#Your ghost is writing(ooc)

[the-heros-sidekick]

❝ went looking for a creation myth, ended up with a pair of cracked lips. ❞

He feels it first at the back of his neck. A buzzing, like the crackling of electricity underneath his skin, reverberating against the hollow of his skull. Something is knocking, making its presence known: A particular kind of evil that had snuck into Stiles’ mind once already, stealing away control over his body. Condemning him to sit back, trapped in his own mind, rendering him powerless. Doomed to watch in horror as his  blood-stained hands wielded sharpened blades against those he loved. They’d gotten him out, though nearly at the cost of his own life—a sacrifice Stiles had been more than willing to make, so long as no one else would get hurt because of him. And yet something must have stayed behind, lodged into the membrane of his skull like a shard of glass. For the longest time he’d managed to keep the horrors contained to only haunt him in the dead of night, leaving him sleep deprived and wrung out, every nerve ending scraped thin. But now, even the light of day no longer offers refuge for Stiles to feel safe. Long gone is the once obnoxiously loud, carefree kid—left in its stead is a man carrying himself with caution, treading quietly across the space between other people’s reality and what lies beyond. He knows there are demons out there listening, waiting for an opportunity to exploit any sign of weakness—a door left slightly ajar, perhaps, much like the door to Stiles’ mind they’d never managed to close. The feeling of impending doom crescendos and Stiles, feeling sick to his stomach with fear, clings desperately to the words he repeats to himself like a mantra. "Nothing gets in unless you let it.” But the words turn to ash in his mouth, memories of past experiences proving him a liar. 

an exploration of Teen Wolf's 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐊𝐈—𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄 who, after leaving Beacon Hills behind, settled down in New York where he's now considered the FBIs golden boy ― crafted for @fakevz. following canon events of the show with additional headcanons. low activity & very crossover friendly. minors dni. this blog operates in english only. est. 2014 ♗ ©

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍: loss of innocence ⊹ comedic sidekick ⊹ overcoming demonic possession ⊹ a morally gray world ⊹ undying loyalty ⊹ survivor's guilt ⊹ agent of chaos ⊹ deflecting with humor

✧  𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 ✧ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒

I think I've loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity.

Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I felt this unquenchable need to know you. I blamed it on ulterior motives, justified it because I needed something from you, because you held the answers I was looking for, because no one else was able to help but you. Looking back on it now though, I'm starting to think that maybe some part of me knew right from the start, that first night I stumbled upon you in the woods, what took me years to see: Maybe my heart recognized that it was going to love you right away, and I spent the years to come catching up with what it knew right from the start. That it was always going to be you. How could it ever have been anyone else? Through mayhem and bloodshed, through fear and loss, through grief and sleepless nights, you were the one constant that remained. When I lost sight of everything—first myself, then reality, then hope—you were the one guiding my way like a beacon, or a north star. If I've ever known peace, it's in all the moments that your hand has touched mine and that your arms have held me tirelessly, putting your body like a shield between me and every inkling of danger. Of all the late-night wonderings of trying to make sense of the last decade (and failing), what remains is this singular thought: At least it was you. At least it was me. At least it was us, together. I'd bear it all a million times over if it meant I got to hold your hand at the end of it all. You are the moment of quiet at the end of a long day, you are breathless laughter, you're the patch of sunlight filtering in through the window that I stand in to warm myself. You are everything good in this world and living proof that there is hope despite it all, and I love you beyond measure.

[silhouette-system]

Regrets and Lost Love.

Vox climbed over fallen rocks and bricks. He had come here to gloat over his nemesis, but this was getting ridiculous. 

“The things I do…” He grumbles. 

He brushes some dirt off his pants, and pulls himself up to the ruined radio tower. The ladder is a little rickety, but it’s usable. 

“Alastor?” He calls out. “Are you up here?” 

Nothing answers Vox. He sighs loudly. “You can’t hide! You fucking loser!”

A pained groan sounds from behind him. Vox whips around to see Alastor, huddled in a corner with his arms clutched around his chest. 

“Alastor?!” Vox kneels next to the demon. 

Alastor hisses at him as his ears pin back. “What are you doing here, Vox-“ His voice sounded odd without the radio filter, “-come to gloat?”

