#fandom telepathy??

[ruumiinlaulaja]

I can’t get over how Blitz is holding Stolas. 😭 He’s so protective. It’s instinctual at this point; just refusing to let go of his bird.

Bonus:

I love how Blitz takes the whole brunt of the landing, making sure Stolas doesn’t touch the ground and get hurt. Such a gentleman, a knight protecting his prince. 👏👌🙏

[feelo-fick]

chilaios telepathy compilation. btw.

also these ones arent telepathy i just think its fun that they defend eachother + are on the same page about alchohol :

[love-and-books320]

the "he would not fucking say that" trope except it's a mind reader reading someone's else's fantasy of them and they're like...i would never say that

[elliehallers]

Say it with me, everyone:

Fandom OCs — even when paired romantically with canon characters — are not inherently Mary Sues or Gary Stus.

Yes, many are someone's self-insert who lacks any depth or flaws because that person sees themselves as Perfect, but that is not always the case.

Plenty of people (myself included) are more than capable of creating complex, interesting OCs to insert into our favorite fictional works. (And even a self-insert can be good if the creator doesn't make them Perfect At Everything and can see their own flaws.)

[witchofthesouls]

Would Tfp!Op and Tfp!Soundwave sense something off about Sam the first because matrix nonsense and latter a telepath?

Yes and no. Sam Witwicky is the human version of an orange cat. No one has any idea what's up with that guy, and it's harder since it's dimensionsal travel. That a whole other level of fuckery that no one has documented before.

TFP!Optimus may get vibes, depending on how helpful the Matrix wants to be (which is either rare or too cryptic to comprehend). Meanwhile, Sam had too many bad experiences with the 'cons messing with his own things or his head, so he's rightfully paranoid with picking up tech that hasn't been thoroughly dissected by the 'bots and N.E.S.T.

He would absolutely do his damnest to stay far away from the Decepticons, especially since TFP doesn't have an official unit that's dedicated to working with and among the Autobots. Agent Fowler is only one man, and he's more of a liason between specific groups. So he wouldn't be around Soundwave long enough to justify the mech to delve into his head. Not unless Soundwave doesn't mind the guy to be braindead...

Sam has Weird Luck and a Talent for destroying his enemies' plans, so perhaps he becomes a living detector via astral projection (a blessing and a curse from his dimension's Primes) for Primal Artifacts.

(Cue another massive manhunt for Sam.)

[an-j8]

real scene from book 10, I'm Shannon feets it's canon

[brainrotcharacters]

so anyway @just-a-little-dragon and I guess the rest of the fandom that fucks with it, here is what I think it'd (Angel Shaw is turned into a werewolf non-con by a third party and they are discovered mid-shift by everybody) be like

Opened my notes app for this and everything

Took creative licenses because I can and I had to do it for the vision

Credits to Erik!

Angel had always been curious what it would feel like—

Their breath grated against their throat, escaping the mouth, their furred snout, in hot puffs of air. Every footstep, now two pairs for the hind legs that pushed them forth, was heavy against the soil. Run. Get back home.

—being a werewolf.

A sob of pain slipped out, morphing into a yelp that only a dog could make. Angel descended the crest of the land that marked the perimeter of the pack den. As they hit the ground, a burning sensation coursed through their left arm as it shifted back into human form, and Angel crashed. Within moments, the brown fur and flesh of a werewolf reformed itself.

The Winter Solstice. None of the wolves would be home right now. They would already be on their run. Who knows how far David is right now—

Angel howled as they galloped, hoping beyond all hope that David could hear. And if not David, at least the non-shifters among the pack would know. Help. Help me.

Babe stood at the heart of the courtyard that was the pack den. They pause from gathering the children, turning their head towards the entrance and the direction of that howl. Did one of the wolves forget something? Has the search team for Angel found anything?

And then a wolven paw touches the threshold of the compound. The elders and mothers of the pack growled as one, flanking Babe on either side and herding the children behind their backs. What was brown fur in one second melted into gray, then into black, as a different werewolf approached them. Its wolven face trembled, crumpled into itself, reforming into a familiar human face—

"Stay back!" One of the elders extended a hand. "Wait!"

"That's Angel!" Babe exclaimed.

The elder snarled back. "Interfere now and you'll make the pain worse! Stay vigilant. Try to contact David."

A mated vampire was in the compound. Babe shouted. "Sam! Sam!!!"

