#hi guys. this is the reason i've barely posted anything the past 3 days. i'm deep in the wbk gacha autobattler sauce

[orewing]

I've only had winhero inugami for a minute and a half but if anything happened to him I'd do something newsworthy

[sourdoughsourness]

Assignment - Shigaraki x cheerleader!reader

A.N.: I've had this idea in my head for two years now and finally got around to writing it! This is heavily based on the book Nevermore by Kelly Creagh. I read it eight years ago and this scene has lived rent free in my head ever since. I highly recommend reading it if this is at all appealing to you, it's written much better too. I've also never posted on here before so I'm so sorry if the spacing or anything is off.

I haven't decided yet if I want to turn this into a full fic or leave it as a one shot (or 2-3 parts because let me tell you, there's more than one scene from this book I can't get out of my head) If I did continue I'd probably base it off the book for the first bit then branch off into its own plot. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! I'm very rusty at writing but I tried!

~~~~~~

Class was so boring. It was no different from any other day really. This class was always boring. As much as you tried you couldn't bring yourself to care about the material. Your teacher had insisted since the beginning of the year that this class was important, but he was just another old man obsessed with the past. If it was a history class you'd understand more, but you couldn't find a reason to care about dusty old books despite them being praised as 'classics'. You shuddered just thinking about what he'd have you guys read next.

The clock ticked painfully slowly. You knew time always seemed to go slower when you watched it so you forced yourself to look away. Twenty more minutes. You could handle that. Just 4 sets of 5 minutes. That didn't sound too bad. 

Mr. Swanson's voice droned on. It was barely background noise to your boredom. Seventeen minutes until lunch. You wanted to be with your friends and boyfriend doing literally anything but this. Mina hadn't finished spilling tea earlier and you were desperate to hear the rest. 

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard the words 'group project'. All your senses came back as you focused on those two words which were pretty much the last things you wanted to hear. No no no no no! None of your friends were in this class! You knew basically anyone would want to work with you, but you work with any of them? Your classmates were about as lame as your dusty old teacher.

"I'm sure you've all heard plenty about this project from the seniors," Mr. Swanson's voice rang out. The whole class groaned. Everyone knew what was coming next but you still tried to deny it. Please no, anything but this, you practically begged the universe. 

"The Swanson Project," he declared. Everything came screeching to a halt. Suddenly reading a dusty old book didn't sound too bad. Everyone knew about the Swanson Project. It was basically the most infamous assignment in the whole school. You couldn't imagine a single person enjoying it. Then again there was probably some freak out there who was looking forward to it, after all, Mr. Swanson existed didn't he?

The project would already be bad enough, but you knew it was a partner project and whether partners were assigned or not you were pretty much fucked. Not a single friend, or even friendly acquaintance, was in the room. It was just your luck. All your friends had plenty of classes together but somehow you ended up with the unluckiest schedule possible. 

Mr. Swanson went around his desk gathering a monster of a syllabus which did not ease your worries at all. You knew this project was huge, but just coming to terms with the sheer amount of time you'd be spending with all these nobodies made you want to bash your head into your desk. You could practically hear your friends laughing already. 

"Now, just in case you aren't aware of what the Swanson Project is, let me explain." Your teacher announced walking back to the front of the class. "This project will consist of both a presentation and a 10 page paper. It must be detailed. You and your partner will choose any famous author. In the spirit of Halloween, the author needs to be dead. No current authors please. You will need to work closely on this project with a partner and it will be completed outside of class." 

Your annoyance was palpable and you were convinced anyone within a 5 mile radius could feel it. Not only did you have to work with some extra - as your boyfriend would call it - but it had to be outside of school? If you didn't need the stupid credit you'd be tempted to drop this class.

You couldn't imagine sitting down and reading through all those papers. Mr. Swanson would love it, you bet. He'd probably enjoy every second. 

Taking the time to finally scan the room and actually see who was around you, you spotted Tenya Iida. He was an obnoxious rule follower, but you knew how smart he was and he seemed like your best shot. Maybe you could slink your way over there, the seat next to him was vacant after all. 

Just as you were ready to get up and head over, Mr. Swanson's voice brought you to a screeching halt. "All partners were selected at random. I will read your names off a list then you will have the last ten minutes of class to brainstorm." 

Random? He chose the pairings randomly?? Now you really wanted to bash your head into the desk. God, why'd you have to take this stupid class anyway. Math and Science you could deal with. They made sense to you. Analyzing the colour of a light in an old novel didn't. Maybe you'd get lucky? That seemed unlikely, you frowned. 

"Tenya Iida and Hanta Sero," Your teacher's voice called out. Well fuck, there goes your luck. You knew you sounded ungrateful but god, group projects sucked. 

Mr. Swanson called out more names causing the students around you to start moving around. Was no one going to protest? Everyone was just accepting how unfair the system was?

"(Y/N) and Tomura Shigaraki."

What?

No.

No no no. No way.

No fucking way. 

This had to be a cruel joke. 

You turned your head slowly to look at your new partner. God even just thinking that screamed all sorts of wrong. Why did it have to be him? You didn't know what you did to deserve this cruelty but it must have been something horrible. 

He sat far in the back corner slumped and staring at the wall. His long blue hair draped around him practically covering his face. He wasn't even looking for you. You had to hold back a scoff. This could not be happening. 

You were on the verge of marching up to Mr. Swanson and asking for a new partner. Literally anybody but him. You had no clue how many of the freaky rumors about him were true, but you definitely didn't want to find out yourself. Unfortunately you knew asking to switch partners would go about as well as asking a pig to sprout wings and fly. 

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad? You bit your lip and grimaced. Even you weren't that delusional. With a sigh you got up to head over to your partner.

Shigaraki was lost in his curtain of white hair and hadn't even acknowledged your presence. What was up with this freak? Like hello? You were supposed to be working on a project. He wasn't even sparing you a glance. 

Your eyes wandered to the clock. Seven more minutes, you could do this.

Did he drink blood like the rumors said? You knew that thought was insane yet seemed totally possible. Did he talk to himself and practice witchcraft like you'd heard people whisper about? Maybe he'd teach you so you could curse Mr. Swanson, you thought bitterly. 

He was slouched in his seat wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans, and ratty old red shoes. His Nintendo switch sat beside him on the table. You didn't know much about Shigaraki, but you did know his father was insanely rich, like stupidly rich. That led to Shigaraki getting away with practically anything - including playing games in class apparently.

You set your notebook down as loudly as you could without fully slamming it to get his attention. He finally looked at you with a bored stare. God, had he never heard of chapstick? Maybe some moisturizer? 

"I'm not doing this project alone," you declared. Because really, what else could you say to him? You refused to be stuck doing all the work. 

His bored stare turned into a glare. "Did I say that?" He snapped. His voice was scratchy and you were pretty sure you'd rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than listen to him right now. 

"No." You wanted to just walk out then and there. Maybe the credit wasn't worth it. Mina would never believe this. Getting paired up with the biggest freak? It was unbelievable. "I just wanted to make that clear because you weren't saying a single thing." You finally slid into the chair next to his, albeit reluctantly. 

Two groups had already gotten up to leave, having chosen their projects. You couldn't help the envy bubbling up. Why couldn't Shigaraki act like a normal person? He apparently wasn't in any hurry to leave. 

Maybe Mr. Swanson's pairings weren't random and this was his idea of a sick joke. This is what you get for turning in your last assignment late, you thought bitterly. 

"I'm not doing it all either I hope you know. I know you little cheerleaders have brains the size of a peanut, but that doesn't mean I'll do it all," he sneered as he finally looked you in the eyes. You hated him already. 

