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its-time-to-write · 11 months

Note

hi i love your work.

can i get touch deprived reader with jamie or roy

you totally can! It just comes at the low, low cost of way more words than you bargained for. Fair warning, Jamie isn’t even introduced for a good solid chunk of the first half. I also have been touch deprived so this is based on personal experience lol.

I feel like I let this get away from me in the same way the Vienna fic got away from me😂

sinking into your worn out mattress

It’s the same routine every day.

Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, fall asleep, repeat.

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re nothing if not efficient, maximizing your time to the best of your abilities. It’s not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you enjoy it. You’re lucky enough to be working on your supervision hours under a renowned psychologist, Dr. Fieldstone in London, and it’s paid. Over half the people in your cohort are struggling through unpaid internships and juggling a second job just so they can make ends meet. You’re all propelled forward by the promise of better pay as soon as it’s all over, dreaming of the days you can own your own practice.

You’re not even sure how you landed this internship, as Dr. Fieldstone rarely ever takes on interns. (She’d tell you later it’s because she saw the same potential her supervisor saw in her.) But you have it, and you’re now assisting her in her on-location therapy to various sports teams. You’d been at a rugby club for a few months, but now it’s time to move on. Dr. Fieldstone was asked to come back to a previous club and although she’d never admit it, you know it was her favorite group to work with. It’s the only club who’s picture is on her desk. It makes you smile every time you see her surrounded by a rowdy-looking group of footballers and two very American coaches. She had said that the one with the mustache was no longer at the club, but the bearded one still was along with the angry looking man to the side and the short, grey-haired man.

You’ve seen the photo so many times that you have everyone’s faces memorized. You’re secretly excited to meet the team that made Dr. Sharon (in her colleagues’ words,) loosen up.

You weren’t friends, with Dr. Sharon, never once dropping the “doctor,” that preceded her name, but she would occasionally swing by your standard housing with a bottle of wine after a particularly difficult day.

“This job can be emotionally draining,” she’d say. “I always wished I had someone there for me at the beginning.”

She rarely smiled or showed outward affection, but you understood that this was her way of saying she cared.

But now you’re packing up your flat into your car, and headed to your new quarters in Richmond, London.

—

It’s apparent that Dr. Sharon has a strong connection with the players. There are a small few who allow you to run each session, most preferring to stick with who they know. Your days are mostly filled with analyses and treatment plans, with about two real session a week, one with Rojas, D and Maas, J. You don’t even sit in with Dr. Sharon much anymore, as the thought of an observer makes some of the players uncomfortable.

It’s stressing you out.

How are you supposed to fulfill your hours when you can’t even get consistent sessions?

Dr. Sharon, in her limited kindness, refers you to a friend of hers in town.

“She runs a small practice and works mostly with women. You’ll be able to keep your housing and fulfill your hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You look at her. “Right,” you reply, “because you’re going to have so much time to help me out between all the things you’ve got going on.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Listen. Since you’re not my intern, I can become your therapist. I’ll even give you a discounted rate since you’re still interning. We’ll set up weekly sessions. You’ll be fine.”

You’re still not sure. Dr. Sharon can see the apprehension in your face. “Alright,” she says. “If you schedule our sessions in the evening and cook dinner, I’ll do it for free. It’ll be informal, one therapist to another.”

That’s big. She rarely does anything for free. In a moment of boldness, you say that to her face.

She cracks the tiniest smile. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of you. And even more possible that I’m addicted to your cooking.”

Huh. You suppose miracles do still happen.

—

Sharon is over for dinner for the third time in a week, and you’re suspicious that she might actually enjoy spending time with you. You’re laughing about some stupid story that happened during a natural environment observation (it involved a slip n slide, an obscene amount of shaving cream, and footballs being thrown at players heads) when out of nowhere you feel tears slipping down your face.

“Oh my gosh” you say while maybe laughing, maybe crying, “I think I’m broken.”

Sharon (she insisted you drop the “doctor,”) asks, “Are you alright?” and you shrug while you begin full-on sobbing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you say between gasps. “What the actual heck.”

At that, Sharon grins. You’re retaining some element of your humor, despite actually crying.

“Just go on and fucking swear already,” she says. “I think we’re past a truly professional relationship.”

You shake your head. “No!” you say. “No, my mum wouldn’t like it.” Fresh tears start to fall at the mention of your mum. Sharon is actually concerned now.

“I’m not sure you’re alright,” she says, and you shoot her a no duh look. “Let’s discuss what might be the root of your issue. Have you been feeling differently lately?”

You’re wiping your eyes and trying so hard to get it together. You’re not even sure what your problem is. You were pretty sure you were doing fine, but you think back to your week. It had been pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. You shake your head.

“There is nothing too small to mention. Anything out of your usual routine? Physical discomfort, emotionally-draining sessions?” Sharon asks.

“No,” you reply, tears almost under control. “Wait. Yes.”

Sharon looks at you expectantly. “God, this is going to sound dumb.”

She reaches out to pat your hand. “There’s no such thing as too dumb,” she says in her therapist voice.

The gesture is so much like something a sister would do.

