#it does not matter who you are or what you do; there will always be something for them to pick apart and criticize behind your back!

[tojicide]

OBSESSED. ☆ SYLUS QIN.

📰 extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...

warnings. nsfw, smut, mdni. porn with plot. fem!reader, popstar!reader, bodyguard!sylus. established romantic history (very brief). pet names. semi-public. fingering, oral (fem!receiving), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k

an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like… 2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover :D

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Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.

Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes you’ve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who you’re with...

You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as you’re concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You aren’t exactly shy about your opinions on him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party you’re in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.

(Ruin your night or… do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)

His protective nature only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrow…

And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.

And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one… Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? Fiancé? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Can’t a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?

Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.

And ever since, you haven’t given many people the time of day—including Sylus. Tonight, you’ve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. You’re currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.

Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, you’re sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.

Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friends’ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but… couldn’t.

All the while, you were too busy blowing off the  steam that you’d acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. “…And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed huff that you’ve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.

“Obsessed with you, hm?” Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. “You’re quite self important. I could never live in a world where I’d fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.”

You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves you—all except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.

“Mm… well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,” you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. “Hopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.”

“It does,” he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.

It’s borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)

You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. “Sooo… are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?”

Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.

“Must you always make things so difficult?” he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.

You shrug your shoulders. “More or less.”

“More or less?” he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. “I suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.”

“Oh? But it’s gotten me so far already…” you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. “In fact, I think it can get me even further.”

Sylus’s jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He can’t handle the way you’re looking at him—so unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.

He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.

“Don’t,” he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.

Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before you’re standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. “If you haven’t noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. I’ll find you just the same.”

You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasn’t often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel… different. Intrigued, maybe.

“How touching,” you deadpan, “but you still get on my nerves.”

Sylus clicks his tongue. “Tch. Oh, I’m sorry… when have I ever cared about what you think?”

“Never,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know… if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.”

Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. “I don’t… hate you. You should be rather thankful that I don’t, because I’m doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mine—you’re quite the handful.”

“Mm, I’m only saying,” you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. “You don’t need this job, and yet, here you are.”

He raises a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. “Give me your wallet.”

Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, slipping your hand from his as you crack it open.

You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didn’t need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of you—backstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.

“Ooh… what’s this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. “What are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?”

“Yes,” you admit without hesitation, “and that you’re secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?”

His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. “No. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.”

You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. “You’re not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.”

Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. “Must you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.”

The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.

“Rather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,” he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. “There is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.”

(And if Sylus knows anything about you, it’s that you love scandals. According to you, they ‘make life worth living’. Tch. Diva.)

You chuckle. “Aww, you care!”

“Do I care, or is it my job to look after you?” he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. “Public intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.”

Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you don’t have any plans for admitting that—not now or in the near future.

“Making out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didn’t seem to be complaining about that bit,” you say under your breath.

Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers you’re about to be engulfed in. Almost. 

Sylus flashes you a glare. “You shouldn’t mumble. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“You heard me,” you state.

He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you haven’t spoken much since your very intense lip lock. You’ve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.

The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable even—you could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.

It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You know, you can help me out with all of this,” you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. “My publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and… whatnot.”

“Yeah?” he asks, glancing your way. “Do tell.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. “Be my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. I’ll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.”

Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. “Anything I want? My, my, sweets, you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse.”

You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. “Just go with it.”

“Just go with wh— mmph!” Sylus’s words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.

The kiss was… tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.

But when Sylus’s tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, “Sylus, what’re you…” before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.

“If you’re going to use me like a whore at your disposal, I’d suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,” he says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts your d to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. “See? I knew you could do better than that.”

True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.

The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that he’s in for it now. That’ll do it for him.

He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylus—if anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.

Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driver’s seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.

It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to ‘stay out a bit later’. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.

“I know what I want from you,” he states, placing a hand on your thigh.

How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? You’re intrigued, raising a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” he confirms without missing a beat. “Get into the backseat.”

A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didn’t take a genius to understand them, but you were… surprised to say the least. “I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.”

In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasn’t—you both knew that.

He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. “Your body seems to disagree with you, ma’am.”

And if you weren’t already wet before, hearing him call you ma’am was more than enough to do it for you. “Shut up,” you grumble.

“You can make me,” he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. “Go on.”

Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.

“What’re you…” you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. “You know… you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.”

“Should I?” You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.

“You should,” he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “You should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.”

You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.

His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “Because believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.”

“Oh?” you ask, titling your head. “What will they be in favor of?”

He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. “I’m glad you asked, because there’s someone else I’ve been wanting to hear from.”

Before you have the chance to reply, he’s already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.

“Oh, I— mmh, you didn’t answer my… my question,” you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.

Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.

“Can you not hear her?”

Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but… you’re fucking soaked.

“I-I can,” you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. “Fuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.”

He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.

Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alike—all of which play as music to Sylus’s ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at him…

Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like he’s in his own pussy drunk heaven.

When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadn’t before, you do your best to follow his movements.

S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choice—none other than his stupidly talented tongue.

“You’re so—”

“Shh,” he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.

Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylus’s lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.

“Singing so beautifully for me,” he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skin—an absolute wet dream of his come to life.

You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. “Mmh, what…?”

“Quiet, sweets,” he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. “I told you I was talking to her, didn’t I?”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.

Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“Mmh, I… I’m coming,” you warn through an airy whine.

And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, he’s such a goner.

As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. “Look at you, falling at the feet of your ‘egotistical popstar’—mmph!”

Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. “That’s hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.”

He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.

“And what’s that?” you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.

“I’ve already told you,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. “A whore at your disposal.”

“I knew it,” you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Are you not going to reciprocate my affection?” he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. “Or do I have to work a bit harder for it, ma’am?”

Your knees would have certainly buckled if they weren’t firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you ‘ma’am’?

Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. “Just… shut up and put it in.”

“How demanding,” he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. “But as you wish, pretty.”

You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each other’s, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it was…

“Perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. “So, so perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.

“Give it to me how you like it, baby,” he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. “Use my cock however you need it, sweets, it’s yours.”

His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.

“I always… fuck—I always knew you were obsessed with me,” you jest, your grin stretching wide.

Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. “Yeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?”

You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah, I’m obsessed with you,” he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.

Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.

“Tch, let me see that pretty face,” he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.

“Oh, I know it, baby,” he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. “Pussy’s addictive—shit, I’m obsessed with her too.”

You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguard’s cock. “Sylus, I… mmh, I’m gonna cum.”

He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.

“Gonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,” he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You don’t do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. “Please do.”

Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Huh… you really are something special.”

A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You aren’t sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.

Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.

You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.

Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. “I have something to admit.”

He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. “What is it?”

You give him a wry smile. “My publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.”

“…I figured that much, sweetie.”

note. bodyguard!sylus, my glorious king… ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!

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[spirit-animal-sisters-official]

The Inheritance

The estate loomed on the horizon like a relic of a forgotten era, its spires piercing the gray winter sky. When my grandparents passed, the weight of the house fell to my parents. I arrived days later, summoned back from the city to help sort through the remnants of their lives. It was then I first noticed the cat.

It was an elegant creature, black as the void, with eyes like molten gold. It roamed the estate as if it had lived there longer than anyone, weaving silently through the labyrinthine halls and watching from the shadows.

“Her name’s Persephone,” my mother said when I asked. “She’s been with the family forever.”

It seemed like an odd thing to say. How long could a cat really live? I didn’t press the matter at first. There were more immediate concerns: sorting through the vault of family records, old portraits, diaries, and letters. But as the days went on, the cat’s presence became harder to ignore. It wasn’t just that Persephone was always nearby; it was the way she looked at me—intently, as though I was the only person in the world who mattered.

One evening, I found an old family tree tucked in a chest in the attic. It stretched back centuries, an unbroken line of inheritance. At first, it seemed mundane until I noticed a peculiar annotation: a small pawprint scrawled next to each heir’s name.

I returned to the chest, digging deeper. There were photographs and oil paintings, their subjects varying in fashion and age but always accompanied by a black cat with those same haunting eyes. I stared at them until my head swam. Persephone was always there, unchanged.

I confronted my parents the next morning. “Does Persephone ever… look different to you?”

They both frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She’s in every photo,” I said, spreading the evidence across the dining table. “These go back centuries. It’s the same cat.”

My father laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. No cat lives that long.”

“But look!” I insisted, shoving a particularly damning photograph under his nose. He stared at it for a moment before his expression softened, as though he had forgotten why he was upset.

“It’s just a coincidence,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Now let’s not dwell on silly things.”

No matter how hard I tried, they wouldn’t take me seriously. Worse, they seemed to forget the conversation entirely within minutes, leaving me to wonder if I was losing my grip on reality.

The cat began seeking me out after that, appearing in my room at odd hours, slipping inside without a sound. It would leap onto the bed and sit, perfectly still, its eyes locked on mine. Each time, I felt an inexplicable pressure in my chest, as though the air had thickened.

One night, I woke to find her on my pillow, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. I didn’t move, my heart pounding as she inched closer. Her paw rested lightly on my chest, and for a moment, I could swear I heard a voice—not in my ears, but in my mind.

“You see me.”

I bolted upright, but the cat was gone.

The following day, I dove deeper into the records. The estate’s library was vast, filled with books as old as the house itself. I found a diary belonging to a woman named Eleanor, dated 1793. In it, she described the family’s “guardian,” a black cat named Persephone, which had been passed down through the generations. Eleanor wrote of how the cat had chosen her when she came of age, how it whispered secrets of power and responsibility. She described the others forgetting—how it was part of the curse.

By now, I was too far down the rabbit hole to turn back. The pieces clicked into place: the cat wasn’t just a pet. It was something else entirely, something that lived on through each generation of my family, tethering itself to one heir at a time.

That night, Persephone cornered me in the study. The house was silent, the air heavy with anticipation. She leapt onto the desk, her eyes blazing like twin suns.

“You’re not a cat,” I said, my voice trembling. “What are you?”

She tilted her head, and again, that voice slithered into my mind. “I am the keeper of this house, of your line. I have chosen you.”

“No,” I whispered, backing away. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“You have no choice,” she replied. “You are bound, as your ancestors were. Through me, you will endure.”

I felt a cold rush of something—knowledge, memories, fragments of lives that weren’t mine. The weight of centuries bore down on me, and I stumbled, clutching at the desk.

“Why me?” I choked out.

“Because you see me. You remember.”

I haven’t left the estate since that night. My parents have moved back to the city, their connection to the house severed as cleanly as if it had never existed. They don’t remember Persephone or the strange events that unfolded here.

But I do. Persephone is always near, her presence a constant reminder of what I’ve inherited. Sometimes, I hear her voice in my dreams, teaching me secrets I never wanted to know.

The estate is mine now. And so is the cat.

