#but sometimes I almost understand entirely

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae <3 if you’re open to it, would you write Spencer reassuring shy reader or reader who is still in grad school and is feeling insecure about her intelligence compared to him/the rest of the team. anyway I love how you write Spencer tytyty <3

Thanks for requesting gorgeous <3

cw: vague discussion of homicide crime scene, reader is a bit intellectually insecure, written with a fem reader in mind

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 754 words

You’re talking to yourself. You do this, sometimes, Spencer doesn’t think you even really mean to. It’ll just be a word here or there, a murmured maybe as you ponder a case or shit when you fill out a form wrong and have to get another. You’d done it in front of Derek once, and even he’d had the good sense not to tease you about it; you’re too green, still, too nervous for good-natured joking. 

The police station is mostly empty, the rest of the team having called it a night except for you and Spencer. In the past twenty minutes, as you’ve swivel in your chair and peered at the board with hawk-like intensity, it’s been no, but if…, and unless? Spencer tries not to let it distract him, but it is cute, the way you seem to be talking yourself in and out of theories, using yourself as your own sounding board. He’s never met an intern—a student, nonetheless—less eager to get to their FBI-bankrolled hotel room. 

It’s when you shake your head at yourself, seemingly dismissing an idea, and mutter stupid, that’s when Spencer steps in. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

You jolt and turn your head like you’d forgotten he was there. “Huh?” 

“You seem like you have an idea.” 

“Oh, I was…it wasn’t anything.” You have one foot on the ground, the other pulled up onto your chair with you, and you’re using it to swivel your seat back and forth restlessly. It’s almost funny; Spencer doesn’t understand how anyone could ever be nervous around him, but you are. You are around the whole team. You’re quiet most of the time, looking at them all with wide eyes and palpable awe while they analyze and ideate. It’s sweet, but also baffling, considering you’re fiercely intelligent yourself. 

Spencer smiles at you. Your lips curve in kind, like they’re not entirely sure why but are relieved to do it. 

“I’d still like to hear it,” he says. 

You visibly shrink, leg pulling closer to you in your seat. “I was just, um, starting to think that maybe the way he laid out the second victim could be a sign of remorse, but then I realized it couldn’t be, because of—”

“The dump site,” Spencer finishes with you. 

You nod, looking abashed. “Right. So, obviously not.” 

“That’s not obvious,” Spencer says. He looks at the board, tapping his thumb on his jaw. “We haven’t been looking at the way the second victim was positioned, there could be something to that.” 

You blink. “Really?”

“Yeah. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I—well, sorry. I just didn’t think there was anything to say. I didn’t want to sound dumb.” 

You cringe like you hadn’t meant to say it. Spencer feels his brows twitch together, though it’s not like the explicit admission surprises him when you’ve effectively been saying it in a thousand implicit ways since he met you. He has the strange urge to reach over and put a hand on your shoulder. It's not like him, so he doesn’t. 

“We all have theories that don’t pan out,” he says, “all the time. We just bounce them off the team anyway in case it leads to another idea.” 

Your smile is almost rueful. “You don’t.” 

Spencer actually laughs. “I do. It’s possible you just haven’t been around long enough to notice.” 

Your head tilts sideways as though contemplating this. It makes your body list slightly in the chair, your leg resting against the cushioned arm. You look more at ease than you did a minute before, softer, the furrow of concentration easing from between your brows. Spencer’s chest feels light and airy without reason.

“It’s not dumb, to have an idea that doesn’t turn into anything,” he tells you gently. “No one in our team would think that.” 

“I know,” you say, sheepish now. “You guys just know so much, I don’t know how to contribute.”

“It comes with experience,” Spencer assures you. “You’ll pick it up quickly, I can tell. You already are.” 

You smile again. It’s more relaxed than before, a bashful pride shining in your eyes. Spencer props his cheek on his fist, mirroring it thoughtlessly. You look tired, though no less pretty for it, the beckoning of sleep gentle in your features. If Spencer was less selfish he’d probably tell you to go back to the hotel, but normally he’s the only one who never manages to use his room during these trips. He finds he really enjoys the company.

[pan-kojiwa]

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ➻ 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧?

[Characters] ➻ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 | 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 | ??? |

[CW] ➻ SFW, stranger to lovers, whipped Kaiser, a bit ooc.

Waffle’s note -> that was long… tbh I didn’t know where I was going with this at some point… I should’ve just made a boyfriend!kaiser *sigh* well anyway, it’s still about cute aggression but with a little bit of obsession??? Also, does it feel like I tried to headcanon my way out of an 2k OS? Yes? Yh me too… it happened twice.. anyways u_u’

❦ 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫

✮ Michael Kaiser was used dealing with malice, to the point it became a second nature to him. After all, it was all he had ever known. Hurting people just came that easily. But everything changed when you showed up, and it’s still the case till this day. Michael Kaiser is mean, arrogant, and overly confident, yet all of that disappears in your presence. In fact, the first time he saw you, he couldn’t even speak. All you did was smile— yet he stood there, stunned. Your smile… so timid, but so bright… it almost blinded him. And your eyes… God. Those innocent sparkles in your eyes when you looked at him… he lost the war before it even began that day. You literally destroyed the thick walls he spent so long building around himself. Yes— the walls that hid the most ugliest parts in him, they got blown up. With just one look. And since then, he’s been craving your gaze— your attention. He’s drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

✮ Kaiser can be really selfish sometimes. From the first time he saw you, he knew he wanted you all for himself. He can’t help it, your entire being is calling to him. It's almost turning into an obsession at this point— and resisting the urge to be all up in your space is becoming hard. He wants to be the only person that you see, just as you're the only one he sees. Your smile when you're happy, your cries when you're sad, your rosie cheeks when you're being shy. Aah—He’s overwhelmed. Feeling so many emotions at once while picturing how cute you are— oh... he would love to have you all to himself.

