#well when I was drawing this the cogs started turning

[autism-swagger]

Girl help I'm having young Sam and Tara thoughts

[satoruhour]

While I know Suguru is the og girldad, there’s something so endearing about Satoru with a daughter.

First time she’s in his arms and it’s like somebody put the sun into his palms. She has his white hair and six eyes but in shape of your facial features, his loud and boisterous personality and his sweet tooth, and there’s not a thing on this planet he cherishes more than her. Spoils her, wants to be her “superhero” dad children look up to, you best believe everything she draws for him is kept secure in a folder in his room. He never lets anyone treat her as inferior to boys (knowing the misogyny in jjk universe), and both of them love you to piecessssss🥹

Like I just randomly imagine him baking a cake with his little daughter for your birthday and MY HEARTHNSJ😭

WHEN US MEANS MORE THAN ME & U

a/n: literal tears. bye. i love dad gojo sm. wrote this through tears while listening to this. tagging @crysugu @jabamin @hyomagiri @seeingivy ✶

wc: 3k plus?? man idfk cant see thru my tears

✶ dad!gojo . . .

. . . who ages so well the more he grows older. if you think he looks good at 28, just wait until he’s 34, or 40. although he still has a baby face, his features have matured way more, now, crinkle lines on his forehead and around his lips that accentuate his dimples even more. he just looked… so damn good, truly keeping his physique well into his thirties, except you wouldn’t have known if his hair is turning grey, though, since it’s already white, but you can tell he’s happy when his body hair is not just white upon white.

. . . who has the palest skin, so when he starts to grow a noticeable moustache and goatee he shows you the short strands excitedly, pointing to the various parts of his face with an excited finger and a beaming smile. he annoys you by rubbing his chin and cupid’s bow along your skin in the morning or when he returns home — it’s a little funny seeing you jump in surprise.

. . . who only lets you dictate whether he should keep the facial hair and when you hesitate even one moment (“nope! let’s shave it!”) you’re pulled into the bathroom and handed a shaver and shaving cream. he hums when the blade glides along his skin, knowing you were too afraid to be too rough. gojo liked the tenderness of these moments, you perched upon his lap and bottom lip caught in between your lips as you focused on his chin and cupid’s bow. the grip on your waist is firm, loving the way your thighs close around his own so snugly.

“okay — last one,” you voice out softly, eyes squinting because it was so difficult trying to see white hair from skin. gojo simply giggles at your struggle and you tsk, telling to stop moving! before you’re yelping and the shaver leaves your hand, the soft, plump lips of satoru moving against yours. behind you, there’s a plop! of water, and gojo just laughs when he sees the shaver lodged into the toilet. “ah. well, let’s use yours.” and your mouth twists, “no! i use that to shave…” you trail off and you swear you can hear gojo’s grin and the insult of pervert on your lips. “well! all the more to use it!” ✶

. . . whose vision from the start is slowly turning true. the jujutsu world is in the good hands of his students that he’s able to spend time with you and the (unborn) baby more. he smiles more freely now that he works less missions, but still as cheeky and playful as ever, squishing your cheeks and moving them around as he plants kisses on them. he also shows his feelings more, not afraid to bury his face in your neck and ask for head rubs or tell you he might be thinking about suguru a little too much; the first time satoru put his head to your swelling belly and heard the kid kick he teared up right away, baby talking to the baby bump like the sap he is.

. . . who at first hated his family name because it was only ever associated with his powerful father and then him, with both of his renowned techniques, how it pointed straight to him being the strongest and a cog in the machine to overwork. but now, gojo rather likes it, referring to you as “my wife” and “mrs. gojo” more times than necessary. you gave him his surname meaning by saying your vows and slipping his (rather expensive) ring on your fourth finger. you gave the family name a sense of warmth and homeliness whenever he’d come home to you humming a tune from high school and cooking up some dinner. you gave ‘gojo’ a worth that means more than just the six eyes and limitless — that it’d mean that gojo was the penthouse in some far off tokyo district coupled with you and the baby growing in you.

. . . who when first handed his baby girl, cried full on tears in the hospital, both arms wrapped so snugly around his baby because he was afraid he was going to hurt her or drop her in some way. gojo is generally pretty large in stature that he makes your baby girl look so small that it’s endearing. your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at them, not having the energy to capture the moment since you just quite literally delivered. but satoru much rather have his girls in the picture, handing the baby back to you before he reveals his phone to snap a picture.

“w-would ya look at her?” satoru coos, rocking and bouncing his body gently to ease your baby back into slumber. there’s an ugly show of a mess on his face — snot falling everywhere and tear stains lining his cheeks. but there’s one final thing that has gojo choking up all over again; the baby is curious and feels up his hand, your husband letting a finger out before she curls her small fist around his finger. “oh my god.” it’s cute seeing gojo so distraught as tears spring to his eyes again and he can’t even form words. it makes the baby laugh and he sobers up a little, sniffing and raising a brow. “love seeing your papa cry, huh?” and the baby sputters again and giggles and satoru swears he ascends to heaven and mutters a promise more to himself than your darling girl. “i’ll protect that little smile for as long as i live, okay?” ✶

. . . who is entirely enamoured with his baby girl, carrying her a little too much when she should be in the crib, singing her little songs or pointing out the colours of the sky in the nursery. you watch the scenes like a proud wife and mother, still not used to the beautiful scenes and childlike decorations of the room — only because satoru would not let you in after learning why ellie from up couldn’t conceive even if the paint now was safe. but you don’t have the heart to turn away your husband when this is what you get out of it, reminiscent of when gojo had playfully done to tsumiki and megumi before (“the scenery is beautiful today, gojo-san!” vs. “i already know what colours are, dumbass.”). 

. . . who only asks you to rest while he takes on most of the diaper-changing and feeding duties. you weren’t even that old to begin with, but it seemed like just like you were pregnant, satoru found it offensive that you’d think of even lifting a finger. you let him, for a while, until you find out he’s putting on the diaper wrongly and putting a little too much formula in the bottle, but you simply pat his cheek when he tears again. by god, he doesn’t want to mess this up, he doesn’t want to mess you up, he doesn’t want to mess her up, but you show him with your hands wrapped around his. one, two, three, and a half cups into the bottle; wrap around her right, then her left and secure it with the provided adhesive.

“satoru, baby,” you sigh, going on your tippy toes to kiss away the tears spilling from his cheeks, “you’re not a bad dad because you didn’t know how to make her food or change her diaper.” your fingers are as light as dewdrops, always in awe of his flawless skin and looks, and now, in awe of his consideration and love of your baby girl. “but—” you put up a finger, “no buts— remember? we promised each other not to be sorry if we can’t help it. you are human, my love.” gojo heaves a shaky sigh and swallows away the sobs, nodding against your hand as he covers it and leans into your touch. “i am human,” and a little later after quelling the baby’s cries in bed, “thank you.” ✶

. . . who, when she’s old enough, takes her on flying mishaps, hands tucked under her arm pits to guide her through the house in exaggerated flight. it feels like dad is superman, the sofa, high chair, even mama is all too far away from her and she’s onto her next exciting adventure. the bubbly giggles from your darling girl is the only sound that matters to satoru, alongside your laughter as you watch the two in play while dinner simmer besides you. higher! higher! she asks when she can speak and he does just that with his imposing height, but gojo’s tallness never intimidates his baby girl; no, not when gojo satoru is her hero and you, her solace.

. . . who gives nothing but a multitude of praises when his girl is leaning more into the artistic side, asking for colour pencils and crayons and paint to explore her creativity that with each drawing she shows him, he gasps, falls to the floor, and cries out how it should belong in a museum! gojo is doing the most — hands on his chin and pointing to various parts of the drawing and discussing the “meaning” behind it when all your girl wanted to do was draw the three of you as a happy family. he’s buying the frame, making a plaque for the artwork to be hung; when he’s making copies of the artwork to keep in a folder, he’s crying his eyes out (“she just wanted to draw us, us! as a family!” you giggle, “yes, satoru, that’s what we are.”)

“girlssss! i’m home!” satoru grins when your baby runs up to him, swooping her up before she can crash into his legs and twirls her around. “papa! look at what i drew today!” you’re emerging after cleaning up her very passionate creative space after she swore on finishing it before your husband came back, smiling when she bounces on her heels. “woooow!” he clutches his heart, one knee and then the other before he croaks out “ooouhhhh! why isn’t this masterpiece in a museum yet?! it’s a crime!” if you were in high school, the gojo then would definitely barf at how cheesy he was being at the moment, “very compelling use of colour, here, miss gojo. hmm, yes, yes, i see how you used multiple colours for the sun — very effective in showing the many colours of the sunset!” you’re cheesing so hard at the display because he does this every. time. and it never fails to make her yell in excitement, running over to you as she gives you a big fat kiss on your cheeks, “mama helped me!” a raise of the eyebrow before you finally get your well-awaited kiss to your lips, “i’m sure she did, honey.” ✩

. . .who teaches her the basic things, not shying away from the harsh realities of the world and jujutsu society. he tells her about boys who make fun of girls and think it’s acceptable, or teachers that would only like the strong boys to carry the chairs to the centre of the classroom. he thinks that if he’s going to do this parenting shit, he’s going to do it right, not the way his parents did it, not the way the higher-ups “looked” over young sorcerers. he covers self-defense, verbal comebacks as well as a rejected raise of her hand to threaten a punch (you were the one to stop him from teaching her that — you could only thank it wasn’t a middle finger instead), praising and rewarding her with candy and blown raspberries into her skin.

. . . who teaches her mama is as important as he is, but your darling girl already knows the value of her mother who holds her tight when she has a nightmare, or the airplane on mama’s airline that always holds delicious food. she knows how much her mother loves her when you’re sharing a smile with her at the dinner table as satoru chokes again on his food, and when you pat her to sleep while telling the story of how you and gojo met. that’s why she was the one to suggest that they both bake you a cake for your birthday — with her as the head chef and satoru as her sous chef. 

“it has to be perfect, papa! no more burning the pancakes in the morning or putting too much sugar.” gojo stifles a laugh at that; it seems that his baby girl had heard the many trivial mishaps that had happened in the kitchen, snapping out of his daze when his daughter lands a light slap on his cheek. “pay attention!” satoru fully laughs now, okay, okay! he says and they read through the recipe together — a family recipe passed down to you — and they try their best. the flour is a little messy, the sugar is a tad too much and satoru thinks he may have preheated the oven too high a heat, but then there’s the familiar smell of the vanilla extract and the rise of the cake in the tin. your baby cheers, collapsing into gojo’s arms in front of the oven and together on the floor, they watch the cake ascend.

