#Can the typical person genuinely just decide not to hear a sound???

[ttngummybear]

Is it true that most people can literally just... CHOOSE not to hear sounds???

I literally can't believe that. Genuinely.

If I'm hearing something that bothers me, I have to physically get away from it to not hear it. My whole family thinks I'm choosing to listen to it and just not tuning it out "like everyone else"???????

If I could just choose not to hear every fucking particle of someone's food crunching and squishing through their mouth, I would gladly do that! I literally would give so much to be able to just shut off sounds that bother me!

[quin-ns]

The Bet (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Word count: 4.4K

Summary: butcher leaves you to keep an eye on soldier boy and things become interesting when a deck of cards gets involved

Tags: (18+), enemies to lovers (not exactly but kinda), canon-typical behavior, soldier boy being soldier boy (yes that’s a warning), humor/comedy, strip poker, bets, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, table sex, surprise ending

A/N: been wanting to write for a jensen character for a while and got inspired rewatching the boys. the character is such an ass but I can’t help but be into him lol

Misc masterlist + main masterlist

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Butcher announced, stepping in the direction of the door. He looked between you and Hughie, as if still trying to decide which ‘we’ he wanted. “Come on, lad,” he addressed the latter. Hughie seemed relieved, eyeing Soldier Boy wearily before standing and joining Butcher.

Hughie gave you an apologetic look, while Butcher pointed at you and said, “you—keep an eye on him.” He pointed at the supe, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at Butcher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“No,” Butcher replied casually, ushering Hughie out the door before he himself attempted to step out. You got to your feet and caught the door before he could shut it. Butcher let out a dramatic sound and cocked his head as he looked down at you.

You didn’t find him intimidating, not anymore. You had squared up against the man more than once. Hell, you thought Butcher respected you more for it.

“You have a problem?” he asked, baiting you.

“He’s gonna try and fuck me,” you said bluntly—albeit under your breath.

Butcher scoffed out a laugh, seeming actually amused. He also knew it was true. Ever since Soldier Boy had laid his eyes on you, he’d been gunning for you. Whether it was lewd comments or hungry gazes, it was obvious to everyone. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it one bit.

“Well, don’t let him then,” Butcher offered in a mocking tone.

Butcher wouldn’t have left you with the man if he thought you’d actually get hurt, you knew that. And it’s not like the supe scared you—at least not for that reason. The only one who seemed outwardly uncomfortable with his behavior was Hughie. You could handle him, but being alone in his company wasn’t an ideal way to spend your afternoon.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied sarcastically.

“Hey lady, I’m a gentleman,” Soldier Boy piped up in a gruff, annoyed voice. He seemed genuinely offended.

“See?” Butcher said in that stupid, I told you so tone. “Like I said, we’ll be back.”

With an annoyed huff, you pulled your hand from the door and allowed the man to pull it shut in your face. You caught his victorious smirk right before. Everything was a showdown with Butcher it seemed, and boy did he love to win.

“So,” Soldier Boy started as you turned back to him. “Are you gonna be a bitch to me this whole time? Just ‘cause I paid you a few compliments?”

You scoffed and shook your head, wondering how he thought saying shit like, “your tits look great in that shirt,” counted as a compliment. Whatever, he wasn��t going to change and you weren’t going to bother yourself with lecturing the stubborn asshole. You and the boys needed him as a weapon, not as a politically correct member of society. You’d burden yourself with whipping him into shape after he took care of Homelander.

“We’re gonna end up with a few hours to kill,” you noted as a change of topic, looking around the room.

You could hear the smirk in his voice when Soldier Boy said, “if you’re looking for suggestions, I have a few ideas.”

You rolled your eyes, but glossed over it. He was attractive and even charismatic—you couldn’t deny that—but he seemed to counter that with the crudeness of his personality. You spotted a deck of cards and grabbed it. “How’s your poker face?” you asked, holding up the cards for him to see.

“Texas hold ‘em?” He actually seemed into the idea.

“Sure, why not,” you decided.

You sat down across from him at the table where he’d been sitting. He pushed aside wrappers and pill bottles to make room. You began to deal and laid out the cards.

“What, you don’t have any chips?” Soldier Boy asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Where would I have chips at?”

“I don’t know, poker was your idea. You can’t play poker without betting.”

“I mean, you can,” you argued half-heartedly. Being alone with him was exhausting already.

“If you’re fucking boring you can,” he shot back. Suddenly, a look you could only describe as devious crossed his face. “We could play strip poker.”

At first, your instinct was to tell him hell no. You should’ve, honestly. Another part of you wondered if it would be fun— it was that impulsive, indelicate side of you that made you work so well with the boys. You must’ve been curious, crazy, or both to agree. But, you did.

“Fine.”

He practically beamed, grinning in victory. You were already starting to regret it. “Now it’s a real game. Gotta have something on the line.”

Even as he said that, you had an inkling that the stakes would be a bit higher for you. And as the two of you played and clothing began to disappear from the both of you, you suspected he wanted to be naked in front of you almost as much as he wanted you to be naked in front of him. That became obvious when he took off his shirt and pants after his first two losses. You’d opted to remove a sock after yours.

Still, the two of you carried on a conversation during the game. It was a shock to you when you began to relax around him. It was even more surprising when you laughed at some stupid joke he made at Hughie and Butcher’s expense.

“You seem like most of the brains behind the operation,” Soldier Boy continued, laying the charm on thick. You could spot it clear as day, but even you weren’t totally immune to it as you grew to actually enjoy the game.

“More like their wrangler,” you replied with a small laugh.

“Maybe they’re too busy grabbing at each other's dicks,” Soldier Boy suggested. It pulled another laugh from you despite the offensiveness of it. Being around the boys for so long you’d developed a darker sense of humor.

A smile crossed his face, seeming proud of himself as he watched you react.

“You startin’ to hate me less?” he asked suddenly, like he just had to know right then.

“What?” you replied with a small chuckle, hardly registering the question for a minute. “Does it matter?”

It seemed to pain him when he replied unconvincingly, “no,” with a scoff. “Well, maybe.”

“Wow, that must’ve been hard,” you commented sarcastically. “Does my opinion actually matter to you?”

“What, a guy can’t make conversation?” Soldier Boy was getting defensive.

Over the past however long, his ego had been deeply bruised. You saw it back when he realized the truth about his team. He’d been betrayed and forgotten. You suspected there was a part of him, a still human part, that was desperately seeking approval. Even if he covered it up.

Still, you dropped it. You could’ve told him that you were beginning to think he wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to risk boosting his ego. He was still a dick, you tried not to forget that.

After a few more hands, you were missing socks and pants—still keeping your bra, underwear, and shirt—and he was missing everything except a sock and boxers. You were sort of in the lead, but things were pretty tied up.

You gathered the cards up again and began to shuffle. “Why don’t we play gin rummy?” you suggested. You were getting a tad tired of the same game over and over.

“What? Why? We’ll keep playing this. Deal.”

You let out a huff, but gave in. You decided to just go ahead and deal.

“One last round,” you told him.

“Whatever,” he replied in a mutter, collecting his cards.

You two played and carried on a light conversation about random things. You weren’t really focused on playing truthfully, but you should’ve been. You lost the hand, meaning you had to lose something else. Soldier Boy seemed eagerly awaiting your decision, most likely assuming you’d take off your shirt. You’d already lost your socks and pants, so it seemed like a natural progression.

So, of course, you had to screw with him.

You reached under your shirt and unhooked your bra. You removed the straps through your sleeves and pulled it out from the bottom of your shirt.

“Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy said huskily under his breath.

You let out a small chuckle to yourself at his reaction. You let him suffer for another few seconds before announcing, “Alright, I’m bored.”

“What?” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows. “No, c’mon, keep playing,” he tried to convince you yet again.

“We’ve been playing for an hour and you refuse to learn any other game,” you argued back.

“I know how to play other games. I just prefer poker.” Soldier Boy frowned as you scraped together the card to put them back in the box. “What about a bet? One last game, winner takes all.”

You eyed him curiously, wondering where he was going with this. You’d let him convince you to play strip poker and that was already pushing it. “What kind of bet?”

Soldier Boy couldn’t bite back his grin and you had a feeling where he was going with this. “How about I win, you let me fuck you,” he stated casually. You scoffed. Of course he couldn’t help himself. He fully registered the bored I’m over it expression on your face, yet continued anyway. “And if you win, you let me fuck you and I’ll thank you for the privilege.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “What kind of deal is that?” Your voice was dripping with amusement. It was actually kinda funny, the level of audacity and shamelessness he had. “No thanks, buddy.”

You moved to stand and heard Soldier Boy curse under his breath. “Fine, fine,” he said loudly, regaining your attention. If you could read people the way you thought, he seemed kinda desperate. It was almost comical. Then, his tone shifted. “I heard you earlier,” he said seriously. It threw you off. “That supe you want dead. Not Homelander, the other one. Personal to you.”

Tek Knight… Why was he bringing up that bastard?

“Heard you trying to slip him onto the list for me to take out,” Soldier Boy continued knowingly. “But your boss won’t let you.”

“Butcher isn’t my boss,” you corrected. It was the wrong thing to focus on, so you did something that was probably going to be very unadvised in hindsight. You heard Soldier Boy out.

“Whatever. Because I like you,”—you raised your brows at that and muttered an uh huh to yourself, because you didn’t really believe him—“you win and I’ll take him out.”

He was groveling, but damn him for figuring out something you wanted. You hated Homelander and pretty much all supes just like the rest of the boys, but also, like they all did, you had a grudge against a certain supe. Tek Knight was the reason Butcher found you. Before he even brought in Hughie, he had found you. Because Tek Knight had killed someone you loved.

Que the tragic backstory, right? You all had one. At one point you had believed the superheroes were heroes. That is, until you saw Tek Knight recklessly kill a bus with civilians in it—one of which was your best friend. Vought covered it up, blamed the criminals he’d been chasing, and praised the supe for his heroism. Needless to say, that changed your preconceptions of superheroes. Not long later, Butcher found you and took you under his wing. You bonded over your desire to kill the so-called heroes that had taken someone from each of you.

Except, Butcher was so determined to kill Homelander after what happened to Becca with Ryan that your need for revenge had been set on that back burner. And now here Soldier Boy was, offering you the only thing you really, really wanted. All you had to do was bet your dignity.

Could be worse, right?

“You in?” Soldier Boy asked, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. He was already grinning, like he knew your answer.

You returned to where you had been sitting across from him previously and smothered any last doubts you had. “Yeah,” you replied curtly.

That cocky smile of his only grew—it was probably the happiest you’d seen the man. He had a nice smile, but you knew his joy was because of your weakness.

You had to win, even if it was only to watch him lose and wipe that stupidly dazzling smile off his stupidly good looking face.

You didn’t trust him to shuffle, so you did. The stakes were high and you could already see the bulge in his boxers when he stood and scooted his chair closer. He was eager and ready to play—and more. You didn’t want to give him the chance to rig the game. You made an effort to avert your eyes as you dealt the cards out.

The cards in your hand weren’t the best, but they were good enough. Hopefully.

Maybe he wouldn’t be thinking with his upstairs brain, he already seemed incredibly impatient, which could work in your favor. Although, that didn’t seem likely since there was no chance either of you would fold. You pushed all the inner back-and-forth thoughts out of your head and tried to focus on the game. You put on your poker face and just hoped he had a worse hand.

You didn’t say much as you played. Neither did he. You avoided eye contact while he threw you a few looks here and there. There was an intensity to the game that hadn’t been there before. Probably because both of you had a good reason to win. At least, a self perceived good reason on Soldier Boy’s part. You thought yours was much more valid.

The game neared the end and it was time to show.

The moment of truth.

“Two pair,” you said, showing the cards that you had.

Soldier Boy let out a breath, which made you wonder if he had been holding one in. That wasn’t a good sign. He laid down his cards. “Full house,” he revealed.

Well fuck. You lost.

“Damn,” you muttered, but it overlapped with his voice.

“Oh fuck yes.” He sounded a little bit too enthused for your liking. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Take it as a compliment, sweetheart,” he commented smugly. “And don’t be a sore loser.”

