#me mixing up two of my hyperfixations? more likely than you think

[thegnomelord]

omg yes for the Ghost fic request you can do prompt 3 instead that would be great, thank you. some angst with a happy ending please

Sure thing dude, sorry this took so long, but a happy xmas to you lol My hyperfixation hyperfixated on this so it's a bit long and expositiony but I'm actually really happy with how this turned out :D Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”

CW: NSFW, subbot Ghost, domtop Mreader, angst, misunderstandings, gentle sex, making up kinda, confessions, fwb turned lovers, idiots in love,

Simon's apartment is a picture of painful domesticity; your muddy boots sit neatly next to his by the door, two mugs set next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes left on the sink only a foot away from different shower products that have long since mixed together into one giant pile, and a dozen more little things that tell anyone with a cursory glance — 'yeah, two people live here'.

When people wonder why you practically live together when you're just casual, you both just say it's convenient (and ignore how fake your answers sound).

After all; Why leave after he's ridden you to both of your completions when you can just settle on the couch and share a drink over a movie? Why should you waste money on a cab to get back to your own flat when you two can just tumble into bed? Why should Simon wake up to an empty and cold flat when he can do so in your arms, your steady heartbeat remind him you're both alive? Why leave in the morning and miss one of the few times Simon's fully relaxed when you can have a lazy morning, laying in bed and enjoying each other's company until the sun's high in the sky?

Why leave at all?

. . . Simon treasures every moment with you as much as he hates it, every second in your presence like a pretty hummingbird singing sweetly in his ear while it drills holes into his skull. Absolute Hell. Utter bliss.

He knows he doesn't deserve you. Knows you don't deserve to have a living corpse crawl back into your arms every night, nothing but a stranger with Simon's face. But you two have known each other so long it's impossible to let you go.

You met as toddlers when you'd nicked his toy, refusing to give it back until he agreed to play with you, and you've been stuck at the hip since. You two were each other's first kiss, fumbling behind the school bleachers, eager and sloppy like inexperienced lads are. First set of blooming hickeys along his collarbones, Simon's ma giving him a knowing look when she'd noticed it amongst the other bruises her no good husband had left on him. First fuck, quick and rough in a dark janitor closet during basic training, burning with need and heat. First—

. . . Simon doesn't know when the word 'Love' first registered in his brain. Maybe when you tore up heaven and hell looking for him. Maybe when you stuck by him when he did his best to scare you off, all rough words and teeth, unable to form one nice word when violence and revenge was all that was left in his head.

He doesn't know when he registered the word. Only that he looks at you whenever you do something mundane and thinks 'yeah. Love. That fits.'

But love has no place in. . . whatever this is. Hell, he's the one who'd set the ground rule when you two were young and dumb, reaffirming it after he'd come back as Ghost. And you'd never fought against it, agreeing to just be fucking casual, there's no way you want anything more than this. He doesn't want to cock it up, doesn't want to take more from you than he's already done, so he swallows all he feels and ignores how it burns his throat, going day by day like nothing's changed.

He wakes in your arms, deeply ingrained training waking him before dawn but the heat of your body keeps him rooted in place. Distantly he can still feel the cold tight confines of that coffin, of maggots wriggling on his skin, but memories of that nightmare float away before his traitorous mind can latch on to them. He lays in bed, head firmly on your chest so he can hear you, see you breathe. Morning comes too soon and you rouse awake, laying a sweet kiss on his forehead before getting out of bed to set the kettle on.

It's domestic.

It's painful.

. . .

You love how Simon looks. You especially love how he looks in his civies, freed of his armor and no longer needing to be guarded at all times, shoulders relaxed and mindlessly looking around as you talk while you browse the store. He's still gruff, and sarcastic, but you love that about him. You loved him long before he said not to tangle emotions in your meaningless bliss and long after he'd come back as Ghost, each unknown scar on his body taking a chip out of your heart.

And you respect his choice. You'll take what you can get and won't give it up even after your corpse has grown cold, hoping that will be enough to drown out the neediness of your heart. You lost him once and it had nearly killed you, you can't lose him again. . .

God, you're pathetic for him.

You meet miss Betty on your way back from the shop. She's your neighbor a few doors down, a sweet old lady who waters your plants when you and Simon are called back into action. You see her struggling with her bags so you hand your own to Simon so you can help her, "Hold this, please?"

"Only because you asked nicely." Simon huffs, but takes the bag without further complaint, walking behind you as you help miss Betty with her shopping, content to listen to you two talk about who knows what. It still amazes him how you've managed to charm all the neighbors Simon rarely spoke to.

"Oh, thank you deary." Miss Betty says as you put her shopping next to her door, holding onto your arm for support. "It's so nice to have a helpful person around here."

"It's not a problem ma'am." You say with a small smile, and fuck if Simon's heart doesn't beat a bit faster at the sight.

"You know," Miss Betty begins. "My grandson's been eyeing you up. And I can see why, you're such a strapping young man."

You feel Simon's gaze fall on you like a dagger, cold, hard, expectant. You try to think of what to say but your words fail you, because while you and Simon aren't in a relationship you can't picture yourself be with anyone else. "I-"

"Oh don't worry deary, I told him he was barking up the wrong tree." Miss Betty cuts you off by giggling like a school girl, "I wouldn't want to separate you two love birds."

The words burning on your tongue escape you before you can filter them. "Yeah, I doubt I could love anyone other than Simon." You clear your throat after, feeling his eyes on you.

Miss Betty just coos. "Oh, to be young and in love." Then she turns, waving her walking stick at Simon like he's an annoying pigeon that flew into her house. "You better treat him properly you big oaf, he's good for you."

Oh, Simon knows. Knows you're too good for him. But all he lets out is a small grunt, and you can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.

You don't think of what you say next, so far away from a warzone your defenses are lowered. "No need to worry ma'am, he's the love of my life and I can assure you he treats me very well."

There's that word again, and the way it leaves your lips has Simon's heart skipping a beat. Fuck, Simon wants to hear you say it until he's deaf. Wants to hold your jaw closed so you don't speak again and stop making him feel this. Wants to pull you close and throw you out of the window at the same time. Wants— . . . he doesn't know what he wants.

"Oh, well I won't hold you up any more dears." Miss Betty says, patting you on the arm before shuffling back to her apartment with her shopping.

There's an uncomfortable silence between you two while you get back to Simon's flat, neither one of you sure what to say about the damn elephant in the room. You take the bags you'd given him, your back to him as you put them on the counter.

Acting like nothing's wrong. Nothing's changed.

But it has.

"An' you say my heart's rotten." Simon grunts, gruff and harsh, too many thoughts brewing in his head to properly say what he's thinking.

You turn to him, surprise obvious on your face. "What?"

"Lyin' to old ladies." His jaw is tense behind his face mask, which you note he hadn't taken off when the front door had closed, back to being guarded around you, something between Simon and Ghost. "Granted, it was convincing. What, did you take some creative writing lessons from Laswell?"

You stare at him for a few seconds, then you feel your jaw tense as well. "Christ, Simon, what are you on about?" You growl, stomping over to him.

His shoulders tense as you approach, but the scent of your cologne calms his body without his mind's input. "Can't love anyone but me?" He asks, something cold and slimy settling in your stomach when you realize he's repeating your words. "Love of your life am I?" Simon scoffs, the skin around his eyes moving in a sardonic smirk. "You're full of shite."

He doesn't know who he's trying to convince here.

You know you should brush it off, go along and say it was just a joke. Say anything that won't clue him in to your real feelings. Hell, not even saying a thing would be good.

But you just have to open your mouth.

"I wasn't lying about that Simon." You say suddenly, open, honest, your eyes meeting his.

Silence stretches long enough to have your nerves crackle with static, your body needing something instead of the nothing he gives you. Then Simon lets out a short, dry laugh, like your words are just a joke.

"Quit it." He huffs, doesn't meet your eyes because looking at you and entertaining the idea that he could have something more with you fucking hurts. "'m not up for your focking jokes." He grows, turning to leave,

Something inside you makes you move before your mind can comprehend it, grabbing his hand to stop him, "Simon I love you damn it!"

Your words are like a slap to the face for him. Simon freezes like a cornered deer, thousands of thoughts darkening his eyes, brows furrowed like he doesn't know whether to be angry or not. "But we—'

"—we agreed, I know. I fucking know." You hiss and damn it you can feel tears prickle your eyes like needles, "But I fucking love you, been in love with you for years and I know we agreed not to but—" You're babbling now, each word leaving your chest feeling raw like an open wound, the weight on your shoulders lessening but it only draws the noose tighter. "—just tell me how I'm supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me."

Silence greets you as you stare into his eyes, that same static gnawing on your nerves the longer he just looks at you without a word, searching for something in your eyes he expects not to find.

But he does.

He spares you, pulls you by the clothes so his lips can crash onto yours, holding you close like you'll disappear. The kiss is sloppy and desperate just as it had been when you'd been hiding behind the school bleachers, all teeth and tongue and care.

Eventually the need for air breaks you two apart, but Simon refuses to let you go far. His rough hands hug you close as he rests his forehead against yours, pupils blown wide. ". . .love me, huh?" He says under his breath, as if he can't believe it.

"Yeah." You breathe out and wrap your own arms around him till there's not an inch of space between your chests, hearts beating fast like war drums but in such a rhythm you'd be fooled to think you share one. "Do you?"

Simon swallows, his throat dry, but the words slide smoothly off his tongue. "Yeah." He says, letting you pull him back into a kiss. It's sweeter this time, calmer, no longer rushing to feel the other. He melts against you, a low sound building in his throat as the sensations of you wrap his mind in silk, the taste, the feel, the scent, all of it making his mind fuzzy. All his now.

You lose track of time, stealing gulps of air between kisses as your minds drown in the other, your bodies moving on their own. You don't know how you end up in the bed but you do, your skin prickling with goosebumps as Simon's body presses against your own.

You part to catch your breath, Simon's head falling back on the pillow with your name leaving his lips like a prayer. He's underneath you, eyes hooded and short hair ruffled, and while usually he'd push you back and wrestle for control, this time he just melts into the sheets, lets you do as you want.

"Fuck-" Simon growls as you kiss down his neck, his blunt nails scratching your scalp as reward for the little hickeys you leave on his throat. Your hands roam across his body, leaving lingering trails of burning heat. "Love, please hurry up." He breathes out, cock already rock hard from just a few kisses and heavy touches.

"Right," You say, because that's all your brain can conjure up at the moment. Blindly reaching for the lube you trail kisses down his front, your lips tracing every scar along the way, his legs easily parting so you can settle between them. You can't help but look him over again, all relaxed and eager for you, chest rising and falling like he's a racehorse. "God you're fucking pretty."

A deep flush spreads from Simon's ears down to his hickey marked shoulders, a little smile tugging on the corner of his lip. "Just pretty?"

"Beautiful." You breathe out against his abdomen, rubbing your fingers together to warm the lube. "So handsome." You don't miss how his cock twitches, your lips following his happy trail. "Charming." You hum against the tip of his cock, tongue lolling out to lick at his slit. "Bloody bewitching." His hips buck into your mouth as your fingers slowly circle his puckered rim, putting just a bit of pressure at first. "Irresistible." His body yields, the tense muscles of his rim going lax and letting you slide a finger in.

A low and long groan escapes his chest, eyes fluttering shut as he savors the stretch, tight walls clenching in the rhythm of his breaths. "Read a dictionary, did you?" Simon smirks, heart warm and floaty at the way you wait for him to relax after the intrusion before you move, at the way you look at him when your exploring finger brushes his prostate and makes him moan. "Such a focking charmer."