“Right,” you say. “Ok. My, um, the insides of my elbows like, hurt? They just feel weird, I don’t know. It started two weeks ago I think and usually I can just pinch them and it’s fine, but that’s the only thing I can think of, I guess.”

Sharon has gone full therapist, and is giving you an analytical look. “Hm,” she says. “Tell me more.”

You shrug. “There’s not much to tell. It’s not like painful, it just feels weird. I hug my pillow when I sleep and that also helps. Um, I push up my sleeves so they go around my elbows and the pressure helps.”

She asks, “When was the last time you saw a friend?” and you can’t think why this is relevant. But you also can’t remember.

“Probably since before I moved,” you say.

“And when was the last time you saw your family?”

You begin to see where she’s going.

“God,” you groan. “I’m an idiot.”

Sharon laughs. “Do you see why it’s so difficult for therapists to self-diagnose? We’re so busy trying to save the world that we forget to save ourselves.”

“But it’s so stupid,” you say. “It’s like, one of the most basic forms of self-care.”

Sharon shrugs. “Touch-starvation is a real thing. It manifests itself in different ways and apparently yours manifests itself in your elbows.”

It’s so ridiculous that you laugh. She does too, and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll be more mindful of it,” she says. “In the meantime, you need to find yourself some friends. Some people your own age. I’m prescribing you at least two nights out a week.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “I don’t even know where I would go. Or how to meet people. Or what to say!”

“That’s the problem with us therapists,” Sharon says. “We’re really best in a clinical setting. Shouldn’t be let out of the house, really. How about this; next time Richmond has some group event, you come. They’re a rowdy bunch, around your age, too. It’s an incredibly healthy environment, and you’ll be easily accepted. It will be a nice gateway to having a social life. There’s a match this weekend and they’re almost guaranteed a win, so keep your calendar open.”

You open your mouth to protest but Sharon holds up a hand. “I’m prescribing this as your mentor, not as your friend. It will be a healthy change of pace, I promise.”

—

Seeing AFC Richmond in person and off the pitch is like an out-of-body experience.

You’re putting names to familiar faces, and getting a crash course on their personalities.

You know Dani and Jan Maas from your short stint as their counselor, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to introduce you to everyone else. Dani is holding your elbow to guide you around to all sorts of people, and you can physically feel the serotonin production in your brain.

You meet Higgins and his wife, the hosts of this barbecue as well as some of their children. It’s hard to miss them because they keep coming up to shoot Dani and Jan with nerf guns. They’re weirdly prepared, pulling out their own from thin air.

“Don’t worry,” Jan says, “We’ll defend you.”

It’s very much like a large family gathering. You meet Richard, who kisses your hand and comments on your beauty. Zoreaux, who smiles and asks if you want anything to drink. Bumbercatch, who asks if you can read minds. And finally, Roy and Keeley who are standing in the kitchen and definitely were not kissing right before you walked in.

“This is one of our coaches,” Dani beams. “He and Keeley are very much in love, but they will not admit to each other, least of all themselves.”

Roy says, “Oi!” while Keeley blushes. Jan shrugs.

“It’s true,” he says. “There is no point in dancing around it.”

“Fuck off!” says Roy, and Jan and Dani are saved from certain death by head-butt as Keeley steps between them and says, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re so glad you could come,” and wraps you in a tight hug.

She’s small, but she’s strong. You have trouble breathing for a moment in the best possible way.

“Heard you work for Dr. Sharon,” she says. “That’s got to be fucking difficult.”

You laugh. “Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” you say. “I’d already sold my soul to my education long before I met her. She’s actually trying to help me get it back.”

Keeley grins. “Is that why you’re here then? To reinstate your soul?”

You’re cut off from replying by the appearance of someone new. This one is in Sharon’s picture too, standing in the middle slightly to the left and smiling with the tip of his tongue sticking out. You always thought he seemed like one who looked so happy and carefree because he actively chose to be that way.

“Who’s reinstatin’ their soul?” he asks, squeezing in between Dani and Keeley.

“This one here,” Keeley replies. “You met her yet? She’s Dr. Fieldstone’s protégé.”

“Oh,” you say. “No. Not really. I was just doing my internship with her, but I had to move because…” you hesitate.

“Because no one wanted to talk to her except me and Jan,” Dani helpfully fills in.

Jan adds, “They were all intimidated by the fact that she is close to their age and so beautiful, as well stuck in their ways of having Dr. Sharon. Only Dani and I were willing to give her a chance, and she actually helped me through some important life decisions.”

You had? It hadn’t seemed that way at the time. You feel less crappy about your time at Nelson Road, though. It wasn’t like they didn’t like you, they just preferred to stick with what they know. That, you can understand.

“Mint,” Jamie says. “So you ain’t the team’s shrink anymore?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Fucking observant, you are. She hasn’t been around in fucking ages.”

Jamie shrugs. “I was just checking!” he says defensively.

You smile. “It’s alright,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy, and there’s always a lot of people coming and going.”

That seems to surprise Jamie. Almost as if he isn’t used to people defending him. You file his reaction away in your brain, adding it to your collection of knowledge about the football team that made Sharon zip across England for.