Your grandparent passes and your parents inherit the palatial estate as well as the care for its cat. After going through several family records you realize the cat has been inherited throughout the generations. You try telling others but they forget. Now it keeps trying to be alone with you.

[xinganhao]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader. (4)

vernon x rockstar!reader who's a foreigner in an international rock band (4) a.k.a the one about fighting ➤ see also: series masterlist

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: international rockstar!reader, f!reader, long distance/established/newly-public relationship, pet names, fluff, angst, one (1) suggestive joke, best read in order + headcanons under the cut. rollercoaster ahead!

fight (v.), endeavor vigorously to win.

i.e. Vernon has fought to get to where he is. He clawed his way through his trainee days. He worked his ass off during their debut. Even now, even as SEVENTEEN reaches meteoric heights, he's still working tooth and nail to deserve every minute of fame that he's been vouchsafed. He does it for his family. He does it for the group. And, as of more recent times, he does it for you, too. You're equally as driven with just as much on the line. You have a band to herald, a completely different scene to navigate. You're passionate, and determined, and Vernon loves you for it. He does. It's why he's still so steadfast himself— how can he not be? When he turns to you, he sees a future. And it's a future he wants to be part of, so he'll be damned if he doesn't work to deserve it.

fight (v.), attempt to repress (a feeling or an expression of a feeling).

i.e. Vernon has always been in control of his emotions, but he finds himself battling them a lot more often nowadays. He fights down the urge to defend your honor at any given turn. He fights down tears when the two of you argue. He fights his insecurities the most; all those the terrible thoughts that threaten to drag him under. They come for him at night, when he's lying in bed and trying to get some sleep for tomorrow's schedule. It's always a vicious, quiet whisper in the back of his head. You're not enough or she'll want something more or this isn't going to work out. The thoughts run marathons across him mind, leaving him breathless and winded without him even moving a muscle. But then you'll send a text, or you'll ring his cell, and the heavy feeling in his chest eases up. Just a bit. Just enough for him to shoot back a reply and trust that he'll have you for one more day.

fight (v.), move forward with difficulty.

i.e. More often than not, it's a war of attrition. It's Vernon and you versus the fans. It's Vernon and you versus the press. It's Vernon and you versus his company, your label. He likes to think it's never him versus you or vice versa. That the two of you are always going to root for each other, no matter what battle you're in. He fights past all the baseless fan theories and stupid gossip columns. He fights the company's stricter rules, your label's disapproving stance. Vernon is still perfectly polite— as much as he can manage to be, anyway— but he has also made it abundantly clear. Vernon will go down fighting if it's for you.

fight (n.), the inclination or ability to fight or struggle.

i.e. There are some days where Vernon is worried that he doesn't have any fight left in him. His job is demanding. Yours, equally so. And the added layer of your relationship being under constant scrutiny is a strain, a thorn in your side. A curse more than it is a blessing, really. On the days where it feels a little too much, Vernon will sit down and write. He prefers doing this on paper and pen but his phone's Notes app will do when he's in a pinch. In it, he writes three reasons why he loves you. It all begins with I love you because... I love you because you sing like an angel. I love you because you get along with my parents. I love you because of the way that you laugh. Call it a reminder. Call it a boost. Whatever it is, Vernon hasn't run out of it, years into dating you. It is a never-ending list that gives him the courage to square his shoulders, to dig down deep and find that fight. That all-encompassing reason that boils down to I love you, I love you, I love you.

fight (n.), a vigorous struggle or campaign for or against something.

i.e. Any relationship has to be fought for. But it's not something that can be done alone, not something that Vernon can singlehandedly accomplish. He can protect and persevere all he wants, but if he's the only one still in this, then what's the point? That, to this day, is his biggest fear. When the smoke clears, when all is said and done— Will you still be fighting with him? Will you still be fighting for him?

[deathbxnny]

Hi I just wanted to say I loved the arcane adhd headcannons u wrote, the viktor one made me cry bc I want to be seen like that sooo bad. Do u think u could do some more characters? No pressure tho ur an amazing writer

Arcane characters with an S/o who has ADHD. | Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko x Gn!Reader

(Previous part)

Aww, I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed the last part, anon! I hope this is to your liking as well!<33

Content: Fluff, ADHD, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAITLYN

She noticed from the start that you were a little different from everyone else. Not that she necessarily cared much about it. You were still you after all, and your diagnosis is just a part of you she considers endearing.

With that said, Caitlyn always listens to your needs very closely and does everything in her power to help you out with them. She'll get you anything you ask for in hopes of making life easier for you. Whether it's medical help or just something to help with your fidgeting in general, you'll have it in no time with her.

Cait can, therefore, come off as kind of overbearing or overprotective at first. She wants you to lead a smooth and successful life, so she'll always be around to make any task doable for you. Procrastination does not exist when she's there, to say the least.

Her patience is an important part of your relationship that's practically invaluable. Your fidgety and unfocused nature took a moment for her to get used to, but she never makes a big deal out of it. Instead, she simply adapts to your needs and learns to cherish them as well.

》JINX

Probably the most understanding out of everyone, albeit in the most chaotic way possible. You two are a rather troubling duo, as she herself isn't in the best position to help you out properly. Her ideas are always outlandish yet somehow still work out in the end anyways, which is rather impressive.

You're both very fidgety, but she makes up for it with her hyper awareness. Procrastination is never a thing with her, considering how focused she always is on every project she has and so it becomes somewhat of a normal thing for you to simply work in the same space together, even if it's with just music playing in the background in-between you two.

She's the last person to ever treat you any differently for your diagnosis and doesn't ever let you feel bad for it either. You accept her, and she accepts you. Anyone that tries shaming you for it is as good as dead anyway.

You two learn how to take care of each other better than anyone else ever could. Jinx may not be able to help you out like a professional doctor could, but she'll do anything to help you out no matter what forever.

》EKKO

He doesn't entirely get it at first, mainly as he was always surrounded by people who were rather unique in their own way. But as always with anything, he still does his best to learn everything he needs to about your diagnosis and how he can help you with the resources he has. Which aren't many, but his creativity truly shines at times when it comes to you.

You're not treated any differently from everyone else, and he sure as hell doesn't allow anyone to do that either. You are normal, just with more needs that he tends to carefully. So whether it's your inability to focus well or stay still for a long time, he'll find a way to make things easier. He understands your procrastination and doesn't really push you to do things unless it's very important. But he'll work with you on any projects or missions you may have.

His patience is endless for you and his kindness even more so. He understands if you feel frustrated sometimes and tries his best to soothe you when your emotions are a little harder to process. He'll let you fidget and be yourself as much as you want to, never the type to stop you. You should be yourself around him, and he appreciates how vulnerable you are with that.

Ekko loves you no matter how hard things can get with your diagnosis. He takes every challenge on with ease and never judges you for it either.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I was wondering if you can do Yandere dick and Tim with a Childe reader who seems to favor Tim over Dick.

Just imagine Tim finding this little Kid following him like a little duckling and thinking that he is soooo cool!

No matter how much Dick makes the kid like him Tim is always his favorite!!

(It will be funny if Batsis who doesn't like Dick at all is also around. He will be losing his mind!!)

A/N:Oh my gosh yes! Lowkey Batsis and Tim being co-sibling-parents lolll. Honestly Tim and Batsis duo is so iconic. I need to do more. I love them. look at him...he's such a good brother.

Here's the thing, Dick is the honorary dad of the family. Like he's changed diapers, taught how to tie shoes, walked his siblings to school and gone to graduations... All the siblings go to him with their problems before Bruce.

Now new baby alert,,,,Dick is in full papa mode and is ready to do the same with batchild and is so hurt when the kid screams in his arms. Like anytime he's near or picks the child up like this kid is in distress. O my gosh I feel so bad. Poor Dick.

Dick is seriously trying so hard to make batchild love him but nothing he does works. Dick could have cocomelon on full blast and wearing a Barney costume and this kid will be trying to get away.

Eventually like Jason has to be like..."dude, please just let someone else take care of em'. They need more time to adjust to you."

It's because of his blue eyes isn't it? Dick unintentionally has the Miley Cyrus blue eyed stare and the kid cannot take it. lol

All jokes aside it's really not that bad but it's clear that Dick isn't their favorite. There's definitely cute moments where Dick is sitting down with batchild in his arms and they are munching on some snacks. Or Dick is singing to them or doing a fun trick with them in the air. But ultimately the kid seems to gravitate to other siblings instead.

Dick doesn't really know how to function though. I mean we've seen just how insane he is with batsis. Only problem is he cannot be as forceful with the child in fear of scaring them.

I think the batchild and Tim situation won't get to him until he sees batsis, Tim and batchild all together.

The whole Tim obsession is out of the blue. Like Tim is almost always in his room or in a dark corner somewhere doing research. He decides to come out one evening as he had a bit of time after solving some cases...

I like to think Tim is a super geek who probably wears cartoon pajama pants or silly slippers and it caught the kid's attention so he's waddling towards him.

Tim is kind of like...what is happening? What do I do with this young human? He's kind of awkward with the kid at first but the kid is just loving himmm. Tim will try to explain the character that it is on his clothes to the kid, and they will try cutely mimicking him and Tim's heart just melts.

"Oh uhh...this is Link from..well Zelda.."

"lwink...frwum zweldwa..?'

The kid is dead set on sitting with him during dinner too. Like they climb into his lap and starting eating off of his plate. It's perfectly okay because Tim doesn't eat much at all so he didn't mind the kid messing the plate up.

He stays out in the living room a little longer than usual that night to play with the kid a little, it's super sweet.

I like to think Tim and batsis are rather close siblings so there are times where Tim will be coupe up in this room and batsis will come in with batchild and pull him away from his work. Batchild loves playing pretend with the two, specifically knights and dragons and hospital. It's nice seeing Tim a bit out of his element and having fun.

Sometimes batkid will just fall asleep in Tim's arms as he's working late. Speaking of, Tim takes to the kids like they're his little apprentice. Oftentimes you'll find them together with tons of case files out and the kid is grabbing items or pinning things on the board for Tim. Seriously that child's reading level went from first grade to 10th in the span of a few months lmaooo

But there's often times where batsis and Tim are with them. Quickly they become the kid's favorite siblings and they want them to do everything. Like when the kid is hurt, they'll cry for either. If the kid need to get ready for school, they want either to help. If it's movie night, the kid is squished in-between the two. You guys basically broke the honorary parents and it's so adorbs.

But this is where I said Dick is not having it. I feel like Dick was never threatened by Tim until now. Like sure Dick knew that Batsis and Tim were kind of close in a way and he was okay with batkid taking a liking to him...but all three of you being your own little squad is killing him.

He hates being excluded and not being needed so he's like ripping his hair out. He'll try inviting himself into the group and like the kid is just ignoring him...

