#this is all stuff that takes a long time to process and a long time to master

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Not gonna lie, as a kid, I did NOT realize how much basic algebra and basic geometry would be involved in adulthood. All those word problems that you HATED as a student? They are preparing you to think your way through REAL SITUATIONS.

Real life word problems I have solved (or watched my dad solve, because he's very good at "let me show you how to do this Adult Stuff, so one day you can handle it on your own"):

I am preparing to retile the bathtub/shower in my bathroom. If the area is [measurements] on two walls and [measurements] on the other wall, and the tiles are [measurements] and come [number] in a box, how many boxes do I need? Does this include border tiles, which are [measurements]? Does this include cutting some tiles into two, where I need less than half a tile? How much will this cost? Do I need to keep the receipt to return extra tiles? What other materials do I need to prepare the wall for tiles, and how many of them do I need?

I want to make a cute knit hat. I have picked out a stitch pattern, a yarn type, and the appropriately sized needles. Using these, 5 repeats of the pattern is [measurements] and my head is [measurements]. Also, the border pattern that I want to use is [measurements]. How many repeats do I need to make for the hat to fit around my head? How many rows long should it be to cover the top of my head and down over my ears? When do I start decreasing for the top of the hat (where it goes from a tube to a circle)? Or do I start from the top and keep going until it's the right length? How do I adjust the pattern to account for the increases (top-down construction) or decreases (bottom-up construction) while I'm forming the top of the hat (the circle part)? If the pattern was written for flat knitting (back and forth) and I'm knitting in the round (always start rows on the right), do I need to adjust the pattern for that?

I want to follow a pre-written pattern for a fitted garment, BUT the test swatch I knitted came out the wrong size for the needles I used. Do I change needle sizes or rewrite the pattern [See process above for writing a knitting pattern.] If I change needle sizes, what size should I try next so I hopefully have to knit the fewest test swatches? Do I *like* the way that the pattern looks when I change needle sizes, or are the stitches now so loose that it's worth changing to a thicker yarn (test swatch was too small and bigger needles look bad), a thinner yarn (test patch was too big and smaller needles/tighter needles are hard to work with) or rewriting the pattern?

I am going to build a small wooden ramp for my new shed. What are the relevant local building codes? How long does my ramp need to be to reach from the door of the shed to the ground (which may be sloped) while keeping the appropriate slope? Am I using the gentle slope for handicapped access or the steeper slope for utility access? Is the ramp so long that it needs a level platform in the middle? How much space will this add? How many supports do I need? WHAT KIND AND HOW MUCH LUMBER DO I NEED TO BUY FOR THIS PROJECT? See also: screws, screw bits, support brackets, etc. How much will all this cost?

I want to reorganize my bedroom. What furniture do I have? Am I adding or removing any? What measurements do I need to take so I can make a small model of my room, doors, windows, electrical outlets, etc, and furniture? If I am doing this with graph paper, what scale am I using for "inches to graph squares" and what size does everything need to be? When I'm ready to move everything, what order do I move the furniture so that my largest pieces don't get trapped somewhere awkward?

If I also want to PAINT my bedroom at the same time, how do I move furniture so that I can reach the walls while doing the least rearrangement for heavy pieces? Do I have space in other rooms to temporarily move things out of my way, or do I have to keep most stuff in my room the whole time? How much stuff can I declutter and get rid of before I start?

I want to start a new embroidery project. What materials will I be using, and how much of each will I need? Can I use the things I already have in my Craft Stash, or do I need to make a run to the craft store? How big will the finished project be? Do I want to frame it (this will require extra fabric around the edges for mounting, plus the framing materials) or sew it on something as a patch (this will require a seam allowance and possibly backing fabric for the patch, like stabilizer) or embroider an existing item? What new techniques or skills do I need to look up and learn before I start?

I want to put organizing bins in my pantry cabinet. The shelves are [measurements]. Many of the cans and boxes that I want to organize are [measurements]. Of the organizers available, what size should I look for and how many will I need? Do I want everything one size, or do I want some larger or smaller for different things that I'm storing? How much extra effort will it take to set up and maintain this system, and am I willing to invest that effort - not just at the start, but as an on-going basis?

At work, we keep track of how much product we produce, the materials we use, and the waste that we had. (This helps for tracking "what does it cost to produce each item, including labor" which is important for budgeting. Unfortunately if management is obsessed with maximizing profits NO MATTER WHAT, this can lead to process changes that are REALLY ANNOYING.) If I have 5 rows of boxes plus 3 extra boxes on a pallet, and each box holds 12 items and each row holds 7 boxes, how many finished items are on the pallet? If I have 2 finished pallets (12 items per box, 7 boxes per row, 16 rows per pallet) PLUS that partial pallet at the end of the shift, how many items did we make that shift? If we threw away 68 lbs of material during the shift and there are 3.36 items per lb of material, how many item's worth of material did we throw away? What was our percentage of waste for the shift? (These ARE realistic numbers!) How much total material did we use during that shift, and when will we need to order more? If there are three production lines on the shift, all making different items and using different materials, how do we track everything? Are there any changes that management can make to make production more efficient? (More product produced, less materials and time wasted, less machine downtime for mechanical or user error problems.) How likely are those changes to drive experienced workers away, and is the cost of finding, hiring, and training new employees to a similar level of skill so high that we should NOT make those changes?

Word problems are EVERYWHERE when you're an adult, and half the trick of solving them is recognizing that they exist, and then figuring out what questions you need to ask to solve them, and what info you need to answer your questions.

One thing they don’t tell you about sewing is that it is actually ironing

[gold-onthe-inside]

hamelin

who? spencer reid (s6/7) x mayor!reader summary: spencer's the first person you think to call when the kidnapper attacks your home. content warnings: animal gore, kissing (no smut) word count: 3.5k (a lot of stuff goes down, okay) a/n: part two to diplomat, ending is open ended (i couldn't decide what happens next and this fic is long enough already)

It’s late when you get back home from city hall, briefings from that day and agendas for tomorrow tucked under your arm and fumbling for your keys and finally unlocking your front door. You moved to switch the light on, dumping your folder and keys on the top of a cabinet and closed the door. There’s a relief that comes with closing the door, the version of you that is so carefully made up for the public eye shedding away.

You took off your heels, turning around to set them on the centre table in the lobby of the mayoral residence, when you let out a strangled scream — dozens of slain rats pooled in front of the staircase, your heart beating frenetically. Your heels clattered to the floor, shaky hands moving to call the first person that came to mind as you retreat back to your car, leaving your door open. Pick up, pick up, pick up—”

“Hello?”

“Someone’s broken in, there’s-there’s rats and blood everywhere,” you gush instantly, switching the cell phone between hands and tearing your car door open and slamming it behind you before locking yourself in.

"Can you stay where you are? I'm coming now- stay there-" he said, as he stood up abruptly, grabbing his coat and his satchel. "Prentiss-" He called out. "Can you come with me? I have to check on someone."

Meanwhile, you fumble quickly through your glove compartment, finding the handgun you carried, slotting the magazine in place and cocking it before sliding back in your seat, starting to wonder if you should’ve just called the chief of police instead. As the minutes tick by, you curse yourself for what you’ve done. You can imagine the questions that’ll get asked when this is over — why was he the first person you called? Why wasn’t the chief of police involved? More importantly, if you couldn’t keep yourself safe, how were you supposed to keep your city safe?

The tap on your window scares you, raising your gun into Spencer’s face at the shotgun window, and you let out a soft breath of relief, switching the safety on and releasing the magazine before putting it all back in your glove compartment. Agent Morgan stepped out of your house, along with Agent Hotchner, and as you get out of your car, Agent Prentiss holds the door open for you, closing it behind you.

“Are you okay?” she asked and you nodded, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism.

“I’ll be better once we find out who did this.” You looked back at your house, trying to ignore the sympathetic look Emily was giving you. You feel numb as Aaron explains the process to you, and you might as well be a child for all the power you wield — that forensics will need to take over the scene before they can do any actual profiling, that they need to do a cognitive interview.

“I'll need to speak with my office,” you manage to get out in as mature a voice as you can, considering. It's not like you haven't gotten death and assault threats before, what female politician didn't? But something about this felt different, it felt real.

Emily's grown up in your world, in the world of appearances and stiff backs and false smiles, so she convinces Aaron to take you back to city hall, let you get a handle on things before doing an interview.