His red eyes were intense making you want to turn away, but you refused to back down. It was like a predator sizing up its prey. You refused to be the prey. 

Your chest was flooded with discomfort. Who even was this guy? Who shit in his cereal? Your gaze moved to the scars on his neck. You'd heard about him scratching himself raw before, but seeing the scars up close still caught you off guard. 

Shigaraki leaned in closer causing you to meet his intense eyes again.

"What are you staring at?" He whispered.

You drew back instantly, face feeling hot. That's it, you were outta here. Your hand shot up in the air as you mentally begged Mr. Swanson to show you mercy just this once. You were not doing this today. 

You heard a slow ominous shuffle behind you. Your whole body went rigid. You slowly lowered your hand and looked up. There he was, towering over you. Tall and so very pale. 

You bit back a protest as he took your hand in his. You gaped as his long slender fingers gripped your hand, his pinky slightly raised. All you could do was stare, unblinking, as a black appeared and began moving against your skin. The tip was as cold and sharp as his eyes. 

What. The. Fuck. Was he writing on you?? 

You couldn't make a sound if you tried. 

His face remained unchanging, just as emotionless as before as he carefully slid the pen over your skin. The pointed tip of the pen slightly tickled creating a knot in your stomach. You couldn't even begin to comprehend what was happening. You were so shocked. All you could do was stare at his pale fingers. 

At last he finished and released your hand. With one final cold piercing look he turned away,  snatching his switch and bag from the desk beside you. "Don't call after nine," he said as he walked right out the door. 

Your face burned and your skin tingled where he had just touched you. Finally snapping out of whatever daze you were in, you scanned the room. You were afraid to see who noticed. What would people say? You let out a small sigh of relief. No one had noticed. Thank god. 

Finally you looked down at your hand. In black ink he had written "S - 555-0710”

[m-rod-unofficial]

and here is a second ask consisting just of frank's big wet eyes in case you want to put everything i sent in the last one in the reply behind a cut, lol. i feel like all that text would be annoying to scroll past

He's so sad and rain-soaked. I can't TAKE IT!!

what do you think is the endgame for frank, gender-wise? i really want to write more post-canon fic for him, but i'm still trying to figure out what that actually looks like. like, /would/ he want to get the implants taken out? does it change things that he was able to clumsily seduce becker? would he keep the tits just so he can use them like that, or would it not be worth all the sexual harassment or whatever?

Disclaimer that I do funnel my own gender dysphoria into Frank <3 I'm hitting him with a beam full of its concentrated form always <3

At first, he describes himself as a guy stuck in a chick's body. Later, I think it's more of "I'm a guy with parts I don't want." And now that I've typed that out, it sounds like the same thing worded differently.

I think while he initially hates his whole body post-op, he can later accept aspects of it.

For Frank, it's like having fake glasses and a mustache superglued to his face. Sure, they can be useful. Only when you're outta options, though. I mean, you feel stupid and awkward trying to play this other role with them. You don't like looking in the mirror and seeing that shit. That's not you.

Well... it is. You're under there, under the parts you don't like, but it feels like nobody can look past them. You can barely do it yourself.

I think Frank wants the implants out. He seems like the type of person to keep binding for so long that it starts seriously hurting. He'd take the tape off even less if it didn't irritate his skin. And make it hard to breathe. And hurt his back. And ribs.

...But the idea of going into surgery makes him uneasy and when it feels close to happening, he ends up backing out. And if they made him go to therapy or some shit, he wouldn't do it. No way.

He'd probably feel more content with just binding instead of having top surgery if his binding method wasn't so dogshit. He saw the duct tape is his briefcase, thought "that'll work", and never bothered looking into anything else when he had the time. A normal binder would feel too much like a bra for his taste, which also eliminates the sports bra method. A compression tank top would be a lot better for him. Or even just KT tape.

I do headcanon that he never liked how his old face looked clean-shaven and that was why he kept a beard. The new one is fine to him. Johnnie likes it. It doesn't help the problem he had where his voice and long hair would get him called slurs. Maybe he'll finally cut it short if he has a particularly shit day.

The empty spot in his boxers where his penis was bothers him more than anything else, I feel. I'd say he should shove some rolled-up socks in there, but he didn't go for that despite it being as easy for him to do as the tape. I dunno, do you think he'd use some sort of packer (if he knew what those are)?

...I'm not sure if he can handle the harassment... I feel like his tolerance levels would still be pretty low... I mean, he went in wearing his prostitute disguise knowing he'd have to put up with Albert. He was also fueled by a burning desire to get close enough to Jane to get his revenge. Be a true revenger. Whateverthefuck. Whatever it takes type of deal. I feel like the only reason Frank trying to seduce Albert wasn't played more awkwardly/uncomfortably than it was is that nobody realized his character doesn't come across as a "cool loner", but rather the awkward type.

Not even thirty minutes after he wakes up in his altered body, the motel owner shows up. Frank doesn't tell him to get out until he says that he likes his look. When he tries to reach between Frank's legs not long after that, he slams his knee into his junk, beats the shit out of him, and trashes the place more. I'd imagine that's all he thinks of whenever he receives unwanted advances, which then elicits immediate aggression.

When the guy he goes to for guns calls him beautiful, he instantly snaps at him.

semi-digression: why the FUCK is he taking the hormones? yeah, i assume dr. jane gave him an orchiectomy and he's gonna have some issues if he doesn't do some kind of hrt. but she didn't explain that to him and when frank goes to the "surgery doctor" it's clear he's done no research at all! if he's constantly binding and skulking around in the shadows trying to pass as a dude i don't know why the hell he would (1) trust that the psychopath who tortured him as revenge would be telling the truth about what the pills even were or (2) immediately start taking them and then just continue to do so of his own volition. he doesn't even put on the clothes dr. jane leaves for him because they're chick clothes! he runs out of there in a filthy robe with no shoes on but before he does he just fucking takes the estradiol! why??

There's certain things in this movie that make me wanna, like, pick up a pillow with my teeth and shake it around violently the way a dog would. You'd think Frank would maybe try asking Johnnie if she's heard of the medication before, bring it up to the "surgery doctah" instead of accepting defeat and leaving after asking two questions, look it up on a library computer, or literally anything but dry swallow those things with little to no hesitation. I'd call it a case of stupidity to keep the plot going, but it can definitely still work without Frank refusing to look into anything other than who's on Honest John's payroll. Who knows why any of the story decisions were made, really.

anyway. in the stupid black-and-white tapes it sure as hell seems like he's still binding and maybe still wearing mens' clothing? but he's ditched the dumb snapback and he doesn't have his hair in his face and i can't tell if we're meant to conclude from that that he's accepted himself or something. i know he says he's still gonna be a guy in his head, but…is he resigned to looking like a chick or not?

I can't imagine that much thought was put into his tapes tbh. Black and white filters typically indicate something is in the past, but they're made after the events of the film. He talks a bunch of nonsense about what they're for and what he's gonna do now that just leaves you sitting there like ???

He does wear his hair like that pre-op. It's slicked back when he kills Honest John's cousin (...and maybe when he offs Dr. Jane's brother? Can't remember), but he has bangs the rest of the time. The ballcap was him hiding his new face because he didn't like it, but it/the hood was also his lazy attempt to obscure it while riddling dudes with bullets, right? I dunno. Maybe he's resigned to the fact that his body will never go back to exactly what it was before, not necessarily that he has to look like a woman.

the other unhelpful thing about the movie is that we don't even know what the hell he's actually doing with his life. in the final pages of the comic, frank seems to have basically devoted himself to busting into hotel rooms and shooting johns dead. the implication is, i guess, that now he's had a taste of the female experience and wants to get justice for all those girls? i don't hate that for him. i kind of wonder how he can afford to eat, though. but if that's what he's doing, maybe that alters the calculus because those girls aren't going to trust him unless he looks like a woman? he's definitely dressing like a woman by then in the comic, but he also starts that a lot earlier. his outfits both post- and pre-op in the comic are much cooler so i don't know why mrod's wardrobe in the movie just looks like they told her to bring in the ten most drab pieces of clothing she already owned. that's another tangent, though

