#someone were to criticize their handwriting either.

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I don't know if this is true for anyone/everyone else, but why does it seem like the moment (or soon after) you take a job in education, you can suddenly read some of the most atrocious, messy handwriting from children that you could've sworn you would never have been able to read before the job.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

♡ handwriting analysis: alex turner and miles kane ♡

as promised, here is the analysis my wonderful friend (who used to work as a professional handwriting analyst) did of miles and alex's handwriting! a couple of important points to read before you dive in:

my friend analysed these blind - to avoid bias, she always makes a point of never knowing whose handwriting it is she's looking at, so she had no idea that these samples were from alex and miles while analysing them (not that it'd have made much difference if she had, she can't even name one am song lol)

she stressed that her analysis should NOT be taken as fact - it's just one person's interpretation of the material, and handwriting analysis is ultimately always subjective

the two analyses below are based on notes i took while she was talking and is pretty much verbatim - none of the wording is my own and i have changed as little as possible in typing it up

she noted that it was harder to provide a full and accurate analysis just working with photos of handwriting, as you can't see things like pressure on the page etc. she also stressed that context is significant when it comes to interpreting someone's writing, and it's important to bear in mind that how someone writes in one context, e.g. signing autographs or writing something for the general public could show quite different characteristics to how someone writes in another context, e.g. personal letters to someone they're close to. in an ideal world she'd have access to samples from a different range of contexts to provide the most detailed and accurate analysis. in other words, this analysis is quite rough

alex's handwriting:

(samples taken from roughly 2011 - 2018)

block capitals suggest this is someone who don't want to show themselves, makes it hard for people to reach them

someone interested in thoughts and ideas, would engage with these in a way that's intelligent and very original

a lot of emotional and social inconsistency, suggests someone pulled in different directions. they might show very different sides of themselves with different people and probably have complex and/or conflicted feelings about identity

very creative, someone who'd make interesting and unusual connections about the world around them

highly intuitive but also lacking harmony from an emotional perspective. lots of internal emotional conflict and changeability

someone who fluctuates a lot socially as well as emotionally - might go from being quite sociable to withdrawing completely. ultimately struggles to reach out socially and holds back a lot, but there might be certain situations or people they feel particularly at ease with where this is different

really hard to read, don't give much of themselves away

thoughtful and enquiring, interested in ideas

someone who feels things very strongly

signature:

implies someone hiding themselves or presenting as someone they're not. they want to look confident and exciting, but they're actually much less confident that they'd like to appear. lets their creative and artistic tendencies hide them and take centre stage.

miles's handwriting:

(samples taken from roughly 2022 - 2023)

a little sharp, could suggest humorous wit and/or being critical (either of self or of others)

ambitious and incisive, intelligent and enquiring mind

fearful or wary about opening up and reaching out to people, emotional inconsistency. potentially quite restrained - looks like someone used to hiding a lot of hiding of emotions

has an enquiring mind but isn't particularly interested in abstract thought, more grounded in reality and social/emotional things

someone with strong feelings, they get held in and confused. could be warm and open on a surface level, but looks like they'd be reserved about their innermost feelings

could be sharp tongued to avoid dealing with their own feelings

lower zone suggests someone who might not be completely comfortable in their own body and/or sexuality, or have a complex relationship with these things

someone with a tendency towards strong feelings and devotion/worship (could be religious, or could just be to do with the way they relate to people or ideas)

signature:

someone who wants to look more confident they feel. sense of changeability and flashes of insecurity, but ultimately suggests strength of character, not someone who's a pushover. they know what they want and what matters to them.

interesting extra notes:

the wonderful @ballad-of-what-could-have-been managed to find this sample of alex's handwriting not in capitals from when he was much younger (from what i can see, it looks like it was early fwn era):

so i showed this to my friend too (after her analysis of alex's usual writing) and noted that it was probably done when he was a lot younger. she said that all her points from the original analysis still stood, and that despite the fact this writing isn't capitalised it was actually still very hard to read and definitely someone not comfortable with showing themselves. she also said that it was more emotionally conflicted and uncertain than the later sample of their handwriting. the phrase "emotionally all over the place" was used, and she noted a greater sense of inconsistency with identity. overall though she said the earlier sample confirms that this is someone with a high level of intuition and originality, and she said they're someone she'd be fascinated to have a conversation with!

thank you for reading! if you have any questions, please feel free to comment/drop me an ask and i can always pick my friend's brain again the next time i see her!

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

67: tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin

With GerryMichael because as a fellow tall people I know Michael's hands are unbearably cold from lack of circulation but his face is easy to go red 🥰

Tall people with bad circulation 🤝 office workers working in cold offices

Michael wondered if Gertrude would let him help her kill Elias.

It was only a matter of time. He'd had his eyes wrenched open, no longer blind to reality. He knew who they were working for, and while he didn't necessarily like it, he knew Gertrude hated it. She was not quiet about her criticism, and while he was glad she wasn't keeping him in the dark anymore, it was still quite a thing to listen to his boss openly plot murder.

He didn't care if Elias was dead at her hands- really, the Head of the Institute was just as guilty as the others, and worse. What Michael did resent was the relentless busy work that he was being assigned, probably to keep them busy so they couldn't plot their boss's demise. The amount of incoming statements was so relentless, they nearly didn't have room to put them all. Gertrude was busy with her own plots, so she was no help, of course. And Elias's ever-so-helpful suggestion of "digitizing" the hand-written statements just meant more work for him.

Michael groaned as he flexed his fingers against the keyboard. He was a fast typer, but the statements were usually rambling, and the handwriting nearly illegible. The Eye helped a bit, but that left him with an awful headache at the end of the day, and exhausted beyond belief. He was even beginning to have dreams about the statements, which was incredibly annoying since he couldn't even have a break in his sleep.

The most current annoyance to him, however, were his fingers. He felt like he couldn't warm them up, they were like stiff icicles against the keys, and blowing on them or tucking them against his chest made no difference. Fingerless gloves might help, but he didn't have a pair on hand, and he'd been too tired to knit recently, so he couldn't whip up a pair either. It wasn't enough to slow him down, but it did make his mood worse, and he was more than ready for a break.

"Gerry," Michael sighed, leaning back limply in his chair to watch his boyfriend descend the stairs with a bag of takeout. "My love, the light of my life, the greatest joy, my absolute treasure-"

"That bad, huh?" Gerry grimaced, crossing the distance between them to drop a kiss on top of his head. Michael just groaned, long and whale-like, and spun his chair around so he could bury his face in Gerry's chest. "I'm sorry, love."

"It's awful," Michael moaned, slinging his arms around Gerry's waist. "It's like they don't realize someone's going to actually read what they've written. They don't even try to make it legible."

"Ugh." Gerry leaned over him to peer at the papers next to his computer. "Their handwriting is worse than mine."

"And it's so pointless! It's just busy work." Michael leaned back so he could see Gerry's face. "Next thing you know, that bastard'll have me recording them or something."

"I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job regardless," Gerry assured him, staring down at him with a terribly fond expression. He raised his hands to cup the back of his head, gently rubbing the tension away. "You're too damn good for this place."

"Flatterer," Michael rebutted, helplessly charmed. Gerry just smiled and bent down to kiss him, so soft but full of meaning. Michael kissed him back, feeling all of the tension drain right out of him, leaving him soothed and relaxed. It meant everything to him to have Gerry by his side, sympathetic and caring and exactly what he needed the most. As if Michael couldn't possibly be more in love with him.

And to show his appreciation, he rucked up the back of Gerry's shirt and plastered his hands to the small of his back.

Gerry yelped and jumped away, gaping at Michael incredulously as he fell into giggles. "What the hell?" he gasped, sounding aghast and offended. "Why are your fingers so cold?"

"Because its cold down here!" Michael pointed out. "And my jumper doesn't cover my hands." He wiggled his fingers to prove his point, and Gerry rolled his eyes, coming back to take his hands in his.

"Poor guy," he commiserated, rubbing his hands and bending to breathe warm air over them. "I have some fingerless gloves back ho- back at Pinhole, I'll run over and grab them for you."

"Thank you," Michael murmured, touched that Gerry would step foot back in that place for him. Over the past few months they had been removing Gerry's clothes and personal items and relocating them to his flat, slowly moving him in where he belonged. Michael couldn't help but feel a deep stir of pleasure at the thought, of getting Gerry away from that awful place for good. It's what he deserved.