Spencer watched you the entire time from the rear mirror of the car, the way you slipped into business mode on the drive to City Hall. It was all so foreign to him, the way you soldiered through this. He remembered a time when seeing a dead pigeon had made you tremble and he’d had to hold you in your arms and tell you everything was alright. It was a far cry from what he was seeing now, and for a moment, he even felt a slight disconnect.

He felt completely out of place from your life, watching you approve clothes for a press conference, your secretary directing hair and make-up to your office, listening to a speechwriter read out your statement for you and making amendments without a single tell that any of this was getting to you. At least, not until Mandy arrived.

“So, we’ll do the first one outside City Hall,” she began immediately, right behind you as you waved away the make-up artist, standing up to pay attention to your campaign manager. “Once the residence is cleared by the police, we’ll do a second one there. We also have a response prepared for a potential recall—”

“Recall?” you demanded, turning to look at Mandy. “We’re in the middle of the campaign.”

“They’re saying that public trust is gonna drop 13% by the end of tomorrow’s news cycle,” Mandy said, widening her arms helplessly. “Perry’s changed his entire campaign to be tougher on crime,” she said, looking at her clipboard, oblivious to the anxiety that was starting to overwhelm you as your hands fidget at your side — anxiety that Spencer was all too familiar with.

“Mandy, I think- I think she needs a minute-“ he spoke up, moving a little closer to you, but keeping his words gentle, not touching you. “I don’t think we need to overload her with all of this right now-“ his gaze flickered to yours, giving you an encouraging nod.

“We’ll deal with a potential recall after tonight’s conference,” you said, finding your centre of gravity in Spencer’s eyes. “I have a statement to revise.” Your speechwriter left the sheet on your desk with a sheepish smile before walking out, your stylists packing up to leave, and Mandy half-glaring at Spencer for obstructing her job twice now before leaving. The door clicked shut and you let out a breath of relief, sagging against your desk to pick up your cue cards while Spencer stepped forward, plucking them out of your hands. “Spence,” you protested but it melted under his look.

“You haven’t taken a minute to process what happened,” Spencer said, his voice gentle but insistent.

“I don’t have the time—”

“Then make the time,” Spencer said firmly, interrupting you swiftly and you pursed your lips at him. That hadn’t changed. “Your home was broken into and your floor was covered in dead rats, and you’re gonna go on like nothing happened?”

“This isn’t about me,” you replied patiently. “This is about the city needing to feel safe—”

“The city isn’t safe, and you telling them otherwise is… It’s patronising and it’s belittling their intelligence,” Spencer retorted and it was unfair because he was right.

“I can’t believe I’m taking political advice from a STEM major,” you muttered, moving to sit behind your desk and pull out a fresh sheet of paper.

“I can’t believe I’m giving it,” he pointed out, and he stepped around to the front of your desk, placing a hand atop yours, and sitting himself directly in front of you, forcing eye contact. “What do you need?” He looked at you, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Twenty minutes to write a new speech and a lot of coffee," you said.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and disappeared around the corner, reappearing a minute later with a pot of coffee and two mugs, and he poured one for you and one for him, setting it on the desk, just like old times. It was hard to concentrate with the smell of the coffee and Spencer’s cologne right in front of you, and you took a quick sip before setting the cup down and writing your speech.

You soldiered through your speech, putting on your best face, and Spencer pulled you away from Mandy who was trying to get you to take this threat of a recall seriously, setting you up in a secure hotel room instead. “You really don’t have to do this,” you said, sitting cross-legged by the foot of the bed as Spencer checked the windows were locked.

“We need to make sure you’re safe. If you go back home, there’s a stronger likelihood that he’ll come after you this time,” Spencer said, closing the curtains over the windows. “He’ll think you aren’t taking him seriously.”

“I don’t understand how he could just break in,” you said, rubbing your face tiredly, and Spencer pulled up a chair in front of you to sit down, face to face when you look up.

“Morgan and Rossi are looking into it, we’ll get you answers,” he assured you, pressing his hand to your knee and you sighed.

“What are the chances that this is connected to the missing kids?” you asked and Spencer frowned, retracting his hand.

“The working hypothesis was that a disgruntled parent might have done it, but leaving that many rats behind—” Just the mention of the creatures seemed to cause you pain, a wince crossing your expression at the memory of it. “—doesn’t seem plausible for just any parent to pull off. Was there anyone specifically angry at you?”

You chewed your bottom lip, shaking your head. “Not enough to do this. I was expecting getting tomatoes thrown at me or something.”

Spencer frowned. “Tomatoes is oddly specific,” he noted and you shrugged.

“I had these parents corner me after a council meeting, asking me why I was more focused on county fairs than looking for their kids,” you said, looking down at your hands and picking at your thumbnail. “I write policies and draft budgets. I can’t find a mass abductor, and people expect me to put more pressure on the police force as if they’re not doing everything they can. We can’t just close off an entire district forever. And the protocol says that after the first 24 hours…”

“For a regular child abduction,” Spencer told you. “This is different. He hijacked a school bus and abducted over 30 kids. It’s unprecedented, there’s no protocol for this.”

You swallowed before you looked at him, your expression cloudy and downcast. “I’m gonna lose my job,” you whispered, tears rimming your eyes and Spencer’s hands cupped your cheeks, thumbing the tears away like they had ten years ago.

“Hey, no, you’re not,” he insisted softly. “Noone’s done more for this city than you have.”

“Like that matters,” you muttered, wanting to cry some more but his hands were so warm and comforting that you just closed your eyes. “All Perry has to do is promise to deliver. I’m the one who has to actually do the work, and no matter what I do, I get criticized for it.”

“Well, then, they’re idiots,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. “You don’t wanna be a mayor of a town of idiots, do you?” he asked and you snorted gently, laughing as he shifted to sit next to you, and he felt you curl into him, so he rubs your arm, following his instincts.

“Thank you for being here,” you murmured into his chest, his woollen sweater vest warm against your cheek, your fingers playing with the hem of it.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your hair, his hand on your arm stilling. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Sap,” you muttered, making him smile a little, one you can feel as he presses his lips to your hair. “You could’ve called,” you murmured, still playing with his sweater.

“I didn’t think I was allowed to,” he replied quietly. “You were so mad that night.”

“Ten years ago,” you reminded him, pulling away to look at him. “You thought I was gonna be mad at you forever?”

Spencer looked at his hands, long spindly fingers meant to lace through yours. “I didn’t have any evidence to believe otherwise.” He looked at you with those glassy hazel eyes that made you melt. “I screwed up,” he murmured. “But I was so afraid you’d look at me like everyone else.”

“Spence,” you whispered, shifting closer, knee pressing against his thigh. “There is more to a person’s character than their reputation, or their qualifications.” You cupped his face the way you used to, his cheek slightly rougher than before, and the briefest thought flickered across your mind — does he still kiss like he used to? You swatted it away, focusing on the conversation at hand. “There is so much more to you than your PhD.”

“PhDs,” he corrected quietly, and you snorted quietly.

“You got more of them?”

“Math, engineering, chemistry.”

“Does that make you Dr. Dr. Dr. Reid?” you asked and Spencer shook his head, your hand dropping to his lap.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Well, how else will people know you’re a multi-PhD holder?” you asked, teasing.

“Shut up,” he muttered, kissing you, his hands sweeping up to cup your face, holding your jaw like it belonged to him. You were wrong. He doesn’t kiss like he used to. Not tentative or hesitant, but confident and breath-stealing, each move precise and purposeful as he took pauses in just the right places to make you needier, smiling as you chased his lips greedily. His fingers threaded into your hair, like he still remembered how to drive you insane, still holding your face close to his as he pulled away for breath, feeling yours fan over his lips. “I wanted to do that all day,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours.

“I…” You had no words, opening your eyes to look at him, your head all cloudy and dazed and Spencer wanted to laugh, hands dropping to his lap. You, who had an argument for everything, the debate captain who always won, who had a retort armed at all times, had been struck speechless.

“Need a minute?” he asked, smirking and you wanted to hit him. You definitely wanted to kiss him. His smirk dropped as he saw concern flit across your face. “What is it?” he asked, starting to panic just a little. “Did I… No, I should’ve asked first—”

You shook your head. “No, well, I mean, yes, you could’ve asked first but that’s not…” You dropped your gaze, stopping yourself from taking his hand. “You’re leaving,” you said quietly and he frowned. “Once you find this guy… I won’t see you again,” you said matter-of-factly, blinking away the sting in your eyes.

