why can't i write short things

[Ficlet] Nicknames
Pairing: Dazai/Atsushi


“A what?” Atsushi slowly lowered the cup he’d brought to his lips.

Nickname, Atsushi-kun! Nicknames!” Dazai said, happily clapping his hands together and looking at Atsushi with an expectant gleam in his eyes.

“Ah,” Atsushi put down his coffee and picked up his pen again. Hopefully Dazai would leave it alone should he pretend to be busy with this report – which he was – but Dazai only leaned down further, practically hanging over Atsushi where he sat by his desk, innocently performing his duties at the Agency.

“Well, Atsushi-kun? Well?” Dazai pressed on, his tone of voice could only be described as giddy.

Atsushi’s shoulders lowered as he sighed and looked up at the other man. “Honestly, Dazai-san, I don’t really see any need for us to have nicknames for each other.”

Dazai made a sound, sounding vaguely offended, and dramatically put his hand over his heart.

“Atsushi-kun! I’m hurt! A nickname is an important pillar of any relationship!” Here he grabbed Atsushi’s hands to hold them against his chest instead, Atsushi still holding his pen in a loose grip. “Especially since I can’t make you stop with the honorific, these things are super important!”

Atsushi blinked owlishly, for the moment swayed by Dazai’s – dubiously authentic – performance while being relieved they were alone at the office at the same time.

“They are?”

Dazai nodded, encouraged by Atsushi considering the idea he grabbed a chair and sat down, leaning his elbows on the desk while still holding the other’s hands.

“Yes! We’ve been dating for – ah, three months now-“ Dazai stopped and smiled softly at him, Atsushi gave a small smile back, “- and I think we need to take this a step further.”

F-Further? You mean-?”

“Yes, nicknames! So, I’ll go first.”

“Dazai-san, I’m not sure this is necessary-“

“Kitten.”

Atsushi blinked, then frowned. “What?”

“Darling, honey, cutie pie,” Dazai kept listing names. Atsushi could feel a headache coming. He dragged his hand over his eyes and groaned.

“You’re not making any sense.”

Hmm,” Dazai made that offended noise again and Atsushi felt him taking his other hand – maybe to once again bring it to his chest and proclaim about the foundations of a functioning relationship. Atsushi peeked through his fingers and watched as Dazai elegantly held Atsushi’s hand in front of his own lips. He blew warm air over the skin, and something inside of Atsushi’s stomach fluttered.

Dazai dragged his lower lip over Atsushi’s fingers and then met his eyes. They seemed deep and warm in the sharp light of the afternoon sun.

“Sweetheart.”

The butterflies in Atsushi’s stomach turner sharper, he might’ve made a sound because Dazai’s gentle smile crooked; became smug. He leaned closer, close enough for Atsushi to catch the faint fragrance of tea and cologne over the beating of his heart that’d escalated quickly.

“Umm…”

“You like that?” Dazai’s voice sounded smooth despite his smile, his eyes twinkled. “Sweetheart?”

A furious blush stretched against his cheeks, Atsushi could feel it. The more it grew the bigger the grin on Dazai’s face widened, and Atsushi felt a strange feeling of losing – what he didn’t know, only that it frustrated him. He tried for a response but could only sputter helplessly.

Dazai chuckled and released his hand. “So that’s it, huh?” He said victoriously.

Atsushi jerked his head up and took hold of Dazai’s hands in a poor imitation of Dazai’s earlier actions. Heart in his mouth Atsushi said with a slightly squeaky but serious voice:

“My love.”

Dazai froze. He looked from their intertwined hands up to Atsushi’s determined face. Unblinking, he opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Well,” Dazai rasped and tried clearing his throat, “that’s it then.”

He got up, strange expression on his face, and then walked towards the exit.

“Dazai? Where are you going?” Kunikida met him in the door, looking up from his bunt of papers at Dazai’s retreating back.

“Oh, nothing. Just going to question the meaning of life!” Dazai answered, his laughter stiff.

What?” Kunikida yelled after him. He turned his head and stared hard at Atsushi. “What happened!?”

Then he stopped and, stupefied, looked down at his papers, “and why am I even acting surprised?

Atsushi groaned and hit his head on the desk.

anonymous asked:

I found your blog today by accident and it looks like you take shadowhunters prompts so i was wondering if you could write a jimon marriage proposal possibly

jimon + marriage proposal, as requested!

“Wanna get married?” Jace calls out, rolling to avoid a shax demon’s pincers. Simon frowns. 

