#anyway last night I went to get started making wip pages

[daisywords]

it's been raining all day here and I've been drawing with 2008 doctor who in the background

[cozy-the-overlord]

Free Fall

Summary: Tony Stark arranges for an Avengers Teambuilding Day at a local amusement park. Loki had been hoping to avoid it -- he's had enough thrills to last a lifetime, he has no desire to seek out more -- but you and your endearing enthusiasm for roller coasters convince him to come along. However, the free fall drop tower you start out with turns out to be a bit more thrilling than he bargained for.

Word Count: 3,482

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Drags self out of the grave and awkwardly waves

So it's been a minute since I posted lol. Those of you who follow may be aware that I recently graduated from college with the Final Semester From Hell that involved my computer hard drive dying on me in class and causing me to lose not only forty pages of my honors thesis two weeks before it was due, but also almost every WIP I had been working on in the past four years because I am an idiot who chronically forgets to back things up :D I did make it through college, but between stress, burnout, depression, and the death of any motivation to work on anything because of having to restart from the beginning for all of my projects, I went a while without writing anything. But I'm slowly getting back into it -- I have several projects in the works and I'm hoping to get back to posting more regularly. This fic was a short piece that I had started prior to the computer death that I had a lot of physical notes on so they weren't lost when my hard drive decided to yeet itself into the sun. I'm not entirely happy with it, but honestly it feels so good to finally finish something that I don't care.

Anyways, sorry for the obnoxious A/N. Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack, a bit of motion sickness?

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :) (I also realize that this taglist is Old so if I need to update it please let me know)

Read it on Ao3!

Standing in the shadow of the great tower, heart thudding in his throat, Loki is suddenly aware that he’s made an enormous mistake.

Next to him, Stark whistles. “This is what you usually start with?”

You grin up at the spire, a massive construction of electric green cutting through the cloudless sky. Two elevators, one on either side, are creeping slowly up the length of the tower. They linger at the top for just a moment before plunging back down to Earth, their occupants screaming. Loki feels ill just watching, but you’re practically vibrating in place. “It’s good to get the blood pumping.”

He can’t bring himself to look at you.

It’s your fault that he’s here. Loki hadn’t planned to come today at all. A day spent outside in the sweltering summer sun, following Stark’s gaggle of misfits onto various machines designed to fling mortals from side to side to simulate the feeling of a near death experience? Loki couldn’t imagine anything more torturous. Thor’s begging and cajoling received nothing in response. No, he hadn’t the slightest intention of coming today, not until last night, when he came across you restocking the main refrigerator.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you had asked as you arranged rows of Red Bull on the top shelf. “I can’t wait to take you guys around Rapid Rails—I’ve been begging Mr. Stark to do a teambuilding day there ever since he hired me.”

Your eagerness caught him off guard— as Stark’s personal assistant, you had been present at all of his godforsaken teambuilding events, but Loki had never known you to be particularly excited about any of them. “I … I wasn’t aware you had such an attachment to it.”

“Oh yeah—I grew up just down the street from there!” You beamed at him, breaking down the cardboard box you had used to carry the cans. “We used to have season passes – they were way cheaper when I was a kid – and we’d just go there to hang out all the time. Gosh it was so fun. And now I get to go for work!” You let out a merry laugh. “I guess some things never change, right?”

Loki huffed a soft chuckle. He had never seen you like this before, practically bubbling over in excitement. It was … rather endearing. “I suppose not.”

“You are coming, right? Thor said you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”

Were the circumstances different, Loki might have scoffed. Hadn’t made up your mind yet—Norns, his brother lived in denial. Instead though, he hesitated. “I … I’m afraid I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Really?” The way your face fell actually hurt his chest. “Why not?”

“I—” He glanced away, pressing his lips together. “I’m not sure I’m one for your roller coasters,” he said, finally. “You’d likely have a better time without me there.” It was an attempt at lightheartedness, but you only seemed more disappointed.

“Oh, that’s not true at all! I was really looking forward to—” you stopped suddenly, and when Loki looked up again, you were biting your lip with a nervous laugh. “I mean, it would be really fun if you came with us. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I suppose I could come, if you so desire.” He hoped he sounded nonchalantly cool, and that you couldn’t see the way his heart fluttered at the idea that you might want him there. “I wouldn’t wish to let you down.”

“Oh, I mean—” You looked away, the light from the refrigerator silhouetting your frame. “I don’t want to force you, if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t do it just for me.”

“No, I …” He inhaled, then smiled. “I think I would like to join you.”

And so here he is, at the base of this great metal monstrosity, intently studying the sign outside of the line entrance to avoid Thor’s knowing smirk. His brother has never worn self-satisfaction well.

DEATH DROP: THE TALLEST AND FASTEST DROP TOWER ON THE EAST COAST

 The description is illustrated with a photograph of two people strapped to their seats, mouths wide in mid-scream as their hair flies every which way. Loki lets out a shaky exhale as he reads. The tower, it claims, is 400 feet tall. It reaches top speeds of 85 miles per hour. The ride itself lasts about 90 seconds in total. The measuring stand besides the entrance indicates that participants must be at least 48 inches tall.

400 feet. That doesn’t sound too terrible, he tells himself. The concept of a foot as a unit of measurement is still something he struggles to wrap his head around, but he knows that Stark Tower stands at over a thousand. So that’s not too bad. 400 feet would be a drop in the bucket, really, compared to …

No. He pushes the thought down, back into the dark recesses of his memory. None of that. Not today.

Stark smirks at him. “You’re looking green, Tommy Wiseau.”

Loki swallows, straining to maintain his stiff mask of composure. It’s bad enough to have Stark reveling in his discomfort, but now you’re looking over at him too, brow furrowed in concern, and he wishes he could melt away on the spot. “I’m quite fine.”

“Of course he is!” Thor booms, slapping his shoulder with a hearty thwack that does nothing for Loki’s stomach. “We’ve fallen from much higher heights, haven’t we, brother?”

Weightless. Breathless. Engulfed by inky nothingness, the air so thin he can’t even scream —

Loki’s smile hurts. “Yes, very true.”

“You don’t have to go, Loki,” you interject. “It’s totally okay— I have friends who love roller coasters and refuse to touch this ride. It’s a lot.”

He knows you mean it as reassurance, but he can’t stand the way you’re looking at him, as if he were a frightened child, too fragile to be brought along. Are you regretting having convinced him to change his mind? Do you feel that he’s only holding you back? Somehow, the idea that you no longer want him here is almost as sickening as the thought of the fall.

Loki huffs a breath. No. He will prove himself worthy of your coaster. “I assure you, I am fine.” His voice is more strained than he’d prefer it to be. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

…

The attendant seems rather starstruck as he ushers the group onto the ride—he stumbles and stammers through the explanation of the seating arrangements and the harness. Loki’s not really listening as he follows you to the left side of the cart, trying not to ignore the buzzing that seems to be settling behind his ears.

You smile up at him. “Would you rather sit on the side or in the middle?”

He frowns. “Does it make a difference?”

“Well, personally I don’t think so, but I know some people who get scared of heights think it’s easier to sit in the middle.”

“I’m not scared of heights.” The words come out far too quickly to sound believable, and he curses inwardly at himself. “I can sit on the side.”

“Are you sure?”  You eye him uncertainly. “It’s okay if you—"

“I’m quite capable of managing such a seat.” He sits before you have the chance to question him again.

The seat is rather tight—Loki wonders if that’s intentional, or if it’s simply built with a smaller frame in mind. In the cart off to the right, he can hear Thor fumbling about with the attendant, and he chuckles despite himself. If he’s finding it to be a bit of a squeeze, he can’t imagine the troubles his bulky brother must be having.

It’s a momentary reprieve from his darker thoughts, and Loki is actually smiling when you warn him to sit back against the seat.

“The harness is going to be coming down soon.”

“What?”

You motion to the contraption above the cart, two plastic green masses shaped like upside down u’s that hover above your heads like the top of a clam shell. “It sits over you and keeps you from flying out of the cart.” You let out a small laugh. “It’s like the harnesses on the Quinjets, but way less cool. They also have little handles that you can hold on to if you want.”

Loki is eyeing the harnesses uncertainly. “What do you mean they’ll be coming down soon?”

“You used to have to pull it down yourself, but they have it all programmed now.” A great mechanical creak cracks through the air, and you press yourself against the back of the seat. “Oh, here it comes now!”

He frowns, mimicking your movement to sit as far back as he can. The green restraint descends slowly over his head, with a metallic groan that does not give him much faith in the construction of this monstrosity. He expects it to stop once it was hovering over his torso, but it continues until it’s pressed snuggly against his chest, pinning him to the seat. The attendant is saying something over the intercom, but Loki barely registers it over the feeling of the restraint. It’s … it’s not a painful sensation, but the firmness with which it holds … he’s been restrained before. Little flames of memory spark in the corners of his mind, flames he can’t seem to douse no matter how hard he tries.

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

He gives an apprehensive tug on the metal handles that now rest on either shoulder, a tug which quickly turns into a hard yank. The harness does not move. His mouth has gone dry.

“Loki?” you’re frowning at him, your head only barely visible through your own harness. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You’re not bothered by the restraint. Of course you aren’t—how many times did you say you’ve ridden this ride? It’s fine. It’s fine. Goodness, what must you think of him, seeing him panic over the safety harness that you’ve worn hundreds of times before for fun? He nods his head, shaking away the feelings and memories and emotions and all the other thoughts that he wishes he could just wash down the drain …

“Are you sure—?”

“Perfectly,” he spits, but it comes out more snappishly than he intended, and you recoil with a look on your face that makes him despise himself.

I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.

“And enjoy your ride!” the attendant finishes with a flourish, and the thick metal cranking is all the warning you get before the cart begins to lift off from the ground. Loki’s heart jumps to his throat, pounding so fast he can’t make out the separate beats.

“This part is the scariest bit,” you yell at him over the grinding of machinery. “The anticipation kills me!”

Loki inhales. The elevator continues to rise, inching up slowly along the spire, the ground beneath their feet melting into miniature. This is alright, he tells himself. If this is the worst part of the experience, then he’ll be just fine. There’s nothing particularly frightening about it—he spoke the truth when he told you that he had never been bothered by heights. It’s all perfectly fine.

Perfectly. Fine.

Norns, they’re still going up. He risks a glance at the track above him—surely they must be close now? The movement makes him queasy, and he quickly turns back to face straight ahead. His knuckles are white from clutching the handles. The harness is digging into his chest and it takes all of his self-control not to rip it off. The elevator stutters—is this it? His breath catches, but no, they’re still going up. They seem to be slowing down though, don’t they? Or is that only his imagination?

I’m going to be ill.

They’ve stopped. That’s not in his head. Everything seems frozen in place. Why did he agree to do this? Loki presses his eyes closed. Any moment now. Any moment …

Still nothing.

His chest aches. He may have forgotten to breathe. Why have they stopped? Is something wrong? Loki turns to you—you look ecstatic, eyes crinkled with elation, mouth wide in an open grin.

“When is it going to—”

You drop.

The world goes silent. He feels it, that awful sensation in his stomach as the line goes slack and colors rush before his eyes in a blur until it all fades to darkness, airlessness, weightlessness, his lungs burning and drowning on the empty void of space—he’s falling, he’s falling again, he’s falling again oh please Norns not again—

There’s ground beneath his feet. He’s not sure where it came from. His knuckles ache. You’re talking – to him? He’s not sure, he only barely can make out your voice …

“Loki? The harness is coming up. Can you let go?”

He’s still clinging to the handles. Can he let go? He’s not sure. His body feels like lead. He pries his fingers from the metal tube and the pressure against his chest vanishes with a woosh over his head.

“There you go.” Your voice is soft, encouraging, closer than he remembered. He looks up to find you kneeling on the ground before him. You flash a nervous smile. “You alright?”

He’s not sure what to say. His instinct is to apologize, insist that yes, of course, he’s quite alright, he didn’t mean to give any impression to the contrary, everything is fine, but the words catch in his throat.

stars melting together smothering his last breath

Loki lets out a shuddering breath, settles for a nod.

“What’s the hold-up?” Stark calls out. “Barton and Romanov are waiting with the kids on the other side of the park.”

“We’re just taking a break for a minute!” Your reply is hurried. “You guys can go on, we’ll meet you there.”

“Is something wrong?” Thor sounds concerned, and—oh great—now both him and Stark are walking over to their cart. “Loki? What happened?”

“I—” But words, so often his steadfast ally, seem to be failing him right now. What happened? He has no answer; at least, none that his brother would accept. For nothing had happened, not really, and yet that was enough to send him spiraling through the fabric of reality.

He hates this. He hates feeling so weak.

Stark is chuckling. “If I knew that this was all it took to shut him up, I would have rented this place out sooner—”

Enough.

Loki forces himself to stand – far too quickly, his stomach churns at the movement, but he swallows the bile in his throat. He needs to get away. It doesn’t matter how, but he needs to not be with them. Besides him, you scramble to your feet too.

“I’m well.” His voice doesn’t sound right—it feels foreign, and thick like syrup, nothing like his own. “You may go on without me.”

“Are you certain?” Thor is frowning. “We can wait—”

Please don’t.

“I’m certain. I just need to sit for a moment.”

“There’s a bench nearby!” You’ve taken on the same cheery inflection typical of your working voice, and it adds a sense of normalcy to a distinctly abnormal situation. He’s grateful for it. “I can show you where!”

Both Stark and his brother seem reluctant to leave, but you insist that it’s fine. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

He feels slightly steadier as he follows you to the bench—it’s just a wooden thing on the side of the concrete path, across from what appears to be a diner of some sort. You mumble something about going to get water. It’s a relief when you turn away, so you don’t see how he collapses against the seat.

There’s ground beneath his feet. Loki closes his eyes, focuses on that. There’s ground beneath my feet. The asphalt is firm, hot with the summer sun, anchoring him to reality. He lets out a breath. It feels safe.