“I… I can visit,” he offered lamely and you looked up, tilting your head at him.

“You won’t,” you said quietly. “And you shouldn’t. This part of your life ended ten years ago.”

“I don’t want it to,” he whispered.

“If your team hadn’t been called in to find these kids,” you asked softly, “would you have ever thought about me again?”

“Don’t say that,” Spencer insisted, taking your hand in his. I still love you, he thought. “We’re gonna find these kids, and this guy who’s harassing you, and… And we can figure this out too.”

Wishful thinking, you thought, but his hand felt so warm in yours, his heart on his sleeve, bleeding in front of you. You can’t dash his hopes, even though a part of you thinks he’ll be better off that way. “Okay,” you said instead, and his phone buzzed, forcing him to pull it out of his pocket and step away to answer Morgan. You can hear bits and pieces from Spencer’s side.

“Yeah, she’s with me… I already asked her, she doesn’t know… I can ask, yeah. If it is him, I’d rather stay here, make sure she’s safe… If there’s the slimmest chance that he comes here instead, I’m not taking the risk, Morgan.”

You rubbed your wrist, waiting for him to return. “Do you know a Perry Williams?” he asked, showing you a picture of the man, his voice on FBI mode and it creeped you out.

“Should I?” you asked, frowning.

“He used to be a pest controller, did work all over town, and he was at the school when it burned down four years ago,” Spencer said, slipping his hands in his pockets. “Right around where your first term started.”

You shook your head, frowning, not remembering the name or the face. “No, I don’t. But one of my first acts as mayor was to award the firefighters at the school,” you said. “I… I can’t remember their names either.”

Spencer said nothing, calling someone else instead, leaving you to twiddle your thumbs. “Garcia, can you look into firefighters associated with the school fire?” he asked and you were starting to feel restless, watching him work instead. “Huh,” he said, his expression puzzled. You watched him put the phone away again and turn to you. “Apparently, the firefighter you awarded implied to the press that the reason the fire got so bad was because of Williams, saying that the pesticide chemicals made the fire worse. When Williams recovered from his burns, that firefighter became his first victim.”

“What?” you asked. “Wh-How?”

“You don’t want to know,” Spencer said and you stood up to face him.

“Don’t tell me what I want or what I can’t handle, just tell me the truth,” you retorted firmly and he let out a breath.

“He was beaten to death in his own home and then set on fire,” Spencer said, watching you process that.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

“The records also said,” Spencer continued, slowly this time, measuring your reaction, “that he tried to get a meeting with you multiple times but he was denied.”

You stared at him. “So he kidnapped an entire schoolbus of kids?” you demanded. “Are you kidding me? Who does that?”

“It was multiple stressors piling on,” he said patiently. “He was recovering from his burns for the better part of a year, he lost his job, plus the separation from his wife, add that the city’s hero blames him for the fire, and the fact that he’s going unheard… so he did a drastic thing.”

“So now what?” you asked.

“The team’s checking his place, and any other locations he might go to, and hopefully, we’ll find him before morning.”

“Great,” you muttered, sitting back on the foot of the bed, hands grasping the edge, and Spencer knelt in front of you, placing a warm hand on your knee.

“We will find him,” he assured you. “Believe it or not, we’re very good at what we do.”

“Yeah, I know,” you murmured, tucking hair behind your ear, and looking down at him. A moment passed like that, just both of you looking at each other, different in so many ways, and in so many ways, still the same. Spencer wet his lips, getting up eventually.

“You should get some sleep,” he said and you frowned.

“Just me?”

“Well, I need to be up, in case anything changes,” he said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Or maybe you just want an excuse to watch me sleep,” you retorted, making him blush.

“What? No, I-I don’t want— I mean, I don’t—” He’s cut off by your little laugh and his attempt at a scowl came out more as a pout as he moved to sit beside you. “You’re mean,” he mumbled and you laced your fingers into his, raising it to kiss his knuckles, then pressing your interlocked hands to your chest.

You can’t sleep and he’s not supposed to, so you end up curled into his side, hand in hand, while he tells you what the last ten years have been like — about being recruited and abandoned by Gideon, meeting Derek who would become arguably his best friend (you narrowed your eyes at that, a flare of jealousy that he kisses away, reminding you of your place in his heart), and stories about cases. By 2am, he’s telling you all about Riley and how his dad had helped cover up the murder of his killer, all to protect his mom from having witnessed it, and you’re hanging onto every word, until his phone buzzes with a text.

Derek: We got him. Kids are all accounted for. Tell your girl.

“They found the kids,” Spencer said first, knowing that would bring you more relief than just telling you that they found Williams. He’s right, too, noticing how your eyes close and you take a deep, calm breath.

“Thank God,” you murmured.

“They’ve got Williams in custody too. You could probably go home in the morning,” Spencer continued, watching you nod, the tight coil in your chest unravelling.

“And you?” you asked, looking up at him, memorising his face now.

“What about me?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow, noting the huff that leaves your nose.

“When do you have to leave?”

“Under normal circumstances? We make sure the PD and the DA have enough to prosecute. Sometimes they don’t have enough evidence, so we stick around for a confession, but otherwise, we leave when the jet’s available.”

You nodded stiffly, lips pressed together. “This isn’t normal circumstances, though,” Spencer continued and you glanced at him.

“It’s not?”

He looked at you with a kind of fondness that you’ve only ever associated with him. “Normal circumstances don’t include you.”

[hoonieyun]

now playing...

when the sun hits - slowdive

pairing: lee heeseung x reader x sim jaeyun

warnings: profanity, some really angsty shit, talks about mental health, reliving trauma, 18+

wc: 2303

pls ignore timestamps and possible typos lol - please make sure you read the written parts to fully understand the whole story!

you were more nervous than you thought, your leg bounced rapidly as you waited for heeseung as at your agreed upon location. 

the sound of your platform boots making a rhythmic tapping sound on the floor was all you could hear as you patiently waited for heeseung to arrive, you never even fully processed if this was a good idea but after talking with manon and jen; you were about 75 percent- wait no. 60 percent sure this was a good idea. the three of you weighed the pros and cons and ultimately you decided that you should meet with heeseung. if only they knew that you had also agreed to meet with jake later tonight but that was something you could just explain at a later time. 

so here you are now, staring at your cappucino that has long become cold, the ripples in the coffee nonstop as your leg continues to bounce and lightly bump the table you were sitting at. you chose a spot somewhere in the back corner of the cafe, for privacy reasons and just in case the conversation takes a turn for the worse; there was another exit in the back you could just run out of. 

you’re too focused on trying to figure out what you wanted to say to heeseung that you hadn’t even realized he was standing in front of you until he was setting down his own drink next to yours on the table. 

“hey, sorry did i startle you?” heeseung asks and you shake your head but you probably did look startled since you were so deep in thought you didn’t even notice his presence. you motion for him to take a seat and he gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod before pulling out his chair and sitting across from you. 

“you look good.” heeseung says just above a whisper; like he was testing the waters on what he could say without getting a reaction out of you that he wanted to avoid. 

“thanks, i’ve definitely looked better. you look good too!” you respond, trying to lighten the mood with a small chuckle to which heeseung returns with a laugh of his own. 

it’s felt like eternity since you heard his laugh and you’d be lying if you say that the sound of his laughter didn’t sting just a bit. it makes you think about all of the good times together and how those moments have now been shrouded by all of the toxic and emotional mess that you two got into the last few months of your relationship. you wished you could go back, truly. 

but you weren’t sure that the outcome would be any different if you did. 

heeseung clears his throat when he’s noticed you’ve begun to space out; “i see you still zone out pretty often.” heeseung mutters and you look up at him with wide eyes like you’ve just gotten caught. 

“sorry i just-” you begin to say but heeseung places his hand over yours on the table when he sees the tremble in your fingers. “it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize.” and the feeling of his hand over yours seems to bring you a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in so long, especially from heeseung. you manage to calm down and steady your breathing thanks to heeseung. 

“mind if i start first?” heeseung asks and you nod. 

“i know i can go on and on about how terrible of a boyfriend i was, hell, how terrible of a person i was truthfully; but i don’t think that’s productive. 

i’d rather tell you about how good i’ve been doing and that i plan to stay this way. i’ve only been in therapy for like a month or so but it’s really helped. honestly, i always knew that i was a little messed up here” heeseung says, lighty knocking on his head garnering a small giggle from you to which he smiles at when he hears your laugh. 