Vox hesitated for just a second- but that was more than enough for Alastor to catch on. 

Alastor starts to chuckle, then cackle, but he’s cut off by a wet cough. Blood drips from his mouth and his sclera bleeds black. 

“…Al?” Vox says. “Wait-“

Vox sighs frustratedly and scribbles out his words. The bar where he sat was dimly lit, and his seat was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Alastor, humming softly, was sitting on the couch and twirling his staff that Vox had commissioned from Rosie a few weeks ago. 

“Would you like to dance?” Alastor asks out of nowhere. 

“I- what?” Vox looks up from his work. 

Alastor snaps his fingers, and soft music plays from the candy apple red radio. “Would you like to dance?” He repeats. 

Vox fights down a blush. “I-I don’t know how to,” The demon admits. 

Alastor hums. “That’s alright, I can teach you.” He offers a hand to Vox, who accepts. 

Alastor guides one of Vox’s hands to his waist. Alastor puts his hand up on Vox’s shoulder. The tv demon, knowing this part, clasps their hands together. 

“Uh…what do we do now…?” Vox asks. 

“Step to the left,” Alastor instructs. “Then, cross your right foot over it.”

Vox focuses on Alastor’s feet and matches the steps. 

“Once more.”

Alastor’s ears flick against the screen of Vox’s head. “Okay, now reverse.”

Eventually, Vox gets the hang of it. They step in time to the music, and Vox leads them in a slow circle. 

…Two hearts connected by one beat…

…Your hand in mine and…

Sweet guitar fills the room. Alastor leans his head on Vox’s chest and moves his hands so they cup the back of Vox’s neck. Vox cradles the smaller demon in his arms. 

“I could never choose to love another…” Vox softly sings the closing lines of the song. 

“Maybe one day I could’ve learned to love you too.” Alastor smiles, a real smile. Vox had learned to tell the difference a long time ago. Alastor’s real smile was soft. It wasn’t like the pasted-on grin the world saw. 

“No, no, no! Please!” Vox pleads, but he knows it is far too late. 

The light faded from his love’s eyes and Alastor slumped against the wall. His lifeless eyes stared past Vox, and the hand Vox held fell limp. 

Vox sobs, the mockery of tears filling his screen. “Please…” He cries, to no avail. There is no one to hear his words. 

Vox’s heart shatters into a million shards of blood and tears and glass. He mourns for the love he almost had, for the loss of the person closest to his heart, for his one true constant in this hellscape. 

He gently closes Alastor’s eyes. Now it seems as though the demon is just sleeping- no. Alastor never looked this peaceful when he slept. 

Vox slides his arms underneath Alastor’s cooling body and stands. He teleports out of the ruined tower and walks through the rubble to the Morningstars and their friends. The princess is hugging her girlfriend while the porn star and the cat share a hug as well. Lucifer stands to the side. 

Charlie- that’s her name right?- turns around and spots Vox. 

“Vox?!” She stands in front of him, looking lost as she stares at Alastor’s bloodied body. “Wh…what happened? Did you do this?”

Vox shakes his head frantically. “I-I would never! He was in his tower…I guess Adam hit him harder than we thought. He…he bled out.”

Tears gather at the edges of Charlie’s eyes. “No…”

Vaggie runs to her girlfriend’s side. “Charlie- oh…”

One by one, the group gathers around Vox and Alastor. Charlie hides her face in Vaggie’s arms. Husker looks conflicted while Nifty full-on sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” Vox says. 

“What were his last words?” Charlie asks softly. 

“I couldn’t hear what he said,” Vox lies. “He was…coughing up a lot of blood.”

Charlie cries harder, soaking Vaggie’s shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~

The dark red coffin is slowly lowered into the ground with Lucifer’s magic. Charlie sniffles softly, and even Angel has to turn away. 

Vox stands a little separate from the group and watches Lucifer use his magic to fill the grave with dirt. 

Slowly, the other members leave the small courtyard, with Vaggie leading her girlfriend away, and Husk scooping up Nifty and leaving with Angel. Eventually, only Lucifer and Vox are left at the grave’s side. 

