#I can say 'please don't do this without me there's specific stuff only I will recognize'

[rachymarie]

Feelin as i like to call "closer to the faeries"

Or one with the fae

On this soggy day

So patience please as I am facing mental turbulence

[npdiyozane]

I don't like BSD I'm sorry if I'm putting myself through the little sister bullshit I'm doing it for a VN that does something interesting not for a basic shounen anime with a mafia aesthetic and some questionable literary references.

[mysteryshoptls]

Ortho Shroud Chat Lines

Same as the King of the Underworld.

Ortho: You're curious about my hair? It's made of flames, just like my brother's. Ortho: I hear it's the same as the King of the Underworld, too. Ortho: And his even turned red whenever he got angry! Ortho: My hair is managed by a program, so by changing the gas composition, I can make it any color I want. Ortho: Ehehe, it's so cool, don'tcha think～?

A Gamer's Soul

Ortho: Hey, Prefect, what sort of games do you like? We should play together sometime in my dorm. Ortho: We can play any type of game. Ortho: Even if my brother doesn't own the game, I'm pretty sure there'll be at least one person in the dorm who'll have it. Ortho: Ignihyde's filled with a bunch of guys who love computer games and board games. Ortho: They say that the King of the Underworld also planned his strategies on a chessboard, so maybe he liked games too. Ortho: Maybe that's why those with a gamer's soul end up in Ignihyde!

Transform into Anything

Ortho: Oh man, your heart's racing... You must've just come from PE class. Ortho: Maan, you're so lucky. I wanna be able to exercise too! I should see if I can get my brother to swap out my attachments. Ortho: I hear that the King of the Underworld's minions could transform into anything at will. Ortho: When they want to fly, they turned into birds. Ortho: When they wanted to run fast, they turned into horses. Basically, they were shapeshifters. Ortho: Isn't that super handy? If only I could get equipped with a similar function～

Watching Sparring Matches (New!)

Ortho: Most people know that the King of the Underworld loved watching sparring matches. Ortho: Sometimes he'd just watch it casually, snacking the whole time, but there were times he'd get really into it. Ortho: My brother and I like to watch livestreams of fighting games a bunch, too, so I definitely understand. Ortho: Like, the other day, the streamer we were rooting for lost, so we both ended up shouting at the screen. Ortho: I wonder if the King of the Underworld also had a champion he liked to cheer on? I should do some more research on that!

Small Talk

Idia: They say that the King of the Underworld was great at small talk and could negotiate like no one's business... Idia: B-But I can't even get through a research presentation in class without stuttering... Idia: As Ignihyde's Housewarden, presiding over a dorm honoring the King of the Underworld... Idia: This is beyond pathetic, isn't it...? [sighs] Ortho: I mean, as long as you're not actually talking to someone face-to-face... Ortho: ...You can spit a million words a second that'd even throw the King of the Underworld for a loop! Ortho: Replaying an excerpt from your chatlog, recorded 15 hours and 42 minutes ago: Ortho: "Can always count on Muscle Red's support in a pinch! See, vets are a totally different breed～!" Ortho: "Now, for the main event～ All your rare drops are belong to me! Yahoo!" Idia: S-Stop... Please, nooo...!

Like Lightning (New!)

Ortho: Um, Vil-san, I'm having a bit of a difficult time figuring out the right emotions behind this script. Vil: Why are you asking me this? I'm sure you're capable of searching up anything you need. Ortho: Yeah, that's true... But I feel like "as angry as lightning" is a little too metaphorical for me. Ortho: When I looked it up, I hit on a story of how the Thorn Fairy brought down lightning in a rage... Ortho: But it's way too hard for a mere actor to show anger like lightning. Vil: Being able to express that is what being an actor is all about. There is nothing I can help you with. Ortho: Yeah, but I feel like you'd get the performance you're wanting if you give me more specific instructions, don't you? Ortho: Or, maybe you're just don't know how to handle these kinds of stuff efficiently, huh? Oh well, I guess I just gotta give up, then～ Vil: I know you're just trying to anger me in order to see an example of the correct expression. You won't glean anything from me. Ortho: Aww man, you saw right through me. Oh well. This is all to help my understanding in expressions, so I'll keep on trying!

Something He Left Behind (New!)

Ortho: So, there's this tale about how a prince rode a magic carpet to go see a princess... Ortho: But wasn't she startled to see someone just floating in mid-air all of a sudden like that? Vil: Rather than being startled, it seems she and the prince went off on a date right after. Ortho: Whaaat!? You mean, even though he could've been some kind of intruder, instead her affection level went up!? Vil: I bet your brother would be the type to faint if some unknown party were right outside his window. Ortho: You're probably right... Oh, but the other day, I flew up to a window in my brother's classroom and delivered something he left behind. Ortho: 'Cause that's faster than climbing the stairs to deliver it! Vil: You were calling him an intruder, but you did the exact same thing as that prince...

Requested by @monavitty.

[doveywovy]

for the reverse trope writing promts!!!

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating PLEASE

oh man, i think it works best as a crack au, like-

it starts when they're kids. that first time at the riverbank, when their brothers become enemies. They both have a sort of thought, staring eachother down. Something like, he's pretty. Then they clash blades, albeit briefly, and they think, he's strong.

So they go home. and Izuna, like the good kid he is, asks Tajima about it. If Madara still tried to kill that ugly senju guy, it wouldn't matter how he felt about him right? None of the other stuff mattered, as long as he always tried to kill him when a battle was called?

Tajima assumes this is izuna trying to be lenient to his older brother. It's obvious how devestated madara was over the loss of his friendship, clearly Izuna is just trying to wrap his head around the situation. So he agrees without argument or specification- yes, Izuna, so long as madara uses his full abilities to try and kill hashirama in battle, it's okay that he's got a lot of feelings about the boy.

Cool! Izuna says, and walks away, about to make an astounding number of decisions based off that response.

Tobirama, meanwhile, is having no such talks with butsuma or hashirama. Butsuma is mad that he didn't manage to kill izuna, and hashirama is mad that he tattled, so tobirama is not talking to anyone. he's spending a lot of his time on the outskirts of their territory to specifically avoid any talking, actually.

Which is why izuna is able to find him, and in the midst of their battle, lay out his arguement. Something akin to "Stop trying to kill me right now, save that for the official battles". Izuna's belief that his dad is fine with him dating Tobirama as long as they try to kill eachother during battle is nonsensical to Tobirama, but so are the Uchiha as a whole. and Izuna is pretty, and strong, and not even mad at him!

so they start dating. And they don't hide it.

Especially not Izuna. he's gotten permission, after all. So he runs around telling all the uchiha about his dates, and complimenting tobirama, and nobody thinks anything of it. Izuna apparently has lots of boyfriends out-clan; that's practical, no chance of pregnancy there! Izuna likes to make a lot of sarcastic comments about his lifelong rival's attractiveness and intelligence- insults the man certainly deserves. The idea he could be serious, or that those dates he's talking about are with Tobirama, never crosses anyone's mind.

Tobirama keeps his romance talk to conversations with Hashirama. Mostly it's him saying things like "you act like trying to kill madara is so difficult, as if i don't try and kill my beloved boyfriend every battle. get it together, loser." Hashirama, understandably, does not take it seriously. He assumes it's some bizarre argument tactic, not Tobirama's genuine situation.

Tobirama does succeed in stabbing Izuna to near-death like in canon; Hashirama, luckily, is able to save him; this nearly successful murder does nothing to dampen their relationship.

It takes them a little while to adjust to their new normal, with no murder attempts and only dating happening. eventually they start to talk about marriage. Everyone assumes they mean to other people. arranged marriages, perhaps, for the sake of their clans? Their big brothers hope they know they would never force them into something like that. matrimony can wait until they have a person they love and want to spend the rest of their lives with.

their claims that they already do go ignored. People start trying to date them- the marriage talks meant they're open to that, right? Wrong. They get treated as the unintentional attempt at mistressing/cuckolding they are, with a door slammed in their face.

eventually tobirama and izuna give up on anybody accepting their relationship (They sent out invitations to their wedding, which were treated as a ridiculous prank). they get married quietly and spend the rest of their lives living together, which everyone around them mourns as tragic lifelong bachelorhood. they must've been so marred by war that they never found place for romantic love in their hearts, how sad :( their shared grave goes unquestioned. tobirama was all about good finances for the village, it was probably a matter of practicality.

[darqx]

Well i talk about it talk about it talk about it

The beginning of FUNKY TOWN is still stuck in my head.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Thanks, I'm glad my art improvement is noticeable :D I have actually KIND OF redrawn scenes before such as

and a bunch of frames from

so who knows i might do some more at some point lol!

YOU GUYS STILL SEND THEM TO ME :d

I don't actually get that many, i just tend to answer months worth all at once so it looks like a lot haha. I also don't answer a bunch of them if I've already answered something similar before or the answer is in my FAQ. Though I'm going to be honest some of the asks that get sent to me I don't think anyone expects me to actually answer, because they're just weird enough that if i turned off anon i'm pretty sure no one would be asking them.

My free time (...when I'm not procrastinating |D ) is trying to be spent on BP so I currently dont have any plans beyond the fun little doodles and animatics and stuff that I usually do. Gato is working on YKMET so if you guys like Strade then you have that to look forward to :)

(Why thank you!)

The armour follows his usual colour scheme which is gold on black.

You can tell this ask is from January lol.

Thanks haha my colouring style layers colour over colour so colour over grayscale always just looks oddly muddy in my POV |D ESPECIALLY LIGHT COLOURS LIKE YELLOW.

Demons can traditionally reproduce within the same species or with a compatible species.

Psychology, Law or Politics. I think these are the top normal majors you could take where the info you learn from them could be really useful in not getting fucked over and/or fucking someone else over.

I haven't been asked to make chibis for Gato this time around so you'll probably be getting something different for your finished runs!

Demon Commons.