“therapy has helped me realize a lot of stuff i wish i knew sooner so that i could’ve been the person that made you happy instead of miserable and i can’t take back anything i said or did but i just want you to know that i’m not that person any more. 

sorry, i mean that i am that person and i will always be that person and i need to take ownership of my behavior but i refuse to be that person any longer even if that was who i was in the past. 

im really sorry for everything i did and i know i know a simple apology isn’t going to do anything but i hope we’re in each other's lives in the future so you can see how much i’ve changed because i couldn’t imagine a life without you. 

even if it’s just to admire from afar. i’d like to be in your life…”

a single tear falls onto the surface of the table and that’s when you realize you’re crying. you weren’t utterly sure why his words had this effect on you but hearing heeseung be this sincere, compassionate, and vocal about his emotions in a healthy way made you cry. you could tell he meant it because his eyes have become glossy and this was the first time you and heeseung had a conversation about your relationship and emotions without it instantly turning into a screaming fest. 

“thank you for saying that heeseung…” you begin to say, taking a deep breath before continuing. 

“i’d be lying if i said that these last few months haven’t been hard, because they’ve been shit. it wouldn’t be fair to put all of that blame on you so i’m sorry that i’ve made you feel like you were the root of all of our problems. 

i know i’ve said hurtful things in the past and i think- sorry i know that they were all from a place of hurt but hurt people shouldn’t hurt people. so im sorry that i didn’t do my part as not only a girlfriend but as your friend to be kinder to us both.

i’m so grateful that you care enough to articulate your emotions in the way that you did and if i’m being honest i’m pleasantly surprised. i can tell how much you’ve grown in this short time and i’m happy that you’re going to continue to grow and want to grow.

i think being in each other’s lives to witness our growth is a good idea…” you respond and heeseung’s eyes light up; like he had just heard you say you love him again and although you didn’t it was something. 

“really?” heeseung asks eagerly

“but-” 

“oh…” heeseung’s voice drops low at your response. 

“i think i still need time to myself. this conversation is making me realize a lot of things and even if it’s resolving some of our issues i don’t think it’s fixed everything. 

maybe in a few months from now when we’ve both gotten the chance to do some more healing, we can start over but not right now…” you explain and you watch heeseung’s eyes lose their shine. 

“i understand… i really do appreciate you coming to talk to me. i didn’t expect you to even want to see me in person.” he says. 

“yeah, i didn’t expect it either.” you respond causing the both of you to laugh. 

as you part ways, you take one look back at heeseung as he continues to sit at the coffee table in the back. a slight pain in your chest as you watch his figure, his leg bouncing similar to yours just moments ago. unbeknownst to you that heeseung was trying to hold it together and prevent himself from crying.

you thought that after the nerves from speaking with heeseung you’d be fine to meet with jake but you were wrong. you were just as nervous, maybe even more. you weren’t sure why; maybe it was because you’ve known jake less? you don’t fully know him as a person and that made you uncertain?

or maybe it’s the fact that you weren’t sure if the issues you and jake have would ever get fixed. you wanted to fix them but it seems like jake wants to fix them a lot more than you did. what problems you had don’t compare to the issues that plagued your relationship with heeseung but after speaking with heeseung you felt like it was salvageable. 

you thanked the host and gave her a small nod as she walked you to where jake was sitting. you stood right outside of a private room at the restaurant, you had told jake that this was your favorite place because they had really good steak and his ears perked up at the word steak like he was a puppy hearing the word treat. 

he always said he’d take you here on a date one day but you didn’t think this would be the circumstance for that to finally happen. 

you take a deep breath before knocking and pulling the door open, to which you find jake sitting at the table and looking at you with a smile. you return the smile with your own and he gets up to hug you and his embrace feels warm. a type of warmth you hadn’t received from jake since the start of your relationship. 

he pulls out your chair for you and helps you into your seat, muttering a small thank you as you watch him circle the table so he could take a seat of his own. 

“i hope you don’t mind, i ordered for us. i just asked the waitress to bring us what their special was if that’s okay?” jake explains and you smile and nod. 

“yeah, that’s fine. honestly i’m not too hungry-” you explain but jake cuts you off. 

“nonsense, you need to eat. i know how you get and i’m sure all you’ve had today are energy drinks.” jake says with a laugh and you can’t help but also chuckle. 

“as a matter of fact i also had a cappucino so there’s that” you respond teasingly and a smile breaks out onto jake’s lips. like he was relieved and glad you were comfortable enough to joke around with him knowing the seriousness of what this dinner was for and how things have been between the two of you for the last few weeks. 

the two of you silently ate your meal, occassionally breaking out into conversation to catch up and it was so hard to get through the awkward tension. 

“so-” the both of you say in unison after the waitress has come by to grab your empty dishes. 

“you can go first.” jake says and you nod in response. 

“i’m going to be honest jake… you hurt me… a lot. 

i wasn’t sure that i was ready for a relatioship after heeseung and i think this proved that i wasn’t. 

i’m sorry that i couldn’t be the girlfriend you expected i was going to be but i wish you’d understand that i wasn’t in the best place and i feel like it’s not fair to have treated me that way knowing what i was going through and had just gone through. 

i was still processing so many things and then you came into my life and i thought you were a sign that i was going in the right direction but i think it was more to let me know that i needed to keep going instead of stopping at where i was. 

i really did like you jake but i think this is as far as we’re going.” it felt a lot easier to vocalize your emotions to jake because it was so fresh that you were able to just say all of it without having too much time to ruminate on everything and make yourself overthink. 

“you don’t think we can start over?” jake asks, a slight tremble in his voice. 

“i don’t know. truly, i don’t know. everything is still too fresh and i haven’t even processed my past trauma to process everything that’s happening right now. i’m sorry but i can’t give you an answer.” your explanation leaves jake nodding in silence for a moment and you can tell he’s trying to come up with what to say; like your words aren’t what he was expecting and he thought this would go a completely different route. 

“i was going to ask you to get back together in hopes that we could fix this together and we’d be able to come out of it as better people but i respect your wishes. 

it was a bit foolish of me to think you’d take me back so quickly but knowing how i made you feel and the hurt i put you through i get it. i just hope you know how sorry i am. the way i acted was despicable and i don’t even recognize that person. i’m going to do better in the future… 

i hope that we can meet again later down the line? maybe when we’ve gotten some time to ourselves?” jake asks, hope coating his words as he looks at you with so much intention and regret. 

“yeah, later down the line.” you say with a tight lipped smile as you get up to leave. 

“yn…” jake says just as you’re about to walk through that door. 

“i’ll always love you. even if i only got to actually love you for a short amount of time, i’ll always love you.” he confesses and you can’t bring yourself to turn around as tears threaten to fall down your face. 

“goodbye, jake” you say, voice shaky as you sniffle your way through the door.

masterlist - back - next

hoonieyun notes: we love open communicators!! now lets just hope no one fucks up... now playing will return soon! ive got to write out the last five chapters then its... over..!! ahhhh i can't believe we're so close to the end wahh

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[t1ts-4-donaldson]

more pirate art and mermaid reader please please please!!!

Pirate!Art Donaldson x Mermaid!Reader meeting for the first time

Pirate! Art always goes to the same spot every night to catch a glimpse of you for weeks since he last spotted you. His friends think he’s crazy claiming that what he’s searching for is cursed not meant to be discovered by those who walk on land.

Patrick insists that it’s the rum he drinks whenever they go out late at night it brings out all the fantasies he hasafter having one too many pints of rum while gambling coins away stating that Art's wasting his time, "you should be focusing on pussy above sea level” Patrick grunts almost toppling over the blonde boy the smell of alcohol and sour musk making art cringe "and you need a bath jesus" he shoves Patrick off of him.

Art is completely undeterred.

It’s the same process tonight slowly walk up the wooden steps from below deck making sure not to wake the sleeping men hanging from their hammocks and make shift cots. He silently walks across the deck and jump off the ship sprinting down towards the shore, he sits and waits on the dock gazing towards the open ocean until he hopefully sees you.

He almost gives up when It's past midnight but stops in his tracks when something bobs up and down on the horizon, small ripples on the surface of the murky water meeting sand.