“careful, baby, it’s hot.” gojo brings her away when the cake is finally done, dramatically smelling and letting out a sigh at it, “it smells really good, ain’t it?” she purses her lips and points to herself, “all due to me!” and gojo hums in agreement. he’s content to let his baby girl take all the credit when she’s looking as adorable like that, finding that her confidence is looking more and more like his while your kindness shows when she’s propped up on the kitchen island and saying, “but papa was the one who helped me pour everything! so maybe it’s because of both me and papa.”

the “thank you” that satoru whispers into his girl’s temple is a whisper, and the house falls into a comfortable, more calm atmosphere as they work on the icing together. it’s clear that all her excitement has caught up to her and she’s now feeling a little sleepy in between, only shooting up when gojo’s announced the icing’s all mixed properly. “happy . . birthday . . mama,” she draws out in the air with satoru’s finger clutched between her fist, a clear layout in her young mind that he had no choice but to listen (he would always listen), lathering first the white base icing before the pressuring job comes and his darling girl is looking at him with narrowed eyes, “don’t mess it up, papa!”

“i won’t—” and before gojo can start on the lettering, you’re depositing the house keys into the bowl your husband gifted you in high school, letting out a chuckle at the scene before you: the sorcerer’s face caked in white, vanilla extract and broken egg shells on the island and in the middle of it, your husband and your daughter looking like deer caught in headlights.

“hi, mama,” they say in unison and your grin only widens. you could hardly be mad when this doesn’t happen often, already knowing the occasion, but they seemed to be a little bummed out from being found out so you only hope your hug can make it up. your baby girl goes first: she squeals when she’s scooped into your arms, smile so bright it could mirror any angel in heaven. while she still pouts, she’s more than happy to wish you a happy birthday. “thank you, baby. was baking with papa fun?”

she nods so hard her whole body moves in your arms, “papa is very bad at measuring stuff, though.”

you burst out laughing while your husband falls into a greater pout than your daughter did, brushing off the flour from his arms and taking the both of you into his embrace, “she’s so mean to me, sweets.”

“i’m not, just telling the truth. mama, i was the head chef, so i get to say what he’s bad at.” gojo’s pout worsens and you coo, pulling him closer.

“yes, but daddy did help with everything, didn’t he?” you whisper, brushing away the strands that fall over her face. you’ve never really taken the time to take in everything: her white hair, those blue eyes that are a little darker, the lines at the side of her smile that look like yours. instinctively, your forehead rests against hers and upon feeling her nod, you think that this is all you need. “thank you, darling.” and your girl grins again when she feels your peck on her forehead. gojo only can look at his girls with a content smile, pout stretching into his face while his hand never stops caressing your back. “can daddy have a kiss too?”

that night when she’s put to sleep after much protest (you both give in and end up watching your favourite movie together as a present), you’re drawing circles on gojo’s bare chest which also has grown a little bit of hair. his lips upon your hair feels like a divine blessing; he speaks.

“happy birthday again, baby,” a kiss, “only if you came home a liiittle later, though.”

you laugh softly, “actually, i sort of heard your shenanigans when i was standing outside the front door.” satoru jerks from the comfortable position, prompting your head to hit the headboard in a loud ‘thud’.

“oops sorry, baby— but what?!”

you shake your head, roll your eyes, pull him back to tuck yourself under his chin, “you’re so damn dramatic. i just didn’t want to interrupt the both of you. you mean a lot to her, you know.”

gojo sighs, moving away a bit for your head to tilt up and his heart still pulls and tugs like so many years ago. if he recalls correctly, it’s just exactly like this that you shared your first kiss together, the line between friends and lovers blurring so much that all it took was your eyes staring into his to make him notice he never had infinity on around you.

“you made me forget what i was gonna say,” satoru mumbles, a laugh cutting through his features when you smile sheepishly. he copies your outburst, “you’re so damn beautiful.”

“and you mean a lot to her, too. we mean a lot to her — it’s the least we can do when you’ve brought such a beautiful baby into the world,” gojo mutters — it’s late and he’s slurring his words from the fatigue. his eyes glow under the night light and he holds on to you just a little tighter, “to give her a normal life.”

his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s the sheen of his tears again. “we will succeed, don’t you worry.” you silence his doubts with a kiss, “you’re doing a great job of a father, ‘toru. i will keep reminding you until my voice turns hoarse and i can’t speak.”

normally, he’d tease you but all it does is make the tears full spill over; but they’re happy this time. satoru only lets you catch his lips in a deep kiss, quietening his sobs as your hands fumble at his undercut and his face. you can hear the faint “thank you”’s he mumbles and you’re also close to crying, pulling away to admire him — god, you loved him so much you feel like you could collapse. he loved you so much he would do it all over again if it meant having you in every life.

“thank you for having me. thank you for loving me, baby,” satoru whispers, wiping at your tears as did you and he laughs, “dunno why we’re cryin’. s’pposed to be a happy moment.”

you huff (of course, he’d say something funny now), but that’s just one of many things you love about him. all you do is hold him closer that night and mutter a prayer — to virgin, to buddha, to anyone who would listen.

it might get difficult along the way: one of you may need to take on more missions, your baby will be growing up and heading to school. there will be difficult talks, puberty, tantrums, none of you were truly ready. and yet, despite it all, you’d still have your satoru, the one who made tsumiki and megumi into what they are today. despite it all, you’d still have each other and your darling girl, your family of gojo’s whose definition changed from suffocating to belonging. despite it all, as long as galaxies are created and supernovas happening and the planets revolve around the sun, it’d take light years for your love to diminish even one speck.

your love for each other could surpass the cosmos — that in itself is enough.

part two

[the-monkeies-girl]

I’m curious to know when the first time Noa thought Reader was beautiful (because of or maybe in spite of her being an Echo) 🥰 I need some of your wonderful fluff

Let me just *SLIPS AND ALL THESE HEADCANONS COME OUT OF MY POCKET * Ah shit

Noa definitely finds you... Nice to look at, right off the bat of meeting. The prospect of beauty and thinking that way really doesn't settle into him until he's gotten to know you and finds aspects of your personality just as attractive as the outside appearance. It's probably during a lax day where you and he are working in tandem together on a project - maybe he needed your smaller fingers to work around something he was putting together for the Clan. Thankful for that, he watches intently as you tie a knot with twine, the crease between your brows catching his attention and causing his heart to flutter a bit on the inside as he recognizes your expression as being very focused. And he's absolutely floored at just how nimble your finger movements are compared to his own. Reckon, he's got strong fingers, but they are thick, they are not swift ( Only when he's signing and odds are he's fumbling over words at times because his hands can't keep up ). It's also a way to get you to be near him without explicitly asking. After you're done helping him tie the tiny knots that he needed, the smile? The radiance on your face, the tinge of redness that appeared to be right along your cheekbones, right under your eyes and upwards towards your ears. Your eyes, fluttering as always in the Sunlight, were now avoiding his own, your fingers pressing against each other as you wait for him to give you more direction, just happy to be of some help to the Apes.

I would imagine that moment... You smiling, genuinely at him, would get the cogs turning in his mind. He'd start connecting all the dots together like a puzzle, probably obsessing about it even after you're pulled away from the project by Anaya and Soona to go fish for the afternoon. Noa's torn apart on the inside thinking of all the times that he's caught you staring at him, your eyes wide, your cheeks welling with redness, the times that his shoulders have brushed against yours and even through the density of his fur, he was able to feel your heart beat quicken with his own. The reason why he liked to watch you with such acute focus and attention to detail is because the things he was seeing, albeit beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, were beautiful to him.

How you spoke. Beautiful, Noa would be blessed to hear your voice in tandem with his as he made you his mate.

How you looked at him. Noa wanted you to look at him like that always; He would do anything to make sure that happened.

How you touched him. Noa wanted you to be on top of him, not inherently sexual, but if you're on him, if you're near him, he's able to sink into it and become a part of you.

How you smiled at him. So gracefully, though he had observed you covering your mouth with your hand ever so often if your smile exploded into laughter.

All of these small moments, the smaller intricacies would draw Noa's mind to beauty. To say that you are an equal, if not beyond, the word itself. You, over time, become Noa's definition of beauty. ( Definitely amplified once you guys are a mated pair and he's able to dig into the aspects about you that he had only imagined before hand. I.E you naked. )

Caesar is probably the one where admittance of a human being beautiful is the easiest. He grew up with them, he was raised with them. He'd be a fool not to acknowledge that vain beauty was a human standard and he was pretty intuitive to it. NOW. That being said, he also gives off the secure vibe that while you are beautiful on the outside ( Which he'd be happy to admit noticing the first time you meet ), he's also very in-tune with his own self and will acknowledge that his needs go far beyond that of a shallow depth.

Actual beauty and admitting that he finds himself actually attracted to you in the sense that he'd want to mate takes a lot of time and a lot of trust building between the two of you. The more time you spend together, the more your beauty will shine for Caesar. You're smart, he likes that he's able to talk to you about more human ailments that maybe other Apes didn't understand. You're incredibly good with the young of the Colony, a trait that often took the forefront amongst Apes looking to mate. The one thing that gets him though, and it does it EVERY TIME. Is the way you look at him. He knows he commands respect, he gets it from his fellow Apes. What he didn't know he needed was getting it from you. And while your gaze is all respectful ( Even when you're thinking filthy things, tsk tsk ), there's always a glimmer of more there in your irises if he took time to stare deeply enough into them. First time actually admitting acute attraction and admitting that you were beautiful in the ways that actually mattered to him might happen at the moment you and he actually do become mates. Tangled in the animal pelts together, your face so deathly close to his own and your hot breath is cascading along his face. He had chosen you, you had chosen him. There's nothing more clear cut about it as Caesar grasps the back of your head and brings your forehead in so he can kiss it with his own. That moment, right there as you're brought to orgasm against him, face contorting as you uttered his name right against his lips, is the moment Caesar fell in love further and admitted to himself that your beauty knew no bounds anymore.

Blue Eyes is definitely the most oblivious to it. ( we all knew it was coming c'mon lol ) It probably takes him a while to even feel comfortable really looking at you unless it was just a passing glance. The Ape literally went 8 years without seeing a Human, and the first ones he had seen shot his friend so excuse his weariness. He'll build into it though, despite Koba constant chatter in his ear about just how bad ALL Humans were. Blue Eyes ultimately starts taking it into his own hands to establish his own opinions.

First off, your scent? Way different than anything he had ever experienced and it left a vaguely metallic taste in his mouth when he thought about it too long. Very stringy, not harmonious and more often than not, he can't really detect much outside of your sweat. ( You were nervous around them, understandably until you were able to actually trust. ) You refused eye contact with him more often that not, Blue Eyes had searched for your gaze a few times when Caesar had gotten on him for not being welcoming to you, biding to make eye contact to establish some sort of relationship with you that wasn't based in hostilities like your relationship with Koba.

Blue Eyes was better than that. He'd bite the metaphorical bullet and force himself to get close to you in hopes that maybe it'll expand his mind into the way that his Father thought about humans. Well, it was hard to be welcoming to someone who was so shut off, Blue Eyes wanted to tell his Father but he grinned and bared it. With our baby boy, I see it happening all of a sudden and without warning, leaving him more perplexed than before, concepts of beauty and all were not engrained in him. He really only looked for the qualities he wanted and that was it. Ash had brought his attention to you one day, you're washing your clothes at the river while the Apes fished for the communal dinner that evening.