“You sure got over Countess quick,” you mentioned in an off-handed tone just to mess with his head a little. “I thought you were still into her.”

He scoffed. “She was a bitch.”

“You called me a bitch earlier,” you pointed out.

“I call everyone a bitch.”

“You’re fucking confusing.”

“And you’re hot. I bet you’re a good fuck,” he countered with lascivious tone.

“You’re gross.” You were somehow still taken aback by his crassness even though you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What, you want me to tell you I’m into you?” He said it like it was offensive. “Like actually? Fine, I am. Big fucking deal,” he dismissed. “Now I won, get your ass over here. I’m not gonna fall for whatever mind games you’re playing.”

You could’ve told him no. You should’ve told him no right away. But damn, you couldn’t help but wonder. You couldn’t deny that Soldier Boy was attractive and from the view you got when he stood, you knew he was… large. Yeah, you should be saying no. What were you thinking?

Well, you were thinking you perhaps you did want to fuck him.

That was the truth even though it shouldn’t have been. You admitted that to yourself.

So, keeping with your end of the deal (because you planned to use the bet to justify all future actions to yourself), you stood from your chair. Soldier Boy was running his hands over his thighs when you moved towards him. He just couldn’t wait to touch you. He could hardly contain his excitement.

He pushed back from the table to make room. When you were within reach, his large, firm hands grabbed at you. Soldier Boy pulled you into his lap with a chuckle.

“Hi there,” you greeted in a sarcastic tone when you came face to face with him.

“Hey, darling,” he replied smoothly. Soldier Boy leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your head slightly. You weren’t sure why, you just did it. He scoffed a little, seemingly disappointed. “What—you’re not gonna let me kiss you?”

You eyed him curiously. “Why is that something you want?”

He shrugged a little. “I’m old fashioned.” He leaned in again and you didn’t turn away. “And it wasn’t a lie when I said I liked you,” he admitted under his breath before capturing your lips.

For a guy that hadn’t been in action for a few decades, Soldier Boy was a surprisingly good kisser. His lips were soft and plump, and moved expertly against yours.

When he pulled away, you were left slightly breathless. That seemed to fuel his ego because when he looked at you, a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Maybe we can both be winners,” Soldier Boy decided smugly. You became aware of his hand creeping along your hip. His fingers grazed your skin and then his hand made its way into the front of your underwear.

A spark of pleasure and even excitement shot through you when his thick fingers found what they were looking for.

Soldier Boy let out a deep, content hum when he brushed against your folds. You were already getting wet for him due to anticipation. He pressed one finger into your entrance and you bit back a gasp. Your body welcomed him, which made him chuckle.

You were waiting for some snarky comment, but at the moment he didn’t have one. Soldier Boy was far too focused on getting you ready for him to think of something. He rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock against your thigh as he pushed another finger into you. He moved them expertly, it should’ve been surprising how much care he was taking to elicit pleasure from you. However, you were far too distracted by the feeling of his thick fingers thrusting and curling inside of you to analyze him.

His thumb found your clit and you moaned, writing in his lap. Soldier Boy watched you, lips slightly parted, breaths heavy. His cock was achingly hard—you could feel it against you.

You felt a familiar knot in your belly form due to his motions.

“That’s it,” he said heatedly, feeling your walls begin to tighten around him. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t wait to be inside of you. Want you to come on my fingers first, though.”

His voice did something to you. You shouldn’t have liked it so much, but it was deep and rich and fuck, it was hot. As your eyes scanned his lust blown face, you saw something else. You couldn’t quite place it.

Your body tensed and as he perfectly moved his thumb and fingers in sync, you knew he was going to get what you wanted.

You fell against him when you started to quiver, the pleasure becoming all-consuming. Soldier Boy welcomed you against his firm body.

“For a girl that hates me you’re squeezing my fingers real fucking tight,” he grunted out against your ear.

Barely another second passed before your orgasm crashed over you in a wave. You pressed your lips together to conceal a dizzy moan, but it broke free.

You rode through the aftershocks on his fingers, catching your breath with your head on his shoulder.

When you finally came to your senses, his words rang in your head. “I don’t hate you,” you clarified in a murmur.

You sat up in his lap, head hazy with pleasure and trying to catch your breath, as he withdrew his hand from your underwear. Soldier Boy stared at you, scanning your face with an odd desperation you finally recognized. You meant it and he realized that.

You were yanked from your pleasured daze when his large hands gripped under your thighs.. In a swift motion, Soldier Boy lifted you. He stood as well and suddenly, you were lying with your back on the table, staring up at his lust blown emerald eyes.

His hands flew across your body, ridding you of your last pieces of clothing. Once you were exposed beneath him, Soldier Boy rid himself of his own clothes.

The two of you were completely naked, eyes scanning over each other's bodies. He pulled you to the end of the table and positioned himself between your legs.

Everything moved in an adrenaline filled blur.

There was very little time to prepare yourself as he planted a hand near your head and used the other to grab his cock. You briefly felt him line himself up to your entrance. Then, he was pushing into you. A gasping moan that surprised you both slipped from your lips as he filled you.

You had gotten a glimpse and knew he was big, but that had done nothing to prepare you for the stretch of his thick cock inside of you. There was a twinge of pain laced with the pleasure and it made you quiver around him.

A deep groan came from above. His eyes had fluttered shut. His hand slapped to grab your waist. His fingers flexed and dug into your skin.

“Fuck,” Soldier Boy cursed under his breath.

His cock throbbed inside of you and you could tell he needed a moment. You had to give him credit for maintaining some level of self control given how long it had been for him.

Except, you were getting impatient. In a bold move, you wrapped your legs around his waist encouragingly. Then, you raised your arms to grasp his face in your hands. You pulled him down into a passionate kiss, which he gladly responded to. He pulled back his hips a little, then thrust forward. You gasped against him and he smiled.

He straightened then, moving both hands to your hips. You braced yourself as he withdrew again, fully this time, then shoved forward.

It took a few experimental thrusts before he set a pace, but when he did you could do nothing but lay there and take everything he gave you.

You weren’t sure what you previously thought fucking him would be like, but damn it was good.

Soldier Boy knew what he was doing. He pounded into you hard and fast, forcing pleasure through your body. He was panting above you, then leaning down to press sloppy kisses to your body. His beard scratched against your skin, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was his cock filling you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Soldier Boy cursed and muttered the praise. His husky voice cascaded over you. You didn’t reply, but he seemed pleased with the fact that you couldn’t. You were doing everything in your power to not let out embarrassingly loud noises.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with panting breaths from you both.

He brought his hand down and pressed his thumb against your clit. Soldier Boy flicked his eyes up to you, watching your face contort in further ecstasy.

He was fervorous, putting everything he had into fucking you. It was going to be quick, he couldn’t hold back much longer,, but he wanted you to come with him.

He kept up his motions, pounding into you, filling you over and over again.

You grasped at his back suddenly, digging your nails in as your body tensed and the knot in your belly exploded. Soldier Boy groaned loudly as your body tensed and shivered around him. You couldn't hold back your moan that time.

That sent him spiraling into his own release.

One, two, three—Soldier Boy slammed into you a final time. You felt his cock twitch. He shuttered above you. Then, he was spilling inside of you. You should’ve stopped him, but you wanted to feel him fill you up.

Soldier Boy let out a heavy exhale and practically collapsed on top of you. He nestled his head into your neck, nose brushing against your ear. The feel of his cock stuffing you full, his come dripping down your thigh, and the weight of his body was all consuming. You couldn’t deny that you loved the feeling.

You ran your hands across his muscular back, listening to his heavy breathing in your ear and his heart pounding from the exertion.

There were no words spoken between you two for several moments as you each caught your breath.

“I’ll take him out,” Soldier Boy muttered into your neck, catching you off guard. It took you a second to register his words, but when you did, you turned your head to look at him. Just in tandem with him to lift himself to hover over you. He planted his hands steady to hold himself up. Your noses were only a few inches apart and you could feel light puffs of breath coming from him against your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask, stunned and wanting to be sure you heard him right.

“That supe you hate,” he clarified. “I’ll kill him for you.” Soldier Boy raised his hand and brushed a few strands of hair back from your face. “If that’s what you want.”

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you told him, nodding slightly. “I want you to.”

“Alright then,” he confirmed with uncharacteristically tranquil demeanor. Seeing a gentle, oddly caring smile instead of a sleazy smirk on his face threw you off.

You thought Soldier Boy was going to lean down to kiss you—he looked like he wanted to—but something caught his attention. He lifted his head towards the door.

That’s when you heard it. The door knob rattled..

A devious grin crossed Soldier Boy’s face. It suited him better than the previous expression.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, knowing what was about to happen and that you couldn’t prevent it.

You turned your head towards the door, just in time to see Butcher and Hughie walking back in.

[izvmimi]

cw: mildly suggestive.

Yuuji doesn’t typically call without priming through a text or when he’s on his way to his former sensei’s home, which is why when Gojo picks up the phone at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning, to hear Yuuji’s loud greeting on the other end of the receiver, he is genuinely taken off guard.

“What’s up?”

It’s barely 7am, and even the great Satoru Gojo is still rubbing the crust out of his eyes. Yuuji sounded partially out of breath when greeting him, and Satoru is partially suspicious that something must be wrong, but the idea of his former student running from a curse on God’s good morning and calling him instead of taking care of the problem at hand is laughable if anything. 

“When did you know?”

Gojo rises, stretching his left arm over his head as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, instead of rising up straight like a board like the creature he is, and yawns.

“The hell are you talking about?”

Yuuji is still slightly out of breath, and Gojo suspects that he’s outside from the whooshing of air hitting the receiver. “Yuuji where exactly are you?”

“Running.”

Gojo decides not to probe further, but Yuuji always seems to offer more information than necessary anyway. 

“I can’t get her out of my head. I’ve been out here for two hours, just circling the neighborhood. People are looking suspicious. If I get arrested, please bail me out.”

The words come out choppy and agitated and Gojo can’t help but chuckle, knowing exactly who the ‘her’ is.

“So you thought to call me and not Megumi or Todo?” Gojo laughs. The phone is now on speakerphone as Gojo makes his way to the bathroom, setting the phone down on the sink counter as he splashes water on his face.

“You’re the only one who can relate,” is Yuuji’s simple reply.

“Well, that’s silly.” Gojo replies. But he knows it’s true - after all, the first thing he did upon waking is send his favorite person a good morning message that she’ll pretend didn’t make her heart flutter. And now, just like that, he’s thinking about you, and just maybe he should join Yuuji on that lap.

“So how did you know? When does it end?”

Yuuji has finally stopped, and his pants are louder now. Gojo can imagine him, hunched over, possibly at an intersection of roads, squinting from the light of the morning sun, discharging the energy of unrealized feelings.

“Never.”

Gojo was once there, many nights prior where lovesickness made it hard for him to eat or drink, instead preferring to feast his eyes on the image of you smiling, laughing, pouting, turning your head to him and away, biting your lip, scrunching your nose, twiddling your thumbs, reaching out for him… On that alone, he could feed and feed until he were full to bursting, and then more.

“That’s awful news!”

“Isn’t that the truth?” He replies. Gojo’s camera flips on and he lowers the hem of his pajamas just enough to expose his V-line, the miniscule more reasonable part of his psyche praying that he didn’t actually turn on Facetime, before snapping a suggestive photo and sending it to you.

‘Missed u’ it says in the caption, before he hits send.

Two seconds pass before Yuuji finally says, “Dude what the hell.”

Gojo’s stomach sinks. He was sure he had checked…

“That wasn’t meant-“

“Forget it, I’m going to call Aoi. Thanks though.”

Gojo ends up laughing as Yuuji hangs up, amused that his student has turned out more like him than expected. 

A last text message comes from Yuuji.

Angle more on the side and move the towel from the background. I’m sure she’ll like it.

The student surpasses the master.

