#i keep forgetting to post it here but in my defense... it tends to be pretty discouraging to post art here nowadays

[leftarmofl1fe]

hue makes an appearance again.. if any of yall know me from tiktok and saw my first post about him ily

don’t mind me @toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

Yapping below \/

So initially he didn’t have much of a story because I’m not very creative and I blank out whenever I try to make something original so yeah.

basically, if Color were ever to get error-d, I think he would be on a hike, probably in some random AU that had nice scenery or something. He’s wearing a rain jacket because it was raining at the place he was, and he he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Error or some other entity was destroying it or something. As for how he got into the anti void,,, yall can use ur imagination 😭

(That’s the best explanation I can give, kill me)

I was more focused on the actual character than his backstory, so I’ll just explain my ideas of how he would act and such..

I called him Static Hue, or just Hue for short. (It’s a synonym of color I’m very creative guys)

I think whatever caused the error in his code amalgamated the human souls, and kind of made them fuse together, so Hue can never understand what they are saying because they speak over each other all the time. The different traits overlap and he feels mixed emotions all the time, along with intense mood swings and anxiety attacks. His flames also change color at a much faster rate, so people with epilepsy will stay FAR away from him 😭😭😭😭

Fun fact: he’s also blind. The only thing he can actually see is the color of his flames (which change all the time), and it tends to give him headaches and nausea. His grabblings are always out and just attached to his back so he can use them to move around.

As for the strings, they are very hot to the touch and leave burn marks on however he uses them on. They burn himself as well but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

Hue’s memory is very jumbled, he didn’t necessarily forget about everything, but he doesn’t remember why exactly he does things. He knows he needs to help killer and protect him at all costs, but he isn’t sure why. He knows he hates Nightmare and REALLY wants that guy dead, but he doesn’t know where that hatred came from. And of course he naturally feels safer near the epic trio, and nervous staying in the same places for too long.

hue’s pretty obsessive over Killer for this reason. His need to help killer was multiplied by a gazillion, and he tends to just.. kidnap Killer and take him random places to keep him close. Sometimes he accidentally hurts him, but he doesn’t realize it, the only thing he can think about is keeping him safe and close to himself. On the contrary, he gets super aggressive and defensive at the mention of Nightmare, and if he were to see him face to face he would attack without hesitation. He knows his job is to keep Killer safe and away from Nightmare, and that’s really his only motive. He just doesn’t know where it came from.

Similarly to most errors, he has trouble speaking because of stuttering and glitches. He also can’t form very clear thoughts because the souls are constantly influencing his behavior. He has trouble explaining his thoughts and feelings, he tends to speak more in actions (as in he would crush you to death in a hug to show affection.)

anyway. If anyone wants to add onto this or share thoughts I’d appreciate it..

Here’s some older drawings of him LMAO

[stormyrainyday]

apologies this is far from a coherent shower thought but i think it's time we like. decided to detach our identity a bit from the things we do. it's fine to just read. you don't have to be a reader. it's fine to just game. you don't have to be a gamer. you can be those things but i feel like in a quest to find ourselves and open our hearts, especially to others online (because i know, the first thing we do when on a new platform is say hi im [name] i like these things we should talk, i know, i do, my pinned post is literally that), i feel like we forget that we are more than the things we do and even the things we love. we, to borrow words from slay the princess, contain it in our multitudes.

it's a sentiment i've felt for a long time as someone who has been on the internet and in fandom spaces for a good decade now, and like. i find when we hold these things so close that they become us, we become too defensive over them. how many minor fandom disagreements spiral into threats, name calling, doxxing even? i find, especially younger users in fan spaces, tend to take even small differences of opinion and take them personally. saw someone blow up and call people awful names over believing only one person could top in a genshin ship. another left a server i was in because they disliked a popular character, and other (respectfully), decided to share why they did like her. i get that things like rejection sensitivity are a thing, but i think this failure to recognize the self as an entity apart from the things you do and the thoughts you have definitely contribute to this. phenomenon i suppose.

it's genuinely slay the princess that has given me the vocabulary to express and understand this thing i was already thinking. i think, though we are not gods, it's important to understand that we are not things so easily defined. we consist of our thoughts, our actions, our perceptions, our beliefs, and more. even the outside world's perception of us reflects some part of our nature. but not all of it. it's impossible to define oneself in one, two, three words or even an essay.

because like we don't exist in a vacuum. part of our existence is defined in our interactions with others. but not all. never all. there is no one who can truly know you, and we cannot truly know ourselves. our principles bend to the whims of circumstance no matter what we tell ourselves otherwise, so we can't decide what we are or what we would be in a situation for sure, ever. and that's not a bad thing, but if we can't ever truly know ourselves, then how can we assign such great importance to something as superficial as the things we enjoy sometimes?

we are both a constant and the capacity to change. and to take just a handful of things and call it your identity, even subconsciously, is a disservice to the self. in an effort to be seen we break ourselves down into easy (i hate to say it but) marketable pieces.

take being a reader for example. it has always felt like vague slang for booksmart, thoughtful, likely quiet and introverted as well, just as much as it means "i like to read books". theres an aesthetic to it involved, and a whole subculture. do you write in your books? do you keep them museum-fresh quality? do you read smut or classics or high fantasy or satire and what does it say about you? if you say audiobooks aren't real literature, are you signalling to others about quality and sophistication, or are you a pretentious asshole, and ableist to boot? these connotations assigned to such an otherwise benign thing about someone are i think are reflective of the construct of identity and perception. i could go on about it in a way that's more coherent but i, a student, have other things to do right now.

(does being a student make me intelligent? does it impress you to know i study medicine? what if i told you i average Cs in my classes? what if i told you i dislike patient care? what if i told you i'm not here for the money OR to make the world a better place, and that i'm here purely to serve my curiosities about the way the body functions and to absolve my obsessive need to understand just what are we? does this change what you think of me? does it matter? what if you knew the guilt i felt for seeing so much suffering, but still hating patient care enough to worry endlessly about being stuck in it as a career? am i better for it? but i have not acted on this guilt. it is a mere feeling that only i know. knew. is it different now that i've confessed it? does it matter? does any of it change who i am, fundamentally? or am i a thing detached from it all? or. as i like to believe. is it both? your shifting perceptions of me and the way i change shape and form (so much like our beloved princess in slay the princess) in your eyes, they make up me just as much as the soul or the self or whatever other philosophical name you assign to it. at the end of the day, isn't the most important thing that i am just me? both devoid of and constituted of the sum of my parts? what is found in the spaces between my cells? impulses and chemicals. is that me? is it all me? can i ever really know it? and why, why, why define it at all?)

[harufallinwonderland]

My yumeship list

Note 1. I’m not A super serious Yume shipper this list is just characters I simp for that I bothered to make self insert ocs in my head to ship with so don’t worry about sharing idrc bout that stuff

Note 2. do not be concerned about bringing up ships of characters on this list as long as it's not A proship i don't mind you talking about ships with my yumes with me

Note 3 @maou-the-tree GET OVER HERE YOUR THE ONE WHO MOTIVATED ME TO MAKE THIS -I yell dragging you into my alyssum hole-

Note 4: a lot of yapping all the Yume ships have lore here.

Note 5: if A game A f/O is from have A self insert my oc tends to just go by Haru 9/10 times

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My main obsession rn is

(Honkai impact 3rd) Fu hua x NB! Hime (it kinda extends to Senti as well but it’s more that Senti is more funny while Fu hua is more me actually simping)

As for Hime they are simply just another person in the world of HI3 not having much connection to the plot but eventually found their way into Fu hua which became quickly A whirlwind romance for the old chicken and her lover

Their A surprisely simple couple despite Fu hua’s…long complicated past Hime acts as A safe and simple place for Fu hua very loving (much to Senti’s disgust) and they are as A pretty normal couple

Dates tend to be A compilation of them trying to have normal dates and making sure Senti doesn’t get herself into A shituation but they still love Senti (even if Fuhua sometimes want to strangle her while on dates despite her calm exterior),teaching basic self defense (and failing), along with bike rides

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(MAOU you prob expected this one)

(Kamen rider zero one) Horobi x parent M!Yea:

I love Horobi and I want him to experience happiness and angst so I made my Yume that’s A single parent

So for how they met simple post series Horobi was going about his business making sure Ark one couldn’t be revived with Jin untill he eventually met Yea and boom love bloomed between the human and Humangear

Did I forget to mention Yea has A child…well technically! Yea is only in his early 20s BUT during A humangear attack his older sibling got attacked and killed along with his wife only leaving A child by the time Aruto came to save the day back during the series

Which leaves A yea now taking care of his nephew who is so young he can barely remember his actual parents and spite towards Horobi and originally they were planning to keep it to that one meeting but they for some reason couldn’t stop meeting and getting into situations that leads to them learning more and more about the other leading to A love blooming

Now A official couple their children took only 3 seconds to get along and the four officially became A full family of 4

Their dates tend to include: a lot of walking around,testing out new things to see if Horobi likes…ANYTHING,hoping Jin doesn’t burn down the house watching his new little brother, and teaching Jin that giving A gun to A 3 year old is NOT A good idea

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(Ohsama sentai king ogher) Gira husty x Streamer!M!Hime;

Hime mostly took the role of A supporting character in the show itself being Gira’s main love interest and being there for him emotionally (along with many jokes about him and Himeno getting mixed up since his name is literally Himeno’s but two letters short)

But after the series when the kingdoms united Hime decided to try streaming which he got A decent following (along with the kings he made friends with watching secretly when they get A chance) with Gira supporting him and him staying anonymous as Gira’s spouse

It was all normal untill one day where Hime forgot to turn on his waiting screen while he brb which lead to Gira coming into his office shirtless looking for his good shirt for A meeting and noticing A bit to late that he was being recorded and thus all the chaos started as Hime now has to start acting as his role and Gira trying to ease him into the whole “openly being A royal” lifestyle (as he has had plenty experience with)

Dates include: Hime trying to teach Gira how to play games,helping out at Gira’s old orphanage,trying to find peace through Gira now busy chaotic life, and napping…even the mad king needs A nap.

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(Suite precure) Noise x Suite General GN! Haru

(Fun fact the simping started as A joke but eventually really became not A joke)

Suite general! Haru is one of the main villians of Suite (in my little head canon) he tends to work away from the other suite villians untill Noise comes around and he fully gets into action

His love for Noise started when he was 20 when many years ago he went through A incident leaving him in total despair and most ingored him untill he met Noise A being of pure despair he latched onto someone who can truly understand him going beyond normal human age just to stay with him

Haru’s love is completely one sided but he has no problem following Noise untill the day he dies his personal general no matter what happens

——————————————————————————

(Honkai impact 3rd) Lantern x F!Aria (note i have very little knowledge of hi3 part 2 atm but my soul needed it so it happened also thank you to the moot maou for checking if my bio can fit in the lore)

Aria was A “normal” Martian citizen going about her day in lianqiu untill she ran into Lantern during one of her odd jobs and helping her after she saw the other mess up and they strangely just kept running into each other and they proceeded to get super close (even if they haven’t verbally confirmed A relationship with each other)

Lantern has A habit of trying to do things by herself to not seem like A burden on Aria but somehow Aria always finds her around and helps her no matter what plus she is of some help during combat jobs (despite being A “normal” person with very little combat experience Carolie and Helia have mentioned that Aria was stronger than your average A rank valkire) also Lantern is fiercely protective over Aria even over little things

Aria tends to treat Lantern to candy with no charge as she just loves seeing Lantern’s expression as she eats it as she says “despite her having A resting bitch face it’s easy for me to tell when shes happy even with the slightest twitch” and Aria also tends to give out candy to kids (habit she developed from Lantern)

Their dates tend to be just helping Latern with her jobs but Aria does try to treat her often to fancy places to eat and the such (also a lot of candy)

——————————————————————————

(Dc) Jason Todd x GN!Hime

Hime was A spirit medium and the only hero from A parallel world’s Gotham that Jason found himself in after A big fight in Gotham and helped after he found out that most of Hime’s power was stolen by A evil spirit .

After the whole conflict the two worlds got connected and Hime’s Gotham practically kicked him out so he could “live in own life” so now Hime works with the outlaws and lives with Jason

Hime tries to be more chill with his relationship with Jason but it doesn’t help that whenever she sees Jason act in any way romantic he freezes completely (couldn’t even peacefully sleep in the same bed as him for A bit)

Their dates tend to include: busting down on drug rings,quietly reading next to each other, dinner dates, and just trying whatever Hime finds cool in this new world.

——————————————————————————

(Honkai star rail) Firefly x trailblazer GN!Haru

They just have the same backstory as canon firefly and trailblazer so I’m just going to give some random details

Haru is Wife guy was willing to do anything for Firefly (has once broken into A super high security planet just to get A gift for Firefly as something she simply mentioned wanting),whenever they are together Haru tends to just latch onto Firefly’s hand (which is A habit that carried over to their meeting in peacony despite Haru’s lack of memories),

Their dates tend to include: Haru taking Firefly to different planets to explore,messing with Silver wolf,missions (anything can be A date if u try),and when they are alone they try to learn to do those cute ballroom dances couples do in shows

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(Blush blush) Kelby x GN!Haru

Haru was simply raising money to make his own idol agency by working at A zoo but it eventually lead to the events of the game and him basically having to abandon his dreams for the boys (and him getting REALLY close with Kelby especially)

In this little universe while all the boys are back to humans Kelby is the only one Haru is in A relationship with while he is just friends with the others and they have slotted pretty comfortably into each others lives.

Their dates tend to includes: the canon in game dates,Kelby trying (and low key failing) to teach Haru how to play most sports,going to the gym (must to Haru’s horror), and Haru trying to get Kelby into his nerdy interests.

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To be continued (I do want to update it more but it’s not that common for me to make Yume ocs and I forgot most of the ones I made over the years so it will update as I remember or make more)

[direwombat]

tagged recently by @simplegenius042 and @g0dspeeed to share some wip stuff (thank youuuuu~🧡🧡🧡)

this is a combo of old (first snippet) and new (parts of the second) from katc ch 7, that i spent some time editing today and liked well enough to share. enjoy some snippets of syb's internal philosophy (and it totally not being compatible with jacob's. nope. nosiree. couldn't be her)

[Sybille] lowers her binoculars with a grimace. The men she could handle, but her experience with wolves begins and ends with the ones she’s seen at the zoo and in nature documentaries. She knows enough to have zero desire to gain firsthand experience in what those teeth and jaws can do.

That wolf will sniff her and Boomer out immediately if she isn’t careful, and while there are fewer soldiers and alarms stationed here compared to Falls End or John’s Ranch, the men posted here are obviously more disciplined. The Peggies in the Valley are all young. Disorganized. They’re content to chatter idly while half-assing their patrols. They saunter around with lazy fingers held over triggers, half-paying attention to their surroundings and shoot without regard for collateral damage. They remind her of new recruits back in the army: wide-eyed, baby faced privates fresh out of boot camp who all think they’re going to be the next George Patton. 

Greener than a golf course, John’s troops are all too eager to chase glory and be named heroes by the Father.

But here, in the Whitetails, the Peggies maintain their posts with the stoic professionalism that she’s only seen from career soldiers. They move with a sense of purpose that comes from spending years serving in the line of duty. There’s a rhythm to their motions. Order. Soldiers who are aware of their place, acting as cogs in a much larger machine -- aware that the job they’re doing is important while also recognizing their own fragile mortalities. 

An army is like a clock. Every single piece of its internal mechanisms plays a critical role in keeping it ticking. Even the smallest of cogs, if broken, must be removed and either fixed or replaced. So too is the soldier. 

It took her years to learn that lesson. In a culture that emphasizes individuality, it’s difficult to accept one’s place as a singular part of a larger whole. But, she’s better for it, she thinks. Stronger. At peace with the fact that when she dies, someone will come and fill her place, and the world will keep on turning. 

For the sake of her conscience, she pretends that the men here have learned the same lesson and made their peace as she has.

and a section from a little later on from the same scene (after she's cleared the outpost):

“My brothers. You know why we train.”

Her jaw clenches and she hauls herself to her feet using the desk to keep herself steady. A small CRT TV rests on its corner and on the screen is none other than the Herald of the Whitetails staring back at her as he goes on to answer his own question. “So that it becomes second nature. Instinctual. We train so that we can act without thinking. Everything we do has a purpose.” 