Unless, of course, it crumbles beneath your step and flings you back into the abyss –

“Hey.” He jerks up at the sound of your voice, and the suddenness causes you to jump as well. You shift apologetically, standing in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki swallows. How did he not hear you come up? “You didn’t.” Although it must be obvious that you did. At least you’re kind enough to allow him the lie.

You offer him a plastic cup. It’s a flimsy thing, but quite cold, relieving against his feverish skin. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, pretending he doesn’t notice how you’re studying him with a quiet sort of concern.

“Are you feeling better?” you ask after a moment.

Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, relishing the way it stings. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just – I mean – ” you glance down, tugging at your shirt sleeve. “I get panic attacks too.”

“I don’t—” But he stops himself, stops the urge to argue. Gives a gentle nod instead. “I’m well, thank you. I just … I need a moment to catch my breath.”

“I’m sorry …” You look away guiltily. “Death Drop is kind of a lot – we shouldn’t have done that first.”

“It’s not that. I –” He wants to explain to you. He wants you to know that he’s not usually like this—he never used to be like this, he’s strong and steady and perfectly capable of anything you could ask of him, but his voice is failing once again. Loki huffs a sigh. “You ought to go on with the others. I don’t wish to ruin your day.”

“Oh, you haven’t ruined anything. I’ve been on every ride in this park about a million times. It’s fine!” Your voice is bubbly and light as you sit down next to him on the bench. There’s something oddly comforting about the sound. “Besides, it’s bad etiquette to leave a friend by themselves at an amusement park. Buddy system and all that.”

A friend. He can only stare at you.

You falter. “Unless … unless you’d rather I left?”

“No—” Loki surprises himself with how quickly he answers. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”

Several minutes pass in silence, the frantic beating of his heart slowly tapering off into something softer as he drinks in your presence. He’s grateful for it, grateful for how you let him soak in the quiet. Thor would never have allowed him such a moment’s peace.

 He’s considering asking if you’re sure you don’t want to go on any other coasters (he feels guilty for keeping you here—perhaps he can accompany you through the queue and wait on the ground?) when you suddenly sit up stock-straight. “Oh!”

Loki frowns. “Is something wrong?”

You turn to him with a wide grin. “I just remembered they have Dole Whip here!”

“They—what kind of whip?” What sort of ride would a whip be, he wonders? A human sized slingshot, perhaps? His stomach lurches at the thought.

Luckily though, he’s proved wrong. “Dole Whip!” you giggle. “It’s like ice cream, but fruit flavored. Like there’s pineapple and strawberry and whatnot—it’s like soft serve.” You look at him with a kind of hopeful excitement. “Do you want to try some?”

Loki hums. He has yet to try soft serve ice cream, but he knows his brother practically swears by the stuff. “Is it good?”

“Supposedly. I’ve actually never tried it— we never wanted to spend money on park food when we would come as kids. It’s stupid expensive.” You smirk. “But today’s all on Mr. Stark’s dime, so…”

He chuckles. “And you would take advantage of your employer in such a fashion? I didn’t realize I had such a Machiavellian on my hands.”

“Hey, I’m just taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me!” You stand with a grin, holding your hands up in a mock surrender pose. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”

“Oh, I’d never,” he teases as he stands, and he’s relieved to find that his legs have regained their steadiness. “I’d be honored to experience this Dole Whip with you on Stark’s expense.”

“Fantastic,” you beam. “It’s not too far from here. And it’s right next to a bunch of these little shops—they have this ridiculous giant sea monster toy that costs like $300, I can show you—”

You continue on as the both of you walk down the path, telling him all about the park’s various hidden gems and the inside jokes you and your friends have concocted around them, and Loki finds himself laughing more than not—he can’t help it, your giggles are just too infectious.

Huh. Perhaps joining you today wasn’t a mistake after all.

[softspeirs]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Hey gang. I am taking a page out of @mercurygray's book this week and filling you in on what I'm working on (mostly to keep myself productive) - for a little inspo, I went to a book signing event last night and the author said that he wrote his first 12 books while working full time at IBM, so that makes me feel like I can crank out a fic or two this week 😅 though - my power has been out at home for a day or so, so I might not get to this stuff for a few more days...

Here's what's in the pipeline:

Chapter 17 of Barren Soul - friends, it's a doozy. Kat's been wounded, everyone has the flu, she might have an infection, it's so much. She finally gets a letter from home and it's all very dramatic.

A prompt for Rosie/Grace that I should have finished AGES ago.

Working on some ideas from this list (would love some prompts)

I feel like writing something for Bucky.

Should I write something random for Joe Liebgott? He's been on my mind.

Anyway, if I don't have power or internet when I get home from work today, much of this is moot. If I do, then I can get started on a few things.

Happy writing, pals!

[nie7027]

{{I've had this draft saved literally since April 18th 2019 but I didn't post it back then because I wanted to finish the super5 headcanons first... which i of course havent done.

But I think it's finally time I post it.

I reread it recently and I don't think it's as spoilery of other wips as I had initially and thought and its related to the other stuff I'm gonna post soon so why not use it as a preview for it?

Anyway it finally is here. I hope you enjoy this tiny list of headcanons}}

Mob psychobook headcanons

These could actually apply to any social red but Psychobook is the one i know besides Tumblr (and no, none of them have tumblr...maybe just Seri)

Teru's

Teru's used to be the typical popular kid psychobook where used to he the typical popular kid psychobook where he posted pics of the parties he went("Crazy night guys, thanks for inviting me!), his soccer matches ("Another victory for Vinegars soccer team. You are welcome~") and trainings(even some from his personal training when it didnt end that bad), the food he ate at the new trendy coffe he went and the obligatory selfie every couple of days that will make his notifications blow up everytime with likes and comments

Now he sometimes still does those but he posts mostly pics of nice sights he finds on his bicycle routes, pics of him hanging with his friends/new family or the lastest fuck up Reigen did

He, Shou and Tome are invested in a meme competition. Whoever makes Mob laugh the loudest wins. Sadly they have to be with him so he can see them.

Rarely Terus posts a pic of him & Mob (or Mob alone) with the emoji equivalent of a gay keysmash and when he does it drives crazy the whole alumnae of Vinegar middle school, everybody wondering who is that bland looking guy and what Teru meant by that.

Mob's

Mob's used to be empty but now it's filled with pics Tome posts of their karaoke outings, pics where the body improvement club tag him and Terus, shous and tomes memes

But he rarely uses it and doesnt get to see them. Still he likes the milk memes teru found (do those even exist?)

Thats why he doesnt know he has basically become the body improvements star. Captain musashi and the others tend to photos of him with inspirational quotes (warrio male kind of) in the club page to attract new reclutees

After terus mysterious post a swarm of Vinegar students tried to add him as friend

But Mob thinks they are internet weirdos and ignores their invitation

It's actually Dimple who uses it more

Ritsu's

Ritsus used to be th pristine psychobook profile proper of a student council member. He had added the majority of the school and he made posts of the schools next event, resolutions the council had reached after their last session or answered any question any student could have but was to shy to personally ask.

His most personal post where the seldom book quotes he posted from the lastest book he read and liked.

Everything changed with Shou

The students didnt know who he was but suddenly this random kid started to tag Ritsu in even more random posts(most of them hamster related...Ritsu liked all of them?) and post pics of him AND RITSU doing the weirdest things you could imagine

Theres a pic of Ritsu with the most ridiculous susprised face(thats the most expressive people have seen him?? Whats going on?) in front of a microwave in flames. The fact shou edited it with a caption saying "And he didnt believe me eggs could explode" didnt help

Theres another of them hangin at the tallest part of the city (people dont undertsmad how is that even possible? You cant even acces that area)

And theres even a blurry pic that looks like they are running away from a police car

Shinji, who knows whats Ritsu is truly capable of, likes each of those pics

Everybody in Salt middle school is confused. But the only thing they get is Ritsus "Sorry" to Kamuro when the council president makes a blank comment in the infamous police pic.

They quickly recognize Shou as the kid that sometimes flies(yeah FLIES) besides Ritsus classroom or sneaks in the school

Shou's

The only reason Shou made a psychobook profile was to keep in contact with the espers that helped him during the domination arc

But he quickly realizes how useful it is to annoy Ritsu when he is bored

Besides the memes and Ritsu pics, his psychobook is full of interesting facts of different animals and reblogs of drawings from artist he follows and tutorials

As Mob he was invaded by a swarm of vinegar students once he appears in one of Terus pics. He accepts all of them the same way he accepted Ritsus classmates. It ends well for him because that way his drawing are seen by many peoplea and he receives lots of likes.

It takes a while but he finally unblocks Seri one day. Seri likes each and every thing he posts and makes encouraging comments on his drawings.

Serizawa's

Seri had a profile during his isolation days where he added many "friends" (random internet weirdos) with whom he talked about the things he liked and the media he consumed

Once he rejoins society with the Spirits and such cre he makes a new personal profile

He only has his family, the spirits and such crew, his school friends and the super5 added but thats all he needs

He follows many cooking and baking pages and once he learns to cook he saves the recipes he wants to try

He doesnt know if he cried more the day Shou unblocked him or they day Teru put him as his dad.

Minegishis

Minegishi only has the super5, Mob Ritsu, Tome and his coworkers added as friends

He follows many pages about plants and how to take care of them and pages that post downloadable audiobooks for Shimazaki

He rarely posts but he likes all the posts where he is tagged.

His elder coworkers tag him in lovely pictures of flowers with inspirational quotes. He likes those too.

The other super5 make fun of him for this but they secretly like them, especially those that talk about being a good person.

He follows many trolling pages too but never reblogs them. He doesnt want the other to know where he gets some of his humor sense.

Hatori

Hatori follows mostly memes pages, specially those about programming because he can "relate"

He say he understands them. (He doesnt)

He almost fell for the "delete system32 to make you computer faster" joke but his coworkers stopped him. He passed it as him messing around

Shibata's

Shibata follows personal trainers and healthy foods pages

He and Seri swap recipes they find and think the other might like

He saves exercises routines and tries to convince the other super 5 to try them with him.

Specially Hatori, he needs them.

He is only succesful when he finds those routines based on fictional characthers

It doesnt last much

He follows the body improvement club page. He actually sends some of the quotes that end up in some of the Mobs pics.

Shimazaki's

Shimazaki doesnt have a psychobook per se

It's a bot that hatori made to post "uwu" ":3" or "nyas~" every once in a while

The profile pic is the photo they took of Shimazaki wearing the prank glasses

Sometimes the other super5 post photos of their hang outs

"Its our register of Shimazakis progress!" says Hatori

Sometimes it receives messages from internet weirdos and most of them go along the lines of "Weren't you the guy that kidnapped the prime minister?".

The others are horny texts.

They delete all of them.

Tome's

Tomes psychobook can be considered the normalest of the spirits and such crew.

Even though half of her posts are cospirational thories and supposedly aliens sightings

Apart from that she has the normal amount of friends ("Seriously guys, why do you have every random you find added?") and posts a regular amount of pics of her hangouts

Besides the memes. Teru and she share LGBTQ content they find interesting

Seri somehow is the first to know about the lastest news of the videogames they follow and tags her on them

She edits Terus posts of Reigen fuck ups and turns them into memes. The super5, Ritsu and Dimble(using Mobs profile) always like them.

Its on psychobook where she organizes the telepathy club next reunion

She has been nagging Mob and Take to use their psychobooks more so they can see in time what they are planning to do

Takenaka's

Take has enough with the whole wind reading thing. Good luck trying to convince him to make a psychobook profile.

Reigen's

Since his birthday during the separation arc Reigen decided to completeley get away from his psychobook seeing as how little those persons cared for him

But he forgets to delete the app

So one day his phone cant stop blaring with notifications and when Reigen picks it up to see what the hell was going on

He had messages and messages of exfriends congratulating him for his son and saying things like "Wow Reigen, you had it very closeted" "we didnt know you were so private" "who is the lucky mother?"

Teru had put him as his dad

Reigen was having an existencial crisis and needed some comfort so he started searching Seri

Only to find him crying because Teru did the same to him

They ended togeyher as a crying mess sprawled over the couch. Only Dimple got to see them like that

So writing my fanfic "Sunflower" made me think of these headcanons but i couldnt post them then because i hadnt finished the super5 headcanons and didnt want to spoil some things. As you can see this finally shows what Ive been saying of "College funds", "Sunflower" and the "super5 headcanons" taking place in the same universe.

Really, i wrote down a timeline of how these things overlap and can tell you what the s&s crew were doing while shimazaki was fucking around or what the super5 were doing while the crew celebrated terus birthdays.

