#honestly this shit is just for fun like all my shit
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was in a&e, so no better time to do this than now! (edit: missed the entirety of this as i was logged out. FUCK. so… um here is day 17 to 24. the very late version.)
day 17: my camera roll in my dr is.. honestly a vibe. but i have the weirdest shit going on over there. it’s tame to begin with: photos of england n my family. n then it just goes to shit: pics of our empty house with boxes everywhere and carnage from moving in and getting accustomed to a new environment. and tbh i can’t be arsed to delete anything 😭 so i’ve just left it and pray i can find the photos i need in time.
i wish i had a way to organise all of my camera roll into eras of my life and categories regarding photos. but.. that’s definitely something to add to my script.
day 18: i’ve scripted in a spontaneous drinking night for the reality show. i’m somewhat subscribed to the whole “drunk words are sober thoughts” thing so it would be really interesting to see what people think of certain topics/people on the show after a few games haha. this hasn’t happened yet but i’m really looking forward to how that one pans out!
day 19: i have a few hobbies in my dr! some are a work in progress whilst others i am confident + comfortable getting on with. they include and are not limited to: thrifting (my original occupation in this dr was a fashion student, but i changed my mind as it just happens randomly and i fear i would lose all love for it if forced to create), music (ironic as my boyfriend is literally an idol), crochet/knitting, and drawing.
i enjoy making things and making myself and others feel good whilst doing them. i have knitted my family/friends quite a lot of clothing (i am LITERALLY keeping the bills paid and lights on and providing clothes on the back’s of my family like damn!). if i’m not working i’m doing one of these things. n enjoying every bit of it.
day 20: i’ve recently discovered - in fact - my main love language is NOT words of affirmation (tho it is still one of them), but quality time (which actually makes more sense to me). so any date that revolves around me spending time with another person is quite literally the most romantic thing ever. FUCK romance!!!!!
for example, recently in my CR two of my friends watched the entirety of the hobbit trilogy with me in one sitting, into the early hours of the morning. and i am STILL telling people about it because it meant the world to me. those films are long too! so! yea, something like that.
day 21: WORKING. i work too much in my cr n now i have to do it in my dr as well????? damn it’s almost like i signed up for this! but i guess that’s one of the downsides of having a family business: i actually have to help out and do the work. yikes. no i’m kidding (kinda), but working in a café is not for the weak.
also, not really a downside - as again, signed up for it - but watching people want and like yunho before i go out with him. (context: this is a dating reality show dr, so people are going to fancy him alongside me. but can i blame them?). it doesn’t make me uncomfortable or awkward tbh, just a little like… oh! oh 😔.. oh 😏😏😏. you get me.
day 22: i scripted i can cook. (….yea.) i just cannot. i can make beans on toast but that’s as chef-like i get in the kitchen, unfortunately. and obviously having to work in a baking environment + serving customers food that may potentially poison them if it doesn’t agree with them, i need to know how to cook.
that’s as good as it gets i’m afraid!
day 23: MY FAMILY ARE SUCH LOSERS LMFAO. we do those matching pyjamas on Christmas Eve. we also make gingerbread houses! which is very fun!!!!
day 24: the vibes of this dr!!! it’s technically a dr for me to be on a reality dating show so a lot of it revolves around being in love (am not complaining yo…)
day 25 (FINALLY): i spend xmas with my family. my family always book the week off and we close the café for christmas because let’s be frank who tf is coming into our shop on christmas day????? nobody yo. we’re not even in korea anyways so the shop just sits dead - and collects dust - during that time of the month. it’s a fun game to place bets on the state of the building after we return - tho we do try to leave it spotless when we leave.
xmas is always chaotic with my family it’s so funny. someone always ends up drunk and singing - eventually roping the rest of the family into it (or most LMFAO).
𝟐𝟓 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒. ❆ ⋆⁺₊❅ .
a series of questions for the days leading up to christmas for shifters!! Some of these questions are Christmas specific and others aren’t, feel free to answer what you want and how you want, ex. moodboards, short answers, longs answers. And if you’d like, you can reblog so it reaches more shifters. Merry Christmas and Happy Shifting :) post tags are #shiftmas #shiftmas2024 tagged: @arishifter
⌗ 𝟏. christmas caroling ; What are a few songs that remind you of your dr? Why?
⌗ 𝟐. gingerbread houses ; What does your house look like in your dr? Who do you live with? What is your favorite aspect of your house?
⌗ 𝟑. eggnog ; What is some drama going on in your dr?
⌗ 𝟒. sledding ; What does a hang out with you friend group look like? Where do you go? Who is your friend group?
⌗ 𝟓. snowman ; What is your OOTD? (outfit of the day)
⌗ 𝟔. stockings ; What is your family like? What are your relationships with different members? Any extended family? Who is visiting for Christmas?
⌗ 𝟕. candy canes ; What gives you dr euphoria? (like gender euphoria but for your dr…)
⌗ 𝟖. mistletoe ; Who is your s/o? What is your dynamic and how do you spend time together? Are you two doing something special for the holiday?
⌗ 𝟗. snowflakes ; What are some headcannons you have about people in your dr?
⌗ 𝟏𝟎. icicles ; What is your occupation in your dr? Your coworkers? (Or if student, your classmates?) What is your favorite and least favorite aspect of your occupation?
⌗ 𝟏𝟏. tree skirt ; How did you find out about shifting? What was your first dr and what is your main dr now?
⌗ 𝟏𝟐. ornaments ; What are some objects you have in your dr that you don’t in your cr? Why do you have them in your dr?
⌗ 𝟏𝟑. sleigh bells ; Are there any priveleges you have in your dr that you don’t in your cr? What are they?
⌗ 𝟏��. cookie cutters ; What are some smells that remind you of your dr? Why?
⌗ 𝟏𝟓. elf on the shelf ; who is your main wingman/women/person? What is your dynamic? What do you guys do when you hang out?
⌗ 𝟏𝟔. wrapping paper ; What is your favorite way to script? Why is it your favorite way?
⌗ 𝟏𝟕. gift tags ; What is your camera roll like in your dr? (photos or just describe it)
⌗ 𝟏𝟖. snowballs ; What is a silly scenario you are looking forward to in your dr?
⌗ 𝟏𝟗. mittens ; What are your hobbies in your dr? How do you usually spend your down time?
⌗ 𝟐𝟎. ice skates ; What is your ideal date in your dr? (friends or s/o)
⌗ 𝟐𝟏. coal ; What is something unpleasant you have/have to experience in your dr? Why are you not looking forward to it?
⌗ 𝟐𝟐. tinsel ; What is something fun or random you have scripted? (ex. Thundersnow is more common, you have a ring that allows you to read minds, you have good luck with thrifting, you’re good at gambling.)
⌗ 𝟐𝟑. fir tree ; What are some traditions you have in your dr but not your cr? Why?
⌗ 𝟐𝟒. hot cocoa ; put together a moodboard of your dr or you in your dr
⌗ 𝟐𝟓. christmas ; How are you spending your christmas? Who with? What might be some gifts you are giving and to who?
divider credits.
#sonshineshares#bro this is like a whole month late#i’ve just been busy w work (yup..) and i flip back n forth between this acc n my regular one so#forgot it existed for a while im sorry#love you.. haha…#shiftblr#kpop shifting#reality shifting#shifters#shifting#shifting motivation#shift
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Every now and again, I'll come across some fanfiction in which an emotionally conflicted character will consult (usually kind of trashy) romance novels or in-universe fanfiction for advice or information. And it almost always snaps my suspension of disbelief.
If it's some terminally online teenage geek character or a hopeless romantic bookworm character? Sure! And, of course, there's great humor to be had in a sporty jock struggling with his queer awakening hesitantly picking up the bodice-ripper that his mum left on the coffee table. There ARE scenarios where "romance novels and fanfic as research" tracks just fine. I also understand the existence of the "I want to give this character I like the hobbies I like" / "I want to poke fun at this type / genre of fiction" aspect on the author's side.
But in any scenario with some normie adult man? Some straight, cisgender guy with normie dude hobbies and no evidence that he even CAN read, much less that he enjoys reading? Then it's a "not only would he not fucking do this, I honestly don't even believe he'd know this course of action exists" characterization situation.
Like, there are an astonishing number of people, especially dudes, who could not even name a romance novel to save their fucking life. No, not even a Jane Austen novel or "Twilight" or something. Their eyes glaze over that section of a bookstore. They are mentally filing that shit out to leave more room for sports or first-person-shooter video games or something. They have no respect for this type of fiction, if they're into reading fiction at all! They unconsciously or even explicitly believe that making eye contact with a bodice-ripper will permanently damage their masculinity, and they would flinch away from touching one like most people are scared of scorpions. They don't know aaaaanything about it! They have no concept of "the good stuff" versus "the bad stuff"; it's all soap operas and pornography to them, not a source of information.
And lots of people still don't even know that fanfiction is a thing. They go through life blissfully unaware of fandom wank. Or if they do know of fanfiction, it holds no appeal for them. Playing with other people's characters, or writing fictional stories about real people, is weirdo fanatic behavior to them! Not a source of information.
(And, to be clear, I'm not saying this tracks for all female characters. No, obviously, plenty of women don't like romance novels or fanfic. Plenty of women who do like those would never look at them as sources of information either, for a variety of very good reasons. It's just really funny when a story has the most normie bro guy to ever bro engage with this type of fiction.)
So, like, no, there are some characters whom I cannot be persuaded would ever read any of this stuff. (Speaking as a terminally online fanatic!) And honestly, there are plenty of more realistic and far funnier options for some normie dude character looking for love advice.
A) Friends and family. Or else colleagues and coworkers. It is almost always hilarious when a character goes up to someone else and says, "Hey, hypothetical scenario: [the stupidest shit you've heard in your life]. Any advice for that?" Also, you can have sincerely emotional conversations between friends! Or else good angst if the friend or family member reacts in a hostile manner or gives bad advice!