His throat feels tight when he spots the mysterious creature that's been leaving gifts for him, a woman, you. Absolutely beautiful in every way glowing under the moonlight your scales glimmering different hues of blue and green under the surface.

you flinch the minute his feet give way on the wooden planks Art's heart stops not wanting you to escape. This was the first time he'd ever seen you and he refuses to fuck this up.

"wait." He whispers raising his hands in surrender "I'm not going to hurt you just please-" his voice cracks "don't leave.." he begs. He feels pathetic realizing how desperate he sounds the entire crew wouldn't let him live down how whipped he is but he doesn't give a damn, he's been craving you for so long.

it takes all of you not to swim away he can tell, to dive back into the watery depths but you'd been fantasizing for so long too. Watching him move about the ship hidden behind rocks or below the belly of the ship. It made you feel like a creep at first, stalking a man who might actually be terrified of you and your condition but your crush pushes down your worries.

you find the courage to mumble a soft "hi.." it makes Art's heart soar.

"What's your name?" He asks voice barely above a whisper thinking how this is too good to be true.

You quietly mumble your name swimming closer "what about you?" you ask.

"Art, I'm Art." He mutters absolutely mesmerized. He laughs at how ludicrous this is the mermaids actually exist.. he might be in love with a mermaid.

The action makes you wary "why.. are you making fun of me?" You furrow your brows drifting back not realizing it was from a place of admiration and awe

"no, no way never!" he stammers "just.. I never thought this would happen.. they all said I was crazy. Patricks going to flip out." He rambles.

You've heard that name "Patrick? the the crude one?" you chuckle.

Art's jaw drops, you've been watching me.. us?"

you nod meekly "I've been leaving all my treasures.. I hope it wasn't too forward." you wince the idea of turning him off.

"it's the nicest thing anyones ever done for me.." he smiles softly reassuring you, "except for when Patrick let me win that one sparing match for a prize but that's another conversation" he rants

"is he your lover? Patrick?" you question cocking your head curiously, trying to tamper down any jealousy you feel

"no just friends.. we've done stuff but um it's normal guys just being friends" Art blushes it's endearing "nice guy's being friends" you snicker, "I have a friend like that too.. Tashi she's perfect" you gush.

It throws Art off bubbling sense of ownership making him feel guilty, you're not an object to keep 'Tashi' his face sours

"but she's not you!" you shake your head consoling him "no one could ever be you.." He smirks a little bit of cockiness bubbling inside him you like him too the idea getting to his head.

panic sets in as the sky begins to lighten "I need to go, I'm sorry" you sputter the onslaught of sadness hitting you in waves, leaving him here crushing your heart

"how can I see you again I need to see you please." Art rushes forward into the water

your brain clambers for any ideas when something pops up, "here" you hand over an old conch shell covered in seaweed and barnacles he glances up confused.

"Speak into it and I will hear you." you clarify "I will come when I can"

you reach out and take hold of his fingers in your webbed hands a relieved sigh leaves Art's lips as he closes his eyes, actual heaven. He hears a splash and opens them just as quick staring at open waves as if you were never there.

[cheschesterpossum]

First I want to say that I hope you’re feeling better, I can definitely relate to school taking a toll on my mental health (exams are a bitch). This AU gets my gears turning and I wanted to give some ideas for CITF for you to maybe look at when you are felling better. These are completely random and mostly unrelated to each other and in no particular order. I hope you enjoy!

Humans are only slightly shorter than cybertronians, when humans put the Cybertronians in their little pocket universe they made it so that the Cybertronians were bigger then everybody else, why? Because it’s funny. So when a human visits Cybertron they are the size of an average Cybertronians.

Humans or Y/N view Cybertronians as their children, as well as Primus AND Unicron. So if a scenario where the Lost Light has a human on board and they come across Unicron it’s going to be really weird for the crew because the human liaison is threatening Unicron with time out if he keeps doing what he’s doing (idk eating planets or smth) while Unicron is pouting and whining that he isn’t a kid anymore. While this exchange is happening the crew of the LL is both confused and horrified that this human is telling their version of Satan that they’re going to put them in time out.

The 13 original Primes where the only Cybertronians that knew Humans created them and since the Matrix of Leadership contains the knowledge of the past Primes this mean that Optimus knows that humans created his species.

Cybertronians were created as the next evolution of human robotics. The original 13 Primes were created to see just what they could do with the newly developed technology that was used to make Rung.

Scraplets act like dogs and/or cats around humans.

Every Cybertronian when they see a human and/or Y/N(The creator of their species) they subconsciously recognize them.

the reason why many Cybertronian alt modes have seats, steering wheels, cockpits, etc. is because they were originally made for human use.

I’m in the process of thinking about more stuff especially lore so I wanted to share some of my ideas.

OMG YES YES, THESE ARE AMAZING I LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE SHARE THEIR IDEAS WITH MEWIHDSUSENHEJ-

Im doing better now dw:) and also thank you so much for these lovely brilliant ideas, im stuffing these into the AU no exception!!

I really like the idea of human being the same size as cybertronians in this AU, I've been thinking about for a long time actually. Also if we're the same size, that mean we're practically giants compared to everyone else in the pocket universe (aside cybertronians). Their alt-mode having seats, steering wheels, cockpit, ect also make so much sense as they're originally made for human's use. IT'S ALL COMING TOGETHER.

When imagining y/n and Unicron, i thought of that one scene in Adventure Time where Finn ground Ice King, i could see this totally happening lolol. The Lost Light, beside Rung prolly, are flabbergasted.

Scary robot Satan getting put in time out- actually, y/n putting both Primus and Unicron time out whenever they argue. Great, just great.

The 13 Primes being created using the same tech that was used to make Rung/Primus, the only few cybertronians knew of their species roots, those who obtained the Matrix of Leadership will be passed on the knowledge.... humans..humans originally created the Matrix? The Allspark?

Hnggggggggg-Domesticated Scraplets go brrrrrr, they're like tiny dogs/cats. Cybs be looking horrified as we pet those metal-eating pest that destroyed cities. Building an army of Scraplets and commanding them, i have no doubt some of you out there would try it. Shi, it'll be like minions and gru/j.

The bots getting that faint feeling of connection, they can't exactly put their digits onto it but it's there. It scares some and intrigue some, but they're all drawn to it in some way. What is it about these fleshies that feels... different? Yet familiar at the same time? Who are we to them?

Slowly, subconsciously, as if a long buried forgotten instinct surfaces. They started to listen more intently when we talk, when we indirectly or directly ask for something they fetch it for us, ect. It feels... right, like something clicked. It feels so right when we touch them, a small accidental brush, a handshake, or a friendly pat.

Before they knew it they started craving it, they feel like they lost their purpose when we're gone (like a vehicle being abandonded, left to rust and fall apart through time). It's scary and it's as uncanny as how much they yearn for a human's touch-

Im going insane.

[coastershells]

Hi I saw your writing and its so good💗 I was hoping you could do a Dallas x fem!reader best friends to lovers smut please🙏🏼 thank you☺️💗

A M I D R E A M I N G . .

( or did you just kiss me? you don’t know it but you already miss me.)

IN WHICH — dallas and you decide to take your ‘ friendship ‘ to another level.

SONG — watermelon - john q. public

⚠️ : semi public sex , mostly fluff for the rest of the ride though.. || requested? / yes!! : no ( not proofread , fucked up a part and i can’t find it so oh well )

୨୧ — wc : 3.5k.

you hate parties sometimes for this exact reason.

or maybe you haven’t been to enough.

you had been over buck’s for god knows how long , dallas had invited you and even walked you here — but god knows where he’s in the house by now. you promise yourself you can’t even walk straight.

you’re bored , tired , and you sort of want to go home now. you just don’t want to walk alone. so there you go , on your mission to find dallas.

in a house of crowded drunk people.

you decide ; if you’re going to go home , you’ll go big AND go home. so with that , you slowly stumble your way over to the drinks table , and lightly try to pick one up , but a hand stops you before you can.

“ don’t you suppose that’s enough drinkin’ for you? golly , didn’t know broads could drink ‘emselfs crazy.“ someone says with a familiar voice , it rings in your head.

you slowly turn your head and see dallas , he lightly puts his hand over your hand so you put the cup back on the table , and you give a crooked smile. “ dallas.. ”

“ yeah yeah , call me dallas even though i said to call me dal or dally even. ” he licks his lips. “ listen , man. i’m bored out of my fuckin’ mind. ” dallas raises his eyebrows and looks around before locking eyes with you. “ seems like you’re just about down for the count. ” he chuckles to himself and you blow raspberries.