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Strip Me to My Bones

Slowburn!Tommy x autistic!fem!reader Prologue: An Odd Woman

Summary: Tommy meets you in 1919, the beginning that feels like an ending in hindsight. Among betting men there is a vibrant culture of superstition and mysticism. It was in this industry you found your trade as a “psychic,” and met a man with a Red Right Hand.

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, contextual use of g-slur, Canon-typical violence, author is autistic, spoilers for series one possibly, slow burn, Tommy is shallow and confused at first. WC: 1.6k

1919 was an odd year for Mr. Shelby. His eyes were still bright, the boy who died in the tunnels still clung to his ankles as he stalked the roads of Birmingham. In those days, Tommy was still starving for money. For any sort of gain in power. He still slept on an old mattress with his drug of choice within reach. He still delivered his horses to mystics and magicians to psych out the competitors of the next day’s race. It was this Thomas Shelby who brought himself to the door of your flat. You, the newest little medium in Small Heath.

He had heard many things about you. How you seemed to just “know,” things. You weren’t gypsy, but there were whispers that you could see inside hearts and minds like no other. For a reasonable fee, you would read a person like a book tell them the next chapter of their life without hesitation. He was not normally the sort to seek your kind out. Thomas Shelby could see ahead just fine without the guide of psychic, genuine or charlatan in nature. Until, of course, a crate of guns came into his possession and an Irish woman sang to him from atop a table. Even the devil needs direction, sometimes. 

That morning, the devil had sought you out.

Your flat looked the same as any other. There were green vines and a purple curtain blocking his view inside your window. Plain bricks on the outside. Gutter hanging off slightly from your roof. Thinking it best to just get it all over with, he knocked. You answered. And he froze.

When he first saw you, there was nothing extraordinary about you. You didn't wear a silk turban or line your eyes with black to convince your customers of some supernatural gift. You were just a young woman dressed comfortably in her little flat. A long, thick robe suited for the winter chill was tied around your body and sensible slippers on your feet. Nothing overly frilly or fanciful. Tommy would almost call your presentation "dowdy." However, what had made him freeze were your eyes. He knows the power of his own stare. Your stare was something truly unique. It was something he couldn’t quite put into words. The color of your eyes was not exceptional, nor the size of your eyes or their shape. There was a force behind the stare that had him fixed to the spot. The sound of your voice was all that put him back into the world.

“Can I help you?” your tone is flat, but he can’t decide of its intentional.

Tommy takes a glance from the corner of his eye to ensure there are no onlookers. The roads are empty. He looks into your eyes once more and says, “You see the future, I hear.”

“I see people, for a price. Not the future. Nobody can do that. It’s rather early, so I hope you’ve got money in that big coat,” you step aside to let him inside. He almost hesitates. Second thoughts are not something Tommy likes to entertain. To falter, to ruminate, is to dance at the edge of cowardice. Tommy pushes onward and crosses the threshold of your home. Thus begins the start of a most unusual affair.

The lighting was dim in your little flat, and on the walls were dozens of shadowboxes were every assortment of insect on display. In fact, nearly everything in your home appeared to be some sort of collection. Orderly in their presentation but crowded due to lack of space. All the furniture looked inherited rather than new, but that was typical. There was the scent of lavender and cedar in the air. As he passed by two sticks of incense burning on the mantle of your fireplace, he found the origin of the fragrance. 

‘No trace of any other resident in the home. No husband. How modern’, he thought. As he made his observations, Tommy was painfully aware of your eyes on his back. You guided him silently to a small room with two sofas facing each other. He sat opposite to you, not bothering to remove his cap. As you sit across from him, your eyes are everywhere but him. Roving about the room as you tap your thumb to the tip of each finger on your hand. By the way you were sitting, someone just entering the room might assume you were a guest by how stiff your posture was. Back completely straight, both feet firmly planted on the floor. This was your home, your time, and Tommy looked more at ease sitting on your own furniture. 

“I normally have tea prepared, but you don’t drink tea anyway, so I won’t bother with the kettle this time,” you say as your bottom hits the sofa cushion. He hears you. He hears you make a correct assumption about him, but he does not show his acknowledgement. 

Tommy threads his fingers together on his lap, “They say you can see inside of people, tell them things about them that even they don’t know.”

Blinking owlishly at him you reply, “My, that’s a lovely review of my services! Should put that on a sign outside my doorway. Though I would rather know why you came to see me, Mr. Shelby. You are Mr. Shelby yes?”

“That I am,” he nearly laughs, “and I am not entirely sure why I came to see you either.”

Your eyes snap onto his own and again he feels caught off guard by it. Slowly, you lean forward, “It’s not like you to need help. You avoid seeking it. Something has happened to you that has never happened before, you do not know how to carry on because you cannot fall back on learned tactics to navigate the storm.”

He says nothing. Tommy finds you don’t require his input to carry on speaking as you tilt your head and continue. As you speak, you never break eye contact. Your gaze is one that leaves him feeling stripped to the bone. Flesh peeled back and pinned so that you may inspect him further with an objective, curious eye, "One of the walking wounded, soldier come home from war. You don't sleep well. None of you do. But, you hide it better than most."

"Quite the assumption," he deadpanned.

You carry on as if not hearing him, “A Catholic without Christ. Guilty but without remorse. You only follow yourself and yet you have lost faith within. So, you act out of your own character to try to find a solution to a problem you’ve made yourself. A problem with solutions you can't commit to.”

Tommy’s heart is beating faster in his chest. The plain-faced woman who greeted him at the door has been replaced. Your face seems to change, the sir around you shifting. There is a thrill in being seen. A thrill, but also annoyance. “And what would you do to solve such a problem?”

“It wouldn’t help you to know what anyone else would do. Even if my way was best, you wouldn’t obey it. Obedience is not something you do willingly,” there’s a smile in your eyes that makes his hands tighten around each other. “Is your greatest problem above, below, or beside you?”

His face remains stoic as he mulls over your odd question. He thinks of those beneath him, the factory workers who riot and cause him distraction. Beside him, his brothers in arms and brothers by blood. Ada. Freddie…. Grace. And then he thinks of Campbell and Kimber. “Above me, always.”

You nod, “There was no need for you to come see me. You know the answer to the question before you asked it. The greatest woe for you is that there are matters of the heart keeping you from stabbing upwards to the enemies who stand over you. You aren’t used to having that sort of obstacle... You need to decide what you want more and act accordingly. To have both things will end poorly, but I can't stop you. Nobody can but you.”

For a moment, he feels a sense of relief. It had been many years since the words of a stranger had done that to him. This feeling was overtaken by an immediate realization. He had come to you under the assumption that you were gifted by second-sight. Yet… You had no cards, no crystals, did not say a prayer or even a hymn in a nonsense language.

“You’re no medium,” he states it as fact. Not as a question or accusation. Though, he watches to see how you take it. Tommy likes to see how people respond to being caught, he finds it to be the most revealing time for most. For the third or fourth time since he laid eyes on you, you defied expectation.

With a slow shrug you say, “I’ve never made the claim that I was one. Everyone started saying so one day and I decided not to correct them. I just read people.”

‘What an odd woman,’ Tommy leaned back in his seat. Face still as stone. As he looked at you, your posture returned to that stiff, nearly-too-straight, position from before. He could see why the average man would see you as something beyond the natural. Ordinary to otherworldly. An odd woman indeed. You stand from your couch with a small, crooked smile, “That’ll be ten quid, Mr. Shelby, a discount for a first-time reading. It'll be thirteen for the next time.”

He pushed the money into your hands and said, "Won't be a next time." You gave him no audible response as you walked him to your door and released him from the dreamworld your home had trapped him in. Tommy did not look back as he walked three paces from your door and lit a cigarette. No one had seen him and he had a feeling you wouldn't share his visit with others.

Tommy pushed you from his mind to focus on what may come next.

The rest of the day moved quickly and slowly all at once after he left your little flat. He swore to himself that he would never go back. Swore that he hated every instant spent in your dark home that smelled of lavender and cedar. Swore that he despised the way you peeled back his skin with that glare so sharp. No, he couldn't feel them on him. Not at all.

[cherrielatte]

genuine question do you even understand what a proshipper is ? like youre okay with people romanticizing pedophilia and shipping minors and adults ? you think thats okay?? GENUINE question.

Hello! Judging from the way you worded this - I'm gonna be honest: I don't think you know what proshipping is. I was very close to not answering this because it was sounding a bit in bad faith ( and this isn't the first time I've gotten belligerent asks on the same topic) But well, I decided to give it a shot and give benefit of the doubt.

 I know it's common ground to jump onto proshipping with the idea that it means you romanticize pedophilia, abuse, toxicity, etc. It's the typical high ground taken when people hear that dark fiction enjoyers exist. But that's not actually what it means. It just means that YOU, as an individual, understand that a drawing is not the same thing as human being. Written characters are not the same as human beings. Harassing REAL people over a non existent character because they put them into situations that make you uncomfortable says more about the harasser than the writer/artist. Proshipping is about taking personal responsibility for your experience online. Not long ago, the idea of a proshipper was just considered having fandom etiquette (ie: Don't like; Don't read type of tag lines. ) I'm a proshipper and there are plenty of things I don't like & make me uncomfortable. But I also understand that I can easily not engage. I can filter tags so I don't see it. I can block people that make that kind of content. I can refuse to click on something clearly labeled as the content I don't like. I can control what I see. And I can also understand that that if someone draws something I don't like it doesn't mean anything about them in real life nor what they enjoy in real life. Besides, a lot of people that consider themselves proshippers are victims of abuse or have had to endure traumatic events in their lives. Engaging in what you might consider dark fiction allows people to cope and navigate through complex emotion/trauma and express themselves in ways they are not allowed to or haven't allowed themselves to. I've seen some people say "I've been through trauma and I don't engage in proshipping." And okay, I'm happy for you. But not everyone copes the same way you do. And no one should be held to the same standard. If we were all carbon copies of each other, maybe I would understand that argument. But that's not the case. I should also mention, that it's become a bit standard for people to only excuse those that have been through trauma to make dark fiction. But only if they publicly acknowledge what kind of trauma they have endured. I am 100% against this way of thinking. I do not think it is anyone's right to demand an account of my or anyone's personal traumas just to validate the existence of certain piece of art. No one is entitled to anyone's abuse story. If a person is willing to share, because they want to, that's the personal decision of the individual. But look, much of the horror genre (movies, books, tv, etc) wouldn't exist if we put these high censorship rules onto art as a whole and unfortunately, I see this happening more and more these days like discussed in this post about someone's experience in publishing gothic horror.

Going back to an earlier point, you have to really understand that the characters are fake. 100% fake. If I ship Sora ( KH) and Ash (Pokemon) neither of them are going to be upset about it because they don't exist. If I draw them kissing, it is a drawing of anime looking characters kissing. That's all. They don't look anything like real human people. Wasting energy fighting over fictional characters is just that. Wasting time and energy. Who are you saving? Ash? Sora? They don't need help, because they aren't real. Fight for real people that actually exist. I have seen people outside of the Soriku fandom genuinely upset about people shipping Riku x Sora because they are underage! Mostly because they are both male but without fail, they always slap on the argument: "they are kids, you sicko!" But you know why they go to that? Because assuming the moral high ground wins over arguments quickly. People are eager to be superficially perceived as morally good. I have seen people ship Riku x Ansem SOD, which could fall into that age gap - problematic shipping you referred to in your ask. But you know what? I get it. I see people interpret their relationship as one of abuse, metaphorical SA, manipulation, etc. I completely understand and see that interpretation and where it stems from. And unfortunately, there are many people in fandom that have had this exact experience. Honestly, without me needing to ask anyone specifically, I KNOW there are people in fandom projecting their experiences onto Riku and Ansem as a means to replay it with a bit of actual control. And even if there are people who don't. I'm not going to ask, because it's none of my business. So again, as a proshipper I am completely in control of my online experience. I can block, mute, filter, and not engage with the things I don't like or things that trigger me. But as long as it is fiction, it remains as just that : Something I don't like between characters that dont exist. I don't have to harass, bully, nor threaten people over fiction. Of course, there are bad apples in every circle. But to me, whether someone is a bad person or not is expressed through action toward real people and the intentional harm done onto them, whether it be through inappropriate interactions, abuse of any kind, exposing personal information, harassing family/at work, or encouraging harm. Those are real actions on real people and engaging in these actions is what counts to me as markers of a bad person. Not someone drawing two fictional characters that haven't aged in the last 20 years kissing or having sex. 