All demons have some sort of specific mark that they are born with (anywhere on their body). The exact reason why has been lost to time, but it often gets used for identification. Here are some of the rest of my demon characs:

Hm, if I have to consider real life anatomy (nooooooo XD) the yellow is probably his iris.

Man i've answered so many asks i sometimes only remember saying something when another asks sounds familiar lmao 🤔 Ok; Rire, as a demon of station, has been captured in the background of some historical paintings and photographs, sometimes without his knowledge but always to his amusement later when he finds out. Like just imagine you are intensely studying art history and in those paintings of events with lots of people in it, suddenly your eye happens to catch upon a tall dark haired figure wearing sunglasses from that time period somehow blending in amongst everyone else there.

He has no particular preference in this regard.

Rire doesn't have like 🤔...a set criteria as it depends entirely on certain whims; like whether he is looking for business or pleasure, what he's feeling like at the time etc. If it's purely business then there are types of people he would approach that he wouldn't otherwise if it was for mainly entertainment.

They probably average out at about room temperature - they tend to reflect environment temp a bit and the main part that's closest to his back will always be a bit warmer than the rest of the ichor.

Probably not

They are evenly matched

Thanks very much! :D

Rire has been around for a while so yes he would have witnessed a bunch of things in human history. Who he met and who he made deals with is up for debate.

He is "polite" so he would thank you, at the very least. And yes they are his signature flower lol. It wouldnt be any special..er than receiving any other flowers though to him - we are the ones ascribing the meaning to it.

Two for the price of one 🤌🏻 Also this is an insanely old ask but yes you have permission to do fancomics or whatever with him |D

Anon, considering most people know him from a weird "dating sim", I dont think this is as startling an ask as you might think haha.

if it makes you happy.

Pick a nice smell that you particularly jive with and it would be that. This is individual specific so if a whole bunch of people are around Rire they may each perceive something different.

I get asked this question a lot |D I'm gonna be real with you guys - i haven't actively thought about a canon design for his parents because i'm kind of lazy to (since right now i dont need to know what they look like). Until that happens you guys will just have to go off the vague text descriptions i've given before :p

[furiousgoldfish]

I don't get why there are no resources for healthy expressions of anger. Are we as a society fundamentally opposed to people feeling anger? Are we afraid that if people get angry they're going to cause destruction so as an alternative we want anger to just not exist? Anger will go somewhere regardless of whether we want it to exist or not, and if a person who has good reasons to be angry, is not allowed to feel angry, they'll get eaten by self hatred and depression because that's what internalizing anger does.

It's also interesting that when abusers and people in power are angry, they can pretty much do whatever they like. Say no to them, they're having crazy revenges, they're tearing apart your stuff, they're starting wars, they're telling you how they're going to kill you in detail, no self restraint, no consequences, nothing. Anger is theirs to do as they please with and in response the society is just, too scared to do anything, so they assume that this specific anger is 'justified' and 'cannot be helped'. However when victims of something are angry, then they're labelled as 'unreasonable' and 'dangerous' and 'unable to move on from things'. Their anger is a problem that needs to be squashed, erased, there's apparently no justifications for these people to be angry, nothing that is reasonable or okay for them to do about it, they just get demonized and shamed for having a completely rational response to injustice.

Is that it then? Those who are able to act out on their anger, get justifications and obedience, but those who are helpless but angry for very good reasons, are just to be suffocated? Anger is allowed only for some parts of human society and it's the most violent, destructive and dangerous part of it too? Where is this getting us? Is the amount of injustice ever going to decrease if we defend injustice, and fight for it to keep going on?

If I look up ways to express anger, I get stuff like 'anger management steps', and 'letting go and moving on from anger', like excuse me. I didn't even get to express 1% of my anger and I need anger management? I have never had problems with controlling my anger, the struggle is to get it out at all! To integrate it into my personality, to hold people accountable without having to think about it, to show resistance when I'm being stepped on! What anger management? Why am I pushed to move away from anger, I haven't even arrived to anger!

Why is it assumed that every person who struggles with expressing anger is a maniac breaking things, enacting revenges, trying to injure or murder people, lashing out and doing harm to everyone around themselves. I can guess why. Because all of the resources are created for people who are letting their anger run wild without a cap and who use anger to get their way. The world is adjusted for people who are allowed to be angry, who were never pushed to the point where getting angry meant loss of survival, where expressions of anger would lead to torture. I am apparently not even considered to exist. I'm either a maniac or not a target audience for anger resources.

If someone's been traumatized out of being able to feel angry, people don't think it's worth having this person angry. It's very obvious this person has giant reasons for anger, so if we let them feel it, they could become 'dangerous', or 'just like their abuser'. You know, being angry at the abuser does not make anyone like the abuser, it makes them Normal. Rational. Having Self Worth. Human. Logical. Reasonable. Engaging in everyone's best fucking interest because you know that abuser is going wreck havoc forever and if nobody is even angry at them, it's giving them an even easier time. Anger is scary when it's in hands of abusers, in the hands of victims it is liberating, just, it puts things into perspective and back where they belong.

Now give me the fucking resources to get angry. I'm sick and tired of hating myself.

[sanspuppet]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 (hyung line)

W/T: explicit content (18+)

- short scenario for each member

- not proofread so sorry any mistakes

A/O: here's some hard thoughts of my fav men, maknae line will be uploaded soon! sorry if the hwa one isn't as long as the others, dragged away a little too much by the yeosang one 🤭

read here the maknae line

✩ 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

He's never tried to make you uncomfortable by mentioning sexual stuff, he wanted you to do the first move so he'd be sure you want it. Can't deny that it was pretty difficult to hold your horses when your boyfriend is a fucking hot guy, his smirk always has a specific effect on you, you also touched yourself a couple times thinking of him, when he was at work. You were quite shy to propose it, but this morning, seeing his boner standing under the blanket got you over the edge, you surely want him and you gotta take what you crave for. You sit on his lap with him still asleep, how can he be so damn gorgeous without even trying? he's fucking sleeping and he still seems a work of art. You start to dry hump yourself against his crotch, your lower lip between your teeth trying to hold back your whimpers. He slightly opens his eyes at the sudden friction, he stretched his arms yawning lazily: "Y/n..." once he realizes what you were actually doing his eyes open wide, his heartbeat accelerating at the sight of you grinding over his hips. "Joong... wanna take you right now, pretty please" you lean over him to leave a small kiss on his lips, your hands caressing his neck. You smile when he giggles, his hands dragging down your body, while kissing you back. "Happy to have you getting rid of my erection, love"

✩ 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

Your relationship with Seonghwa was intimate, private times with him never missed, and he also had seen you barely naked a few times, but still you had nothing more than cuddles sessions. You arrive at home at late night, after a date with your boyfriend. You're about to head towards the bathroom to took your makeup off and brush your teeth, when he comes from behind holding your hips still. He approaches your ear, his sweet low voice whispering: "We're not done yet, sweetie" you turn yourself and face him with a smirk: "Oh, what did we miss?" he gets closer to you, noses a couple of inches far. "gotta ruin your lipstick first" you take his hand and drag it down your body, going slower when on your chest and stopping when they are between you thighs, his hand is shaking, you can feel his heartbeat accelerating while squeezing his wrist: "What about ruining something else?" he murmurs a small "fuck" before kissing you on your collarbone, biting your skin slightly. "Can’t wait to be inside you, baby"

✩ 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

He could seem a tall cute baby boy, but in reality he perfectly knows he's a fucking horny man. who goes crazy everytime you wear short skirts and accidentally reveal him the under cheeks of your ass, he immediately develops the need of pin you at the wall and finally feel how good your pussy can take him, despite you looked too innocent to be able to do it. (You looked). You walk towards the living room, wearing only your underwear and one of his sweaters. you lay on the couch on your stomach and start watching tv, after some minutes, you hear your boyfriend walking in and suddenly stop. You shake your head, chuckling: "Stop staring at my ass, man" You hear him gasping from behind, he clears his throat coughing: "uhm... i wasn't..." you turn yourself, laying on your back, staring at him while a smirk took its was into your face: "why don't you just take your girlfriend and mark her?" he doesn't say anything, his body's blocked. "i noticed how you keep staring at me with those pretty eyes" you keep saying. he quickly reaches you, his body on top of yours, his hands wrapping around your waist: "i want you so fucking bad baby" you shake your index finger to him: "you should ask for it first" you tease him. "please let me fuck your pretty ass"

✩ 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

Yeosang has never showed you that side of him, which it quite surprised you, being a grown man just like others. You even thought that he wasn't physically attracted by you, what a silly, he is just a shy guy and he isn't certainly as innocent as you thought. You're walking through the hallway of your apartment, but suddenly stop when you hear weird noises coming through the bathroom. You bring your ear closer to the door, what you can hear now is something that seem apparently a squelching sound. Your breath stops as you figure out what is happening in there, you're about to ask at Yeosang if he's okay, but you can clearly hear is voice now booming inside the room: "Fuck- o-oh God, mmpphh fuck! wanna feel that tight pussy..." you wide your eyes, your mouth hangs open from hearing how hot his moans sound. "Ah... y/n.. f-fuck oh fuck! So close! Working this dick so well... shit!" you can tell that he's speeding up his pace by hearing clearly every single nasty sound he makes while stroking his cock. You can't contain yourself anymore: you shut the door open, finding your boyfriend sitting on the toilet while jerking off. He gasps, his heavy breath making his chest widen intensely, he looks at you with a mist of shame, fear and neediness to finish what he started. "What the fuck Yeo? I'm right here, why didn't you fuck me instead??" without even waiting for him to say anything you undress yourself and sit on his lap, taking his length at once inside you. He moans loudly your name, barely looking at you because already too fucked out. "Gonna let you know how good my pussy feel"

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

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ PROLOGUE ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

no specific warnings on this chapter slight foreshadowing of another stranger things character!

main masterlist | general masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

"Oh, no need to help, dear! I can do it by myself."

