#its absolutely nowhere near the canon

[lovekenney]

How I feeling knowing the image of a house (trailer actually) that I get when reading fics is not even close to what it looks in the canon.

[dennisboobs]

most annoying thing about being me is that i cannot engage with like. any fanon shit about dennis because i'm constantly on some advanced derangement and the stuff i thought two years ago when i was first getting comfy in the fandom is still the way everyone else looks at dennis but i'm like. yes but its Worse than this. you're like a quarter of the way there. this isn't the interesting bit, this is a symptom of it, keep going.

[mooooonnnzz]

Dad!ford head canons plzzz

Who Knows How Long I Loved You

Stanford Pines x child/teen!reader

✧ stanford raising you from baby to teen!

✧ takes place in the 80's so its young stanford

✧ gender neutral reader!

✧ 3,1k words

✧ i got so carried away with writing that i deviated from hc and made it to a full blown story so i had to cut it

✧ there will be a part2 and it's gonna be angsty!!

✧ requests are still open!

❤︎ Rapid eager knocks resounded in his shack. Ford jolted awake, completely lost in a sleepy haze. He looked around hurriedly as he slowly woke up, eyes blinking slowly. He let out a low groan as he ran a hand down his face. His hand stopped halfway to get caught in a piece of paper that stuck to his cheek. He grimaced in disgust. He was probably drooling in his sleep and made the mistake to fall asleep on his paperwork. Ripping off the paper off his cheek, he leans back in his chair. With sleep still clouding his mind, he forgot about the knocks on his door. That was until another chorus of knocks rang out. Throwing his head back, he sighed a long sigh. Standing up from his chair, he stumbled out of his office while adjusting his glasses that were lopsided on his face.

❤︎ Approaching the front door, he swung it open. The harsh cold wind of December swooped in the shack. A chill ran down Ford’s body as he hugged himself for warmth. “Hello?” He called out, looking out into the white beyond in search of the person who was knocking on his door. To his surprise, there was no one there. Only footprints that were deeply embedded into the snow that lead out into the woods. Shrugging, Ford began to close the door. A quiet coo of a baby reached Ford’s ear and he abruptly stopped moving. Peeking his head out of the door, his eyes trailed down to his porch and there laid a little baby wrapped in a thin cloth. His mouth hung open in shock. Who would leave a baby out in the middle of a snowstorm? Taking another look around the shack, he couldn’t find or see anyone near. Kneeling down to the floor, he pushed the door to open it a little more. He reached out for the baby slowly. He was so unsure of whatever was happening to him. What is going on? Where is the mother of this child? Who would dare to abandon a baby? Nonetheless, this deep into the woods!

❤︎ His grabs onto the baby and awkwardly shuffles them around his arms. For one last final time, he looks around to again find no one. Closing the door, he looked down to the baby that was cradled in his arms. The baby gave a toothless smile to Ford and his heart melted right then and there. Shaking his head, he told himself he wasn’t going to get attached to you. He had no time to take care of a child and with his line of work, it would be too dangerous as well.

❤︎ That night, he spent his time scanning a book that was filled with every resident’s of Gravity Falls phone number, dialing each number. He asked around, wondering if anyone was in search of a missing baby. Each call led him nowhere. Everyone either had no clue on what he was talking about or didn’t even bother to answer his call. He slammed the phone back down on the receiver, cursing under his breath. Taking care of a child, especially a baby is tough work and Ford wasn’t going to leave this baby on another person’s porch. Rubbing his temples with his thumbs, he could feel the starting aches of a headache brew inside his skull. This is going to stunt his research. Walking over to his room, he saw the baby sleeping peacefully on his bed. “Are babies even allowed to sleep on a bed like this?” He asks himself. Seeds of doubt and concern began to grow in his head and before he knew it, he was researching absolutely everything about taking care of a child.

❤︎ Ultimately, he made the decision to keep you. He trusted no one to take care of you and the only person who was suited to take care of you was your mother and she abandoned you on his doorstep, which practically left him no other choice but to take you in as his own. The first few months were extremely taxing on him. He thought he’d be able to leave and finally take his research outside of the shack once the winter bled into spring, but it was like you knew when he left, because the moment he stepped out of the shack; you were bursting into tears. Your heartbroken sobs could be heard all around the woods! And feeding you was another task, he didn’t know what foods to properly feed you since he had no baby food stocked up in his shelves. He would’ve gone out to get some if it wasn’t for the horrid snowstorm that encased him inside. He resorted to feeding you bland mash potatoes, which took you awhile to warm up to. There many times where you slapped away his hand, splattering potato goo all over the walls. But once the spoon entered your mouth, you were suddenly crazy about the potatoes. Even seeing Ford making the potatoes made you babble excitedly. That held you over and once the winter was over, he was able to go out and get you baby food. Although, he had to get a baby carrier and hoist you on his chest once he learned you hated being left alone.

❤︎ There’d be nights where he would lie awake in his bed, thoughtlessly staring up at the ceiling. The only noise that was heard in his room was the soft deep breaths you took in your sleep and the occasional creek of your crib that Ford rocked with his hand. He laid there, basking in the comforting feeling that blanketed his body. He’s never felt so much peace before. How could a baby change so much in his life in only a matter of a few months? His head turned over to you, eyes landing on you. He felt his heart clench in adoration for you, something he’d never thought he would feel in over a million of years. Kids were never in the equation for him, but the sudden addition of you in his life made the grueling journey of his a little more worthwhile.

❤︎ Teaching you how to speak was such a delightful experience for him. He’d start his lessons by sitting you up on his bed with a few pillows behind you to support you. Then, with a pile of flashcards he made himself, he would point at the object, fruit, ect and sound it out. At first, you’d cock your head to the side curiously, babbling about something before falling to your knees and crawling towards Ford. No matter how many times you’d look at him with a blank confused expression on your face, he would still laugh equally as hard as he did the first time. When you started catching on and attempting to sound the words out with him, Ford would beam so brightly and swoop you in his arms and babble on how you’re so smart.

❤︎ “Okay, kiddo. What does the cow say?” Ford asks. You clapped your chubby little hands together, mouth opening and closing as you stared at Ford with a smile. Ford laughs, motioning to the picture of a cow in hand. “Don’t look at me,” using his pointer finger, he moved your head toward the index card. “Look at the card.” He points at it. “What is that on the card, kiddo?” You look at the card. “C-Cow!” You said. Ford erupted in a gleeful cheer. “Yes! Good job.” He has such a proud dad smile on his face. “You’re such a smart kid, you know that?”

❤︎ He never thought he’d enjoy looking for baby clothes. The prospect of buying kids clothes sounded boring and mundane. He thought he would buy a few articles of clothing and call it a day, but it’s been over an hour since he entered the baby store and he’s been looking at cute clothes and throwing them in the cart. “What do you think, kid? You like the shoes?” He placed the baby shoes on top of your little feet. You mindlessly babbled in response and he took that as a yes. “Great! I like them too.” He put the shoes inside the growing cart full of clothes, shoes and accessories. He would stand in front of a mirror and hold out a onesie and put it in front of you, ask if you liked it and if you responded with incoherent babbles that was a yes, but if you just stared at him that was a no. So far, you’ve been saying yes to everything he showed you. Once the cart started to get overloaded with baby items, he decided to purchase his findings. While putting the clothes down for the worker to scan, they sprouted a conversation with Ford. “First time being a dad?” Ford froze in his tracks, the word Dad circling around his head. Was he a Dad? Does this make him a Dad? He looked down at you and you looked up at him with a smile. He looked over to the cashier. With a hesitant nod, he said, “Y-Yeah. I’m a first time Dad.” The cashier smiled at him. “Enjoy the baby phase while it lasts, they grow up too fast.”

❤︎ And grow up you did. You were no longer a baby who yelled random gibberish. You were now a well renowned 5 year old! Speeding down the halls and causing trouble wherever your child's heart chose to wreak havoc. Ford had to swoop in and take you away from whatever device you were messing with before you broke it. “What did I tell you about messing with things that aren’t yours?” He said, placing you down on the sofa where all your toys and crayons reside. “Not to touch,” You said, grumpily crossing your arms over your chest. “Right, so why do you keep doing the opposite of that?” He crossed his arms over his chest as well, raising a curious brow. “Because I want to be like you! I want to play with them.” You puffed out your cheeks, staring down your shoes with a glare. “But those aren’t toys, kiddo. They’re very dangerous.” He tells you, ruffling your hair. “When you’re older I’ll let you touch my devices,” He says. “And maybe…you can build one of your own?” That piqued your interest and your attitude melted away and turned into happiness. “Really?!” You looked at him with stars in your eyes. “Yes, really.”

❤︎ Adventures out in the forests are way more entertaining now that you’re older. Back then, all you did was sit in a strap on a baby carrier and ogle at the pretty little things. Now, you can comment on things and show off your findings to Ford. “Dad!” You called out, picking up a flower from the ground. “Look at this!” You run towards him, waving the flower up in the air. He smiles, kneeling down to your height. No matter how many times you say it, he could never get used to you calling him Dad. “What is it?” He has his book flipped open to a new page, pencil ready in hand to draw the new discovery and its properties. “It’s a flower that makes you sparkly, look!” You shook the flower over your arm and little twinkling specs of glitter floated down to your arm. “Forever glitter!” You cheered, spinning around in a glittery tornado. Ford laughed at your silly antics, drawing you in the mess of sparkly glitter in his book.

❤︎ There’s books filled with drawings of you and little entries of things you did that Ford thought was worthy to write down to remember. Various cute little photos were plastered on the pages and on nights where he’s busy in the lab, for a quick break, he’d open the books and revisit the memories and photos of baby you to ground himself.

❤︎ The fridge is stamped with many drawings you've scribbled down on a paper with crayons. Even though they're not the best, in his eyes they are masterpieces. Especially the crudely drawn version of you and him holding hands with the words 'Happy Father's Day' messily written on top. He finds your messy writing so cute and he has a small little debate with himself whether he should help you practice your handwriting or keep it the way as it is.

❤︎ Since you were homeschooled, you didn’t have friends really. At first, Ford wanted to build you little robot friends. He was seriously on board with the whole idea but what stopped him was the idea of you going out one day, for whatever reason and being incapable of talking to humans because you were so used to talking to robots. That sent an uneasy chill down his spine. So whenever he’d have the time, he would take you and him out to parks where you were able to socialize with kids. Ford feared you’d be bullied like how he was for being so shy and quiet, but you were carefree and talking to so many kids Ford couldn’t believe it. At the end of it, you made a few friends that stuck around for a quiet long time.