✮ Kaiser never thought he would become a big, hopeless idiot when in love. Then again, it’s not surprising for someone who spent his life pushing people away and experiencing nothing but hate. But now, being hated, receiving or giving malice, manipulating people… he doesn’t care about any of that. Yeah— It doesn’t matter anymore. All he wants is you. You. The way his name rolls perfectly on your tongue like it was meant for it. The way your ears and nose turns a bright red when he tilts your chin up just to tease you. The way you always take a step back, completely flustered whenever he gets too close—he wants it. He needs it. God no— he craves it. He’s longing for a taste of your love, and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to have you by his side.

✮ Since you’re his first love, or more like the first person he’s allowed himself to love, sometimes he doesn’t quite understand his feelings. Well, he knows it’s love. What he doesn’t understand are the overwhelming urges to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingertips, to hold you in his arms, to grab you and kiss you all over, the urges to bite you just from looking at you smile… He just can’t seem to control himself around you. And he just can’t leave you alone either.

You’re passing by when someone suddenly yanks you into on of the meeting rooms. Luckily, the lights are on, so you could immediately see the face of the culprit.

“Kaiser?! What the fuck!? You scared the shit out of me!”

You quickly push the door closed, just in case someone passes by. You definitely don’t want to get caught in an empty room with one of the players.

Kaiser chuckles with a smirk as he leaned on the table behind him.

“ - Oh really, liebling? My apologies, I didn’t mean to.”

You raise an eyebrow, sceptical. Because from where you stand, he clearly did. Yet, you couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“ - What are you doing here? Aren’t you gonna shower with the others?”

“ - Too crowded.” He replies, stepping closer to you with that playful smirk.

Your heart starts racing, and a faint blush creeps on your cheeks. You instinctively back away, your breath hitching. The door was behind you so you know you’re absolutely not trapped in the room. But with him so close, all up in your space feels like all your senses are being tickled. And not to mention how Kaiser had been acting strange lately. He’s always been a bit pretentious with everyone— even when he was alone— but now it seems like he’s paying extra attention to you. At first, you were thrown off, but the way he treats you like you were the most amazing person in the world makes you curious. Or flattered?

“ - Should I give you the key to the staff bathroom?”

“ - Oh my, I’d like that—only if you come with me.”

You blush furiously, your head dropping as you stare at your shoes, completely flustered.

“ - I—”

Kaiser grabs your chin, carefully lifting your head to meet his gaze. His gaze is intense yet soft on you. You could see his inner conflict swirling in those blue eyes, just like a storm.

“ - I know you were about to go take care of the team… He pauses. But… I wanted you all to myself.” He says bluntly freeing your chin, before taking one of your hand in his. He then gives it a light squeeze lifting towards his lips to place a soft kiss on it.

Your flustered look as well as your fluttering eyes makes him clench his jaw. Why are you making this so much harder for him? Why your little pout drives him mad like this? Why is it so hard— so impossible to resist you?

When he’s around you he can’t seem to control his emotions. So his only option left, is to let you go.

“ - If I make you stay here any longer, I might end up never letting you go.”

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear and then lets you out of the room, confused and heart pounding hard in your chest

✮ When he sees you, on the bench, wearing a jersey—a little too big for you— with his number and his name, his heart skips a beat. A warm feeling invading all his senses. He can’t see your expression completely from that distance, but he can definitively imagine your sweet lips silently cheering for him as well as your doe eyes, focused on him—full of anticipation for his goal. Suddenly, all he wants is to run to you— grab your head and kiss every inch on your adorable face. Yet he brushes off all this chaos of emotion it with a confident smirk, only sending a flying kiss towards you as he scores a goal for you. He was so close to ditch the whole match just to shower you with kisses.

✮ Kaiser is pretty much an open book once you get to know him. You’re completely aware of how whipped he is for you, even if he still tries to deny how much effect you have on him. The way you nervously play with your hair, or the way your fingers brush against his when you hand him his water battle during the team training— It’s almost ridiculous how it makes him go insane. So much that he can’t believe how much he just wants to hold you in his arms and hide you away.

✮ He likes to scoop you up in his arms. He always says that you look cuter that way but really, you both know it’s just an excuse to hold you in his arms. The way you circle your arms around his neck— pressing your chest tightly against his as your head rests on his shoulder. The way you hide your flushed face in the crook of his neck— oh… He swallows hard, an overwhelming warmth spreading through his entire body. He swallows again as the sensation began to migrate towards his heart. Fuck… it feels like it’s melting. He desperately wants to kiss you… to bite you… you’re so cute to the point he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. If you knew how much his heart is begging for your love right now… would you want him as much as he wants you?

✮ Kaiser always tries to mask what he truly feels with arrogance or confidence— because after all he’s “superior to all those plebeians.” So of course vulnerability isn’t something he comfortable with. He needs complete control over his emotion to feel secure. But it’s impossible with you around. And no matter how hard he tries to resist, he just can’t hide how much your cuteness affects him.

“ - Micheal!���

He turns around as he hears a very familiar voice calling him from afar—your voice. Your beautiful voice. The voice that could bring him down to his knees, even if he tried so hard not to fumble.

The cheerful tone you only use when you see him or when he smiles at you never fails to make his heart burst in flames. He can’t stay away from you, so that probably explains why his feet moved on their own, rushing toward you. And right there, you’re killing him— or more like your expression is. How can you be so cute? Your shy smile—your eyes shining with pure joy and affection— it’s making his heart swell with a softness that he sure isn’t used to—and it’s like a punch in the face.

But he can’t let you see this weak side of him. He can’t possibly let you know that he’s pathetic without you.

“ - Well, well, look who’s back to see this poor, miserable man.”

He stops right in front of you slightly leaning forward.

“ - You make it sound like I abandoned you.” You laugh softly hearing the dramatic tone dripping from his voice. But there’s something else in it—something that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“ - Oh, but you did.” He grabs his chest like what you just said hurt him deeply.