—

It’s been two and a half hours, and you’ve have more food and laughter than you’ve had in ages. Dani and Jan Maas had left your circle in the kitchen a while ago, fulfilling their promise to chase around the youngest Higgins boys as well as Roy’s niece Phoebe, and another girl who’s name you didn’t catch. Sam has joined your group now, and he and Jamie are funny together in a way that reminds you of your brothers. They’re constantly ragging on each other, teasing Roy, and throwing things.

Jamie, it seems, is the comedian of the group. You can tell he’s showing off, presumably because there’s a new face. When it’s time to eat, he says, “Stick with me, love, that way you don’t get stuck next to some uncultured animal,” even though Sharon is there and you’d be fine to sit with any of the boys.

But, he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you to a spot near Roy and Keeley as Sharon looks on with an amused expression. You send her a single pleading glance (although you’re not sure what you’re pleading for) and she just gives you a shooing motion. She’s happy to sit with Rebecca and her boyfriend. And someone who’s name you’re pretty sure is Coach Beard.

Ever the gentleman, Jamie pulls out your chair for you before settling into his own. There are tables all throughout the house and a few in the front yard, and you’re glad he picked one outside. It’s a little cloudy, but nice weather.

And god, there are people. People who are talking to you, hugging you, tapping you on the arm and holding your hand, even if it is just to make sure you don’t get separated in the stampede to find seating. Your arms aren’t even a little sore, and you can feel Sharon’s observing eyes on you. You know for a fact she’s going to have a lot to say next time you have dinner, but for now all you can think about is the way Jamie’s arm is pressed against yours, as he leans in to explain a football term that Roy just used to threaten Jamie with.

—

You’re not sure how long this party is supposed to last, but it’s three hours later and there is no sign of stopping. The sun is just barely starting to dip, and time has lost all meaning. You don’t know if the meal you ate was supposed to be lunch or dinner but it doesn’t matter because you’re so full that you can barely make room for the pile of desserts that Mrs. Higgins has pulled out.

You’ve moved inside now, since Jamie pulled you through the dessert line saying, “You have to come with me, so I can put my dessert on your plate. That way grandad can’t have a fit.” You understand that “grandad” is Roy.

You’re smart enough to notice that Jamie’s hand is in yours at every opportunity he can find, and that he’s still holding it even though you’ve finished your dessert and are flopped on a couch inside. He’s absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb as you chatter on about nothing.

“Oi,” he says, when you’ve lapsed into silence, “is this alright?”

You’re not sure what he means until he holds up your still-intertwined hands.

“Keeley says I’m more touchy than most. Don’t want to fuckin’ weird you out or some shit.”

You smile. “You’re fine. It’s actually really nice.” You decide to leave it at that. No point in explaining touch-deprivation to the cute footballer you just met. Talk about oversharing.

Jamie smiles back, a real one that lights up his whole face.

“Mint,” he says.

—

“Jamie’s romantically interested in you,” says Sharon’s voice through the phone.

“How do you know that?” you ask. It’s the morning after the Higgins party and you only have a 2pm session. Sharon texted you to call her as soon as you woke up, so you do and she drops a bombshell on the first ring. You doubt Jamie would have told her this himself, as Dr. Fieldstone isn’t one to break a confidence.

“Basic body language,” she replies. “Repeated physical contact, the way his body was angled toward yours all day, the fact that he went out of his way to make you smile. All classic markers of romantic attraction. Any trained therapist should be able to pick up on it.”

What she means is, you’re a trained therapist. You should be picking up on it.

“There’s no way,” you say, but it comes out more doubtful than you’d hoped.

“Right,” says Sharon, “there’s no way. In the same way that there’s no way I’m only mentoring you because I see myself in you.”

“Oh,” you reply weakly, because that’s a lot to unpack.

“Oh,” she mimics. “Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Make sure you remember the mental exercises I gave you. Therapists need to take care of their minds too.”

You say thanks and hang up.

Oh.

—

You’re home again from your session, and you are tired. It was mentally exhausting and all you can think about are the pair of sweatpants in the drawer by your bed and the box of pizza that should be at your flat in fifteen-to-twenty minutes. That was about thirteen minutes ago, and you’ve just been puttering about since placing the call and changing out of work clothes.

There’s a knock on the door and you say a quiet yes, before hurrying to answer. You open the door to two people on your doorstep instead of one.

“This your pizza?” the delivery boy asks. You nod, thank him, and hand him the money. He’s gone so you acknowledge the other person in front of you.

“How’d you know where I live?”

Jamie shrugs. “Asked Dr. Fieldstone. She isn’t as scary as she looks.”

“And why are you here?”

You place the pizza down on the small table in your entryway. It hasn’t escaped your notice that Jamie is practically standing in your doorframe now, inches away from you.

He wraps his hands in the front of his shirt. “Isaac was telling me about body science,” he says. “Been teaching me how to read people and shit based on how they move.”

You nod. Body language. Yeah, you know a thing or two about that.

“Anyway, he said you thought I was proper fit. Which is good, because I think you’re proper fit. But, just in case he were wrong, I thought I’d come over and give you a chance to tell me.”

His left hand is on the doorframe now, and you can see the top of his tattoo peeking out from under his bright orange hoodie. There is exactly one inch between you two as he slants his body toward yours.