The way the sun is playing against your bare shoulders, Blue Eyes hadn't known you to wear shorter sleeved shirts and the dip of your collarbone captivated him for a few seconds longer than really needed, the pit in stomach churning with unease and resting a BIT too closely to his lower navel, drifting downwards between his legs. The bounce of the light off the water below, alighting your expression. Timid. You were... Having a good time doing whatever you were doing, the idea of actively washing your clothes in a cycle completely foreign to him. ( Weekly basis, Blue Eyes noticed. Underwear a bit more frequently when he was able to sense it was your time of the month, which face it, the Ape knows. ) You're suddenly splashed in the face by Cornelius who had taken time away from the grasp of Caesar to enjoy wading the shallow water, beckoning you to play, knowing you often caved at his cute demeanor and gave him what he wanted. And you did, as per Blue Eyes' suspicions. The smile you graced his baby brother with left the older Apr Prince bristling at the shoulders fur standing on end, his breathing rapid as he sought to inhale and exhale through his nose to keep himself from unraveling at the unknown ideas hitting him all at once. He doesn't know the premise yet, but the thoughts are there that you were nice to look at... That... That you were a good person, good with his brother, nice to Ash and himself. There was... no threat. Not in the way that you smiled, the way you carried yourself so carefully. Blue Eyes suddenly had no idea what Koba had been on and on about. You were... Beautiful.

Koba is the toughest to get an admittance out of, and it really never comes to fruition no matter how much you pestered him about it. His actions are still remarkably pseudo-aggressive towards you, and he really only asks to see you alone if he feels the primal urge to mate ( Not often, and unfortunately he is selfish and just uses you as a play thing to give himself satisfaction. ) At least, that's really how it starts. Easy, once a week, he'd lay with you and go on the rest of the days without having to worry or bat an eye in your direction.

Over time though, as things develop and get a more more complicated, he finds that he's more disgusted in small minute things about you. How your fingers tucked your hair behind your ear. Absolutely abysmal, how dare you. Now your scent was wafting his way and he couldn't find it in himself to stop his feet and hands as he dragged you away. Flashing him a smile when he was busy doing something, especially if he's talking to Caesar, inappropriate. He hated the feeling it caused in his stomach when he thought about the idea of your smiling being more for his closest friend than being for him. Honestly, he'd rather it be for Caesar. That way he could justify the anger that bubbled in him out of petulant jealousy. No reason to be jealous, you were free to be with whomever you wanted, and Koba was more than willing to relinquish you to an Ape who actually gave a damn about you ( His own twisted mind process, he'd rip off the face of anyone who gave you more than a seconds glance ).

Admittedly, the waves of aggression and disgust towards you are ultimately dusted in fine particles of his attraction. The first time it really hits him might be after he leaves you in the nest to take care of yourself after he lays with you ( the common thing, he'd hang out around your hut when you pleased yourself just to give himself the pleasure of knowing that he could bring you there, but he chose not to. ) Never admits to straight beautiful, maybe a tolerance of sorts as he hears your moans, able to clearly see what your hands were doing to yourself. Mild tolerance, you weren't as bad as his mind wanted to think, but he convinced himself otherwise over and over again that it must be the truth. That he wasn't feeling anything towards you than pure animosity, despite his deeper introspection saying otherwise.

[clu-ven]

A Curious Mind

summary: Hunter has always treated you slightly different and Omega is determined to find out why

word count: 2.1k

!reader goes by she/her pronouns!

The bright suns of Plurax make you wince, your arm instinctively coming up to shield your eyes. Shuffling out of the Marauder, you’re about to follow Echo down the steps when a hand suddenly appears in front of you. 

“Oh!” you abruptly stop, almost colliding with it. Looking over to identify the owner of the hand, Hunter comes into view, an amused smile playing at his lips. 

Already on the ground below, he stretches his gloved hand up to you, offering some support as you exit. You give him a grateful smile “Thanks Sarge”. 

Slipping your hand into his, Hunter gives you a small, reassuring squeeze and you continue your descent down. 

You’re not sure why you were so surprised by the action, after all, this isn’t a rare occurrence. In fact, it’s the opposite. Whether you have to jump a few feet from a ship or simply walk down a landing platform, Hunter always offers you his hand. 

Every. Single. Time.

Once your feet reach the ground, he nods his head and reluctantly lets his hand fall from yours. His grip on his helmet, placed neatly underneath his other arm tightens for a moment as he wonders if he should have said more to you. 

Oblivious to Hunter’s internal worries, you walk over to the rest of the batch and listen to Tech’s recap of the plan.

Turning back to the ship, Hunter taps the command panel and watches as the Marauder begins to close. Sensing eyes on him, he glances over his shoulder to the rest of the batch, only to realise none of them are paying much attention to him. 

Casting his gaze downwards, his eyes meet Omega’s, who peers up at him curiously.

“Why do you always do that?” she asks.

“So we won’t get raided,” he shrugs as if the answer is obvious “or worse, if someone sees a ship like this unlocked, they’ll steal it and get a few thousands credits for it, especially with the amount of upgrades it has”. 

“What? No, not that” Omega rolls her eyes, returning Hunter’s ‘that should be obvious’ tone. 

When Omega says your name, Hunter’s eyes go wide, his posture becoming stiff as she elaborates “You always help her off the ship… why?”. His eyes flick over to you as Omega talks, hoping you didn’t hear her say your name. 

Thankfully you’re too busy listening to Tech, who’s explaining your part of the mission to you.

“Just to be nice, I guess” he mumbles his response, trying to keep his voice low. 

“But you don’t do it for Wrecker or Tech or Echo… hey, you don’t do that for me either!” she exclaims, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

Hunter shakes his head, his mind turning to mush as he tries to think of an easy explanation “Well, that’s because you don’t need help getting off the ship”.

It’s like he can see the cogs turning in Omega’s head, already cringing at his answer as she questions “... but she needs help? She can’t get off the ship if you don’t hold her hand?”.

Oh Kriff. 

“Well, no, that’s not what I meant-” he starts but Omega quickly talks over him. “Is she not good with balance? Is it like how Wrecker doesn’t like heights?”. 

Before Hunter can form a response, Wrecker loudly interrupts them, the mere mention of his fear getting his full attention.

“Heights?!” Wrecker repeats, drawing everyone’s focus to Hunter and Omega. Throwing his head back, Wrecker lets out a whine “Oh please tell me this mission doesn’t involve heights”.

“Plurax is a relatively flat planet,” Tech interjects, his eyes still fixed on his datapad “and considering our main objective is to extract the bacta pods found in the small medical facility, I doubt heights will be involved”.

Wrecker lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders deflating. “Phew, you almost got me that time, Hunter” he chuckles. 

Hunter nods, hoping to quickly brush past this entire situation. “Right, well let’s get this over and done with” taking his helmet from underneath his arm, Hunter places it on his head.

“But what about my quest-” Omega starts but Hunter cuts her off, acutely aware that you as well as the others are still listening “Later, Omega. All that matters right now is the mission”. With a sigh, she nods her head.

***

After successfully retrieving the bacta pods, the Marauder is quiet… for once. The hum of the ship speeding through hyperspace fills the silence as everyone gets some much needed rest. 

Peering out of her room, Omega holds on to Lula the tooka doll as she scans the bunks. Wrecker sleeps in one, his arm obscuring his face and thankfully muffling his snores. On the other bunk, Tech is fast asleep and judging by the pile of blankets on the upper bunk, you’re asleep up there.

Tip-toeing past, Echo comes into view. He’s seated at the table, head resting on his arm as he mumbles in his sleep. Continuing on her journey, Hunter is the last person for Omega to see, his seated form visible when she approaches the cockpit. Slowly, she nears him.

From the corner of his eye, Hunter notices Omega, subtly watching as she quietly walks forward. “You should be asleep” Hunter’s voice cuts through the silence, making Omega stop in her tracks.

She sighs, giving up her attempt to sneak “But I can’t, I’m not tired”. Hopping up on the seat beside him, Omega keeps Lula close to her, curling up on the chair. 

Hunter doesn’t reply. He knows how hard it is to go from being on high alert on a mission to being told to get some rest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

He remembers the first few missions he ever went on and how hard it was to rest, his senses too overwhelmed to even comprehend the idea of sleep. 

“You did it again, y’know” Omega says, pulling his attention back to her.

“What?” Hunter has a suspicious feeling he knows what she’s talking about but he hopes if he feigns some kind of ignorance then hopefully she’ll drop it.

“You helped her back onto the ship,” she explains, some sarcasm in her voice as she teases “when we were leaving Plurax… she must have really bad balance if you have to help her all the time”.

Head dipping down, Hunter’s hair obscures his face. “Omega,” he groans “she doesn't have balance problems, it’s just… look, it’s better if you let this go, ok?”.

“But why?” she drops her legs down, leaving them dangle freely.

“It’s… complicated”.

“How?” she presses, shrugging as she mumbles “I’m just curious”.

“Yeah, too curious,” Hunter says with an affectionate scoff and shake of his head.

Trying to simplify it, Omega begins listing out “Earlier you said that you do it to be nice but you only do it for her, nobody else! She doesn’t need you to do it since she doesn’t actually have any balance problems, hmmm and it’s pretty obvious you don’t like it when people point it out”. Hunter grimaces the more Omega goes on. 

Thinking out loud, she furrows her brow “I wonder if she notices, I mean it’s pretty obvious so she must have by now…maybe I should ask her”.

“What? No!“ Hunter is quick to sit on the edge of his seat, facing Omega fully “You can’t do that, that’s a direct order”. Despite his pleading look, Omega simply raises an eyebrow, knowing she’s got him right where she wants him.

“Okay, I won’t ask her,” she complies before adding “but you have to tell me why!”.

Hunter sighs. A part of him is impressed, equally proud of her determination as well as cursing it. Sighing, he avoids her eye contact as he tries to explain. 

“Well, since she’s not… uh, a clone… I just want to make sure… that, um… that she feels welcome” yes, Hunter is making this up as he goes. It’s true, of course but not his main reason. 

Omega is not convinced, her face the epitome of disappointment. Not giving in, she replies “Yeah, that’s nice and all, Hunter but I don’t think that’s why”. 

Hunter’s body deflates, putting his face in his hands. Even if he wants to, he doesn’t think he can get the words out. This is something he’s never had to verbalise before nor is it something he’s had to admit to anybody.

With his face still covered, he hears Omega’s voice “Can I tell you my theory?”.

He doesn’t reply and yet Omega continues “I think you like her”. Hunter can hear her smile in her tone, removing his hands to confirm his suspicions. 

Watching for his reaction, Omega beams up at him. “And I mean like like her” she adds with the wiggle of her eyebrows.

Hunter keeps his face still, unsure how to react. 

“I mean, it’s not a bad thing if you do,” she shrugs, offering some reassurance “I think it’s kinda cute, especially since she like likes you too”. 

He freezes. 

What?