B) A magazine or chick flick movie. I can easily be persuaded that a normie dude would at least know these exist, or have one left at his house by an ex-girlfriend who made him watch it one time. Normie dudes are also more likely to consider these big publications more legitimate for advice than random romance novels or fanfic.
C) Some random advice column blog or non-fiction self-help book. Could be legitimately good advice for specific situations by a thoughtful professional, could be a money-grab scam written by a quack! How is some lovesick, emotionally dense guy supposed to tell by a book cover?
D) On that note: a relationship advice TikTok influencer or YouTuber or some random advice forum, probably Reddit or the like. The pros and the quacks are unhelpfully everywhere now! And possibly even have a live chat acting as their studio audience to make airing dirty laundry more toxic than ever. Potentially, you will find the kindest person alive with a terrible username willing to gently walk you through therapy, the online equivalent of meeting a figurative angel in a dive bar, but probably not. Bad advice is much more likely.
E) Doing no research, remaining uninformed, and blustering through the situation based on random pre-conceptions if anything. Honestly, I think some of these guys would just ignore the problem, even a potentially deadly problem, rather than touch a Harlequin romance novel, much less AO3 fanfiction. Sexism and internalized homophobia are a hell of a drug. It's just not happening.
I don't have a clean conclusion for this, it's just a funny thing that I've noticed every now and again. There ARE guys who like these types of fiction, of course! There ARE male characters who own an e-reader full of rom novels, sure, and don't give a shit what anyone else thinks. "This [normie male character who is both pretty offline and worries about appearing sufficiently masculine in a pretty toxic way] is reading a lot of romance novels and/or fanfiction as a form of research!" Yeah, no, that's really hard to pull off. If this guy is touching the internet at all, he's far more likely to make the most ridiculous Reddit post you've ever seen and then start belligerent fights in the comments.
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i’m obsessed with your declan fics! can we get one where the reader has to calm him down? it would be even more fun if they were mad/annoyed at each other but he can’t help but seek her out when he needs comfort 👀
Paradoxical.
you currently can’t stand the sight of each other. and yet, in this moment… yours is the only face he wants to see.
declan o’hara x female reader (nickname - lucky.)
warnings - smut. cursing. angst. unspecified age gap. yeeeeeearning.
word count - 4.6k
authors note - she’s back 💋. loooved this request, so thank you so much to whoever sent it!! i’m still on my rivals shit, so please join me in this never ending journey. never getting over this man <3
masterlist. inbox.
“How are you doing?”
You snuggle further into the pillows on the bed, popping another strawberry in your mouth to avoid the question.
“Lucky.”
“Hmm?”
“I asked how you are.”
“M’fine,” you answer as you chew, praying the subject gets changed. She clearly doesn’t believe you, so you sigh and look at her pointedly. “I’m being serious. I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
“Taggie.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“What? No! I’d never think that.”
“Then why are you treating me like I’m oblivious? I can see that you’re not fine, but you keep lying to my face.”
Taking a deep breath, you exhale in resignation.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re caught in the middle of all of this, Tag.”
“I’m not-”
“You are. He’s your dad, I’m your friend. You are quite literally the middle man here.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she counters, perching on the edge of her bed. “If I have to be the peacekeeper, I will be.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
“I know, but these things happen. I just… if I knew what had happened, I could try and fix it.”
“You can’t fix this, Tag. I promise you, you can’t.”
She’s quiet for a moment, tracing the patterns on your socks as she thinks.
“What happened, Lucky? I swear that whatever it is, I won’t judge you. I just want to know how it all went so… wrong. One minute the two of you were the best of friends, and the next minute you’re packing up your office and leaving without so much as an explanation.”
“It’s complicated,” you murmur.
“So complicated that you had to quit your job?”
“Yes.”
“He’s never going to find a better assistant than you, you know. Never. He doesn’t even want to look for one, says he’d rather do all the work himself.”
“Well that’s stupid of him. He can’t do all that stuff himself.”
“Exactly. He’s willing to put himself through all of that stress so as not to replace you.”
“That’s his foolish choice, Tag.”
She sighs in frustration, leaning back against the footboard of the bed.
“Did he upset you? Did he say something stupid? You know what he’s like, he often doesn’t think before he speaks. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation here.”
“It wasn’t him, it was me. I quit by my own volition. He didn’t upset me, he didn’t offend me… I just had to do the right thing, which was to leave. I know you’re trying to help, Tag, but you can’t. Not with this.”
Taggie finally realises that she’s fighting a losing battle, choosing instead to shuffle over so she’s all cosy in the pillows next to you.
“I won’t tell him you were here,” she whispers, bumping your shoulder with hers.
“Thank you. I’m sorry you’re caught up in the middle of all of this.”
“I don’t mind, honestly. I just wish there was something I could do.”
“Give it some time. It’s meant to heal all wounds, after all.”
She chuckles, resting her head against yours affectionately.
“Will you help me make some raspberry tarts? I need at least forty of them, and I could do with an extra pair of hands.”
“Of course I will. But if your dad comes home, I’m sprinting out the back door.”
“Alright,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help with your escape, if need be.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You’re tempted to smash your head into the bar top.
You’ve been debating the pros and cons of it for the last forty five minutes, actually.
The gala is bustling, bodies packed into the beautiful ballroom with barely an inch between them. Everyone has a drink in hand, the light from the chandelier glinting off of the champagne and whiskey poured into crystal glasses.
You’d said yes to the event when you were still Declan’s assistant - assuming that you’d go together, just like always. And now, here you are, standing on opposite ends of the room and avoiding each other like your lives depend on it.
A cool hand finds your waist, spiced aftershave hitting your senses and letting you know who it is before they even have to speak.
“Hello, darling.”
“Hi, Rupert.”
He spins you around gracefully, smiling at you with a twinkle in his eye.
“You look ravishing, as always.”
“You don’t look half bad yourself, you know. You scrub up quite nicely.”
“Oh stop, I’ll start blushing.”
You can’t help but laugh, accepting his arm as he offers it out to you.
“Come on darling, let’s socialise a bit. You can’t stand in the corner forever.”
“I can.”
“Not on my watch.”
He’s dragging you across the floor before you can process what’s happening, people passing by you in blurs of colour and sparkles.
“Dance with me.”
“Is this fun for you? Torturing me?”
“Oh, immensely,” he grins, hands finding your hips.
You reluctantly wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him with a quirked brow.
“Don’t you have a thousand other women you could be dancing with, Rupert?”
He spins you playfully, laughing as you shriek.
“I do, but none of them are nearly as beautiful as you.”
“Oh god,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Does that line usually work?”
“Never on women as smart as you,” he chuckles, swaying you gently.
You stare at him carefully for a moment, realising you know him too well when you instantly see through his carefree facade.
“Ask it, then.”
“Hmm?”
“I know that’s what this is. You’re going to get me all soft and relaxed and tipsy, and then you’ll ask me about Declan. You might as well just cut to the chase, Rupert.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re much too intelligent to think that I believe that.”
His eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head, getting a good look at you and your unwavering expression.
“Fine, you stubborn woman. Fine. I wanted to ask you about Declan at some point tonight. But only from a place of care and concern, not because I’m going to try to wrangle the two you of back together or anything.”
“Subtlety has never been your strong suit.”
“Forgive me for being confused, alright? You were joined at the hip, and all of a sudden you can’t stand the sight of each other. It’s just so unlike the two of you.”
You sigh deeply, dropping your head forward so it rests on his chest. Rupert’s arms tighten around you, silently letting you know he’s got your back.
“It’s complicated,” you explain, muffled by the material of the man’s shirt. “Stupidly complicated.”
“So complicated that it can never, ever be repaired? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Blimey,” he half gasps, the sound vibrating through the both of you. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, you bastard.”
Rupert laughs so loudly that people turn their heads to see why, the cadence of it completely infectious. Declan watches from across the room, unable to help himself from at least glancing at the two of you together so cosily.
“He’s currently watching you like some sort of bird of prey,” he informs, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “Whatever it was that happened, it hasn’t erased the fact that he cares about you. A lot. And I know for a fact you care about him.”
“Of course I do.”
“There we go then. Surely it’s nothing that can’t be solved with a bit of good old fashioned communication.”
“You’re a terrible communicator,” you argue.
“Do as I say, not as I do.”
Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you both sway to the music once again.
“If I had a pound for every time that applied to you, Rupert, I’d be a fucking millionaire.”
He twirls you outwards quickly, watching as the skirt of your dress billows with the breeze of the action.
“And if I had a pound for every time Declan has pretended to stare interestedly around the room this evening just so he has an excuse to look at you, I’d be a millionaire too.”
You ignore the way your heartbeat picks up at his words, choosing instead to focus on the steady rhythm of the music from the piano that fills the space.
“Maybe he’s looking at you.”
“No, Lucky. He’s always looking at you.”
You sigh in resignation, fingers fiddling with Rupert’s collar as you straighten out his tie.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to respond to that.”
“You’re practically his right arm. This separation, whatever its cause, is doing both of you more harm than good. I don’t want to push you darling, because that isn’t fair - but just think about everything I’ve said, alright?”
He stares at you expectantly, brows raised in questioning.
“Alright.”
The grin on his face is almost blinding, beaming out in all directions.
“Now, you look too beautiful to stand on the fringes. I will dance with you all night if I have to, if it means showing off this stunning dress of yours.”
“So charming,” you smile, shaking your head. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse, isn’t it?”
“You’d be stupid to,” he winks, still grinning like the devil.
You let him lead you further into the middle of the dance floor, chuckling as he spins you as you go. Your hand has just slipped into Rupert’s once more when you’re both startled by a crash coming from the other side of the room.
The two of you whip your heads around towards the source of the commotion, to see two men in undoubtedly expensive suits brawling with each other. One of them is throwing punches while the other can do nothing but take them, merciless at his opponents hands. Some people are shouting and screaming, trying to physically separate them, while others turn a complete blind eye to the ruckus.