Gerry knelt next to him, tucking his cold hands under his chin as he smiled at Michael, happy and content. "Can you take a break for lunch? Get out of this basement for a bit?"

"Of course." Without looking, Michael put his computer into sleep mode and guided Gerry back to his feet, pulling him in for a hug. This time, when he cold hands wandered under Gerry's shirt, he didn't pull away.

[jillianfahey]

Bad Batch Crosshair - Modern AU (Realization)

I was at work today thinking what would Crosshairs reaction be to realizing that he was in love with Lyni. Thinking of with their friendship he has stopped sleeping around, quit smoking and has a few drinks to unwind one of those would go insane again. In a nutshell, he gets drunk out of his mind.

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

Looking at the six cups in front of him Crosshair motioned for another. Someone beside him was feeling his chest and shoulders murmuring about having fun, but he shook them off. It wasn't Lyni.

****

FIve more drinks in and the people around him finally realized that he did not want company. So when someone sat down beside him he turned to glare at them. Only to see, "Tech?"

His twin brother was merely looking at the collection of glasses critically, "You have gone over your usual limit." Looking him in the eye, "What is wrong?"

Crosshair whispered the answer but saw that Tech couldn't hear him. Then he spoke louder, "I'm in love with Lyni."

To his surprise Tech answered, "Yes, that was obvious." Motioning to the drinks and the bar around them, "How this was going to help is not."

Groaning into his hands, "I don't know either." Then feeling talkative because of the alcohol, "I guess i'm just doing what I always do when someone can understand me well." Swirling his latest drink in hand, "Run away from the connection."

Looking over he saw that Tech was typing on his phone before hearing a ping in his pocket, "I have sent you a list of ways knowing Lyni has improved your life." Moving on to the next thing, "I believe that they should be considered before abandoning your friendship with her."

Smiling at how his brother showed him support, "Thanks Tech." Setting down the unfinished drink, "I'll pay up and we'll head home."

"That is not necessary," Tech answered without looking up from his phone. As Crosshair tuned to him, "I have already paid and am merely waiting for you to be finished." With an almost amused chuckle Crosshair tapped his twins arm and they left the bar.

*****

The next morning Crosshair groaned as he woke up. Pain from his hangover was lancing though him as he turned from the light that found ways to poke though the window. His eyes fell on a bottle of water and a note in unfamiliar handwriting.

Picking it up he squinted to read, I came by to see how you were but Tech said you had a rough night. I hope you didn't get sick because of me. I hope that you feel better soon. - Lyni

Then there was an additional note at the bottom, P.S. I brought some croissants from the cafe. I told Wrecker to leave some for you, hopefully he listened. Either way please eat something. -L

A smile broke over Crosshair's face as he gently touched her name on the note. As well as the request that he eat something. Drinking the water he knew he couldn't just walk away from his friend. He would be there for her and the twins until the day he died.

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

So, there you have it. Cross would go on a bender before Tech, his twin would pull him out of it.

[blasphemecel]

Mayuri Kurotsuchi ― Truce

PAIRING: Mayuri Kurotsuchi/Reader WORD COUNT: 2.6k TYPE: Crackfic WARNING: Some NSFW jokes NOTE: Note: This is the same reader character as Thorn In Your Side, but you can read it without reading the first one

Someone left a note for Kurotsuchi Mayuri outside of office hours, which was impressive considering he worked until late at night. Whoever it was must've been very adamant not to cross paths with him and relay the message verbally. He examined the envelope with visible boredom, toying with the edges.

It was possible this came from the Captain Commander. Only Yamamoto was ancient enough for it to be reasonable to write a letter instead of contact Mayuri through the computer system, but then again, he was among cavemen. It could've been something the brute Zaraki asked the toddler to write for him (obviously, he had to be illiterate).

After he ripped the wrapping, Mayuri realized this was not Yamamoto's handwriting, though the paper had been folded and the words in the upper right corner brought a smile to his face.

Kuchiki, Byakuya Division 6, Captain Letter of Complaint Subject: [L/n] [Y/n], Division 12, Unseated Officer

Amazing. You could get in huge trouble for whatever transgression you committed against him. It was also nice to know you had become the bane of someone else's existence for once. The excitement at the prospect of having an excuse to fire you could've been enough to give him a boner on a bad day. Mayuri controlled his movements like he was trying to prolong the moment before he opened a long-awaited present, manic grin widening with every passing beat.

Dear Captain Kurotsuchi,

I would like to know how you have allowed that waste of a Shinigami to happen?

Whatever happiness Mayuri may have been feeling vanished. His eye twitched.

That snob Byakuya had some nerve using this as his opening line, addressing him in such an insolent manner. Maybe this was why he was an embarrassment to his clan, because he said shit like this. And... an unexpected defensiveness came over him. Sure, he had called you worse, but that was between you and him. Considering Byakuya's lieutenant was about as smart as a bag of rocks, Mayuri did not want to hear his criticisms of you.

Perhaps it was hypocritical since he had been excited to read all about it earlier, but he found it wasn't half as satisfying as he had imagined. Definitely nothing to jizz about. Regardless, he had to continue.

What were you thinking, letting an unseated officer prance around psychoanalyzing people?

Okay, Mayuri did not let you do that. It was one of those things you went off to do on your own, like usual. But that was part of the game, which Byakuya didn't understand since he seemed to be a moron or because he didn't care, but either way Mayuri disliked that the blame for your horrid behavior fell on him.

He was a man of research, however, and because of this, curiosity about what you had said to prompt this plagued him.

Surely if you had disciplined the fool properly, they would know they have no right to speak to me in that way. A District 72 runt of no standing to a captain such as myself, nonetheless.

There was the obligatory nobleman drivel. Though he found it interesting how you had pissed off Byakuya enough that he went and dug into your background. Mayuri scratched his chin.

This was a misunderstanding of your character. Mayuri had 'put you in your place' many times throughout the centuries you had known each other. It was just that it accomplished nothing. Since you were both dedicated scientists, things changed over the years, of course, since stagnancy wasn't beneficial. But something that wasn't prone to evolution was your audacity. Again, the notion that Mayuri tolerated you without repercussions was insulting.

And you knew you had 'no right' to say whatever you had said to Byakuya, probably. It didn't stop you from doing so, was all.

It disgusts me to type this out or think about it again, but nevermind. Needless to say, I don't appreciate being told that I am 'frustrated (in a vulgar manner of sorts) because of my self-inflicted vow of celibacy' and other such presumptuous things. Especially from the likes of that person.

I would hereby like to request [L/n] [Y/n]'s expulsion. I think it is a reasonable punishment for the level of disrespect I endured. Thank you in advance.

Regards, Kuchiki Byakuya

'Regards'? Bastard.

Then again, this went to prove Captain Kuchiki really was not an expert judge of character. Mayuri would sooner swallow acid (which he did sometimes whenever he was in the mood for developing a new unnecessarily potent drug) than let somebody boss him around. Maybe Byakuya's wish would have come true if he hadn't worded it like this. He moved his creepy chin-scratching down to his neck and stuck out his tongue, and his eyes darted around in different directions.

Yes, there was only one way to deal with this.

___

Your latest venture was therapy, so you set up office hours and everything.

You were one of the few people from Division Twelve who ever saw the sun more than once a month. Though Mayuri didn't like this 'going outside' thing you tended to do since it prevented him from supervising you, he never sent out someone to track you since that was similar to admitting defeat, and he never went looking for you because you thrived on negative attention. And, really, he had better things to do.

Then there was his method of surveying. When word got out he had set up cameras everywhere, it turned into a discussion about HR violations, since a lot of his subordinates filed complaints about it because he scared them shitless. His ability to monitor them when he wasn't in the immediate vicinity had disconcerted them. The Gotei 13 held a meeting about it, but then it turned in a two-hour debate during which Mayuri insisted that the other Captains were morons for not doing the same as him, and the matter never got settled.

After this, you called him a 'peeping Tom' and Mayuri publically denounced you as a degenerate. But that was beside the point and wasn't even the first time he had done so.

