#niche humor befor I pass out

[mossywizard]

I am the world, surrounded by evangelistic symbols with definitely not two dicks in hand

Just a queer pagan trying their best in a Christianize world

#geniunly love the world tarot card I’m being deriviratice to make myself laugh #with these two dicks I’ll club the sea prince #ie #hot and steamy #Baal really just took a nap with mot for seven years and gave the Prince no after care #niche humor befor I pass out #if ur curious ask and I’ll ramble tomorrow

[ckret2]

Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing." 

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut. 

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted  from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking." 

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #ford pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ RP STONT ] — the publicity date

minji and y/n’s first (not) date.

WARNINGS ; mentions of diet and calories, self comparisons

[DECEMBER 5, 2022. 9:36PM]

y/n sat quietly, watching as hybe’s company car left the two girls at the niche cafe that she had been to since she was a trainee (she should have never mentioned it to her manager).

the vents blew cold air, and it was as if reality hit her. this ‘was an actual thing 'date’, the one that she had to do with the person who reminded her of everything she wasn’t, she had been made to do this by her company. she had to sit here and pretend to be friendly with the girl who has and could probably ruin her life again.

the idol looked around, spotting a cameraman eating what looked to be street food on the side of the curb, and a woman sitting a couple tables behind her and minji.

y/n turned back around. she wondered if she should actually talk to minji since they would be stuck here for the next hour or two. it wouldn’t physically hurt to talk to the younger girl, but it would definitely hurt her pride.

she watched her, noticing that minji was looking at her phone with a worried expression.

she cleared her throat, hesitantly asking, “are you okay?”

“my kid’s trapped in the washroom.” minji blurted out, her eyes terrified. she completely forgot to tell danielle that she was in charge while she was out. the last time that had happened, haerin had managed to get hyein’s arm stuck in the vent.

they had to call their manager and a fire department to fix the situation.

y/n’s eyes widened as minji continued to explain. “i think hanni locked her in there.”

y/n blinked at her, not really knowing what to say.

“what?”

minji swallowed, picking up her phone as it pinged again. “nevermind.”

y/n scratched her head as she pulled out her phone, updating her members before setting it back down. this was awkward (and the comment from earlier had thrown her off for a loop), and not the usual 'i hate you’ type of awkward, but the 'what do i do?’ type of awkward.

she looked at a worried minji’s scrunched-up face. the older idol smiled lightly. she hated to admit that she found minji irritatingly cute at times. it wasn’t fair that she hated someone so pretty.

she took a deep breath, trying to push her pride down just like chaewon had taught her before. she just needed to be civil. that was all.

minji, however, beat her to it.

“um,” minji cleared her throat, an awkward smile on her face as she clutched her phone. “what drink are you going to order?”

y/n looked at her closely, trying to wonder what the girl’s motive was. the minji she knew wouldn’t be this nice… would she?

she watched as minji smiled awkwardly, waiting for the older girl to say something.

“probably a frappucino,” y/n replied.

minji nodded, looking as if she was dying to get rid of the tension between the two. the leader had never been good at keeping cool in situations like these.

y/n took a breath, deciding to humor the situation. if she was gonna be stuck doing this every other week or so, she needed to make being around minji bearable.

“what about you?”

minji looked at her for a moment, shocked that y/n actually responded with something that wasn’t a sneer or a glare. she couldn’t believe hanni was right (and she hated it).

“probably an iced americano.” minji nodded, picking on her phone as she watched a waiter pass by. “you know, it’s low on calories.”

“you shouldn’t be worried about that.” y/n said without thinking. minji felt a blush spread across her face. “i mean, this situation’s already stressful enough. just get what you want.”

“it’s not that easy.” minji shook her head, frowning at the simple thought.

“yes, it is.” y/n scoffed, watching as the girl in front of her glared in disbelief. “calories are just numbers. yunjin-unnie taught me that.”

“but—”

“you shouldn’t be such a kiss ass to heejin-nim.” y/n spat out. she watched as minji recoiled, realizing that she fell back into the habit of getting angry at minji. y/n took a deep breath. “diets are stupid anyways.”

minji didn’t know why she felt flattered. y/n wasn’t usually this harsh with her words, but minji couldn’t help but feel like the older girl meant it with worry. maybe minji was reading into it too much because y/n was finally trying(?). either way, the leader felt herself staring at y/n as a camera flashed outside the window.

they looked at each other, both holding back a sigh.

“is the frappucino here good?” minji asked.

y/n felt pride in her chest. “it’s not bad.”

minji watched as the older girl tried to push down a real, genuinely happy smile. she had never seen that on y/n before, at least not because of her.

a feeling spread across her body, but minji couldn’t tell what.

“i see.” minji nodded.

minji grabbed her phone, on her way to text who y/n assumed was hyein (minji’s 'kid’?).

to y/n, hyein had always been someone she knew looked up to her. the young girl would follow her around back during their trainee days, only to be scolded by haerin about the importance of space (something y/n greatly appreciated).

and hanni… well, y/n already knew much about her.

minji quickly looked up as a waiter briefly passed them. luckily, it caught his attention, and the waiter paitently waited as minji scanned the on-table menu in front of them.

“can we get two frappucinos,” minji pointed, looking through her options. two items caught her eye, something that she knew y/n would’ve been familiar with. “two grilled cheese sandwiches and a blueberry muffin?”

the waiter nodded, quickly scurrying off as minji looked up from the table to find y/n extremely flustered.

minji looked at her curiously.

“you remembered my usual when i was a trainee?” y/n asked, covering her face as she spoke. she bit her tongue, trying not to smile at the almost sweet (maybe even romantic?) gesture.

“it’s not that hard to memorize.” minji shrugged, wondering why it was such a big deal to the girl. “you always ate the same thing each day.”

“yeah, well…” y/n looked away, a part of her now feeling guilty about her treatment to the girl.

she quickly shook it off, realizing that now was not a good time to deal with something like this. she was here on a publicity date, not to think about her deeper thoughts with someone who reminded her of who she should’ve become.

y/n stared at minji who watched as the waiters passed their table.

“how’s it like?” y/n asked, minji’s head snapping towards the girl. “in new jeans, i mean.”

minji’s eyebrows furrowed. she assumed that there wouldn’t be any talk about her group since it seemed like a sensitive topic for y/n, but this was the first time anyone actually asked, and it wasn’t like y/n was evil. she was just annoying.

“it’s not like how i expected it.” minji shrugged, another flash outside startling the two. y/n urged her to continue. “it’s easier than being a trainee, but it’s harder because i have to take care of other people.”

y/n nodded, hating the sinking feeling that she felt in her stomach. she hated that minji was the right choice and not her.

she bit her lip, another waiter passing the two by with another table’s food. “hanni says you’re doing a good job so…”

“oh.” minji could feel herself blush at the compliment. she closed her eyes tightly before exhaling ('what is wrong with me?’). “that’s good.”

y/n nodded, the two staring at each other before another flash made itself known. y/n rolled her eyes, subtly gesturing at the man standing outside with a thousand-dollar camera that was definitely freezing himself to death.

minji bit back a smile, another photo getting taken, reminding her that this wasn’t an actual outing that she had agreed on. the two had been left here by the company earlier.

she cringed, thinking about the comment she had made earlier as she rehashed the events.

minji cleared her throat. “about earlier—”

“hyein?” y/n asked, a playful grin on her face.

minji chuckled, the two girls clearly knowing what the youngest was like. “she doesn’t really listen to anyone except haerin.”

“she listened to me.” y/n stated, smirking slightly as she watched minji get irritated. she loved having something above the younger girl.

old habits die hard.

“that was for a different reason.” minji rolled her eyes, hating the smug look on the older girl’s face. the leader sighed. “it’s just that… she’s a good kid, but i get worried sometimes.”

y/n’s face dropped slightly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the amount that minji was opening up to her. she wasn’t sure if normal people were like this, but if this meant that she would fight less with minji, y/n would do it (for the sake of the team, of course).

“what do you mean?” y/n tired to push her discomfort down.

“sometimes i feel like she’s growing up too fast. sometimes i feel like she’s not growing up enough.” minji ran her hand through her hair, her eyebrows furrowed from stress. “i get worried that i won’t be able to help her because she doesn’t listen.”

y/n winced, realizing that this was probably how sakura and chaewon viewed her.

she didn’t want to say anything, the topic hitting a little too close to home for her, but she couldn’t imagine how minji (and chaewon) was feeling.

the idol thought to herself, thinking about her leader and what she would say to her (she made a mental note to hug chaewon as soon as she got back).

“you shouldn’t worry about that too much. i can tell she looks up to you.” y/n said, clearing her throat. she looked down, watching herself play with her hands. “i hate to say it but i agree with hanni. you were the best choice for their leader.”

“oh.” minji tried to bite back a smile. “thank you.”

y/n nodded and tried to respond, but another flash startled the two. she turned to face the man, trying to signal to him to lessen the photos, or at least turn the brightness of the flash down. the older man gave her the middle finger, causing y/n to scoff loudly.

minji laughed as the older idol silently argued with the man in the street, a large grin on her face.

y/n turned to look at her briefly with a bewildered face before turning back to the paparazzi, but minji felt something when their eyes met. something that she shouldn’t have.

her stomach quickly sank as she realized that this was all supposed to be fake. she and y/n were never supposed to be here in the first place. they weren’t supposed to get along, and they were supposed to hate each other. she wasn’t supposed to be laughing at the idol arguing with some dispatch idiot who was freezing on the street.

this wasn’t supposed to happen.

but minji didn’t know why it bothered her so much.

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@fav9yu @gojosrug @lizseos @captivq @invusblog @writingficsblog @wonyoluvr @limbforalimb @lethalvenus @archerheejin @bibrinastan @ahnneyong @theeyoon @phamminji @chaersly @misumiausworld @afiaaaa19 @yumtooki @oshyci @txtbrainrot @falling-intoo-deep @0310lvr @yizhoutv @rinpopz @serenitygrace24 @noiacha @marimo-anura @sserajeans @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @rd0265667 @li0ilthecxnt @dmndtears @rosiehrs @yeridaenggi @spritin @cecedrake2217 @meltingbluess @jeonsy98 @haerinstolemyhrt @ssambf @awkwardtoafault @babycubchae @perfectsunlight @forever-in-the-sky2

#kim minji x reader #minji x reader #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #le sserafim x reader #newjeans smau #smau #idol x reader #silantryo

[cannibalcoyote]

David Bowie: The Actress

Imagine David Bowie being interviewed, and the conversation suddenly focuses on you:

David Bowie's POV:

"So David, in the newest music video you had a lovely woman beside you. Would you mind telling us about her?" The question caught me off guard, we had previously been talking about advice for younger artists, so this was a drastic change.

I find myself tilting my head in confusion, Y/N was a well kept secret. She is beloved by all of America, yet somehow managed to stay hidden away from all of Europe; but I never thought she was so niche that the British media couldn't find any information on her.

The interviewer noticed my change in mood, deciding to reword her rather blunt question.

"I don't mean that in a rude way, we know that she is the lovely actress Y/N L/N. I was simply wondering how it was that you stumbled upon her... Over here many haven't even heard of her." She leans forward, eagerly awaiting my response.

"Of course, what would you like to know?" I don't really know what to expect, Y/N is quite the spectacular woman, and the questions are sure to be spectacular as well.

"Well... How did you two meet? Did her people contact you? Was it pure chance?" The interviewer clasps her hands together as she awaits my answer. I start thinking about how I got in contact with her, having to stifle a smirk at the memory of her manager's surprise when he learned that David Bowie wanted Y/N in his newest music video.

"I reached out to her." I state calmly as I imagine her serene voice, smiling slightly as I replay her moments of stubbornness during filming. She wasn't a rude sort of stubborn, but she stuck firm to her beliefs, and always knew how to win my approval.

"You did!?" She's clearly taken aback at hearing I specifically wanted such an 'unknown' actress starring with me. I can't help but want to sigh in annoyance, Y/N deserves much more recognition for her amazing skill. Her acting is stunning, and I learned over filming that her musical talent is just as brilliant, if not better. That reminds me, I'll have to ask her about a possible future collaboration.

"Yes... I had seen her in the film 'Poem to a Murderer,' and had subsequently written a song in admiration of her. Then when the song was chosen from my album to get a music video, I simply couldn't pass up on the chance to meet the wonderful actress herself." She was breathtaking in that film, gaining both my admiration and attention in the psychological thriller. The interviewer nods in thought, mulling my answer before opening her mouth to respond.

"Can you tell us anything about her role that caught your attention?" There's so much I could say, so much I want to say, but I don't want to spoil the amazing movie. How do I word this into a short sentence whilst still exclaiming my admiration for Y/N?

"Well, the movie itself was a beautifully written and produced piece of art in itself, disturbingly surreal in a way with the imagery they created. I don't want to spoil too much, but I can tell you that every second of that film keeps you on your toes, and Y/N's character kept me on the edge of my seat every scene she was in." I can't help but praise everything about her. She was exceptional in the film, and started me on a search to find and watch everything that she starred in.

"Ever since the music video, theories about you have been flying all through England. Any chance there might be some truth to them?" She asked the question so bluntly that I'm almost stunned. I'll never get used to interviewers being borderline rude while asking intrusive questions.

"Well it really depends on what's being said. I always have rumors circulating about me." I chuckle slightly, both in humor as well as hidden disdain at the truth of my statement. I am slightly intrigued about what she is talking about specifically, what theories have formed about me this time?

"I have sources who claim to have been on set during filming. They said you two were incredibly flirty with one another. They reckon a romantic fling occurred behind closed doors?" Her question isn't said cruelly, she genuinely seems curious; as does the audience from the looks of it. I hate these questions, why does everyone always have to spread rumors?