❤︎ "Dad, what is that?" You point to the gnome that stood perfectly still on top of the table. Ford jumps in surprise. He was so wrapped up in his drawing of the gnome, he failed to realize you were creeping up to him. "Hey, sweetie." He greets. "Do you want a closer look?" He looks over to you, jerking his head to the gnome. "Yes!" You cheered. Setting his book and pencil aside, he picks you up and sits you down on the table. "This is a gnome." He tells you. "His name is Schmebulock." You reach your hand out towards gnome. "Can we keep it?!" You eagerly ask, grabbing the gnomes hat. "No can do, kiddo." He flicks your hand away from the gnome. "And be gentle." He softly scolds you. "Can he talk?" You poke the gnome. "Can you talk gnome!" The gnome turns over to you and blurts out. "Schmebulock!" Your head jolts back in shock. "Is he supposed to say that?"

❤︎ Ford never knew when exactly you were born so he decided to celebrate your birthday one the day you appeared on his doorstep. You knew that Ford wasn’t biologically your Dad, but you didn’t have to be related to him by blood to be called your father. Your birthday’s were spent doing whatever you wanted. He’d wake you up in the morning with your favorite breakfast and blast one of your favorite songs. While scarfing down your breakfast, he would ask you what you wanted to do for your birthday and whatever you replied back with was what you and he did. An adventure in the woods? Done! Spending the day rotting away watching TV together? Done! Anything you wanted, he’d grant you. He never truly took account of what that cashier said all those years ago until you turned 17. He would never admit it to you, but he cried a lot more than he’d like to say. In a flurry of tears, he wrote in his journal on how heartbroken he was. The page was stained with a bunch of tears. But who could blame him? His baby was all grown up! If only he cherished those days a little more.

❤︎ Trips to the mall was a frequent outing you an him partook on days off. "What am I spending all my money on today?" Ford may act like he dreads the times where you strip him dry of all his money, but in actuality, he loves surprising you with the things he told you no to. "Dad, can I get this?" And it's a cute little plushie you found while venturing into the store. Ford does his best to play up a very stern Dad act. Pursing his lips into a thin line, he shakes his head no. Defeated and ultimately disappointed you walk back to the shelf with your head hung low. It's not when you come back that you see the very exact same plush in his hands. "Oh!" He feigns shock. "How did that get here?"

❤︎ Another thing he'll never admit is that he doesn't like when you go off with your friends for hours. Up until you reached your mid teenage years, you and him were glued to the hip. Partners in crime if you asked him! And being alone in the shack is so reality shifting that he can't bring himself to do anything but lock himself in the lab until you come back. Anything reminds him of you and all he could do is stare somberly at them before burying his head in a book of his. "Dad?" You enter the shack, closing the door behind you. It's quiet, too quiet. Heading down the shack you found him asleep on a book. You couldn't see much since his head was laying on it, obscuring most of the text but what you were able to see was a drawing of baby you wearing his glasses. "Oh, Dad..." Your hand lays on his back and his body visibly relaxes. Since that day, you vowed to yourself to never stay out for long with your friends.

❤︎ “Being your father has been one of the best things that has happened to me.” Ford randomly admits on one summer evening. “You’re so sappy.” You reply, stretching yourself on the couch you’ve conquered as your own since this morning. Ford grabs you by the ankles and lifts them up, allowing himself to sit down on the couch. “Hey! Who said we were sharing.” You jokingly protested. He gets himself comfortable on the couch and rests your legs on his lap. “I said,” He looks over to you, just like how he always did when you were a baby and were sleeping soundly in your crib. Only this time you were no longer a sleeping baby. “But I mean it, kiddo. You’re one of my greatest achievements.” He says, patting your legs. A wobbly smile pulls to your face. You never truly say it out loud, but everyday you thank whatever force that pulled him to take you in.  “Now what’s on TV?” He asks himself, turning his attention to the TV. “Where did you put the remote?” Before he could begin fully searching for the remote, he gets attacked by a hug. “I love you, Dad.” You whisper, hugging him tightly. “I love you more, kiddo.”

[yanderefarm]

vampire's pet finding out we got a new pet?

silvan getting jealous

cw;; angst, blood drinking mentioned, vampires, violence mentioned

i feel like silvan's just an angst magnet. of course you're a cool powerful vampire you're entitled to have multiple pets. it's just going to absolutely destroy silvan's heart and self esteem. but dw its not canon.

it wasn't unusual for a vampire to have multiple pets, many lower rank vampires would try to use multiple pets to boost their status. it was just unusual for you. you had avoided getting a pet for almost a millennium and now you were getting a second? even your underlings found it surprising and unusual.

silvan hated their concerned eyes boring into his skin as he walked through the halls. every servant in the manor stared at him with a weird sense of pity. it was especially bad when he would ask where you were and he could tell you were with the other one based on the maid's down turned eyes. he wanted to run to you and pull your new pet out of your arms but he knew that if he dared to act out it would only go to show you how undesirable he really was. so silvan kept his head down.

he was wandering the halls aimlessly, nowhere to go since you were with the other one. he didn't even notice that he had headed to your office on instinct until he was standing in front of the door. he would just look at you once he figured, your powerful visage should be enough to satisfy him for a while. his plan was foiled.

"what are you doing?" your voice called from beside him.

silvan shrank in front of your office door. "...i was.. looking.. for you...?"

he heard the giggle of your other pet. his stomach hurt like that little sound had just punched him full force. he couldn't bring himself to turn his head, he didn't want to see how close you were to the other one.

"im here. do you need something?" you sounded so nonchalant like you weren't actively ripping his heart out. it sucked that only made you seem cooler.

'don't ask if he's hungry, don't ask if he's hungry, don't ask if he's hungry' silvan's mind screamed at him. unfortunately his tongue didn't get the message. "are you hungry, master?"

god damnit.

"hm. i suppose." your words finally drew silvan to look at you, hope in his eyes.

that hope was immediately crushed when he saw your new pet hanging on your arm. there were obvious fresh teeth marks in his skin along his neck and arm. you didn't bite into silvan's arm usually. were you so insatiable that you had to bite him over and over again? the sick feeling in silvan's stomach felt worse.

"come along." you walked past him, pushing your office open. that one was right behind you.

silvan didn't know if you were talking to him, if you were then this was probably going to result in punishment. but he couldn't stand being near that one another minute. he ran past you. he ran until his muscles burned. he ran until he couldn't breathe anymore.

when he finally collapsed he found himself on his hands and knees in front of the front gate. his lungs were burning and he couldn't even cry because he was busy gasping for air. suddenly, lightning cracked across the cloudy sky as rain began pouring down. silvan shivered in the cold as his clothes were getting drenched. fighting against his own screaming muscles he forced himself to stand up.

he stared at the gate in front of him, the temptation of freedom right in front of him. you might not even chase him with your new pet having all your attention. but even with you hurting his heart like you were he could never leave you. he could never hate you. you were the only one who ever gave him a reason to live. without you why should he even bother? if you were truly sick of him like he thought you were then he would simply wait for you to come kill him. maybe not tonight. maybe not tomorrow. but someday you would be the only thing that granted him freedom by freeing his head from his useless body. with a heavy heart he shivered as he turned away from the gate instead dragging himself to the greenhouse nearby.

[polakina]

on his knees for you

pairing: javier escuella x reader

rating: mature

outline: a robbery goes sideways, and your already rocky friendship with a fellow camp mate is put to the test as you evade the guards of Van Horn

warnings: cursing, so much bickering, canon-typical gore and violence, flirting, slightly suggestive (this is by far the tamest thing i've ever written)

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

a/n: i can't believe how many notifications i've gotten about my works over the past week. its fucking crazy. thank you so much, you're all absolute stars

masterlist

II

It was a simple job, really. Get in, steal the bonds, and get out.

But nothing ever went as simple as the original plan, did it? Not with the Van Der Linde gang. There was always a little bit of improvisation to be had. Which was exactly what you were doing right now.

Bullets firing past your ears, blood running down your leg, the target’s personal guards chasing you down the winding paths of Roanoke Ridge.

-

One day earlier.

The plan was set. Arthur, Bill and Lenny were to infiltrate the building and steal the bonds, while Micah and Charles handled the guards. You and Javier were on lookout, posted at the entrance gates. 

You were all stationed just outside of Van Horn, your target being the mansion and its occupiers. Trelawny had brought intel of bonds on their way through Van Horn to Annesburg, stopping off at the mansion overnight. Roanoke wasn’t a place anyone wanted to be caught up in at night.

“It’s fucking freezing out here,” you muttered, leaning further against your horse, absorbing his body heat as much as you could. It had been hours of waiting around and checking on the mansion. No movement whatsoever since the sun began to set. Darkness was nearing and the coach was nowhere to be seen.

Javier stood beside you, rifle in hand, eyes fixated on the road to the right, where the coach should appear from. “Want my poncho?” He asked, glancing at you briefly.

You didn’t even cast him a look as you responded. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your style, Escuella. I think I’ll survive without it.” You sighed, and moved from your position, heading further down the road, hiding in the trees to watch from a different position, seeing the road winding down Roanoke Ridge to New Hanover.

The two of you had never gotten along. He didn’t like your attitude one bit. You were snarky, cold. Something you’d developed after years of running with Arthur and John. He’d try and make conversation, you’d brush it off. He’d invite you on a fishing or hunting trip, you’d decline and say you preferred to hunt alone. He couldn’t win. You never sat with the camp during his songs or meals, you were always perched somewhere else, keeping lookout. That’s what you did. That’s all you ever did. 

So after a few months, he gave up. Not exactly understanding your harshness to him, he just accepted it instead. He returned your cold comments and your mean stares. Years passed and you bickered like enemies living beside one another. 

You whistled out to the group as you spotted the coach. Your whistle blended with the birds, so it was undetected by the gourds watching the bonds.

Everything went smoothly, Arthur, Lenny and Bill making quick work of breaking into the bonds lock box, and you heard the guards grunting and groaning as they hit the floor from Micah and Bill’s attacks.

Through your scope, you spotted as the boys grabbed the bonds, throwing them into their satchels. Drifting your rifle along the side of the mansion, you sensed something wrong with Bill. He was arguing with Micah. More so than usual. 

“What’s going on?” Javier whispered, lying beside you, hidden between the trees.

You shushed him, focusing on Bill. Their argument grew even more heated, and you caught a glimpse of lantern light behind them. You watched as they turned, cursing loudly before returning fire. Micah had scurried off during the brawl with the guards, seeking other treasures and getting himself caught in a scuff with guardsmen minding their own business.

“Shit, shit,” Javier cursed, throwing an arm over you and holding you down, protecting your head as bullets fired your way. “He can’t keep his head for one mission, puta madre!”

Arthur had ordered for, if the mission went south; which you had good money on it that it did, that you scatter. Split up and evade Van Horn at all costs, go the long way around New Hanover until it was safe to return back to camp so you were sure you weren’t followed. 

They had the bonds, all they needed to do was escape without getting caught. But you wouldn’t have minded if Micah got murdered in the. Just when you thought he’d found your last nerve, he managed to hit another one.