"Just for you." You chuckle, lightly sucking on his cockhead to make him forget about the lingering pain, your ears pricked to hear every little groan and unabashed moan leaving his lips. "Can you handle two?" You ask, your second finger resting against his rim without trying to push in.

He growls like an animal and pushes his hips down on your hand, "You're sleeping on the couch if you don't hurry up." He warns at your question, his harsh glare softened by the heavy flush across his face and his hooded eyes.

"Not the dog house." You say in mock fear, swallowing his leaking cock a third of the way down in one go as you push your second finger in, your thumb rubbing the space between his balls and ass so his prostate is trapped on both ends.

"Shite-" Simon's hips twitch up, beads of precum painting your tongue as his legs spread open more. "-you wanker." His insult is light, head rolling back as he grounds his hips down in an attempt to chase after that spine numbing pleasure your fingers bring.

Pulling back enough to murmur "Love you too." against his tip you take him into your mouth again. You can't measure how good it feels to say those words honestly instead of sarcastically, your own arousal forgotten as you work him open on your fingers, the constant pressure on his prostate making a small stream of precum bead down your throat.

Simon floats in heaven for, he doesn't know how long, the pleasure making his brain melt through his dick, unable to stop the soft sounds escaping his throat. He cracks an eye open when the tightness in his stomach becomes apparent, barely able to stave off his orgasm when he sees his cock throbbing between your lips.

Your name comes out slurred as he tugs on your hair, "Need you. Now." A little bit of his usual demanding nature comes out, but even then it's born out of desperation to feel you rather than the need to be in control.

You let him pull you off his cock, placing gentle kisses on his thick thighs as you pull your fingers out of his stretched hole. "You have me."

You go to grab a condom but he stops you, too aroused to be embarrassed by his eagerness. "You don't- my physical, I'm clean. If you want, I mean-"

You furrow your brows, your chest tight with how big your heart feels. You could never hide how sick you'd feel at the thought of Simon being intimate with someone else, even when you'd never agreed to be exclusive. "We did physicals nearly three months ago, you haven't. . .?"

He shakes his head, "No," Suddenly he tenses up, his jaw tight like he's expecting bad news. "Have you?" His tone isn't judgmental, but you can hear the edge of hurt.

"No. No. No!" Quick to dispel his thoughts you lean over to kiss him like he's a bout of fresh air and you've been drowning for years. It's not too far from the truth. "You're the only one I've ever. . .done that with." You murmur against his lips, earning yourself another kiss as he pulls down by a hand on the back of your neck.

"Good." Simon tuts, proud, hiking one leg around your waist to pull you closer, your cocks rubbing together. "Fuck me already." He grumbles, his strong arms wrapped around your neck.

"Right, yeah." Despite how many times you've done this suddenly you feel like a fucking virgin, your hands trembling slightly as you lube up your cock. You press the tip against his slick hole, forcing you to bite your lip as you start to push your hips. "Just relax, yeah?"

"Yeah." Simon breathes out, feeling pressure of your cockhead against his hole. You both groan when your cockhead pops inside him, your lips on his making him forget about the lingering sting. "Shite, so good for me." Simon hums, looking at you with hooded eyes. Usually he relishes the sting and burn sex with you brings, but he's so loose and lubed the pain is barely a prickle at the back of his skull and he finds himself getting addicted to the unfiltered pressure and weight of your cock inside him.

"Simon," You say, clenching your teeth as you try to keep still so he can get used to you, holding his hips for dear life. "Can I- please I need."

"Focking move it," He nods his head, his head rolling back from the sensation of you moving inside him, your cock brushing against his walls as you push inside him inch by inch until you're fully inside him.

Your nerves a live wire from how tight and hot his hole is, forcing you to rest your head on the pillow next to his as you try to gather your self-control; you'll be damned if you cum before him.

"I'm good." Simon tugs on your scalp, your lips meeting in a lopsided kiss. You pull away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes blown wide and hooded, something about this position so intimate it melts your heart. "Hurry up, 'm not going to last long." He confesses, his walls clenching down on your length.

Words escape you so you just nod your head, slowly pulling your hips back before pushing back in, Simon meeting you half way so your cock can lay consistent pressure on his prostate. You two move like one, your senses full of sex and heat, your ears ringing with Simon's low moans and groans. Moving your hand down you stroke him in time with your thrusts, earning yourself even more moans. Usually Simon's so quiet in bed, but now he lets it all out so freely, low growls and huffs and small 'ah, ah, ah's breathed into your ear with every small movement of your hips.

Your pace picks up as your orgasm approaches, your cock bashing against his prostate with all the subtlety of a tank. "Shite-" Simon throws his head back to moan, leaving his throat open for your teeth to lay even more hickeys. "-I, fuck, yeah, that's the spot- just- I need-" His voice turns higher pitched and needy, his body moving with the force of your thrusts, powerful arms pulling you even closer so his teeth can clamp down on your shoulder.

Simon cums with a shout that's muffled into the meat of your shoulder, whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he paints both of your stomach's white with his cum, his hole clenching down and pulling you along with him. You cum inside him and moan, collapsing on top of him, completely exhausted.

The silence of the bedroom is broken up by your haggard breathing, both of your bodies sweaty and hot. You tilt your head just enough to catch the way Simon looks at you, like a content cat that knows he's safe, and shit if that doesn't melt your heart, nothing will.

"God, that was something else." You say to break the silence, trying to pull out when you feel yourself soften but your attempts are stopped quickly, Simon grumbling something under his breath as he hugs you closer. "What?" You ask.

He throws a light glare your way, but his eyelids droop with exhaustion. "Don't." He says, relaxing when you stop what you're doing. "Want to feel you." He says; it's the most intelligent thing his mind can conjure up right now.

A gentle smile tugs on your lips. "Right." You lean down to share another kiss with him, this one sweet and slow, his tongue gently liking your lips as a way to ask for entrance— why rush when you've got all the time in the world?

The exhaustion weighing on your bones and Simon saccharine kisses lull you to sleep soon enough, your body like a weighted blanket on top of him. "Love you," You mumble just before your eyes close.

Simon fights against his own fatigue for a few more minutes, relishing the feeling of being connected in such a primal way, with you in him and around him. He takes in your sleeping face with blurry eyes.

Yeah. Love. That fits.

[babypinkhearts]

mixed emotions at my thoughtlessness. - f. megumi

pairing: fushiguro megumi + fem!reader

summary: you love him. so you let him torture you further.

warnings: angst! megumi is complicated (what’s new), but comfort!!! the sweetest of sweet things. mentions of being emotionally unavailable.

a/n: inspired by the song “woman” by john lennon. one of my favorites, i definitely recommend you go listen :) i have been writing my heart out these past few weeks, i feel like it’s my biggest hyperfixation at the moment. thank you for all the love recently <3 i am so happy.

two knocks will do it.

or a third. megumi’s hand stills.

his eyes scan the scenery. the outdoor mat he recognizes too well on the floor, decorated with images of small woodland creatures. the hummingbirds gather around the greeting words in minimalistic font.

he finds it less welcoming than anything, his teeth chewing the inside of his cheek.

this was a stupid idea.

the sound of rustling comes from the other side of the door, and his careful eyes observe. he hears a click. the door opens, barely, and he’s able to briefly see your wide eyes.

megumi sticks his foot in the gap before you have a chance to slam it shut.

“what the fuck.” you deadpan, eyes now locked on the floor where megumi was now trespassing. the audacity. “dude, take a hint.”

fifty missed calls, all intentional. messages that haven’t even been opened clog your phone, and you had planned to keep it that way for much longer.

“let me in.” megumi responds, gaze unrelenting. sure, this wasn’t the reaction he wanted, but you seemed less upset than he imagined you’d be. “please.”

he kept that same stoic look on his face, despite his stomach feeling like it was being twisted in two. his pride hurt. he wondered if he would have to start begging on his knees for your forgiveness, or maybe kiss your hands and write the most obnoxiously long love letter ever created. admittedly, for you, he’d let himself with no hesitation. how weak he had become.

narrowing your eyes at him, you give a few futile attempts to close the door, growing increasingly frustrated as it repeatedly hit him. he wouldn’t budge.

he watches your eyes instinctively shut tightly in annoyance.

“megumi-“ you sigh, running a hand down your face, exasperated. “no. leave me alone.”

a part of you wants to add in - “like you have been” - but you swallow the bitter sentence.

don’t fall in love with boys who don’t know how to love.

or, more importantly, don’t fall in love with boys who can’t love back.

it’s a treacherous battle, you’ve learned. megumi has always been abrasive, and those moments where empathy shines through have (without failure) been blocked by gloomy clouds before it’s able to reach you. he’s pretty in theory, but uncovering him has it’s ugly bits. he’s aware.

for a serene, peaceful moment, you think that megumi listens to you. he slowly turns to his side, and you expect him to walk down the patio steps and go back home.

but he stands there for a little too long, his foot still nudged in the crack stupidly made by your naivety. every rational (and ethical) thought seems to leave his mind as he finds himself forcing your door wide open.

“oh my god-” you exclaim, hands thrown in the air, mouth open in disbelief. you’ve backed up from the door, brows furrowed. “megumi, seriously, what the fuck?”

dumbfounded, you watch as he simply lets himself inside, leaning back against the door to shut it.

“it was cold.” was all he said, before swallowing thickly. “and i need you to stop ignoring me.”

yeah, he wished he had a better approach.

megumi was normally calculated and a lot more thoughtful. he’d weigh in pros and cons, analyzing everything to it’s minute detail. you were probably the only factor that would lead him into spontaneity.

his ears perk up as he registers the sound of a bitter laugh, staring as he watches you raise your hand to your mouth, muffling the sound. you repeatedly shake your head.

“what the fuck.” you repeat, quietly now. you were seething, though held your emotions at bay. this wasn’t like megumi at all. he was always patient.

and he usually understood boundaries.

you momentarily glance at him.

“please.” megumi pleaded, cheeks flushed from both the freezing weather and sudden embarrassment clouding his head. he felt his senses coming back, now realizing the gravity of his actions. you had never seen his eyes grow so wide. “i’ll go back outside, i’m sorry, i just really need to-“

“you’re already inside.” you coldly reply, cutting him off. your hostility had yet to dissipate, and if you could think clearly enough, you’d be able to feel the burning sensation of your nails digging into your palms. this felt like a bad dream. but the desperation in his voice was unbearable to listen to, and there was the glimmer of the north star guiding you, naturally searching the idiot in front of you. like it always does. “whatever you say better be worth it.”

it’s mature, your resolve. let him talk, and then he can leave peacefully.

but, what did he want? closure? because you never got any. and you weren’t sure if you wanted it. it’s why your phone idly sits on your bedside table, constantly on do not disturb. for the mere purpose of avoiding him. and everything, really.

you come to a cruel realization that megumi would be the only person benefiting from this - his sudden appearance. he could leave, and you’d still be left with a broken heart. mangled, at this point. no room for repair.

but you love him. so you let him torture you further.

megumi nods feverishly, visibly relieved. “u-um, okay, okay, just give me a second.”

you raise a brow, tilting your head. “for what?”

yes, megumi had come all this way to see you without a single plan in mind.

spontaneity.

“i’m nervous.” megumi quickly replied, and while it isn’t a lie in the slightest, it isn’t the answer to your question. he doesn’t know how to say what he wants to tell you. he’s bad with words, bad with communicating, bad with you.

your hand impatiently beckons him, urging to spill whatever he seems so bothered by. “it’s okay. just get it over with.”

you make it sound too easy.

megumi’s hesitance is almost awkward, and you find an excuse to look around at everything in the room but him. you click your tongue after a while, sighing.

your head hurt. every part of you was overwhelmed, the presence of your ex-boyfriend too unbearable to keep an unbothered act.

he looks the same, maybe a little more restless. you hope he had been sleeping well. two months without him, and yet you can’t seem to notice too much of a difference. the familiarity is comforting, in some weird, twisted way.

but, why come now? all the texts, the phone calls - all in one singular day.

bad things only start appearing once the past issues are nearly faded. salt in a healing wound.

you try to be optimistic and convince yourself that he doesn’t know how much he’s hurting you by being near you, but you know megumi. it’s not unlike him to be selfish. he’d already shown you that.