"Sorry to disappoint you, but there was no 'romantic fling'. Y/N was a very polite and professional person, so much so that I actually thought she didn't like me at first." I laugh through the latter part of my sentence, but I also cringe faintly at the feeling of dejection I had during that time.

"Really! She didn't like you at all?" This is becoming vaguely annoying, I tell them something, then they restate it wrong.

"That's not what I said, I said I thought she didn't like me. During the beginning of filming she was very closed off and focused, but even when the cameras were off she was professional to the point I thought she didn't like me." I explain with a sigh, remembering those moments where I shyly would try talking to her, only to be met with what I perceived as a closed off response.

"Oh, but... did she like you?"

"Luckily she did. It was funny, I remember the specific moment I realized that she didn't hate me. We were filming the fight scene, and the person I was sparring with, Jeffrey Callos, actually caught me in the jaw." I explained before she burst forward in astonishment.

"You were punched? Bet he got the sack." Her eyes are wide open as she surveys me, the crowd laughing lightly at the second half of her sentence.

"Ha ha, not quite. You see, my crew plotted this because they said I was being daft thinking she hated me. I had bet that she would stay in character and play it off, maybe even laugh. Practically everyone else bet that she might kill Jeff."

"Well! What did she do!"

"Funny enough, she nearly killed Jeff... " The audience burst out laughing at my statement, the interviewer and I were chuckling as well. I waited for everyone to settle before continuing my story.

"No no, she didn't kill him. She did run right over, fretting over me and asking if I was okay before running off IN HEELS to get me an ice pack and towel. I can't tell you the relief I felt at that moment. I was worried that she really hated me, but deep down she was incredibly caring and very sweet." I feel embarrassed in a way, describing how caring this reserved woman became when she saw me topple over from the punch.

"So... Does she know? The truth I mean?" Her question is quick to follow my explanation, so quick I don't understand it completely.

"What's that now?"

"Does she know the truth? Did she find out it was a set up?"

"Ah, yes well, it is kind of hard to miss when everyone is smirking at us as she helped me up. I had to explain the situation, and she got awfully flustered." A warm smile spreads across my face at the memory of her with a deep blush across her cheeks.

"I almost thought she would punch me as well, but she just kissed my cheek before saying she could never hate me."

"Aww." The crowd 'oohs' and 'awwws' at the story, I admit that the memory has me blushing slightly as well.

"She seems like quite the memorable lady." She smiles at me, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Oh, she was great... I only wish I could've gotten to know her better, but her manager was getting calls for her every second of filming. She's probably much too busy to even remember me." I drop my smile slightly, I hope she remembers me, because I'll always remember her.

"I wouldn't say that David." Her response caught me off guard, what's she talking about?

"What do you mean?" My tone shows a little confusion, but I try to keep a check on my emotions.

"You know we invited you here to not only talk about this album, but also your future role in the film Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence?" She's grinning widely now, but I just want to know what she's building up to already.

"Yes... But what does that have to do with Y/N?" I squint my eyes slightly as I watch her sit up sharply.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the lovely Y/N L/N, who will be starring alongside David Bowie in Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence." The shock on my face must have been priceless as I turned and watched as Y/N gracefully walked towards us, the crowd's cheers quickly shifting into a mixture of giggles and laughter.

I stand up quickly, wanting to be polite as well as impress her. I may have neglected to tell the interviewer, but I did develop a slight attraction towards Y/N during filming.

"Hello Jonesey." Her sweet voice has me ignoring the name, a wide smile erupting across my face. She leans forward to hug me, kissing my cheek softly in greeting before shaking hands with our interviewer. I wait for her to sit before following suit, nervously glancing sideways to see her smiling at me already.

The crowd cheers for a few more moments, gradually beginning to quiet down.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Jonesey?" I blush at the nickname, remembering when she first started calling me it. I don't even know how it started, but she first called me 'Jonesey' to make me laugh when I was filming a serious scene in the video, and laugh I did. From then on, 'Jonesey' was her go to nickname whenever she saw me.

"It's only been a few weeks, love." I grin, patting her hand gently as it rests on the armrest. Surprise gripping me as she lifts up my hand to her lips, gently kissing it before speaking.

"Too long for me." She smirks playfully to me, and I offer her a warm smile in reply before nervously glancing away.

The crowd has quieted down enough now, hopefully not noticing the intimate moment that passed between us.

"What was that? Seems like a lot more than costars catching up." Of course, the interviewer is sadly never one to miss a possible question. My mind stutters as I try to think of what to say, luckily not having to.

"I just love making Jonesey blush, surely he's told you that."

"What do you mean miss L/N?" Oh no, why do interviewers always manage to dig up embarrassing personal things. I'm usually okay with this, but being so near Y/N just has my mind fried.

"I mean, hasn't David told you of all the times I purposely just tried to make him blush during filming? I have a wonderful amount of memories where he couldn't even get a word out with how flustered he was." She giggles at the end of her sentence, lightly shoving my shoulder humorously as a blush dusts my cheeks again.

"David? You've been holding back on me?" The interviewer looks at me in a jokingly accusing way, crossing her arms as she looks at me.

"Nooooo... I've just been.. Selectively sharing?" My voice is uneven, I couldn't even form a proper sentence when she was near me. I glance to Y/N as I practically ask my sentence, waiting for her to nod in confirmation before shifting back to the interviewer a little more confident.

However, that confidence was a little damaged when the audience laughed at the interaction.

"Well, I think we know who wears the pants in the relationship. Anyways... " The interviewer continues on as I struggle to try and find my words to argue with her, but I'm quickly silenced by Y/N's gentle tug on my sleeve. She pulls me back in my seat, quietly whispering in my ears,

"You can show me who's the boss after... " Her words are delicate, no longer exuding the confidence from earlier, clearly unsure of how I'll respond.

The interviewer continues rambling, but I simply gaze deeply into her eyes, calmly kissing her hand in response before we both turn our attention back to the interviewer. But we aren't really paying attention, our minds wandering to scenarios of what might play out when this interview finishes.

#david bowie fluff #davidbowiemusic #david bowie imagine #david bowie x reader #david bowie #david bowie fanfic #david bowie one shot #david bowie fanfiction #david bowie x y/n #x reader #x you fluff #x you #female reader #female insert #female writers #female artists #rock star #interview #david bowie x famous reader #famous reader #celebrity reader #actress #actress reader

[dgaftilwedie]

Ghost sona!!

(See post I just made)

YIPPEEE :DD

What era are you from?: the early 2000s :33 introducing the ghosts to scene culture one niche reference at a time

What’s ur name?: im keeping my name :33

How old were you when you died?: probably like early 20s or something

Image of what your ghost outfit is: sumthin cute n silly like dis :3

How did you die?: probably something like very stupid. im thinking like.......... probably really bad food poisoning because i drank coffee that i left out all night.......... probably died tryna get to the shitter LMFAOAOAO

Occupation before death?: author :33 i spend all of my free time writing anyways xD maybe i had a secret side gig as a singer or something silly like that

Ghostly power?: whenever someone passes through me, they get a really bad stomach ache

Which of the other ghosts are you closest with?: thomas and julian for sure!!!! me and thomas bond over writing and poetry and each other and me and julian have a very similar sense of humor :3 i'd get in the middle of their quarrels and encourage them to keep going at it cuz i think it's funny xD they're my fav bois ever what can i say......

#kira momentz :3 #yippee :D #asksies :33 #timi!!!

[merbear25]

It's anon 🌻🐸 here!! Thanks for writing my matchup again 🥺🥺🫶 honestly I appreciate the efforts and time taken to write it!! It was actually fun to write my first ever matchup and I didn't know I did it differently from others fhjff

Also congrats on reaching your 200 followers milestone - for the event: can I ask for prompt 2 for Denmark?

I hope you're doing well and 2024 has been treating you well !!

Hello again lovely! I deeply appreciate your kind words and wish the same for you. I'm so happy that you enjoyed your personalized quiz! I hope you like what I've written for you 💜💜

CW: SFW, gn!reader, fluff, friends to lovers trope

Love that'd gone unnoticed

Reconnecting with long-time friends filled you with bursts of energy; you wanted to know everything about what'd been going on in their lives since the last time you spoke. Sometimes it felt as if you were meeting again for the first time, what with how much they'd changed.

While you sat waiting for Denmark to enter through the cafe door, your daydreams began exploring the possibilities of who he might've become. Once passing over that threshold, however, you were faced with that same lovable smile he'd always had.

The conversation flowed as if you'd never left each other's lives— instead having only said your goodbyes a short time ago. He was excited to tell you about everything he'd been up to and was just as animated when you shared your success and stories. That familiar sense of supportive and caring nature brought out the fond memories that'd been packed away.

Not wanting to lose any more precious time, you two were just as inseperable as before: the sense of humor and jokes you'd share were still prominent and, more importantly, things felt like they picked up right where they'd left off.

There was hardly a dull moment when you two were together. You were each other's go to when no one was interested in seeing niche movies and the best company when the days felt a tad gloomy.

How could you two have ever grown apart like you had? The reason for it seemed like a blur, a distant memory. Perhaps, you'd just become distant as many do. Whatever the reason, it didn't have any relevance to the present.

However, on one of your many nights going to a late showing of a cult classic, the air between the both of you was thick with tension. You weren't sure if you'd done something or if it was just in you imagination. He wasn't coming right out and admitting to there being an issue, although it was more than apparent—he wasn't a very good actor. Deciding not to push, you did your best to brush it off by keeping an upbeat attitude, thinking that you'd let him come to you if there was something weighing on him.

Despite your best efforts, your attempt seemed to have failed. On the drive home, the atmosphere felt like it had yet to be cleared and was now filling the inside of his car with sufficating awkwardness and uncertainty.

Pulling up to your place, a long sigh dragged out of him. He put the car in park and turned to you, "What are we even doing?"

His question brought on a flood of familiar dread. Butterflies were faintly stirring in your lower stomach as you asked what he meant exactly.

"It feels just like last time, doesn't it?" When you still weren't getting it, he continued, "I mean, we spend so much time together and everything..."

Sorting through the mess unraveling inside your mind, you hurridly tried to come to the conclusion: did you have feelings for him too?

"I just...All I know is that I adore being with you and I don't want to lose you again." Your chest heaved at the thought of him leaving your life again: no more laughing fits that left you in tears or silly outings that you'd think about while you were at work.

"I like it too. I really like it... I'm not sure if—"

Before he had the chance to finish his train of thought, panic at the possibility of saying goodbye again took over, leading you to land a clumsy kiss on his lips. It was backed by an elixir of fear and passion and was met with certainty—an understanding that you were meant to be together.

When you pulled away from him, you felt like you were seeing him for the first time. His eyes scanned your face, and when he leaned in for another kiss, you welcomed him with open arms.

#follower event #x reader #hetalia #aph hetalia #hetalia world series #hetalia denmark #aph denmark #hetalia world stars #hws hetalia #hetalia axis powers #hetalia aph #hetalia world twinkle #world stars hetalia #hetalia beautiful world #aph

[lilyfreshwater]

edit: keeping this post on my blog because i think the captainsparklez analysis is good but disregard everything i say about joko

it's so funny when joko says shit like "it's hard to not be bitter when someone who watched your content is more successful than you" because i immediately think of captainsparklez and how he's the top OG og minecrafter for like 99% percent of the mcyts today. like he was considered a pillar of the community during the smplive days, and now the smplive ccs are the ogs to the current generation of mcyts, like joko said. captainsparklez is essentially one of the most, if not THE most, watched creators for all of the 2nd and 3rd wave mcyts, and do you see him complaining? hell no. he's definitely ironed out his own niche now, but when he talks about the success of the current generation it's from a place of awe rather than jealousy. and whenever someone talks about him or includes him in a current project, he's appreciative. yes joko never saw success in any way close to what captainsparklez had, but at the same time he refuses to acknowledge how the new generation pays tribute to him and his friends content. tommy's content and humor alone has borrowed so much from the smplive era, which is something he's mentioned several times, and yet joko sees tommy's success as an insult rather than a compliment. i understand being frustrated about stagnating as a cc and feeling like the world passed you by before you were ready, but that's no excuse to bring the younger generation down in the process

#i dont really know where i was going with this tbh but i was thinking about it alot

[meme-sauce]

🖊 for river please!!

Ooh ah! So in my world, there are "prime" humans, who evolved like us (offset of apes), and then there are humans who followed this successful pattern but in different biological niches. (So they're anthropomorphic humans). They are called "sub" humans (more politically correctly referred to as "subspecies of humans," though even that phrase has its connotations) as they are not protected/recognized by law, and much of the premise of this story surrounds the struggle against that.

River meets Ja'mira after a few months of hiding out in the forest by her village, and she provides him with some provisions for a while in secret. He is a fish subspecies who ran away from his home in an ocean cove. He was born almost human passing, except for gills on his ribs and webbing between his fingers. However when he was itty bitty, he was playing hide and seek with his brother (he has like 100 siblings because... fish eggs. Fish subspecies don't lay as many eggs as fish, but they do have significantly large litters), a pair of hunters killed and carted away his sibling in front of him. In a fit of grief, his mother cuts off the webbing in his fingers to hopefully give him a better chance of living among prime humans.

He leaves his home to A. get away from his over-protective (yet still very loving) parents and because B. he is not as well suited to ocean life as the rest of his family. That is, except for his adopted sister Aanora who was taken in after a shipwreck washed her up on the shore close to where he lived.

He wears crocs and a shirt with a shark on it that says "shark bait" because he thinks it's funny. He is sly and quick witted, with a more subtle humor and has a keen intellect. His name is unpronounceable to prime humans, so when Ja'mira first meets him, he is nameless.

