#(throwing this out on the dash bc it's been in my drafts for a couple of months already!)

[yorxichi]

雷神 (CHILDHOOD HC)—- I've always wanted to cover the subject on Yoruichi's childhood (and possibly some of her family members). In the past I have roughly mentioned it, but it seems now would be the perfect time to bring it up! (Apologies if it seems like I might repeat myself, or if I am behind in Bleach lore, etc! I am a very busy busy woman these days <3)

We already know a part of Yoruichi's background; born princess of the Tenshiheisōban, the Shihōuin Clan, one of the four noble families. Which meant (being born into nobility and all) that Yoruichi’s future had already been planned out for her, especially as future Head – and since the Shihōuin Clan are the caretakers of the Hōgu and Bugu, she underwent intense training. Her father, being the hard-working man that he was, did not delay on his part-- personally taking the time to train her in combat, he would train her day and night, proudly praising her whenever she accomplished her tasks. Which was quicker than most of the noble children that were born into the other noble clans. These lessons were to prepare her when she'd take over the Clan, a normal tradition for the nobles.

And Yoruichi was not a sensitive child; she neither complained (unless it was to jokingly annoy her father) nor turned away from a task. She was proud to master any form of combat her father had taught her (in a way it felt like some type of bonding between her and the old man). However, despite her going through years of it, she despised the title “princess”. Just the word alone made her rather uncomfortable. She would often get teased with that word (usually by her closet friend, Kisuke Urahara) just because she had voiced her thoughts about it before. And even despite her hatred for the title, she never voice it aloud to those within her clan. Not even her own father and mother.  

Apart from all of the training and politics, she would find herself using her spare time to play with her childhood friends – Kisuke Urahara and Tessai Tsukabishi. She found herself enjoying their presence, whether it was causing havoc upon the Seireitei, or sparing beneath Sōkyoku Hill (the secret training room that Kisuke had built). She never spoke to Kisuke aloud, but there was no hiding the fact that she enjoyed her time with them then within her own Clan -- the others must have been aware of this too. They would stay out for long periods of time and would never ask Yoruichi if she wanted to go back. But when it was time to go back it was usually because she was summoned by her own father or she felt that she had enough fun for the day. She didn't like the thought of going back, but she had to learn to put those thoughts and feelings aside. Merely for the fact that she wanted her father to be proud of her (and of course, the Clan as well).

[queencvbra]

Important things to remember !

I can be slow. I have a life outside of tumblr. Sometimes I will reply in 0.2 seconds, sometimes it will take me a couple of weeks, more or less. It all depends on my energy and what my muse is leaning towards at the moment, plus there are a lot of factors like my irl schedule, my family, or my mental and physical health that can affect how much time and energy I can spare for writing. I literally have things in my drafts from three months ago because I am a Mess. My reply speed isn't a direct reflection of my interest, and if for any reason either of us decides we're not feeling a thread anymore, that's fine. And it IS okay to ask and make sure I got your reply / starter / ask / etc if you think I might have missed it bc I am forgetful and tumblr's notifications suck most of the time, I don't consider that to be pressuring me.

I have bad social anxiety. I'm working on getting better about it and have been for the past several years, but I have a disorder, so sometimes I'm having to actively work against my own funky brain chemistry. I'm not the greatest at reaching out or carrying on conversations; I'm shy, and I blank out a lot. Even if we're friends and have known each other for a while, I still have these moments, and it's never personal. I welcome ooc communication, but I know I'm not always the best at it, and I know I'm not the only one who has to deal with social anxiety so besties I promise you I understand and will never be mad if we're not talking 24/7. I just want the same understanding in return, bc how much I do or do not talk ooc is not an indicator of my interest in you as a person or your muses, it's literally just my anxiety and has nothing to do with you. We're good, I promise.

I suck at plotting things to an extent. I'm better with general directions and ideas of where we want things to go, but leaving things flexible for our muses to do their thing. Some threads do work better with more detailed plotting, but for the most part I'm perfectly fine winging everything, so there's no pressure to have some perfect plotline already scripted out before you come plot with me. Literally just throw a vague idea at me or be like "hey I think x and y should interact" and we can go from there.