Since no one elected themselves as a subject to your counseling, you decided to satisfy your curiosity by forcing your therapy onto someone. Not that everybody avoided your services because you were stupid. Some people suspected you had so many screws loose because you knew so much you went crazy.

Mostly, the problem was that whatever you had planned was guaranteed to be unpleasant.

Byakuya was a skilled captain, so he considered himself competent enough to know when he's being followed, but this kind of stalking was different. For one, it was not very subtle.

"Hello, Captain Kuchiki," you said while saluting him.

Byakuya didn't answer, instead opting to keep walking.

"Hi," you tried again. "Hello."

He halted. Humoring you never fared well for anyone, but he figured if he spared you a few seconds, you would get bored and leave, so he turned and looked at you with steely eyes. Your smile did not waver.

When Byakuya was in a bad mood, he went outside and brooded while looking at the cherry blossoms. You had noticed that during your daily patrols around the Seireitei grounds. It was a bit auto-fellating, but you weren't here to judge. That wasn't what therapy was about.

You raised your hand and asked, "You and Captain Zaraki haven't been getting along, right?"

"We never get along," he said.

At this, you whipped out a scrapbook and a pen, and scribbled something. "It's been worse. Why's that?"

Levelly, he said, "I don't see how my personal affairs concern you."

"My observations tell me his vast bosom distracts you. That's no good for a captain, so of course I'm concerned." There was mock pity in your tone.

Appalled by what he just heard, Byakuya rose an eyebrow. Like he would ever look at that barbarian's 'bosom,' even if it was, in fact, huge. Maybe willingly poisoning yourself over and over was messing with your head. Apparently you took his silence as a cue to continue because then you said,

"And you've been angsting by the trees more than usual. It points to feelings of betrayal and self-loathing." That was how you interpreted his behavior after you gathered information from some books in the library, at least. Division Twelve didn't have a psychology department, and you were seeking to change that, but Captain Kurotsuchi had told you to get lost, and that it'd be more suitable for Squad Four, and blah blah blah. So now you have turned it into everyone else's problem.

He did not know how you gathered that from his vacant stare at some plants, or even how long you had been at this, but then he remembered the therapy poster you had put up all over the hallways. That was a few months ago.

"It's in your best interest to keep quiet," Byakuya advised. Captain Kurotsuchi also said this to you many times, in less refined language, but what was in your best interest never entertained you, so you pressed the issue.

"You don't need to take out your guilt on Captain Zaraki," you said. "He doesn't understand. It's not helping."

Again, Byakuya did not dignify that with a response, but his stare bore into you harder. Good, so he was listening. It seemed your expertise had rendered him speechless. This could only be a sign for you to keep going,

"Have you considered your celibacy is making you unpleasant?"

"What?"

"Like, your sexual frustration because of your fifty year long dry spell? It's making you irritable."

"What."

"Abarai is having a terrible time, Captain, I can tell."

Byakuya tensed his jaw and reached for his sword, though he didn't know if he could justify this kill in a report. Maybe he should leave the job to Kurotsuchi instead? At least he could pass it off as an accident during an experiment or something. You smiled, and it was unnerving because he couldn't anticipate what other horrible thing you could say.

He figured his best course of action was leaving and you wrote 'DENIAL' in your scrapbook. Then, before he could escape out of earshot range, you asked, "Are you not coping with bisexuality well, Captain Kuchiki?"

He shunpo'd to the other side of the Seireitei. You considered this a job well-done because Byakuya would probably need real therapy after this conversation, and maybe if he demanded for it, someone would consider making a suitable department somewhere.

___

"We need to talk."

You ignored Captain Kurotsuchi and continued typing up the report you needed to do, which provoked him into yanking you by the shoulder.

"I said we need to talk," he ordered.

"Oh, you're so desperate for my attention," you said in a shrill voice which usually made him mad, but this time he brushed it off. You tapped your chin curiously at his unusual behavior and he led the way since apparently he thought he was above providing an explanation.

While you stood in front of him in his laboratory, Mayuri reached for something crumpled on his desk and unfurled it. "I received this," he said, and you leaned closer to squint your eyes and try to read it. You skimmed it and noticed that he had been nice enough to underline 'I would hereby like to request [L/n] [Y/n]'s expulsion.' with red in case you somehow missed it.

A grin split your face and you pretended to be sheepish and wrung your hands together behind your back. "You know, I didn't expect him to be so sensitive about it," you said. "I mean, I know his wife's dead, but it's been fifty years, right?"

Mayuri didn't care about Byakuya's melodrama, and neither did you, since you were being so callous about it. So at least neither of you needed to address that. And your sad attempts at matchmaking a widowed man wasn't something he knew about, so you could shift the focus of the conversation.

"Ya think he's gonna need therapy after all that?"

"Not this again," said Mayuri. "Now that Captain Kuchiki, whose mental health I don't care about, has written me this letter, there's only one logical course of action."

"And that is?" You batted your eyelashes. "You're not letting me go, are you?"

Mayuri massaged his temples. "Could you stop being a pest for five seconds? I know it's hard for you to ignore your innate desire to be the most annoying creature on the planet since you have no sense of self-regulation-"

"See, I read about that in the psychology books. They claim I'm hedonistic."

"-but I'm trying to give you a promotion here."

When he said this, you both examined each other thoroughly for a few seconds. After a long bout of silence, you burst out into laughter and Captain Kurotsuchi ground his teeth together into his usual lunatic smile before he threw away Byakuya's note in the trash bin.

Only you and him would find rewarding a request for expulsion with a promotion funny.

Between making out in various attempts to drug one another, the many foiled assassination plans on both sides, and the brief time you spent as liquid in a labeled jar, you did not expect messing with Captain Kuchiki would be all it took to quell your hundreds of years long feud with Mayuri. Of course, the truce was only temporary since you loved to hate each other. Still, it was... sort of progress.

"Maybe I should piss off Captain Zaraki and make it to nineteenth seat."

Mayuri snarled, "Don't push it, I'm just being generous today." Besides, the more he thought about it, the less likely it was that both Kenpachi and the toddler could write a letter even if they collaborated. Sleep deprivation must have influenced his first imagining of the scenario.

___

Word of your promotion traveled, which made people question if you and Captain Kurotsuchi had 'squashed the beef,' which was jargon the talented hero Kurosaki Ichigo introduced to Soul Society, since he had refused to acknowledge your abilities before this. The rumor was something you and Mayuri strategically spread, so Byakuya would find out because what you had in common (pettiness) usually tore you apart, but this time, it united you.

"It's like a sadomasochistic relationship," said Matsumoto, who found your eternal fighting with your captain hilarious. She loved when you guys argued in public. It was the best drama this job offered, which was also a little sad.

"No. Sadosadistic," Yumichika corrected, which made Matsumoto cheer, since it sounded even more amusing and dysfunctional. Though he had also coined it a few seconds ago, so maybe there was a term that was more applicable. He was also the most adamant in his agenda that the two of you were somehow romantically involved. Ever since the moment during which you gave Mayuri pink eye by grazing his eyeballs with your lashes, and the comment he made about it that traumatized Nemu and Akon, he had been convinced this was the case.

Maybe Nemu and Akon could be exhibits in your argument about opening a psychology department? Yes, splendid. Thank god Yumichika went and ruined their day that one time.

Ikkaku didn't know why he was even listening to this conversation. Perhaps he enjoyed the opportunity to ogle Yumichika and Matsumoto simultaneously, but that didn't require listening. So he tuned them out.

[razieltwelve]

A Thought

There are many criticisms that one might levy at younger generations, one of the strangest I have heard is that they can’t read or write cursive.

To which I would reply: so?

When was the last time you actually had to use cursive? It has been my experience that pretty much everyone now prefers any documents to be typed to ensure maximum legibility and uniformity. Moreover, there are some occupations where handwriting things seldom occurs since almost all communication is either verbal or, for important things, electronic to leave a paper trail.

The likelihood of someone having a particular skill is usually based on how useful that skill is to them. The sad fact is that although cursive looks quite beautiful when executed properly (and good grief is it awful when it’s not done properly), it simply isn’t required much anymore... which is why a lot of young people don’t know it.

It reminds of when some of my older relatives are shocked that the kids don’t know how to operate a cassette tape player. Why would they? CDs were already out of fashion when today’s kids were born, never mind cassette tapes. Conversely, I always tell my younger relatives not to be surprised if their grandparents don’t know how to operate Facebook or do all of the stuff a smart phone can do.