Three, five, seven werewolves shifted, containing Angel in a circle. Tremors wracked Angel's body as their spinal column contorted upon itself, spittle and blood slipping through their canines, their teeth, and back again.

Between human sobbing and wolven whimpering, Angel managed, "David...!?"

A number of the children behind them had started to cry.

Only a cold, solid male hand on their back told Babe that Sam now stood behind them. "What is it—? Is that... Angel?"

"Tell Tank," Babe tapped Sam on the chest, using the nickname Asher and Milo had used. They didn't look away from Angel. "Tell Tank. Tell David. Now!"

As it turns out, there was no need. Several sets of padded feet thundered through the courtyard entrance, and Asher, Milo, and Darlin maintained their momentum as they arrived. A massive deep brown wolf remained in front of them, animalistic focus fixed on Angel's trembling form.

The rest of the returning pack remained aside as Angel turned too rapidly, that wolven instinct refusing to expose its back to an alpha in such proximity. Even as a mated pair.

Mate. The bond was even more strikingly clear the longer David looked at Angel. A wolf—someone turned his mate into a werewolf on Winter Solstice and he wasn't around to protect them—

"Davey," Angel's broken, human voice splintered the air, even as they keep their head bowed to the ground, as others tended to do in his presence.

Not Angel. It should never involve Angel. David strained to reel back his power, reminding himself of the first time he shifted for them. When he tried to make himself look smaller, harmless, best that he could.

Come on, baby. It's okay. It's just me. You're safe. I promise.

Across the dirt between them, Angel reached out one white paw. And then the other. Their canine head slumped weakly onto the soil.

The pack fell quiet as David approached, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at his partner. Erratic heartbeat, labored breathing. He ducked low, propping Angel's head above his own when he suddenly moved and Angel yelped.

STOP.

David withdrew a feet back as Angel scrambled to their trembling feet. They shake their head, and through the bond, David consoles. Sorry. How do I help?

Angel's canine ears twitch in his direction. Their eyes aren't wholly focused, tending to look over David's shoulders. You... Telepathy. Telepathy?

David nods. It's stronger for mates, but I have it with the pack, too. They're not hearing us right now. It's our call.

Angel tucked their hind legs in, using their front paws to grasp at their snout, at their eyes as they whimpered. David took small steps closer, copying their position but carefully nosing at Angel's snout with his own. Angel, what can I do?

A moment passes, and then Angel drops their front paws. Blinking up at David, they push past the next tremble that shot through their body as they crawl closer, nestling their head into that spot under David's neck and curling their bodies together. David easily cradled his wolf's hind legs around Angel's body, his tail reaching up until the back of Angel's head.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Tail. It's just my tail. David chuckled.

Angel relaxed, nuzzling further into David's chest. They were quiet for a moment, and David had the sense that Angel was trying to recall basic human language as they eventually responded. You fucking menace.

With love. David wrapped his body around them tighter. Always with love.

Angel came first. He was going to hunt down who was responsible for doing this to his mate, but beforehand, Angel came first.

[inquirewithbillcipher]

damn Gideon got a big glow up

Let’s hope my Mabel feeels the same way! 🩵

-Gideon

[flyingwargle]

miya twins week day 2: "why does it feel like we’re drifting apart?”

granny used to say that twin telepathy was a gift from the gods as a way to reaffirm their bond. it can be used for anything between the mundane to the serious, from asking each other answers on their tests, soothing nightmares, echoing sentiments. it can work across long distances, although they never tried it, or close proximities. the only time it fails is when the bond starts to weaken.

or so osamu thinks.

it starts in their second year of high school, from their argument about their diverging paths. “if yer so damn sure that ya’ll be the happier one,” he snarls, gripping his brother’s collar, “come back when we’re geezers! wait ‘till then ta laugh in my face an’ say ya were happier!”

atsumu stares at him, anger in his eyes. “if that’s what ya wanna do, yer on.” he shoots to his feet, gripping his shoulders tight. “i’m gonna turn an’ look right in yer face, an’ say i had the happier life!”

they never recovered after that. after graduation, osamu went to university in tokyo; atsumu was scouted by the jackals in osaka. he sent a ticket to his debut match, but osamu had an exam and couldn’t attend. osamu sent an invite to his graduation, but atsumu was overseas. atsumu sent a ticket to a game between the jackals and ejp, but osamu was busy preparing for his restaurant’s grand opening. when the doors opened for the first time, he saved a spot for atsumu, but he never made it.

he doesn’t notice when the telepathy stopped. he doesn’t notice when the messages between him and his brother gradually stop. so, when he hears his name echo in the back of his mind during the busiest hour of the day, he doesn’t question it and simply responds back.