[doin-just-fine]

How it feels to be us.

For questioning systems, specifically those who do not fit the typical DID/OSDD criteria, this will be an in depth dive into how our brain works as we understand it right now!

Bellow is all of us, The Super Fine System. 🛸 DoinFine (23) is on top and from left to right is ☁️ Cloud (~22) , 🌾 Summer (24) and 🧸 Bean (~8).

This is how we "appear in the head space". Technically, we don't have a visual headspace and we don't literally see each other. For us it's kind of like wondering around a space with the light turned off but we all have psychic proximity so we can sense each other when we're in proximity to each other. Even more technically, only DoinFine has psychic proximity in this way and I🛸 don't actually know what everyone else experiences up here.

🛸 I am a front stuck host. It's like I'm plugged in to the front. We call it being stuck in the chair because it's an easy way to explain it but I don't actually feel stuck in a literal chair. I just sort of feel glued in place. I feel like I am the front. Some systems talk about a control panel. I feel like I am the control panel. All I can really do is experience the outside world, sense when someone else is close to the front with my psychic proximity, and imagine what certain events that unfold in my head look like visually to kind of help make sense of it.

🛸 The thing about being front stuck is that I can never leave so we don't have traditional amnesia. What we do have is difficulty with memory recall but usually we'll get there eventually with enough description from an outside party and Emotional Amnesia. The best way to describe Emotional Amnesia is as if you're rewatching a movie but now the movie has no sound and is in black and white. Or like you're watching the movie from way across the room and through really thick glass.

🛸 The other thing about being front stuck in such a permanent way is that no one else can fully front. They all have to through me. This is why I feel like the control panel sometimes is because everyone has to operate and filter through me. This turns Cloud, Summer, and Bean into this:

Here are the originals for comparison.

🛸 Like I said before I can't see anybody nor can I hear anybody. But through the psychic proximity I can feel them and I can feel their vibe, emotions, and if their close enough or "touching" me I can hear them. Example: making these picrews was me making them and doing what I think they'd like and then feeling their reaction. It's genuinely fascinating because I will add something that I think looks good and I'll pause and tune in and feel, especially from Cloud, the vibe of "No, I don't like that." and if I'm really not doing a good job I'll hear a "I would never wear that." I don't actually hear another voice it's more of a passing thought and opinion that very much differs from my own. Thats how we figured out what everyone looks like.

Back to the filtered versions of my head mates. Some systems would describe this as being blurry, blendy, or just co-con. We feel blendy would fit this best. we know for some systems, like our partner system, blended alters can be their own solid individuals with unique names, pronouns, thought, and feelings. However, this is not the case for all systems and definitely not for us. The level of blended changes based on how close the person is to DoinFine.

This was particularly hard to navigate at the beginning of realizing we were a system because everyone talks about switching in and out and we don't do that. This fed our denial spirals for a good long while.

DoinFine has only ever not be in the front maybe twice. Bean seems to be the only one able to boot DoinFine to passenger with ease and has only done it once. The other time Cloud was bonding with his friend in our partner's system and DoinFine consciously decided to try and "look around" the head space (still not sure how to translate that literally) to see if they could learn more info. Cloud is our gatekeeper though so they didn't learn much nor did they full achieve disconnect but Cloud found himself front stuck for a second. We think this only happened because he's never co-fronted before and didn't know how to leave.

After writing that here's some information we may have pieced together. The first level of "fronting": Bleed Over and and Passive Influence is what DoinFine gets from the other head mates on our average day. The second level of "fronting": As someone get close to the front the influence becomes stronger which turns it into being blendy. This when someone sits on the bench with DoinFine or, in Cloud's case, standing just behind it. We don't make it past here very often. This is also where we have to give a heads up to those around us incase unexpected mannerism come through. The third and final level of "fronting": is reaching Co-Fronting where DoinFine stops driving but is still up front and can let the other person "have a turn". Typically it will look like the other person is Fronting on their own. This usually because in these instances who ever is co-fronting usually wants their time to exist as a person.

With Cloud getting front stuck briefly, that was DoinFine consciously and willingly taking "a back seat". Bean still holds the title for being the only one of us to kick DoinFine out of the drivers seat and forcing a co-front without anyone realizing until it was already happening. It wasn't even on Cloud's radar that maybe the 8 year old could be that powerful in the front. He was watching the interaction and suddenly DoinFine and Bean had swapped places and he began to panic only a little bit.

When it comes to our internal communication we don't lol. We communicate by verbally talking out loud to each other. Other things we do is use apps to text to each other. DoinFine, psychic proximity only gets us so far. All though they are developing a new technique where they kind of vaguely think about a question or theorize about an answer and then they try to tune into Cloud who's almost always with in proximity and tries to gage his emotions to tell them the answer or if their theory is correct. We have found that Cloud does not mind revealing information in this way. He still won't reveal everything though. For example we were trying to figure out when everyone first appeared in the headspace, when we got to Cloud he wouldn't tell us obviously but DoinFine noticed that when they would try and guess his vibe and emotions would almost play like a hot and cold game. When we were too far back he would almost boast about how, "i've been here way before that" and when we were too far forward we could feel collectively that it wasn't right. We eventually narrowed it down to early on in our time on this earth but when we were starting to get too close to specifics Cloud stopped the game and wouldn't provide anymore information.

🛸 Though I can tune in to vibes, emotions, and sometimes thoughts I can't access anyone completely. I think It's Cloud and he keeps tight tabs on everyone, I can gather information about people as individuals but nothing about the headspace, how this place works, and if anyone else is around. Though this is frustrating I can feel Cloud and trust that his intentions are good despite his rude way of executing them. I can feel that he is very familiar with me, and he knows what I can handle and when I'm ready for it. He is very much an older brother type. And I do trust that I will learn things when I'm ready for them. I also get the sense that he doesn't know EVERYTHING like he says he does and sometimes he just doesn't have the information and pretends like he's just keeping it from me. As for what everyone else knows I can't get a read on them. Bean is rarely around and it flips back and forth for Summer whether or not she knows things that Cloud knows or is just as clueless as me. Only time will tell I guess. I hope this is helpful or at least interesting to someone.

I’ve been trying to map how we work for a year now and this is where I’m at. I'm sure this will all change as I grow more familiar with my new situation. But for now if anyone has any question feel free to ask them, we are more than happy to answer anything. Questions from other people help us figure stuff out for ourselves.

Remember, you are valid in you're experiences!!!

[pt2change]

take my hand — park jihyo

pairing: jihyo x reader

genre: bff!jihyo, female reader, fluff, eventual romance, wlw, men dni

word count: 1,410

↣ jihyo masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

the wedding venue was absolutely beautiful. the music was pleasant to hear and the food was so delicious… better than a five star restaurant if you were being completely honest. the table centerpieces complimented the rest of the decorations. everyone was laughing and socializing or dancing.

everything at your brothers wedding was perfect.

except you just couldn’t help but stand alone, leaning back against the wall and watching it all unfold in front of your eyes.

it’s not like you weren’t uncomfortable or anything. you loved the dress your new sister in law had picked out for her bridesmaids. and you were torn between having your hair up or down for the event.

luckily, jihyo had helped you decide which style was better and helped with your make up as well.

the wedding invitations were sent out months in advance. jihyo was surprised she was invited considering the only person she was close with was…. well, you.

and with that, she wasn’t even entirely sure if she wanted to come. and it wasn’t until there was one month left that you found out jihyo had gotten an invitation and she explained to you why she didn’t want to go. that is of course, until you begged her for weeks and weeks because after all you didn’t want to be without your best friend.

“y/n!” you turned your head when you felt a familiar touch grab your arm. jihyo stood in front of you in a black maxi dress and she fixed some strands of her hair that were in her face.

finally��.

“i’m sorry i’m late, the venue was further than i thought” and she looked at you with a big smile.

you blinked profusely before smiling back at her, you looked up and down at your best friends appearance.

“that dress looks beautiful on you, jihyo” you comment to her, but before she can even respond, you hear the dj over the speakers. “alright” the dj starts, “we hope you all enjoy the wedding, let’s give a round of applause to the newlyweds!”

everyone cheers as your brother and his wife make their way to the center and begin the typical wedding traditions.

an hour goes by and there’s people chatting and dancing all over again. and when the dj plays a slow song, men and women throughout the event pair up and make their way to the dance floor to begin slow dancing with one another.

you groan quietly… okay so you didn’t want to dance and especially to this music. but suddenly you hear giggling next to you, turning to find jihyo covering her mouth with her hand. you chuckle, “what’s so funny?”

jihyo clears her throat, “well, there’s no one here that i know besides you, and i really want to dance to this song. so, will you-?” you can’t help but giggle, thinking this one of those moments where she’s being sarcastic.

jihyo looks at you with doe eyes, “dance with me?” you’re taken back when she finishes her sentence, because she sounds genuinely sincere.

you’re not sure exactly what to say, you two would stick out in the crowd of people on the dance floor because 1. it’s a small event and 2. you were both girls.

combine that with the slow romantic song and the both of you slow dancing, people would assume that the two of you were dating. you weren’t sure what your family or other friends would think.

but then again, it’s 2024. the times of being shocked at two girls slow dancing is long gone.

you nod your head, “fine, but you have to take the lead.”

jihyo smiles, before putting her hand out for you to grab, “that’s fine, y/n. you know im wearing one of my shortest pairs of heels so you can reach.” you roll your eyes in response, “don’t make fun of my height!”

you hands connects with hers, and she pulls you to the dance floor. you place your hands on her shoulders, your fingers trailing on her soft skin. jihyo wraps her arms around your hips, but as the song goes on, she brings them up slowly to your lower back.

it seems like forever by the time the song comes to an end. you and jihyo find yourself at the center of the dance floor. you stare into each others eyes, before you both share a laugh. you link your arms together before walking off the dance floor.

throughout the entire night, you and jihyo dance whenever you can, taking breaks in between to head to the bar and ordering drinks.

you also noticed that the stares and whispers towards you both dialed down. in the end, you and jihyo didn’t care nor did you both put any attention towards it. you were both happy to be in each other’s presence.

it’s nearing 1am, when you and jihyo discover the upstairs balcony that overlooks the entire venue. jihyo fingers sneak their way into your hand as she pulls you up the stairs. when you get to the top, you both stand near the rails, watching as people danced or made their way out the venue to head home.

you suddenly feel jihyo’s head lean against your shoulder, you lean your head towards hers as well, letting out a sigh of relief.

your grip tightens around her hand, “tonight has been so fun, jihyo.” you laugh, lifting your head to face her, “i’m so glad i asked you to come.”

jihyo laughs softly, “y/n, you didn’t ask. you practically begged me to come.”

you shrug your shoulders, “asking, begging, it’s basically the same thing.” jihyo shakes her head in response, “i had fun tonight as well y/n.”

jihyo clears her throat suddenly, “you know when i suggested we should dance together, i wasn’t sure what your reaction would be-“ her breath shutters, “i was worried it would ruin our friendship or something by making you uncomfortable. but then you agreed, and it just made me so happy.”

you look at jihyo with such sincerity, “i was initially worried about what other people would say about us, but i decided to go against it. who cares what these people say about us?”

jihyo nods, before smiling at you and you both start laughing, the alcohol settling into your systems.

and then it happens.

when your laughter dies down, you both stare into each others eyes, both knowing what was next. and jihyo leans in, pressing her soft warm lips against your own. and you kiss back slowly and delicately. her arms wrap around your back, bringing you in closer.

when you both decide to pull away, you just stare at each other unsure of what to say. jihyo decides to break the silence and removes her hands from your back, “im sorry, y/n-“ she tucks her hair behind her ear, “im sorry, i don’t know what came over me. i just-“

you could notice tears forming around the edges of her eyes, her voice cracking as she continues to apologize.