Dick will try to open a juice box for the kid and now the kid doesn't even want it anymore like....bruh I wants Timmy to open it for me :(

Honestly I am not even sure really how Dick copes...Like I just feel like he doesn't explode because like I said he doesn't wanna scare the kiddo but idkkkk

[chillypowder]

Powder Blue

Pairing: Jinx (Powder) x Reader

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Act 3 Healing Vibes

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of emotional vulnerability, brief discussions of chaos and destruction (Jinx being Jinx). Overall, it’s a soft and tender piece meant to heal your heart.

Summary:

Zaun isn’t known for its quiet moments, but you’ve always found them with her—whether she’s Jinx, Powder, or the storm in between. After everything she’s been through, you’re her anchor, her “sunshine,” even when she insists she’s the thundercloud. Tonight, beneath the smog-filled sky of the Undercity, you remind her that stars, no matter how hidden, never burn out—and neither does she.

Notes:

This is for all the Arcane lovers who were emotionally wrecked after Acts 2 and 3 (raises hand). I wanted to write something soft and dreamlike, like the kind of fluff you fall into after a heavy rainstorm. Jinx deserves peace and someone who reminds her that she’s more than her chaos. Reader is gender-neutral and full of love. Let’s heal together!

The air smells of ash and copper, but it’s soft, almost like the remnants of fireworks in a summer sky. Zaun always had a way of making things feel heavy, like the weight of a smog-filled sky pressing down on you, but tonight? Tonight feels different. Tonight, she’s here.

Jinx.

Or maybe she’s still Powder to you, even now. You’ve never been able to pick a side, not when it came to her. Not when her eyes, burning with chaos and brilliance, find you across the workshop you’ve quietly tucked yourself into for the evening.

“Hey, sunshine.” Her voice rings like a melody, mismatched and full of energy, dragging you from your thoughts before you can start wallowing. The door slams shut behind her, and her boots clink against the uneven floor. She’s bouncing on the heels of her feet, a grin that doesn’t quite reach her eyes spreading wide as she leans against your desk. “What’re ya doing in here all alone? Didn’t you miss me?”

You blink, still caught between the memory of who she used to be and the whirlwind she’s become. It hurts sometimes, like a pinprick in your chest, but tonight you push it aside. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that Jinx needs your steadiness. Needs the quiet you offer when her head gets too loud.

“Just working on something,” you reply, your voice soft, a balm to her usual sharpness. You motion to the half-finished contraption on the table—a little music box that you thought might make her smile. You don’t tell her it’s for her, though. Not yet.

She tilts her head, her pigtails swaying with the motion, a curious glint sparking in her eyes. “Ooh, what’s that? It looks... fiddly.” Her fingers twitch as if resisting the urge to grab it and take it apart. Jinx has always been like this—a hurricane with hands, tearing things apart to see how they work, only to put them back together in ways no one else would ever dream of.

“It’s... not finished yet,” you say, moving it out of her reach before she can snatch it up.

She pouts, her lips curving downward, and it’s almost enough to undo you. “You’re no fun,” she mutters, but there’s no bite in her words. Instead, she slides onto the desk next to you, her long legs swinging over the edge as she watches you with that unnervingly intense gaze of hers.

You let the silence settle between you for a moment, comfortable despite the unspoken things hanging in the air. The hum of Zaun’s machinery rumbles softly in the background, a lullaby of gears and steam.

“How was your day?” you ask eventually, glancing up at her.

Her grin widens, almost too wide, and she starts talking—fast and animated, her words tumbling over each other as she recounts her latest escapade. Something about a heist, explosions, and narrowly escaping one of Piltover’s enforcers. You know you should probably scold her, tell her to be careful, but the way she lights up when she talks about it makes it impossible.

“And then, boom!” she says, throwing her arms out dramatically. “The whole thing went up in flames! You should’ve seen it—it was beautiful!”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to keep the fond smile from tugging at your lips. “Beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah, like... like a firework,” she says, her voice softening just a little. Her eyes drift to you, and for a moment, something vulnerable flickers in their depths. “You like fireworks, don’t you?”

You nod. “They remind me of you.”

Her head tilts again, and for once, she doesn’t try to hide the way her cheeks flush pink. “Tch. You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe,” she says, her grin returning full force. But there’s a softness there now, a quiet understanding that settles in her features like a shadow. She reaches out suddenly, her hand brushing against yours where it rests on the desk. Her fingers are calloused, scarred, but warm. “Thanks,” she says, almost too quiet for you to hear.

“For what?”

“For... I don’t know. For putting up with me, I guess.” She shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but you can feel the weight of her words. She’s always been bad at saying how she feels, always hiding behind laughter and chaos, but you’ve learned to read between the lines.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you say, your voice steady. “You’re not something I have to ‘put up with,’ Jinx.”

Her eyes flicker down to the floor, and for a moment, you think she might argue, might push you away like she’s done so many times before. But instead, she stays quiet, her fingers still brushing against yours.

It’s a small thing, barely noticeable, but it feels like a victory.

The night stretches on, and somehow you end up on the rooftop, the city sprawled out below you like a broken mosaic of light and shadow. Jinx is lying on her back next to you, her arms stretched out above her head as she stares up at the smog-covered sky.

“Do you think the stars are still up there?” she asks suddenly, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You glance at her, surprised by the question. “Of course they are.”

She hums, her eyes half-lidded. “I dunno. Feels like they might’ve all burned out by now, y’know? With how dark it’s gotten.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you stay quiet, your gaze drifting upward. The sky is heavy with smoke and pollution, the stars hidden behind layers of grime, but you like to think they’re still there, waiting.

Jinx shifts beside you, rolling onto her side so she’s facing you. “You ever think about leaving this place?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You turn to look at her, your heart clenching at the vulnerability in her expression. “Sometimes,” you admit. “But not without you.”

Her eyes widen, just a fraction, and for a moment, you think you’ve said the wrong thing. But then she laughs, a soft, breathless sound that makes your chest ache. “You’re such a sap,” she says, but there’s no malice in her tone. If anything, she sounds... touched.

“Maybe,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I mean it.”

She stares at you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours like she’s trying to find the cracks in your sincerity. But you’ve never lied to her, not once, and you won’t start now.

Finally, she sighs, flopping onto her back again. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sunshine,” she mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile in her voice.

The night ends with her falling asleep against your shoulder, her breathing soft and even as the weight of the day finally catches up to her. You stay still, not wanting to wake her, and let your eyes drift shut as well.

For a moment, everything feels okay.

And for now, that’s enough.

The music box sits on her desk the next morning, finished and polished to perfection. When she wakes, groggy and blinking against the morning light, her eyes land on it, and you watch as her expression shifts from confusion to wonder.

She picks it up carefully, like it might shatter in her hands, and when she winds it up, the soft melody fills the room—a song she used to hum when you were kids, back before everything fell apart.

She doesn’t say anything, but when she looks at you, her eyes are shining, and for the first time in a long time, you see a piece of Powder there.

“Thank you,” she says, and this time, you know she means it.

You smile, reaching out to brush a strand of blue hair from her face. “Always.”

Masterlist

[trulyy-yourzz]

Been thinking a lot lately about Billie taking the readers virginity with the strap 😌 I just think she’d be so gentle with it

♡Smut/✿Fluff – B.E x Fem!reader

Gentle billie and first time?! Yes. Yep. Absolutely.

"You sure?" You giggled, bringing your lips to hers once more before cupping her cheek, looking into her reflecting blue eyes. "I'm sure, my love." Billie took a deep breath, her body relaxing, as she was tense for almost 20 minutes straight now.

"You sure you wanna do this? I just don't wanna hurt you.." You smiled and wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her down before pressing your lips against hers. "I know, I know. I'm ready, baby." You pulled back and looked up at her. She was nervous. Extremely nervous. Billie really loved you. And don't get her wrong, she'd been wanting to do this for the longest now... but the thought of hurting you weighed heavily on her chest. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she were to harm you in any way.

"Just be careful, please?" You bit down on your lip, your heart starting to race as you watched her lower her body towards your heat. "Of course baby. I got you. Always." You bared yourself for her, yearning to feel her consume you. Embrace you. And she would do exactly that. She would do anything you for.

"Oh fuck.." Your chest heaved, head falling back against the pillow as she ran her cock through your folds teasingly, coating it nicecly down to the base. "Please..." Seeing you like this had her in a trance, begging for more. Needing more. And who was gonna give that to you? Billie.

"So adorable." Billie steadied your hips, admiring what was in front of her before sliding her cock into your cunt carefully.

Your body jolted, eyes fluttering closed as you whimpered and whined, feeling a slight sting. "Billie..." She lowered her body towards you, planting a gentle kiss on your neck as she hummed. "Yes, my love? Does it hurt? Are you okay?" You smiled, running your fingers through her hair and soothing her scalp. "I'm fine baby. Just... keep going." She nodded her head and thrusted deeper into your cunt, hitting unfamiliar and sensitive areas, causing your back to arch off of the bed. "Billie!" You cried out. Moaning her name as if in a pornography, her pace beggining to steady.

"Just tell me if it's too much, okay?" You nodded your head. Your hand fisted her hair in a bunch as she snaked her hand to your clit, applying pressure and motioning figure eights. Bringing you closer to your high.

Feeling your body begin to convulse, Billie placed her hand onto your hip, soothing the soft skin underneath. "That's it baby, i got you." She began to pick up the pace, hitting your spongey walls at a new angle. Your hand flew over your mouth, muffling your uncontrolled moans as your eyes rolled back. Your legs shook, cumming all over her cock as she helped you ride through your orgasm.

After a few minutes, waiting for you to fully come down from your high, she pulled out slowly, causing you to whince at the new profound emptiness. "You okay baby?" You nodded your head, inhaling before she kissed you, stealing your breath away. You giggled, returning the sudden affection. "I'm okay, I promise." You said. Pulling away as you spoke softly to her, in a low and reassuring tone.

Times like this were sacred to Billie. Like if she didn't simply cherish it enough, it would all slip away between her fingers in the blink of an eye, even though deep down, she knew that would never happen. Billie sighed and rested her head on your chest, drawing in your calming presence. "That was amazing billie, really. You're amazing." Feeling her smile against your skin, you brought your hand to her silky strands, twisting and twirling. "Says you. Who knows where I'd be without you." You shrugged your shoulders. Nobody knows really. But that didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was where you were now. In this moment. With her.

"I love you, B."

°

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Notes: This is one of the many requests in my inbox 😥 I was on a little trip and wanted to fully take in the experience so I took a tiny break (ish). But i hope you enjoyed my loves! This was a little rushed so I apologize if it's kinda bad. Ily all !!💕

[alltimefail]

Why doesn't Edwin call Charles, "Charlie?"