Where the sermon blasting from the speakers outside had Sybille rolling her eyes, this one forces her lips to curl into a snarl. She’s struck with the impulse to refute, to argue, to fight back, but every half-cooked defense breaks before it makes its way to her tongue. After all, how can she rebuke his words when she’s living proof of their veracity. Even before joining the Army, she learned the importance of listening to her gut; of acting fast and trusting her body would do what it needed to do to survive when rational thought failed her.

She almost prefers operating in that state. It isn’t just the rush of adrenaline that makes her blood sing. It’s also the state of zen she finds once she’s stripped away all of the higher functions that make her human and becomes something primordial. 

Humans are animals, after all. Too many people tend to forget that.

But she hasn’t.  

taglist (opt in/out)

@voidbuggg, @cloudofbutterflies92, @josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarashikage,

@florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl,

@ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners

@trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts

@adelaidedrubman, @finding-comfort-in-rain, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable,

and anyone else with a wip they want to share today!

[noblechaton]

humbly introducing Norette!

my first ever OC/sona! (drawn here by the ever lovely @sidsinning). I've had a lot of fun creating her and even have a lil writeup for her that I'll post down below for anyone that might be curious about her. she's a lotta me but unique in her own ways too

Age: 27 Height: 5'6 Sexuality: Bi/Pan/Omni (she's into anyone and anything) Eyes: Brown

A sleepless creative with more dreams than ability, Norette has a plethora of niche interests, a penchant for short capes and spicy sushi - as long as it doesn't have vegetables in it - and a knack for talking her way out of - or into - almost anything. She loves to cook, she could have been a foodie in another life, and daydreams often, most comfortable beneath a robe two sizes too large and zoned out into her own little world amid online conversations with her various friends.

She loves accessorizing, from rings to necklaces to hats. She can sometimes be found wearing glasses, though it's uncertain as to whether or not they're purely an aesthetic choice or something she actually needs (she definitely needs them, even if she forgets them far more often than she'd like). Her wardrobe is quite plain with graphic tees and sleepwear aplenty for the most part, though she's often found wearing what's effectively her signature jacket - one modeled off one of her favorite games - and a typical pair of dark jeans, themselves one of the few pairs she owns because, as is frequently said by her, "I ain't paying that much for pants"

A collector of figures, toys and knickknacks of all sorts, Norette's hobbies range from pretty common to more niche and lowkey. She loves model kits, plays plenty of video games both new and old, and secretly likes collecting hats - from proper headwear to the novelty sort. She's also something of a TV and movie buff, with filmmaking being something of her first calling - writing just got its hooks in her a little sooner and just a bit deeper. She feels her talent with a digital pen (don't ask about her proper handwriting) varies wildly, but she does truly adore the written word - though it doesn't seem to always love her, despite what some close may say.

Norette's a friendly girl, one that's as genuine as she can be, who loves to help wherever she can and chooses to believe the best in people first and foremost, whenever she can at least, with an ear always open for anyone who needs someone to listen. She'll sit with someone in need as long as they need it, do whatever she can to help - though she's often limited in one way or another, and often frustrated by that fact. She tries to be as good natured as she can be, though, even if sometimes her quietly playful attitude might be a bit much - which something she does try and keep an eye on, too.

Norette herself, by contrast, is slow to truly open up and very much reserved, even if she's got a habit for oversharing when someone shows interest. She's shy and tends to dodge the more personal topics, in regards to herself. You could sit with her for hours and not really learn too much about her. She's more likely to make some quick and quiet joke, with a habit for dry sarcasm and deliberately aloof commentary, than she is to engage with someone outright - at least until she knows the person. Generally slow to trust, Norette's affection is often best earned through a mix of venting and comedy. And though her circle of friends can be considered a good bit expansive, Norette does often find herself lonely due to various factors - the least of which is her horrendous sleep schedule.

Loyal to a fault and fiercely defensive of those she holds most dear, Norette holds those she considers close friends in high regard. Even on the surface, she tries to remain friendly and kind to any who happen to come to her. It may be difficult at times to break through her outer shell or to approach her in general, some have considered her intimidating for some reasons she never understood, but it's hard for someone to truly leave her once they have - even if they're already gone, which leads to its own sort of hang-ups.

She's indecisive, fears being alone, worries of driving those away she'd wish to be close with and is often wracked by overthought and anxiety alike. She doubts herself often, though her confidence has taken an upward turn as of late. Her past is shrouded and what she does know is held close to her chest, but she knows hurt - and that's why she always does her best to do no harm, even in cases where it's futile. Norette is trying, and that's what matters.

Little is known about Norette's home life, less is shared about her family outright - though one can assume that she both has one, and perhaps isn't on the best terms with them. For however close some may get to her, whatever past she has is often left largely as a mystery to them - it's a deliberate choice on her end for various reasons, and something that often gives her pause when it comes to her relationships. Some of it is simply things she'd rather not get into, others are things she genuinely doesn't know.

A hopeless romantic, curious yet shy, Norette lives a quietly active life, always finding something to be busy with between her model kits, writing and friends. Sometimes she's stretched too thin, other times she's got so much time on her hands she often simply wastes it at home in her modest apartment, which she shares with her grey and white farm cat she's named Spidey. She likes going out all the same, preferring more casual places like the malls and shopping centers, even bars - though she doesn't drink - to anywhere too quiet, as she likes the hustle and bustle of public life.

And though she's often timid and wary of the world around her, she's always keen to make a friend

[bexjae]

well looks like i don't have self control lol. it's tamie again, the one behind emotional dork and lime ent trainee lee seojun as well as the studio delta trainee min hyejin. jae here is someone who might focus on looks more so i made his aesthetics higher than anything else but that doesn't mean he's completely useless. here's his about for anyone to read. again like the last two, his background and connection page will get worked on more later. got a few rough ideas i'll include under the read more though! if anyone wants my discord ever, don't be afraid to ask~ leave a like and i'll gladly message you about plotting with jae here <3

jaesung was born and raised in busan, south korea.

he has a younger brother and younger sister who he had to help take care of from time to time.

his parents own a restaurant that he's helped out in from time to time whenever things got super busy.

he loves referring to this as his first job even if he wasn't there like a normal job.

so his family isn't well off but they have enough money to survive and splurge once in awhile if they wanted to

at a young age, he discovered he had a love for makeup which caused him to wanna pursue a job in being a makeup artist at some point.

also found that he loves to write whether that is writing in a journal about his day or writing about a story that's been on his mind for days.

once in high school he decided to try out ballet lessons (which he knows bits and pieces of the steps for anymore)

during this time, he became more sure of his sexuality. even though he was terrified, he came out to his parents who surprised him by being supportive right away. he can't say the same about extended family though.

though at some point, he joined a study abroad program which had him finishing school in new zealand where he learned english.

after graduating, he went back to south korea and moved to seoul where he enrolled in a school that specialized in makeup and hair styling.

he discovered the world of idols due to some friends back home but hasn't done well with keeping up with what's popular all the time. he tries his best though. he definitely has a few favorites.

he gets to work doing makeup for different things and loves posting makeup related content online to share with others.

he tends to like singing a bit and tends to sing to himself whenever he's not too busy at work. (he'd become embarrassed if someone heard him singing lol)

he's can be a bit flirty and tends to be pretty confident at times though deep down he's much more insecure than he lets on. can come off as timid when meeting someone new.

tends to get pouty when things don't go his way and is quick to get defensive if blame is shifted to him in anyway (he's working on it)

he knows korean and english but will definitely favor one over the other at times.

a few plot ideas if anyone wants to do them

some he knew back in busan before he left to new zealand. he wants to keep in contact with his friends there

someone he's flirted with a ton whether it's in the past or even currently

maybe a fwb thing?

someone he can speak more english with since he doesn't wanna forget it

maybe someone who he's worked with or done makeup on before.

maybe someone he didn't get along with at first due to either a misunderstanding or just jae rubbing them the wrong way

someone he meets while drinking which could end up in interesting ways

up for brainstorming more ideas though!

[linesonpages]

“I didn’t even know it was bothering me until it was gone”

This happens to me all the time. I’ve been trying to learn the same lesson, from a different source but very similar. I often find myself getting anxious and defensive/explosively reactive and can’t identify the source of my overstimulation/discomfort, eventually that source is removed and I can finally regulate.

I want to be able to identify the sources while they’re happening so I can eliminate them sooner, but in the moment my brain freezes and my executives can’t function.

So I started a note in my phone to write down the triggers after it gets fixed and I identified it. When I have time and energy I write the trigger out as a question I can ask myself, and an explanation I can give myself as to why changing that thing might help. If applicable I also write out the tools I can use with my kids when my sensory needs conflict with theirs. I write it conversationally so I can read it aloud to myself and just follow my instructions, if it’s just bullet points I can’t always connect the information to the moment, or remember what those four words were supposed to make me think of doing.

I always like it when people share their lists on advice posts like this, so here’s mine in case it helps as a starting point:

Things to check when it’s all a bit too much:

Are any of the blinds up? You feel trapped and unsafe if all the blinds are closed and the house is too dark. Try opening a couple (even if the weather is bad)

Have you been outside today? You also feel trapped if you are in the same place for a whole day. Step out on the porch for at least 2 minutes even if the weather is miserable you ALWAYS feel better.

Have you consumed any calories in the last 2 hours? You are a grazer and a lil’ treat queen. Your brain probably needs a little glucose, if the kids are also tense give them something carb based too. This physically helps you and it often gets your attention off the stressor so you can try to find it.

Are the big lights on after 6pm? That’s unacceptable, you own lamps for a reason. You don’t need this much light all the time. Turn them off. If the kids are feeling stressed by the dark give them their lanterns, you bought them for this moment specifically. They need more light than you, so give them the dumb lanterns batteries are not as expensive as you think.

Are you cold? Are you hot? Change your clothes or get a blanket. Put socks on or off. It sounds stupid but inverting your sock situation tends to help.

Have you drank anything recently? Get a beverage of extreme temperature. It’ll give you some glucose for your brain and give body a job to do and a temperature change to monitor so she stops freaking out so much.

Are you sticky or wet? Are there crumbs on the floor and by extension your feet? Fix that and it’ll change your life. You abhor these things.

How many sounds are currently being produced? You often try to put on a podcast because you’re bored but if the kids have the tv on and your podcast is on it’s usually too much for you. If there’s multiple musics being produced you’re toast. Either give up on the podcast for now or get your good headphones, don’t forget to tell Tali she needs to come and touch your arm if she needs you while you’re wearing them.

I’m adding more each time I find one and it’s really helpful. My daughter has even started learning some things and offering to change them when she notices I’m getting stressed. Especially big lights after dinner time, I think that one helps her too. I gave my husband the list too, but he prefers bullet points over the long version.

It’s really hard to relearn and parent ourselves. But it is possible if we keep at it and give ourselves grace and compassion to grow slowly. We were supposed to learn this stuff over the course of 18ish years with our parents coaching and collaborating with us. So it’s going to take a long time for us to teach ourselves.

I think something a lot of other people can relate to is the way that you get so conditioned to discomfort that you stop registering it.

I remember sitting at the table with my family, eating dinner as a child. I’d try to eat, because of course I was hungry. But sometimes the flavor or texture was so repugnant that it moved into a category of Not Food.

“Two more bites before you can leave the table.”

“I can’t,” I’d say, trying to explain the impossibility.

But because I was a child they heard, “I won’t,” and made me sit at the table. I’d sit in dull agonized silence, bored and hungry for hours until bedtime when they’d give up. I’d hate myself for not eating and my parents for forcing me to sit there. The few forcefeeding moments ended in vomit.

They’d say, “If you don’t eat this you can’t eat a snack later,” and I moved past trying to communicate my discomfort into accepting that I’d just be hungry.

That state of affairs didn’t last, because my parents realized nothing could force me to eat so they catered to my palate, worrying they’d starve me. But the message stuck. If you can’t do anything about a situation, just accept the suffering.

A few years later my mother called me off the playground to ask, “Are you limping?”

I shrugged. My feet had hurt for a long time, but that was just the way things were now. My mom pulled my socks and shoes off and gasped. The soles of my feet were covered in huge painful planters warts.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” She demanded but I could only shrug at her. I’d learned a long time ago that saying things about my discomfort didn’t matter, so now I had no words. Sometimes things hurt and sometimes they don’t. I simply accepted and did my best.

Now as an adult trying to learn to improve my own conditions can be hard. If I make food that I can’t eat I’ll force myself to sit at the counter still, full of guilt and self loathing, trying to will myself to eat it.

At first I needed my betrothed to gently take it away to present me with something I could eat. Now on my own I can usually admit that it’s not happening before too long and get something else, but I still feel guilty.

Laying in bed at night waiting for my betrothed to finish getting ready I let out a huge sigh of relief when they turned the lights off.

“Why didn’t you turn them off if they bothered you?” they asked the first time it happened.

“I didn’t even know it was bothering me until it was gone.”

Assessing my physical state now to see if I can improve it is something I’m still relearning but I’m relieved to finally have the space and support to do it.

[thirtyoneflirtingnoneanddying]

4.12

I love the new little ritual I’ve made for myself on Friday nights. I drop Joel off and head to Edward’s to sit at the top of the parking structure (and apparently sometimes I relive a night with Tre in my mind and get literally sick to my stomach lmao) anyway yeah I come up here and just kinda hang out until whichever movie I picked starts. Tonight I’m seeing immaculate. Mikila posted on twitter that it was good the other day so that made me go for this over monkey man. I think I’ll be seeing that next week. I can’t wait! Maybe I’ll even see it tomorrow…? Idk?

I noticed that I tend to like downplay the prospect of new connections and shut myself off to shit as a defense mechanism like at FIRST but soon thereafter I’m like, down to clown lowkey. Like at school, there are people there I’d hang out with. At work too, there are people I’d hang out with. It feels good to be liked? It feels good to have kind of a fresh start with new eyes where I can like establish myself as someone with boundaries.

At first I didn’t care for any of these people that much. Which like yeah I guess that’s healthy. I wasn’t so desperate for friends that I was just like YAASSS MORE OPPORTUNITIES EVEN IF THEY SUCK lol nah you gotta be vetted first.

But why did I think I was better than them? lol that’s the part that I’m so confused by?? Like why was my first instinct to look down on everyone? Maybe because I don’t like the feeling of like meshing into groups?? Which is so crazy because that’s exactly I think what my chart says about my Aquarius Lilith.

Also I really gotta get my life together with this goddamn affiliate marketing thing??????? Like omg?????

Anyway. I feel good in general. I keep getting these little pangs and idk what the deal is with them but I get them when I think of Vanessa which is strange because I genuinely feel okay about that. I mean I wish I could’ve just faded into the background and not had to have a spat lmao but like idk I don’t feel like I lost a friend. I feel like a weight has lifted. I feel like I have my hands back on the wheel. It bothers me to think about all the nasty shit she’s said or thought and I think that’s because I just want her to know she’s wrong so bad lmao it really shouldn’t matter to me. And I guess in the grand scheme of things, it won’t lol

I just want to forget that we were friends because that was all just so…….. idk embarrassing that I would cater to that. She’s just awful… like the amount of times I felt like I had to rubber stamp god awful behavior and mindsets?? I just don’t like her. I cared about her out of like a codependent place I suppose. Our humor matched fairly well. But other than those things I did not like that girl. I just want the yuck of it all to go away.

I am having a nice time by myself tho. Truly.

[earthbovndmisfit]

btw!! there are still like 9 asks in the inbox that i haven’t answered yet but i’ll be getting to them asap! i’m just very slow at replying and sometimes need to recharge a bit too before i can continue 😅

thank you so much to everyone who has sent in stuff and, as always, feel free to send in more anytime!!! whether it is related to the on-going mer!AUs or just asks in general

[greenerteacups]

following the last ask, i have a series of draco questions?

- what are your favourite draco tropes?

- what dramione fics have the best written draco OR best draco characterization?

- what’s your pictured plot line for draco post war : career wise, character development wise, and romance wise?

What a treat of a question. Always love an excuse to talk about Draco.