“jihyo.” you say, inhaling deeply. “im not mad or anything,” you tell her in hopes that it would calm her down. and it’s the truth. you weren’t sure how to feel. you feel like the love you have for your best friend just changed, but in a good way. it felt nice.

“really jihyo, it’s okay.” you say softly, “it just caught me by surprise. you know, it all just happened so suddenly.”

jihyo nods, blinking to stop the tears from falling, “well what now?”

you thought carefully before answering, “we could try this… an us. or we can just go back to the way it was. but we don’t have to decide right at this moment. i like us the way we are, whatever that means.” you smile softly at her. jihyo mumbles a quick “okay” before smiling back at you.

“let’s go back down, the wedding will be over soon.” you tell her before you reach your hand out for her to take now, and jihyo grabs your hand as you make your way down the stairs together.

you reach the bottom of the stairs and you scurry to stand in front of her, “now- will you dance with me? i’ll take the lead.” and jihyo giggles before walking to the dance floor together and she’s placing her hands the same way you had done to her.

[keigologies]

sick heart, sick body, s. spiegel

syn. you both got some healing to do.

gen. romance, sick fic.

warnings. canon typical spike banter.

word count. 2.1k.

note. this was posted on ao3 forever ago and i said it was cross-posted here, but i ... clearly never actually did that... until now... oops (?)

spike has known you for most of his bounty hunting career. you came on the team a year after he himself joined jet, proving yourself to be not some wayward hitchhiker they'd have to take care of on their own dime, but a genuine asset: budgeting skills like no other (which the bebop crew really needed help with, though they would object to if questioned), ways of drawing out bounty heads into false senses of security (without causing a fire fight, something spike could really learn from, according to jet), disciplined in all the ways that matter. you're a quick learner; given the time and patience, you'd been able to pick up on his fighting style and you'd learned enough about mechanical engineering to help him and jet in repairing things on the bebop and the other spaceships on board.

all that to say: you're strong and spike has never known you to be anything else. you're smart, quickwitted, a powerhouse bounty hunter with all the skills that matter. you may be a little quiet, a little meek at points, but you're strong, almost untouchable.

so it surprises him when you come down especially hard with a severe case of the flu. it sounds so... primitive, he thinks, just some stupid earth sickness that honestly can't compete with some of the (quite frankly) awesomely-titled sicknesses that have come to be since the colonization of other planets; really, he justifies to himself, venus sickness sucks, but it is a cool name.

he cringes when he hears you cough for what might seriously be the hundreth time tonight and then mentally punches himself for taking the piss out of what you're going through right now. jet had said you'd contracted it while you guys were hanging around in tijuana and spike had been off tracking bounties; it was just coughing and congestion at first, but apparently, it eventually morphed into something way more severe. you'd quarantined yourself immediately to keep them safe, which spike has respected since he got back earlier in the day, but he shares a bedroom wall with you and damn him if you think he's going to allow you to keep suffering like this without him interfering.

your next coughing fit sends him up and out of the comforting warmth of his bed. it's not like he's angry with you or anything - sure, the coughing is getting on his nerves, but he knows you can't help it and he's not that much of a heartless asshole to be mad at you for keeping him from sleeping specifically because you're ill. really, he finds himself wanting (needing, maybe) to check on you, to make sure you have everything you need so you can rest easy and recover faster.

he realized a long time ago that he'd become jaded about the world. with everything that happened in the before the bebop era, it was clear why he'd become so disillusioned and nonchalant about things. with his past, things just didn't matter as much; he still had life to live, but he'd decided to be a little more reckless about things. he didn't want to waste time worrying about things that didn't concern him, now or ever: whatever happens, happens.

your being sick isn't really any of his business because outside of him having to listen to you cough all night for as long as you're ill, it doesn't concern him in the slightest. he means, it shouldn't concern him because it really shouldn't, but there's a part of him that's... open to the idea of being concerned for you and your wellbeing, which is strange to him because he shut himself off from ideas like that decades ago, it seems like. it's not that he's incapable of it, of caring for another person, but rather that he feels it's more of a betrayal. he'd given his heart to another and he'd never truly gotten it back.

though, in the five long strides it takes him to cross from his door to your own, he thinks that maybe he had gotten it back, years ago even, and he was too afraid to admit it to himself. so many things he'd held himself back from for years, all in the name of a woman who had disappeared into the ether without so much as a trace. she was gone; dead or alive, julia was gone and she had been for a long time. it's been time for him to douse that torch for a while now.

and when he comes to this conclusion in those five strides, he thinks that you getting sick might be a blessing in disguise, at least for him, because he's realizing now that he's been taken with you for quite some time. he's not sure when it first started, this infatuation with you, but it certainly isn't recent. he supposes it doesn't matter, however, because he's realizing it now, on his way to rescue you from an earth virus that definitely had a way lamer name than other sicknesses, which is a comment he's sure you'll laugh at and agree with him about if he brings it up.

once he finally raps his knuckles on the sliding metal door leading to your bedroom, he hears the beginning syllable of "come" before it's interrupted by a ragged cough. your voice, rough and almost whispered, struggles to say "come in," but you finally manage it and he opens the door just enough to slide in, ducking under the door frame.

"you feeling alright?" he asks, closing the door behind him. "you've been hacking up a lung all night."

you do your best to laugh, but it's a sad attempt, barely there and hoarse. a piece of him wilts at the sound, sad to hear you in such a bad condition. "better than i was yesterday."

"sure doesn't sound like it," he answers, turning towards you. he withers a little more.

you look so small in your bed, under what he can only guess to be every single available blanket on the bebop. you have dark circles under your eyes, your cheeks sunken and your skin pallid in accordance. you look like you have one foot in the grave.

"jesus," spike says, crossing the small room to your bedside and sitting on the edge. "you look awful. have you been eating?"

somehow, he's able to recognize your shrug under fifteen different blankets. "we're almost out of food. didn't wanna bother jet about it or throw the budget out of sorts."

"are you being serious right now? fuck the budget. you have to eat when you're sick like this." he genuinely frowns and presses the back of his hand to your forehead and then cheeks. "and you're burning up. did you just decide to forgo medicine in the name of the budget too?"

you shrug again.

"you're the worst." 

but you can tell he's joking because if he really thought that, he wouldn't be here at all. he stands and when he turns to look at you, you've got a questioning expression on your face.

"oh, don't look at me like that. i'm not just going to come in here, berate you for being stupid about being sick, and then leave. i'm going to go see if i can track down some medicine."

"it's not gonna be any of that weird shit you keep in the first aid kit, is it?" you ask, a grimace clear on your face.

"okay, first off, that weird shit is home remedies and they work just fine. second, no, i'm not stupid. that stuff isn't going to cure what you have, so don't worry your pretty little head, alright? the newt stays in the kit another day."

the last comment makes you laugh and this time, it's not as hoarse as it was a few minutes ago, which makes him smile to himself. with you being in the state you are, it's nice to hear a few seconds of your cool, clear laugh. something about it anchors him to this moment in time, reminds him that he's not as cold and as standoffish as he's always presented himself to be in this new life of his; no, he's capable of caring for people like this, of loving someone like this. he's got something good here with you and he's always had it, he's just never let himself think that it was his to actually indulge in.

"i'll see what i can find. in the meantime, start deconstructing that 'money is more important than my pressing health needs' mindset you apparently have going on, okay? i mean, really, you were worried about the budget? you know jet would agree with me here, as much as he complains about not having money. plus, shit that you can't account for happens."

"okay, okay, i get it." you accompany your words with an eye roll, but the smile is clear on your lips, which are cracked from dehydration. "can we save the lecture for when you get back? or just save it for jet altogether since i know you'll end up snitching to him about this eventually anyway?"

spike scowls, but it's obviously playful. "don't go catching an attitude with me. i'm generously playing nurse for you right now when i could very well just let you suffer here alone."

"oh, this is you playing nurse? then you really oughta work on your bedside manner, spiegel. it's atrocious."

he shakes his head and begins backing away from you, arms crossed over his chest. "keep acting like that and maybe i'll feed you that newt after all."

"yeah, yeah, yeah. i think jet's been hiding chamomile tea somewhere in the living room. make some for me, please?"

"you're real lucky i'm in the mood to be compassionate," he jokes, finally turning to open the door. "you want honey with it?"

"if we have any."

"you got it. don't fall asleep before i get back or i'm ratting you out to jet about this tea too."

he hears your hum of affirmation as he steps into the hallway and when he closes the door behind him, he allows himself to assess the whole interaction. if this had occurred at any point before now, he would have felt entirely disgusted with himself, but at present, he realizes he doesn't really mind. you've taken care of him an innumerable amount of times since joining him and jet, serving as the defacto nurse on the bebop, and this could easily be just him returning the favor, but it feels like so much more than that. 

because it is. if it was anyone else, if was any other time, he wouldn't be feeling this way: soft and warm on the inside like heat without his trusty cigarette. when he'd left the syndicate and faked his death, he'd sworn off love and adoration and affection. they had been his downfall once, they would not ruin him a second time. sure, he'd come to trust jet more than he'd trusted anyone before, but he kept even him at arm's length, afraid of what might happen if he let him come too close to orbit. 

and while it worked for the most part, spike has been learning (for what he assumes is quite a long time) that cutting those kinds of human connections of out of one's life isn't the way to go about healing, especially when the person one wants to love has proven time and time again that they're worthy of being trusted. there is no life without love because life without love and companionship is a sickness of the heart and he's let it fester for far too long.

so when he comes back to your room with a hot mug of chamomile tea with honey, a few pieces of hard tack he scrounged up, and some generic medicine, and he finds you asleep? he doesn't find himself all too annoyed with you like he threatened he'd be. no, instead, he feels a little bad when he has to wake you up to drink and eat and take the medicine he had to go digging through too many drawers for. and when you apologize for keeping him up with your coughing, he tells you you're the worst next door neighbor for it (a joke), but he's glad he can help you (not a joke).

and when you ask him if he'll stay for a while (just to make sure i'm not going to die in my sleep, you reason), he agrees and lays under your fifteen blankets with you until your breathing evens out and you're fast asleep, and even then, he stays just a little bit longer than he needs to, relishing in the feeling of sharing a bed with another person again.

he figures you've both got some healing to do, so you won't mind if he falls asleep with you. 

© keigologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[cyanide-latte]

Honestly the most gratifying thing about my undercut that doesn't have to do with gender is that now I actually get genuine compliments on my hair.

I have naturally very curly hair. It is also very dark but has been steadily turning white since I was 15 (I'll be 35 in October.) I've had it long before, and most often in my life I've had it cut very short in a boyish style.

And my entire life, the comment I heard most was "is your hair naturally curly?" (always said with a dubious tone even when I was little, because I guess other 5-year-olds must have been getting perms) And it's usually always followed by "I wish I had hair like that, I'd kill for your hair" or some variation thereof.

I was told this was a compliment. As an autistic child who hated my curls for the longest time, this frustrated me. It never sounded like a compliment, it never felt like a compliment, and if they wanted my hair so bad, they ought to find a way to trade with me.

As I got older, into my late teens and early twenties, I made peace with the curls, even though I still got those same "compliments". But since I'd been getting increasingly white hair since age 15, they were now accompanied by people criticizing my "highlight job" and my choice to "mix in blonde". Looking people square in the eyes and saying "I don't have highlights, my hair's just been going white since I was 15" usually got semi-gratifying results when people backpedaled like hell, but a lot of them also would then criticize me for not dying the white to hide it.

I was constantly trying to alter my style for my hair my entire life and I don't even like styling my hair, but it caused me no end of upset to hear these things. I figured I was always doomed to be miserable about my hair. My body is already sensitive as hell to so many things I can only use specific products on my hair safely, but it hurt that my mother and grandmother tried so hard to help me understand people did like my hair, when the comments I heard sounded like criticism and an insinuation that other people deserved my hair.

And then 2020's COVID lockdown meant I couldn't get my summer cut to shorten my hair so I wouldn't overheat. At least, the person I usually went to couldn't do my hair.