anyway, in the comic, frank also uses "we" when he's talking to one of those girls and you /could/ interpret it as him grouping himself in with women, but, like, it's not that clear-cut.

I don't hate that for him, either. I guess he still has to be doing some sort of hired killer stuff on the side? I'll have to reserve any real thoughts on Comic Frank until whenever I read it.

I do have a soft spot for Frank's wardrobe haha. It feeds into his "weird lil' guy who lives out of an old-ass briefcase" vibe. His single pair of footwear is biker boots. He doesn't own a bike. Or any vehicle. Who knows if he's ever been on a motorcycle at all, but they have heels that make him at least an inch taller, give him just enough space to tape his silly little extra bullet under there, and have no laces to bother with.

The leather jacket has gotta be his most expensive piece of clothing. Of course he always wears it. That's his nice thing. He owns approximately two bulky-ish coats, a lil' hoodie to wear underneath in case it's extra chilly, his dad cap he's had forever, two pairs of jeans he won't replace until there's a hole in the ass or crotch, three shirts he got off a clearance rack, and what I assume to be less than five pairs of boxers and socks. Sure, Frank could spend his big assassin bucks on nicer clothes, but he doesn't care to because... he's just an odd lil' dude, I suppose. He doesn't see any issue with what he's got on if it's not falling apart.

I bet he left the orphanage at 18 with that same fucking briefcase.

i think johnnie complicates things, too. my sense is that she likes him better as a woman. i doubt he's perceptive enough to realize that, though, and based on how he feels like he has to warn her before they have sex post-op, i wonder if he feels like he has to still be a man for her. but do you think he would want johnnie to treat him like a guy (whatever that means), or would that make him all insecure and angry because he'd feel like she was mocking him?

i have a LOT of thoughts about what kind of sex he would be able to have (if he were on the receiving end), but i'll spare you. i'll just say i have an idea for a scene in a post-canon fic where he comes to see johnnie and he's wearing some kind of very jury-rigged homemade chastity belt or dentata. and she's like, frank, what the fuck. but that's somehow his solution to having a cunt. i feel like he'd probably be paranoid as fuck about getting raped, especially if all the women he knows and interacts with are, like, the staff at run-down motels and prostitutes.

side note: in the comic, frank does think johnnie's a prostitute when he meets her, but his characterization is much more "sexy, mysterious lone wolf who occasionally likes to take a chick for a ride" than what mrod manages to convey ("loneliest, most pathetic man alive"). thank god for her big brown eyes. one hundred percent of the appeal of this movie to me is that frank is such a little loser guy. if he was remotely cool i just could not care

I bet Frank has minimal understanding of what relationships are like outside of the "fuck buddy" or "most stereotypical dynamic you've ever seen between a man and woman", but if he didn't send her off to Reno, that'd change. Slowly. No doubt penetration is the only type of sex he's ever tried pre-op. It's hard for him to comprehend the possibility that she could like him without a dick. Everything reassuring probably feels as though he's being mocked or pitied at first.

As long as she doesn't refer to him as she/her, I think he'd be fine or come to the realization that he is with a lot of things.

Eventually, he could learn that instead of sobbing alone with a bottle of liquor because "real men don't cry", it's a lot nicer to break down with his head on her lap while she pets his hair or something.

I did already agree with you about his fear of being assaulted.

If anybody else had played Frank, I wouldn't like him. I also probably wouldn't have watched the movie or be aware it exists, but y'know. My immediate impression was that he only speaks to people for transactions ...like his first hookup with Johnnie, I suppose. We don't see their conversation before he's leading her up the stairs, so maybe he does think she's a prostitute. They just skipped that like most of the interesting stuff. Regardless, I still like the idea of her approaching him more. I'm getting off track. I think he only has the "mandatory interactions" and avoids the rest because any attempts he made to bond as a child were ignored/shut down.

i do want to read about terrible things happening to him so he can sniffle wetly about it but i'm still so pissed about how the movie handles johnnie! what the fuck is the moral supposed to be: you can't trust anybody so you better spend your whole life alone? are we supposed to think it shows character development just because he's not hunting her down and shooting her or something? i would honestly rather have johnnie be killed by the doctor for lying to her. at least that would be closure.

why could she have not just been there in the background of one of his dumb videos? i think my headcanon is that he's just lying about leaving her in reno because those vids are supposed to be distributed to the public after his death and he doesn't want to get her in trouble. she's in the bathroom or out on the balcony or something. i would love to know more about his fucking "lawyer in miami," hahaha. too bad i already registered for courses for next semester. i didn't even check if they were offering sad little hitman law

i'm still trying to figure out how to scan the comics. for some reason i cannot find a scanner that doesn't display each scanned page on a huge screen in a public place and that is very awkward when you are scanning lesbian porn!! i gotta go to the library at midnight or something. i'll keep you posted <3

Another thing that makes me crazy :)) I will always be driven up the wall that they let him go back for his dog but not Johnnie. It would have been better if Dr. Jane killed her. It's one thing for him to be super pissed in the moment, but he couldn't kill her even then. Why not have him go back for her after he cools off? What was the point of it all? I hate the ending. It makes it feel like there wasn't one to anything. I share that headcanon.

I've felt awkward scanning stuff that's not porn in public. You're far braver than I am haha

[tysonfurybattlepass]

Heard you were looking for some anon hate, so here's some that I've thought about over the past few years 😉

Your art is pure garbage. Your shading is so basic and yet it looks worse than the drawings on wikihow articles, and your colors are an abhorrent mix that looks like neon puke. Literally one of the first tips beginner artists get is "don't use the airbrush". And what do you do? Airbrush the fuck out of your markings and shading! Your older anatomy and character designs were far more superior while the newer ones are a bastardized version of their former glory days. I'm younger than you and I can actually paint and pick good colors lmao

You haven't improved at all in 5 years. You actually got worse! You're drawing the same snarling cat 20 times a month instead of working on your backgrounds, shading, anatomy and compositions, and their jaws still look crooked with displaced teeth Every. Single. Time! I wonder how strong their bite force is when the lower jaw is at a 45° angle from the upper one?

All your characters look crazy and deranged and like absolute psychopaths. It's not a good look for your "brand" <3 And their torso takes up 90% of their body. How are they supposed to be strong beasts when their stumpy legs can barely hold the weight of your bad stylization? And you call that an improvement instead of godawful anatomy!

And then, and then!! Y're constantly making new characters, drawing them a bunch and forgetting about them! Algernon, Jarith, Lucia, Geneph, Xiaoya, Bailey, Jicama, Utah, Felin, Civen, Afryea, Thyodore,.Tyson (Aster's pet Inostrancevia), Donnie... And you have even more that you haven't even posted about? How does it feel to know that someone knows your characters more than YOU do? Talk about being an irresponsible artist

You're not even creative enough. "Here's a species that looks exactly like a cat but trust me guys it's not a cat, see? it has two extra arms!" "Here are 20 smilodons that are yellow-brown and have spots, but I love all of them and can differentiate between them!!" "Here's a leopard seal who's bigger than the natural ones and is a made-up species (who's supposed to be part bear and I definetely didnt forget about that) even though nothing is different between her and a regular anthro seal!!!"

I hope you give up on art. It won't take you anywhere in life, just like your autistic interest in paleontology won't help you. You didn't even get a superior education, so it's clear you'll live your life working minimum wage jobs because you're not qualified to do anything better. You’re lazy as fuck and you have no excuse for how weak you are.

You say you have 1000 followers but you barely pass 10 notes on your art and even less on your vents, and whenever you demand people to send you asks daily, nobody says anything. So not even your followers like you. They're just observing your every move and are laughing at your pain. The only thing you're good at is being daily entertainment for me and hundreds of others like me.