Favorites: mean, clever, and competent. Morally, I like him a touch darker than charcoal, a shade lighter than oil. He's supposed to be pretentious and snobby, and a little too quick to resolve problems with force, mainly because he's lazy at heart and doesn't want to put in the work to do things by the book. (Later in life, I see this informing his instincts as a duelist — forget niceties, what's the quickest way to end this fight in my favor?) Impatient as anything; Ice Prince when you don't know him, Unrepentant Brat once you do; the platonic ideal of an Only Child, jealous, fairly possessive, but charming enough that he gets away with it. But those are all double-edged traits: he's loyal, ferociously defensive of what's his, and once he's extended his own sense of This Is Mine to include something, he'll raise hell to keep it.

Best Draco: I think Disappearances has one of my favorite Dracos, because he feels textured and real. There's this one scene where he's talking to Hermione about how purebloods flirt, and it was life-changing. I also recently ate up The Light Is No Mystery, which is a slow burn like trying to cooking an egg with a pocket lighter and a cast-iron. I like the Draco of Bending Light, which is my latest feel-good No Tears Just Vibes cheer-up fic, largely because "fuck it, give him a motorcycle" is the kind of baller authorial move we as readers need more of. (And for the record, in the real world, he would be one of those rich boys who collects really nice Ducatis and smashes them up doing things he really shouldn't.)

Post-War Plans: It depends entirely on how loyal we're being to canon, because if we're shackled to the Epilogue, then it's uninspiring — he becomes a sort of idle philanthropist type, marries Astoria (weird and also why, Daphne is literally in his year, she was right there) and has Scorpius soon enough for him to be in the same year as Rose Weasley. That means he probably didn't go to Azkaban, because if he did, he'd have to be in and out in time to meet, marry, and have babies with Astoria in the same timeframe that Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione do, which ranges between "kind of hasty" and "physically impossible," depending on his prison sentence. And that's all we know.

Here's what I think it gets right: Draco probably marries young, because purebloods/rich people generally do; I very much doubt he marries a named character from Hogwarts, because he'd probably try to get as far away from his reputation as possible; and I think he tries to clean up his act. That means philanthropy, general PR work, and possibly getting a high-profile role in reconstruction. I think he'd marry someone "suitable," and have a kid. And I think he'd be a good father. In fact, I think he'd err on the side of spoiling his kids. (As he was spoiled; I tend to think Lucius was a decent father, if maybe not a great one. I don't think Draco acts like an abused kid, just one with the misfortune of being born into the most incredibly fucked-up murderous dynasty of weirdos in history.)

But if I could choose an ending for him, I'd probably make him an auror, or maybe an Unspeakable/something cool in the Department of Mysteries, like curse breaking. I'd like him to end up with Hermione, somehow, although it'd probably take them a lot of time (think years) to get there.

[losthomunculus]

Online Safety Relevant to the Current State of the Internet

On twitter I made a tweet about how online safety lessons in school can be very out of touch but that the advice of people who are familiar with the current internet shouldn't be disregarded. So here's my informal collection of online safety tips

Sources: unrestricted internet access since elementary school (not recommended), being a formerly involuntarily home bound person for several years that amassed way too much online experience

This could possibly hold upsetting reminders to people who had bad experiences online including mentions of grooming and emotional manipulation so please proceed with caution!

Information Sharing

Make an online pseudonym for public profiles and websites.

Don’t feel like you have to list everything about you for the world to see.

Sometimes it’s not a question of “can this information be used to locate and identify me irl?”, but simply “do I want this information publicly available and linked to my online persona?”

Unlike offline, being online leaves a constant trail of who you were accessible at all times. People are constantly growing and changing. Try to limit the information you share so you can ditch that trail and start over if need be.

Sharing information with people you make friends with and trust is a judgement call on your part, but always be on the safe side and be protective of your information.

Start as cautious as possible with online safety. Any risks or judgement calls can come later when you are 1. aware of the risks, 2. ready to address them if they occur, and 3. have gathered plenty of information instead of doing something blindly and hoping for the best.

Do not share your triggers publicly, they can very easily be used against you. Instead use websites with a large amount of filtering options to curate your online experience. If you are going to share them, only do it privately with people you trust.

Importance of Boundaries

It doesn’t matter how mature you are, don’t enter age limited spaces you don’t qualify for. It’s disrespectful to the boundaries of the people who made that space. Boundaries like this exist for the comfort of both sides involved.

Just because you can “handle it” doesn’t mean it’s good for you. Desensitization is not something to brag about.

Venting or making r18 posts as a minor on a public account is VERY dangerous. Intense emotional vulnerability is something manipulators will look for as a way to get to you. The same with sexual jokes to develop your comfort talking about those topics casually and eventually escalating the situation. If you are going to talk about such things please keep that in private conversations with people you trust in your age group.

Note the difference between public and private online space. Tweeting something on a public account is not the same as having a conversation in the cafeteria with your friends.

If an adult tries talking to you about r18, run the other way. Doesn’t matter how cool you are, it says something weird about THEM if they’re willing to talk to a minor about that stuff.

If someone( like 3+ years, honestly depends on how old you are) older than you wouldn't be comfortable saying what they're saying to you in front of other people (like a teacher or guardian), that's suspicious as hell. Run in the other direction.

The younger you are, the more age gaps matter. There's a bigger difference in development between a 13 year old and a 17 year old than there is between a 20 year old and a 24 year old. It helps to try to contextualize it with real people instead of numbers. Instead of thinking "oh just 4 years? that's not that weird" consider "oh. that would be like a freshman (13/14) dating a senior (17/18). yikes."

Be just as wary of people your own age talking about things that make you uncomfortable. Just like irl, sometimes you’ll meet people your age that are hurtful.

Friends complain to each other and talk about their issues, that alone is fine. But when people are doing it without permission, draw a line. When people are making it feel like you’re responsible for maintaining their mental health, you need to draw a line. When it starts to effect your mental health, PLEASE DRAW A LINE! I know it feels like your responsibility sometimes, but it’s not. You cannot be there for others if you’re not taking care of yourself first and foremost.

Don’t be afraid to block people. Even for petty reasons. It’s good to block people. Don’t force yourself to see stuff you don’t want to see.

Being Constantly Online

The 24 hour news cycle is not a good thing to follow 24/7. Taking social responsibility is a good thing, but your brain is NOT built to worry about every issue in the world at once. One strategy I use for staying sane is I try to only check the news once a day, and if something needs more attention to set aside an amount of time I’m going to focus on it before I need to take time to step back.

Touch grass. Not literally, unless you can in which case I highly suggest it, sometimes it’s just good to lay in a field. What I mean is you need to dedicate a good portion of your time to being offline (sleep does not count). What your offline time looks like is going to differ depending on your level of ability, but even if you are house bound it’s important to build some hobbies that don’t rely on the internet. Talking to people offline is also a good goal if possible, even just to your housemates.

Social etiquette greatly differs online and offline and sometimes the reminder that were all just Some People gets lost behind the numbers and the fabricated personas. Keep in mind the difference in how information is shared without forgetting that the fact we are all people remains the same.

Be generous with your etiquette. You will avoid a lot of stress if you conduct yourself with the same politeness you would have in an offline interaction. Master the art of "minding your own business" for your own sake.

Arguments and Competition

As soon as you can, you need to internalize the fact that leaving an argument is not losing.

It is inevitable you will be exposed to many people who disagree with you. Some people only want to argue to rile you up. Sometimes that’s not their intention, but it’s what they’re doing. You do not have to remain in conversation with people, especially if they’re not interested in actually coming to an understanding. Even if they are interested, sometimes they just suck!! Leave!! You can leave!!

On that note, sometimes you are going to get valid criticism and it’s going to hurt. That is part of learning. If someone says you messed up and did something hurtful, take a second to step back from your defensiveness and consider: intent ��� effect. Apologize, repair what you can, and move forward with the ability to do better in the future. You’re going to mess up every once in awhile, it’s inevitable.

To summarize the past two points: don't waste your time on unnecessary hostility but don't close yourself into an echo chamber either. Debates should be about learning.

Sometimes people are not going to like you. This happens offline too but people tend to be a lot more blunt online. Sometimes people dislike you for no reason or for really petty reasons. That’s not your problem, move on.

Don’t actively seek out people you don’t like or who don’t like you to argue with. Whether or not your side is the “right side” doesn’t matter, it’s going to cause you so much unnecessary stress. Feel free to keep posting your opinions on your own profile but don’t seek out unnecessary conflict.

This is a different type of competition than previously mentioned, but be aware of the danger of comparing yourself to other people. Especially if you’re a creative or student, DO NOT GET SWEPT UP IN THE GRIND CULTURE. It’s more subtle in some places than others, but anytime you see the notion that you should be working yourself to the bone be VERY critical. Also be critical of any online cultures (such as gaming and art communities) that brag about unhealthy habits or act like it’s ~part of the culture~ (ex: all nighters, not taking breaks, getting hurt. Any activity that neglects health to work toward a goal).

Not just grind culture, any community of subculture that shares anti recovery sentiments is a huge red flag. Even if they're joking, it's not worth the risk of internalizing those statements.

Everyone’s social media presence is to some degree doctored because it’s a purposefully selected collection of what they allow you to see. It’s fine to like the persona you see being displayed, but never forget that it is not reflective of the entire person. Everyone online is JUST SOME PERSON. Do not forget that and start holding yourself to a standard you can’t even see every side of.

By posting online you are opening yourself to criticism. Whether or not it’s justified can vary, but either way it’s going to happen. Mute stuff, go private, disable comments, etc if you need to.

Misc Tidbits

these are technically just general info that is also good for offline but I have seen things that make me think people online need the extra reminder.

Learn what cults are, how they recruit, and what they do to their members. I'm not kidding. This is particularly relevant at the moment because of current societal unrest and widespread loneliness. No one is immune to cult propaganda, and not every cult is based on pre established religion or family. Many exist ONLINE and are able to manipulate people without ever meeting face to face. (learn more: Loneliness as a Pandemic: The Dangers of Online Cult

Familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience. Please familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience and then learn how to identify pseudoscience. (learn more: Karl Popper, Science, & Pseudoscience: Crash Course Philosophy #8)

Q. How do I know if a source is reliable?

Final Thoughts

It's important people of ALL ages learn these lessons, because the internet is constantly changing and we are all vulnerable when in the presence of other people.

Be cautious and stay safe

[autumn-sweet-fae]

You know you tend to get emotional when stressed? Well, Akari has been under massive amounts of stress since she made it to Hisui. I think it’d get an awful lot of people on her side if, during one of the post battle live streamed interviews, she started crying because the lab is trying to take away her partners. Especially Dusk, who she raised from the time all she knew was Tackle and Growl. Everyone knows how you that is in the life of a Pokémon and suddenly it’s less a girl stealing from a (fine and upstanding) research lab and more a girl on the run trying to hold onto a Pokémon she has raised and loved for what has to be literal years. (I forget how long your au has her in Hisui)

In my Au, by the time Akari and Ingo return to the future, Akari would have been missing a year and Ingo would been missing for three years.

Also, in case no one has picked up on it, I write Akari as also being autistic, largely because it makes her easier for me to write. So crying in front of other people is something she absolutely never wants to do, especially with some stranger. So the moment she feels her throat tightening and her eyes start to burn she would immediately remove herself from the situation. And she would be wearing the mask at the time too so it would look less like someone stepping away to gather themself and more like her harshly brushing the kid off.

Early on in Hisui, Akari’s method of managing her emotions and stress when interacting with human people was to bottle it up and smile and be as polite and present as possible. She would wear a metaphorical mask and always dress and behave appropriately when interacting with authority. She did not want to be alone in this strange world and wanted to be trusted, which is why Commander Kamado’s repeated reminders that she is not trusted hurt so much.

When Akari finds the ‘gift’ containing theZoroark mask left outside her door one morning, she loves it. She likes to keep it on her person and even wears it when interacting with others outside the village. It gives her the comfort of not always having to stress over how others would react to her expression not being perfectly pleasant. She honestly feels like she can only be herself when she’s out in the wilds with her pokemon because out here there’s not really anything to remind her that she’s suck somewhere that she does not belong.

When Rei pulls her aside and gently informs her that the mask was most likely ment as an insult, Akari is honestly heart broken. She stops wearing her in, shoving it away into her trunk. Volo later asks what happened to her favorite spooky accessory and she shrugs, telling him it was childish anyway.

And then she meets Ingo and the two find that they share so much in common. Not just their mysterious origins and love/talent of handling Pokémon, but also in numerous small ways. The fact that Ingo also keeps an empty pokeball in his pocket to play with when his hands need something to do. How he has difficulty controlling his expression, though he struggles to emote much at all while Akari knows she can emote too much. He can talk with her for hours about pokemon and battle strategies and they both have the best time throwing ideas back and fourth. She has this urge to apologize for how much she’s taking about pokemon, but Ingo is so genuinely interested in invested in what she say and makes sure to tell her so. They can both get very loud in they’re excitement but Ingo is significantly Louder.

It’s when Akari is sent to the Icelands that she sees an actual Zorua for the first time while exploring the caves. She caught the little guy with a back shot for a closer look but, he was so very distressed and defensive at her presence that she released him shortly after getting the notes she needed. She tells Ingo about them to get his perspective on it as every other person she’s spoken immediately shuttered and bulked at the idea of a Zorua. Even Professor Laventon seemed scared of them.

As she had hoped, his thoughts on the pokemon and its evolution did not come from a place of fear, but of understanding it to be another pokemon. He even tells her how the Zorua and Zoroark are of those pokemon he remembers differently then they appear in Hisui. He recalls their fur bring black, not white, and that they were known to be tricksters. He believes the didn’t have the best reputation where he was from as well, which was not deserved.

He shares what he had learn of the Hisui Zoroark from the Pearl clan and from what he has observed in the wilds. Their history of exile by cruel humans, the mutual distrust and hostility, how protective they are if their young. That last fact he can’t recall learning, he simply knew it.

After hearing all of this, Akari goes back to her trunk and retrieves her mask, choosing to keep it on her person yet again. This Pokémon deserves to  exist as much as any other and she won’t shove it away as the people of Hisui had done.

Later, after the trauma of Akari’s exile, she starts to wear the mask more and more, no longer caring what the people thought of her. She devotes time to not just studying the pokemon but helping them integrate with humans an learn they don’t need to be hostile. She also will no longer hesitate to call out people on their ignorance of pokemon and how damaging their behavior can be for both the pokemon and themselves.

And this has gotten totally off topic 😅

But yeah, Does Not want to cry in front of anyone that’s not her pokemon or Ingo. Ingo is great and will either give her space if that’s what she wants, or give her a hug while wrapping his coat around her to help her feel safe and hidden.

[devildomimagines]

Could you do the brothers (Lucifer especially) reacting to an MC who jokes all the time, seems carefree and stupid but eventually they find out that MC is actually a very deeply caring, responsible and intelligent person. They act like an idiot likely as a response to some adversity in their own past. Sorry if its complicated, i just like the idea of the brothers almost discounting MC only to realise they weren't looking deeply enough

Hi Anon! Thanks for the request! Sorry it took me so long to get to, it's been busy in my personal life. The older brothers are under the cut so this post isn’t a mile long lol. I hope this is worth the wait!

Belphegor

King of rolling his eyes at your antics.

Belphie is maybe the most knowledgeable about humans so, of anyone, he might be able to see a little deeper than the surface.

On one of the rare occasions you got Belphie out of the house, you two came across a Little D that was clearly lost.

He didn’t pay it any mind since he figured the Little D would just teleport to their master but you insisted on helping.

As you knelt down to the creature Belphie stood back and watched as you quickly soothed the Little D’s worries and it hopped into your arms. 

You brushed past Belphie to carry the spirit across the street and start talking to the shop owner. The two of you laughed and Little D hopped over to the shop owner’s hands.

“The shop keeper knows that Little D’s master and will give them a call,” you explained as you wrapped your arm around his and began leading him down the road.

“You’re amazing MC,” Belphie murmured, such a small act really changed his view of you.

Where he thought you were foolish in trusting him after what happened in the attic, he realized that he wasn’t a special case of forgiveness, you were just a truly caring person. 