“I think this is our cue to leave,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing yourself onto your feet and grabbing your gear. Javier was on your heels, close behind. You hiked deeper into Murfree Brood territory, constantly keeping an eye over your shoulders for lantern light.

“Our safest path is through Roanoke,” Javier said from behind you, following your path through the trees. “The guards won’t dare follow us through there this late at night.”

You halted suddenly, whipping around to face Javier. He was caught off guard, almost stumbling into you, a surprised expression on his face. “Are you crazy, Escuella? Murfree Brood hunt here at night. If it’s not the guards who get us, it’ll be them. And I’d rather take my chances with bullets rather than-”

A bullet shot through the wind, straight through your leg into the tree behind you. It caught your words in your throat and you almost crumbled to the ground under the pain firing down your leg. Javier didn’t even blink as he wrapped an arm around you, catching you before you fell. He pulled his gun from its holster at his hip, pointing it over your shoulder and firing it straight into the head of the guard who fired at you first.

It drew attention. Of course, it did. Javier pulled you away from the scene, down the winding path leading to New Hanover. His arm stayed firmly around your waist, and you tried to hold in your groans of pain as your feet collided with uneven terrain, worsening the sting of the wound.

You both heard voices, coming from the top of the hill of which you had just descended. Javier pulled you around a large oak tree, pushing your body against the bark which pulled a pained gasp from your lips. “Fucking hell, Javier. At least try to be gentler with-” His hand clamped over your mouth, his body pressed against yours as he looked past the tree trunk to the guards making their way past you, checking their surroundings as they went. 

“You need to learn to shut up once in a while,” he whispered, looking back to you. His hat was tipped down his head, shielding his eyes. “I’m trying to save you and you’re still complaining.”

You looked up at him, your mouth still firmly covered, your hand wrapped around his wrist, instinct from when he shut you up. He smelled of whiskey and firewood, his scent filling your nostrils. His hand wrapped around your waist protectively, tightening as the footsteps grew closer.

Pulling his hand down, you noticed his skin never left yours. It rested around your neck. Softly, no pressure in his fingers, but the heat of his palm burned against your pulse, and he felt your heart rate jump. “Thought you would have wanted to get rid of me, Escuella,” you whispered, looking up at him. 

But he just looked down at you, surprised. “What?”

“Get rid of me. Hand me off to some guards searching through half the woods for us.” Your gaze never wavered. “Would certainly save you the trouble of dealing with me back at camp.”

He just smirked, tilting his head up, his eyes turned down to look at you. “And why would I want to get rid of you? Perhaps I enjoy the trouble you cause me. Ever thought about that?” His eyebrows raised as you stood there, unable to form words. “So are you going to  shut up and behave yourself while I get you out of here? Or are you going to keep talking until they figure out where we are?”

Javier waited for your response, but it never came. You just bowed your head, sealing your lips in a thin line. He took that as a sign that you’d ‘shut up and behave’. 

The men eventually left, abandoning their search for you, leaving both you and Javier a window of opportunity to flee.

-

The sun poked out above the trees from the makeshift camp Javier had set up in New Hanover. You were shielded by the canopy of branches, the fire in front of you keeping you warm. But it wasn’t doing anything good for the bullet wound in your leg. You stretched out your leg, wincing at the pain shooting through your body.

“I told you not to try and fix it by yourself,” you heard Javier say as he emerged with an armful of firewood, dropping it by your bags. “Your hands will shake before you’ve finished stitching it.”

You glared up at him. “Would you suggest I just leave it? Cut my leg off?”

Javier rolled his eyes at you, kneeling in front of you, his knees on either side of your wounded leg. “I would suggest…that you should wait for me. I’ll stitch it for you.”

Pulling his knife from the holster at his ankle, he sliced the blade through the fabric of your pant leg like butter. All the way up to your hip. “Hey!” You called out. “They were new pants.”

“I’ll buy you a replacement. Now shut up.” He was always harsh with his words, but now, it was even more so. A slight pang of worry soaked his tone.

“You’re such an ass sometimes-ow!��� His fingers pushed against the wound on your leg, blood pooling out to the floor. “The fuck was that for?”

He looked indifferent as he looked up at you. “Feeling for any shrapnel. You don’t have any, thankfully, or else this would have hurt a lot more than its about to.”

“I could have told you that,” you grimaced as he began cleaning the wound. Applying pressure to one end of the bullet hole only forced blood through the other side. You could see both the entry point and exit point of the wound, stretching across the left and right sides of your leg.

You were both silent as he cleaned your leg, but you gasped as he pulled out a needle. He saw a panicked flash across your face, seeing it appear as quickly as it fled. “Easy,” he soothed, patting your knee. “I’ll be quick. You won’t feel it.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you whispered, your eyes only focused on the needle.

He sighed, leaning closer, tipping your chin up to meet his softened gaze. “Okay. You will feel it. But not much. A bee sting, that’s all it feels like. But it’ll be easier if you lie down.”

“Why?”

“Your muscles tense when you sit upright. You could at least be comfortable while I stitch you up.” He helped you into a more comfortable position. Javier still straddled your shin, one of his hands pressed against your thigh while his other stitched the hole closed. You laid there, his poncho acting as your pillow as you looked up at the trees.

You ignored the sting you felt each time the needle pierced your skin. Javier wasn’t wrong, it did feel like a bee sting. What’s more important, was that you could manage that sort of pain. “Thank you,” you said quietly, but you weren’t certain he heard you at first, until the needle stopped in your skin, his actions immoveable. Lifting your head and straining your neck, you met his eye. There was a small smile on his face, the corners of his moustache turned upwards with his laugh lines driven deep into his skin. You always did like his smile. That was the one thing that never changed about him. 

“It’s the least I can do,” he smiled, turning his attention back to your stitches. “It’s sort of my fault you got shot in the first place.”

“Sort of? You mean ‘entirely’?” You laughed as he playfully slapped your other leg with the back of his hand.

“Quit laughing,” he chuckled with you. “Or I’ll end up stabbing you in the wrong place.”

He finished quickly, wiping away any trace of blood before gently bandaging your leg. His soft touch lingered for a little while, his thumb gently rubbing soothing patterns into your skin. Your breath stopped in your throat as his touch rose higher. Higher up your thigh. To where your thigh met your hip. He was so fixated on it, he didn’t realise what he was doing until he felt your pulse beating at an ungodly rate at the top of your inner thigh.

His eyes flicked up to yours, where you laid, patiently. You were curious what sorts of thoughts were running through his head right now. What sort of cogs were turning in that brain of his.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your face closer to his than it had ever been before. “What?” You coaxed, too curious to keep quiet now.

“Nothing,” he moved to lean back, his hands drifting down your thighs, but they never left your body before you grabbed the front of his shirt, holding him in place.

“What did I say? Don’t lie to me, Javier.” Your voice never raised above a whisper. It didn’t need to. You were so close a whisper felt like a shout.

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t speak. The close proximity had rendered him faulty in speech. So instead he closed the gap. His lips touched yours, his body melting against your touch. You didn’t expect it. All those years of bickering. All those years of cruel comments and nasty looks. Nothing prepared you for this. But you welcomed it.

Javier leaned you back, your head meeting the poncho  as you felt his body settle on top of yours. Breaking away for air, you saw a softened, kinder look in his eye when he looked at you. “Is this your apology for me getting shot?” You asked, smiling against his lips as he kissed you once more.

“Is it working?” His lips moved to your neck, hovering above your skin to a point where it tickled.

“Hmm…maybe.” 

“Then perhaps I’ll try a different angle,” he smirked, unbuttoning your pants, encapturing your lips in a soft kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He had a lot of making up to do.

[brotherwtf]

i love how it’s already canon in the fandom that bucky’s openly feral & buck’s secretly feral. how’d u think bucky would react to knowing that buck’s actually deep down this way & how’d u think buck would react to bucky knowing? also, what situations do you think would bring out buck’s feral side?

loads of love to you! xx

omg feral Buck and Bucky bout to make ME feral I love them so much

Gale would go to the ends of the earth for John, literally lay down his life if it meant John would be happy. there's a silent devotion to John that Gale can't quite place, only knows that it makes him absolutely feral and psycho for John. While John is loud and physical and brash, Gale is quiet and manipulative and cold

thinking about Gale having a way with words that just makes anyone bend to his whim, while John may be charming and charismatic, Gale knows exactly what words to say to make people do what he wants. John eventually finds this out and it makes him absolutely bonkers that Gale is actually just as feral as he is just far more quiet about it

it's obvious when John is being feral and protective, he will launch himself off buildings or go on suicide missions or goad someone into punching him or hurting him or physically shove someone off of Gale, everyone knows when John has been pushed to the edge

I think for Gale it's a little different. the things that make him feral are different from John. While a misplaced hand may result in John wrenching the offender away from Gale, the same makes Gale slide over to the offender, whispering something in his ear about how John Egan is his. A hissed sentence, a firm glare and maybe even a clenched hand on the shoulder is all it takes to make the man stop his advances

Gale is hella possessive, is driven to do anything to keep John's gaze trained in him. Sometimes he'll slide his hand on John's thigh, tangle his hands in the small hairs on the nape of his neck, lean in and whisper something in his ear. At the worst of times, Gale will be tempted to just grab the lapels of his jacket and devour him in front of everyone, not caring who sees

when John gets hurt? oh boy you better imagine Gale is absolutely losing his mind. some animalistic thing gets awoken in him and at first he's furious, determined to kill anyone and everyone who even looks at John. then he's doting over John, holding onto him and soothing him even when John squawks and claims he's fine. Gale won't leave his side until he's determined John is alright

I like to think that John likes to mark Gale, but nowhere near as much as Gale likes to mark John. He'll bite him until there's teeth marks on his shoulders, thighs, neck, anywhere he can reach and clamp his teeth onto. kisses and hickeys all over John's neck and shoulders and that makes Gale smile to himself every time he sees them.

at first I think Gale is a little appalled at John knowing how deep Gale's devotion runs, but then it just adds to the possessive behavior. Makes him want to hold him and mark him even more. Obviously, this makes John just absolutely feral, makes him hot and bothered to think about how deep Gales animalistic devotion runs

John may be devoted like a dog is to its owner, Gale is devoted like a jealous cat, immediately forcing itself onto its owner until only it's scent remains.

oh anon this one wrenched something feral inside of me also. I love writing about possessive and jealous clegan, it's comforting for the soul. thank you so much for the ask!