‘samu.

it’s faint. osamu, in the middle of preparing rice, slows. ‘tsumu. he’s the only one in the kitchen, the rest of his staff busy with front of house. his eyes dart around the industrial equipment, the window cracked open, the fans whirring.

oh. a weak chuckle. it still works, huh?

whaddaya mean? osamu frowns.

he doesn’t get an immediate response. when he does, it’s fainter. onigiri miya, huh? it’s a nice name.

osamu was never the best at listening for emotions, but it’s different with telepathy. it’s just them, stripped of their external bodies, left with their inner mind’s voice. atsumu’s is mournful. regretful. apologetic.

‘tsumu, what’s wrong?

it’s that chuckle again, the self-conscious one that starts at the back of his throat, accompanied by a sheepish smile. osamu can imagine it, hear it echo from their childhood, adolescence, to now. sorry that i never came fer the grand openin’. it woulda been cool. i saw the pictures. business is boomin’, huh?

cut the shit, ‘tsumu. osamu has stopped, hands braced on the counter. why’re ya talkin’ ta me? we haven’t talked in years. they don’t follow each other on social media. they haven’t texted since high school. they haven’t called even longer. why, when you have telepathy?

telepathy. used for anything from the mundane to the serious. osamu’s blood runs cold. ‘tsumu, tell me where ya are, right now.

there’s no way ya can make it ta osaka.

watch. osamu is storming out of the kitchen and into his office, ripping his apron off, throwing his hat on top of his laptop. where are ya?

pause. i didn’t believe granny when she said twins could talk ta each other with their minds, thought it was some folktale. but when i heard ya cryin’ fer me after those bullies hit ya, i believed it. we promised each other that we’d be there, right? i completely forgot, an’ i gave ya so much shit fer wantin’ ta follow yer dreams. i’m sorry.

don’t do this ta me, ‘tsumu. osamu is checking shinkansen departures. i’m bookin’ a ticket, i’ll be there soon, don’t ya dare go dark–

i wish i coulda visited once.

he freezes. a chill runs down his spine, feels something in his mind suddenly sink into the darkness. ‘tsumu? ‘tsumu, answer me. ‘tsumu! his phone falls from his hand, vision blurring. ‘tsumu, don’t do this ta me. don’t leave me. ‘tsumu?

don’t leave before i can say sorry.

--

he learns, later that night, that atsumu was in a hit-and-run. a cyclist witnessed it and called for an ambulance. he was barely conscious by the time it arrived, drifted off before reaching the hospital. the surgery went through the night. the doctors aren't sure when he'd wake.

osamu takes the first shinkansen to osaka. when he reaches the hospital, he crashes into his ma’s waiting arms, sobbing into her shoulder. “i’m sorry,” he sobs. “he- ‘tsumu, we talked, but he didn’t- he-“

she shushes him. “baby, it’s okay. yer here, an’ that’s all that matters. shall we see him?”

atsumu’s head is wrapped in bandages, with plenty more around his limbs, hidden beneath his blanket. an iv is inserted in his vein, oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. his expression is gaunt, but his heartbeat is steady. osamu reaches for his hand, the uninjured one, and grasps it between his. “how did we drift so far apart?” he whispers.

ma sits beside him. “he never stopped talkin’ ‘bout ya, whenever he visited. he was even talkin’ ‘bout makin’ a trip ta tokyo ta surprise ya, but…” her breath catches in her throat. “i’m sure he’d love ta have yer food.”

“he can have all the onigiri he wants,” osamu croaks. “every last bit o’ it.”

they stay, take turns stretching their legs, taking calls from friends and family, eating out of the vending machine in the main lobby. the black jackals visit, along with old friends from inarizaki. when night falls, his ma leaves to sleep at the hotel, but osamu stays. he doesn’t let go of atsumu’s hand, not even as he drifts off.