[honestlydarkprincess]

Temptation Tuesday!

tagged by @buddiearemydads, @ebdaydreamer, @jobairdxx, @swiftiebuckleys and @rogerzsteven 💕

I haven't decided which wip to dedicate my life to now that the eddie walks in on fwb bucktalia is finished so this week is less of ideas tempting me away from my wips and more which wip is tempting me to make it my personality for the next while

vampire!buck - i do want to finish this one cause @swiftiediaz is going through it with midterms and deserves a lil treat

5+1 dates - last nights ep gave me SO MUCH to work with thank you for being an awkward lil bean eddie your efforts are appreciated (the premise of this fic is 5 dates eddie went on while buck babysat chris and pined + 1 buddie date after they get their shit together)

thE ROOMMATES RECOVERY AU - universe PLEASE let me get back to this i am BEGGING. do you know how many pages of notes i wrote for this fic??? SO MANY and then i lost my inspiration because inspiration is fickle and i am weak

anyway so there's also the coffee shop au that i would like to work on but i haven't figured out the main conflict/purpose of the fic. i have all these side parts and plots i want to add in but i need to figure out the meat of the fic meat in a figurative sense not like there's actual meat, molly did i use that right? molly is the figurative language master

different meeting au where buddie meets at a bar prior to eddie's intro to the 118 and they hook up, promise to call each other but forget to exchange numbers (idiots) and then meet again when eddie starts at the 118

i think that's it! at least that's it for the 911 fics. sorry that these are all ones i've talked about before i have no new thoughts or ideas because my brain is mush and i am soup. also sorry that this post is so ramble-y this is what the inside of my brain looks like

no pressure tagging! @bigfootsmom, @maygrantgf, @midnightsbuck, @eddiequinns, @firemedicdiaz, @swiftiediaz, @monsterrae1, @nickavalens, @rottenmarigolds, @elvensorceress, @cowboy-buddie, @destielbuddiepipeline, @alyxmastershipper, @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy, and @souschefdiaz

[basil-the-scorned]

(A very late) day 6- Favorite Feud/Relationship

AN: This was written when Hangman was part of the Elite again in that Blood and Guts match with Swerve, and Cole popped up every once in a while. So Hangman is not as he is now. This was also written for day 6 of Hangman's birthday celebration in July, but then Hangman swung for the fences with going sicko mode, so this just stayed in my docs. That's a good way to sum up a bunch of these honestly.

And yes, this is also Part of Basil's Drabble December/WIP-A-Thon

Today, Cole was by himself for once while Adam finally was able to slip away a lot easier from the team. Side by side once again, with everyone else glaring at them. His hands were rubbing the zipper near his jacket, a makeshift grounding method.

The last time they saw each other, the world title was long gone out of his hands. Instead, Adam had a cold metal pipe protecting people he cared about out of instinct. This time they were face to face once again and Cole was staring at him with a look he couldn't quite read into. Then he heard the crowd in his ear and pushed that look in the back of mind along with everything else on his plate as he helped Matt up.

God only knew what he was getting into by that single pull. If he would have known what he knew now, he would have gone back in time and kept himself where he originally was. He would have saved that pipe for people that actually needed it.

(A lot of would haves for sure. He might have done the same damn thing anyway.)

"Page." The first word he has said since Adam sat down.

“Cole.” His voice was raspy, not on purpose for once. 

He took in the silence that followed to actually think about what to say next. Cole beat him to it.

"So you're bum rushing your revenge now, I guess?" A question that was wrapped in something else. It was anger but also something that made his heart ache because it was almost familiar to him.

They were close once. The two Adams together, protecting each other in ROH from everyone else, mocking everyone that came their way. The same way Adam slowly started caring about everyone in Bullet Club, he cared about Cole.

Then around the same time AEW was just getting its feet together, Cole disappeared.

Adam doesn't know all about what happened or why. No one else said anything else about it. In fact, no one really looked for him at all. No flyers, them running around the buildings they would be in, the same way they would do for him when WWE kidnapped him.

He just knew Adam Cole had disappeared, the Elite moved on and eventually so did Adam Page.

Then Cole came back four years later, slightly different than Adam remembered. Same blue eyes, wet curly hair down his back, but something...different in the way he looked at him.

He still can't exactly put what he thought it is, even when he's getting it again. 

There were nights where he remembered: Many nights of talking, hanging out, Cole showing him games he knew little about, passing out against each other either though one of their rooms were just a few steps away. For every night he had problems with Kenny and the Bucks, his mind went back to those moments. Him and Cole against the world.

That's what he wanted to say, to get something out of his mouth to make the awkwardness that was building go away. But the words wouldn't come out to give to Cole. They were stuck in his throat, lumped together with everything else he wanted to say.  

So Cole, like always, takes over. “Are you really here for me? Or do you still have your eyes on him?” It almost sounded like the way Hangman’s been feeling, all venom and bitterness whenever Swerve was around even through word of mouth. Except he sounded…hurt? 

Adam finally looked over and saw how Cole was looking straight ahead, yet he could see the frown that was trying to settle on his face. It was almost as bad as the face Matt pulled when he didn’t get his way, just as hurt and eyes shiny enough to make the strongest man break if they’re not careful. This felt more…open. 

Who would have thought it would have been MJF of all people to make him this way?

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Risk

Summary: Chris couldn’t believe he was finally meeting you and you were even more more perfect than what he’d seen in your music videos.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Black!Pop Star!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Daddy Kink, Face Riding, Oral (female receiving), Girl on Top, Missionary, brief doggy style

(A/N: this has been sitting in my WIPs for a minute so it’s kind of a relief to finally put it out. Anyway, like, comment, or reblog.)

Tagged: @titty-teetee, @harrysthiccthighss, @iam-laiya, @mariahthelioness29, @night-of-the-living-shred, @liquorlaughslove, @blackmissfrizzle, @whiskey-cokenfanfic, @olyvoyl, @zaddychris

There was no way Chris could have possibly focused on the interviewer’s questions when you were so close. Your tight shirt showed off your tits so well it was distracting. As you laughed, they jiggled and he couldn’t help the half smile that came on his face as he couldn’t help himself, but to take a glance.

What was fucked up was that this was for a charity. You were a pop star that was very involved in investing in programs to protect the arts. He coming from a family of theatre nerds was of course interested in the same thing. The two of you got paired up for an interview. Only meeting for the first time today as there’d been a fundraiser event. Though Chris had been obsessing over you since he’d found out your name.

The first thing that struck him about you was how goddamn gorgeous you were in person. All of the pictures of you online didn’t even do you justice. He’d went through all your albums surprising himself with how much he actually liked them. You sounded like an angel yet your lyrics could be downright filthy sometimes. When he’d watched your most recent music video, he found himself growing hard seeing you in that tiny outfit and shaking your ass.

He’d seen your music videos. Watched a few live performances. Maybe clicked on a few interviews because he needed to know how your voice sounded. None of it prepared him for reality.

Those eyes and your lips. Fuck he could kiss the fuck out of your lips. You looked like you’d just walked straight out of his fantasies.

Nothing prepared him for how your ass looked in those jeans. His hand twitched as he managed to fight off the urge to just grab it. Then there were those perfect tits. Perfectly swelled under your t-shirt. Being distracting.

His eyes raked up and down your body another time. This time you’d laughed at something he had said. He wasn’t prepared for how giggly you were. How bubbly you were.

It honestly felt like he’d known you for years with how comfortable he found himself. Like you two were old friends catching up instead of strangers. As he made a shitty attempt to respond to something the interviewer had said your head turned as you listened. “Well, the arts have always been important to me,” his voice low and raspy like he’d just woken up. “My family was insanely involved in theatre when I was growing up and I jumped around from piano to tap dancing. I even did ballet for a little.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile spreading on your face when he’d said that. “Really?” You perked up. “I did ballet.”

Of course, he knew that already because he’d taken a look at your Wikipedia page. “Really? How long?”

“I did it for,” you drew out the last word as you thought, “ten years, I think.”

He nodded almost losing himself as he looked into your eyes. “Wow that’s a long time. You must have loved it.”

“I did.” You smiled. “It was such an important part of my life growing up. All the friends I made. The things I learned and discipline. It’s also why I’m so flexible.” You giggled looking over at him again with this look in your eyes.

Were you flirting with him?

He quirked an eyebrow also grinning. His eyes darting from your eyes to your lips then back. How were you so goddamn pretty?

The interview moved forward with you sending signals that you were definitely flirting with him. You giggled at everything he said. Had played with your hair making you crane your neck to the side. The way your tits were fucking jiggling anytime he said anything mildly amusing. How you’d positioned yourself so they were perked up towards him.

Once everything had wrapped up, the both of you had been whisked away by your respective teams. He got one last good view of you walking away before being told to move onto the next thing.

It took two hours before your paths would cross again. This time at the panel the two of you were part of. You were once again seated beside each other. You were once again giggling at everything he said, while fixing your hair craning your neck to the side, and perking your tits in his direction. His hand twitched again as he fought the urge to grab your hand when you touched his bicep playfully to add onto something he’d just said.

This time when this had come to an end he’d manage to avoid being whisked away by his team. Getting off of stage fast enough to where they didn’t even see him. You lingered behind sort of blending in with the crowd as you managed to slip away.

The two of you bumped into each other smiles immediately spreading over your faces. “Hey.” The two of you said at the same time.

You bit your lip as the corners of your mouth were turned up. He let out a sigh before swallowing. “And here I thought I’d found the perfect hiding spot,” he said. 

“Actually, I’ve been eyeing this spot since we got here so I think I found it.” You joked back.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe we should wrestle over it.”

You shook your head with a pout. “Sorry I can’t do that. I’m a lover not a fighter. “

He chuckled. Fuck you were cute. “Could I be a lover and a fighter?”

“Ohhh I don’t know. I feel like that’s cheating.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes you have to play dirty to win.”

That fucking giggle. Those goddamn jiggling tits. That goddamn hair. That fucking neck. And you perking your tits out. Except this time, you gave him a pretty generous glimpse down your shirt.

“You busy after this?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Does catching up on Netflix count?”

He laughed. “Yes, but well I was thinking of going out for dinner after this thing,” he said, trying to suppress whatever urge he was constantly getting to touch you. “And, I didn’t want to look like a dick and eat alone.”

At this point we got the point of how you were trying to convey your flirty ness with him. “And?”

“And,” he started, “I was wondering if you’d wanna join me.”

You nodded. “Where we going?”

He shrugged. “Wherever you want, Honey.”

“Don’t tell me that. I can be expensive,” you seemed to purr. Everything about you was making him feel like he was fifteen again and waking up from a wet dream.

He nodded eyes drifting down to your lips. “You’d be worth every penny. Gimme your number so I can find you after?”

You nodded. “It’s a date.”

“Yeah,” his mouth twitched as you walked away from him. He eyed you up and down as your backside was to him. Damn your ass looked good in those jeans.

—

It’d been a pretty long day, but finally it was over. Like promised through text, you and Chris managed to get away from your teams in order to be whisked away in a town car to a bar he said was great.

The two of you talked on your way over. This time you were a little more subdued. Your voice was lower, sensual. It made him feel like someone had hugged his heart and dick at the same time.

He was sitting so close as he’d managed to get the most private booth in the place so the two of you could talk. He was so damn close to you and you hadn’t moved the whole time his arm was around you. In fact, you seemed even closer than before.

He wanted to kiss you so damn bad. “You gotta man?” He asked, before taking a sip of his beer.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ in the word.“You gotta girlfriend?”

“Nah,” he sighed. “Been single for a minute.”

You nodded. “Oh damn. You poor thing.” You rested your hand on his thigh.

“Yeah? How long you been single?” He asked grabbing your hand and playing with your fingers. That twitch in his hand had finally won. Your skin was just as soft as it looked like it’d be.

You shrugged. “For like a year,” you answered. Liking the feel of his rougher hand against yours. “I get so busy I don’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, same.” He somehow managed to scoot you closer to him. “Then sometimes you meet a cute stranger and then maybe you end up taking them home to smoke.”

You chuckled. “How do you know I smoke?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone in this town smoke?”

You nodded shrugging your shoulders. “True.” You smiled. “Fine.”

 After calling another town car and him paying the tab you were on his way to his place. Chris was still finding ways to touch you. Not that you were complaining that you were sitting so close.

Now the joint was resting between his lip as the television played in the background. Chris let out a big puff of smoke.

You were still sitting way to close. As he grabbed your hand again. Running his thumb across your knuckles. You were telling him a story about this photo shoot you had a few weeks ago that just so happened to be with you in lingerie. Then in turn he told you about a photo shoot he had to do for a free weeks ago where he just so happened to be shirtless the whole time.

Then you started talking about your favorite movies. To him telling you stories about all the shit that went down behind the scenes. Which led to you telling him stories about being on tour. Then you talked about music and he felt someone tug at his heart strings with the way your face lit up when talking about your favorite musicians.

He had to kiss you.

With the joint in between his fingers he leaned down to finally brush his lips against yours. “God, you’re fucking beautiful,” his voice once again at that low tone, raspy like he’d just woken up.

“You think so?” You looked up at him so innocently, peering up at him through those lashes.

He took another hit of the joint before leaned back down to your mouth. He blew the smoke into your mouth before kissing you again.

You started to make out deep. Stroking his cheek with your thumb. His tongue slid against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. You moaned into his mouth suddenly feeling all airy. If Chris wasn’t holding onto you, you may have drifted away.

He leaned to the side so he could put out the joint. When both of his hands were free, he put them under your ass so he could get handfuls of each cheek in each hand. Then making it jiggle.

You broke away from him so you could finally pull that top over your head. “Fuck,” he hissed seeing the tops of your breasts. You quickly reconnected your lips. One of his hands grabbed at you through your lacy white bra.

You let out a whimper that was like music to his ears. His mouth trailed down to your neck hoping to kiss you in a spot where you’d be forced to make that noise again. You shivered as his lips left hot opened mouth kisses on your skin.

Then it was time for Chris to pull his own shirt over his head, exposing his muscular physique. You put your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him more. He reached behind you to undo your bra. Your nipples all sensitive as they were exposed to the night air. Your body felt all fuzzy as you giggled when he smacked your ass.

His hands reached up to play with them. Fuck it was better than any thought he’d had about them since you’d met. Rubbing your nipples with his thumbs and making you moan.

You got off of him so you could undo your jeans. Except before you could even pull them off, he made you lay on the couch as he slid them off of you. He kissed along your stomach at first. Then he proceeded to take off your jeans and panties at the same time.

When you were finally completely exposed to him, he kissed you again. Then his mouth started practically worshipping your breasts. He licked your nipples with the tip of his tongue. He came to suck it wanting to hear that goddamn whimper again and then reeling at the other little noises you were making. “Fuck,” you moaned. He gave your other boob similar treatment before kissing a trail down to your lower half.