Judging by the stunned look on Hunter’s face, Omega explains “I overheard her saying it to Echo, she said something about her heart racing whenever you’re around and being paranoid over it. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing at first but every time you do something nice for her, she gets all lovey-dovey so I think it’s a good thing”.

“Lovey-dovey?” Hunter scrunches up his face, not quite believing what his sister is saying.

“Yeah, like this” clutching her hands together, Omega tries her best to bat her eyelashes as she lets out a comically loud sigh before giving Hunter a goofy smile.

With a grin tugging at his lips, he dismisses “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do that before”.

“That’s because you always look away!” she exclaims “ooh, I’ll have to add that to the list; you’re really bad at keeping eye contact with her”.

He rolls his eyes but the idea that maybe, just maybe you like him too distracts Hunter from properly deflecting Omega’s addition to her list. Even the idea of their being some hope that you feel the same way is enough to send Hunter’s head spinning. 

Yawning, Omega hops down from her seat “I’m just saying, it would be a shame if you both like like each other but never tell one another”. 

Hunter stays quiet, though he knows she’s right. “Anyways, I’ll try to get some sleep, night Hunter” giving him one last smile, Omega leaves him alone with his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Hunter leans back in his seat, resting one of his legs by the command panel as he looks out at the whirling blue lights of hyperspace. Hunter closes his eyes, trying to centre himself. Only you could daze him as much as this and make it feel so damn exciting. 

Were the signs that you liked him back always there? For a guy with heightened senses, he presumed he would have picked up on it… but Omega is right, he doesn’t exactly hold eye contact with you. And whenever he hears the loud beating of a heart when you’re near, he hurriedly assumes it’s his own.

Speaking of his senses, he can tell Omega is still there, hovering by the doorway. He waits a few seconds, giving her the time to speak but she doesn’t.

Hunter knows where this is going, presuming she’ll either ask him to carry her back to bed or try to convince him to get her a snack. He takes his time opening his eyes again, turning his upper body to look at her.

Hunter can feel his stomach drop. His body automatically freezing as if you won’t see him if he doesn’t move. 

You give him an equally bewildered look, a twist of anxiety in your gut. “Can we talk?” you ask, the words coming out quieter than expected.

Hunter has one main question on his mind: how much have you heard? And yet he doesn’t ask that question, instead blurting out “But I thought you were sleeping?”. 

Is that a question? Or a statement? Hunter has no idea, his brain utterly scattered.

You smile nervously. “I was getting ready to go to sleep,” you reveal “I was just in the refresher”.

Pointing to the door to the refresher, Hunter’s heart lurches at how close it is to the cockpit, knowing you’ve definitely heard everything.

Clearing his throat, Hunter nods “Yeah, let’s talk”. It’s better to talk this through now, while everyone else is asleep. 

He isn’t sure how this will go, still doubtful that you could actually like him back. But there’s only one way to find out. Hunter gives you a small smile as you sit where Omega was minutes ago. Once you’re comfortably seated, Hunter takes a deep breath and begins…

[hotchs-big-hands]

Hcs about Aaron's body

Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader

18+ Minors dni please

I initially wrote these in dms, so it's not the most coherent thing I've written before but I feel like sharing them so here we are. Please enjoy :)

Okay so when I was drawing the artwork and adding all the scars and the stretch marks I thought damn. There's no way he doesn't feel insecure abt it all, like. The scars were one thing but then he softened over the years and stretch marks sprouted across his lower abdomen and I feel like one day he caught sight of them in the mirror and just :(

Then he's dating you and it's great! He's loving everyday with you and he's feeling so, so alive. But then one day you are at his place and you're getting rly cosy and making out and you are pawing at the hem of his shirt, wanting to touch and to see him and he freezes.

You immediately stop, you ask if he's okay and he looks so panicked and sad. You ask what's going on and he says he's...well, he's not comfortable about taking his shirt off, that he's sorry and understands if you don't wanna keep going. You say

"Hey of course I am, it's alright." 🥺 so you do end up keeping going but he thinks about it, how he couldn't show you his body.

He starts to pull away a bit then cuz he's ashamed of himself and doesn't think you'll like the look of him and that he thinks he's pathetic being too afraid to show you his body. You notice and confront him gently and he finally admits it all. He's fucking sad, ashamed, scared what you'll think. And ugh your heart breaks. You cup his cheeks and gaze into his teary eyes and tell him there is NOTHING about him that would put you off him. He's shaking, the tears are free flowing and you just hold him, letting him get these emotions out. He's not been able to express how he's felt about this to ANYONE, not Beth, no one. But he trusts you so much and it feels nice to get this out.

When he slowly calms down he pulls back and you can see the cogs turning in his head. He finally says he feels ready to take his shirt off. You tell him only if he feels okay to. He nods and with your help he slowly lifts the shirt up over his head to reveal his body. Your eyes notice the hair of his happy trail and stomach, then the abundance of scars that cover his body. And you just bite back tears, hands ghosting over the surgical scars and the nine stab wounds. He shivers.

"It's okay to touch, they do feel sensitive sometimes though." He mumbles.

It takes every ounce of strength for him not to burst into tears again when you touch his scars with such tenderness and care.

You won't ask him to relay what happened, waiting for him to approach the subject on his own terms when he's ready. It's already a highly emotional day for him.

Idly, you notice the stretch marks and his grimaces when you graze them.

"I got soft at some point, don't know when." He begins to try justify them, but you just kiss his cheek.

"They are beautiful, you're so, so beautiful."

He's never been called beautiful before, and it makes his eyes well up with tears again. Only this time they are happier tears.

And when you're both laying in bed together and you're gently kissing all of those scars and stretch marks and lil beauty marks and freckles? His heart melts, and he truly does feel as beautiful as you say he is. Not once have you shied away from him, you've instead never been closer to him. And when you're laying together after making love, your hand stroking his stomach softly as you cuddle him he smiles; yes, he could get used to this.

[nxtaliaistyping]

I also think that the Riddler would like a dumb reader that strokes his ego/praises him.

The Riddler + dumbification

Authors note: I love the way you think anon, I’ve been in such a riddler mood lately, I think it’s cause I’m replaying Arkham knight and I love hearing him degrade me

18+ nsfw, degradation, gn reader, facefucking

Sure, he loves to be intellectually challenged and stimulated. To be distracted from the endless dimwits of the Gotham City population, and perhaps on occasion you can provide that for him.

But he can't deny, dumbing you down does have its appeal. It strokes his ego to have a pretty thing like you looking up at him with nothing behind your eyes but sheer adoration. To know that he's the center of your whole world, your whole existence.

"I would explain what I was up to today, but i'd hate to fry that empty mind of yours." he explains, condescension dripping from his tone.

He has you on your knees, while he manspreads on the sofa so you can rest your cheek on his green pant leg. A gloved hand idly strokes your cheek, and he smirks at how you gaze up at him with wide eyes.

"You happy down there?" he asks, tapping your cheek when you just nod.

"Mhm, so good. Love being down here."

"And why is that darling?" he asks, adjusting himself as he prepares for your answer.

He hums as you praise him, and he basks in your pathetic whimpers of glorification. You tell him how handsome you think he is, but it isn't enough. Gripping your jaw tightly, he speaks.

"Yes yes, my aesthetic qualities are second to none. But do you really think that's all I want to hear?"

He can see the cogs attempting to turn in your brain, and he laughs coldly at you. But you quickly start to explain,

"You're the smartest man in Gotham."

At that utterance, his smirk widens. "Oh? Please, tell me more."

But you can't keep up with his request when he has his cock down your throat, moving you up and down by your hair. Your glassy eyes just make you more lovely to him, demonstrating just how much you're debasing yourself.

"That's it, not a thought in that head is there?" he groans out, the sloppy sounds of your saliva coating him being music to his ears. "Just concentrate on doing a good job, it's not like you have any other purpose."

You choke around him, not that it makes him slow down, before he cums down your throat with a loud moan, forcing you to swallow every bit of his load.

The look on your face when you pull off...if only Edward could take a picture, how submissive and empty headed you seem. Perhaps next time.

But he gets you on his lap, drawing an orgasm out of you from his skilled fingers before he gets hard again. This time, he bends you over and slides into you effortlessly, his cock filling you up completely.

“Fuck, go dumb for me.” He demands you, fucking you roughly as he uses you. Pulling your hair, he looks at you as your head tilts back. “Look at you, mind completely gone. But that’s okay, isn’t it doll? Yeah it is…I’ll do the thinking for us both, you just keep being dumb and pliable for me.”

There’s not much you can do apart from whine loudly, clenching around him as your eyes almost cross. He squishes your cheeks together as you do, and if you could see yourself your embarrassment would be overwhelming. But you can’t, you can’t see anything apart from him. Always him.

“Take it. Take what I give you.”

Clumsily pleasuring you at the same time, he draws another orgasm out of you, making you gasp and moan relentlessly as your body twitches. But Edward isn’t done yet, so he keeps pounding away into your tight hole, completely using you.

When he cums for a second time, he grunts and buries himself to the hilt inside you. He stays like that for a while, catching his breath and swimming in the sensation of your submission and debauchery. Pulling out, he presses two fingers inside of you to keep his seed from spilling out.

“Keep it inside. It’s a gift from a superior intellect, you’d do well to be grateful.”

At you dazed nod, he grins and pats your cheek with his other hand. Rendering you stupid was always his favourite.

[whorediaries-09]

for kinktober, i'll beg if you want me to, PLEASE PLEASE write james potter with toys (vibrator) and him controlling it during a public event. prompt no. 17

"i love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me."

anon... where are your manners? where are your decencies? what is this behavior? what is your address? what is your ring size? can i come over?

cuz like i love your mind???

anyways i hope i do justice to your request 🙏

too many nights;

pairing- james potter x reader warning(s)- 18+ content. a/n- please send in more kinkotober requests

ps- ehhhh

prompt- toys (vibrator) + ' love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me.'

masterlist kinkotober rules kinkotober masterlist

i guess you got what you wanted you're hittin' the pole and you give it your all

'i don't know about this james,' you say, your shoulders tensing, eyebrows drawing closer. he places a chaste kiss upon your neck, helping you put on your trench coat . his hot breath fans over your skin, his finger slowly clasping the necklace around your neck. he coos, and it's like a pretty affirmation of confirmation of affection for you

'baby, if you don't want to it's okay,' he says, a sweetness clinging onto his voice. but when you turn around and face him, there's a desperate look of begging hidden in his eyes. he bites his lip in anticipation, waiting for your response. you stare into his eyes as he slips his fingers between yours, leaning down to kiss you. you return the kiss with fervor, the cogs in your mind turning off temporarily.

'i want to,' you confirm. he smiles, and it melts your poor heart.

'sure?' he asks again, his thumb rubbing over your palm. you nod your head. it felt like a good decision.