All your "female" characters loook like males regardless of what they identify as. It's as if you're incapable of drawing women.

Hooray for making all your best characters trans since you seem to be allergic to normal people. I'm glad you confessed that you support the mutilation of middle schoolers / transing gender non-comforming females (Azure).

You call yourself a "he/they" but you're still competing in the women's category cuz you know you wouldn't last in a fight against real men. You're such a failure that even your step father calls you his daughter publicly. (Your parents surely are disappointed in what you've become. I wouldn't be surprised if you were the reason for their divorce)

Only a few years back you were a proud tomboy girl, but I guess you hate yourself so much that you project your self-misogyny through self-identification and an atrocious art style.

You even chose the name “Tyson”, like that troon Chris Tyson. Considering the recent controversy, that’s what people will associate with your name, not whoever “Tyson Fury” is, and truthfully you deserve it.

You're so fragile being called a girl when you look, sound and act like one. Girl. Woman. Female. Dike. Lass. Lady. She. Wahine. Kaikamahine. Did this make you cry some pathetic manly tears? 100% sure you look like the soyjak in the soyjak vs chad meme right now. Can’t wait to read your breakdown on tumblr, if you’re not going to outright delete every account you have to escape me

Typical white girl starving for attention online behavior lmao.

You boast that you are "hot" but you are objectively ugly, not even mid. Your undercut is shit and your face is so damn bland. Your fursona is strong and beefy but you have a thin female body with stick arms and visible breasts. Talk about projection and an inflated ego. You're oozing with narcissism, and I wouldn't be surprised if you got diagnosed with it. It would 100% suit you.

Your "girlfriends" are still lesbian women, but you’re not one? “Transmasc butch lesbian” my ass, you absolute pooner. It’s not that hard to be a regular woman. Pretty sure you're not even dating them, you're just friends who haven't even held hands. And you’re still a virgin lmao. No bitches? 🥺 And you have not one, but two, because you're insecure in your feelings and can't commit to only one person since you need that external validation. I'm sure they're cheating behind your back because they know you wouldn't check on them.

I hope your sleep apnea kills you in your sleep. You deserve it.

L + ratio + you’re a loser + cope and seethe

Don't bother blocking and reporting me, I said all I had to say, I don't plan on interacting with you anymore and I don't have this level of hatred against anyone else.

Now, have I stalked your accounts until their beginning, or have I followed you for a really long time? Or a secret third thing (I stalked you for a really long time)?

the color thing is true but you should get a job

[dehya-selei]

i thought n moved on. but his new girl f, which is my best coworker friend, has been mia for a week off for vacation. then this week only appeared at work twice, then didn't show up later in the week.

i've been watching n. i know he gets all weird and strange when his "girl" whoever that may be at the time isn't around physically. it must be an anal retentive thing. it takes a toll on him. his voice sounds different. it almost makes me pity him, except he's been such a dick that it numbs my empathy for him. in the past, his nearly after-sobbing sounding type of voice made me want to do everything i could to protect him, but i know too much now. there's a chance however, it's because i also removed all my songs on my profile and started to change my schedule. i used to do all 5 days in office, now i'm switching to 3 because i've had enough of his shit. who knows what the reason truly is tbh.

he also hasn't been interacting much with f when she was in office as much as before. though, i think he did try to buy her coffee. they once shared a drink together, but f told me that it was only because the other coworker passed on the drink. later that day, n posted a love song about a girl handing him a drink. i remember being so inwardly destructively jealous that day when i was pms'ing. felt the most difficult gut-wrenching emotions in the moment. my dreams being ripped out of my bare hands.

f told me i had nothing to worry about. these past 10 months of emotional turmoil n put me through, i've never mentioned any of his actions to f. now f knows everything. it's a dumbass move to string along two women who are close friends. did that idiot not think i'd tell her of his bad deeds? f is a principled woman, so naturally said she cared more about me than this guy. that it is important for women to take care of one another. also, she only sees him as a younger brother with no romantic feelings whatsoever.

another thing to note, n is too fucking crazy for it to work with f anyways. on the surface, they are both weird, witty, and have a lot in common intellectually. but emotion-wise, n is needy as hell and high-maintenance. he needs to control his girls schedule because he gets too jealous, he needs to have the same social group, he needs the girl to be submissive because he's anal retentive, and he's too damn selfish to do anything that makes sense to a date even if she is able to put up with him. f is was too independent, has a super tightly-knit established friend group and is just way more assertive and loves herself. if f really did get into a relationship with n, she'd dump him just like that after his true colors show. she's too damn good for him in every aspect. hell i may be more jealous of n being a guy who is allowed to hit on f. if i were a guy, i'd definitely do anything for f. i deal with n because, i'm also crazy and my wants are simple.

anyways, n is losing his shit. i knew this would happen, and he started reaching out to me again. though i honestly admit that i was laughing at this entire situation. it helps me deal with the pain.

[multifandoms27-blog]

Hello there!

I just stumbled across your blog and I love your posts! And when I saw that you also write for Creepypasta, I just had to send in a request, especially considering that there's barely anything there!

So may I ask for some general and romantic headcanons for Toby? I really love this guy!

I hope you have a wonderful day and remember to stay hydrated!

(Also, apologies if there are any mistakes, English isn't my native language ^^)

See ya! :D

Hi! Thank you, Vero, you stay hydrated and have a wonderful day as well! I'm so glad you love my stuff <3 I was just thinking about doing something for Toby, so you're in luck hehe

(Also, your English is amazing my friend. No worries <3)

• ───────────────── •

Content: Toby general and romantic headcanons with gender neutral reader

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, implied murder, implied violent bipolar episodes, obsessive behavior, toxic jealousy, toxic relationship, and implied familial trauma.

Notes: I come from the era of creepypasta where everybody believed Toby was very obsessed with waffles, and was horribly misinterpreted in fanfiction. That was about eight years ago now though, and from what I've seen the fandom has been getting better with representation of Toby.

I've put a lot of thought into this. Might use this as inspo to revamp my Jeff headcanon list.

• ───────────────── •

(art by Lynnarty on Deviantart)

❥General

I want to start by saying: I know almost nothing about Tourette's syndrome and don't know anybody who has it. If I get anything wrong, please please please correct me. I wanna get this right for you lovelies. Thank you <3

Now, what I do know about Tourette's, is that there are two types of tics: motor and phonic. I believe Toby has more motor tics than phonic. I know he's portrayed as stuttering and twitching/moving rapidly at the same time, but I don't think he has as many phonic tics as we think

I do however, think he has a natural stutter. He was bullied in grade school, and as a fellow bullied child, I can confidently say that he developed the stutter then. I will die on this hill.

His personality is also not at all that of a child, who spends all his time screaming and laughing just for the hell of it. He's unhinged, yeah, but not in the oblivious child way. More of the sadistic way for very obvious reasons.

He's more so reserved, just kinda comes and goes. There will be points in time where he decides to be super obnoxious and fuck with other pastas in the mansion, but that's moreso purposely picking fights and intentionally being annoying than whatever the hell fanfic writers wrote in the early 2010's.

He does have bipolar disorder, so he'll lose his shit when he decides to fuck with people and they fuck with him back. It turns ugly really fast.

With his CIPA (Cognitive Insensitivity to Pain), obviously he cannot feel when he gets injured on missions, or if his motor tics cause him any pain. He won't really give a shit if he finds an injury, and won't really take any steps to go to Eyeless Jack either to get patched up. Either someone else will have to bring him, or Jack will have to hunt him down himself.

Speaking of Jack, he was able to fix up the left side of Toby's mouth when he came to the mansion. Fixing Toby's injury and Jeff's face were the first two things he did.

Toby still chews on his hands and the insides of his mouth, just out of habit or if he's stressed/upset about something.