“ just a little out of it. ” you mumble and dallas can only but pray you didn’t hear the small ‘ more than a little ‘ that slipped out.

“ tired , though. can you walk me home? i’ll be spooked if i go alone. ”

dallas shakes his head. “ not just yet , got some more stuff to handle , how about you just busy yourself for a minute , alright? maybe you’ll decide on spending the night. ” he says before turning on his heel , the loud music making it hard to even hear his footsteps. but he turns around and shoots at you.

“ don’t you dare pick up another drink. ” he says , you nod lazily , completely forgetting your thought process.

what the hell are you supposed to do meanwhile?

you should’ve followed him , or maybe you shouldn’t have.

god , you’re so damn lost.

you should’ve picked that other “ friendly , but just the two of us ” date he gave to you , going to that nice cafe at the end of the street near the drive in — the one that was covered in ivy. holy fuck you would’ve been sober.

the amount you drank really began to kick in , and you felt your head spinning like crazy. going outside would probably help.

not because it would be cold enough to bring you back — not at all. it was humid outside and inside , there was no escaping the heat unless you were thrown into a deep freezer.

with that , you departed from the drink table and stumbled across the room to the front door , relying on it to keep you stable until you opened the door and let yourself sit on the balcony and gaze at the stars. not because you want to ; you’d pick sunsets over star gazing any day , especially that one time with dallas when you finally got him to settle for five minutes and listen.

you’d kill for another calm “ friend “ date with dallas like that again.

as you sit there and think , your drunk mind wanders. from how hot it is , to where dallas is , and to whether you should stay or not.

the door opening startled you slightly , but when you hear dallas’ voice break out , you turn around.

“ golly — i oughta put a tag on you that glows if you’re just gonna run out of here like that. why are you out here? “

“ it’s the same temperature as inside anyway. “

dallas shrugs before letting his jacket fall off onto the porch. “ mhm , i hear you. ”

he sniffs , like he’s cold , almost. but that can’t be possible. “ you’re staying, ” he says. at first you process it as a question , but there was no curiosity in that sentence. he was telling you. “ not letting you walk home so late. nor do i feel like walkin’. “ he complains and you frown.

“ everytime i’m over here i’m forced to stay here because you’re too lazy. you’re barley even drunk! ” you say , not as clear as you wanted it to be but dallas hums in understanding before biting back.

“ you can’t even walk straight. ”

“ i can walk though , just hold my hand. ” you extend your arm to him and he does nothing but smile. it’s crooked , and you can tell he’s drunk now. you were guessing at first but now you can really tell.

“ i bet everything i own you can’t walk in a straight line. with or without my help. ” he says , taking your hand and pulling you up. you crash into his chest and you yelp.

“ huh? “ you say , trailing off as he turns you and places you against the wall. he doesn’t repeat himself , nor tell you what he’s doing , but you catch it. even in your clouded mind , you gasp.

“ dal — no! not here! what the fuck? ” you whisper shout and he looks around.

“ nobody’s out here. ” he shrugs and reaches under your skirt , you twitch away.

“ people are inside. not here , dal. ” you say , holding his hand.

dallas seems to pause for a second before backing away from you , looking around to the side of the house , then smiling.

“ to the back , then? ”

you shake your head , you almost nodded. “ that’s still so open.. ” you say , it comes out slurred. “ why can’t we just do it in your room? ”

he makes his way towards you again , picking you up over his shoulder and then replying. “ no doubt people are already in there. ” he says , you didn’t have time to yelp or do anything against him picking you up before the smell of weed invaded your nose. the leather was nothing new , even without his jacket. cold leather. you wish he hadn’t left it. god. what else had he done tonight?

he only placed you down when you had gotten to the back of the house instead. how nice of him to do that. you luckily , caught your footing and used the wall for support.

dallas is already at your neck and your breath hitches , the hand that was under your skirt returns again , and it’s playing with the lace of your underwear.

he probably noticed you weren’t wearing anything under , but he doesn’t comment on it. either too focused on ruining your neck yet again or how he’s slowly yet surely pulling your panties down.

“ dal — “ you try to protest and push his head away , and it does work , but his other hand gets a grip on your thigh and lifts you up.

okay , now you’re really stuck.

“ shut it. “ dallas says a little harsher than you like. “ just stay still , alright , doll? let me do this. ” the last part comes out as a half question , and you nod. you don’t recall him ever calling you that before , and it’s so random , but you don’t have the energy to ask if he has ever asked you that before. you wouldn’t like to try.

with that , a small ‘ i hope you don’t like these ‘ slips out of his mouth as you hear your panties just about rip. you wince and look down.

“ dally! “ you cry out. you don’t use that nickname much. “ you could’ve just — taken them off of me! “ you whine , but this time he doesn’t respond. what are you supposed to wear under your skirt after this?

he makes quick way of unbuttoning his pants , you can barley keep your head straight so you’re basically forced to keep looking down. and oh boy , you realize why he was so willing to just do it on the front porch.

the humidity outside doesn’t quite help your situation , you feel hot already , you’re dizzy , and drunk. you’re so sure you would’ve already been on the floor if dallas wasn’t holding you up.

dallas presses you against the wall further , and at this rate you can do nothing but whine and wait. he lifts your skirt up just enough for him to be able to see and you not. your arms find rest on his shoulders , and when he finally pushes in to you , you let out a loud yelp that dallas doesn’t try to cover up.

maybe because nobody inside will be able to hear you , you can still feel the house vibrating from the music inside. and that’s more than likely the reason. otherwise , he would’ve shut you up with a hand over you mouth as soon as a sound louder than usual came out.

dallas himself seemed to be making a huge effort not to buck into you really hard , god you don’t want to know how bad that would hurt at his full length.

“ still , baby. ” he says into your shoulder , and you have a big feeling he’s going to bite it. you whine when you feel his cock just about rub up against you , you can feel him shaking despite it being hot and it’s getting hotter and hotter and —

and you aren’t just quite ready when he actually pushes into you , letting out a soft groan as you tightnen your grip on his shoulders. you question whether you should get him back by dragging your nails against his upper back , but you decide that can be done later.

dallas’ moves his hips uneven , almost. slowly out , a little more harsher in that pushes a yelp from the back of your throat.

“ y’ smell like alcohol and smoke , darling. don’t tell me i gotta actually keep a leash on ya to — fuck , to make sure you don’t drink yourself — mad.. “ dallas says against your shoulder , and you push his head away slightly as your voice breaks into a whine. it being hot outside , you being against the wall , sweating , and his hair rubbing against your bare skin isn’t a good combo at all.

“ mmh? ” dallas hums , beginning to match his pace up. “ you don’t have to be quiet. “ he reminded you , and you looked down to the ground. a moan was pushed out of your chest when he pushed into you a little harder than he should’ve.

“ what’s so good about the ground? i’m your friend. look at me. “ you want to say that he said it in a demanding tone , but it came out more of a plea. there was no way you could look at him — not right now , atleast.

dallas took your silence as a no , and he groaned , returning to that same harsh pace he was just using.

“ have it your way , then. ”

you grip his shoulders with your nails instead , forget his back , you can’t even reach that with how mushy your brain feels by now.

you’re already mourning your ability to walk in the morning.

“ dal — wait — fuck- ” you cry out. “ what if the music — what if it c — cuts? ” you ask through helpless whines , but dallas does nothing but silence you.

“ i doubt anyone will hear even then. ” dallas groans , probably not because of what you asked , but the fact that everytime he talks he goes off rhythm.

his fault.

a hand slides to your skirt and he mumbles a small ‘ sorry ‘ before you feel a tug on the opposite side of your hip.

he just ripped your skirt , didn’t he? what are you actually supposed to wear inside? is he insane?

“ dallas! ” you say , a whine that was mixed with both sadness and the way he only sped up after that.