The nice 50 year old-ish lady told you not to worry about her fish pond. You're a second year high school student who just got accepted in an exchange program, and now you’re finally here, in Hawkins, Indiana.

"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Byers, I can handle it pretty well… My dad also has a fish pond on the back of our house.” You tried to reassure her that it’s totally fine for you to take care of it. Remembering that she can already be categorized as an old lady, it would be very cruel of you if you let her clean it by herself.

“You are truly an independent and hardworking young lady… Reminds me of myself back in the old days.” You can see her smile while looking to a blank space, probably reminiscing herself back when she was younger.

You chuckled at her compliment, slightly thanking her for saying something you don’t hear everyday, especially from your parents. Instead of saying anything further, you smiled at her before continue cleaning her fish pond.

⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🗝️

“Please, dear. Feel free to look around.”

Ever since you got here last week, you never had the courage to explore her gigantic house. Not because it has spirits living on it, of course not! (hope so) But, it’s more like you don’t wanna disturb her peace and you don’t wanna look like you’re being nosy about her personal stuff. Yet, from the first step you took on this house, you literally fell in love. The vintage architecture, big pillars on her yard, it seems impossible for an old lady to live her by herself.

Sure, her house only has two levels, but the interior of her house is just mesmerizing. The details and antique things in this place are remarkable. If only you don’t have to control yourself, you’d already touch every single one of her things.

The only thing that you did here was to go to school and spend time with her a lot. You went shopping together, clean the house, do regular house chores, watch cheesy rom-coms or comedy movies (which you surprisingly also love). The whole week basically already felt comfortable for you.

You always loved old people. You get to hear their stories, adventures, and all what happened in the past. It seems… Very interesting, so different with what you have now. And one of the things you love about Mrs. Byers, is that she talks about her youth days a lot in the 80s! You, as a person who is a big fan of the 80s always had an open jaw when listening to how beautiful life seemed to be in the 1980s, especially in the year 1985.

“These are some beautiful watch collections, Mrs. Byers!” You looked through a cardboard box full of old clocks and watches inside.

“Those were my parents’. I was planning to give those to the antique store since I don’t really use it. But you can look around there if you’d like, dear! If one catches your eye, please do take it before people put a price on it in the antique store.”

The feeling of knowing that you can look at these old watches and actually bring them home without needing to let out a single dollar made you feel euphoric. But, you still need to help her cleaning up this messy attic, not wanting her to get asthma from breathing the dusty air so much.

“Maybe I’ll do it later, Mrs. Byers. I gotta clean these up first.”

Mrs. Byers looked at you, giving you the ‘I swear this kid never rests’ look. Yet, she just smiled. And you know deep down she’s really happy to have someone to be her company and to help her around since her husband died a year ago.

⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🗝️

“If you need me, I’ll be downstairs, okay dear?” Mrs. Byers excused herself to go back to her room, probably knitting since it’s what she’s been doing at home (as far as you know). She left you there in the attic, wandering through her watch collection.

As you were diving through it, you took pictures of every single watch, especially the ones that has unique details in it. But one caught your eye… A golden pocket watch. It has golden chains, chained to the top of the watch. Tiny details surrounding the face of the watch. Since it looks pretty old, it was also covered in dust and rust, including the roman numbers that tell the time inside.

You made the watch dangle around your arms, admiring it’s old, yet timeless beauty. You started turning the clock around, seeing if it still works or not. Sadly, it’s broken. You immediately thought of the 80s just by looking at it, imagining how Mrs. Byers would always wield it and brought it everywhere she goes, even though you know this watch must’ve came from an older time… Most likely to be from the 30s or the 40.

Since you liked that pocket watch so much, you put the chains around your arms, keeping it there as you put back the rest of the watches gently inside the cardboard, not wanting to be irresponsible after Mrs. Byers let you mess around with all of it.

note: hey, i'll be publishing the first chapter like around... later! but i'll be posting it today as well (i'll try hihi ^^), lmk what r ur thoughts about the prologue so far, and if there's any of u that wants to be in the taglist, feel free to ask! hope you like this one <3

@xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse since y'all seemed pretty excited abt this, i've decided to tag y'all in this and all future chapters, really hope y'all like it and continue reading <3

[raelemond]

Hi. I was wondering if you could point me to resources or forums that’ll help me explore kink. I’ve been holding myself back for a long time and now I don’t even know where to start or how to find community

hi anon, sorry it took so long for me to respond, I've been traveling!

there are a few things you can do. I'll start with what i did, but this is going to vary by country and location. I recommend you start by making a fetlife profile. fetlife is basically kinky facebook, but you don't have to put any information you don't want to on it - I'd just recommend not using a picture of your genitals as your profile picture, those tend to get autobanned from groups.

then, go look for "events" and filter by location - try nearby cities if your area doesn't turn up at first. what you really want is a "munch", which is going to be a group meeting in a public space for kinky people to mingle. you can also filter by education, but I recommend munches first, just to meet people so you can get an idea of what the community is like.

depending on your city, munches can differ by age (35 and under is typically called TNG/The Next Generation - I personally dislike what they stand for, but it's an option depending on your age), interests, gender/sexuality, and location. some are free, some ask you to purchase food from the venue, some ask for donations, and some cost money. the majority take place at bars, which can be an obstacle.

as someone new coming in, particularly if you're young and/or seem to be a woman at first glance, you might get a lot of attention. I'll just suggest that you do NOT play alone with anyone immediately, and people trying to encourage you to stay isolated from the community is a bad sign. anyone trying to say their way is the One True Way is a bad sign.

I played with someone at my first party, which I had been invited to via the munch. At the party, there were DMs who could help if anything went bad.

if searching like this doesn't get you results, I'd suggest going to a local sex toy store, or other adult store, and ask about local kink communities, if any exist. unfortunately my kinky student from Brazil stopped coming in, or I'd ask how to find a community there because she said it's much harder to find people.

I'd also think about what you're interested in and what your limits are. when I first showed up at 18, I freaked people out by saying "I'm up for anything" - in my head, that meant I was interested in discussing most things, or dipping a toe in, but I didn't know how deep kink could go. The boundaries of "anything" were spanking, flogging, and caning for me, along with D/s stuff I barely understood. so, to avoid my mistake, I definitely recommend having some specific things you want to try and ask questions about.

before the lacigreen weirdness happened, she was a really competent sex educator (if not the best for medical advice) so I'm going to point you to this video for a really brief overview. the only thing she gets wrong is that she misses one of the words in BDSM - it's an acronym that stands for six words: bondage, discipline, Dominance/submission, sadism, masochism.

the words kink and bdsm are often used interchangeably, and they mostly are, but you can be into kink without being into D/s, for example.

please feel free to send more specific questions if you want!

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 8

Source for pic

Imperfect 8

Word Count: 4802

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: I'm so eager to share this chapter with all of you that I may be making a mistake by uploading it early! I only have half of chapter 9 written, and I was hoping to write a little bit more before posting this. But, hey, I'll do it! *singing* Besides, which you see, I have confidence in me!! Anyway, please enjoy the emotional whiplash you're about to experience with this chapter. Love you all! Small Warning: suggestive content, I don't think it warrants a specific NSFW, though.

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

You get a text from your dad saying he’ll be out for the day helping Makino’s niece assemble furniture at her new home in town, and that he might not return until dinnertime. He also asks if you’re alright and lets you know that morning chores are already taken care of.

Looking at the clothes you’re currently wearing - Kid’s - it’s actually a blessing he’s not home at the moment, or you’d have some explaining to do. 

The rest of the day goes by in the blink of an eye, and around five o’clock you stop by Sanji’s café to buy some donuts and coffee, not wanting to show up at the garage empty-handed. You can’t contain the tingle of anticipation or stop the silly smile from curving your lips when your car comes to a full stop in front of Kid’s shop. 

“Heeey, I brought sustenance!” you shout as you step into the garage. Your brow rises, and you set your stuff down on the nearest workbench before heading further inside. It’s all so quiet. No music, no curses, no tools rumbling in the background. 

And then you see him. 

Kid is hunched over another workbench. His prosthetic lies discarded in front of him, and he’s gripping the edge of the counter as if it’s all that’s keeping him from falling. Sweat dampens the collar of his shirt. His hair is soaked, and fat droplets of perspiration drip down his scrunched brows and heavy grimace. Everything in his posture, including the tautness of his muscles, screams pain and suffering. 

And it’s one you know and understand very well: phantom pain. 

“Kid,” you start, one hand raised as if you were approaching a wild animal. 

“Don’t,” he growls the word, and it hits you like a slap. He doesn’t even turn or open his eyes to acknowledge you. It’s like you can physically see the walls going up and all around him. Again. 

“Let me help–”

“Get the fuck out. I don’t need ya.” The poison in his words sucks all the breath out of your lungs. He’s lashing out.

“I can–”

His face snaps towards you, a feral growl shaking his lips as he grits his teeth. “No, you can’t! This ain’t a fucking novel, sweetheart. I ain’t some broken project for ye to fix! Ye can’t fix what’s irreparably broken! Get the fuck out.”

You try to swallow past the giant lump in your throat. His eyes are cold as ice, without a hint or a trace of the warmth he showed you in the morning. This is just another hurdle that you have to overcome. 

You want to succumb to the prickling of tears behind your eyes, but you can’t, because weakness won’t get you anywhere with Eustass Kid. He’s trying to scare you away.

He’s not going to fucking do it. 

“I’m not trying to fix you!”

“Bullshit!” Kid slams the workbench, and everything rattles with his fury. “Ye think just because we shared some nice moments, I’m suddenly fixed? That I ain’t fucked up? Broken? That we can have a fuckin’ happily ever after with birds singin’ and butterflies dancin’ kinda shit? It don’t work like that!”