[sanjisboyfie]

to help me sleep at night just random individual headcanons from various places of my brain (did it on my phone if typo ignore or u eill explode)

m!reader

if suguru is smoking and you come up to him:

option a: you smoke too, he lights your cigarette up w his lighter, cupping his hand over the flame to make sure it doesnt go out before your end is properly lit, OR he makes sure you have yours in your mouth, before leaning in towards you (his is in his mouth) and pressing the two ends together to make yours light off of his end, OR, he just insists on you two sharing the one hes already smoking, smirking as hes got infinite amount of indirect kisses lined up for him now

option b: you don't smoke, so he immediately stomps it out on the ground and blows the last hit he took into thr opposite direction of you so you dont ahve to smell it/smell like it.

satoru really loves embarassing you two in public, especially in his teen days. out of nowhere, really erotic noises would come from him - obviously unprompted and unprovoked - and he'd just start obnoxiously moaning your name...so fucking embarrassing. its like hes got the humor of a middle schooler. like youre in the arcade playing games w each other, he loses, and then he starts shaking the poor machine and jolting his hips back and forth AS IF hes getting railed when obviously hes FUCKING NOT and screaming "eugh!! uAgh!! HARDER [NAME]!! FUCK" and youre just trying very hard to get him to shut the fuck up

another satoru headcanon, loves gushing to u abt his lil nerd findings. when you were in highschool tgt, he would have you sit in front of him on his bed as he pointed to all the different mechanjcs his gundam figurine (bc he deffo collected them bye its ltr canon) has and going all nerdy by making silly noises like "pshhh! pfooo! baam!" as he makes them dance around in front of you. you just let him indulge you because hes honestly adorable whenever he does get rlly into it and not at all an annoying piece of shit, like he usually is. he might even rock ur bodies back and forth as hes doing all the sound effects too before setting the toy down and jus peppering kisses all over your face and neck. awww the little shit is being cute.

erm erm guys lemme cook w the one piece boys rq.

TRAFALGAR LAW...thats the headcanon.

ok obvs jk. but just imagine laws hands (gigglegiggle) and how theyre always in conract w u. mans cannottt keep his hands to himself. but nooo his hands needs to touch skin or else its not even worth it???? his fingers will slither beneath your shirt and grip onto your pelvis, or they'll go below your waistband and just run up and down your hipbone. if hes coming up from behind you his personal favorite is grabbing the back of your neck with his COLD ASS hands and watching you jump in genuine UNCOMFORTABLENESS and him jus laugh at u. then he kisses the spot he touched, covering the cold sensation w his warm lips. orrrr how about how he literally tugs you around w his hands. idk smth like pulling you inby yourbelt loops and forcing you to sit on his lap, no matter whos w u guys. or how hes always got his hand in yours so hes guiding you places/forcing you to stick near him

luffy gulp. luffy gulp gulp. the absolute sweetest sweetheart. probably loves kissing a lot. when u guys first started dating the only kisses hed accept were if u guys both looked like ducks and your lips were pursed to heaven and beyond. he thought it was rlly cute and liked how it felt. a very smiley teethy kisser if ykwim. 99.9% of ur kisses end up with him grinning ear to ear so youre basically kissing teeth stp but its ok hes babygirl it ok. luffy wants kissed for every single little thing. you gusy woke up? kiss. you guys r gonna eat breakfast? kiss. you guys r about to take a bath? kisses in the bath r fun!!!!! luffy is a kissing enthusiast. give him kisses wtfffff

tbh zoros a biter. like bro definitely bit kids when he was little. but MOVING ON FROM THAT. i mean: hes the type to bite as a form of affection. ABS IF U CANT SEE THE VISION IDC he definitely does. he sees your arms and thinks hmm i shd try eatin that in a very unserious way so he bites it when its in front of him and u genuinely look st him as if he has rabies. then he jus shrugs and ignores it??? which hello why is ur teeth imprinted in my skin rn ur jus gonna ignore it. if you guys r cuddling, he bites your bicep lightly to wake u up because hes too lazy to speak words. zoro rlly is "i no energy word bite yes" like dawg it does NOT work like that. bites your fingers sometimes when u hold hands....then licks it better when youre abiut to dcold him. the thing is this is all v nonchalantly done. like he rlly doesnt see how odd this is so he just does it and then cotninues on as if it isnt lowk v odd and abnormal. bites a lot. (he a freakazoid) dont let him rest his hesd between your legs for nap time he will definitely bite the inside of your thighs and that hurts like a bitch. next thing yk hes biting too close and taking off ur dick. do not risk it w this man.

[mayxo-hxh]

Hi, I love your take on Hisoka, it's made me view him in a different light. I was wondering what ur take on illumi is? Do you have any headcanons for him? I saw ur post on Hisoka being shy, do u think Illumi is the same? (If u have any hisoillu headcanons too I'd love to hear them) :D

Hello!! Im really happy to hear that :)

I have LOOOTS of hcs for the both of them!! Ive been fixated on these two for four whole years i genuinely have too much to mention in one post lol so if you have any specific questions about specific hcs, do tell me!! Its a bit difficult to answer very broad questions like this bcs i dont know where to begin haha;;

I can very confidently say though, Illumi is absolutely nowhere near shy. At least-- not by the definition. In my eyes, Illumi is a very blunt and straightforward person with no social filter. I do like to think when it comes to hisoillu in general Illumi gets flustered here and there when dealing with his husband like any normal human in love is to be. But when it comes to being an actual shy introvert like hisoka-- absolutely not. You can tell the difference between how Illumi deals with people vs Hisoka. Hisoka is like the textbook definition of an introvert-- someone who constantly avoids people unless he wants to be the center of attention (mainly negative attention so it keeps people away anyways)

General hisoillu hcs would be... I like to humanize them. I like giving Illumi moles, stretch marks and arthritis from his transformation and eyebags from the amount of times he stays up for his missions. Also scars from his training that are faded. For hobbies I like to think hes extremely interested in learning. Just learning. Whatever hes learning doesnt matter, but knowledge is a very prominent fact about him and the zoldycks in general. So while I hc hes extensively knowledgable about anatomy and the economic and political states of the world (those pretty much canon tho lol) and the world in general, I like to always write him extending his knowledge in fics like learning a new language in his spare time or reading books in general. I could expand much more on hobbies including people watching and hanging out with his siblings but i feel like if there is a tumblr word limit i would 1000% exceed it lol.

I like to give Hisoka freckles on his tan skin (in the manga his skin is quite tan) that he hides and many more scars that are also hidden like he'd hide his arm scars after machi healed them. also the one time togashi drew him with hip dips. I liked that! I like to give him a human backstory like initially having a family that he either abandoned or was abandoned by to go on his own journey (not necessarily tragic, though i do not think tragic backstories take away from a character no matter how evil tbh. If anything, I strongly believe that babies are blank slates when it comes to morals until theyre taught otherwise by their environment.) And positive hobbies like cooking for himself because he only ever relies on himself and doesnt trust anybody else, which also goes with the hc of him not being a fan of taking any medication so hes a "tough it out" girlie. which also consequently affects other hcs like my trans hisoka hc and him not getting top surgery until after he married illumi because he does not trust a mf to put him under during it but he does trust illumi-- ITS A LOOONG STORY

I also like to consider their reoccurring personality traits as symptoms for neurodivergence. Like Illumi's bluntness and overly honest personality being autism and his highly emotional sides to him being BPD (i do have a thread on that!) and for Hisoka his hyperactivity and addiction for stimulating fights as ADHD (the adhd video i made abt him covers some of it lol) and you could argue a personality disorder for him as well to match with his hubby.

Also the queer hcs like i mentioned, transmasc genderfluid hisoka that doesnt mind all pronouns that i also hc as demiaroace and pansexual/bisexual while for Illumi I hc him as gay demiaroace agender, etc. These help a lot in figuring out their identities too.

Stuff like that are just the "layouts" for them in my brain that help me immensely when writing fics for them. You have to know everything extensively for the actions that they make to come naturally so when you throw them in a situation, you immediately know how they'd react (ex: sick hisoka would refuse to take meds, or more specifically like in my fic tolerate me darling hisoka was cramping and refused to take pain meds for it so illumi had to use his pins etc etc)

Those are pretty much the surface hcs i have for them that I always consider when it comes to any scenario or extra hc or fic/art or anything. For anything very specific, you'd have to ask about it for my brain to remember ehehe ^^

[seyaryminamoto]

If you could change anything in the original ATLA storyline (besides making Sokkla happen) what would it be?

Uhhhh well with all my complaints across the years pertaining ATLA I don't think there's just one (1) singular thing I'd change.

Off the top of my head, I immediately thought I'd make Zuko's character and story more coherent :'D but then there's ALSO Iroh, who also needs to be more coherent.

I'd make the White Lotus an active faction throughout the war rather than just being Iroh's connections, initially, only to become the Avengers at the last minute. Hell... I don't even think I'd make Iroh part of the White Lotus, a group that's fighting for what's right should not readily spread its arms and embrace Fire Lord Azulon's warmongering son, much less let him be their leader :'D If anything, they can be a mystery Iroh spends the whole show trying to reveal, and we'd watch him prove himself to them in order to ever be deemed worthy of joining the group because NOW he has the right beliefs and is hoping to do right by the world. His membership there would not be a done deal from the get-go.

I'd also gladly make Ozai a more complex character, far worthier of being a final villain.

I'd give Toph an actual, challenging arc.

I'd make Katara learn from her mistakes so much more than she ever did.

I'd make sure Mai and Ty Lee actually learn to question what needs to be questioned rather than redeeming them just because they sided with Zuko one time.

I'd flesh out Suki way more too.

I'd give Aang more respect when it comes to his tragedy, and make his morals more consistent (which is part of respecting him and his culture that the OG show just... did whenever it suited it).

I'd absolutely rewrite every romantic relationship (I mean, even if Sokkla is canon in this dream scenario here, Maiko and Kataang still would be canon too, right?) so that they're nowhere near as unbalanced as they feel in the OG.

I'd hint at energybending all along rather than just keeping it as a last minute secret.

I'd most likely not kill Jet nor imply I killed him. Just don't see the need for it.

Probably would either give Hama a different approach or not have her around at all.

Combustion Man would also need a full rework or be deleted.

Zhao would also get more depth and complexity rather than just being around to make Zuko look better.

Sooooo... there are a lot of things worth changing if you ask me :'D but as far as priorities go, I think I'd definitely fix Zuko first out of all these things. I haven't ranted about his character for so many years in vain, even if Iroh were to stay the same, I'd love to see a Zuko who learns to think for himself and doesn't just rely on Iroh's guidance and on doing whatever he thinks Iroh would want him to do. :'D

[darkkitty1208]

a serirei prompt for you :D serizawa gets hurt from a spirit and reigen has to save them both

Thank you for the prompt! 💖 I cheated a little and had a certain someone else come in clutch but I think this still fits the prompt. :)

crisis averted

Summary:

It had at first seemed like your run-of-the-mill, standard evil spirit case. Go to the alleged haunted location, find the spirit, exorcise it, and then be off on their merry ways with thicker wallets and a sense of self-satisfaction. In and out, quick and easy.  That, as it turns out, is not the case this time. OR A case gone awry.