He could have died and gone to heaven after seeing that pretty pussy. He flicked his tongue over your clit loving the taste of your arousal. He’d pushed your thighs up so he could properly feast on you. Fuck you were so wet for him.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs so he could get as deep as possible. You were moaning so much for him. The noises you were making were fucking pornographic.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whined.

He stopped to kiss up your body so he could kiss your lips again. You could taste yourself on his lips. His fingers stayed on your pussy as he kissed you again. You gasped against him, throwing your head back.

His moved to your tits again. His tongue was craving to suck on them again as he finger fucked you. As you exploded around his fingers he decided to rub your clit to draw it out.

“Daddy!” You screamed.

“What’d you just call me, Baby?” He asked still rubbing your clit as you clung to him.

“I- I,” you stuttered, but it was hard to talk when he was doing that to you. “Ugh, Daddy!”

“That’s a good girl,” he kissed you again.

 He finally carried you off to his bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist. He’d taken you apart so easily. Like he’d done this to you so many times before. Instead he’d just been thinking about it so much he didn’t want to fuck it up.

He sat down with you still wrapped around him. His jeans were still on, but you could feel him through his jeans and fuck. He felt so huge against you as he moved you right over it.

His fingers reached between you two so he could rub your clit again. Chris wasn’t your usual type, but you couldn’t deny that he was fine as fuck. Or that he was dangerously charming.

When he’d finally taken off his jeans and underwear, he sat you back in his lap so you were straddling him. He was holding you tight against him so even when you tried to sink down onto him because fuck you wanted to so bad, he wouldn’t let you. Like he needed you to know who was in control.

“Ride my face,” he said, slapping your ass.

You giggled. “Really?”

“Yeah you taste fucking delicious.”

You looked down at him as you could see his eyes peeking out. From underneath you. He really was eating you up like you’d be his last meal.

He felt like he was in heaven with his head between your legs. Like you were sweeter than any candy he could ever eat. Better than jelly beans. “Oh my god,” you breathed out a moan.

You moved your hips trying to ride his tongue, but it was almost too much. His beard was burning your thighs only adding to how good it felt. You grabbed at his hair while he smacked your ass again, palming it in his large hand.

He felt like he could taste your orgasm. The way you leaked out into his mouth. He didn’t even care that you were making such a big mess on his face. “Daddy, yes!” You gasped. You put your hands on the headboard to brace yourself because as your stomach started to tighten you could tell this one was going to be much more powerful. “I’mgonnacum,” you rattled off.

He chuckled into you pushing his fingers into you again making it so you had to ride his hand, too. How the fuck was this man able to get you like this and you hadn’t even taken his dick yet. Fuck you needed to take it.

He didn’t even let up when it happened. It was like he wanted more of you. He was drinking you up. Wanting to have you at his mercy. Like this was the last chance he’d get to feel your pussy on his tongue and he needed to take advantage.

It took two more orgasms for him to finally let you up. You fell down onto the bed completely spent. He didn’t even care as he kissed you hungrily. Quickly pushed you onto your back, wrapping his arms around your thighs and didn’t even give you time to realize what was happening before he slammed into you.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you around his dick. And fuck did it feel perfect. You were so tight. So wet. So damn sexy with the way your mouth formed into an O because how was he moving his hips like that.

It should have been illegal for him to fuck you like this. For him to leave your pussy craving more from him. How the hell were you supposed to come back from this.

He fucked into your spot like he already knew where it was. Like the two of you had done this so many times before. All you could do was take it. All you wanted to do was take it and take it and never stop taking it.

You were everything he’d thought you’d be since he’d saw that first fucking music video. Your sparkly acrylic nails scratched his back. “Fuck me, Chris.”

He slapped your ass. “You call me Daddy,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you buried your face into his neck. He should have not been able to fuck you this well. You bit your lip, as he put his forehead against yours.

The burn from the way he split you open was so good. This couldn’t have been the last time the two of you did this. Not when he was this deep inside of you.

The first time you came around him he pulled out of you so he could lay beside you. Then because he didn’t give a fuck about how it was too much or whatever you kept saying he made you sink down on his dick.

Your pussy creamed down his length. You kept telling yourself that you couldn’t take it even though you were riding his dick like such a good girl. The bed was shaking so hard you were scared you might break something.

This was about to be a long night.

—

Chris couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this fucked out. It was like when he thought he had enough you’d pounce on him and when you thought you’d had enough he’d do the same to you. Until finally the two of you passed out with his arms wrapped around you and you buried into his chest.

He kissed your forehead, nuzzling your face with his nose. He felt content for the first time in a long time with you there. Like you were meant to be there in his arms. You’d barely gone to bed at four in the morning so it was no wonder you were still asleep at ten a.m.

When he realized the time, he groaned because he was so late. He reached for his phone seeing the tons of missed called. “Baby?” He shook you gently.

“Mmm,” you hummed as you finally peeked up at him. “Fuck, what time is it?”

“Ten thirty,” he answered.

“Fuck,” you groaned, but didn’t even attempt to move. “My managers gonna kill me.”

He grinned because you looked so cute half asleep. “Same.” He pecked your lips. “Good morning, though.”

“Good morning,” you replied saying fuck it in your head as you stayed where you were. You were too comfortable to move. 

“We should do this again sometime,” he said, tracing patterns into your skin.

“I’d like that,” you replied.

“You busy tomorrow?”

“I have some stuff to do in the morning, but I’m free after nine.”

“Perfect. How about a late dinner?”

You smiled. “Like a date?”

He chuckled. “Of course.” His phone went off right when he was about to kiss you and he groaned because as much as he’d prefer spending time with you, he did have obligations to get to. “Hello?”

“Chris!” His managers voice boomed. “Where the hell have you been! Have you seen Twitter today?”

“No, I just woke up,” he said with a frown on his face. You looked up at him noticing the change in his tone.

“Well, you’re trending. They posted the interview online and fans are going insane.”

“What?” He said. “Hold on let me look.”

It wasn’t just him trending on Twitter. So were you. Together. He shook you so you could look before clicking on the thread.

Damn Chris was looking at her like she was a whole meal.

And at that moment Chris Jamal Evans was ready to risk it all

He over here just eye fucking her

There were a lot. Plus, all the memes people had posted. He hadn’t realized he made it that obvious. You started giggling not being able to stop yourself as he scrolled. “Wait is that her? Is she there?” The faint voice of his manager came through the phone.

“I gotta call you back,” he said before hanging up. “I am so sorry.”

You were still laughing as you grabbed your own phone so you could read through more. “It’s okay. Just glad I didn’t make it obvious that I was doing the same.”

“I knew it!” He laughed before tickling your side.

You tried to push his hand away and all that lead to was a wrestling match where he pinned you down. “Daddy!” You squealed which again music to his ears.

You struggled against him until you finally broke your hand away so you could reach forward to grab at his dick that seemed to awaken immediately under your touch. “That’s cheating!” He protested with a laugh.

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“You better not start something you can’t finish.”

You smirked. “Oh, I can finish it.”

“You know, I can afford to take the day off,” he noted realizing he was not letting you out of this bed anytime soon.

“Me, too.”

He leaned forward capturing your lips with his. Not even caring about morning breath. Just needing to feel you. As he turned you over so he could fuck you from behind he realized that it was true. He was ready to risk it all for you.

And it was pretty funny to watch you laugh at all the memes afterwards.

[splendentgoddess]

Strangest thing just happened

So I had a private message from an Inuyasha fanart account I don’t follow, asking me (politely enough) to DELETE a reblog I did of their post, with no further information. 

I sent a slew of replies none of which got a response probably because they just aren’t online right now, so I was more or less talking to myself in the DM box as I asked them what the post was and said how that was a strange request but I would try to honor it, as I proceeded to look for the post when I had no idea what I was looking for.

Because my brainpower isn’t the best I initially went about it the stupid way, LOL, and just started scrolling through my own blog looking for their user name, which I didn’t immediately see even after going back three days, when I had assumed my reblog was probably just from last night, or ya know, more recent given they had just messaged me either last night or this morning.

Well long story long (ha) I finally got smart and looked at their blog page, in the hopes of finding the artwork in question (thank goodness I always also like the artwork I reblog, and so I knew I just needed to quick-scroll looking for a red heart) and then it turned out they didn’t have many posts at all and so it was easy for me to find. It was six days old, but I scrolled down to it in my own blog and deleted my reblog as requested.

This is the kicker, though. THEY USED A FUCK-TON OF TAGS. Like “Inuyasha fanart”, “Kagome Higurashi”, etc. (It was a rough sketch of Kagome.) I was trying to figure out how I’d even seen their post in the first place if I wasn’t following them and I directly reblogged them and so not a reblog of a reblog by somebody I follow. I had assumed it must’ve been that “Based on your likes” thing, only because I had assumed well surely if this person doesn’t want their artwork seen by strangers they won’t have used TAGS...but that assumption was incorrect.

Also too, their profile headers says DO NOT REBLOG OR REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION. But like...we don’t see profile headers when posts just appear on our dash? Unless we scroll over the user name, but I’m not checking everyone’s profiles prior to reblogging to make sure their profile header doesn’t say NO REBLOGS, hahaha. I mean, WTF?! No reposts, sure yes, duh, because that removes the OP, but this is my first real life encounter in the wild of that phenomenon where newbies apparently think reblogs are reposts. People (rightly) make fun of Twitter migrants for not getting how Tumblr works, and I was one of them...for like a day, but honestly, Tumblr is not that hard to figure out! And even I could understand that reblogs were like retweets and thus you’re just sharing somebody else’s original post, and everyone can see who the OP is. That’s obviously not the same thing as stealing artwork to repost it yourself. And if it’s just a silly unfinished WIP you only want to show your few followers, who know not to reblog it, uh...don’t use tags? 

So anyway, I won’t name names because I don’t want to drag the user, but just a heads-up, if you happen to come across a rough B&W computer sketch WIP of Kagome in various stages of doneness, that admits it’s a rough sketch and is not finished yet, DO NOT reblog it. 

[therealvalkyrie]

Through the Mirror: Part 1

my body, my music

Pairing/setting: Detective!Levi Ackerman x Female!Ghost!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls

Summary: When you’re murdered one Tuesday morning, can Levi piece together the true circumstances of your death with your help from beyond the grave?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dead body, descriptions of blood, swearing, mentions of violence

AN: Welcome to my new series because I have no self control and can’t finish projects before starting others! Lemme just start off by saying updates may come pretty irregularly because I do have a lot of other WIPs to work on, but! I’m really excited about this idea and have a whole lot planned:) I seriously hope you enjoy. After all, who doesn’t love a good murder mystery? Drop into my DMs/askbox/comments/reblogs to let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

“Ah, shit! Hello!? I’m standing right here!”

The woman completely ignores you, stepping carefully over the puddle of blood and across your tiny living room. You cross your arms and pout. She ignores that, too. 

“‘Scuse me, boys, let the experts take it from here,” she quips, gently pushing past the two detectives and crouching next to your body on the ground. 

It’s ugly, but she’s probably seen worse, you muse from where you’re leaning against the door jamb. It’s only been lying there for a couple of hours, so at least you haven’t bloated to something out of an NCIS episode. Must smell horrid, though, judging by the mask the head detective has pulled over his face.

“So, you said the landlady called at about 7 am?” the ME inquires, cocking her head up to look at the detectives, nylon gloved hands held at the ready.

“7:07 exactly. Said a neighbor made a noise complaint, she came up to check it out, found signs of a forced entry, and called us.” It’s the taller blonde who speaks up, reading from an off-brand pocket notepad in his left hand. The kind you’d find on sale at Staples after Back-to-School season.

Interesting. You lean your head against the wall, eyes trained on the trio. You’d pegged the ill-tempered shorter one as in charge. Maybe he’s just the quiet type. 

“Hmm, alright. Moblit, get off your ass and come take the pictures before we move her,” the woman calls to someone behind you, and you turn just in time to get a face full of Moblit’s chest as he walks towards you. 

You cringe back with a “God, seriously?” to no response.

“Yes, sorry, right away, Hange!” Moblit hurries past- no, through -you, sidestepping the ottoman and the blood. It feels weird, like a strong wind, but not altogether unpleasant to have someone walk through you, you suppose. You look down at your chest to watch your misty body re-settle into itself before looking back at the group in your living room.

Were it not for the gruesome accents of blood flecked up the walls and your body riddled with stab wounds, you’d chuckle at how all four of them struggled to navigate the space. It’s cramped enough when it’s just you, fitting only a couch, a chair, a coffee table, your fern (Boris), and a narrow IKEA bookshelf. With the four of them plus a dead body, it’s like watching a freaking clown car.

“Sorry, excuse me, Captain, oh, was that your toe—?” Moblit’s struggling the most, having to move to capture different angles with his bulky camera. When he steps on the shorter man’s toe, he positively blanches, fumbling over himself to apologize while the ME laughs openly.

“God, alright, just,” the Captain pinches his delicate nose between a thumb and forefinger, then decides it’s better to wait in the kitchen. “C’mon, Gin, let’s chat in there.”

The Captain and the blonde detective both pass through you on the way back to the kitchen, but you only sigh and shake the tingly feeling of being incorporeal out of your fingers before following them.

“So,” the man called Gin takes the initiative, flipping back through his notebook and standing by the fridge. “I got statements from the landlady and two of the neighbors, numbers 303 and 304 down the hall. 301, directly across the hall, didn’t answer, but I got contact info from the landlady.” He pauses to read and scratch at his whiskery beard. “It was 304 who made the noise complaint, said she heard yelling this morning at around 5:45, and that she normally wouldn’t’ve said anything but it was, quote, the fourth goddamn time this week and I work the goddamn night shift, I deserve some fucking rest, unquote.”

You grin. Mrs. Sheffield was never one to mince words, something you appreciated when your ex-boyfriend got too loud and she took it upon herself to give him a piece of her mind. You catch a glimmer of a smile on the ornery Captain’s face above where he’s pulled his mask down before he gestures for Gin to keep going, keeping his thoughtful gaze fixed on the floor and his back against your countertop.