He doesn't have a reaction to fire, really. He doesn't like dwelling on the past + he's ready to just keel over and die at any moment, so it doesn't really matter to him.

Being called "Ticci Toby" angers him to no end. You will die if you call him that, no exceptions.

• ───────────────── •

❥Romantic

Toby didn't really look for love after joining the mansion

Like I mentioned above, he's ready to die at any point, so he finds it kinda pointless to get a partner if he's just gonna die soon

He noticed when you joined the mansion, but he didn't actually say anything to you until you'd been there for some months. He doesn't particularly associate himself with people in the first place, let alone people he newly "meets."

He's not very friendly at first, but being nice to him even through his obnoxious moments and horrendous mood swings and even going so far as to try to help him (he won't let you in the moment but he'll reflect on it later), it'll get you in his good graces

Being blindingly nice won't just get you in romantic territory. If he sees you being an actual person around others while just being super nice with him, it's going to make him think you're not genuine.

Just be yourself around him. When he sees you treat him the same as the others (with genuine kindness and respect) and not like he's some freak, it'll get you brownie points.

Toby doesn't realize he's insecure and thinks it's normal to get super jealous super easily. His parents didn't have the best relationship and most internet media of relationships is toxic in itself, so you'll have to be the one to sit down with him and lay out your boundaries. Even then, he'll frequently cross them.

It's not because he doesn't respect you or love you. He does. Just sometimes he wants to move the relationship a little faster, or he's impatient and wants kisses when you're with the others, or he's just plain forgetful.

Again on the jealous point though, he's going to get very upset if you don't notice he's jealous. In his mind, it's very obvious. Eventually he'll get so upset that he yanks you away from the people, cusses them out, then storms off with you and slams every door he goes through for extra measure. He's then going to cry as he holds you, apologizing and saying he didn't mean it and he was just scared you were going to leave him.

He doesn't let you be with your other pasta friends without lurking in the background, watching yours and their every move. He loves you and just wants to make sure you're okay. Happily accepts you back into his arms when you're done.

The only time you'll be able to hang out with friends outside the mansion (without him watching you) is when Toby is away on missions. If you befriend the right pastas, they'll cover for you. If he's not away though, he's very likely going to be stalking you and your friends in the background.

Toby doesn't care if you give him PDA or not, he just wants to be near you and do what he wants in the moment. Once he realizes he has feelings for you, he's going to be clinging to your side.

Loves when you show him physical affection and attention without him asking.

He also loves when you involve him in things you like. He might not participate in it, but the fact that you thought of him makes him happy. His favorite thing is eating some snacks while cuddling on his bed and watching some show you love.

Toby by himself just kinda exists. Toby in a relationship with you just kinda exists, but he wants people to know that you only exist with him.

For obvious reasons, Toby is a fucked up individual, and a relationship with him will always be toxic in some aspect. Everyone in the pasta mansion is fucked up, and very few will have healthy relationships. Yes, we love the pastas anyway, but we cannot fix them, so just keep that in mind lovelies <3

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

[mystic-scripture]

I posted 276 times in 2022

60 posts created (22%)

216 posts reblogged (78%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mystic-scripture

@harleyquinnzelz

@starcrossedjedis

@ocfandomloveletters

@juliaswickcrs

I tagged 250 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#stranger things brainrot - 88 posts

#i queued and made a cave - 86 posts

#my friends are so talented - 44 posts

#discord darlings - 38 posts

#steleddie - 26 posts

#fandoms - 26 posts

#oc creator bingo 2022 - 26 posts

#fd: stranger things - 24 posts

#highway to hell inspo - 23 posts

#edits of the mystic - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 131 characters

#but like instead of a party she's at one of his shows and drank to much bc she sees all the girls fawning over him and gets jealous

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

McLahey Masterlist

Manip below made by the talented @randomestfandoms

I am rewatching Teen Wolf for an RP I'm participating in, but of course with Teen Wolf comes Steph and Mclahey. So, in prep for new things I'm hoping to work on, I wanted to compile all the stuff I do have for them. Below are questions, and prompts, and drabbles I have of them. Hope you guys missed them as much as I did...if not too bad, they're back.

Drabbles Mistimed Gifts - A Christmas Drabble Prompts Spotify Unwrapped '22- Bubbly by Colbie Caillat Spotify Unwrapped '22- Super Bass by Nikki Minaj Spotify Unwrapped '22- All About Us by He is We Spotify Unwrapped '21 - Whiskey Glasses by Morgan Wallen Spotify Unwrapped '21 - Starship Avalon from Passengers Kiss Prompts - #7 Routine Kisses Text Prompt - You wanna bet on that? (ft. Danny McGrath) Fluffy Dialogue Prompts - "I won't stop hugging you until I get a kiss!" Asks

Which Member of your OTP ask (1, 3, 11, 25, 28) Unknown Number list 5 and 10 Not sure if this is all of it, but I also have tons to add one day because I have soooo much. Hype Squad: @witchofinterest @foxesandmagic @ocfairygodmother @darknightfrombeyond @anotherunreadblog @curiosity-loves-the-kitten @missemmalie @randomestfandoms-ocs @lenonizi @ocappreciationtag @atomicgracy @john-silver @poe-tato-dameron @lostiintheocean @prophecy-grrl @harleyquinnzelz @drbobbimorse @simply-simptastic

McGrath Clan: @ceruleanmusings @randomestfandoms-ocs @chantelroyal @noratilney

10 notes - Posted February 26, 2022

#4

~OC Creator Bingo~

Sylvie Martin for @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

She is so soft and I love it! Def going to be looking into this!

11 notes - Posted March 23, 2022

#3

See the full post

13 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

#2

Alright, Let's have a discussion.

I am fully aware that I am not a big blog, nor is this going to gain much in the way of traction, however, I'm sick and tired of this so it's Soapbox time.

As I'm sure many of my friends and followers have noticed, I've barely been on here the past year and a half. Little to no reblogs from me, no likes, and no new content to speak of. Now, some reasons are not owed to you, but this most recent string of nonsense has broken my silence.

I have spent months, MONTHS watching all my friends get harrassed and chased down by anons for their content, who they chose to be friends with, or even their private issues with other people. I have had several leave altogether, which hurts because I have no other way of reaching them. And if that's not bad enough, you have taken it upon yourselves to FUCKING SPEW YOUR BULLSHIT AND YOUR AGENDA ON THEIR FICS. On a TOTALLY DIFFERENT WEBSITE.

You say we're the ones doing the bullying, the gaslighting, being exclusive of whatever, but the fact is, we don't know who to fucking trust anymore.

YOU...YOU are the ones that are chasing us down wherever you can find us. I have sat here and said NOTHING to anyone, I've kept my had down, barely reblogged or liked anything for fear, and just no desire to have anything to do with any of it. And yet, YOU dragged me into this by coming onto one of my fics, one that hasn't been updated in almost a YEAR, and last reviewed/interacted with in September to clue me in on things that I have no part in. And then you have the AUDACITY to say you're the ones looking out for the oc community. A community doesn't do this. They don't go around spreading other people's business and life choices to strangers. They don't fucking CHASE PEOPLE to harass them, or yell at them, or spew out holier than that BULLSHIT at each other. You deal with things privately. You are just as bad as the anons you CLAIM to be fighting against. So if you are part of this bullshit OFC or whatever letter combination you are a part of, lose my blog, forget my fics, and GROW THE FUCK UP.

14 notes - Posted March 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

~~ Introducing Highway to Hell: A Stranger Things Story~~

“I’ve been telling you for years, you'd be surprised about the things Nancy Wheeler can and would do...”

The responding statement would haunt Stella Henderson well after it altered her life forever.

“Says the one that went and ditched us the second she got into high school and landed herself some mystery boyfriend.”

The accusation was a false one, but she hasn't been surprised at how Nancy had twisted it when 'sharing' with Barb because it beat the alternative. That the older Henderson was deemed ‘too wild’ by Nancy’s mother, and ‘not good enough’ for her perfect daughter. Playing wild games instead of studying, and partaking in debaucherous substances while she did so. But that wasn't the worst part about the day Karen Wheeler decided that Stella wasn’t allowed in her home anymore, no. wasn't even the fact that Dustin now went over there constantly to partake in a game she’d introduced the younger siblings to. It wasn't even that the very acceptance of it in the boys versus her seemed to cement some antiquated gender roles in play at the Wheelers. No, it was the fact that Nancy seemed to agree and didn't fight for her.