I shared the isolated audio of Charles' death scene where his "friends" taunted him as they killed him, and in that video, they called him "Charlie." This confirmed what many people in fandom already believed: Charles, a sporty teenage boy in the 80s, would not have gone by his proper first name and likely went by a nickname/shortened version of his name instead.

Now that we know that to be true, it does beg the question: why does Edwin call him Charles? I told you all not to get me started on this in the tags, but you stinkers want me to yap, so let's get into it! 😜

This is a very uninteresting answer, but I think Edwin does not call Charles "Charlie" simply because Charles did not introduce himself as such. Had he introduced himself as Charlie, I don't think Edwin would call him anything else.

This actually brings us to the "meat" of this analysis, and the more important question we need to ask: why would Charles choose not to introduce himself as "Charlie" if that's what people seemed to call him?

I have a couple of theories:

The first one: when Charles meets Edwin he's in a fragile state. A boy he's never seen in all his time at school approaches him, seeming to come out of thin air, just to bring him a lantern without any strings attached (even though Charles cannot give him anything in return). Charles has never experienced that kind of unconditional kindness in his life, and I'm sure that alone was enough to be a bit earth-shaking, mind-scrambling, and intimidating.

But it doesn't end there! The boy who brings the lantern is also claiming to be dead. Delerium/hallucinations are a common symptom of hypothermia so Charles could have though that Edwin was not real or was maybe even some kind of angel-like figure coming to keep him company in his final moments. I mean, the boy's wearing a dated school uniform, enters in a halo glow of golden light, and can walk through walls...it's not the wildest conclusion to jump to.

I think either of thos things individually or a combination of having your guard up, being a bit frazzled from the whole "dying" thing, and believing you're in the presence of an ethereal deity (combined with the fact that you're a people pleaser at your core) is enough to feel compelled to introduce yourself not in formal manner. Not to mention if Edwin introduced himself first, hand outstretched in a formal matter and proper posh accent on full display (something I can totally see him doing), Charles might have felt a bit silly calling himself by such a casual title.

While I think all of this can be varying degrees of true, however, my biggest personal headcanon is that Charles might not have introduced himself as Charlie because who's to say he LIKED that nickname? My circumstances were similar to Charles' growing up, I also had many nicknames from friends and family that I didn't ask for but was given anyway against my will... and I always hated it. Still cringe at some of them to this day, actually! So I think it's possible that Charlie Rowland met Edwin Payne, with all his formal stature and proper professional-sounding name, and took the opportunity to choose what he'd like to go by, without the influence of family or friends. In that way, his chosen identity that would kick off the rest of his existence moving forward (unknown to him at the moment, but true from a narrative standpoint nonetheless) serves as a "Taking your power back" moment for Charles who literally just heard the name "Charlie" being hurled at him as he begged for mercy from people who were supposed to be his friends. Even if he tolerated the nickname "Charlie" before, it certainly wouldn't have fond associations following the event that ended his life (if it had any positive associations to begin with).

Again, speaking from experience, Charlie also sounds like the kind of nickname that could be sugar-sweet on some tongues, innocent even, (his mother cooing over a young Charles), but terrifying from an abusive figure... a scathing kind of mockery. I've always imagined that Charles' dad more than likely called him Charlie, for example, and not in a fond, loving way (in the same way his so-called "friends" were not doing so in a loving way).

So yeah, why would Charles WANT to go by Charlie?

Now that we've established that, we can go back to Edwin...what you came here for!

All that in mind, I still don't see Edwin as the nickname type at all. From a romance standpoint I could maybe see him using a few dated, sappy endearments, but we don't ever hear him use a casual name toward anyone. In his lifetime Charlie would have been a perfectly normal name, but the kind of "fond" nicknaming practices and casual male friendships that happened in 1989 were not common practices in 1916, the Edwardian era. Even with his infinite fondness of Charles, I could never see Edwin uttering "Charlie." It doesn't feel right.

Plus, let's be honest: Edwin says Charles' name with enough love and reverence that he doesn't need to use an endearment. His tone says it all (lol).

Beyond that though, like I said above, I can't see Edwin feeling to impulse to call him "Charlie" because that's not how Charles introduced himself. Edwin strikes me as the kind of person that would be like, "If he wanted to be called Charlie, he surely would have said as much" and left it at that. But a name like Charlie also conveys a sort of youthfulness, and while he and Charles are 16 forever, technically, they have been detached from their lives for a long time and they're MUCH older than 16 in experience and in their professional life.

The only question I was left with, and one I've seen several people ponder, is why Charles would suggest they call The Night Nurse Charlie, (like from Charlie's Angels), as it seems a bit strange if his own name is Charlie/he went by Charlie. My answer/interpretation isn't that exciting, but it's one I feel makes the most sense: I honestly think this can easily be explained away by the fact that Charles is so far removed from that identity and so dissociated from his life that he no longer associates the name "Charlie" with himself in any way. Like it literally didn't even occur to him, in that moment, that Charlie/Charles are so similar because he has built a barrier in his mind between himself and that nickname; they're two entirely different identifiers to him. Whether that be a coping mechanism, or simply just something he wasn't thinking so deeply about (it has been 30 years since anyone called him that, except for Brad and Hunter in Port Townsend), we can't say for sure. However, it's clear Charles does not want to go by Charlie, and at least now we can safely assume why.

Let me know your thoughts! Do you agree with my interpretation? Do you have your own opinion that I didn't cover? Feel free to share with me!

Keep streaming Dead Boy Detectives & screaming about it ! Hugs to each and every one of you! 💜

[shorthaltsjester]

love (loath) this version of ‘empathy’ for characters that exists in fandoms that somehow means taking any articulation of the fact that x character is given responsibility and context by the story and that their poor choices lead to poor outcomes is actually a slight against the character (and implicitly somehow whatever oppressed group which they belong to or are alleged to belong to by sections of fandom)

to be clear this is something i’ve noticed in several fandoms which is why the beginning of this is general language but the pertinent example to my current frustration is liliana temult and the defence of her that lays on a claim that those who enjoy the narrative showing her poor actions leading to poor outcomes for her have somehow failed the empathy test is beyond incomprehensible to me. like even ignoring the very basic level understanding that fiction is a place to experience satisfaction in narratives that we cannot fulfil in non-narrative reality, it’s also like… holy fuck do I not want the kind of empathy that tells me it will all work out no matter what choice I make. it is actually imperative to human life that the choices we make have substance in the outcomes we arrive in, otherwise we would’ve long given up on the notion of free will. and to look at a narrative, particularly one built in the context of a ttrpg. a game notably influenced by the choices that players-as-characters make. and then see sections of an audience find it compelling and enjoyable that a character who has made categorically poor choices that have caused immeasurable harm to others is now dealing with the very obvious face-eating panthers consequences… idk man. if you see that as a lack of empathy i implore you to consider what role empathy is playing in your world.

like. if empathy to you is about comfort and stagnancy and not about growth and community, then sure i can understand how it might not be empathetic in your view to notice patterns and see their obvious outcome and acknowledge that . but as someone who has been in the position of making horrible choices with obvious outcomes, far more essential to my personhood was those who looked at me with careful but critical eyes than those who nearly babyed me into my grave. that’s actually why i love imogen’s choice to insist that liliana make her own choice and then quasi-encouraging her to stay, because it was a clear reminded to liliana that her choices have consequences, and one of those is that the terrible things she’s down in the name of her daughter have led to that daughter not being able to easily trust her.

and i think another thing that’s related that gets misconstrued with liliana (and as always unfortunately many such cases) is that the satisfaction of seeing her absorbed isn’t that it’s retributive harm done or some sort of punishment (at least not for me, skill issue if people in your fandom spaces are that cop-minded but, yknow, what can you expect from the thought-crimes capital of fandom spaces). the satisfaction is in the analogue (that i’ve seen well memed) to the face-eating panthers joke that liliana’s actions which have pushed an agenda that’s depended on the consumption and threat to her child and the children she specifically has aided in placing in danger via her choices, has led to situations where a) she’s ‘burdened’ by her care for imogen and the children (both of which she has played a hand in inviting into the context of danger) b) she is now the person in danger of being consumed after spending weeks simply shrugging off concerns about what might be consumed in the name of ludinus’ Just World™. like it’s not just ‘liliana does bad things, must be punished’ it’s ‘liliana has played a hand in creating a situation that is threatening to many including herself, it is narratively satisfying and engages in Common Narrative Tool: Irony to have that create situation negatively impact her directly.’

to that end that’s why the ‘if you’re like this about liliana you should also be like this about essek’ takes are beyond missing the point (without getting into the horribly built scarecrow that it is, understand that it’s actually undermining decades of feminist’s philosophical and political development to see a critique of a female character and go ‘well actually if she were a man you wouldn’t be saying that’ when it’s a provable fact that people Would be (and have been) saying that if she were a man. so not the feminist slay you think it is). like, as someone who Was just as interested in essek’s story having consequences as I am in liliana’s, there very much WERE consequences for essek that, just like liliana, were well contextualized and suited to the specific choices he made. they are ones that should be obvious even to the most surface read of the campaigns given that essek still appears in disguise years after the end of c2, should also probably be obvious in the rebuilding of relationships essek had to do with mn after they discovered his betrayal. like the notable difference between liliana and essek is not their gender, it’s that we’ve seen the end of essek’s story (in the sense of like. campaign containment, obviously his Story™ is ongoing) and have yet to see liliana’s— it’s entirely possible that liliana does get saved and goes on to repair her relationship with imogen (or goes on and is unable to repair it) or she just dies and part of imogen’s story is dealing with it; all of those are narratively satisfying. what wouldn’t have been satisfying, in the sense that would leave liliana feeling like a non-agent in a story dependent on her agency, is if her role was entirely dictated by imogen’s interest in reconciliation. because sure if you want to look very microscopically the current threat to liliana that exists is 1-to-1 caused by the fact that she’s been helping imogen, but taking seriously the story, the consequences bloom from all the choices that liliana has made leading to ludinus’ decision to trust her however far he does that made liliana’s choice a betrayal and affirmed ludinus’ strength and position so that he can do something like siphon someone’s life force away.

further the ‘why does liliana deserve to be funnelled and relvin gets off easy’ relvin doesn’t get off easy. once again the satisfaction of his narrative is that he did his best and it was insufficient and that cost him a relationship with imogen they both clearly wish for but neither can rectify. the consequence for relvin is that he’s in an empty house that is no longer home to the woman he loved or the daughter he was left to raise alone. surely i don’t need to unpack why i think someone who tried but wasn’t well equipped to raise a daughter with superpowers doesn’t need to evoke as ‘drastic’ consequences in their story as the stated right hand of the campaign’s bbeg for their story to feel complete.

and idk at least for me that’s the salient point; that the consequences that are happening feel like a plausible and suitable conclusion to the story we’ve seen of liliana even if she perishes at ludinus’ hand. it will be sad but it’ll be satisfying, and maybe i should have realized seeing the frequency with which parts of fandom have been campaigning to undo maybe the most weighty and narratively satisfying choices & consequence of vox machina’s story, but it’s truly confounding to me the amount of people treating the presence of any complex and non-traditional happy ending notion in a story set in a world defined by pyrrhic victories. like, empathy for vax isn’t saying he’s the puppet of a god that manipulated him into service, it’s acknowledging that he made a choice that he knew would have consequences and acknowledging that the consequences he demanded with that choice were pretty severe ones. that doesn’t mean i’m watching the end of cr1 seeing the characters destroyed by the loss of vax being like ‘dumbasses, they knew this was coming, vax chose this, these are his consequences’ it means that when i’m crying watching the end of cr1 it’s paired with my deep love for a story that takes seriously the weight of the character’s choices in the determination of their lives. idk man. maybe interrogate how much of your notion of empathy is dependent on individualism to the point of near complete alienation and get back to me on how empathetic it is to look at someone who has caused unarguable pain with their choices and say ‘no no it’s fine you didn’t mean to + you’re a woman :/‘ while the victims of those choices rot in their graves

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: hey guys :) this is actually my first time ever writing something so this is lowkey kinda scary. BUT, I really really wanted to write a slow burn between Rafe and his best friend, cause I can see that happening, who doesn't want that anyways? If it works, this'll deffo be a series cause I have a whole concept behind it, guess we're going to have to wait and see. The pictures are taken off pinterest so credit to whoever's they are.