People are a product of their times. It’s a good idea to remember that.

[kaeyazuha]

hey ky :) sorry if this is a bother. i was just sort of feeling down and wanted to talk to someone, and since i come here to read your writing so often anyway i thought i'd try dropping a message? nothing too heavy! it's just that one of my closest friends told me they can't name a single thing they like about me, in those exact words, and it kind of broke my heart a little. i can't even be mad at them because for one thing, neither can i, and for another, they were saying it in a sort of introspective, self-critical way and if i got upset about the sentiment or wording i feel like i'd be making it about me, you know? they've only recently started opening up to me about their struggles and being honest about how they feel so i don't want them to have to lie to spare my feelings. but at the same time, it's like...not a single thing? why even be friends with me, then...? idk, i'm just a tiny bit sad :(

I'm so glad you came to me to talk about this, and I'm so sorry this happened.

Pardon the bluntness, but that is a horrible friend. I have a lot of people I hate. Absolutely despise. But I can name something good about them. I have this old friend, absolute piece of crap: manipulative, rude, abusive, you name it. But I remember she had the prettiest handwriting and the loveliest singing voice. There was this guy, he was a perv. Hated him. But I remember he was a skilled artist who loved nature.

It doesn't matter what a person is like, there is always something to love or at least like about them. The only reason you wouldn't be able to find something is either you're not looking hard enough, or you're trying to make the other person feel bad.

You have every right to make that about you. Your friend insulted you, and it wasn't okay at all. Coming from someone who's had more bad friends then good, there could be plenty of reasons they're friends with you. Maybe they wanted a shoulder to cry on. Maybe they thought you were a good therapist. Maybe they really do like you and are just absolutely terrible at showing it. Or, maybe they really like you and are lying to you to try and keep you distanced. Some people do this if they're uncomfortable with feeling loved or loving someone, or sometimes the idea of having friends scares them. It depends on the person.

Just from this message I can tell a few things. You're a good person, who wants to please others. You want to feel loved as others do. You're caring, sweet, and empathetic. I hardly know you and I can say this as a fact, so they truly have no excuse.

If you want advice, I recommend talking to them about this. However, if they try and play victim, gaslight you, etc, leave them immediately. More info below the cut about this situation if you're interested.

A few things they might say if they're trying to manipulate you could be: "why are you making this about you?" "you're being dramatic" "how could you say that to me?" "i guess i'm a horrible friend then" And other things along these lines. This is your cue to leave them.

If they're trying to gaslight you: "I never said that/that never happened." "you're making things up." "it was just a joke." "why are you bringing up the past?" "you're overreacting." This is another cue to leave.

If they try and take the situation and make it about them or accuse you of anything, they aren't worth your time. HOWEVER on a more positive note, here are some good signs.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it that way." "I'm sorry it came off like that, what I really meant was..." "I promise I didn't mean it like that." Or something along these lines. I can't guarantee these lines are honest, but it's a step in the right direction if they mean it when they say it.

But honestly, in my opinion? I don't think this is a relationship worth keeping.

[justalexisfine]

From what your posts have been about, they do seem very panicky, that one memory you are referring to. /lh

I like ranting but most of the time I do not know what to talk about. I suppose you'll get more lengthy responses out of me while kinshifted to Ula (like right now) than let's say, if you talk to me when kinshifted as Frankie, or just in my usual mindstate. I suppose this is because I often opt for a more novelistic approach to my scribial communication, as it makes me feel like I am back in the time I am supposed to be. I am somewhat tech savvy now, yes, but that's because I've lived in this life for eighteen years now. If I were not to have the memories or skills acquired from this current life, I guarantee I would be fumbling like someone's great grandparent. If I could, I would be using parchment and quill, but alas, those things are quite expensive, and I am left handed. /lh

nodnod

I like ranting as well, although I have the same problem that you do. I usually don't know what to talk about. plus, I only rant if I'm in the mindset for it, really /gen, lh

the way I write depends on what mindstate I'm in as well. for example: if I'm either excited or panicking/anxious, there'll be a lot of short paragraphs and vague sentences. if I'm in a critical mindset and am looking to rant about something, then I'll probably compile it into two lengthy/mid paragraphs at minimum. it all depends on my mood, really /gen

I would prefer to write in a notebook (my thoughts, I mean), but I'm afraid that my parents will find it or that I will lose it. plus, my handwriting can be quite illegible at times /lh

[cyborg-franky]

What Kind Of Fanfiction Writer Are They Part One

I am sorry if this has been done before but I wanted some silliness to get me out my funk <3 I will add more.

Ace

Always writing that amateur porn.

Would be into reader x content.

Him with everyone he has a crush on.

His handwriting is rather lovely, and you are shocked when you read in cursive ‘Then he dicked them down good and hard’

Always, always asks people for spelling help.

Every five seconds Marco hears ‘MARCO HOW DO YOU SPELL..’ and it’ll be some gross fetish word that Marco has never heard of and Googles, is never the same again.

Depending on his mood it’ll either be short snappy or so much detail you had no idea someone could write 2k about someone giving head.

Honestly, it’s a talent.

Crudely typed but he is having a great time.

Argues and fights with his beta reader, like to the death.

“What do you mean you can’t fit that much in? what are you? A fucking doctor?”  he would snap “Actually, yes, I am, yoi.” And yet Ace scoffs and insists that’s how the human body works

Downs energy drinks until he’s too shaky to type.

Marco

He is the type of writer that sits down, looks at his paper and then does everything but write.

Plays with the feather on his pen, he’s already done lots of paperwork today is he in the mood?

Would be the type that uses too many commas and doesn’t know when to end a sentence. Ends up with written rambling.

The page is covered in doodles.

Would let his discord distract him, a lot¸ would be into gossip with friends more than working on anything.

Does 200 words and calls it a day.

Has a folder full of WIPs

Bet he still has solitaire on the computer and ends up spending three hours playing that completely on accident.

Likes to write with a cup of coffee.

Has published maybe one thing since he started his blog.

Translates anything he does manage to finish into bird.

Often forgets the point of his story halfway through and it’s jarring to his readers and people are just “Oh, that’s just Marco.”

Thatch

That bitch is a master author

Regular Danielle Steel.

Sits with a bottle of wine though he takes it a glass at a time, sits with his hair in a towel, wearing a fluffy robe and slippers.

Swirling around his wine in the glass while he monologues aloud.

“Oh Thatch! That’s great.” He says with a chuckle.

Has many cheesy romance novels out there in the Grandline.

Rayleigh himself has a stash.

Thatch will sit down and pound out 4k words in like two hours and it’ll all be cheesy crap but he loves it, publishes it and stocks it in everyone’s rooms.

Ace has used it as a firelighter before, Marco just stumbles on it by accident, Haruta launches it at people in a hit and run.

It’s always about a handsome cook who has long flowing hair and steals hearts.

He will sign every copy.

Giggles when he writes something dirty ‘girthy member’ has him chortling to himself over his glass of wine.

Izou

NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN.

Thatch begs him to let him read it first and help him.

Izou just ignores every comment and correction, and passive-aggressively gives each comment a thumbs up.

Or a >/ face.

Izou will write so much action, it’ll always be gunfights and dresses, gunfights and fashion for sure.

Izou will go into so much detail about what his characters are wearing, you will get bored of the 500 words on the outfit, stick with it because the epic fight scene will bring you back.

OVERUSES CAPITALS TO MAKE A POINT.

Thatch and Marco read over it, eyes wide as they turn to Izou who narrows his eyes “No, I don’t take criticism, thanks.”

Izou is bad at romance, he just writes it like ‘And they kissed, and they were in love and then they did this and that’ before going into more detail about gunfights.

