#bug in a jar kind of guy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieehaee · 1 year ago

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Hello!!! Long time reader here 🫣🫣 I was wondering if I could request a little svt scenario :>?? Could it be where you're struggling with opening a jar or smt and so you ask them for help but while they're struggling to open it as well, their hand or arm slips and accidentally hits you. I'm curious what their reaction would be. (Recently happened with my guy friend and the poor guy freaked out apologizing 😭)

being unable to open a jar and wacking you in the process

content: gender neutral, reader is implied to be physically weaker than the member, height difference implied in dk's, accidental hitting (its implied to be an accidental light smack on the cheek/chest area; no actual harm is done)

wc: 1720

a/n: this is so silly help 😭 thank u so much for reading my work and for requesting! <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

seungcheol is a proud man. he's very proud of his strength and loves to show it off, which is why he secretly adores whenever you ask him for anything that requires him to show off his ripped physique to you. if you ever need help with a jar, he's got you! or so he thought. if he ever attempted to open a jar for you but failed at it, he'd be a little embarrassed, but that would not compare to his look of absolute mortification at accidentally hurting you in the process, not having realized his arm would slip off the container as he failed at opening it. the next twenty minutes would be spent with him apologizing over and over, not knowing whether to focus on the pain he inflicted or the embarrassment he's feeling.

jeonghan -

he'd wonder why you're asking him of all people. he's not known for being necessarily strong, so he's not sure why you'd seek him. yeah, he's the boyfriend and all but he never signed up for jar-opening duties. bug killing? maybe. driving? he's your guy. but opening jars? he usually seeks seungcheol or mingyu for that. but since he's jeonghan, he'd say yes to whatever you asked him without much complaint. however, you shouldnt have been surprised when the end result was a still-closed jar and a red cheek. yours. your red cheek, as jeonghan's hand had slipped and caught your cheek in the process. he'd find the situation ironic, thinking that maybe you'd kind of asked for this .. but he would not actually voice that thought and instead would baby you until you whined at him to stop, insisting it didnt hurt that much.

joshua -

he's used to opening jars for you, enjoying the way you usually swoon over the swollen muscle he occasionally likes to show off to you. this happens quite often actually. he's half sure you don't even attempt to open them yourself, just immediately handing them over to him as if he had a built-in command dedicated to opening jars. which he kind of did in a sense. the one off time he'd fail at opening a jar and hurt you in the process would cause him to widen his eyes in terror, thinking he mightve really hurt you. until you started laughing (at his reaction mostly), causing him to whine at you and tell you to do it yourself!

jun -

he'd do anything you asked without question. he's opened millions of jars for you at this point. he doesnt even think about it as he does it, its just an automatic reaction by now. and thus far, he's never met a jar that has overpowered him. until now. this very moment in which he found himself struggling. but he would not be defeated by a jar right in front of the love of his life. who would be defeated, however, would be you, the receiver of a smack right across the face, courtesy of jun's elbow. like most other members, he'd immediately drop the jar and tend to you, cursing at the jar in chinese for causing him to lay hand on you.

soonyoung -

he never outwardly shows off his strength to you, but enjoys things such as opening jars because they allow him to reestablish his rightful role as boyfriend. whats a boyfriend for if not for opening jars for their significant other? on the rare occasion he's unable to open a jar for you, he would refuse to give up, roaring at the challenge (yes, roaring, like a tiger) and putting even more strength into it. this would prove fruitless the moment his hand slipped from the jar's cap, leading his elbow to land straight against your chest, making you yelp. depending on his mood that day, he'd either grow sheepish and beg for forgiveness, or simply laugh as he rubbed at the red area in which his elbow landed, kissing it better. silly guy.

wonwoo -

another one of the strong boys™️. he's used to helping you out with any heavy lifting (literally and metaphorically). enjoys the domesticity behind opening jars for you. it makes him feel needed. its nice. except when things like this happen. if he were ever to accidentally hurt you in the process of helping you open a jar he'd be mortified. he wouldn't verbally react, he would just kind of look at you with wide eyes and an open mouth, not saying much. you'd complain at him wondering why he's just frozen in place, which would cause him to snap out of it and caress whichever part of you he had made contact with. he'd chuckle at the ridiculousness of it but still be very apologetic.

jihoon -

he wont admit to it but he loooves feeling needed. even if its for something as little as opening a measly jar. he also loves doing anything that requires strength when you're around. he's noticed the way you eye his arms. and he enjoys it. a lot. what he didnt enjoy, however, was failing at such an easy task. what he enjoyed even less was his hand slipping and landing against your nose, pulling a whimper out of you. neither of you would know how to react for a second. until jihoon started to apologize profusely, swearing to you that it was an accident and that he'd stay away from jars from now on.

seokmin -

cutie pie loves doing these silly little domestic favours for you. getting you a spoon while you're laying on the couch, too lay to get one? he's on his way! handing you a bowl from a cupboard you cant reach? you dont even have to ask! opening a jar for you? he's your guy! well, maybe not always. like today, when he'd angled himself wrong while opening you a jar of pickles, causing his elbow to hit against your chest. the impact alarmed seokmin immediately, causing him to stop what he was doing and coddle you, apologizing with all his might as he rubbed and blew at the area as if he'd caused any real damage.

mingyu -

he's been on jar-opening duty since he was a trainee. this isnt new to him. you dont even need to ask. the moment he sees you in possession of a jar, he's nonchalantly taking it from your hands and opening it without a word. the one time his distracted manner backfired had been today. he'd grabbed it from your arms, attempting to open it without realizing it was humid due to having been recently taken out from the freezer. his hand immediately slipped and landed against your eye, causing you to yelp. mingyu, being mingyu, would dramatically drop everything (literally would drop the damn jar, which was luckily made of plastic and not glass ..) and tend to you, acting as if he'd accidentally sliced your face open. he'd need convincing to calm down.

minghao -

it was a simple task, but he enjoyed the domesticity of it. he liked how you would seek him out specifically. what was he here for, if not to help his loved one out with these types of little things around the house? he'd chuckle a bit at your sheepish way of asking, fearing you were bothering him by interrupting whatever he was doing just to open a measly jar. but he wouldnt mind, proceeding to attempt at opening it. it usually would end here, except this time. as soon as he felt his hand make contact with your cheek, he'd stop dead on his tracks, embarrassed at having hurt you. he'd coo over you and rub your cheek as he apologized, claiming this was a one time thing and he'd be more careful next time.

seungkwan -

living with jeonghan, he's used to opening the jars on his own. believe it or not, seungkwan is actually very strong! so he would always insist in opening jars and such for you around the house. you didnt even have to ask, he'd do it on his own, wanting to show you what a good boyfriend he made. but well, kwan wasnt that strong after all, as he'd struggle with jars himself sometimes. but being the stubborn boy he is, he'd still insist, even after accidentally wacking you across the forehead with his hand after it slipped from the lid. being the dramatic boy he is, he'd curse the jar before coddling you endlessly and cooing at any pain he may have caused.

vernon -

he'd help you out with random household necessities very nonchalantly. he's not much a homemaker, leading you to take care of most things around your home. it was fine, though, because he would help you out whenever you asked. you wouldnt even really have to tell him what you needed, as he'd know from habit. if you neared him with a jar in hand, he'd already know to put his phone down for a moment and open it for you. if he struggled with it, he'd put a bit more attention and effort to it, but that would only lead to his hand slipping from the lid. without realizing, his hand would land on your nose, making you yelp a bit. he wouldnt go crazy with the apologies, but would feel a little flustered and say something along the lines of 'shit. sorry, babe' and offer a hug as an apology.

chan -

you asking him help to open up a jar would make him feel dependable. being the youngest in his group, he tended to feel like he depended on others a lot rather than the other way around. you were a nice change of pace. if the jar was too tight for him to open, he'd grow a little sheepish, his ears maybe turning a little red. whats with this jar?! but no jar could beat the prowess of lee chan. he wasnt about to let a measly jar embarrass him in front of his s/o. but what he would let happen, apparently, was for his hand to slip and land swiftly against your chin. in this situation, he'd immediately drop the jar and baby you as he coo'd at your reddened chin, scolding himself for being so careless.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt fanfic #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #svt reactions #svt scenarios

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try-set-me-on-fire · 6 months ago

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Fuck It Friday It’s Saturday what if i try to just write a whole fic right here in a tumblr post

Okay Brick from the future here after i have indeed written a fic right here in a tumblr post, warning for some homophobia (described past high school experiences from Eddie). Based on this post. Have not reread it at all before hitting post so good luck hopefully it’s more or less cohesive

Was tagged in fuck it Friday by uh somebody probably but i can’t find it in my notes. Tagging — oh it’s like 11 o clock, so this can be for seven sentence Sunday? — @bigfootsmom @iinryer @shitouttabuck @chronicowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerdiazs @butchdiaz @homerforsure

The music is turned down low now, because it’s late, and even though the sprawling backyard of the ranch house is far, far away from any neighbors the event coordinators were still firm about a noise curfew and it would be a shame for such a lovely wedding to end with a visit from some of Athena’s coworkers. Most of the lights in the house are off or dimmed — beds and couches littered with the young and the old and the drunk — so the only lights out here are the strings of fairy lights and little jars with bulbs in the lid that remind Buck of sneaking out to the park with Maddie to catch lightning bugs back in Pennsylvania. The murky light and the quiet make everything feel soft as Buck stands on the porch, bare feet on creaky wood. He’s not sure where his shoes got off to, removed at some point when the dancing had started to pinch his heels. His throat burns a little from all the talking — and maybe that last vodka sour — and his eyes sort of itch from all the crying earlier. (Eddie had frowned at him, three of his fingers pressed into his elbow, as Buck had wept through the ceremony. A clear are you okay? And Buck had only nodded, because talking would have been rude, and despite everything that might make it seem otherwise, he really was.) He thinks Eddie might be the only person left here that he knows, the rest of the 118 departing in the last hour or two, though he’s not sure where he is, either. Maybe the same place as his shoes.

“Buck.”

Not with his shoes, then. Buck watches as Eddie stumbles towards him across the lawn from wherever he’d been. Dancing, maybe. He’s sweaty, his cheeks are cheerfully pink and he’s grinning with all his teeth showing. Buck steps down into the grass to meet him. “Hey, Eds.”

“Hello,” Eddie says, soft and pleased. He looks all over Buck’s face, over his now disheveled suit with the jacket hanging on the railing behind him and down at his missing shoes. Eddie frowns at that. “Your feet’ll get cold.”

Buck wiggles his toes in the dewy lawn. “I’ll be okay.” When he looks back up Eddie has an expression on his face that he can’t quite read but has been frequently present, lately. And then there’s a laugh across the yard, and both turn to look. Tommy. Loud, and full of that kind of breathless, disbelieving joy that- well, Buck hadn’t really heard from him before recently.

“I don’t-” Eddie stops, and Buck watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes his head, looks up at Buck. “How are you just okay with this?”

Buck tilts his head almost sideways as he turns back to look at him. “It’s true love, man. How could I be upset with that?”

Eddie doesn’t roll his eyes, but Buck can tell he wants to. “I don’t even know- if that even exists. You gotta- you work on it. Or… I don’t know. He just saw this fucking guy across a crowded bar, and, what, fucking bam, Cupid’s arrow?”

“There’s a little more history than that,” Buck protests, even though, yeah, that is kind of what happened. They’d been at a club over in WeHo and Tommy had stopped frozen-dead in his tracks on the way from the dance floor to the bar, staring with some combination of awe-fear-grief-anger-longing all over his face at some guy, around Tommy’s age or maybe a little older, sandwiched between two big jock types all grinding on each other, one of them sucking an impressive hickey onto his shoulder next to the strap of his tastefully tight tank top. Tommy had stumbled closer like a man bewitched, and had gasped out “Sal?” In a way that had made Buck think, Ah. Time’s up. He’d lingered a respectful distance back as the two of them had an intense little conversation, though the club was loud enough he probably wouldn’t have heard much if he’d come closer. And he went home with Tommy that night and sat on his bed as he’d paced around his little bedroom and talked about years shitty jokes and stupid, over performed masculinity, and wanting, and “-the last I heard he was fucking married, I’ve met Sandra, he has two kids-”, and when Tommy got a phone call the next day — an invitation to lunch, to talk — he’d looked at Buck and said “I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry, but I-” and Buck had kissed his cheek and said “Go.” And, now, not even quite three months later, a wedding. The whole 118 had been invited, and had gone mostly in solidarity to Buck, and everybody had been making a lot of meaningful eye contact over their drinks as he’d elbowed them to quit it.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Buck blinks back to the present, feet in the grass, Eddie warm and close next to him.