“That’s not what I was–”

“Yer not the first pretty face that thinks she can fix me! And ye ain’t gonna be the last.” Kid snorts, and you bite your lower lip to stop it from trembling. “Guess what, sweetheart? Yer about to be just as disappointed as all of ‘em. Ye ain’t special!”

That blow stings like a cut in your chest. You take a trembling step back, averting his cold gaze, and shake your head. “Earlier–”

“Earlier meant nothin’!” His voice doesn’t even waver. “It was just a distraction, and yer a pretty distraction, I give ye that. But it ain’t happenin’ again. I don’t need this - I don’t need ye.”

The silence that follows is crushing. 

You finally look back at him, your chest heaving and chin trembling, eyes glazed with unshed tears you’re trying so hard to push back. You’re so angry at him. Rationally, you know he’s pushing you away again, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to reach for help. Irrationally, though, it feels like you’re not enough.

And like you’ll never be able to reach him.

And then you see his eyes tremble, his teeth grit, and his muscles contract in torment. He’s drowning in pain, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it. 

Raising your chin and fighting every instinct that tells you to turn around and leave, you walk past him. Then you fight another instinct telling you to throw a wrench at his stupid, stubborn head, grab the first aid kit, and take out the muscle relaxer cream, throwing it on the couch carelessly. 

“Sit on that fucking couch, Kid.” Good. At least your voice still sounds steady. 

“Didn’t ya listen to–”

“I don’t give a fuck. Sit. Down.” Your eyes harden like steel as you bore them into his. 

“I don’t want ye here,” his throat bobs, and you can tell that’s a blatant lie. One he’s willing to lash out for, over and over again, even if it makes you both bleed. 

“Tough shit!” you grit your teeth and shove him towards the couch. “I’m not leaving! You’re hurting, and I’m not going to turn my back on that. I’m not running away, Kid. You don’t scare me!” You shove him again, and he stumbles back, probably too stunned or in pain to fight back your advances. “It doesn’t mean I’m not fucking devastated by what you just said. I’m pissed and I’m hurt, but I’m not running away. Now sit the fuck down.”

He reluctantly sits, still unsure about what you’re going to do. When you sit next to him and start rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, he jerks his stump away from you.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”

“Kid—” You reach again and he pulls away with more force than before. 

“I said don’t! Yer not seein’ this part of me, for fuck’s sake! I ain’t yer charity case.”

God! Why is he so infuriating? Why can’t he just give you a chance? A small opening? Something!

“I never said you were! I just want to help! Let me—”

“Don’t touch me!” He’s not yelling, but it feels pretty damn close. The intensity of his words forms more lumps and clumps in your throat, and your breathing comes out in ragged, hurtful gasps.

At least your tears are still safely tucked away.

You grit your teeth and will some command into your voice. “I will fucking touch you because it will help.”

“It won’t help!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! It never fuckin’ goes away! It’s here to remind me of how I failed ‘em! Fuck!” Kid drops his elbow to his knee, face buried in his hand. His shoulders contract and twist in agony, his whole body coiled in grief.

Silence spreads its tendrils around you again, sinking its claws into your chest, reminding you that Kid is indeed as broken as he claims to be. And that only makes you care for him more. 

“Fine. Maybe it won’t go away, but I know I can make it better. And I’ll stay with you through the worst of it. Even if you continue to be an asshole.”

You don’t wait for a reaction, don’t even allow him to reply. You just roll the rest of the sleeve up and get straight to work. Lathering your hands with the muscle relaxer, you start to massage the stump slowly, yet firmly. Your muscle memory is kicking in and reminding you how you used to do this for your dad, all those years ago. 

Kid flinches when your fingers touch the scarred tissue, and he looks away, seemingly too embarrassed for eye contact. But you don’t miss the way he lets out a deep breath after a minute or two. His shoulders sag softly, and his brows relax from the everlasting scrunch he has them in. 

You keep working the knots slowly, ignoring the way your feet are already becoming numb because you’re sitting on them. You’re too afraid to break this fragile moment.

Kid drops his head back to rest on the couch, and his breathing evens out. You don’t think he’s sleeping, but at least he’s relaxed enough for a small reprieve. Your fingers tremble for a small moment, your breath catching in your throat.

Before you realize or manage to stop it, tears start spilling down your cheeks. Just when you thought you’d made progress, that you managed to break down those stubborn walls of his, he pulls this stunt. 

His words hurt much more than you care to admit. Of course you’re not special. Why would you be? But that’s not even the point, you don’t have to be special, you just want him to let you in. To open himself to the possibility of something else. To let someone care for him, to allow himself to be cherished. 

It’s like you take one small step forward and two back. A never-ending, frustrating dance. 

It’s only when you feel his calloused hand on your cheek, wiping the trail your tears left behind, that you realize Kid’s eyes are open and he’s staring at you. Trembling, you stop massaging him, waiting for another outburst of hurtful words. 

It never comes.

He softens his gaze, working his throat and jaw as if he’s trying to free the unspoken words he has trapped there. His mouth finally parts, like he’s about to say something, but you beat him to it.

You don’t want to hear the wrong words now.

“Take off your shirt.”

His brow furrows, and he removes his hand from your cheek, leaving only cold and emptiness behind. 

“I need to work on your back and chest muscles, or the pain won’t go away. Take it off.” You lace your words with indifference and command, and he obeys for once; doesn’t argue or grunt in disapproval, just follows your request.

As he’s busy taking the garment off, you swiftly wipe your wet cheeks on your arms, erasing any evidence of your earlier weakness. 

You make him turn slightly to the side as you start working between his shoulder blades and neck. He’s stiff as a board, his muscles tight and tense from too many years of holding everything in his shoulders. No wonder the pain won’t ever go away.

After a long stretch of silence, where the only sound comes from his soft, relieved grunts, Kid speaks in a voice so quiet you have trouble believing it’s his. “How d’ya learn how to do this?” 

You pause for a breath, then answer. Your eyes never leave the junction of his neck with his shoulder, applying soothing pressure with the pads of your fingers. “Shanks.” Kid hums, and you continue.

“I was just a child when he lost his arm, around ten, I think. Luffy, our neighbor, had a habit of sneaking out of his grandpa’s house, and he would get into all sorts of trouble. This time it could’ve been fatal. Except my dad was there.”

You sigh. There’s much you don’t remember about your childhood, but you clearly remember the day your father was left bleeding out in the field while the ambulance was on the way. Your tiny heart beating out of your chest, not knowing if he’d make it or not…

“The plough was working in the field, and Luffy got in the way. Dad saw it and jumped in to save him. Lost his arm in the process. He used to have phantom pain all the time back then. Mom used to do this to ease him through it, and it worked.”

Kid hums again, so you know he’s listening. 

“When they started to fight like they had nothing better to do with every waking moment of their lives, Dad was too proud to ask for help, and Mom got tired of offering. I could see him trying to suffer through the pain with gritted teeth and venomous words.”

Kid stiffens, and you know he’s relating to that bit a little too much.

“So I took over Mom’s place and learned how to help. It became our own thing.”

You move a bit, leaning closer and pushing his back against the couch, focusing on the planes of his chest now, where the scarring is so visible and the scar tissue is pulled so tight, it’s a wonder he’s not in pain all the time. 

You can feel Kid’s gaze burning holes into your face, and you would give anything to know what’s on his mind. If he would just let you. 

Your thumbs work slowly, kneading the flesh carefully but with firm strokes. You can already feel how much less tense he is. 

His question catches you by surprise. “Don’t ye find it disgustin’?”

You stop and stare at him, but he avoids your gaze like the plague, his lips twitching and frowning into an embarrassed grimace. 

“Why would I? It’s part of you. It’s just flesh, muscle, and skin. It’s not disgusting.”

Kid tilts his head slowly, catching your eye for a moment before turning away again. You continue massaging his chest until he speaks again. 

“Ye should. I’m a fuckin’ monster.”

Somehow, you realize he’s not just talking about his physical scars. 

“Stop,” you state with finality. Reaching for his face, you force him to face you. “You’re not a monster. You’re not this ugly, unlovable creature. You’re Eustass fucking Kid.” That draws a small smirk from his lips, but it barely lasts. “You’re just… wounded.”

“I’m broken…” he rasps out, the shadows in his eyes spreading further, dimming its brightness.

“Yes, you are.” He jerks his face away, but you hold it steady, forcing your gaze into his. “And I want all of those broken pieces. The anger, the sadness, the pain, and all of the things you don’t tell me… Kid, I’ll take it all and share that burden with you. I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

He stares at you, his chest shaking with uncertain breaths, looking torn between wanting to push you away and to hold you against him. 

It’s a make-or-break moment, you can feel it.

So when he presses his hand against your cheek in a mimicry of his earlier gesture, you let out a relieved breath. 

“I don’t know how to be anythin’ else. I don’t know how to be… good.”

You cover his hand with your own, while you lower the other one until it presses against his heart, feeling it beat erratically, madly.

“Then we’ll learn together. You just have to let me in, Kid. That’s all.”

Kid’s gaze burns. He looks torn, restless, like he’s fighting a war he’s tired of losing. Maybe this time, though, he has too much to lose and he’s finally willing to risk it. 

You know you are. 

With a tentative breath, Kid’s hand finds the curve of your neck and climbs until his fingers curl in your hair. He leans forward, hesitates, and the world stops. He’s gonna pull away. He’s gonna flee again. I’m gonna lose him—

Then he exhales a trembling breath, pulls you gently and presses his lips against yours. It’s a stark contrast to all the other heated kisses you’ve shared. This one feels fragile and precious, just a whisper of a touch. 

It’s everything he can’t seem to say to you.

When he breaks the kiss and pulls you gently to his lap until you’re straddling him, his hand stays on your hip, its slight tremble, reminding you how delicate this moment is. You cup his face, and he closes his eyes, your foreheads touching for a moment while the weight of everything settles between the two of you. 