I am following you because I like you and your muse(s) and your presence on my dash. I don't follow people just for the sake of following, it makes my dash feel anxious and crowded, so if I'm following you, then yes I am interested in writing with you! You are not here to pad my follower count and I am not here to pad yours. And there is no time limit here, I won't unfollow just because we didn't interact in the first two weeks or whatever. Sometimes it is harder to come up with interactions between certain muses, but if you're a chill person the odds are I'll probably just keep following you anyway because I like reading what you write, too.

I love you <3 You belong here even if you don't feel like it sometimes. If you ever think "I wonder if anyone would actually care if I deleted and left" the answer is yes. Always yes. Take care of yourself. Drink your water, take your meds, and get some rest. Tumblr can get overwhelming so don't be afraid to take breaks when you need them, and remember that just because you decided to take a break it doesn't mean everyone suddenly stopped caring or forgot about you. You matter to the people around you a lot more than you think you do, don't let the general negativity and selfish behavior on this hellsite convince you otherwise. Write with your friends and do what makes you happy, no one is entitled to shit here and this community can only function if we learn to treat each other like people again and not writing machines.

[ri-ahhh]

can u just give me mushy gushy shit with grayson like ethan has a girl over so the two of you decide to go out for a burger date and a walk at night? idk something like that pls 👉🏻👈🏻

A/N: I couldn’t even tell you how long this has been sitting in my drafts but I was looking through trying to find something to finish bc I was in the mood to write but not from scratch and found this lol. It was about halfway done and I have no idea where I was going with it but this is what it turned into as of today. Idek if there’s even anyone around here anymore to read this but whatever haha here it is.

You don’t usually mind being single. Even when your best friend/roommate Stella started seeing her boyfriend Charlie seriously, it didn’t give you any longing for a relationship of your own.

But there are some nights where you feel down and you just can’t handle it. The scenes of casual intimacy as soon as you get home and see them together — the vase of flowers on the kitchen island he must have brought over; the playful bickering across the room.

The incessant, unrelenting sound of a marathon session going on through the shared wall of your and Stella’s bedrooms.

You groan and turn the volume up on your AirPods, going straight to your messages next.

Wyd?

{G} 👀

Don’t be weird.

Pretty sure Stella and Charlie are trying to put a hole in the wall w her headboard and I can’t take it anymore.

Your roommate chooses that moment to let out a particularly enthusiastic “fuck!” If she weren’t your best friend, you might have given in to the urge to bang on the wall, but your phone lights up with Grayson’s reply anyway.

{G} E too.

{G} I mean like I can’t hear him but ik what’s going down in there

{G} I’d offer to pick u up but sounds like u need to get outta there lol. Meet me here?

You like the message and slip on some shoes, making sure to slam your bedroom door closed on your way out, as if it would make them pause even one thrust.

In the year that you’ve known him, Grayson Dolan has become one of your closest friends. The kind where you met as acquaintances, never talked much, but then you reconnected randomly and the conversation never stopped from there on. You talk about anything and everything, but recently you’ve bonded even more about being a perpetual third wheel. You knew he’d understand and not pass judgement on you in times like this, so it had been a no-brainer to text him as an escape from tonight.

He buzzes you into the gate when you get to his house, and he tells you over another text to go ahead and hop in the Porsche before he even gets outside. It makes you smile; night drives are your favorite, and while the Tesla is a vibe in its own right, there’s just something calming about someone (your attractive friend, no less) tangibly driving you around. It’s exactly what you need right now, no matter what destination he has in mind.

When he slides into the driver’s side not even a minute later, you’re almost overwhelmed by him. Looking far too good in your eyes for how casual he’s dressed in a well-fitting T-shirt and some grey sweats. Hair slightly damp from a recent shower.

He greets you with a grin and leans over the console to kiss your cheek, and you can smell the combination of his shampoo and a bit of cologne. You always appreciated that he doesn’t overdo the fragrance, and if possible it makes him even more intoxicating at times.

“Hey,” he says simply, sitting back in his seat and fastening the seatbelt.

“Hey.” You smile and watch him with a silent but fairly obvious appreciation as he reaches a hand to rest on the back of your seat, twisting the bit he needs to look out the back windshield. The Porsche has a backup camera, obviously, but he’s a cautious driver to a fault and insists he doesn’t fully trust them.

Grayson gets the car facing enough of the right direction to throw it in drive and exit down the long driveway. You shake your head and settle back, kicking off your shoes with a sigh and tucking your feet onto the seat beneath you.

“One day, we’ll be the ones making them leave the house,” he jokes, stopping for the gate to open.