“Then after she called the landlady, she went to bed, only to be woken by us two hours later.”

“You said she called the landlady at 5:45 and that she works the night shift?”

Gin double checks his notes. “That’s right.”

“And she works at the hospital?”

“Yes, as a scrub nurse on the night shift.”

“But the night shift at the hospital ends at 6:30.”

“It was her night off,” you and Gin say at the same time before you catch yourself. They can’t hear you, anyway. This’d be a lot easier if they could.

Gin plows ahead. “But she says she keeps the same sleep schedule so she doesn’t, ah, fuck up her circadian rhythm.”

The Captain practically snorts at this, itching for a second under his silk cravat (can someone say pretentious) before settling back into a listening silence.

“303 says he didn’t hear a thing. College kid, looked exhausted. Said he was asleep the whole night after he got in at,” a page flip, “11 o’clock last night. Wasn’t much help, but looked genuinely upset when we told him about the murder. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Oh, but he did, uh, hang on,” more page flips, “He did tell us that he heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. Which is consistent with what Mrs. Sheffield told us.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct into thin air. 

“A lover’s spat gone wrong, then,” Mr. Pretentious Captain muses. You huff in annoyance. A lover’s spat. If that’s all that this is written off as you’ll have some serious PD haunting to do. Chris may have been an angry, loud, disruptive manipulator, but he wouldn’t murder you. He didn’t murder you. “Any info on the whereabouts of the boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyf—!”

Blondie cuts you off, “Not currently, but we do have a name: Chris Henderson, works in admin down at the University. Lives across town closer to the Bridge.”

“Send some uniforms to bring him in for questioning. No arrests yet, tell ‘em to keep it friendly.”

“Right, I’ll put Dreyse and Bodt on it.”

“Dreyse, really?” Captain Cravat gives Gin an incredulous look. 

“Hey, she may look like a ditz but she gets the job done. And she might get him to let down his guard,” Gin argues, grinning. 

“Fine. I’ll meet them at the station, you stay here and make sure that mousy-haired dunce doesn’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ mousy-haired, short stack?” Hange actually sticks her whole head through yours this time, to butt into the conversation, and you shriek and jump away to the other side of your tiny kitchen, now sandwiched between Blondie and Shortstack. The latter twitches and swats at the air by his ear, as though to dislodge a fly, narrowly missing yours. You give him a weird look then turn back to listen to the ME. She’s leaning into the kitchen at an alarming angle, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the end of the gurney you assume is carrying your body. You shudder at the thought of being toted around in a dark, musty, humid glorified coat bag. Ugh. 

“—takin’ this baby”-she slaps the gurney twice and you flinch-“back so I can get started on the autopsy, Moblit’s staying to take more pictures and collect forensics. If Eld’s stayin’ here with Mob, does that mean you’re catching a ride with me, Levi?” The question is addressed to Captain Grump on your right, who gives a heavy sigh and pushes off the counter. 

“I guess so. I get to choose music though.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she’s wagging a finger, grinning. “My body, my music!”

“How about my body, my music?” you suggest, following Levi. “I deserve it after the day I’ve had.”

Again, Levi twitches and swats aggressively by his ear, nearly hitting you full in the face this time. 

“You hear that, Gin? This place got a mosquito problem or something?”

“I do not have a mosquito problem!” and “No, sir, I don’t hear anything.” overlap in the air. 

Captain Levi only grunts, then starts spouting instructions, which Gin notes down. “I want footage from any cameras in the building, and from the shops next door and across the street. I want statements from residents both upstairs and downstairs. I want names, addresses, and numbers of next of kin on my desk by noon, and lastly, I want no one, save for myself, you, shitty glasses, and mousy-hair, in or out of this apartment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. I’m leaving you Braus to help and to show her the ropes of this kind of thing. Even though she’s on the case, she will not set foot in this apartment. I don’t trust her not to leave breadcrumbs in the bloodstains.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect an in-person report before shift-change this evening. See you then.” Then, he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in pursuit of Hange and the gurney, leaving you to scurry after. As you exit your home, he shoots a young auburn-haired woman in a crisp white blouse and wool slacks a look. “Braus. You’re with Gin. Don’t go in the apartment.”

She straightens up from leaning against the wall with a jolt and brushes croissant crumbs off her front. “Yes, Captain Levi, sir!” It’s slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed into her mouth.

“Tch.”

It’s fascinating watching how Levi and Hange manage to navigate the gurney down the narrow, twisting stairs of your walk-up apartment building. They’re both clearly used to this sort of thing, communicating only in short phrases and grunts when they encounter an obstacle. Occasionally, you offer up a pointer and watch as Levi becomes increasingly irritated. 

“Watch out for Mr. Laslow’s cat, he likes to sneak up on ya!”

“Hange, do you hear— shit!” Levi hops to the side, narrowly avoiding the tabby tail as Tubbins McGee whisks past.

“It’s only a cat, Levi, dunno what’s got you so worked up today,” Hange teases, grin echoing your own as you chortle from the landing above them. 

Eventually, they spill out onto the sidewalk and into the bright mid-day, and Hange groans loudly, stretching with both hands on her back.

“Ugh. Remind me not to die in there, I’d hate to put someone else through that.”

“Boof, tell me about it,” you commiserate. 

“Noted,” Levi snarks. 

Hange removes jingling keys from her pocket and unlocks the ME’s van parked along the sidewalk with a beep, then opens the back doors and steps in. You follow, leaning against the cool metal siding to watch.

When they both load into the front seats and the engine turns over, you lean forward between them to listen in.

“So,” Hange starts, smoothly pulling out into the road behind a silver minivan. “I’ll be able to give you a more solid answer in a couple hours, but my initial estimated time of death would be around 5:45 this morning.”

Levi nods, staring out the passenger window while he answers. “That lines up with the neighbor’s story.”

“Theories so far?”

“Well, there’s the boyfriend,” he muses, lifting a hand to rub his chin.

“Too obvious,” you say dully, not bothering to amend the lack of “ex” yet again. “Next theory.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutter, almost too quietly for you to catch: “Too obvious, hmm? Next theory....”

You’re momentarily flabbergasted, hand falling through the faux-leather seat back in your shock. Can he actually hear you? You shake out your hand while it re-materializes, tuning in to the conversation as Hange’s responding. 

“—a little far-fetched, don’t you think? I mean, has there been any of that activity in this area recently?”

“Mm, I’ll have to touch base with Petra. If there has been, I think it’s worth looking into.”

“What is? Wait, go back,” you frantically plead, leaning further into his airspace. But Hange plows on. 

“Oh, it’s Petra, now, hmm? Not Raggedy Anne anymore?” Her tone is teasing, and she glances over to Levi for a reaction. 

He doesn’t give her one, just stares out the window pensively before reaching for the radio dial. The stereo blares up into an Oldies station, and you make a disgusted face along with Levi. 

“You listen to this shit?”

“Hey, my dead body, my music, sweetcheeks. Don’t like it, you can thumb it back to the PD.”

“How about my dead body, my music?” you suggest again, reaching for the dial at the same time as Levi does. Just as his slender fingers touch it, your hand passes through the whole front console and the oldies are replaced with a terrifyingly loud static screeching. 

“Christ, Levi, what’d you do?” Hange shrieks, lunging forward to punch the radio off as you remove your hand. 

“Nothing! It just went berserk!”

They bicker while you stare at your offending palm. “Huh. Didn’t know I could do that.”

If you can actually interact with objects, at least to some degree, and if it turns out Levi can hear you.... This whole thing might be easier than you thought.

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Welcome Home (Part One)

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: After not speaking to her brothers for over a year, Peyton Rhodes’ life is turned upside down when her boyfriend of four years cheats on her. She uproots her life with WWE and returns home to Atlanta. She finds herself among great friends and she is finding herself again after being lost for so long.

WORD COUNT: 2,624 (well shit). 

Pairings: Cody Rhodes x OFC (Sister), Brandi Rhodes x OFC (sister), Dustin Rhodes x OFC (Sister), past Seth Rollins x OFC, future Kenny Omega x OFC (maybe?), MJFx OFC( maybe?) Could end up being Matt Jackson x OFC (who knows) let the writing gods surprise us.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentioned cheating, possible future smut (Warnings are subject to change as I continue writing and will be updated as needed).

A/N: This has been a WIP for over a year now. This will be multiple parts. It will be a slow burn. (MAYBE) I’m a sucker for the friends to lovers trope. Please do not think that this reflects my feels toward a certain wrestler (Seth). This story is strictly fiction. I do not own any of the characters except for my OFC(s). Please, please, please, give me feedback. I’m slowly working myself back into the fanfic world. <3

“Cody was right.” I cried as soon as my brother’s wife answered the phone. I hadn’t spoken to my brothers since they left WWE. Cody was upset that I wouldn’t leave with him. Brandi was my way of communication with them. She’d call at least twice a week. This week was different. 

“I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win over Finn and they were,” I sniffled, hurt coming over me again. “It was Mandy. I thought she was my friend.” I explained to my sister in law.

“Pey, I am so sorry. Please come home. You know AEW has a spot for you whenever you want it.” Brandi offered. It was the same thing she said to me every week, but now I’m ready. 

“I just don’t know why.” I cried. “I was the perfect girlfriend. I basically put my career on hold for him. I thought he was, I thought he was it for me.” Brandi had said that they were going to be home for Cody’s birthday in a few weeks and invited me to come to the party. 

“I’ll talk to Hunter.” I choked out. 

Luckily, my contract was almost up and as soon as Vince heard I didn’t want to re-sign, he settled for my release. We didn’t have the best relationship, but Hunter advocated for me stating that it was best for the company as well as myself. He knew the situation and didn’t blame me for wanting to go.

I knew I had to go back one day. I just never thought it would be this soon. I parked my car in the drive. I could hear Pharaoh announcing my arrival before I could make it to the door. I made my way up the sidewalk to the porch. I took a deep breath and knocked. 

Brandi opened the door immediately. “Well I'll be damned.” She said, “I can’t believe you came!” I smiled, embracing my brother’s wife. 

“Like I would miss my big brother’s 35th birthday.” I lied and she knew it. If Seth hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t be here. 

Brandi led me inside where there were some guests who had gathered in the foyer. Brandi introduced me quickly, leading me through to Cody. “Hey, babe. Your surprise is here.” Cody, who was standing by the fireplace, talking to Dustin, turned and saw me. 

Awkwardly, I raised a hand to wave. “Hi.” I whispered. Cody sat down his drink and walked over to me. I expected him to cuss and yell, but instead, he threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly. 

“Peyton, I'm so happy you’re here.” He whispered. Dustin came up behind him. 

“Long time, no see sis. You know, they invented this thing called a phone. You should look into it. Call your big brothers sometime.” Dustin fussed before hugging me too. 

“It is really good to see you guys.” I tried to hold back the tears, but some escaped anyway. “How have you been? AEW has really taken off huh?” I said making small talk.

Cody nodded, “Yeah, I have the best business partners. I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Looking at my brother, he was truly happy. WWE had given him a few more stress lines, but seeing him now, you couldn’t tell. 

He grabbed my hand, pulling me to follow him. He led me to Matt and Nick Jackson, standing with Kenny Omega and Adam Page. “Guys! Guys! Look who decided to show her face.” Cody beamed, smiling big. The four guys waved. 

“Finally! We get to meet the prodigal sister.” Kenny Omega spoke first. 

“Peyton, these are the guys.” Cody pointed to each of them. “Matt. Nick. Kenny. Adam.” 

“Nice to meet y’all finally. I watch your show every week. You are all very talented.” They all mumbled a “thank you” in tandem. 

The rest of the evening went by smoothly. We all sat and talked. Getting to know The Elite was amazing. It was almost as if I hadn’t been AWOL for a year and a half.  When the party was over, I was helping Brandi clean up. 

“Pey, you don’t have to help. You’re a guest.” She said, grabbing the glasses from my hands. I shook my head.

“I’m family. And family helps.” I smiled, taking the glasses back and continued to the kitchen. Cody walked in behind me with plates. 

“Hey,” he started, “Thank you for coming.” He finished, placing the plates in the dishwasher. I added my glasses. 

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out, turning to face him. Cody looked at me, confused. “I should have left with you. You were right about that place. My career, my relationship, everything, became a shitshow after you left.” tears began to fall. 

“Pey, it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here now.” Cody wiped the tears away. 

“Code. I lost my title. Seth cheated on me, and I barely got any TV time.” Cody scoffed. He never liked Seth.

“He cheated on you?” Cody growled, and paced around the room. 

I nodded, “I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win one night and they were,” I sniffled, explaining to Cody. “I don’t know why.” I cried. “And then I lost my title, and then stopped getting TV time, unless I was on Seth’s arm.” I darted my eyes to the ground. “We still had to work together. After everything, I had to pretend like we were the perfect couple, until my last appearance.” Cody pulled me into a tight hug. 

“I pissed a lot of people off with the way I left. I’m so sorry that affected you.” he whispered into my hair, like it was his fault. 

“I don’t blame you, Code. I was granted my release.” I mumbled into his chest. He pulled back. 

“What?” His eyes were wide. 

“I asked for my release and Hunter pushed it through. I’ll be a free agent in 90 days” I explained. Cody smiled like a Cheshire cat.  

“Babe! Dustin! Get in here!” Cody yelled, startling me. The both of them came running, looking for an emergency, but they only saw Cody pouring champagne for a toast. Confused looks covered their faces. 

Cody gave everyone a flute and started a toast. “To our baby sister, the newest AEW superstar.” Brandi squealed and hugged me tight. The guys joined in. 

I was finally home. 