“What?” he calls back, his attention on the circling monstrosity in front of him. No matter how many times he goes out on Shadowhunter missions, he never gets used to fighting demons. Putting down rouge Shadowhunters, sure. He always gets a kick out of that. But demons are still difficult for him to get used to. It doesn’t help that if he goes on missions with his boyfriend he’s expected to hold conversations while fighting for his life. Jace is delusional. A special kind of death-defying delusional. 

“Do you want to marry me!” Jace yells, louder this time as he narrowly jumps out of the way of an attack and crashes into the wall of the warehouse they’re in. It makes a deafening echo, and the demons begin to leave Simon and swarm to Jace. Simon swears, swallowing convulsively as he considers Jace’s predicament and Jace’s words.  

“You said this would be an easy security check!” Simon grits out, gripping his dagger tighter and clenching his jaw. The world narrows in and out of focus as he slashes the demons, preternaturally swift. “This is not what most people consider a security check.” 

Jace laughs, a beautiful, throaty sound that always has Simon smiling. He loves Jace, it’s - easier than breathing. Of course, it’s also idiotic beyond belief that he hears this laugh during a demon fight where they’re clearly outnumbered, but. It’s Jace, with his stupid hero complex the size of a goddamn Ferris Wheel. Jace, who would throw himself in front of any blade, for anyone; who eats his cereal dry because he has a strange vendetta against all types of milk; who takes a glorious sort of joy in constantly being a smart-ass; who loves Simon so fiercely, with everything he has. 

“Answer my question.” Jace counters, catching Simon’s eye for a second before thrusting his blade into the space over Simon’s shoulder. Simon doesn’t flinch, but it’s close enough that he glares as the demon explodes into dust behind them. 

“Show-off.” Simon mutters, taking a moment to wipe a drop of blood off of Jace’s cheek with his thumb. “And honestly, is this the place to ask me that?” They both turn again, moving to finish off the last of the demons. Simon can already hear the next wave skittering through the warehouse, their pincers making disgusting clacking noises. 

“Is that a no?” Jace asks, his voice even. Simon eyes the lone demon that’s managed to survive, stepping out of the way as it leaps towards him. He pivots and watches as Jace impales it on his blade, and they stare at each other over the shower of sparks it explodes into. “Only, I thought - “

“I would never say no,” Simon blurts out, faint terror and disbelief creeping in as Jace regards him, his eyes serious and his gaze intent. “I - Jace, why now? I can hear another wave coming, we have to  - “ he glances behind him, and hears the clacking getting louder. Jace holds his hand out, palm up, and Simon grabs it as they start running, bursting out into the open and making a beeline for a nearby building, skidding into the alley near it.  

“Because I love you.” Jace pants. “And I - “ He stops, pushing a hand through his hair. Simon watches him, still holding hands and pressed close together. The sound of car horns and the murmur of the city at night surround them, along with the hum of crickets. Jace smells like shax demon blood and his cologne, something that, somewhere in Simon’s life, has become one of the smells of home. 

Change is overwhelming, and terrifying, but Simon is pretty sure he knows, deep down, exactly what his answer to Jace’s question is. 

“Don’t stop now.” Simon says softly, and Jace opens his mouth, his eyes hopeful - 

“Jace!” Alec’s voice echoes, and Jace groans, rolling his eyes. Simon’s mood plummets. Fuck. Backup is here. Which, honestly, is probably a good thing so they can clear out the demons, but - Jace’s face is slipping back into business mode, and Simon feels bereft and hollow. 

“Duty calls.” Jace says lightly, disentangling from Simon and stepping back. He tucks a stray curl behind Simon’s ear, and Simon swallows. “You’re right, I’ll…finish this somewhere else.” 

Simon trails behind Jace as they meet with Alec and Clary, his hands in his pockets as he considers what to do. He’s - pretty sure he knows exactly what he wants to do, at least. 

Three hours later, freshly showered and dressed in a Izzy and Magnus approved outfit, clutching a box that Raphael helped him get, he peers into Jace’s room. 

“Hey.” Jace says, smiling when he looks up at Simon. He puts his stele aside, a fresh iratze healing on his leg. “Come to fawn over the best Shadowhunter?”

“Already talked to Alec, but thanks.” Simon says cheerfully, and Jace pouts. He jerks his head outside. “Take a walk with me?” 

Jace follows him outside, humming a tune that sounds suspiciously like it’s from Mulan. Simon snorts to himself, because Jace is humming Let’s Get Down To Business. “China’s lucky to have you save them from the Huns, babe.” 