Lucifer slips by Vox with a low whisper of, “Don’t stay for too long. It’ll hurt more.”

Vox doesn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at the tombstone. 

It was carved out of granite to look like an old radio.

Alastor 

“I could never choose to love another; maybe one day I could learn to love you too.” - We Become We

Vox had chosen the inscription himself, though it took many tries to get a readable version. 

He knelt by the grave. 

“Hey.” God, he sounded so stupid. But this was the only way to get closure. He would never find closure. It hurt too much. “I miss you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He placed the broken staff and a few flowers. A pink carnation, a cyclamen, a purple hyacinth, and a sprig of rosemary. 

Vox stands and brushes off his coat. He stares down at the freshly turned dirt and flowers. 

“I love you,” He whispers. “I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~~

[flying-thing]

Kiss Me in the Rain

This is a SoapGhost fic for Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2. No one requested this, but my heart yearns for more angst, and as such, here we are. This is all based on the new Ghost skin in the war zone part of the game that I've never touched.

I'm not typing out Soap's accent.

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

Playlist:

Work Song - Hozier

My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

So My Darling - Rachel Chinouriri

Atlantis - Seafret

Here With Me - D4vd

Romantic Homicide - D4vd

Dark Red - Steve Lacy

Advice - Alex G

The View Between Villages - Noah Kohan

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

CW: major character death, broken promises, gore, unreliable narrator, angst, domestic fluff, zombies

Word Count: 3457 (Unfinished and not edited!!)

-------------------------------------------------------

It was no surprise when Price told Simon and John that it was close to the time in which they needed more supplies. They were the scouts, after all, and it was their job to go scavenging. They still had a few days before they needed to leave, and as per usual, the two were enjoying their time together until they needed to leave.

Simon walked out to the garden the team had started a few days ago, and he found John watering the plants. It was a lot easier for sprouts to come out when there weren't birds and squirrels to steal the seeds from the soil. It has become oddly peaceful since the outbreak, nobody to disturb your slumber, no wars to fight, and barely anything to worry about. Recently, the 141 have been looking for any type of farm animal so that they can fully sustain themselves without needing to leave every month or so for supplies. Everyone has taken to reading books, whether it be to pass the time or to learn how to do certain things. Price has figured out how to build buildings— after some much needed practice. Gaz has learned to make soap and cook delightful food (when there was actual food to cook), and Soap has put his demolition skills to good use in that he can make things that create electricity and even plumbing. Simon has become very interested in gardening, interestingly enough.

Everyone had a place, and the routine worked. The rest of the world was plagued, but here in their little home? It was perfect. Most of the soldiers left when the outbreak happened so they could protect their families. The rest died when the undead broke in. Simon wonders sometimes what it would be like to be dead. He fantasized about it a lot when he was younger, but now that there was little to live for, life was everything to him.

Before he got too lost in his thoughts, John walked over to him. "What's happening in that brain of yours, Simon?" He asks. Simon snaps out of whatever trance held him, and he shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it, but it's nothing exciting. What are you doing out here?" He counters, earning a grin from the scot's face.

"Just trying to find out why you enjoy this so much, and I think I've just about figured it out."

Simon looks at him amused. "And what is the reason?"

"I said 'just about,' not completely," he jokes, making Simon laugh. He did that more often now that he barely wore a mask anymore. John was fascinated with how expressive he was. Crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, the barely-there blush on his cheeks, the corners of his mouth lifting. Apparently, when he called Simon gorgeous in his mind, he said it outloud, and it made the taller man smile more.

"You flatter me too much, Johnny. Do you want to know the reason I enjoy it?"

"Would you tell me if I said yes?"

"Probably not."

John scoffed playfully and shook his head, his eyes closed with the gesture. "Has Gaz made dinner yet?"

"He's about to, I think. He's excited for everything to start growing so we don't need to live off unseasoned and almost expired canned food."

"I'm in the same boat with him. Cannot stand what we're surviving off. Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose." John said solemnly.

Simon quirked an eyebrow. "Did you learn that phrase from Price?"

The comment earned him a punch to the shoulder, and Simon just chuckled again. "I've been around you English folk longer than you think, bastard." His words held no venom, and Simon rolled his eyes. "Thanks for watering everything, even if you didn't find answers to your questions."