However, at some point he and Ja'mira are sitting on a water bank and he decided on his human name. She points out that this is not a river, this is a stream. River has never actually seen a river, but still thinks it fits.

The catalyst of the story is when he is captured by the Science and Technology division of the government at the orders of the first antagonist, Psyche. Ja'mira and Aanora go to recuse him, and realize multiple subspecies have been captured and experimented on - this is how they meet Pet (who is a sub-villain who is later "reformed"). A plan is hatched to free the rest of the subspecies, but soon they realize how deep and intrusive this discriminatory evil goes into the workings of the government. The rest of this first arc is in proving the worth and equality of subspecies before the World Council takes a deciding vote on the subject.

Here are a few sketches I've done of him in my recent classes!

I'm still not sure what kind of magick he has, but subspecies either have no affinity or a very powerful affinity. He has a very powerful affinity.

Thank you so much for the ask! I know this ended up being more than I anticipated. I just love talking about my mind blorbos.

#oc: river #neuveyo #my writing #writing stuff #ask #oc: Ja'mira #oc: aanora #oc: pet

[thatfanficstuff]

Her Three Kings - 22

A Volturi Kings x ofc story

Warnings: mean people saying mean things. a little angst. mentions of bella. oh noes. 

A/N: This ones not edited. Sorry. Let me know if there’s anything glaring. 

dividers by firefly-graphics

As time passed, Liliana’s things slowly migrated into her mates’ rooms. It was done without discussion or fanfare and duplicates appeared when needed. In the same vein, belongings from all of her mates made their way to her room. It wasn’t as prevalent as less time was spent there than elsewhere but their lives had all mingled just the same.

She also took on more responsibility as their queen. She still sat trials only on occasion, but she was on hand to greet visitors and receive petitioners. Her skill with words had also led to her taking over most of the written correspondence. They’d also started to include her in their private meetings though to be fair she spent as much time working on her own things during the meeting as she did contributing to their discussions.

Lily had found her niche. Her home. She no longer knocked before entering her mates’ space. She didn’t require their approval for every decision. Didn’t want them to read every letter or email before she sent it off. She no longer flinched every time someone called her queen.

A beautiful spring morning found her strolling through the gardens with Sebastian. She had grown closer to the guard in recent weeks. He reminded her of a slightly more sarcastic Demetri and they had similar sense of humors. His arm brushed against hers as they walked but it didn’t faze Lily in the slightest. Sebastian had always made it a habit to stay closer than the other guards. He was like that with everyone though. Always wanting physical contact of some sort. He hadn’t stepped over a line and she’d be swift to correct him if he did.

They were returning to the castle when she heard two familiar voices in conversation. Heidi and Chelsea. Lily smiled. While the women weren’t her best friends by any stretch of the imagination, they all got along well and Lily enjoyed excursions around town with them. She prepared to call out to them, but a hand on her arm stopped her. She glanced to Sebastian and he motioned for her to listen. Lily tilted her head as if that would improve her hearing.

“To be honest, I’m surprised that she’s still here,” Heidi said.

There was a light laugh from Chelsea. “She’s their mate. They aren’t likely to kick her out.”

A little pang of hurt flared in Lily’s chest as it became obvious they were talking about her.

“Mate or not, they had to be hoping that immortality would suit her more than it does. That it would fix all those flaws. And she’s so damn clingy. It’s like she can’t function on her own.”

Was that what people really thought of her? Were all of the friendships she’d made here false?

“She’s not that bad,” Chelsea argued. “But she’s certainly not who I would have pictured with any of them. She just doesn’t quite measure up, you know?”

Lily slid a block down on her emotions. The last thing she needed was the kings asking why she was so upset. Tears leaked from her eyes and she wiped them away. “Are you alright?” Sebastian asked after they heard the women return to the castle.

She didn’t look at him as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. She nodded once and headed toward the door. He steered her through the halls with a hand on her arm only stopping when they arrived at the stairs leading to the private residence.

She paused before heading up the stairs. “Please don’t mention this to anyone. If it needs to be dealt with, I’ll handle it.”

“If you’re certain, fiore.”

Her gaze found his. That was the first time he’d called her by the name the rest of her guards used. “Thank you,” she finally said before heading to her room.

Though Liliana tried to forget about the events in the garden, her thoughts continued to turn to it at the oddest times. Three days had passed and she was curled up on the sofa in their common area reading a book. Normally, she would have been near one of her mates, but she’d been trying to be conscious of the time she spent with them. She didn’t want to bother them. Or for them to get tired of her.

When they found her, she closed her book and gave them a small smile. They all kissed her then Aro sat beside her and pulled her feet into his lap. He rested his hands on her legs as he looked her over with a concerned expression. “Are you okay, cara mia? You have been…quiet.”

A glance at her other mates showed them with the same worried expression. “I’m fine, my loves. I’ve just been thinking more than usual I guess.”

“Are you certain?” Marcus asked.

She offered her hand to Aro who took it to scan through her thoughts. All those pesky thoughts she didn’t want him to see were blocked. He’d never read them. When he finished shuffling through her memories, he kept hold of her hand. “I am glad everything is fine, but don’t hesitate to talk to any of us if you need something.”

“Of course,” she assured with a false smile.

Much to Liliana’s dismay, the situation with Heidi and Chelsea was only the beginning. And it wasn’t even limited to them. Not that everyone was suddenly mean to her or anything, but they were certainly more distant. People that used to seek her out just to spend a few moments with her she hadn’t seen in weeks. When she took the initiative to track people down everyone was too busy to talk.

The only people she spent any real time with anymore were her guard and her mates. Even the Cullens weren’t talking to her as much as she was used to. It got to the point where she hardly left their floor unless needed for official business. Her mates had noticed the change but Lily continued to assure them that nothing was wrong. No distress came through their bonds and Aro saw nothing of note in her memories, so they let it go. She still enjoyed spending her time with them, after all, and that was the most important thing.

Lily was sorting through petitions in her office when Demetri poked his head in. She gave him a smile and sat the papers aside. “What can I do for you, Demi?”

“The Masters are requesting your presence in the throne room at once, Mistress,” he offered. She arched a brow and he smiled. “My apologies. Fiore.”

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

He left with a nod and she headed into her bedroom. It was but the work of a moment for her to find and dress and put it on. Not knowing the reason she’d been summoned, she slid on a pair of flats before rushing off to her mates.

She arrived to find them sitting in their thrones awaiting her arrival. Several guards stood around the room but no one else was present. Aro held out his hand and when she took it, he pulled her down to sit in his lap. “Hello, my love. We believed you should present for the next petition. It appears young Edward Cullen has something he wishes to ask the Volturi.”

He raised a hand to have Edward brought in. When Liliana would have moved to greet her brother, Aro kept hold of her causing her to frown. Ed mirrored her frown but it seemed for a different reason.

His gaze shifted from her to her mates. “I was hoping I could speak to the three of you in private.”

Oh, that hurt more than it had any right to.

Caius narrowed his eyes. “Liliana is queen. She has as much say here as we do.”

Edward looked torn for a moment before putting his shoulders back and standing straight. “Very well. I have come to petition the Volturi for death.”

Lily clenched her teeth to keep from gasping. What the hell had happened in the months since she’d seen her siblings?

“I must say, Mr. Cullen,” Marcus said, “we are very surprised at such a request.”

Aro placed his hand beneath her chin and turned her head to speak in her ear. “Do you suppose your family knows anything about this?”

She answered silently as he still held her hand and could easily read it. Alice may know due to her gift but they never would have allowed him to come with such a request at least without warning her first. At least she hoped not.

He released her with a nod and she turned back to study Edward.

“I’m afraid before we could even consider such request, we would need to know why you wish to die. After all, you are a gifted member of our family,” Caius said.

The corner of her mouth kicked up at her mate’s use of the word family.

Edward looked surprised for a moment before he said, “Would you ask for explanations from someone else that made the request?”

Caius huffed a laugh. “Don’t be absurd. We’d have Aro read his mind.”

Eddie held his hand out. “And he’s free to read mine.”

“I think not, Edward. I’m rather comfortable,” Lily said, trying to sound bored with the entire conversation.

“Lily.”

“Edward.”

“Please.”

“If you’re mature enough to ask for your death, you’re mature enough to explain why,” she snapped.

“She has a point, Cullen,” Caius said.

“My mate is dead,” he finally answered, his focus on the floor rather than the vampires in front of him. “She killed herself and it’s my fault.”

A mix of confusion and hurt rolled through Liliana. She hadn’t heard anything about a mate from any of her family. Surely, he wasn’t keeping it a secret from them. “I wasn’t aware that you had found your mate,” Marcus said after a pause.

“I had. Her name was Bella Swan.”

Lily frowned. “I thought Bella was your blood singer, not your mate.”

Finally, he looked at her again. “She was both.”

“You must be aware of how very rare that particular combination is,” Aro argued. “After all, we shouldn’t wish to eat those that are most precious to us. It makes dating very awkward.”

Liliana smiled and relaxed against his chest, allowing him to hold her closer.

“Well, what is your verdict, mia regina? Should we give Mr. Cullen that which he seeks?” Marcus asked when Edward had no response to Aro’s words.  

Edward’s brows shot up. “You can’t be leaving this decision up to her?”

“Of course, we are. You’re her brother,” Caius said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Sorry, Eddie. No dying for you today,” Lily said.

“Fine. I guess we’re done here, then.”

When he went to leave, Lily held up a hand. “Stop him.” Two of the guard stepped in front of him to block his way. “Put him in a room under guard. He’s prone to acts of stupidity.”

Aro nodded to the guard and they led Edward from the room while he protested loudly. Lily reached into the inside pocket of Aro’s jacket and pulled out his phone. She dialed Carlisle’s number and waited for him to answer. “Aro, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Edward’s a dumbass.”

“Hello, Lily.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “I am very much aware of my son’s tendency to overreact. I take it he found his way to you, then?”

“You knew he was coming here?” She couldn’t believe the rest of her family would just let him go on what was essentially a suicide mission.

“Not until Alice had a vision, no. She’s on her way to you now.”

“And none of you thought to call?”

“It’s not as if you’d let anything happen to him. Though I suppose a bit of warning would have been appropriate. Apologies.” Carlisle still sounded entirely too amused.

She hummed in acknowledgement.

“You should also know that Bella isn’t dead. Alice’s vision wasn’t what she thought.”

Lily couldn’t help an abrupt laugh at that bit of news. “Oh, I bet the pixie’s pissed.”

“Annoyed might be the more appropriate word, but yes. They should be there in a few hours.”

“Alright, pop. I’ll call when everything’s settled.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She handed Aro back his phone and glanced at her mates who were all watching her. “Sometimes family’s a real pain in the ass.”

#volturi kings fanfiction #aro volturi fanfiction #caius volturi fanfiction #marcus volturi fanfiction #volturi kings x ofc #twilight fanfiction #aro volturi x ofc #caius volturi x ofc #marcus volturi x ofc #series #her three kings

[lunasalix]

Things I did as a child and/or still do that should have clued someone in that I was autistic: a continuing masterlist

1. Toe walking. Constant as a child, only do it now when in sensory or emotional overload

2. Not understanding jokes. This is one of my most painful recurring childhood memories: adult makes a joke, I miss it and either stare blankly or answer seriously, then my lack of understanding becomes the joke.

3. Everything is so. itchy. I refused to wear most clothes purchased for me because they were itchy to the point that I would cry within minutes of having them on. I am still very selective about clothing materials.

4. Turtlenecks gave me panic attacks. My grandmother was obsessed with them and kept buying them for me. My parents wanted me to show appreciation by wearing them when I saw her. I would scream and hyperventilate when my parents were trying to put them over my head.

5. Extreme reactions to water running on my face. I would lose my mind of a drop of water ran down my face in the bath. It was very difficult to wash my hair as a result and hairdressers would get mad and think I was neglected. I have tricks to keep water off my face in the shower now.

6. No eye contact, or only when absolutely necessary. This is still an issue.

7. Related: I read lips when talking to people because I have auditory processing disorder.

8. Subtitles on everything or I don't understand half of it.

9. Most people get songs stuck in their head. I get songs and also words and phrases that replay sometimes for days.

10. Extremely niche interests in which I became an expert of sorts. Some examples: mythologies and world religions, reptiles, medical science, genetics, sfx makeup art, music including specific artists, drag, trees, vulture culture, etc.

11. Hand flapping. Especially when disgusted or shocked.

12. Foods must not mix. Eat all of one thing on my plate at a time before tasting the next.

13. Apparently this is one: chewing only on one side of my mouth, switching to the other side if that one gets annoying.

14. Carbs and sweets preferred to the point i sometimes go days without protein.

15. Not realizing I'm hungry/thirsty until I near the point of passing out. I have passed out 4 times from this.

16. Related: not realizing I need to use the bathroom until it's almost too late. I have had 3 accidents as an adult.

17. Hygiene. Without a very strict routine like I had in college, I will only brush my teeth once per day and only bathe once every few days.

18. Executive dysfunction. I want to do the thing. Desperately. I'm thinking about this desire to the point of distress. I'm not doing the thing.

19. Certain textures cause sensory overload. Brushed metal is one of the worst.

20. Not finding the majority of comedy funny. I instead have a very strange sense of humor that only works for other neurodivergents.

21. Strong sense of morality and justice. People find me difficult to be around because I will point out their prejudices and moral missteps.

22. Digestive issues. It started with lactose intolerance and has developed to pre-Crohn's. I did not know that I had digestive issues until I was nearly an adult because I thought everyone hurt when they ate. I learned when a friend told me about her son's digestive issues in relation to his autism diagnosis.

23. Anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember.

24. Social scripts. If the other person goes off script, I flounder.

25. Friends with mostly neurodivergent people.

26. Do not understand gender roles or societal standards in general. I have dressed alt since I began choosing my own clothes. I rebelled strongly against being told to act "ladylike". I am asexual biromantic. Many of my friends are also in the alphabet mafia. Passionate about social issues.

