#anyways sorry for rambling i really like this

[atlabeth]

(please) spare me indignity

pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies. 

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it. 

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box. 

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy. 

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break. 

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.” 

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?” 

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.” 

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well. 

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.” 

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?” 

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. 

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.” 

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open. 

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good. 

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home. 

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere. 

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds. 

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.” 

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away. 

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would. 

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again. 

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out. 

You frown. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask. 

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!” 

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.” 

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it. 

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. 

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.” 

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says. 

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it. 

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest. 

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.” 

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back. 

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.  

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason. 

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him. 

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself. 

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care. 

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away. 

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls. 

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” 

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly. 

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person. 

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.” 

-

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off. 

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are. 

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room. 

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn. 

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—” 

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look. 

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?” 

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask. 

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.” 

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says. 

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation. 

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize. 

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.” 

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.” 

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you. 

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one. 

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.” 

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it. 

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks. 

“Fine,” you say. 

He frowns. “Really?” 

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.” 

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—” 

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt. 

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says. 

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?” 

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—” 

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.” 

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.” 

“Am I not allowed to joke?” 

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.” 

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.” 

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?” 

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.” 

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—” 

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?” 

“A couple spoonfuls but—” 

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends. 

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.” 

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.” 

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?” 

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.” 

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you. 

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?” 

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says. 

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?” 

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.” 

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine. 

“Do they have any leads?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?” 

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.” 

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than  usual, but you drink it anyway. 

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.” 

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.” 

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.” 

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.” 

“You’re not going to die.” 

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.” 

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out. 

“Want one?” 

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.” 

“You should.” 

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock. 

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.” 

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?” 

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.” 

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.” 

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response. 

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now. 

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that. 

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you. 

-

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much. 

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever. 

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him. 

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true. 

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace. 

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion. 

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?” 

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.” 

Spencer sits up. “What is it?” 

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.” 

“Who is it?” he asks. 

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—” 

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.” 

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?” 

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.” 

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.” 

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.” 

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.” 

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.” 

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.” 

There’s nothing but silence on the other end. 

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—” 

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—” 

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?” 

“...Some,” Spencer says. 

“Like?” 

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him. 

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.” 

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.” 

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.” 

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.  

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says. 

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.” 

“Spencer—” 

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?” 

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him. 

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom. 

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you. 

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach. 

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear. 

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters. 

He hangs up without another word. 

[thewickedjazzy]

i rarely talk about my personal life on here but work has been a draining mess lately and no matter how much i try to keep it together, it's all starting to break me down. i'm a perfectionist, i know and it’s exhausting. the huge paycheck doesn't mean anything when every day feels like i'm suffocating under stress.

i stay calm on the outside, but inside it's like i'm slowly losing grip. i don’t know how to express it, maybe because i’m numb, but it’s starting to affect everything- my sleep, my hobbies, my life. i just want a normal day without being dragged down by the toxic management there.

[lucygraysboy]