Drinks a lot of green tea, surroundings himself in scented candles, has a face mask on while smashing the keys like they owe him money.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[lukasspookas]

My Linked Universe headcanons that are DEFINITELY NOT just me projecting

Time:

Has trouble seeing himself as an actual person, often feels like he's living someone else's life

Loves to sing, sneaks it in wherever he can, much to either the delight or annoyance of the rest of the chain

Plays the guitar, likes to duet with Malon

Has suppressed his emotions so much for so long he has trouble fully feeling them

Dissociates a lot, relates to Wild with this as well as shared trauma over involuntary time travel and permanent loss of certain life experiences and feeling as though they were "too late"

Makes a lot of those "Dad Grunts" where he makes a sound every time he even slightly exerts himself

Speaks fairy language, sometimes has secret little conversations with Hyrule that no one else gets

Feels responsible for everyone, as though he has to protect and defend each and every one of them despite the fact they are all quite capable

Talks to animals a lot, has that in common with Twilight and Hyrule

Got his armor engraved by the Gorons as a gift for helping them

Twilight

Allergic to cats but doesn't care

Has horrible handwriting, writes emo poems about Midna, shared them with Shad once who loved his writing and encouraged him to keep it up

Cannot. Dance.

Will growl at you like that one furry kid in middle school

Really awkward relationship with Zelda, never knows what to say because their only shared experiences are their relationship with Midna and traumatic experiences with Ganondorf and Zant

Very much an older brother sort to Wild and Wind especially

Talks to animals a lot, especially cats, goats, dogs, birds, and bugs

Herds the others like a sheepdog (shocker!)

Not very fond of social interaction, much much much prefers books and animals

Kids either think he is really cool or terrifying, either way it's a confidence boost

Sky

Taps his fingers, flaps his hands, and stims a lot when he's happy

Speaks eloquently until he stutters and his voice cracks horribly and he gets flustered

Loves simple but nice things, especially handmade things, really gets along with Four because of their shared love of handmade goods

Has ADHD, spaces out a lot

Loves feeling cozy, bundles up at every opportunity

Tends to think his problems aren't as important as the others'

Has athsma and terrible stamina, can't run for more than a few seconds

Feels obligated to fix and help everything because he feels like every thing bad in the others' lives is his fault

Sleep is his go-to coping mechanism

All of his dreams are about Sun, some are fluffy and sweet, others are dark and disturbing

Has OCD, does a lot of rituals like counting and having to fold all his clothes a specific way

Feels happiest when he's helping others

Wind

Can accidentally be very loud when he gets excited during a conversation

Can't tell the difference between a lobster and a crab

ADHD to the max

Surprisingly good at giving advice (he is a big brother after all)

Loves spending time with the others, but feels guilty for taking up their time

Passionate about a lot of things that he never really gets the chance to talk about, tends to overshare accidentally

Feels like he's annoying to the others, which is quickly reacted to with reassurance and kindness

Hates dry air with a passion

Very respectful to the elderly unless they're jerks

Four

Middle child syndrome, very good at solving problems

Overly critical of himself, never satisfied with his own work

Can't eat anything even remotely spicy (thinks bell peppers, cinnamon, and some cheeses are spicy, which Wild finds ridiculous)

Has a special interest in smithing and swordsmanship, knows everything there is to know about metal and weapons

Makes gifts for the others all the time

Eats lots of little snacks throughout the day as opposed to a few large meals

Embroiders his clothing as a coping mechanism for stress

Has OCD, constantly checking to make sure his swords aren't broken or rusted, won't step on cracks in the dirt or road, has to sheath his sword a certain amount of time

Really bad tinnitus caused by the colors constantly buzzing in his brain, likes to listen to Time sing and Sky play the harp to cope

Warriors

Feels bad for the others because of how unlucky they are and how underappreciated they were, has some guilt over the hero worship he received

Goes out of his way to make sure others know they're appreciated and important

Always on edge, can't relax, always anticipating the next fight anxiously

Doesn't know anything outside of war and battle

Treats others kindly because making others happy makes him feel confident and happy

Has anxiety over measuring up to the expectations of being "The Hero" and "The Captain," acts confident because he thinks it'll make him confident

Doesn't care for rich or sweet foods

Always giving the others advice and compliments in order to make sure they feel appreciated

Legend

Emotionally distant with the others because he's lost so many people that he doesn't want to get too attached for fear of losing them too

Wishes he didn't care as much about the others as he does

Swears a lot, often in other languages

Gives the others "anonymous" gifts (everyone knows it's him, they just don't say anything)

Severely touch starved but also scared of physical contact

Hates the sound of his own voice, wishes and often imagines he had a voice like Sky or Time but would never admit it

Loves sweets

Can tell you an extensive story about every single item in his collection

He collects items because he's been on so many adventures that without souvenirs he fears he would forget them altogether

Likes doing art but thinks all his art is bad

Will not tolerate self deprecating comments, aggressive positivity

Allergic to flowers

Wild

Extreme insomnia, scared if he sleeps he will wake up with no memory again

Not great at emotional vulnerability, but will always try to be there for the others when he can, even if he doesn't know exactly what to say

Wants to try everything because he is afraid of truly dying and losing the opportunity to do so, makes the most of every moment

Loves colors and sounds, tries to appreciate every little detail of life that he can

Asks a lot of questions, doesn't want to miss anything

Keeps a journal for fear of forgetting things again

Utterly and completely tone deaf, can't sing or play any instrument whatsoever

Despite this, quite likes music as it eases his tinnitus, sustained from his injuries from 100 years ago

Doesn't really understand gender or sexuality, doesn't use labels for himself

Loves architecture, takes pictures of it whenever he can, wants to become an architect to help rebuild his world

Hyrule

Easily drained by social interaction but enjoys it nonetheless

Loves animals, especially bugs, will hold them and talk to them for hours

Sees the others as stronger and nobler and more heroic than himself

Very strong ADHD, often wanders off by accident because he thought he saw or heard something

Swears a lot (even more than Legend) but not to be mean, it's just how he talks

Tries not to swear around Sky because he knows it makes him uncomfortable but still slips every now and then, he apologizes furiously but Sky assures him it's ok

Very good at singing but very insecure about singing in front of others, loves learning folk songs and stories, has them memorized

Doesn't ask for help very much because it makes him feel weak, when he does, he goes to Time, who counsels him with understanding, patience, and kindness

Wears loose clothing, hates it when his clothes cling tightly to him

Feels he doesn't deserve comfort or luxury

Gets panic attacks randomly, hides up in trees and sings to himself softly when they happen

Likes to compare he and Wild's bone collections

Dyslexia and nearsightedness, couldn't read or do math to save his life

Can't cook, prefers to just eat herbs and fruit straight from the source

Like Legend, is severely touch starved but isn't fond of physical contact

Doesn't find anyone annoying

Sorry this is really long

[oikawaplssteponme]

Kyotani Kentaro Headcanons

pairing: Kyotani Kentaro x reader

warnings: none (besides my simp commentary oops)

word count: 1,102 words

genre: fluff, hc style

synopsis: includes my personal hc’s on kyotani’s confession to you, your first date, relationship, the first “I love you”, and just some extra thoughts :))

a/n: hii im back after a much needed mini break💕i never write hc’s so this was actually really fun :)) let me just say that we don’t show him enough love and that needs to change 💕

Confession

•i am a firm believer that when he confessed to you he didn’t tell you face to face

•he instead wrote you just a plain sticky note and taped it to either your locker or a belonging of yours

•you instantly knew it was from him by his unique handwriting

•the sticky note probably read “will you go out with me? please.”