“Hm, what was that Belphie?” You asked but he wasn’t sure if you actually didn’t hear him or if you were teasing.

He wasn’t too proud to admit his feelings but his face did heat up a bit, “I said you’re amazing.”

Beelzebub

He’s pretty caring for a demon so he could see you were too, although maybe he didn’t know the depth until today.

The two of you were enjoying a meal in Hell’s Kitchen. Beel was absorbed in the food that he didn’t at first notice you were distracted.

When you asked for a moment and got up to grab the attention of a waiter. Beel watched on curiously, he was hoping you were asking for more food.

The waiter nodded along and ducked into the kitchen. You waited in that spot and you caught Beel’s stare. You waved at him with a smile.

He waved back with a fried shadow bat in hand.

You laughed and then the waiter was back. They handed you a to-go container, you talked for a second, probably thanking them and then made your way across the restaurant, walking right past your table.

Beel thought to call out to you as if you had somehow accidentally overshot the table but you made your way right out the door.

He started to get up to go after you, he shoveled a few things in his mouth not totally satisfied but more confused why you were leaving.

Then he saw you through the window. He stopped moving as you approached a small demon looking into the restaurant through the window. Beel sat and watched the scene unfold.

It jumped back away from you, probably not having seen a human before, and was clearly defensive as you talked. You then offered the to-go container, popping it open so the demon could see the food contained.

The little demon inched closer, clearly hungry and tempted by the food you offered. You nodded and the demon took the container and ran. You watched for a second and then came back into the restaurant to join Beel.

You sat down like nothing had happened and went back to your meal. When Beel didn’t start eating you asked,  “What is it? Do I have something on my face!?”

He shook his head no, “You’re incredible.” He picked back up eating but he would not forget this moment.

Asmodeus

You watched on as Asmo was applying his make-up. He always enjoys your company when preparing for the day but he noted you were reading the ingredients pretty seriously.

“What’s got you frowning MC?” 

“This is from the human realm, right?” you held up the bottle so he could see the label in the mirror.

He hummed, “That’s right, I get products from all over so that one is definitely from the human realm. Have you used it before?”

“Um, no I tended to stay away from their brand.” You put the bottle back where you found it.

“Why’s that? It is kind of expensive in Grimm, was it the same in your currency?”

“Not really, it’s just that…” you paused trying to think of the most sensitive way to put it, “there are make-up brands in the human realm that test their products on animals before marketing it to humans.”

“How cute!” Asmo giggled at the thought of bunnies in blush.

“No Asmo, it’s more like they are testing if their products are safe for humans by using animals as a proxy. It can be brutal and even unnecessary and could result in the animal’s death.”

Asmo had stopped and turned to look at you as you explained. His face was slightly troubled.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I just tried to use products that didn’t use that as a part of their process in manufacturing so as to not cause any unnecessary distress.”

He nodded understanding your thought process. The Devildom didn’t have such markers since suffering was the norm.

The fact that you were thinking about what products you used and their impact on others, even just some animals, had him reassessing you.

It was more thoughtful than he originally credited you. When you and him were joking around and gossiping, he figured your interests were more superficial.

It was refreshing that not only could you keep up with the most recent hot news around town but you truly cared and respected your impact on others.

“Asmo?” You asked, he had been quiet for a while lost in thought.

“It’s nothing!” He recovered but he kept peeking back at you with a mysterious smile.

Satan

The two of you were studying in the RAD library.

There was a particularly tough exam coming up, notorious for dropping the GPA of 75% off the class.

Satan was confident in his abilities but he agreed to come study for your sake. He didn’t have access to know your grade like Lucifer did but he assumed you were struggling by your pleas for his help and deprecating jokes about failing.

He watched as you diligently took out your books and notebook. You flipped through a few of your notes and then shifted your focus to your textbook. Satan shrugged as he opened his own books, you seemed to be off to a fine start.

After about an hour you asked, “Can we quiz each other?”

He agreed and flipped to the end of the chapter he was on for the review questions. Satan took a question and asked it in a slightly different way so you couldn’t rely on memorized answers. 

To his surprise you answered correctly and made up a question for him that he thought was actually pretty difficult. 

Of course he got it right but shrugged it off as a fluke that you didn’t mean to ask such a hard question. The next one he asked you was harder, not from the textbook in any way, it was something that the teacher had mentioned offhand in class.

You got it correct again. With your turn next, you asked another complex question.

Satan answered properly but was now on the edge of his seat, surely twice in a row was not a coincidence.

His next question, he matched your difficulty. You thought for a few minutes and dived into explanation with examples and even a source that you quoted off the top of your head. Your answer was insightful and succinct.

You were waiting for Satan’s assessment of your answer but he sat unmoving.

“Was I mistaken?” You asked, and started frantically looking through your notes.

While you reviewed your materials, Satan was seeing you in a new light. He figured you got along so well with Mammon because the two of you could joke and slack off with the best of them. He thought that you and Asmo got along more as a pair of airheads. But here you were, in this moment your intelligence came off as easy and effortless.

“No, you were right.”

“Really?” you looked up surprised but happy.

He smiled back, but wondered, “What is your current grade in this class, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Last I checked, like 96?”

Satan laughed and shook his head, unbelievable that he thought otherwise.

Leviathan

He already thought of himself as a charity case. The fact that you would be willing to sacrifice your time to be with him was a miracle in his eyes.

No matter how many times you told him you wanted to hang out with him, it wasn’t a sacrifice, he still didn’t believe you.

When he gets more comfortable around you, he let’s you see his uglier sides when the envy consumes him.

You were a safe space he could vent to and you took that responsibility seriously. You listened and he felt the things he shared never left his room when you left.

It was after one of those vent/gaming sessions that you had to excuse yourself.

You had never gotten up in the middle like that and it scared Levi, had he gone too far? Did you actually hate him?

He watched silently as you left the room. Once the door closed, he was on his feet, what was so important? He decided to follow you.

Levi followed about a hallway behind you, as you turned a corner he would sprint to the corner to watch where you go next.

He followed all the way to the kitchen? He didn’t want to peek in fear of being caught but he listened as you greeted Beel.

Beel asked what’s up and you answered you were getting snacks for an intense gaming night with Levi. Beel must have perked up with the snacks you grabbed and you shooed him off, “If Levi’s up for it, you can join us but you can’t have that snack, I made it for a special occasion.”

Special… special? Levi couldn’t wrap his head around it when he thought of himself but the silence in the kitchen meant you must be leaving�� meaning you were heading right for the door he was cupping!

He turned around and found a hiding spot on the other side of the hall behind a vase.

The door swung open as he held his breath. You started the way you came. You were heading for his room and he wasn’t there!

Cue montage of Levi comically running through the halls of HOL to get to his room before. He jumps into his gaming chair seconds before you open his door quietly.

He was panting and sweaty when he turned towards you with a smile, totally failing to act natural.

“Sorry I got up so abruptly but I just remembered I made you this!” You presented a cupcake exactly replicated from the anime the two of you watched last week.

Levi’s heart melted, he felt bad that he had second guessed you. He reached out for the cupcake with one hand and with the other he took your hand to pull you to the bean bags. He was blushing but still said, “Let’s put on that anime while I eat it.”

The level of detail that you had gotten correct showed how dedicated you had been to paying attention to his interests and how much you cared for him in turn. He was also impressed with your baking knowledge, it takes a decent level of skill to be able to replicate something just from seeing it.

The scene was coming up where the protag was going to give the cupcake and Levi was struck with the most embarrassing thought. But if anyone would indulge him, it was you.

As the protag took the cupcake, Levi copied their posture. Then he copied their words in unison they both said, “Thank you, no one has ever made me anything like this before.” The two of them ripped the cupcake in half in the same spot and he extended the half to you as he protag did, “Will you share it with me?”

“Of course!” You and the character answered together then giggled as Levi blushed and hid behind the half cupcake as the two of you returned to sitting on the beanbags.

There was no way he was ever going to forget this moment, his eyes opened to how much you did care for him. Even if he was doubtful of others by nature, he would never doubt you again.

Mammon

People always write Mammon off as dumb and because you have a pact with him, you’re often included in that assumption. The two of you get along like peas in a pod. You’re here for a good time and Mammon can definitely provide that. 

His schemes to make money keep things interesting so you usually go along unless you have other commitments. Today’s work was clean-up in the local park. Not because it was lucrative, but because this was a punishment from a prank that backfired.

You had pleaded with Diavolo for a lighter sentence on Mammon’s behalf as his pact partner and Diavolo indulged you.

Mammon was brooding on your way to the park but you were looking forward to being outside in nature for the day so you chattered aloud to fill the silence.

Barbatos was waiting for you two with the materials you would need. He gave you a look of pity when you turned but Mammon caught it and knew Barbatos was probably feeling sorry you had to be punished when you didn’t do anything. Mammon ripped the rake out of Barbatos’ hand and sulked off after you.

You each set to different tasks, Mammon raking leaves and you weeding the flowerbeds. 

Demons and spirits passed with a few snickers, definitely not the first time Mammon had been sent to do community service but he hated that you were now a laughing stock with him. You didn’t seem phased by it though, even flashing him a bright smile when you two made eye contact. 

Halfway through the day, the two of you were taking a break for a snack and fluids, you shared a bench and admired the work so far. “We might even finish early!” You shared your optimism.

Mammon nodded but still kept quiet. It was so unlike him and you were hitting your limits of how to try to get him out of his own head, you figured he would be back to normal tomorrow but missed hearing his voice.

You two split the last of the duties, you were now cleaning equipment and decorations while he was trimming bushes and trees.

While Mammon was trimming a nearby bush, he heard your voice, then heard his name. He peeked through the bush to watch you talking with a crow.

“I thought it would make the day more fun if I was here with him because he always makes me have fun but it’s like I’ve made his mood worse…” You looked down at the bird bath you had been polishing and knelt down. The crow watched your movements from it’s perch on the top. “Maybe he hates that I intervened with Diavolo, I probably overstepped. I don’t know what I can do to get Mammon out of this funk. What do you think?”

The crow outstretched it’s wings and took off. You pouted, but continued polishing. Mammon was about to push through the bushes to comfort you, his mood wasn’t your fault and he felt even worse that you thought that but then the crow returned.

It swooped onto your shoulder and dropped something into your hand. You jumped with surprise and it scared the crow off your shoulder, it resettled on the bird bath. “This is perfect! Thank you!” The crow let you give it a few scritches and took off once more. You looked around for Mammon.

He nonchalantly rounded the bush so you would notice him, “Mammon! Look!” You rushed over and handed him the object.

It was a golden grimm coin. You explained, “A crow gave it to me, that has to be good luck! Take it and your luck will change, you won’t be punished forever!”

He wrapped you in a tight hug. What did he do to deserve you? Why did you care about him so deeply that you’d give him your treasure and good luck?

You laughed into his hug and he pulled back, “Alright, let’s finish this up and go home, I’ll treat ya to some ice cream on the way back.” He ruffled your hair but your shining eyes and too big smile made him blush and turn away.

Lucifer

He questioned if putting you under Mammon’s care at first was a mistake.

It’s not that you didn’t get along, in fact you two got along too well. Was Mammon’s stupid tendencies to slack off rubbing off on you?

You had been coming back late without being accompanied by one of his brothers and he was determined to find out what you were up to.

For the morning, he watched as you and Mammon walked to school. Lucifer stayed far enough away so he couldn’t be sensed so he couldn’t hear what you two were saying but it was clear you were having a good time. Mammon was snickering as you animatedly gestured and walked backwards. Lucifer’s heart warmed that his brother was genuinely happy then realized he was getting distracted.

You sat through your first class diligently taking notes and participating. The same for most of the classes that day. Lucifer started to acknowledge your responsibility to learning but it made him all the more curious as to why you skipped your last class. 

He watched you look around for any onlookers and dipped into the library. He was both surprised and amused that you were meeting with Simeon. The angel was leading you astray? 

Simeon didn’t look happy about it either, probably scolding you for missing class, but he was a pushover and your pathetic look won him over. The two of you sat as Simeon talked. You were taking notes on whatever Simeon was lecturing on. 

You left the interaction and Lucifer took the chance to talk with Simeon himself. He learned that you were asking about stories from the Celestial Realm. Simeon offered that it was just human nature to be curious what lays beyond life. Lucifer, the ever-skeptic, didn’t believe that was it.

He had lost your trail by talking to Simeon so he went home to wait for your return.

Lucifer intercepted you as you tried to sneak in. “MC, this way please,” he led you to his office, “How was today?”

“Good?” you answered but was unsure why he looked so serious.

“How was class?” 

You got nervous but answered, “Fine, same old same old.”

“Ah,” Lucifer smirked, “And how was Simeon?”

Your attempt to play dumb failed spectacularly when you stammered, “W-who’s Simeon?”

“Lying to me won’t do you well,” Lucifer reminded.

“Sorry, it’s just it wasn’t an approved activity so I didn’t want anyone in your family to be implicated…” you scratched the back of your head and looked away.

“And what activity is that?”

“Oh I thought you knew since you caught me,” you laughed, “Solomon and I were going to play with young demons at an orphanage in town. We were telling them stories from the Human Realm but I thought it would be nice to incorporate stories from the Celestial Realm too.”

Lucifer sighed.

You took that as a sign he was disappointed so you continued, “Let me explain, I know I should have asked permission first and for that I’m sorry. Solomon and I just stumbled on the place one day and the kids bombarded us with questions, never having seen humans before and before I knew it we were going almost everyday. I guess I thought it wouldn’t be bad because exposing the next generation of demons to humans would help Diavolo’s mission to strengthen relations between the realms. And I asked Simeon for stories so we could share Celestial Realm things too without getting Simeon in trouble or putting him in an uncomfortable position.”

Well that was definitely an eye opener for Lucifer. What you said made sense that changing minds starts with the youth. His original assumptions that you were just shirking responsibilities was way off base. He didn’t want to but admitted to himself he was wrong. Not only had you been doing something charitable but you were furthering Lord Diavolo’s message in a different way.

“You’re correct, you should have asked permission,” he started and you sank in your seat, “but I don’t see any harm in what you’re doing except for missing classes.” You sank further in your seat. “For skipping class, you’ll need to do extra studies,” he paused to make sure you knew this was a punishment, “I think a fitting topic would be interracial communication with a focus on the youth of Devildom.”

You perked up with a smile, “So I can keep going to the orphanage?”

Lucifer fought back a smile himself, trying to continue to be stern, “Yes, but that’s only if you don’t skip class and you have one of my brothers accompany you. As competent as Solomon is, he is also human and I would feel better if you had a demon escort.”

You were absolutely beaming now. “I’d like that but I don’t think you brothers would be interested.”

“They’ll do what they’re told but I think the twins would enjoy it the most,” Lucifer offered.

“Thanks! I would like if you could join us sometime too,” you suggested shyly.

He did smile at that, “If my schedule allows,” He didn’t finish before you were hugging him. He stiffened, not used to being hugged after doling out a punishment but softened and returned your hug, “I’ll make time to join you.”