“Dance with me, Buckley,” Eddie sighs, dramatic, petulant, a smile shining through his put upon attitude. He’s been cutting it up all night, spinning Karen around and around, dancing with Sal’s mostly cordial ex-wife and sisters and aunts and cousins. He even took Tommy for a turn at one point, while Buck had busied himself with downing whatever was in the glass Ravi handed him so he wouldn’t have to look at either of their faces.

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

Buck, historically, by any metric you care to measure by, is a terrible dancer. Bobby, who himself only manages the old man party shuffle, has looked on his lack of rhythm in abject despair. Eddie, though, Eddie can dance, and he does it so well it makes his dancing partner’s look good, too. They move through the grass halfway competently, movements kind-of smooth. Buck only feels polished leather under his feet once or twice. “You’re real good at this.”

Eddie nods as he pulls Buck into a little spin. “Took lessons, back in high school.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He’s staring at Buck’s shoulder. “Sophia had lessons I had to drive her to, one of the instructors mentioned classes for older kids.” He shrugs. “Seemed fun.”

“In high school?” Something about the question makes Eddie’s shoulders get a little tight, but he nods. “And you played baseball? Damn, I never knew how anybody could have multiple extra curriculars, I barely made every football practice as it is.”

Eddie shrugs again, eyes still fixed on rumpled cotton. “I liked it.” Step, step, step, spin. “Took Shannon a few times, but she didn’t really like the structure of it, just wanted to get to the dancing part.” A little smile. “You bet I gave her shit when she got a leg cramp line dancing one time. Shoulda stretched.”

Buck laughs. “Did you stretch before coming here?”

“Yeah.”

Buck laughs harder, throwing his head back. They’re far enough out of the city that there are stars in the sky, and he gets distracted looking up at them for a moment, finding any constellation he knows. When he looks back down Eddie’s staring at his shoulder again.

“I could dance because of the baseball,” he says, quiet. “Because… Shannon, and I played sports, and I… you know.” He looks up at Buck, eyes dark away from any bright light. “I could laugh it off. When people said it was gay. Because I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Buck says. He doesn’t know what else to say, about the reminders of what high school was like in the aughts, or about the past tense. He thinks maybe he should apologize, but Eddie keeps talking.

“Not in like a- I wasn’t tortured about it. I didn’t even think about it. It was- that’s not- it wasn’t even a possibility.” His palm sweats against Buck’s and his other hand burning against his side, and still they keep dancing, never losing the beat of the song. “One time… Aaron Dewitt called me a… you know. And everybody just started laughing, because, like. Man. That’s Eddie, he was just making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers, what the fuck are you on about.” He smiles, all wrong, and the way his voice gets lighter isn’t very light at all. “All those guys were begging me for moves before senior prom.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck!” Tommy stumbles in from the side, not even waiting for Eddie to retreat so his arm ends up awkwardly trapped between them as he plasters himself to Buck, hands on either his side of his face. He’s had a lot of champagne tonight, as Buck thinks is his right, and it’s made him unsteady on his feet in a way he knows most other drinks don’t. It’s the sugar, he’d said once. Goes right to my head. “Buck.”

“Hi,” Buck laughs a little, smelling the drink on his breath. “Hey, Tommy.”

“I love you,” Tommy says, sincere and eyes watering. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for- for everything. I didn’t- I never thought I’d get to have this.”

Buck thinks that he’s practically glowing, has been all night, getting even more supernova bright every time his now-husband touches his arm or side or back or anywhere and smiles a private little smile at him. “I’m really glad you do, Tommy. Love you, too.”

Tommy kisses his cheek, a little slobbery. “We’re gonna leave now, but I just wanted to say bye. I hope you had a good time. Sorry for- or- thank you-”

“I had a wonderful time,” Buck says, releasing Tommy from drunkenly trying to find an end to that sentence. They’ve had some version of this conversation several times already, Tommy always guilty and happy in dizzying little circles, and Buck hopes he can bury the guilt in the soft dirt they’re standing on and go on to live with just the happiness. “Have a great night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, laughing and nodding. “Yeah. Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

They watch him hurry back across the yard, falling into Sal’s arms with the easy confidence of someone who knows without a doubt that he’ll be caught. Eddie’s arm is still across Buck’s chest where it had been stuck.

“I know you’ve said you’re fine with it-”

“About a thousand times, yeah, to you and everybody else we know-”

“Come on, man.” Eddie shifts his arm a little, up, so he can grab and shake Buck’s shoulder. The angle they’re standing at has caught the light, and Eddie’s eyes are gold again. “It’s me. Are you okay with this?

Buck thinks about high school, and all the things he didn’t think about either right up until Tommy Kinard kissed him in the kitchen. He thinks about Hen’s sky high eyebrows when she heard the news, and her and Chimney’s stories about the bad old days and the kind of person Sal seemed to be. He thinks about change, and how much it can happen to a person and how quickly, and how you just have to trust, sometimes, that people have grown and learned. He thinks about Eddie, and things that are impossible, and dancing, and- he laughs, sudden and loud enough that Eddie startles, because, fuck. This is exactly how it happened in the club, too. Seeing someone you know like the back of your hand in a new light and- bam.

When the laughter calms in his throat, Buck looks down at Eddie. “Really, I swear I’m fine with it. I had a really nice time with Tommy. He was… kind, and safe, and patient. I really liked him- I really like him. I hope I keep getting, you know, Christmas cards or whatever. I’m really happy he got his romcom ending. I mean- I kind of wish it was with a guy who doesn’t seem so much like an asshole-” Buck grins as Eddie snorts, “-but, uh, Hen says judging your exes taste in men is, like, a gay right of passage or something, so.”

Eddie nods once, twice, and then his eyes get a little wide, the way they do when he’s being brave. “So then, what does it mean if I’m judging Tommy for you?”

“He’s your friend, too,” Buck protests past the way his heart is thudding in his chest, because Tommy deserves defending here, probably. He kicks softly at Eddie’s shin. “You came to the wedding, don’t-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says. He steps backward, and again, and they’re dancing again. “So. Still a right of passage?”

Buck’s palms are sweating, now. “You’ve never liked my taste in women, either.”

Eddie makes an unconvincing noise of denial. “I… thought…”

“Yeah?” Buck raises an eyebrow, and Eddie’s face twitches with how hard he’s trying not to grin.

“That… Ali… was fine.”

Buck cackles, and Eddie pulls him in closer and laughs into his collarbone. “You were so judgy when she dumped me, are you kidding, your fucking stink face every time-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says again, loud, getting them back on track, standing upright but not moving any further away. They’re pressed together chest to knee. “Buck.”

“Yeah?”

They spin in a slow circle. “I’m pretty good at dancing, and- probably not so good at baseball anymore, but- well I dunno, maybe. We could go to a batting cage sometime. Anyway.” Spin and spin. “I guess I… do think about it, now. I think about- and there were a lot of things I thought were impossible, and weren’t, really. And- and I’m not in high school, and…” They slow, and stop, and Buck thinks Eddie’s hands and eyes are, probably, the warmest things on the whole entire planet. “We could go home and I could wait till tomorrow to ask you to lunch to talk about things, but we’re both already here.”

Buck laughs, and wonders if anyone listening to him would hear a kind of breathless, disbelieving joy. “You wanna take me to lunch?”

“Mhm. I was thinking we could get sandwiches.”

Buck laughs, and laughs, almost falling over with it, but that’s fine. He knows Eddie will catch him.

#buddie #buck x tommy #my writing #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #sal whatever his last name is

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hockeyboysimagines · 1 year ago

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can u do 1 and 17 of the smutty prompts with vince dunn please 🙏🙏 ur writing is so good

I got a little carried away, but here you are anon. I hope you like it🤍

There was nothing to be ashamed about in terms of lack of sexual experience. You’d been preaching it for years, mostly to convince yourself that you actually believed it, but also because you wanted to make it seem like you willingly didn’t have any.

That was not the case.

It was a you problem more than anything else. You just could not find anyone who got you going and the only person who would was emotionally unavailable.

You knew Vince well, through Jordan and Lauren Eberle, that you guys had become fairly good friends. In the past year you’d been hanging out quite a bit and while you liked him a lot, he was a walking red flag.

Not that he was a bad guy, he was in fact the opposite. You’d not met many people as sweet and caring as he was. And that was exactly the problem.

It was damn near impossible to dislike him and even if he had been a colossal douche, you still wanted him. You’d never made a move, for fear that he’d recoil like you were some kind of repulsive bug. Guys like him didn’t bother with girls like you.

But you were jarred from your thoughts when Vince himself materialized at your elbow with a small smile “Hey! When did you get here?”

“Just a little bit ago I-“

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I need a beer pong partner, come on-“

He grabbed your hand and you sucked in a sharp breath as he towed you through the people in the Eberle’s back yard to where two pong tables had been set up. The last time they’d had a gathering, you and Vince won 9 straight games and you’d regretted all of them the next morning.

“No way!” Jared yelled pointing at you “I’m not playing against her! That’s an automatic loss.”

“Ah! No backing out now!” Vince picked up the ball and chucked it at him.

It was a loss, and a humiliating one at that. If there was one thing in life you dominated at, it was beer pong. After your third win, your party mood completely died and all you wanted to do was leave. You tapped Vince on the arm “Hey I’m gonna head out.”

His smile dropped and he slouched “What? Why?”

You shrugged and jingled your keys “Just not feeling it is all. I’m tired.”

“Well. I’ll come with you.”

“No you don’t have to just stay-“

“Nah. I wanna hang out. Come on.” He once again reached for your hand and you felt a little flutter as his fingers intertwined with yours. This was extremely unusual for you and you felt a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t often that guys held your hand and you couldn’t really even remember the last time.

“So what do you wanna do?” He asked as you walked to your car. You glanced at him and then down at your hand, which he was still holding and took a breath.

Hes drunk. It doesn’t mean anything you said in your head, hoping he couldn’t see the redness pooling in your cheeks.

“Oh idk, whatever.”

You guys ended up in his apartment, seated in front of the sofa and two large windows that overlooked Seattle.

“Are you okay?” He asked handing you a glass.

“Yeah why?”

He frowned “It seems like something is bothering you. You can talk to me you know.”

“It’s fine. It’s a ‘me’ problem.”

“Come on. We’re friends, tell me.” He leaned forward a little “Maybe I can help.”

You chuckled “No I don’t think so. It’s just-I don’t know. Gets old being single.”

“That’s what’s bothering you? Being single? I thought you didn’t want a boyfriend, or is that not what you said?” He furrowed his eyebrows in thought “I kind of remember you being in the ‘no sec’ mindset or am I wrong?”

“I didn’t say I was against sex. I just said I wasn’t having any, and not because I don’t want to.”

“I don’t follow.” He shook his head and took a sip of his drink “If you want to have it you should, and don’t come at me with any nonsense about guys not wanting to date you, because it’s not true.”

“That’s not the problem. I don’t want to date them therefore I’m not having sex.”

He paused eyebrows raising as he glanced at you “Wait are you a virgin?”

“No I’m not a virgin, I’m just not…experienced is all.”

He stared at you blankly “But like…what do you mean?”

Your face was burning from the alcohol but mostly the embarrassment of having this conversation with anyone but especially him.

“I’ve had sex okay. Once and-“

His mouth fell open and he let out a breath “Once? Bullshit.”

You shook your head “No really but it-“

“Lemme guess.” He said holding up a hand with an eye roll “There was no orgasm.”

You looked at your feet and shook your head responding with a very small “No.”

He shook his head “Fucking figures.”

“What?”

“Just a guy thing. Most guys don’t really give a shit if their partner orgasms or not, just themselves. And it pisses me off that someone treated you that way. If you were my girl, I’d make sure you did every time.”

You coughed and crossed your legs “Well. As nice as that is it’s not your problem it’s mine.”

“I mean.” He looked out the window “It could be my problem. If you want it to be.”

When you didn’t answer he continued “Maybe i could give you your first.”

Your mouth fell open “I’m sorry what?”

“Why not? We’re friends. You’re hot.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“I have eyes don’t I? Of course I think you’re hot.” He rested a hand on your leg and leaned forward “And I wanna do this.”

You glanced at the large floor to ceiling windows and then back at him “Really? right here? you know people are going to see us...”

“So? Let them look.” He leaned forward suddenly, lips pushing right up against yours. You froze for a minute, shocked, until you felt his tongue swipe across your lower lip, and you melted like butter, kissing him like you’d never kissed a guy before. You felt dazed as one of his hands came up to thread through your hair. There was nothing that you’d experienced that even came close to kissing Vince. In fact you were so distracted by it you didn’t even realize that he was leaning you back on the sofa, tugging at your shirt. In no time, he had you down to nothing, right in front of the windows, where you were sure all of Seattle could see, but you didn’t care. Your breath felt heavy as he shed his boxers and settled himself between your legs, pressing a kiss to the base of your throat.