“ - Without any pity for my poor soul, you left me all alone for an entire week.” You tilt your head at the tone in his voice. It was back. That sad tone—no, not sad. Sorrow? You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“ - I was sick… sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

The way your voice softened to reassure him, how you’re actually scearching for his gaze to make sure he’s okay, it must have done something to his heart, because before you even know, one of his hand is on your chin, tilting your face toward him. But his touch feels hesitant—because in reality he knows that being so close to you, feeling you skin under his fingertips— this is a risky move—but he couldn’t stop himself.

Your hopeful gaze, the way your lips parts as if you wanted to say something but didn’t—

He’s down bad. He wants to hold you, to hug you and kiss you everywhere. You’re too cute for your own good. His heart is pounding in his chest as if it could burst any minute from now.

But Instead, he simply gives you an enigmatic smile, while his fingers slowly let go of your chin.

“ - It’s okay, mein liebling, you don’t have to apologize. I’m just happy you came back to me.”

And with that, he turns away, glancing at you one last before walking away.

“ - Wait—don’t go!” You grab his arm before he can get too far.

“ - Oh? Can’t live without me already?”

You look down, nervous and unsure, blushing slightly as you bite your inner lip. And something in Kaiser snaps. Something he’s been trying—desperately—to control. He can’t stand it anymore. You’re just too fucking cute, too precious.

“ - Fuck…”

He quickly grab your face, pressing a gentle kiss on one of your cheek, then the other. You then close your eyes as you feel him moving toward your left eye, then the right one.

“ - I need you… I need you so badly in my life. I can’t resist anymore… please…”

Your eyes went wide and you feel your heart swell in happiness— you even tear up from the emotions. Without wasting any more time, you wrap your arms around his head , pulling him into a tight hug with his head resting in the crook your neck, a relieved smile on his face.

Silently, you hug each other.

✮ The way you pout sometimes, when you’re looking for him silently scanning the room with your eyes. And the way they instantly light up when you finally spot him— god you’re so cute. It always makes him want to grab you, bite your shoulder or cover your face with kisses.

✮ The way you only look at him— like the other players don’t even matter. The way you massage his shoulders during breaks to help him relax, while you completely ignore the other players— giving him all your attention. It never fails making him feel like he’s special. Your favorite. God, the way you always run to him first with that sincere and genuine smile of yours, shining so brightly on your face. You’re just so perfect in his eyes. To the point, the only way he can manage to regain control is by nearly choking himself.

✮ He likes to tease you. He noticed how much his teasing fluster you and seeing you blush and whimper like that with your adorable doe eyes when he gets close to you makes his heart explode. And he’s addicted to this sensation.

✮ The way you get jealous is so endearing to him—you’re just like an angry little kitten when fans and random people try to flirt with him. He doesn’t even look at them—because they’re not you after— still, he can see how much it pisses you off. Well it’s fine by him. He gets to have you all for himself right?

You and Kaiser are heading toward the training ground entrance, chatting about you are in such a good mood. Well— until a sudden screech resonated in your ears. Of course it’s yet another fan trying to get his attention, screaming his name and saying all kinds of bullshit about how he can “get it.”

You turn around instantly, glaring daggers at whoever said that. Violence isn't an answer. It's a question— the answer is yes. Fully understanding this quote you prepare yourself to throw hands. But before you can even take a step, Kaiser stops you with a smirk. And, really, he doesn’t fucking know where he finds the strength not to pinch your puffed up— angry cheeks. So damn pretty.

With some convincing, you finally step inside the training ground holding in hand. However, the second you’re out of the public eye, you slam him against the nearest wall, gripping his collar.

“ - When are you going to ask me out?” You hiss, frowning and lips pressed into an adorable pout.

Kaiser smirks chuckling as he tilts his head slightly.

“ - Oh, but Liebling... He then slides his hands on your hips, pulling you closer while lowering his head in the crook of your neck. You feel his teeth faintly grazing your skin before pressing a soft kiss on the same spot. You're already mine.”

[hrrtshape]

coriolanus snow in my dr : a case study (???)

౨ৎ  i know coryo now!!!!! not good for everyone else. like, biblically adjacent. i have stared into the abyss of his collarbones and nearly blacked out from sheer spiritual overload during lunch ! i had to physically restrain myself, clawed at my own wrist, bit my tongue, to stop myself from stamping thirteen hickeys across his aristocratic little throat like a feral creature marking its territory when i first him.

he is so real. more than real. beyond suzanne collins' ink, beyond the tragic orchestration of his future atrocities in other...universes. here, in the very exclusive, very avant-garde dimensional hotspot that is my better cr dr, he is not just coriolanus snow....future ceo heir. he is coryo. my coryo!!!!! and sometimes he slouches ⋆

　　　　　　　　　　  ⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

❛ backstory : his parents are old money, the kind that moves in silence because it has nothing to prove. no desperate new-rich ostentation, just power so entrenched in the social fabric that it seeps into his every gesture, his every breath. his mother, a socialite with a steel-trap memory and a tongue sharper than a guillotine, collects secrets like they’re baccarat crystal. his father...okay. actually. terrifying. the kind of man who bets entire fortunes like they’re poker chips, who calculates risk with a gambler’s intuition and a warlord’s ruthlessness. tigris wasn’t lying when she said his father held hate in his eyes. coryo learned young that money isn’t the prize. it’s the battlefield. also, his grandma’am owns an unfathomably chic flower boutique, the kind of place where orchids cost more than your rent.

　　　unconventional investigative journalism ! . . . ୨୧

◞ signature scent : bdk parfums’ gris charnel, the kind of fragrance that clings to cashmere like a well-kept secret. ink stains on silk shirts, warm cardamom, a whisper of bergamot before it settles into sandalwood and smoked tea. expensive, but not ostentatious. it lingers, it haunts. smells like the kind of man who leaves an open book on the nightstand, spine cracked just so.

◞ phone model (important!!!) : iphone purist, but it’s always the second-to-latest model. not out of financial constraint (please), but because he simply does not care about such pedestrian flexes. midnight black iphone 15, no case, the edges kissed by a few strategic scratches from careless, absentminded tosses onto marble countertops.