“Fuck,” Rupert mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the scene.
You’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing when you’re pushed forwards and given a clearer view of what’s in front of you, understanding Rupert’s panic immediately.
Ginger is on the floor. Declan is standing above him with bloody knuckles.
“Fuck,” you repeat.
You want to run in the other direction, desperate to not be involved with the drama. And then you look at Declan - the way he’s falling apart at the seams, nerves ruined and adrenaline rushing through his veins, clearly on the edge of something awful… and all of a sudden you’re walking towards the brawl, logic be damned.
There’s so much noise surrounding you that you can’t hear yourself think. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding against your ribcage in your sudden determination to get to the Irishman.
You’re yelling his name without even realising you’re doing it, shouting at the top of your lungs to fight over the commotion.
“Declan! Oh for fuck sake… Declan!”
Your voice somehow breaks through the noise like a sirens call, the familiar melody of it finding his ears like his favourite song. His eyes finally meet yours, and the rest of the room melts away.
You have a conversation without saying anything, so many words exchanged in such a short amount of time. The two of you have always been good at this - communicating in your own language, silently and easily.
You grab his injured hand and intertwine your fingers with his, pulling him away from the scene of the crime with determination. You cast a look back to Ginger, who remains on the floor with blood dripping from his nose, before dragging Declan through the crowd and towards the front door of the huge Manor House. You can hear Rupert trying to mitigate the situation as you leave, using his charm as he does best.
You make your way outside, yanking the man behind you in your path without so much of a glance backwards. You trudge through the gardens in your heels, ignoring the way the dewy grass brushes across the tops of your feet occasionally. Finally, after walking for what feels like hours but was actually mere minutes, you come across a bench, sheltered by an old stone wall and neatly trimmed hedges.
You shove him to sit down, still refusing to look him in the eye. Neither of you say anything, the evening breeze and two sets of lungs heaving all that can be heard.
“What happened?” you whisper eventually, reluctant to disturb the peace. “Who started it?”
Declan looks surprised that you’re speaking to him, failing to hide the shock on his face.
“Will ya sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
“You’re not the boss of me anymore, remember?” you half joke, sitting down anyway.
“Funny,” he says, completely deadpan. He looks at you carefully for a long moment, before continuing. “It was Ginger, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with him otherwise.”
“What did he say?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Matters to me.”
“Well it shouldn’t.”
“Right.”
You stare at your shoes, wondering why you even bothered to rescue him back in the ballroom.
“Fuck this, then,” you mutter as you stand up to leave.
A hand wraps around your wrist as quick as a flash, pulling you back to sit down where you were.
“No. You don’t get to just walk away from me, not again.”
“Tell me what Ginger said.”
“Tell me why you quit workin’ for me.”
“I already did.”
“Liar. You gave me a poor excuse that’s absolute bollocks. I don’t believe it for a second.”
“That’s your problem, then.”
“Yes, it is.”
You stare at him, completely exasperated by the events of the last hour.
“You can’t just punch people at galas, Declan. It’s a bad look for you, for Venturer, and for every member of staff that relies on you.”
“I know.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
He scrubs his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with both you and the situation at hand.
“He made some horrible comment about you. I fell right into his trap too, like a bull and a fuckin’ red scarf.”
“What did he say?”
He hesitates for a moment.
“Just… something crude about you sleepin’ with me to get to where you are. Called me a cradle snatcher, too.”
“You can’t be a cradle snatcher if I’m a grown woman.”
“Exactly. And it’s not true, anyway. We all know that.”
“So why did you hit him, then? If we all know it’s not true?”
Declan sighs, fatigue painting the sound.
“Because no one gets to speak about you like that with no consequence. And because I was angry.”
“At me.”
“At you. Yes.”
You fiddle with your fingers, entirely unprepared for the fact that you’re about to have the one conversation you’ve been completely avoiding.
“I never meant for any of this to happen,” you begin. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”
“Then what did you mean to happen, Lucky? Did you think that you could just up and quit with absolutely no warning, without a problem? That I’d just let you walk out? Did ya think I’d help you pack your things?”
“Obviously not,” you whisper. “I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not. Which is why I know that you thought about that decision long and hard. And that’s what I can’t seem to wrap my head around.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
He looks at you with pleading eyes, clearly desperate to resolve the issues between you.
“Please, Lucky.”
His voice is cracking just like his heart, breaking down the middle to allow all of his emotions to spill out onto the grass. You’ve never heard him sound like this. You hate it.
“I had to, Declan. For both of our sakes.”
“For fuck sake, can you cut it out?” he snaps, volume raising.
“Cut what out?”
“Speaking in these fucking riddles! I can’t even pretend that I have any idea what you’re talkin’ about. Please, whatever it is, however terrible you think it is… I just need you to say it. We’ll deal with the consequences. But I can’t keep goin’ around in circles, dancing around the subject constantly.”
You take a deep breath, bottom lip wobbling as you will yourself not to cry. You’re well and truly at the end of your tether, unsure of how much more you can take - or how much you want to. Deciding to throw caution into the wind, you exhale carefully before turning to face the man next to you.
“You’ll hate me. When I tell you.”
“I could never hate you. Never, Lucky.”
You get lost in your own head for a moment, staring off into space as you debate the best way to go about this. A large hand finds its way into your knee, comforting and grounding. His thumb rubs patterns into your skin where the slit of your dress is, warming you up from the outside in.
“I thought about it for a long time,” you begin. “A long time. Because being your assistant is the best job I have ever had, or will ever have. It was a dream, Declan. Even when we had a tough day, or week, or month, I always knew we’d be okay.”
He nods, his full attention on you.
“We were comfortable, me and you. Maybe a little too comfortable for a boss and his assistant, but in a good way, I think. I was settled, with you.”
He squeezes your thigh, urging you to continue.
“But then, I think we got too settled. People started to notice - which doesn’t matter, but they did nonetheless. I was sleeping over at your house, staying awake with you until the early hours, attending galas and events as your date. And I wasn’t sure what it was - the thing that was bothering me - until one day, it clicked.”
“Lucky…” he whispers, desperate for you to spit it out.
“I’m in love with you.”
The two of you sit the silence for a moment, listening to the breeze softly whip around you.
“That’s what clicked. And that’s why I quit. Because it felt like a conflict of interest, like a… betrayal.”
“A betrayal?”
“Yes. Like I was taking advantage, or something. And I didn’t think it was fair, for you, having me pining over you at work. I didn’t want you to feel pity for me, if you noticed eventually - I hated the idea of being treated differently by you, all through fault of my own. So I quit to get ahead of it.”
“Are ya done?”
“I, uh… yes?”
“Great.”
Declan surges forward, smashing his lips to yours with the most passion than you’ve ever experienced in your life. One of his hands tangles in your hair as the other cradles your face, pulling you as close as he physically can. His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily, allowing you to taste whiskey, cigarettes and the cool night air. Eventually, when you both need to breathe, he pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead on yours.
“Did you do that to make me shut up?” you murmur, fighting to keep the smile off your face.
“Yes and no.”
He’s grinning like the devil, chuckling as the palms of his hands find your cheeks.
“Yes and no?”
“Yes and no. I took the action needed to stop you rambling. But I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time.”
“… What?”
“Why do you think we got so comfortable, Lucky? It works two ways. You were just the only one brave enough to make a change - even if it was the completely wrong thing to do.”
“So you don’t hate me?”
“The opposite,” he laughs. “I can’t remember when it happened. I woke up one day and I just knew. And I knew that you’d never feel the same way, but I love being around you so much that I was willing to make that sacrifice. So I was a coward, and I stayed silent.”
“We’ve made this complicated. Too complicated.”
“Much too complicated.”
“But… it is. You were my boss, and you’re older than me, and I’m good friends with Taggie now, and-”
Declan kisses you again, sweeter this time.
“We can figure it out, Lucky. You know we can.”
“Maybe,” you whisper.
“And I want you to come back to work.”
“Declan-”
“I’m serious. I cannot cope without you. I will never find an assistant as good as you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to. I want you. No one else.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a conflict of interest, like I said earlier.”
“But it isn’t. Not anymore. Before all of this, we were two people in love working together. And when you come back, we’ll be two people in love working together.”
You can’t find it in you to argue, realising that he’s actually making a good point. If anything, it should be easier now that you’ve both communicated your feelings - no more skeletons in the closet.
“Tell me you don’t miss it,” he provokes. “Tell me you’re not even remotely tempted to come back.”
“I can’t.”
“Exactly.”
You take a deep breath, moving the hair away from his eyes tenderly.
“I’ll think about it, alright? I’ll have a think when I go home.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He smiles like the cat that’s got the cream, entirely too satisfied with the outcome of this conversation.
“I know we’re in uncharted territory here, Lucky. But we can figure it out. You know we can.”
“I know. It’ll be hard, but… I know.”
You lean up to kiss him softly, sighing as your eyes drift closed. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pulls you closer, trying to plaster every inch of his body to yours.
You lose yourself in everything Declan - the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he feels underneath your fingertips. You want to strip him bare right here and memorise every curve of his muscles, every line in his skin, every mark on his face.
His hand slips further and further up the slit of your dress, gripping at your thigh as if he’s worried you’ll slip away. You’re half in his lap, draped over him on the bench as he still pulls you impossibly closer.
“I’ve dreamt of this,” he whispers against your throat. “Every. Single. Night.”
He kisses his way along your neck, revelling in the way you squirm at the feeling of his moustache on your skin. You grab fistfuls of his white shirt, crumpling it in your hands to try and give yourself some sort of anchor.
When Declan’s fingertips slip into your underwear, all you can do is sigh, resigned to the fact that you’d let him do absolutely anything he wanted in this current moment.
“We’re in public,” you protest weakly, both of you knowing you don’t want him to stop.