(may have suggested bi!reader, see if you can spot it)

warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, sexual innuendo's, someone throwing up, just Rafe being whipped for his bsf

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The classroom was bright, colourful colouring cladded the walls, the blue-tack melting slowly in the sticky heat. Rafe sat by himself, struggling to tie his shoes, his father insisted he wore them and learnt to do them himself, his mother however sceptical complied, trying to teach her sweet boy how to do them before they left the house. His face was scrunched in concentration, but no matter how hard he tried, the laces wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Do you need help?” The quiet voice rang out from across the boy, the young girl kneeling beside him. He looked up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“I can’t do it,” he muttered angrily, glancing at the messy knot he’d made on his shoe. She smiled, her pigtails bouncing as she leaned closer. 

“It’s okay. I can show you.” Gently, she untangled the laces, her fingers tugging at the blue strings as they came apart. Explaining each step as she worked she focused on the shoe.

 “First, you make bunny ears…” She continued telling the story her babysitter taught her as she learnt to tie up the strings into little bows.

“Thanks,” Rafe said sheepishly, looking at her with a small smile on her face, the girl reminded him of his mom, she was... nice.

“You’re welcome,”  she replied cheerfully, standing up, clasping her hands in front of her as she rocked back and forth on her heels, her red gingham dress swaying along with her movement.

“Wanna play blocks with me now?” He nodded eagerly, taking her hand. Together, they walked over to the small table, the awkwardness of moments ago replaced with a newfound connection. 

“I'm Y/n” she chirped out as she stacked the pink bricks into a little house, the boy looked up from where he’d built his wall of blue blocks. 

“Rafe.” He mumbled out, she peered over at him as he worked, his tongue poking out of his mouth slightly in concentration. She reached her finger out pushing the wall playfully, the blue bricks bashing brutally to the table, the boy looked up to her. 

“Whoopsies..” she smiled out cheekily. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n and Rafe, the names often not heard separately, weaved through the thick crowd of teens, every corner of the house filled, whilst the music thumped loudly against the walls, making their way into the kitchen of the beachside villa.

"You know, I’m kind of a big deal round here" He playfully murmured to her, the girl looking at him with a mocked serious expression on her face as she poured the liqueur into the red plastic cup, trying to scout out any kind of mixer within the rubbish on the counter.  "Oh yeah? In what universe?" She pressed as she leant over, grabbing the half empty sprite bottle of the counter.

"This one. I mean, you’re talking to me, so clearly, I’m doing something right." With a grin that only grew wider, the boy shrugged, clearly enjoying the banter between them. Y/n rolled her eyes trying to stifle her laugh, "You’re so full of yourself." He grinned clearly unfazed; "And yet, here you are, still listening."

She shook her head at his bad attempt of flirting with her, hand reaching out to shove his shoulder. That’s just the kind of dynamic their relationship had and she couldn't help the sweet warming feeling in her chest that appeared whenever they joked around like this. He chuckled and took a sip of his beer as he raised an eyebrow and took a step closer.

"You love it." 

“You’re right.” 

She shrugged as she turned to him, the boy standing behind her, now leaning back against the counter as he looked at her. The small kitchen was buzzing full of Kooks and Pogues alike, however no one interrupted them, who would be stupid enough to get between the Kook Princess and her best friend. He smirked as he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes darted around the room at all the people, but rested back on the girl.

"I tend to be right a lot of the time." He spoke out as he looked down at her studying her face, her cheeks were slightly flushed, he could tell it was from the alcohol, the girl now nursing her second cup, when did she even finish her first?

“Yeah I think 14 years of friendship has taught me that.” she rolled her eyes playfully at the boy, their friendship never wavering in all the years they’d known each other, he was her favourite person- that was for sure. He nodded his head in amusement at her; “And I think it also taught you that I’m the smartest person you know.” He leaned down closer to her while a smirk slipped its way slyly onto her lips.

“I don’t know bout that...” She raised her brow at him teasingly. He shook his head, chuckle slipping past his lips, “Oh yeah? Name someone smarter than me.” She tapped her cup against the bottom of her lip, the pink gloss transferring onto the plastic causing it to sparkle in the lights of the kitchen, “Let’s see... me?” He let out another laugh at her response.

“Nice try. But that’s not true.” He pushed his body off the counter and stood up straight, looking y/n up and down, with a cocky grin

“Hey!” She defended as she placed her empty cup down onto the counter. “Last time I checked it was me who knew how to tie laces first, so can I get a little credit here Cameron!?” He put his hands up in defence, laughter tumbling past his lips again, “Whoa Whoa Whoa! I’m not questioning your mobility skills, cause rumour has it your fingers work pretty well…” He took a step closer to the girl, “But in the brains department, I’m much smarter than you, princess.” She rolled her eyes at his subtle comment about her sexcapades as she shoved his shoulder, “Whateverrrr asshole.” She sings songs out as she turns around to refill her cup.

He shook his head at the girl's attitude, one that he's found comforting over the years. He walked up so he was standing next to her leaning in close to her ear and spoke in a quiet voice, “There’s no shame in admitting that I’m smarter than you, y’know.” He smirked as he looked down at her, and tried to ignore how good her perfume smelled to him, was it new? It definitely was.

“Mmhmm” she hummed out refusing to accept his statement, she enjoyed pushing his buttons anyways. 

He sighed amused at y/n’s stubbornness, even though it annoyed him a bit, “Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn huh?” He leaned in a bit closer so his arms were holding him up, placed against the counter right next to the girl's hand which was wrapped around her now full cup.

“So you do think I’m a brat!” She exclaimed eyes wide, gasping in mock offence with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips as their conversation from earlier resurfaced, the argument raising between her, Rafe, Toper and Kelce a few days ago. He couldn’t help but smile at her response,

“Yeah you are. The most spoiled, bitchiest, brattiest princess to ever curse Figure 8.” 

“The fuck, am I a witch or something, why am I cursing?” She laughed out loudly, the alcohol in her bloodstream affecting her humour. She rested her head against his shoulder as she tried to regain her composure, giggles passing her lips. He smiled amused at her response, a shiver going down his spine as she leaned against him. He was a weak man, but only when it came to y/n, and even the simple touch of her head on his shoulder made him want to pull her closer.

…what the fuck are you thinking?

"I take it the alcohol is getting to you huh?” He asked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” She shook her head as she lifted it upright away from his shoulder. He looked down at the girl, noticing her rosy cheeks, "Uh huh, that's why your face's red then?" He teased her, knowing she hated when people pointed out when she was drunk, even back when they used to sneak out to drink the stolen bottle of whiskey from y/n’s father’s office on the beach in the late hours of the night. 

“Yeah well you’re high!” she spoke out defensively in a matter of fact tone as she pointed to his pupils, blown wide from the line he’d taken in the bathroom not all that long ago. The boy knew she didn’t necessarily approve of his so-called ‘habit’, always droning on about how it was bad for him. He rolled his eyes at her snarky comment, “I’m barely even that high anymore. Just a little buzzed now.” She placed her hand on her chest as she spoke, as though she was making a sincere oath, “Well I’m perfectly fine.” He couldn't help but find her dramatic nature endearing, it must’ve been why they'd managed to stay friends for so long, she never took any of his shit- as she liked to call it.

“Besides, Rose invited us round to yours tomorrow for dinner, remember..?” She tilted her head as she referred to the joint dinner which was held monthly between both their families, insisted by both their fathers who claimed it was, ‘a great way to keep business natural’. Y/n dreaded the evening every month, the dinner filled with talks of money, success and reputation, if Rafe wasn’t there then she’s sure she’d surely try to gauge her eyes out with Rose’s pristinely polished silver forks. He had to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling at her tipsy state, it entertained him that she was trying so hard to prove that she was sober.

“Yeah I remember princess.” His eyes flicked to the hand on your chest and he swallowed before his eyes went back to her own, “You’re gonna have a hangover tomorrow, you know that?”

Has this top always been so low cut...

“No I won’t” She dismissed as she rolled her eyes at him, lifting her cup again in a cheer towards him finally bringing it to her lips, the liquid burning her throat as it slid down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe pushed past the guy, his gags muffled by the loud music as he bent over throwing up into the potted palm near the front door of the house, sighing out through his nose. Where was this girl? Fucking tequila shots set him up, and now he was stuck in an almost empty house as people flooded out saying their goodbyes, occasional person trying to grab his attention as he walked straight past them.

“Hey Matt!” 

He yelled out grabbing the boys attention who turned to him walking over to meet Rafe who was walking towards him. Hand coming down onto his back to greet him he spoke,

“Hey great party man, have you seen y/n?” 

The boy nodded, slurring his own words, evidently y/n not being the only one who took part in the drinking competition tonight. “Yeah I uh- the dining room man,” was all he managed to mutter out before being called from the other side of the house, his girlfriend coming around the corner yelling something - about how some guy had gotten stuck in his cat's litter box? He let out a loud groan squeezing his eyes shut before turning to Rafe and patting him on the arm in a goodbye. The dining room. He walked through the house pushing past a couple, who he was pretty sure were about to fuck against the hallway wall, muttering a firm ‘move’ as he walked past them. The music still pounded loudly from the speakers littered around the house, walking through hall he called out, 

“Y/n?” 

Walking through the doorway he saw the girl, standing on the table, arm raised above her head happily as she sang out.