Word count: 3,221

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical Violence, Concussion, Canon-typical Anime-level Medical (In)Accuracy, Big Scary Evil Spirit, Possession, No Beta We Die Like My Sleep Schedule, a hint of Pining Reigen Arataka

AO3

Reigen has made a big mistake. Well, he’s made a lot of big mistakes in his lifetime, but he supposes this one isn’t any less worth noting. 

Actually, scratch that. He’s made several big mistakes. This one unequivocally included. 

The first mistake he’s made goes all the way back to the time he decided on quitting his old watercooler job and starting his own spirit consultation business. Sure, it’s his best worst mistake yet, with all the good things it has brought to his life—and he’s sure the company would’ve gotten him laid off down the line anyway—but if he hadn’t made the stupidly bold move of turning in his resignation letter way back when then he wouldn’t have been here on a chase-down with a godawful evil spirit trying to play an unbearable game of something between tag and hide and seek with them.

The second mistake he’s made is choosing to wake up that morning. If only he had stayed in bed, closed up shop for the day, or simply decided to no longer exist, then he wouldn’t have replied with an immediate affirmative to the client email he finds on his laptop sitting on the office desk that morning. 

The third mistake, which is probably the biggest mistake yet, is actually accepting the case and heading straight into his ultimate demise. 

Which, Reigen finds, is currently his complete lack of athletic stamina and endurance. He should really work out more.  

It had at first seemed like your run-of-the-mill, standard evil spirit case. Go to the alleged haunted location, find the spirit, exorcise it, and then be off on their merry ways with thicker wallets and a sense of self-satisfaction. In and out, quick and easy. 

That, as it turns out, is not the case this time. This time, apparently, is a case involving a particularly troublesome and audaciously impenitent spirit. And admittedly a very quick one. 

Reigen has since lost track of how long he and Serizawa have been running around the abandoned building, up and down the staircases to catch it. It flits quickly between one room to another, and every time they get close enough it’s always faster to escape. Reigen isn’t even sure anymore what it looks like; one second it’s a long shadow across the wall, the next second it’s dark smoke curling in a corner, and the next it’s a jet black, worm-like, gooey substance of some sort twisting about. It doesn’t seem to have any sense of shape or volume, morphing its form into its own whims—which makes it all the more frustrating for them both, it seems. 

He lets out a grumble of frustration between laboured breaths as the spirit flies up the stairs yet again, feet skidding to a halt. He turns to Serizawa, who almost looks absolutely defeated but nowhere near as horribly so as he is. At least in terms of sweat patches and dignity. He’s stopped running when he saw Reigen did, too. 

“This is not working,” Reigen says, breathless. They’ve tried splitting up, predicting its next moves and attempting to back it up into a corner, but the spirit never stays in the same spot for more than three seconds and somehow always finds a way to flee from them. It’s a slippery, annoying little thing. Reigen has not run this much since Mob’s marathon, and even then he hardly made it halfway through before nearly passing out. There was also that time he chased Mob during his psychic outburst, but… he doesn’t count that one; it was by pure luck he managed to survive that. 

Serizawa’s giving him that helpless, “what do we do now?” look he often dons when he’s confused about social cues or situations he does not know how to handle without guidance or assistance. Reigen resists the urge to don his own “I don’t even know what I’m doing” look. Instead he puts on his confident “it may not look like it but I absolutely know exactly what I’m doing” look which, to be frank, contrasts to the way that he does not, in fact, know exactly what he’s doing. 

He’s got everything handled. He does. He just needs to figure out how to. 

He pants, swallows the excess saliva in his mouth, and places his hands on his hips in what he hopes looks like the pose of a man who knows what he’s doing. He hopes to god the pit stains are not as visible as they feel. Curse him for choosing to wear a grey suit while being the sweatiest man alive. 

He thinks for a moment and considers their options. There’s not much to consider. 

One: they give up and inform the client of their failure. Not a chance. Partly because he can’t let an evil spirit roam about and potentially endanger any passerbys, but also because he wants to keep the Spirits and Such reputation intact. 

…Also partly due to the fact that they haven’t gotten many cases lately, and Reigen’s tired of eating cup noodles and cheap convenience store onigiris for the past week or so, and the client promises to pay them handsomely if they manage to get this stupid little bastard of a spirit terminated for good. 

Two: they call Mob. But Reigen will only resort to calling Mob when absolutely necessary—he’s promised himself that. The kind of cases that require bringing out the big guns—that being his trusty middle schooler/friend/student with powers that can blow your mind literally and figuratively—or especially dire ones where he’s left with no other choice, like that time with Rusty-sama and the mimic. This is not an absolutely necessary kind of situation, so he refrains himself. 

And three…

“Can’t you—” he wipes sweat off his brow. It doesn’t do much when his hands also happen to be sweaty. “Can’t you just, I don’t know— call the spirit here? To us?” 

…come up with a plan on the fly, because if Reigen Arataka is anything, it’s that he’s good at improv-ing his way through any situation. Even if said plan is a mere hypothetical. 

Serizawa drops his look of helplessness, his features morphing into that of understanding. Like he’s just realised something, or came up with a viable solution. It gives Reigen some relief. See? They know what they’re doing. Everything’s handled. Being handled, but still. His point stands.

“I can probably use my aura to do that,” he says, equally breathless, “I can extend it throughout the building and beckon it to us. It might take a while but, it might— it might actually work, I think.”

“Yeah?” Reigen says, nodding decidedly. He takes a couple steps back to give Serizawa space to do his thing. “Alright, then. Go on, Serizawa. Do your—” he makes sluggish, vague gestures with his hand, mostly out of habit. “your thing.” 

Serizawa nods back, curt and confident in a way that shouldn’t make his stomach flip because that isn’t what stomachs do. Stomachs cannot flip. They do not. Reigen knows this. 

Serizawa seems to take a moment to compose himself, steadying his breaths. And then he raises a hand upwards, eyes closed in deep concentration as a small crease forms between his brows. Reigen gulps in air as he watches, shoving his hands in his pockets as he doesn’t know what to do with them. 

He feels charged, static energy filling the air, making the thin hairs on his skin raise on end, the familiar, warm buzz of Serizawa’s aura filling the room completely, overflowing out into the rest of the building. He watches, entranced, as the curls stuck to Serizawa’s forehead begin to float upwards, a subtle iridescent glow about him. 

It seems to go on for a while—Reigen doesn’t exactly mind. Not in the slightest. Serizawa always looks so confident when he’s using his powers like this; his large, steady hands channeling powerful energy, his broad shoulders in a sure line and his face a picture of determination, ready to protect and attack for whatever threat lays ahead… 

Reigen swallows. This is not the time to be thinking about how big and strong his coworker is. God, did it just get hotter in here? Is he sweating a little more? Surely it’s from the run. It still counts as plausible deniability if it’s partly true. Right? Right.

And then he catches something swift and black slinking past the corner of his vision, slipping through doorways and windows and gaps between the walls, seemingly changing and moving with every blink of his eyes. 

He turns to Serizawa, whose frown has deepened into a near scowl as he suddenly drops his hand, the familiar energy of his aura dispersing quickly as his eyes blink open. A warning is at the tip of his tongue. 

“Reigen-san, I think—” 

Reigen flits his eyes to behind his shoulder, stumbles back a step. “Uhh, Serizawa. Hold that thought because—” 

“No, this is serious. I don’t know why I only feel this now, may-maybe it was doing it in small increments before? But—” 

“Serizawa, it—” 

“Reigen-san. I think the spirit’s absorbing my energy.” 

“Well it happens to be behind you!” 

Serizawa turns around just as a large hand emerges from the dark, spiralling mass, its form swooping unsteadily in the air as its weight accustoms to gravity, steadying before knocking Serizawa off his feet and sending him flying to the side to slam against the wall before he gets the chance to dodge it. He hears a crack, and hopes it’s just the bricks. 

"Serizawa!" Reigen calls, uselessly, "Shit!" 

He turns to the spirit, and finds himself staring at… nothing. It’s a void, completely black and featureless. Its edges blur out like it isn’t meant to be here. Like it doesn’t quite fit in this world. Once or twice Reigen catches what must be an eye, or a limb, or a head, but it never seems to be definite. 

His eyes scan his surroundings to find a way to slip out and potentially call for help. He looks around frantically. 

There. The doorway, rid of its door and hinges. He just needs to slip past the writhing mass of nothingness and dash down the stairs. 

Half-baked plan in mind, Reigen doesn’t spare a second before he goes for it. He runs to the side, avoiding a whipping band that swipes over his head, but the spirit—or whatever it is—only seems to grow bigger and bigger, taking up more and more space until it blocks off his exit completely. He drives himself to a halt, wracking his mind for a next step, because Reigen always has a next step. Surely a bright, brilliant idea will appear in his mind right about now. Surely he’ll make it out safe and save the day. Surely there is a next step. 

As he’s slowly backed into a corner, breathless and sweating and just about ready to pass out, Reigen realises that perhaps he does not know what he’s doing after all. 

And that, thus far, is his biggest mistake yet. 

The spirit seems to raise itself into an upwards spiral, and then broadening to stretch itself out in a shape he could only describe as a clawed prehensile, spread wide and ready to catch its prey, and—

A flash of bright green suddenly bathes his vision. 

“Your cavalry has arrived!” Dimple announces aloud with his voice. 

You’re late! Reigen points out in his head, but can’t deny that he’s glad to relinquish his body for Dimple’s use. Dimple seems to wince at his non-existent volume. 

“Jeez, not even a thank you?” 

I had it handled. 

“Sure.” He swerves Reigen’s body to the side to avoid the hit, and he has to admit—he isn’t sure himself if he would be able to make that acrobatic twist-jump. He would be grateful if it weren’t for the fact that Dimple is, well… Dimple. “Let’s see—Seri-chan is knocked out over there, you were about to get your ass kicked—ha! This definitely looks like you had everything under control!” 

Reigen makes a mental grumble, but doesn’t resist Dimple poking around inside him for control. He watches himself dodge another hit, legs flying underneath him, head ducking down and to the side. 

“So what’s the plan?” 

Reigen has to grasp at his last mental devices to formulate one, and spits out the first thing that comes to mind. Can you eat this thing? 

“Are you crazy?!” He sounds incredulous. It sounds unusual coming from Reigen’s vocal cords. “This thing knocked Seri out—” He dodges another hit, “and you expect me to eat it? It might eat me for all I know! It’s already trying to!”

Dimple has a point. He looks at the spirit, and Reigen may not be a psychic, but even he can tell this one’s a powerful one. He can practically feel the threatening, malevolent energy emanating from it. 

“Why didn’t you just call Mob?!” 

No! 