“Ready?” He breathed in your ear.

Unable to speak you nodded, eyes sliding closed as he eased in. You let out a long breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in as a wave of pleasure swept through you, and your head fell back as you arched up off the bed.

He pulled out and pushed back in, soon finding a rhythm. Your whole body felt like it was a live wire, nearly ready to catch fire. He bottomed out, and you let out a strangled moan, tensing up momentarily at the small ache of pain, and then loosening up again.

“You’re doing so good love” he said leaning down to kiss you again.

You felt a warmth begin to pool in your abdomen and your body started to shake. He smiled widely and started to push faster.

An orgasm, or at least you thought that’s what it was, washed over you in waves of euphoria and your eyes closed and you let out a long, low, throaty noise as it did, nails digging into his shoulders. His breath was warm on your neck as his pushes slowed down, and his head fell forward. You were a sweaty, shaky mess as he pulled out and leaned back, handing you a blanket to cover yourself with.

“So?” He asked smiling at you “How was your very first orgasm?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it finding the words after a minute “It was great, but I think my second one could be even better.”

Vince smiled and leaned forward to kiss you.

Maybe being inexperienced wasn’t so bad after all.

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tldix · 5 days ago

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american money

chapter 1: a ghost in the house.

summary: bobby singer was a lot of things, but no one expected him to be a father. after his wife passed he finds himself raising his little girl alone. Y/n Singer. the day the Winchesters show up unexpectedly, is the day things change forever.

warnings: (character death mentioned, Karen bobby’s wife), no smut, yearning, story starts as you & dean are children, alcohol & tobacco use. (i’m sure there’s more just lmk)

the Singer Salvage yard sat on the edge of Sioux falls, a spiraling maze of rusted cars, forgotten engines, & the occasional stray cat. it was the kind of place most locals avoided unless they needed a specific part that they could only come to Bobby Singer for. most knew him as the town drunk, the guy who’s stumble into the sheriffs drunk tank more times than anyone could ever count back in the day.

but for hunters, bobby was something else entirely. his house was a way point, you knew this. you grew up knowing this. his phone was always ringing off the hook with desperate calls for his advice. most people thought he was just a cranky ol’ drunk redneck, but in the hunting world. Bobby Singer was a fuckin legend.

but that definitely didn’t stop any of the whispers in town, especially when they found out he was harboring a daughter.

the screen door slammed shut, jarring the door frame behind the one & only Bobby Singer as he staggered into the kitchen. his arms weighed down by a sack of groceries & a 6 pack of beer. the clink of the bottles echoed through the quiet house. he paused, staring at the faint light coming from under your door.

“you planning on coming out anytime soon or am i raising a damn hermit?” he called out, his voice rough but teasing.

silence.

Bobby sighed & sat the groceries down on the counter, trudging his way up the stairs to your door. “June bug” he said again, softer this time “i know you’re awake”

there was a quite shuffle behind your door, & it slowly creaked open. the hinges prying & withering from how the house aged. your door cracked enough for a wild head of hair to peek out. eleven year old you eyed your father suspiciously “you didn’t forget the peanut butter this time, did you?”

bobby grunted, turning to the kitchen & grabbing the sack of groceries. he slowly returns holding the jar up like a trophy. “one smooth, extra-large jar of peanut butter. happy now kiddo?”

your door opened a bit wider, the hinges creaking a bit more as you shuffled out. you were smaller for your age, but your sharp eyes & the grease stains lining your nail beds made you seem years older. “thanks” you muttered, snatching the jar & turning to retrieve back to your room.

“hey!” bobby barked, & you froze mid step. “you’re not holding up in there all night. suppers in an hour. & you’re helping.”

“helping with what daddio?” you challenged, turning around.

“with cooking kid. you can’t live on peanut butter sandwiches & ramen for forever ya know?”

you wrinkled your nose but decided against arguing. bobby watched you retreat back in your room, the door closing softly this time. he sighed again as he ran a hand down his face. raising a kid alone was never in his cards, karen was supposed to be here. she wasn’t supposed to die. hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was doing this whole “parenting thing” right. but you were his, the only part of Karen he had left & he knew you were her pride & joy. he refused to let either of his girls down, ever again.

an hour later, you stood on a stool beside bobby, stirring a pot of chili with a concentration that made you look like you were defusing a bomb.

“not so fast” bobby said, watching you. “you’re gunna splash it everywhere junebug”

“i know what im doing daddy” you shot back as you slowed your movements

“sure you do” he muttered. “that’s why the last time you tried this, we ended up with chili on the ceiling”

you shot your eyes up, sure enough there was the big red stain above the stove. the aftermaths of the horrific chili incident from last year. a smirked crossed your face, a rare flash of mischief that bobby hasn’t seen in a long time.

“you’re just mad because it was better than yours old man”

bobby snorted “yeah yeah you keep telling yourself that”

you ate at a small kitchen table, one that adorns all your favorite memories. the one that used to be filled with so much love & laughter. your mothers pies would rest peacefully & deliciously in the middle of the table, she’d often swat at both you & your dad when your curious fingers went digging. but now? the only sound was the clinking of spoons against bowls. it was a routine youd both had set in the last year. no matter how hard the day was you always had dinner together. it was quiet, it was comfortable. maybe that’s why you had the courage to ask

“can i come with you next time?” you asked, breaking the fragile silence.

bobby looked up from his bowl, his brow furrowed. “come where?”

“on a hunt.” your tone was casual, or as casual as you could make it seem. the determination flickering in your eyes is what caught bobby off guard. you never asked this before.

bobby sat his spoon down, “absolutely not”

“why not?” you demanded.

“because it’s dangerous, you think i wanna lose you too?” the words came out harsher than he ever intended, & he saw you flinch.

“i’m not a kid anymore dad.” you argued, your voice softer now.

“you’re eleven”

“i can handle it” you insisted.

bobby leaned back in his chair, the legs scrapped the old worn wood floors as he ran a hand through his hair. he said your name, trying to keep his tone even “you don’t know what you’re asking me for kid. hunting ain’t like fixing cars or sneaking into the garage to read my old books. it’s blood, it’s danger. things you can’t ever take back. i don’t want that life for you.”

“but it’s your life daddy.” you said, your voice softer small.

bobby looked up to you, his eyes piercing you. he was looking at you, really looking at you & for a moment he seen your mother in your eyes. stubborn, brave, & too damn smart for your own good. he sighed, the fight leaving him.

“finish your chili” he said gruffly. “& don’t bring this up again”

that night, you laid in your bed wide awake. starting at the ceiling, you could hear the faint clink of bottles as your dad cracked open another beer downstairs. you knew he was trying to protect you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you were meant for more. so much more.

turning on your side, you reached for the flashlight under your pillow & flicked it on. the beam illuminating one of bobby’s old hunting journals. you’d stolen it from his office weeks ago, & every night you pored over the pages. reading about ghosts, wendigos, demons, & the men & women who fought them.

you traced your fingers over a sketch of a salt circle, your mind racing. if your dad wasn’t going to teach you, you’d just teach yourself

“morning bobby” sheriff mills said, tipping her hat as she leaned against her patrol car.

“sheriff” bobby grunted, adjusting the brim of his cap as he hoisted a box of supplies from his truck.

“you hear what folks been saying bout you?” she asked, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“probably nothing i ain’t heard before” bobby replied gruffly, not looking up from the box

she chuckled, a deep belly chuckle “half the town thinks you’ve got a kid locked up in that house of yours. other half thinks she’s a ghost”

bobby froze for a second, tearing his gaze from the box to Jody. he slowly shook his head “them damn people need to mind their own business”

“can’t blame em for wondering, no one’s seen her in years”

“she’s fine” bobby said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “& i ain’t explaining myself to a bunch of busy bodies”

Sheriff mills held up her hands in mock defense “didn’t say you had too Singer, just thought you’d wanna know is all”

bobby watched her go, a sour feeling settling in his stomach. a knot forming in hit throat, he never cared what people thought of him. but you? you never deserved this. on his drive home, he thought a lot about the life he was giving you. was he doing enough? was he a good father? he even found every doubt of worry wash away as he pulled into the driveway & seen you fast at work under the hood of his latest project car, a smile pried at his face when you held up a hand waving at him

later that afternoon, bobby was under the hood of the project car with you. he had just sent you inside for some drinks when he heard the familiar rumble of a car pulling into the yard. he glanced up, wiping his hands on an oil rag, & froze dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the black chevy impala.

“son of a bitch” he muttered, setting the rag down.

the car door opened, & john winchester stepped out, his boys trailing behind him. dean, maybe thirteen, was already wearing his cocky smirk. while nine year old sam looked around the yard with wide eyes.

“bobby!” john called out, spreading his arms wide like they were old friends.

“what the hell are you doing here john?” bobby asked, walking over.

“need a place to leave the boys for a couple days. got a hunt nearby, & i can’t take em with me”

bobby crossed his arms, glaring at him. “i ain’t a damn babysitter”

“they’re not babies” john argued. “dean can handle himself & sam- well, he’s sam. you know how he is”

“i know how you are” bobby shot back.

john sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look, i wouldn’t ask if i had another option. just a couple days, bobby. that’s all i need”

bobby glanced at the boys. dean was standing protectively in front of sam, his eyes darting between his dad & bobby. sam, meanwhile was clutching a work book to his chest, looking like he’d rather be swallowed up by the world.

“fine” bobby said begrudgingly “but you owe me winchester.”

john grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “knew i could count on you”

as they approached the house, bobby set his hat on the counter & gestured for the boys to sit.

“house rules” he said, crossing his arms. “you touch my books, you ask first. you mess with my tools, you clean up after yourselves. & you stay outta trouble. got it?”

dean nodded, his smirk returning “got it”

sam, still clutching his book, shrunk under bobby’s gaze but offered a small nod.

“& don’t bother june” bobby added, glancing up the stairs.

“june?” dean asked, raising his eyebrow.

bobby said your name softly, “my daughter” his tone daring them to make a comment.

deans smirked widened. “didn’t know you had a daughter”

“don’t make me regret letting you stay here, boy” bobby growled.

inside, you were grabbing a glass of juice & a beer for your dad when you heard loud gruff voices. you recognized one as your dad, the other you were certain you’d never heard before. that’s how you found yourself in your bedroom, peeking out from your bedroom window, watching the scene unfold. you’d heard stories about john winchester— mostly from the times her dad was cursing him out on the phone— but you never could put a face to the name.

you watched as john drove off, leaving the two boys behind. the taller one said something to bobby, & the old man barked a laugh before leading them inside. you ducked away from the window & scrambled to make yourself presentable. wiping your hands on your oil stained jeans & shoving a huge pile of books under your bed.

there was a knock on your door not long after.

“june bug” bobby said, his voice muffled “got some company. get out here”

taking a deep breath, you opened the door & stepped out into the hallway.

“woah” dean said the second he saw you. “you’re real?”

you blinked at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

dean grinned. “dad told us bobby had a kid but we thought you were just an urban legend or something”

“i’m not a kid” you said, crossing your arms.

“you’re younger than me” dean countered.

“doesn’t mean i’m a kid”

“alright knock it off” bobby interrupted, his tone gruff. he introduced you, saying your name “this is Dean & Sam. they’ll be staying with us for a few days. now that introductions are over with, show them where they’re sleeping june. also you two” he said as he pointed to sam & dean- “stay outta her room”

dean held his hands up “no problem, bobby”

“smart ass” bobby murmured under his breath as he walked down the stairs

your eyes flicked to sams, who was staring at the floor. “hi” he mumbled

“hi” you said back, softening a little.

“you kids get along” bobby said already heading for the kitchen, “& stay outta trouble”

you led the boys down the hall to a small guest room with two twin beds adorning it, a small dresser with a smaller tv sat infront of the two beds, one side table rested between them. there was a pink rug that used to be in your room, now pushed in the middle of the floor.

“this is it” you said, gesturing inside.

dean dropped his bag on one of the beds as he flopped down. “not bad”

sam stood awkwardly near the door, holding his bag like he wasn’t sure where exactly to put it, or himself.

“you can take that one” you said, pointing to the open bed on the far side of the room.

“thanks” he mumbled, setting his bag down carefully.

dean looked around the room, then back to you “so, what do you do around here for fun?”

you raised an eyebrow “fun?”

“yeah ya know, like normal people stuff”

you snorted, “this is the Singer household. ain’t no such thing as normal”

sam smiled a bit, dean chuckled “fair enough”

“dinners at six” you said leading yourself back down the hall to your bedroom, “try not to break anything before then”

that night, after a supper filled with awkward silences & a lot of side eyes from dean, you were sitting on the front porch steps leaning against the railing, staring out at the stars. they were sprinkled across the sky like salt spilled on dark velvet. the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of oil & rust from the yard. you heard the creak of the door behind you & glanced back to see sam stepping out, his worn book tucked under his arm.

“couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

sam shook his head, hesitating but deciding to sit down on the step beside you. “deans snoring”

you smirked, turning to face sam. “yeah my dad snores like a freight train. you get used to it”

sam nodded, his grip on the book tightening “your dad… he’s, uh, kinda scary.”

that made you laugh— a short, sharp sound. “yeah he’s good at that. but he’s not so bad once you get to know him. just don’t touch his books or his tools without asking”

sam looked down at his book, tracing the edge of the cover with his thumb “he seems.. i don’t know. different from my dad”

your gaze softened, “yeah? how’s your dad?”

sam shrugged, his shoulders hunching slightly. “strict. always busy with hunts. he doesn’t talk much about—“ he paused, like he wasn’t really sure if he should say anything more. “about anything, really”

you pulled your arms up to rest on your knees “my dads the same. i mean, he talks, but mostly it’s just grumbling bout how im not doing something right.”

sam smiled faintly. “at least you get to stay here. you know, one place. we’re always moving. dean says it’s fine.. but i don’t know”

you tilted your head, watching him “you don’t like it do you?”.

sam shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “it’s hard to make friends, & just when you start to like the place you leave. dean says it’s better this way but…”

“but it sucks” you finish for him

“yeah” he admitted.

you sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the salvage yard humming around you. you could hear the faint croak of crickets & the occasional rustle of a cat weaving through cars.

“what’s that your reading?” you asked, nodding towards the book in his lap.

sam perked up slightly, he held it out “it’s about mythology. greek gods & stuff. i’ve read it a bunch of times but i always find something new”

you grinned “you’re a nerd”

sam’s face turned red, as he ducked his head. “i guess”

“relax, i didn’t mean it as an insult” you said, nudging him with your shoulder. “i like books too. not the mythology ones though, im more into the hunting ones. lore & spells & stuff”

“like your dads books?”

“yeah” you said, your voice dropping a bit. “he doesn’t know i read them, but i’ve learned a lot. salt circles, sigils, how to banish spirits. that kind of thing”

sam’s eyes lit up, “really? that’s so cool”

“don’t tell my dad” you warned

“i won’t” sam promised

you share a small smile before you turned your gaze back to the stars.

“you’ll be okay, you know” you said after awhile.

“what do you mean?” sam asked

“your dad. hunting. all of it. you’re tough, i can tell sammy”

sam looked at you, surprised “thanks junie.”

you shrugged, smiling at the nickname as you stood & brushed the dirt off your jeans. “don’t mention it, now come on. if dean wakes up & finds out we’re our here bonding, he’ll never let us hear the end of it”

sam laughed, the sound so soft but so genuine. god don’t let your daddy hear it but maybe it isn’t so bad, hanging around the winchesters.

the next morning, the smell of bacon & eggs filled the house. you stood at the stove, flipping strips of bacon with a practiced hand. you loved cooking breakfast, one of the only memories you’ve held onto all these years of your mother is how you used to cook breakfast with her every morning for your father, you even continued or (tried to continue) after she was gone.

dean wandered into the kitchen, still half-asleep his hair sticking in all different directions.

“is that bacon?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“yeah” you said smirking, “& no you’re not getting any until sam gets up”

dean groaned, slumping into his chair at the table “he’s probably just reading again. kid never stops”

“maybe you should try it” you teased.

dean rolled his eyes “why read when you can just be awesome?”

“awesome at what? snoring”

dean smirked “funny”

sam appeared, a moment later. his book under his arm as usual, you handed him a plate & he smiled shyly

“thanks”

dean looked at his plate, then back to you. “you’re alright, you know?”

“don’t get used too it” you shot back, sitting down with your own plate.

after breakfast, bobby led dean to the garage & handed him a wrench. he nodded toward an old chevy. “if you’re staying here, you’re working. get under that hood & make yourself useful”

dean grinned “yes, sir”

you watched as dean dove into the task, his confidence clear. “he thinks he’s hot stuff, doesn’t he?” you muttered to sam

“always” sam replied, rolling his eyes.

you laughed & grabbed a rag, “cmon let’s see if he knows what he’s doing.”

the morning passed with the three of you working in the yard, the occasional sound of you & dean bickering breaking the peaceful quiet. sam stayed silent mostly, but every now & then you’d catch him wearing a smile

as the sun blazed overhead you stood under the hood of a car later that afternoon, wiping sweat from your brow. you were working on one of bobby’s personal vehicles, muttering to yourself as you tightened a particularly stubborn bolt.

“need a hand?”

you glanced up to see dean, leaning casually against the side of the truck. his trademark smirk firmly in place.

“i’ve got it” you replied, going back to your work

“are you sure?” dean teased, leaning a little closer “looks like you’re struggling”

you rolled your eyes. “i’m not struggling. i just don’t need some wannabe mechanic messing up my work”

dean chuckled, unfazed. “wannabe? sweetheart, i’ve been fixing cars since i could walk”

“good for you” you shot bavk, refusing to look at him.

deans grin widened as he walked around to your side of the truck. “alrighty then. i’ll just stand here & admire the view”

you froze for a split second before glaring at him “the view?”

he nodded, clearly enjoying himself & the reaction he was getting from you. “yep. the salvage yard is real scenic from this angle”

you snorted, shaking your head “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah but you like it” dean quipped, his eyes glinting.

“keep dreaming winchester.” you replied, though you couldn’t help the faintest twitch of a smile

that evening, you found sam sitting on the front porch steps again, his book open on his lap. this time though, he wasn’t reading; he was staring out at the darkening yard, lost in thought.

“hey” you said gently, stepping outside & finding a spot beside him

“hey” sam replied; his voice quiet.

“what’s up?” you asked, pulling your knees to your chest

sam hesitated, then closed his book & set it aside. the old wooden porch boards cradling the worn leather. “do you ever feel like… maybe.. you don’t belong?”

you blinked, completely caught off guard. “sometimes.” you admitted, “why?”

sam sighed, running his small hands over his face. “i just… i don’t want this life. the hunting. the moving around. dean loves it, dad expects it, but me? i just want something different.”

you tilted your head, watching him carefully. afraid if you even let out a breath to heavy sam will start pushing his protective layer back over himself.

“like what sammy?”

“i don’t know” sam said, his voice tinged with frustration. “a normal life i guess. stability. college. friends. ya know?”

“sounds nice” you offered softly

sam looked at you like you had 4 heads & 3 of them were on fire as he spoke “you think so?”

“yeah” you said with a small shrug, “but normals not really an option for people like us, is it?”

sam frowned, his shoulders sagging “i wish it was”

you placed a hand on his arm, giving him a gentle supportive squeeze. “but hey, if anyone can find a way out it’s you. you’re real smart. you’ll figure it out”

sam’s lips twitched into a faint smile “thanks junie”

“anytime” is all you offered, your eyes finding their way back to the familiar stars you’ve come to know so well.

by the third day, bobby had warmed up to the boys- though he’d never outright admit it. dean was under the hood of the same chevy, hands covered in grease, while bobby stood nearby, arms crossed as he watched carefully.

“not bad, kid” bobby grunted as dean tightened the last bolt.

dean grinned, wiping his hands on the rag bobby threw him. “coming from you, i’ll take that as a compliment”

“don’t let it go to your head” bobby muttered, though there was hint of a smile beneath his gruff tone.

meanwhile, you were helping sam in the library, sorting through some of bobby’s older books.

“your dads not as scary as he looks” sam said as he shelved a worn book.

you chuckled “he definitely grows on you”

sam nodded, his expression thoughtful as he continued shuffling through the books. “dean likes him, he doesn’t say it. but i can tell”

you raised any eyebrow, a bit caught off guard.“really?” you think so?”

“yeah” sam said, smiling faintly. “dean does respect a lot of people, but your dad? he respects him”

you felt warmth in your chest as you heard dean & your dads laughs “good to know”

the sound of the impala pulling into the yard came unexpected & unwarranted, john never called & let anyone know when he was coming nor what day. john stepped out of the impala, looking as worn & serious as ever.

“boys” he called out, dean & sam appeared almost instantly with their bags slung over their shoulders.

“thanks for lettin em stay” john said to bobby, his tone gruff but sincere.

“don’t make it a habit” bobby replied, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

john nodded, then turned to his sons. “get in the car.”

dean glanced back to you before climbing into the passenger seat. “see you around june”

“yeah” you said, leaning against the porch railing “see you”

sam gave you a small wave from the backseat, & you returned it. your smiled tinged with sadness

as the impala to life & disappeared down the road, you felt an ache in your chest you couldn’t quite understand.

comment to be on my tag list 🫶🏼🫶🏼

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malcolmschmitz · 4 months ago

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REVIEW: THE VICAR MAN

Okay, so, I finished @ameliahcrowley 's THE VICAR MAN. I promised to leave an Amazon review but Amazon won't let me. So in the spirit of our agreement, I'm leaving a review somewhere and figuring out Amazon later.

TLDR: The Vicar Man is good! I liked it! If you like funny historical fantasy you will probably like it!

So as you could probably guess from the title, The Vicar Man is a spoof of The Wicker Man, the classic folk horror movie. (It's mostly drawing from the Christopher Lee one, not the Nic Cage one, and thank goodness for that.) Dora's village worships a dark, eldritch god and sacrifices virgins to it for the good of the harvest. When a stranger comes to town- a nice young vicar who genuinely seems oblivious to the horrors at hand-

Dora can't just let him get thrown on the sacrificial pyre. She has to save this guy. And the easiest way to keep someone from being a virgin sacrifice is to make sure they're not a virgin anymore. Problem is, Dora's aro/ace, and moderately sex-repulsed. But a man's life's at stake. She sets off on a quest to seduce the Vicar, poking fun of many historical romance tropes along the way.

It might be more accurate to call this story an unromance novel than a fantasy novel- it follows all the conventions of a romance novel, down to the plot beats, but none of them quite wind up where you'd expect. This isn't a traditional love story- but it's not not a love story. This isn't a traditional horror story- but it's not not a horror story. If you're aro and/or ace, you like the idea of historical romance, but you're not here for the Love At First Sight Based Solely On Pantsfeelings? This book was made for you, specifically.

What it is is a comedy, and it's fast-paced and funny the whole way through. Dora's incredibly likeable- especially if you're a snarky, nerdy bluestocking, or if you've left a high-control religious group- and her inner monologue never fails to please. Norman, the titular vicar, is a sad, wet cat of a man, a poor little meow meow, adorable and kind and So Very Doomed. The relationship between the two of them - well, I shan't spoil things, but I thought it was delightful.

This book has one quality that didn't always gel with me- the language sits a bit wrong for a historical, even one that's set in the year "uh. well. there's probably a king? named George?". There's a fair bit of Tumblr dialect sprinkled through here- in particular there's a handful of jokes that revolve around 21st century feminist terms, sometimes deliberately using them for a jarring and inappropriate effect. And sometimes it hit right, but sometimes it didn't do it for me. I'm oversensitive to language, though- heck, I invented an entire goddess for one setting so I wouldn't have to use 'modern' trans language in a setting where it doesn't belong!- and it probably won't bug most people.

Overall, I really enjoyed the time I spent with THE VICAR MAN- I'd recommend it if you like funny historical fantasy, if you'd enjoy reading a sendup of Gothic romances and folk horror, or if you like the idea of an aro/ace unromance novel. I'd especially recommend it if you like The Misadventures of Sawbones and Its Menagerie- the narrator, Dora, has a very similar narrative voice. They share that 'outwardly quiet and polite, but with a constant snarky inner monologue' energy.

Strong recommend, and thanks to the author for the review copy!

#the vicar man #amelia crowley #ameliahcrowley #book review #support indie authors #indie fantasy #indie fiction #strong recommend

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markh0ffmanz · 1 year ago

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i think it'd be really funny if john just kinda kept william around not as a lover not as an apprentice but as a secret third thing. kind of like a pet but also not. william is like the bug he keeps in a jar just to stare at for an unnerving amount of time. occasionally he shakes the jar just to see what happens. all of his apprentices are confused as to why this guy is hanging around. or why he's not dead. hoffman just thinks it's really fucking annoying. oh you get to keep your irritating fucking blood sucking health insurance ceo but i can't keep my fbi agent on a leash and collar in a dimly lit cell with only a dog food bowl to keep him company? fuck you john

#old man yaoi and toxic yaoi crossover. diversity win #piranhashipping #coffinshipping #hoffstrahm #saw

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thewritingmagician2022 · 9 months ago

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Helloooo can I request the brother reaction to mc cracking their bones when stretching? I do it quite often because I sit down for ages but it helps relieve tension so much.

I love your writing style as well! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Thank you so much for the compliment and the request - they both mean a lot to me!