Is that a wooden spoon? 

“I just wanna live in this moment foooreverrrr...”

 She sang out, her words were slurred as she swayed her hips around running her hand down her body as she tried to perform the song blasting through the speakers, her limbs uncoordinated causing her to stumble slightly, catching herself before she toppled off the edge of the table. Rafe sucked the air in through his teeth holding his breath, watching the girl teeter on the edge of the table before she stabilized herself. The lights of the room caught on the small crystal sequins of her top, causing glittering sparkles to reflect onto the walls as she swayed around the table. He walked over to her, the girl noticing his footsteps towards her turning towards him, dropping to her knees on the hard dark mahogany wood as she sang out to him now, ever so enthusiastically.

“Started giving up on the word foreverrrrr!!!!” She was so incredibly off tune as she ran her hands through her now messy hair, but he couldn’t help but be entertained as she pointed out to him passionately, gripping the wooden spoon lifting it up to her lips. 

“Until you gave up heaven so we could be toooogetheeerrrr” She wobbled on top of the table, the boy rushing forwards arms out in case she dropped off the edge of the rounded surface. Her hand reached out running down his chest as she sang to him still holding up the wooden spoon to her lips as though she was performing a one woman show.

“You’re my angel, angel baby angel… you’re my angel baby” The girl's hands ran up to his hair as she messed it up, the boy groaning at her actions as she pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, spoon dropping to the floor with a clatter. “Okay y/n.” He spoke rolling his eyes at her drunken antics, trying to coax her down from the table. Standing just in front of her, he looked up, seeing her swaying back and forth, he couldn’t deny the concern that she would lose balance and fall off - wouldn’t be the first time. “Okay angel, you’ve gotta get off of that table before you hurt yourself.” He said as he grabbed her hips as he played along with her singing, what was this song anyways? She complied as she held onto his shoulders, still humming along to the song slowly to herself.

He smiled as she hummed along to the song, he loved this side of her, she was always so reserved and in control of herself but right now she was so free and playful and

Seriously?

It was different from how she held herself usually, her family causing her to always hold herself to such a high standard, he preferred when she'd just relax. He kept his hands on her hips as he let out a small laugh pulling her down, “You’re singing is truly terrible, you know that right?”

“Whatever” she spoke back as she stood up straight swaying slightly. “If Topper and Kelce were here they’d sing with me…” She spoke out slowly, intoxication evident in her movements

“What’s this shitty song anyways? He spoke out hands on the girl's shoulders leading her out the room towards the doors to leave, mumbling a small ‘watch it’ guiding her around a broken vase on the floor. 

“Shitty song!?” she gasped out, offense evident in her tone. “Don’t do Troye Sivan like that!” she said defensively.

“Who?” He continued as he guided her towards the steps of the patio, she stopped turning to him with a frown on her face, he had to stifle his laugh as she tried to defend the song, she was so worked up about it in her drunken state.

“Sorry princess, I didn’t know you were such a hardcore fan of, what was it Trevor?” looking down at her with a smirk, his grip kept on her hips as he waited for her response, guiding her down the stairs slowly, knowing her luck she’d slip and twist her ankle.

“Troye Sivan!" she exclaimed annoyed at him, "He’s so fine.” Y/n slurred out as she stepped down the patio slowly holding onto the handrail and looking down at the steps, he couldn’t hold back his laugh, watching her drunken mind struggle to keep up with what she was saying and doing. 

 “Is that so? I thought you only had eyes for me” He teased, he knew you were just being playful from the alcohol, but deep down a part of him wanted to see how you would respond to his teasing.

What was in that coke today...

“Oh but Rafey- he’s queer.” She spoke out sadly as though someone had ripped her heart out and stomped over it, stumbling slightly on their way to Rafe's car, her hand holding onto his arm for stability. His heart patted faster in his chest at the childhood nickname of his, seeming to have stuck with her from their early days. He held her slightly closer, hand slipping down her back resting on her waist to help keep her steady, as she hummed out at his movement. He let out a breathy chuckle at her saddened response,

“And isn’t that a shame.” He teased as he helped guide her to the passenger door to his car, opening up the door and setting her down onto the seat, her hand reaching out, holding onto his polo shirt to pull him closer to her, the boy moving forwards with his brow raised,

“Yes?” 

She wrapped her arms around his neck as she mumbled out almost incoherently, fingers running through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He found himself gritting his teeth slightly at her gentle ministrations, that prickling feeling creeping up his spine as he reached his arm around resting it on her back. 

“Thanks for helping me, my angel baby.” Her hand reached up fingers now brushing against his cheeks, which were subtly flushed. His hand held onto her own, pulling it away as he sighed out, she was ever so touchy when she got drunk, he’d noticed that when they were younger and since then vowed to always be the one to get her after a night out, God forbid someone took advantage of that, his body heated up uncomfortably at the thought. 

“You’re gonna be fucked tomorrow,” he mumbled, more to himself that to her as she slumped back into the seat, still humming along to the tune of the song, fingers fiddling with the buttons on the dash of his car, having to pull his eyes away from her shutting the door. 

what the fuck is going on with me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

to be continued.....?

[generallemarc]

Not at all true, but I get what you think you're saying and that does have merit. Fascism is not Marxist-it despises Marxism as much as it does capitalism, because it sees both as tools of The Jews Who Control Everything. It is, however, socialist in nature. Fascism is right-wing socialism, and the only surviving form of non-Marxist socialism in any meaningful sense. It is a revolutionary, collectivist ideology seeking to give the state control of the majority of areas of people's lives, but where Marxist socialism seeks to give "the workers" and "the people" power and prosperity in a way that just so happens to take the form of giving one guy and his cronies unlimited authority to do anything and send anyone to a gulag, fascist socialism seeks to give "the nation" and "the superior race" power and prosperity in a way that just so happens to take the form of giving one guy and his cronies unlimited authority to do anything and send anyone to a camp. Marxism tries to hide it behind the facade of "democratic centralism", the idea that whatever "the majority"(read: "the Party") wants must be supported by everyone even if they don't agree with it(or else), while fascism comes right out and says it with the Fuhrerprinzip-the idea that the Leader is always the final authority, and that what he says must be done no matter what. Largely the same results, just different ways of getting there and different levels of oppression for different groups.

The Ten Pillars of Fascist Politics by Jason Stanley

This July 6, 2021 twitter thread by Yale philosophy professor Jason Stanley, PhD outlining the 10 pillars of fascist politics shows just how fascist most of the Republican Party has become under Trump’s leadership. The current MAGA GQP has incorporated each of the above 10 pillars into its talking points and philosophy. 

This is why the GQP has been up in arms about Biden accurately calling their Trumpist political ideology “semi-fascism.” 

Feel free to share this with your relatives and friends who want to defend the direction the GQP has been going in. [Just be prepared when they counterattack to explain why the Democratic Party is not “communist” or “socialist” but a center left political party with its most extreme members being just social democrats (even Bernie Sanders and AOC aren’t really democratic socialists).

_______________________

Note: The visual formatting of how the original tweet in the thread appears, as well as the visual formatting of pillars number 2 - 9 were modified from their source; furthermore, the translation of “ARBEIT MACH FREI” AS “WORK MAKES ONE FREE” was added to pillar #10.

[gatorbites-imagines]

micheal meyers fic if you still write for him? 🎃

I rlly liked your other fics with him, not a big fan of him being characterized as overly affectionate so I rlly liked your kinktober fics about him

something in a similar vein to that? smut or no smut is chill, just him being infatuated in his own creepy way

Michael Myers x male reader

Headcanons

Im happy you like my stuff :3c ive never imagined he was overly affectionate either, it just didn’t feel like it fit his character very much, ya know? No hate to the people who write that, I just like imagining him as a creepy guy, standing there… menacingly…

I think the only way you two could have met where you made a lasting impression is if you were somehow at the same asylum as him. Be it as a doctor or a patient. But I’ve never read a fic where the reader was one of the doctors, so that’s what we’re gonna go with here.

Joining up at smith’s grove sanitarium hadn’t been your first choice, since it was known as a pretty run-down place, that treated their patients more as prisoners than people. It may have been a place for the worst of the worst, but they were still people in your eyes.

You get Michaels attention by somehow wrenching his care from Dr Loomis’s hands, using all kinds of laws and loopholes to rip it from him and then running for the door pretty much. To you, what Loomis did should get him placed in jail and his license removed, as it could only have made his patients states worse.

Building a relationship with Michael is what many would call impossible. But you believed that every person had something special that fueled them, and just being treated like a worthwhile human being always seemed to do the trick.

It took months, if not years for you to really worm your way into Michael’s heart, or whatever was left of it. He hadn’t really had many positive male people in his life, something you also blamed Dr Loomis for, but over time he grew closer to you, in his own way.

To others it may seem like Michael was the same as always, but at this point you’ve worked with him so long that you know him. You can feel his attention follow you, even when you are on the other side of the yard where the patients get sunlight.

It’s no shock that you are most patients’ favorite, especially after you become head of the hospital, after a very long and stressful battle with those stuck in their old ways. It made you start cleaning house, getting rid of bad caretakers and methods to replace them with better ones.

You took it extremely seriously, and would have any so called interviewers or investigators removed from the premises, to not mess with your patients’ care.

You gain a bit of a reputation in the media at how incredibly cruel you can be to the people who wish to use and abuse your patients. Some call you crazy for protecting them, especially as everyone knows Michael Myers resides there.

But to you, it doesn’t matter. You have no spouse, no children, you haven’t talked to your family since you left home at 18, all you truly have is your job, so that is what you use your energy on.

And if a lot of that time is spent with Michael, then so be it. Having Michael actually emote or pay attention to you, is a big step in the right direction in your book. You can never get him to talk, but he does succeed in learning a couple of signs, though you suspect he only does it because he knows it makes you happy.

Later you would look back on Michael’s escape as something you blamed on yourself. Over the long time you had been his caretaker, you always made sure to be there on Halloween, since it was such an important date for him.

He never told you this, obviously, but you could tell. It just happened that you had needed surgery around that time, something you couldn’t put off as much as you wanted. If you wanted to keep caring for your patients, then you needed it done.

So, it truly shouldn’t have been such a surprise for one of your nurses to call you in a panic that Michael had somehow gotten out. Being bedbound, there wasn’t much you could do but give orders from home and watch the tv.

You didn’t technically live in Haddonfield, but you lived close enough that you could bike to town for groceries if you needed to, but also so you could drive to work without much issue.

Seeing no reports of murders outside the usual made you sigh and slump in on yourself. You had put off taking your pain medication, wanting to be clearheaded and aware, just in case you needed to be. And what else kept one clear in the head but pain.

As bedridden as you were, there wasn’t much you could do when you heard your back door open. You only knew it was that door, as it had a loud squeaky hinge you never got fixed, as it wasn’t like you used that entrance much.