•please im so soft for him

•of course you would say yes and went to go find him immediately

•when he realized that you were looking for him, he’d totally freeze in his spot

•he was SO incredibly nervous to give you the little note because he hates being vulnerable

•so when you said yes, he could finally breath again

•he has an adorable smile when he is comfortable enough to show it and no i will not be taking criticism

First Date

•two words

•botanical gardens

•he would take you to go look a pretty flowers and butterflies while the day turns to night

•also since he hasn’t been in too many dates in his life, he over dressed (but in the best way possible)

•Kyotani would take note and try to remember any names of the flowers that you mentioned were pretty

•also when you got to the area where the butterflies were, he got so nervous

•the butterflies soon befriended him and began to land on his head

•he chuckled softly as he stayed almost completely still as to not scare them away

•(you took a picture of him with all the butterflies on him and set it as your wallpaper)

•you would tell him he looked cute and he just would not know how to respond

•his face would get all pink and flustered by your simple words

•you two didn’t do much talking in the beginning, more so you matched each other’s energy

•please he would be so hesitant to take your hand but you’d notice right away and grab his

•his hands were meant to be held PLEASE

•after the gardens he would take you to maybe grab a snack before dropping you off

•he ALWAYS opens the door for you and walks you to your doorstep

•ALWAYS

Relationship

•once he is comfortable enough, he never wants to leave your side

•i personally think that his love language is quality time or physical touch

•he could be curled up on a couch with you and be happy for the entire night

•also because he remembers your first date a lot, he tries to get you flowers whenever he can

•okay this next one is probably my favorite hc

•when he is driving and he spots a field of flowers

•he will pull over to the side of the road to pick you a fresh bouquet

•PLEASE KIND SIR I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

•okay so obviously he dyes his hair

•you always help him make sure that the lines of brown are exactly where he wants them

•kyotani will stand in between your legs as you sit on the bathroom counter painting his hair

•he once let you do a fun design on his hair too

•like i mentioned i think his love language is physical touch so i think he really enjoys head massages

•he isn’t super big on PDA but he will hold your hand in public

•when it’s just the two of you, he likes to rest his head on your lap

•he likes feeling close to you

•he absolutely ADORES you and would honestly be so lost without you

•you bring the best out of him, loving all his rough patches that he dislikes

The first “I love you”

•he knew he loved you far before he even told you

•he knew he wanted to tell you, he just didn’t know how

•he wasn’t sure if he should go the casual route or make a grand gesture

•he planned on doing the grand gesture

•he ended up just blurting it out

•you were at one of his volleyball matches

•front row of course

•he would glance over to you every few seconds to make sure you were enjoying yourself

•you would shout his name, cheer him on

•his teammates thought it was cute

•it was a pretty important match and it was game point

•kyotani was up to serve

•a perfect ace

•you were absolutely over the moon

•you rushed onto the court, not even thinking twice

•kyotani embraced you in a tight hug as the crowd continued to roar

•you whispered how proud you were of him

•he whispered that he loved you

•he looked at you with widened eyes, fearing that he shouldn’t have said that

•the kiss you gave him reassured him that you felt the same

•he says I love you a lot now

•he just can’t believe that someone as wonderful as you would love him too

•you always say it back as well

•also he never says “love you”

•it’s ALWAYS “I love you Y/N”

Extra HC’s

•i'm not sure why but i have a feeling he is lowkey a gamer??

•like not kenma level but enough to be pretty good

•he likes to game while you sit next to him, either just head on his chest or you’re doing your own thing

•he lets you paint his nails (usually just black though or a dark blue)

•you two have a lot of matching hats

•he wears a beanie all winter to keep his head warm

•he once asked you if you liked the idea of him wearing rings and you stopped functioning

•he now wears some nice rings hehe

•kyotani bought the two of you mini cacti

•his has a little yellow flower on top of it

•he isn’t one to use a lot of pet names but when he does it’s usually a “honey” or “sweetheart”

•he enjoys going on different date adventures so you’ve never gone on the same date twice (unless you really want to)

•he has a really deep singing voice and ONLY lets you hear it

•also besides volleyball, in the summer time he is part of a baseball league

•he grew out of the whole “being angry all the time” thing in high school, now he is just a little more reserved

•he’s protective of you but not to the point where it’s annoying

•he just wants to make sure you are safe and happy at all times :))

in conclusion show my mans more love😌💕 hope you enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful ]

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Phoenix in the Cloud

Narrated by Luanyun.

Narrator: It all began when the peach blossoms were in bloom, and banquets were filled with nobles throughout the day.

Narrator: People were partying to celebrate the spring. They wrote poems praising the best season in Cloud Empire.

Narrator: I thought I might be the only person who was terminally bored in this huge palace.

You: Is this the Cloud Palace? Who are you?

Narrator: I’m Princess Luanyun of Cloud Empire.

Handmaiden: The critic Sean wishes to invite you for a discussion.

Luanyun: No. He’s a fool unworthy of my presence.

Maid: What about reading Miss Whitney’s new novel?

Luanyun: That so-called bestselling author? Same-old, same-old. I’m tired of her.

Maid: Maybe you could listen to music then? Mr. Yuan Ming...

Luanyun: Throw his albums away. He smokes so much that all his albums smell like tar.

Choose either “You seemed too harsh” or “Nothing interesting?”

If “harsh,” ...

You: Aren’t you too hard on them? They’re all famous for their works.

Luanyun: Everyone has the right to be picky, including me. I demand better. Should I apologize for having good taste?

If “interesting,” ...

You: Is there anything you’re interested in?

Narrator: It doesn’t matter how good they are, they’re all lacking in originality because I’ve seen so much.

--

Maid: There’s a show starring Qin Yi at the Grand Capital Theater tonight. Would you like to attend?

Narrator: Ling, the maid, looked expectantly at me. She just played her trump card.

Luanyun: Fine. The Fair One’s shows are nothing new, but his costumes are always interesting.

Ling: I’ll get everything ready.

Narrator: The show was average, but my attention drifted at the end.

Luanyun: What is that, Ling?

Ling: Huh? I’m sorry, Your Highness, I was watching the show...

Narrator: I ignored Ling and stood up to grab the notebook in the corner.

Narrator: Its owner left it behind, and it helped me kill time.

Narrator: The handwriting was beautiful, with the first half detailing his thoughts on Qin Yi’s shows.

Narrator: And there was an unfinished script for the second half.

Choose either “What kind of story is it?” or “Wait, doesn’t it belong to someone else?”

If “story,” ...

Narrator: A story of a princess falling in love with a commoner. Somewhat naive, but sympathetic... It wasn’t bad.

If “else,” ...

Narrator: I’ll keep it for now.

--

Narrator: Although the emotions were genuine, the knowledge about nobles was lacking...

Ling: Wait, you can’t go in there!

Young Man: I’m a playwright. I watched a play here this afternoon and forgot my notebook!

Ling: I didn’t see a notebook. Anyway, you can’t go in.

Young Man: It won’t take long. I’ll grab it and leave right away. Just give me two minutes. Please?

Ling: No, you can’t go in!

Narrator: Ling was having a noisy argument that disrupted my reading and annoyed me.

Luanyun: Let him in, Ling.

Narrator: As soon as he entered, his eyes firmly locked onto the notebook in my hand. He looked at it as though it were a treasure.

Young Man: Thanks for holding onto that. It’s mine. Can you return it to me?

Luanyun: You call yourself a playwright? There’s no way your work is selling.

Young Man: How rude! You just read someone’s private notes and you have the audacity to rant?

Luanyun: Am I wrong? Your story is completely implausible and you know nothing of noble life. It’s ridiculous!

Narrator: His face flushed with shame and his eyes flashed with anger. Strangely enough, he didn’t quarrel.

Young Man: If you’re going to insult my writing for inaccuracy, at least tell me what’s wrong.

Luanyun: Where do I start? You had the princess wearing a 12-layered dress for a walk in the garden. Why?

Luanyun: A true noble doesn’t need to constantly flaunt themselves. The elegance just comes off naturally.

Narrator: I was surprised he wasn’t upset at my sarcasm. All his anger changed into introspection.

Young Man: You’re right. I can’t use her noble status as a crutch. She’s her own person with her own life.

Luanyun: Maybe you should do more research. The New Book of Jade does regular stories on Cloud Empire Royalty.

Young Man: Got it. Can you tell me more about what’s wrong?

Luanyun: I’m afraid I can’t. I should go, and you should, too.

Narrator: Maybe it was fate because something stopped me from leaving when I wanted to.

Ling: It’s starting to rain, Prin... Miss. We’ll have to wait a bit before we can leave... Hey, why were you still here?

Luanyun: Forget it. He can wait here, too.

Young Man: Can we discuss more about the script, then?

Luanyun: You are persistent.

Narrator: He was naive and didn’t hide his love of art. As soon as he started talking about anything creative, he couldn’t stop.

Young Man: My family has been a military family. No one had a creative cell in their body, and they don’t understand my dreams...

Young Man: I ran off to the capital in anger, thinking I had to get away. But guess what?

Luanyun: You must have hit a wall.

Young Man: Yeah. I haven’t sold a single script for a year.

Luanyun: If you want to change careers, you could make ends meet from ghostwriting.

Young Man: No, you’ve inspired me. I will finish this script. I’m going to be the world’s greatest playwright!