“We’re at the bottom of the garden, surrounded by three hedges and a wall. If anyone sees, that’s their fault.”
You drop your head forward onto his shoulder, parting your legs to give him a better angle. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels just how aroused you are, practically vibrating with want.
“Are ya this wet f’me?”
You nod against his shirt, not trusting your voice.
“Oh, sweetheart. Well I can’t leave you like this, can I? That’d be cruel.”
He pulls your underwear to the side fully so he can slip a finger into you with ease, both of you groaning at the sensation. Sliding a second one in, you hold onto him for dear life, panting like you’ve run a marathon.
“Please,” you whisper. “Declan, please.”
“I’ll do anything to hear you say my name like that again, Lucky. Anything in the world.”
“Declan.”
He sets a steady pace, crooking his fingers as he goes to make sure you see stars. Your eyes are rolling back, lip caught between your teeth to stifle any sounds that threaten to escape.
“God, I wish I could hear how pretty you sound,” he groans, looking at you intently. “You can make as much noise as you want when I take you home. Promise.”
You whimper softly, bucking your hips up to meet his rhythm. The bench is cold underneath you, the air turning chilly, but neither of you pay any mind to it. You’re too far gone to care.
You grab Declan’s other hand and stick two of his fingers in your mouth, laving your tongue around them to keep you quiet. He moans at the sight, all deep and rumbled, the sound reverberating through both of you.
“You’re gonna be the death of me.”
All you can do is look at him with big, bright eyes, pleading with him silently to finish the job at hand.
“You want me to make you come, sweetheart? That it?”
When you nod, he picks up the pace of his fingers, thumb pressing circles into your clit.
“Have ya thought about this? In bed, alone, getting yourself off in the dark?”
You whine at his words, nodding your head in answer.
“That’s a good girl. Come for me, sweetheart. Come for me and I’ll take you home and fuck you properly, yeah?”
You see stars as you climax, gripping onto his shirt and his hand for dear life. He works you through it, murmuring filthy promises into your ear as he does it.
Lifting his fingers from between your thighs, he pops them straight into his mouth, both of you groaning in unison.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against your lips, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Perfect girl.”
You shuffle sideways so you’re pressed into Declan’s side, two strong arms encircling you immediately.
“Thank you.”
“For the orgasm?”
“Yes and no,” you laugh. “For listening to me. I’ve been going insane trying to think about what I’d say to you if I got the chance to explain myself, but no words seemed to suffice.”
“I just wish you’d talked to me sooner, sweetheart. I’ve been going insane trying to get through life without you. Not to mention that office is chaos.”
You laugh gently, cuddling into him and his warmth.
“I’ll fix it on Monday.”
“Yeah? For definite?” he asks, hope colouring his voice.
“Yeah. Like I said - best job I’ve ever had.”
“You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, sweetheart.”
You grin as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, all soft and sugary sweet.
“Besides. Someone’s going to have to sort out the inevitable mess that’ll follow you hitting Ginger at a charity gala.”
“Ah, I forgot about that,” he laughs, planting a kiss into your hair. “What would I do without ya, hmm?”
“You’ll never have to find out,” you smile, resting your head onto his shoulder. “Never again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
You sit on the bench for a little while longer, both of you looking up at the stars that paint the sky in a canopy above your heads. You’re quite convinced you could stay like this forever, just the two of you in your own little universe.
There’s paperwork to be done, meetings to be had, deals to be made. But all of that can wait.
Right now, it’s just you and Declan.
The way it should be.
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adore you
pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 3k a/n: written for @mggslover's 1k celebration event, congrats baby! i initially wrote 5k, hated it, and basically rewrote all of it but i swear i still had fun writing this. i hope you enjoy <3
summary:
Weird. You're acting like my boyfriend. - God Is a Freak, Peach PRC Your boss has essentially become your best friend. What the hell does Derek mean he looks at you a certain way?
c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, age gap ofc, feelings realization, reader is oblivious and tipsy but is a consenting party
read below or on ao3 here <3
“So, you and Hotch, huh?”
You had just finished putting your coat up, stepping through the massive entryway of Rossi’s mansion, when Derek approaches you with that familiar shit-eating grin and hands rubbing together like he’s scheming something.
You blink up at him, confused. “Yeah… he gave me a ride.”
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still wearing that smile that made you want to lovingly punch him. “Yeah, I saw that. I meant, you and Hotch aren’t…?”
You squint at him, because you really aren’t sure what he’s hinting at. Also, a glass of wine has been calling your name since you started getting ready and Derek is very much in the way of that. Hotch was always annoyingly punctual, and today was no different because you were honestly about to open up a bottle when you heard his car pull up in the driveway. “We aren’t what?”
“Sweetness. You’re really trying to tell me you and Hotch aren’t together?”
You choke on your spit, coughing so loud in your fist that it echoes down the entryway and gathers the attention of Rossi and Hotch at the end of it. You wave them off when they both give you equally alarmed and concerned looks while Derek laughs heartily, like the asshole he is.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss at him, slapping him on the shoulder as he nearly makes himself tear up from laughing.
Derek puts a somewhat apologetic hand on your arm as he steers you to the kitchen and pours you a glass of red, finally. “Hey, I see the way he looks at you, I just wanted to make sure I’m up to date on everything.”
And that catches your attention.
Your chest still aching from your coughing fit, you give him another perplexed look. “What? He looks at me the same way as he looks at everyone.”
Derek’s face morphs into a nervous, almost uncomfortable one as he starts slowly backing away into the living room, as if you were an unpredictable dangerous animal. “I think I’m gonna… look for Garcia.”
And then he turns on his heel and is out of the kitchen before you can blink, leaving you with your lone glass of wine and the sounds of laughter emanating from the patio.
You’re still so fucking confused, because you and Hotch were only friends. In fact, you can almost consider him your best friend with the way you two are spending so much time together, even on the weekends.
One late night spent in his office to work on reports that were due the next day that you had procrastinated on and ordering Chinese food eventually turned into a habitual thing, now spending the last hour of the workday every night in his office. Then, he started inviting you to the park to play with Jack who had apparently been asking for you, then staying for dinner because Hotch was not eating the way he should’ve been and him and Jack didn’t deserve to eat pizza rolls with mac and cheese every night.
It's been a couple of months and now, you can honestly say you two are nearly attached at the hip. You’ve tried to tone it down for the office, because you knew you would get teased, and clearly you were right.
But dating Hotch? Honestly, the thought had never occurred to you.
You’ve been single for over a year and you were okay with that, because at least the job kept you busy. And you know for a fact that Hotch hasn’t even thought about dating since Beth moved a couple of years ago.
The sudden thought of Beth, her pretty blue-green eyes and perfect hair, causes a sour taste to form in your mouth. You had never met her, having only technically heard good things about her, but every time you thought of her or someone mentioned her in passing, you felt… upset.
For no reason.
When you glance at Hotch from where he’s talking with the rest of the team on the patio, you catch his gaze for a brief second before he’s turning his head back around to chuckle at something Rossi says.
You feel your heart start to race, your blood rushing through your ears, because what the fuck did Derek mean when he said Hotch looks at you a certain way? You were telling the truth when you said you’ve only noticed him looking at you platonically and nothing more.
Sure, Hotch was conventionally attractive, handsome even. You guess he hit all your boxes in a guy; tall, capable hands, and pretty brown eyes. He was a good boss, a good man, and was always putting other people first before even thinking about himself. He had an intense sense of justice, loves children, and would do absolutely anything for his team and even beyond for Jack.
He has a nice laugh once you break down his walls. For all he’s meticulous at work, his house is absolutely chaotic and it takes you nearly an hour sometimes to get him and Jack ready for a soccer game. He doesn’t prefer to cook but he seems to enjoy it more when you’re in the kitchen with him, laughing at his technique and groaning about the lack of certain utensils.
The sudden realization that you like Hotch, your boss that is older than you by 20 years, hits you like a ton of bricks. You nearly snap the stem of your wine glass, something like panic and mortification climbing up your throat before you could help it.
It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s normal to have a crush on someone you spend time with on a regular basis and is conventionally attractive. You can deal with that.
But the absolute possibility that Hotch doesn’t want you romantically was very real. In fact, it had to be the only possibility. You were younger and less experienced, both romantically and professionally. The only reason that he’s been spending so much time with you was because you needed guidance and reassurance as the newest member of the team.
He doesn’t look at you any differently than the others. That’s it. Derek has no idea what he’s talking about.
You take a shuddering deep breath, quickly composing yourself because, hello, you work with profilers. Which meant you couldn’t avoid or hide from Hotch tonight, no matter how much you wanted to.
When you make your way out to the patio to join the others with a full glass of wine and you spot the only space left in the circle was between Spencer and Penelope, you internally thank whatever God was out there. The sound of them talking over each other about something inane was oddly comforting as your eyes met Aaron’s from the other side of the circle.
His eyes appeared golden from the numerous fairy lights strewn across Rossi’s backyard, making his face appear softer and younger. You’re not sure how it took you this long to realize he was so handsome.
He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you were okay because, somehow, he’s grown to learn your facial expressions like the back of his hand, which means he most likely will catch on to you having a silly juvenile crush on him.
You give him a weak smile, raising your glass slightly before taking a large gulp of it. You’re glad that Rossi is Rossi and that he doesn’t spare any expenses when he throws his parties, the strong cherry flavor refreshing compared to your cheap boxed wine you’re used to. You don’t even remember what you were celebrating tonight, or if you were even celebrating anything at all and this was just another much needed get together after case after case.
You catch something soft in Hotch’s eyes that makes your chest pang painfully as he raises his own glass of whiskey before taking a sip. No one else has noticed, too enthralled by their own conversations, so the intimacy of the private moment doesn’t escape you, in fact making you even more anxious.
It was going to be a long night.
-
You are absolutely going to give Derek an earful on Monday morning.