I want to apologize because I know this isn't my best work for sure; I'm currently sick and I also hate joints cracking lmao but I hope you still enjoy.

Lucifer: Lucifer is like me where he’s going to cringe, just a little, and his eye may twitch. The sound of you cracking is so jarring and inelegant, especially to a demon who doesn’t have that problem. I can see it being one of those “ugh, do you have to make that sound?” kind of things for him and he’ll side eye you if you do it in public. You can definitely use this knowledge to intentionally annoy him if you want to.

Mammon: Mammon hates it. The first time you did it, he thought you broke a bone and was subsequently in tears about how you managed to do that to yourself. Why are humans so breakable?! Once he realizes it doesn’t hurt you, he calms down a bit but he definitely still gets the ick out of sheer worry each time it happens in front of him. However, he does delight in how much it bugs Lucifer and wishes he could crack his own knuckles to do the same.

Levi: like Mammon, Levi was absolutely shook at first that you’d somehow busted your knuckles playing video games with him (that’s the first time he heard it was after a long gaming session) and all he could think about was how he didn’t know you were such a hardcore gamer being able to keep playing after that. Once he learns the truth, he basically ignores it. He lowkey wishes he could crack like that too because he’s always tense/tight from spending so much time sitting and you make it sound so relieving.

Satan: Satan finds it fascinating; he likes learning about all the little quirks of being human. He researches about the effects cracking joints can have and exactly why it happens. I imagine that he would ignore it for the most part once he’s used to it. He does like the idea of being able to crack his knuckles, especially in that threatening way they have in movies and books, so when you guys are arguing with people he may gesture to you to do it. It might not be as scary coming from a human but it’s still plenty intimidating to watch a human crack their knuckles and have Satan pop out at the cue.

Asmo: Typically it’s an ick for Asmo. It just doesn’t sound cute, you know? You sound old and rickety and vulnerable, like all humans do. He'll mostly ignore it though he does scold you if you do intentionally. He’s that person who would believe the urban legend about it causing arthritis and will regularly remind you to be careful so you don’t end up broken or with messed up looking joints.

Beel: Beel has a panic moment, like Mammon. He’s worried that you’ve injured yourself in some way and is immediately all over you, asking if you’re okay and what happened. It takes a while to explain to him that it’s just air trapped between joints and that clearing it out actually helps you feel better. After that, Beel is always happy to ask if you need help cracking. He’s nervous to go too hard and hurt you but he’s the kind of person who will pick you up to help your back crack.

Belphie: Honestly, I imagine Belphie’s got a little bit of PTSD that flares up when he hears the cracking. It reminds him of when he murdered you and heard/felt all of your bones cracking. It’s really unfortunate and the first time it happens, he runs off and avoids you for a solid day or two because he can’t look at you without hearing the sound. He’ll look up ways to help your joints so it doesn’t happen as often and you have to be careful not to purposefully do it in front of him, even if you try to assure him that this is totally different and safe.

#obey me #obey me imagines #obey me asks #obey me headcanons #obey me brothers

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queers-gambit · 2 years ago

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Creepy Crawlies

inspired by this image by @applegin

prompt: Aemond and Helaena witness how deep your fear goes.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader featuring: bestie!Helaena

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 1.7k+

warnings: cursing, spoiler FREE, author has arachnophobia and projects in this, spiders (it's a warning to me), generally pretty docile. oh, and, i'm def pretending Aemond's just strong enough to carry a human, so, use a bit of your imagination.

#WhyPayForTherapyWhenYouCanWrite

In truth, you're not sure how or why it happened. Some said it was the Will of the Gods, others claimed it simply made-up, while others said it could've been your own mind playing tricks. Either way, every which way you turned, someone was there to discredit your fears.

It's not like you asked for this kind of humiliation! Honestly! Did people genuinely think you did this on purpose? Did they think you liked this? Being this way? As if it wasn't enough to have fear in general, but tenfold when nobody seemed to understand nor validate the way you were engulfed in anxiety.

Over all, the creepiest, fucking eight-legged, eight-eyed crawlie around. Something you regarded as Hell Spawn, others might call a spider. Either way, you despised the wee creatures - and though you understood boot crushes the little guy, the idea of being so close to one that you could kill it sent you into overwhelming panic.

Ah, fucking spiders.

Again, you're unsure how this fear developed but it was as if you woke up one day and couldn't stop screaming at the sight of the little creature sent from the depths of Seven Hells. Your older brother became the official "Spider Killer" of the family since you spent most of your time with him, but after getting married, your husband now assumed the role.

Years ago, both your mothers had agreed to a marriage arrangement to ensure loyalty from your House (should the time come), and six weeks after your 17th nameday, you were reciting vows to your white-haired lover. He held no quarrel with your fear, and in fact, he was the first to ever not make you feet at fault for it.

It wasn't Aemond's place to ridicule you. He's seen you with a sword, with a bow and arrows, hell, even with an axe - and sometimes, doing all of that while on horseback! He understood you to have no fear, and yet, when a spider comes in your vision, it was as if any and all rational thought vacates your mind. He's seen you throw-up from your anxiety, so, he quickly understood his role and never once complained nor belittled you for it.

Aemond didn't mind killing spiders for you. He could understand that you needed "proof" of their vanquish, showing the squashed bug on his boot, and only then would you breathe easier. However, if around his family, Aemond knew his sister, Helaena, would become upset by him harming - like alone, killing - any insect. She'd prefer them to be set free outside, and as compromise, Aemond would simply escort you out of the room to leave his sister time to collect her buggy friend. He'd walk you to the kitchens, fetch some water, watch you crack your neck, and then venture back to whatever gathering.

You always hesitated before returning to events. Most times, wherever you saw the spider is the exact place you avoid - almost as if there was an invisible fence keeping you away.

Aemond would pause you, slowly pick up his sister's jar, and show you the little fucker was safely inside with a screwed-on-tight lid. You didn't like it, Aemond knew that, but you both made an effort to actively not upset Helaena.

One day, when a thick hurricane ravaged the city, Aemond found you in the middle of lessons and decided to seek out his sister - never seeking Aegon out unless for family matters. His sister, as usual, was catering to her collection of insects, smiling when she saw him, and inviting him over. She mindlessly explained who was who to Aemond, telling him what they did or what their purpose was in an ecosystem.

He listened.

He asked questions.

He was a perfect brother.

And he didn't think you'd know where to find him on such a day, because the moment Helaena handed over a spider to Aemond, bidding he be gentle and not let Aegon near the creature (who had been in and out all day), there came a squeak by the door.

"Oh," Helaena frowned, seeing your frozen form. Her brother had told her of your fear, thinking she'd understand the best. "I-I can introduce you, if you want? Wi-Will that help? Will that help you feel safe?"

You paused, heart melting at her words. "Um... Uh, I-I don't, I, uhhh... I just don't know what will help."

"It's okay, darling," Aemond soothed, nodding at you, hands turning over to let eight-legs carry the spider around.

"Here," Helaena nodded, waving Aemond after her as she approached you. "Why don't you just watch, say hello? No touching," she promised, standing slightly behind you as if you block your exit.

"Um... I don't know..."

Aemond took slow steps, eye never leaving your face. You gulped as he took another step, and from here, he could see a sweat glistening on your forehead - so he took another step.

"Wait! Wait, no!" You begged, feeling Helaena's hands on your upper arms from behind. Aemond was too close now, and you couldn't look away from the arachnid crawling around his flesh. The same flesh you touched, the same flesh that worshiped you nightly, the same flesh that warmed your own in the night. "NO!" You sobbed, backing up so forcefully, you almost tripped over you sister-by-law. "No, Gods, please, no! NO! Just no! G-Get away from me!"

Helaena gasped your name, but your eyes were blown, hands shaking, throat swelling, stomach churning. Aemond spoke your name softly, frowning, but you could only pant as you leaned against the chamber wall beside the door. "We're gonna put her back now, okay?" He spoke softly, nodding slowly at you.

"Please, please, just kill it, jus-just get it gone!" You begged,.

"We'll get it away from you, it's okay," Aemond agreed, his sister quickly opening her jar to let her brother lower the bug into the glass. "It's okay, love, look, just look here." When your eyes flashed to his, then to the jar, he made sure to move slowly and shake the little Hell spawn from his hand.

"I'm so sorry," Helaena frowned.

"It's not your fault," Aemond promised, watching you as you tried to regain your breathing. "It's not her fault either..."

"Um," Helaena looked at you with worry, "m-maybe you'd like to see the others? I have ladybugs, grasshoppers, too. They're nice."

You gulped, "I-Is the spider gone?"

She held up the jar, turning for her little work bench and setting the jar in a satchel - out of your sight. "Is this okay?" She made sure.

"I-It can't escape?" You squeaked.

"No," the girl shook her head. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"No, no," you assured slowly, "it's me."

"Can I ask?"

You eyed her for a moment, "I don't have an answer... I've been like this since I can remember."

She frowned, glancing at Aemond. "Why aren't you comforting her?"

"She doesn't like to be touched like this," Aemond whispered.

"My skin hurts when I'm having these feelings," you admitted with a frown. "I just... You gotta let me calm down."

"Come sit?" Aemond offered, gesturing to the furthest arm chair from the work bench.

"I-I think I should leave. You guys were having fun and - "

"No, no, I want you to stay," Helaena insisted. "We can do anything else!"

"I'm so sorry," you sighed.

"Don't apologize," Aemond frowned, slowly approaching you.

"Aht!" You warned with a finger to halt him. "You're not touching me after a spider!"

"Oh, sweetheart - "

"No, no, no, no, wash your hands," you snipped. "I can't touch you, please, Aemond... For me?"

He sighed, but turned for the wash basin as Helaena lead you to the sitting area. She showed you her ladybugs and grasshoppers, and soon, you were giggling as the grasshoppers just bounced around like a little spring was on their legs.

Aemond eventually joined you, but he could see the panic in your eyes from still being in the same room, knowingly, as a spider. He understood why you wanted them killed instead of set free, and he would've done whatever it took to ensure your comfort. However, it could mean putting his sister's comfort at risk - and nobody, but Aemond, cared about Helaena's feelings.

So, when you married Aemond, you both understood that you two were essentially Helaena's keepers. If that meant capturing spiders rather than killing them, so be it, but Aemond hated watching you suffer. So, he pretended he was needed elsewhere with you to make your escape, and only when out of the room did he swear you took a breath.

"I'm sorry I couldn't kill it," he sighed.

"No, it's okay... Thank you for getting me out of there."

"Anytime," he nodded with a frown. "I wish I could've helped more."

"You help plenty," you assured. "I should learn to knock before entering rooms."

Aemond chuckled, "Yeah, as if that would ever happen."

"Hush." But then, you admitted, "I wish I didn't have this fear."

"Then you wouldn't be you," Aemond eased, letting his hand slide around your waist. "It's okay to be afraid."

"Yeah?"

"'Course," he smirked, "because your husband isn't afraid of a thing and can easily take on the Hell Spawn."

"See!" You cried with a gasp. "You know they're devious little fuckers, too! Sent upon mankind to repent for our sins!"

"Maybe that's why you fear them."

"Hmm?"

"You sinned big time in another life and now the spiders are sent, seeking atonement."

"Oh, ha-ha. Thought I married a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, not a court jester."

"Perhaps, a bit of both?"

"You'd have to be actually funny to be a jester - OW!" You laughed when he pinched your ribcage to make you squeal. "Unfair advantage! You're so bloody tall and have an angle!"

"Hm," Aemond considered, shrugging with a relenting nod, and then stooped low to haul you over his shoulder as if a sack of flour - moving forward to your bed chamber.

"Aemond!" You squealed. "Put me down, this is not appropriate! You know I hate being man-handled! Oh, my God, please, love, there's people watching!"

"Then they can mind their own business, just like we are," Aemond grunted. "I am merely escorting my wife to bed so I can fuck the fear outta her all night."

"It's only past lunch, Aemond!"

"Then I know what I want for dinner," his other hand rose to give a playful swat to your ass; hearing you giggle as he turned the corner.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond fluff #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond hotd #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen fanfic

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afyrian · 6 months ago

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no. 6 - breakfast convos masterlist

the mess hall is filled with tired and cranky campers. the first night wasn't how you expected it to go. many of them weren't prepared for the terrible mattresses that every camp seems to have and the amount of bugs that made their way through the door cracks. and now, standing in the mess hall, you sigh, letting your cabin go ahead of you.

the breakfast looks absolutely delicious, however, most of the cabins had already gone through the food. even atsumu's cabin seemed to have made their way through before your's. with how often he slept in.. you lightly shake your head, trying to remind yourself that this camp isn't about him. it's about camaraderie and having fun.

although, no breakfast but seaweed and steamed rice isn't the most fun. and while you could make something out of it, there isn't much rice to work with. you look around the room, biting your lip, watching as your friends try to wave you over.