27. More comfortable with animals than people.

28. Hyperfocus. No explanation needed.

29. Misophonia. Whistling is a big culprit. It gives me thoughts of murder and rage.

30. Skin picking and hair pulling OCDs.

31. Strange postures. T-rex arms, tree posing, crossed legs while standing, double-crossed when sitting.

32. I study psychology and sociology obsessively in order to better understand and interact with the neurotypicals around me. I almost never spoke in grade school, which was interpreted as me being stuck up, but I was actually studying everyone around me and cataloging their behaviors to become better at masking.

33. I was diagnosed as gifted. I attribute this largely to my ability to pick up on and replicate patterns. Give me an example and I can run through the assignment in no time.

34. My speaking tones are often misinterpreted as rude or condescending. I'm still unsure what I'm doing to cause this.

35. Often accused of being "too blunt" or crossing lines. I've mostly figured out what's acceptable in different situations at this point, but sometimes it still happens.

There's so much more. I'll add to this as I remember them.

#autism #adult dx #masterlist

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Interview: Fane Lavellan

Thank you for the tag @dungeons-and-dragon-age! I’ve been eyeing up this meme for a while actually, so this was perfect timing! X3

This takes place Post-Trespasser, about a month or two after, in fact. Solas brought the idea forward, and of course, Fane refused. But after some coaxing, some explanation as to why, and the promise of a whole cake, Fane agreed to humor the request. 

*THERE BE BIG THINGS REGARDING FANE HERE* 

I got carried awaaaaaay! XD

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can, but it’s a lengthy list,” He sighs, “...Those who are close to me, who see as but an elf, call me Fane. Those who wish to meet cobble, call me Lavellan or Herald. Those who are blinded by reverence call me ‘He Who Flew Above’. Denizens of the Fade refer to me as, ‘Devotion’ or ‘Tenacity’. However, my true name is..” He sighs again, “...Aterian. I rarely go by it, but the truth won’t be ignored. It never can be.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“Male. Elvhen. Dragon.” He huffs through his nose, shifting his gaze off to the side, “That’s all I’ll say on that. As for orientation, I’m...emotionally driven. If you asked me to look at another and tell you what’s attractive about them I would say, ‘Nothing.’ I don’t know them, so I feel nothing for them.“ He shrugs, turning his gaze back, but brandishes a glare, “There’s only one person who defies that response, and that’s because he knows me, without and within. More than that, is none of your business.”

Where and when were you born?

He lifts a hand, massaging a temple, “The ‘where’ is simple; Elvhenan. Specifics are lost to me, however, so you’ll have to be content with that response.” He shifts his gaze downwards, slowly crossing his arms, “As to when?” He sighs heavily, “...I have no answer for that other than: I’m roughly the same age, if not older, as Solas. Does it matter, honestly? Numbers fall through the cracks after a specific threshold is crossed.” What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

He unravels a crossed arm and guides his hand downwards, tapping the pommel of a sword he has fastened to his waist, “Sword. I use either long swords, short swords, or great swords.” He raises an eyebrow as a question is forwarded, “Shields?” He sneers a bit. “I don’t use shields. They get in the way, and anyways,” He raises his hand once more, the expanse steadily beginning to glow blue and silver before a spectral coating of scales cover the entirety, “this is better than any shield. I prefer the front lines, the place I can make sure no one breaches, and the lingering memory of what I once was makes sure I can do just that.” He dispels the scales and shakes out his hand before returning it to his crossed counterpart, “It takes energy to maintain, but I’m getting better at holding it for longer.”  Lastly, are you happy?

He blinks before his entire expression softens, two toned eyes shining with primary gold as they shift downwards, “...If you had asked that of me over twelve years ago I would have spat in your face and said, ‘Happiness doesn’t exist in this world’. But now..” He trails off, casting a sidelong glance towards one of the fortress’s entryways; a familiar voice sounding, firm, but soft, as if reprimanding a child, “...I understand what happiness is, and it’s in every corner if you allow yourself to see it.” His eyes shift back, holding a far away look and voice coming forward in a murmur, “I only wish we all could be happy; together.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

His face holds a conflicted look, as if the memory is painful before speaking, “Complicated,” he says before beginning to tap a finger against his bicep, “I had a mother. She died when I was fifteen from a wasting disease, but she was the picture of serenity. Calm, guiding, measured. Hair like moonlight. Eyes like a clear autumn day. She was--” Unbranded features twist with a look of grief, eyes going dark as his voice drops, “...I’d rather not speak of her. It still hurts to. It hurts to speak of any of them,” His eyes narrow, grief stricken expression turning somewhat bitter, “...Especially those who throw all you did for them back into your face because they refused to listen when you needed them to most. Even so, I still wish for her happiness. Cullen better be treating her right,” That bitter turns outright malicious, dark eyes going darker as another question is meekly asked, “Father? I have no father. I only had a monster that haunted my childhood, tore my token of devotion apart, and then stalked me in my dreams. So, no. I have nothing to say about that concept.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

He chuckles, “Many, many times,” He throws most of his weight into one side, tilting his head back as if thinking, counting, “I can’t even remember the amount of times I fled into the forests, to be honest. All I know is that it happened weekly, maybe even daily,” He brings his head back, snowy hair moving with the action to brush the tops of his cheekbones, “Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, snorting a bit at the meek response of, ‘Why so often?’, “Because I refused to endure being treated like a beast every hour of the day merely because I believed differently, or rather, not at all.” He sighs within the next moment, “...I wasn’t any better than the Dalish, though. I lashed out, I spat in their face, dragged their heritage through the dirt, inflicted harm from the smallest of things...” He squeezes his arms, eyes narrowing into a glare, but seeming to see through everything, “...The past repeats. An infernal spiral that will never slow.” Would you consider marriage or having children?

“Marriage? Children?” He blinks, pale visage suddenly going flush before he snarls, “Why do I need to answer those questions?!” The blush deepens and he responds despite his displeased expression, muttering and biting the inside of his cheek, “...Damned keen eyed elves. They know, don’t they? I swear if Abelas fucking ran that mouth of his, I’ll--” He sighs heavily, letting his head fall limp a bit in defeat, “...Yes. To both. The latter is already taken care of, as everyone situated in the Crossroads knows, but...” Pointed ears are now a deep shade of red, “...marriage is...on hold. War time isn’t an ideal summer wedding.” His voice drops, eyes shimmering as if he was before the person his heart yearned for, “...The sky deserves a venue better than a garden of death and deceit.” Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“There were those in the Inquisition who I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with,” he started before shaking his head, “but I didn’t hate anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own views and what they find important.” He scowls a bit, tapping his bicep once again with a finger, “...Even if they didn’t extend the same kindness to me in the beginning. ‘Do you believe in the Maker?’ ‘Do you believe you’re chosen?’ ‘You need to use the people’s faith. It gives them hope.’” He mocks before snorting harshly, “No. No, I don’t. Oh, that suddenly makes me trash? Ohhh. How terrible.” He scoffs. “Disgusting.” Which friend knows everything about you?

“Solas,” He says within a heart beat before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze away sheepishly, “He knows me without and within.” Emerald and gold blaze as the orbs go wide, the blush of roses coming back in full force, “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t mean--! Fuck! You better wipe that shit eating grin off your face, elf, or I swear I’ll do it for you!” He growls in frustation, throwing his hands in the air, “Why did I agree to this? What fucking dragon entertains an interview!? This is worst than the courts in Arlathan used to be! And that’s saying something!”

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

”I am literate. Sometimes to a fault, in fact,” He smiles a bit, “Poetry is my niche; a lingering memory of my mother. So, I speak cryptically at times,” He snorts, amused, “Although, I guess that isn’t much of a surprise since the Elvhen language is riddled in verse rather than practical application. Still, even some of the ancients left have a hard time deciphering my words,” He shrugs, smile turning into a smirk, “They never expected a dragon to be able to talk, I guess. Well, ta-dah.”  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

A somber expression flits across his visage and eyes, “...That, eventually, I would hurt the one person I never wanted to.” The corner of his mouth twitches, holding both bitterness and grief; a painful duo, “...And retribution came just as swiftly, but it--” He sighs, shaking his head in defeat before muttering under his breath, “Observe and accept. Observe that what came to pass was uncontrollable, and accept that it had to happen for your path to continue, for your soul to be complete.” What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

His face blanks, mouth going into a hard line before a sigh exits through his nose slowly, “...That I don’t have tail.” He snarls, blank expression twisting in warning, “Laugh, elf. Do it.” He nods in the next second when no sounds of amusement come forth, expression going stoic once more, “That’s what I thought. You try living centuries in one form and then transitioning. See what happens.” Do you have mental health or physical issues?

He nods, sighing tiredly. “Like my names, I have a lot.” A hand motions to his body lazily, “My entire body is littered in scars, inflicted through crude experiments by an abomination that sought power like so many others,” He expression sours, jaw working back a forth, “They’ve calmed over the years, but the memories are not so kind.” He sighs, trying to calm himself and lifts his left hand; the Anchor glowing faintly and his eyes watch it, “I have an illness, or rather, sensitivity to any Fade born essence. That, too, has calmed and I’m grateful for that. As for my mind..” He trails off, grimacing a bit as if suddenly in pain, “...Visualize the Void, and there’s your answer. Black walls with crimson torches, seats empty, but somehow wanting for memories to take their seats. However, those occupants never come, burnt to ash by fury’s flame. That’s my mind in a nutshell.” What is your current main goal?

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “Mm, as of right now, I’m busy helping Solas unlock the eluvians that he couldn’t while I was away,” He flexes his marked hand, watching it with a look of determination in his eyes, “That’ll take time, but after, my people, my kin will have their skies back. I won’t let this power be squandered, and I won’t let the key that I’ve been entrusted with fall into the wrong hands.” His face hardens further, “For if that key rusts, the locks break and the sky will blacken as surely as the earth will redden.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Drinks.” He says with ease, shrugging, “Food is comforting, especially sweets, but a glass of rum or ale, or a cup of chamomile tea really pounds the word ‘relaxation’ into my head.” Cats or dogs?

He smiles, warmth caressing its edges, “You’ve seen Nislean wandering about the halls, laying on the window sills and curling up in front of the fire,” He hums suddenly, crossing his arms again, “Which reminds me, I need to go out of the Crossroads for milk. I’ll be getting more than five bottles this time.” Optimist or pessimist?

“Depends on who you ask,” He shrugs, seeming unbothered, “I’m neither from a personal standpoint. I try to see the bright spots, but shadows can be very persistent.”   Sassy or sarcastic?

He snorts, “Ask Fen’harel,” his voice is light upon the title, playfully mocking in its deepness, “He knows all about that side. Although, he would label it, ‘insufferable’. I would call myself dryly sarcastic, though.”

Have You Ever

Been caught sneaking out?

He purses his lips, “Hmm. Not that I can recall,” he says slowly before his brows jumped and his eyes lit up with memory, “Oh! Wait. There was that one time where I was with Solas and Mythal in a...courtyard, I think?” He shrugs before shrugging, “Doesn’t matter. But, I tried to slip away, tail and all, and I...may have shattered one or two or three eluvians trying to get to the balcony.” He somewhat wistfully, smirking, “Elgar’nan got fucking stuck in a far off settlement for a week, though. Completely worth getting my horn chewed off by a wolf.” Broken a bone?

“Surprisingly, no.” He huffs in amusement, “Wonder of wonders, truthfully.” Received flowers?

“I have,” He scowls, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust, “but I always throw them into the fire. Most are from suitors, those who don’t know what the fuck ‘taken’ means.” Ghosted someone?

His face tightens, completely deadpan, “...No?”, he says, voice raising in question a bit, “At least I don’t believe so. But, then again...oh.” He blanks further, “...Oh. I understand the term now. You mortals are forever twisting the languages, aren’t you? I can’t keep up, but the answer is still no.” Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Maybe once or twice, but I don’t ‘laugh’ per say.” He huffs through his nose deliberately, “I do that; a puff of air. Some habits are never truly able to be broken. No matter the form.”

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @little-lightning-lavellan @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course!)

#oc: fane lavellan #welcome to the future! :3 #where fane is more complete and content but suffering in different ways #no one said the path would be easy *shakes head sadly* #again. fane is...a ball of many things and his titles and names show that XD #*thinks about writing post-trepasser shenanigans* :3 #fane used to fuck off elgar'nan as a dragon so HARD #maybe why the god vengeance decided to personally attack him #HMMMM. #dragon age #male lavellan

[t4tlawlight]

Occam's razor is the principle that, of two explanations that account for all the facts, the simpler one is more likely to be correct.

this post is going to cover traits specific to the manga and the television drama, since those are the best adaptations to showcase L’s autism. THIS POST is required reading before you read anything i’m about to type, because it explains what kind of character niche L falls into--an unintentionally autistic coded character. i’ll talk more about that at the end.

i’m going to talk about manga L first, since he’s the original version after all. i’m going to go in order of physical traits, to behavioral, to his character writing. also, tumblr eats posts that have outside links, so i’m going to have my non-tumblr sources in a separate post, here.

anyways, more under the cut!