Young Man: When this play premieres, I’ll save a front-row seat just for you, who saved my script!

Narrator: I was amazed by his confidence. He’d been a big fish in a small pond, but he was in the Cloud Capital now, where few succeed.

Narrator: His eyes were wide and bright like a child’s. I swallowed what I was going to say.

Narrator: But I still didn’t think he could succeed. This chance encounter would be the first and last time we saw each other.

Narrator: Yet I thought about it a lot because... well, I counted as a contributor to the script.

Luanyun: Did he finish the script?

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[sunlightandsuffering]

Inspired by the emails I get every semester to be a note taker for the accessible learning centre!! I was wondering what happened if someone took shitty notes 😂😂 and of course it would be Eren, Mikasa's would be neat as fuck.

Mikasa takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself as she looks at the mess of printing scrawled onto the paper in front of her. Deep breaths Mikasa, she can do this, she will not erupt into sobs yet again because this idiot's notes are barely legible.

God how she wished she could just take her own notes.

Mikasa was unable to take notes because of her poor eyesight, she had glasses sure, and sitting at the front of the room helped, but overall, it was just really difficult for her to take proper notes so quickly during her morning political science class, especially when there were just so many. The sheer volume of information her professor presented on the slides and her refusal to make the slides available to students wasn't helpful. Mikasa could barely keep up, struggling to work through what all the words said, squinting up at the projector despite her insanely high perscription glasses. She wasn't blind, but she definitely didn't have the greatest vision either.

So, Mikasa had decided to apply to the student accessibility centre in hopes of enjoying the benefits of the peer-note-taking program, in which another student in her class would take notes for a small monetary credit on their student account.

She'd thought it would help supplement her own class notes, and include things that she missed.

What a load of crap that had been. Mikasa had no idea how they even chose the idiot taking her notes, every week after class she'd get an email from eyeager17@gmail.com with an upload of his written notes. Every time they were an absolute mess. The first time the notes had basically been illegible, pen smudges, 'a's that looked like 'u's and half cursive, half printing, she hadn't even known where to start.

She'd sent a very polite but curt email back asking if maybe next week he could type his notes as she was having difficulty reading his handwriting.

He'd sent her a happy faced emoji she could only assume meant he would fix it.

And he had, the next week she'd recieved typed up notes, only to find somehow they were still no better, he'd typed everything in comic sans, who uses comic sans to type notes???? Not to mention his lack of bullet points, it was just literal paragraphs of lecture notes, like he hadn't even taken the time to think critically about what he was actually taking notes on. She could have gotten the same notes by just using the voice to text function on her computer.

She'd sent yet another email and gotten yet another happy face in response but to no avail because the week after it was a new problem.

To his credit, he did try and fix whatever she had difficulty with, but every week it was a new issue, this week he was having difficulty categorizing the notes and different lecture topics were smushed together, sentences that started on one page and ended on another, it was a mess. He'd even added diagrams, probably thinking he was helpful, but it only made it more confusing.

She wanted to give up on it all entirely, this was not helping.

But she couldn't do poorly in this class, it was supposed to be a GPA booster for her. So Mikasa had headed towards the centre for accessible learning in hopes of talking to someone about the issue, maybe she could request another note-taker?

She arrives a few minutes after twelve, a pretty dead time as most people were either in class or eating lunch, so it was just her and another student loitering in the main lobby space, waiting to be helped by the desk clerk who was currently on the phone.

Mikasa couldn't help how her eyes slid to observe the boy, he was cute. She was a little blind, but not that blind, it was more words on glowing screens she had trouble with than attractive boys.

He's cute, very cute. Wavy chestnut tucked into a bun at the nape of his neck, the prettiest green eyes she'd ever seen, more intense than emeralds, and a killer body. He was so pretty.

He looked back at her in line briefly before turning back to the front of the line. To her immense amusement though he does a double take, turning back around fully to see her, and oh she knows that look, it's the look of mutual interest in his eyes as he turns his entire body towards her. "Hi." "Hi," she responds quietly because even his voice is attractive, deep and rich.

He grins, flashing white teeth and even his smile is perfect. "We might be here for a while, she's been on the phone for ten minutes already," the boy gestures towards the desk clerk who is angrily speaking into the phone and Mikasa giggles. "I don't think I'll mind too much." Not with him around at least, but she doesn't say that. "So what's your name, I'm Eren," He holds out a hand to shake and Mikasa takes is gracefully. His palms are so much bigger than her own, so much warmer. "I'm Mikasa." His eyebrows quirk a little as she says her name but he shakes it off, not saying anything, "Pretty name for a pretty girl." She blushes, "Thank you."

"So Mikasa what are you here for?" "Umm," she doesn't want to sound like a dick, but she doesn't want to lie either, so she sighs deeply, choosing the messy truth. "My eyesight isn't the best so I need accomodations for lecture notes. Unfortunately, whoever is doing my notes isn't the best at it." Eren barks out a laugh, "I see, can I ask just what about them is so terrible?" Nothing gets Mikasa more riled up than poorly written notes, so without even considering why Eren might be so interested she launches into a heated discussion about lecture notes. "Where do I even start, he uses comic sans to type notes! Why would he do that, everyone knows comic sans is the hallmark of unprofessionalism."

Eren chuckles, "Maybe he just likes the look of it." She shoots him an unimpressed look, "It drives me nuts." "What else?" "His printing is illegible and he doesn't organize his notes at all, he just slaps them all over the page! There's no discernible order to it at all!"

She's breathing hard as she continues to roast this poor boy and then immediately feels bad, he's doing her a favour. "He's not all bad though, he seems like a really great guy, I'm just really picky about my lecture notes. I'd love nothing more than to sit him down and teach him how to properly take notes, I don't even think he's learning anything."

That small grin is still on Eren's pretty face as he watches her, eyes sparkling with mirth, "How about right now then?" "What?" Mikasa looks up at him in confusion, what is he talking about. "How about you teach me right now how I should be taking notes Mikasa, if they're not up to your standard as you say." Mikasa sputters in shock, unsure whether to apologize or ask him why he writes such terrible notes.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Eren, I didn't know, you're really not that bad I promise I'm just really picky, I'm so sorry-"

Eren cuts her off with a finger to her lips, warm against her and she shuts up, that pretty gleam still in his eyes, "Don't worry about it Mikasa, you can make it up to me." "How?" She whispers as he pulls his index finger away.

"Take me out for lunch and we can talk. I think you should teach me how you want me to take notes, you seem to have a very specific vision."

"I do," She nods as Eren grabs her hand, dragging her out of the student accessibility centre and towards the campus restaurant.

"Perfect, it's a date." Mikasa nods mutely as Eren tugs her along by the hand, fingers interlacing with her own and she struggles to figure out how her obsession with good class notes got her here.

"Another thing, I think we should start sitting together in class."

How did she get this lucky ??

[atalienart]

I agree 100% with you. Okay, sometimes I'll write in a rush or something and that will show, but even that is something I've developed consciously, and it's not something one would need a Forensic graphologist to know, even I would know.

I have a lot of different types of calligraphy that I've developed for particular uses, mixing things I found beautiful with utility, and with tests, knowing how they would develop if I write on a rush, for instance, to know what the result will be (my b has a pretty loop to the right and my d has a pretty loop to the left, and they're fairly long; I did this because when rushing I shorten the letters due to swiftness, and the loop means always be able to tell them apart. Why the b to the right and the d to the left? I saw a pretty d once with a loop to the left, which I copied, and the b has to be its opposite).

I like calligraphy and I've always found forensic graphology interesting, but less so in its psychology related side, which I find very unreliable (and in fact I've read a lot of criticism about it and how it not always serves on court?). Of course I don't know anything, I don't pretend to know more than a professional, it just buffed me that it's something still used linked to psychology. I in general find these types of psychological readings very lacking, and I thought nowadays forensic graphology would be more about analysing handwriting and signatures, for instance, to determine if they're fake.

My thoughts exactly. Even the surface you're writing on or pen you're using can give different results. For me some pens just make my writing awful, but I love writing with pencils. Also, the language you're writing in makes a difference.

And changing your personality with writing seems like a completely fake concept. You might learn some patience learning calligraphy but will you get more confident or agressive if you start pushing your pen harder? I honestly doubt it. You could probably just hurt your wrist.