John looked up at him and nodded. "I'm glad you found something you enjoy. I don't need to understand it."

It was always a change of pace from when Simon was tearing himself apart to find out the answers to unspoken questions he had about himself to John wholeheartedly accepting him, no questions asked. He'd slowly started adopting the mindset of not needing to know everything for there to be understanding. Johnny really rubbed off on him, he supposed.

"Price wants us to leave tomorrow. We need more food and blankets. Winter might be harsh, and we still don't have a heater that works," Simon said, changing the subject.

The shorter man nodded before chuckling. "Can you imagine us bringing back mattresses? That'd be feat."

"We would probably need to bring the four of us for proper backup. There's a mattress store in the mall we go into sometimes," Simon said. John thought for a moment before nodding his head. "Project for another day."

---

Simon got his and John's clothes while the latter got the shower ready. The routine was comforting for Simon after their 'normal' was all discombobulated. He had folded the clothes as neatly as he could before walking into the shared restroom that was slowly fogging up the broken mirror. He set the clothes on top of the closed toilet seat and made sure their towels were still where they were supposed to be.

"The water's just how you like it, Si," Johnny said, peaking his head out of the curtain. He had always looked at him like he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, and it was sometimes overwhelming for Simon. He didn't deserve this. But he had it, and so he would enjoy it until the world decided it was time to tear them apart.

Simon only smiled as he undressed and put his clothes next to the pile Johnny had already made before getting inside the shower with him. John made room for Simon to feel the warmth of the water. His eyes closed for a moment as he basked in it. When his eyes opened, Johnny had some of the homemade shampoo in his hand and Simon leaned down so he could wash his hair.

Soft moments like this made him feel all warm inside, and he never could resist melting into his lover's hands when he'd held him. They took their time in washing each other, not wanting to waste a single moment together. The water was still hot when they finished and they dried off and got dressed. They spent the time in a comfortable silence, both having acknowledged that no words needed to be shared.

After they climbed into bed, Simon wrapped himself around John. He wanted to tell him about the feeling of dread he felt but got lost to the sound of John's heartbeat. John rubbed Simon's shoulder with his thumb as they laid there.

"I have a bad feeling about tomorrow," Simon said. John hummed. "Do you know why?"

Simon shook his head. "Just feels like something is going to go wrong."

"We haven't had an incident in a while. We cleared out most of the hoard that went through the city," John said, trying to clear the other's worries.

"Maybe that's the problem," Simon said. He'd never been scared to go out on a mission. The zombies were no more a threat to him than a soldier would have been. A little less if he thought about it.

"Promise me you'll be the one to kill me if I get bitten."

"What are you talking about? You're not going to get eaten. Stop talking like that," John said.

"Johnny, I need you to promise me. I don't know what I'd do if I was the one who hurt you in the end," Simon says, sitting up to look at him.

"I will protect you, Simon. I promise that if push comes to shove, I'll kill you. I'm not going to lose you to a damn biter though, you hear?" John said, pulling Simon in for a light kiss.

John sat up with him and cradled Simon's face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away tears that Simon hadn't even realized were falling.

"Don't cry, my love. It's okay."

"I don't understand why I'm so upset," Simon said. "But I just can't stand the thought of hurting you. You're so dear to me."

"Don't get too sappy on me," John chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I love you, Simon."

"I love you too, Johnny."

John's eyes widened, and Simon didn't think he'd ever seen his face get so bright.

"Well, you can't die now. Not when you're finding your voice. I'm so proud of you, Simon."

"It's all because of you."

---

Beep beep be- click.

John clicked off the alarm clock with a sigh. He sat up and rubbed his face before turning to look at Simon sleeping peacefully. His light brown hair is laid across the pillow, and his mouth is slightly agape. His hair had gotten longer as he had not cut it in a while. It looked so soft and John couldn't help but carefully run his fingers through the other's locks. The action woke him up and he opened his glossy eyes to see that it was only Johnny there.

"Good morning," he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. "Morning," the other responded. John removed his hand and allowed Simon to do a full body stretch and yawn before sitting up as well. He leaned on John's shoulder, his cheek smushing up against it.