When his eyes meet yours again, it’s like you can see a crack in his walls. It’s slight. It’s small. But it’s there. 

“I didn’t mean…” he starts, stumbling over his words, brows scrunched so tight you fear they’ll leave permanent marks. “My words, I… fuckin’ hell.”

“Kid—”

“No. Let me get this out.” Kid sighs heavily, his hand gripping your hip harder and harder, his eyes still avoiding yours. “Ye are special. Ye are!”

A choked sob dares to climb its way up your throat, so you steel your emotions, bite your lower lip to stop its trembling, and caress his cheekbones with your thumbs in a comforting gesture. 

“Much more than that, I…” It’s painfully clear how much he’s struggling to share the extent of his feelings. His eyes meet yours, and there’s so much emotion in them that you understand all he wants to tell you, even without words. 

He really likes you. 

And it’s scary as hell. 

“Fuck it,” Kid mumbles, then his mouth claims yours again, and this kiss is a far cry from the tentative one you shared before. It’s all-consuming, it’s raging, it’s fire and desire melting into something hot and unbearable. 

Kid’s hand slithers below your top and up your spine, eliciting a shudder and a muffled whimper. You respond by rolling your hips against his hardened length, and my God, this just needs to happen. Your hands greedily map the planes of his pecs, scraping your nails hard across the same spot you had been massaging just moments ago.

Your top comes off, your bra comes next, and so does an unwanted thought: you’ve been here before.

Except this time, you don’t let any doubt cloud your judgment. Yes, you’ve been here before, but never has the intimacy felt so raw and vulnerable. This is it. 

Your lips collide again, and as you open your mouth to gasp when Kid rolls his fingers over your nipple, he claims your tongue. Your heart and soul go next, and you don’t even fight it. 

You’re his.

You’ll always be his. If he lets you. 

“I want ye… fuck! I need ye,” Kid drawls between kisses and licks to your neck.

“Then take me.”

And he’s about to. Kid’s fingers trail the waistband of your pants, hover over the button, and—

“AGAIN?” Killer’s outraged scream reverberates off the wall and bounces in an endless, indignant echo. Kid pushes you flush against his chest to shield your breasts from view. “I can’t believe I have to see this again!”

Killer’s stomping footfalls thud around the garage in an angry tirade, and a bottle of pills hits Kid on the head. He growls, but Killer is on a rampage.

“Here are your fucking pills! The ones you were in too much pain to grab! Forgot to ask for condoms too? Fucking shitwipe, there are locks on—” Killer’s angry gaze lingers on the spot you’re both on as he approaches.

Why is he approaching? Has he gone mad?

“That is a fucking communal couch. I take naps there, goddamn it! I’m gonna have to bleach the whole fucking thing!” An exasperated growl escapes his lips as he stomps past you towards the office. “Maybe I should just bleach my own eyes while I’m at it!”

The office door slams shut, and you and Kid sit in silence for a beat, too stunned to say anything at all. 

Then Killer opens the door again, hands pressed together as if in prayer against his bandana-covered mouth. “I’m sincerely fucking happy this—” he gestures towards you, “—is happening. But for fuck’s sake and Jesus’ balls, take it somewhere else! You fucking live upstairs, you moron!”

The door bangs shut again, only to fly open a microsecond later. Killer looks at you and tilts his head. “I ain’t mad at you, love. Just at the fucking asshole who can’t keep it in his pants. Now, if you both could kindly take that elsewhere so I can fix the car Kid towed earlier, I’d appreciate it very much.”

When the door bangs shut again, it nearly comes off its hinges. You can’t help but feel bad for Killer. He really didn’t need to see this. Still, the hilarity of the situation makes you muffle your laughs against Kid’s neck, in an almost perfect replay of what happened once before. 

Even Kid’s lip quirks into a small smile. “Fuck’s sake… that FUCKIN’ HYPOCRITE should keep his fuckin’ mouth shut! HE’S MADE OUT A MILLION TIMES on this couch before, so he—”

“NEVER WITHOUT CLOTHES ON!” Killer bangs his hands on the inside of the office door, and you keep giggling. “I SWEAR TO GOD, KID! If I sit my ass on something sticky or disgusting on that couch… I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

“CALM YER TITS, DIPSHIT! Nothin’ happened!”

“I’M GONNA BURN THAT FUCKING COUCH!”

“THEN YE BUY A NEW ONE!”

“YOU’LL JUST DEFILE IT AGAIN!”

Laughter booms from your lips as you can’t hold it in anymore. The moment is long gone, but you can’t even be mad about it. Kid stops yelling at Killer and hands you your bra and shirt. When you’re fully dressed, his hand lingers on your hip, his thumb brushing soft strokes across your skin. 

“We can go upstairs… if yer still up for it.”

Hell yeah, you are. 

You’re about to reply with a teasing comment, but then you notice the slight sheen of sweat on Kid’s forehead. His neck is tense with pressure, and his stump twitches now and then. 

“You’re still in pain, Kid.”

You rise slowly, pick up the bottle of pills Killer brought, take two out, and place them in Kid’s hand, despite his barely-there objections. 

“Take the pills. Rest. We’ve got plenty of time.”

At least, you hope you do. It’s a feeling you hate, but unfortunately, one you’ve experienced more times than you’d like to admit when it comes to Kid. That hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, always accompanied by a massive wave of doubt. 

Every time you walk away from a charged moment - whether sparked by desire or something far more vulnerable - you leave your heart in Kid’s hands. So far, you’ve come out the other end bruised, battered, but not defeated. 

But this time feels different. So maybe walking away is the right step.

Kid reaches for the water bottle you retrieve from the fridge, but instead of taking it, he wraps his hand around your wrist and tugs you gently until you tumble onto his lap with a soft chuckle. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want ye to leave.” Kid’s warm breath tingles your neck as he leans in to whisper those words to you. 

It’s all the reassurance you need.

But he still gives you more. Kid presses his lips beneath your earlobe, then along your jaw, and finally at the corner of your mouth, until you sigh, and he drinks it in like oxygen to a dying man. 

You’re glad his hand stays steady on your lower back, because without it, you’re sure you’d melt straight into the couch. There’s no strength left in any limb of your body. 

The kiss ends abruptly when he pulls back with a groan, muscles tightening. Your gaze softens, and you massage his stump for a few minutes while he takes the pills and downs them with water.

“The pills and lotion will kick in soon. Go to bed and rest, Kid. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

God, you don’t want to leave him. 

But you know he needs rest. And the worst is definitely over; he’s no longer at war with himself, no longer trapped in a maze of self-loathing and doubt. He just needs time and sleep to recover.

Which won’t happen if you stay. 

After a few more stolen touches, he lets you go, and you drag yourself away from him, somehow feeling lighter than when you walked in. The events took a turn you weren’t expecting, and even though they were painful and pushed both your limits, you can’t help but feel like barriers were overcome and walls were demolished. 

Now it’s time to rebuild. One step at a time.

-*-

“Is it safe?” Killer opens the office door and comes out with his bandana tied over his eyes instead of just his mouth.

Kid can’t help a disgruntled, although bemused, sound escape his lips. He’s reclining on the couch, his arm draped over his eyes, muscles taut, and eyes scrunched. The pain has ebbed from fucking unbearable to moderate.

And he has you to thank for it.

You, whom he insulted, pushed, and harmed with venomous words; you who took them with a raised chin and open defiance; you who poured your kindness, your goodness, and your warmth into him - someone so undeserving it should’ve driven you away immediately. 

You, whom he definitely cares more for than he should; you, who he cannot relinquish; you, who will be his downfall.

No. Lies.

He’s sure he will be your downfall. 

“How are you feeling, man? You were down in the dumps when you called. I could hear the strain in your voice.” Killer sits on the couch next to him, grimaces, and gags loudly before getting up and sitting on a stool instead. 

“The couch is clean, dumbass. We were just…”

“Making out like horny teenagers? Yeah, I saw. Oh, was that what happened? You were dying from pain, and she was performing CPR on your dying ass?”

Kid chuckles again. Dumbass Killer, always trying to lighten the mood and alleviate the tension. 

“I fuckin’ care for her, Kill.” Kid can’t face him, not yet.

“Well, duh! Haven’t we cleared that already? Because it was pretty damn clear when you returned from the beach date—”

“Not a date!”

“—With lovey-dovey eyes, swooning like a girl—”

“The fuck, man?” Kid finally lifts his arm to stare directly into Killer’s amused expression. 

“You more than care for her. And it’s alright to admit it. It’s not like your other arm’s going to fall off because of it.” Killer ducks when Kid throws him a wrench that was wedged between the couch and the arm of the couch. “Missed.”

Kid’s arm returns to act as a shield over his face as he lets out another groan. 

“I’m sorry I interrupted you again. In my defense, I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to leave the door unlocked a second time, plus I really thought I was going to find you incapacitated.”

“It’s fine,” Kid slurs. The pills are starting to kick in, finally. He was close to resorting to more booze. “I… we better slow down, anyway. I ain’t aiming to do somethin’ stupid, so I gotta do things right.” 

He sighs and shakes his head. It’s so fucking hard to expose what he feels, to just get it out there. Why the fuck is it so fucking hard? With Killer, he can be truthful, he knows that, but still…

“That’s… actually wise,” Killer interjects with surprise. “Maybe my interrupting you was divine intervention.”

The bemusement in his tone is clear, but Kid can’t share the sentiment. 

“I stopped believin’ in divine anythin’ a long time ago, Kill. I ain’t about to start now…” 

Killer slumps in his stool, his back hitting the workbench where he supports himself with his elbows. His eyes fall to the corner where Kid keeps the army photograph. It’s already tucked behind an oil can, forgotten again, like it never saw the light to begin with. 

“They wouldn’t want—”

“I know what they want, Kill. I hear ’em. Every fuckin’ second of every fuckin’ day!” Kid gets up, his head feels light from the pills, and he really should take your advice and rest. But they are always there, he’s not lying about that. And their appearances always hurt the most once he starts enjoying himself, once he starts to believe he can be happy.