It was hard, walking away from my life in WWE; However, finding my place within the Elite was easy. Especially with Kenny Omega. He quickly became one of my closest friends. The next 3 months were the best of my life. The break from wrestling gave my body and my heart time to heal. Everyone did their best to hide that I was coming to AEW, even leaving fake trails that I was going back to NJPW.

After working out the details of my contract, I was officially signed with AEW. Cody wanted me to make a surprise entrance, interrupt one of his segments. Creative loved the idea of brother and sister reuniting, but they wanted to make it interesting. When my debut date came, I couldn’t have been any more nervous.

Sitting in catering, I was alone, lost in thought, picking at my food. It had been a long journey here, but they made it. AEW came to life and it was thriving. Double or nothing had passed, and that meant tonight was Dynamite.

“Guess who?” Someone had snuck up on me, covering my eyes. I smiled because I knew exactly who it was.

“Hmm, Prince Charming?” I guessed quickly. Kenny placed a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Close, but better.” He said uncovering my eyes. “Hey, princess. Just thought I’d come save you from your thoughts. What’s going on in that head of yours right now?” he asked, knowing I’ll tell him, taking the seat next to me. 

I sighed, rubbing my face. “I was thinking about my journey, how I got here.” Kenny nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I was thinking about how I get to see Jon again, since leaving WWE, and I was thinking about Seth.” I finally spit it out. Seth, his name leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

“I knew something was bothering you. Talk to me, doll.”

“I was scrolling through Insta earlier. He’s engaged. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. Not because I still have feelings for him, but because she is, was, my friend, and I don’t want him to do to her what he did to me.” I explained to him.

“That’s understandable, Pey, but people gotta make their own mistakes. Mandy knows what he did to you and she still said yes, so that’s on her.” Kenny said, ever the voice of reason.

I nodded in agreement with him, knowing he was right. I needed to focus on my new path, my new future.

“Peyton!” Cody called from a distance, Brandi following him. It was time.

Cody stood, center ring, proudly. He had won the TNT title at Double or Nothing. He went on about how he was issuing an open challenge every Wednesday.

I stood nervously behind the curtain, waiting for my cue. I was about to make my debut. My life has been a little crazy since I left WWE behind, but definitely for the better. 

As an avid Fall Out Boy fan, I had struck a deal to have my favorite song as my entrance music. I had been using it for most of my career. The music hit, the crowd went crazy. “Holy Hell, that music can only mean one person. The sister of the American Nightmare. That’s Peyton Rhodes!” JR yelled into his mic as I strolled down the ramp, ignoring the crowd. “Peyton” chants filled the arena as I made my way to the squared circle. 

“Peyton Rhodes has joined  AEW and the crowd couldn’t be happier,” Excalibur added. I walked around the ring to the time keeper, grabbing a mic from Justin, and strolled on toward the ring. 

The music cut, and Cody was first to speak. "Oh yeah. I guess we didn't announce this but Peyton Rhodes is AEW!" The crowd screamed at Cody's news, chanting "AEW". 

I soaked in the cheers because I knew it was all about to change. I had been a face for most of my pro-wrestling career, and now I finally get to pursue the heel turn my fans had been begging for. I took in a deep breath and adjusted my leather jacket. 

“Oh, Atlanta, shut the hell up!” I groaned into the mic. I revelled in the audible gasp that could be heard. “That’s right. No more sweet ‘Georgia peach’ Peyton Rhodes. I came to AEW to raise hell, and that’s what I’m going to do.” I wandered around the ring, stopping in front of a camera. “I’m sick and tired of wanting your approval. I’m here to get what I want. And I want it all.” I punctuated as I looked dead into the camera.

“Hear that big brother,” I turned and faced Cody, “Hell just arrived in AEW I hope you’re ready.” I gestured to the crowd, “I hope you’re all ready, because if you thought Cody was a nightmare, wait til you see me, the Dream Killer.” I dropped the mic, and rolled out of the ring. The crowd loved it. “Dream Killer” chants echoed in my ears all the way backstage. 

I was greeted by Dustin, Brandi, and Kenny. “That was perfect, Pey, they loved it.” Kenny said as soon as I was in sight. I grinned, running up to him, jumping into his arms for a hug. 

“The crowd loved you. They’ve been hoping for this heel turn since your WWE debut.” Cody said, smiling from ear to ear as he returned to the back after finishing his promo.

“For real, Pey! You pull off the ‘heel’ thing. I can’t wait to work on your wardrobe!” Brandi squealed, embracing me in a dancing hug. “Just think about the shoes, Pey, the shoes.” Brandi was way more excited about the outfits than the actual turn. She had helped me pick the one I was wearing. Black jean shorts, a front-zip black and white crop top, leather jacket, and black boots. 

“I can’t wait to see where this takes me.” I said before we were joined by the rest of The Elite.  

Nick was the first to speak. “Not bad, Rhodes. You might be a better heel than your brother here.” He elbowed Cody in the ribs.

Matt nodded in agreement, “For real Peyton, the crowd was so hyped for that turn.” He said with a soft smile, bringing me in for a quick hug. 

I turned to face everyone. “Thanks guys. All of you. You gave me this chance.” I thanked them, “I promise I won’t let you down.” 

“You’re a great addition to the AEW family.” Adam complimented, “Come on Ken, we got a match to get ready for.” he said before walking away. Kenny gave me one last hug before following him.

Cody and Brandi also parted as she had a segment coming up, leaving me with the Young Bucks. “Come on, Pey, lets celebrate!” We had walked back to catering where some more of the AEW stars were waiting. In the back, I spotted the one person I couldn’t wait to see again. I told The Bucks I’d catch up with them. 

“Jon!” I screamed, almost running to him. When he saw me rushing toward him, he opened his arms, inviting me in for a hug. Hugging him was a blast from the past. 

“Peyton fucking Rhodes. I heard rumors you were coming. Sweetheart, you knocked them dead.” He spoke into my hair. I gave him one more tight squeeze before pulling away. “Well, you look great.” He said, gesturing to my outfit. 

“I’m heel now. Finally.” I boasted. I’ve been waiting for this for the longest time and no one was taking it away from me. Jon and I talked, catching up. I asked about Renee and he lit up. He was happy and that’s all I wanted for him. He was finally able to be the fighting champion everyone knew he could be. 

“What about Seth? What happened? The last time I spoke to him, he said you guys were happy and he had bought a ring.” Jon asked, and it knocked the breath out of me. I knew he would ask, but I wasn’t expecting him to mention a ring. 

“He cheated on me. With Mandy. They’re engaged now.” I said without choking up, which was a good sign. I could see the disappointment well up in Jon’s eyes. 

“You were always too good for him.” I knew he and Seth were still good friends, but I appreciated the words nonetheless. Jon gave me one last hug before he got called away for his match, leaving me alone in catering again. 

I found a table close to a TV so I could watch the end of Kenny and Adam’s match. They were well on their way to becoming tag team champions. I started thinking about what Jon had said about Seth, about him buying a ring. I couldn’t believe it. He was going to ask me to marry him and I would have said yes, had I not found him with Mandy. I was pulled from my thoughts by my phone vibrating. It was Seth. 

I saw your debut. 

You look good. 

You’re gonna be a great heel.

I miss you. 

I wish you would talk to me and let me explain. 

I read and reread the messages a hundred times before replying. 

Okay, Seth. When and where?

[chayscribbles-archive]

muddy roads and foxgloves ❃ a writing excerpt

here’s a fun little scene i wrote that i could very conceivably use as a “cold open” for one of my episodes! i’m not sure exactly where i’ll end up putting it, but it’ll probably be somewhere in the second half of the series, once the team has loosened up around each other.

words: 500

wip intro ❃ wip page

The relative silence of the car was broken by a long and loud yawn from the backseat.

“Good afternoon,” Petra called back from the passenger’s seat as Valyan blinked open their eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Afternoon?” Valyan echoed groggily.

“You’ve been out ever since we got into the car this morning,” Petra informed them. “I told you, you shouldn’t have been up so late.”

“That was Azami’s fault,” they protested, stretching their arms across the seat.

Next to them, Azami pushed their hand out of her face. “You’re the one who wanted to teach me how to make bracelets out of Twinkle Tart wrappers,” she accused.

“And you agreed,” Valyan mumbled, struggling to sit upright. “Anyway, I had the wildest dream. We were in some sort of apocalypse.”

“That’s nice,” Petra said absently.

“There were these evil plants that were taking over the world,” Valyan continued, “and this whole trip was some sort of quest to figure out what was causing it." 

"I think you ate too many Twinkle Tarts last night.”

Valyan reached forward to smack their sister’s arm. She moved out of the way at the last minute, and their hand hit the side of the seat instead.

“Petra’s right,” Finneas inserted without taking his eyes off the road. “You’ve got it all wrong. We’re not just on this trip to find out what’s causing the apocalypse; we’re trying to stop it.”

Valyan stared at his reflection in the side mirror, bewildered. His expression was inscrutable, and through the brain fog clouding their head, they couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Wh… what?” they managed. 

“You really messed yourself up last night, huh?” he scoffed. “We’re going to Thiu Thô to find heppla because your sister thinks it’s the key to stopping the Curse.”

“The… Curse?” Valyan repeated, frowning.

“How many of those things did you eat? Yeah, the Curse. That’s what we’ve been calling it.”

“There’s a whole government conspiracy,” Azami piped up. “My dad is involved in some scheme to revive heppla trade and it went horribly wrong.”

Finneas caught Azami’s eye in the rearview mirror and gave her a subtle nod of approval before adding, “That’s why we’re the ones doing this. Can’t trust the government for shit these days.”

“Oh,” Valyan said, scratching their head. “I think I’m starting to remember now. The evil plants can infect people, right?”

“Yeah,” Finneas confirmed.

“It’s super scary,” Azami added with a shudder. “And it spreads like a disease. Right, Petra?”

Taken off guard at having been dragged into this against her will, Petra sputtered, “Um, uh—”

One look at Petra was all it took for Valyan to fully snap awake and put the pieces together. They scowled. “Oh, okay, I see,” they said sourly. “You’re all fucking with me. I hope you had fun.”

“Petra!” Azami wailed, while Finneas finally burst into snickers. “You ruined everything!”

Valyan crossed their arms with a pout. “I would’ve figured it out anyway.”

"I know,” Finneas said with a smirk, “but this was more fun.”

final note: if you’ve been following this wip from the very beginning you’ll get the meta references ;)

thanks for reading! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 💕

[thelittlefanpire]

100 days of writing // day 3

thanks to @the-wip-project for putting this idea together and @kinetic-elaboration for always sharing her writing thoughts on tumblr. tagging @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold and @hopskipaway as well. (please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in these posts, feel free to interact and reblog, and tag me in your posts as well, mutuals!)

I talked briefly about my characters’ motivations in the post before, but today I wanted to work on expanding and fleshing out those characters a little more. Because I’m a vibes writer, my character development and plot can be lacking I think sometimes.

Aside from physical descriptions, because this is a Fantasy with lots of mythical creatures, I really wanted to dig in and find what was going to make these characters come alive.

That boils down to mannerisms, and little details of the way they sit, the they take their tea, and how they react in the certain situations I’m going to put them through. Backstories and things that might not make it into the fic but I need just that they can exist in the story I tell. Which I felt good about my MC, it was really just two of the other mains that I didn’t have a clear picture of. And I think that’s due to the nature of the creatures I’m shaping them to be.

So last night I did put on one of the movies this fic is inspired by. Realized my worldbuilding and history doesn’t match up exactly to the movie. Which is fine!! It’s a weird crossover fusion au anyway! But still. I needed to get a clear picture of what I wanted to write. I didn’t get far enough into all the different creatures, and honestly, I probably need to do more reading research.

Then I went for a walk today and pretty much went through the whole story from start to finish in my head. I love it. I think it’s great. But...Please let me know if you do this too...Sometimes I’m not sure if I should go through the whole story like that. Even as the writer, I need there to be surprises and things for me to discover (which I’m sure there will be! but still) or else I lack the motivation to actually write it! If you are like me, it’s good to remember that it’s fine to tell yourself stories, but if you want others in on it then...you know...you gotta write it down!

I feel like my next step is to put some words on the page! *gasp* But tomorrow I start my vacation. typical.

[toastedbuckwheat]

Hello! May I ask how you draw? I'm currently learning how to myself and would be highly interested into a step to step process by you! Like from sketch to the done thing (no color necessary)

Hello there!

I dunno how I feel about showing how I work/giving advice to someone who’s learning (and I say it as a pro artist who went through years of traditional art education) because when I do the illustrations you see here on my tumblr I BREAK THE RULES you’d learn though life drawing routine, and give in to bad habits, and my methods are rather unplanned and chaotic which makes it difficult to pinpoint significant stages. But I used my portable potato to take some photos during working on my last piece, so I’ll throw it here with a bit of an explanation of what’s going on.

Before I begin - and because you’re about to look at a mess of a WIP - I’d like to give you some general advice that generally makes life easier when you draw (again, things that I learned in traditional arts education - another artist might advise you the complete opposite, dunno!)

Work holistically. Forget them satisfying-to-look-at clips on instagram showing someone produce a hyperrealistic portrait starting from an eye, with each and every element emerging being finished before they proceed to another part. It takes a lot of talent, yes, but these are ppl redrawing a photo in a kind of a mechanical manner. Most artists don’t work this way. Especially if you’re working without a reference, or if you’re doing a life drawing - your process will be layering and changing and finding what works best to give an impression of what you’re drawing rather than reproduce the exact image, and your artwork is likely to look messy most of the time.That said: don’t start with the details. Don’t spend too much time on a particular part while neglecting others. Your goal is to keep the whole piece at the same level of ‘finished’ (even though it’s unfinished - do I make sense?) before you’re confident that everything is where it should be and proceed to the details. So sketch out the composition first. See how things fit, what’s the dynamics. You’ll save yourself from limbs sticking out from the frame, odd proportions etc etc.