[ifievertoldyou]

thaw!quackity enneagram analysis

i am once again on my personality categorizing bullshit, this time with enneagrams.

but since this is a new topic on my account, i should probably explain just what exactly enneagrams are, especially since i didn't even understand them all that well until recently.

there are 9 different enneatypes (ennea means nine in greek). while you keep the same enneatype your entire life, it can still change as you change, in ways that i'll explain later. the enneagram is used to understand one's personality type, and shows you the strengths and weaknesses that come with it, as well as ways you can improve yourself. the enneagram is comprised of 3 different triads: the head triad, the heart triad, and the body triad, and it also has different stances: the withdrawing, the dependent and the aggressive. i'll go into more detail about most of these later in the post, but the most important thing to note is that these stances combine with the triads and that's what makes your enneatype.

so. what enneatype does thaw!quackity fall under? in my opinion, absolutely no other type fits him better than an eight does. so, 'what does being an eight entail?' you may wonder. well, let me tell you:

eights are of the body triad, along with the aggressive stance. i'll explain these in more depth in a bit, but first, i'm going to talk about some of the characteristics that we see in eights.

the main motivation of an eight is to protect themselves from being betrayed, and also to keep themselves out of the control of other people. they're always very on guard, and are very, very defensive of both themselves and the ones they care for. eights have very strong emotions that tend to scare others away, so they are super protective of the ones who aren't deterred by their intensity. though eights do still tend to deeply internalize the idea that they are too much because of how often their emotions scare people away... while eights are more worried about other people controlling them, very often this can also translate to them needing to constantly be in control, so as to not risk someone else taking it away from them. they can be very distrustful of others, thinking that most people would hurt them if given the chance. because of all of this, eights tend to be very aware of how their emotions will display to others. they feel that showing their true emotions will lead to them getting hurt, either by them scaring people off or by others taking advantage of those emotions.

and we can see all of this so so so often with thaw!quackity. from how differently he acts around slime q and tommy compared to other people, to the comfort that being in complete control gives him, to how unforgiving he can get with those who cross him, quackity is definitely a shining example of an eight.

an eight is part of the aggressive stance. the types with aggressive stances are oriented outwards, against other people. this makes eights feel the need to be hyper-independent, can cause them to come off stronger than they actually intend to be, and can also cause them to be (inadvertently) dismissive of their own and others' emotions, since feelings don't show up on their radars a lot of the time. aggressive stances are focused on the future, and know exactly what they want, and they're so set on how to get it that they often forget to account for how their actions will affect other people emotionally. they have a habit of being very aggressive when asserting their wants and needs to others. this is very applicable to thaw!quackity. think: quackity's fight with q on the roof "i want you to not be pathetic, to not act like a whimpering, little bitch every time someone looks at you the wrong way," here, quackity directly expresses his needs to q, showing efficient communication (which is another trait that eights possess), but also demonstrating how harsh a lot of eights can be when sharing their wants with others.

also, eight is a part of the body triad, sometimes called the anger triad (which is particularly relevent with quackity) or the instinctive center. this means that eights have very strong intuition, the first thing that they notice when they walk into a room is what their gut tells them to notice. and quackity definitely has a very accurate gut instinct that he's learned to listen to. body triads have a strong need to make things right, and their big motivation is, as their alternate name suggests, anger. each type in the anger triad (8, 9 and 1) all have core issues with anger in some way, but eights are the ones who allow themselves to actualy act out on that anger, while the other types either feel ashamed of it, or else don't acknowledge it until it creeps up on them.

the anger triad paired with the aggresive stance causes eights to be very explosive given the proper circumstances. eights not only have a lot of anger inside themselves from their triad, but also due to their stance their response to this anger is often to direct it towards other people. eights, along with ones, are among the types to feel things the deepest, and have the most trouble letting things go. because of this, eights are very prone to holding grudges for a long time. they are not the types to just forgive and forget. but in confront to ones, if you've actually upset an eight, you will definitely know about it soon enough. ones get their sense of self from others, so they may still have some reservations when confronting people about things, but eights know very well who they are and don't depend as much on others' opinions, so they aren't very likely to hold back on you unless you're one of the few who's on their 'close people' list, or if they're a more integrated eight.

that brings us to what integration and disintegration are. enneatypes all actually lay on a spectrum of unhealthy/stressed to healthy/relaxed that changes as the person changes. if an eight gets healthier, that means that they integrate to a two, and if they get unhealthier or just more stressed, they disintegrate to a five. if you look at the visualization of an enneagram (pictured below this paragraph), it's depicted as a circle with numbers around it, and lines connect certain numbers together. the two lines that are connected to eight lead to five and two, which is why those numbers in particular are the ones that eight (dis)integrates to.

(also this is just a random thing i've noticed, but all the enneatypes that are connected to even numbers in any way will always relax/integrate first if you go clockwise from them, and they'll always stress/disintegrate first if you go counterclockwise. the only enneatypes that will relax/integrate counterclockwise first are 1, 7, and 5 since they're also the only connected ones that are all odd. idk if that makes any sense but yeah, that's how i remember it when the enneagram chart doesn't show the difference between integration and disintegration)

so what does the disintegration to a five entail for an eight? fives are part of the head/fear triad, so eights who disintegrate to fives become even more fearful and cautious of things. disintegrated eights are often more paranoid, micromanaging, tempermental, secretive and isolating than the balanced eight is, which does sound like how thaw!quackity is currently, with how he didn't trust anyone with too much stuff, and he only trusts q with that now because it's easier to trust another version of himself than it is to trust somebody else, and he knows that q can defend himself should he get in trouble for knowing las nevadas' secrets. quackity is also very temperamental about things, as we've seen plainly in his reaction to anybody who has ever wronged him or his cared ones, and we all know how micromanaging he is of literally Everything in las nevadas.

i also wanted to point out that in chapter 55, the very first line talks about how furious and scared quackity is. because those are the two big triads that are causing him to make his decisions right now. anger is constantly in the picture for him, because he's always so motivated by spite, and now that he's also more stressed due to all the things that are currently cropping up in his life. this anger gets combined with fear, so he disintegrates further into the head triad, and becomes even more anxious than he already is. but! he's also starting to feel more guilty for being so harsh on his past-self. because he's beginning to realize just how negatively his anger could affect q in the state he is in now, and how unhelpful that self-hatred is. though the fear triad definitely still has a stronger grip on him at the moment, we can see him start getting a bit more attuned to the heart triad too, even if it's a little slow going right now.

so what does this mean for the future of thaw!quackity? well, if he is to follow a similar path to what atol!soot went down, he'll get to heal in the end, and he'll start to relax more and become integrated with the two. this means that he'll still be an eight, but he'll be a little more trusting, he'll let down his guard a bit more, and will be better at giving others the benefit of the doubt than both the balanced and disintegrated eights are. eights who integrate to twos, part of the heart/shame triad, become more attuned to their own and others' emotions, and are more aware of how their actions will impact others.

enneatypes all don't just fit into tight little boxes. we've seen it with (dis)integration, but there's also wings that need to be taken into account. wings are basically how close somebody is to either of their enneatype's two adjacent numbers. the wings of each enneatype always share one stance/triad with their enneatype. the wings for type eight are 8w7 and 8w9. let's go over what each of these mean to see which one suits quackity more.

the 8w7 is the more aggressive wing. this is because 8 and 7 are both part of the aggressive stance. however, 7 is part of the head triad instead of the body one, so 7s are often focused more on their fear. while 8w7s are less angry, they're still more intense about things, and are much more prone to lashing out whenever they feel out of control. 8w7s are very charismatic and pragmatic, though they have a lot more trouble emotionally connecting with people. they use their intensity to enjoy life as best they can, and they have a lot of trouble sitting still. (and also, some very common jobs for 8w7s are lawyers and politicans, which is very fitting for both q and quackity.)

8w9 is full of much more anger, with them both being in the anger triad, but 9s are in the withdrawing stance, so they're more passive about that anger, with it often going internalized or ignored until a bigger problem arises. because of this, 8w9's have the capacity to be very angry, but only when provoked. 8w9s are very protective, but in a warmer, gentler way than their other eight counterparts are. some people say that the wing to the right of the enneatype is generally more introverted than the one on the left, and this is definitely true here. they're not *as* intense as 8w7s, but the intensity they do have they use to keep their cared ones, and the people who can't stand up for themselves, safe.

while we can see some aspects of both of these wings in him, if i had to choose a single wing, i'd say quackity's more of a 8w7 because he doesn't really let himself come off as any kind of gentle around most people, he's much more extroverted and charismatic, and the descriptions all sound pretty similar to him just in general. while both the 7 and 9 are extremely avoidant of pain, 7s avoid it by constantly searching for new things to keep them excited, while 9s avoid it by being more passive and avoiding/mediating conflict.

but there's another level to enneagrams too. subtypes. these are basically the different instincts of one's enneatype. there are three distinct subtypes: a social (so) subtype, a sexual (sx) subtype, or a self-preservation (sp) subtype. and everyone has a dominant subtype and a secondary subtype, and then another subtype that they don't really relate to that much. i'd say that quackity embodies the self-preservation and sexual subtypes pretty well.

the sp variant of eights are often geared towards satisfaction. these are the people who make sure that they always have what they need and are protected from any potential dangers. they build metaphorical walls around their vulnerabilities and make sure that they're always impenetrable. quackity does this both emotionally as well litterally, with how much he oversees what goes in and out of las nevadas.

meanwhile, sx variants of eights are more worried about possession. they want to relate one-on-one with people, to have someone that they can let their guard down with, and feel integral to their life. while this one isn't as evident with quackity, we can still see it with how he is with his cared ones, and he definitely tends to have smaller, but closer connections, rather than a big, but loose ones like so subtypes tend to have, so this seems like a pretty good secondary type for him.

in conclusion, thaw!quackity is a 8w7 (sp/sx) type, who currently leans more towards disintegrated.

(btw, cc!wilbur actually confirmedish a while ago that c!wilbur is also an eight, and i can totally see it with thaw!wilbur too... you could totally go through this post and see a Ton of traits that thaw!wilbur shares with quackity. honestly, that warrants an analysis post of its own and and yes, thaw!wilbur is absolutely a dominant sx, but i just think it's really interesting how quackity and wilbur are both opposing matriarch archetypes, and how they're both eights as well, etc. etc.. definitely something worth diving deeper into in a future post... just thought i'd leave y'all with that thought lol)

thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! ^_^

[dinosaurtsukki]

dating the armed detective agency’s medic

a/n: of course i have to write one for the ADA even though i’m a biased port mafia bitch. there’s a bit more characters here so i’ll try to keep each one short but still very fluffy and sweet <3

this man is always getting himself injured and even though agency has yosano, fukuzawa thought it would be a good idea to hire another medic who could deal with less life-threatening injuries

ofc dazai flirts with you the first chance he gets and every time he comes into your clinic

dazai: good morning my dear belladonna! the weather is beautiful today, but not as beautiful as you of course

you: YOUR ARM IS BROKEN PLEASE SIT DOWN

although as much as he likes to slightly mess with you, dazai genuinely enjoys coming to the clinic and being treated by someone like you

he likes observing your hands and how careful they are when they bandage his arm or that cute little scrunch of your brows when you’re bandaging his forehead

while on a mission, atsushi and kunikida go the extra length to protect dazai because they know you’re worried about him 

and then one day dazai comes into your clinic again and instantly you think that something has happened

until he surprises you by bringing out a bouquet of flowers

‘if i get injured less on missions, would you let me take you out on a date?’

jokes on you though after you guys date dazai finds every excuse to visit you in the clinic

he’ll get papercuts on purpose just so he can get you to put a bandage on them 

kunikida is annoyed because dazai they’re just papercuts jfc also please go back to work

seeing that you’re always concerned about his health and well-being, dazai finds himself making much less attempts cause he knows the stress it puts on you when you have to bandage him up after and make sure he’s alright

thanks to you our man is able to take care of himself a bit more

even though he is your boyfriend he’s still going to mess with you in any way he can

he’ll barge into your office claiming that his chest hurts because you didn’t give him a kiss that morning

also will highkey hug you from behind even if you’re treating another patient

the first time he meets you is for a physical exam check-up because it was required at the agency and he feels embarrassed at first seeing that the agency’s medic was gorgeous

atsushi was fresh out of the orphanage so of course he was quite malnourished and still had some injuries from his abuse

you had no idea who’d dare hurt such a sweet boy so you do your best to treat him and instructed atsushi to come in for some follow-up check-ups

although when he comes in for that check-up he talks about how he’s been healthy because he eats a lot of chazuke and you’re like ‘oh no, no, no, please eat other things too’

you end up packing him a bento box because he’s your patient so ofc you have to keep him healthy 

the two of you run into each other a lot in the morning because atsushi tends to come in way earlier than he’s supposed to so you often find him sitting in front of the locked door

thus begins your early morning chats. atsushi’s always polite and never interrupts when you talk and you love how he shows so much interest in whatever you say

atsushi began to realize that he has feelings for you but boy is he bad at concealing them also ranpo kind of busted him in front of everyone in the agency including you

but atsushi was saved by you hinting that you wouldn’t mind going on a date with him at all and he’s ecstatic until he realizes he hasn’t been on a date before

he takes you out to a nice restaurant and insists on paying for everything

nothing much changes with your routine but atsushi likes to bring you breakfast in the morning and the two of you have little dates before going into the office

he knows how worried you get when he goes out on especially dangerous missions but he does everything he can to protect the city and the new home he found with the agency and you

this guy was one of the people, other than yosano and fukuzawa, who interviewed you for the job and you can’t forget how intense he was when it came to asking questions

of course, you answered all of them well but kunikida was very serious that you knew how dangerous it could be to be involved with the agency

there was a self-defense portion in the interview that you knew about and of course kunikida was the one who added that

to his pleasant surprise, you managed to dodge all his incoming attacks (kunikida lowkey found it hot, like that’s requirement number ten on his list checked right there)

kunikida does get injured a fair amount during missions and he doesn’t want to get dissected by yosano all the time so he goes to your clinic that’s right near the office

he likes how efficiently you work and how gentle your hands are that even when you’re stitching up his wound he almost can’t feel a thing

however, kunikida does have a bad habit of not resting for the appropriate number of days. like, even with a bullet wound he’ll still hobble over to his desk to finish his paperwork

once, he came down with a terrible case of the flu so of course you sent him home only for kunikida to sneak back into the office when he thought no one was looking

you ended up taking kunikida home but poor guy could barely do anything by himself so you took care of him too

kunikida is definitely the delirious babbling when he’s sick so he ends up talking about his list of traits for an ideal woman and how you filled out a good portion of it

when he wakes up (much more sane) he sees you reading that list on his notebook and he’s like WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

he handed you the notebook personally before passing out and kunikida can’t live it down

you: well, even if i don’t match all these requirements, would you still be interested in going out?

kunikida: yes... please

everyone can tell that kunikida’s about to go on a date because of how nervous he is the entire day

he knows how tight your schedule can be and how busy he is with with work but he always makes time to have his lunchbreak with you

loves to hear about your day and even has some space in his notebook dedicated to any interesting stories you have

the first time you met him was when he also had his physical check-up which ranpo insisted he didn’t need but fukuzawa made him so he had no choice but to follow

the entire time ranpo’s just like ‘nothing’s wrong with me, see?’ and then you do a simple dental check-up and find that he has like two cavities he didn’t want to tell anyone about it because he’s scared of the dentist *cue ranpo trying to run away and you grabbing him by the poncho*

of course fukuzawa makes him go to the dentist too but ranpo insists that you have to be the one to take him and schedule the appointment and come along

truth be told, you’ve always been pretty attracted to ranpo because you know of his skill as a detective so you were excited to have this day with him

only for you to have to physically restrain ranpo to the dentist’s chair (you even had to call kenji to help) while his teeth was getting checked

ranpo was squeezing your hand the entire time and he was fairly grumpy after the whole ordeal that he wouldn’t even talk to you until he asked if you could get ice cream

you: the dentist just told you to eat less sweets

ranpo: but i neeeeed them

you: fine, how about frozen yogurt?

after the dentist trip, you know how much of a hard time ranpo has with eating less sweets so you decide to leave fruit on his desk as a healthier alternative but he won’t TOUCH IT

after some bribery on fukuzawa’s part (’i’ll acknowledge you if you eat fruit more and also tell atsushi to give you a piggyback ride every day’) he finally concedes

he actually finds himself liking fruit so in the afternoon he’ll swing by the office just in time for you to be slicing fruit

ranpo gets over the fact that you sent him to the dentist and enjoys his time in the clinic eating fruit with you and sleeping on the cots inside

your clinic is where he hides when he doesn’t want to do work and when he pouts and asks you to say that he’s sick you can’t help but go along with it

he’s also super physically affectionate around you. will literally have his body draped over yours sometimes while you work

people start talking about how you two look good there and one time someone asked if the two of you are dating and ranpo’s like ‘of course we are!’

and you’re surprised self is about to protest when ranpo smirks at you and says ‘why? am i wrong?’

lmao ofc he’s not you’ve been struggling to keep yourself from being a flustered mess around him

he’s still clingy around you but this time he comes into the clinic every few minutes to ask for a kiss

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumu-brainrot​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa​

[writefightandflightclub]

Somebody to love (PART 1/2): Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader

Summary: Whilst your neighbour, Richard, is in love with love, you are a little more commitment averse. When he performs a small act of kindness though, your feelings start to unravel, and you wonder if you may have found somebody to love - right next-door all along.