"You're like a cat, Simon. It's sweet," John said endearingly.

"I blame you for making me soft, Johnny," Simon mumbled, making him chuckle.

"We should get up soon. Gaz ought to be making breakfast by now."

"Let me go to the bathroom first," Simon said, getting up and stretching again, yawning as he scratches his stomach.

John followed behind him and then to the cafeteria after, sure enough hearing Gaz making noise in the kitchen.

They walked up to the window in the wall and watched the man do his thing. "Good morning, Gaz," John says loudly so he hears him. He looked over and grinned. "Morning, boys. How'd you sleep?"

"I slept well enough. Simon's still waking up, if you couldn't tell," John answered. Gaz nodded.

"Breakfast is almost done, if you two want to sit down. I'll bring it out to you."

"Make enough for me too," Price said, his voice carrying through the room. Gaz rolled his eyes. "No, I think I'll let you make your own food," he said sarcastically. It made Simon laugh and he covered his mouth with one of his hands.

"Don't think you'd want me messing up your space. You'd probably kill me if I set the kitchen on fire."

"Damn right, I would."

They all laugh and after a couple minutes, Gaz walked out with two trays with two plates on each tray. He sat them down on the table they routinely sat at.

"I found a hen in the woods yesterday, so I went and grabbed it. I need you to make a pen for it," Gaz said to Price. The three of them grinned. "So we get eggs more often?" John asked, earning an excited nod.

"Yes!" John exclaimed, doing a little happy dance. Simon laughed and shook his head. "Eat your food. We should leave soon."

"Aye, you're right, but we still need a list of what we need to find. You're also not even dressed yet," John said amusedly. "Neither are you," Simon quipped.

John rolled his eyes and grinned, eating what was on his plate. The four of them conversated for a while even after they'd all finished their food. It was calm; exactly what Simon needed after stressing all last night.

When they finally got dressed, it was about noon. Simon slipped on his vest and grabbed his knives and backpack. He waited for John to finish putting his boots on before walking out to Price's office. John knocked, and Price called them in.

"I've got your list here. It's the normal stuff with a few additions," the older man said, looking between the two.

Simon nodded and took the list from Price's outstretched hand. He looked it over before handing it to John, who put it in his bag. "We'll be back in a couple days then," Simon said, putting on his mask.

"Be safe, boys. We'll be waiting for you."

"Of course, sir," John said, putting on a mask of his own. They walked out of the room and saw Gaz waiting for them at the door. He hugged both of them when they got close enough. "Don't get lost, got it? We'll come find you if you don't check in properly, so don't leave us hanging."

John grins and fist bumps the man, holding their fists together. "We'll come back. Don't miss us too much, yeah?" Gaz nodded and looked at Simon.

"I'll keep him kicking," he said with a grin. "Good man," Gaz responded, giving him a fist bump too. He opened the door and watched them head out and down the road.

"How long do you think we'll be out this time?" John asked, his head slightly elevated to look at the tops of the trees. Simon hummed in consideration. "Four days. Only because we have a lot to get and ground to cover."

"I'll say a week then. Factoring in anything potential issues," John said in consideration. Simon nodded, "Makes sense. I don't think we will though. It's been a while since we've seen so much as a group."

"Better safe than sorry, hm?" John said playfully. Simon chuckled and shook his head. "Learned that from Gaz? Picking up all sorts of things, I see."

"What do you expect? I'm around you guys all the time. Bound to happen," John said, amused.

"We'll be at the city soon. I can see it ahead," Simon said, changing the subject. Since they left so late, they wouldn't make it in daylight and would need to set up camp and get there the next day. Walking give miles takes longer than one would originally expect. They were pretty close by the time the moon was a quarter of the way up in the sky and decided to make their border so they could sleep.

Simon threaded three lines of barbed wire around the trees where their camp would be; one close to the ground, one about torso level, and one in front of his face. After that, he pushed leaves closer to the wire so it would be easier to hear if anything on through. John made a small upside down fire in the meantime, putting down their sleeping bags and using their bags as pillows.

"Did you remember the spoons, Johnny?" Simon asked as he watched him pull out a couple cans of food. John looked around as he thought about it before grimacing. "I'll take that as a no. Good thing I remembered for you," he said, pulling a couple out of his own bag.