“You can tell me to bugger off, if you want,” he murmurs. “Won’t hurt my feelings.”

You don’t say anything, just stand on your toes the tiniest bit so he has better access to your mouth.

You can feel his breath when he pulls away.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t come here for sex. Me mum raised a gentleman. I’d buy you a coupla dinners first.”

“Shut up and kiss me already, Tartt,” you say, and he’s grinning, free hand cupping the back of your head.

—

You think that’s probably the fastest you’ve ever gotten into a relationship.

“Labels are important, babe,” Jamie had said that night. “How else will you know if food is poisonous?”

You’re pretty sure he’s talking about checking for allergens, but you don’t correct him. You’re on your couch watching a movie with his arm around your shoulders. He’s playing with strands of your hair and it’s strange that you’re this comfortable with a boy you just met yesterday.

Because he is a boy. You’re the same age, but you feel impossibly, inadequately young. He plays it off as youthful exuberance, and you’re sure it’s an advantage on the pitch. Your age doesn’t feel like an advantage to you, but you can’t change it so you might as well just deal with what you’ve got.

You can be professional in the morning, but right now you’ve got a cute, fit boy who thinks you’re cute and fit and so far has not given off red flags. You’re extra alert ever since your call with Sharon, trying to pick up on every subtlety, but you stop trying as soon as Jamie rolls up a piece of pizza like a burrito and tries to fit it all in his mouth. You know that Sharon would have been the first to tell you if this was a bad idea, and the fact that she even told you Jamie was interested is basically like her giving her blessing.

Jamie leaves too soon, but he does so with your number in his phone and the promise of “a proper date,” as soon as you both can manage.

—

“A proper date,” turned into two proper dates, then three, then four, then seeing each other steadily throughout the weeks, then your first sleepover after the third week. Your skin was all tingly when Jamie invited you over to his for dinner, telling you he was going to cook for you. You knew exactly what was going to happen that night and made sure you were prepared.

You dressed nice, in clothes that gave him easy access to your skin underneath.

“Am I rushing this?” you had asked Sharon the day before. “I’m asking you as my mentor. Am I being an idiot?”

Sharon had taken a moment to consider before answering. “You’re smart for your age. And wise beyond your years. I don’t think you’re being an idiot. We can’t let our work consume us, no matter how important it is. You’re a brilliant therapist. You’re always giving yourself away to those around you. You deserve something for yourself, and you know how to pick a good one.”

You hugged her for those words. She seemed startled, but accepted it. You didn’t think life could get much better.

You were wrong. You discovered life could be so much better the moment Jamie’s hand slid under your skirt and you were kicking off your shoes on the way up the stairs.

“Stay,” he whispered when you were done. “It’s fuckin’ late anyway. You can use my shower and wear one of my shirts. I have an extra toothbrush. I fucking hate sleeping alone.”

So you’re in one of his t-shirts and your underwear, arms wrapped around Jamie’s waist.

You think what am I doing? but Jamie presses a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple and you think maybe you’re doing something right.

—

It’s been a hell of a week. You’re swamped, Jamie’s always at training, and neither of you have been able to make the time to see the other in days. Your inner arms are sore again, and your dinners with Sharon have been short and extremely clinical in a way you desperately need. However, once-a-week therapy is not enough to get rid of the feeling you have, and you wake up throughout the night holding your pillow as if it were Jamie.

You’ve gotten used to having his hand in yours, your head on his shoulder, knees touching and arms wrapped tight around your body. Having it taken away is worse than before, because at least then you didn’t really know what you were missing. Now, you feel as if you’re going to die unless someone does something, even if it’s just a high-five.

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest as you review case notes. Your food has gone cold because all you can do is cry. You’re so tired and so lonely and it shouldn’t be this way, but it is and you’re just over it. There’s a knock at the door so you wipe your eyes and answer it, hoping you look normal.

It’s Jamie.

The moment you register who it is, you’re launching yourself into his arms, wrapping around him like a spider monkey. He laughs. “Hello to you too,” he says, spinning you around. He stops when he feels you shaking in his arms.

“Oi,” he says, frowning a little, “you alright, love?”

He can feel tears on his neck.

“Babe,” he says, “did something happen at work?”

You shake your head, face still buried into the crook of his neck. “I just missed you,” you croak, voice muffled.

Jamie chuckles at that. You’re lucky he’s strong, because he’s able to carry you to the couch like it’s nothing, kicking the door shut behind him without losing his balance. He settles with you in his arms, rubbing a pattern on your back.

“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he says, and you’ve never been more grateful for the fact that he calls you love more than your actual name. It’s like he’s always reminding you how he feels about you.

You just hold him tighter, letting the terrible feeling you had all week fade away. When it’s mostly gone, you pull away so you can look him in the face.

“I- I have this thing,” you say. Jamie looks concerned.

“Are you dyin’?” he asks.

“No!” you reply. “No, I’m not dying. I have- I’m touch-deprived. I let it get really bad sometimes and then I can physically feel it. You can look it up, it’s a real thing.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Jamie’s just looking at you, all quiet seriousness.