But of course Barb never learned that. Stella had already lost one friend going down that path, so why lose a second, just because Nancy Wheeler "Grew up"? Instead, she caught betwixt two worlds her sophomore year. The world where she’d garnished a truce with Nancy to stay friends with Barb a grade below her, and her secret life of DnD and freakish delight with her boyfriend a year above.

The same boyfriend that snuck into Barb’s funeral to hold her hand, and stayed by her side as she processed the grief. The same boyfriend that she held close and hidden away from everyone who wasn’t in their little club, and would bring her dinner at the game shop- no matter how bad he was at cooking. The very same boyfriend that was unaware of the dangers that continually cursed her brother and his friends the past two years. The boyfriend she’d broken up with in the name of keeping him safe.

But this wasn’t the story of how she lost Barb anyway, or how she’d legitimately rekindled her friendship with Nancy. No, this was the story of how Stella Henderson stopped running from the love of her life, Eddie Munson, and how it took nearly losing him and the rest of her home forever to realize it. 

Hellfire Club Taglist: @drbobbimorse @bubblegum-barbie

@booty-boggins @starcrossedjedis @harleyquinnzelz @susiesamurai @juliaswickcrs (Want to be added? hmu! <3)

18 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[larkace]

Robber Claws

hi guys! i've read a bunch of your fics and got inspired so i wrote a thing! enjoy ;) also, it's pretty long so...buckle up! love yall <3

The criminals lurk in the mist, invisible, but Sofiya Pavlichenkov knows they’re there.

She’s perched in the Lookout’s nest of her Warship in Fourth Harbour, pretending to read the documents her first mate, Kastor, has just handed to her. But her blue coat is flapping in the wind and her papers keep jostling and she’s being watched, all of which is rather uncomfortable.

Idly, Sofiya wonders what the criminals might want. A smuggling, perhaps? Out and away from stinking, crawling, loathsome Ketterdam?

Sofiya hates this city. His city. She misses Ravka, her homeland- the Little Palace.

I miss my bloody Kefta, Sofiya thinks darkly as another bought of wind spirals harshly through the Harbour. The blue coat she wears is a subtle nod to her Tidemaker status, but it’s a sad, thin piece of cloth compared to the grandeur of the Fabrikator-made Keftas. But Sofiya can’t wear her Kefta, not if she wants to blend in in Kerch- a lesson she learned long ago…

Old enemies, Sofiya. Old enemies, but not withered grudges.

Huffing out a sigh that would make Zoya Nazyalensky proud, Sofiya rises gracefully to her feet.

They’re coming. She can feel it; they’re making their way towards the ship. They don’t have to be rowdy to intimidate, that’s for sure - or to make a crowd of Merchants and Thieves part like the sea almost immediately.

Sofiya reaches up behind her head and loops her hand around a piece of knotted rope; takes a deep, steadying breath.

And she steps off the platform into the open air.

For a moment, she catches on the air as if a Squaller has caught her on a buffering breeze, but sure enough, gravity kicks in.

Sofiya welcomes the feeling of her stomach in her throat as the fall takes hold, zipping her past the sails. It's good preparation, anyway, for the three dark figures moving up the docks towards her.

As they near and Sofiya lands lightly on the deck, she confirms what she already knew: these were criminals. Her criminals.

The trio stops in front of her. They're all wearing black and gold - not a uniform exactly, but it’s a solid way to show your allegiance. None of their hands were visible, but if they were, Sofiya would find the Robber Claws emblem branded cleanly onto the backs of their knuckles. Their hoods are drawn up over their faces, but Sofiya can tell from their posture who she’s dealing with.

"Ah, Iseut," Sofiya says serenely, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The girl in the middle pulls down her hood, revealing shining blond hair, dark eyes, full lips. She doesn’t smile.

"Where have you been, Sofiya?" Iseut asks coolly.

"The Wandering Isle," Sofiya answers immediately, "I stopped at Os Kervo on my return to pick up some supplies. I'm only three days late, Is. Cut me some slack."

Iseut sighs, and suddenly looks less the badass, fake-waitress man-killer, and more the tired mother of a delinquent child. Sofiya feels a flicker of guilt.

She had stopped at Os Kervo for more than one reason. The "supplies" were crates upon crates of commandeered Fjerdan weapons and traps, intercepted by the First Army on their way to the Front Line. Sofiya had paid nothing to take them off the hands of the Ravkan soldiers, who honestly had no clue where to send them. What good were jerky Fjerdan guns to a sophisticated, well-oiled Second Army legion?

Sofiya could picture Zoya's face at the sight of the sad little weapons. Disgust and disdain, unshakable beauty - and perhaps just a little bit of pride that her friend had been the one to collect the Fjerdan cargo. Sofiya would work on selling it all later. She'd dump the Grisha traps in the ocean, though. Drown them like they deserved to be drowned.

"I am sorry, Iseut," Sofiya says, and her words aren’t mistruths.

"Don't apologise to me," Iseut says dismissively, "It’s your friends that were barely able to sleep the past few nights. You should talk to -"

"Destry," Sofiya's words mist the air like a fine rain, "I know."

One of the tall figures stood behind Iseut lowers her own hood. Lyra. Ly.

It made sense that the Robber Claws would send their best Bruisers to Fourth Harbour. Sofiya knew by the other Robber's posture that beneath the hood, she would find the face of Winter. But Winter wouldn't lower her hood in front of so many people, so Sofiya was content with what she could get.

"You really had Destry worried, Sof," Ly says, chastising.

"Destry can handle me being gone for weeks on end," Sofiya crosses her arms. She will not be guilt-tripped, "This job was half a week, and I was only a few days off schedule. I did tell Cherry that I'd be late." The words come out as a question.

None of them say anything.

Another flash of worry courses through Sofiya. Cherry Vlasova is a Heartrender, and one of Sofiya's closest friends. The message that Sofiya had forwarded was simple and concise: I'll be a few days late. Stopping at Os Kervo. Don't worry, no Fjerdans. Tell Destry -S.P

Had something happened to Cherry? She was an avid gossiper; her post box was always full of tip-offs (a useful source of information for the Robber Claws) but Sofiya was reliably informed that her letters were always placed on the top of the pile. Marked "URGENT."

"What happened? Is Cherry alright?" Sofiya demands.

Iseut holds up her palms, and they are callused and grease-marked. Sometimes Iseut is so well put together that Sofiya forgets she's a barmaid.

"Cherry is fine. But all our Grisha are shaken. Whilst you were away, there was an attack on the East Stave."

Sofiya's heart stops and restarts and stops again.

An attack. On the Grisha. And she wasn’t there to - to help, to defend-

"Destry," Sofiya breathes, "And Cherry - and Adali, Roza, Linnea, Yan, Anya- oh, Saints, was it the Fjerdans?"

There are many Grisha members of the Robber Claws. It was one of the reasons that Sofiya wanted to join them in the first place. If the Fjerdans had attacked -

"Everybody is fine," Ly says lowly, "We had Freya and May fixing people up as soon as we heard- and Lita, of course, but behind the scenes."

Freya and May- and even Lita, whose powers most of the gang didn't even know of. Grisha Healers. So people had been hurt.

"What. Happened." Sofiya growls, and Ly glares at her challengingly, fists clenching. The water beneath the decking froths and bubbles as Sofiya brings her own fists together, power surging pleasantly up her arms. If Ly wants a fight, she can have one.

"Calm down, both of you," Winter's smooth voice projects from under her hood. Despite the heavy fabric, her voice is clear and commanding. Sofiya takes a breath to compose herself.

"To answer your previous question: no. It wasn't the Fjerdans." Iseut says, "We don’t know what they were."

Sofiya's brow creases at the chime of fear in Iseut's voice. She's never seen the golden-haired barmaid afraid before.

It begins to rain softly, the pattering of droplets quiet against the wooden decking of the docks.

"We should go back to the Queen’s Head, Iseut," Ly suggests, referencing Iseut’s place of work. Iseut nods once, swiftly, and glances over Sofiya's shoulder at her warship.

"Do you need to...?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"KASTOR! IM GOING FOR A ROUND OF DAY-DRINKING!" Sofiya yells over the shoulder of her rain-splattered coat. She hears Ly chuckle as Kastor's scruffy head pokes out from a window.

He nods at Sofiya when he spots her, and she waves, assenting. Kastor would keep everything safe whilst she was gone. It was their unspoken agreement, unchanging and unwavering since the day they'd become crewmates.

Sofiya turns back to Iseut, Ly and Winter.

"Let's be on our way," she says, and lets her fellow criminals lead the way along the Harbour, her warship disappearing into the mist behind her.