◞ handwriting : so precise it could be a forged renaissance manuscript. slanted, deliberate, almost ecclesiastical in its elegance. when rushed, it collapses into a series of esoteric glyphs that only he and his exhausted professors can decipher.

◞ academic (from a person who's definitely not biased) : always at the top, but never in a way that suggests effort. knowledge just seeps into his bones. writes entire essays in his head and transcribes them last minute. annotations in the margins oscillate between philosophical musings and sardonic commentary. highlighters are strictly monochrome, because colour-coding is for the weak.

◞ basketball quirks : moves like he’s solving an equation in real time. effortless shots, a preternatural understanding of angles and velocity. runs a hand through his hair before free throws, because of course he does. plays like it’s not even a game, but an elegant and calculated dismantling of his opponent.

◞ food (yes i stalked him...basically) : not a sugar fiend, but catches himself reaching for dark chocolate when he thinks no one’s watching. black coffee as a baseline, but if you hand him something absurdly sweet, he’ll wrinkle his nose and then consume it with the begrudging efficiency of a man fulfilling a contract. this is known. this is proven.

◞ musical taste : classical, but only the kind that sounds like a man going through it in a candlelit room. bach (the kind with an organ), tchaikovsky (the kind with a death wish). 2000s indie sleaze. interpol, the strokes, arctic monkeys. jazz. hans zimmer when he’s feeling grandiose. kanye, travis scott, 90s rap when he needs to remind himself he is, in fact, a menace.

◞ can solve a rubik’s cube in under two minutes but insists it’s a useless skill.

◞ always has a pen on him. you’ve stolen at least three.

◞ stands at a slight angle when talking, like he’s perpetually calculating the optimal way to exist in space.

◞ (before my shift so this is from a memory i got there) gave me his jacket in an offhanded way, like it was nothing. later, i caught him watching me wear it with something unreadable in his expression.

◞ knows how to play poker, and you will not beat him at it.

◞ never brags, but when he does something impressive, he looks at me like he’s waiting for me to say something. i just raise an eyebrow.

◞ drives a black aston martin vantage (i know this...because he drove me once. one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror like he’s tracking something unseen. moan.)

◞ taps his pen against his lips when he’s thinking.

◞ looks obscenely good in knitwear. wool coats that make him look like a damn film protagonist.

◞ he doesn’t do hobbies; he does obsessions. he also does chess, poker, fencing. anything that requires strategy and the slow, tantalising art of victory. he's also in model UN. obviously.

◞ wears glasses sometimes. looks as hot as it sounds.

　　　physicality (moan!!!!) . . . ୨୧

◞ 6'3. an affront to reason, a structural hazard, a measurement that demands architectural consideration. the kind of height that turns even the tallest into something delicate by comparison.

◞ athletic, but not in an 'i woke up like this' way. this is intentional. muscle sculpted through discipline, through an almost monastic devotion to control. broad shoulders that make sweaters drape like they were sketched onto him. strong forearms, obviously. his back... indecently, needlessly, artfully carved.

◞ his hands...sigh...perpetually in his pockets, except when he leans in to murmur something just a fraction too close, fully aware of the effect. arms crossed when listening, jaw tightening when irritated (devastatingly attractive, i wanted to immortalise it).

◞ shoe size !!!!! likely 45 (us 12), possibly 46 (us 13). yes, i looked. for science.

◞ rolls up his sleeves with surgical precision, just enough to expose forearms that should require a warning label, yet feigns indifference.

◞ his hands are a problem. strong, elegant, unjust. fingers slightly calloused from basketball, fencing, lifting. YES, I TOOK NOTES.

　　　red flags that i'm way too prepared for . . . ୨୧

◞ pathological overachiever syndrome, but the toxic kind. the “i will seethe in silence if i score a 99 instead of 100” kind. the “i wrote a whole new essay because i found my first one merely excellent instead of transcendent” kind. the “if you beat me at chess i will lose sleep over it for weeks but mask it under a detached smirk” kind.

◞ emotional repression so severe it could be classified as a gothic affliction. you will never know what he’s actually thinking unless you study him like a victorian poet studies phrenology. his version of vulnerability is allowing you to witness a fraction of his turmoil through the clench of his jaw or the way he lingers just a little too long before walking away.

◞ never says “i’m sorry,” just reappears with a grand gesture like he’s starring in a cinematic reconciliation arc. (he is.) will quote poetry or latin at you instead of apologising. will scoff at grand romantic ideals but embodies one against his will.

◞ ego so finely constructed it could be displayed in the louvre. never gaudy, never loud, just a quiet, unshakable belief in his own superiority. not in a way that begs for external validation. no, he already knows. he doesn’t need you to tell him he’s exceptional, but oh, he does like it when you try to prove him wrong.

◞ has a god complex (freak matches freak), but a sexy one. not the loud, abrasive kind. no, his is an old-money god complex, the kind that sits in the corner of a candlelit room, flipping the pages of some antique tome, exuding the silent certainty that the world will always orbit him, whether you realise it or not.

◞ control issues so severe they could be submitted for psychological study. must be the one driving, must be the one deciding, must be the one orchestrating. lets you have your way when it amuses him, but only then. will convince you it was your choice all along.

　　　i , the cold war . . . ୨୧

lily-rose called it first: the cold war. and she was right. me, french-russian (yes, i’ve returned from shifting with improved french!!!) with an arsenal of toothy grins. him, american, arrogance lacquered over his intellect like a second skin. we’re both rich, both brilliant, both locked in a knowing, unbearable awareness of each other. the air crackles.

but it’s not just rivalry. never was. never could be.

when me and coryo stand too close, no one can tell if we’re about to argue or kiss. our verbal sparring sounds suspiciously like flirtation... because it is. because beneath the ego clashes and competitive theatrics, we are, devastatingly, undeniably, more allies than adversaries. we always sit together at lunch, insisting it’s because all our other friends do. but let’s be serious.