"sorry about the lack of food, some people seemed to grab more than the usual amount," osamu catches you standing in front of the food without anything on your plate, "here, why don't you come to the back and we can figure something out. someone's bringing fresh food soon, but your first activity will have started."

you take in a slow breath, nodding your head, "what would i do without you osamu?"

"probably go hungry," he shrugs, a smile rising on his face.

the two of you make your way to the kitchen, scouring the freezers and fridges for something to hold you over. luckily there seemed to be a couple eggs left and some pickled vegetables. of course it isn't a full meal, and you'd probably need an emergency snack, but it's something. "i know this isn't exactly the best first breakfast under my control, but i'll make it up to you."

"thanks osamu, i do remember your cooking being fantastic back when you'd sneak stuff in the middle of the night," you lean against a nearby counter, crossing your arms over your chest as he cracks the eggs into a pan.

he looks back at you, eyebrows raised, "really? i thought it sucked, i mean half the time it was just fish and some rice with like no seasoning."

"it was better than what's-his-face's-name's cooking.. i mean that guy really didn't know cuisine like you do," you give him a small smile, remembering that you two would have some fun together when atsumu wasn't there acting like a prick half of the time, "so, you own a restaurant now, right?"

"yeah, it's being manned by my second in command, i'm pretty proud of it. it's called onigiri miya, if you're ever nearby you should come and check it out," osamu finishes the eggs rather quickly, setting them into a plate and grabbing some of the pickled vegetables out of the jar.

before you can agree to the slight invitation, atsumu barges into the kitchen, holding his tray in front of him. it still has some food on it and his hair is a little frizzled from having woken up recently. your gaze flickers between him and his twin, hoping that you could possibly sneak out without having to intervene.

"'samu!" he looks over at you, instantly repositioning himself some so he doesn't look so awkward, "y/n... right? sorry about the food, my fifteen year olds were really hungry after the terrible sleep. i saw you guys come back here and i had some rice left if you want it."

you swallow the saliva in your mouth, pursing your lips. not that it doesn't seem like a kind gesture, it's just that you can tell he ate it with a mix of ingredients. "thanks.. but if you ate it with tonjiru, i can't have it," you grab the tray that osamu had put your food on, looking away from atsumu as soon as the tense grows too thick for your liking.

"oh okay- uh yeah understandable.. okay, hope you enjoy that then," atsumu closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly pondering his life choices and the very awkward situation he has put you all in.

"thanks, atsumu," you walk out of the room quicker than you would've ever attempted with food in your hand.

the tension had grown so thick you could cut it with a knife, and truthfully you didn't want anymore part in whatever conversation the two were going to have. however, osamu wasn’t so lucky in escaping the conversation that atsumu soon subjects him to.

"dude, you got to tell me what you guys talked about! did she remember me? it seemed like she didn't, but you guys looked cozy back here," atsumu sets down his tray, immediately bombarding osamu with his questions.

"first of all, it was a private conversation between two people who used to be friendly at camp. secondly, it was mostly about my cooking and my restaurant. no cozying up or anything, it was a conversation and cooking. why do you care anyways?"

truth be told, atsumu didn't quite know why he cared, besides the want to apologize. he did always think you were quite nice despite all of his antics. however, he knew that without a doubt, that that’s the only thing he wanted to know. most definitely… for sure.. the only thing.

taglist (open): @lemurzsquad, @froyaoya, @localgaytrainwreck a/n: this chapter feels so incoherent to me so i hope it comes across alright!!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fanfic #hq #camp loverboy #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #atsumu miya #hq fanfic #hq x reader #atsumu miya fluff

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kallikrein · 2 years ago

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AFTER CLASS DETENTION

— with sano shinichiro, akashi takeomi, arashi keizo (benkei), and imaushi wakasa.

genre. fluff and crack, i guess?

contains. gn!reader, school au maybe, profanities, definitely ooc, grammatical errors and not proofread!

word count. 2.3k.

note. just a little smth i wrote for the anniversary of the og black dragons. can you believe we won't get another content for the og bds ever again? we wanna know more, wakui-sensei ;; and also, thanks for @novelbear for the wonderful prompt!

SANO SHINICHIRO

His eyes traced the massive letters in front of him. It looked rushed, edgy. From the first letter up to the last, it screamed ‘I am livid’.

Detention, it said to him. In enraged capital letters too.

He thought an hour had already passed, but a quick glance away from his admiring session with the chalkboard proved otherwise. He still had ample time to spare. 55 minutes to be exact.

Damn. Shinichiro rubbed his face with his hands. He had other plans for this afternoon. Plans with his guys, with his siblings, with his beloved motorcycle. Being detained like a prisoner at school wasn’t in his schedule. And it wasn’t in his plans to get stuck with one of his classmates either.

Now, that made him ponder for a bit.

What in the world were you doing? Sitting all prim and proper, and two seats away from him?

“Hey,” he couldn’t help but ask, “what’d you do?”

To his surprise, you squeaked. Like you’d been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

His eyes turned wide when you started fixing your hair, hiding them behind your ears, and clearing your throat. Was his question that invasive? He quickly stammered, “Ah, you don’t have to answer.”

“N-no...”

“Right. Sorry.”

Shinichiro slumped back on his chair. He could guess it’s because you took another student’s punishment. That’s how you always were. But as far as kindness went, that’s just wrong. Even a rowdy delinquent like him wouldn’t go that far. But of course, he couldn’t speak for everybody else.

“Sensei got mad,” he started. “He got mad ‘cause I always go to school with bruises. That and I’m always late in the mornings.”

For some reason, the words just came out. He didn’t know what to do with the soft silence. It wasn’t that strange. It’s quite comfortable, as surprising as it was. But he needed to be busy with something, to focus on something, to take his mind off this awful hour of punishment.

He started to tap his desk with a slim finger in sync with the ticking of the clock in hopes it would tick faster. When it didn’t work, he sighed and groaned, and sighed again for the millionth time. And when he lost all hope, he hummed a tune.

“Isn’t that an anime song?”

Hearing your question, he faced you and found you looking slightly amused. “Oh, yeah,” he agreed once he realized, “I think it is. My little sister makes me watch her shows.”

You beamed, “That’s kinda cute.”

He quickly pursed his lips, aware not to retort back with something like ‘No. You’re cute’. At the back of his mind, he could easily imagine Takeomi making a disgusted face at his strategy. Instead, he asked the question that’s been bugging him, “Why did you get detention?”

“Pushy, are we?” You answered back, avoiding his gaze.

He shrugged, careless and strangely confident. “Well, I think it’s because you just wanna see me.”

And there went his self-preservation. He honestly didn’t know where that came from. Blame the silence! Blame the silence! His mind told him. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing in the purest form of shame, “I-I don’t mean that. Don’t mind me starting from now on…”

When he peeked your way, his breath got caught in his throat.

You were frozen. Your eyes spoke of panic and embarrassment and truth, and it took you a long time to say something.

If you even wanted to say something, anything; to reject his arrogant words — at all.

In an instant, he started making a sound that resembled a dying man’s cry for help. “Ahhhh…! Aaaahhhh…!”

“Shinichiro-san!”

AKASHI TAKEOMI

To say that Takeomi was a studious person was a delusion.

Even so, he worried about his falling grades every now and then. No one in the prime of their youth would want to fall back a grade. First, it’s a hassle. Two, and perhaps the worst case to ever happen, he didn’t want Shinichiro and the others to boss him around like a true kouhai.

Never in his life would he allow that to happen.

He deemed a passing grade and an acceptable ranking would suffice. Yes, that’s what he thought. He should be safe if he punctually comes to class, hands out his homeworks, and achieves decent test remarks.

Yes, that would be enough. So with a will made of steel, starting today, in this almost empty classroom, he would become studious.

Collecting his textbook and a pen, he began to lay out the materials for his self-study. It wasn’t until a few minutes of measly concentration he felt someone burning holes on the sides of his face that he threw a look at its source.

“What?” He scowled.

“What? What do you mean ‘what’?” You screeched. “You’re studying! Studying!”

“And? Do you see the world ending?” He went back to his reading but the words were now all jumbled up in his head. He couldn’t believe all the times he got into detention, this one time you just had to be in one as well.

“Yes?” You scoffed. “What happened to ‘I can buy this whole school if I want to pass’ Takeomi?!”

“Shut up. You’re disturbing me,” he gnarled. He swore he just needed a quiet time, a peaceful one to get this subject done, and he would be free as a bird.

“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Seeing how you dragged your chair closer to his, with your eyes sparkling with mischief, it’s easy to say you weren’t bothered at all to be reprimanded.

Unlike him.

“Get out of my sight,” Takeomi warned.

“What are you studying?”

“I said ge—” Before he could finish his second threat, you had already snatched the book he was just reading. You hummed in recognition, speaking out loud its contents.

“Ah, this is boring,” you tutted after a while. “Wanna ditch detention with me?”

“No.”

“Wanna ditch detention with me?”

“No. And give me back my book.”

“I’ll give it back if you ditch detention with me.”

“I won’t ditch. Give it back,” Takeomi insisted. He stood up from his seat so he would easily tower over your sitting form, but you too were quick on your feet. Jumping to get away from his hold.

“Now, this is starting to get fun.” Smirking, you ran to the other side of the room, near the exit door, and did a little taunt, “If you catch me, I’d teach you how to easily memorize this!”

“No way in hell you got that memorized.” He said that but he wasn’t too sure. Even though you’re a culprit on your own, you’re still book smart. Always have been. You have always been a great help when his procrastination becomes too extreme. “Get back here,” he grunted as he darkly inched forward.

“You need saving, Takeomi,” you mocked.

“No, I don’t,” he drawled, as a devilish grin formed on his lips. “You’re the one who needs saving.”

With that, he started chasing his book.

ARASHI "BENKEI" KEIZO

“Oh, wow. Uhm, hi…”

Benkei looked up to find one familiar face standing by the door, bag and books in their arms. He gave them a customary nod, “Hm.”

“May I sit?”

Another nod, “Hm.”

Silence passed and you were still a fidgeting wreck around him. He took a glance at you. “First time?”

“Y-yes!”

Well, not that he could be much of help for first timers anyway. He’s already used to spending his afternoons in a barren classroom. All the students that got detained with him for detention always opted for counseling or community service instead.

It seemed he scared most of his schoolmates simply by his appearance alone, so the less interaction the better.

Not that he minded, to be honest. It’s more tolerable to have people be terrified of his wordless tenacity than to have his head fuming and his blood boiling from all the idiocracy they possessed. It’s more favorable for everybody that way.

Although, he has his moments of loneliness too. Just like now, he thought the flowers below the window panes looked a bit miserable. They were one of his reasons for not listening to class. How a flower, something so gentle and fragile, gives beauty to the world around them. How delightful they exist for that reason alone.

But today, they looked poignant. And it made his heart feel a tad bit blue.

“Benkei-san? Can I call you Benkei-san?”

“Hm?” Upon realizing he wasn’t alone, Benkei gave his fullest attention to you. “What’d you just say?”

“Ah! It’s nothing super important! I just wondered if I can call you Benkei-san!” You sounded as if a soldier was asked by his superior if he had understood his orders. It was that formal and alert.

“Chill out,” he noted. “I’m not gonna bite your head off.”

“Ah… haha… then… Can I call you Benkei-san?”

“Sure. Whatever.” He might sound dismissive, but he didn’t care much if he was called Benkei or Keizo. Then again, he’s already used to being evaded by people like he’s the plague.

The thought brought him back to his senses.

“You didn’t get counseling?” The words came out of his mouth in a rush, before his mind could even comprehend what he’s inquiring about. “Community service?”

You smiled sheepishly, “No.”

“I wonder why,” Benkei wondered. Not knowing he had uttered it out loud.

“It’s not because I wanna get to know you more, Benkei-san!” You explained. “Sensei told me there’s a… a… a missing lunch box! Yes! A missing lunch box in this classroom, a-a-and I should return it to her! ASAP!”

Suddenly, you’re on your feet scrounging the tables, lifting the upturned chairs as if it could hide a lunch box underneath. And then you started checking the drawers, the windows — hell, even the freaking doorways.

“What does it look like?” He asked, standing to his full height to help.

“Erm… a yellow flowery thing… I think?”

“I think I’ve seen it somewhere,” he added. He turned his back on you, looking atop the drawer beside the teacher’s table, as he hid a playful, knowing smirk from you. “Is it Sensei’s?”

“Erm… yes? Yes. If you can find it, that would be great.”

Turning around, he had his palms facing up, showing that there’s clearly nothing in his hands. His expression could only be phrased as fun yet lighthearted, a boyish grin when he proudly chuckled, “I spy with my little eye that you lie.”