“They’re always blamin’ me, they’re always laughin’ at me! I know I fuckin’ failed ’em and I need to suffer for it! FUCK!” Kid kicks the couch and grunts in agony, but he welcomes the pain again. The one in his arm is already numbing, and he doesn’t exactly deserve a reprieve.

Killer rises, too, trying to placate his anger. “Come on, Kid, you know they would never do that. They would’ve forgiven you… They have.”

Kid swallows his anger and his pain alongside the rock-sized lump that suddenly forms in his throat. He doesn’t push it further. Killer wouldn’t understand.

“Aye. Whatever. I’m gonna lie down.”

He’s already stomping up the steps to his apartment, not giving Killer a chance to add anything else to this pity party.  Killer wouldn’t understand, but it’s not because he didn’t know them or wasn’t there; it’s because they’re his ghosts to bear, and Kid is the one to blame for their untimely deaths.

Tags: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha @theloserqueen @mapachito @shamblespirate @ibuch7

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|Chapter 9|

[nawoken]

   Yes, because I got bullied by both of the games I played so... I'm here to rambling some stuff that has been stuck inside my head since forever.

How about... Reader with cute aggression, especially for those small, fluffy creatures, like... cats! (Ơ w Ơ).

You can't help squeezing, kissing, and biting (lightly) those cuties. Yes, you have Grim, but he won't let you pet him since you're too much, his words.

And TWST boys that by some accident, maybe from alchemy class or their clumsiness. They, unfortunately, have turned into those mischievous creatures.

   You don't know that. You just walking around, minding your own business or headmage supposed to be business. Then, you saw it, a cat with the fluffiest fur and cutest eyes you've ever seen run by. And you know, you've fallen in love :)))

   TWST boys, now in cat body don't know that they're in danger, roaming around freely with the hope that someone they know will realize and help them.

   Oh, is that our calm and kind prefect? Surely, they can help our poor boy, right? No! They're deadly WRONG!!!

   The next thing our boy knows after approaching prefect is that he's trapped in your embrace, being kissed, squeezed, and petted while you compliment him on how smooth and healthy his fur looks.

   Damn it, prefect! He is not an actual cat, can’t you see it?! The answer is… No, you can’t. You’re busy admiring his cuteness.

   He is struggling, embarrassed by your doing. Some of them might feel ashamed since it feels like he is taking advantage of you… or the other way around, some just aren’t used to being pampered. But, the worst thing is… prefect, please don’t rub your face on his stomach! Mmraooo!!! :’)))))

   After a while, you finally stop, he sighs out of relief, … but why do you look at him like that? D..do you finally realize that he is not a cat?

   You stared at the poor creature in your hand, thinking. And, this made him concerned, what are you planning to do?

   Before he can do anything, you chomp on his face, more specifically, his muzzle … Yes, you do it without your teeth. But... YOU BITE HIM!!! ON HIS FACE!!! C...CAN THIS COUNT AS A KISS?!

He is panicked and stunned while you're in heaven. This might be the sweetest cat you've ever seen, he doesn't even bite or scratch you when you do all this to him.

Suddenly, pink smoke emitted from the cat, and with a "pop" sound, it turned into a human. Not to mention, you know him. Is it a good or bad thing? You don't know, the only thing you know is... you're DOOM!

You should know that this is a magical world, so you can't just hug any stray cat on the street, it can be anyone, not to say this is your crush. But you got tricked! By those sparkling eyes! And those fluffy ears! And now you can die from embarrassment.

Now, you're the one who panics while he just stands there, not knowing what to do or to say. The cure for this potion, it's a true love kiss. (Another version of the "The Princess and the Frog" potion but instead of a kiss from the princess, it's a true love kiss, why not? :))))

You two end up looking at each other for a whole minute before he decides to speak up but are cut off by you. "Please, just forget everything, this is so messed up of me, I promise I will try to make it up to you somehow, but please just erase that shameful thing I have done from your mind!" (QAQ)