“it’s a wonder how they do it, right? i mean, they don’t even speak our language and somehow they just know if you’re a good or bad person, and what your intentions are. do you think they can read it off of our body language? or what’s happening in their heads?” thinking out loud, pale blue eyes fixated on the back of her head as his hand continues to travel across her back. over her shoulder, along the bumps at the nape of her neck, inching closer and closer to her other arm. olive skin covered in suds. “mhm,” he hums softly, praying she doesn’t turn around. he doesn’t want her to see him blushing like a schoolboy. “when i first walked in here, i thought that you’d ran away, but then i saw reva blue and began to wonder why you’d ever want to leave her behind… and started to question my own sanity, asked myself if you were real or a figment of my imagination,” he admits, chuckling sheepishly because it’s embarrassing to a certain degree. “i will never cause you any harm, lucy gray. i just need you to know that, okay?” even if she won’t instantly put all her trust in him. “and if ever want to go your separate way, i won’t go after you unless you want me to.” he’s not his brother. “and your favorite dessert is blueberry pie.” noted, he remembers. but he still leaves enough room for her to correct him if he’s wrong. “but not all desserts make you happy? that doesn’t make sense,” he playfully argues, just trying to provoke her to convince him otherwise. “horses.” what an easy question, he thinks. “i love and respect all animals.” even the squirrel that became their dinner as hard to believe as it may be. “birds and dogs and cats and cows and butterflies, but horses are just so special. my mother’s friend, back at the capitol, had stables bigger than whole neighborhoods in district twelve. plenty of stunning thoroughbreds. most of them had probably been imported from district eleven or something. anyway, there was this one chestnut mare that i really admired, could watch her for hours. she could run so fast…” eyes alight at the memory, but then he realizes that he’s been rambling for a long time and must be boring her to death. “sorry, got a little carried away. um, what’s yours?” he inquires, meaning her favorite animal. too bad there are no horses in district thirteen. it’s been so long since the last time he was near one… “thanks for trustin’ me enough.” to show him the wound on her leg. thank god he had that jar of iodine with him. “and how will that be your fault? don’t blame yourself for things that happened because other people put you in a certain position. what were you supposed to do? grab a brush on your way out? you had more important matters to worry about. it’s really not your fault, lucy gray. it’s not like you’re a slob by nature and let this happen out of laziness. you’ve been through a lot. it’s only natural,” he softly corrects, reaching around her petite frame and handing her the soapy washcloth so that she can scrub her legs and torso. calloused fingertips sinking beneath the surface, getting wet before gathering her long hair with nothing but affection. “we won’t be cuttin’ it to your ears. if we can’t get all the tangles out, we’ll braid it and… well, maybe my mother,” the one who’s most likely sick with worry back in thirteen, “will find a way to help us.” but right now, he’ll focus on combing through these pretty locks with his fingers, careful not to pull too hard.

“i think they can definitely tell, who’s a good person and who’s tryin’ to bring harm. animal’s are intuitive like that.” lucy gray reassures, smiling softly as her arm stays around her bent knees, her free arm tracing circles in the water. “oh…yeah?” brow lifting, looking over her shoulder at him before eyes glance back towards the water. shying up momentarily again. “of course not.” leave him as a single parent. a twitch of amusement pulling at her lips before softening at the thought, thinking how she can’t run. but even it she could, would she? not… exactly. not when she doesn’t have a gnawing fear in her chest yet towards him. just like the animals they speak of… if she doesn’t have a reason or sense a reason, she won’t leave. just like deer and birds, she too has those same instincts. “sort of. i mean, i can choose a favorite dessert. i can choose a favorite month. but i can’t choose a favorite color, animal or flower. all flowers, colors and animals make me happy. hard to choose just one.” a soft laugh emits, gently shrugging her thin shoulders. “what’s your favorite animal?” questioning before hearing the awful story of the man he knew and before too long her face is contorting into disgust and stomach churning, vomit reflexes on the rise when he starts saying thing about smells. “lord, then, i sure am lucky you found me in time. i might’ve suffered the same thing. that’s sickenin’, bless his poor soul havin’ to suffer all through that.” feeling sympathy and disgust, quickly trying to think of something else. she definitely doesn’t want to suffer like that and scared up to keep watching her wounds. “i hope not, i really like my hair. but then again… that’ll be my fault, maybe i’ll learn.” scolding herself— to at least brush her fingers through it and keep it from getting so matted. “it’d be devastatin’ cutting it off to my ears.” that gives her the notion to quickly start trying with her fingers to start pulling some knots out, feeling a little panicky on needing the answer if she’ll get to spare it or not. the rubs on her back feel so pleasant, too. the most soothing feeling she’s felt in awhile but she can’t exactly relax with her hair on the line.

[lesbianherald]

hiii I’m curious : what’s your process for creating your stories? like character development, plotting, creating arcs, etc?

thank you for asking !!! i'm going to get way longer and more thorough about this than necessary I feel it in my bones so I'm going to read more this now (I included a few tidbits from my miro board for carry the blade :) )

it's such a mixed bag ! part of this is my adhd lmao, and part of it is because, genuinely, I think each story needs something different.

almost ALWAYS (with one rare exception of a sci/fi fantasy world I've been building for years) I start with character, especially in original work. Because character is everything it's who we're following it's what the audience/readership will grab onto. Usually I have a basic premise and setting already there, but I don't build on it until I get to know who we're dealing with in the story. And then after building up the premise, setting, and plot I do even more character work after.

sometimes.... sometimes I get really impatient to start and start writing half way through the planning process. But anyways.

so I come up with character. do the basics. think about what their deal is. What is the journey they need to have, the lesson they need to learn, what themes and emotions do I want to explore with this character? Why is she important to me? Why will she be important to others?