before all this, though, we were just kids. 10, maybe 9, maybe 8, whatever. he lived near me. i annoyed him on principle. it was schroeder and lucy, textbook. then i moved to paris. when i came back at 14, things weren’t the same. something brittle in the air. something unsaid.

　　　ii , the dynamic . . . ୨୧

smart vs. smart : we’re both intelligent. that’s a given. but he’s the type of smart that’s ice-cold, precise, a grandmaster orchestrating a hundred simultaneous chess games. and....... my intelligence is chaos and charm, the kind people underestimate right up until i win. he respects it. i weaponise it. it’s mathematics versus poetry. it’s yang and yin. it’s whatever we are, and it works. so well !!!!

arrogance vs. playfulness : he’s arrogance incarnate, but god, he can back it up. me? i’m unserious. i’m babyfaced. i laugh my way through everything, until suddenly i don’t. and then i win. which unravels him. which makes him question the foundations of reality. which is hilarious. (and no, he doesn’t let me win. i think.)

proximity that means too much : we always sit next to each other. always. in every class we share. no one believes it’s incidental. when we argue, it’s close-range, like neither of us is willing to cede even a millimetre of ground.

　　　iii , things that happened during my shift . . . ୨୧

◞ day one, i gave him a nosebleed. a necessary act of narrative tension.

◞ walking to class, his arm slung over my shoulder. unsanctioned contact. if i were a weaker woman, i would have perished on the spot.

◞ watched him play basketball. died immediately.

◞ accidental hand touch. suffered cardiac arrest.

◞ someone told us to get a room. we ignored it. violently.

　　　iv , what everyone sees vs. what's actually happening . . . ୨୧

what they see : two rivals, locked in constant combat, neither willing to surrender, neither willing to blink.

what’s actually happening : two idiots thinking about each other too much. best friends pretending not to be. two inevitable something-or-others, blind to the fact that they are careening towards each other like a greek tragedy.

ok goodbye i'm going back to my better cr now or else i'll die

[catholicfacade]

are you ever gonna post the whole fic u posted the wip of ? 🥺🥺

hiiii, so im still working on it :(( im a suuuper slow writer unfortunately and im genuinely like +10k words deep into just chapter one and its probably only halfway done !!! real slow burn enjoyers rise !!! i might end up splitting chapter one into two parts because of this, i appreciate everyones patience who's cared about my work thus far !!! i know it's not what you want but i'll post another snippet since it is wip wednesday ! i hope you enjoy it in the meantime🤍 -ego⋆♱✮

WIP

pairing: joost klein x f! OC

content: RPF!!!, yearning, pining, slow burn, miscommunication, angst, anxiety, insecurity, val is so sensitive

word count: 2.4k

authors note: still chapter one except things are not so happy rn and they wont be for a while after this :(( my first wip 🤍

It shouldn’t sting, but it does.

Valentine has tried to brush off the moments of painful self-awareness where it’s clear, at least to her, she doesn’t entirely fit in here. All of these new friends in her life are nice! An unexpected but welcome addition to life in The Netherlands. But sometimes, it is so excruciatingly obvious she is not as welcome in their lives as they are in hers. She tries not to feel guilty about being the introvert in a group full of extraverts, it just always hits her so hard at the worst times.

Some nights the conversations are easily flowing, Stuntje, Appie, Lyon, and Daan telling stories, upon stories, upon stories of crazy things the group has done together. Joost is of course standing a little too close to Val for her liking, she can smell his cologne and his cigarettes, it’s making her light headed in the best way. He’s smiling so brightly at his friends, his arm nearly grazing Val’s every time he doubles over with laughter. And then all of a sudden the conversation switches to Dutch and Val gets thrown off, she can maybe understand half of it, but she feels so lost all of a sudden, like she disappeared. Then she feels guilty about feeling guilty, understanding that she is the only non-Dutchie standing amongst this group of people. Of course they’re all going to speak Dutch together. It wouldn’t be fair to make them speak English.

And yet there’s this unavoidable wave of loneliness that washes over her whenever it happens. It’s isolating to be standing amongst friends who are so deep into a story, laughing together, nodding and smiling at one another, while Valentine is forgotten, sometimes even unintentionally pushed out of the circle, doing her best to sneak away quietly to hide in the bathroom. It’s childish, she thinks, to be on the verge of crying because no one is talking to her. It’s selfish to think she’s invisible. But she feels like an intruder in these peoples lives, suddenly aware of how much she doesn’t understand about them. Maybe will never get to understand about them.

When Valentine goes home early, she feels like she’s just doing what’s best to mitigate this awkward situation. She tries to collect herself in the bathroom, swallowing that empty feeling down as far as it will go and walks back out with a fresh excuse made to end the night early. It’s always work, “I just remembered I have a blouse that needs stitching,” or “April needs me in the store early tomorrow, gotta go sorry.” It was only a matter of time before someone caught on that this was her only way of getting out of things, and it was only a matter of time before they stopped caring to have her around. She just wished it wasn’t Joost who would make it so obvious.

Standing all togther in their private section of the club, Apson is in the middle of telling a story about how he almost got beat up for filming a tik tok in front of some guys store, “I tried to say, ‘it’s for a video, it’s for a video’, but he kept cursing at me in Romanian, man! I put my hands up, right?” He recreates the gesture, “I said ‘I do it for tik tok, you ever heard of tik tok, man?’ And he went berserk!”

Everyone begins losing it over the way Appie starts mimicking the store owner’s yelling. Joost seems like he can hardly breathe he’s laughing so hard! As Valentine stands directly next to Joost, she can’t help but sneak a few looks at him, the way his whole face expresses joy, it lights up instantly, there’s no emotion he could try and hide on that face. She thinks it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. His laugh is so genuinely infectious. The butterflies she feels in her stomach flutter, happy that Apson is the star of the show right now so no one can see her stealing glances at Joost every couple of seconds.