Seeing Michaels looming stature shouldn’t have been a shocker either. What did amaze you to a certain, professional extent, was that he hadn’t put on his usual coveralls or mask, instead it was one you two had made together using safe materials.

There was no verbal or physical reply when you spoke to him, outside of a slight rise of tension in his shoulders when he heard you grunt in pain, as you turned to look at him.

You didn’t want to call the hospital, knowing just how volatile Michael could be. And you may have replaced many doctors and nurses, but they still feared him, all but you at least. The only thing you truly could do was speak to him, to make him stay so he didn’t go kill anyone.

Maybe it was the years of care you had given him, but Michael at some point moved closer, just staring down at you and the bandages around your stomach.

You had a feeling he wanted to poke it or maybe just unwrap it, but you had worked with him about other people’s pain tolerance. Michael still only seemed to care when it was you, but you put a lot of stuff in his notes about your professional opinion and growth.

There were worse caretakers than Michael. In all reality he wasn’t really a caretaker. A lot of it was just him standing by the door, in the corner, or right at the foot of your bed to watch you. Hed shuffle after you wherever you went in the apartment, even carrying you when you couldn’t move too much.

you had decided to heal enough to bring him back to smith’s grove when you healed enough, already knowing how violent Michael could be with other people.

To Michael though, this meant more than you meant. He wasn’t one to feel lust or much romantic attraction, but he was drawn to you and attached enough to just stay, to even bring you your pill bottles and water, like how you would to him at smith’s grove.

You theorized it made him happy, in his own way, to know he was helping in the ways he knew how. Another more paranoid part of your brain did worry about what he did when you slept, since the pain medication had that effect.

Nothing ever looked out of place, but you did catch him kneeling beside your bed on more than one occasion, just holding your hand. Or the times hed place your hand on top of his head so you would caress him.

It was inappropriate for a doctor to do such a thing with his patients, but Michael seemed calmer and more at ease when it was just you two. He couldn’t cuddle in bed with you, and neither did he seem to want to, but being held and coddle in small amounts seemingly worked for him.

Michael clearly wasn’t pleased when you took him to return to smith’s grove, but he actually came along without issue. It caused a whole media storm, but over the years you had mastered those too. As long as it helped your patients, then you would do it, to a certain extent.

And if giving Michael weekends at your place where he got to stalk you around your own property was what he needed, then so be it. you saw it as progress, in his own, weird way. Hell, Michael even started sitting and having dinner with you instead of just hovering. To you that was a win, no matter what others said.

[sheeezu]

Yes, this is a new account, I just made this. I don't care if people question the authenticity of my post, my experience as a shifter, or whatever I'm about to say.

I don't know how to use Tumblr, nor do I know how to make my post reach people who need it, nor would I be a narcissist and say "you're lucky if you found my post!" I don't mind if this reaches an audience or not, I'm glad to get everything off my chest.

Yes. I've shifted.

I have shifted realities, more times than I can count on my fingers, and that is for a very specific reason, which I'll explain later.

I'm writing this because I'm about to permashift, and no, I won't hear out any antishifters or people who don't like permashifting in general, I don't care about your opinion so don't waste my time.

Before I start, I'd like to say one thing:

I was irrational minded, I lacked belief in myself and shifting. Shifting often times felt like a chore more than a fun activity, and i have to admit, it became an unhealthy habit.

So? Why did I mention this?

Because I had been lurking around shifting communities and I realised everyone feels like this, a very (mentally) painful feeling where the lack of shifts starts acting as your biggest enemy, and the phrase:

"Shifting needs practice!"

Sounds like poison when it comes from an experienced shifter.

Though, is the phrase actually true?

No, not at all.

Shifting does not need practice!!

Here's why:

(BTW, I will explain my "method", no matter if I have time or not. Also, I don't call this reality "Current Reality", instead I call it Void reality, so don't get confused.)

The "practice" you're doing is only affecting your void reality (taking time out of your day, making you constantly think you're in your learning phase, so it doesn't exactly lead to your desired reality, does it?)

Of course, if you view it as a skill, it will in some way act like that, it'll become a skill for you, and you can never succeed on your first, second, third, hundredth try, because in your brain you have registered the fact that shifting is this grand, universal task, and that it is very difficult (because its common sense that you practice difficult things to get good at them)

Practice is a very humane and earthly act, if people have succeeded doing just practice, then good for then, they're right in their own way, but it didn't work for me, and in my opinion it's the worst way to view shifting, and often times it is demotivating, and you'll mess up you're entire journey.

Shifting is not a skill, shifting is a universal law.

I'll become more clear as I explain my journey:

My journey:

I found shifting from a random YouTube video 3 years ago. I might have only said cool and moved along.

A year later something traumatic happened in my life, which shook me so badly I needed an escape.

First of all, I chose astral projecting, but I realised I was too much of a coward to do so.

Then I came towards shifting, first DR was very typical, it was Hogwarts.

Having no knowledge whatsoever in the topics of spirituality, meditation, I went straight to methods, because they were like guides for me, I was very inexperienced, of course, and looked at other people and what they were doing for guidance.

Alice in wonderland method didn't do much, raven method was too uncomfortable (side note, all this raven method does is make you too focused on your void reality, cmon, in your DR are you laying down like a starfish?) And I was having terrible trouble with my intrusive thoughts (which made the floor disappear from under my feet, made the stairs for the stairs method too short to climb or straight up made them dissappear as well)

I didn't have any luck that year, no mini shifts, no lucid dreams, or sleep paralysis. And my DRs never remained constant. They always changed on a daily basis.

I was big on methods, I couldn't realize they never worked for me.

Although, this year of failure led me to finally figure out where I belonged.

A DR made out of scratch, which I spend much effort in putting the pieces of it together.

The DR, which was called "Home reality" really made me feel settled in my journey.

LOA, and the consciousness theory were the leading factors which made me shift.

And don't worry, it isn't what you're tired of being told, I didn't just apply any orthodox definition of LOA and succeeded.

Background to my first shift:

It was a particularly stressful day, I really missed my home.

I was studying at my college (I still am, but...) and I was dreading giving a chemistry test, I did not prepare. In my mind, one thing was constantly looping in my head.

The scenario of the chemistry teacher coming in, and taking the test, and the next day I get it handed back with a big fat zero.

But then I stopped and wondered, having already known about the consciousness theory, so according to it:

"I am constantly letting this thought run in my mind, and constantly letting this reality dictate what happens next."

Basically, I realized what was about to happen next was indirectly in my control, but with my line of thinking, I was letting this reality control it directly.

I stopped, like actually stopped thinking.

And with a blank mind I thought.

"I won't have to take any test today."

And went around telling my classmates this with a confident tone.

The teacher came in, said we'll instead do some practicals in lab.

So the test got cancelled.

Going home, I got excited, i felt powerful.

I decided to apply this to shifting.

Before shifting, I took a nap during the day, (if you're tired your body insists on sleeping, so your mind will get hazy and you will start acting lazy towards your goal)

And after living how I normally would, before bedtime, I listened to some songs, and look at a Pinterest board which reminded me of my home reality.

My method and what happened next:

First phase of shifting:

When I laid down on the bed to start shifting, I first got comfy (for me, if I feel sleepy for some reason, I laid on my back, I can't fall asleep in that position, but if I think ill stay awake until I reach a "detached state" then I sleep on my side, it's comfortable)

I obviously wasn't checking the time, but I spent about 10 minutes getting relaxed, all I do to relax is:

a) look at the blackness (closed eyes, looks like starry skies) and try to believe I'm looking at the milky way.

b) think about my home reality, just faces of my loved ones, and nostalgia inducing images.

c) Affirm, but don't focus entirely on affirming, usually in the back of my mind I'm repeating "I have shifted to my home reality" "I have shifted my senses to my home reality" "I have stopped sensing the void reality" "I am smelling, tasting, feeling, hearing and seeing my home reality" no other fancy affirmations required. (Now that I think about it, you need to affirm NOW because this method has two phases, one where you are shifting, and one where you have shifted, and you are in the 3D, where you are occupying your DR self, their thoughts, and memories, and popular method usually only have one phase, either you are shifting, or have shifted. So my point is if you affirm later and you'll be affirming when you're supposed to be in your DR, and obviously, your DR self won't be spouting out affirmations about shifting to a random reality for no reason.)

During this time, you'll feel tingly all over. It's a good sign.

And you'll feel a certain detachment, like you aren't exactly here, you have no idea what position you're lying in, and where your feet are. (Please, for the love of God do not start counting your feet or get freaked out that you can't feel your leg, you'll come back to the void reality.)

So you can start the next phase.

Middle phase (optional):

To prepare for the next and last phase, you can do this to get ready, or don't (First read the third phase)

This is all about connection to your DR.

Think about memories from your DR, focus on the faces of your loved ones, the way you act, talk, your mannerisms in your DR, or you can simply say affirmations like these one:

My name is ___.

I work as a ___.

My age is ___.

Don't try to imagine vividly or anything, lightly touch upon the basic details of your DR, the construction and foundation of any reality and the person, who has existed there for their entire life.

(That's you!)

Phase three:

Take a sudden, abrupt stop from your stream of thoughts. (Yes intrusive thoughts will still pop up but don't give any importance to them) when you're in a blank state of mind, not longer than 30 seconds, you need to build up to the last step of your shifting method, and journey.

a) start imagining hearing the voices of your loved ones or just any voice, calling your DR name, your nicknames, with different tones. (For example, i heard my name in an angry tone from my father when he was scolding me, I heard my name followed by a laughter when my S/O teased me.)

OK, for me, I started feeling intense, groundshaking symptoms at this moment. Sudden flashing of lights, extreme feeling of floating, and ofcourse, feeling tingliness so much that it felt like pins and needle on my entire body. (I did ignore the symptoms)

b) plan the rest of your day in your DR, which you will be spending.

AGAIN, PLEASE DON'T SAY IT LIKE THIS.

❌️When I reach my DR ❌️ I will have to go to that eye specialist for that appointment.

Instead: (and the more you personalize it, the better)

Ughhh, I have to go to that appointment- this day will suck.

(Don't mind my example, that was the only thing I could think of at the moment)

c) in this reality, you are constantly thinking of something, your thoughts are definitely what constructs this reality, and your current thoughts are affecting your subconscious. (By this point, your subconscious is grounded in your DR, so don't worry about that bastard.)

Now, you're going to start thinking, thoughts which are going on in your DR self's mind, start with one sentence, with which you'll be able to start consciously thinking like your DR self.

And think in the style, tone, and mood of your DR self, and keep the thoughts strictly related to your DR.

Thats it, but what happens afterwards? And what happened to me?

So for me, I started feeling weird while I was thinking.

And I remember I thought this:

"Ugh, I don't want eggs for breakfast."