I also think a lot about relationships

i just wrote a coming of age dramatic comedy for instance, and for that one, I broke up the story into my protagonists relationships. Wrote out the arc/story of each relationship and then combined each of these arcs into the key points that made up the film. Each relationship I wanted to be relevant to her grieving process, as she had just lost her mother. IDK if that makes sense. I wish I could show you but unfortunately I cannot.

for fic its honestly similar, but we already know character, so I usually ask what about this character/these characters am I most excited to explore.

that being said, coming home came to me in the idea for what they'd be like in modern day, and then a single idea for a single scene - their first kiss in the lab. I wrote that first, then asked myself what the context I wanted to give it was. Of course, I changed it a little once I actually got to writing and fleshing out chapter eight.

but this fantasy fic i'm writing is a fun example. I'm building out a lot. I'm building out characters, the world, the themes. - using visuals to help me kind of guide myself.

but because I have adhd and get impatient. I am outlining throughout this process to keep myself entertained. perhaps ideally you'd figure out everything first then outline then write but my brain just doesn't work that way.

in fics, especially, the relationship is so important that I really like to see how the obstacles they face, both due to their own psychology and internal pressures, can reflect the themes, create tension, etc.

but i also like to reflect on side characters too - their motivations and desires. So they don't just become like - flat little reflections of the central love story.

Finally, and this i learned from acting theory mostly - but I love it - is in each scene I like to think of what each character wants, what they are going to do to try and get that, and why they want it. In this fic, wants are something I also look at from a chapter by chapter basis.

side note - and i'm only saying this this far down so hopefully not too may people will see it - but I do have a secret subplot going on throughout the first half of this story that the audience doesn't know about.

in order to make this work I've been mapping out everything going on behind the scenes, and making sure they pair up well with events that people reading will see. it helps me plant little hints and seeds while hopefully not giving too much away (secret subplot in blue, actual story in red)

sorry i know this is such a ramble I just took my meds and had a double shot of expresso so I am buzzing right now lmao! Obviously I'm not the expert and there's not only one way. And also it really is so different for me every time. It's important to think about what the story actually calls for !

[zaycheese]

Mmm Oc Art

I didn't realize till later how fucking zoomed out it is till now but hopefully the text is somewhat visible anyway

Close ups!

Batshit insane ramblings under the cut!

My beautiful blue child whom I love

Sorry anyone who has been around me the past three days has been subject to me randong about photosynthesis in animals due to me going "I wanna make a guy who can do photosynthesis and also control light waves to a certain extent."

Everyone appreciate my Amphibious daughter rn, I could go on for like a straight up hour about all my scifi sciencey bullshit about how this species developed and what their environment is like. (I get more excited about that than the actual character I fear)

I have so many thoughts but I'm really bad at expressing them but behold my shitty Star Trek oc fan made alien guy I suppose

Basically they are an amphibious species that evolved in water with low levels of oxygen, this caused them to have a symbiotic relationship with a species of algae that found its way into their cells and consumed the nitrogenous waste from mitochondria, while producing oxygen in the eggs allowing them to continue to grow. (See Yellow Spotted Salamander for real life instance of this.)

Over time they evolved into quite the apex predators mostly living in water, but due to shifts in the planets climate and atmosphere they became land animals and build civilizations close to the water.

The star system they are in is pretty far out of federation space so a different alien species native to their solar system lands on their planet before they are NEARLY evolved enough and due to the planets rich resources in being a largely tropical environment they set up outposts there

Because of this the species (Who I'm tentatively calling the Z'oldar) never really evolved their own technology, trading and utilizing other species in their quadrant, and civilization migrated largely to the mountainous regions of the planet where outposts were located for work and better access to the goods brought into this planet

Long and short of it K'prin works at one of these outposts as a bartender for most of their adult life, having been raised by the workers there, when the Borg show up and totally fuck up the whole (Already technologically limited, compared to the federation anyways) solar system and start assimilating Z'oldar outposts first, K'prin manages to find their way into a small impulse shuttle craft that was definitely stolen from the Federation like a solid 15 years ago and got traded to this side of the galaxy.