“No! Sensei… she— I didn’t want to stalk you, I swear! NO, THAT’S NOT IT! I mean—”

“Yes, you can call me Benkei,” he beamed.

IMAUSHI WAKASA

Many times in his life he was bored. Simply and excruciatingly bored. And most times when he was bored, he didn’t know what was happening or what’s gotten into his head.

He thought maybe it’s one way to keep him entertained. To do something out of his character, or perhaps to learn something new about himself.

Much like what he was doing at the present.

“Tell me,” he started, “when was the first time we talked to each other?”

To him, the question wasn’t out of the ordinary. It’s merely a subject he felt tackling at the moment. But unfortunately for you, his victim of the day, just so happened to be stuck in an afternoon detention with him.

“I wonder when it was,” he continued as he fiddled with the keychain in your bag. “I couldn’t remember. Help this poor guy out?”

“Imaushi-san…”

“Nope,” he held a pale hand out. “Just a clue. Don’t give me the full details.”

You sighed, your waning determination to ignore him going down straight to shambles, “It was Valentines.”

“Valentines, huh? Did you give me chocolates? Did you confess? Did I turn you down?”

He kept firing those questions, seemingly uninterested with whatever your reply would be. But then, he suddenly wondered, did you really give him chocolates? He must admit he had one too many every Valentines, and most of those he didn’t even want to accept.

Maybe you were one of those girls he respectfully turned down, and now you just had this desperate notion to follow him around like a cat lost its owner, needing that affection from whoever worthy they choose to be.

“I get it,” he dramatically sighed. “I really do.”

Without looking up from your homework, you asked, “What is?”

“So, I have another question.” Wakasa let go of the suddenly becoming cute keychain of yours, and he creeped his face closer to your desk, almost becoming one with your notebook, just so you’d look him straight in the eyes.

His ruffled hair fell across his forehead, and surprising as it was, he smiled. Sweetly. “Would you humor me?”

You stared at him, almost as deadpan as the thin line across your lips, “No.”

“Hmm,” he pouted. “But I feel like we’ll be good together.”

When you lost your grip around the pen, he knew he finally had your attention. “Say,” he whispered, looking at you from underneath his lashes, “would you go on a date with me?”

“What the fuck are you on about?” You quickly shut your mouth from the sudden slip of profanity and glared at him instead. “I won’t go on a date with you.”

“Why not?” He reached out a hand to brush your hair behind your ear, and seeing how you shivered, he sat up right. “I think I’m a nice boyfriend.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, dragging your notebook away from his reach. “Shooting down my best friend’s heart on Valentine’s Day would make me do exactly that.”

He paused, “Wait…” Wasn’t it you who gave him chocolates? Oh damn, they were all blurry faces in his memory. But through the hazy recollection, he could recall someone aiming at him with a sandwich.

A sandwich.

Surely, that wasn’t you? He would remember that person’s face back then seeing how comical it had seemed.

That was you?

“Yes. You did. And I threatened you for it,” you prattled on. “I have never given you chocolates. In fact, I almost killed you with a half-eaten sandwich. That’s how I can remember our first talk.”

Well, Wakasa was certain about it now. You learn something new about yourself when you’re bored.

taglist. @baji-san and @gwynsapphire.

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five-rivers · 2 years ago

Text

The Founding of the 'So You Wound Up With Ghost Powers' Club

AO3

@datawyrms

Danny was the first to notice, surprisingly enough. Or maybe it wasn’t all that surprising. When someone spends all their time fighting ghosts, getting ambushed by ghosts, and being accused of being a ghost, they tend to notice ghostly things a little bit more than the average person.

“Did Hannah just disappear?” asked Danny, leaning forward to whisper to Tucker, who was seated in front of him.

“No? She’s right there.”

“I know she’s right there.”

“Then why did you–”

“I meant,” clarified Danny, “that she went invisible or something. Did you see it?”

“Uh, no?” Tucker side-eyed Hannah, and then Danny. “Do you think you might have dozed off or something? It’s been a pretty tough week for you.”

It had been. Funnily enough, the main reason it had been hard was that Danny’s ghost sense kept going off and he kept not finding whatever had set it off.

“I don’t know. I think this might be a Walker or Spectra kind of thing.”

“Like, a foothold situation?”

“I desperately want you to stop calling it that.”

“Then come up with a better–”

“Mr. Fenton, Mr. Foley, is there something you would like to share with the class?”

“Uh, no?”’ said Tucker while Danny shook his head.

“Then pay attention. There are a limited number of times I can go over the same information without losing my mind.”

They watched Mr. Lancer for a little bit, then Tucker leaned back. “If you’re really worried, you can always, you know, check.”

Danny made a face. Ever since his conversation with Sam vis a vis overshadowing, he’d been reluctant to use the power or derivative powers.

“Don’t make that face,” said Tucker. “It’s different.”

“I know,” said Danny.

“Mr. Fenton! That’s two warnings, don’t make it three!”

Danny, intangible and invisible, waved his arms through Hannah. No ghosts here. He retreated to the table he shared with Sam and Tucker and crawled underneath it before returning to the land of visibility and tangibility. He crawled out.

“Found my phone,” he said, just in case someone was listening. “It had just slid into a weird spot.”

“Mm. Nothing wrong with it?” asked Sam.

“No,” said Danny. He leaned forward. “But, you know, that’s not the only time I’ve seen something… weird… this week.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific. Everything around here is weird.” Sam made a circular motion with her index finger. “Everything.”

“People doing things they shouldn’t be able to do. Like disappearing or clipping through things. Do you think it’s maybe someone moving through people? Like, just staying for a little while?”

“It’s possible,” allowed Sam. “But have you seen anyone acting weird? Or heard anything about people missing time?”

“Not really.”

“Actually,” said Tucker, “if I think about it, I might have seen something weird, too.”

“Yeah? What? Who?”

“Kwan,” said Tucker, and they all glanced over at the A-list table. “The other day I was walking to meet up with you guys at the Nasty Burger, and I walked by him. Twice. He looked really nervous. I figured he’d just jogged around the block or something.”

“An Amorpho thing, then? Do you remember what his eyes looked like?”

“Danny, if I’d noticed overshadowing or ghost eyes, I would have done something then, not days later.”

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “This is a bit of a stretch, but… when we had the ghost bug thing, with Spectra, wasn’t Kwan’s power duplication?”

“You don’t think…” Danny trailed off, and as one, they all looked at Kwan again. “He doesn’t look sick.”

“He does look kind of stressed out, though, doesn’t he?”

“A bit, yeah,” said Sam. They all leaned inward, toward the middle of the table. “Do either of you remember what everyone else had? I was floating. Paulina had a ghost sense.”

“Didn’t Jazz wind up as a head in a jar? That was Jazz, right?”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Dash had laser vision. I don’t really remember anyone else, do you?”

“Not really. I wasn’t in there for all that long.”

Sam sighed and leaned back. “It’s something to keep an eye on, I guess.”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “I’d like to be able to do something about it, though. Sam, you don’t feel like you’re floating or losing weight or anything, though, do you?”

“Not really,” said Sam, “but then I don’t pay that much attention to my weight. Tucker, why are you fidgeting so much?”

“Well,” said Tucker. “There is something we can do about it. The thing we did to get rid of the bugs in the first place.”

“Didn’t that get destroyed?” asked Danny. It turned out that even teachers could only stand the stench of Foley, by Foley, for so long before declaring it a biohazard and turning the student responsible for it in to their parents. Who had also been less than thrilled about their kid coming home smelling like stale brownies and rot every day.

“It turns out that some of my Foley, by Foley, did survive the, uh, incident. But I’d really like to not get detention for bringing it back.”

“We’ll just give Hannah some as a free sample and tell her it’ll prevent aliens from reading her brainwaves or something.”

“She’s not that gullible,” said Danny.

“We’ll dress it up. Phrase it differently.”

“Why don’t we just give it to Kwan? He’s way more likely to just use random body spray. Or I could spray people, you know, in public,” said Danny, referring to being Phantom. “It’s weird enough it might as well happen, right?”

“I guess,” said Sam. “Is that enough plausible deniability for you?”

“It’ll have to be,” said Tucker, “but it’ll still take me a while to dig it out. Unlike some people, I can’t fly home between classes.”

While Danny was frequently woken in the middle of the night, having the guilty party be his phone was unusual, so he fumbled for a solid ten seconds before he was able to grab it and remember how to answer it.

“Hello,” he said, groggily.

“Hey,” said Sam. “Good news and bad news. Good news is that we won’t have to find a way to trick anyone into using Tucker’s potion. Bad news is I’m stuck on the ceiling. Come help.”

“I’m on my way,” said Danny. “You’re not hurt, though?”

“I don’t even feel sick,” confirmed Sam.

“At least there’s that,” said Danny.

“Okay, so,” said Danny, taking a seat on one of Sam’s beanbags, “how do we go about subtly asking people if they have ghost powers? It doesn’t seem like anyone is talking.”

“Of course not. They remember what happened last time.”

Yeah. So did Danny. And there really were government agents who’d lock them away if they showed powers this time, not just Spectra and her goons. The GIW sucked.

“Maybe,” said Danny, “I could go ahead and show that I have powers? Somewhere they would see?”

“Danny,” said Sam, “that’s a terrible idea. What if someone turns you in?”

“They won’t turn me in if they’ve got powers, too.”

“They might,” argued Sam, rising half an inch to float above her bedspread, “if they think it’ll deflect attention from them. Some people are just like that.”

“Then we’re stuck,” said Danny. “We can’t trust anyone, and they can’t trust us.”

“We might not have to trust anyone if Tucker’s… cologne works.” She looked at the spray can Danny had set on her bedside table.

“There was a big pause there.”

“I feel like I’m insulting other colognes by putting it in the same category. And, as someone who hates cologne and perfume in general, that’s saying something.”

“It is pretty gross, huh.”

“It really is.”

They stared at the can some more.

“You want to do this outside so it doesn’t stink up your bedroom?”

Sam snatched the can from the bedside table. “Yes.”

“Okay,” said Danny, floating to his feet. He held out his hand. “May I?” he asked in a bad British accent.

“Of course,” said Sam, with a sort of fake haughtiness. She took his hand.

Danny grinned and yanked them both out into the yard as suddenly and abruptly as possible, depositing them in the area just beyond the greenhouse. Sam shrieked, then giggled, smothering herself with her hand. “My parents are home, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, grinning. “Sorry.”

Sam rolled her eyes, but her heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Stand back unless you want to smell like stale corn chips and sugar.”

“Yeah, but…” His smile fell a little. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“It doesn’t smell that bad, Danny.”

“No, I mean.” He thought about it for a long moment. “If it isn’t the bug… You don’t feel sick, right?”

“Maybe a little bit nauseous, but I think that’s just the gravity thing. And maybe the residue on this can. It’s sort of sticky.”

“Yeah, okay. If it’s really your power, then… Do you want to get rid of it? It’s kind of cool, flying, right?” He traced the path he made with his hand.

“Yeah, maybe,” said Sam. “Maybe. But this won’t get rid of it if it’s my power. It didn’t get rid of yours, that time.”

“No, it just smelled disgusting.”

“So, there. It’s not really a relevant question. Now, back up.”

Danny squeezed her hand before he dropped it and retreated to a safe distance. Sam visibly braced herself and pinched her nose closed with her free hand. Then she turned the can’s nozzle on herself and sprayed, liberally.

No ghost bugs emerged. Sam floated a few inches off the ground. She stared at it, as if it had betrayed her.

“I can’t believe I just subjected myself to this for nothing.”

“It’s for science,” said Danny, encouragingly, trying not to inhale to deeply. “And… medicine. Sort of. Right?”

Sam threw the can at him.

“So, how are you managing?” asked Danny the next morning.

“I have weights in my shoes and I’m trying to go over everything we did with you when you were flying,” said Sam. “Also, Tucker’s cologne smell is still in my hair.”

“Ah,” said Danny. “Bad, then.”

“I didn’t say that,” said Sam.

“Well, I think you smell wonderful,” said Tucker.

“I’m seriously wondering if you’re noseblind in addition to being colorblind it smells so bad.”

“I’m not colorblind!”

“You are,” said Danny and Sam together.

Tucker pouted.

“So… I’m reconsidering just. Asking people,” announced Danny. “If it’s hard for you, when you kind of know how flying works already, it must be hard for other people, too, even if they’re only getting one power.”

“Kwan did look pretty stressed that time,” said Tucker.

“Yeah! And we have to help people avoid the GIW, too, don’t we? We’ve got an obligation.”

Sam chewed her lip. “I guess,” she said. “But this could all be temporary, still. Or it could be like that one disease you get after you have chicken pox. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Shingles? My grandma had that.”