*******

you were wrong. heat crawled up to your neck every time james' finger touched on the button of the controller of the little vibrator that was fixed upon your clit. a constant throb against your clit which build up the coil of pleasure within you, but never enough to let you release it. once in a while he'd increase the power of the vibrations, and intentionally rub against your body or catch your eye to throw you the dirtiest smirk ever, which practically fucking oozed smugness.

you wanted to punch the smile off his face as he again increased the power of the vibrator while you engaged in a conversation with remus. it distracted your mind, and caught you off guard as you focused instead to not moan with the tingling sensation against your cunt. you bit your lip, chugging the beer down your throat. you absent mindedly hummed along to his words, crossing your legs, digging your nails underneath your thighs. that was until james pulled a chair and sat in front of you, spreading his legs, inviting you to look between his legs. his hand was tucked away in one of his pocket, and you knew what he was doing.

you could feel it. james flashed his brown eyes at you, reducing the vibrations on your clit, but never stopping altogether. you bit your cheek from the inside, as james took remus' attention from you, and started engaging in a conversation with him. but by his responses, you knew he wasn't really listening. he was fiddling with the controller of the vibrator, fiddling with you, while talking so freely with remus. you clenched your thighs, digging your nails so harshly into your skin you thought you might bruise yourself.

fucking bastard.

you let out a throaty cough, trying your best not to let out an inappropriate sound as you spoke,

'james i'd like a private word,'

hotness surged over you, as he decreased the vibrations of the vibrator. he smiled, his dimple creasing within his cheek.

'oh? sure honey,' he affirmed, getting up from the chair, motioning you to follow him. he walked into the bathroom, gripping your wrist, taking you along with him. with a saccharine desire, his lips were upon yours, battling with your hormones with the movements of his tongue and teeth. he subconsciously increased the pace of the vibrations of the toy. you moaned into his mouth, trying to free yourself from his hold. you released yourself from his grip, your hips pressed against the counter as you whisper out a string of profanities, cursing him.

he's breathless when he speaks,

'you know you're so fucking hot? trying not to reveal your dirty little secret as you talk with our friends?' you look at him hard in the eye, gritting your teeth as he toys with the controller, smirking at you,

'i'm getting rid of it,' you threaten, a soft beg hiding behind your voice. he merely smiles, increasing the vibrations to the maximum,

'i love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me.'

he leans in closer, pushing you against the counter, your hips digging into the cold ceramic. as you close your eyes, his fingers fiddling with the zipper of your trouser. his hand slips into your underwear, his fingers exploring your folds. you squeak, as he trails his lips upon your hot skin, his finger ramming into you, curving against your sweet spot.

the vibrator vibrates against your clit with such pleasure, your lust breaks through your senses of sanity.

'cum for me honey,' he groans against your neck as your walls clench around his finger, your orgasm breaking through your body. you scream his name, the sound drowned by the music of the party.

[tinyluvs]

grocery shopping w jj bc you know that man sits in the goddamed grocery cart

you're so right bestie 😌 send prompts to my ask box !

jj jumps out the car the second you've put it into park, "i'm going to get a cart!" he slams the door, making you flinch and then takes off towards the shop, behind the car

you sigh and flip the visor down, checking your hair in the tiny mirror before looking in the wing mirror, "jesus christ," you mumble, seeing jj throwing himself into the cart, legs in the air. you scramble to grab your keys, wallet and phone before hopping out of the car

the boy slowly rolls towards you, a grin on his face, "push me" he says, the wheels on the cart clacking as he draws closer

you cross your arms over your chest, "no j, get out" you say and look around to check for cars as he comes across the parking lot.

"no" he says simply. the cart starts to turn with his weight being on one end, he cranes his neck to maintain eye contact with you. he shakes his head to emphasise his answer

in his journey he's started to gain speed, you stare at him blankly as you move towards the back end of your car, "j, i'm not pushing you"

"sure you are" he replies full of cheek, "can you stop me before i hit the car" he rushes out metres from your car. you stick your foot out, bumping the wheels when the front of the cart is just inches from the back bumper

you realise jj is not going to get out the cart and while locking him in the car seems tempting you know he will manage to fuck something up, last time he took the handbrake off to see how far he could roll, he hit another car.

"push me!" he says again, putting his arms up in the air like he's on a roller coaster. people walk past staring at you and your child of a boyfriend, you chuckle at the stupidity of the situation

"fine but if a worker tells you to get out, get out" you grab onto the handles and pull, turning him around and then stride towards the store. jj waves his hand up at you as you enter

you're only at the store for snacks, knowing you’ll both be too stoned to drive later and you're going to need them, the munchies hit you and jj hard, every time.

steering the cart, and your boyfriend, towards the right isles you pass adults, giving them small smiles as you pass. they just shake their heads at you both

"beep beep, coming through" jj hollers when you reach the end of the isle. a woman, coming down the centre isle that splits all the others in half, screams sending jj into a giggle

"sorry!" you apologise and push harder, getting to the right isle faster. jj sticks his arm out, grabbing random packets of chips from the shelves, dumping them on top of his boots

you stop the cart and move around it, grabbing some of them to put them back. "hey, no no no," jj huffs and tries to grab them back but you pull him out of arms reach before he can, he glares up at you

"j, neither of us even like those ones baby," you try and reason with him, soft pleading eyes in hopes to get out of the store as quickly as possible

if you could see inside his head, you would see cogs turning as he tries to come up with something, "well, i might like them later?"

snickering you leave only the chips you like in the cart and move on to candy. you don't make the mistake of letting him too close to the shelves, leaving him in the middle of the isle while you pick out things

"afternoon ma'am," jj nods and salutes an elderly woman who tries to pass, "could you, uhm, pass me some of those," you hear him whisper, shortly followed by a, "thanks, have a good day"

your back is still turned, your arms full of candy and chocolate, "jj, if i turn around and there's things i didn't put in there, we are leaving" you say, bending to grab a couple more things.

"pfft, no" he scoffs, dragging out the 'o' and as you turn, he throws a pack of something you can’t make out, over the isle. in the distance you hear a smack and a man grunt. jj turns to you wide eyed, "go, go, go" he whisper shouts

you empty your arms into the cart and take off running, drifting around a corner into the bakery isles. both of you burst out laughing, you double over and lean on the edge of the cart, your head bumping jj's

"we have to go" you chuckle when the laughter dies down, jj nods and reaches over to grab a twelve pack of doughnuts and you make your way towards the checkout

the older woman on the till stares at you both as you load up your obscene amounts of snacks. jj does his best, throwing things up onto the conveyer belt, wincing when a bar of chocolate nearly hits the woman.

in all honesty you expect her to say something but she doesn't. you dump the things back on top of jj and pay before pushing him towards the exit, sighing when you hear a chip bag rustling followed by jj crunching

"can you just check the cameras? someone threw these over the isle and it hit me" a man grunts, stood next to the security station

jj tilts his head back looking up at you, "get to the car" he mumbles, his mouth full of food. you nod and dash out of the shop with the reminder to never bring him shopping with you again.

[redrocketpanda]

From the person who brought you unhinged JJK S2 fish discourse, please accept my humble new offering: me holding up images whilst screaming ferally at you: did ya see?! did ya see what they did with the colour symbolism in episode 4 and what it Means?! Well dw cause I'm here to serve you a heinously long meta-analysis regardless. This episode has completely undone me and I need to give you a blow by blow account of why

I want to go in depth about the final scene of e4 bc that's really what set the cogs whirring in my mind, but let's start with the following image bc it exemplifies everything, not just in terms of the colour symbolism but of the heartbreaking changing relationship of stsg

Throughout the previous episodes and opening/credits of S2 we have been made to associate the colour blue + lightness with Gojo and the colour red + darkness with Geto. The sparkling blue eyes and stark white hair of Gojo, his Limitless: Blue technique, the white fish, the way he is often shown standing/walking in the light, turned to face Geto versus the black hair + dark eyes of Geto, the black fish, shown standing/walking in the shadows, turned away from Gojo (etc etc)

Yet the final scene of e4 flips this on its head and what this Means is, quite frankly, soul destroying

We join Geto as he walks along a dark, narrow corridor flooded with red light until he reaches heavy doors. He's confronted with his own image, reflecting back at him, before using both hands to prise open the door. When he steps into the bright white light of a high-ceilinged room, his face falls as Gojo emerges like a messianic figure from the applauding crowd, carrying the shrouded corpse of Riko (side note: god I have a lot of thoughts on Gojo as a messianic figure but I'll save that for another time)

Gojo approaches Geto with his head bowed (whereas usually he is always looking up at Geto) and the moment Geto lays eyes on Gojo he knows something is wrong (similarly to Toji earlier in the episode). He barely seems to recognise Gojo and though Gojo's eyes still sparkle with their bright blue infinity, his expression is dull and lifeless. Geto asks disbelievingly in a way that stabs me right through the heart: "Satoru. Is that you?"

At the start of the conversation, the camera pans from Gojo on the left to Geto on the right and is shot from below in a way that emphasises the growing cavernous expanse between them

But it's what happens in the following moments that's really the killer

Gojo states that he fucked up and that everything that has happened is therefore his fault. Geto tells Gojo "let's head back" (I read this both as: let's head back home and as an indication that Geto wants things to go back to how they were). The camera then cuts to Gojo's mouth as he asks flatly - "Suguru, should we kill these guys?" - and then zooms out as he continues - "The way I feel right now, I doubt I'd feel anything about it." The camera zooms out, showing Gojo standing in front of the applauding crowd, holding Riko's body and continues to draw back, making Gojo seem as if he's getting further and further away from Geto, as well as from us, whilst his eyes glow ethereally

I want to do a separate post about what happens with Geto, Gojo + their relationship in episode 5 but I do also want to point out here: this is the scene that Geto experiences invasive flashbacks of in the following ep. It's the moment that he realizes that he's lost Gojo, that Gojo is now fundamentally different in a way that Geto doesn't recognise or understand, that Gojo is far beyond his reach

As Gojo walks past a motionless Geto, away from the light and into the darkness, we cut to Geto's downcast eyes, pupils dilating wildly as though he's in shock/about to cry (this harkens back to the fish, the way that Geto can no longer bear to look at the white fish as it swims past). We are then left with Geto standing in the bright blue-white light telling Gojo that there's "no point" in killing them, whilst Gojo replies in the darkened, red corridor "does there really need to be any point to it?"

Gojo is a broken man, a complete shell of who he once was and this scene demonstrates Gojo's transition as he turns away from Geto. The colour symbolism, though, is present throughout the earlier parts of the episode and beautifully illustrates how we arrive at this exact moment (as well lays the foundations for what comes next)

Let's return to our blue/red colour theory bc there's a lot going on here during this episode!