So between desperation to find a way to keep all the weight of thick, heat-trapping dark curls off my neck and shoulders, and the desire to try something new as a subtle means of better expressing my gender, I decided to try an undercut. My partner and I looked up photos for reference, used an electric razor that was typically reserved for his hair, and decided what to do. Several layers underneath in the back would have to be shaved off completely (more than we initially anticipated, believe it or not,) and I wanted the shave to come around my left side. Just shave the left half of my head, because for some reason heat would constantly get trapped there as well as at the back of my neck. (Dunno why that didn't happen the same way with my right side, but hey, we've established I'm pretty odd.)

It was a relief, both physically and in terms of gender euphoria when I looked in the mirror and heard my partner's loving exclamation of "oh! there you are!" And it was also a relief when my mother and grandmother loved my new hair, especially when my grandmother said "that suits you best of all. You should always keep your hair that way." (Grandma passed in February of this year, and she never wavered in her love of my new hairstyle.)

But then, it started happening. Not just with family, friends and coworkers, but random strangers, at least once a week, often more than once a week. Someone would come up to me and say "I LOVE your hair! It's so cool!" I'd never heard that before.

I have quickly learned an added benefit of the undercut is that, with the left side of my head being shaved, it's incredibly easy for people to realize that my hair IS naturally curly, and to see my white pattern where my hair is growing back in on that side. And I've gotten compliments on that too! Both people talking about how dynamic my curls make the undercut, and several others telling me that my white pattern is beautiful and they hope I never think to dye it.

It's slowed down a bit since then but it still happens every couple of weeks. A little while ago at work, a regular [teen] patient came in with her mom, who approached me to ask about my undercut because she (the mom) has been hesitant to let her child try an undercut, but on seeing my hair, she changed her mind and wanted to know about my experience. Said kid still doesn't have an undercut yet, but they've been changing up their hair and presenting more queer in their dress, and they've started shyly waving to me when they see me. And yesterday, during grocery shopping, as I was waiting for my partner to get back from grabbing something, an older lady slowed down, came over to me, and just said "Excuse me, pardon me, you just have the most beautiful hair. That style is so striking, and your curls are wonderful with it. That's all. I just wanted to tell you you have gorgeous hair" and then she left.

It's so strange how that impulsive choice to take a shot on a new style not only became something I love for me and my personal expression of self, but is the thing that finally, truly has brought me compliments on my hair for the first time in my life. Real compliments that make me feel good.

So I guess what I'm saying in this overly long ramble is 1: I'm forever grateful this has happened and is happening to me, 2: for anyone struggling with similar, this is a reassurance that things can and will get better, 3: change can be terrifying but this is a very good example of a drastic change that wasn't going to have harmful repercussions for me personally, and the fact it turned out so well is both a confidence- and courage-booster. It's worth taking a shot on, because so far it's brought me nothing but joy. Sure, it requires frequent maintenance to keep up with the shaving part because my hair grows fast, but it's a small price to pay for a cooler head (in more than one sense!) and the positive interactions that have resulted.

[renfieldrenrat]

Talking about my Alterhumanity 🌙

Howdy! I go online by the name Renfield! I'm a therian who's been awakened* since October 2018, alongside multiple other kintypes and identities which I discovered over time.

*I knew I was different in a way since a very early age and always thought of myself as not human, as early as I can remember. I would describe my "awakening" as finding out what therianthropy is and having a name for whats going on with me.

Wanted to take the time to talk about my alterhumanity, as I don't see those type of posts so often around and it might even help people who are struggleing on finding their own identity or just to get a general better understanding of what an alterhuman is.

(Looong post ahead)

🌙 First off I should clerify what my identities are!

(Poly) Therian

My Theriotypes are: Coyote, black (gray) wolf and red fox.

(Coyote als being my core animal identity).

Otherkin

My Kintypes are: Vampire (Vampyre), Werewolf and Timelord.

(Timelord is also tied to one of my Fictionkin identities)

Fictionkin

My Fictotypes are: Renfield, Doctor Who, Clint Barton, Edward Munson, Eric (AQPDO), Stede Bonnet (OFMD), Mobius, Jack Russel (Werewolve by Night)

Renfield also being my core identity in general. Renfield is my strongest kintype, I am constantly and always Renfield involuntary.

Songkin (Conceptkin)

Songkins: Steam Powered Giraffe - Honeybee, Wired Wrong, Fire Fire

Albums: Djo - TWENTY TWENTY and DECIDE/D-SIDE Album

(Will make an extra post)

Fursonakin

Cody and Joshua

(Gonna make an extra post for this too)

(I'm also Otherhearted with a vew Kithtypes!)

🌙 How I found out I was a Therian

My therian identity was the first alterhuman identity I discovered and ties to my animalistic urges and the behaviour I had since I was a kid, which weren't usual compared to other children (seen from my own perspective). As side note, I am neurodivergent and would describe my mind as simply wired different. That's also the best explaination I have for my therianthropy.

Since an early age I would see myself as an animal and genuinely believed in elementary school that I was a werewolf and could transform, if I only tried enough or was old enough. (I know I am physically human, I was just a kid being a kid). I would sometimes experience ear- and tail shifts as a child (didn't know what this was about as a kid. Thought everyone had that). I've always been highly sensitive of sound and weather. I also experience emotions much stronger and intense than majority/typical (HSP)

Which I would later come to see as: I think as my Theriotype/Kintype.

Anyway, so in October of 2018 I discovered PD (Pink Dolphin)'s YouTube channel, hearing of the term "Therian" for the first time. I watched a vew of PD's videos and looked up some reddit posts about therianthropy. (Reddit not being the best source ever but didn't know where to look back then). I quickly realised "Hey, I think this term fits me and how I've been perceiving me and the world this whole time." And so the questioning for my possible theriotype began. While scrolling through multiple pages related to therianthropy I actually discovered that I experience a certain type of shift alot. Dreamshifts. I can distinguish intense/realistic dreams from experiencing actual dream shifts. It's this one certain feeling dream shifts have to them when I experience one, which I cannot really put into words. (Quick side note, you don't have to experience shifts in order to be a therian. Some do, some don't. I just personally happen to get dreamshifts specifically alot and sometimes but not as frequent mental or sensory shifts.) To get back: Clear images of what my internal self looks like come mainly from my dreamshifts, colour and exact shape wise.

I would first believe that I was a winged wolf. Realizing later, after proper and long research, that I am a Coyotekin and Corvid Otherhearted. (Till this day I get often cameoshifts of birds and back then had them mistaken for a winged canine creature). Also found to be a red fox a little later and in 2022 also that I am a black wolf aswell, after having it as werewolfkin first. I was wrong with being a werewolf and just a "regular" wolf instead, making it a theriotype.

And that's the best I can put it. I'm a psychological Polytherian with three theriotypes.

🌙 My identity as Vampirekin (Vampyre)

At first, let me explain to you what being a Vampyre / Vampirekin means to me. Everyone has different experiences. This is how I experience mine and how it affects my life.

There is a bit of a difference between vampire kinshifts I experience and my general Vampyre identity.

I consider myself a Psychic Vampire (metaphysical energy.)

(* as side note, I am not that deep into spirituality)

I am a highly sensitive empath (HSP) and feel most of the time something missing on a emotional basis. I found to be a psychic vampire as I use the energy of others to recharge what is missing on my behalf. I feel drained most of the time and rarely have moments of longer lasting energy. More intimate moments between me and another human being are not a thing really accouring so I basically have to stick to such simple things as positive conversations with others or hugs from friends, in order to take energy. As it's very "light" it's not a draining process for anyone involved. I don't want to feel like "stealing" the energy from them so I always try to give those something back and thanking them (not in words.)

However, going over to my kinshifts and the things I seperate from being a Psychic Vampire and rather count it to Vampirekin as a seperate thing:

I OFTEN get fang shifts, the vampire "teeth shifts" are different from the shifts I get from my theriotypes. For my canine shifts I feel a snout and full set of sharp, canine teeth. For my vampire shifts it's the single sharp canines inside my (human) mouth. I also have claw shifts that are fingerlike with sharp nails and differ from my paw shifts.

I also experience sort of blood lust and have a biting urge.

I have a general fascination for blood. (Don't take this in a creepy way.)

My Vampirekin is also linked to my Renfield Fictionkin.

Other things I consider part of my identity:

I've always been a night person and feel the most alive at night/I am most productive during that time.

Very sensitive to weather (hot and cold), highly sensitivity in general (HSP).

I am drawn to graveyards, consider it a hearthome.

(Random side note, my biggest and longest lasting 'till now hyperfixations are Vampires and Dracula in specific.)

Fictionkin identities 🌙

It takes too long to cover every single of my Fictionkin identities, so I'll try to chop it down and use my corekin Renfield to write about.

Renfield:

This is a fictionkin, heavily linked to my vampire identity in general. On one hand Renfield from the 1931 cinematic version of Dracula, played by Dwight Frye and Renfield from the 2023 film, played by Nicolas Hoult. (Also Renfields depiction/describtion in Bram Stokers gothic novel)

At a faithfull night I started reading Bram Stokers Dracula, as I've been hyperfixating on Vampires since I was a kid and thought it would be a nice addition, since I also love reading. On page 99, R.M. Renfield is first mentioned. Reading further and further, I immediately knew that this is not just a "I relate to him" it was a "this is me." I never had felt something like this up until this point. After I had watched the 1931 version of Dracula I was sure. I see myself internally as Dwight Frye's portrayal of Renfield, alongside memories of the particular Carpathian Mountains and Castle Dracula that is shown in that version of the movie.

(Kinfirmed Renfield in february 2021)

Y'all can only imagin the hype I felt when I saw that there would be a Renfield focused movie to come in 2023!

For Hoult's perfomance as Renfield, I saw him the first second and it was like looking into a mirror, that isn't reflecting my outlook but my internal self. As they are both Renfield (the 1931 film even having a flashback appearence in the Renfield movie) with just different takes on the character and story, I coined them as one identity. I am Renfield. My own, internal version of Renfield entails every version of Renfield in a way.

The next part is more on how I see Renfield as a person so opinions on his character might differ on this but that's okay! Everyone can see a character how they want and interpret them. This is how I see Renfield.

Thinking back I kind of always been Renfield. Missunderstood and always seem to be second choice, just like Renfield. Spending all of my energy on others, ignoring my own needs, just like Renfield. Lonely and just left behind in the end, just like Renfield. Used and manipulated, just like Renfield. I don't have a master to serve but I never put myself first and cry if not able to finish a task as expected. (Example buying something specific at the groceries but that food item isn't available, so it's not my fault for the store running out of stock but I am still frustraded and angry for not being able to bring that item). I am not a leader, rather a follower.

This was very personal and I hope I won't regret this ✨

Anyway! I hope this was helpfull in any way and that this wasn't a too long of a read.

Feel free to ask me questions in my QnA thing! I love answering questions!

[yanderecrazysie]

I remember that your one post about a reader who's willing to hide a body for her psycho lover. and all i can think of now is:

desperate for love reader x yandere abandonment issues kageyama

two lonely souls who only want someone to stay by their side, and when they did find each other. lets just say its a beautiful twisted mess.

Omigosh I love it- this is so beautifully twisted relationship-wise. I feel like this oneshot turned out kind of weirdly cheesy but I wasn’t sure how else to write it.

Title: Desperation

Pairings: Kageyama Tobio x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, parental abandonment, referenced cheating (not on you), swearing, murder, reader’s kinda lowkey messed up

Summary: You’re just as desperate for love as Kageyama is for yours.

desperation

/noun/

a state of despair, typically one which results in rash or extreme behavior:

Kageyama wasn’t sure what caused his tendency to latch onto others.

Perhaps it was his mother leaving him when he was just seven years old- walking out the door, never to return. He couldn’t comprehend that fact at that age and his father was too distraught to explain it well. So maybe it started then.

Or maybe it started when his first girlfriend cheated on him. Someone he was supposed to trust stabbing him in the back could be the cause of his clinginess, right?

Whatever it was, he couldn’t help but latch onto the girl he liked at the time. When you came along, it only got worse.

He went from liking a girl to loving her, and, when it came to you, he fell headfirst into the deep end.