“You know it.” Jace says, smirking, as he catches Simon’s hand and holds it in his own. Simon rolls his eyes, leading them to the steps of the Institute. “Hey, the stars look pretty tonight.” 

“Not as pretty as - “

Don’t.” 

“ - you.” 

Lewis.” Jace says, chastising. “What have we said about cheesy pick-up lines? We do not embarrass ourselves like this.”

“In that case,” Simon says, a bundle of nerves in his stomach as he slowly sinks to one knee, still holding Jace’s hand, “you’re really not going to like what’s coming next.” 

Jace is silent, his breathing shallow as he stares down at Simon, shock written across his face. Simon waits, a faint smile on his face. 

“Are you - really.” Jace finally says, his voice thick and his eyes suspiciously bright. “Simon. Simon.” 

“I can’t believe you can effortlessly ask me this in the middle of a life-or-death situation, but if I do this in the spot we first kissed, you suddenly can’t believe it.” Simon laughs, and Jace bites his lip, his eyes crinkling as he grins. 

“Simon.” Jace repeats helplessly, and Simon takes a deep, unnecessary breath. 

“To answer your question,” he says first. “Yes. I will.” 

Jace laughs then, a giddy noise, as he squeezes Simon’s hands tight enough to hurt. “The ring is in my room, I can’t - “

“I’m not done, Jesus.” Simon says, and they’re both grinning at each other like love struck fools. “I wanted to say, your proposal was perfect. I should have said yes right there, but I didn’t get a chance to. So. I have a question for you, as well. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.” Jace says, before yanking Simon up and kissing him, hard. Simon lets out a low groan before he presses back, giving as good as he gets. He tries to put everything he wants to say into the kiss, that Jace means everything to him, and he tries to kiss his - his fiance even harder, dipping Jace back a little as he leans forward. Jace makes an appreciative noise, and - 

“Stop making out on the front steps!”

“Did he say yes?”

“Don’t forget to give him the ring - “

“Did Jace leave the ring inside? I don’t see one on Simon’s hand - “

“How can you see that - “

“Rune, honestly, Clary, you have to start making better use of your runes - “

Jace and Simon break apart to look at the front door, where all their friends are peering out. They’ve evidently been there the whole time - even Raphael is leaning against the entrance, looking vaguely interested. Alec is smirking as Magnus hands him money. 

“Of course.” Jace hollers. “Why should my proposal get any privacy - “

“It’s not yours, it’s Simon’s.” Alec says, unrepentant.  

“You interrupted mine too, back at the warehouse.” Jace says hotly, and Alec rolls his eyes. They’re all laughing though, and Simon tugs Jace’s grinning face back towards him and kisses him sweetly, cheers echoing around them. 

“Love you.” Jace murmurs, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to murmur back love you too, forever and always.

Because with her I’m free to be who I actually am. I don’t have to take 10 pills a day to numb the fact that my mind is an unholy wreck and there’s no cure except pushing that pain down so far it becomes a boulder that ties me down and drowns me. With her, those voices in the back of my head are silent and the only thing they ever do say is how much they also love her.
—  Why I don’t want to ever be without her.. {An unfinished story with no end}
Why... why do I do this to myself

Me: Oh hey! @sinfulpapillon has a birthday coming up soon??? I should totally do something fun for the occasion… Maybe I will come up with an idea for a drabble or an art work or something…

::ten minutes later:: 

Oh that would be a cute Idea! I should write that down. 

::30 minutes later:: 

Well that escalated a little faster than I thought… so maybe now i have a whole story idea instead of the 2 sentence idea prompt I was planning on writing down. Still… its for a good cause. 

::30 seconds after that:: 

Oh but wait wouldn’t that make a great bonus scene? Well… writing down a little bit of dialogue can’t hurt…

:::2,000 words and not even 50% done with an even more flushed outline later::

Originally posted by bpd-by-the-day

tatzelwyrm  asked:

Trevilieu + 160: “ Do you think you can teach me that? ” :)

[Obviously inspired by recent posts in the Richelieu tag.]

“So –” Richelieu says, still slightly out of breath and clutching a heavy book in his hands – “this was… entertaining?”

Treville is not entirely sure whether he wants to laugh or tear his hair out in frustration. Instead, he opts for bending down and starting to tie up one of the two men who are currently lying unconscious on the floor of Richelieu’s study.

“Don’t you think so, Captain? I certainly –”

“Do not,” Treville hisses, “tell me that you enjoyed it.”