“megumi, it’s late. just-“

“i want you.”

and heat rises to your face, warm enough to mistake as a fever. every word is caught on your tongue, and it feels like the world caves in for a moment.

now, the anger returns. stronger than ever.

you hold so much resentment. it’s unhealthy for a person to feel what you have within the past two months. bitter, betrayed, and yet helplessly enamored. but now, you’re frustratingly confused. it makes you want to rip your hair out. why couldn’t this be - normal? it’s barbaric, the way that agony doesn’t have a limit. you suppose you’ll stay with the ache forever.

“you-“ and your breath is shaking, eyes blurring in fury. you want the ground below you to split in half and swallow you whole. for the world to naturally end, mimicking the feeling in you that it already has. “fuck you, megumi.”

you’re scolding yourself, mentally screaming, because your chest stings as you watch him silently bow his head.

he’s not allowed to feel shitty. he ended things, and now he has the audacity to act hurt. as if two whole months haven’t passed by, and he isn’t here to remind you (cruelly, in person) how much heartbreak you’ve had to endure.

“why are you here?” your voice sounds so little, all bite manifested into exhaustion. because it’s taking everything in you to stand up straight. to not have your legs give out, and let him have you again. “why are you doing this to me?”

you’re blunt because you can’t drag it out for much longer. maybe you did need closure. you would like to think you deserved it.

megumi stiffens, and his hands instinctively find themselves in his pockets. it’s a habit you were well aware of, a part of you expecting waiting for it to happen. you know him like a book.

“…because i love you.”

he says it simply, as if it’s the answer to everything. the casualty of it makes you want to cry.

but you can’t remember him ever saying that before. and maybe that’s why your skin is suddenly wet, glistening with reminders of just how strongly you felt for this boy.

“you’re being mean.” you whisper, shaking your head.

and megumi knows he is. but the desire of you is too strong for him to handle. truthfully, he’s never doubted the intensity of what he feels for you. megumi is complicated, though.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” he mumbles, and it takes him all the willpower in the world to blink away his own emotions. because he’s not the one that should be hurting. “i’m sorry for all of it.”

after you’re accustomed, it’s hard to get rid of something. megumi doesn’t think he could live without you. it was a mistake to believe he could. endless weeks of just staring at remainders of you everywhere. walking by the aquarium where you had your first date, eyes never missing the shampoo you used to buy at the store. he still has a few shirts with the faint fragrance of your perfume. he can’t bring himself to wash them.

“i miss you.” his voice is strained, and he hopes you believe him. “you deserve everything, and i want to give you that.”

your arms are hugging your sides, and you’re painstakingly aware of the slow steps megumi has began to take towards you. they’re wary, but you know you don’t have the strength to step back.

“i love you.” he repeats, and you close your eyes tightly.

again, megumi is normally calculated. and thoughtful. his rashness settles, and he watches you carefully. a hand raises, and he wipes your tear-stained cheek. the touch is soft. you really can’t remember him ever being this careful. his guard is down, his eyes are watering, and you can feel his hand shaking. vulnerability in megumi, as rare as it comes.

he always had trouble expressing his thoughts with you. you can’t blame him, because you know his past hasn’t been ideal. you always hated seeing him suffer in silence. nonetheless, you were patient. so sickeningly patient it made megumi’s stomach do flips.

it’s his biggest regret, telling you to leave him. all you ever tried to do was help.

“i thought,” he brings his head towards you, gently resting his forehead on yours. his hair tickles your face. you shiver. “i thought it’d be smart to end us. i never want to see you sad.”

megumi knows it was a double-edged sword. he ended up hurting you anyway, and himself in the process. too weak to overcome the natural human emotion that is love.

he knew your breakup was a mistake the second he had watched your face fall. he was certain when you had walked out the door. you tend to realize just how great you had it after it’s already gone.

“i’m stupid, aren’t i?” and he chuckles, a regretful smile on his face. a few tears fall. “i’m so, so stupid.” he takes in a sharp breath.

he feels you nod against him. megumi freezes.

“so stupid.” you affirm.

communication is something you can never hold against megumi. he struggles with it, and it’s why you’re so lenient. this, to see you, pour his heart out, and tell you he loves you, is him trying. him trying so incredibly hard.

you feel his body start to shake, and you wordlessly go back to your natural instinct, brushing his hair aside to place a tender kiss on his forehead.

“i love you, megumi.”

it’s an easy admission. you’ve expressed it dozens of times, and finally, those words can be heard back. this time, it’s muffled through your hair as he buries himself into your very being. the saying is repeated endlessly, and his grip tightens.

i love you.

it’s stability, and it’s delightful.

[somehow-a-human]

Moonlight Serenade & Good Omens &... Lost...?

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

First off: I am a certified former band kid. I've been playing the trumpet for 17 years. I did marching band in high school & college, I served pep band march madness basketball realness, I'm a bona fide concert hall bitch, and I considered becoming a professional musician.

Because of this, the music of good omens is something I have been ACTIVELY avoiding! The risks of hyperfixating and spiraling into it are HIGH!!! I spent so much of my life deeply entrenched in music, all genres, all time periods & It's hard not to have a proclivity toward it. But I also expect it to be a huge topic and a deep hole to inevitably fall into.

But could I hold out forever? no. and something finally pushed me over the edge. Wait for it..... Lost. Yep. The fucking TV show Lost. WAIT WAIT, don't leave! STAY WITH ME!

Why Lost? And what does it have to do with Moonlight Serenade and WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH GOOD OMENS?! Well my lovelies continue under the cut with me and keep an open mind...

Okay so... Lost. Yes, the insane 2004 mystery plane crash island adventure drama. It's a wild ride, and a masterpiece and a little bit crazy, but overall pretty damn good. I've been on a rewatch spree and wouldn't you know it... parallels between lost and Good Omens kept popping up in my brain!! I mean they are both detailed intricate mysteries so it makes a tad bit of sense but there was one little detail that *might* be a *clue* so I figured I'd make a post cause why not? I promise you don't need to know anything about Lost to follow this!!

First off, what are some of the recurring themes of Lost the TV show you might ask?

Life & Death

Timelines & Time Travel

Literary Allusions (Catch-22, The Bible, A Tale of Two Cities)

Prophecies & Premonitions

Symbolism of Black & White

Yeah okay, that tracks, but look there are 121 episodes of Lost and 12 episodes (so far) of Good Omens so there's bound to be some overlap for these two ineffable mysteries.

You'll be thinking about now, "BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH MOONLIGHT SERENADE?!" I'm getting there, shhh, lemme pet your hair gently and keep giving you background information to build it up shhhh...

If you've never seen Lost there is a very good chance you're mighty confused at this moment, so let me reassure you, you don't need to know anything about it to understand the connections I'm going to make. A brief synopsis is: Oceanic flight 815 crashes on an island. The plane crash survivors quickly discover the island is more than it seems to be and holds many secrets and mysteries. A lot of people die, most of them are murdered, it's giving Lord of the Flies. That's honestly all you need to know.

Time Travel & Alternate Timelines

Time travel is cannon in Lost. It's super confusing and I'm not even going to try to explain any of it here. It's honestly just not worth it. If you'd like to try and read about it, the abridged version is here, but I don't think the details are important. Just know it's real and confirmed and exists.

Okay so, In Lost season 2, episode 13 "The Long Con" two of the plane crash survivors are trying to find a signal on a radio they've found. While scrubbing they come across a signal playing Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. One character mentions it must be from somewhere nearby, but the other counters that this type of radio can pick up signals from anywhere in the world. There is a beat and then another character jokingly adds "Or any time. Just kidding, dude."

It's later confirmed that the Lost characters in 2004 are indeed picking up a radio signal from 1940 that is playing Moonlight Serenade, a product of time travel.

Congratulations, you've made it to the point where I'm going to bring Good Omens into the mix. In season 2, episode 4 "The Hitchhiker" we open seeing Aziraphale driving back from Edinburgh late at night/early morning. Uncomfortable with the darkness and silence he asks the Bentley to "play something that's got a bit of swing? I'm in the mood for something modern."

The Bentley obliges the angel, as she always will, and we are shown a shot of the radio specifically lighting up, so we know she's tapped into the radio to play this for Azi.

But hold on. Aziraphale asked for "modern"? Moonlight Serenade is most certainly not modern. It was recorded in 1939! I'd say in 2023 it's anything but modern, maybe not in Aziraphale's long lived opinion, but certainly in the Bentley's opinion, given she's only a 97 year old car.

I think you can see now what I'm saying here. I think the Bentley picked up a radio signal from 1940, maybe 1941? Episode 4 is of course our 1941 blitz magic show bullet catch flashback extravaganza, so... it makes sense. I know we like to headcanon Crowley and Aziraphale listened to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square in the bookshop in 1941 after the bullet catch, but what if they heard Moonlight Serenade on the radio instead?

What does it mean?

I think it could be a *clue*. A reference to this small moment from Lost and a nod to the first hint of the canonization of time travel in that series. We know Crowley can control time to some extent and we can see some evidence of time discontinuities and possibly time weirdness in season 2 so is it a hint that timeline funkiness IS happening? Do I want to get into the fact that the main character in The Hitchhiker, the Twilight Zone episode this episode is named after, is actually dead? No I don't, not now anyway.

SO! There it is... weird little connection that I couldn't get out of my brain. It just seemed a bit too... ineffable.

As always this is all for fun and all for fans! Don't ask Neil about these things, they're for us to have fun with. And something else that I don't think some people on here understand about meta-analysis; the goal of it is not necessarily to be correct. It can be, if that's your thing. Refuting peoples posts, theories, analysis, and headcanons because you personally don't agree with them and telling them they're wrong and stupid doesn't achieve anything. Meta-analysis is an exercise in critical thinking and creative writing. You could write meta about how Spongebob is a critique of the loss of christian values in modern society and you wouldn't be right or wrong, you'd just certainly be a person who wrote that for sure though. Just, be kind to each other, share ideas, you're allowed to disagree with someone's ideas or have different ones of your own but don't be cruel in saying so, don't call someone stupid, that's just silly.

Love you all, do something kind for yourself today <3

ps. The moment I see Michael Sheen with blonde hair come January I'm gonna bark like a dog, that's all. Thanks.

[milkywaydrabbles]

Fluff number 18 my parents seem to love you. Alucard castlevania,

I think this would be really cute,specifically in a modern au, if you've seen the games at all, castlevania continues well into 2030s where Alucard works for a secretive government branch as genya arikado. If not then however you like, I just gotta spread the world on this lesser known lore lol.

A/N: SCREAMS I haven't played the games I'm a fucking fraud but I really want to soon bc when I hyperfixate on things it's so difficult to think of anything else but life is really busy right now cries. One day soon I'll do it!! AU where nothing fucking bad happens and Adrian gets to live a happy life with his mom and dad!!!! Hope you like it MWUAH

"My parents love you" x Alucard

“Adrian, I have no idea how you managed to catch her eye but you need to keep her.” Lisa teased, shoving her son playfully on the side. He would always be the butt of the joke whenever having dinner with his parents, and you-the absolute love of his life. Vlad stayed quiet for the most part, except for a chuckle here or there, and when he was feeling spicy a dad joke thrown into the mix. “I think he’s doing a fine job at keeping me, Mrs. Tepes.” You smiled at her, glancing his way for a moment. Adrian simply smiled, rolling his eyes in amusement. 