He was afraid to ask you out, even if he had the feeling you might accept, because you might say no. And he couldn’t stand even the thought of losing you.

He did everything he could to keep you nearby- carrying your books for you, sitting near you, eating lunch with you, walking you home… and you accepted it all with a happy smile and light flush to your cheeks.

He was glad you accepted those offers because, if you didn’t, he might just lose it.

He wasn’t happy with being “just friends”, but he was terrified of scaring you away. He’d keep on being friends for eternity if that’s what it meant.

But then, you did the unthinkable.

You said “yes” to the first guy who asked you out. You barely even knew him!

Kageyama cursed himself for not asking you out sooner, he cursed you for saying “yes”, and, most of all, he cursed that wretched bastard for daring to take you away.

It wasn’t fair that you turned your sweet smiles and blushes to anyone but him.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself when he got the guy alone.

A crime of passion, they might say. Too sweet a phrase for bashing a guy’s head in and planning to bury him on the school grounds with a rusty old shovel. 

The gym door creaked open behind him and his body went stiff. Would he have to kill an innocent person just to keep his secret? Would he even be able to catch them in time?

His heart sunk when he realized who had caught him. Of everyone in the school, why you?

You’d come looking for your boyfriend, and now you stopped dead in your tracks, blood draining from your face.

“Why?” you asked, so quietly Kageyama almost couldn’t hear you.

It was best to be honest, right?

“I love you,” he admitted, rather bluntly for a murderer, he thought. 

He didn’t deserve your love at all, not after what he just did. He didn’t deserve anyone’s love.

And yet, you smiled at him as though all of your prayers had been answered. As though you’d never been told you were loved, and maybe you hadn’t.

“I- I love you too!” You were dripping with eagerness, your voice breathless from the confession, giddy with excitement because somebody loved you enough to kill for you.

Kageyama was surprised by how genuine you sounded. You didn’t seem to be lying to him to stay alive. But he wasn’t complaining.

He decided to test your honesty a little more.

“Can you carry the shovel then? It’s hard to carry his body and the shovel at the same time.”

“Of-of course!” You said, just as breathlessly as before, “Where are we going?”

“To bury his body in the woods behind the school,” Kageyama replied bluntly, sure that this is where you would back out.

“Okay!” You said, as happily as if he’d asked you on a date. You practically skipped with the shovel and smiled the whole time you watched him bury your boyfriend’s body.

He never told me he loved me, and Kageyama did. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.

Kageyama reached a dirt-covered hand out to you and you took it immediately. A small smile spread across his face.

“Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

“Yes!” you squealed happily.

It was like a dream to him, walking hand-in-hand with you back up to the school to wash up. To you, it was a dream just to be loved.

After all, it’s not like you truly cared for either of them.

[bingodotorg]

Precious Iris

Ship: Zombie!Ruby/Leon

Description: Leon sucks at puzzles so much even his zombie stalker decided to be chill for once and just see what happens, out of curiosity.

Tags: Canon/OC. Human/Zombie. Ruby is basically Mr X. Manic Pixie Nightmare. Possible OOC Leon.

TW: RE typical gore. RE typical stalking. Soft Necrophilia (Zombie). Suicidal thoughts but in a…Ruby way. The stupidest puzzle you have ever read.

WC: 1176

Having these games and puzzles in these places was always a bit of a confusing concept to Leon. So many intricate mechanisms for things that could just have a…lock. It honestly sometimes feels as if someone is watching him through some hidden cameras and just wants to see him suffer through these veiled tasks. This was one of those tasks.

It seemed like he needed to insert the right gem into a slot in the wall, in order to open a door. He was able to find gems around the area, so that part was over. Now the problem was…he didn’t know which one to use. The only clue he had was a piece of paper that was as vague as words on paper could be. 

“The colors of fear and desire Her dream is his nightmare”

To say that these sentences mean absolutely nothing to him is putting it lightly. He looked around, nearly turned the whole office upside down trying to find something else but no…this the only clue he had.

As Leon suddenly hears loud breathing near his ear, he looks back to see…Ruby. God, she always sounded out of breath. He’s not sure if he should be creeped out or flattered at this point.

This monster was following him right as he entered the building. She seemed more aware than most but also more dangerous because of it. No sane person would choose this life willingly, but she decided that being controlled by immediate desires is better than…whatever she did before. She saw liberation in rotting and there are not a lot of things that can stop someone with nothing to lose.

This is the first time he was so close to her without being attacked. Ruby was genuinely curious about what he was doing, to the point of ignoring him as a target. Even when he looked back at her, she didn’t try to bite, just waited for his next move.

- Um…hi.

He said, a bit awkwardly, getting a rotten, sharp smile in return.

Leon still wasn’t sure if she would stay like this or suddenly lunge at him, but he couldn’t really do anything for now…only wait and see. Leon looked at the note in his hand again but reading suddenly became a bit harder, as he felt her get closer, bending down, trying to read it too. Her eyes darted around but it seemed like they weren’t really focusing on the words, as if she’s acting like she reads to fit in.

- Can you even read?

Leon asked in a slightly mocking tone. She shook her head which pushed a chuckle out of him. The unreadable scribbles on paper bored her pretty quickly and she approached the office table next to him to jump on it and sit down. 

He would still glance at her from time to time, making sure that she’s sitting in one place. Everytime she moved he would watch her closely only to see her do something dumb instead of attacking him. 

In the span of 10 minutes she managed to:

1) Start beef with the vending machine

As he was looking at the door, she suddenly came over and poked him in the shoulder. Leon shuddered but gave her the attention she was asking for.

- What?

Ruby points at the vending machine standing in the office and Leon doesn’t get what she wants to say until she makes the “money” motion with her fingers.

- I doubt it works

The machine had an obvious indent and the lights weren’t even working but it didn’t stop Ruby, as she let out a growl. Fearing for his life, Leon pulled out a coin out of his wallet and passed it to her.

He was right, the machine didn’t work. The coin just fell into the slot, without giving anything in return. Ruby was less than happy as she started shaking the thing, making Leon watch her again as there’s no way he’s getting anything done with all this noise.

2) Do circles on a chair with wheels that then fell over.

Leon tries to hold in a laugh as he sees Ruby smack her face against the floor.

- You alright?

He asked, mostly out of habit. He doubts that something so minor will have lasting damage on the already rotting body. She shows him the okay sign.

3) Hide a gem and watch Leon try to find it.

It ended up being on the highest shelf, of course.

- Don’t do this to me.

Leon sighs, dreading the moment he will have to stand on a chair to reach it. Ruby doesn’t say anything, only smiling in return.

4) Stand WAY TOO CLOSE.

The more ridiculous things she did, the more he became accustomed to her presence. Leon even got comfortable enough to sit down by the table and start writing down his own notes as he analyzed the clue and thought about where he found each gem. Ruby couldn’t stay in place for long but she would sit on the table he was working on to watch the man…in between doing dumb shit.

As she layed on the table and Leon glanced at her once again, something suddenly clicked.

- Wait…Is this about you?

He realized, looking up at her. Ruby sat up straight, with a widened eye, she was as surprised as he was. Leon got up and grabbed her face as she growled in response, trying to slightly move away but also not fighting it full on. 

- I need to see something.

She sat still with a confused look as he analyzed her eyes. He slightly opened her eyelids with his fingers, as her left eye was permanently squinting. Behind the rainbow glint of spilled oil he could see the blue sky peaking through. 

He picked up the shattuckite gem, the one that reminded of the ocean mixed with oil. As he puts it in place, he hears a click but…nothing happens. 

- Is it stuck?

Leon whispers to himself and approaches the door. He pulled on the handle, but nothing happened. He decided to try and push it with his shoulder, hoping that this will somehow trigger the mechanism to work.

Ruby silently watched him but then noticed that there’s another slot that Leon didn’t see. She approached the gems laid out on the table and glanced at him once again, trying to notice a glint of color in his detriment squint. She took the blue beryl in her hand and twisted it around, watching it glint under the ceiling lights. Ruby placed this gem into the slot, which triggered the door to open right away, causing Leon to fall onto the other side. 

As he started to get up, he looked back to see Ruby just…standing there, in the entrance, watching him. He could see, no, feel, her eyes change. She was watching him like a hunter, ready to pounce at any second. Just being under her for a brief moment evoked something. As Leon heard her neck crack, he knew the chase was on.

[uptownbird]

————————

name: silvanna “sylvie” chakrabarti

age: twenty-six

birthday: august 31

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: she might not be completely aware of the fact, but she is a lesbian

trope: the fallen princess

traits: uppish, driven, naive, sentimental, perfectionistic, fretful, evasive, romantic

likes: cats, romance novels, soap operas, loud music, thrift stores, expensive brands, stickers, cool girls, punk clothing, lipstick, laughter in bars, freedom to do whatever and be whoever, margaritas, kate bush

dislikes: bugs, horror movies, beer, whole milk, complete silence, talking about her past, prying eyes, apathy, thunderstorms

fun facts: she cuts her own hair and you can really tell. also, her wardrobe consists exclusively of thrift shop finds and very expensive clothing, both sometimes even sewed together. sylvie is lactose intolerant

————————

sylvie´s interview

1 .  how   did   you   find   out   about   static   avenue   ?

sylvie smiles with pearly-white teeth. straighten up, sit like a lady and answer. “ oh, there is a looong boring story that explains my current situation, but we can skip the tedious beginning… ” she gives a practiced, girly laugh - look, i am a carefree girl ! - that cuts short with the interviewer’s response. “ - oh, you want to hear it ? ” shit. okay, its fine. you have control of the situation sylvie, so act like it. “ well… first of all, i am a runaway. ” and smile , it is crucial for them to think this is just a fun story she has no mixed feelings about. “ you know how love is… no ! not love, infatuation. a limerence strong enough to make someone wonder if the person they had been for years…. is who they actually want to be. ” the peppy chatter must be charming enough to hide the fact that she wants to be as vague as she possibly can. “ i had just turned 21, legally i could vote, but my mind was young, my heart still over-trusting. and she- this person, was in a band. they were a bass player ” though unfortunately for sylvie’s discretion, she loves to hear herself talk. “ anyway, this person showed me music. real music. queen, billy joel, kate bush. and well, long story short... ” veeery long story short “... i ran away from home. though let me be clear, my parents were not awful. they were your typical mom and dad, and i do really miss them sometimes… as well as the private plane, and the yearly trips to europe. ” she lets out a dreamy sigh, thinking about her old life. focus, no time for nostalgia. “ but no family is perfect, and i am certain my… entanglement with the musician would not have been of their liking. they had plans for me since i am their only child, and the rest of my life had already been set since the day i was born. at first i did not hate the idea, but that year... i had become more acquainted with myself, and i realized i did not like it at all. and you know how parents are! i could not go against their wishes! ” this time, her laugh sounds less sincere. “ I took everything i could with me, and i decided to leave ” her voice quivers, just enough for a skilled listener to notice there might be a tang of sadness in it. “ we…. the bassist and i, we had planned to run away together. i know, foolish. ” she fights against her own memories, refusing to remember how much it had hurt; waiting that day in their secret place, realizing after some hopeful hours that she was not coming. “ anyway! my mind was made, so i left. little old me against the whole world! well, against some states across the country. i counted with enough funds to look around, trying to find myself in every single place. ” she smiles, the first genuine smile in the conversation. “ i landed here one day, and it felt right. which is strange! this is a little town with nothing special to it after all. ” her laugh is oblivious to the accidental insult. “ but life is odd, don’t you think? oh! and back to your question, some days ago i found this! ” now she is holding a flyer, with STATIC AVENUE written in bold letters. “ and i knew! ” there is a twinkle in her eye. “ such a crude concept, but do you believe in fate? ”

2 .  do   you   have   any   secret   talents   or   what’s   your   best   party   trick   ?