E4 starts on a banger: we're cruelly given a recap of Toji telling Geto that he killed Gojo and then within the space of about 7 minutes, Geto too has been killed. It's tragic and sad and none of us want to be reminded of it but I'm going to (srysrysry) because hey, check out what's going on. Notice the cool blue tint of Geto's "death" versus the vivid red of Gojo's? (a horrible eg I know but you should've heard my scream when I caught onto it)

And here's another cool example that had me ajdjsksjdk bc ofc I clocked Gojo using his red technique, but look at the blue glow around Geto's hand?! I don't recall seeing it being used for Geto before (correct me if I'm wrong) so it's interesting to see it being used here, plus us seeing Gojo using Red properly for the first time

Let's just pause here for a moment bc this is a hugely important moment for Gojo's character arc and the fight with Toji gives us an incredible colour theory moment

In the previous episodes, we've seen Gojo being able to easily use his Limitless Blue technique but remember how, in E2 Gojo tried to use Red and hilariously fucks it up announcing "I failed" and resorts to punching the bad guy instead? It isn't until this episode, after Gojo has used reverse cursed technique whilst on the verge of death to heal himself (idk if heal is the right word) that he is able to learn to use Cursed Technique Reversal: Red

We have this really beautiful animation sequence during Gojo's fight with Toji. A blue and a red droplet swirl around each other and then splash together to reveal a swirling rotation of blue and red rippling water. The colours converge, red droplet slipping into blue water, blue droplet into red. The droplets come together to form the shining purple infinity plucked between Gojo's fingers, granting him the "Hollow Purple" technique that allows him to blow a hole through Toji.

Gojo explains:

"Reverse cursed technique uses negative energy. While it can enhance the body, it can't regenerate it. Multiply that negative energy against itself to create positive energy... Take the amplified and the reversal, then smash together those two different expressions of infinity to create and push out imaginary mass."

Gojo + Geto, amplified + reversal = two different expressions of infinity -> create / push out

Toji "killing" Gojo was the moment that set Gojo on a different path, which allowed him to evolve beyond belief and causes him to ascend to, what he believes is, divinity. He takes the basics of Blue and Red (primary colours; Gojo and Geto) and mixes them together to create something new, something transcendent, something that surpasses who he (and Geto) were before. He becomes an unstoppable power that far surpasses everyone else, and this is what Geto recognizes: that Gojo has evolved without him (which we know from E5 has huge consequences for Geto's thinking)

And so now, finally, let us return to Geto at the end of E4

After Gojo asks Geto "does there really need to be any point to it?" (killing), the camera flashes quickly between the applauding audience and Geto's empty hand, which he then clenches into a tight fist. He raises his downcast eyes to look forwards (resolutely, looking into the future) and responds: "it's very important there is..."

We're left with the image of Gojo standing on a blue floor, surrounded by the clapping crowd. The floor wavers as an all consuming darkness pulses beneath him, locating Geto as it's central point as it surges out towards the crowd "...especially for a jujutsu sorcerer."

We're reminded of the conversation where Geto and Gojo almost come to blows whilst playing basketball in E1. Geto's argument that jujutsu sorcerers exist to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers whilst Gojo complains about having to protect "the weak" + patronisingly tells Geto to get off of his moral high horse.

Now we witness the extent of Gojo's apathy in action, as he pulls away from everything and everyone, and the swinging of Geto's moral compass from protection to genocide as he's left behind in the ruins of all that once was, of everything and everyone that he loved

[ashtronomyys]

It happened so fast, Johnny wasn't even sure if he had seen it right. But then a few seconds later, there it was again! A small dot jumped up right above Simon's lip before disappearing. He silently watched the man's face, looking for any acknowledgment behind the mask. But there was none. Simon's eyes continued to scan over the documents he was in the middle of signing off.

Johnny had been sitting on the edge of Simon's bed silently drawing away while the other man worked at his desk. About an hour ago, he decided to switch up his sketches of guns and other paraphernalia and moved on to one of his favorite subjects, Ghost.

The Scotsman would devote himself to mapping out every one of Simon's features. There were pages dedicated to sketches of his hands, his arms, his shoulders, and his back. His eyes and the way light bounced off of his eyelashes.

It was in the middle of one of these sketches, Johnny sneakily glancing over at the lieutenant when the movement caught his eye. Simon's mask was pulled taught over his face. Today's black fabric was a more form-fitting material which allowed him to make out more of Simon's face. The fabric was probably what allowed Johnny to see the movement as the Brit absentmindedly scratched at his chin. He grunted to himself, scratching off a line in the papers and there it was again!

The mask poked up along the corner of his mouth before running across his lips and dropping back down again. It finally clicked for Johnny when the dot was held out in place while Ghost sighed and drew his lips together in a grimace.

Simon stuck his tongue out when he was concentrating.

It took everything in Johnny not to giggle the next time he saw his lieutenant's tongue dart out across his upper lip. It must not have been enough because Simon looks up from his paper for the first time in an hour and shoots him a sideway glance.

"Something funny, Sergeant?"

Johnny tries to play it cool, hopes Simon doesn't note the way he freezes in his stare. "No....was just admiring the view, tha's all."

Simon's eyes narrow into a glare. With another sigh he drops his pen down on the table and spins his chair around to face him. "Alright, c'mon MacTavish. Out with it. What's on your mind?"

Awh crap. He's really in for it now. "And how do ye know I-"

"Johnny, you and I both know that at this point, we know each other inside and out. I can /SEE/ that you have something spinning around in that head of yours." He gestures to his forehead, rotating his fingers around imitating a cog wheel turning. "So out with it. I know you're itching to say something and I can't focus on my work until you've got it outta your system."

Well, if this is how he dies, let it be known that John "Soap" MacTavish died a soldier's death. Valiantly going where no man dared to cross before. He'll leave behind a legacy of bravery, dedication, and sacrifice.

"You know ye lick yer lips when you're concentrating?"

...

.....

"Fuuucking hell Johnny..." Simon drags his hands over his face, stopping to rub circles at his temple. "Is that what you were so focused on?" he asks, with amusement dripping into his voice.

"Well I was just surprised by it!"

"You're unbelievable."

"What?! I think it's endearing! I just couldn't tell what I was looking at with the mask." He pauses, considering his next question before going forward with it anyway. "Do ye taste yer mask when ye do tha'?"

"Alright, that's enough of that Johnny," he barks out. Simon turns back to his paperwork.

Part of Johnny worries that he may have made him feel self-conscious. But he sneaks another glance at the man, and he can see the telltale sign of a smile playing on his lips. The crinkle in his eye and the deep, low rumble of a laugh as he shakes his head let's him know it's fine. A smile starts to form on Johnny's own face. He opens his journal and flips back to the sketch he was working on.

And not five minutes later, he spots that tongue dart out again. And he absolutely puts everything he has into capturing it on paper.

....................

I'm still pretty new to writing so please excuse any errors. I felt inspired after watching Samuel Roukin's livestream yesterday. I love giving characters benign ticks and I am now a firm believer that Ghost also flicks his tongue out when he's concentrating.

[object-vault-9]

Question I have about the vault itself, do you have an idea of what it looks like? The whole interior layout and everything? I've been wondering for some time now...

Ohh I should really sit down in a map maker and put it together ! A lot of the inspiration for the layout comes from Vault 101 and Vault 76 in the fallout games, plus a huge agricultural inspiration is from Vault 33 This is gonna be long and have pictures from the games/show/my comic/etc so it'll be under a break, might include some rambling about the way the vault used to operate too ! Very rambly/unorganized for now

Vault 9 is built into a cliff face, and behind it is a mountain range.

The vault was built for much more people that currently live there, and large portions of it are ominously empty. You can genuinely get lost in there, even Timer/Shovel/Mousetrap can even get turned around in there and they were born and raised there. Had Car Key survived he was intended to be the one that knew the layout almost perfectly, being the head security officer (and lone survivor of the security teams prior to the opening of the vault). If I were to draw less visited parts of the vault, portions of it would be roped off. The largest open areas in the vault are the farm (above) and the cafeteria

Vault 9's structure and culture when established was less individual, there were not a lot of rec rooms, rooms were all bunks to hold multiple people, etc. A lot of stuff involves some degree of depersonalization, etc. So thats why despite there being so many empty rooms presumably, most characters are shown to share rooms when their rooms are shown. Lcukily, especially with a colorful cast of characters from different backgrounds and over a century past its establishment, people are more encouraged to be themselves here There's a few rooms set aside for professions, there's the clinic, plus a larger room beside it for long term patients, though with the small population Mousetrap keeps people close to better monitor them There are classrooms, pretty much always empty, Spade/Shovel/Timer/etc are among the last to "graduate", and school years were not hosted every year due to the diminishing amount of people being born. So while Timer is a little older than Spade and Shovel, and Push Pin was a little younger, they likely all attended the same "grades/classes" together. Usually the family will teach basics (basic math/reading/writing) before the official vault curriculum, with classes starting for older students (like 10+) instead of starting at kindergarten

The intention of Vault 9 was mostly on self sustaining populations, so most people were intended to be involved with the care of the farm over anything else. Other roles were security/education/medical/culinary/etc, as well as leadership roles like a peoples court and the overseer The armory is very small and depleted/half destroyed, and there is only one or two quarantine/prison rooms

The floor structure is built in a way that the further down you go, the less likely you need to be there, this is my vague idea of it but with floor plans some things might be rearranged The surface level is only the door, airlock and door controls. Some storage is kept up there too Second floor down/B2 is the largest area. Farm, cafeteria, public rooms, clinic, classrooms, etc. There's a small library Third floor/B3 down are the living quarters, as well as the overseers office, peoples court, and locker rooms for showering and stuff. The overseers office is the best furnished room in the vault, and it had personal living quarters for the overseers family that were nicer too Fourth floor/B4 are guard armory/small training room/most storage/certain aspects of vault maint, etc. Fifth/B5 is storage and machinery for the most part. The boiler/furnace/etc, there's also a work shop down there and where Hehe/Apricot/CoG hang out. There's also the columbarium and morgue down there

Lowest level, heavy clearance, is where the power is. It's still nuclear power, the intention is to keep it buried so a failure might destroy the vault but cause less damage on the surface

I'll revisit this soon and have drawings and floorplans hopefully

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Number 3 with Yae but the kicker is the reader just blurted it out after she helped them with a problem they’ve been struggling with all day (Also it’d be cool if the reader was close to immune to Yae’s teasing)

“Will you just marry me already?”

Characters: Yae Miko x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I got three different messages requesting Yae with this one, so I guess I had no choice but to write her /hj

I hope this matches what you wanted, if you don't like it, just tell me and I'll try again once I have the time/motivation

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Yae Miko

Growing up with parents that liked teasing you as much as they liked to breathe air left you quite resistant to others trying to do the same. And while Yae was definitely on a whole new level, causing you to constantly struggle with trying not to lose your composure, with enough time you had gotten used to her methods to such a level that it took her quite some work to get a visible reaction out of you. Not like that would cause her to stop, instead serving as a challenge to her that she wouldn’t let pass by.

You couldn’t exactly remember how long you had spent on your little “pet project”, although you weren’t too sure anymore if you could even call it that anymore, the calming feeling it once provided having long been replaced by nothing but mild frustration at your inability to finish it, the only thing keeping you from just abandoning it being the idea of not actually finishing something. 

This all began a week ago when you thought it might be a great idea to build a small birdhouse, only for the project to increase in size with every stroke of your pencil you made while trying to draw a plan. And while the planning phase and most of the actual construction went pretty well, it just wouldn’t stand on its own, threatening to or just straight up collapsing when you let go of it. 