Richard is a sweet, gentle man, and so I hoped to create a sweet, gentle story. I hope you enjoy spending some time in it!

I HAVE POSTED THIS IN TWO PARTS, ONLY BECAUSE OF LENGTH. WHILST YOU COULD PROBABLY(?) READ EITHER PART AS A STANDLONE THEY ARE MEANT TO WORK TOGETHER.

Genre / tropes: pining, friends to lovers (sort of - neighbours to lovers), getting together, domesticity, fluff, smut, nothing bad happens, ends happily, quite a slow burn for a one-shot, I guess?

Author’s note: This is part of my friends to lovers event, prompt requested by @foxilayde who I adore and you should too. Prompt was: he does something utterly mundane which shows how well he knows you, and your feelings hit you. I took some liberties with the prompt, and there is zero pressure to read this - IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB! :P More of these requests in pinned post!

Warnings/ Ratings:

PART ONE (Mature, 18+ ONLY): swearing; sexual themes (erotic poetry, thirsty internal monologue, sexual tension); food themes inc. mentions/consumption; family mentions - reader has nieces but they need not be biological; brief mentions of the prison system - Richard is a Corrections Officer; exceedingly brief mention of the Holocaust in context of a non-fiction book Richard is reading (I believe this is a canon read but may be wrong); loneliness (theme, not too angsty); self-esteem issues if you squint.

PART TWO: (Explicit, 18+ ONLY): swearing; explicit sex, including - oral m + f receiving; unprotected vaginal sex; creampie; f squirting (first time doing so); well-endowed man, ahem.

Word count: 10k for part 1, 9k for part 2.

You had been thinking about the small gesture all day. You had been distracted all the way through your shift, and then all through dinner with a friend.

Richard -your neighbour to the right- had turned-up at your door that morning, before setting off on his way to work. His visit had been unexpected, and you had opened the door in a fluster, seeing him greet you with a characteristically soft smile - just visible from beneath the thick brush of his bold, impressive moustache.

He had held them out to you - in between his index and middle finger. A small book of postage stamps.

You had simply looked at him in confusion for a moment.

“For your letters,” he had stated, in his soft-spoken voice. “You said last night you didn’t have any stamps, and I found these in my drawer, so...”

It was true. You had said that. Had forgotten you’d said it. Had barely registered running into him, since it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Your routine overlapped minimally with Richard’s -though more so since his new role in the letter room had him working days exclusively- but sometimes, you would meet serendipitously, as neighbours tend to do. Last night, in the liminal space between your work day ending and your home life beginning, you had stopped to chat with him, and -you remembered now- had made some offhand comment about needing some stamps.

The topic of letters had come up; naturally, given his new position. It caused you to mention having written some letters to your nieces -packaged up with little illustrated portraits you’d gotten commissioned for their new bedrooms. Letters which you hadn’t gotten around to posting.

And so, here Richard was. On your doorstep. With stamps.

It was a little thing. So little, it didn’t even register at the time. In fact, you had bundled him off your porch with a quick, cursory “Thanks, Richard!”, prioritising finishing your morning scramble and making it out of the door on time.

It didn’t register in the moment, no; but you were noticing it now, alright.

“-so, this morning,” you explain to your friend opposite you in the pizza parlour, as she absent-mindedly dips her crusts in some hot sauce, “there he is on my doorstep, and he’d brought me some stamps.”

Your friend, Jaz, dips her chin and slowly raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her glossed lips curling in an amused, incredulous smile. “So, let me get this straight. He brought you some... stamps, which he already had, from his house next door,” she recaps, her smile inching wider by the second, “and now you want to fuck him?!”. Her eyebrows knit together in faux concern and she clamps a hand over yours where it rests on the table. “Sweetie, we need to talk. How low is your bar these days? Exactly how dick-starved are you?”

Ordinarily you’d be more than game for the light fun she pokes at you. Would even have a smart riposte ready. This time, though, you simply huff, your jaw twitching in minor irritation at how flippant she is being. So, shaking your head gently, you pull your hand away from hers, folding your jacket around yourself, suddenly feeling exceedingly self-conscious.

“Never mind. I’m obviously not telling it right. And, wait - hold up- who in the hell said I wanted to...” you look around the parlour, voice dropping to an indignant whisper as if anyone around you would hear or care about your hypothetical sexploits “...fuck him?” Your tone is defensive, and you shift to take a masking nibble on your straw, slurping the dregs of your soda and bouncing your leg nervously under the table.

Your friend merely raises an eyebrow, with a healthy -and not entirely unfounded- scepticism, and so, you try to rein your protestations in, lest you get slammed with a “methinks you doth protest too much”.

“Okay, okay,” Jaz concedes, holding up her hands and leaning back in her chair. “All I’m saying is, it seems like you have a hard-on for him all of a sudden. You’ve lived by him for years and you’ve never noticed the guy! It’s just stamps, baby cakes. It’s just your paunchy, kindly neighbour, who gets milkshake stuck in his moustache.”

At least he’s not afraid to make a mess of himself when he’s slurping, you think idly, your eyebrow ticking up - the thought leading you in a very particular direction and sending a sudden scorching heat to your cheeks. Also - paunchy? I like a beautiful soft tummy to rest my head on, thank you very much.

Yeesh. You are not okay. Still, before you go full feral, you shrug your shoulders in partial concession, widening your eyes in innocence. “Uh huh. Sure. Yeah.” 

“Seriously?” Jaz continues, shaking her head in good-natured disbelief - blatantly seeing right through you. “Are stamps your love language now, or what the fuck?”

She’s not wrong. It is very… sudden. You’ve never felt that way about Richard before. But is it so preposterous to think you might begin to?

“Jeez! Who said anything about love?!” You swirl your straw in your cup, concentrating on puncturing the remaining bubbles and ignoring your friend’s peals of bemused laughter. “Look, okay? I guess you’re right, Jaz. Maybe I’m just dick-starved,” you suggest, a smile finally claiming your lips. “It has been… a little while. And the last encounter was not very... inspiring.” You wiggle your eyebrows at her and your shared laughter mingles in the space between you. Still, you’re more than a little keen to deflect, and you bounce your foot more furiously under the table in your haste to change the subject. “I just thought it was sweet of him, that’s all, but… forget it, okay? Tell me everything about your hot date with Jackson.”

As soon as the invitation is given, Jaz jumps on it. And, as you listen to her spill the tea on her latest hook-ups with her fancy man, you try really hard to focus - but you can’t help that your thoughts keep wandering time and again to a certain man. A man with the kindest, most soulful cola-coloured eyes. Your neighbour to the right.  

You’re unsure why, but you feel a little bent out of shape - a little annoyed, even- that Jaz was so quick to dismiss Richard. Particularly that she had seemed to miss the whole meaning behind his small gesture. He was listening to you. He was thinking about you. And, as you dwell further on it, you realise that maybe -just maybe- you want the kind of guy who brings you stamps, goddammit.

Shit - maybe Jaz wasn’t too far off when she said stamps were your love language after all.

And, true, maybe you hadn’t paid the faintest bit of romantic attention to Richard -for the most part- in the years you’d lived side-by-side with him... but maybe it was time to start. Maybe, in fact, it was well overdue.

***

Granted, it hadn’t struck you right away how sweet Richard’s gesture was, but as soon as it had, you started to notice everything. To remember everything.

You remembered how he pushed a flyer through your door one evening, just in case you might be interested in the latest art exhibit going on at the local rec centre. You recalled how he had duct-taped the handle of your garbage can back together after it spectacularly broke one morning, causing your trash to spill over the sidewalk. It hadn’t seemed like a huge thing at the time, but now, as you imagine him painstakingly unfurling the roll and passing it around and around the broken piece, entirely on his own steam, it takes on a new meaning.

You have begun to notice - really notice- how he always smiles and stops to chat to you, his face lighting up as if he is genuinely pleased to see you. You have begun to notice everything he has done for you, over the years, a deluge of kindness flooding your heart. Details -little things- which seemed insignificant at the time, but which weigh heavier than gold now that you reflect on them.

And, most of all, you have noticed him.

Richard.

You have noticed his positivity. That bounce he gets in his step when he’s enthusiastic about something (which is always). The way his expressive, long-lashed eyes reveal everything he’s feeling whenever he talks or listens - his emotions and his compassionate heart pinned firmly on his sleeve, as prominent as his Corrections Officer badge. You notice how handsome he is; a fact which has inexplicably passed you by for the longest time. Perhaps, because of how understated he is? Not cocky and assured and alpha like the guys you’re usually drawn to.

Tonight, though, most of all, you are noticing that he’s not home, as you sit on your front porch steps, entirely locked out of your own house. You know for a fact that a couple of neighbours have spotted you there - you’ve observed pairs of curtains twitching- and yet no-one has come to your aid so far, mean bastards. You know, in contrast, that Richard would help anyone who needed it, without hesitation. And, it’s fair to say that sitting here, waiting for him to return and help you out, is certainly providing you plenty of opportunity to dwell on thoughts of him. In fact, you can’t wait for him to get home; not only because you wish for relief from the elements, no. But because the thought of seeing him actually excites you. You are looking forward to it.

Finally, thankfully, after the evening chill has long begun to bite at your extremities, you see Richard approaching. He whistles a jaunty tune as he comes up his drive, happy as usual. From his silhouette, you note that he’s dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and his usual ill-fitting jeans, his keys already jangling in his hand, and he stops abruptly when he sees you sat out front as though his feet are glued to the floor.

You can just about make out the smile which tugs at his lips, moments before his words do. He always seems happy to see you, and, on this occasion, you echo that feeling too, more so than ever. “Locked out?” he calls, and at the sound of his voice you stand, hopefully, clasping your purse on your shoulder, your own feet glued to the floor too.

“Yeah,” you call, throwing your voice over to him. “Waiting for the locksmith.”

You grip the strap of your purse a little tighter, as Richard takes a few steps closer, a polite but cautious smile lighting his face. “Want to wait inside?”

“Hell yes,” you gush with a relieved exhale of breath, gratefully trotting around to meet him on his porch where the security light bathes him in a halo of orange. “You’re a babe. Thank you, Richard.” You allow your eyes to gently rove over him as you approach. He’s wearing a turquoise bowling shirt, you realise. A bowling shirt with “Alonso Muñoz” stitched in an adorable flourish of red embroidery above the left shirt pocket. What’s more, he looks cute as all hell in it too. You seem to recall he’s in a casual league with some buddies.

“It’s no trouble,” he says with a warm, disarming smile, deep, pleasing creases radiating from around his eyes – and, even though you aren’t usually one to be lost for words, it is all you can do to smile back at him vacantly, clutching your purse strap tight enough that your knuckles strain.

Richard pauses too, seemingly taking a moment to remember the keys bunched and readied in his hand - as though your presence has pushed all other thoughts out of his head. “You must be cold. Let’s get you warmed up,” he says finally, snapping himself out of his stupor.

Yes please.

And so, with a bashful flutter of his long lashes as you shuffle even closer to him, Richard opens the door and guides you inside, hover-handing his palm at the small of your back.

He smiles widely as he is welcomed by his little fur ball, Lady, the white dog yipping and wagging and jumping up at his shins. Richard stoops to bundle her into his arms, the animal rasping its tongue over his shapely jaw, which he raises as he squirms away from the wet, eager kisses.

“Aw, you’re so precious, Lady,” you baby-talk, reaching out to apply fond scritches to the mop of her head. “I forget how cute you are, little bean!”

Richard chuckles with mirth, seemingly warmed by your sweet interaction with his pupper, and only when Lady gets restless in his arms does he set about plopping her down and refilling her food bowl.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Richard offers, before he briefly excuses himself, dipping away into another room and signalling he’ll be right back.

With Richard gone and Lady chowing down on her dried food, you take the opportunity to glance around the place, surprised by how at home you do feel, already, even though you’ve never set foot in here before. You’ve been in his yard before; for example, when he’s hosted block barbeques, or, when the summer sun has withered from your yard, you’ve sometimes shimmied your deck chair to be side by side with his as you languished together in the remaining patch of sun. But you’ve never been inside his home. Now that you are, you drink in the details of him, eager for any new information you can glean, and scanning over the books and paintings and photographs with particular interest. You smile as your eyes fall upon Lady’s bed, filled with a procession of carefully arranged stuffed animals and chew toys.  You are warmed by the painting of a beachy, mountain-edged, palm-fronded sunset, propped against the ‘sill.

You note that his place is homely and well-tended, and you also can’t help but notice that the place signals a rather solitary existence. One plate and one fork drying on the dish rack. A perfectly placed easy chair -for one- in front of the TV, the small couch to its side covered with stacks of books and papers, as if it has been a while since he entertained a guest. In fact, you would take a seat -make yourself at home- but you don’t want to intrude on His Seat, and nor do you wish to disturb his personal papers to clear the couch.

As you ponder this, Richard re-enters, extending a soft, flannel shirt towards you. “Here. In case you’re cold.”

You smile your thanks to him (grinning like a dumbass, actually) and you gratefully slip the garment over your shoulders, feeling instantly warmed. As you wrap it around yourself, you get a waft of fresh-scented detergent. You would never have guessed that you’d be able to recognise any particular Richard-y scent, but as the shirt’s pleasant odour engulfs you, you realise it is infinitely familiar. That it is wildly comforting.

You watch, a brief moment of awkwardness as Richard self-consciously combs his fingers through his thick moustache; sweeps a hand over his already immaculate, plastered-down curls. He looks so... neat. Controlled. Restrained. It crosses your mind that you’d like to mess him up a bit, see him come undone - of course, if he wanted.

Then, noticing your seating predicament, Richard surges over to gather up the strewn piles of mess, shifting them on to the coffee table instead. “Here, take a seat,” he indicates. “Sorry for the mess- I emptied the bureau looking for the stamps. Please. Every time I think to put it back I get distracted.”

His comment is nonchalant, but for the second time since he arrived home, you are at a loss for words, and you can only stare at him as you sink your ass down, gratefully, on to the now emptied couch. He’d gone to that effort for you? And now he’s apologising right to your face for the mess of it?

“That was kind of you, Richard,” you state, finding words again, and he shuffles nervously from shoe to shoe in response. You note that his brown skin grows increasingly flushed, with a deepening undertone of crimson as his eyes skim cautiously over you. “And thank you for letting me hang here. Promise I’ll be out of your hair soon. The locksmith should only be...” You suck in air through your teeth as you un-pocket your cell and glance at the time. “Yikes. Another hour. I’m so sorry to get in the way.”

His moustache twitches with a shy smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you from beneath his lashes, his eyes all big and pretty. He certainly doesn’t look put-out, at least. “Not at all - it’s… really nice to have you here,” Richard insists, polite and sincere as ever. You are the one to feel bashful now, and you tug his shirt more firmly around your shoulders for comfort, the act serving to further fluster you and entrance him, it seems. He seems frozen to the spot again, and meanwhile, you’re now feeling overly warmed.

He looks a little lost, for a moment, as though it’s been so long since he had a visitor that he doesn’t quite know what to do with you. In the next second though, his practiced hospitality kicks in, his warm and affable nature shining through as he determines a course of action. “Have you eaten? I could fix you some dinner.”

You are hungry, you think, your tongue darting out along your bottom lip at the thought of food. Well, if he’s going to feed you, you’re not letting him do all the work -you decide- so you tentatively rise from your seat, clapping your palms together, signifying action. “Only if I can help you?”

“O- okay. Yeah. Thank you,” he nods; then, he comes to stand with his hands on his hips, thumbs to the front, causing his soft, rounded belly to protrude exaggeratedly from under his shirt. You’re not sure why that sends a very subtle flare of heat down between your legs, but it does all the same.

Meanwhile, oblivious to your thirsty inner monologue, Richard looks at you reservedly, until you smile and cross together to the humble kitchen, where, with another bashful flutter of his lashes he begins grabbing out utensils and ingredients. All the while, he moves seamlessly around you, so careful never to touch or to invade your personal space. The pronounced and careful lack of contact makes you realise, however -as he skims his body so close yet so far from yours in the compact space- that maybe you desperately want him to touch you. That you wouldn’t mind if his hand brushed your back, or lower. That maybe having him envelop his arms around you would feel as warm and comforting as his shirt – or even more so. That even, perhaps, if he pressed you from behind into the counter, his soft stomach leading, followed by his wide hips pinning you in place, his moustache grazing up the column of your neck, that you wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, the thought of his touch, and even the mere potential of it, fills you with an excited buzz deep in your belly. A thrill that you haven’t felt for a long time – at least, not quite like this.