“ i am classically trained in piano and the violin. oh, and i am fluent in latin of course, how else could i read Virgil and Catullus’s works? ” she beams, expecting some kind of praise. when that does not come, she scrambles her head for anything to say so the conversation doesn´t turn awkward. “ silly me, but that is boring stuff, right? ” she chuckles. shit sylvie think about something else, anything. “ well, believe it or not, i am a pretty skilled shoplifter. ” WAIT NOT THAT “ i mean! I can… uh... ” come on sylvie- got it! “ I can sing with my mouth closed. ” now that gets the interviewer’s attention. bingo! she giggles ( a normal spontaneous giggle of course ) , her voice confident again; “ it´s true! And i do not mean humming. watch and listen closely. ” she dramatically purses her lips together and sings a bad rendition of mary had a little lamb. what comes out of her closed mouth is something that resembles a muffled voice singing underwater. she is right though, there are definitely words there.

———————

ooc: panda - she/her - cst

[qilingxiong]

the thing about xiao hua in the lost tomb 2 is that i would argue he's the most ruthless of all the live-action versions (at least so far). he's the one dealing with the ugly underbelly of what it means to be head of the xies, the one onscreen telling the rest of his family to fuck off or die because he won't walk away or go down without a fight. he moves quickly and cleanly and he kills people without blinking if the situation is severe enough to warrant it.

but he's also the version of xiao hua who smiles the most and genuinely means it. whether it's at his men who've stayed by his side, or at wu xie who he beams at from the first time they're onscreen together and never stops looking out for him, or at zhai xingyao, the brother who he's kept safe enough to have his back. he's got all the gravity of the burdens he's had to carry his entire life, but he still finds enjoyment in the simplest ritual of sitting in his courtyard watching opera performances on his laptop. xiao hua has restraint and control and he can click his emotions on and off like a light switch if he must, though with the emotions he's willing to share, he's so easy with making them known.

adding onto this, there's a passage from book canon that i feel is crucial to understanding xiao hua's character, and it's from volume 7 (from wu xie's pov):

“Are you a good person or one of the bad ones?” I asked.

“What do you think?” He looked at me and sighed. “Do you think a good man, upon hearing that his childhood playmate’s life and death was uncertain, would still ignore it and finish his own business first?

(...) "Do you know how many times I did such things before? I often wondered if I didn’t listen to my grandfather and went back immediately, would those people still be alive?” He also smiled. “You can’t have friends once you think like that, because you know you can’t go back and save them. If you became friends with someone and this happened, then you’d be sad. So to prevent that and be able to abandon others with ease, I decided I couldn’t be friends with anyone. It sounds a bit melodramatic, doesn’t it?”

I didn’t know how to answer him, so I just chuckled a few times.

“But these were my thoughts when I was a child.” He said. “Now that I’m older, I’ve figured a few things out.” He sighed and raised the wine bottle and motioned to me, “So, Little Master Three. With me here, you have to take care of yourself.”

(quoted from the Merebear translation)

although tlt2 xiao hua is younger than he is in this section of the books (this exchange takes place while him and wu xie are at mount siguniang, or the last arc of ultimate note), he's a xiao hua who's already been through the change his book counterpart describes in the passage. he's made it forward in reckoning with what he does in his life, and he doesn't consider himself a saint by any means for it, but he's found what happiness he can still make room for and save despite all that. i'm glad that tlt2 gave us a xiao hua who looks like he's gone through that realization, and let him shine in who he is after coming out the other side, not only in his own sideplot but also in his interactions with the other main characters.

one of my favourite moments in tlt2 is from the last battle against the jade(?) warrior, when one of xiao hua's men dies (i'm so sorry i can't remember his name) and he's angry. how xiao hua wields his anger is typically cold, calculated, he only lets a hint of it show because the self-control is more terrifying to watch than full displeasure. this time he's fully expressing genuine rage, and i think it's the most unrestrained we ever see xiao hua with it in any adaptation. one of his people died, someone he cared about and wasn't afraid to show it, and so whoever is responsible is going to lose his life next. and it's beautiful.

tl;dr i adore how tlt2 xiao hua is characterized and how that characterization drew on his book journey, even though this adaptation introduces him at a slightly younger age. hats off to everyone involved

[kimbapisnotsushi]

omg hiiiiii xxx same semi anon from like a month ago it’s great to see u again

currently planning a stz pokemon au where they’re all gym leaders of a region - little stuck on some of the types if u had any hcs ? taking suggestions from anyone in replies as well 🙏🙏

essentially i have semi as ghost for plot reasons, shirabu as steel and ushi as dragon + also the champion. and the rest (+ jin) Slightly more stuck ? keep flipping between tendou as psychic (but there’s not good pokemon that fit for a team imo) or fire cause of the hair. yamagata also works as fire potentially

would love to hear ur thoughts u always have genuinely the best takes on these guys. and if u don’t know pokemon so sorry LMAO

oh my god semi anon you have no idea how much i LOVE pokemon!!! i've got my own au in the works for them, and i always enjoy seeing other people's takes on what a pokemon au would look like!! also, i'm assuming this is sort of like a brand-new region and thus teams aren't limited to what would typically be region-locked pokemon, which would make forming them waaaaaaay easier.

i do really like the idea of tendou being a psychic-type or fire-type expert!!! if you really want to throw a curveball and have tendou do something unpredictable--which i also think is very tendou-like--then i think fairy would be a good specialty for him, too, if you don't like the psychic or fire options for his team (of which we have a few options here--i think delphox or darmanitan could work as his main partner if he was either a psychic or fire expert, and galarian rapidash would work for psychic or fairy, too. fairy would also give you great options for a team overall because i personally think tendou would enjoy having a tinkaton and/or grimmsnarl on his side). generally, though, since tendou tends to be a wild card, i think you could go any type and have it make sense for him in the end LMAO.

if you decide to go down the fire path for tendou, that would leave yamagata in a hard place, it sounds like. i do think he'd be a cool fire-type expert--i can totally see a lot of them being on his team and as his main. if not, though, i think yamagata would be a great fighting or rock! if he had a lycanroc for his main/on his team, he'd take it out for jogs and play fetch with it, like, all the time. blaziken or infernape would also work for a fighting or fire team, or maybe hariyama.

if you end up not liking psychic for tendou, i think kawanishi would be a great psychic-type expert instead! ice and dark are also really fitting for him, i feel like. i could totally see him with a gardevoir or a gallade as a main, maybe an umbreon for dark and a glalie or frosmoth for ice. quiet, yes, but strong in his own right. pokemon who get him just as much as he gets them. the umbreon would curl up to take naps with him, and the gardevoir or gallade would know how he feels without him having to say it or show it on his face. they'd be good for him as a trainer and as a person.

reon, to me, would make a great normal or flying type expert. he'd be really cool with a noivern or a braviary as his main, maybe a sawsbuck on his team too if you're sticking with normal types. but i just have this image of him inside my head soaring on the back of the braviary with one of those aviator-themed outfits that some of the flying type leaders have!! he'd look really good in it imo, and i can also totally see him in that outfit against a dramatic backsplash of a susnet, arm outstretched for a bird to land on.

goshiki . . . a little bit more difficult. but i think he'd be a great poison or electric type expert, mostly becuase i know his path towards becoming that would be full of either accidentally poisoning or electrocuting himself. but he'd keep going, and that's what we love about him!! i can totally see him loving trubbish during a time when everyone makes fun of trubbish, and they make a vow to become the best together and show everyone or something. toxicroak would be another good one for him--a pokemon that tends to keep its cool while goshiki is floundering. luxray would also be a good one for that if you want to go down the electric route. if you want one to match goshiki's energy, i think electivire would be a really funny main for him in that case--baby goshiki and his elekid just sounds so cute.

and jin my beloved. if you leave flying for reon, then jin could totally be a normal type expert! i think he'd be great with a stoutland as his main. i also think he could be a grass type expert--he gives off those vibes to me for some reason. i can see him with a tangrowth, decidueye, or a tropius as his main/on his team being a grass-type expert. little jin with a rowlet trying to tackle the world sounds adorable to me, and i think they could grow into a really powerful team that many would underestimate when just initially looking at jin.

aaaaaand i think that's everyone covered!!! thanks for the ask anon, that was so much fu nand i'm always happy to discuss these things!! i hope this helps you in figuring things out, and feel free to drop by whenever!!!

[ghostlynachopanda]

Nevermore's Guardian

a/n: So, I've never done this before but I did want to give it a shot just to see what it's like. feel free to tell me anything about this, I'm painfully aware it needs work

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader

---

How can you be a reject in a school full of outcasts? You don’t think there's anything that would set you apart from everybody else at school. You would consider yourself to be relatively normal, or as normal as one can get with being an outcast. You have powers, sure they're dangerous but can be helpful too. Typically only using them to help out around the school or Jericho. You've gained the title "Nevermore's Guardian", you would think the name would come with benefits. It's quite the opposite, there is no room for fuck ups and no one wishes to speak to you anymore. What a fucking joke.

There might be a rule that comes with the title, one that states no one can speak to you. Maybe the other students just don't care. The only person who does speak to you is Principal Weems, but she's the principal and all she does is give orders/advice. It’s better this way, having no friends. It makes it easier to do your job.

There's a transfer mid-semester, that's shocking. Weems told you to keep an eye on her and advised you to stay away. With a quick nod, you were out the door, no need for more words.  Fine, whatever Weems wants. After all, following orders is what you do best. Except it's harder than you thought it would be. Seeing her in the quad with her roommate was even more shocking. She sticks out like a sore thumb, and the black outfit really draws attention to her. You heard the rumors about her, Wednesday Addams. Maybe that's what makes everyone's eyes fall on her. It's refreshing, to see someone that's genuinely different from the others.

Wednesday noticed you almost instantly, and she starts seeking out your information. Wednesday starts by trying herself, then by asking people about you, the first person is her roommate, Enid. Upsettingly, all Enid knew was you were called "Nevermore's Guardian", how can she know so little when she writes a blog that gossips about everybody? Wednesday went to ask her other classmates, but they knew less than Enid. Wednesday even went to Weems, but she was also little help, only providing your first name. Simply put, you're an enigma. Wednesday can't seem to shake her growing curiosity, why doesn't anyone know anything about you? She sends Thing to follow you around after class, but it’s easy to lose him and disappear completely. It's weird at first, considering it's just a hand. But seeing Thing crawl into Wednesday's dorm tells you everything you need to know. You want to ask her what her issue is. It's better not knowing though, Weems seems to have her on a tight leash, so why even bother with her, with Wednesday-

A quiet sigh escapes your lips, walking through the woods always makes your thoughts run more than they should. Shaking your head slightly, trying to rid of these unuseful thoughts, turning your attention to the woods. The peacefulness of the woods goes unappreciated by most, it's beautiful when the moon is at its peak. Quiet enough to make you want to sleep, you can only guess your drowsiness and thoughts are what allowed her to sneak up on you.

"You're hard to track down, I'm impressed."

Your eyes widen and there's a small falter in your step. As minuscule as it may be, it's enough for her to notice, enough for her to know you heard her. 'shit, I didn't even hear her footsteps', you thought, angry with yourself.  Weems' voice rings in your head, 'you'll want to stay away'. Deciding it would be better to follow her advice, you keep walking, planning to finish the rounds and get back to your room. You hear footsteps behind you this time, they're quick, probably trying to catch up to you. "If you don't turn around I'll stab you.", she sounds mad, or is this what she always sounds like? This is the first time you've ever heard her voice, it's as beautiful as she is. When you don't acknowledge her there's a small huff and more footsteps, but this time they sound more like stomping. The crunching of the leaves and the snaps of the branches are too loud for this atmosphere.

Maybe this one time wouldn’t hurt, just this one and then go back to being alone. Hopefully, it'll sate her curiosity. Coming to a complete stop, she steps closer until she's within arms reach. Turning your head enough for her to get a side view, you pause for a second. You knew she was pretty, but seeing her up close is different from what you were expecting, even if she just threatened to hurt you. You look at her long enough to see her eyes travel your body, most likely judging the clothes you decided to wear. When her eyes find your face, you send her a gentle, closed-eyed smile and in an even gentler voice say,

"Sorry, Wednesday."

And you're gone, just like that, leaving her alone in the woods. Oh, how Wednesday plans to find out everything about you.