MANGA/ANIME:

sitting with his legs up and spine bent / sitting on the floor

this is such a big one and its extremely common in ppl with autism. sitting in chairs normally is uncomfortable to outright painful w many ppl with these disorders, myself included. L sitting like that (which, to recall, is a blatant homage to sherlock holmes, another character that is so blatantly autistic coded you can find absolutely ridiculous amounts of writing on the topic) and being like "I HAVE TO SIT LIKE THIS TO THINK PROPERLY" is so autistic. like sitting in a certain way to give you specific sensory stimulus/avoid distracting discomfort and pain is a thing. i found this post (1) written by an autistic person on the topic of sitting in chairs being uncomfortable, and it says as much:

“I suspect that seating discomfort is common in autism (though by no means limited to autistic people). Many of us, particularly as children, benefit greatly from chairs designed to be non-stationary: rocking chairs, “fidget” chairs, and so forth. These can improve focus, compensate for proprioceptive hypo-sensitivity, and alleviate restlessness. In short, many “attention issues” can be fixed simply by providing a little motion for the person sitting. Small change, huge results. That's what accommodations do at their best. They make (often minor) adjustments that have profound impacts.”

so when L says that sitting the way he does, for a specific sensory experience, improves his ability to think, it’s perfectly in line with this idea. Also it’s a good pressure stim.

standing with a slouch / shifting his weight around

to begin: yes! it’s very common for autistic people to stand or walk oddly for a number of different reasons, from physical comorbidity to other issues such as dyspraxia (see: movie L). From an article by YAI (2), an I/DD (intellectual and/or developmental disabilities) community program:

“Kyphosis (a curved spine), collapsed chest, dropped shoulders and even scoliosis are observed in many of our patients. These myriad of postural issues may result from reduced strength, decreased biomechanical stability, or from a sensory impairment, such as apraxia. 

Depending on the scene, L has mild to severe kyphosis which is very common in autistic individuals. Other things mentioned in that article if you want to click on it is instability in standing, where you sort of shift your weight around a lot between your  feet or rest all of your weight on one foot, which L is literally doing the first time we see all of him.

speaking with a monotone voice.

i obviously can’t show a picture for this one and it honestly depends on the voice actor you find for L, but in the anime in particular L has a very flat tone. a lot of this is bc he has a dry sense of humor but. just know that it’s very common for autistic people to have a flat affect (or go the other way into being too loud/emotive).

his eating habits. 

a lot (a LOT) of autistic ppl myself included can only eat certain kinds of food for texture and flavor reasons. HOWEVER there’s a term in the autism community called “samefoods” which is really well put by tumblr users candidlyautistic and autism-asks: 

“Samefoods or samefooding is a community word to describe the autistic trait of eating the same food over, and over and over . . . It is part sensory, part routine driven in most cases. A lot of times we samefood because we need that particular mouthfeel / texture / taste, and a lot of times even after that need passes, it turns into a need for routine until you actively dislike that food again.”

“Samefooding on the other hand is closer to a special interest. When I have a samefood (chocolate ice cream, currently), I really, really want that food. I could eat that food endlessly and not get tired of it. I will get upset if I’m not able to have the food in a day. For me, it usually is kind of routine based as well. For instance, with my current samefood, I have some in the evenings and it’s become part of how I wind down from my day.”

we don’t know exactly why L specifically desires sweet food or if he considers it part of his routine, but what we do know is that he really wants to eat sweet food and avoids eating anything other than sweet food, so it could either be that he’s a picky eater and can’t handle savory or he’s samefooding on sweets!

wearing the same clothes

L wears the same clothes every single day. It’s also worth noting that what he does wear is baggy, too-big clothing, the kind that wouldn’t be tight and uncomfortable. once again, sensory issues are a huge thing for autistic individuals. one of my favorite aspects is that in no adaptation does he wear socks. even L wears shoes, he wears them like slippers, not putting them on all the way. people comment that he seems like he’s poor, but we know for a fact that he’s very rich and that wearing these clothes is a personal choice he made.

not caring for himself/outsourcing his self-care

i don’t think one day is exactly canon, rather it’s an exaggeration of what might actually happen--i.e. L doesn’t have a huge closet full of the same outfit, but he does have several versions of the same outfit on rotation; L doesn’t use a human washing machine, but Watari might help him/encourage him to bathe regularly. One Day is a parody comic, but it was made by the creators for a reason and that reason is that L pretty obviously relies on a caretaker (Watari) for his personal needs. Watari, in the manga proper, cooks and cleans and does most things for L. we’ll come back to this topic when we get to the drama though.

doing stimming behaviors

if you don’t know what stimming is, it refers to self-stimulating behaviors, usually involving repetitive movements or sounds. everyone stims to some extent, but in autism it tends to be more obvious, go on for longer, and sometimes be more disruptive to others. it’s often used to help deal with sensory overload, or used to express feelings--think of an autistic person being happy and flapping their hands in the air.

there are a LOT of instances of L displaying stimming behavior, from stacking his food or things on his desk, to spinning in his chair, to biting his fingers/using them to press on his lips, to wriggling and tapping his toes. here are some specific instances:

there are a lot more. i’ll talk about more when we get to dramaverse, but if you rewatch/reread death note it’s definitely worth noting whenever L does something like this!

detective work as a special interest

ok, first and foremost i want to establish what a special interest is. Tumblr user cartoon has my favorite explanation of what a special interest is that i’ve seen to date: 

“To have a deep, intense, passionate and incredibly focused / narrowed interest in a certain area of study, subject, topic or thing - to the exclusion of other interests. This interest is something that exists for the long-term, most often lasting for multiple months, years, or even you’re entire life “

L says that he only does detective work because it’s a hobby, and he finds it entertaining. We’ve also seen that he’s been at it for quite some time--if you take side content (the wammy’s house comic, LABB) seriously, then he’s been at it since childhood, with unwavering interest. it definitely comes across to me as L having a special interest in detective work, rather than it just being a normal hobby or a job for him, especially since he says it isn’t out of any moral obligation.

germaphobia

Germaphobia is very common for individuals with autism. a lot of the time it’s actually sensory issues associated with “dirty” things, and a lot of the time it’s because features of OCD are heavily comorbid with autism, including contamination OCD and such fears. regardless of the reason, though, L’s aversion to touching Bad Things is a very autistic behavior, and so is his resulting quirk that he tends to hold things in a very odd manner!

muted emotional expression

this is getting more into L’s character, but L tends to feel and express emotions in a very muted way. not to say he doesn’t have them, but for instance in the example above, L doesn’t have a solid grasp on what exactly he’s feeling. he thinks he might be acting irrationally and overemotionally because he logically should be afraid, but he isn’t sure, and none of these emotions present themselves visibly. 

i’ve also seen it said that Ukita’s death is another good example of his muted response to emotion--he tells Aizawa to stay rational and his voice doesn’t waver as he tells him as much, but he holds himself tightly. for someone with poor emotional competence, these physical signs of distress can be hard to read in oneself, but Aizawa (a man who is extremely in-tune with his emotions) can tell immediately.

high logic, low empathy

L is also a character who, like many autistic people, lacks a certain degree of empathy. it’s not that he doesn’t have any, but it’s limited enough--and he values logic over it enough--that he’s willing to make extreme decisions and take a “ends justify the means” approach (such as using people as bait.) in the example above, L takes a moment to work through what it must actually feel like, which rings as very autistic.

bluntness/not caring about social convention

there are so many examples of this i honestly could list them all day, but L is a character who is very to-the-point and doesn’t care about mincing his words. he can be outright rude to the people around him, especially if he considers them not worth basic courtesy. see: Matsuda. 

DRAMAVERSE

if you all knew me you should have known this section is inevitable. i’m not going to talk about every single adaptation because i do not have the time and the only other adaptation that is meaningful in that regard is the movieverse (i am fairly certain that movie L is dyspraxic) but on account of the fact that i don’t care about them i won’t subject you all to them here.

anyway, drama L shows much the same traits as animanga L above (they are, after all, technically the same character) but he displays them in different ways. 

he has a much more advanced degree of germaphobia, with Watari saying he’s sensitive to outside air and spraying everyone who enters his space with disinfectant, but not making them wash their hands or anything like that, so we can kind of tell that his issues are more rooted, again, in a fear of germs rather than any actual medical issue. he wants to feel as though he is clean, not necessarily actually be clean. this is very common in contamination OCD, which has a high comorbidity with autism. (my girlfriend has a very good headcanon post about drama L and OCD that isn’t so much analysis than just plain fun, but it’s worth a read!)

he stims, but he has a different array of stims than animanga L--he chews on his jelly pouch bottles, 

he tosses it between his hands, 

he kicks his feet,

and he bounces in his chair.

he still sits in an unconventional manner. he still samefoods, this time even more exclusively--he only eats Lucky Charge jelly pouches and nutritional bars. Watari onscreen puts his shirts on for him, as well as cooking, cleaning, and mending his clothes for him.

however, there are a few traits that are drama-exclusive that i think really add to an analysis of his autism!

social scripting

social scripting and echolalic scripting are both commonly described as “scripting,” but are very different! echolalic scripting is like echolalia, but echolalic scripting is the recitation of longer passages of dialogue from things the individual has heard before. but social scripting is when you memorize common conversations so you can rattle it off without worrying too much! this can be very handy, such as exchanging basic pleasantries or ordering food, but it can also backfire if someone responds in a way your script’s not set up for. you can find more information on the difference in this video (3). 

now, this relates to L in that there are two separate scenes where L says the same thing, rather inappropriately:

L: When I consider Kira’s personality, could it be that the strong-willed daughter is Kira? Or could that sweet-looking son of yours surprise us by proving to be him? You never know what humans are hiding beneath the surface... Soichiro: Enough. L: Sorry. It was just a joke.

-- Episode 2

L: Light-kun. Oh, I’m sorry... If I called you “Yagami-san,” it would be the same as what I call your father.  Light: That’s okay. Call me whatever you want. L: Then what about Kira? (silence) L: It's a joke.

-- Episode 4

one could say that L just has a terrible sense of humor--and, of course, having a poor grasp of humor is common with autistic individuals--but the fact that he says nearly the same thing as a defense twice makes me feel as though he has it rehearsed as a defense when people react poorly to things he’s said, which happens often.

mirroring and echolalia

echolalia was briefly covered in the previous example, but for those unaware, via wikipedia (4):

Echolalia is the unsolicited repetition of vocalizations made by another person (when repeated by the same person, it is called palilalia). In its profound form it is automatic and effortless.

mirroring, on the other hand, is explained as such, also via wikipedia (5):

Mirroring is the behavior in which one person unconsciously imitates the gesture, speech pattern, or attitude of another. Mirroring often occurs in social situations, particularly in the company of close friends or family. The concept often affects other individuals' notions about the individual that is exhibiting mirroring behaviors, which can lead to the individual building rapport with others.

both of these are very common in autism, and they’re exemplified while L’s character is established watching his favorite TV show, Owarai Paradise. On one occasion, he’s watching the show and this dialogue happens:

Hiroshi: Despite never telling her how I felt, I still got dumped. I am Hiroshi.  Watari: Who was this one again? L: He is Hiroshi. Hiroshi: I am Hiroshi. I am Hiroshi.

-- Episode 2

it’s important to note that in Japanese, “He is Hiroshi” and “I am Hiroshi” are said, at least in this instance, exactly the same, so L is echoing precisely what he’s heard.

On another occasion, L is again watching the show with a glass of wine (seemingly acquired simply to imitate the characters onscreen, as he never drinks it) and when the characters onscreen toast their glasses, L does the same, mirroring them. 

CONCLUSION

I linked a post at the very beginning of this analysis talking about how characters are unintentionally autistic coded, and it’s important to understand how this unintentional coding is different from a headcanon--i didn’t make up these traits. they aren’t something that only exist in my head that i ascribe to L for fun. 

i made this analysis both because i wanted to share L’s autistic coding in one cohesive place, because plenty of people have made lists before, but none that i could find that included so many examples with images and explanations--and i also made it because of the old ryuzaki persona “theory.” 

for those unaware, the ryuzaki persona headcanon suggests that L faked all of these traits in order to make people uncomfortable, to put them off-guard and better mask his identity. i’ve seen posts about people claiming that nobody could actually behave in these ways, that L would surely be unhappy and uncomfortable sitting like that, or eating like that, or engaging in any of these behaviors. I’ve seen some people outright say that L isn’t autistic, but his persona is--that is, he’s pretending to be autistic.

i named this essay “occam’s razor” because, to me, L being autistic is the simplest answer to account for all of these traits. claiming that an autistic coded character is faking it is ableist and it just doesn’t make sense with anything else we know about his character.

but if you want to know more about that, i recommend reading eyecicles’ first!L tag. it’s debunked it in more ways than i ever could.

anyways, in conclusion

#death note #death note drama #death note analysis #L lawliet

[aesthmodeus]

This post is gonna be a list of my personal dmmd headcanon's that I'm gonna update over the course of probably about a month until it's posted (started writing on 17.02, I WAS ALMOST RIGHT)

This includes how I imagine most characters smell like, I'm not the most visual person, so that's what I got in my head/nose when I was playing dmmd

RAN OUT OF SPACE for everything, so I'll finish in a reblog!

Sei

I imagine Sei having a very bad sight or even being nearly blind? I find it very likely that since his Scrap is used through the eyes and there have been a lot of tests/experiments done on them to understand how the power works, he probably doesn't see that well. (based on that+ I remember there being mentions that his gaze was unfocused?)

He obviously has that that typical dentist/hospital/antiseptic smell, but if he'd somehow leave the tower and live a normal happy life alongside aoba, I imagine he's smell like candy? Kinda that sweet scent you get in a handmade candy shop.