With absolutely 0 flying skills, Borg related chaos and an old ass shuttle head together with scrap metal, K'prin totally the course and it is left with 0 rations and minimal life support drifting through space when suddenly (for the plot okay guys listen) a wormhole opens up near by and sucks then it, leaving her in weird worm hole time stasis for like 10 years before spitting her back out in the dead center of Federation territory

Who then logically freak the fuck out cause how the fuck did a unidentified ship on IMPULSE POWER get this far into federation territory, and why.

Anyways theres more but I realized this is hella long already and I kinda feel bad for any unsuspecting mutual who just happens to click on the read more. I'll explain more if anyone asks and can go into more detail about K'prin specifically, I have so many thoughts, character ggrrr

[ghouljams]

ok musical talk hi hello

waitress au… i dont know if youve ever seen waitress but like im so insane about it bc i saw it live this past weekend and for yall who dont know it it’s about this woman who is super good at baking this really creative pies like rhubarb and dark chocolate pie, blueberry deepdish, passion fruit cream pie, shes really good but she’s married to this douche who gets her knocked up whose baby she doesn’t want but she keeps the baby bc its not their fault and he literally says “you ain’t no sara lee” when somebody else compliments her baking, anyways blah blah blah she gets into an affair with her OBGYN who is also married but he shows her actual love and tenderness. ITS SO GOOD I DONT WANNA RAMBLE TOO MUCH BUT ITS AMAZING AND I CRIED

anyways my point is waitress!reader with shitty husband like from the musical and her doctor (PROBABLY JOHN LETS BE REAL) who would give her the world to see her happy, but also a little to maybe try another pie but he’s not gonna tell her that

i really like musicals ghoul im so insane about some musicals dont even get me started 😞😞😞😞

Rat the vibes are so fantastic but genuinely in no world would I keep that baby. I'm so sorry but I'm gonna have to take a page from Early's book (@391780 ) and offer instead:

You meet Dr. Price when you go to get an abortion. He gives you the pills and you give him your number. Clearly a breach of protocol but come on, the guy is fine as hell and you're already mentally calling divorce lawyers. Price asks how everything went on your first date and you both laugh over how unusual of a first date question that is. Price tells you that IUD's are probably a good option for you while he's balls deep inside you.

[cyanrendipity]

#youre correct op but also#nononono i think kabru could Absolutely catch kira#like . gestures to kabru deducing laois’s party being the ones to help them each time(? i may be misremembering)#and how he reads laois as not being Malicious when they thought each helpful encounters were thefts#actually having kabru and light meet would be really funny because its kind of like a mirror?#not exactly of course if it was then i wouldnt like kabru as nearly as much as i do#but its like. putting up personas to get info out of others (Maybe i am so sorry kabru. but thats true for light)#the internal monologues. trying to get into the mindset of whos around them. like on the surface level i feel like light and kabru would ac#t Exactly like each other first meeting- humble but smart and.. not nice but. well-rounded#the only trouble kabru would have would be proving it probably. but at the same time i feel like he could figure something out yknow?#i also wonder how he would feel about the kira case? like hes definitely killed people in the dungeon for crossing him and his team but he#seems to generally want to keep innocent lives.. alive. gestures to the utaya incident#would he think that the killings are deserved or would he think its Too Much- kira crossing a line in a way#its been awhile since ive read dungeon meshi so i . sont know#also to any kabru fans if i misinterpreted him please correct me. i enjoy kabru greatly its just been a While

You come over here, you. You get it (It's me op, reblogging here cause I got shy about rambling about death note) anyway

THEY ARE SIMILAR IN A SENSE BUT ALSO COMPLETE OPPOSITES

Both of them are "willing to crack some eggs" for the "greater good" but there's a massive difference in what this greater good is! For Kabru it is to stop a massive tragedy from happening again, he believes adventurers should be working towards stopping something like Utaya from repeating, he wants to find the truth about Dungeons and whoever is acting in self interest like the corpse retrievers is an obstacle he's willing to get over. For Light the "greater good" is "creating a world for people who deserve it" for Light there's objectively people with more worth and less worth than others, and he thinks of himself as the best person to judge who is who.

One of them is willing to sacrifice people to stop an immense tragedy from happening again the other one is willing to sacrifices people cause he feels like it's his right to do so! They're not the same!