It was a tradition at this point, having dinner with his parents at least once a month. More if there was a special occasion like a holiday or anniversary. It ended up being your idea, really. You enjoyed being around his family more than he thought you would. And honestly, it was a huge relief. Family was terribly important to Adrian, but he knew you had a broken family. Knew that being around family gatherings was difficult. He would never push you into seeing them more than you needed to. But you just, clicked so well with them. He had nothing to worry about.

The two of you had been together for nearly four years now. Your meeting was nothing exceptional, accidentally bumping into each other at the local bookstore you both frequented. And then bumping into each other again at a coffee shop. And then again at the bookstore. “Seems like fate really wants us to meet huh?” You joked, gripping onto the book you were perusing. From there it was like you had been together forever. None of the awkward dates trying to get to know each other. None of the weird anxious butterflies in your stomach that made you feel like you had to try hard to impress him. It just felt right. From the moment he asked you out on a date, it had been like the relationship had been established for decades. 

It felt like Vlad and Lisa all over again.

And then you went to meet his parents-and he was a nervous wreck. Not because he didn’t want to introduce you, but because you had recently confided in him the harsh upbringing you had. He had no idea what that was like, and it broke his heart to see how bright and shining you were, feel small when telling him your past.  But you wanted to meet them, make a good impression. It was important to you that they accepted you as his significant other. If my parents don’t like me, at least I have yours! You joked, laughing even if it was at your own expense. Meeting of his parents went...well. Interesting, but well. Vlad was as stoic as ever, stark difference to Lisa wanting to immediately smother you with questions of yourself, how you two met, what you do. She was his mother. Adrian tried to slow her down but you answered it all in stride, returning questions and asking her about her line of work specifically. And how the two of them were so brilliant. Everything from there? Well, it just clicked.

So to see you smiling so brightly at his parents and them returning the smiles sent him over the moon. The rest of dinner was smooth, you both bidding his parents farewell as you exited the castle back home. You walked hand in hand, Adrian looking at you like you personally hung the stars in the sky as you rambled about the different books you had been reading. You looked over when you didn’t hear a response with a quirk of your brow. “Earth to Adrian.” You waved, bringing him out of his lovesick stupor. “Have you been listening?” He hummed, noncommittal with his answer. “My parents love you, you know.” He blurted out, quite randomly to you. You blinked, cocking your head to the side with a smile. “I sure hope they do. You’ve been stuck with me for quite some time now.” You teased, leaning into his side. The grip on your hand tightened, turning his head to give your temple a kiss before returning to walking in silence as you continued with your stories.

They loved you, you knew that. But what you didn’t know was that this would be the final dinner you have with them before returning with a different title of fiancee. Earlier as you helped Lisa set the table, Adrian had shown his father the ring he planned on proposing with, and then Vlad distracted you enough with something in the study beforehand to show his mother. They loved you, as his girlfriend. And now, during your next dinner, they would love you as their daughter in law. 

[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 3/4

LETS GO PEOPLE!! LETS GO !! sorry for taking so long to get around to this one !

demeter | 🔒 🍰 🌇

DEETER

ive seen a lot of complaints about demeters design being toned down over the years so i decided to bring some of the bolder design choices back for mine. mullet demeter is REAL now ! honestly i couldve done more w/ their makeup but shhh its ok....

i tried to push the gold in their design by making the eyeshadow really obvious and giving them gold lips. enjoy their lacy dress too... i tried to design something which they could dance comfortably in

demeters newer 3 words (nervous, sensual, secretive) mean everything to me. love them so much. i think theyd be 29 in human years

bombalurina | 🌹 🍓 🛼

so i totally based her hair on that concept art for drag queen bomba. the bob is too cute ! i had a blast doing her design for the most part. i struggled w that makeup and the color of her dress but its ok.

i also tried to give her something she could dance in—just like. imagine the length of the dress a little shorter. im not going back and fixing it

i based her color palette/patterns directly on her concept art because tbh, i dont love blond/ginger bomba ! so black/white/red hair bomba it is

i think she would be 27 in human years

hysperia | 🪴 ⌚ 🍡

this is my version of exotica, renamed hysperia, because i do not love her og name. its not fun. the name hysperia is taken from an ensemble kitten character from the og london production

i also based her design on a multitude of things, asides from her 2 costumes in 98—like some nbq/greycat designs since i feel like that design not becoming a common ensemble character was a waste. A WASTE I TELL YOU! ive also based her fur length on warsaw victoria because oh my godddd that design is so good. peak

her neck bow is a nod to the 2019 movie... the macavity girls w/ those bow collars. they were onto something there

she would have a much more prominent role than the few times she cameo'd in 98, still retaining the elegant/shy personality she shows in the film. shed be 29 in human years

cassandra | 🪐 ♠️ 🥯

i originally made her makeup a lot closer to her replica designs but decided to go for something a little different based on a makeup look i saw on pinterest LOL. so like. enjoy her slight earthy gothic vibes. i also didnt struggled too much on her outfit since i came into this knowing that i wanted her to be wearing something formfitting and bejeweled. a little circus-y too

more people have got to play up her disdainfulness. she'd be 26 in human years

alonzo | 🎹 🍢 🎳

once again, another design pretty similar to his standard replica one. i just tried to make the black patch on his face a little greyer and with some white detailing. because tbh every alonzo with white mascara makes me go crazy its so cute

i also tried to make his head fur/bangs a little distinctive—inspired by a random pic from a production i dont know the name of

enjoy his little cute fit too. pinklonzo. pastelonzo

that one gif of him pantomiming eating a playing card IS canon to me. he'd be 28 in human years

munkustrap | 📼 🥧🎙

verrrry similar to standard replica munks makeup-wise ! however, fur wise.... say hi to mulletstrap. to manestrap. 2 me he is tuggers brother so he gets that. i have no justification for the mullet other than idk, looks good, is funny, and the oslo 1985 production was right to give him one. also he and demeter can match now

i do like when theyre seen as something of a prince... so say hi to the gothenburg and opera populaire-esque epaulettes. theyre cayoot. they also get warsaw munks Big Pant Vibes

give this man a break. hed be 30 in human years

macavity | 🔥 🥂 🎯

he was actually one of the first cats i made design notes for when i started hyperfixating on this musical like.... two months ago. i really tried to mix elements from a bunch of different designs 4 him.... and sorry yall hes a deut brother too. im predictable

the manginess, mane, more ginger-y head fur, tugger-ness and the mouth markings from the 2016 revival... the big big hair, white fur and general makeup from his replica design... and the stylings of il sistina mac with the fitted coat. he also gets unique eyelashes like tugger—this time white instead of gold. he also gets that ominous magic cat eye shading

i think he would act a lot like 2019 mac... suave. but also not as dorky and desperate as he is in that movie LOL. he'd be 33 in human years

ONLY ONE MORE LEFT..... THE OLDIES........ MAYBE... I MIGHT MAKE DESIGNS FOR SOME OF THE SWINGS TOO LOL

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Small fun fact about me:

My mom is neurodivergent too! And not only that, but

Me and my mom share a special interest.

[A short post about me, my mom, hyperfixations, and how acceptance can help you grow]

For the last ten years, both me and my mother have had a hyperfixation on Marvel movies and Superhero movies in general.

And if anything, she's more fixated than I am.

This started at the same time, despite my mother never picking up a comic in her life. It happened when we first saw the Avengers in theatres in 2012.

Since then me and my mother have seen every Marvel movie on the day of release, or even a day before release.

When I was in high school, I remember her specifically pulling me out of school early to take me to the marathon premiere of Thor 2 and The Winter Soldier.

She's seen every Marvel media to date outside of the Netflix series. She's already finished Secret Invasion.

In recent years, we've gotten Unlimited movie memberships, and because we live in NY we can often see movies the Thursday before the Friday release, so we go to the movies almost twice a month, and we see movies repeatedly.

I saw ATSV three times in theatres while she saw it twice, and saw GOTG a second or third time. We recently saw Blue Beetle the day or two after release. She keeps me CONSISTENT.

The reason why I theorize about Marvel media and Spider-man media is largely because of her.

For years she was the one I theorized with. I've spoken to her about whether or not Peter set Miles up (she isn't convinced), or argue with her about whether or not Khonsu from Moon Knight is cool (he is).

She watches more Marvel fan content than me and inhales all the essays, reacts, and Easter egg videos on YouTube.

She's the same with recent Star Wars, she's seen Andor and Boba Fett and the Mandalorian, and currently working her way through Asoka.

And she knew about my past fixation on Loki in specific. She even knows about Hobie and Diane.

I told her I want to go to NY ComicCon as my spidersona and she was like "... You'd have to work on your roller skating" and I was SHOOK she remembered that about Diane because she's right.

But yeah, we've always been REALLY REALLY close over marvel stuff, and it's amazing having a parent who has the same fixation as you. It's like a natural thing, and I can speak openly about my theories or interests and she'll be like 'Oh yeah I noticed that incredibly niche moment where Hobie did that one specific thing, what of it'

I'm never treated weird for my fixation. Cause hers is stronger. I told her I didn't want to see GOTG again and she was like HUH and I was so heartbroken that I went and saw it anyway 😭😭

Some of my favorite moments with my mom are in movies theatres. And because we share this niche interest and neurodivergency, we're able to have these in-depth conversations about these characters we've formed bonds to together.

When Loki the show came out we'd been waiting literal years for it - like literally since 2013 talking about it. And I had a lot of mixed feelings about it.

But I could talk about those feelings and thoughts and characterizations with someone I know wouldn't ostracize me, knows the material as well as I do - if not more, and cares about these characters.

Because of that, my theorizing skills were able to grow all throughout my teenage years.

Because my hyperfixation was nurtured instead of demonized.

And I just think that's SO COOL.

Just wanted to share. Here's a photo of Miguel because I hate consistency [this is a hobie household]

Bye.

[film-bro-hotch]

Victim of a Bad Habit - Hotch x Fem!Reader -- one shot

This is completely self-indulgent and simply because my brain is hyperfixating on Love and Human Remains. Please enjoy

Synopsis: You grew up with Hotch. You always knew him as the cocky asshole who slept around. The two of you were in a weird friends-with-benefits-type relationship. You kept it up through high school and would hook up during winter and summer breaks from college when you were both home. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since graduation, and honestly you hadn’t thought of him Not until he showed up at your job one day, asking questions about a recent murder.

Warnings: smut 18+, oral sex (f receiving), consent king Hotch, flashbacks mixed with pining, smoking, Hotch is an asshole, you are an asshole, I think that’s about it

WC: 3.6k

You were running as quickly as you could, or at least as quickly as the mix of your heels and Philly potholes would allow. You slept in a little later than usual and had to skip your morning coffee, just trying not to be late. You looked down at your watch. 9:03. Okay, you just had a couple more blocks to go. Maybe your editor wouldn’t notice that you weren’t at your desk yet.

Crossing one more street and taking large strides to maneuver the crosswalks of downtown Philly, you managed to make it to the newsroom at 9:09. The hustle of the place was normal. There was always someone running around, someone on the phone making calls. What you weren’t expecting to see was a couple of police officers and men in suits.

Sure, talking to cops was part of your job as a reporter, but you usually spoke to them on the phone, over email, or you went to them. Cops rarely ever come to you. 

“You’ll want to talk to Ms. L/N. She is the one that ran the story. Her editor should be here soon as well.”

So your editor wasn��t there yet, perfect. But the cops wanted to talk to you. You ducked into the hallway to your office, trying to make it seem at least like you weren’t ten minutes late. You were logging in to your computer when you heard a knock on your door and someone say, “Ms. L/N?”