After a minute everyone begins to calm down, including Apson who even managed to make himself laugh super hard. Something in Val’s memory clicks for her as she speaks up, “I guess that’s why you had to get permission from April, huh? Didn’t want her to beat you up?”

“Jesus, Val—” Joost genuinely seems taken aback by her presence, brows lifted and eyes widened as he turns to her, “You’re still here? You’re so quiet—I thought you would’ve left hours ago!” He looks immediately to his friends who laugh in loud validation at Valentine’s expense. Joost laughs the hardest of them all.

Is that really it then? She’s so insignificant to him he hasn’t even realized she’s been standing next to him the entire time? No one even bothers to acknowledge what she said. They just keep laughing as Joost starts telling them another story of his own.

Val feels weak, the cup in her hand suddenly weighing 20 pounds, her knees are wobbling. Alanis is the only one not laughing, she catches Valentines eye and gives her a soft, sympathetic smile, probably having suffered some burns herself at some point, being the only girl in the friend group. Val smiles back, though the feeling of smiling is currently foreign to her, she’s just going through the motions.

Once Alanis looks away, Val slips away from the group quietly, grabbing her bag and her coat, heading out the door as quickly as possible without full on running.

The deep January freezing temperatures hit her like a ton of bricks but maybe it’s what she needs…or deserves. Fucking Joost—she thinks to herself. Valentine starts walking in the direction of her apartment.

Why did she have to feel so drawn to him? They clearly have nothing in common. He clearly doesn’t even think about her. She is this invisible little thing to him. Fuck fuck fuck Joost! Why does she care so much about him? It shouldn’t matter anyway, it was just a joke. She’s being such a sensitive little bitch about everything. And now all of her “friends” are going to think she’s super weird and melodramatic for leaving like that. If they can even be bothered to notice she’s gone that is.

Tears prick her eyes as she tries to blink them away, to no avail, they fall, freezing almost instantly on her face, leaving her so unbearably cold. It happens the entire walk home. Valentine is genuinely freezing half to death by the time she makes it back to her apartment. She sighs deeply once inside, cupping her face in her hands. Her teeth are chattering, her fingertips are frozen, and so are her cheeks, the tears she cried having turned into little flecks of ice.

Her body barely has enough strength to strip herself of her frosty clothing and run herself a bath, but she somehow manages it. Sitting against the edge of the bathtub, running the hot water, Valentine reaches into her discarded bag and takes out her phone. Battery dead. Oh well. It will have to wait until after her bath to be charged. It’s not like she stupidly believes anyone will reach out anyway, she’ll never get her hopes up like that ever again. It ends up forgotten on top of the pile of clothes now adorning the bathroom floor. 

-

“—daarna boekte ik altijd mijn eigen optredens!” [after that I always booked my own gigs] Joost nods while finishing his story, Appie and Stuntje laugh, Daan shakes his head, and Alanis has gone off somewhere.

“Heyyy jongens,” Stuntje calls out suddenly, “Who wants another round~?” He says in a sing-song tone while shaking his empty cup.

“I need one, man.” Daan says.

Appie shakes his head, “Ik ga naar huis. Waar is Alanis?” [I’m going home. Where is Alanis?] Appie walks away toward the bathroom, the other three guys just shrug at each other.

“A drink, Joost?” Stuntje asks, pointing to Joosts cup.

“Nee, man.” Joost shakes his head, swirling around his cup which sits half-full.

Daan and Stuntje head to the bar leaving Joost by himself in their section. A familiar, lingering sweetness in the air makes his lip twitch unconsciously into a smile, only one person enters his mind now that he’s alone. Joost searches for Valentine in her usual places, he wants to have a good sit down with her, watch her eyes light up when he gives her all the attention in the world—completely undivided now, he wants to hear her laugh because he hasn’t heard that sweet noise even once tonight! He wants to casually throw an arm around her and watch her blush, offer her a friendly rub on the arm as he innocently tucks her closer to his chest. But Valentine’s not sitting at the table or on the couch, she’s not standing in her corner or getting a drink at the bar. Joost furrows his brows, she couldn’t be on the dance floor could she? He strains his eyes trying to search the jumping crowd from afar but there’s absolutely no sign of that fiery head of hair anywhere.

Joost stares into the crowd of moving bodies for a while and then looks down at his watch, barely a few minutes past 10pm, where could she be? Out of the corner of his eye he catches Alanis coming back to grab her bag.

“Hey, is Valentine still in the bathroom or something?” Joost asks.

Alanis frowns slightly as she swings her purse over her shoulder, “She went home, Joost. I think your little comment made her feel stupid, she looked upset.”

“What?” Joosts heart nearly stops beating. He’s genuinely confused. “But I was joking…why would she leave?”

Alanis shrugs, “She never says anything, and that was the first time she decided to speak up, and you really embarrassed her for it.”

Joost goes red in the face, blinking rapidly, realizing that he had unintentionally probably fucked up Valentines entire night by humiliating her. And that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Shit.” He breathes out, a weight crushing his chest.

“You coming?” Appie calls to Alanis from outside of the section, loud music still pumping through the club even though it feels like mere noise to Joost right now.

“Ja!” Alanis yells back, reaching out and giving Joost a squeeze to the arm, “You didn’t mean it and I’m sure she’ll get over it.” She tries to cheer him up but Joost only replies with a weak nod. “Goodnight Joost.”

“Night Alanis.” Joost watches her walk away and he waves one last time to Appie as the two head home.

-

Exhaustion. It hits Valentine so hard. Her eyes feel so heavy it hurts. The hot water still stings her previously frozen flesh, that hurts too. And so does her head. The image of Joosts face haunting her, replaying back his words and his laughter, the shocked look in his eyes when he acknowledged her…it almost looked like he’d never seen her before. Valentine cringes physically, shoulders coming up close to her ears, she hugs her knees to her chest and hides her face as though it’s all happening again. The water splashes around her with her repetitive movements as she rocks back and forth. She just wants the laughing to stop.

And she wants Joost to disappear.