You know it’s implied that he’s referring to the two of you with separate people, but you can’t help but consider the option that the two of you could make that happen together.

“I know for a fact you have a booty call list a mile long, Dolan,” you say with a raised brow. Despite the fleeting thought, keeping things lighthearted and platonic is much easier to deal with in reality. “You could have called one of them and done just that.”

He scoffs and pretends like you’ve just hurt him deeply, slapping a hand to his burly chest to clutch at his heart. “Excuse me, it is not a mile long.” He glances over at you with a held-back smirk. “A couple hundred yards, tops.”

You throw your head back with a loud cackle, looking out the window now as he turns onto the main road. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Damn, that’s a big word.” He likes to tease you about your extended vocabulary.

“Hopeless,” you elaborate, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes.

“Is that what that word means, or are you making fun of my high school dropout vocab?”

“Both.”

You let your head roll back against the headrest, turning to watch him, knees swayed to the side a bit. His form isn’t hidden in the dark at all, features lit up by the dash in front of him and the streetlights you’re passing by outside.

“Why didn’t you, then? Call one of them?”

Grayson shrugs. “Just didn’t really feel like spending time with people tonight.”

You’re silent for a moment and consider his answer. “Why did you agree to hang out, then? You didn’t have to.”

His eyes never leave the road, but you see the veins in his hand gripping the steering wheel bulge out for a moment as he squeezes it tightly.

“I guess I meant I didn’t want to spend time with people I don’t really care about.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it off with a sarcastic tone. “Aw, you care about me?”

“Of course I do,” he replies easily. “I’m not sure why, though. You’re so fuckin sassy sometimes.”

“You love it.”

The car rolls to a stop at a red light. Grayson’s hand slides from where it’s lightly gripping the gear shift, to yours, which is picking at a loose string on your leggings.

Your easy smile at the comfortable banter between you and Grayson falters some in surprise, but you let him turn your palm over and trace the lines of your hand softly. Both of your gazes are fixated on the way he tickles your skin when he says, “Yeah. I do.”

Your eyes shoot up, just in time to meet his. He looks at you with a weird mixture heat and vulnerability, and there’s a thick moment of silence, no longer than the single beat of your heart that you can hear thudding loud and clear in your ears, when suddenly the car behind you lays on the horn.

Both of you startle, and Grayson’s attention returns to the road ahead. He steps on the gas and takes his hand away, carding it through his hair roughly as you sink back into your seat with a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh my God, dude, you can’t just do that to me,” you blurt out, your heart in your stomach and your brain even lower. A helpless giggle escapes you, and you tug on your own locks. “Shit...”

“What?” he asks defensively, but you hear the tiny bit of the grin he’s wearing in his voice.

You turn your head to deadpan him, eyes wide. “You can’t just... imply something like that and give me sex eyes and not think you did something to me! Are you crazy?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug with the arm resting on top of the steering wheel again. “Maybe. You’re proving my ‘sassy’ point all over again.”

“Oh my — don’t fuck with my head, Gray.”

“Hey.” His voice is deeper, more serious as the car comes to another stop. You’re only just now realizing you’ve reached the burger joint, and that the late hour made finding parking a nonexistent problem. He puts the car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt before doing the same to yours. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to fuck with your head, I promise. I just... didn’t want it to seem like I was coming on too strong too suddenly. I, uh, have a history of doing that.”

You stare at him, processing everything. “I know.”

He chuckles dryly. “Yeah, I know you do.”

There’s more silence. That heavy kind that happened right after his little impromptu confession.

“You know,” you finally speak up, finding your voice after mulling over your words, “I kinda love that you’re a douche.”

He looks a little taken aback, until understanding dawns on him, and his eyes light up in a way that has you smiling instantly with him. “Really?”

You nod. “Call me crazy.”

Grayson shifts closer in his seat, his pink tongue darting out to lick those plump lips. You mirror him, and this time you take the initiative to reach out for his hand. It’s warm and strong, just like the rest of him.

Like earlier, you watch your hands lightly caressing each other as you speak. “And I love that you come on strong. And that you put your heart out there.” You interlace your fingers, immediately in love with the contrast of his huge ones between your slim ones. “Makes things way easier for me.”

He grins wide. “There’s that sass again.”

You bite your lip through your smirk and tug him close to you with your clasped hands, your free one reaching behind his neck to drag his lips to yours. “Mm. Better shut me up, then.”