gift it is always extremely thoughtful and definitely something that means a lot to the two of you.

O = Orange (what colour reminds them of their other half?)

If he had to associate a colour with you it would be yellow. Yellow - the colour of optimism. The colour of sunshine and enthusiasm. It stimulates the left side of the brain, helping with clear thinking and quick decision making. 

P = Pet names (what pet names do they use?)

He shortened your name. It was unintentional when it first happened but you liked the way it sounded so it stuck. You on the other hand, if you’re not using his first name, usually call him ‘honey’ or ‘sugar’ which he used to hate. If you’re feeling giddy you’ll call him by the original nickname you came up before you were dating: ‘suspence’.

Q = Questions (what are the questions they’re always asking?)

“Are you okay?” - you are his priority therefore he likes to make sure nothing is ever wrong. “Do you need anything?” “How are you feeling?” 

R = Rainy Day (what do they like to do on a rainy day?)

When the weather outside is far from ideal and the two of you are not out working a case, Spencer likes to curl up on the couch with you. He’ll put on an old back and white movie as you provide the drinks.  

S = Sad (how do they cheer themselves/each other up)

If he’s feeling sad you find yourself reaching for a random book on his shelf and reading the first few chapters aloud. His head rests in your lap, eyes closed, as he listens to the sweet sound of your voice. 

If you’re feeling down, Spencer will draw you a bath. He’ll light a couple of candles and dot them around the bathroom. He’ll play relaxing music through the speaker of his phone as the two of you enjoy the warm water together. 

T = Talking (what do they love to talk about?)

The short answer, everything. You never run out of topics to discuss and the conversation flow is always pleasantly smooth. 

U = Unencumbered (what helps them relax?)

Quite simply you. No-one knows Spencer the way you do and even though the two of you haven't been together for very long you know exactly what to say or do to calm him down.

V = Vaunt (what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Spencer is modest which is one of the things you admire about him. The one thing he truly shows off is his knowledge of pretty much everything - even if he does it unintentionally. 

W = Wedding (when, how, where do they propose?)

“Almost fifty percent of all marriages in the United States end in divorce or separation.” Spencer said turning off the documentary you just finished watching. “Researchers estimate that forty-one percent of all first marriages end in divorce.” He continued. “Well, lets hope when we get married we’ll be in the lucky fifty-nine percent that lasts.” You teased, a small smile circling your lips.

X = Xylophone (what’s their song?)

Let’s Groove by Earth, Wind & Fire. The song was queued by Penelope at one of Rossi’s famous get togethers - before you and Spencer were dating. She swayed and twirled, soon joined by Morgan, as the rest of the group watched and laughed. You glanced at the young doctor and before he got a chance to protest you dragged him into the middle of the room to dance. 

Y = You’re the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

“You’re the Holmes to my Watson.” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why am I not Watson?” “Because you’re not that kind of doctor.” You nudged Spencer playfully. He couldn't help but laugh under his breath. “That is a terrible analogy.” “Terrible or not, it’s true.” 

Z = Zebra (if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?)

He wouldn't want a pet for now. The job is too demanding, he’s away for long periods of time and there'd be no-one to take care of it. Perhaps in the future, when you’re married and have kids. Perhaps. 

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