He'd never swear, but would rather use that christian mom™ type of things like 'Holly cow' etc

I wouldn't be surprised if Sei was scared of eating new food if it looked/smelled weird to him (which would probably be so much of stuff) if he'd be to survive the oval tower

Sei is somehow very jumpy, sudden noises scare him, but only if he's focused on the current situation

He has no sense of direction in unfamiliar places. If he's been on a certain route multiple times? Yeah he'll do just fine. If it's not a commonly taken path tho? This boy is about to get lost, watch him

Koujaku

Koujaku doesn't have depth perception and walks into stuff. Been there, done that, you're not that cool with one eye covered all the time

Most likely wear some kind of strong perfume/cologne to hide the smell of cigarettes

His apartment smells like incense, like, always, Aoba probably is mad at him for never opening the windows and accusing him of trying to suffocate them both

Koujaku is bad with technology, like, very bad. Aoba sometimes teases him when he calls for help with something very easy to set up. Overtime they both start to enjoy spending time, with Aoba just explaining hot to install/do something tho

Him and Mizuki tease each other about both of them being old, probably made a bet about who's gonna get a grey hair first

Noiz

Noiz has very poor blood circulation and his hands and feet are always cold

Alternatively he's always warm, and his hair is probably always wet under the hat

For some reason I see him hating dogs and cats, especially cats

Like, he'd be the type of person who when asked if he prefers dogs or cats, would muttered something about wanting to commit mass murder and answering 'rabbits'

He smells like fresh cut grass, cooked carrots and something slightly burned

Loves making stupid bets, the physical form of 'hold my beer'

Holds a whisky bottle in his desk drawer, although he probably casually sips on martini while at work

Somehow he'd get too invested in some niche sports and if you ask him about it during the Olympics? Get ready for a lecture about the whatever sport he's into now

Clear

Clear adjust to the dark very fast and easily (cause android duh) and his eyes have the tiniest glow in complete darkness

You can smell the faintest trace of flowers on him, but you wouldn't notice unless getting very close and personal

He would not let you leave in the morning without eating breakfast

And if you tried to drink/smoke etc in his presence, he'd give you a 10 minute lecture about how bad it is for your health, and would try to talk you out of it

Goes apeshit at any small animal, but absolutely despite's mice

Mink

Mink doesn't actually know how to drive and would fail on a driver's license test Probably in the first 5 minutes of the practical part if he somehow managed to pass the theory

Would complain about 'today's youth' at least twice a day Wouldn't know how to use a washer/dryer but would never admit it and just wash everything by hand. When asked about it, would not answer, but most likely look up how to do that after the fact and pretend he always knew

We already know he smells like cinnamon (which is how you detect poison in drinks for example btw, it's easy to hide with it) but I also imagine him always smelling like smoke with a hint of a forest after the rain

Mizuki

Mizuki smells like wisniowka (it's like vodka, but cherry? Don't ask, please) fruit (most notably apples and strawberries) paper and cigarette smoke

He's the type of person who secretly enjoys gardening and has a whole family of plants in his apartment

He talks to the plants sometimes, especially if he's drunk

He watches true crime documentaries

He gives me strong vibes of someone who had a big stuffed animal and still sleeps with it, so he has something to cuddle

Mizuki got his allmate because both Koujaku and Aoba had one and he finally gave in and bought one, cause he didn't want to be the odd one out

When he's tattooing, the ferret(is that how that animal is called?) fetches tissues, extra needles or bottles of ink if he forgot to prepare them before

He has the worst sense of humor, and loves to tell dad jokes to tease his friends

How old is he? You'll never know, he stays young forever

Is bad with technology, although not as bad as Koujaku, and tries to catch up with the newest stuff from time to time

#i ran out of space #dmmd #dramatical murder #headcanon #dmmd2020 #mizuki dmmd #koujaku #dmmd noiz #dmmd ren #dmmd koujaku #dmmd clear #dmmd mink

[grabthemhorns-old]

Leviathan’s NSFW alphabet - Obey Me!

Had a little inspiration for him today, and a few requests, so here y’all go. Lets Lewd the Otaku uwu

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- Levi has always been one to seek validation, comfort and reassurance afterwards from his partner, no matter the role he took - and with you, it’s no different. Little questions of ‘was that okay?’, ‘are you okay?’ whisper against your ears. ‘Did it feel good?’ touches your neck and you laugh, only to see him duck his head, embarrassed. But you quickly vanquish his doubts with a kiss and touch, smothering his insecurities until all he feels is your body wrapped around him again.  He’s clingy, needy, and talks a lot, sometimes to himself as you drift off to sleep, curling to sleep how you like. He’s very much one to work around you. How you want to sleep, to move, to relax - or not - after sex. Once, he’s been reassured. 

He also enjoys playing some lazy games on his phone with you, or just next to you afterwards for a wind down. He likes to draw out your afterwards as long as possible, and sometimes into some aftersex too. A gentle finger, a stroke of his tail, wrapped around your cock. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-There’s little about his body that Levi actually likes, especially when in human form. He feels there’s nothing special there. Why would you even look twice when you have six brothers who are a thousand times more attractive than him? But...when in demon form, his confidence grows. He feels more himself, relaxed, intimidating, and dare he even think it - sexy? He likes all his demonic features; from the jagged horns, to the patches of scales, more intense on his hands, stomach and legs; to his reptilian eyes and tongue; and his most favourite part - his tail. It’s long - almost nine foot - with opalescent scales, so smooth beneath your touch, that please oh please run your hand along. There are days he feels like nothing still, when in his demon visage. But when you come along, you try and make those days quieter. -Levi is a chest man - no matter the gender. He loves all of them no matter the size. He’ll smother them in affection, attention, being stimulated himself by touching them and seeing what his touch does to you. If they’re big enough to give a titty wank - do it.  -Also, Levi loves feet. This has trickled down in keeping his own feet in good and healthy condition to match what he desires in others. He loves to wash your feet, to later them in cream, longingly rolling his thumb over the skin as he pulls soft moans from you. Eventually, he’ll kiss them if you want. Suck your toes. Beg you for a foot job. Ask to come over your feet, covering them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-When Levi cums, there’s a lot. More so than anyone else you’ve been with, or seen. Also, with his demon form being what it is, it’s bioluminescent. He loves to see it paint your skin and really, really has a thing for finishing on your body. Anywhere. But especially your chest, face and in special occasions, feet.  

-Levi can come a lot during a session. More than you probably expect.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- This boy has a lot of dirty secrets. But one, is that he likes to quietly jack off while on the phone. He’s good at keeping quiet, because he sometimes does it too when on voice chat.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- Levi is no virgin, he knows what to do. But he maybe hasn’t had as many partners as some of his brothers, and it gets to him sometimes. He feels like he’s making up for that with watching and reading enough porn and hentai, though. It’s not all about learn as you do, right?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- Levi likes to see you. To look into your eyes when you or him are getting fucked. Part of it is he’s always wanted to see someones face to read their expressions, to know they’re being honest with their body language, and part of that insecurity bleeds into his sex life. Reassure the boy everything is fucking great.  -You on top - if he’s being sub or dom - is one of his favourites. It’s versatile, hot af, and he can rub his hands all over your chest and watch his cum spill out of you and all over him. -But on the flip side, fucking/pegging him in the ass, with his face down onto the pillow, biting it to shreds with his fangs, tail up, wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady, sometimes encouraging - or even pulling you into rhythm - is an absolute favourite of his.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- Levi can be awkward a lot of the time and it can turn into goofy and humorous, more than serious. Especially the longer you’re together and he becomes more relaxed, being able to laugh more at himself when he’s awkward and fumbly.  - Also, a lot of your sexual activities with him lend themselves to the more goofy side. Cosplay, roleplay, your dynamic with his foot and tit fetish - you both end up having a lot of fun. You laugh a lot with Levi during sex. And one morning when he’s eating you out and you knock his horns with your leg and he slips off the bed and you try and catch him but then you both end up on the floor in a tumble of limbs, laughing together, so relaxed, you can barely believe it’s the same demon you first met who could barely look at you without blushing.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- It varies with Levi. He’s often smooth, taking inspiration from the porn and hentai he watches. But Levi is also lazy, so he lets it grow out a lot too. When you both get together, he’s smooth, wanting to appear his best for you. He’ll ask you what you want, and you’ll ask him what he wants. And after that, he lets it grow out, a soft, trimmed, blue bush sitting above his cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- You can feel Levi’s intensity, you can see his intimacy, but he tries to shy away. To pull it back. To lock it away because he doesn’t deserve it; or if he shows too much, you’ll run away. Levi doesn’t know where the middle ground is or where to stand. You both give him time to figure it out, and encourage him to show - to pull away that hand that covers his face a little bit more; to let you hear the muffled mumbles that he speaks into the pillow instead of your ears. He whispers them against your shoulder one time instead, and you catch a few of his strained, gentle, romantic words.  Levi slowly opens up, and he’s an expressive lover. Hands and touches and looks - especially looks - and smiles and laughter and lip bites and tail twitches. When his words are lost against your skin, his body speaks for him instead.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- Levi masturbates a lot. And it doesn’t really change when he’s with you. He likes to do it with you too. He’s also into the thrill of you catching him masturbating, so he’ll do it close to when you’re to come home, or in the next room to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- Roleplay. Well, of course. What weeb isn’t gonna wanna dress up as favourite characters with their partner and then fuck each other. You’re surprised at first how good Levi is at the roleplay. But he’s really good at playing a character - someone that isn’t him? He can do that - and do it well. He has a lot of fun with roleplay, dipping into his cosplay collection and also helping you make/buy outfits and cosplay if you want, or simply get into character if you don’t want to dress up. He has the imagination.  With roleplay comes master/mistress play. Levi really enjoys this, especially being in the submissive role. He doesn’t have a preference of what outfits or toys or restraints - if any - to wear. He likes the master/mistress to decide that for him. He wants to take it outside the bedroom one day and let you have complete control over the entire day and his actions. But he’s not quite got the courage for that yet.  Levi also enjoys playing out some rather niche scenarios in roleplay. The darker the better. This guy reads darkfic and has problematic fantasies that he loves to consensually act out with his loving and supportive partner. -Degradation and humiliation. I mean, this one is canon.  But Levi, naked, on your floor, as you enact your seal so you refuse to let him go into demon form even though you feel so much how he wants to. You refuse him. Making sure he sees you use his seal - and feel it. You kneel down before him, fully clothed. Close enough to touch. But he can’t, because he’s pinned in place by the pins of the pact. But your gaze is enough to hold him.  Slowly, you begin to unfasten your shirt, making sure he watches. Every movement, listening to you breathe, watching as you lick a lip.  “You’re disgusting,” you whisper, so close he can taste the sugar on your lips. “Look at you, in that human flesh, begging to show the scales you don’t deserve.” You spit on his face. He flinches, wide eyed, wondrous. Closer, you lean closer, until you lick his cheek, letting your spit fall down the other.  -Feet - I touched on this above. But yeah. Levi’s into feet. Especially beautifully manicured. He’ll do it for you. And take his time. Make him do it for you in master/mistress play. -Smothering - sit on his fucking face until he can’t breathe. He wants to feel like he’s going to pass out while pleasuring you - while giving you all he can. He particularly enjoys doing this while waiting to see how long he can last until his demon form comes out to help him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- Anywhere that you both have complete privacy. Levi is almost up for anything as long as he is away from prying eyes that might mock him or see his ugly body.  He loves to do it on your bed. To cover your bed with you both; to smell your scent while you spit humiliation into his ear; to see you claw your sheets while he fucks you raw.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- There isn’t much Levi needs to get him going. A brush against his leg; pushing aside his bangs, your fingers lingering; your laugh too close and your breath tickles his neck; you bend over. He’s just a simple man.  But, he’s also very stimulated auditorily. The shifts in your voice; the way it changes tone or depth depending on where you are, or how close you are; your laugh; the pitch of your voice when you’re angry; the drawl when you’re sleepy on the phone; the roll of your rs; that soft little hmm you do without realising.  Also, he attaches songs to you - and also moments.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- Being made to do most of the work from a closed off partner. Levi needs that give and take, back and forth. Please tell him what is working, if he’s doing good, what you like. Feedback, feedback. Silence is a turn off to Levi. He wants noise; he wants words; he wants to know how you feel!!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- Levi prefers to receive, only mostly because he’s insecure about his skill in giving. He gives his all when he does though, looking up to catch your eyes, his own watering as he takes as much of you in as he can, again, again; drawing a tongue slowly against your wet flesh as he listens carefully for your moans - the right moans.  Also - Levi has nothing to worry about when he’s giving you oral in demon form. He has an extra long, flexible tongue that can split at the tip. You’ve never felt anything like it. -You’d think he might have shame about how much cum he spills when he orgasms, but it’s one of the things that he loves, seeing so much of it fill your mouth - too much - it won’t fit. It spills out over your lips, marring your chin and cheeks. You try not to cough. You swallow and he watches the bob of your throat - several - as you drink him in.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- Levi has a pretty even mix of everything - maybe leaning toward fast and rough a bit more.  He would be faster and rougher more often if he wasn’t afraid of losing control too much or hurting you in his demon form - especially more at the start. But he learns to trust himself and you more, and gives you both what you want. There are times when his jealousy takes over and he is rough as all hell, dominating you, making sure he marks you and claims you. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- Levi, getting flustered really easily, doesn’t always do so well with quickies. He can get distracted by getting caught by his brothers, other students. It can affect him in that he’ll either cum really quickly, or unable to at all.  His quickies usually amount to fingering or a hand job at the most. Something that can be stopped/hidden easily. If neither of you can satiate yourselves or give in to your quickie desire, later on when you both get together, Levi is just about ready to explode. At times like that, he finds it much easier to take control. And sometimes, you will purposely nudge and push him toward wanting a quickie at RAD or in public or somewhere you know he’ll say no, just so that later when you’re both alone, he’ll be just like this. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- Levi is well up for experimenting. There is so much he wants to try and do and honestly, there is little he won’t do - but you are mostly the one to initiate. He will gently try and nudge his desires through memes and texts or sending silly links eg, look at this weird normie shit, no-one would do this lmaoaslaskdal ...........unless?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-Levi is initially a bit nervous to unleash his full demon stamina. And it hinders him at first as every time you’re both sexual initially, he can’t control unleashing his demon self, no matter how much he tries to push it down and hold it back. He’s nervous to hurt you and worried you’ll be afraid of him - or find it disgusting - when seeing how different he is to you. He’ll also worry that you might worry about not being able to keep up with him. It takes a long time for you to coax these worries out of him. It happens over a very late night texting session, and ends in some very tender, long and sensual morning sex. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- Oh yes. Levi has a fun collection of themed fleshlights and some stimulation toys that he’s experimented with. It took him a while to bring up the topic of using toys together - he especially wants you to use toys on him.  uwu please peg him oh hell peg the fuck out of him.  You both end up having a lot of fun shopping for toys for your collection as he’d only had some that he could really use on himself - not couples/shared/ones you could use on him, so it’s been fun expanding the toys for you both. Especially finding some themed ones that you can both enjoy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- Levi has a love/hate relationship with being teased, purely because of how easily flustered he gets. But he does enjoy teasing a lot - especially with sexting. He won’t really do a lot of physical teasing in public. Maybe a hand drawing up and down your spine; sitting extra close to you, legs crossed, his foot brushing against yours; the tip of his tail rubbing lightly against your waist at breakfast - really small stuff.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- Levi isn’t consistently loud, but he has loud bursts. Yells, yelps, growls, gasps. Otherwise, he tries to muffle himself with a hand, your hand, or his own tail. That’s probably one of his fav things. Stuffing his own mouth with his tail. Especially if you do it to him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- Levi is really good at sexting. Like, really good. He does a lot of ERP (erotic role play), and eventually he opens up about it to you and shows you some of his OCs from his favourite animes/games that he RPs with. You realise he’s really creative and actually damn good at writing smut.  It’s also because he can detach himself from it. He’s playing a role - in both the RP and sexting - but also be able to get extremely horny from it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-I’m going to give you two monster cock options for Mr Otaku. One a bit more tame than the other. Enjoy.