"I can't go anywhere without you, Simon," John said playfully, knowing full well that he would forget his sleeping bag if Simon wasn't there to remind him or grab it for him. "I know," the other responded, handing him a spoon.

They ate in a comfortable silence and watched the fire. When they finished eating, Simon took the cans and put them in a spare bag he had brought, putting the spoons in with them to wash them when they got to the stream on their way back. They sat next to each other, their shoulders touching.

"We should sleep soon," Simon said as John leaned his head on his shoulder. "You won't sleep, so I won't either," John said in determination. Simon chuckled and shook his head. "Sleep, Johnny. I'll watch over you."

The man was already asleep, much to Simon's amusement. He never could stay up like Simon could. He fell asleep a little after, laying them both down to get comfortable. Simon layed on the sleeping bag while John was sprawled out on top of him, his head on his chest.

Simon woke up to rustling and at first thought it was John moving. He soon realized that he would have felt the man move and opened his eyes to see a walker fallen over the wire. It was quickly crawling towards them and Simon grabbed the knife from his side pocket and slipped out from under John. He met the zombie halfway and he stabbed into its ear. It was a clean kill, if he did say so himself. The sun was decently up and thought it would be good to get up and go before it was super bright. Sunglasses are hard to put on over the hard shell of a mask.

John woke up from the commotion and shot up when he saw the dead zombie slumped at Simon's feet, thinking it was still alive. "It's alright, Johnny. Took care of it," Simon said, easing John's worries. "We should go soon, so get ready to leave."

He nodded and stretched before getting up and taking deep breaths to calm his adrenaline. He always feared Simon would get bit protecting him. He rolled up the unused sleeping bags and put them away while Simon undid the wiring. They both took a whiz before continuing their trek to the city.

They took their knives out just in case something came at them. Every now and then, they would encounter a runner and they were the worst of them. John opened the makeshift fence they'd made to keep the area contained. Ammo had been exhausted at the beginning of the outbreak and they didn't have much left. As such, guns were rarely used.

They'd never found other survivors. It was hard to live in a world like this and not many had good survival instincts. It really was a wonder the military fell so soon when they were supposed to be trained for it. Oh well, Simon supposed. More resources for my group.

Closing the fence, they ventured further in. "What store should we hit first?" John asked, his eyes scanning the area in front of them. "Necessities first. Probably the chicken feed since the store is farther away. We can work our way to the front."

"Makes sense. It would keep us out here longer though. I don't remember where the store is exactly."

"Neither do I. But if we want eggs, we need to hope we find it quickly and that it's even there."

John nodded, and they kept walking. "We should stock up on toilet paper as well. Maybe grab a thing of water until we get the well pumping properly."

"Should get some for our vacation."

"While this isn't a vacation I would want, it's funny," Simon mused. John stifled a laugh.

They spent most of the day walking down the streets until it got dark enough that they would need to find a building. They found one without a bunch of broken windows and it looked secure enough. They went to the door and carefully opened it, hoping it didn't squeak too much.

The windows let in enough light that they could see well enough. Simon walked over to the wall and banged on it a few times. The door was still open in case a crowd came and they could easily leave. The downside was that the noise could have attracted some outside. It would do them no good to be cornered. When nothing came and no sound was made, John closed the door. They scouted the room and found nothing. The windows were stable and the door leading upstairs was barricaded. As long as they secured the door leading out and stayed out of sight, they would be just fine.

They were unable to make a fire, much to John's dismay, but they did have an electric lantern still. Price was able to fix a solar panel onto it and now they could test to see if it worked. Simon desperately hoped that it would work like this, although he would never admit it. He wanted to be able to see everything if anything happened. That would have been his explanation. The real reason, however, is that he wants to be able to watch John. He didn't know how much time they had left and he wanted to see as much of him as possible.

It's not creepy. It's endearing, Simon thought. How many times will I see him before our inevitable deaths?

He broke free from his slightly morbid thoughts after seeing John grin at him with his teeth showing. It meant that he was pleased. That's good. It was moments like this that made him feel the urge to commit whatever crime he needed to just to see him smile all the time. Not that there was any structure anymore, but his point still stood.