It’s entirely his fault that you’re not enjoying Rossi’s party to the full extent, his words swimming in your mind.
Now, you’re psychoanalyzing and second-guessing everything Hotch does.
You had made sure to walk alongside Penelope on the way to the large round table for dinner, somewhat consciously as you continued to avoid Hotch but also because she was rambling about the show you suggested she watch. Spencer was on the other side of you, interjecting whenever he could, and you made a mental note that Hotch was still on the other side of the circle between Rossi and Tara.
So imagine your surprise when, after you tear your attention away from Spencer’s ramblings and back to Penelope, you’re met with Hotch’s pretty eyes and woodsy cologne instead.
“Oh, hi,” you say, hoping he doesn’t hear the shakiness that’s suddenly overtaken your voice as that familiar panic starts to crawl up your throat. This wasn’t going to be good.
“’Hi.” The corners of Hotch’s lips quirk up, eyes softening, and what the fuck is going on. “Can I sit next to you?”
You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. This man cannot be healthy for you. “Oh, yeah, sure.”
And then he’s pulling out your chair for you.
And it’s not anything new—he pulls your chair out for you all the time, in the conference room, in his dining table when you made not-pizza rolls, and even at restaurants the afternoons after Jack’s soccer games. You’ve never thought anything of it, but tonight, after your impeccably timed realization, your brain feels like it’s going to implode.
He’s just being a gentleman, that’s all.
“Thank you,” you manage out, heat starting to come to your face. Before Hotch, no one’s ever pulled your chair out for you. It’s nice.
Hotch doesn’t say anything, because of course not, just scoots your chair in closer to the table before he takes his seat on your right.
And he’s sitting really fucking close to you.
Have you always sat this close to each other before? You must have at least once during those late nights in his office, poring over case file after case file.
Not only could you feel the heat of his body just from sitting next to him, but his arm kept brushing up against your bare one while he ate, because of course you had to sit on the left side of a left-handed person. Every brush of the sleek fabric of his green button-up against your bare arm sent shivers down your spine despite the summer air, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.
His hand kept brushing against yours as you ate and your eyes are drawn to how large his hands are as he handles his fork and the thickness of his forearms, having had rolled up his sleeves earlier. If you searched closely, you could find scars scattered over them through the dusting of hair, undoubtedly from his time on the job.
You don’t realize you’re staring at his Rolex and the way it glints underneath the lights, until Hotch is suddenly leaning into you. “Are you okay?”
Jesus Christ, hearing that smooth voice speaking lowly in your ear, breath warm as it fans over your cheek, causes all of the air in your lungs to escape. Has his voice always been that smooth, attractive?
When you risk a glance at him, conversations around the table slowly fading into the background, his face is merely inches from yours. His brows are pinched in concern and lips are pressed into a flat line. There’s something dancing in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put a finger on.
You clear your throat. “Sorry, I think the wine is just getting to me.”
He chuckles low underneath his breath. “Good thing I’m driving.”
And then he’s knocking the back of his hand against yours, the briefest brush of skin that causes electricity to zing up your spine, and then he’s back to listening intently to Derek and Emily’s bickering over who cheated at the last game of charades.
At this point, you think Hotch is able to read your mind. Why else would he be touching you, be sweet on you, if not to torture you?
You try to wrack your brain through these past couple of months, trying to find whether Hotch touching his hand to yours has happened before or any other sign that he actually is attracted to you. You come up short.
You chalk it up to him loosening up from his whiskey. He’s already moved onto water, because he was your ride, after all, so maybe this was a fluke. A one-off.
But it’s not a one-off. In fact, you think you’ve honestly died and gone to Heaven after suddenly tripping and breaking your head open in the entryway after Derek spoke with you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were actually on a date with Hotch, sans the rest of the team.
He must have noticed your distracted mood, because he’s making sure you’re included in almost every table conversation by glancing at you and giving you a smile that has started to make something flutter in your stomach. He’s participating minimally like usual, content to listen, but whenever he has a comment or thought he wants to share, he’s leaning in and sharing it with you.
He's leaning in to top of your wine, reaching over the table to get more of those green beans you like, and once even knocking his knee against yours underneath the table when you looked especially lost in thought while staring at your plate.
And then when the team has moved into the living room for charades, Emily wanting payback against Derek, it somehow gets even worse.
You’re quick enough to be the first to volunteer to not play due to there being an odd number of players, thus requiring Hotch to play. Everyone cheers teasingly, because Hotch is always quick to volunteer himself out of games, content to watch.
You blame the copious glasses of wine you’ve consumed and the decadent filling dinner, warmth thrumming through your entire body, when you poke at Hotch’s considerably firm bicep. “Show us what you got, old man.”
There are resounding oohs and aahs from the rest of the team. Something fuzzy settles in your chest when Hotch rolls his eyes good-naturedly at you and stands up from where he had sat next to you on the couch to JJ’s team.
You continue to nurse your wine, pleasantly buzzed, as you are thoroughly entertained by your team’s antics. Emily and Rossi argue at least 3 times, Penelope gets significantly close to having a private meeting with HR, and Hotch continues to stare at you.
Or at least, you think he’s staring at you. The alcohol has started making you second guess things even more than you already were. Because for some reason, despite JJ sitting on the other side of the living room and being on a team with her, he moved to sit in the empty spot next to you after the first round.
He’s definitely participating in the game, even in second place behind Penelope and Derek, but you swear you feel his eyes on you now more than ever.
It’s distracting as you try to follow the game and guess along with everyone else. This time, the right side of him is nearly molded against your left side, pressing into you so hard that you’re starting to sweat from how much body heat he’s radiating.
When you glance at him to try and catch his eyes, he meets your gaze steadily. His hair is starting to come undone, a few strands falling against his forehead, and his dimple seems to have made a permanent appearance from how much he’s pretending not to laugh at his team’s antics.
It’s nice to see him enjoy himself—a flush rising up his neck and shoulders relaxed. Although you understand he has a certain image he maintains for his team, it’s become familiar to you.
By the time it dwindles close to midnight, there’s a chorus of yawns around the group. Penelope’s the first to call it, stumbling to grab a hold of Derek’s arm and dragging him with her out the door to drive her home, ruining your initial plans to catch a ride home with her instead of Hotch. After that, everyone starts to say their goodnights and exchanging hugs despite the chance you may get called on a case as early as tomorrow morning.
“You ready to go?” Hotch leans to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning over you again and causing heat to rise to your face.
“Absolutely,” you exhale, clutching the water bottle that Hotch retrieved for you in the middle of the game, hoping the breathiness in your voice could be blamed on how late it was.
When you get to Hotch’s car, heart full and warm after spending another wonderful evening with your makeshift family, he opens the passenger side door for you.
You think you’re going to lose your mind if he keeps this up. How are you supposed to stop having a crush on Hotch when he keeps doing things that justify that crush?
“Do you need to stop anywhere for anything? Are you hungry?”
You blame it on the wine despite the fact you’ve been drinking nothing but water for the past hour, thanks to Hotch silently getting you and only you a water. Your body and tongue feels loose, inhibitions naturally decreased, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter if the soft lights of the driveway highlight the sharp angles of his face or the way his woodsy cologne has infiltrated your senses.
“Weird, you’re acting like my boyfriend or something.”
The silence that ensues is deafening. Your brain takes forever to catch up with you, but then you’re suddenly struck with humiliation and dread. You mind starts to race, as best as it could, when you realize that you may have just royally messed up the best job you’ve ever had and the best group of people you’ve ever met.
Before you can backtrack and say that you were just joking, Hotch carefully says “Do you want me to be?”
“What?” Wow, you really can’t hold your alcohol well, why did you drink so much wine?
And then Hotch is stepping closer, into your space, and you’d be worried that the rest of the team was going to see if the car door wasn’t shielding you from view from the front of the house. You get a whiff of whiskey on his breath again, but when you meet his eyes, there’s not a hint of the same full body dizziness you feel.
“Was I not being direct enough?” There’s amusement sparkling in his eyes, eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s politely trying to hide a fond smile. He’s teasing you.
This Hotch is the one you’ve grown to become familiar with over the past several months. Charming and unafraid to tease you when you’re away from prying eyes. Hotch is a private person, always has been, so it’s not a surprise that him essentially torturing you tonight was his version of being direct.
“You’ve been flirting with me?”
Hotch ducks his head bashfully to chuckle. It’s ridiculously endearing and you want to tug him closer and touch him all over. “I’ve been trying to flirt with you all month so I’m guessing I didn’t do a very good job.”
You stare at him as if he grew a second head, suddenly feeling much more sobered up than 5 minutes ago. Clarity sluggishly comes to you. The various invitations to spend the night or go out to dinner without Jack comes to mind. The touching had steadily increased, but you had assumed it was just due to Hotch getting more comfortable around you.
For a profiler, you weren’t very good at noticing what was happening right in front of you.
Hotch may be a ridiculously patient person, clearly since he’s been content to flirt with you for apparently a month while you didn’t notice, but you were not. You knew what you wanted. The wine still thrumming through your veins just gave you that little extra push.
You place your palms on his chest, relishing in the subtle firmness you can detect through his shirt, and you wonder if that’s his heart you feel thumping erratically or your own. “I promise I’m not that drunk and am fully aware of what is going on right now.”
Hotch hums and places his hands on your hips, the heat of him searing through the fabric of your dress. His eyes briefly flit to your mouth before back up at you. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”
Instead of providing a snarky response, and because you know Hotch wouldn’t make the first move since you did have some to drink, you finally lean in to close the distance between you two to kiss him.
It’s soft, chaste in a way that makes you feel pleasantly warm all over, the barest tendrils of electricity tugging at the pit of your stomach. The intensity of how much you like him, how much you adore him, nearly barrels you over, but Hotch’s grip on you tightens, steadying you. His lips only slightly move against yours, as if briefly testing the waters, but it does nothing to quell the sudden desire slowly twisting inside of you.