Then you ran off, left him there with bewildered expression.

~~~~♡♡♡~~~

That's longer than I expected :'D

But, yeah, this has been stuck inside my head for too long, finally it can appear under the sunlight...

You know, I want to make a request for that idea. I've followed so many good TWST writers. But, well I'm shy and don't really sure how to, so I just keep it in.

The idea for this post is... I have a cat, she's been suffering from my cute aggression. Ehe, poor her, but she never bites me when I'm chomping on her muzzle. So sweet of her.

But yeah, I can't stop laughing when I think about TWST boy turning into a cat and being chomped on. That must be terrifying for him, but they still tried their best to not scratch you, their dear prefect. Except: Riddle, it's just his reflection, and he feels regret right after. And maybe Leona? Or, he just shows his claw to threaten you but doesn't actually do it.

Nom nom :3

MY ANGEL!!!

[stilljuststardust]

PLEASE YAP ABOUT YOUR DRS I LOVE IT WHEN YOU DO THAT, I LOVE LEARNING NEW THINGS BOUT YOU

I've tried to have DR accounts but speaking into the void makes me feel so weird and it's harder to yap that way.

I'm usually very private about my Drs so I'll share stuff people IRL don't know/can't be traced back to me. I don't know if I've even told my friends about this DR yet.

Anyways. Breaking news ig:

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:

My Shifter DR

Sorry yet again if this is how you find out I don't live inside of a black and white surrealist photograph

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:

This is a 2020 shiftok DR.

Playlist

This is basically my buffer reality. A quiet life where I can take a break from more intense realities while also being able to express myself fully. I hate the separation I feel from non shifters and this reality doesn't have that disconnect.

Its basically a better CR but where shifters can live authentically. A version of the web with shifter centric Google, Pinterest, TikTok, youtube, though obviously they aren't named the same as it's the shifter version of each thing.

The community in that reality has all of the late night sleepover energy of old shiftok with none of the misinformation or desperation. Just a real community coming together and gossiping.

There is a version of the internet only available to reality shifters. A secret society far far away from the prying eyes of anti shifters, where you can post without the worry that if anything too cringe will land you in a middle grade YouTubers shitty think piece. Even if the general public had access they wouldn't care because this reality is built for my inner weird kid.

Cringe culture is dead in this reality. Anyone I tell about shifting will be accepting even if they themselves are not a shifter and I will never again pause awkwardly as I decide if it's lying to say I have a boyfriend if that boyfriend is a fictional character. Basically, people mind their fucking business when it comes to shifters instead of shitting themselves everytime they hear about it.

My favorite thing I scripted is being able to download and upload media from your DRs and post it instead of trying to cobble together recreations. There is an application called scriptr that's basically the Holy Grail. Its a mash up of Notion, Pinterest, and the Sims. You can design your bedroom and a real photo of it will pop into existence, create an avatar of your desired self, search for a specific reality or time period and find exclusively accurate results, prompts, etc.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:

My life there

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:

I did script myself younger, but not to the age I was in 2020. Before a bunch of people get mad at me, the age change is incredibly small. I'm only aging back one year, because 18 was traumatic and I didn't get to experience it at all. I think you'll live if I'm the age I was six months ago guys.

It's not an exciting reality and it's not supposed to be, it's a quiet life where I can escape from my twelve other less quiet lives. Yes I also have a waiting room for that but that reality isn't a home, my WR is a silly little place where I watch edits of myself.

I've scripted the reality as this really healing place for me. That feeling you had picking flowers on the side of the field instead of participating with everyone else, how holidays felt when you still believed in magic, how you were before they banned fun and whimsy.

I grew up feeling like there was something wrong with me and all I ever really wanted was to feel like I wasn't weird, so this reality says fuck that shit I'm just gonna be weird.

I've mentioned before that I put subliminals on a playlist as a shortcut for scripting so take a look at the ones I saved for DRs energy: here

This reality is all sitting in silk robes as I live stream with my friends talking about our DRs, long walks in the meadow by my house, buying luxury perfumes, and cooking with my mom. Its all the whimsy and nostalgia and the weird kid tendencies this reality tends to discourage after a certain age. My life there is Wattpad, silly edits, and storytimes.

I spend hours lounging on my canopy bed as I script diabolical shit, and then when I finally go outside and touch grass I lose myself in the wonderful woods behind my house.

If you are reading this I really suggest you have a reality where you can be yourself. Be whatever weird annoying person you've tried to get rid of, because you were only doing what made you happy.

It's just me, my cat, and my 16 hour screentime against the world.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

I hear some stuff about writing that doesn’t have believable or meaningful cultural differences when it comes to fantasy settings/cultures, so i want to ask: what exactly makes a culture meaningfully distinct? what differences in a culture make sense, or lack of differences that don’t? just like where do i start with all that it seems complicated

Disclaimer that I am a white american, so like I don't think im an expert on this lol a lot of other people probably have more to add with actual personal experience in seeing their own cultures crop up as bastardized fantasy cultures, possibly mixed up with a few other cultures as well. I am opening this up to my followers! Please add your opinions!

The first thing to note about fantasy culture is that it can be difficult to create a new culture entirely from scratch without taking ideas from real cultures, because of course the only references we have are real world human cultures! So step number one in writing a new cukture is to give yourself some grace, because you're going to end up with some details that might seem similar to any number of real cultures, and that in itself is not inherently a bad thing. It's not appropriative, for example, to write a fantasy culture that has some important dances involving some form of costume with masks. This concept alone can be found in several real cultures around the world because people like to use music and dance and costuming in order to tell stories, some of which even have religious significance.

But if, say, you find yourself directly referencing more specific real like cultural dances in this category, copying their styles and even taking the stories they tell with those dances, you should probably step back and rethink it.

A personal example: there is a dance in the opening chapters of my current story draft. It is an orcish funeral dance, in which a raven-like bird is shown guiding the spirit of the deceased person to the afterlife. Costumes and masks are used in this dance. But I also know that the real life Native American cultures in my own area have raven dances that tell specific stories about a sacred raven figure. So when I design the dance costumes and try to describe the dance in my story, i do my best to avoid copying real life raven dances. Am I perfect at it? Absolutely not. But I am trying.

And it helps to build up your fantasy cultures as whole interconnected things, not just disconnected pieces of things that seem cool or only support one or two plot points and have no other impact.

But I think maybe am diving in a little too deep too quick here, so let me back up.

I interpreted this ask at first about making fantasy cultures distinct from real world cultures, but the other interpretation is making fantasy cultures distinct from each other within their settings. Which is equally important!

For example, while in fantasy it is useful to kinda lump your people groups up as species (elves have elf culture, orcs have orc culture) it is also a good idea to vary them somewhat (elves from location A have a different culture than elves from location B, even though they share the same cultural ancestry and have more in common than they do with orc cultures)

Making these cultures meaningfully distinct, to me, means they feel organic and alive and not like cardboard cutouts reusing the same stock ideas every time. Which is not to say that you can't use the same ideas that are commonly used with things like elves and orcs, but that you should explore deeper and figure out what you personally enjoy about those fantasy folks and then expand on it.

The thing about culture is that it affects every aspect of people's lives. So your fantasy cultures also need to do that!

One common example I see is worldbuilding that has a surface level attempt to make a fantasy world modern and feminist by just having some female deities and putting female characters in leadership roles. But then immediately under the surface they're still using very patriarchal and sexist details that line up with exactly the real world they've grown up in. It's a lack of deeper thought. What does it actually mean for these fictional people to worship a goddess? Why if they're ruled by a matriarchal figure are they still degrading the role of motherhood and treating women as lesser than men? And why does the female protagonist feel like a #feminist not-like-other-girls girlboss from a Twitter thread? (This one is a major pet peeve of mine, can u tell)

Hmm I feel like i am saying an awful lot but I don't know if I have actually answered the question.

Let's go back to "how do I start?" Because I think that is the most important detail, right? Where do you begin to write distinct fantasy cultures that isn't just a list of "well here is some stuff other people do wrong" or "don't copy real world cultures".

Start with two groups of fantasy people. They don't have to be related.

What are their physical traits? Are they human or something else? What environment do they live in? What resources are available to them?

With those resources, what can they make? What do they eat? How do they gather the resources they have access to?

What do they consider to be important? How does thus affect their social structure? Their form of government? Their spiritual beliefs? Do they value wealth? How does that look for them?

You'll want to explore several different cultural topics and connect them back to these central questions. Some important topics are clothing and accessories, transportation, architecture, cuisine, and entertainment.

If your two people groups live in separate environments and/or are different species, it will be easier to create unique distinctions between their cultures. But if they are the same species in the same environment, they may share some cultural foundations and differ more in things like spiritual practices and social structures (like government). The important thing to keep in mind is that the details of their culture will effect every part of their lives, so you need to create consistent rules for how to write them.

Also, people who interact with each other will end up influencing each other in one way or another. How do these two groups interact? What do they trade? Are they allies or enemies? Does either group oppress the other? What does that look like in this case?

And then of course you can repeat this process as much as you like with more groups in your world. And don't be afraid to research real life cultures! You do actually want to know what's common in particular environments. Like for example, what clothing styles are most common in arid environments? How about cold environments? What animals and plants are available as resources in a temperate forest?

I think a lot of us are tired of seeing desert dwelling fantasy people who wear skimpy outfits that would actually give them serious sunburns and heat stroke, for example. Please stop doing that.

I have also seen some newly popular fantasy books that give absolutely zero consideration to what the people in their worlds would actually have access to and know about. Like a woman living in a fantasy desert surrounded by sand and suffering through a near constant drought, with no mention of any other countries with more fertile land, should not be able to easily access any grain based alcohol while complaining of a lack of water rations. She also should not just casually make reference to a "feast day turkey". Girl what turkey. What whiskey. You don't have those things. You live in a place that resembles Tattooine. (Sorry, more pet peeves)

Just put some actual thought into your fictional cultures and be genuinely curious about it! If you're having fun with it, exploring all the options and making it consistently cohesive, it will read fine. Also just have the chutzpah to pull it off. A fantasy world that unapologetically and enthusiastically puts a lamp post in the middle of a forest is better written than one that seems to just copy every common vaguely-old-fashioned-western-europe fantasy setting that has ever been written and never does anything new or fun with it.

Your elves can still be nigh immortal forest people who do archery, your orcs can still be big buff warrior types, but you gotta find a way to make them your own and have some fun with it.

[graveyrdvamp18]

i'm bored, , so here's what i think of each lost boy

i'm gonna do this one vamp at a time so i don't get overwhelmed, starting off with this mullet king

david

• he's a self - proclaimed leader

since he's the first turned and seemingly the most mature one, as each boy joined the gang, he took it upon himself to look after everyone. cause he cared for them ? that could be a factor, but also cause of his controlling nature

• he loves to read

david seems like he secretly loves to read, and im talking about newspapers, too. he even has reading glasses. and i would know this cause i am the glasses. anyway, as far as genres, maybe horror, mystery, and throw in a little romance from time to time

• he is the most possessive of his belongings

this man does NOT share. and he will be mad if he catches anybody besides him with his stuff

• he is the smartest

okay so i'm not calling the others stupid, vampires in general are intelligent beings. i'm just saying david is extremely smart, but this is also what makes him very, very good at manipulation. a master manipulator, if you will. and it's not just with the mind games he can play, with his words, his expressions. he knows exactly what to do or say to get you

• anger issues

something tells me if he's not the one who comes up and speaks to you first, don't even try. he would probably just ignore you or tell you to go away. this is probably something he picked up from his father (not max), and i don't necessarily think it's shown in the movie, just from his energy, makes me think that

• not the biggest fan of sweets

i keep switching from serious to silly things, but that's just how i roll, anywayy. he doesn't hate sweets or candy, just could live without them. he hates the stomach ache you can get after, and probably how sugary they are. the only sweet i think he can handle is cookies, more specifically snickerdoodles

• david has the highest level of maturity

i've actually read about this on here, i can't remember the person's user, but i just remember how they talked of how he dresses and how he talks, and i have to say i agree. he does indeed dress and talk completely different from his three vampire bros. this also makes me think that david is definitely an old soul and he was probably forced to grow up instead of having the freedom of being a wild and care-free child