Because it’s a game of relationships between different parts of the picture/scene. I ask you not to worry about finishing a single element before laying out the rest because you’ll find that said element will look different once the other part appears! For instance - you might think that the colour you picked for a character’s hair is already very dark. But once you’re done with the night sky background, you’ll find that it’s in fact too light, and doesn’t work well with the cold palette. You’ll have to revisit different parts of the image as you go to balance these relationships and make the picture work as a whole.

Give an impression of something being there without actually drawing it ‘properly’- because details are hard, mate. You’ll see that my lineart usually has hardly any, and my colouring is large unrefined stains, but the finished thing looks convincing. Like, fuck, I can never focus on how Crowley’s eyes are really shaped. So I just turn them into large glowing yellow ellipses crossed by a line, and heard no protests so far.

Don’t panic if you messed up (you probably didn’t anyway). It might turn out to be a completely unnoticeable mistake - because, remember, things work together to balance each other, so another finished off prominent element will probably drown that badly placed line that looked so visible and out of place a second ago. 

It might not look good before it’s finished. I’m mostly immune to it after years of drawing, and my recent illustrations all follow a specific method (ykno, my sunset glow effects and all that) so I can kinda predict the next stage. But I do my linearts on a specially picked crap paper, I don’t bother erasing the smudged graphite, and it looks messy af until I make the background white in Photoshop. Conclusion: you might have a moment of doubt as you work through a piece, but try to break through it - I often suddenly start to like what I cursed a minute before! - and try to finish it even if it’s meant to be bad. This way, looking through your past pieces, you’ll see the progress. And trust me, I can’t even look at my art from literally three months ago. It’s normal.

Now, pics! The sketches are paler in real life, but I increased the contrast a little so you can see something.

1. Laying out the composition! 

I wanted to just show them kissing, but I got carried away due to some Art Nouveau inspiration. As you might have noticed, most of my illustrations are quite self-contained (ykno - they look like a sticker on a plain background). So I wanted a tight swirl bordered by Aziraphale’s wings creating a sort of rounded, yin-yang like bubble around them. Consequently I made the whole composition revolve around their heads. 

2. Adding more details to the sketch. It’s messy af. It will be messy until I’m done. It’s fine.

3. These are the fineliners I use for the linearts! They are made by Uni-ball and come in light and dark grey. I also sometimes use the guy on the left - ‘Touch’ sign pen by Pentel, when I want more brush-like, wider strokes. I work in grey because when I scan it and do my usual boring trick with sunlight highlights - which is an Overlay mode layer in Photoshop - the highlights ‘burn out’ the lines too and make them vanish a little, and the lighting effect gets more striking. I also like to use the light grey ones to make something look pencil-y without actually using pencil, because pencil fucking smudges.

4. It smudges! So because I am right handed, I start inking from the right hand side, no matter how tempted I am to do their faces first.

5. You can see the composition directions here. I made it intuitively, but ofc some ppl actually use grids etc to lay out their drawings.

6. See how pale ans thin the lineart was at first? I kept adjusting it as new inked parts were appearing. It starts to look nice and consistent now! 

7. Finished lineart? There are some mistakes which I later corrected in PS. Notice that Aziraphale’s face has hardly any details on it - I tried to make the drawing suggest his expression rather than risk overdoing it. 

8. Photoshop time!! You can totally do what I did here even if you don’t have a graphic tablet. I used Curves tool to enhance the lineart, then Quick Selection Tool to select the background around around my sticker-like piece and filled it white (on a new layer ofc). I keep this white layer on top of the layer order so it works as a mask as I colour. I decided I did not like the hatching shading underneath Aziraphale’s halo, so I erased it with a Stamp tool (because I wanna keep the textured grey fill my crap paper naturally gives me!). It’s done roughly but won’t be visible once the thing is coloured. 

9. And the reason why I keep the grey shade instead of easily getting rid of it by using Curves/Levels is because when I set this layer to Multiply mode and colour underneath, it gives me this nice desaturated look like from an old cheap paper comic page. It works as a natural filter! But of course I can’t do bright colours this way, so all my glowing highlights happen ABOVE the lineart layer - on a separate layer in Overlay mode! 

Finished thing here!

_____

Commission infoBuy Me a Coffee - help me with my transitioning expenses!Prints and stickers and things on my Redbubble!

[oliviaischillin1204]

i can’t hear you

Pairings: Platonic Analogical

Word Count: 1,994 words

i had my first training course for my new job today and i spent about an hour writing this wip in my head instead. anyways smash that mf like button

also maybe warning for more intense tickles toward the end? i don’t really think it’s that bad tbh but if you have super ticklish feet u may wanna proceed w caution

It was a game they played. Logan knew that. He knew all of the signs: Virgil coming into his room late at night, his headphones casually slung around his neck. He’d sit on the end of Logan’s bed awhile, looking around the organized yet cluttered room. Logan would acknowledge his presence, but would keep his attention on whatever book he was reading that night. The room would fall silent, and then Virgil-- amazing Virgil, evil Virgil-- would put on his headphones.

That was how the game always started. Logan knew that. But it still didn’t make the fluttering feeling in his stomach go away.

He huffed a sigh, a small smile already curling on his lips. Virgil didn’t respond or even react: his attention was (allegedly) completely on his phone as he scrolled through his Spotify. Logan watched him in anticipation for a few seconds before slowly marking his page and setting the book on his bedside table, folding his hands in his lap.

As soon as he did that-- as if Virgil has been waiting for him-- the anxious side made a satisfied noise as he selected a playlist. He tapped play and set his phone to the side, and spent the next minute or so merely bopping his head to the music. His fingers would tap little rhythms on his thighs, then on the mattress, then on the top of Logan’s ankles. It was just enough to make the logical side squirm, watching the gradual movements with a building wariness.

Without warning, Virgil wrapped an arm around both of Logan’s ankles, hiking them up so he could hold them between his arm and his torso. The sudden motion yanked Logan down the bed.

“Oh goodness--!”

The exclamation slipped out before Logan could stop it, and he’s sure Virgil would be laughing at him if he heard it. Luckily for Logan, there was no way Virgil could hear him over the music in his headphones; it was so loud, Logan could hear its tinny sound in the otherwise silent room.

Well. Relatively silent. Because as soon as Virgil got Logan’s legs firmly trapped under his arm, his nails began dancing against the balls of his feet, and Logan fell into startled giggles.

“Nohoho,” he mumbled through his laughter, dropping his face into his hands. His feet twitched involuntarily, but other than that he made no move to pull away from Virgil’s tickling fingers. That was how the game went.

Virgil slowly slid his fingers down Logan’s soles until they were toying at his arches, easily reaching both feet at once with his one free hand. He glided his nails down the wrinkles and lines of Logan’s feet, causing him to curl his toes with a strangled whimper.

“Please,” Logan started to beg before stopping himself. One of the worst (read: best) parts of the game for him was the total silence his reactions were met with. Virgil was blissfully unaware of the noises Logan made when they played this game. But Logan knew. Every squeak, squeal, titter, and giggle that escaped his lips seemed to echo around his room before being thrown right back into his face. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ashamed of his laughter; it was really just the knowledge that Virgil was completely taking him apart without even listening to his pleas for mercy, leaving him to fall into helpless laughter in isolation, that Logan found so utterly embarrassing. And so utterly delightful.

Meanwhile, Virgil seemingly decided that he’d paid enough attention to Logan’s arches, because his fingers suddenly switched positions, choosing instead to scritch-scratch right against Logan’s heels. Logan yelped at the unexpected change, and to his distress a stray snort or two began escaping in his laughter. He hid his face in his hands again, somewhat grateful that Virgil hadn’t heard those particular noises. The taunting that would’ve resulted from them would almost be unbearable.

Virgil began humming along with his music, some nonsense tune that Logan couldn’t identify when he was so throughly distracted, but in his hypersensitive state the wordless melody began to sound like a tease itself, the rise and fall of Virgil’s voice as his fingers expertly circled and skittered all over his heels causing even more butterflies to flutter around in Logan’s stomach.

He wasn’t expecting for Virgil to suddenly jab his thumb into the middle of his sole, throughly massaging the sensitive spot while his other four fingers still managed to mercilessly attack his heels. Logan gasped, snorted, and broke into louder laughter in rapid succession, and his arms wrapped around his torso as he upgraded from giggles to full on cackles.

Virgil went back and forth for a while, choosing seemingly random (yet completely evil) spots to torture with harder tickles while the surrounding skin got gentle, teasy tickles. Logan took deep breaths to avoid getting the hiccups (like last time-- Virgil had laughed himself to tears when Logan couldn’t stop even after the game was finished), but all he succeeded in was making his laughter louder and louder.

Then Virgil abruptly stopped the hard tickles. Logan, foolishly, felt grateful for about half a second, until he felt Virgil begin to spider his nails back up his soles. Towards the balls of his feet. Towards--

“Ah-hahahahaha! Virgihihil!”

The words came out traitorously high pitched, almost a squeal, and he felt his face flush hot at the sound of his panicked voice against the soft quiet of his bedroom. 

To his surprise, Virgil froze for a moment, his fingers resting right underneath Logan’s deathspot. Logan watched his back in a mix of confusion and sheepishness-- he didn’t want the game to end already, but he certainly didn’t want to say that.

Virgil didn’t turn around, though, and he didn’t let go of Logan’s feet. Instead, Logan watched with a growing nervousness as Virgil’s free arm moved to the side, picked up his phone, and quickly hit the volume button several times. The barely-audible music from his headphones grew louder, and he dropped the phone back on the bed with a satisfied nod before turning all of his attention back to Logan’s feet.

Logan blanched, especially when Virgil’s fingers started moving again, skittering back and forth across the balls of his feet, but with a greater intention. Like he was purposefully building up to something. Logan’s stomach swooped.

“Virgihihil--”

No response. 

“Virgil, wahahahahait!”

Nothing. In fact, Logan thought Virgil might’ve picked up the pace, darting from spot to spot and giving little pinches to the soft skin. Each touch had Logan jumping, shocked noises escaping among his growing giggles.

“No, nohoho-- not there! Wait--!”

Virgil didn’t wait. His fingers shot down to spider at his arches once more, before they began slowly making their way up, up, up.

“Vihi-- Virgil, Virgil, noho--”

Logan was red faced and teary eyed and grinning so wide he felt like his face would split. And Virgil wasn’t stopping.

“No!”

But Virgil did not hear him, and finally, his fingers dove in to scratch and squeeze and tickle in between every single one of Logan’s ticklish, helpless toes.

Logan bucked and screamed, his hands tangling in his bedsheets as he finally fought to pull his legs back. His head kept alternating between falling back to his headboard and falling forward as he curled in on himself, but neither position gained him any relief. He just had to sit there, feet utterly trapped and pleas completely ignored, as Virgil tickled underneath all ten of his ticklish little toes.

He tried to look for a pattern, anything that would lessen the horrible unpredictability of the tortorous sensations, but Virgil didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason to his tickles. A pinch at his pinky toe, then his nails would spider across all of his toe pads before coming to rest at the middle toe of his other foot, scratching up and down the stem before poking his way back to the other side. All of his toe tickles were interspersed with quick, random tickles to the balls of Logan’s feet, keeping him frantically guessing when the tickles would switch between very bad to even worse.

To say Logan was loosing his composure was an understatement. He wheezed with laughter when the nail of Virgil’s index finger throughly attacked the spot right underneath his big toe, or when his thumb suddenly corkscrewed in between his pinky and ring toes. He bounced on the bed, his hands desperately clawing at the bed sheets and at the hem of his shirt and at his hair, anything to distract himself from the awful ticklish torture he was suffering on his feet.

At one point Virgil hit a certain spot on the ball of his foot, and Logan cried out in ticklish ecstasy, yanking his foot back as hard as he could. It went nowhere, of course, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Because Virgil, to Logan’s horror, suddenly grabbed both of his big toes, pulling them back and stretching out his entire foot.

Logan gasped. He gave an experimental wiggle, only to find that he could not only not move his feet, but he could no longer curl any of his toes at all. Their precious, sensitive undersides were exposed to the entire world-- and more importantly, to Virgil.

The next second felt like it happened in slow motion: Logan’s eyes darted from his feet to Virgil’s index finger, which wiggled menancingly in the air inches from hit feet. He screamed wordlessly, desperate babbles as he continued to yank against Virgil’s hold, but in the end, there was absolutely nothing he could do to keep Virgil from tickling that one spot, right at the bottom of the space between Logan’s first and second toe, scratching his nail with a nightmarish precision at Logan’s absolute death spot.

It was game over.

Logan shrieked, a sharp, piercing sound that he would absolutely go to his grave before admitting he made. He launched forward, clutching the back of Virgil’s hoodie and yanking on it for dear life.

“Stohoh-- stohohop--!”

Virgil let go of his legs before the word was even fully out of his mouth. He scooted to the side, watching over his shoulder as Logan immediately pulled his knees up to his chest, covering his toes as soon as his hands could reach them.

Virgil caught Logan’s gaze, still gasping and laughing with residual tickles, and let a small smile creep onto his own face. He reached to his phone and stopped the music, pulling the headphones off to rest around his neck again.

“Oh, Logan, were you back there the whole time?” he asked innocently. “Sorry, I was distracted. Music, you know.”

Logan huffed, flustered and frazzled, his legs still pulled defensively against his chest.

“Distracted,” he spat, but the wobbly smile on his blushing face took any poison out of the words. “Of course.”

Virgil gave him a more genuine smile now, summoning a bottle of water and passing it up the bed to the exhausted side. He grabbed his phone and shifted himself backwards until he was sitting next to Logan at the head of his bed. As Logan caught his breath, he unplugged his large headphones and swapped them for a pair of sleek, black earbuds.