Light hates humans even before he becomes Kira he would never do what Kabru does to save them, everything he says about creating a new world for good people is bullshit he spews for his own ego U_U

Kabru would be able to realize the hypocrisy of Kira right away like L and realize it's dangerous for someone like him to have that power (perhaps he would realize it would be dangerous even for himself to wield it, similar to being a dungeon lord)

Anyway like these replies said, Kabru would def make the Kira killings stop if he found Light, I wont count is as catching him tho, eliminating is not the same thing, bad Kabru, play by the rules (<3)

(oh yeah the difference is that "solving" the Kira case means proving it, I think that's harder than just knowing Light is Kira and dealing with him outside justice)

Now would Kabru be able to catch Kira? Probably not, but can you imagine? The amount of silent staring while thinking in actual death note is nothing compared to what that could be

[r4fe-cam3ron]

Ooo Hii! If it’s okay, totally okay if not (also excuse my rambling)

Can I please request a Tangerine x reader where he’s on the train with lemon for the bullet train mission and he sees a girl and her bf, the bf is being really mean to her and she’s crying, and Tan immediately intervenes, definitely threatening the man after saying something to Y/n like, “Darling is this man bothering you?” Tan offering for her to come sit with him and Lemon instead of with this “prick” (Tan’s words lol), and when she tries to stand up, her bf grabs her wrist to stop her and Oooo boy does this light a fire in Tangerine who 100% at this time takes his gun out and points it at the man until he lets her go. And with Tangerine gently rubbing her back, she breaks up with her bf right then and there. Anyways, Tan walks Y/n over to their seats with a gentle hand on her back, making sure the crying girl is okay and telling her how she deserves better🥺

hi lovely! i am so sorry that this took forever for me to respond to </3 i hope that you enjoy and that it’s what you were wanting! thank you for being patient 💜 w; weird, toxic, boyfriend (boooo!) but not to fret, a handsome man with blue eyes saves the day. there’s a mention of a gun, and some mentions of the movie but no death! (lower case intended!)

tangerine and lemon were on a mission — grab a brief case, keep an eye on the white death’s loser son, then receive a bunch of dough and get on to the next mission.

yet, something kept bothering him — a lad at the end of the train and a woman who seemed as if she had been crying. tangerine couldn’t tell for sure, but her eyes looked sad, wet, and bloodshot.

the man — who had on a terrible tracksuit — had his head lowered, the girl to his side seemed to be flinching at every whispered word being spoken aloud.

he stands, buttoning his jacket. lemon stares up at him. “what are you doin’, mate?”

tangerine clears his throat, brows pinching together as his eyes trail away for only a moment. “i’ll be back,” he pats lemons shoulder before motioning over to the tattooed male by the window. “watch that delinquent.”

“i’m right here.” the russian boy says with a bit of sass. tangerine simply spares him a a glance before walking away and towards the back of the train.

he stops, the boys lowered voice never stopping, though tangerine still couldn't tell what he was saying.

your eyes quickly dart towards the stranger before they quickly drop towards the table again. the man clears his throat — your boyfriends words ceasing, head snapping over, veins protruding from his neck.

tangerine’s face screws up a bit — what a…different looking person. “i couldn’t help but notice that you look stressed, love,” he motions towards you. he waits until your eyes finally look over at him once more, a reassuring smile on his face.

“everything alright?”

your teeth bite into your bottom lip, chin wobbling a bit as you hesitantly nod when you distinctly feel the burning gaze of your boyfriend.

tan’s eyebrows lift, head tilting. “you’ll have to speak up for me to actually believe—”

“she said yes, what more do you want?”

tangerine waits a moment, eyes looking down at the boy. “she didn’t say anything. it’s also rude to cut off others. think before you do it again,” he looks back at you. “come with me.” he motions for you to stand.

you want to leave. very much so, and this is the time to do it. you don’t know the stranger — this handsome angel who showed up out of no where — but you feel as if you could trust him.

reaching for your bag, a hand quickly shoots out and grabs your wrist before you could move to stand, pinning your forearm to the table.

“you’re not leaving.” there’s something that pokes his side, his grip wavering their hold.

“i think you need to let go of her wrist before we cause a bigger problem, right, mate?”

his jaw clenches, eyes clouding with anger. slowly pulling his hand away from you, you stand quickly and slide out of your seat, into the hallway. tan never pulls away from him until your close enough.

slipping the gun back into the back of his pants, his hand presses against your back in a gentle touch, careful not to startle you.