He feels his own brows cinch together of their own accord—well, he supposes, of Dimple’s. 

“Why the hell not?” 

He’s in cram school right now! I can’t just—

“This thing’s about to kill us!” 

Well— 

Something like a yelp escapes his lips as a long, writhing thing swings itself at them, swiping them off their feet. As he feels his back slam against the ground, it registers to him that all his senses are now all his own. He tries to feel his arms, flex his fingers, looks to the side and, sure enough, Dimple’s amorphous form floats a good distance away. 

“It knocked me out!” 

Reigen feels the panic rise up his throat. This spirit hit them with enough force to knock Dimple out of his possessed body. 

Just then, a tendril wraps around his ankles and lifts him up into the air. He lets out a “Whoah!” as it holds him up unsteadily, feeling the blood rush to his head as he looks at the twisting form upside-down. 

“Heeyyy, buddy—” He puts his hands up in front of him in a placating manner, “Why don’t we just—” He yelps as its grip only tightens, the tendril lengthening around his legs and up his thighs and spinning him about until it has itself wrapped all the way up—or in this case, down—his clavicle. 

The skin at the lumpy center of it that he assumes is its head—was it even skin? Was it even flesh?—tears itself in the center, widening into a gaping hole where sharp teeth grow in circular rows and rows that end far down what he assumes is its now open mouth. The tentacle-limb-thing dangles him closer to the entrance, head mere inches from the slimy tongue that reaches up and out, and suddenly there are limbs and tentacles and arms looming over, and the creature’s mouth is wide open and ready to engulf him—

And then a familiar purple glow slices clean through in one, swift motion, and the spirit turns to smoke with one last, aggrieved screech and a blinding explosion of multicolour light. 

Reigen drops to the ground with an “ack!”, wincing as he rubs the back of his head and refrains to do the same to his pelvis. He muffles a sound of pain between clenched teeth, blinking his eyes open as everything seems to tilt and move before focusing and becoming steady again. 

The smoke dissipates, and Serizawa stands in the middle of it. Reigen notices the tell-tale, twin red patches on his cheeks. There’s blood trailing down his forehead. 

“Dimple,” he says, struggling onto his feet. He sways, catches himself, and grunts under his breath. He trudges forward, hand coming up to grab his sore elbow. “Is Serizawa…?”

“He’s in here,” Dimple answers before he even finishes his question, “Conscious. Must’ve woken him up when I possessed him.” 

Reigen nods. “Right. He’s concussed, is he?” 

Dimple scoffs a little with a pointed look. “Yeah. He’s not the only one, apparently.” 

Reigen rolls his eyes, but immediately screws them shut when that only serves to aggravate the sharp pain in his head. 

Curse Dimple. He’s right. 

“I’m fine,” Reigen waves him off. “The spirit’s gone, right? How’d you even do it?”

Dimple makes a face that does not seem like one Serizawa would ever pull. He shrugs. “Dunno. It must’ve been too occupied trying to eat you.” 

“Why was it even…?”

Dimple shrugs Serizawa’s shoulders again, face uncharacteristically callous. “Who am I to judge? I’m pretty disappointed that it didn’t.” 

Reigen huffs. Of course Dimple would say that after being the one to stop the spirit from doing exactly that. 

He draws himself to his full height, patting down the dust off his suit and straightening the creases and his tie, ignoring the multiple aches and cuts and scrapes all over his body. He’ll deal with those later.

“I’ll just go back down to talk to the client and collect our pay. And then we’ll—” He winces again at the idea of more bills. Guess this means more cup noodles this week. “—we’ll go get Serizawa to the hospital.” 

“And you?” 

He resists the eye roll this time. “And me.” 

Dimple scoffs again, and it’s rather unsettling to see Serizawa with his mannerisms like that. He seems to pause for a moment, as if having some mental conversation that Reigen isn’t a part of which does not make him pout, and then nods to himself. 

Dimple slips out, and the red marks leave with him. Serizawa’s face turns into a grimace, lax shoulders immediately hiked up in typical Serizawa manner, and his eyes slam shut as he staggers forward. 

“Whoa, there—” Reigen catches him gently by the shoulders. “You good there, big guy?”

Reigen watches his Adam's apple bob as Serizawa swallows. He lets out a low hum, managing a weak, “Yeah, just— slammed all at once, you know?” 

Reigen hums back sympathetically. He gets that. The disconnection from your body when being possessed alleviates the pain significantly—the pain from his wounds must’ve hit him all at once when Dimple left his body, Reigen figures. He had been the same back during his confrontation with Mob, but Reigen knows how to hide those things well behind sure words, sheer determination and willpower, and maybe the still-coursing adrenaline in his veins. 

“How’s the head?” 

Serizawa makes a pained grunt. “It… could be better.” 

Reigen huffs a small laugh. “Gotcha.” 

“How about yours, Reigen-san? Are you alright? I— I don’t know what happened but—” 

God, Serizawa’s the one injured and he’s still fretting over him. This guy. 

“Oh don’t worry about it, Serizawa,” he waves a flippant hand, “You’re the one injured. And anyway, it…” He recalls the concussion he had after the chase with Mob. He shrugs. “It could be worse.” 

Serizawa looks somewhere between unconvinced and eternally concerned. Reigen just shrugs again. Dimple mutters something about idiots and having to save their asses all the time. Reigen pretends he doesn’t hear. Serizawa sends Dimple an apologetic look. 

All in all, Reigen counts this case as a success. He can regret all those mistakes some other time when he’s ready to confront them and mentally prepared for an existential crisis—for now, though, he’s just glad everything worked out fine. 

[ultimateloserboy]

since its pride month im providing my hot take (thats actually a joke but still) i absolutely HATE IT when people are like “haha duck would be homophobic”. not because i dont agree with queer people making those jokes, but because it doesnt give him enough credit when it comes to his assholery. making fun of someone for being gay is so lame and overdone. this man is the type to forgive you for being gay but NOT your haircut!!!! he wont aim for the stupid shit like blue hair and pronouns, oh no, he’ll aim lower. he’ll aim so low he’ll be sifting through your family photos to see which family member d/ed to make fun of you for it. he’ll be the type to say “he should be hit by a bus” and when corrected he’ll go “oh. my apologies. she should be hit by a bus” with no emphasis on the “she” either cuz thats not the part he was trying to get across. he wont be condescending about that kind of stuff, he’ll be condescending about the uglyass boots youre wearing today. or the way your eyelashes are fucked up. he cant judge you for who you are or what you like, hes a drag queen that kisses household appliances, but he absolutely can judge you for that one pimple you tried to hide that you’re incredibly insecure about that you popped and now its scarring and he’s laughing and pointing at you and all that kinda stuff. also the guy hes into is a naked man with nothing up or down (if you know what i mean) so the idea of him being transphobic is laughable. especially paired with the fact that THERE IS ALMOST LITERALLY NOBODY CANONICALLY WITH BIO SEXES!! LIKE WHY WOULD HE BAT AN EYE AT A GUY WITH BOOBS WHEN HES SURROUNDED BY STRANGER, LESS HUMAN MEN!? i could go on all day about how gender as a concept in dhmis is nowhere near the cis ideology but the main point im making is that when the computer tells duck “hey imma boy” hes like “shit me too brother, but i dont have those bigass teeth tho LMAOOOOO!!!”

also extra point hed be the type of guy to get arrested for something serious and be like “god forbid A GAY MAN do ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!” and def reclaims gay slurs like. he is the type to wear the “THATS MR F//GOT TO YOU!!” shirt and red guy has to tell him not to (although i highly doubt they have slurs in their world cuz theyve suffered enough)

[elexuscal]

Network Effect, but it happens immediately on the tail end of Exit Strategy

this is one of the funniest fandom AUs out there, imo. (also one of the saddest! but also like. in a fun way)

Mensah, Pin-Lee, Gurathin, and Ratthi are just SO glad to be home soon

they're also really glad that SecUnit seems to have regained the ability to talk

even if like, only 40% of what it says seems to logically follow whatever conversation they were having

like that sounds like a dig but they seriously have spent the last 2 weeks thinking its brain might have been totally fried

so they get in a shuttle to go back to the station when

mysterious ship appears out of nowhere?

YOINKS them

murderbot is like 'hey that's my friend wtf ART'

"what do you mean," its humans ask

it Does Not Clarify

maybe just says like a random stream of code, aloud. completely impossible to parse

i'd like to remind everyone that Dr. Ayda Mensah has some Severe Kidnapping Trauma that has not managed to start unpacking at all at this point. and now she's been kidnapped. again.

at least her friends are along for the ride this time???

(she feels awful for being this relieved)

ship is totally empty when they get on board

except for creepy grey people

SecUnit started being able to walk around its MedBay like 47 hours ago

it was not pretty. it fell on its face like. 3 separate times.

now it has to kill a bunch of targets

it still manages it but not with anywhere NEAR its usual level of grace

this just makes it more angry

it does not help that it keeps forgetting where it's in its own timeline

keeps pinging ART. keeps being surprised when it doesn't answer. all over again.

the humans are the ones doing the majority of the Smart Detective Work and making theories on What's Happening Here and interrogating Ras and Eletra

Ras and Eletra who, by the way, are like 'hey your SecUnit is seriously glitching you should probably put it down.'

'no'

'okay we can at least turn it off and shove it in one of the mortuary tubes-'

"NO"

"yeesh okay we're just giving a suggestion" [Eletra and Ras exchange a 'get a load of these crazy freeholders' look behind their backs]

MB is currently have a conversation, aloud, to a crumpled drone

good news: being in a familiar environment is helping MB's memory retrieval

bad news: those memories are letting MB know something Is Very Very wrong

1-3 emotional breakdowns happen during this point. One of them is definitely Murderbot's

it's even worse than in canon Network Effect

"My friend is DEAD"

they haven't found ANY dead bodies at this point, though, so...

PresAux starts realising maybe the dead friend is... an AI?

Ras's brain gets fried around this point. Then Ratthi, as the closest thing the team has to a doctor, has to cut Eletra's chip out of her neck. so he probably gets one of those emotional breakdowns.

'wtf how did we get out of a wormhole so fast??'

In this time-line, Murderbot is in no state to fight AND do complex coding attacks at the same time

(it's really in no state to be doing even one of these by the way but oh well)

that mean Pin-Lee and Gurathin are absolutely doing the majority of fighting off TargetControlSys

and then MB gets that delayed datapackage from ART

"For Eden? what the fuck does that mean?"

is it a religious message? a code?