With confirmation that it works, they turned it off. No use in wasting electricity when there was still light outside.

"Hungry, Simon?" John asked as he rifled through his bag for food. Simon nodded when he looked at him. “These are so much better when they're hot, but here you go.”

[theircurse]

Me @ my mutuals.

[multis-sermonibus]

Up Next: Mei Terumi

[numiolaes]

i wonder how many people would stop bitching about the writing for this show if they could've binged it all and had at least one scene per episode where someone stated everything explicitly like that one scene w/ satan in futurama

[verratensduo]

…..

[strawberista]

Headcanons Meme: click the link to get some random headcanons about your muse

⚀ Hanekoma is awful with technology and doesn't know how to use a smart phone. ⚀ Hanekoma has a roblox account. ⚀ Hanekoma believes in ghosts and insists on trying to summon one at every sleepover. ⚀ Hanekoma had an emo phase. ⚀ Hanekoma sucks at saying tongue twisters. ⚀ Hanekoma likes to sing at 4 in the morning. Their neighbors hate them. ⚀ Hanekoma makes your mom jokes. ⚀ Hanekoma wears Hello Kitty socks. ⚀ Hanekoma cannot drive. ⚀ Hanekoma is very good at using chopsticks.

Tagged by: @phoenix-flamed {Thank you!} Tagging: Please steal!

[deathxproof-archive]

Also have a fun little life update since it’s 8 AM (the time it is everywhere in the world right now) and I haven’t slept and my partner’s work alarm is going off—

Graduated from college in 2020(sad party popper noise). Studied theatre, visual arts, art history. Emmett Timeline OUT. Andrew Rose Timeline IN.

Started testosterone and changed my name AGAIN in 2020. Got FUCKING medicated.

Worked as a manager for FuckBucks for a few years, as I feel is a valid post-theatre-degree job, many arts graduates would agree.

Started an art business that’s currently on hiatus(for moving reasons). Made a few zines. Still doing that. Had a fun pagan spiritual awakening.

Saw My Chemical Romance and The Mountain Goats within a week of each other and came out a changed man(-adjacent).

Started dating my best friend from high school and we moved to our dream city with my college roommate, my cat, and my partner’s snake the week before I turned 25.

Moved from the mountains to the ocean with a brief(lol) stint in eastern Massachusetts suburbia(read:hell).

Quit smoking cigarettes. Started smoking cigarettes again. We grow and quit again, save for when heavy drinking is involved(read: rarely).

Working at a cool artsy downtown cafe with cool artsy people!! My partner works with vampires!! Dipping my toes into theatre again(slowly)(very slowly)(literally just got this job and don’t know how to schedule that around theatre schedules)(we learn and adapt).

I picked up my Doctor Who writing fixation like an old long-untouched sketchbook full of familiar-ish art that I want to sketch over, finish unfinished pieces, and try my hand at redoing old work in a not-very-changed style. I want to write old muses like I redo character designs.

I picked up my general Doctor Who hyperfixation and slammed it against a wall like a wet teddy bear for the satisfying sound it makes.

And I am, perhaps, actually, legitimately, most importantly, the happiest I’ve been in my 25 long and short years on planet earth.

(The Brainworms for the Master & the Doctor [both separate & together entities] never went away. The Brainworms for everyone else came back with a vengeance.)

[tvrningout-a]

chiyo, rin, sei, paige, yuzu, and probably others whenever their heart starts to beat a little faster around someone:

[historias-multorum]

And we can’t forget the fellas. Meet the men that will gladly get you pregnant cause they have breeding kinks

[ladyseidr]

btw i forgot to even announce it but for like the last month i've been getting attached to golden freddy for some reason so i've added him as a test muse!!

[pan3m]

talking to quinn thinking about jett at the victors meeting.

[brinefrolick]

{ like for a little casual one-liner because im not in the drafts mood but AM in the writing mood-- }

[multis-sermonibus]

Up Next: Kagami Uchiha

[ghcstchild-a]

😊😍🤩😁❤️💚💙🤎🤍💖💗 <333

SOBBING. All of that right back at you honestly, I’ll go cry in the corner.