“let’s get you away from this prick, hm?”

you smile a bit and nod, allowing him to lead you towards a different seat. he glances back at the boy, flashing his gun one last time, smirking.

[sillystarbox]

This is just kinda a ramble idk.

I don't think I would have liked Gravity Falls as much as I did if Stan's backstory wasn't revealed.

I really really resonate with Stan as a character because I was also homeless. Maybe not for 10 years, but I spent 6 months without a home when I was 18 years old. Not even a full month after I turned 18

I don't think I have ever seen a character in media that I have related to as much as I have with Stan.

I get why he's anxious about money. It took 2 years for me to feel comfortable not having my wallet in sight because I was so scared of losing all my money or getting robbed. I literally had a phone case wallet for this reason. I get his self-esteem issues and insecurity around family. I also was rejected by my family and wound up on the streets because of that rejection. I just feel as though I understand him as a character so much because so many of his experiences match up with my own. I even understand what it's like to pretend to be someone else for years as a way of survival and pleasing others around you. I know how much that destroys your identity and I still deal with the consequences of doing that even 2 years after I stopped

I don't think I would have been as interested in Gravity Falls had it not been for that. His entire backstory brought me to tears, because I went through a lot of the stuff he has. He's the most relatable character in the show to me and that'a what makes him such a special character to me.

I don't just like him because he's interesting. I like him because his character is the reason I was able to forgive myself for some of the stuff that have happened in my life. Gravity Falls genuinely helped me heal and feel more at peace with myself. That would not have happened if Stan's backstory was never revealed.

Anyways sorry this is long. I just wanted to put this somewhere

[shigarakisdumbwhore]

The Visit - Todoroki x Reader

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts since FEBRUARY 21, 2022 Y'ALL. why did I wait so long omg

Summary: Your ex, Todoroki, visits you in the hospital after a traumatic car accident.

Warnings: mentions of car crash, hospital, angst, hurt/comfort ig

Words: 735

"Did you only come because it reminds you of the guilt from your mommy?"

You had heard the door open and looked over. It only took you a second before you realized who it was. He wasn't even out of his school uniform yet. His hair was glued slick to his forehead with sweat and his jacket was around his waist, dress shirt barely tucked in and wrinkled.

He didn't say anything, not even a reaction, as he made his way over. He didn't ask to take the seat next to you, probably didn't care what you wanted anyway. He appeared to be on a mission. His face was expressionless and too blank to read.

"No."

The answer was so simple and short. There was little to no emotion behind it, but it was comforting to you. It made you think about how he came here all by himself, despite knowing how snippy you could be. Todoroki wasn't completely innocent. He had his moments where he could be disrespectful, you both did. However, he knew he would have to deal with it upon arriving at the hospital and he did it anyway. Even though you two believed the relationship was far behind, there were still some lingering feelings. A part of you wished you'd never see him again and the other part was glad he came.

An awkward silence was instilled between the both of you. You looked out straight again, too hurt to look at his face once again. The memories of how he made you feel still lingered fresh in your mind. Looking at him would only bring them back, and that would do you no good.

"What are you watching?" Your gaze focused on the laptop in front of you, sitting on the rolling desk that hovered above you. Your friends and family came to visit as often as they could, but during the hours they couldn't it was lonely. You asked to keep your laptop available so you could play games or watch movies. The one Shoto was asking about happened to be your favorite, one you felt giddy about when someone asked. You couldn't help yourself. As soon as he asked, you answered with excitement. A long ramble filled the silence. It was just like old times.

For the first time in a long time, he was smiling at you. It was a small smile, a Todoroki type of smile. You never saw Endeavor with a big grin so you assumed it was a family thing. Regardless, it was an image that lived in your mind with vivid detail. Then it hit.

Upon this realization, you turned to look at him with a wide grin, but it began to fade when you noticed his did too. It must've clicked at the same time. The two of you were always known for having synchronized minds. Old times. They were called old times for a reason.

"I'm sor-"

"Please, just," you interrupted, "let's just... pretend none of that happened, like we're still together, like we're happy... please."

Shoto sat in silence as he stared at you. His face was so hard to read. So blank and emotionless, but you knew a million things were going on in his mind. You could only imagine what could have been running through his head.