“I shall not, since you’re asking so nicely.”

Treville debates standing up again just to glare at Richelieu. Doing so from the floor seems slightly undignified. “Two men managed to get into your office, after dark, without anyone stopping them. Can you tell me what is entertaining about this scenario?”

Richelieu offers him an easy smile. “The fact that they found you here, among other things? You should have seen their faces.”

“I have,” Treville spits out, “seen their faces. And,” he continues, straightening up and stretching his back (yup, still not as young as he used to be), “it’s a good thing I was here, since you seem to regard that –” he points at the book that is now resting on Richelieu’s desk with a look of utter contempt – “as a reasonable means of defence.”

Richelieu looks supremely offended on behalf of his – is it a Bible? Treville assumes it’s a Bible. “What’s wrong with that? It’s heavy.” Treville’s glare doesn’t falter. “It seemed like a good idea.”

“We’ve seen how well that worked.”

“I must admit, your punches were certainly more… effective.” There’s a light in Richelieu’s eyes that tells Treville exactly what he thought about his punches. He’s always suspected that seeing him fight has an effect on the Cardinal. And, well. The adrenaline from the short brawl still hasn’t dissipated, and he wouldn’t mind channelling that into, well, a different kind of strenuous activity.

Richelieu has stepped closer to him by now, cupping Treville’s right hand in his and examining his bruised knuckles. “I expected knocking two people out would leave your hands in a worse state, to be honest.”

That’s Treville’s daily reminder that Richelieu did not start his life as a clergyman. He knows a thing or two about fighting, even if it’s been a long time since he had to put that in practice. “It’s easier if you know how to punch,” Treville smiles. That’s mostly due to the way Richelieu’s thumbs are rubbing all over his fingers, but there’s a bit of Gascon pride in there as well.

“I’m not sure I remember how to do that,” Richelieu murmurs, sounding distracted. His voice has dipped lower, his mouth curling ever-so-slightly upwards. “Do you think you can teach me, some time?”

“I’m sure I can,” Treville answers, sliding his free hand to cup the back of Richelieu’s neck. “We just need a few hours. For practice.”

“I’m sure I can find room for that.”

anonymous asked:

jily coffeshop au

I threw in some Modern!AU too, because, why not? Also because I’ve done this one before, so it’s a nice contrast.

This paper was going to be the end of her, Lily decided, glaring mutinously at her laptop screen and willing the word document to somehow double in length in the next six hours. What had she been thinking, taking a bloody literature class? She was a maths person. She had always been a maths person. Complex calculus? Simple. Non-Euclidean geometry? She was your girl. Metaphors? Yeah, not so much. And yet she’d somehow stumbled her way into a Romantics seminar. What utter rot.

“Ah. A Keats fan, then?”

Lily glanced up, eyes bleary, to find one of the coffee shop’s baristas standing beside her table. He was tall and lanky, with the shop’s standard dark green apron hanging off his limbs like it didn’t quite know how to fit among all the sharp edges. His hair was dark and loafed about like it had a mind of its own, while a pair of wire specs perched neatly upon his long nose. In one hand, he held a skinny paper coffee cup. The other tapped gently at her poetry book.

“Actually, right now I reckon I’m inching toward TB’s side of things,” Lily answered, sighing lightly. “Keats may have deserved it.”

The barista’s lips quirked. “Ah, well. Two sides to every story and all.” He placed the foam cup atop the poetry book. “Coffee.”

“Er, no. I haven’t ordered anything.”

“No, you haven’t. Ordered for you, actually.” He twisted the cup, and there on the stark white curve, a name and number was written in thick, black ink.

JAMES 07914 483 219

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     ❛ magnus  ,  i have something for you  ,  and i need to explain what it is first. ❜  he had spoken as he came through a portal to the other’s home  ,  he was excited  ,  yet terrified at the same time  ,  it wasn’t a huge gift or anything he wanted magnus to take as more that what it was.  but he had taken a small purple box from his pocket  ,  and he opened it up to reveal a silver ring  ,  the body of two dragons engraved into it.  a gentle smile came to his lips as he watched magnus  ,  his cheeks burned up and fangs pulled back his lower lip.

❛ this isn’t some crazy proposal  ,  i know we’re way too early into the relationship for that.  but this is a ring that can only be found and bought in my own realm  ,  and we give it to those we trust and love  ,  since i feel that way about you…  it felt right.