“ i’ll buy you a new one , ” his breath hitches. “ so just shut up with the actual words , would ya darlin’? you aren’t sayin’ anything useful. ”

you can feel that same weird effect piling up in your stomach yet again , and you shut your eyes tight as it comes and goes.

you can’t tell if your irritated or about to pass out , your vision is blurry and you can barley make out the words dallas is saying to you now. you decide that you’re both irritated and you’re currently passing out. your grip softens on his shoulders , and you’re slightly sad you can’t see the damage done.

you’ll see it when you wake up.

when you wake up , dallas has kept his promise to not taking you home. the first thing you notice when you wake up is the deafening silence. none of the loudness from downstairs is there anymore , and you can’t exactly move. your legs feel numb and there’s also an arm wrapped around your waist , the other lays higher. right under your chest. you notice you have on rather baggy sweatpants. you don’t know what color , but the material is similar to yours. are they yours?

you go to feel down with a hand , the one under your chest slightly moves.

no , they can’t be. way too loose. your smell is last to come , the smell of weed is gone , but the leather still sticks. and it’s all over you.

dallas is holding you. and he’s asleep.

when you first met dallas , he was rude. well , not rude. but he had no sense of respect. any girl that even came in his sights he just had to hit on. you happened to be one of ponyboy’s friends. you usually tagged along with him and dallas was there occasionally. you think the first place you met him at was the lot. he had asked you if your hair color was your actual one , and if it was the same color that your —

— your eyebrows. you know he didn’t want to say that , but you guess he knows the real answer now.

dallas must’ve been fake sleeping , or maybe a coincidence , because his arm’s completely moved and he started to wake up. you could finally stretch properly.

“ you watchin me in my sleep? ” dallas nudges your shoulder and you ignore what he said. “ good morning , dallas. yes , i’m fine after last night dallas. ” that’s a lie , you can barley remember anything. and the headache is coming for you. he hums in of what you had said acknowledgment and gives off a laugh. it’s dry , and his voice is raspy with how he just woke up.

“ you were drunk out of your mind. had to wrap my jacket around you and tell buck you were knocked out around back. do what you will with that information. ” he turns to get up , and you lightly tug on his shirt. “ hey , what the hell? you’re just gonna leave me here? i can’t stand. ” you grumble and he smiles.

“ not leavin you. getting you a new shirt. you can wear one of mine until we make it to your house. you can rest there. ” it annoys you how dallas has already made plans for you when your hangover is getting to the best of you. “ can’t we just stay here and rest? ”

dallas shakes his head. “ i’d ask you to live here if i could. fortunately , no. i’ve got work , babydoll. ” he says as he opens a drawer and pulls out a cigarette. it amazes you how before he even thinks about brushing his teeth , he smokes. he walks back over to his nightstand and grabs a lighter , bringing it to the cigarette.

“ listen , i’ll get my job done fast. you’re gonna rest at home , i’ll ring you and you’ll doll yourself up. i wanna take you somewhere nice later on , alright? ” dallas says almost like he’s asking if you want to do that , but you know he’s telling you. and now your whole day has been planned out.

you can’t find it in you to make an excuse , so you decide to just nod. “ another friend date that’s only the two of us? ”

“ nope. ” he says quickly and takes a drag from his cigarette. “ a real date. which means ponyboy ain’t allowed for real this time. no kids. ” he says , and you’re sure he’s quoting steve. you scoff and he does nothing but take another drag from his cigarette.

“ come on , i’ll walk you home like i always do. ” he says. “ wouldn’t really count it as walking since i’ll be carrying you , but — ”

you cut him off with a groan.

he gets the memo.

“ alright , attitude. ” dallas mumbles. he throws a shirt your way.

B O N U S

( sort of..? )

just like dallas had said in the early morning , he carried walked you home and gave you a ‘ friendly ‘ kiss goodbye. hours felt slow , maybe because you kept looking at the time but you swear time has never been slower in your life. you only started to ponder on what to wear when dallas had called you and said to get really pretty.

you decided on something that wasn’t exactly flashy , a black skirt , a random worn out top , boots gifted to you by dallas , and a leather jacket that you had never gave back to him. you wouldn’t say you did exactly much to your face.. more on your hair than anything.

you were just about finishing up when you heard a car coming down the street and a honk outside. you didn’t have to look out the window to know it was dallas.

and so it was , him in all of his glory and nicely dressed , ( not really , but you won’t insult him. you’re too nice. ) he greets you with the same flirty line he always uses , paired with a random pet name that he probably came up with on the spot.

most of the drive is filled with silence , not awkward , but almost like one of you should say something specific.

dallas decides to be that person.

“ i like you a lot , y’know. ” he says and you hum. you’re so positive you know what he’s getting at , but you try to stay oblivious. you want him to say it directly.

“ like — jeez. ” you look over and he looks — nervous? almost? “ like how ponyboy likes sunsets , yeah? and how two bit likes beer. like that. ”

“ i don’t get it. what do you mean? ” you say , trying to hide the smile in your voice since he can’t look over. you just hope he’s not using the corner of his eye.

“ alright , fuck. i love you. that what you wanted to hear? ”

you try to egg him on. “ and? what else? ”

he raises an eyebrow , but sighs and actually thinks for a second. the car stops at a traffic light.

“ i don’t want to see other guys treat you how i treat you. ” he says , almost a whisper , before he perks up again and awkwardly sniffs before changing the topic. “ what are you gonna order? ”

“ whatever’s fine , i guess. or i’ll just decide when we get there. ” you shift uncomfortably in the seat.

dallas doesn’t argue with that , whether he understands or just doesn’t want to.

the only thing you can hear is the far away sounds of people talking. you decide it’s your turn to speak.

“ i love you too , dallas. like how ponyboy likes the sunsets or whatever. didn’t expect you to be so emotional , though. ” you giggle and he blows his breath.

“ shut it , will you? the silence is nice. ” he licks his lips and you relax into the seat.

“ it’s nicer when i’m around you. ”

this time , it’s dallas’ turn to nod in agreement.

and you remind yourself ; you never saw the scratches you had made on him.

you shrug to yourself.

the light turns green , and dallas pulls off.

“ yes , i’ll be your girlfriend dally. ”

you look over and see a small smile on his face.

you are so sure he needed to hear that just as much as you did.

i have no excuse for not posting. nor do i have the strength to after editing this. i’m going to sleep.

taglist : @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d , @socgf , @staygoldmarty , @every1hatesmayaa

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Chapter 2: Shower

Quite appallingly bad, apparently. 

Ichabod stands in the middle of Abbie's living room looking spectacularly (and consequently, hilariously) lost, his arms laden with all manner of shower supplies that Abbie had bought for him at Target that morning. Other than a few minor mishaps involving a shattered lightbulb and burnt fingertips, Ichabod had adjusted to his first night living in the spare room of Abbie's apartment relatively well. But of course, that wouldn't last long.

"Is all of this really necessary? Will not water itself make me clean? And what exactly am I meant to do with this contraption?" Ichabod asks with a disgruntled huff, brandishing his new toothbrush at her and nearly dropping his new bottles of shampoo and shower gel in the process. Abbie rolls her eyes and hands him a tube of toothpaste. 

"Crane, you woke up in an underground cave grave after a two hundred and fifty year siesta. Trust me, you need all the help you can get when it comes to personal hygiene…and this stuff will definitely make a dent in scrubbing that nasty zombie scent off of you."

"I don't quite understand what you mean by zombie, but I suppose you are the expert when it comes to navigating this century, so I shall trust your judgment…though the perfumed concoctions you have given me are rather pungent for my tastes," he says, sniffing the little glass bottle of cologne and then immediately holding it at arms' length, his face all scrunched up like he'd just licked a lemon wedge. Then, realizing that that might've come across as rude, he adds, "Thank you all the same, Lieutenant."

"Could've just said that in the first place," she sighs. "Come on, I'll show you how everything works. My bathroom's a little different from the one at the hotel. Plus, I figure an in-person lesson is probably better than reading handwritten notes, anyway."

"Yes, and while I greatly appreciated the gesture, I must say that it did not work in my favor. That horrible excuse for a bathing basin shot water directly into my eyes. I could have drowned!" Ichabod exclaims, shuddering at the memory of it. 

Abbie stifles a laugh as Crane follows her into the bathroom, tripping on the ends of the plaid pajama pants she'd let him borrow as they slide down his skinny waist. They were an old pair of Luke's from when he used to stay over, and for once, Abbie was relieved to have found something of his lying around. Ichabod towered over Abbie like a goddamned Ent…there was no way in hell his gangly legs would fit into any of her clothes. He's having enough trouble with the t-shirt she'd let him borrow as it is.