"I never wanted to leave. Things were so complicated with school and my father... I took that out on you and for that, I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took your injury for me to figure that out. I promise, when you recover, if you give me a chance, I'll do better." His tone was sweet and sincere. Shoto never really had any reason to lie and he usually was very loyal to his word. But the hurt that he caused you, was this apology enough to just forgive him so easily? To forget everything before and act like it never happened, like it never bothered you. Like it still didn't bother you.

Despite all of it, you still loved him. That's why it still hurt. That's why you still held on. And that's why you secretly felt so relieved when he walked through that door like he traveled through hell just to see you.

"I missed you... I missed you every day you were gone."

"I know," he stood up and pulled you into his arms tightly. "This time, I'll make it right. I love you."

[selene-moonie]

a demon slayer ramble cuz i just finished the hashira training arc

I love the themes in demon slayer. Like Tanjiro has only made it so far because of his empathy and kindness. his support of others have in turn, propelled him forward.

I don't know if anyone is salty that tanjiro gets carried every arc - but I think that's the point. He's not supposed to be doing it alone. It's about interdependence, not soloing it or using others till they are no longer useful.

In fact, it's the very thing that makes humans different from demons - their interpersonal relationships being what carries them forward. And it's also what has allowed Nezuko to make the changes she's made in the anime so far. So much of what Nezuko has done is directly related to the close connection between her family, and Tanjiro especially. Nezuko being the one to make the decision for her brother at the end of the swordsmith village arc made me cry so hard because she's gonna die but she still wants him to save others.

Tanjiro's desire to move forward and keep trying is what influenced his friends to get up and improve their fighting skills time and time again. I'm sorry, I just watched Inosuke save food for Zenitsu when like a year ago he was trying to steal everyone's food. Do you know how much Tanjiro has influenced that?

And he's just a person? I mean, a really amazing one because Muzan killing my family was going to be the start of my villain origin story. Like he's willing to fight anyone who will try to hurt Nezuko, even someone he's supposed to respect - and Tanjiro shows respect to everyone. He's also head empty, helpful for a lot of things but in a cute way, and just a green flag overall. Tanjiro's personality is so likeable, not only for his dedication to his cause, but because he's just wholesome and cute.

Anyway point is - the themes go hard in this story because Tanjiro is the antithesis of Muzan. Human vs Demon, love and self sacrifice vs the selfishness and sacrificing others, light vs darkness.

[dandelion-system]

Hello!

I’m not sure of the extent of our covert-ness, as a couple of people have said after our diagnosis that they ‘had a feeling something was going on’. But, nobody ever bought it up before our diagnosis, except the occasional snarky comment from my mum that I acted like ‘a 2 year old’ sometimes or I was just ‘not the dandy she knew’

But other than that- im reckoning that we were pretty covert.

I (Raven) haven’t been around as long as some of the others, so I’m gonna go off what they’re telling me. But according to them, when we were physically younger, we would very, very frequently have conversations with, arguments with, debates with ourself using we/us pronouns. As a kid we just told ourself we were using the royal we, and woke did it when we were alone. But we did it. Lots of disagreements over food and clothes and what games to play or shows to watch- and also a lot of ‘mum is gonna kill us’ ���stop being so dramatic ugh look at us!’ ‘Why am I talking like this?’ ‘I’m just gonna be quiet for a bit now.’

I wasn’t aware back then that these were alters, but it’s the earliest I can say that we have been communicating.

Come our early teen years, and this I remember doing myself because I was a little weirdo as a 13 year old- we got really into spirituality, both the meditation kind and the ghosts kind. I think it was me and Cass, and I was more ghost and Cassie was more meditation. Anyway, I was like, 90% sure we were haunted, and I would talk to the ghosts in my head. I was hanging around some witchy people at the time so I was completely convinced this was normal. Cassie did a lot of visualisation meditation, and she got actual VISUALS! she met up with Sasha most, but saw some others. I don’t know and she’s asleep so I won’t bother her.

Pre system discovery, communication was not exactly easy or something we understood. Post discovery, it’s been a bit better. We’re still covert, except for the people who know our diagnosis.