~~~~

The mid-day slump of customers meant that the Robber Claws had the Queen’s Head pub all to themselves.

Iseut- who did not own the pub, but had put more work into it than the real owners ever did- had immediately trekked behind the bar and poured herself a whisky.

"Want anything?" She asks, directing the question directly at Sofiya despite the equal presence of Ly- and Winter (who had lowered her hood slightly now that she was back on familiar ground, with familiar faces.) Bruisers didn’t drink on the job. It slowed reflexes.

"The story," says Sofiya firmly, "It a joke about the day-drinking. What happened?"

Iseut pours herself another whiskey and the quartet take a seat at a shady little circular table in a quiet corner. The murmurs of other Robber Claws members is enough to shelter their conversation from the group- despite Sofiya being sure she was the only one unaware of what had transpired the days she’d been gone.

As Iseut begins her story, with Winter and Ly regularly interjecting with additions, Sofiya feels horror and fear clamp down on her heart like a Fjerdan Grisha trap.

Iseut’s alluring voice weaves a tale of Komedie Brute actors in bloody masks, rose-painted rubble from an impossible explosion, and worst of all: Grisha. Dead Grisha, killed by creatures with screeching metal wings.

“Only a few of our Grisha were hurt,” Iseut sips her drink solemnly, “We took your advice of keeping them anonymous and undercover. We have Erin and our other spies out searching for answers at the embassies. I’m sure you’re just as eager to find out about the winged creatures as we are.”

Sofiya nods, “I am. Thank you for filling me in, Is, really. And to you, Ly, Winter. I know you don’t like going to far from the West Stave.”

The last comment was directed purely at Winter. It’s not a lie. Winter runs a dojo for training Kerch’s women to protect themselves from Barrel bosses and scum alike; she didn’t want her clients finding out about her… Robber side. Being a criminal wasn’t the most unintimidating, friendly persona to have when speaking with vulnerable women.

Sofiya respected Winter and her clean profession. It was hard to be so kind in the Barrel. And men were rarely kind to women at all.

Sofiya knew that first hand.

Shoving away the memories- blue eyes, dark hair, gorgeous smile, charming words and sharper wounds- Sofiya stands in one fluid movement.

“I’m going to find Destry,” she says. Iseut stands, Ly and Winter falling back to flank her again, and smiles. She’s beautiful, that is undoubtful, but the attacks- the sleazy men at the Queen’s Head, the strain of the city- it’s all gotten to her. Sofiya can see it.

This city is poison, thinks Sofiya as Iseut takes her hand and shakes it. Poison and rot.

“Destry will be in her rooms,” Ly supplies, and Sofiya nods at her once.

Sofiya grins brightly, hoping it covers her own weariness, and recites, “Fair winds.”

“Bright stars,” chorus her friends. Sofiya waves over her shoulder as she slips out of the bar and down an alley. Above her, a storm brews in the clouds.