I believe you can use writing to logically deduce someone's personality or background e.g. if someone has very ellegant handwriting they were probably taught it, they might be patient or value beautiful things but it doesn't mean that "ugly" handwriting instantly means that someone doesn't like pretty things or isn't patient, maybe they just focused on other skills like painting, making music or gardening.

So yeah, I doubt handwriting can be a reliable source for psychological readings. Also, I heard a lot about how forensic graphology isn't 100% reliable in case of determining who wrote what either. But same as you, I'm not an expert in that field so people can take everything I wrote with a grain of salt. These are just my thoughts.

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) EVENT! 「眷然恋影」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: Zuo Ran Birthday 2021- Days to Re-Live Forever (4.20: Questionnaire Filling)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Will also be filed under Zuo Ran’s tag #Tears of a Lawyer *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event

4.18 / 4.20 / 4.22 / 4.24 / 4.26 Messages / Investigations / Call

Location: Cafe

Shortly after taking on the voluntary job, I'd soon accumulated enough points to redeem the Live-action Studio bookings.

But other than the additional, original movie props, I still had to prepare other little trinkets that Zuo Ran would like, along with a birthday cake.

In order to better understand his preferences in things, I'd specially edited the Film Museum's questionnaire. I'd added in a question about his likes and dislikes for him to fill.

Eventually, I found an opportunity to get him to fill the questionnaire out, during a break at work. I'd invited him out to the Cafe downstairs of our company. 

MC: (I really never knew that Robin had that many fans even offline...)

I'd gathered and heard countless people speak of the film critic, Robin, over the course of the past couple of days as I collected survey information.

Everyone had a myriad of wild guesses regarding this mysterious film critic, and the guesses about what his real identity might be was no different either.

But I still stick with my own stand on this. This Robin person should be Zuo Ran.

MC: (It's really interesting to be able to understand Lawyer Zuo from this point of view.)

Zuo Ran: Sorry for making you wait. I had to take a call, and it delayed me for quite a bit.

Zuo Ran's here. Ha laid his suit jacket out on the back of the chair before taking a seat opposite me.

MC: Not at all. I just came earlier, that's all.

MC: This is the Film Festival survey that I mentioned to you before, Lawyer Zuo. Could you fill it in for me?

Zuo Ran: Of course. Actually, there's no need for you to be buying me a cup of coffee for something this small.

I passed the survey that I'd added my own "personal touch" to, to him.

MC: You only ate lunch in a hurry earlier without taking a break at all. You'd have spent the entire afternoon being a busy bee if I didn't invite you out for a cup.

MC: Having a good work-life balance promotes efficiency; that's what you taught me.

Zuo Ran: You're really… I still can't win against you; however I might try.

Zuo Ran accepted the questionnaire and started filling it in without any other question whatsoever.

But looking at how serious he was when filling out the form made me involuntarily get the nervous jitters.

MC: (I'm sure he must find something odd about it once he sees the question about "What flavour of cake do you like?"...)

MC: (Haa, I'm only doing this because I'm out of ideas…)

For the past few days, I'd tried many different ways to find out what his preferences were, but they were all for naught. For example...

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Wednesday. Sister Zhao Xing and I collaborated with each other. I was going to take advantage of the opportunity that presented itself, when she requested to increase the Law Firm’s benefits, to ask Zuo Ran for his birthday preferences.

It all went smoothly at the start. We’d successfully brought up the topic of birthdays, and our colleagues all really got into the conversation regarding it.

But when I asked Zuo Ran about it...

MC: What about you, Lawyer Zuo? Would you like any birthday benefits?

Zuo Ran: I don’t really want anything in particular, so let’s just see what everyone else prefers.

MC: You can just throw anything out there, just as reference material for everyone to brainstorm about.

Zuo Ran: I…

Before he could say anything, however, his cell phone rang. And immediately afterwards, he’d been called away by his Client at the most opportune moment.

By the time he’d returned, the conversation about birthday benefits was already long over...

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: (I don’t think it’s all that obvious when I put my own private questions into the original questionnaire, right…?)

Paralysed by nerves at the side, I looked out for Zuo Ran’s reaction.

Sure enough, he frowned right after completing the first half of the survey.

Zuo Ran: Hm?

MC: What’s wrong, Lawyer Zuo?

Zuo Ran: “Hobbies and favourite colours” ...? Does the Film Festival’s Survey really require such information?

He pointed to the part that I'd added.

MC: ...Yes, this was specifically designed to be so. We can only do a more targeted analysis of the data if we understand everyone’s personal preferences.

Zuo Ran: Also, “What kind of souvenirs and cakes would you like to receive on your birthday”? This is also for data collection?

MC: Yup. I hear that the Museum intends to give all members birthday gifts. Very considerate, aren’t they?

Zuo Ran: ...Is that so? Alright then.

He nodded and continued filling in the survey without voicing any more objections.

MC: ……

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Zuo Ran: Okay, I'm done. Here, does this look okay?

Finally, the questionnaire was completed. I took it from him and flipped through the pages, seeing that every single question had been filled without any blanks left.

MC: Yes, yes. This will work perfectly!

Zuo Ran: That’s great then. Do you… Have anything else?

MC: Nope.

Zuo Ran’s gaze flitted between me and the questionnaire for a few seconds, hesitant to say anything more.

Zuo Ran: Really?

MC: Yes, really.

What’s the matter with him? He was sighing almost inaudibly.

Zuo Ran: All I did was to fill out a questionnaire; there’s no need for you to be so nervous.

Looks like my many different reactions to him earlier had only served to make him suspicious.

MC: Not at all, I’m just… Afraid that you might have found it a tad troublesome, considering the number of questions in there...

Zuo Ran: Don't be. It’s as easy as lifting a finger, I never once found it a hassle in any way at all.

Zuo Ran: If that’s all, then… I’ll be going back upstairs to continue with work.

MC: Alright, I’ll catch up with you soon.

Zuo Ran stood up, pausing as he moved to retrieve his jacket, shooting me a meaningful look as he did.

Zuo Ran: You really don't have to think of it as a bother to me. You can look for me anytime, if you require something.

MC: Okay… Sure.

It was only till I had seen his figure disappear out the door, that I realized just what he might have had misunderstood this for.

MC: (Please don't tell me that he thought that I'd run into some sort of trouble in life that I was too embarrassed to talk to him about…)

MC: (As someone who's his partner, being so polite with him over a mere questionnaire… That must have been a pretty big tell…)

But I can't explain anything to him, in the current situation. All I could do was go wait for his birthday to come to pass before I could even reveal anything to him.

With that in mind, I thoroughly read through the survey that he'd just completed.

MC: (As expected of Lawyer Zuo, he really did do his due diligence in filing everything up!)

It could be said that the manner in which the questionnaire was filled was very Zuo Ran-like— Not only was it done in impeccable handwriting, he even listed out the main points, his logic and thought flow displayed clearly for all to see.

He wasn't sloppy or careless at all, even with those questions I'd thrown into the fray as my own "personal touch". Thus, with this, I've now collected all the information I needed to work with.

MC: Great! Looks like I've finally succeeded this time! This method actually works pretty well, all things given.

I can now go shopping to buy the other props to use in decorating the studio after work's up!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Zuo Ran's Office

That night, Zuo Ran retrieved the book "Introduction to Love Psychology" again, after he'd finished up his work.

He flipped to the page on "Mutual crushes", his fingertip skimming through the lines.

Zuo Ran: "Signs that show that the opposing party has an interest in you…"

Zuo Ran: "1, initiative: They'll be proactive in asking you about your personal preferences and the like, including, but not limited to, inviting you out to places alone…"

Zuo Ran: “2, nervousness: They'll appear a little nervous, or won't quite know what to do with themselves, especially when alone with you.”

Zuo Ran: "Inviting you out to places alone", "Appears nervous"... All of these checkboxes have been ticked, but she still seemed more concerned about the completion of the questionnaire than anything else...

Probably going over the recollections of her many different reactions earlier in the day, he pondered over the un-complicated scene, mulling over it. His brow furrowed.

Zuo Ran: Although I don't understand what your thoughts about this are...

Zuo Ran: My feelings have always been the same.

Zuo Ran: I'll try to take it slow and convey it to you.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

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