a:There’s a concentration of dark, opalescent scales at Levi’s stomach, and they extend down to his cock. But they’re smooth - unlike Satan’s. It makes his cock a bit harder than most human cocks you’re used to though. It’s like an hourglass shape, but not as pronounced - and quite long. Between the scales, the veins glow with bio-luminescence - more so the closer he is to climax. 

b:He’s shy at first. Really shy every time you reach to his crotch, every time your hand slips behind his waist band, scratching against his skin, the patches of scales luring you in. You expected as such - this is Levi. But before he lets you touch his hard cock, he pauses, and it moves.  The bulge against his trousers shifts to the side away from your hand. But you just want to know more.  As his clothes unravel, you see why. A cock, hard, bluey, purple, echoing the sheen of his scales, twitches against his stomach - but it’s twisted together from three. Three tentacles wound tightly together that you run your fingers along, feeling their heat.  They’re solid in this form, the veins of his bio-luminescence twisting around the shape. You ask to see all three and with a touch, they unravel, caressing your hand - warm and wanting and softer - exploring you, as much as you explore them.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- His sex drive is fairly high, but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it all the time. Levi is just happy to be next to you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- Levi is often pretty wired after sex so it takes him a while to fall asleep usually after. He’ll happily hold you in his arms until you fall asleep, and sometimes he will fall asleep too, or casually play on his phone/handheld to unwind.  Or sometimes, he’ll just lie there and watch you sleep, trying not to think of the seconds, the minutes that tick away of your human life. He doesn’t want to sleep ever again, while you breathe.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me masters #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #shall we date leviathan #desdi writes #leviathan/mc #i had super fun writing this heuheuehe #idk what my fav parts are #maybe the kink and cock parts #but like i'm really in the //soft// parts uwu #aaaaa #i hope y'all enjoy

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 02

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Vague mentions of PTSD, spoilers for the Foyet storyline/mentioned character death. Little angsty, maybe a little OOC since Reid and Hotch don’t actually have a boss/subordinate work relationship in this story and I’m adapting that whole-heartedly. But other than that, it’s just grown men acting like dorks and Reid attempting to give parenting advice. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 4535

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link 

--

Chapter 02

--

May 2010

-

Hotch does, indeed, take Dr. Reid up on his offer.

They work on a few more cases together, over the course of six to eight weeks, and each time Dr. Reid proves to be an invaluable asset. His knowledge is unsurpassed, extensive, and astounds Hotch every time he opens a correspondence email from the esteemed professor. 

Have you ever thought about being an FBI agent? He teases one night, when they’d been sending theories back and forth in emails that had become less and less formal. Dr. Reid still sent dissertation-length assessments of the cases when they landed in his niche (which was often), but their replies had turned to a messaging template instead of the business-like format Hotch is used to writing all day every day. Quick, rapid-fire messages replacing the professional grade layout that felt so impersonal, with titles and headers and enough filler to give him chronic headaches.

This was much better. Informal as it was.

I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t pass the physical exams, but thanks for the compliment. Another life, maybe. Dr. Reid answers, and Hotch finds himself smiling and huffing a laugh behind closed lips, the kind that stays caught up in his chest. He’s not sure how much older the professor is, for all he knew he could be bordering on retirement, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless.

 I would get them waved, or curve the scores. I have that kind of pull around here. Never would he speak with his agents or anyone at the Quantico office like this, and it had taken weeks and dozens of emails to get to this point. But the freedom of it was nice, enchanting, like a little taste of his life outside of the office. Just confined to the response box of his email. Despite what everyone (ie: Morgan, Prentiss, Garcia) said about him, he did have a sense of humor. He just also had a sense of propriety, and he was their boss. He wasn’t going to make light with them in the place where they catch murderers.

Don’t tempt me. I have tenure. But Virginia gets so cold, I’d freeze to death half the year. 

Didn’t you attend MIT? What did you do during winter?

Froze to death. Pay attention.

Hotch outright laughs, and then snaps his mouth shut and looks out the open blinds of his office. Everyone has gone home, for the most part, but he doesn’t need JJ or someone else hearing him and coming to check on him. He hasn’t been getting much work done since Dr. Reid started replying to his emails that evening, and the little half smirk on his face is something he doesn’t think he can school as he rereads their conversation over and over. 

Apologies. Next I’m sure you’ll tell me how you had to walk to class uphill both ways in the snow.

No, I took the bus. And Froze. To. Death. I live in sweaters, and I’m from Las Vegas, I’m not meant for the cold. 

Las Vegas? Really?

Born and raised. My mother still lives there. 

Hotch’s eyebrows raise at that, apparently he’s not so old that his mother is still around. His own parents are gone, have been for years, but that’s under different circumstances and really not a situation he likes to reflect on.

Must be nice, only being a few hours from home. Do you go back often?

As little as possible. I should really visit my mother more, but that’s hard for reasons I won’t get into. I do write her, though. A letter every day, although not much happens around here for her to get invested in.

As in a real letter? Not an email, or a phone call?

She doesn’t do well with phone calls, or computers. Letters are more personal, anyway, and she likes being able to have the paper in her hands in my own handwriting. It’s the least I can do, not going home unless I absolutely have to. 

This is the most the man has ever spoken about himself, in a personal manner instead of an academic one, and Hotch isn’t quite sure how to take the evolution. It feels like a shift in their dynamic, an opening that could lead to a deeper level of friendship and -- it’s been a while since he’s had that. Allowed himself to have that. After Foyet, and even before when Haley started pushing for divorce and Hotch responded by isolating himself as much as he could to keep his work unaffected, he’d had trust issues. Hotch is man enough to admit that. 

But speaking with an old professor on the other side of the country might just be the stepping stone he needs. Who knows, maybe they’d even get the chance to meet one day.

I just grimaced at my own triteness. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you such a maudlin review of my life story.

No, that’s okay. I don’t talk much about myself, so I wasn’t sure how to respond. Work and home are kept very separate for me. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, I know, but it works as best as it can.

In your line of work, I can only imagine. You do what you have to. 

Hotch pauses in their conversation, looks at the clock and the stack of paperwork he still hasn’t finished -- too busy lost in his talk with Dr. Reid -- and feels an itching in the back of his mind he wants so desperately to scratch at. To give into. Lists of things he knows he should talk about, but doesn’t trust anyone enough to do so. Hotch really isn’t sure he can even trust Dr. Reid with them.

At least, not yet.

Thank you. And thank you for entertaining me, as well. 

Anytime.

--

It’s not a month later that Hotch is sitting at his desk, after hours, once again. Head in his hands and his phone still warm, overworked from the hour-long phone call he’d just endured with his ex-sister-in-law, Jessica. 

Jack was being bullied in school. She’d had to attend the parent-teacher conference about it instead of him, because he’d been on a case in Florida for over two weeks. Which really just highlighted to Jack’s teacher what his home life is like and she expressed her worry. Adamantly. Jessica was in agreement, and she once again wanted to have the conversation on if Hotch returning to work at the BAU had been the right choice after Haley was killed. He’d taken his sabbatical for 30 days, passed his psych evals -- which didn’t mean much, he helped write the qualification questions -- and Jack was doing well with his therapist and in school.

Or so he’d thought. Until today. 

That ‘conversation’ turned into an argument, because Hotch gets defensive when someone questions his choices in regards to his family, and as much as he knows that she is right -- he feels awful about how it devolved. Jessica has gone above and beyond in taking care of Jack, to allow Hotch to return to work, and she is the last person that deserves the brunt of his frustration. He only has himself to blame, and he doesn’t know what to do. Who to turn to. Who might have answers for him, if there even was a correct answer for his situation. 

The Foyet case is classified. His assigned therapist is so easily played he hasn’t returned to her in months. 

Hotch just wants someone who won’t see through him, even when he pushes back.

He wants to talk to someone who he doesn’t want to push back against.

Who he trusts.

Dr. Reid, I need help with something no one seems to have an answer for, but it’s of a personal matter and not a professional one. Would you mind lending me your services?

Hotch sends the email before he can take it back. It’s late in Virginia, but Dr. Reid is four hours behind him in California and there’s a high chance he might still be in his office. He seems to keep longer hours, for an old professor. 

He won’t admit it to himself, but he feels a tightness in his chest as he awaits an answer. All the paperwork from the Florida case is completed, there’s nothing keeping him there at the office any longer. But it’s too late to go pick up Jack from Jessica’s, and he doesn’t think he would be welcome to come sleep on her couch like he often does on nights like this. When he wants to be there when Jack wakes up, and tonight he longs to do just that. But he isn’t sure he can even look Jessica in the eye right now.

So he sits there, and watches his computer screen, and feels himself distance from the ache in his bones. Knowing if Dr. Reid doesn’t answer him, he would have to spend however long it would take to compartmentalize his apprehension, once again, and go home to his empty house and not think about how he is failing in raising his son. In being a good father. 

The soft ping of his inbox is his single solace in the storm of his thoughts.

Agent Hotchner, You know I’m always happy to help, in any way -- personal or professional -- if I can. What is it you need an answer to?

That tightness releases, but it also gives way to the worry building up in his chest. An overwhelming, crushing amount of it that he didn’t realize was climbing higher and higher the longer he’d been left alone with his thoughts. Drowning in trepidation. Everything he doesn’t want to have pressing on his mind when they are hunting down serial killers, working with criminals that would see it as a weakness and exploit it without batting an eye. 

But this time, Hotch knows this is becoming something he shouldn’t try to hide away. 

Child psychology. Trauma, in particular, and the effects on children after the fact. 

It’s enough to describe what he needs answered, without telling too much of what happened. It’s still hard for Hotch to think about what happened, to fully realize what they had gone through. What had happened to Haley, what had happened to him. What Jack will have to grow up knowing nearly happened to him. What he almost witnessed.

(626)-595-0387 I have unlimited texting, and tend to stay up very late at night. Also, I have a feeling that you might want to keep this off government regulated emails. I’m not a practicing psychiatrist, mind you, but anything I can do to help you I will be more than happy to offer. 

Hotch is stunned. Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. He’s near speechless, staring at the phone number with a Pasadena area code, and hesitates in moving their correspondence off of the email platform. A drastic change in dynamic and expectations, but… it would be nice, to be able to message the professor whenever he wanted. The ease of access an alluring thought. 

Another soft ping in his inbox has him looking up from where he’d been glancing at his cell phone in contemplation.

Also, it goes without saying, but everything we talk about in our conversations would still be confidential. I have no one to tell them to, anyway. 

Hotch huffs out a sound that could have been a laugh, and he’s surprised he even can manage that. But he’s barely thinking about it before he’s picking up his cell phone and typing in the number Dr. Reid had given him. []6/3, 22:46[] This is Agent Hotchner.

He sends it, pauses in thought, then keeps typing.

[]6/3, 22:47[] You can call me Hotch, since this is outside work. Agent Hotchner just reminds me I’m abusing bureau resources for personal gain.

The whole interaction is causing this clawing, hot feeling in his chest that might be nervousness in risking the change in their work relationship, or residual guilt from the fight with Jessica about Jack, or just… the fear that Dr. Reid will tell him he is fucking this up and he should never have returned to the FBI at all. Because there are days, like today, where Hotch really starts to think that might be the case.

[]6/3, 22:49[] I figured as much. No one else actually messages me after 6pm except you and some of my more zealous students. 

[]6/3, 22:51[] And although I don’t think you’re abusing anything; in that same vein, you can call me Spencer. This is just two friends having a chat, nothing more. 

Hotch appreciates the gesture, finds himself almost smiling about it -- but then he remembers what he has to relay to ask what he wants to ask the other man. And he isn’t sure where to begin. 