“I found this creepy-ass true crime book,” he said casually, eyes on his phone once again as he scrolled through his library. He popped one earbud into his ear before wordlessly offering the other to Logan.

Logan eyed it for less than a second before he laughed lightly, shaking his head in wonder. 

“Sounds very interesting,” he replied, taking the other and putting it in his ear. As the two leaned back to listen to the book, he let his eyes slip closed. All in all, even though it was flustering and embarrassing and overall torturous, Logan could never hate this game that he and Virgil play-- especially when it always manages to end like this.

[edenwritessomething]

the 3rd and final ask🤩

🌸1001 nights🌸

whitch one of your characters would enjoy resident evil 8 the most? whitch one would hate it? whitch one woild be too scared to play it?

do ya have any characters that ended up bein apart of the alphabet mafia by accident? like accidentaly getting gay vibes, agender vibes, bein enby etc

whitch character would ya consider the most emotionaly intelegent?

do any of your characters deal w trauma? can we know what caused it? how of they deal w it?

whitch character is the shortest? whitch one is teeh tallest? does the "short people evil, tall people chill" thing fit w them?

between whotch characters is this comvo most likely to happen?

these asks are literally perfect for them are you spyin on me (ty for the asks btw, and no i won't stop thanking you)

1001 nights

whitch one of your characters would enjoy resident evil 8 the most? whitch one would hate it? whitch one woild be too scared to play it?

haven't played, so i can't really judge. however, i feel like Noah, Morgiana, Sindbad and Shahryar would love it. Shahrazad wouldn't be scared but she wouldn't enjoy it. she might play out of boredom or cus her friends want to, but probably not out of her own accord.

do ya have any characters that ended up bein apart of the alphabet mafia by accident? like accidentaly getting gay vibes, agender vibes, bein enby etc

yup definitely. sindbad is just .... gay. by accident. as in, in the reference material he has a wife. so i basically just resorted to making him pan cus the vibes are still right. also a minor character, Badr, is a trans man. this ... just happened. it's absolutely irrelevant, so it might not even end up being, like, on the page, but he 100% is. other than that, i am certain that most of the characters are pretty bi just because i personally don't know how gender plays into attraction, but that's not a conscious choice lol.

whitch character would ya consider the most emotionaly intelegent?

pleASE. none. at all. they all need therapy. they all have serious problems and don't know how to handle them. to sum it up... morgiana internalizes everything and puts up barricades; shahrazad bottles everything up; noah ignores all of his problems; shahryar acts out in wrath; sindbad jokes about his trauma though it affects him deeply. so ... yeah, these guys aren't role models.

do any of your characters deal w trauma? can we know what caused it? how of they deal w it?

... all. in different forms, though they have a bunch of similarities (no living mums, complicated relationships with dads, if they're alive). i'm just gonna run through them (editing me says 'shit it's long'):

shahryar: (murder tw) if you know anything about Arabian Nights, you know this, but basically his beloved wife cheated on him and now he has trust and anger issues, so 'every day a maid married, and a wife murdered'. basically, he handles the trauma shit-ly. in my WIP, he also has a certain amount of trauma from the actual murdering of his wife, but he also hides that until it's inevitable (for example when he talks in his sleep), but the only people that witness this if at all are the wives that get killed anyway, Shahrazad being the exception. and he also sometimes speaks to the moon which is kinda like his therapy.

morgiana: (oppression tw, death tw) well, for one, she doesn't know who her dad is. she's also a slave and for the first ~20 years of her life her slaveholder (Qasim) treated her and her mother terribly, resulting in the death of her mother so that was traumatic. however Qasim does die (gets killed) and she is passed on to Ali Baba, his brother, who is a better master, but she still lives in oppression. she's also now being forced into a marriage she doesn't want, so all in all a pretty shit life. as for how she handles it, she basically has two personalities at this point. in front of anyone who has authority over her, she's submissive and sweet to avoid punishment. but in reality (and throughout the majority of the book) she is snarky, witty, rude, unsympathetic, which is her way to keep people out since she has trust issues.

noah: (pregnancy tw, death tw) he's not as openly affected from the traumatic experiences as the rest, but he's still gone through a whole lot. the entire reason he was born was so that his mum, a slave, could breastfeed her master's child (Shahrazad) once they were born, so his father never played a role in his life at all. when he was 2 his mum (pregnant again) fell down the stairs, miscarried and bled to death. since then, Shahrazad's mum took over raising him (which is how they became close), but when he was 8-9 she also died. his master, the vizier, ie Shahrazad's dad, had hated Noah all his life because Noah's dad (also dead at this point) stole from the vizier and now there was no one left to protect him, so he went super harsh on him. Noah handles all of this with stride, he hates the vizier but doesn't take anything personally, he never thinks about his two mums and just lives his life–on the outside, but actually he really needs to talk about it to someone, he just doesnt like to think bout it.

shahrazad: (pregnancy tw, death tw, infanticide tw, suicidal thoughts tw) since she was born a girl, her fate was initially to be buried alive. and though her mother stopped her father from killing her last-minute, and she was (obvs) very much too young to remember it, the thought of it is traumatic to her, so there's that. it also causes a somewhat tense relationship with her dad, though he now (?) loves her a lot. she was very close to her mother though, who taught her to read and write and basically everything she knows, but ...... her mum dies when she's 9-10. shahrazad never talks about this trauma because she and her sister lowkey hate each other and the only other person that'd understand her, Noah, doesn't like to talk about her mother's death, so it's all bottled up. she also has ... problematic ideas of romance, and pretty much suicidal tendencies which stem from this trauma.

sindbad: (rape tw, pregnancy tw, suicide tw) ahh, sindbad. my poor, traumatized soul. his trauma starts before he's even born, so let's get into it. his mum was a beggar and lived in the same harbour he lives in now. she spent all her time there, because the marketplace was near and lots of sailors came, so it was a good source of money. one day however, she was r*ped by a sailor whose ship was in the harbour. he left, not knowing (nor caring) that she was now pregnant with his child, who'd be sindbad. she now had another mouth to feed and also her own trauma to deal with. her trauma hindered her from going to certain places where she'd usually get her money, so basically now there's more demand and less supply. as sindbad got older, things got worse because he looked a lot like his father (white skin, blue eyes, straight nose), so he was a trigger to his mother. she never had a motherly instinct concerning him anyway, and now he was triggering to her also, so she basically started hating him, taking less care of him etc. when he was 10, her trauma and guilt concerning him got so bad that she threw herself into the sea of the harbour in front of him. that was all very triggering to sindbad, especially considering that he sees himself as the cause of his mother's suicide. the port, though he depends on it for life, is triggering to him, and this trauma is his drive throughout the book. concerning how he handles the trauma,,,,, terribly. his coping mechanism is joking about it, even if it hurts him. he has no one to talk to and is surrounded by triggers, which doesn't help.

whitch character is the shortest? whitch one is teeh tallest? does the "short people evil, tall people chill" thing fit w them?

Sindbad, my honeybunch, is shortest, but tbf also the youngest. he's 167cm (5'6 i believe). out of the main cast, Noah is the tallest (180cm or 5'10). if you extend the question to all characters, the tallest is Zobeida (187cm or 6'1).... i know you like tall ladies ;) ..... i'm also starting to realize she might look a tad too much like calliope from disney's hercules,,, my childhood crushes are coming through O.o as for part 2, no, not necessarily. noah is pretty chill yeah, but so is Sindbad and very much so. Zobeida is this weird in between. she has a very powerful aura but she also seems very relaxed but then again always on the lookout and ready to kill. so not really, it doesn't actually apply.

between whotch characters is this comvo most likely to happen?

Noah: You're just trying to stall me.

Sindbad: Interesting theory.

Sindbad: Care to discuss?

it wouldn't really happen in canon cus Noah would be far chiller about it all, but it's something Sindbad would say for sure.

okay this was basically way, way longer than i expected, so sorry it took so long, but the questions were too perfect and i love the characters too much lol. thank you so much for the asks, they're always appreciated :D

[ghostsofmemories]

Insect Poison Update #2

So, life has been a little wild in recent weeks. I got a new laptop, finally, got a kitten (we named her Nemo), and have been getting ready to go back to school (yikes). This chapter has actually been done for about a week, now, but I’ve been dealing with a lot of self-esteem issues regarding my writing, so it was necessary to let this chapter relax before I passed over it a second time. The chapter is pretty short, just under 1700 words, but I plan to *eventually* go back over it and add some more description or something, because I think the scenes might be lacking in that. Jack is the giant takes place the night of the last chapter. Spoiler alert: we’ve got some gay in here.

If you have no clue what I’m talking about or would like a refresher, feel free to check out my chapter 1 update or the WIP introduction. And with that, let’s get on with it, shall we?

Chapter 2 starts with Jack. the father of the house, coming home from a few long days of his trucking job.

For the Bennett family, they functioned much better without Jack’s presence. He was was always tired, difficult to analyze, and preferred being on the road to being home with his family. There was a very clear, silent awareness that he had several affairs outside of his relationship with his wife, and it was something most everyone ignored in light of Emily’s dependency on narcotics and from time to time, drugs like acid and ecstasy. Those were more of a hobby than an addiction, though, similar to some of Jack’s more frequented mistresses upstate. It seemed that everyone knew their secrets with the exception of each other.

Upon arriving that night, he went straight for the bathroom. He spent a long while there, washing himself with a diligence that was unusual for him, and backed only by the possibility that it had been a long week and the heat relaxed his aching muscles. He was tall enough that his hair brushed up against the top of the shower head, tired enough that he only opened his eyes to grab a bar of soap.

Ramona had never been sure what to make of her father. In her head, there were two portraits of him: the man she knew, and the man she had imagined up while he was away. Usually,  he would arrive home to knock the kinder, softer portrait off the shelf and shock her back into reality. That is, until he went to work again and she began to rebuild him.

So I’ve basically accepted at this point that the plot of this book is... all just familial conflict, intrinsic motivation, and weird psychology. All the external conflict is with each other, and if I’m being honest, the book hardly has a plot at all. However, I have also accepted that I’m okay with that and actually a little excited about it!

When Ramona saw him, a bit of the portrait faded immediately. He was taller than she thought he was, had more muscle than she remembered, was a direct picture of the type of man young girls were told to avoid just in case. 

Still, that didn’t dictate his words. Or actions. He was capable of being a tall, strong man and still being a caring and kind father. If it was a stranger they’d seen in town, Lori would tell her not to judge a book by the cover and then, taking a second look, walk briskly across the street with her.

I just really like exploring familial relationships, so why not do more than one at a time? Anyway, here’s the fun part of the chapter (AKA the gay part). While writing this scene, I decided Lori should probably be aged from 14 up to 16 in order for this scene to really make sense. Not that 14 is too young to understand your sexuality, but I just personally don’t see Lori acting on these feelings before she’s 16.

A house holds many things, but its most important possessions are its secrets. The Bennetts thought they were full of secrets, but they made very little effort to hide them from anyone, with the exception of each other.

However, Lori wasn’t one to wear her secrets where they were visible, or to keep them where her anyone could reach. They were tucked away between the pages of the Nancy Garden novel hiding under her bed, living in the Polaroid that never left the guitar case of a girl Lori found herself loving more every day, despite her all her efforts not to.

I love Lori so much. I’ve written quite a few characters in my time, but she might be my favorite just because she’s so?? Pure?? I love all my evil bastards in this story but she’s such a nice refresher sometimes.

Mercy was sitting on the dew-covered bench, her sweater underneath her. Lori took a minute, before she was spotted, to admire her. Her hair blended itself into the darkness of the night, and the moon turned her brown cheeks a pale blue. She was wearing a deep black shirt with a jean vest, and the shorts she was planning to wear to bed.

After too deep of a breath, Mercy turned sideways. As if on cue, she got up and dried a spot on the bench for Lori, the pale spot where the statue used to sit.

“Hi,” Lori said, making her way over. Her eyes couldn’t decide whether to look at Mercy or avoid contact, so they darted wildly back and forth, unsure of a point of focus. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Come sit,” Mercy said, smiling and shaking her head. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all summer.”

“We talked on the phone yesterday.” She smiled while she said this, did her best not to give into the instinct to make fun of her girlfriend relentlessly.

“But I didn’t see you.”

“I’m good.”

“You’re beautiful,” Mercy said, taking Lori’s hand. They had been doing this long enough that it didn’t feel wrong when it was just the two of them, they’d read Annie on my Mind enough to know that this world was theirs, too.

Not sure if you’re aware yet, but I don’t think I’ll ever write a book without at least three queer people in it (I don’t want to reveal who the third queer character is just yet, he’s still in development (AKA i don’t know his name yet ahaha)).

Did I hear you ask for some flashback? No? Have some anyway.

As they sat there together, Lori couldn’t help but think about their younger childhood, all the things they didn’t understand until they started reading things they weren’t supposed to. Every moment in middle school that made an earthquake of the space between girl and friend.

Lori could remember, better than she could remember yesterday, getting in trouble in 6th grade for braiding Mercy’s hair from the desk behind her. Dark and thick and long, back then, but even before they knew what it meant to love a girl, they were taught it wasn’t allowed. It’s just hair. It’s just a braid in her hair, why does it matter? She had taken her hands away slowly and grabbed her pencil, left it unmoving against the paper. Three quarters of a braid hung unfinished down Mercy’s back, and Lori watched as she sealed the end with the hair tie around her wrist, their math teacher somehow keeping eyes locked on both of them at the same time.

I love my girls. Mercy’s full name is Mercy May Devera, because I thought Mercy May sounded cool.

So yeah. This book has no plot, but that’s cool because I’m just here to have a good time. If you enjoyed this update and want to be added to the tag list, you can send an ask, message, or reply to this post (Tumblr is finally telling me when I get replies!

Insect Poison tag list: @coffeeandcalligraphy​, @alicewestwater​, and @fliiik-art​