When you turned from your chair, the last person you expected to see was your old go-to hookup, Aaron Hotchner. 

“Holy shit,” you said in disbelief. “If it isn’t the biggest asshole I know. It’s been a minute, Hotchner. You really know how to keep a girl waiting.” What you hadn’t accounted for, though, was change. His lips were creased in a tight line, and annoyance seemed to be pressed permanently into his face. His partner looked more shocked than Aaron did, though there was some amusement behind it. 

“Excuse me?” his voice made it sound more like a command than a question.

“What? Would you have rather I called you a whore?”

His partner’s snort of either shock or laughter interjected before he could say anything. “You two know each other?” he asked, his voice wavering a bit like he was trying to hold back a laugh. 

“Old friends,” you said.

“Former classmates,” he said at the same time, earning your raised brow. 

“Okay,” his partner said, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t had coffee yet. You want some coffee?”

“I would love some coffee,” you say. “Cream and sugar is fine.”

The other agent gave a nod and looked over to Hotch, but he only gave a firm shake of his head. He looked back to you, smiling in a way that told you he knew at the very least that the two of you messed around back in the day. “I’ll have that right out sweetheart,” he said before closing the door and heading down the hall. 

You stood from your chair, moving a little closer so you could lean on your desk, arms crossed. “So, law enforcement?”

“FBI, actually,” he said dully.

“A Fed? Damn, you really made something of yourself…but it seems you got a little boring in the process.”

He bristled at that. “I am not boring.”

“Maybe not boring, but compared to the Hotch I know, this guy is…well, I have yet to see that shit-eating grin you used to always have.”

“People change.”

“That much?”

--

You weren’t sure how, and you weren’t going to ask, but somehow Aaron had gotten the keys to the theater’s rooftop. He was smiling like a fool as he climbed up the ladder, taking your hand and pulling you up the rest of the way. 

“You sure no one is going to call the cops on us? I would rather not have to explain to my parents that I was caught having sex on someone else’s private property,” you said, giving him a critical look. You thought he was crazy when he suggested this, and he probably was. But you said yes anyway.

“Oh come on, live a little, Y/N.” He already had a cigarette in his mouth and was in the process of starting his lighter. When he managed to light it, you plucked it from his mouth, feigning annoyance. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to wait on a lady?” you asked.

“You’re considered a lady?” he countered, earning him a rough shove to the chest, but you were both laughing. 

“You can be such a dick sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah. Keeps the people I don’t like away,” he mused, taking the cigarette from your lips and replacing its warmth with himself. His lips brushed yours, feeling the bump from where his lips were starting to chap. It was getting colder, and he more than likely forgot to put on a moisturizer. It was almost a surprise to you considering he was always preening himself. You pressed yourself into his arms, feeling his stubble brush against you.

“Good thing I tolerate assholes,” you mused before going right back to the kiss.

--

Well, he was certainly still an asshole. Just one that grated your nerves a little bit more. You had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell you what changed, what seemed to make him such a different person. Was it really the job?

“Okay, fine. What does the FBI want anyway?” you asked, tilting your chin up a little bit. You could be pompous too. 

“The recent string of murders,” he started, and you nodded.

“I know. I’ve been covering them,” you interjected, mostly just to get on his nerves. Which you did, it seemed.

“Your article about the one two nights ago, it had some information that came from anonymous sources. We need to know who those are.”

“Ah ah ah, it isn’t that easy, Hotch. I take my sources very seriously. I’m not just going to give them to you.”

“Why not?” he seemed more in disbelief than anything

Oh? Why not? You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. He sounded like a spoiled child who didn’t get his way. 

His partner came back in then, holding two steaming cups. He handed one over to you which you gladly took. Toying with Hotch really was exhausting. “Thank you…I don’t believe I ever caught your name.”

“Hotch didn’t introduce me while I was gone? Seems like he’s slacking. I’m Agent Dave Rossi,” he said, extending his hand. You happily took it, not bothering to look at Hotch as you did it. You knew how bruised his ego was, and you loved kicking it while it was down.

You leaned back against your desk, one arm across your body still and the other holding your cup of coffee. “As I was saying, I can’t just give up my sources, no matter how much you say it is going to help you in your case.”

“And if I get a subpoena for you?” Aaron challenged.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to understand, but anonymity is something we take very seriously. If I grant my sources that, they will get it. And if I get subpoenaed, what do you think is going to happen? Like every other journalist, my paper has funds for this kind of stuff already set aside. I’ll have to pay a fine or spend a little time in jail, so what?”

“So what? Do you not care about justice being served? About protecting the community you are writing to?” Hotch asked, an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“Maybe if you did your jobs a little better, reporters wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

You seemed to really have struck a nerve then. His jaw clenched, and he looked at Rossi. “We are done here,” he said before storming out of the room. Rossi offered you a half smile, pulling out his wallet and handing you two cards, what you assumed were their business cards.

“If you change your mind. Oh, and thanks for the coffee,” he said as he turned, closing the door to your office on his way out.

--

You only had a few classes with him in high school, and to be honest you really didn’t talk when you saw each other. You both had your circles you ran in, and they didn’t overlap. Sometimes you would give the other a nod in the hallway. It was known that Aaron got around. Some rumored that it was not just with girls, but you didn’t care about that. It wasn’t any of your business anyway.

You simply took the time he would have with you and relished in them when you could. You were usually out late in some part of town or your room when your parents were gone, which was more often than not. You never went to his place. No one ever did.

One of the last times the two of you did anything together, you were both 22 and on break from college. It was just a couple of months away from graduation. He had just gotten into the law program at George Washington. You were lying on the roof of that same theater. You don’t think he ever got rid of the key he had back in high school. 

The two of you had been drinking, and you were sharing a cigarette. Your hands were in his hair as you asked, “You really want to do this? Go into the whole law thing? You can’t exactly sleep around being a lawyer.”

“Sure I can,” he said with that stupid grin, “name a lawyer who doesn’t.” He had a point there. Your free hand was still running through his fluffy black hair.

“I mean it. Like, do you think you’ll enjoy it?”

“Law is black and white. There is a right and a wrong. It’s that kind of simplicity that draws me to it. I don’t have to think when I work, so I can spend every moment outside of it pondering everything like I always have been.”

“And this thing we are doing? Trespassing and all that, right or wrong?”

“Oh, very wrong, but that’s what makes it fun.”

--

That was the last time you saw that devious smile of his. No trace of it was on whatever you saw today. You wanted to know what happened to the man you once knew, the man that had such an annoying grin that somehow managed to make you smile. You shook your head. You had gone years without thinking of him, you can go the rest of your life pretending it didn’t happen.

You spent the rest of your day working like usual, calling sources for your next article, brainstorming new ideas. Even with his business card shoved to the back of your desk drawer, you felt called to it, to him. You had gotten most of your things in your bag, ready to leave for the day. Even at the door you felt you were missing something. You knew what it was, but you also knew you couldn’t leave without it. “Fucking bastard,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the card and shoving it into your pocket. For safe keeping.

When you got back to your apartment, you threw your stuff on the kitchen table like most days, lounging and deciding that dinner would be something you thought of later, that today was far too tiring to think of what to cook. You stayed like that for a long while, surfing the tv channels and finding nothing that was satisfying. Nothing could seem to take your mind off of him and the way he was nothing like the man you remembered. Against your better judgment, you pulled out the business cards, deciding to give Hotch’s partner a call. 

He picked up after the first couple of rings. “Agent Dave Rossi.”

“Hey, this is Y/N L/N, the reporter from the newspaper. I know it’s a little late, but I was wondering if I could talk to one of you.”

You could have sworn you felt his smirk through the phone. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. If you would like to come to us, we are staying at the Marriott on 2nd Avenue.”

Just down the street from you. “That would be perfect. 30 minutes okay?”

“Sounds great. Room number is 317.”

You said goodbye and hung up the phone, grabbing your keys and wallet, shoving them into the tote bag you usually kept in the kitchen. You could just grab some dinner on the way back. If you were talking to Rossi then maybe it wouldn’t last too long. You left your house, walking along the sidewalk a few blocks away until you reached the hotel. It was nothing fancy, pretty standard really. You figured people wouldn’t exactly like their tax money being spent on housing federal agents in 5-star luxury hotels every case they had. If only that was true, that would be quite the story. You take the elevator up to the third floor, hanging a left and finding the room with relative ease. You knocked, stepping back and waiting for Rossi to answer.

But the man that opened the door was not Rossi, and he looked nearly as shocked as you. 

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his shock turning to annoyance.

“I called Agent Rossi…said I wanted to talk. This was the room number he gave me.” You should have expected this. He seemed to eat up the little bit of the interaction he saw between you and Hotch earlier today.  

Hotch seemed to think for a moment, but finally he stepped back from the door. “Rossi isn’t even here. He’s back at the police station working on paperwork. Just come in and we can talk,” he said, giving you room to step in. It was then that you noticed he had changed into more casual clothes. A George Washington Law School sweatshirt and some sweatpants. He looked like he was about to go to bed.

“Listen, I’m really sorry for earli-” you had started, but he cut you off.

“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” His tone said otherwise. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees. There was a long moment of silence between the two of you, a tension that the other seemed to refuse to break. You were the first one to speak.

“What changed?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything about you. It’s like you are a different person,” you would have continued, but his agitation stopped you.

“Jesus Christ, not this! Can’t you just deal with the fact that I’ve grown up and you haven’t!” he snapped.

“I haven’t grown up?” you asked, baffled.

“You called me a fucking whore in front of my coworker!” Well, he had a point there. 

“I know that was uncalled for, and I’m sorry, but I called you an asshole, that’s different.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“I’m trying to fucking apologize, Aaron! Would you just let me?!” That was the first time you had raised your voice at him, and it seemed the two of you had run out of steam. You were both quiet, neither wanting to challenge the words that hung thick in the air.

“What changed, Aaron?” you asked again.

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes not meeting yours. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his eyes deciding that it was much more interesting than facing you. “I was a stupid kid, Y/N,” he started. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t think I would care. I saw so many cases go through my door as a prosecutor, and I felt like even though I was serving justice, I wasn’t making any difference. I wasn’t saving any lives. I felt - I was so lost. I went through high school and college coasting, and I was so lost.”

You were quiet as you moved closer, placing a hand over his. You felt his calloused edges, and his fingers brushed over your cuts and scrapes. “Still picking at your fingers?” he asked, finally meeting your eyes. 

“We all have our bad habits,” you said, your fingers finding themselves lacing with his. 

“Mind if I pick this bad one back up again? Just this once?” he looked up at you, and you could feel a part of your past self smile. There was still a hint of him there. You took your free hand, running it through his hair. It was shorter now, parts of it stiff from a little bit of a heavy hand at the styling gel. 

“Please,” you found yourself whispering. Your breath was taken out of you as he pressed his lips to yours, your hand still in his hair and gripping the back of his head as you pulled him closer. His weight pushed you into the plush hotel mattress, still holding on to his hair. You winced a little, his teeth colliding with your bottom lip as he tried to deepen the kiss, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. You could hear his soft chuckle against your lips, feel the way his laugh made his chest shake. You started to move away from his lips, your kisses peppering the corner of his lips, down to his jawline, but he pulled away abruptly. You expected regret, for him to tell you to get out and not call him again. But when you saw his face, you saw that stupid, shit-eating grin he had been missing.

“I think I owe you a little something. For being a bit of a dick, I mean.”

“A bit?” You asked, raising your brow, but he didn’t give you time to complain. His lips were on your jawline now, slowly moving lower to your neck, staying in a few places a little longer, with the intent to leave a mark no doubt. 

He worked devilishly, moving to your collarbone. You went to unbutton your top, but he stopped you. “Ah ah ah, my job.”