"hey isn't there a character named that in Sanctuary Moon?" asks Ratthi

MB might be in a pitched firefight at the time but that is no reason for it to not ramble about its blorbos and how cool Eden is

Mensah starts getting an idea

They find ART's secret coding bundle

they try putting in 'Eden'. doesn't work.

okay that was too obvious. try 'Sanctuary Moon'.

nope

'SecUnit'? no

'Murderbot'? long shot but... no

since they have a copy of MB's purchase contract, they have its feed address documented. it's a real long shot, but they are desperate at this point. they try it

Re-Load in Progress. Please stand-bye.

i honestly have NO idea what MB says when ART comes online this time

maybe something super sweet and sappy. or maybe it's even less coherent than in canon

either way, the humans are like 'Holy Shit' upon realising who/what Murderbot's friend ART really is

[saintsenara]

Why riddledore?

why not?

riddledore definitely started out as a crack ship for me, but it’s now something i’ve completely come round to and genuinely believe can be made to work in a way which both feels true to dumbledore and voldemort’s characters and which has something approaching a happy ending...

[you know, by their standards - the fairytale fluff girlies are probably not finding anything to please them here...]

the facetious explanation for why i think this is that neither of them would be so completely obsessed with each other if there wasn’t some sexual tension lurking underneath it.

the serious explanation is that obviously they should be absolutely horrifying together. even before we get into the flaws in their personalities - a shared tendency to lie and manipulate; a shared self-righteousness; dumbledore’s inflexibility, voldemort’s violence; the fact that they both live behind masks which conceal their true motivations and emotions and use these to project their own self-loathing onto other people; and so on - there is the fact that they have a colossal age gap, that their acquaintance was established when voldemort was a child, that their relationship was set at that point by dumbledore spectacularly failing to understand voldemort or offer him the support he needed [instead, dumbledore took one look at a clearly-traumatised orphan, said "lol, he reminds me of gellert", and then did nothing about it], that dumbledore deadnames voldemort constantly as a power-play, and much more besides.

there is virtually no scenario in any timeline in which they could be openly in a relationship unless one of them is concealing their identity. and - and really this seems quite minor in the grand scheme of things - they are obviously constantly trying to destroy each other in increasingly theatrical ways.

but...

dumbledore and voldemort are very, very similar people - even if canon spends much less time interrogating what they have in common than it does on examining voldemort’s similarities with either harry or snape. dumbledore’s description of the young voldemort in half-blood prince as secretive, independent, obsessed with magic, and so on equally applies to him - and the fact that he recognises himself in voldemort is evidently something which triggers his kneejerk dislike of him when they first meet, and which sustains this dislike into voldemort’s adulthood.

voldemort is clearly aware of this - it’s obvious in canon that one of the things he dislikes about dumbledore is that he perceives him to be a hypocrite, who won’t admit that he has the same attitude towards magic, being considered important, and so on as voldemort himself does - but this can be turned on its head, and dumbledore’s recognition of himself in voldemort can become the foundation for a relationship which is sincerely fulfilling.

after all, they’re intellectually compatible - they are probably the only two characters in the entire series who could be described as the other’s intellectual equal - and, while their divergent approaches to intellectual gatekeeping are a point of tension [dumbledore, out of shame over grindelwald, refuses to allow himself to move beyond disciplinary boundaries; voldemort obviously thinks that's complete bullshit], they are not - i think - an insurmountable one. the two of them are definitely ending up in bed the first few times because they’re arguing about the twelve uses of dragons’ blood - and i love that for them - but they are also going to be able to offer each other another person who actually understands what they're on about when it comes to magic, and i don't think we should underestimate just how attractive that can be...

more profoundly, their lives are both shaped by an absolutely cavernous grief - and this drives their views on death, love, duty, and so on, which are nowhere near as divergent as the text believes they are.

the love which dumbledore prioritises throughout the series is love-as-sacrifice, a love which emphasises the nobility of suffering and which is rooted in loss - and it is this, specifically, which voldemort [whose upbringing was, of course, one which gave him nothing to sacrifice and nobody to sacrifice it for, and which made him understandably opposed to his own suffering], rejects.

but, both dumbledore and voldemort are people whose grief makes them potentially receptive to the value of love-as-pleasure. they’re dismissive of this idea in canon - dumbledore because he thinks pleasure is something he doesn’t deserve, since his sexual desire for grindelwald was what caused the sequence of events which led to ariana’s death, voldemort because deriving comfort from other people is something he considers to be a sign of weakness - but they’re both clearly lonelier and more starved for affection than they’d be willing to admit. they can, in their own little ways, give each other an outlet to permit themselves to take pleasure in someone else - undoubtedly by convincing themselves [initially, at least] that they’re only sleeping together in order to have power over the other, and that staying the night for a little cuddle is definitely a real part of that…

[the most interesting riddledore scenario is, of course, what happens when voldemort finds out about grindelwald. and, actually, i don’t think that he’d take this anywhere near as badly as is often assumed. as i’ve said, voldemort’s issue is that he thinks dumbledore’s a hypocrite, and so learning why dumbledore constructed his benign and good public mask would help voldemort make sense of him. he’s not going to be jealous - he thinks he’s cleverer and hotter than everyone, gellert grindelwald included, and, since he's not afraid of hard work and convinced he's always right, he's more than happy to demonstrate to dumbledore why blondes definitely don't have more fun...]

[crusherthedoctor]

7 + 18

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Hate is vastly overstating it, as my thoughts on her are more conflicted than anything (tl;dr: like her conceptually, not so much in execution more often than not beyond SA1, and not counting games with little dialogue like the Advance trilogy or Superstars), but over the last few years, Amy fans have been annoying me quite a lot with their penchant for heavily downplaying and in some cases outright retconning the feats of other characters - usually Tails or Knuckles - in an insecure bid to prop her up. There's also their insistence on demanding for her inclusion in absolutely everything, even when there might be little thought out placement for her, like the movies. In fairness, I understand not wanting her to be left out of stuff, yet I don't see Rouge fans or Cream fans acting this way, or at least nowhere near as often.

As of the Year of SA2 Wanking, Shadow is in a similar spot, albeit for different reasons. Due to the vicious cycle of his overwhelming fanbase VS the preferential treatment he often receives as a result of it, which once again tends to come at the cost of other characters, not to mention how often his famous backstory is used to frame him as the only character in the games with any depth or characterization, and SEGA themselves caring a lot more intimately about Shadow's portrayal than any other character in the games, including Sonic and Eggman despite them being the main protagonist and antagonist respectively... it's hard to not glare a little bit in his general direction.

On the much more bitter side that veers into legitimate dislike for the actual character in their entirety, you have the Freedom Fighters. I remained fairly neutral on them for a long time, but I began to grow very sour on them upon realising how many dick moments they had over their lifespan. Combine that with fans hyping them up to ridiculous levels as being light years ahead of the entire game cast in terms of writing and legacy, as well as the infamous Rally4Sally push, and various characters being morphed into little more than dispensable Sally clones because the Archie crew can't move on from its cancellation, and well...

As you can see from all these examples, I try my best to never let my thoughts on a character be dictated solely because of their loudest fans' obnoxious behaviour. There's usually something else there that said behaviour merely amplifies. Also note that when I say ___ fans, I don't mean literally all of them.

18. it’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

The characters as they actually are, rather than what certain adaptations and indistinguishable big-name fans claim they are.

[whoredmode]

So SR has always had things like zombies in it, basing off that - what are your thoughts on supernatural elements? Do they exist, or is it all a hoax?

if you’re asking if there’s any supernatural elements in my canon, absolutely not. if you read my pinned and go through my tags i make it pretty clear that any supernatural elements do not exist in my canon. zombies, aliens, whatever else have been omitted completely. the “zombie lin” stuff is probably as close as it gets, but that’s a complete urban legend, and i’ll link some stuff i’ve written here and here on the topic. honestly i’m more than happy to talk about stilwater’s worldbuilding and urban legends, if that’s of anyone’s interest.

and if it counts, anteros also claims to see ghosts after he wakes up from his coma. that’s a whole thing. also the philosotologists are technically a UFO cult, as in they believe in an extraterrestrial higher power (but it’s very obviously not true).

but if you’re just asking my general thoughts on sr’s relationship w the paranormal, it’s….contentious to say the least. here’s the thing. sr1 and sr2 knew how to be video games. they told grounded stories w grounded gameplay but knew when to up the ante, when to add hyperreal elements and absurdity. it was suited to the moment. it was tongue-in-cheek. it wasn’t placed as a large canon centerpiece. it wasn’t meant for you to take it seriously, and that’s when it worked. i really enjoy that. but srtt’s zombie shit in the last act of its story comes completely out of left field, completely detracts from the story, makes no sense, and is just a nuisance in actual gameplay. in the previous two games, zombies were a joke—you get your dead friend back as a homie. it’s not “canon” to the story you’re experiencing, to the world they live in. srtt suddenly saying “actually zombies are real and now an island is infested w them” is just. pushing it. it’s bad. but imo it’s nowhere near the levels of pointless and embarrassing that sriv is.

i swear i could write a fucking thesis on how sriv is the perfect example of how not to end an ongoing story/canon. my thoughts on the aliens and supernatural elements of sriv? it’s bad. garbage. worst anyone’s ever done it. at least srtt gives me the option to just physically ignore the zombies on arapice island, even if it means having to take the long way around. aliens are baked into every contrived piece of sriv. there’s no getting away from it.

so like i said. contentious. i think when it’s done in a purposefully cheeky and non-obtrusive way, it works great. it adds a lot of memorable charm. having those moments of heightened reality, hints of something beyond our realm, it gives you so much more creative leeway for telling a meaningful and grounded story bc you have the freedom to interpret that as you want. but being forced to reckon w it in a canon way like srtt and sriv do, it forces a complete tonal shift. you can’t really do that grounded realistic story anymore when you suddenly add “zombies and aliens are actually real” and especially w what sriv does to the story. and like. hey. i totally understand if that’s your thing. some people really prefer the supernatural aspect and want that space adventure. more power to you. but if i wanted to have a story about people fighting aliens or zombies, i’d just play a different game.