(I'm not saying this is the key to shifting, at this point, I had covered various topics, including, weather, my upcoming work assignment, and praised my S/O for a good 5 minutes.)

And I started panting, like suddenly I was trying to catch my breath, the room felt bright, so I opened my eyes, and well, I was in my home reality :)

I was delirious for a few second, my S/O was looking at me worriedly, but surprisingly, it didn't even take me a minute to adjust, it felt all so natural and I wasn't scared.

I didn't even feel emotional, at all, and didn't hug my S/O with tears in my eyes, I straight up asked to be served breakfast, incase anyone was wondering.

So that's it.

Although i have much to say, I'm tired of writing, but I'm more than willing to answer each and every one of your questions, although I only have 7 hours left till I permashift, I'll remain mostly active till then.

And no, I'm not rereading this to fix my grammar, so just ask if anything confused you.

Ask away.

I'm still not sure if this'll reach anyone or not.

[ancha-aus]

sansnautica sneak peak

Sans actually takes a moment to think about his situation and how fucked he is...

*---------------*

Sans sighs as he just sits on the sea floor. Watching the fish swim by peacefully. He knows he should keep moving and searching but what does he even do?

There is a giant alien gun which keeps the planet in quarantine. There is some unknown disease Sans isn’t even sure if he can catch. The gun can only be disabled by someone who isn’t sick but Sans is pretty sure that the needle the machine uses to check if you are okay will kill him, not that the actual machine even registered him being there because he has so little matter in his body.

There are the leviathans that just swim around and Sans can be used as a toothpick for them. There are these aliens half robot fish swimming around which always reminds Sans of death and who can teleport.

Not to forget that Sans magic is on a fritz still from the radiation exposure and Sans doesn’t even want to know what would happen if he tried to summon an attack much less try a teleport.

Not… to forget…

Sans feels his teeth with his tongue and notices once again the very obvious fangs. Which he hadn’t had before he crash-landed.

His body is adapting already.

*------------------*

Yeah. he finally figured it out lmao

[audioandart]

why do they get to hinge your well-being and survival on anything though. Like you said, 18 year olds don't have the funds to live on their own. Their parents deciding the moment they hit 18 that if they don't do everything perfectly, they're going to be kicked out is nuts. Here's what happened when I turned 18:

I had to go to college (which there was no public transportation for and I can't drive because I'm disabled)

I had to work (which still took months to get going because disabled)

I had to do all the chores (and was the only one doing so because I "had the time" while everyone else was at their 9-5s. This was often while I was supposed to be at class)

This already took at least 10 hours but lets not forget the few hours of homework I had as well. And I had no weekend due to my schedule. It is not unreasonable to want the adult in your house to do these things but my mother also

Refused to take parental controls off any of my devices even tho they actively hindered my school work due to blocking websites I needed (and she would not unblock them) (and I was a grown adult, who she also had no reason to have them to the degree she did when I was younger either. I had literally never done a thing on my devices, as she herself would and does attest)

Get pissed off about the fact I needed to be taken to school even tho she didn't want me to drive. She blamed this on my not finding public transportation. She herself agreed there was none

I was not allowed to have a voice in arguments. Even tho I was an adult (this continued past 18 just for the record) I was not allowed to voice why I had done things or why certain things hadn't worked. I was threatened with "you can leave (I will make you)" and she had on multiple occasions kicked me out to "take a walk". It was a "polite" way of saying gtfo of my house, which she didn't even always bother with. The moment I turned 18 it was fair game to threaten to put me on the streets, because yes, that's exactly where I would've been.

Even tho I contributed payment I was not allowed ownership of my own things. Every single person in the house would come in my room and do what they wanted, would take my things. No one else in the house experienced this. Side note, I also had the only door without a lock.

And throughout all this I was also in constant pain and ill because our world is not made for disabled ppl, which even tho the ppl around me recognized me as such, refused to give me the accommodations they also recognized I needed. I have memory problems. My mother refused to recognize them and claimed I just didn't care. I forgot to take out the trash? I can leave (be kicked out). I didn't finish all the dusting in a few minutes because I'm sick from standing? Doesn't matter. I can leave.

My mom is a great mom. She really is. But the moment I turned 18 it was like this switch was flipped. She was still great but suddenly there was no patience. There was no care for things she had previously cared about. There was also no loosening of the grip she'd had on me my whole life, as I also wasn't allowed to leave the house without her permission. The sad truth is, in the US, parents do not often want you there once you're 18. Even if they love you. So no, they will kick you out. And yes, college and good grades is too much. Your life should not be dependant on your grades (and it is your life). Being homeless WILL fuck you and if you are kicked out it is nigh guaranteed you will be homeless. Who are you going to crash with? All your friends live with their parents. You have nowhere near enough money to live anywhere, the dorms won't accept you especially halfway thru the year, no way are you going to find a roommate situation that fast. Shelters are a whole other issue that I don't even want to get into right now, and they aren't everywhere. You will be homeless. And it will be over your grades. Do you really think that's ok? The world we live in needs serious change before ppl can just be kicked out. It's heartless to say that anything justifies homelessness

i fucking hate people who are like "no one has a right to live alone, just have roommates if you can't afford it, i had them for so long" etc because every single person my age that i know has a horrific roommate/housemate story. i genuinely believe that being able to afford living alone is deeply important for human dignity and also like, sanity, and i also think you should be able to throw your roommate out of a window if needs must

[animeyanderelover]

Dear lord above, I at least want to write something today but with the little energy I have I do not want to publish something that was requested and write it with less motivation so just have those quick Hc's.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, blackmailing, threats, violence, disrespect, overprotective behavior, abduction, death

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Fushiguro Toji Hc's

🪱​Toji for me is very interesting to view because he has been pushed to a point beyond return and he himself has embraced this fact already years ago. He just doesn't care about anything anymore. His wife was his only hope but even that has been taken away from him and with her death any chance for him to ever be a decent man has passed away too. For Toji you are no saving grace. How could you be when what he is feeling for you is so much more twisted than what he was feeling for his dead wife? As irresponsible and neglectful of other lovers and even his own child he is, Toji is actually very perceptive of his own emotions as soon as he realises that there is something brooding within him. His wife made him want to change and be a better person for her. That simply isn't the case with you. When Toji looks at you he only feels that primal desire to keep you to himself and to murder anyone who even attempts to get in his way. With no morals he feels like he has to uphold back and with nothing to lose either he willingly walks into the hurricane of his growing obsession. He wants it that way. Because whether he is going to admit it or not, those feelings make him feel alive.

🪱​Unashamed and direct, Toji is everything but subtle to express that he wants you. From the very first day he is suffocatingly possessive of you and aggressive and rude about it. He easily tracks you down via your odor as his experience of being an assassin really are more than just useful and overall just frightful for you. Honestly, he doesn't plan to woo you. He just wants you to be his and he doesn't expect to care about what you think. Initially that is indeed the case. That is until he discovers that underneath all that possessive greed other feelings for you start budding. Tender feelings which remind him of the emotions he had for his previous wife. He does care after all. Subtle changes happen only then but only when it involves you. He still continues his job of assassinating people as long as it earns him his money and he still doesn't give a shit about people overall. He doesn't have the capacity to do that. The only one spared from the blatant disrespect and rudeness he expresses to his surroundings is you. It's all he finds himself capable of. Better for only you, still the same asshole and ruthless murderer to everyone else. That should be more than enough for him.

🪱​Jealousy is not a word that Toji would use to ever describe himself. It isn't a word that you would use to describe him with either. Overly possessive is a description much more fitting for a man like him and it is indeed his raging possessive emotions for you that reign predominantly whenever he catches sight of someone else with you. However, he is no grown manchild who barges in the moment he spots such a sight as long as the interaction has a practical function like you buying something and asking for advice or taking care of other business. What Toji hates though is idle chatter with no bigger meaning behind it all and that is when he always interrupts the conversations and pushes you away. His enhanced senses give him the advantage of being able to tell when there is a case of someone liking you a bit too much and then everything is over. No matter what you do, the other individual always gets hurt and the best thing you manage to do is have Toji tone down his violent response to the point where no bones are broken and only a few large and throbbing bruises serve as a reminder for the next few weeks. It's no surprise that you never see the face of such people ever again.

🪱​Toji has confessed to you what he is doing to earn his money as he doesn't even bother to paint himself as the good guy. This is just who he is and how he does things and it only leads to you fretting from a very early stage on for everyone. He's made it clear to you that he is not going to ever murder you but everyone else is a free game and it is this fear that Toji uses to keep you on a leash if he senses that you have rebellious thoughts. He has absolutely no problems assassinating whoever is a thorn in his eyes but that doesn't mean that he brags about it in front of you. There seems to be some semblance of decency that he relearns as soon as he starts living with you and this is one of them. It's such a casual routine for him that it might even happen that he brutally taunts someone, swiftly ends their pathetic life afterwards and then brings some takeout back home for you and him. Still, if someone from your surroundings suddenly disappears you always know whose doing it is. He never confirms it verbally to you but sometimes his green eyes give you that look that have you quickly shut up. You've learned to know what it means. 'Careful now or someone else will be next.'

🪱​You're already stuck in a relationship with him long before he has abducted you but at that point you already know that this outcome is inevitable. However, despite all the shit you have grown through at that point already you still manage to be mildly flabbergasted when he one day drags you to the place the two of you will live in together from now on. It's a decently sized apartment and whilst the kitchen has already been littered with cups of instant ramen it is much cleaner than you expected. You find out soon after that this place has actually only been recently purchased by him and that's how you find out that he's basically been living in the houses of other woman or hotel rooms before he met you. He's literally telling you that he's been homeless before he decided to live together with you, realising that you shouldn't have to adapt to his previous lifestyle. He doesn't expect you to act like a housewife and keep the apartment clean though. By all means, you can litter too if you want to as he is used to living shitty. You do abide by some basic expectations you have yourself though as you do not want to live like a racoon in a trash can and Toji lets you do as you want.

🪱​After years of not having looked properly out for his own hygiene Toji actually finds himself caring about such aspects again but only because it is very obvious that it bothers you. He's never really minded that he smells like sweat, blood and fast food but you do, especially whenever he gives you a bear hug. He very much forces physical affection on you as he has only ever promised to draw the line at physically harming you. Honestly, you do realise from an early point on that Toji lives in a different world than you do and that you wouldn't be able to escape and run away from him even if you had the opportunity. There's no way for you to escape someone with senses as enhanced as his and immense physical abilities that easily outperform top athletes. So as strange and frightening as it is, you try to adjust to a life with him even if only to protect family and friends who are very much a green light for him to threaten and end if you do something stupid. You're actually allowed to go outside as soon as he knows that you have learned how things work but you aren't allowed to interact more than necessary and if you just want to go outside to have fun he always accompanies you.