She stays like that until her body can no longer bare still being awake. Her obsessive, circling thoughts have turned her brain to mush. And everything that happens after her bath goes by in a haze. But at least she’s warm.

The last thing Valentine does is fumble in the dark for her phone charger, slipping it into her phone before instantly passing out in her bed. Not a single thought passes through her mind that someone would want to call her tonight. She easily falls asleep feeling forgotten.

-

Stuntje and Daan have gotten into a heated conversation over at the bar, drinks sitting forgotten in front of them as they drunkly converse loudly with the guy sitting next to them. Joost is now completely alone in the section, heat still sitting under his face and heart still beating wearily.

He goes and sits in his usual spot, right next to where Valentine would usually be this time of night. He looks at the empty space next to him and realizes again that he’s been so stupid with his mouth when he hadn’t meant to be. If only Valentine could know that her absence is being noticed, more than that, it’s hurting him. Joost is alone. Friends are not far away, but he feels more alone now than ever. He hurt the girl he’s been admiring for months, she should be here, she should feel like she belongs, that she isn’t going to be embarrassed because she’s different, that she isn’t going to be made fun of by some stupid Dutch guy that’s actually so enamored with her.

It’s a cold night, snowing, she was definitely wearing a skirt…and heels. Joost is sick to his stomach, he pulls out his phone and quickly pulls up Valentines contact, their previous messages flashing in Joosts eyes, filled with brief small-talk, niceties, and nothing more.

22:18

J: Did you leave? :(

J: Sorry if I said something wrong. Really didn’t mean it.

J: Please call me.

J: I just want to know if you got home safe, I’m worried :(

J: I’m really really sorry Valentine.

--delivered--

Joost watches his screen for any sign of Valentine reading his messages, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly, he re-reads his own words over and over again, wondering if it’s too forward—not that he really cares actually—his stomach is twisted with anxiousness and nothing could stop it unless Valentine called him.

Joost hates waiting more than anything so five minutes passing, watching that little delivered icon never change, it feels like a fucking lifetime. He has to step out to smoke and standing there in the heavy snowfall just makes him feel even worse. The cigarette barely eases his mind so he tries to call Val. No answer. There’s not much more he can do, he assumes she really hates him now, and he just wants to know if she’s okay.

Reaching the last long drag of his cigarette confirms his decision, tomorrow if Valentine still hasn’t replied, he will go to April’s store and check on her in person.

[senseandaccountability]

What's your verdict of Dragon Age the Veilguard now two months down the road? How do you think fandom has reacted to it, compared to the other new titles that you can remember (I know you're a long-time fan)?

(Two months + a fair amount of weeks at this point, sorry for the delay, anon.) This is going to be salty, I’m afraid and a bit like beating on a dead horse but you did ask, thank you for that and sorry about being whiny.

My first impression was that it’s a 6/10 game. I think now upon replaying it two times, the score is even lower. It’s a very mid game that’s also clearly a salvaged product from a long and erratic production cycle. It has some good lore, some good writing, but it’s hidden almost entirely in optional side quests, subtext and the tiny margins of the text. 

Overall its way too much of a high stakes/low tension kind of game for me. It’s fun and it never truly grabs me except for the bits that are about previous characters. I don’t care about Rook. I like them well enough for a protag, I can fill them with headcanon to make them real but I would easily sacrifice them at the end without a second thought. There’s no pull, no tension, nothing to hold on to. I've tried to write fic about Rook but I just don't know anything about this person apart from the fact that they're very young and likes to say the word team a lot. Maybe Rook works in HR.

For all its high stakes, the game also repeatedly fails to show me these stakes. It keeps telling me how important it is, how busy we are and during the Siege of Weisshaupt and Blood of Arlathan, I really do feel it, momentarily. Those quests have weight to them, and they are tied in with the overall narrative of the series. We know the wardens, we know the Dalish. They matter. 

“Sometimes it takes the wrong sort to put it right,” the game says and doesn’t even dare to show me a single shred of moral ambiguity in Rook. Call me annoying but I don’t necessarily want to feel like a hero. I don’t need to feel morally righteous about my player character. I want the narrative to be complex and challenge me and hold compassion for the world it’s telling me about, dare me to change my mind about its characters and their various plights. What if the hero is wrong? What if the world is too complex to be reduced to simple choices? What if the trusted mentor lies and the liar tells the truth? What then? Somewhere in the far distance DAV wants to offer some complexity but hey we have EVIL ANCIENT GODS TO FIGHT YO! I actually hate the tone. I said early on that it’s one of my main gripes and I stand by it.  It’s chipper and full of HR-department tidiness and in general it just doesn’t move me because it’s just telling, not showing me the emotions. THIS IS THE EMOTION CALLED DOUBT, the game screams in my face. LET'S HAVE A TALK WITH THE TEAM TO PUT IT RIGHT. Immediately after finishing DAV, I went and played Disco Elysium and the contrast was quite honestly heartbreaking. Because the tone in that funny, sarcastic and over the top writing? It’s compassionate. It wants to be truthful about what it’s like to be a human living in a broken, inhuman world. It cares. Veilguard more often feels like an action movie revenge plot where you get to punch some EVIL ANCIENT GODS in the face because they want to drown the world in demons, man, let’s just leave it at that lol omg you can even PUNCH Solas lol whatever thanks bye.  

I also just find the text flat. It doesn’t have the transtextuality I’ve come to appreciate in the other DA games, it doesn’t play much with differences in dialogue for the different characters - like making one stand out as being anachronistic or having a different way of expressing themselves or being very unlike the others in some fundamental ways, it doesn't challenge and/or characterize through banter in the way the other DA games have done and it doesn’t give us companions that seek meaningful conflict or are difficult to understand. Veilguard is the only DA game where I haven’t felt any kind of strong emotional reaction while interacting with the companions, and while you could argue that this is a good thing because teamwork and professionalism or whatever, I’d say that for a text, this is a factor that makes it flat. No great piece of writing has only likable characters capable of self-reflection because no actual human being is only likable or not likable to everyone and by god are actual humans not always capable of self-reflection. In fact, some humans shy away from it for entire lifetimes.