‘samu?

he startles awake, but he doesn't have the strength to open his eyes. ‘tsumu. listen, i’m so sorry–

i’m sorry that i made ya come all the way here. i woulda liked ta show ya the sights, sneak ya into the gym, make ya hit my tosses.

ya idiot. ya can still do all that. yer gonna be fine. i know ya will. osamu squeezes his hand. an’ yer gonna come ta tokyo, an’ we’ll do all the tourist shit ya like. yer gonna eat at my restaurant an’ sleep on my couch, an’ complain ‘bout yer back the next mornin’, an’ we’re gonna do it all again–

a faint laugh. not that self-conscious chuckle, but the quiet, exasperated yet amused laugh that comes when he doesn’t want to acknowledge his brother, yet still does. i’m still sorry ‘bout what i said back in high school.

we’re adults, now. it doesn’t matter. we’ll start again. right?

right.

osamu dares to open his eyes, and stares straight at his brother, who returns his gaze. his lips move beneath his oxygen mask, though no words come out. he hears him, loud and clear.

love ya, idiot.

love ya too, scrub.

--

inspiration: this comic of twin telepathy!

[randomity-101]

Telepaths can actually be really embarrassing. imagine sophie was reading your mind, and for some reason you really need to go to the restroom. you'll think of other times when you were in the toilet, and it's just ew.

[beczito]

Emma Frost

[nucarnivalincorrectquotes]

I cannot believe I found two fanfics called “Three's a crowd” and in both of them there's quinya

[waining-crescent-moon]

it would have been SO cool if telepaths could transfer memories, so they would erase from the person who’s transferring and just go into whoever they’re transferring to

i got this idea thinking of prentice and tiergan and how cool it would have been if prentice transferred all his black swan info to tiergan right before the memory break making tiergan the new keeper of the black swan

[fandomnerd9602]

Hi

How are you?

Can you please make same like this one https://www.tumblr.com/fandomnerd9602/749769685832237056/yn-a-deadpool-variant-stabs-lady-deathstrike?source=share but with Y/N not being a Deadpool variant??

Y/N is a clone of Henry Gairich and Emma Frost

Logan keeps Lady Deathstrike at bay…

Logan: can you break thru?

Y/N focuses their telepathic ability…

Y/N: Striker’s hold is a little tougher than usual.

Deathstrike stabs Logan thru the shoulders, loosening his grip…

Deathstrike charges at Y/N…

Y/N finds the center of the mind…

Y/N: there you are.

Y/N sends out a telepathic blast and destroys the control Striker has on Deathstrike…

She stumbles before regaining control…

LD: what? W-Who are you?

Logan: X-Men…bub

[grunklejam]

Now on Etsy: The Tourist Trap Badge Pack

NOW ON ETSY

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1476866165/inspired-by-gravity-falls-the-tourist

SHIPPING WORLDWIDE!

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DEFINITELY NOT S&P APPROVED!

"Hey you. Yeah, you! With the shirt! It's me, your old pal Grunkle Stan. Have you recently visited the Pacific Northwest and come away with zero merchandise? Not on my watch! Mark your love of Gravity Falls with this set of four badges, inspired by Gravity Falls' small businesses! As well as marking a visit to my amazing Mystery Shack, you can support the state's least hygienic diner, Greasy's (ya can't miss it, it's a log on a train car), independent journalism by Toby Determined at the Gravity Falls Gossiper (all badges fumigated) and even that little jerk, Gideon, at the Tent of Telepathy.

All wrapped in a little plastic baggy with an exclusive, hand-designed card by some shlubby limey artist.

He'll even do a doodle on the envelope, like some kinda weird signature dealy.

These 25mm badges have been designed from the original logos seen in the Disney TV series, and lovingly manufactured by an artisan team (and definitely not Soos during his lunch breaks).

They feature a D-pin closure and are printed in vivid full colour, so it's just like those fancy movies they've got these days!

Even better, we guarantee that none of this money is going to a sinister cartoon mouse, and that they're definitely not S&P approved! I even modelled one myself. I uh - I got shrunk by a crystal in the forest. Don't worry about it."

 =====

Designed and shipped by your very own Grunkle Jam

No exorbitant shipping fees - the price you see is the price you pay for YOUR country!

Guaranteed to give absolutely no money to the mouse

I'll doodle on every envelope

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Definitely not S&P Approved

[sarroora]

Tumblr deleted my ask before I could finish it smh my head 😔

Anyways 1. Is the girl that's with Bouncer and Spook right now the mayor's daughter? (Iirc she got kidnapped I oughta reread at some point 😭)

2. Is T.C.'s developing bad habit with catnip affecting him in any way/will it affect him later?

1. Yes she is! Bouncer’s one hella capable henchman and should be feared

2. The good news is that no, he’s not at that point. The bad news is that in this story, there’s another kind of cat drug and that one is extremely dangerous and toxic to felines. It’s not well-known but worth a pretty penny. Some nasty people would do anything to get their hands on it.