“Yeah. But that goes away after a while, too. So…”

There was a greater element of risk for Danny, whose powers wouldn’t wear off, if they were noticed and caught by the GIW.

“Yeah, I know,” said Danny. “But then you have people like Jazz, who might be dissolving.”

“Speaking of Jazz,” said Tucker, “have you, like, talked to her about any of this?”

Danny froze.

“... That’s a no, isn’t it?”

“I’m going to go talk to her,” said Danny. “Right now.”

“You do that,” said Sam.

Tucker snickered. “Maybe pretending you only just found out today will save you.”

It did not save him.

It didn’t save Sam and Tucker, either.

“Alright, repeat after me,” said Jazz, towering over them in the school’s back lot. “If I have a medical problem, I will go to an expert.”

“I’m kind of an expert,” said Danny. “At least with half ghost things.”

Jazz glared down at him.

“If I have a medical problem, I’ll go to an expert.”

“Sam, Tucker? Your turn.”

Sam and Tucker mumbled the same line.

Jazz nodded, sharply. “And in this situation, who is the expert?”

“Frostbite,” said Sam, Tucker, and Danny all together.

“Which means?” she prompted.

“We’re going to Frostbite.”

“Yeah,” said Jazz. “Now, remember that for next time something like this happens.” She dragged her hand through her hair. “Tucker, you didn’t get the bug last time, did you?”

“No,” said Tucker.

“Then you’re on distraction duty this time.”

“Aw, man.”

“Sorry, bud,” said Danny.

“But I don't want to get slimed…"

"And I didn't want to get skunked," said Sam. "Suck it up."

Tucker turned his pleading eyes towards Jazz.

"I don't want to turn into a floating head again," she said. "Once was enough."

"Danny?"

"I'm not letting two sick people drive all the way to the Far Frozen by themselves," said Danny. He shrugged. "Sorry."

"Besides," said Sam, looping an arm around Danny's shoulders, "going by the current pattern, something bad and gross is going to happen to Danny next."

"Uh," said Danny, "I'd like to cash in the Fenton Foamer mold explosion from last month, actually."

"Sorry, that's expired. Accept your fate."

"It's true," said Jazz, gravely.

“Aw…” said Danny, his shoulders slumping. Then he stuck his tongue out at them. “Good thing I don’t believe in fate, suckers!”

Tucker snorted. “Man. You’re going to be eating your words after tempting Clockwork like that.”

“Hm,” said Frostbite, tapping his chin with icy fingers. Sam and Jazz’s scans were arrayed on the wall in front of him, stuck there with judicious application of ice. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“You’re kidding,” said Sam, still struggling to stay down.

“I never joke about my patients’ diagnoses,” said Frostbite. “While it is not unheard of for humans to gain certain ectoplasmic abilities - your histories are littered with mentions of them - usually it isn’t such a large number, or inadvertently. You said Spectra intended to extract DNA from you?”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “She even made herself a creepy doll body. But she accidently sucked my dad’s used tissue out of my pocket and turned into a kind of snot monster? It was kind of weird and… doesn’t actually seem like the kind of thing DNA should do, in retrospect.”

Frostbite blinked at him. “Why were you carrying around your father’s used tissue?”

“I don’t know. He asked me to?”

“Danny’s just like that,” said Jazz.

“Interesting,” said Frostbite. “In any case, I do not think she was actually ‘harvesting DNA’ or anything of the sort. I believe she was collecting essences. Collecting… certain emanatory qualities. That would make her decision to call upon those ‘ghost bugs’ to imbue you with ghostly abilities more sensible, as it would allow such a collection to occur if you were sufficiently connected to those abilities… If, that is, a personal ectosignature was created…” He trailed off, thinking. “That still does not explain why those ectosignatures persisted even after bugs were banished… unless they did not persist and reformed. Hm. Great One, with your permission, I would like to do a thorough assessment of your ectosignature to see how it compares to their nascent ectosignatures.”

“Sure,” said Danny, “of course.”

“Excellent. I will need you to remove your clothing and rub this all over your body.” He held out a half gallon sized bucket to Danny. Danny took the bucket automatically.

“Uh,” he said, “what? Why? Why me?”

“Your ectosignature is far more established, so it will be much easier to record it for resonance and then compare it directly to Sam of the Very Vegan and Lady Jazz. All you have to do is coat yourself completely with the gel and then get in the resonator.” He pointed across the room at a large tank.

“Oh,” said Danny. “Yay.”

“So,” said Danny, loudly, because the resonator had resonated some gel right into his ears. “What did you find?”

“Ah,” said Frostbite, “Great One, it was as I expected. Their ectosignatures are distinct from your own, but there are many more similarities than one would expect simply from similar personalities. This is what I think happened: The the ectosignature left by the bugs was imprinted on residual ectoplasm in your bodies.” He nodded at Sam and Jazz. “Normally, this would have faded over time. However, your proximity to them kept the ectoplasm excited, as it were, and the signature built on itself, eventually becoming self-sustaining. Your split nature doubtless helped, as your ectosignature carries information regarding existing alongside human physical functions.”

“But,” said Danny, “other people in my class are getting it, too, not just Sam and Tucker.”

“And you spend several hours a day in their presence, yes?”

“Oh, no,” said Danny. “It’s my fault.”

“Only, like, ten percent your fault,” said Sam. “It’s mostly Spectra’s fault.”

“I would concur. It would not have happened if not for the unusual nature of the overshadowing.”

“It’s my fault. Ancients, I’ll never be able to show my face around anyone. Ever. First the portal, now this.”

Frostbite cleared his throat. “If I may suggest spending some time playing with the children? I find that they are quite helpful when it comes to crises like this.”

“Thanks,” said Jazz. “We’ll drag him out there. You get his other arm, Sam.”

“Hey, guys,” said Tucker, still dripping with unidentifiable Fenton-brand goo. “Did Danny have something gross happen to him? Please tell me he had something gross happen to him.”

“Hi, Tucker, yeah, we’re not dying from some ghost disease, thanks for asking.”

“Of course not, you’re back here, aren’t you? So? Gross stuff?”

“Gross stuff happened,” said Danny. “Think, like… ultrasound gel all over your body.”

“I’m jealous. At least that’s sanitary. And the other stuff? Did it get fixed or is it permanent, and whose fault is it?”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “It’s permanent.”

“Mostly Spectra’s fault,” said Jazz.

“And we’ll be making that ‘so you wound up with ghost powers’ support group after all,” finished Danny. “Or maybe it’ll be more of a club. Who knows?”

“Cool. I’ll start making membership cards.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2023 #forgot to post this yesterday

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1mlostnow · 5 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞!!

Hi!! I’m Evan! This is Intro Post IV.

- Red text is primary information, things that I’d like to bring attention to, or just things I’d like to elevate above the others

I’m genderfluid, I only use he/him, I don’t have a label but I mostly like guys, and I’m a minor!!! If you’re 18+ feel free to interact but please don’t DM me or send asks.

[spotify] [insta] [wall of text] [tone tags] [ppth staff]

This intro post is incredibly long so I put primary info before the cut ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I love using those faces

Apologies if the red or the Blinkies are hard on the eyes :<

Other Blogs ⇩

EvanRadio : @evan-radio

Poetry and Writing : @1mfoundnow

House MD [B. Corcoran] : @head-of-forensics

House MD [G. Kramer] : @plastic-surgeon-gabi

Blinkies below the cut and throughout intro :>

Table Of Contents ⇩

1. The Basics

2. Fun Facts

3. My Resume

4. Primary Music

5. Guide To Tags

6. Hobbies

7. Other Media

8. Kinnie List

9. Primary Fandoms

10. Cast List

11. Outro

[ The Basics ]

- I absolutely adore nicknames, feel free to call me anything you want; chances are I’ll be fine with it

- pretty basic DNI -> homophobes, transphobes, racists, xenophobes, proshippers (wincest ಠ_ಠ)

- feel free to interact or spam (the good kind), my notifs are off so you won’t be bothering me at all!! Feel free to do asks or anons as long as yr a minor, I love love love answering asks. I promise I’m not scary, I don’t bite (anymore lol)

- I would prefer it as a personal boundary that you don’t DM me unless you truly deem it fit, those 1 on 1 situations tend to be incredibly uncomfortable for me. If there’s truly something you’d like to speak to me about in private, go for it.

- I love my mutuals to death. Whether we talk every day or haven’t spoken once, ily :)

- I greatly appreciate tone tags!!! There is a list at the top of this intro with a tone tag guide!

- CDT timezone, typically active from 7 AM - 12 AM (this will change to 6-8AM and 5-11PM soon)

[ Fun Facts ] + notes

- my car’s name is TOMATER (all caps)

- im the ninth wonder of the world

- I love doing little drawings

- if you want one just ask (examples at end)

- once again I love love love my mutuals

- Richard Cameron defender for life

- theme changes often

- ADHD & severe social anxiety

- if you ever draw anything for me I’ll love u forever

- The Man Who Would Be King (6x20) is the best SPN episode and nobody can convince me otherwise

- if I don’t respond I swear I’m not ignoring you!! Chances are I said ‘I’ll answer later’ and then forgot—just @ me!!

- if you ever have any corrections for one of my posts (typo, incorrect facts, hurtful language) please please let me know whether it be public or private, as the last thing I’d want to do is upset anybody.

[ My Resume ]

- Professional Ghostbuster, Midwestern Cowboy, Supervillain (for the fits)

- Bug you put in a jar with sticks and leaves and a few holes in the lid so it can breathe kinda guy yk?

- Weird kid and loser for life (I’m happy this way)

- I believe I’m incredibly funny (tell me if I’m not)

- Most sentences have bonus sentences (for the thoughts that didn’t fit into the sentence right)

- hot feral scientist

[ Primary Music ] + fav song by each (‘m basic wtv)

- AJJ -> Getting Naked, Playing With Guns

- Cage The Elephant -> Spiderhead/Halo

- Car Seat Headrest -> Life Worth Missing

- David Bowie -> Rebel Rebel

- Radiohead -> Karma Police

- Seb Lowe -> The Man, The Myth

- The Front Bottoms -> Be Nice To Me / More Than It Hurts You

- The Smiths -> Pretty Girls Make Graves

- Vundabar -> Worn/Wander, Sad Clown

- Will Wood -> Memento Mori

[ Guide to Tags ]

- #evan speaks -> yapping time, applies to majority of my posts

- #evan rants -> I’ve got a lot to talk about!!

- #evan draws -> I draw :3 some art at the end

- #evan can’t vote -> US politics (doesn’t come up that often, but still)

- #evan loves his mutuals -> y’all are my best friends and ily sososo much

[ Hobbies ]

- Occasionally crocheting

- Reading and writing

- I play alto sax in marching band (never rains on the *redacted* 🫡🌧️)

- loveeee art so much, specifically pencil drawing and painting

- idk if music counts as a hobby (listening+playing)

[ Other Media ]

Shows -> Supernatural, Sherlock, House MD, My Babysitters A Vampire (Rory my beloved), Scooby-Doo, Over The Garden Wall

Movies -> Dead Poets Society, Ghostbusters, Velvet Goldmine, The Truman Show, Goonies, Stand By Me, Saw Franchise, IT 2017

Others -> Homestuck, The Secret History, getting into newer classics (highschool english class books tbh), I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream

[ Kinnie List ]

Steven Meeks (DPS), Castiel (SPN), Richie Tozier (IT), Truman Burbank (TTS), Egon Spengler (Ghostbusters), Adam Stanheight (Saw), Henry Winter (TSH), Will Graham (Hannibal)

[ Primary Fandoms ]

Supernatural, Sherlock, Dead Poets Society, Homestuck, Ghostbusters, House MD

[ Cast List ] <- y’all are like my family ily

@pingunaa @ghostboyhood @wordssricochet @poetsinnyc @meekspeaks @midwest-quill @yourfavvgal @alightelixe @lv3buzzz @craicapparition @asclexe @lefthandedspaghetti @notcatseatheadrest @wilsons-three-legged-siamese @de4d-poet-kisser @cherrishnoodles @blakenation1 @desire-mona @prettypinkbubbless @sesamie @hemlocksloadofbull @mighthavebeenmurder @tired-and-bored-nerd @neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies @sillyhyperfixator

^^ if we ain’t close like that lmk and I’ll take you off dw ♥︎ and if I somehow missed you please please tell me and I’ll fix it right away, there’s some people I was gonna add but I wasn’t sure if we were friends like that yet lol

Outro!!

If you made it to the end of this thank you thank you thank you so much it means the world to me.

I can’t add more photos, so I’ll make and link a separate post with my art, so you can decide if that’s something you’d be interested in!!!

[ art here!! ]

#evan speaks #evan intro 4 #dead poets society #house md #homestuck #supernatural #i love my mutuals #all of my regular tags #intro post

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