When he pulls back, chest only marginally heaving, you instinctively chase after him. He chuckles again, low and comforting, as his hands come up to hold you still by the shoulders. It shouldn’t feel as nice and soothing as it does. “I should take you home.”
“Are you coming with me?” You sincerely hope that Hotch doesn’t question you and your boldness tomorrow. Again, not entirely your fault.
“I’ll walk you to your door, how about that?” As if he already wasn’t going to do that.
On the drive back to your apartment, the tight ball of panic and uncertainty in your chest quickly unfurls and is replaced by affection, tenderness, and promises of the future. Hotch’s hand, large and protective, doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way home.
You make a mental note to send Derek a gift card and thank you note on Monday.
#posting this and immediately going 2 sleep gn#lovers1kevent#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x reader fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#mine#criminal minds fic
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Radiostatic fic where Vox "loses a bet" and has to fight Alastor dressed in some version of a skirt and/or dress - or just like, the feminine version of his typical outfit. (Vox doesn't acknowledge he kind of likes the outfit in any way, but he still doesn't want to meet his RIVAL wearing it.)
Except. Alastor doesn't treat him any different. They fight as normal, and Alastor gives him all the same insults.
Finally, Vox is like, "HAVE YOU NOT NOTICED WHAT I'M WEARING?!" and Alastor is just like, "Of course I have, old pal, you're finally wearing something OTHER than that typical eyesore of yours!"
Vox: What.
Alastor: You didn't really think your competing stripes and colors were fashionable, did you? Not to mention that atrocious little hat you always wear! Why, I'd wondered if perhaps I should introduce you to my optometrist!
Vox doesn't even know how to handle this. Both Vel and Val are giving him shit and making fun of him "having" to fight Alastor in that outfit (he didn't really HAVE to, but he can't resist the opportunity to fuck with that deer) but Alastor didn't even seem to care? At all? What???
If Vox was gonna expect someone to have bad opinions on shit like this, it'd DEFINITELY be the deer who refuses to acknowledge it's not the 1930s anymore.
Alastor: You don't honestly believe you're the first man I've met in a skirt, do you? This is hell, my dear! I hardly see how what you're wearing takes away from your obnoxious clout chasing, after all!
Vox: Okay, fuck you for real then, I guess.
Does he realize he's transfem? Does he embrace some femininity he's refused to touch for years because he's transmasc and didn't want to be misgendered? Or does he just like to dress up in pretty skirts and dresses? You decide.
Either way, he starts wearing it more often (and he'll electrocute anyone who tries to say he's dressing up FOR Alastor, by the way, he's not. It means nothing to him that Alastor said he liked that outfit more than his usual one, and it has no correlation to him stopping wearing that outfit when he knows he'll see Alastor. No connection at all. Fuck you for even thinking that.)
It DOES lead to a hilarious misunderstanding at the hotel when Vox shows up at the hotel in a dress and Alastor immediately attacks him, only for Charlie to (tearfully) break them apart and force Alastor to go to sensitivity training for his intolerance. Vox is too busy laughing to correct her.
(Vox then chokes on his spit when the next time he sees Alastor, ALASTOR is the one in a dress because this was Charlie's way of "showing him the error of his ways" and Alastor gave up trying to explain he was attacking Vox for being VOX and NOT for wearing a dress. Vox sees an ankle and passes out like a Victorian man about it.)
#hazbin hotel#alastor#vox#radiostatic#sorry. but. put that television in a skirt#in a transfem way or not idc he just needs it#his outfit is atrocious its gotta be on purpose let him dress up pretty#idk. i just want vox in a dress or skirt. it fuels me.#hazbin alastor#hazbin vox#staticradio
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//OKAY. RUBBING MY HANDS TOGETHER. I’ve gotten tagged twice (I think) and I’ve been meaning to make myself a little list and now I will begin. I’m DEFINITELY forgetting people so don’t feel bad if you weren’t mentioned. I just have ADHD. That aside, here are the ten that come to mind first!
1. Everyone in the Hoenn server sphere. I’m not tagging all of you because that’s so many blogs but I love you guys and I love seeing your shit on my dash. Astra also @wishmaker-astra, who, despite being Unova-based, is in the Hoenn sphere. The entire Hoennverse sphere counts as one btw.
2. @lemmondrivenbite you guys crack me up oh my god. fujoshi rpf rotomblr blog. I have laughed so hard I’ve nearly started screaming because of you guys.
3. @real-team-luster I love seeing Darrin. This guy is so . out of touch. Out of time out of my head when you’re not around. I’m not fully aware of everything going on with him but it is always fun to see this guy struggle.
4. @pastoria-marsh-official hi Bast I love your marsh blog <3 I love preserve/safari zone shit in general as a citizen naturalist who used to work at a zoo, and I think Pastoria Marsh Official has so much character. Especially using the Japanese names of Pokémon, love love that! :)
5. @skitter-smack BURGY <3 I’m such a Burgundy fan. Follow Burgundy for Digging. We Need To Dig. (And on that note, @sillydex45 too. Sneets.)
6. @equine-fanblog Harte’s son! Love to see the antics he gets into which are basically just him being insulted. Poor guy. I think everyone should go be niceys to him. Or not. Your choice. I’m a huge Lace fan I love Lace.
7. @mimikinyuu I snile when I see slutchposting. I need to interact with you more I feel like our characters would gel.
8. @plasma-king-official oh my fucking god this blog is a riot. SUCKS that it’s Ghetsis and most of my characters have him blocked but this blog is SO funny and I’m SUCH a big fan of how elaborate it all is and all the lore behind it and all the silly shit going on in the background. Very silly blog I love seeing it on my dash.
9. @kantocamping I still need to draw the Harte Koichi zoom call. Waiter! Waiter! Another middle aged man in the rotomblr biosphere!
10. @alolapokemon is an honestly great more realistic look at Alola with a character who lives on a boat. Love seeing the worldbuilding here and the shit you come up with, it’s so cool to read about Lynn’s complaints about…so many things that really parallel real life! Very cool, worth a look!
11. SECRET ELEVENTH @thatfailedpokemontrainer and @battle-subway-ghost share the eleventh spot as Those Guys Who Are Friends who I like to see on my dash :) hi guys
// what if we all tagged our favorite blogs and went to check eachother's favorite blogs out as a result of tagging our favorite blogs. what then
#//SORRY IT’S ONLY TEN. my mind is so good at not remembering things.#//these aren’t top ten either these are just the first ones that came to mind#//that being said: if I interact with you often and I’m following you you’re probably a favorite :)#//edit: ELEVEN*#//twelve technically I guess
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Frat Boys & Parties ˙⟡ — A tutorial. ⋆⭒˚。⋆ "How do I write a Frat Party?"
Ok, so as a luigi girlie, I want you guys to understand how to write our frat boy correctly !! Heres a lil walkthru of a frat party! The good, bad, and the gross lol
!DISCLAIMER! Not every frat is the same, but these are some common themes ive seen after about 4-5 crashes at diff brotherhoods lol
1. The Party
Ok, so this is a p self explanatory part. What is a frat party like, and what are some common misconceptions.
The most common one i see is that there’s some sort of “guest list” or that in order to get into a frat, you have to come with a brother. This isn’t true…at all. You will be LET IN for being a woman, as long as they find you “attractive” (I did say the bad would be included). Frat parties are usually not invite only, and if they are it’s usually a brother thing. It’s actually harder to get into a frat as a man, as their main goal is as many chicks in the house AS POSSIBLE. If you come with ONE dude as ONE chick, you will separated if he’s not a brother lol. They won’t let him in.
If you do go with a man, please bring at least 3-4 friends. There needs to be a ratio lol.
Now how do you even get into a frat? Simple! Word of mouth, socializing, etc. if you have even one friend that’s a social butterfly, you will more than likely be aware of when different frats are hosting. There is usually NO invite system.
You can make a character that’s known to be social, you can be the social friend, etc etc. But honestly its not difficult if you have even a slightly small friend group.
2. What It’s like
You can always tell when someone hasn’t been to a frat by the way they talk about them. They are very VERY gross😭 You will be uncomfortable, the music is painfully loud and shitty, the tables are sticky, everyone smells sweaty, and you will get hit on and very potentially harassed. This is why it’s wiser to come with a male friend and 4-5 girlfriends. It’s not wise to be at a frat alone or just with one girl. Remember, the goal is ALWAYS going to be getting you drunk.
Write about the stickiness of the floor, how humid the room feels, the constant jostling of bodies, and the people around you. The party will feel less realistic and flat if there’s no small dialogue. For example, bumping into people.
“Excuse me, sorry!” A random girl squeaked, a drunken smile on her face as she squeezed past, her pupils the size of dinner plates.
Or if you’re feeling a little more frat-boy motivated, write a brief interaction with a brother.
“Hey…you havin’ fun? Yeah, my dude Jacob put this party together. He’s kind of an asshole, cuz he made me do all the planning, but it’s whatever.”
If your character is more reserved and tends not to drink, the night will be uncomfortable for them. One way I like to show discomfort or emphasize the grotesque is use “gross” imagery. Compare the actions and surroundings of your character to formally uncomfortable topics and ideas. Remember, imagery is a GREAT tool! Use it to make your advantage and make your readers skin crawl!!
“The crowd around you wiggled and thrashed like a hoard of hungry maggots attacking at a piece of rotten fruit, the bitter and stale taste of the cheap beer serving as their stimulant in the ghostly night.”
And on the topic of beer, it’s ALWAYS cheap. It’s free, so why are you complaining? Complaining about the drinks is usually a no no lmfao😭 make sure to include that in as well! I can’t give you any brands to go off of cuz it’s different at every party I’ve been to, but it’s usually NEVER any high quality shit. No Heineken, no Bud Lite, no Miller.