Oh, damn him. His fingers were agonizingly slow, going one button at a time, leaving a kiss at each place that had once been covered. When he reached your breasts, one hand slipped to your thigh, the other taking hold of your bra strap. “Is this okay?” he asked, pulling away from his work to look at you. 

“Keep going,” you breathed out. His hand slipped behind you, unclasping your bra with an ease that surprised you despite his known history. He pulled it off your body, leaving your breasts exposed for him. His lips continued their journey, one hand gripping your left breast while his lips toyed with your right. You couldn’t help the high pitched yelp of surprise when you felt his teeth graze your nipple. “Aaron,” you managed, feeling yourself squirming underneath him. You could feel a heat growing between your legs, one that you tried to stifle by keeping your thighs closed. 

Of course he noticed, and you could nearly feel his smirk in his kisses, the way he moved from your breasts down to your navel, stopping occasionally to leave his mark. He looked up at you then, asking for permission to go further, and you nodded. “Your words. Use them,” he scolded. If you were in any other situation, you would have rolled your eyes, but at that moment you needed him, so you gave in and said, “Yes.”

His fingers were nimble as they unclasped your belt, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down, throwing them to the side. Next was your underwear which in his eagerness he nearly ripped. You opened your mouth to complain but stopped as he moved closer, placing your knees on his shoulders and starting the real work. You nearly came undone by his first touch, something he was surely going to tease you for later. One hand was still on your thigh, gripping hard enough it was sure to leave a mark come morning. He kissed the most vulnerable parts of you, slowly pulling you apart like an intricate braid that only he knew the secrets to. You could feel yourself building, and Hotch could too. He pulled away just long enough for you to groan, your body begging for his return. “Aaron,” you called, hearing him laugh from between your legs. 

“So impatient,” he toyed.

“Asshole.”

“You already knew that one.” It only took a few more waves of his devilish hand to bring you to your peak, gripping the cheap, white bed sheets and crying out, gasping to regain your breath. You could hear your heart thumping in your ears, a sound that nearly overwhelmed you when Hotch came back up, grinning like a fool and kissing you. Tasting yourself on his lips, your hands back to his hair and his hands cradling your face. It all felt so right, and for a moment it felt like you had that Hotch back.

“You think we could keep this bad habit up?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath. Hotch just gave a little laugh and shook his head.

“No, I don’t think we will.”

“Glad we are on the same page,” you breathed as you kissed him again.

The two of you laid like that for a while, sharing the occasional kiss but mostly just staying in each other’s arms for as long as time allowed. You still weren’t sure if you would be there come morning, but that didn’t matter. You would be back one of these days. You were both victims of bad habits.

[kimkhimhant]

ok i have a kimchay ask and it’s kinda two fold

when you first watched kp did you expect kimchay to be together at the end, or had you already accepted they werent gonna be endgame? and then also, what’s your biggest headcanon/favorite idea about what happens to kimchay post canon? when it ended and they werent together, did you have a first thought of like “i’d really like them to meet like this” or “i think they’d meet like this” or even “they’re never gonna be together”?

best wishes for getting back into fic writing mode!!!! 💝

i definitely did not expect them to be the couple with an open/unhappy ending :') the distress i experienced – little kim-hyperfixated me... i was a wreck. i've been a kim apologist from day one, so i was also really distressed over the reactions from so many people in the fandom lmao (i still am.. oops) but anyway. my immediate reaction was like.. "that's it? kim sent the song and chay cried and we don't get to see what happens next?" i am a firm believer of that moment being the turning point for them to slowly make their way back to each other.

i've written a few kimchay reconciliations by now, and i think my biggest headcanon is pretty consistent: that they come back together, but its different and better and also harder this time, because it's more genuine but also comes with all their baggage – Chay has anger and trauma in the aftermath of everything that's happened to him, and Kim doesn't have the Wik persona to hide behind, so all of his traumas and secrets are thrown into the mix.

honestly, when the show first ended, i was a little upset, but after thinking about it more i realized that something like this was essential in their relationship, in order for them to progress to a healthy place. Chay's idolization of Kim/Wik as an ideal had to be broken – Wik was a dream, on a pedestal in Chay's mind, and clearly him ghosting Chay repeatedly wasn't enough to disrupt that, but after everything that happens, Chay is forced to adjust his perception of Kim, and see him more as a person, with faults and flaws and fears and all. it's essential for a multitude of reasons – for Kim and for himself – because it balances out their power dynamics. Kim isn't an idol whose value is above Chay anymore – Chay has just as much worth – and also Kim isn't an emotionless god anymore – he's just as human and imperfect as Chay.

meanwhile, Kim is forced to confront his own mistakes and aversion to honesty and intimacy. he's forced to put in work to dismantle his own emotional walls and acknowledge his feelings and desires, because he can't just be Wik now, and because Chay isn't so naively enchanted by him. he has to be real and honest and let Chay in in order to keep him.

So i think, they'll absolutely end up together, in the end, no matter when it happens, and i think it'll be better than it was <3

thank you so much for this ask! i maybe got a little carried away on that last bit but i have a lot of feelings about it lol

[clonebrainrot]

You know I was thinking about my reblog yesterday of @third-generation-female-warrior on Omega having ADHD. And I was just thinking about her hyperfixations. And then that made me realize she definitely has anxiety as well.

The two biggest examples of this I can think of are season 2 when she is so hell bent on getting the war chest cause she overheard Echo saying we are in this situation because of Omega and then her being hell bent on getting them out of that situation

The second is a follow up on the first. But it’s her consistently blaming herself for not saving the clones on Tantiss, and then blaming herself for all the resistance clones dying.

Anxiety and ADHD are a unique mix of terrible. Poor girl. I know what that’s like.

Anyway she definitely has anxiety. It may also possible be OCD but I think that may require more thinking and another post.

I am sure someone who has watched season 1 or 2 more recently than me can think of more examples.

[too-many-rooks]

Spoiler warning: Long rambly notes I took while watching season 3, disclaimer that a lot of this is just character moments/lines I found interesting and initial bones of an au idea for a burgeoning, extremely self indulgent slightly-darker-Alex in season 3 wip I’ve started.

Also it was the middle of the night and I was very tired and wired out of my gourd on some mix of cheap white wine and floods of hyperfixation-sourced dopamine. Also also I only started taking notes at ep 3?

Episode 3

Alex is SUCH a better spy this season than when he began even in the first few episodes prior to SCORPIA training he’s more careful and precise and the team feels better organised - he did so well on that boat I’m so proud of my baby

I’m actually enjoying Tom and Kyra fucking about more than I expected. Tom pulling Kyra together after the boat explosion suprised me by how emotive it was. But I do want them to.. go away. Alex should more isolated/desperate/have NO other choices than SCORPIA.

Everything in Malagosto seems so staged to just see how Alex will react to it all - here’s an unlocked door, here’s an Alex sized vent and a dead spot in the cameras, what are you gonna do about it? +Alex absolutely speaks French I think he’s just not giving that away yet

Oh yes yes lingering bad touch from Julia Rothman hitting the right notes even though that costume is a WILD kaftan moment. Evil carmen sandiago/noir femme fatale aesthetic where are you I miss you so much

Ohhhh Julia saying Ian walked away and abandoned him and that was what hit him worst oh my goooooooooood

(Outfit change from julie mean day change or is she just a multiple outfits a day kinda person. Believable, I guess)

Julia’s gaslighting I ssoooo crazy ‘we trust you. We want you.’ After having his closest people not trust him, and now maybe questioning if Ian even wanted him!

Julia fucking loved this, she’s totally thrilled by her own power. Queen 👸🏻.

God Jones and the department is going THROUGH IT THIS SEASON, just suddenly surrounded by corpses

Julia : offers irrefutable proof, upsets him, then presses him to continue believing what he did before and belittling his objections - very subtle but more firm tone of voice, less motherly/accepting, very clear that the noose around Alex’s neck is always there.

She’s so delighted at the prospect of making Alex into the perfect soldier

Julia: “I want you to meet your tutor”

Me: ‘here he here he comes here he comes.’ And then I threw of my blanket, pushed myself onto my knees, and started bouncing and palm clapping in sheer delight. I basically never happy stim like this but MY GOD the flood of dopamine is IMMENSE.

More manic laughter at the start of episode 4 realising I’m about to see John and young Yassen. Nicuragua! 18 years ago!

God nervous baby Yassen with a gun

HES!! SO!!! BABY!!!

Baby boy already got his colour scheme locked down

Baby Yassen has curls - is it just the humidity or maybe does he have naturally curly hair that he straightens so he looks less cute?

Johns actor has a real resemblance to Ian (and Jack Lowden) but less so to otto

Ohoho scar moment scar moment bc Yassen was nervous and fucked up two people one bullet

“Close your eyes” as I tell these people I’m going to shoot you and have faith

God cut to adult Yassen WATCHING ALEX SLEEP LOOKING SO INTENSE

“Leave the past behind us.” “Ian rider was a professional. It was not personal it was my job.” “Think of this as a school and your dead by the end of the day” (actual honesty for the first time)

Alex not committing to being able to work with Yassen is perfect

Yassen taking Alex TO HIS KNEES so easily besties not been slowed down too much by a bullet to the chest

Soaking wet!!!!!!!!

Alex shooting scene amazing, as was Yassen bursting into his room immediately after for a murder pep talk. Alex has no privacy privileges from Yassen

Yassen removing the humanity from his targets, names/faces/lives are irrelevant, they are just blank targets. “One day you’ll have to murder them.”

“That’s not gonna happen”

Yassen *be so ffr rn face*

Really interesting to see the other side of the department covering up an agent death and lying to the family - I like the department with more humanity/emotional resonance than pure ruthlessness

Shitty Malagosto communal dorm room and matching drab grey hoodies my beloved

Shame there’s no ‘your not afraid of a little prick are you?’ ‘I wouldn’t call you that’ line. (But switching out the ‘getting vaccinated will implant you with secret nano tech that will kill you’ plottline probs a good idea)

Ooooh Julia creepily poisoning him so excited making me think of her delighting in drugging him in a cocktail of ‘let me take care of you’ ways

Yassen pulling rank to break up the fight!!

Ooh Nile wants to take down Yassen so bad.

Toms film skills coming in clutch recording/ documenting things so Alex will be taken seriously, glad to see him be… less of a dead weight to the team

Begrudgingly-impressed-at-Alex Yassen, even with the “come on that’s a bad idea”, “yeah, but!” Teenagerisms

Yassen’s core (suppressed) emotions: fear, doubt, panic

Alex: love, hope, friendship (okay dear, 🙄 but remember you’re literally becoming an assassin why are you so niave all of a sudden?)

Alex insisting John saved him bc he had compassion and was his friend and that Yassen’s rejection of that makes him lonely oh oh my heart my heart

I LOVE how much fun Nile has being evil at his job of threatening children.

Episode 5

Oh my god HIT HIM ALEX where do you think you are? How do you think you’ll actually manage to get those trainees to trust you? Stop whining and hit the man with a wooden sword, christ

Smithers (in reference to Alex) “he’s out there being a teenager because of us” *cut to Alex, very much in danger, contemplating his capacity to kill*

Julia: “no one leaves,” [scorpia, me, interchangeable to her]

mission with Yassen!

Packing for the mission with Yassen!!!

Yassen can’t read his handwriting!!!

“You’ve put… lockpick?”

“I left my last one in Nile. “

Alex bitching about his meagre gadgets at point Blanc 💯

Matching tactical turtlenecks!!!

“I don’t want you to fail. I don’t want you to die.”

Alex and Yassen are a team but Yassen gives Alex command of them oh boysieeeee

Again glad they dropped the vaccine bit: vaccines aren’t dangerous, but vaping is!!

Of on a road trip with Yassen!!