“Still working on it?”, Yae's voice cut off your trail of thought, forcing you back into the real world as you quickly turned your head to look up at her, your mood immediately improving as you finally weren’t alone with that damn thing. “Why don’t you let it be, seeing as all it does is cause you distress?”

“I can’t. I get the feeling that I’m really close to finally figuring out what was wrong, but I just can’t find my error”, you responded, sneaking one more look back at the not so finished birdhouse.

“Never took you for a person that likes inflicting pain onto yourself, but I guess even someone my age learns something new every day”, she joked only for you to let out a sarcastic laugh afterwards, watching her grab the plan you had made before glancing over both the paper and the actual construction.

“Now I’m not a professional, nor do I have any interest in becoming one, but don’t you miss this little thing here?”, she asked while pointing at a specific part of the plan, watching you as the cogs slowly started to turn in your brain, only for your eyes to widen in joy as you jumped up and threw your arms around Yae.

“You are a genius! Oh, will you just marry me already?”, you praised her before quickly trying to go back and finish your project so you wouldn’t forget anything, only to freeze up after a few seconds, your face turning slightly red as your brain backtracked to think of what you just said.

“No wait, that wasn’t a proposal or anything, I was just really happy”, you quickly tried to correct yourself, only for Yae’s smile to only increase in size.

“What? And here I was, thinking you actually loved me. How naive I was for actually thinking you meant it”, she recited in a dramatical voice only to let out a chuckle shortly afterwards.

Suddenly you felt like an idiot for even considering she might have misunderstood your comment as an actual proposal, your reaction only giving her an opening to finally tease you, the first one she got in weeks.

And by the gods, was she going to use it.

[imtooscaredforthis]

Entrapment

Chapter Twenty Six: Sore Loser

Mentions of: Trauma, Sleep Deprivation, Paranoia, Neurosis, Stalking, and angst

A/N: Mid semester and dying…pray for me y’all…I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @elentiyaiswriting @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @vandeaad @the-fandoms-georgie

You showered three times over the next morning. You didn’t care how the hot water burned your new cuts, or how your skin was all pruned, you washed and washed until you felt clean, on the outside at least.

You couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror after. Couldn’t see the cuts he left on you. Especially not the heart-shaped carving he left on your hip. You felt so disgusted with yourself for letting him do that..for letting him defile you…and even more disgusted with the small part of yourself that enjoyed it. But you knew that wasn’t your common sense or anything, it was just your body’s reaction.

You hated what he did to you that night. You hated him. And you hated yourself for letting it happen.

What made it worse was that he had all this control over you. He could use you whenever he wanted. The moment you said no, the moment you fought back, he’d kill everyone you cared about. You wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow found out where your family lived and threatened them too.

You felt a shiver go down your spine at that thought, panic and fear surging through you. You should call your mother and check up on them, but Ghostface could be listening, and the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to them. They’re safe and that’s all that matters.

Days dragged by and you couldn’t help but wonder if and when he was going to play another one of his sick games. If he was going to cut you up or use you like some fucked up sex toy. It was quiet, and while you were slightly relieved with the peace, you took advantage of it in any way you could.

—

You poor thing. Ever since that night, he played with you, you’ve changed. You have been changing, ever since this all started, but that night really changed you.

You don’t eat as much as you used to and don’t sleep as well, the dark circles hanging heavily under your eyes. You’ve even started to change your clothing, more pants and long-sleeved button-ups, hiding yourself. Protecting yourself.

You’ve become much less social and even avoid your friends, hardly making small talk or any conversation whatsoever, focusing on work instead. You’re starting to shut people out, to put up walls. You think you’re protecting them, but in reality, it’s Danny’s way of pushing you to isolate yourself. So either way, you’ll have no one left.

You haven’t given up, though. Danny’s not sure you ever will. No matter how much he breaks you, no matter how much he hurts you, you’ll bounce back even stronger than before.

You’re a fighter, a survivor. And it’s something he loves about you.

He watched as you worked for hours and hours at the office where you feel safe trying to analyze every scrap of information you can find, trying to piece together the puzzle of his identity, those little cogs turning in your brain until you got frustrated and gave up for the night and went home.

You don’t even feel safe in your apartment, spending most nights in your car. But you should know that you’re not safe anywhere…It doesn’t matter because like it or not, you always have to go back to your apartment, be it for a change of clothes or something else, you always come back. And wherever you go, he follows like a shadow..like a predator, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

—

You stretched your sore muscles, slipping off your jacket and climbing out from the backseat where you once had been sleeping. The windshield was all fogged up from the typical Florida humidity, and you wiped it away to see a light pink sky, the sun rising.

You had plenty of time before work and couldn’t help but wonder if you should head into your apartment for some clothes or go back to sleep for a little longer. But your train of thought completely stopped when you spotted something on your dashboard.

It was a Polaroid. You don’t remember bringing any pictures into your car, besides one of your family that you kept stashed in your glove compartment.

Your hands trembled as they clutched the photo. It was from that night, a look of euphoria on your face, and a gloved hand around your throat, Ghostface’s mask resting on your shoulder.

On the back, written in bold black Sharpie read the words “MISS YOU” with a little heart symbol. Your heart was pounding, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You almost screamed when your fingers brushed up against some foreign sticky substance on one of the corners you held.

You rubbed your hand against the seat, ridding yourself of the fluids, before tearing the Polaroid up into tiny pieces and throwing it out in the trash.

—

You still went to work at that. You refused to let him win, and staying at home would only make you feel more vulnerable. It was getting to the point that here was the only place that you felt safe.

“Hey, want to get drinks? Everyone’s going out and I thought it might be fun.” Jed offered, making you look up from your computer. Your coworkers were leaving, making you realize that it was closing time already. You shot him down almost instantly. “No thanks, I have to work late.”

“Seriously? On a Friday? C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Rachel pressed you. You shook your head once again. “Maybe another time.”

With that, she shrugged her shoulders and left, dropping it. But Jed didn’t. He lingered by watching as you continued to work, while you were hardly paying attention to him your eyes glued to your monitor.

“______, can we talk?” With a sigh, you turned away from the monitor, facing him. You thought you made it obvious that you weren’t in a talkative mood today.

“I’m just worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately. You’ve been distant and much more focused on work. Not that it’s a bad thing, but I know it can take a toll-”

“Oh really, Jed? Can it really take a toll? I never knew that writing about an evil fucking psychopath serial killer could possibly take a toll. You’re so worried about me, but maybe you should be worried about yourself. In fact, you hardly seem to care about the fucked up things he’s done. Sometimes with the way you talk about him, I think you like doing this. I think you like the publicity and money you make off of him..Just go have your stupid drinks and leave me alone.”

[jones-friend]

ITS NEW GAME TIME

Apiary is a worker (bee) placement game about bees in space! It runs 1-5 players in 60-90min.

I greatly enjoyed this game. Even with my gencon haul this charmed me the most, I found Apiary to grok with my brain just right with lots of gears and cogs to set to make your great machine. I totally see why its making best of the year lists and will hit best of the year for me as well.

In Apiary each player oversees the construction of a hive in space. Players start with a mat showing a unique layout, a landing pad with 3 workers, a unique faction tile with their own ability, and a few starting resources.

Each worker has four sides, 1-4. This strength factors into how good the actions they take are. Workers are placed on corresponding actions which fit 1-2 workers at a time. If someone is already there the worker is bumped off, either returning to the landing pad to be retrieved later or increased in power and returned to your active row to be used again.

On a turn you place a worker (bee) or retrieve all workers. Placing workers allows you to gather or exchange materials, build out your hive, acquire workers or new Hive Frames that allow you to extend the hive, or draw cards that can be used for instant gains or late game points. If you retrieve all workers they generate income through your farms and bump up in power. Workers maxed out on power Hibernate, the worker token is discarded and a tile placed on the Hibernation Combs for a bonus and to compete for points.

Spaces are exceedingly limited and bumping happens regularly. Theres a lot of small details in this game you can work to chain huge gains in a turn. And each action feels unique with interesting choices to make. For example when you explore do you gain a bonus for revealing a new planet and filling out resources on it or revisit an old planet to get more stuff?

Its the kind of game where you need to dabble in a little bit of everything to make it work. You need to plant a few seed cards, get a carving active, play the queen’s favor, build out your hive or at least one frame, work your faction bonus and upgrade it. And the more you make these elements work in concert with each other the higher your score will be.

I absolutely loved this game and am excited to play it again sometime soon. There’s a fat stack of factions with different abilities and starting resources and we saw so little of each tile stack that its very hard to have similar games every game. It was also helped by having one of the most thorough appendices of a game I’ve seen, with each card numbered and explained. I highly recommend Apiary and if the game appeals to you then you should most definitely check it out!

[blindmagdalena]

❛ i realized what was the matter, what had always been the matter — i was deeply and incurably in love with her. ❜ 👉🏻👈🏻

Anonymous asked: Hi :D can i have a ❛ i’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me. i love you. ❜ with a pining homelander? :D AO3 Link. Familiarity and consistency feed a base need in all of us; stability. For Homelander, there are precious few things in his life that offer him any of the above. People come and go. It's the nature of the business. He's stopped paying attention to the PA's, interns and other worker ants that rotate in and out. Their faces blend together in a bland sea of normality and mediocrity. They're little more than cogs in the machine of his contrastingly extraordinary life.

Funny, then, that you should catch his attention amidst the buzz of it all.

It happens quite abruptly. He's just sat down before a brightly lit vanity, where it's your job to style his hair and makeup, as it has been for the last several months. You greet him good morning, as you do every time, but for whatever reason… He notices you today.

"Remind me, what's your name again?" Homelander asks, watching you draw a comb from your kit.

That catches you off guard. You stare at him for a moment before snapping to attention, smiling sheepishly as you introduce yourself. The name doesn't sound familiar to him. Had he never actually asked? Probably not. Why would he bother?

He hums. "You've been styling me for awhile," he notes, tone contemplative.

"Yes, sir. About eight months now," you say, using the comb to begin working product through his hair. You're fairly certain this is the most he's ever spoken to you in all that time.

To Homelander, that sounds like both a long while and yet no time at all. It's nothing in the grand scheme, but in terms of the people he sees consistently, that puts you in a shockingly small pool of individuals.

From that day forward, it's like you suddenly exist to him.

"Gooood morning," he greets you the next day, which comes as something of a surprise to you. He never initiates.

"Good morning to you, sir," you say with a smile that catches his eye.

You're actually quite pretty, he notices. Not exceptionally so, not like the celebrities and figures of social influence that someone like him brushes shoulders with on a daily basis, but... pretty nonetheless. He doesn't remember you being this pretty before, and speculates whether you've changed something about yourself. He cannot put his finger on what that may be, though.

Homelander waves his hand dismissively. "Please, Homelander is fine. You keep it awfully formal."