The story of DAV is consistent in its themes, yes. It’s just that it’s also without nuance and - again - without stakes. The companion quests raise big moral dilemmas but the answers are so bland they might as well just be ignored. The outcome changes nothing, doesn’t affect the characters. There’s no price to be paid for becoming first talon, no punishment for being a lich, it’s just another wardrobe choice. Should I wear blue or black, perhaps become an immortal creature? No matter darling, you are always adorable. I think most of all the state of the game is a testament of a really fucking tragic industry that doesn’t care enough about storytelling and authenticity or its workers. I think it’s clear that the writers were trying very hard but I also think it’s clear that it wasn't the narrative the powers that be decided to focus on.  The DA fandom at large, quite frankly, has always just made me exhausted and miserable. I think a lot of the criticisms of DAV have been unhinged. I think a lot of the defences of the game have been so deranged that it makes me wheeze as I read them out loud to my husband. I’ve seen plenty of people dragging up some 17 year old noob’s post from the depths of reddit just to do some edgy take about how stupid people are for disliking the game and it’s just been so many bad faith takes. Overall, I’m truly sorry to say, I have no desire to play this game anymore nor do I feel very tempted to play the other DA games. I’m happy to see that my mutuals are having fun - I wish I felt anything stronger than oh well about the new characters, but I don’t. Maybe I will not be this actively bored in the future and pick it up again, but for now, no. I'll try to finish my fanfic and then probably be done for good with this fandom.

[moonmeg]

Looking back at the early comics of TDAAC, when Evelyn says that Caleb looked thin, I didn't see it, but NOW he looks on the brink of starving lol

Hahaha no because real.

He didn't look very thin. Not to a concerning degree.

That's the thing with art and stories that grow with the artist. My art style and understanding of bodies, faces, hair etc. has changed over the last 2 (almost 3!?!) years while working on TDAAC. If you put the Caleb from 2022, 2023, 2024 and 2025 next to each other they barely look alike. That's two different characters 💀

Some is to blame on art style change/evolution, some on inclusion of canon Wittebane and Wittecouple lore - something that would affect TDAAC story wise too if I were to rewrite it today or sometime later. As in the entire first Act of the comic would be changed to fit canon better (also because I'm not too happy with it anymore)

So uh

✨️Art✨️

[cyberr-v0id]

Sometimes whispering your pain and your regrets and all of your wishes to the silent, silent beyond really helps, and it’s times like that when I realise why Christian’s find so much comfort in praying to a good whom they do not know will ever answer them

[delawaredetroit]

Now that I have to see his face again, Bakugou isn't much a deuteragonist. He only really acts as deuteragonist in some school arcs until about halfway through the manga when the war arc begins. And in the arc where he is most relevant to the overall plot (the second war arc), he spends half of it as a corpse.

Shouto is deuteragonist of the Sports Festival Arc. Iida is deuteragonist of the Stain Arc. Mirio is the deuteragonist of the Shie Hassaikai Arc. If you consider Izuku the protagonist of the Kamino Arc (which there's a decent argument it's actually All Might), then Kirishima and/or Iida are closer to deuteragonists while Bakugou fulfills the role of the damsel in distress.

His record is dismal prior to the Paranormal Liberation Front War: The Battle Trials, the Midterms, Hero Licensing Exam/Deku vs Kacchan Part Two, and the Joint Training Arc (Endeavor Agency Arc is arguable, but the Hellish Todoroki Family took control of the plot for that one). Bakugou is somehow constantly present and almost completely irrelevant to the overarching plot for at least half the story.

And I can't tell if this is Horikoshi shoehorning him in because Bakugou was too popular but he didn't want to change the main beats of the story. Or if he was trying to make Bakugou grow into the deuteragonist role like Izuku and Shigaraki grow into the roles of "the hero" and "the villain" respectively. It wasn't well executed if that was the case. They had to grow into their societal roles through the story (so they could later overcome the roles of hero and villain), but Izuku and Shigaraki already fit the roles of protagonist and antagonist from the beginning, unlike Bakugou as a deuteragonist.

[secriden]

Well, Thailand was certainly a mixed experience.

On the one hand, I was in the most pain I’ve felt in a while.

On the other hand, I did get to see Dunk in the flesh. ☺️

[tbob-enthusiast]

Messy school doodles HAHEHHE

Season 2 Robbie (not canon Robbie ofc, but rather the "S2" of my own fic which I may or may not ever finish). The lore is that his hair was MUCH longer than this, but it got shaved off due to Lore Reasons™ and now it's growing back :]

NOT STAN. That's my beta Dipper HAHEHHEE. My notes are just emphasizing how similar they look. Me, earlier today, drawing beta Dipper: "STAN PINES ?! 😨😮😮😨😨😨"

Perhaps. Gay people. I am thinking about it really hard fr

[liuisi]

every day me and my friends singlehandedly try to keep the kids in this church from getting more whitewashed

[yaoianimeremade]

Soon im rly gonna do it

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

That Tolkien post going around again is a Mess bc the OP most likely only made it to justify shipping that Tolkien 100% would not have approved of but then you read the notes and realize they don’t even know what they’re talking about when they’re discussing Tolkien’s Christianity

[a-chuffed-floating-panda]

The deeper I fall down this extreme research hole of reading sutras and Buddhist texts, I feel like the lotus sutra would be what Yangchen chants on the regular. Followed by either the medicine Buddha sutra or the Ksitigarbha sutra

[loregoddess]

okay hands down the best new mechanic for LoZ:EoW is the ability to warp around the dungeon, if I get stuck on a puzzle I can just warp away and try to solve a different part of the dungeon, if I get stuck on that puzzle I can go back to the first one with a slightly different mindset bc I'm now avoiding a different puzzle, it's great

[girlivealwaysbean]

it would feel so nice to work towards a career that has meaningful impact and makes millions of people happy