@glitterandmagic

SCOTSWAP

I wrote @sixappleseeds a short fic about Christian and Francis pre-GoK! it took me way longer to write than it should have and also it is the first non-tiny fanfic i have ever posted on the internet, i’m scared, hold me

Available on AO3, or under the readmore!

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wayward-transkid  asked:

*is good-luck-motorbabes* What flaws do you think the Fab Four have?

too many to keep track of. HERE WE GO.

Party Poison: narcissistic, vindictive, petty, rude, doesn’t think before they act, lowkey really self destructive, clingy, would do anything for attention.

Kobra Kid: Quick tempered, always fucking angry about something, standoffish, impatient, lashes out at all the wrong things, blunt, easily frustrated.

Fun Ghoul: manipulative af, callous, highkey really self destructive, vulgar, even more vindictive than Poison, hostile, selfish, also easily frustrated.

Jet Star: cold, short-fused, too loyal towards very specific people, unfriendly towards strangers, passive-aggressive, also pretty selfish, stubborn, patronizing.

5 Things that will most likely happen after you've read a fantastic book
  • 1: Sleep will be near-impossible
  • 2: You will ask why over and over again.
  • 3: You'll already be craving another book that will give you a similar high.
  • 4: Your mind will refuse to quiet down.
  • 5: You will want to share your emotions with others, even if they haven't read the book.

It’s Christmas day and Mrs Hudson wakes up early to start pottering about making the boys a good morning tea tray. She’s got everything set up, goes to head upstairs, and very nearly trips over a stocking bursting with gifts sitting just the other side of the door. John, hearing her surprised little squawk, comes bounding down the steps, not even bothering to hide the smile on his face. “Oh, look at that! Santa must have been busy last night. Would you like some help carrying that up, Mrs. Hudson?" 

They head upstairs to 221B, John carrying the stocking and Mrs Hudson the tea tray, and John ushers Mrs H. into Sherlock’s bedroom where two more stockings are waiting on the bed. Sherlock sits wrapped in his dressing gown propped against the headboard, looking as non-plussed as he can manage (but they both know him well enough to see all the way through that).

For the rest of Christmas morning they sit in a bubble of warmth, nothing else to do and nowhere else to be, Sherlock and Mrs Hudson side by side and John perched on the end of the bed with a huddle of three stockings pooled between them, talking and opening presents and sipping at tea and chewing on the mince pies Mrs Hudson pops downstairs for after unwrapping a small novelty plate reading "Best Landlady” in a particularly ugly fuchsia font that she absolutely loves. At one point, for all of two minutes, they even manage to get a pair of antlers on Sherlock’s head. It’s got bells and everything. Sherlock maintains his put-out composure while Mrs Hudson’s distracted with cooing over him to John, but as soon as she turns back to him and trills a giggle, pats her hand gratefully on top of his, his resolve cracks and he gives her a sly grin as he lowers his head to jingle the antlers in her hair and rub their foreheads together. John watches them from his spot between their feet. They laugh, Sherlock’s deep and rich and gleeful, Mrs Hudson’s high and girlish between playful bats at his chest and giggling commands to “get away, you great lug." John smiles, feeling nostalgia wave at him and peace settle around like a blanket.

Then he reaches for a discarded piece of wrapping paper, scrunches it into a ball, and throws it at Sherlock’s head.

“I said we wern’t dating. That doesn’t mean we can’t have sex.”

“So you’re-.” He struggeled to find a word.

“Fuck buddies.”

“Yeah that.” Korra nodded. She spun him around by his shoulder and pushed him up against the shower wall, placing candy kisses on his collar bone, moving down, taking one of his niples into her mouth. “I don’t- oh, spirits. Don’t know if this is a good idea, Korra. It feels weird. Wow, jeeze.”

“Shut up.” Korra looked up at him, halting her decent down his body, running her hands back up his muscular form to place a finger on his lips as she gets on her knees. 

I’ve read and seen quite a few reviews of Psycho Pass, and one common complaint I see about it - especially when considering Makishima - is that it’s “overly pretentious” and too full of “hipster book references” or what have you. Which always seemed weird to me, because I always felt that the narrative portrayed this as a negative aspect of Makishima and a subtle jab at people too into the past.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

So... I was regarding at your post about the black shirt... and then: what if the black shirt is Hide's battlesuit in pieces and Kaneki dressed that (???????) Like, you can see that Hide's clothes are big on him... So Kaneki dressed it and that's why he can't see signals of him when he woke up (????????) [dafuq did I just write]

Huh? the black shirt, black shirt… black shirt, OH! THE ONE AT V14

You mean that Kaneki

was wearing pieces of this? 