A murder road trip!

Love Kyra seeing the shot and the body - I know why it didn’t happen but I do kinda wish for a more corrupted violent Alex coerced/bargained into firing it himself

That Tom confrontation was great - I do want to see it as like a ‘your getting in my way’ intentional cruelty to push him away and keep him safe when Alex is too deep in SCORPIA to be deluded about thinking he can go home

Alex rejects intimacy with Julia and she cracks down her authority ‘no one leaves’

Ep 6

Love Alex spooky in the cemetery, SCORPIA hot on his heels

Sharing a grotty safe house together god SO GOOD

“We trust each other. You should try it sometime.”

“If it’s not emotional why do you do it?”

“Because it’s my job. (Identity/life/personal connections/sacrificed everything for) I work for SCORPIA. I’m good at it. You could be too.” Olive branch of intimacy - wants alex to be more like him, so they can be equals, can share this life that he apparently finds satisfaction in, not thinking or making decisions beyond how best to achieve his goal/finish the task(/order)assigned to him/subject himself to feeling emotions/thinking about his life beyond his attempts to depersonalise himself as just a weapon - just a professional with no emotions, and that that is fundamentally who he is. Evidently having some inconvenient feelies about Alex tho.

Oh no his delivery disguise makes him look like a caveman. Glad he took off the accessories for the Jones confrontation, his hair actually looks great there all tousled. (Beginning to realise how important characters hair is to me bc I still hate Julia’s I want some dark perfect waves this Bob is ough)

I’m really glad they settled on Yassen NOT knowing about John - he twists it that John didn’t betray him bc he had nothing to gain from being kind to him, so it wasn’t false, but he is so 100% loyal to John, eager to twist any criticism. I do wish we’d seen more of their relationship, but expecting some Russian roulette bits was overly optimistic

“I know my place” he’s IMMEDIATELY off to rescue his boy (actually, where did he go? All of that last episode I was just WHAT ABOUT YASSEN? Was he just plotting a rescue that didn’t need to happen and waiting for his boy to show up?)

Dare I say… good for blunt? Stephen dillane is just so charming I can’t help but like him. And you see some flashes of his ruthlessness like when he talks to Greif but he’s not a 24/7 conniving monster. Also Jones in charge and Alex possibly (definitely) returning to spy work in a couple of years? I like that. Totally abandoning it would have felt unsatisfying.

Loved that moment on the roof - missed opportunity for them to awkwardly wave at each other, but I’m so happy I predicted wrongly and Yassen gets to live and walk away and put down his weapons. There’s so much space for how they can reconnect in that.

[donovan-writes]

Hi I’m angsty anon😛 I recently got back into the saw movies and am now hyperfixating on them after seeing saw x in theaters. Wondering if I could request a fic about the father/daughter relationship between Amanda and John? Wondering if you could write Amanda getting the shit beat out of her like how Eric beat her up and John’s reaction, what he would do, if he would clean her wounds and take care of her, etc.

YES I CAN I LOVE SAW I COULD KISS YOU ANGSTY ANON IVE BEEN SO DESPERATE FOR SAW ASKS

Psycho Family Headcannons:

Let’s be real Amanda gets into fights a lot. Not even on purpose it just follows her wherever she goes

John always patches her up and tries to make it a lesson. That classic old man “we can learn from this” fatherly advice

It’s a ritual every time they run out of bandaids Amanda gets to pick new bandaids (yes she picks princess bandaids not for herself but to make hoffman use them)

John always hates that he can’t step in and stop Amanda’s fights. He’d ask Hoffman to do it but we all know he’s go “no no I wanna see what happens”

One VERY RARE occasion Amanda had to go to Jill for help getting patched up instead of John because he was gone probably for a doctor’s appointment. It was awkward but they both appreciated the experience

John is gone a lot for doctors appointments (cancer check ups usually happen every 3-6 weeks depending on the stage at least that’s what I experienced) each time he comes back he hears Amanda getting into a fight.

Eventually he pulls the “I won’t always be here to fix you..” and she bursts into tears (see what I did there? I referenced Saw III)

One day Amanda got into a real bad fight with a victim, blood everywhere and most of it was her own.

John when full panic. “What happened?! Who did this to you? How are you feeling? Anything broken? Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

Amanda calmed him down but he still made her sit her gay ass down so he could patch her up.

John may know some stuff about simple first aid but anything past that he’s lost. Stitches? He can barely hold his hand still. But he’ll put some gauze on it and if need be he’ll have Hoffman do it since he’d definitely know more about that sort of thing.

If she’s crying he’s wiping her tears and telling her that it’s all gonna be okay. “I’m here now. Let’s get you cleaned up”

She called him dad once when she was crying from being hurt and he had a wave of emotions. He has mixed feelings being called dad. It was meant to be for his son after all, not this homicidal maniac druggie he picked up off the street. But he lets it slide after a while and eventually gets used to it

Hoffman never makes fun of Amanda while she’s hurt but once she’s cleaned up he bullies her relentlessly

John then has to break up the fight between his two mentally unstable children, “you shouldn’t be fighting each other like this. Honestly you’re both acting like preschoolers”

John isn’t one for “treats”. He’s not gonna give someone a lollipop for not crying during their shot you feel me? So he doesn’t really give Amanda anything after he patches up her wounds. He’ll give her a pat on the back and encouraging words like “you’re strong and you’re smarter than fighting aimlessly like this.”

John is against the whole “Don’t start fights but you can finish them”. He thinks people should just walk away entirely. Silly man doesn’t realize you can’t always walk away, Amanda has tried explaining that but he won’t listen

Amanda is desperate for hugs from John. She never asks for them verbally but he can catch on when she needs one

Despite him practically being bed ridden his hugs are firm as fuck, one of those hugs where you kinda cry a little no matter who you are, just from how nice it feels

Sorry it’s not a fic! I might write an actual fic using these but I’ve had these headcannons held in my brain ever since I saw these tragic mentally ill people. I’ve got so many headcannons and theories please people send in asks for them.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Press Play - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales & f!reader

Warnings: Sharing of insecurities, blink and you miss it possessive Frankie. Truly this is just a boat load of fluff.

Word Count: 1k

Prompt #62 : Caressing your lover’s cheek

a/n: Not SPECIFICALLY saying that the show mentioned in this is TLOU, but if I happen to reference a highly anticipated show premiering at 9PM with an unnamed actor on the same day that TLOU premieres, then it's just COINCIDENCE. Mostly though this is just a self indulgent piece because I am lucky enough to have friends that put up with my shit but I still question it all the time and I'm so glad I found this community that is equally obsessed and where everything goes. I love y'all. Happy TLOU Day!

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

You’ve spent two years waiting for this day. 

When it had initially been announced that your all time favorite actor would be headlining one of the most anticipated shows of the year, you’d been excited. When the first pictures from the set appeared, just pixels really, your excitement had grown to a frenzy. And now? As you scrolled again through Twitter looking at the red carpet interviews and press releases and the first of the reviews as you waited for the premiere itself? Near hysteria.

You’re sitting on the couch, snuggled beneath the blanket, your filled water bottle and a bag of peanut butter M&Ms sitting on the table in front of you. A specifically purchased box of tissues sits next to them - Puffs, without lotion because no one wants lotion in their eyes when they’re already crying. The apartment smells like popcorn, and when Frankie appears a moment later, bowl in hand, he’s quick to settle in next to you, pulling the blanket over both of your laps. 

“Are you ready?” he asks playfully, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You lean into his embrace instinctively, nerves rolling through your belly. It’s a weird mix - anticipation and nervousness because what if it isn’t as good as you hoped.

You check your phone again, just to make sure it isn’t time yet. Five minutes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be ready for this,” you laugh lightly, “but I’m sure everyone else is ready for me to stop talking about it."

Frankie’s head tilts slightly in confusion, eyebrows furrowing as you turn away from him. You queue up the appropriate streaming service in preparation, avoiding his gaze the same way you hope to avoid the conversation you know is now coming. With his free hand, he reaches to cup your cheek, caressing it as he encourages you to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just…” you start, struggling to find the right way to answer his question. It’s always been painfully obvious to you that those around you are quick to be annoyed by your obsessions. It comes across as a bit manic, and to the average outsider who couldn’t care less about most of your hyperfixations, you know it can be a bit much. “Sometimes I just feel like I bombard people with constant chatter about things they probably don’t care about. Or I feel guilty because I’m basically forcing you to like the things I like without ever stopping to ask if you actually want to watch the things I do.” 

You throw your arms against your lap in frustration as if to emphasize your point. The show hasn’t even started yet and you can feel the tears forming in your eyes, a fact that Frankie doesn’t miss as he runs his thumb over your cheekbone to catch them as they fall.

“Querida,” he starts, voice gentle and soothing, “you know I’m not picky about what we watch, and you do not bombard people any more than they bombard you.”

You choke on a sob as you try to respond, “yeah, but no one really cares.” Your brain reminds you that time is still ticking, and you cough as you reach for your phone, checking the time again only for it to remind you that there’s still three minutes left. “Everyone just thinks I’m ridiculous.” 

Suddenly Frankie is holding your face with both of his hands. “You are not ridiculous,” he states sternly, and you’re looking at him now, your eyes locked on his at the seriousness of his voice. “Seeing you light up about something you’re excited about is the most beautiful thing on this planet, and if others can’t appreciate that then fuck them. And I don’t care what it is you’re excited about, even if it’s not something I understand or would ever watch on my own, because all I care about is that you’re happy. Hell, you listen to me talk about flying all day long and you never complain.” 

You shake as your breath leaves your body in quick huffs, and you reach up to hold your hands over his, keeping them firmly locked in place as you lean your head into one of them. “That's different," you insist. "You literally fly helicopters and that’s fucking amazing. This is just a dumb show that happens to star an actor I really like.”

“It is not a dumb show,” he repeats back to you with emphasis. “It’s the biggest fucking show of the year!” That gets you to laugh, and you turn your head slightly to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. “Sweetheart, believe me when I tell you that I always want you to share your passions with me, because if others can’t appreciate them the way I do, then that’s their loss. So let me ask you again. Are you ready for this?” 

A smile forms on your lips as the excitement takes over in your mind once more, “I’m ready.” 

“Good, because there’s only a minute left.” A glance at the clock on the wall confirms his statement, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling you against him, settling you so your back is against his firm chest, arms wrapping around your waist. His head rests on your shoulder as you pick up the remote, eager to press play the second the clock strikes nine. 

“And you promise you’re not jealous of my obvious infatuation with a certain actor?” you ask as the last seconds tick down.

His lips ghost behind your ear as he whispers his response. “Never, because only I get to hold you like this. And later?” he continues, tone becoming more possessive, “I’m going to carry you into our bedroom and my name will be the only one on your lips.” It’s a promise you know he’ll keep, and a shiver runs down your spine at the thought. “Now, you’d better hit play before I do it for you, because I can’t wait for this fucking show.”