Cheap beer tastes literally like scorching expired fruit. It has the stalest taste ever. It’s DISGUSTING. I need to emphasize this so YOU can emphasize it in your writing. Alcohol burns! It hurts to chug, it hurts to sip, it’s “spicy”. This is another opportunity to use allusion and imagery in your writing. Talk about how it feels like flames going down, or how it bites at the flat part of your tongue and stings your nose.
Now, if your character is a little bit more open to drinking, slowly begin to go from “gross” imagery or themes of discomfort into fantasy and “wonderland-esque” imagery.
You’ll have more fun at a frat if you’re not sober, and that’s the tea. Monitor how much your character is drinking, and how she should be reacting in this state! I break it up into a couple of levels.
Buzzed.
Tipsy
Sloppy
Blackout
At buzzed, your character should slowly begin to get more social. She’s giggly, happy, and a little more relaxed but still very in tune with her surroundings. Spend more time in the party than you will in her mind. At this point, she’s thinking a little bit less, so try to cut a little bit of monologue.
At tipsy, she’s getting loose-lipped and courageous. Talking to strangers, dancing with a brother she’s never met, pursuing the goal she had originally come to the party for (if she has one), and a little bit less aware. She may lose her friends in the sea of people, but she’s overall still fine.
At SLOPPY, she’s becoming a bit of a nuisance. She’s getting loud, bumping into people a bit harder than usual, has no concept of personal space, and is a yap machine. She’s talking so much, and is stumbling and laughing at anything. Or, quite the contrary, she’s crying and sitting on the floor. Depends on who she is.
At Blackout, she’s slowing down. Her words are drastically slurred, so be prepared to ignore your grammarly. She’s stumbling through people, likely trying to find a place to sit down, the lights are way brighter than they actually are, and she might even throw up.
THISSS is how you write being drunk! It varies from person to person, because I am unfortunately a flirty and energetic drunk, but this is a baseline to work with.
The more your character drinks, the more their headspace should reflect this feeling. Some words like floaty, tingly, euphoric, giddy, etc should suffice. I even like to compare it to space because sometimes it do be feeling like zero gravity😔
do we want a part 2 with how to write actual Frat boys? Cuz it seems not many of us have encountered them irl…(it’s better that way trust.)
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Challenge time. List one thing you like about every trigger happy havoc character!
challenge? challenge??? you dare to give me a trivial Children's Task and call it a challenge? what a grand delusion! what an infinite well of witlessness and ignorance!
i will give you
THREE THINGS I LIKE ABOUT EACH THH CHARACTER
Makoto: cute bunny man; doesn't know what's going on; canonically goes on 4chan
Kyoko: gloves; tragic backstory; alpha
Hifumi: pointy head; charming weeb; love his EN voice acting
Hina: murder-suicide attempt of all time; donut lover; cute expressions
Celestia: amazing detail on her lace; intense expressions; twintail-less form adorable
Taka: hall monitor charm; "we don't need women at all any more" hilarity; naivete
Mondo: pretty eyes; desire to do something with his life; hair a hybrid of a drill and an armadillo
Byakuya: plot wouldn't move as hard without him; not a typical rich bitch in that he does have the education to back him up; funny when the target of the Fukawa system
Toko: literature girl like me; strong opinions about shit that doesn't matter; worm smile
Genocider Syo: KYAHAHAHAHA; helps the plot in unexpected ways; worm tongue
Sakura: beeg muscles; honorable yamato nadeshiko; trust in Hina is honestly soul-affirming
Chihiro: just wants to help and be better; cutie pie of all time; defeats Junko from beyond the grave
Sayaka: perfect encapsulation of the franchise; she's psychic; sweet design
Yasuhiro: hilarious; handsome even by my dyke standards in DR3; big on another perfect encapsulation of the series themes as well
Leon: extremely human case with an extremely human execution; portrayal in stage show fun as hell; awesome hair color
Mukuro: f r e c k l e s; military weeb; big sis of all time
Monokuma: mascot of all time; fellow kuma; puhuhuhu/upupupupu
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No. 27 | "Don't cry, I hate it when you cry." PG6
masterlist requests prompt list (if you request a prompt, please request a player for it as well!) warnings: none.
After yet another long day of work, you walk back through your apartment door and put your bag and coat on the hanger, tiredly wandering into the dining room and rubbing your eyes. You get the fright of your life, your boyfriend sitting at the table with a giant grin. After you calm down from the scare, you laugh slightly.
“Dios mío, Pablo. Some warning would’ve been nice.” He stands up and comes towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Lo siento (i’m sorry), I wanted to surprise you.” “Well, you definitely nailed the ‘surprise’ bit.” you chuckle, laying your head on his chest. “I cooked for you. Your favourite.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? Why?” “Why not?” he shrugs, “You’re my girlfriend, I love you, I wasn’t busy, and I assumed you would’ve had a long day, so I did something nice.” You smile slightly, “Of course you did. You’re too good to me.” “Just as good as you deserve. Now, sit.” he pulls out your chair for you and more or less forces you down into it.
A plate of (your favourite food) is put in front of you, and you grin up at Pablo. “Gracias, mi alma (thank you, my soul).” “De nada (you’re welcome).” “So how was training today?” you ask, looking at him as you both begin to eat. “Good, I think we’ll play well in the game on Wednesday. Speaking of, are you gonna be able to come?” “I wish, and I hope so, but I’d have to ask my boss to finish an hour early. And when she’s the one approving it, there’s a very small chance it’ll actually happen. But if I can’t be there in person, I’ll be secretly checking the score on my phone under my desk.” you smile weakly, you really are sick of your nightmare of a boss. Pablo frowns. “How come everyone else’s leave always gets approved, but never yours? How come she always gives you more work than everyone else? Does she not like you or something?” You sigh and shrug, “Honestly, your guess is as good as mine. It sure seems like she doesn’t like me, but I have no idea why. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything wrong or made a mistake around her.” Pablo’s frown only grows. “I don’t understand why you even still work there, why can’t you just find another job? Hell, why can’t you just quit? I’ve told you before, I make more money than I know what to do with, it would literally be no problem if you stopped working, let me support you, and moved into my apartment with me.”
“Because I’d feel bad.” “Well, that’s stupid. Why?” “Just because. You don’t need to be paying for all my shit on top of all yours.” Pablo rolls his eyes. “You aren't a particularly expensive person, Y/N. You rarely even let me buy you anything. You insist on paying for your portion of meals and always buy me far too much for Christmas and my birthday, etc.” “Yes, because I’m your girlfriend, not your financial burden.” “Spoiling the love of my life every once and a while is hardly a ‘financial burden.’ You’re being ridiculous.” “I don’t want to argue with you, long story short, the answer is no. It’s just one annoying boss, nothing I can’t handle. And I’m fine with working.” Pablo scoffs and the room is silent for a few moments. “Look, I only suggest it because I love you, okay? I want you to just be able to come to my games, home or away, and not have to know about it 2 weeks before so you can apply for leave, only for it to be denied by that demon of a boss you have. I hate that you’re always exhausted on all our dates because you’ve had a long week, that you fall asleep so early that we never have time to do anything… fun… at night anymore. I just want you to be free and happy. Por favor? Para mi? (please? for me?)”
You look at him for a moment before looking down at your plate again. “I’ll think about it.”
Pablo grinned again, he knew that was more a less an ‘Okay, fine, you win.’
“Gracias. Te amo, mi vida (thanks. i love you, my life).”
Later that night, you guys were cuddled up on your couch, Pablo was watching the movie that was on the TV screen, and you were on your phone. Finally, he looked down. “What are you doing?” he asks curiously. You look up at him and grin. “Sending in my resignation notice.” His eyes go wide and he sits upright, “You’re kidding.” “Nope.” “Oh my god!” he breaks out into yet another grin, pulling you into a proper hug. “Thank you, thank you so much,” he whispers into the skin of your neck. “Why are you thanking me? It should be the other way around, you’re the one who’s basically retiring me early.” you smile, and Pablo chuckles lightly. Eventually, Pablo calms down from his excitement a little and watches over your shoulder as you finish typing out the email. “I can’t believe I’m seriously about to do this.” you say quietly, your finger hovering over the ‘Send’ button. “Neither, but I promise, you won’t regret it.” he presses his lips to the top of your head. A few moments go by, and you still don’t press the button. “Are you gonna send it, or what?” “Pablo, I’m scared,” you whisper, looking up at him, and he can see the worry and uncertainty in your eyes. His expression and tone soften, “Why?” “I don’t know… I just am.” “You don’t have to do this right now, you know?” “I know, but I want to.” “Then send it.” “I can’t.” “Well, that’s kinda stupid.” You thrust the phone into his hand. “You do it.” “You’re sure?” You nod. Pablo hits send, and just like that, you’ve quit your job. You stare at the ‘Sent’ message for a moment before bursting into tears, burying your face into Pablo’s chest. He shushes you gently, rubbing your back and repeatedly kissing the top of your head, before eventually pulling your head away so he can look into your eyes. “Don’t cry, I hate it when you cry. What’s wrong?” he asks gently. “I- I’m just so happy. Thank you, Pablo. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” you sniff, speaking shakily through the tears. “Anything for you, mi niña preciosa (my precious girl).” he murmurs.
“I love you.” “I love you too, más que nada (more than anything).”
#pablo gavi#gavi#pablo gavi fic#gavi fic#obvithebestsoph!gavi#pablo gavi x reader#gavi x reader#fc barcelona#fanfiction#football#football fic#culer#PG6
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I love where we're taking this Cheating Cu story, and I’m really enjoying it!
What I think would be funny is if the mistress tried to corner Percy and slapped or attacked her. I know it’s not possible, but I like the hypothetical situation we have going on—so let’s just pretend that she did. What would make it even more fun is if the attack left a visible mark on Percy’s skin, like a handprint on her cheek or a bruise on her arm from being grabbed too hard. What I think would get the yandere's attention is if it left a mark or if they saw Percy crying because of it.