I have thought about that too, but if you look at it, the clothes are different material. Hide’s uniform thing is like.. form fitting. While what Kaneki seems to wear has short sleeves, and much darker.

Okay if I go back and look, it’s probably Kaneki’s top shirt that he tends to put on his battlesuit (for modesty sake) 

He’s wearing it here, see? Now you see, Kaneki was wearing this while he fighting Amon but when he turned into Centipede he took the top off.

While he got rekt he still has it on

Yup.

Now it’s gone! Basically Kaneki tends to take the shirt off when he requires for better movement and such. I realized it now. And it does fit in the context of V14 too. This means that Hide grabbed his shirt while tracing Kaneki’s steps. And this is smart because what if CCG uses it to find Kaneki and what not. Blahblah. 

Anyway so he grabbed Kaneki’s shirt on the way, took Kaneki’s mask piece that he threw away too. And then dressed him up nicely for him to meet Arima. 

What is weird about this though is that Hide walked up to Kaneki’s empty handed. Then again it’s smarter to walk up to him empty handed rather than with anything (Kaneki might freak out otherwise). Which then implies that Hide had additional time to run around in the sewer for a bit either with Kaneki or by himself. He ran to get the shirt, and probably where he put his stuffs too (possibly human’s meat etc), then he ran back to the entrance to grab the mask piece. 

Then he fed Kaneki, wiped the corner of his mouth (blood everywhere), told Kaneki what is up ahead and what he must do. And then went off in his Hideswhere. That’s my hypothesis. 

anonymous asked:

Hi, I don't know if this was already asked, but what's the difference between romantic attraction and just really liking that person as a friend? I think it's confusing to determine a relationship without any sexual stuff, I need help. (Not that I need this as an advice, since I'm aromantic, but I'm still trying to understand this asexual thing and I just can't wrap my head around it)

I totally had a long discussion about this very topic today!  The short answer is that it varies pretty widely from person to person, which is part of the reason why it’s so hard to pin down a single definition for romantic attraction.

I’ve written a little bit about what romantic attraction is like for me, but here is a short list of differences (for me) between romantic and platonic attraction (bullet pointed, ‘cause I have been writing too many essays recently and I’ll bullet point everything if given the chance):

  • There’s a definite motivation behind romantic attraction that isn’t there for platonic attraction.  I like hanging out with my friends, and I’ll get bummed if I don’t see a friend for a long time, but with romantic attraction there’s a pretty constant “aw yeah wanna hang out with you and bask in your presence” sort of attraction.  Mostly, I am pretty passive when it comes to actually initiating hang outs (sorry, friends), but if I’m crushing on someone I’m all, “Sooooooo, spend time with me?”
  • The intensity of feelings I have about the other person is pretty different.  For example, when I think of my closest friends, I go, “Aw, yeah, she’s great, she’s so smart, I should really drop her a line and see how she’s doing.”  When I think about someone I’m crushing on, it’s more like, “WOW, YES, THIS PERSON IS SO GREAT, WOW, OKAY, YEAH, I’M HAVING AN EMOTION.”  Apparently this is very obvious on my face, ‘cause I have a terrible poker face.  Certain friends take great glee in mentioning folks I like and watching me try to keep from grinning like a huge dork.
  • I am normally pretty touch-averse.  I will tolerate (and sometimes enjoy) hugs and casual contact from friends, but mostly I don’t like people touching me.  When I’m romantically attracted to someone, I will drape myself all over them and snuggle them and kiss their face ‘cause that makes sense in my brain I guess.
  • I get weird physiological reactions to thinking about/being around people I’m romantically attracted to.  Basically, butterflies in my stomach, weird chest feelings, warm fuzzies, etc.  I’m actually not terribly fond of that bit ‘cause it’s kinda weird????  Fortunately, that usually only lasts for a little bit and then goes away.

Again, this varies pretty widely from person to person (and some people don’t have a distinction!), so your mileage may vary.  For example, I know a lot of people experience limerance with romantic attraction, but I don’t experience most parts of limerance (and the parts I do experience I apparently experience differently than other folks do).

In terms of the difference between friendship and dating, here is a good rule of thumb: Have you decided that you’re dating?  If so, congrats, you are probably dating!  Basically, it varies pretty widely from person to person, so it’s probably best to decide among the actual parties involved.

I hope that helps somewhat, anon!