You laugh, pushing your fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter shut as you do. "I'm a creature of habit. Might take me a couple tries to adjust," you warn, covering his forehead with your palm as you spritz product into his hair. He likes that you never let any of that sticky crap get on his face. You always take care of him, taking all these little measures to ensure his comfort, even though he’s never complained. You seem to do it entirely out of reflex simply because you care enough to.

"Well, you've made it this far. You've got time to adjust," he says. Now that he's seen you, he doesn't care for the thought of you being gone.

More and more, he starts looking forward to the time he spends in the chair with you. What used to be a monotonous aspect of the celebrity side of his life has become a comforting ritual. The two of you chat easily, like old friends made new. He tells you about himself, vents to you about work and personal business alike, and in turn he learns about you, and the life you live beyond the time he spends with you. It’s nothing extraordinary, not like his, but it's yours.

The more he grasps that you are an entire person outside of the service you provide him, the more he wants to know. He doesn’t give a fuck about your elderly cat, but he does like the way your voice changes when you talk about it. His mind drifts when you tell him these little anecdotes, and he wonders what you tell the people in your life about him. He wonders if your tone changes when you do. Do you speak fondly of him?

Days turn to weeks, and weeks to months. Little by little, Homelander discerns small changes in himself. There’s a slight pep in his step these days. The sun feels a little warmer, the thrum of crowded events less irritating. His attitude towards interviews flips; even the ones he used to dread, he begins to anticipate. He knows you’ll have him looking and feeling his finest. When he has nothing on his schedule to be styled for, he sulks.

On those days, he misses your laugh. He makes sure the products he keeps at home are the same as the ones you use. The smell of them reminds him of the smell of you, of your knock-off Dior perfume that fades too quickly after you apply it, which makes it just perfect for his keen sense of smell. The subtlety of you, your sincerity and gentleness, have become a boon against the corporate, unfeeling reality of his day to day life.

On the days he does see you, he begins to miss you before you’re even gone.

Now, as he walks to his next scheduled appointment with you, he’s painfully aware of the beat of his own heart. His stomach is twisting in on itself, though he isn’t hungry. If anything, he feels a little… nauseous. The closer he gets to the door, the louder the cacophony inside of him becomes. Is he sick? That shouldn’t be possible, but he can’t understand what’s happening to him.

Pausing just outside the door, Homelander takes in a steadying breath. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Collecting himself, he gives his face two quick pats on either side, shaking his head. Get it together , he tells himself, stepping into the dressing room. “Gooood morn–” Homelander cuts himself short, looking around the room. His brows pinch. He knows he isn’t early. Pursing his lips, he takes a brief stroll about the room, clutching his hands behind his back. He peers down the hallway, cutting through the layers of wall with his vision. No sign of you on the grounds yet. He clicks his tongue. You’ve never been late.

Unable to settle, Homelander paces for a while. He has the thought to call you, but he realizes he doesn’t have your number. Why doesn’t he have your number? It seems such a silly, obvious thing to have, despite the fact he’s never needed it. He’s just pulled out his cellphone to track it down from Ashley when the door suddenly opens, and his head snaps up. The initial relief he feels is cut sharply short, turning cold in his chest when the person who steps through the door is not you.

“Good morning!” The woman greets him, chirpy and fake, grating in Homelander’s ears. She’s not really happy to see him. She doesn’t know the first fucking thing about him. His leather gloves creak as he curls his hands into fists.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks, voice as measured as he can manage it. His anger comes in an unreasonable surge. This woman’s only crime is the fact she’s not you, and yet it’s enough to make him want to rip her head off her shoulders.

The woman hesitates in the doorway, her friendly demeanor flipped immediately to a fearful one. “Uhm, my name is Lisa, I’m supposed to style you to–”

“Where is my stylist?” Homelander interrupts her, stepping close, prowling towards her like a hungry predator. He says again, louder this time, voice full of anger and anxiety in equal measure, “Where the fuck is my stylist?!”

“I– I don’t know!” Lisa yelps, stepping backwards from him. “I was called in as a last minute replacement! They said– they said there was an accident, or–”

Homelander pushes her roughly out of the doorway, blowing past her with a frustrated growl. She hits the wall before crumpling to the floor like a sack of potatoes, but he doesn’t even register it. Why the fuck didn’t anyone think to tell him?

“Ashley!” He snarls into his phone the second she answers. “Tell me where the fuck my goddamn stylist is.” ~~~~~~

Homelander is at the hospital within minutes. The staff puts up a meager effort to enforce protocols, but he IS The Homelander, and they inevitably let him through.

You’re sitting with the hospital bed halfway reclined, wearing nothing but a hospital gown when he steps in. The vibrant reds and blues of his suit paint a sharp contrast to the stark white walls of the hospital room. You have a pudding cup in your hand, though you nearly drop it when you see him in the doorway. His hair is unstyled, splayed loose in every direction from his flight.

“H-Homelander,” you sputter, choking on your bite of pudding. You swallow, clearing your throat. He’s walking towards you. The closer he gets, the faster your heart beats. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” He asks, blowing off your question entirely. He blinks, and his vision flickers. He scans your body for internal damage, for broken or fractured bones. You’re not wearing a cast or anything, but he needs to be sure.

You nod, clutching at the blanket, wearing your confusion plainly on your face. “Yeah, I’m okay, it’s probably just mild whiplash, but I’m getting an x-ray to be–”

“You’re fine,” he breathes, more to himself than to you, though his relief is palpable. He can hear the flustered patter of your heart clearly. With the adrenaline wearing off, he’s beginning to feel that sickly familiar feeling that he had experienced in the hallway; butterflies rampant in his stomach, battering their wings frantically inside him. His jaw feels tight, his tongue too big for his mouth.

Staring at you now, frail and precious as you are in this ugly hospital bed, he realizes what’s the matter, what has always been the matter– he is deeply and incurably in love with you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking in his tortured expression, his wildly wind-swept hair. It would make you laugh if he didn’t look worried sick.

“No,” he says, the response knee-jerk. Even though the room is still, he feels as though the world is spinning around him. “No, I think… I think I’m in love with you,” he says, expression twisted up, like he’s figuring out each word as he says them.

Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches in your lungs. The bewildered confession utterly paralyzes you.

Homelander laughs. It sounds a little hysterical. “I’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me,” he says, reaching out to cup either side of your face in his gloved hands. “I love you,” he says, voice firmer now, the realization setting in fully. He looks a little delirious with it. He’s discovered a secret that he should have known all along, that seems so obvious in hindsight. Of course he loves you, because you love him .

The gentleness in your hands as you touched his face, the care in your fingers stroking through his hair far longer than both of you knew you needed to.You dedicated yourself like no other to showing him reverence in service, and is that not love in its purest form?

And yet, you don’t look to share his elation.

You feel like you’ve been struck by lightning, tingling all over with pure shock. You’re not sure if you’re lightheaded because of his words, or because you’ve forgotten how to breathe properly. Either way, you manage to suck in a shaky breath, blinking several times.

Homelander’s smile falters. “What’s the matter?” He asks, tone dropping slightly. “This is good news! Great, even.” For every second that you do not speak, the beat of his heart feels heavier in his chest. Why don’t you look happy?

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You lift your hands and grip his wrists, squeezing them through the thick fabric of his gloves to convince yourself that this is actually happening. Maybe the accident was worse than you thought, and you’re hallucinating. “I never… I never would have thought, or even dreamed, in a million years… You would love me back.”

Like a dying flame stoked back to life, Homelander’s demeanor reignites, his fading smile broadening once more. “I was worried when you were late,” he says, leaning closer to you. He’s near enough that you can smell the ozone lingering on his skin from the way he tore through the sky to reach you. He huffs a laugh that feels warm on your lips. “They sent in some idiot to fill in for you, like they could replace you that easily. I almost tore her head off,” he muses quietly.

Your brows furrow. “Wait, what?” He almost did what now?

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

You shiver with it, nodding minutely, eyes falling shut. “Please do.”

Homelander’s lips are unbelievably soft against yours. You can’t help but melt completely against him, relaxing fully into his grip. Maybe it’s the pain meds, but you feel like you’re flying. Your stomach is doing backflips while his lips move against yours, gentle and exploratory, learning the feel of you.

When the two of you break apart, you exhale, laughing breathlessly. You move your hands to touch his face. You’ve seen it countless times, been close enough to kiss it a dozen more, but the barrier of reality has always been a thick wall from it. You scarcely let yourself fantasize about it, let alone come anywhere close to acting on such thoughts.

Glancing up, you cannot help but laugh more earnestly at the wild splay of his hair. “And people wonder why I use so much gel,” you murmur, pushing both of your hands into his hair to smooth it down, cupping the back of his head. Homelander smiles so wide and boyishly, you can’t help but kiss him again.

“I’m not out of my mind on pain meds right now, right?” You ask quietly, the tip of your nose lightly pressed to his. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he purrs, kissing you gentler than you thought possible. “You’ll be seeing a whole lot more of me from now on.”

Maybe you’ll send flowers to the guy that rear-ended you this morning. You’re pretty sure he changed your life forever.

[photon-crest-art]

Some extra weather phase ideas for Misty that I made. These ideas save for sandstorm (That was a spur of the moment mode inspired by me and some friends talking about her in a Pokemon AU) have all been floating around in my headspace for a while, and I figured of all the drawing ideas in my backlog, this one wouldn't be too tedious to make. Might as well get it out before my fixation on TTCC inevitably goes away and I lose motivation to work on most of my ideas relating to it.

Some notes about each weather phase below the cut:

~I'm on board with the headcanon that Misty's weather states represent the emotions she's feeling at that given time.

That being said, cloudy is weather happens when she's feeling happy, for once. Iin battle this would end up being the one phase that benefits the Toons fighting her besides heavy rain. Seeing the boatyard's best weather in a while would make the Toons smile, granting them Cheer for the entire duration of the phase.

A little bonus fact, by the way, this state was inspired by that Twitter comic featuring her and Mary. Did you notice that Misty's hair starts turning lavender from the bottom in the 2nd panel? That's basically why I settled with lavender here instead of say, pure white.

-Sandstorm occurs when Misty feels nauseous. Her hair turns a sickly brown, like a dried up pond during a drought, while hundreds of sand particles orbit around her head. The amount of dust hinder vision, decreasing the accuracy of both Toon and Cog attacks (Though, Toons do get a greater penalty than the Cogs).

-I haven't quite figured out everything for snow and hail, so I'll talk about them together. I don't how snow would work in battle, but I think in terms of Misty's psyche, I'd think it represent her in contemplation. I don't really have a reasoning as to why, those are just the vibes I get. Obviously this state is likely only possible during the Winter or in the Brrgh, so it doesn't always occur when Misty is like that.

Hail, on the other hand, I'm unsure about emotion it'd represent. Jealousy? Spite? Apathy? I dunno. As for its battle effect, it applies damage over time to Toons and Cogs, though like with sandstorm, Toons end up getting the shorter end of the stick and take more damage. Maybe to differentiate it from oil rain a bit more, it'll do damage at both the beginning and end of every turn it's active on.