Now, imagine the Yanderes or other family members seeing the aftermath or the attack happening in real time. They would absolutely LOSE their minds! I bet they’d come up with over a 100 different ways to torture or kill the mistress on the spot.
And if she attacked Percy in front of one or all of the Yanderes and their kids? Oh, that would make things even worse. The sheer chaos that would follow would be insane!
If possible, could you give us their reaction to witnessing it or seeing her cry because of the mistress?
i love you guys for never failing to find ways to make this au messier and messier 😂😂😂 it's like watching my favorite dramas, more dramatic shit is always piling on to each other to create one big mess
if the mistress ever tried to (or actually did) hurt percy in front of the yans and their kids, they would ALL lose their shit but the one who loses it worse would be........ cú chulainn!
(you guys probably thought i'd say poseidon or something huh???)
but yeah it's cú chulainn! listen, this whole mess is all HIS fault and he knows it. he had an affair, didn't see anything wrong with his actions when his wife confronted him about it. dismissed her feelings, and then became worried as fuck seeing how depressed she became. then the guilt comes, and now he finally acknowledges his wrongdoing but at that point, percy's already giving him the cold shoulder no matter how hard he tries to apologize. and now she's getting ready to leave for midgard, AND THEN THE MISTRESS ANNOUNCES HER PREGNANCY.....
then the bitch has the AUDACITY to try and hurt percy. he's the first to notice it and practically tackles her LMAO 😭😭😭 he's been so hyperfocused on percy for months now that he instantly notices the mistress trying to attack and that's why he reacts first and faster. honestly, he would literally just kill her in a blind rage before anyone can even realize what's happening 💀
...... but hey, no more mistress and bastard baby to worry about! (percy's still heartbroken tho and she's definitely going to midgard after this mess)
poseidon is furious that the whore tried to raise a hand against his daughter-wife and even more furious that cú chulainn managed to do something about it before he could smh. you'd think he'd be grateful, but nope! he still hates the dude's guts. this is all HIS fault after all.
hades would stiffly thank cú chulainn for the save but that's all he's getting from him. he'll be more focused on making sure percy's okay and getting her and the other girls out of the room away from the crime scene
anubis is fuming that cú chulainn managed to stop the crazy lady first. he saw it happen before he did, he swears!!!! cú chulainn was just... closer! yeah, that's all! anyways, he rushes after percy to make sure she's okay and pretty much hogs her the entire day.
beelzebub's just relieved that cú chulainn's act didn't do him any favors with percy. he is disappointed tho that the mistress was killed so quickly. he would've liked to torture her and the baby first...
apollo's shrieking like an ambulance siren the entire time LMAO 😂😂 he has no idea what just happened because he was too busy trying to get to percy to comfort her, but he's not gonna thank cú chulainn for the save! in his eyes, he still needs to suffer! pity his stupid whore couldn't suffer with him...
loki's glad percy was saved, but now he's pissed at cú chulainn for killing his mistress too quickly. he'd throw out accusations like "you probably killed her quickly so we wouldn't be able to get our hands on her! admit it, you cared about the dumb bitch, didn't you?!" anything to make him look worse in percy's eyes lol
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“Christmas movie” isn’t just a genre to me. It’s like a best friend. I wish all movies were more like this actually
#suspension of disbelief#is so dead as an important aspect of storytelling#& I WISH it was as prevalent in all genres as it is in Christmas movies#genuinely unironically a HUGE part of why I freaking love Christmas movies#is that people just go with shit#like thank you oh my god#it’s so fun#so refreshing honestly#hot frosty#movie tag#Christmas movie watch a thon 2024
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THE MUSKETEERS 10TH ANNIVERSARY REWATCH / fave episodes [2/?] ↳ SEASON 1, EPISODE 4 / the good soldier
#themusketeersedit#the musketeers#perioddramaedit#perioddramasource#the musketeers bbc#aramis#tmrewatch*#edits#i'm having so much fun rediscovering my lost love for textures#this doesn't even make any sense it's all over the place#but it's bringing me such peace of mind that i'm going with the flow honestly#hopefully someone else will like it too ♥#i couldn't skip this one#the angst was too delicious! the acting too life changing!#marsac was a mess but his scene with aramis were really something else#and i also loveeeeeeeeee how we're starting to see all their little dynamics coming into play#d'artagnan being a little shit <3 porthos being protective of said little shit <3 athos being an absolute menace with just three words <3#and aramis being unhinged obviously#my fave
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Wip
#wip#I finished the panels and speech bubbles so I’m taking a break to get an ice cream sandwich then coming back to do lineart#Honestly the worst thing about making these comics is that I can’t depict some of the stuff I really want to depict#Bc decent storytelling requires restraint#But I think a lot about everything and so I put an unnecessary amount of thought into this shit that I can’t reasonably add to the comic#Without making it feel out of character or just sorta tonally weird (admittedly I feel like I stretch it too thin as it is)#The reason I do these besides just bc I like making them and it’s fun is bc I am fascinated with Chilchuck as a character#And I have a very specific idea of his life based on the crumbs Ryoko Kui leaves us#Which I wanna. Like. Force other ppl to witness I guess 😭#But character exploration without any proper storytelling to frame it is boring to me#like I might as well just write it all out in an essay at that point#Anyways all that to say that I am annoyed that my comic about what Chilchuck saw when he said he saw his dad on the other side#Doesn’t leave room for me to show that I think his dads death indirectly led to Meijack being born and clarify why and how I think that hap#And that the whole sequence of events there is too long and unrelated to reasonably fit into those little extras I do sometimes
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genuinely think it's good and healthy to follow at least one person in each of your fandoms who reblogs good gifsets but has just...absolutely dogshit takes on the show, or who ships that ship you despise. keeps things fresh. keeps things grounded. you gotta stay humble
#lauren feels things#fandom#this is mostly a joke post#obviously create the experience on tumblr that yOU want#you are not obligated to do any fucking thing on this website#but like....there are a few people I've been following on my other blog#(my real and anonymous one where I do most of my reblogging/fandom stuff)#and I've been following them for YEARS#or they're mutuals from the fandoms I've written fic for#and they just post the most out of pocket shit#or they ship ships that totally squick me out#or - the most annoying sin of all to me -#they post sanctimonious explanations about how the creators/actors/whatever#really feel THIS way about this particular thing#and all you other fans are wrong#(and like......no they don't. unless that actor or writer has said that#you have no idea they think that. also it doesn't matter what they think.)#but I'm honestly not kidding when I say this makes my personal fandom experience better#bc a) some of these people are just pals I disagree with!#and b) none of them are - like - toxic or anything#there's a certain kind of fandom discourse I do not tolerate#these people are mostly just kind of silly sometimes about stuff#and ultimately harmless#but it helps me understand a fandom better#and the fact that I've been doing it for like a decade now#means that i truly never get offended or hurt or feel any kind of way#when I see a bonkers take on something#bc I'm just like 'oh sure you're wrong but whatever good for you seems like you're having fun'#and sometimes ppl in fandoms take things SO PERSONALLY!#and it's okay that some people who make art you like or amazing gifsets feel differently about the thing you both love
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Bnha makes me so mad because it could’ve been good. It had a lot of good aspects. But in the end none of them were satisfyingly resolved so it just feels bad.
#UGHHHHHH ik a million people have made posts like this but it’s pissing me off rn!#the ‘unfortunately’ in my username is more pointed than ever#(not that I’ve had a lot of hope it’d end well for a long ass time.#it’s just frustrating to make me love these characters and get attached to this world and then execute their stories so terribly.)#honestly I’d probably change my username to smth else (and I still might) if I hadn’t had it for so long#it’d be annoying if it messed up links in my past posts#but having smth vanguard related might be fun…#bnha critical#mha critical#<- tagging those so no one jumps down my throat for stating an opinion on my personal blog#and like. I’m not doing this to be a hater. I LIKE these characters and some of this story is very near and dear to my heart#I’m also not saying everything I didn’t like is a writing flaw#and in fact a lot of the things I didn’t like I think should stay there just get meaningfully addressed#but good godddddddddd it’s upsetting to see a story I cared abt sm & I leaned on during some shit end like this#whatever.#I haven’t even actually been keeping up besides looking at the spoilers for years now#it’s not like I’m gonna stop thinking abt the version that lives in my head. it’s just a shame about the official ending that’s all.#at the end of the day I’m not the author horikoshi is and that’s how he chose to end his story.
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Sekaiichi hatsukoi is so much fun bc the tyrannical boss who takes their job way too seriously and the new employee who doesn’t know a damn thing is such a relatable concept and you can plop the entire cast into whatever au you want and it would still work just as well
#sekaiichi hatsukoi#I spent my last shift trying to put the characters into a lab work au and it still worked#Ritsu as the son of a hospitals ceo who got a cushy day shift job in microbiology at his dads hospital fresh out of lab school#he loves it and he’s good at it but he overhears the nighshifters talking shit abt how good he has it and that he doesn’t have to work that#hard bc micro is slow-paced and honestly it’s usually the same species of bacteria so it isn’t that hard to identify the species#so he quits and gets a job at a rival hospital but he’s put into a 2nd shift blood bank position despite never having worked in it#takano is the lead tech who comes down hard on anyone who makes mistakes bc this is literal life or death#it’s not just streaking plates and doing fun little biochemistry tests then putting the sample into the crispr to verify#the most advanced technology they have in bb is the cell washer. convenient but not as helpful#his first few days there are just back to back massive transfusion protocols and he genuinely wants to crawl into a hole and die#things calm down after his first week but it’s a huge learning curve and no one has the patience or the time to properly train him#emerald can all be blood bank specialists. Yokozawa is the head of histology.#having trouble finding roles for everyone else#kirishima could be a pathologist and Yukina could be a receptionist at a medical office while he goes to phlebotomy school(?)#or nursing school. something like that
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