“That what it’s called?” he asks. “I know what you mean. Fucking had it two years ago. Used to egg Roy on just so he’d push me around and the lads’d have to hold me back. Wasn’t near me mum anymore, so I didn’t have anyone to hug me or anything. Sounds dumb, but… I just needed someone to touch me. Like if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t exist. Fucking mental.”

“Mental,” you agree.

Jamie smiles. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” he asks. “I’m never bored when I’m with you. Came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie or play video games.”

He’s stroking your cheek with one hand, other still wrapped around your back.

You smile back. “I really, really love you Jamie Tartt. I’ll play video games, I just don’t want to play FIFA.”

Jamie’s smile drops. “Shit,” he says, and you think it’s because you don’t want to play his favorite video game. “You weren’t supposed to say it first, I was. I was gonna tell you tonight anyway.”

“It’s not a big deal, babe,” you say.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a big fuckin’ deal. Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

“No you don’t,” you say.

“Yes I do,” he replies. “I’m gonna tell you every fucking day how much I love you. I’ll drive home early from away games just to hug you. I want you to always feel like you have the love you deserve.”

You’re at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue, don’t it?” Jamie asks cheekily. “Not a problem, babe. I know how to get it back.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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smallbutters · 6 months

Text

Sickly Bodies - Michael Myers x Reader

Content Warnings - Stalking , mentions of suicide, murder (duh), uuuh michael myers is a warning alone lol

Notes - Minors DNI PLEASE, fluff but also murder, SFW, no specific pronouns or gendered terms used :))

Eyes of the devil.

Black, soulless voids behind them, devoid of all humanity.

Ever since he was transferred to the Sanitarium, Michael has been referred to and treated as a being of pure evil - a blight upon this world. How would Dr. Loomis react now, to the situation Michael finds himself in?

A body lies in his house, in his bed, and for once it hasn’t gone cold, the heat of life still flowing through it.

You.

Sick as all hell, writhing in pain as whatever illness you have beats you into a pained, sluggish version of your normal self.

Michael stands aside the bed, making no movement.

He watches you, for a while - rolling back and forth occasionally, groaning in pain all the while.

When you finally become aware enough to notice that you aren't alone, you look up to his mask and give a meek smile. Michael isn't a comforting person, he never learned how to be or even received any himself, but something in you knows that this is his attempt at it.

"You don't have to stand here, you know."

You get no response.

A few seconds of silence pass as you close your eyes, letting out a slow, shallow breath.

"This will pass, it might take a bit longer since you don't have any medicine in the cabinets, but I'll be just fine soon enough..." You trail off.

You are once again met with silence.

It doesn't take too long for you to succumb to the exhaustion and fall asleep, your body being completely drained from fighting off this virus. You don't know how long Michael stayed there, or if he even was there after you finished talking - for such a big body, he's incredibly quiet.

Unbeknownst to you, he stayed, unmoving, for a good half an hour after you drifted off.

He was planning on going out tonight - a frat house down the street has been too rowdy lately, and losing a few members would likely get them to quiet down (you had been bothered by the noise lately, but that isn’t why he’s going for them) But leaving you here alone, sick and in pain seemed to hurt his cold heart.

Why?

If you posed an obstacle for him and his goals, he really should just kill you. You two have been together for a few months now, in a sort of problem-and-problem-enabler type situation - you provided him a place to stay at your half-used apartment, food, and company (an attempt at it, at least), and Michael provided with a sense of safety as your behind-the-scenes guard dog, and an odd sense of pride knowing you’ve, to an extent, tamed the beast terrorizing Haddonfield.

Michael isn’t stupid, not in a general sense. While he had been in a mental institution for the past fifteen-odd years, he's killed dozens of people by now and never got even remotely close to being caught. He’s just a little socially confused. He’s been treated like the devil itself for the past 15 years of his life, so your kindness, let alone your peaceful coexistence with him is somewhat lost to him. Even the night you met had been something he’d never thought he’d let happen.

You had been taking pictures of the old Myers house a few months back, just after sunset. There was enough light for you to see, but with every photo you took that was getting more and more difficult. You had walked here by yourself, which you quickly began to regret - you could hear quiet(ish) shuffling coming from the side of the house, and it definitely wasn’t getting further away. You obviously knew of Michael, everyone did - but August was much earlier than he’d ever returned, and you knew some local teens had taken up pretending to be him just to get a scare out of people. At first you thought you’d just get a little spooked and laughed at, then be able to head home safely, but apparently impersonating a killer doesn’t sit well with said killer.

The two impostors were killed with ease and a lack of ceremony, and you were quickly thrown into the house. You thought the last thing you’d ever see would be that infamous pale white mask looking into your eyes, but it wasn’t. You saw the eyes behind it - the man, the human. In complete honesty, neither of you knew why what happened next turned out the way it did. One moment you were pinned against the wall by the real Michael, the blood from the two imposters staining both your clothes. Then all he did was let out a loud huff before stalking away. The man who never left someone alive let you, of all people, live.