Right now, though, you set these thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand. You move around each other a little awkwardly, but thankfully, the conversation flows far more easily than your bodies. Richard’s shy and gentle, but he’s friendly. Inquisitive and interesting, and he keeps you chatting. And, so, you converse and cook together, until the resulting, homely odours waft into your nose, keeping your mind firmly on your much more literal hunger; at least, for the most part.

When the steaming food is plated up, Richard invites you to take a seat on the couch and you oblige, watching him fondly and with interest as he produces various condiments, a bottle of Mr. Chimi’s Churri sauce taking pride of place on the surface in front of you. You add a healthy dollop.

“Mmm, this is so good, thank you,” you say approvingly when he invites you to dig in, eagerly wolfing down forkfuls.

As soon as Richard has plonked himself down in his chair and balanced his own plate on his lap, he flicks on the TV – likely, more out of habit than anything. A vibrant telenovela sparks to life in the background, a particularly melodramatic scene in full swing. You smile to yourself. You recognise the show - you’ve heard him talk about it too. Even get the impression he watches religiously.

Richard’s eyes fix on the screen for a moment, and he is visibly suckered-in by the unfolding plot, his food disappearing at an impressive rate as he scoops it up to his mouth while he watches. Still, he doesn’t forget you’re there. Quite the contrary.

“It’s so sad,” he explains for your benefit, between his mouthfuls of dinner, his eyes overflowing with warmth as he turns to you. “Carlos and Adela are so in love, but they can’t be together. She’s engaged to Luis. She has to stay with him to save the family home because she already signed some papers.”

You smile, Richard’s heartfelt summary filling you with warmth. He cares about people. It’s what he does. Apparently, he’s even invested in the fictional ones. You try hard to supress your good-natured amusement at quite how invested he is; however, when his gaze meets yours once again, flicking back and forth between you and the screen, he must catch a hint of it in your expression. “Sorry,” he flusters. “I can turn this off, if you like?” he offers gently, eyes apologetic.

“Are you kidding?” you respond, with a warm smile. You’re no stranger to becoming over-invested in fiction, you suppose, and besides - you like the prospect of sharing this with him. “Catch me up some more,” you encourage. “So, we’re rooting for Carlos?”

Richard smiles gratefully, nodding vigorously in response. You like seeing him like this. In his own element, his own environment, doing things he typically enjoys. It’s nice to see him living his best life, thriving on the drama of the trope-laden plot. “I hope Carlos crashes the wedding. Luis doesn’t deserve her.”

“Yikes. You’re brutal, Alonso Muñoz,” you tease, a musical laugh lilting out of you.

You chat back and forth, an amused smile twitching at the corner of your mouth for the duration, and although Richard seems somewhat entranced by the developing storyline, he seems even more invested in you. He makes sure to listen to you, even when you’re sure you must be talking over an important detail. He ensures he fills you in on any prior plot point you may need for context.

And, while his eyes do intermittently flick back toward the screen, your eyes, however, remain firmly fixed on him. On the singular swoop of his meticulously parted, grizzled curls. On his long lashes blinking, his deep eyes shining beneath them, glinting in tandem with the light from the screen. His warm, brown skin and the lines etched in it when he smiles cast with a bluish hue, flickering light and shadow ghosting over the contours of his strong nose and chin and his heavy brow. The soft, inviting rolls of his stomach as he relaxes into his chair, and the way his belly shakes when he laughs. Of course, his glorious moustache, positively flourishing on his upper lip. Last but not least, what most gets you though, are his eyes. Eyes as kind and expressive and open as this sweet man’s heart is.

You laugh alongside him, hoping he is enjoying the company as much as you are. You could get used to this, you think; used to him. Indeed, you have no idea how you have managed to overlook this man, beautiful inside and out, until now. You resolve though, that you won’t make that same mistake again.

Eventually, the credits roll, and you thank Richard once more for the food. He carries your plate over to the sink, insisting -when you offer- that the dishes can languish there for one night. And so, instead of rising, you pat the couch cushion beside you invitingly. His throat bobs around a hard swallow as he stands before you, his feet momentarily glued to the floor; yet again. When Richard finally musters movement and takes a seat next to you, he places himself as far away from you as he possibly can on the small two-seater; out of respect rather than repulsion, you are more than sure. However, the compact space affords him little chance to keep his distance, and his clothed thigh presses warm against your own. He doesn’t make any attempt to move away though, and, equally, nor do you.

“Thank you, Richard,” you say, your voice softer and far more breathy than you intended, now that he is so close to you.

He clears his throat self-consciously, before his eyes crease with a sincere smile. “It’s no trouble. Anytime.” He sounds like he means it too.

You lean back, settling yourself deeper into the worn and slightly lumpy couch cushions. His posture, meanwhile, is still alarmingly stiff beside you, his torso upright and his hands folded formally in his lap. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say that, perhaps, you made him nervous.

“Richard, I don’t bite,” you soothe. “Sit back. Relax. It’s your home.”

He nods in concession, exhaling his tensely held breath. “Yes, Ma’am,” he sounds obediently. You don’t think you’ve ever had anyone call you Ma’am before; but you note that you don’t entirely mind it, out of Richard’s mouth. You maybe even… like it?

Anyway, outside of your increasingly feral internal monologue, Richard reaches over to flick on the soft, ambient lamp to his side -the room having grown thick with shadows- and then he is sinking back, resting his head against the couch cushions alongside you.

You turn your head and tilt your torso a little towards him. When Richard does the same, it evokes a sense of intimacy that you weren’t all the way prepared for; the rest of the room seems to disappear as you are both held in a close circle of oranged light, the TV nothing but a lulling, background hum now. “I mean it... I... I wanted to thank you properly. For the stamps.”

“It’s no trouble,” he repeats, his voice deep and resonant and close now, catching you off-guard. No trouble? Sure. Despite the fact he’d clearly emptied-out everything in his living room to find them. “Did you send your letters?” he enquires softly, his eyebrows jumping up a little.

You can’t supress the bittersweet smile which inches over your face as you respond. “I did, and I got the cutest video call from my nieces when their mail arrived.” That wouldn’t have happened. Not without him being so thoughtful. You’d have put it off and put it off. The letters would still be sat on your dresser.  

Richard’s eyes light, and he looks genuinely pleased for you, his face glowing. “I’m glad.” He smiles, revealing a flash of his cute, ever so slightly imperfect (and therefore entirely perfect) teeth. Finally beginning to relax again, his hands rest flat astride his sturdy thighs and his head lolls towards you. With his next words, his voice becomes even softer. “I can tell you miss them since they moved away. Portland, right? I, uh. I really hoped you would send those letters. I know how much they can mean to people.”

“Portland. Yeah. Wow, you remember that?” You have to admit that you are a little shocked. Richard listened to you. Really listened to you. And, not only that, but he clearly read between the lines, connecting the dots between each one of your ad hoc interactions in a way which you -apparently- had failed to do thus far.

Jaz would scoff at you right now, you know it, if she could see you becoming all shy and flustered for him.

And now you want to fuck him?

But it wasn’t only that he brought you the stamps, okay? It was why he did it. He did it, because he knew what it might mean for you. Because, evidently, not only did he notice that you were sad -about something you barely let yourself acknowledge, by the way- but he also cared enough to try to make you happy instead.

The realisation that he cares is an emotional thing, causing a slight lump to rise in your throat. It should probably make you happy, but in fact, it saddens you. It saddens you because -you realise now- you have taken for granted all this time how easy Richard is to talk to. Have taken for granted the way he has been privy to so many candid details about your life.

Richard has often been the first person you’ve spoken to when you arrived home -sometimes the only person- and you have never hesitated to share your good news and triumphs with him. Nor have you hesitated to vent, sharing the more difficult details of your bad days. You’ve taken for granted just how much of yourself you’ve cumulatively shared with him; in a way you don’t often share with anyone else. Richard has been an important part of your life all these years, without you truly realising it. Perhaps because your interactions with him have tended to exist in such a liminal, peculiar space in your day. Perhaps because you were too close to see the big picture, instead of this collection of valuable, little things.

You hug your arms around yourself. You can merely repeat it again. “Thank you. For real.”

“It’s just a little thing,” he dismisses, modestly, and you are very suddenly tired of him dismissing himself. You want him to know how appreciated he is. Embodying this, your hand darts out to grip his where it rests on his thigh, and Richard looks down at this small spectacle in mild shock; and yet, he doesn’t pull away from your touch.

“It’s not. It’s a lot of things, Richard. I want you to know I appreciate everything you do. It has... It has been a long time since anyone was so sweet to me.”

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, following your outburst of affection, you inch your hand away from his; retreating, and reining yourself back in. For a moment, Richard’s fingers twitch up from his pant leg as though they might chase yours; but then, his hand stills, settled on his thigh just as before.

Then, a crease appears at his brow. “None of your Adonises are sweet to you?”

Your nose crinkles in confusion. “My... Adonises?”

“The... your... gentlemen visitors.”

Your brow creases, as you try to detect whether there is any judgement or malice in his observation, but, knowing him, you are not inclined to think there is. Still, you feel there is more to uncover. He’s noticed your dates coming and going then? He thinks they’re… Adonises? He’s surprised they aren’t sweet to you?

Still, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, perhaps realising how they might be misinterpreted, that crimson undertone to his skin flares again, this time reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks like he wants the couch to swallow him up, and you can’t help but feel for him. “I just meant...”

“-It’s okay,” you say, swooping in to rescue him before he can start helplessly blabbering. He keenly takes the invitation to stop, his mouth suddenly clamping shut, ready to listen. And you? You are ready to talk. The words seem to come so easily around him. “I guess... you’re right. I’ve been on some dates but they...” you sigh, furrowing your brow as you try to find the words. “That’s all fine. Most of the time it’s really fun. Or it was. But... lately...”

“Lately?” Richard encourages, when you don’t go on, his voice barely above a whisper as he hangs on your every word.

“Lately, I think… That maybe it would be nice to have somebody who doesn’t just come and go. To have… somebody to love, I guess?”

“Somebody to love,” Richard ponders, his expression becoming wistful. His head begins moving up and down ever so slowly, gradually building to a more adamant nod. He smiles, but his eyes don’t crease at the corners this time. “That really does sound nice.”

It shocks you, but seeing him even a little sad, like that, has your hands fisting in the material of your skirt, as you resist the urge to reach out for him and offer comfort. You want to cup his face in your hand and kiss him senseless, until his eyes glow once more, imbued with his characteristic positivity. You want to care for him and protect him and make him laugh and spend time with him and…

Fuck.

You want to love him, you realise, and the thought scares you down to your bones. It scares you enough that you sit forwards, breaking this most peculiar tension. Changing the topic. And, abrupt as it may be, at least it works.

“What are you reading?” you ask, shrugging his shirt from your shoulders as a hot, cloying flush creeps along your skin and up your neck, prickly enough that it feels like fingertips. As you imagine Richard’s fingers dancing the same path over your bare shoulder blade, slipping beneath the spaghetti strap of your top, peeling it down, you hurriedly pick up the first book you can put your hands on, turning it in your palms without taking in a word written on it.

Poor Richard. You must be giving the sweet man whiplash.

Still, he leans forward in his seat too, sombrely taking the book from your hands and gazing down at the cover.

“Ah. It’s a bleak topic,” he warns. A deep crease appears in his brow. “It’s Night, by Elie Wiesel – a survivor’s account of his experiences during the Holocaust.”

Your expression turns grave and pinched and you nod, listening carefully as Richard recounts some of the key details. Then, together, you continue to pore through the pile, tackling each book in turn. You listen intently to Richard recount the various synopses, passionate and precise and sensitive in his summaries. It seems he reads a lot of non-fiction. Heavy reading, with many titles about the prison system, and atrocities - often both. But, you understand why it’s important to him. You are grateful to understand how his empathetic nature begets yet more empathy, as he seeks to expand his knowledge of experiences and histories different to his own. 

At first sight, you think it’s seemingly at odds that such a positive man seeks out such dark accounts, but it makes sense to you, in a strange way. After all, he wants to understand how things can be better. He believes they can be. You don’t know anything more Richard-y than that.

Reaching for the next title, you find it is a little different to the rest. You are reluctant to segue too abruptly from such heavy topics, keen to give them the merit they deserve, but at the same time you are grateful for a little lightness as you pick-up what appears to be a slightly trashy romance novel. You smile fondly, connecting the dots between this and the telenovela plotlines that seem to grab his attention; the way he seems so in love with love. Again, you consider how the two sides of him -the more serious and seemingly more trivial - may seem at odds, but that actually, they each reveal what is at the core of him. He is interested in people. He’s invested.

“And this book?” you ask tentatively, not even trying to stifle your smile as your eyes wander over the cover, two half-dressed people locked in an erotic, sordid embrace. You are especially keen to hear what he has to say about this one too.

“Well… Like you said. Somebody to love - right? Don’t we all need those kinds of stories?”

Your eyes glow with admiration. Whilst he’s not cocky or overly assured, no, you are coming to admire Richard’s quiet confidence in who he is and what he cares about. His integrity and his lack of embarrassment in the things he chooses to value. His delight and lack of shame in the things that he enjoys. He’s not afraid to be who he is. You think that’s wonderful.

Next, your eyes flick back to the final book on the pile, partly for completeness but also out of curiosity. You feel with each title you pick-up, you are learning something about him; and, frankly, you want to know everything there is to find out. You look at it with a start however, when you realise what the final book in the pile is.

It’s your book. It’s the anthology of poetry you’d self-published around a year ago, and sold at your local readings. You reach for it instantly, almost cradling it in your hands like a precious object. Not because it’s yours - not exactly- but because it’s his. His copy looks eminently different to the spares you still have boxed-up in your house, all fresh and crisp, spines unbroken. This one looks a little worn around the edges - well-thumbed, spine broken-in. Some of the pages are dog-eared, and various makeshift bookmarks are sticking out of it. You’ve never seen one of your publications looking so… beautiful. So treasured.

“You actually read this?” you ask, a little overwhelmed, your heart hammering, and tears spiking in your eyes.

“I read it often. I told you, I really like it!”

You stroke the cover with your palm. “Honestly? I thought you were just being polite.”

When you’d mentioned to him for the first time that you wrote poetry -specifically erotic poetry- and had invited him to the reading, Richard had looked, at first, as though he was ready to die of embarrassment. Regardless, he’d still come along - your only neighbour to have done so. You vaguely remember having spoken to him the day afterward about it, but when you think of the show itself, you can’t picture him there. Now, you desperately wrack your memory of the event, searching for him. Wishing you could recall him showing-up for you in such an important way. 

It had been such a blur, though. You’d had a lot of friends there. You’d had a date there, who, at the time, you’d thought was the be all and end all. Now, however, you curse yourself for overlooking Richard. You wish you could go back and root through the crowd for him. You wish you could bring him into the spotlight. Bring him into your arms. And yet, while you ponder all of this, Richard reaches for the book and gently lifts it from your hands, with a gentle hum. It practically falls open on one particular page.

“This one is my favourite,” he admits bashfully. “Salted Peach. I must have it almost memorised by now.” You turn to him, studying his face. His expressive eyes are full of a heat gentler and more nuanced than your words could ever hope to be, you think, as he pores over the page. Over your words.

“No way. Prove it, Alonso Muñoz,” you challenge, exhaling a laugh that is surprised and disbelieving and utterly delighted all at once.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it, but the man sets his face, both more determined and more playful than you think you have seen him so far, as he hands the book back to you. “Okay,” he smiles, softly. “I’ll give it a go.”

You hold your breath as his eyes flutter closed -so that you know he has zero chance of cheating- his long lashes fanning-out beautifully over his cheek. You take the chance to look over his handsome features, while he can’t interrupt your surreptitious study.

Then, he begins. His voice is hushed and unsure, yet the richness of it washes over you, right from the first line.