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

[majo-yyy]

uh,,, hello It's been a while since I posted anything here, right, nothing more fair than me coming back with a post about my hyperfixation i guess so IT’S DESI!RAVEN TIME! (long post sorry) After all, for Raven have Indian descent it is necessary for at least one of her parents to be, and as her father is a literal four-eyed red intergalactic demon, this role is left for our dear Arella! Congratulations honey!  💘 I've been picturing Arella with a darker skin tone, like people from southern India. Black hair, of course, but much curlier than her daughter's. and blue eyes, like the character has in the comics. I liked this composition that I got here. I tried to give mother and daughter the same gaze. I won't go further that part too much now, but in my HC, Azarath is also a dimension initially formed by a group of desi culture that changed over time, but the bases remain the same (that's why Raven is so familiar with the culture even without having been on earth before meeting the titans), thinking about it, i decided to find a middle ground between arella's headpiece and a matha patti, but in the end it was just a poorly made matha patti because by then i was tired of drawing. I swear that when I make an "official" drawing I'll work on it more

As for Raven, I wanted to make her skin lighter and paler than her mother's. Lighter cause technically Raven is mixed, the human form Trigon used during her conception was that of a white caucasian male, so it makes sense for her to have lighter skin (or am I making this up?) 

ugly ass bitch And paler because this girl has never seen a ray of sunshine in her life, she stays all day locked in her room meditating. So I put a grayish pallor in a light brown tone (but none of that horrible gray skin from the current cartoon and comics, please, I have good taste) I was going to make her eyes blue like Arella's, but I'm very attached to the lilac-eyed Raven, it suits her so much! Two things the post-TNTT comics gave her that I can't let go of: her eyes and those little horns on her eyebrows. Ok, I think that's all I had to say, this drawing I did just to test the skin tones, so it's not that pretty, but I liked the final result and I enjoyed doing it, I discovered a cool way to paint skin! :) Thoughts? opinions? Claims? You can send! I love reading your comments, I keep going to each blog to see the tags you put in  🤭🤭🤭 And I was very happy to see that some real desi people liked the drawing! Means a lot to me! If I am ever disrespectful, please correct me. I'm just an admirer of the culture and I try to research as much as possible before posting anything, but if I happen to offend someone, let me know. Byee, see y’all in the next six months probaly lol 

[baby--b4t]

Little WxS playdate? If that's too many then maybe Rui and Tsukasa, be they both being small or one looking after the other /nf

ooh a pjsk ask!! i totally have an idea for this >:3

i feel like i should add my headcanons for the babies beforehand so things can make sense -w-;

Rui: toddler/kid regressor, still acts very silly and mischievous, biiig sippy cup fan, still tinkers with anything mechanic while little, sometimes uses a pacifier, likes how the other WxS littles nicknamed him “Ruru” when theyre little, big yapper

Tsukasa: toddler/older kid regressor, in his bad moments he will regress small but he likes to feel like an older brother to the group, still very creative and outgoing when he regresses, will insist he can use normal dishes but is incredibly jealous of the other littles using bottles/baby plates, loves stuffed animals and putting on little shows with them, good mix of yapper and listener

Emu: toddler/baby regressor, constant babbles and giggles from her, always curious and trying to get into things shes not supposed to, teams up with Rui sometimes to get into things (the sweets in the cabinet that Tsukasa said they couldnt have anymore of), loves trying to play dress up or makeup, also loves painting and coloring though it tends to end up more on her than her paper, can be very cuddly when she needs a nap

Nene: toddler/baby regressor, tends to be more on the nonverbal side but sometimes she will say things like bottle/up/etc, constantly chewing on something (paci/teether/someone in the group/herself), prefers more quiet activities but wont throw a fit if shes in a noisy environment, its not uncommon to see her and Rui cuddling as Rui goes on about different ideas hes had or his hyperfixations, tends to stick around Emu the most since she can keep Nene feeling mostly awake, big napper (will fuss if you wake her up from one or tell her no), still will try to play video games

OK MINIFIC TIME

“Oh no! The dragon is heading towards the castle!” Tsukasa gasped as he made the dragon stuffed animal fly around. Emu giggled as she was behind a small wall of building blocks she and Tsukasa had set up as her castle. “What will the mighty princess Emu do?!”

“Boom!!” Emu giggled as she pointed her wand at the dragon. Tsukasa made the dragon dodge.

“Gah! The dragon moved out of the way! We need a stronger defense against the fire breathing beast!” He quickly urged Emu to think of something new while still keeping the playful atmosphere. She thought for a moment before turning to look back at Rui.

“Ruru make beep boop and boom!” Emu ordered, pointing at Rui. He was sat on a few pillows with a very sleepy Nene in his arms. He gave Emu a confused look for a moment before shaking his head, trying to play along into the story.

“The dragon trapped me with a beast. I cant move~” Rui giggled, shrugging slightly. Nene moved her head slightly to look at Emu, making a small growling noise as if she was a dragon herself. It made Rui and Tsukasa giggle as the two of them had assumed she was fast asleep.

Emu pouted for a moment as she considered all of her options. She couldnt use magic, seeing as the dragon dodged her last spell. Her hopes of having Rui make her some sort fighting robot were crushed since he was trapped with a beast. What else was left for her to defend herself with?

“‘Kasa! Wook!” Emu pointed behind Tsukasa. Not thinking anything of it, Tsukasa turned around to look at what Emu could be pointing at. She took the opportunity to quickly stand up and take the dragon from Tsukasa. “Mwahaha! Is bye bye!” She said as she then threw the stuffed toy to the ground.

Tsukasa frowned as he watched Emu throw the toy like that. He didnt want to yell at her, but he had to be a good example to her somehow and make her know what she did was wrong.

“Emu.. Do you think that was very nice? How would you like it with the dragon threw you on the ground?” He asked, reaching down to pick up the toy. “I know we were playing a game and you needed to defend your castle, but taking the dragon from me wasnt a very nice thing to do.” Tsukasa added as he looked back at Emu. He was gentle with her, not wanting her to feel as if she did something horrible.

She tilted her head slightly as she took in his words. A small huff left her mouth, crossing her arms over her chest. She didnt have any other option! She had to do what she did… Right?

“Bu’ my castle..!” Emu whined at Tsukasa. She was confused on how she couldve possible protected her kingdom is she didnt take the dragon from Tsukasa.

“You castle woulde been fine. All you had to do was send out your unicorn fighters.” Rui suddenly chimed in sleepily, sensing the oncoming tantrum Emu was going to have. “Their magic wouldve been enough collectively to fend off against the dragon. At least, thats what I think.” He shrugged once more and went back to looking after Nene. Emu gasped as she made that realization.

“Oh! Wait wait!” She went and sat back down in her castle before looking back at Tsukasa. “Back up when dragon coming!” Emu giggled as she started collecting some of her unicorn toys. Tsukasa smiled and pretended to make the dragon fly towards the castle again.

“And here comes the all powerful dragon! Whatever will princess Emu do to save her kingdom?” He asked, already knowing her answer.

“Unicown!!” Emu giggled as she placed the toys around the outside of her castle. She pointed back at the dragon. “Pshhh.. Boom!” She added with a little hand gesture. Tsukasa smiled, making the dragon pause and panic.

“Oh no! The dragon cant possibly dodge multiple attacks! Hes doomed.” He narrates as the dragon starts to slowly fall towards the floor. “Princess Emu has saved her kingdom from the fearful beast! Hooray!” Tsukasa cheers, watching Emu make little claps.

The two clean up the toys they had played with, since their story had come to an end. Emu yawned as she was putting away the blocks. She wiped away the little tear that formed in her eye and made grabby hands at Tsukasa. He was more than happy to pick up his little sibby, holding her close as she started to relax.

“Do you think its nap time, Emu?” Tsukasa asked softly, making his way back to where Rui and Nene rested. Emu nodded to his question, wrapping her arms around his neck as she was carried.

Rui, Nene, and Emu were all laid in the same area, Tsukasa gently placing a blanket over Emu now that she was set down. Rui had fallen asleep not long after Nene did and now it was time for Emu to join them. She seemed more than happy to. Protecting her kingdom from a dragon was hard work for a kiddo like herself.

Tsukasa gently pet her head as he watched her drift off to sleep. He smiled at seeing all of his siblings resting so peacefully next to each other. While he himself wasnt tired, he was still going to stay with them. He was going to be the good big brother he prided himself on being.

[fanby-fckry]

I have decided that Niffty is a Gemini.

I’m not all that interested in astrology irl – at least not star signs – but it’s a fun way to assign birthdays, and I need one for an upcoming fic.

I originally tried taking this test from her perspective, but it didn’t give me results that matched up with my portrayal of her.

Wound up just googling the signs and manually assigning her one.

Used one site (allure) because I’m not doing a deep dive on Zodiacs for what is essentially a throwaway reference. Here are some choice quotes, and how they relate to my version of Niffty:

Content Warning: animal death/cruelty in the form of Niffty-typical pest control

Have you ever been so busy that you wished you could clone yourself just to get everything done? That's the Gemini experience in a nutshell. Spontaneous, playful, and adorably erratic, Gemini is driven by its insatiable curiosity.

I think that one’s pretty self-explanatory. If I had to pick two words to describe Niffty, “adorably erratic,” sums her up pretty well.

Because of Geminis' intrinsic duality, they're often falsely misrepresented as two-faced. In reality, however, Gemini rarely has a hidden agenda.

I write mostly pilot!Niffty, mixed with headcanons and some series canon. So, 50’s housewife who genuinely takes pride in her role, practices manners, considers herself to be ladylike, throws herself into cooking, cleaning, and mending, has an idealized and black and white version of romance and womanhood and very much holds herself – though not necessarily others – to that very high standard.

And also the woman who takes immense pleasure in stabbing pests, writes smutty RPF fanfic for people she personally knows, keeps collections of people’s hair/fluff, and summoned a demon using animal sacrifices on multiple occasions.

She’s not intentionally two-faced, but she does very much have two conflicting sides to her personality, which she holds in equal measure.

These hyperactive air signs have short attention spans and are most satisfied when they can move fluidly from one idea to the next.

I’ve seen Niffty described as “OCD” before, but I’m not sure if there’s anything to that besides the armchair psych, ‘cleaning = OCD’ thing.

However, as someone with ADHD, I can definitely see some aspects of hyperactivity and attention deficit in her. Specifically, the fact that she seems to become hyperfocused on tasks like cleaning, but is easily distracted in other contexts.

She basically narrates her train of thought on the pilot: *polite and enthusiastic introduction* (manners first) -> It’s been a while since I made new friends -> -> *notices everyone but Alastor is fem-presenting and thinks they’re all women* -> Why are you all women? -> (I like men best) Aren’t there any men here? -> *physically lifts Charlie in search of men* -> *remembers manners* -> I’m sorry, that was rude -> *gets distracted by mess* -> Oh man, this place is filthy! It could really use a lady’s touch -> *remembers that she has (mistakenly) identified all of the hotel’s occupants as women* -> Which is weird because you’re all ladies offense (manners) -> *remembers mess* -> *hyperfixates on cleaning*

Honestly, the Niffty ADHD headcanon should probably be its own post. Moving on!

Gemini expresses emotions externally

Communication is paramount for them, and they require fluent streams of transmission.

*gestures to aforementioned inner-turned-outer monologue*

She’s a lot quieter in the series, but she does still butt into conversations she wasn’t previously a part of with usually irrelevant commentary.

In fact, the act of expression is often even more important to loquacious Gemini than what is actually being said

Just… everything she says in the series.

Another incredible Gemini quality, however, is that these natural chameleons can quickly recover from even the most shameful foot-in-mouth moments. Gemini moves too fast to care about embarrassing missteps: They simply move on.

A quick apology or a “no offense” is all it takes Niffty to move past most social faux pas, and most criticism seem to just bounce off of her.

So yeah. Gemini!Niffty.

[oceanicjessie]

it baffles me how you got two chapters out a week, if anything- even just the one chapter a week is crazy... like... how. you're overpowered dude.

It was a mix between being on break and having nothing to do but more so, I used the insane power of hyperfixation.

Even I baffled myself that I was getting two chapters out a week since I haven't ever done that before. Like the longest I've committed to a fic has only ever been 2 weeks and we are coming up to month 2 now. 😭

I think the more recent chapters are longer and I definitely spent more time on the editing process than I did with the earlier chapters so that's most likely why I haven't been able to do the 2 chapters a week anymore.

But 1 chapter is do able when I don't want to make my precious readers wait. ☺❤