In the coming months you began to spot him near your apartment and - seemingly - following you around town. You were smart enough not to tell anyone, as you knew he’d disappear before anyone else could spot him and you’d wake up to a pool of your own blood and live out your last moments from a betrayal-fueled, merciless kill. From then on you had learned to interpret his non-verbality, which lead to an eventual fucked-up kind of kinship. You never tried to get him to stop what he does - to “fix” him. He appreciated that. With time he began to enjoy, even desire your company, and even went as far as allowing you to see who he was under the mask.

Getting to the location was easy enough - it was dark as all hell outside in the early December nights, and no one wanted to leave the safety and comfort of their homes. Especially since the small town had just been visited by the infamous boogeyman. Except, seemingly, the exact house he had his sights on. Perhaps it was just a lapse in judgement by a house full of drunk, intelligence-deprived party goers, but perhaps they thought one escaped asylum serial killer wouldn’t be able to survive against all of them. Either way, they left the side door unlocked. Entering the house, Michael quietly stalked around the trash strewn about - it seemed like a party had just concluded, which meant it was very likely that everyone in the house was dead asleep from over drinking. Easy targets.

It didn’t take long for Michael to be almost completely alone in the frat house. His ability to quietly stalk through it was really put to the test however, as the house was absolutely filthy. He could smell, even through his mask, the stink of cheap alcohol, smoke, and something that he’d be alright with never fully identifying. The ground was almost completely littered in something that looked like discarded clothes, with various kinds of large stains just about everywhere - for once maybe he’d actually be the good guy by killing whoever made this mess.

Finding said filth was pretty easy, people were asleep on the floor, on couches, piled together on beds. He saw two bodies sharing a bed, one draping an arm over the other, their hand being held by the other. He thought of you - your warmth finally allowing him to get some real rest at night. How you were never scared of his large hands, never seeming to care about the blood that can’t be washed from them. How you also seemed to sleep better in his presence, sometimes waiting up for him to even get to bed.

You better not be doing that now.

That room took him a bit longer to get through.

The last room was on the eastern side of the building, the master bedroom. Only a few people were in this room, two piled on the bed and one asleep face-down on the floor, lying in a pool of… something. Michael had gotten rid of two of them before he noticed how the only window of this room was perfectly facing your old apartment. You had been splitting time between there and the old Myers house ever since that night, but the knowledge that anyone in this house could have seen you through that window made his blood boil. He can’t stop you from interacting with people; he had enough common sense to know that you had to work and get money to sustain yourself and get whatever you thought Michael needed as well, and that a good person like you needed more than just a serial killer for company (much to his dismay). However, he absolutely could stop people from going to you first. As he stood over the last soon-to-be-corpse, panting from the adrenaline, he came up with a plan.

Michael had always made his kills swift and brutal, leaving no room for anyone to think it wasn’t his work. But tonight, he changed it up a bit. He woke the last victim up, quickly grabbing him from behind.

“Wha…what?”

The poor boy was barely conscious as Michael put the knife into the other’s hand, using his own to guide him to slit his own throat. Of course, there was a slight struggle, but having a hangover and fighting against a killing machine worked against the last man’s favor, and the knife glided across the skin, breaking through with a steady trickle of blood. He fell to the floor in a position of apparent suicide, and Michael then got to work. He wanted it to seem that this poor boy had lost his mind and killed every member of the afterparty he had hosted himself, all because of an obsession with the person across the street - you. Michael staged the scene by changing the boy into his overalls (plenty of stupid people had been impersonating Michael, no one would think it was actually his.) On a piece of paper, he wrote down your typical schedule for any given week - no, he did not memorize it, and he certainly didn’t repeat it to himself like a mantra when he needed to focus. Don’t be stupid. To anyone who’d see the scene, it would look like an obsessed maniac realized you were out of his grasp, lost his mind, killed all his friends and then himself. The police would likely put together that you were his target, and they would likely question you, but Michael knew you wouldn’t say anything. If anything, you’d probably assume they meant him, and would be absolutely shocked when it would be revealed to be someone else. Maybe you’d put together that it was all an elaborate ruse from Michael.

Maybe you’d thank him.

Michael stole a change of clothes and left, leaving the knife as proof of the crime clearly not committed by him, a small bottle of cold medicine he found on the nightstand rattling in the pocket of his pants.

As he expected, the house was quiet when he returned. Well maybe not expected, but that’s what he wanted to greet him. He hated when you stayed up for him, as if you were an old married couple (deception and avoidance was his game, it was only a matter of him before he fell victim to it himself). You were his captive, and would likely end up being his victim too (deception). There was no love in his heart, in this home, anywhere close to him. He’s a killer, and only a killer (avoidance).

So why do his hands twitch when he thinks of you? Why does his body move on its own, craving your warmth and touch?

You were still asleep when he got to the bedroom, breathing shallow. He set the medicine bottle on the nightstand closest to you, going into the bathroom to make sure he was free from any blood before he joined you bedside. The dip in the mattress woke you up enough for you to open your eyes to see a bottle of cold medicine left for you (don’t mind the dark red smear on the label).

“Thinking of me even during a bloodbath?”

You sat up and took two of the small pills, washing them down with the glass of water you had gotten earlier in the night. When you laid back down, you were pulled into the grasp of your oh-so-thoughtful killer. You felt his face nuzzle into your hair with an uncanny tenderness- wait. His face? Like, the actual one?