The thing that started making us think about being a system was actually a psychology class. We were doing a childhood unit and talking about how emotional needs need to be met for regular development, and I started thinking, and I started realising that we actually had a really rough time of it. A bunch of circumstances and bad environments had likely led us to develop a bunch of the ‘irregular’ behaviours we were studying in class. We’ve always been curious, so we started looking at patterns in behaviours.

Eventually, we found that the only things we could see a pattern in was memory loss. This led us to discovering dissociation and how it can cause amnesia.

Fast forward a bit, and we’re looking into things that cause dissociation and consider DID. The host at the time starts noting shifting food preferences, shifting gender, shifting opinions and feeling of what age we were, shifting priorities, likes and dislikes. It’s a while before anything comes of this, but we start noticing patterns. We always feel x, y, z at the same time, for example one of our alters, who we still struggle to distinguish we sorta have a checklist almost? Feels like a boy, but not fully, loves the rain, hates milk, feels 14.

Some alters have been easier to communicate with than others just due to willingness to be seen and heard. Others still try and hide away from front, mask as ‘host’ or pretend to be another alter so they don’t get noticed.

I think I may have rambled a bit so I’m sorry about that. I think overall, what I’m saying is that it’s been a journey to be able to communicate with parts, even after being diagnosed for two years and knowing about the system for three. Some parts still won’t communicate, some that used to now refuse, and some like myself have slowly been able to get more confident in talking. But it’s really fluid. Sometimes it’s like no one is there at all, and sometimes it’s like there’s 5 or 6 of us in front, and it’s so loud then. Sometimes I can see them trying to talk to me, or feel it? But not hear it. Sometimes I can hear it but can’t see it. Sometimes we need to be dissociated to communicate properly. Sometimes it takes a lot of focus to communicate. It’s going to be different for each alter, too. I can almost always communicate with James and the few littles that always hang around, but I’m not so great when it comes to other alters.

I guess it all just comes down to patience. And not being afraid to get it wrong. Anyway, I hope this was helpful and not just a big old ramble haha. I hope you’re okay too!

Any systems who were very Covert before discovery how did you discover/start communicating with your parts?

Anymore resources or personal experience would be helpful to me, whether through this post, or my ask box if you want to remain anon

Note: i do not know any confirmed names or information about them please do not give me resources that only contribute to already established/known parts, thank you.

[lifeintheworldtocome]

if you like and dont rb i will block you

same as it ever was

[remxedmoon]

HAPPY (kinda late oops) BIRTHDAY MIWA!!!!!!!! ignore the other two LOOK AT HER!!!! IT’S MIRABELLE MSUNDAY!!!!

greyscale versions + my very normal color ramblings below!

ok full disclosure i already had this post drafted before realizing that mira’s birthday was coming up. i kinda debated just posting the mira doodles on their own but!!! i want to talk about my craft/general color headcanons still. and the mira art is part of that!! so be warned. also, this is going to reference my post about my craft headcanons a lot so like. read that if you so desire.

i personally think that mira’s healing craft is some form of creative craft, since the game describes her holding her palms up when she uses it (iirc anyways). this doesn’t really have an effect on anything, but it’s why i decided to color it yellow!

(also i ended up making mira’s scissors craft a lot more orange than i initially planned but that’s ok!!! i think both of her crafts would be pretty Orange. just thought i’d mention that since it’s a bit different from my first post)

i already explained sif’s craft in my last post so now i get to talk about the change god!!!!!! this is like. probably the most out there in terms of my color headcanons? but i have a reason for that. since the change god is, well, a deity, i thought it would be fitting for their design to match the colors of the 3 craft types (red, blue, and yellow)! this was a little hard to work around given that i also try to give my vaugarde designs warmer color palettes, but i think it worked out!

i also gave them a few slightly different palettes, since i think it’ll make sense for the change god’s colors to be variable. they never look the same, so why would their palette look the same? + i’m indecisive and liked all of these palettes lol

sorry for the ramble! i really like talking about character design and i’m not. very succinct. thanks for reading all this (if you did, perfectly fine if you didn’t!), here’s the greyscale versions as promised!!!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

evo doodling

[potato-lord-but-not]

Speaking of the Arthur and his three boyfriends thing...

Will we see John get any loving from Noel or Oscar? (Once he has a body, that is) Not necessarily spicy, just in general 🤣

Think I’m gonna make a post for Noel and John eventually so here’s some John and Oscar <33