[tonydaddingham]

I love Aziraphale but I DO kind of feel like he was objectively more wrong than Crowley was, bc Aziraphale's plot for most of S2 comes straight out of Terry Pratchett books: he shuts down Crowley and focuses on setting up this storybook romance for them, while ignoring everyone else's distress. Like we see from the start of the season that Crowley is depressed and clearly upset, and it gets worse as it progresses, but Aziraphale doesn't even clock that something is wrong, even when Crowley is outright telling him. Of course this is going to create and nurture a situation where Crowley doesn't communicate. Aziraphale's not listening to him anyway. One of Terry's books features a witch who uses her magic to force fairy tale plots onto the people around her. It's the pinnacle of toxic positivity.

hi anon!!!✨ oooooh i have a feeling that this is going to be a long one, my apologies in advance!!! also, please forgive my ignorance on pratchett's works, im not deliberately ignoring it, but definitely not familiar with it enough to draw on any narrative similarities unfortunately!!!

so on the point of aziraphale not recognising that crowley is depressed, i do think that there are some indicators that if aziraphale paid more attention, he would pick up on it. that being said, i do think that the depth of crowley's not-okayness is largely masked from aziraphale, and is mostly shown only to other characters and obviously to the audience; the scene on the park bench with shax, for example, or any scenes between crowley in/around the bentley. one example that aziraphale could have picked up on:

c: "what i need is for him to be nowhere near me, and the precious, peaceful, fragile existence ive carved out for myself here..."

a: "i thought we carved it out for ourselves?"

c: "so did i!"

so, obviously crowley started in on the fact that gabriel threatened aziraphale in ep6, and quite rightly uses this as a reason to leave well enough alone, get rid of gabriel, and go back to their life as it was before. and crowley's language and delivery is absolutely indicative of how desperate he is to keep the status quo, that he's hanging on practically by a thread. shax and hell are keeping tabs on him, he's living in his car (which i'll come onto later), and he doesn't have much of a Purpose anymore than just existing.

aziraphale should be reading into this, 110%. but, crowley ends up underplaying his own struggle by talking about 'i' and 'me'. that doesn't mean its less true or valid, but to aziraphale's mind, he appears to be thinking only about how gabriel's presence would affect him. it immediately undermines how crowley first went in to trying to convince aziraphale to turn out gabriel, because it reads like crowley is revealing his true issue with the situation. we know that it's because, to crowley, aziraphale is ignoring him and his warning (which he absolutely is).

but crowley hasn't told aziraphale the full story of what happened; what gabriel said. aziraphale doesn't have the context to understand the full scope of crowley's fear and anger. i don't think knowing it would have necessarily changed the ultimate outcome/decision - i do think aziraphale is still kind and forgiving ("it's one of my favourite things!") to a fault - but it might have stopped aziraphale completely closing off and shutting down the continuance of what could have been a communicative and honest discussion. that, despite all of it, crowley is stepping away from aziraphale and planting himself on His (crowley's) Side, not Their Side.

aziraphale attempts to pull the conversation back; he tells crowley he would love for him to help, and that aziraphale is actively asking for help (which, verbally and with full intent, i don't recall aziraphale having done anywhere before this point in canon; he's intimated it, made very strong suggestions that he wants crowley to help/do something for him). this is a big show of vulnerability on aziraphale's part ("i need you!"), to literally put those words into the space between them... and crowley is silent. crowley is absolutely justified in not helping gabriel, but i think aziraphale's reaction is just as understandable.

but then moving on through to ep2, i think the next bit where aziraphale probably should have seen that crowley is Not Okay is the bentley/bookshop discussion, and crowley's reluctance to share it. from crowley's point of view, this car is literally the only tie he has left (will still get to the Sleeping In His Car debacle later) to anything permanent. this car that is literally an extension of him, comforts and shelters him, his complete Ride or Die - even to the end of the world. it is completely understandable that crowley would be jealous of it, want to keep a portion of his world for himself.

from aziraphale's point of view, as suggestive as it can be interpreted, he's opened his doors literally to crowley since at least 1941 - even earlier, if we count the 1800 scene that was cut (where, if gabriel and sandalphon hadn't turned up, i have no doubts that crowley would have been welcomed in straight away). it's definitely believable that crowley, between at least 1800 - 1827, might have been welcome in the shop... possibly even between 1827 - 1862 depending whether or not crowley spent "quite some time" in the pits of hell after edinburgh.

and this is likely to have been an exponential occurrence between 2008 - 2023, possibly even between 1967 - 2008 (depending on whether they had or had not been in continued contact follow the holy water incident). either way, again from aziraphale's perspective, the tie he has to earth and his life on it has been steadily then repeatedly shared with crowley. that's where he feels safe, and is himself, and is an extension of him. it's where they both feel like that in 2023. aziraphale has, presumably, shared that without quibble, has even been - judging by the s2 scene - something he has actively encouraged. it's definitely presumptuous, and possibly even entitled, but i think aziraphale has seen this as crowley being willing to share his life with aziraphale; why wouldn't he share the bentley? he's driven aziraphale everywhere he's wanted to go in it - doesn't crowley trust him enough to let aziraphale drive himself, for once?

ep3 sees a continuation of the above; that aziraphale changes the car, and does so without permission. whilst cute and adorable, and with the best of intentions, there is a major degree of this that is absolutely a violation on crowley, even if he logically would know that it's reversible. potentially, this is even foreshadowing of how he feels in the Final Fifteen with the angel restoration offer (im sure someone else has drawn this parallel somewhere...?).

but i do think it is absolutely a declaration from aziraphale of how wonderful he sees crowley just as he is now (his mf eyes), and how actually he doesn't want to change crowley to something better, but instead to paint the whole world in crowley's image. and its all the more powerful because a) crowley isn't there to see it, and b) he doesn't know that crowley can so viscerally detect changes made to the car.

the fact that crowley doesn't make this connection is surely a reflection of how he sees himself (see: he doesn't), and aziraphale should pick up on that... but if to aziraphale's mind crowley already knows how aziraphale feels about him through other gestures, in aziraphale's mind maybe crowley's just being coy or a bit possessive of his beloved bentley - that's fair, it's practically married behaviour! aziraphale wouldn't necessarily think to infer crowley's objections as anything different.

then we move on to ep4 (and finally talking about crowley living like a nomad), with the last scene of aziraphale helping him take out the plants to the bentley. you know - im still not 100% sure what to make of the whole situation of aziraphale not knowing that crowley is living out of his car. my main two schools of thought are that:

crowley has been spending enough time in the shop that him going out at random intervals is just normal to aziraphale - he's off doing Demon Things! he's just out on a jolly, having some time to himself! but it's okay, he always comes back! that would be possible, but we don't have any narrative to actively support this, and is practically a hc at this point. but there must be something that keeps aziraphale from digging any deeper - he is by all accounts a smart guy, and clocking that crowley has his plants in his car must get him thinking even if only for a moment... (unless he literally just chalks it up to Crowley Being Crowley, which is also feasible lbr)

the alternative thought (and not saying this is right - as i said, i literally do not have a scooby as to why aziraphale doesn't seem, on some level, to realise it) is that aziraphale does realise it, but doesn't want to face the implications of why crowley might have kept it from him, and so he buries it. i parsed this thought out more in a LWA response, full post here, but snippet screenshotted below:

i'll probably leave that bit there, but absolutely; aziraphale should be realising that something is wrong... but equally - as the king of cognitive dissonance, frankly - i don't think he wants to look deeper into something that, to him, would suggest any reason for there to be distrust between them, or a lack of openness. of course, we can see as the audience that this is a very small drop in the ocean where that's concerned, but to aziraphale - there's surely no possibility that crowley would keep something from him, not something this important.

when it comes to the Loving Gaze in ep6 (i'll come back to ep5 in a sec) that he gives when crowley admits that he's been living in his car, again - not entirely sure what to make of it. obviously it is just pure 'i utterly love/adore him', 'yes, it's you i want to be with, yes', but also maybe a measure of 'oh, you silly demon, why didn't you tell me? not that it's a problem now though, because in time we'll be together properly and you'll never have to be without a home again because your home can be with me'. he does gloss over the fact that crowley didn't tell him, and was obviously not in an okay place - but possibly in a, 'we'll talk about it later sometime, but for now - im just happy about what future we could start having from here on out. everything else is immaterial'. it's dismissive, but i also think potentially an indication that aziraphale does see, but they'll have the rest of their existence now to talk about it and heal.

anyway, back to ep5. the ball. oh lord - i honestly don't know if i have the mental acuity to even go into depth on the ball, rn. it's a Problem, and 100% on aziraphale's part. he's overcome with love, god bless him, isn't he? just so hellbent on showing crowley - it's not even about the girls, anymore, not if aziraphale really admitted it to himself - that he loves him. i think the magic spell that aziraphale creates bewitches even him, slightly - maybe not so literally, but this is a moment that has at least been decades in the making. and crowley is running around telling him there's an issue? well, they're safe in the shop (which, in a way, is absolutely true)! don't spoil this, please just hear me, hear what im trying to tell you unequivocally!

i think in aziraphale's mind, crowley tends to have a habit of overreacting (gabriel as a case in point), which is not true - but understandable when you potentially consider that aziraphale never really has all the facts. he's definitely overprotective, a point that is shown in s1 (imo, aziraphale never actively encourages the damsel-in-distress thing, but crowley just happens to show up at the slightest hint of trouble, and instead aziraphale takes this to mean that saving him, when he doesn't need saving, truly does make crowley happy). this is something crowley through his actions has encouraged - i think to assume that crowley is overreacting in this context is understandable, but yet; no, aziraphale should be listening to him. he should. and it once again feeds into the thought process that aziraphale cannot save himself - on and on it goes.

i don't think there is much to discuss in ep6 (im not going to get into the Final Fifteen - it's been analysed so much better by other people and by me too), this answer is already long enough, and i think for the most part it's fairly obvious. i do however have a dedicated FF tag in my masterpost if you do wish to peruse the various ponderings on the subject.

the only thing i guess that's really left for me to parse out is s1; aziraphale does lie to crowley. a lot. most egregious is lying about finding the antichrist but, i will say, in his defence - crowley has repeatedly asserted that they should straight-up murder a child. aziraphale drew his boundary, and crowley kept pushing, even going so far as to try tempting (and then practically demanding) that aziraphale be the one to do it. i don't think it's unjustified in that respect that aziraphale would keep that knowledge, therefore, from him - and instead turn to heaven. obviously that doesn't work out, in that respect crowley is proven right, and aziraphale immediately takes action to remedy it (calls crowley after the 9-1-metatron call).

but, it's an interesting mirror to what goes on in s2 in the theme of mutual trust and openness between them. crowley doesn't trust aziraphale not to dismiss him and run back to heaven when the going gets tough, nor does he trust him to have any sense of self-preservation (despite, yk, being a literal miracle worker and being the one to actual save their bacon in the 40s s2 minisode). but aziraphale similarly doesn't trust crowley not to try making him do something he has expressly said he will not do, and would betray a core tenet of who he is - temptation, which they both know works on aziraphale, and crowley could arguably exploit as he sees fit if aziraphale were to let him be completely vulnerable to crowley. in this respect, the foundations of their relationship, such as it is, is quite demonstrably built on sand of the quick variety.

so in essence, anon (honestly - gold star for you if you've made it to here), i don't disagree with you at all. but i think it's slightly reductive to not see that they are just as bad as each other. each have their trauma and unreconciled issues that directly inform on the action or inaction they take, and both are completely justified in that. i think it's more than possible to be empathetic to both of their perspectives, because ultimately, imo, their relationship as it was where we left it at the end of s2 was practically doomed right from where we first - in 2008 - properly join their story. im all for a huge, screaming row, and the promise of quieter, more delicate conversations thereafter, in s3; boy, do they need it!✨