• black and red are his favorite colors

more specifically darker shades of red, he hates bright colors. probably would complain it's hurting his poor eyes and he's going blind

• cares about his health.. a lot

there's absolutely nothing wrong with caring about your health. although the man's main diet is bl0od, clearly they can still eat human food. he eats junk food still and is definitely always down for some pasta or a good burger, but he tries to maintain a healthy way of eating. maybe he tried encouraging the other boys to do so, but gave up cause he was getting no where

• keeps things clean

if he sees a mess, he cleans it. or gets one of the others to clean it cause they caused it. the cave is definitely organized, and that was probably thanks to David. cause you can see during any cave scene how it's an organized mess

• his favorite food is pasta

already mentioned this briefly, but please he would fck up olive garden. i just know they would hate to see him coming

• despises loud noises

this includes the TV being too loud, loud crunching, any kind of beeping and so on. it pisses him off

• stupid nicknames

can't stand them. the other boys definitely have silly nicknames for him like 'pookie' and 'davey' and so on, and he wants to curl up every time

• early birdy

as soon as the sun sets, david is the first to wake up. mainly cause he loves night time. even before he was turned, he was always a night owl. he probably snuck out into a field near his childhood house a few times

• writing

there's really no doubt in my mind that david loves to write. he has many journals stored away cause he considers them personal. he has such a high guard up that whenever somethings wrong, he turns to paper and pen. he also has the most beautiful handwriting out of all of them

☆ what he could've been

i feel like if david was never turned, he would've wanted to be in a major career. he would've been an excellent psychologist. he would've wanted to start his own family, and have kids, probably out in the west.

he misses this at times, the chances and hopes that he lost, but despite that, i actually think he loves being a vampire. he loves the chase, the thrill of it all. he loves doing whatever he wants, whenever he pleases

one last thing, this man loves music. all 4 of them do, really. i feel like he'd listen to anything that isn't rap or pop. he also listens to country but doesn't let the other boys know that, they'd probably never let him live it down

let me know what you think ! whether you agree or disagree, i'm open-minded

i love david, honestly. i know he wouldn't love me back, cause I mean, have we watched the same movie ? but he's still my pookie bear

[littlevices]

What is this man!? Or: Me Overthinking Reigen's Fighting Ability, lol

Reigen Arataka. 28 years old. Used to be a normal salaryman. Runs Spirits and Such Consultations and is the self-proclaimed "Greatest Psychic of the Twenty-First Century.

Where did he learn to dropkick a bitch?

No, seriously. Where did he learn half the shit he does. Sure, you can explain his punches as something he can learn with his green belt, but not the fact that not only did he dropkick someone, he rebounded and landed on his feet. That is almost some Dimple level acrobatics for someone without any supernatural abilities or enhancements.

Sure, we can chalk it up to anime logic all we want, but that's not as fun, so I'm going to ramble and overthink instead. (As I do.)

Disclaimer: Some spoilers for later events in the show.

Okay, so. Reigen has a surprisingly large repertoire of skills. Some of this I can chalk up to his family life.

His father is apparently a local politician/civil servant, his mother a housewife, and his sister a bank employee.

Clearly Reigen gets his speech skills from his father, and maybe some of his other tricks, like using rice as glue, may even be from his mother. Granted I'm probably stretching that a bit. He could have just as easily learned that from trying to save money, lol.

We also know he didn't fit in while in school, which, as we all know, can lead to instances of bullying. Whether that bullying is physical or not, who knows. All I've seen looking around is that he apparently got skipped over when it came to games and stuff, but there could have been more to it.

Where am I going with this? You'll see.

So, the green belt. We know from season one that Reigen specifically says he has a green belt in shorinji kenpo. Now, I will be the first to admit I don't know much of anything about martial arts on a deep level. I can, however, do some quick research *cough* google *cough* (Do you think Reigen would be proud of me, lol).

According to what I've found, a green belt in a number of martial arts can be anywhere from beginner to a beginner-intermediate or even intermediate level. It depends on the martial art of course, but I think also the school. The same seems to apply to what I could find on shorinji kenpo. Or Kempo, because that's what I keep finding, someone please correct me if need be. I think people have also called it Xiaolin Martial Arts, which I also took a brief look at, but the concept appears similar there as well. Now, let's give Reigen the benefit of the doubt considering what we've seen him actually do, and assume the man went to a pretty decent school. A green belt is clearly not a master level or even a high level belt. If anything, though, this means the man can handle a regular petty thug just fine, and we've seen that. The seance scene in season 1 by itself proves that easily.

However, it's the other stuff that makes me wonder.

Again, this man drop kicked a dude, an esper that was currently using his power by the way, then rebounded off him to land on his feet. Beyond the dropkick itself, which from what I understand is impractical in a fight, he also rebounded. Rebounding can be hard to do off a stationary object, let alone a person. Yet here Reigen is, doing it causally off an esper that controls gravity.

His punches are also pretty damn devastating. Again, he can knock people out. He did this during the seance, but then tried it on Muraki. While he didn't knock him out, he definitely did some damage.

Not only would he need to be strong to do this, he'd also need to be fast. He's also fast enough that someone like Suzuki had to make a clone of himself to dodge Reigen's fist, rather than block or just dodge it normally. Either Suzuki was feeling extra that day (much to Sho's chagrin) or Reigen caught him off guard enough he actually had to use his powers.

This brings me to the next point.

Reigen knows how to hold a gun.

No, no. Wait, hear me out. Yes, I know it's a toy gun, but it is still a toy gun supped up on psychic energy. Not only does Reigen hold it nice and steady, he's got some damn good aim. That shot went for Suzuki's face or at least his throat.

Now, granted, I hear airsoft is a popular past time in Japan, so maybe that's where some of it comes from, which is still pretty neat.

He also didn't hesitate to shoot. One look at Mob and he pulled the trigger. Suzuki got one warning before that, and he didn't even get the chance to defy it before Reigen shot. Now, Reigen is a smart man, he probably figured the gun wouldn't work, but damn if he didn't try. Honestly, he was probably panicking and kicking himself on the inside, but he certainly didn't show it.

There's also the fact that, when you look, Reigen almost always instinctively knows to protect his head and neck when he gets thrown around. It's probably the most obvious in the Mogami fight when he gets picked up and slammed, but you can see it in the final episode as well when getting flung around by ???'s tornado.

This man has either gotten enough sparring that he knows to do this on instinct, or he's been in enough scraps that he's had no choice but to learn or get concussed. Also, in the Mogami arc, Reigen tries to stop Mogami (in Minor's body) by kicking him in the head. Mogami was moving very fast, but Reigen's kick did land.

Too bad it was Mogami and not any one else because it might have worked.

He also knows a couple knee strikes, which again was used on a moving target.

Now, let's step back and bring up Reigen's family again. There's always the possibility that Reigen got his green belt young due to his father's occupation. Now, that might only apply if his father was a rather important one, but still something to consider. It could have also been in self-defense if the bullying he faced in school got physical. I personally think Reigen got his green belt at an older age, earliest highschool, but obviously there's nothing to back that up. It also makes me wonder just how many of his clients have gotten violent, because while he did flinch at the knife during the seance, he also didn't hesitate to deck the dude.

This doesn't even bring up the fact that Reigen knows all kinds of massage techniques (I heard that his family wanted him to be a massage therapist, but I don't know if it was said where that information came from), psychology, his ability to cold read people, and everything else this man does.

Granted, a lot of his effectiveness comes from him being smart and charismatic. This man is a manipulator and thank god he's got morals because holy hell the damage he could do being able to manipulate Mob.

Or the damage Mob could do if anything serious happened to Reigen. >.>;

All in all, I think Reigen has gotten into way more scraps than is suggested. I feel as if he might have had a rougher life at school than what little hints we've gotten. That whole thing with the Separation Arc felt kind of like him projecting onto Mob, but I could be wrong. Personally, I headcanon Reigen as being something of a truant and/or delinquent (or at least a gremlin) when he was younger, but that's just me, lol. I do think he's had a rougher go of it than he likes to tell, though.

I know I didn't cover absolutely everything here, like Shimazaki, and that there's probably more context or something in the manga, but this post was already long enough and I haven't read the manga in full yet so apologies if there is missing context.. If you made it to the end of this post, I want to both thank you, but also apologize for my long winded rambling, lol. I just - Have no idea what to make of Reigen and all that he does. It doesn't help that a lot of his backstory is fairly non-existent. We only know tidbits about this conman, but I guess that's part of what makes him interesting.

Well, hopefully you had fun reading this post as much as I had making it. I know most of this can probably be just anime logic, but I had looking into it at least! If this wasn't a world of espers, Reigen would probably fairly formidable in a fight, on a physical level anyway. He's already like that on several others already, lol. This sweaty rat just always seems to grab my attention. . .

[rxsilabeth--er]

Hiya ! Would you do a wolfstar x fem!reader where reader is sick and both boys take care of her ?? Please, also <3

:: The sick and the dicks.

Now calling....Author: "Hello, thank you for this request!! I adore it so much!! Made specifically for my friend @skyrigel. I adore them!!"

Now calling....Synopsis: "The upsurge of sudden sickness in Hogwarts after a series of heavy rains lead to you being stuck in bed, the hospital wing filled with Madame Pomfrey running around, so you're left to your own devices..Which are your two boyfriends."

Now calling....Warnings: "Sickness. Underage smoking and drinking. cigarettes. Very badly made soup. throwing up (for emetophobic folks like me out there), cursing?

The heavy rain was not stopping at all, as Remus used his wand to turn the page of his book, his other hand simply moving in circles to move a spoon over cauldron filled with soup, which was placed atop makeshift...fire, as one would say, because there was no stove.

You on the other hand were dying from sickness as Sirius kept rambling your ears off by telling how Marlene was being a bitch to him today.

"And she the AUDACITY to tell me my hair look greasy when she hasn't washed hers in two wee-",

"Okay, enough, Pads...You're gonna yap 'em to death" Remus said sighing as he continued to move his finger in circles in the air to stir the pot of soup, which honestly makes you and Remus grimace a bit at the sight of..

There was water, salt, chicken?? and a few other stuff, you weren't sure..it definitely did not look like a soup and Sirius does not have the comprehension of what is food and what is not because his mum barely gave him nice food...

But Sirius decided it was a "magical" recipe, pun intended, and it'll heal you up. so after a while, Sirius took the soup and poured it, as you and Remus looked at each other, "Oh hell no.."

"Uhm, Sirius. Why don't you go get some lemonade for poppet? Hm?" Remus suggests removing the strip of wet cloth he tied around your house to soak it in water again to calm your fever as you hoped he'd take it and leave this abomination of a soup.

"Hm, Sure!" he said, hurriedly walking out as Remus soaked the cloth in water before squeezing as much water as possible before tying it on your forehead again, just as Sirius came back, "Oh..yeah, I didn't tell ya'...Kitchen's close off cause one or two of the house elves have gotten sick".

oh fuck....

Remus only looked at you, not even bothering to assure you he can save you and turned around, stopping the spoon and lighting himself a cigarette to forget the interaction that was going to occur as Sirius sat in front of you, holding the bowl of whatever concoction he brewed while you smiled,

"Actually, I feel so much better now-", "you'll feel BETTERER!" Sirius said, smiling widely as he held the bowl to you, making you almost hurl your stomach and intestines out from the smell,

"Uh, I don-",

"Yes, you do need it!!"

"bu-" "MORE BUTTER IN THE SOUP?!"

"....No.."

You smiled awkwardly, trying not to show your disgust as Remus only prayed to god to let his two lovers survive until he can marry them and asks god to take care of you, if this is your last day here, as you hold the bowl to your lips, closing your nose.

Pinching your nose shut as to not breath in or out, you began drinking it, almost feeling your stomach get worse within seconds, but you held it in, drinking it while Sirius watched with starry eyes in delight. In his eyes, you were getting fixed, in your eyes...you were going to throw up and die...

Stop your breathing, you swallowed it down..oh god, it felt like soft squishy bug guts doing down, swinging down your throat and you hold your breath to not gag infront of Sirius as you kept a smile while Remus as honestly crying.

He couldn't even turn to you two without crying for you, incase you died...

Somehow you finished as Sirius put the bowl away after Remus somehow convinced him, it was enough and he didn't need to feed you the entire bowl. You laid back, wiping your mouth as you chewed on some cucumber to take out the smell, sighing in relief.. It was that bad, honestly, as you let out a soft hiccup, which let out thee aftertaste of the soup..you had no idea why you were being so-

And you felt your throat constrict as you emptied out your stomach's content on the floor...onto James' jumper... great, while Remus and Sirius froze. Your breath finally felt happy while you felt like you should cry at the state of the sweater, you were gonna say something-

And suddenly James came in, smiling and bright, "Black and Evans smiled at me-" his eyes fell onto the jumper with vomit, and his smiled faded and that glint came onto it, "who did this?"

And you sighed, you had no choice but to admit it..

Your hand flew up and pointed at SIRIUS, while Remus did the same, "this bastard threw up after tasting his horrible soup, after we told him no" Remus said and now you two were left snuggling against each other while Sirius was being dragged out by a livid James,

"YOU BOTH ARE SUCH FUCKING DICKS!"...

"Sorry, Sirius.." you and Remus didn't feel sorry..

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