“Your mask- where is it?”

He opted to not respond, instead pulling you further into his chest. You quietly hummed, too tired to press it any further. You reached back and grabbed his hand and pulled it close, right on top of your heart.

He huffed in response.

#michael myers #slasher x reader #halloween #original writing #slasher community #michael myers x reader

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notedchampagne · 7 months

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Bro the 6th familial relationships fuck me up so much like the weird Juno and Pal more of a mentor than a mother vibes? And it seems like from Dr Sex that her and Pal's dad are either divorced or just straight up had nothing to do with each other until the genomics department decided they should have a child together?? Like imagine you're a ruthless academic career-woman and one day you get an email from the government like 'congrats! You're a mother!' And they hand you a fresh vat baby that is half you and half your co-worker that you talked to one time at the Christmas party like??? I don't think I would have the most healthy relationship with that child either tbh

And Cam! Earlier in Nona when Pal and Pyrrha are talking about going to the park it is only Kiki that he mentions she might want to save, no mention that apparently both her parents are there too? Her entire family is on the line here. Then she doesn't want her dads to see the Paul transformation because they "wouldn't understand"? You just know there's some long running disagreement there with how far she's yoking herself in with Pal. Do you think they secretly resent him? Did this cause a rift in their family? And what did the conversation look like before or after the transformation? Did Cam tell them she was about to die? Or did they turn away for five seconds and she finally killed herself for her obsessions behind their back? Who broke the news to them? (Who is going to break the news to Pal's dad?) The whole thing just makes me insane!!!!

Also apparently there is some incredible nepotism going on in the 6th oversight body here (or maybe everything is nepotism on the 6th lol)

YOU GET ME i love the 6th house so so much the way the house functions both as a united family w their genetics & a university with the academic quibbling is so fun to me- the sixths weakness was described as "A sprawling organization of erratic loners, the Sixth are chaotic by nature and terrible at collective action." which is 1) hilarious. palamedes is the peoples marxist princess 2) just generally fascinating as a whole. if we take that at face value and consider the 6th house as populated by genius loner nerds, it actually makes sense that they prioritize sending out attractive people to diversify the gene pool - with reference to your statement: dr sex provided a nice handful of evidence that while palamedes and juno have a formal dynamic, theyre affectionate enough that they seem close (at most, to the extent of some gay kid and their favorite english teacher) but seeing juno like a distant mentor is most likely right

taking on more quotes from dr sex, i think its most likely that the Sixth house encourages child bearing / raising through subsidies and an extended work leave of sorts:

Palamedes said, “Enjoying parenting. Enjoying the parenting buyout, I should say. He’s only doing dissertation supervision—and half a year of Immediate History, of course—but he’s got his own projects on the go.”

alexandrites and nireids might be required to go offworld to flirt and have children (i think i came across another post floating somewhere noticing kiki and cam were half-sisters, implying their parent was one of the mentioned) but for residents staying in the sixth house, they probably have about 3-7 other people they could possibly produce children with outside of consanguinity. although forcing them to have children by way of vat birth etc etc is entirely possible in Hell Empire a lot of them probably gave in just for a few years of parental & academic benefits.

one last point - sixth house children canonically live in a dormitory! so if you consider a professor going on paid leave to raise children while doing their own projects for about 7-9 years, then going back to work while their children are sent to a dorm to do nothing but study and train with other peers their age, it falls together so perfectly bro. it makes so much sense. of course pal and cam are nice to their parents but rarely ever close - they were most likely raised and taught communally! god i love worldbuilding

#as for nepotism well. who doesnt indulge in nepotism lmao #talking back #tlt meta #the locked tomb #palamedes sextus #camilla hect #the mysterious study of dr sex

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super-paper · 10 months

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"Thank you for such wonderful comedy."

I've been wanting to talk about how MHA plays with the concepts of "fiction vs reality, the characters vs the actor, the world vs the stage" for awhile now, bc I believe understanding how MHA utilizes these concepts is pretty crucial to understanding our Big Bad (and Tomura!) (...and Izuku!) (.. etc!) (y-yeah...!!!) (wooo.....!!!!!)

If this post is more incoherent than usual, I apologize-- I'm just really enthusiastic about stories that play with the fact that they're stories and characters who throw themselves into a fictionalized role as a means of coping. I love the way MHA handles these concepts in particular, so I lost all sense of restraint as usual.

Hori: "I'm Like Dropping Hints That Hero/Villain Personas Are Actually Coping Mechanisms Lol"

"As Tomura Shigaraki and Tenko Shimura, I've got just one wish: the total destruction of everything that created that house." "If my origin as Touya and Dabi was such a simple thing, then... No, there are still things I want to say. Arguments I want to have."

I've seen a few ppl saying that it sounds awkward/strange to have the characters repeatedly asserting themselves in the third person, but imo, the emphasis on real names versus hero/villain names during these particular scenes plays into the idea of the villain/hero identities being "alter egos" that might not actually have the same core desires as the """"actors"""" that are behind these personas.