Perhaps the stars would be out that night. It didn’t matter. Nobody in Kerch saw the stars anymore.

~~~~

On her way to Destry’s apartments, Sofiya ran into more members of the Robber Claws.

Malcolm and Firefly, who lived together in shared housing in the Anvil, were shopping for new blacksmiths’ equipment. They each provided invaluable services to the Robber Claws, crafting flawless weapons second only to that of Fabrikators. They greeted her with a wink each. Sofiya moved on swiftly after trading them a Wandering Isle-crafted staff for twenty Kruge.

She picked up some baked goods on the way. She would need them. Destry- who had been her closest friend since she arrived in Kerch- was an Inferni. Fire-bringer; with an even fierier temperament. Rumour had it- and Sofiya knew the rumours were true- that Destry had been attending the University of Ketterdam when she’d heard a boy make a lude comment during an exam and lit the paper on fire with her mind. And that paper had been thrown. At the boy’s face. Ouch.

Sofiya had been nursing a whiskey in a tavern when she’d first heard the story recounted. She’d leapt up from her seat, slithered into an alley and held the recounter at knifepoint until he’d told her Destry’s name.

They’d become fast friends upon meeting. Sofiya had been in awe of someone so rebellious, so brave as to set fire to an exam paper, and Destry- well. Destry had laughed for hours when Sofiya had told her how she’d first come across her name.

But now, staring up at the ornate windows of Destry’s apartment, Sofiya feels unsure. She didn’t mean to worry her friend. Iseut had explained that her letter must have gotten lost during the riots. Sofiya cursed the post offices. So there was a deadly storm- your motto is still “We always deliver.”

Despite her trepidation, Sofiya’s feet were swift on the stairs. She had a key to the apartment, and didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and slip inside without a sound, content to watch Destry whilst she worked; even if only for a moment.

Leaning against the wall, Sofiya’s brow creases as she surveys her friend. Destry’s hair is plaited carefully into two loops at the nape of her neck, hazel strands freeing themselves gently against her light brown skin. She’s stood facing away from Sofiya, arms circled in rings of fire. The shirt she wears is Fabrikator-made; the flames don’t take to the papery material.

Sofiya takes a step forward, and pointedly drops her bag of confectionary on the floor. It lands with an audible thump.

Destry whirls, the fire at her wrists whirling into an inferno ready to strike- until Destry sees who is at her door.

“Shouldn’t have hesitated, Des,” Sofiya said weakly, “I could have put a knife in your back.”

The shock on Destry’s face dissolves. Her face splinters down the middle. Licks of fire at her fingertips wilt into ash in a pile at her boot-clad feet.

“You would have put out the flames with your water, I’m sure,” Destry says, and then flies across the room towards Sofiya, wrapping her in a tight, smoke-smelling embrace.

Sofiya would normally pull back. “Don’t be too open with your heart, Des,” she’d say, “People use your loves against you here.” But Sofiya couldn’t bring herself to say those things. The weight of the week comes crashing down on her head like a tsunami.

Fjerdan traps on my boat, attacks on my gang, tensions in Ravka boiling over… where’s safe anymore, except here?

Destry pulls back slightly to scan Sofiya’s face. She has a smear of oil on her cheek. Destry’s eyes are filled with fire, burning like an ember beneath onyx waters.

“Where. Have. You. Been.”

“Destry-”

“Don’t you make excuses with me, Pavlichenkov,” Destry snarls, “You didn’t warn us you were late! I couldn’t sleep- neither could Cherry!”

“I-”

“We thought you’d been caught, Sofi,” Destry cries, “We thought the Fjerdans had got you! I thought you died.”

The word is ugly and big in the room, choking Sofiya’s response. Death. Dying. Dead. And by Fjerdan hands. It wasn’t so rare for travelling Grisha to be caught and sent to the pyres.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya says, because it’s the only thing there is, “I wrote- I really did, don’t look at me like that- according to Lyra, there was a storm in the True Sea. The letter sunk with the ship.”

“You’re a Tidemaker,” Destry huffs.

“Yes, which means I manipulate water,” Sofiya says, “Not stop it from overturning ships with important letters on them. Destry, I’m sorry. I brought waffles.” She offers the last sentence like a defendant on trial with the Stadwatch; one final piece of evidence to prove her innocence.

Destry brightens immediately, “Well, in that case.”

The pair of them set to work, shoulders just brushing in the cramped kitchenette. Sofiya’s array of pasties are laid out over two plates, which they lay on their laps. Destry’s job for the Robber Claws is, in few words, that of the logician. Papers are scattered all over her apartment, covered in detailed blueprints and scale drawings of buildings all over Ketterdam, Fjerda and even- rarely- Shu Han. There were no drawings of Ravka.

If Iseut had ever commissioned a robbery in Ravka, Sofiya didn’t know about it. It would be…unwise to hit out at the Ravkans, with so many Grisha in the gang.

But Destry’s job was essential, so Sofiya couldn’t complain about the lack of trays to put their plates on. Such things were useless for such an incredible mind as Destry’s.

“So,” says Destry conversationally as she lights the fireplace with a casual flick of her wrist, “How were the Wandering Isles?”

Sofiya says nothing, massaging her temples lightly. Destry manages a laugh.

“Your silence is telling, Sofi,” she warns.

Sighing quietly, suddenly feeling very tired, Sofiya says, “It was crawling with our Fjerdan friends from the North. ‘Peaceful’ Fjerdans.”

Destry spins, and she is outlined with the fire. We’re opposites, Sofiya thinks. Fire and Water.

“You didn’t-” Destry begins, horrified.

Silently, solemnly, Sofiya raised her palms to face the ceiling. Destry reaches out.

Her gentle fingers trace the scars there. Deep and painful and barely healed, the scars run red against Sofiya’s pale flesh.

“Sofiya…” Destry breathes.

“It was the only way to push my power down,” Sofiya whispers. She’s rarely so emotive, but Destry is someone she trusts with everything. It was a weakness, some would say, but they were each powerful Grisha. They were Gods in a world of men. And they would not kneel “If I hadn’t, I would’ve been caught. It was a price to pay.”

Grisha shone like lighthouses around people. In Kerch, in Ketterdam, it was safer for them- especially ones loyal to a gang, as Destry and Sofiya were. But in the Wandering Isles; where Fjerdans passed through on their way to Novyi Zem, where gang affiliations mattered less than the colour of your eyes… Sofiya tells herself she had no choice.

“Sofiya, you’ve opened up old wounds here,” Destry says, tracing the marred skin of her palms again, “You need a healer. Freya, Lita, May-”

“Wouldn’t understand,” Sofiya finished, pulling her hands out of Destry’s and placing them carefully in her lap, obscuring them with her coat, “They’re healers, Des, not warriors- they’d go to Iseut.”

Iseut. Their unofficial leader, the founder, the lighthouse in raging seas. All of the Robber Claws seemed to be caught in her gravity. She was their sun. And Sofiya… well, Sofiya was the moon. Iseut would send her to a healer, one who would stop her travels. One who would commandeer her Warship, and Kastor… health of the mind was important to Iseut.

But Sofiya was not damaged, as they would tell her. She was not broken. Her mind was sound.

I did what I had to do, to survive.

But Destry can see through it all. Through the mask, through her eyes, right to her bones. Through to her lying, treacherous heart. We’re all broken in the end.

But.

Oh, Destry, Destry, please…

“I won’t tell her,” Destry promises, “But I’d like you to know that I think you should. Tell her, that is- Iseut. She might help.”

“She might ship me back to Ravka,” Sofiya grumbles, biting into a toasty croissant.

“Oh, she wouldn’t.”

“You never know.”

“She’ll want you to heal, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Sofiya rolls her eyes, “But these wounds are of the flesh. The scars on my heart will never heal, not in this life Perhaps there will be mercy in the next, even for my rotten soul.”

“You sound like you’re auditioning for the Komedie Brute,” Destry laughs.

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Sofiya crows.

“I can’t my dear, the money’s spent,” Destry choruses instinctively.

Sofiya wipes away an invisible tear, “Gorgeous! We’ll make an actress out of you, yet, Destry Clements.”

“Oh, you most certainly will not,” Destry huffs.

Their laughter fills the air, and Sofiya thinks that maybe there is hope for her rotten soul, after all.

~~~~

The man returns late from the pub wearing only one shoe.

A bottle drained halfway of mauve liquid dangles limply from his pale fingers. The veins in his foot are blue in the half-moon’s light.

He slurs a broken melody. She catches a few words as he passes below her on the street.

“Hmm… perish… light… air… fire… hell… hmmm…”

The man’s name is Danyl Harrop. And he is going to die tonight.

“Hmm… shadow… devil… rot… earth… sun… burn… lose….”

Harrop continues down the road, heedless of the mud on his bare foot. He'd be blackout drunk in the morning if he survived.

He wouldn’t.

Silent as a breeze, steps as soft as downy feathers, she leaps from the streetlight where she was perched.

She strikes.

She is ash and shadow. She is a storm of fire. She is vengeance.

She is death.

Harrop yelps as she pins him against the tree. His face is as white as the moon, with eyes like black craters.

“What’re you doi-” he slurs dazedly, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. He blubbers like a fish on land as he tries to shout for help.

“For King and Country,” says the girl. Stepping away from Harrop, she lets her power hold him against the tree, keeping his muscles upright. She surveys him like an artist would their unfinished masterpiece.

The girl whispers, “Sleep tight, Danyl.”

Flicking her wrist, she snaps his neck. He’s still alive, barely, so she latches on to what little of his mind there is left and strips it like an onion. For a man who is out so late, so drunk, on what the girl remembers as a work-day, he knows too much.

Secrets. They feed this girl, nourish her. There is a skip in her step as she turns away from Harrop; without her supporting his muscles, he collapses against the tree. She leaves his mind just as it goes dark.

There is no need to hide in the treetops upon her return to the city. It gleams just half a mile away, most of which is roiling seawater. As the girl wanders along the road back to Ketterdam, she finds Danyl Harrop’s shoe in a puddle of mud. The girl laughs at the sky. She flips a coin into the shoe, whispers a heartless prayer to her Saints, and moves on.

Back to Ketterdam. Back home.

~~~~

Ok, so that's that! I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger... I may have created a whole plot... so there might be some more coming soon!

all these excellent characters (save Sofiya, Danyl, Kastor and the girl at the end who kills Danyl- who has no name... yet *wink*) belong to the following:

Iseut is @littlegirldorothea's

Destry is @finnick-annie's (I may have made them besties👀👀)

Cherry is @brekkercookie's (they are ALSO besties👀👀 we have a trio omg)

Winter is @cressjacquine's

Lyra is @no-mourners-at-my-funeral's

Malcom is @blackpheonix’s

Firefly is @ask-shadowbon’s

Erin is @lightningboytytonjesper’s

Adali is @apple-bottom-jeansx’s

Roza is @vampire-rights’s

Linnea is @alonlyfangirl's

Yan is @lucentcorrigan’s

Anya is @queenlilith43’s

Freya is @smol-evil-gremlin’s

Lita is @the-whispers-of-moonlight’s

May is @saltyfortunes

and the "Fair winds, bright stars" motto as created by @spicy-tomato-sauce's

oh and the whole Grishaverse is the wonderful @lbardugo's <3

if I missed anyone or you want to tag anyone go ahead!