“Like salt kept on the lips,

To resist is to rust,” he begins, and your breath catches in your chest.

“Let me be an oiled thing under you, all fluid and opening smoothly

With keen, slick hinges.”

First, you are struck that he really does know it. That he really does remember it, almost word perfect. You exhale a breath in disbelief, your chest filling with butterflies.

“A ruined peach

Spilling nectar over your thumb,” he continues, and desire knots deep in your belly.

It’s not that the words are explicit – they aren’t. But something about the way he recites them -recounts your desire- makes them feel positively sinful, his voice quietly confident and subtly erotic as he recites your words. You don’t only hear the words, but you feel them, almost as if his thumb really has punctured you.

You are becoming slick already, feeling like a ruined, grateful fruit. You want to be his fruit, you think. His salted peach.

“You can be my stiffness

My joints

My... (my stone heart? Is that right?)” he interjects.

“It’s perfect,” you encourage, your voice trembling slightly, even as his grows ever more robust, and, as you bolster him, he sits a little taller in his seat, his posture proud and the new confidence reflected in his voice as he proceeds. As he grows, stiffer, taller, you become liquid, and you writhe your heat subtly against your seat. You press your thighs closer together.

Enraptured, you watch his lips and tongue move seamlessly around the words. The micro-expressions on his face, revealing how tenderly he wishes to portray them, every word imbued with care. With expression, and feeling.  

“(Got it...) My stone heart

And I, boneless;

Bodiless flesh.”

As he continues, you close your eyes too. You stop checking the words against the book and you let yourself feel them. You let them wash over you. You let his voice wash over you; to sink and curl into the pit of you. You squirm in place, and yet this shifting makes you all too aware of your stillness – this fixed position and distance from him, when surely you should be moving and surging and undulating on him? Surely you should be leaning in and hearing the deep yet gentle timbre of his words waft into the shell of your ear, or fanning over your skin?

Surely, he should be touching you?

Your heart is racing.

“Salt me, then.

Lick your lips and taste me; sweetly.”

You want to taste him. Be tasted.

“Only on your tongue, do I exist.

Only in your hand, do I perish.”

You want to exist and perish on his hand.  

“Do not keep me on your lips.

Oil me with your writhing”

You want to be swallowed by him. Oiled by him. Made slick.

“Or else I rust.”

You are rapt. His words -no, your words, spoken by him- melting you.

His voice. So rich, and so sensual, and you could swear, as you listen to him, that your words have never sounded so erotic. That you have never felt them as deeply as you do now, hearing them fall from his tongue and his lips. Hearing them flow from his heart, as he recites them in a way you’ve never heard them; an interpretation entirely unique to him.

In fact, listening to him, like this, lights a flame in the pit of you, a heat suffusing through you, warming everywhere. He warms you, even from this distance, and you can feel how much heat he has to give. And, on boy. You want to lap it up. Every. Last. Drop.

“I... I forgot the next part,” he adds, shyly, his confidence wavering, and you open your eyes, beginning to recite the rest for him.

“Oh, love,

I long to be a fluid thing;

Under you.”

It sounds… true. It feels right. It feels so right to say those words to him. So right that it knocks the air from out of you.

At the sound of your voice, you watch a soft, unfiltered smile appear on Richard’s face, his still-closed eyes creasing deliciously at the corners, his moustache animating with it.

“And yet you resist me; rust me,” you continue, voice full of fissures, and Richard’s eyes slowly peel open, pooling with heat. This time, unlike the other times his eyes have met yours, he holds your gaze - doesn’t drop his eyes from yours in a flurry of bashfulness and fluttered lashes. He holds your gaze and he holds you, in this moment. In this little circle of intimacy, his eyes glowing, all for you. Pooling with that heat, so nuanced and gentle, but every bit as hot as anything you’ve ever touched.

Your voice and your smile and your heart crack wide open as you continue.

“You are salt kept on my lips;”

You complete the last lines at the same time, eyes locked. 

“Always tempting.

I seize up.”

Of all the swimming emotions rising at that moment, gratitude balls in your heart most intensely, and yet again, it is all you can do to thrust it towards him, your humble offering.

“Thank you,” you say, for the nth time that evening, a smile of the purest joy still splitting your face. “That was really beautiful.”  

It’s hard to comprehend how moved you are by what just happened. You are shocked. Flattered. That someone appreciates your words, that they resonate at all, makes you feel so seen. That the person is Richard is more of a treasure than you can fathom, and it causes a flood of raw, reckless emotion, joyful tears brimming in your eyes.

In return, Richard’s eyes shine as he regards you, with an admiration so deep and yet prominent that you almost shrink back from it. “They’re your words,” he impresses, aiming, as ever, to shrink himself instead.

You shake your head. You won’t have that. “No, Richard - it’s the way you recited them. I swear you should do my next reading for me. You’re so…” You search desperately for the right words, and you can’t find ones any more fitting. “…So fucking beautiful.”

And you call yourself a poet?

Your eyes well up.

You feel entirely caught off guard and just a little silly that you are getting yourself upset in front of him, and yet Richard’s eyes narrow kindly as you try to scrub a stray tear away from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soothing, and in the next breath he reaches out to touch you, his hand settling over the top of yours. The gesture is a little awkward, unsure, but only until his hand is in place. After that it simply feels... right. Perfect, in fact.

He strokes you, his thumb ghosting slowly, minutely over your pulse point, sending a delicious shiver along your spine. His eyes search yours, and you become thoroughly lost in the intensity of them. Lost in a way that you don’t ever wish to find yourself again. Lost in a way that turns everything on its head - has you finally feeling found.

“I loved hearing you read. It was so wonderful. You should definitely do another event,” Richard gushes. “I’m sure I could listen to you read from this all night.” With that, and the scenario it conjures, perhaps, he looks down at his hand on yours. Maybe growing self-conscious, or worried that he is overstepping; that he has lingered there too long. Suddenly, though, you don’t think any length of time could be too long for him to be touching you.

When your gaze drops to his lips, however, his moustache bristles, and he quickly snatches his hand back to his lap. “Have you written anything lately?” he asks hurriedly, scooping up the book again, his topic change giving off the same energy as yours did previously.

You wonder if he is imagining your fingers trailing over his bare flesh now too. You hope so. Oh how you hope.

At his question, though, you exhale a small laugh, pumping your eyebrows once as your face splits in a smile. You shake your head gently. “I haven’t been... it’s a while since I was, let’s say, properly inspired by an encounter,” you explain, looking down at your hands in your lap, missing his contact already. “I’m just... Hmmph. I don’t know. It’s just... missing something. Guess they don’t make Adonises like they used to,” you add flippantly, poking light fun, partly at yourself.

Contrary to your flippancy, Richard becomes more serious. A gulp trails down his throat, and he seems suddenly frozen in place; seized up. As if he needs you to oil him so that he doesn’t rust. “W-What are you missing?” he asks, his voice lower than you’ve heard it, slightly more grit to it. His chest visibly rising, breaths slightly quickened; just like yours.

You look into his deep, cola-coloured eyes.

You?

What are you missing? You’re not sure, but somehow you feel that whatever it is, Richard could give it to you in moments.

Still, you don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, you ask him a question in return. You ask him a question feeling that, somehow, in a roundabout way, both of your questions may arrive at precisely the same answer.

“Why that poem?” you question, softly, lifting your eyes to him. “Why is that one your favourite?”

“I... I think...” he swallows again, then he whets his plush lips with a flick of his pink tongue. “It’s about longing, isn’t it? About being... lonely? About... wanting... someone in particular.” He fixes his expressive eyes on a point on the table, unable to look at you, it seems, in that moment. Still, his words are telling enough alone, you think, even without you seeing that same sentiment mirrored in his eyes too.

Now, you have another question. “Do you ever... get lonely? Are you? Lonely?”

It’s not even an assumption about him, you vaguely realise. It’s a projection. A projection of how you feel, and how you never realised you felt. It’s a desperate plea for affinity. For that longing to be understood, finally.

You are the one who is rusted. Seized up.

However, as soon as the question is out of your mouth you wish you could retract it. Loneliness is a solitary thing, after all, and you have no business, you suppose, wading into anyone else’s.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t answer that,” you mutter quickly, your fingers darting out to ghost along his forearm in apology, your naturally tactile nature coming through.

He drops his gaze towards your fingers there, watching them skimming his warm skin and the soft, dark hairs on his arms. He doesn’t inch away. Instead, he lifts his eyes to you, and you know the answer before he says it aloud. You know the answer as his emotions are written clearly in his eyes. Worn on his sleeve, like his badge.

The weight of his loneliness crushes you as if it was your own.

“Me too,” you admit, nodding softly, and his mouth curls briefly into a small, sad smile as your fingers continue their slow inch across his skin.

He sits in that sadness for a moment, and then, tentatively, as a thought flashes across his eyes, he brightens, just a little – looking mildly more hopeful. “Well,” he suggests, bravely. “Maybe we can… keep each other company?”

That really does sound nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Richard reaches out to fumble away the single tear ever so suddenly coursing down your face, swiping a line on your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything so tender as his touch in that moment. It is yet another little thing; like the graze of a match head along its box. A little act, charged, with all this dangerous potential for a much larger, blazing thing to ignite.

You nod, the corners of your mouth trembling. “I would like that.” You would like that a lot.

Richard searches your eyes, and, ever so slowly - always slowly- as if you don’t wish to scare him away, you dare to hook your arm into his at the elbow, and you lower your head until it is resting on top of his shoulder.

“Is – Is this okay, Richard?” you ask in a small voice, pleading inwardly with the universe that he will say yes. That it is.

“This is... perfect,” he responds, even as he remains stiff against you, and, given his affirmation, you curl and scooch your body, shuffling a little closer to him. Bolstered too, with seeming new-found confidence, Richard raises him arm over you, and he nestles you safely against him where you can better feel his warmth. Where, with your knees drawing up on to his lap and your ear coming to rest on his chest, you can feel and hear the quickened thud of his racing heart as he holds you. His beautiful, kind, open heart.

Your mouth extends in a watery smile as you are held by him. He’s right. It’s a little thing, but it is perfect, isn’t it?

Still, again, although you should feel light, you feel heavy. With emotion. With longing. And so, you reach for another topic change. You reach for lightness. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly impressive moustache?” you enquire into his shirt, another solitary tear slipping over the bridge of your nose and wetting the flourish of red stitching.

Giving yourself whiplash now, you smile, as Richard’s chest shakes beneath you with gentle, easy laughter.

“Well, not everybody is a fan.”

“Who would actually dare?” you exclaim, as if thoroughly scandalised. “Fuck them, Richard. I like it. I like it a lot.”

His fingers trace shapes on your back. “Thank you.”

You are pleased to feel him gradually relax against you, his form melding with yours, his body becoming less stiff. Less rusted; more of a fluid thing.

“Do you… do you have a little moustache comb?”

Another chuckle. “I do,” he confirms, and you don’t know why on earth that detail settles it, but you think that he must certainly be the most perfect man on earth.

You go silent for a moment, but Richard prompts you gently - “No more questions for me?”- as if he was enjoying your mood-lightening segue. You are more than happy to oblige the sweet man by continuing, and you chew on your lip as you come up with something.

“Are you on Tinder?” A cheeky smile claims your mouth again - you’d kill to see his profile.

You’d think about the fact he’d probably never send unsolicited dick pics, but… then you’d be thinking about dick pics, and that’s one dangerous road towards Feral Town.

While you ponder this, Richard laughs again, but it’s a little self-deprecating this time. “No... I... I was for a while, but I...”

“What?”

He inhales and sighs his whole breath out again - a sad sound. His tone when he speaks is equally morose. “I’m… not sure people are looking for someone like me.”

At that, you abruptly sit up, narrowing your eyes and fixing a determined, earnest stare on him. You reach up, gingerly, moved to cup his cheek with your palm, his groomed sideburn and the plume of his moustache pleasantly rough under your fingers. You make sure he is looking you in the eyes. “Richard,” you contest, with every scrap of sincerity you can muster; and then some. “I think everybody must be looking for somebody like you.” 

His eyes are pierced by a peculiar emotion you haven’t seen there yet. At first it looks like pain, but then it levels off until his eyes are shining, with something resembling pride or gratitude. When a smile finally twitches his moustache, your gaze drops to his lips again, and you are no longer surprised by how easy it is to think about kissing him, desire unfurling in your belly at an alarming rate. A palpable, mutual longing eddies in the space between you.

You surprise yourself though, by dipping to press a sweet, chaste kiss into his cheek, rather than sinking towards his lips as you so wish to do. When you perform this gesture, his eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft, involuntary hum, the sound gathering in your very bones and setting up camp there. As you dip back from him, the edge of his moustache grazes your cheek, and you have to admit it’s sort of electrifying. You imagine how it would tickle if you were kissed by him. How it would tickle wherever you were kissed.

The lines of poetry, so to speak, are writing themselves in your mind, already. You haven’t felt this inspired in a long time, and yet, on this occasion, you want to wait. You don’t want to rush it - even though you’ve never felt the need to quell your desires on many occasions before. Life is short, after all – too short to waste. However, something tells you that Richard is the type of man you should savour. Something tells you, that you may have found somebody to love, and, you may not love often; but when you do, you love slow.

So, you pull away from Richard, and you note that his eyes have fluttered closed. When he opens them again, you know that this kiss on the cheek was the right thing to do. You see subtle tears shining in his eyes. Again, he looks pained -with first appearances- but these tears, on second examination you think, are joyful. His heart joyful yet heavy, exactly like yours. After all, when you are overwhelmed with joy all at once, with a flood of little, happy things, it can weigh you down, at first, if the measure of joy is not one which you are quite accustomed to. If you are not practised at carrying it.

At that point, contemplating joy, you are ripped cruelly from the moment, as, with the worst and best possible timing, your phone buzzes to life, vibrating against your hip until you reach to fish out the insistent device.

“The locksmith is here, Richard. I have to go.”

“Y- yeah. Okay,” he nods, despite the fact everything about him is conveying the opposite sentiment.

I don’t want to go.

“Thank you so much.” 

He nods again, and, wanting to leave him with a parting thought (or, not wanting to leave him at all, but needs must), you have the bright idea to pick up your book from the table, thumbing through it quickly to find the page you want. A poem called The Flood.

“Recommended bedtime reading,” you wink, thrusting the book towards his chest and standing, grabbing your purse and making your way towards the door. “I can give you back your shirt tomorrow, right?” you say cheekily. “Maybe after dinner?” 

Richard stands too, following you towards the door like he’s magnetised to you, Lady trotting along too, inquisitively, her little black nose snuffling at the air.

“A-after dinner?” he enquires, confused, as you sweep out in a little bit of a whirlwind.

“Yeah, Richard,” you smile coyly from beneath your lashes, injecting some flirtation into your tone. “I owe you dinner. To make it up to you.”

“You don’t need to make it up to...”

You arch an eyebrow at him, looking at him pointedly and smoothing your hand over his upper arm until he gets the gist. When your meaning dawns on him, he gets that adorable, excited little spring in his step. You revel in his bright toothy smile, striking and pearly from beneath the thick brush of his moustache. “I know a nice little pasta place. And there’s a great documentary playing at the Coolidge if you want to catch it?”

“Sure,” you agree, dipping forward to plant another lingering kiss on his cheek in the doorway, relishing the feel of that moustache all over again. “It’s a date.” 

Evidently flustered, and in no bad way, Richard fumbles for words and finds none, omitting a mere collection of stunted syllables and unfinished sounds in response.

You wink at him, and before swooping off, you add one final thing. “Feel free to consider the bedtime reading a preview, okay? If you’d like.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up in disbelief. You get the feeling he already knows exactly what that particular poem is about. “Yes, ma’am.” he nods, looking sweetly and longingly and adoringly after you as you sashay away.

“Goodnight, neighbour to the right.”

“Goodnight, neighbour to the left.”

You allow yourself one last long look at him before you retreat, an unstoppable smile splitting your face, and, seeing him stood in the doorway, smiling after you, only cements everything you have come to learn this evening.

From now on, neither of you will be lonely anymore. There will be no more longing. Instead, there will be a flood, you think.

THE END

PART TWO IS HERE