So he just -- begins at the start. The case where Foyet fooled his whole team, posing as a victim, and managing to get away. Slipped through their fingers. Gotten away with murder and insider FBI information and more than he should have ever been able to access. Dr. Reid -- Spencer, please -- doesn’t say anything as he relates all of this, and Hotch commends his patience. Because from the start, this isn’t about child psychology at all. But it is certainly about trauma, and that becomes apparent when Hotch throws caution to the wind and describes what happened to him in his own apartment. Paraphrasing and dropping out intimate details, but explaining what happened is still brutal even stripped to its bare minimum. When Foyet had broken in, and blitzed him, and tortured him as he stabbed him nine times in the chest. Precise, practiced, indicative of letting him live with the knowledge of what that monster masquerading as a man could do. 

The details begin to bleed through the more he types. The more he remembers.

How he’d had to put his ex-wife and son into protective custody. How it hadn’t been enough. His late night obsessions all for naught. And finally, a brief -- or as brief as it can possibly be, for as brutal an event as it was -- summary of what happened when Foyet had found his family. How he had killed Haley, how they had stopped Foyet and Jack had been spared witnessing anything. Even the fight inside Hotch’s own house. He doesn’t… well, Hotch doesn’t plan on describing that and keeps it at bay. He barely remembers it. Blurs of fists and broken furniture and rooms he has memorized from years of memories flying by as they tore through his home like a hurricane. 

But he gives enough of a picture. Enough that, though he doesn’t say as much, Spencer probably knows Foyet didn’t make it out alive. Can guess it was by Hotch’s own hands. 

Which leads them to now -- to the part Hotch needed help with more than anything. His past and his trauma Hotch has a lot of practice dealing with, knows how to handle it alone. As he always has. But the part he doesn’t know how to handle?

He is raising his son on his own. His ex-sister-in-law, Jessica, has been a godsend and is helping with Jack so Hotch can be at work. His lifeblood. His identity. Everything he’s ever worked for. He almost left; Strauss had offered him an early retirement package that was too good to pass up, but he had in the end. Because being an FBI agent, catching the monsters that plague their world, that is what he does. And that’s what Jack knows him to do. 

It helps Jack, Hotch found, to know that his dad is out there catching men like the one that took away his mom. He probably would have taken the loss a lot worse, if Aaron had left the bureau. 

But he’s messing up. Hotch feels that in his bones. He’s gone so much, Jessica is taking on the role of parent instead of Aunt more and more, and Hotch does not want to turn into that father that shows up once in a blue moon and pretends he never left. He’s worried that what Jack’s teacher, and Jessica, had said is true and Jack’s home life isn’t going to be healthy for him. It’s going to make him suffer.

That what Jack has gone through, Hotch doesn’t know how to address correctly. 

It’s near a half hour later that he’s gotten the entire story out, and Hotch realizes that even though text is probably going to be easier to have a conversation like this… he probably could have written it in an email and saved them both some time. He apologizes at the error, because it’s late and his head isn’t quite screwed on straight whenever it comes to matters with his son, and he just… he’s at a loss. Doesn’t know what the right course of action is, or if there even is one outside of a professional’s opinion. 

Then Hotch waits for a reply.

It feels like hours, but in reality is only a couple of minutes. 

[]6/3, 23:22[] Hotch, the fact you are so worried about your son and how your actions have affected him through all of this, is all I really need to know about you being a good father. The consideration you are showing him is not something every parent can do, in the face of what happened to you and your family. You do not need to worry about that. You love your son, and that is the most important factor right now.

[]6/3, 23:25[] Secondly, I’m so sorry that this happened to you at all. You and your son sound like you have such a strong bond, and I know that’s what must have helped you through such a difficult time. It’s apparent that you love him very, very much. 

[]6/3, 23:29[] I don’t have a lot of friends that ask me the hard questions like this. Not that I don’t want them to, I just understand why, because I can recite statistics all day and give you textbook answers easily. Which I know you were hoping would give you a black and white response to your question. But in this there isn’t one, sadly. I know you are worried and I feel like you don’t need to be. And I don’t know how to express that in a way that won’t make you detest me. 

[]6/3, 23:32[] Your son just lost his mom, and you just lost your ex-wife, and there’s not going to be a straightforward path to healing. Everything you say you have done for him? It’s perfect, it’s exactly what you should be doing, and don’t stop. That’s all you can do and all you should focus on, in truth. Listen to what he tells you and watch for what he doesn’t, and hug him, because you are a great dad -- and this is coming from someone who did not have such an example. 

[]6/3, 23:33[] And I am very sorry about Haley, Hotch. I truly am. 

Hotch doesn’t even answer him for a good few minutes. It is a lot to process, to read through, and he does read through it more than once. But every single time he reads that final text, his eyes sting hotly and he has to blink back emotions he thought he had waded through plenty on his 30 days of leave. Apparently, not enough.

It’s so much, and yet he wants more. It’s not enough in the sense that he wishes Dr. Reid -- Spencer -- would keep talking to him. Keep telling him he’s doing a good job. That he hasn’t failed his son. 

That for once, he’s handling something right.

With a breath that feels like it shudders through his chest a little more roughly than it should, Hotch slowly types out a response that doesn’t even begin to feel anything close to adequate.

[]6/3, 23:41[] Thank you, Spencer. I could never detest you, in the slightest. Everyone keeps telling me I’m not screwing this up, but 

He pauses, not sure if he even believes what he’s about to type. 

At the last second, he switches tactics entirely. Feels a flood gate open. Just one, solitary floodgate in the vast Hoover Dam size wall he keeps up from the moment he shrugs into his suit jacket at home until he sheds it all away at the end of the night. In the confines of his home, with six physical locks on the door and two different digital security systems. With a weapon carefully concealed and childproofed in every room. With steel reinforced windows and no exit save for the front and back doors. A fire hazard, but a good precaution against anyone who would try to break in -- like Foyet had. 

[]6/3, 23:41[] ...I find it so hard to believe them. In some ways it’s hard to believe you, too, but that’s not personal. Your words have resonated more than anyone else’s, if that’s any consolation. Even more than the therapist they assigned after everything. 

[]6/3, 23:45[] My sister-in-law flat out told me I was failing my son, being away like I am, and his teacher believes his home environment isn’t healthy. He’s being bullied in school. I don’t know what to do.

Hotch types it all out and sends it. 

The reply is instantaneous.

[]6/3, 23:46[] Yes, you do. You know exactly what to do. 

And then there isn’t any further elaboration.

At first, Hotch is confused. He feels himself being pulled from that precipice of self-loathing and despair. Tugged by a string. The confusion forces him to look at Spencer’s response, nine words long, and decipher what they mean. 

Trusting his first instinct, once more.

[]6/3, 23:49[] I have to talk to Jack. 

[]6/3, 23:54[] You have heard all of this from everyone other than your son. He may be young, but he is going to know the answer better than his teacher or his aunt. Talk to him, before you start nailing yourself to a cross. You may find the answer to the situation a much easier fix than you are anticipating.

Hotch considers this, thinking about his son. Six-years-old now, first grade, smart as a tack, curious and kind. But so strong, a foundation that even he found himself clinging to sometimes, in the face of the storm of everything that had happened to them. Which is not healthy, and Hotch learned to not do that to him. To instead find solidarity in their relationship, withstanding the storm together. As they always have. 

[]6/3, 23:57[] He’s not one to let a bully have his way. He knows that’s not right. Maybe he has another strategy.

[]6/4, 00:01[] He’s young enough that trying to befriend his abuser would be a good tactic to counter the situation, does that seem like something he would do?

[]6/4, 00:02[] That sounds exactly like Jack. Hotch replies, with a smile finally easing on to his face -- and it feels lighter now. Easier to hold.

[]6/4, 00:04[] He sounds like a sweet kid.

[]6/4, 00:05[] He is. I’m very proud of him.

[]6/4, 00:07[] You really are a great dad, Hotch. I’m not just saying it to say it. 

That crushing, overwhelming feeling has ebbed to nearly nothing -- and with a sudden rush of vertigo it is replaced with gratitude for the old professor lending him his evening hours. It flashes warm and sudden and Hotch isn’t used to that, either. 

[]6/4, 00:08[] I would never expect you to, but thank you.

Even he feels lame for thanking the man for saying such a thing.

[]6/4, 00:10[] You don’t need to thank me, I barely did anything.

[]6/4, 00:11[] But if you ever need to talk, about anything really, I’d be more than happy to do so. 

[]6/4, 00:13[] I promise I can be good at that. The listening part. Day or night, it really doesn’t matter. I’ll always be around.

Hotch pauses at the offer, and then types slow and hesitant.

[]6/4, 00:16[] What if I just want to check in on a friend?

[]6/4, 00:16[] I am also around for that. 

The answer is sudden, without hesitation, and Hotch feels a smile start to ease the muscles in his face. Soften the edges once more.

[]6/4, 00:18[] I wouldn’t mind someone to talk to after a long day. It’s been a while since I’ve had a…

He pauses again, not quite sure if he remembers how to do this without pressing in too fast. Committing to too much, not sure what he is able to give of himself. But he’s already shared more with Dr. Reid in two months than he has with David in the past two years. 

Hotch makes a decision, for himself, for the first time in a long time.

[]6/4, 00:18[] ...It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend outside of the bureau. 

[]6/4, 00:19[] Do I still count if I’m a consultant?

[]6/4, 00:19[] You absolutely count. 

His own message makes him smile, and there’s a beat between messages where he hopes he made the older man smile as well. 

[]6/4, 00:22[] I’m never short on topics of conversation, I warn you. So unless you want a lecture on quantum physics -- how do you feel about chess?

[]6/4, 00:24[] I’m getting the feeling you’ll wipe the floor with me.

[]6/4, 00:25[] Oh, without a doubt. But the desktop app also has a chat feature.

[]6/4, 00:26[] Look at you, all modern and with the times.

[]6/4, 00:28[] My home phone may be a rotary, but even I can’t scoff at the vast reach of online chess. 

[]6/4, 00:28[] So what say you?

Hotch pauses, one final time, and considers the night; the conversation, Spencer’s advice, the way talking about what had happened helped ease the weight of it more than he’d ever anticipated. Then he thinks of the source, of what started it all, and how -- once again -- Dr. Reid was right about a number of things. But one thing in particular. 

[]6/4, 00:32[] I’m going to take your advice and go to my son. But tomorrow night, after he’s in bed, I have many hours to myself.

[]6/4, 00:35[] By no coincidence whatsoever, my evenings are always free. Care to show off those FBI honed deduction skills? My best chess opponents have ironically been FBI agents.

[]6/4, 00:36[] Oh, I’m terrible. Trust me.

[]6/4, 00:37[] I promise I don’t care. Your company is worth however many short games we can endure. 

Hotch smiles, despite himself, and this time doesn’t try to hold it back.

[]6/4, 00:39[] Then, it’s a date.

-

(tbc...)

-

Tagged list: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

#DID I MENTION THIS WAS A SLOWBURN?!? #Cause it's a S L O W B U R N #we still have a couple chapters of Hotch's POV before we get to see how things are going on Reid's side #also I am so frustrated with tumblr's formatting issues but I finally got it to stop rearranging my damn story when I edit it I think #fingers-crossed #at least ao3 has my back #Once again Updates are on Saturdays about 5pm EST #if you want in on the tag list just message me <3 #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting

[emcon-imagines]

“DATING DAISY JOHNSON (AGENTS OF SHIELD)”

gif // requester: anon ​​// request here

Daisy is super straightforward about how she feels about you right from the beginning

Just like, tons of flirting masked with humor

One of her favorite running jokes when she sees you around the base is to pretend you’re meeting elsewhere, like she runs into you in the kitchen and is like “come here often? what can I get you started with... perhaps some ice from the fridge?” 

“Have a bowl of cereal, on the house.”

Touch is 100% her love language. She always greets you, especially if it’s after some time apart, with a really long, tight hug

Also just like small touches, little baby hugs, a touch on the shoulder, whenever she passes by you, just to say “hi I’m here!”

Or just like little nudges and brushes whenever she’s around you

And these are usually teasing, especially if she finds out you’re ticklish or something like you will get snuck up on! but then she’ll be like ���hi, whatcha working on?”

She’s always super conflicted because you’re the first person she would want to have her back, but also she wants you nowhere near danger

“You scared me out there,” is a common refrain in your relationship

She really tries to have date nights off the SHIELD base, something fun, somewhere vibrant, but that’s not always easy

Sometimes “date nights” means training together, which you gripe about the entire time even though you secretly enjoy training with her

Because she always kicks your ass

And sometimes, date nights are just sharing a few beers together and watching a movie in your room

She has an extensive list of “classic” movies she wants you to watch, almost all of them are so-bad-they’re-good or cult classics

One of her nicknames for you finally makes sense after one movie because you had no idea it was like a super niche reference, an inside joke for just her the entire time

But it is a really fitting nickname now that you know the context lmao

Everyone on the team knows you’re dating but you still keep it on the down low for official reasons

You were technically more of a SHIELD consultant than an agent when you first met Daisy, so Coulson lets it slide

Or rather, he just pretends he doesn’t notice

May does, though, and she always refers to you as “Daisy’s friend back at HQ”

Sleeping over together whenever one of you returns from a mission

Fitz being like “Jemma do you know where Daisy is, I have to...”

And Jemma just “Where do you think-- do you notice anything around here? When you find Daisy, tell y/n I said hi.”

Jemma is convinced that you and Daisy are going to get married someday, even though you and Daisy are trying to “keep it casual” and Jemma secretly has your whole wedding pictured in her head

Mack constantly teasing Daisy about her relationship with you, even before he knew you were dating, especially since she literally looks like 😍🥺 whenever she sees you

#aos #agents of shield #headcanons #aos headcanon #agents of shield headcanon #daisy johnson #daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson headcanon #reader insert #aos reader insert #agents of shield reader insert #leo fitz imagine #jemma simmons #melinda may #phil coulson #fav