Without even thinking about it, her eyes slink down his torso and settle on the patch of exposed skin where the tightly-clinging fabric had ridden up over his stomach. Her mind briefly flickers to an image of him lying on a table, strapped down and shirtless, his tall, lanky figure writhing against his restraints, chest heaving with labored breaths as he awoke from Ro'kenhrontyes' dream world…Abbie blinks a couple of times as the image fades, wondering where in the hell that train of thought came from, and shakes her head. She hasn't had her coffee yet, so whatever crazy, ridiculous notions her brain brews up at this god-awful hour of the morning can't be held against her.

Abbie makes a mental note to eventually take him shopping for some proper-fitting clothes of his own.

Lacking in post-it notes and patience, she points to everything in the bathroom and briefly explains its name and its use, twists the hot and cold water knobs on the shower wall, shows him how to adjust the shower head to his preferred height, how to floss and brush his teeth (every minute of which he'd hated, of course), how to properly flush the toilet, wash his hands in the sink, and dry them using hand towels. Once she's confident that he can handle it on his own, she sets the last of his supplies on the counter, says, "Welp…have a good shower, try not to drown, and call if you need anything, I guess," and attempts to shut the door, but Crane blocks it with his slipper-clad foot.

"Lieutenant, forgive me for my lack of knowledge on the customs and practices of this era, but I do have another question concerning the concept of bathing in this century. Are we…will we be sharing the water?" he asks, completely nonchalant.

Abbie nearly has a heart attack. 

"Hold on…did you seriously just ask me to shower with you?"

"I…I don't understand…is that no longer the custom?" he asks, composure faltering.

"No! Oh my god, Crane. No, it's definitely not…I mean, not unless you're…you know what? Nope. Never mind. I am so not going anywhere near there. There is not enough coffee in the world that could convince me to have that conversation with you."

Ichabod's eyebrows knit together in confusion, his head tilted to the side as he contemplates Abbie's alarming change in disposition…moments later, it all clicks together in his head, and suddenly his expression of shock and embarrassment is identical to Abbie's.

"Oh! Oh my goodness, no. You misunderstand me, Lieutenant. It was not my intention to offend you, and for that, I apologize. Please allow me to explain myself," he says, a furious blush creeping from the corners of his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. 

"It was customary for families to share the same bath…one at a time, of course…in order to preserve water…but seeing as one is willing to pay an extraordinary amount of currency for a pastry in this century, I should have guessed that water has become a commodity as well. Now, normally, the male of the family would bathe first, but I always found that notion utterly ridiculous, especially in our situation, given the fact that this is your home, and I am merely your houseguest. My intention was to make certain that you had been afforded the luxury of the first use, and therefore the cleanest water."

Abbie stares at him for a long while, mouth gaping open and mind racing to try and process everything he'd just said. All Crane can do is stare back at her, the flummoxed expression not quite fallen from his features. She watches as he bites his lower lip, his fingers relentlessly fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt as he awaits her reply. After what feels like centuries, her heartbeat slows to a steadier pace, and Abbie lets out a gust of air she didn't even realize she'd been holding in.

"Well, in this century, we each get our own water when we shower," she says slowly, and then punctuates it with, "alone."

"Right then, duly noted," he says, relaxing marginally. "Apologies, again, for the misunderstanding. I did not mean to insinuate that any inappropriate behavior should take place between the two of us."

"Good, because it shouldn't," she says, pursing her lips. She doesn't know why she feels the need to reiterate such an obvious point.

"Yes, of course," Crane says slowly, his expression an odd combination of amusement and irritation. "Well…thank you, Lieutenant. This has been…enlightening."

And with that, he turns round and gently closes the door behind him. After a minute or two, Abbie hears the sound of running water, followed by a series of loud yelps, signaling that Crane had neglected to wait until the water had warmed up before jumping straight in. She's dozed off on the living room couch by the time he's finished his shower, but the click of the bathroom door startles her awake.

"Everything okay, Crane?" she asks, peering around the edge of the couch.

She hears a bit of scuffling and then Ichabod appears in the doorway, clad in nothing but a hand towel clutched over his lap, looking hopelessly awkward and out of place. Ichabod swallows thickly, glances down at the shielded region of his body, and mumbles, "Apologies, Lieutenant, but I don't quite understand how to use your towels. Does it expand, or am I meant to use this small bit of cloth on my entire body? I do not believe that it will deliver in its intended purpose, as I am quite wet…and rather cold." 

Ichabod shivers, the damp tendrils of his hair curled around his shoulders, water dripping down his battle-scar-embellished chest in rivulets. She tries not to look, or laugh…damn, does she try…but come on. Abbie covers her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with uncontrollable laughter. When she looks up, Crane is glaring at her, looking for all the world like an angry, drenched kitten. Sighing heavily, Abbie propels herself from the couch, carefully edges around Ichabod's naked form, and grabs him a bigger towel from the linen closet, stifling another giggle fit.

"That's a hand towel, Crane. It's meant to dry your hands after you've washed them. You're gonna need a much bigger towel to dry off your…erm...the rest of you. You can use it to wrap around your waist so that you're covered up when you go back into your…I mean, the spare room. You know…to get changed…into clean clothing. You should probably…put on some clothes," she says, arching her eyebrows for emphasis.

"Right. Yes. Thank you, Lieutenant. Erm…but how exactly do I wrap it around—"

"I am so not going to show you how to do that, Crane."

"Right. Yes, of course. Apologies. I shall figure it out on my own. May, I, then?" he asks, holding his free hand out for the bigger towel. Abbie shifts her eyes to the ceiling when the little towel accidentally falls to the floor, and Crane slips back into the bathroom. Abbie wanders back toward the couch, gracelessly flops down onto the cushions, and scrubs her fingers through her hair, chuckling softly under her breath and wondering how she got herself into this mess. 

Five minutes later, the bathroom door opens and out steps Ichabod, a bundle of dirty clothing tucked under one arm, the other holding his poorly-wrapped towel in place. As he strolls across the living room to the corridor of the spare room, the towel unravels and falls to the floor. Twice. Abbie pretends not to notice.

✨ Read Next Chapter | Chapter Masterlist ✨

You Always Want What You're Running From

Sleepy Hollow » Ichabbie

Title: You Always Want What You're Running From

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Sleepy Hollow (Masterlist)

Relationship: Abbie Mills x Ichabod Crane

AO3 Rating: Mature (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: When Abbie invites Ichabod to come live with her, the last thing she expects is for him to start feeling like home.

She'll tell herself, over and over again like a mantra, that it's because she feels indebted to him, that she feels bad for him, that it'll make their casework much easier if she can keep a constant eye on him, that it's convenient.  But really, it's because, in spite of everything, in spite of an impending apocalypse that only they, the unwilling witnesses, can prevent, he keeps her grounded, keeps her sane. For reasons she can't explain, she trusts him.  She hasn't trusted anyone like this since Corbin…and now, Crane is all she has left. In his company, she feels secure. Protected. Cared for. They've only known each other for a short while, and yet…Crane's company feels like home. Besides…how bad could living with a man from the 1700's truly be?

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr: Chapter 1 » Chapter 2

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[bowsbar]

pillowbook thoughts because ive been thinking about them all day!

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[lordelmelloi2]

🥲

[comfortlesshurt]

OKAY, IT'S FINALLY HITTING

(will you guys hate me if I post this longfic a month later than planned?)

[goldkirk]

If anyone remembers all the dental work I needed done uhhhhhhh three years ago and never went back and ran away forever…I’m finally going back to a dentist on Thursday to restart the process and face my deep and utter abiding terror. And I also scheduled my COVID and flu vaccines for a couple hours later. And my psych appointment to restart meds.

I figured get it all done in one day, have my miserable immune reaction on Friday that I seem to always get with Moderna COVID shots, and then flee directly into the weekend and never be a person again except when I’m on and off crying. It’s going to be so kind to future me to get these things done and I can do it no matter how much I feel like I am constantly about to Actually Physically Die.

[chiarrara]

i haven't written anything today, but i have spent a lot of time obsessing over blood, and blood loss, and blood type, and blood type compatibility theory. so that's been fun :)

[the-daydream-archives]

i decided to check when i first started the current project I'm doing and apparently, it was on June 2024 and it was originally going to be a single item but it instead spawned several large sets one after another💀💀 and since my perfectionist side is not letting go any time soon, who knows when this will get finished soon 🤡🤡 lmao im such a clown

[wereh0gz]

I keep flip-flopping between loving my current art style and wanting to go back to how I used to draw things and I haaaaate it