Tomura and Touya invoke both their real and villain names while asserting their respective wishes. Himiko also invokes her villain name, though it's less obvious to english speakers because she uses her real name as her villain name (in the raws, "HIMIKO TOGA" as a villain name is written using katakana-- and this is what she uses when asserting her wish). MHA plays with the idea of "fiction"/"Alter Egos" as a form of escapism and as a coping method, and at this point in time, the Dabi/Tomura/"Himiko" identities are still being utilized as a crutch/mask by these three very hurt individuals.

*loud, terrifying chanting* PEAK FICTION PEAK FICTION PE--

Ochako's fight being like the second most thematically important fight in the whole series still makes me unreasonably giddy btw.

To contrast, Ochako uses her civilian name alone when asserting her wish-- and imo we're meant to read this as Ochako wanting to save Himiko as herself, not as Uravity. Saving Himiko is not something she can accomplish as her alter-ego-- Ochako is able to save Himiko by stepping off the stage and becoming a "real" person, while also acknowledging the person behind "Toga Himiko (villain name)".

Izuku hasn't had his "I'm Izuku Midoriya"/"I'm-saving-you-as-Izuku-not-as-Deku" moment yet-- instead, we see Tomura intentionally making that distinction between the-hero-and-the-true-self by constantly referring to Izuku by his real, full name. And I'm pr sure Izuku is also the only one he does this to-- we see him referring to all the other heroes he encounters by their hero names alone, or by insulting nicknames (l-lol). Correct me if I'm wrong, tho!

(side note: Tomura switching to calling Izuku just "Hero" in the aftermath of Bakugate is actually a big step backwards imo-- it reads as Tomura trying to push Izuku away by shoving them both back in the hero/villain box and doubling down on enforcing their respective "roles." Not that I ever expected mister doomdere to make things easy, but, woof. Good Fuckin' Luck, Izuku ( ´･ω･) )

TL;DR The final arc has mostly been about tearing off the hero/villain masks to reveal who is hiding underneath— MHA's careful use of names and monikers plays heavily into that and its distinction between "alter-ego"/"true self" a lot. Which is... probably one of the many reasons why All For One still doesn't have a given name, as someone who has all but completely lost himself in his character.

Anyway! That brings us to the meat of this post: how does MHA take the concepts of "reality vs fiction" and "the character vs. the actor" and apply it to All For One (...and Tomura) (and Izuku--)?

"Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain!"

"If you refuse to submit, then I'll just rewrite the story." - it's amazing how all of this coulda been avoided if someone had just introduced AFO to Demon Lord x Reader fanfiction. (/j)

AFO fancies himself as the author of MHA's greatest tragedy (the desecration of Shimura Nana's legacy via the sacrifice of Shimura Tenko), while simultaneously inserting himself into its overarching narrative and treating himself as the leading villain of the story-- it's self-indulgent and intentionally invasive in the way that most self-insert fanfiction tends to be invasive, with him going to extremes to make it seem as though the whole story revolves around him. AFO wants to be both the author and the leading character and the leading antagonist. This greed is typical of him, but it also establishes him as a character who's more caught up in (read: trapped by) his relationship to "fiction" than anyone else. Again, MHA explores the use of fiction and alter-egos as an escape from a painful reality-- so, it's entirely reasonable to assume that this applies to AFO as well.

To me, so much about AFO reads as an escapist fantasy of someone who is utterly terrified of being put in a position where he is truly seen. The idea of being vulnerable, of being naked, of being "human," is intolerable to him. But by not allowing himself to feel and "be a human," he has effectively cut himself off from what he wants most. The character of “Shigaraki Tomura” is as much an escapist fantasy for AFO as it is Tenko-- It's just another (younger, prettier) layer of skin he can hide his true self in.

"so basically you're saying that AFO is a never nude" yes, actually :)

AFO dehumanizes Tomura through his attempts to turn the boy into his personal comic book character, but he also dehumanizes himself by desperately trying to insert himself into that “character." It's only fitting that Tomura’s innate humanity and capacity for feeling ends up rendering AFO himself painfully, painfully human-- and ultimately causes AFO's carefully constructed character to start crumbling.

If All the World’s a Stage, Then Let’s Destroy the Stage

"That stage is gone now. The theater's knocked down. How much longer can we afford to be spectators on the sideline?" "Once upon a time, a man named All Might showed all of us how to be a hero. But somewhere along the way, people forgot about the heart and soul that made the man." -MHA, Chapter 325

Tomura is attempting to destroy the stage, because without the stage there can be no "Shigaraki Tomura" (Or "All Might," or "All For One," or "Endeavor," etc etc etc). Without the stage, there are no more "characters" and no more tragedies. But-- without the stage, there are no more stories period. There are no more tragedies, but there are no more happy endings either. The world never recognizes the actor behind "Shigaraki Tomura" without the stage. The stage is not inherently a bad thing, so long as people can remember that the actors on the stage still exist outside of it.

But Tomura himself cannot imagine what happens after the curtains fall, and all that's left is Shimura Tenko. He is stuck in a role that was written entirely for someone else, but remains convinced that the role was always his and that the role defines him.

Tomura rebels against the story the only way he knows how--against an "author" who *LITERALLY* views him as a spicier self insert, and against a "setting" that treats his death as a happy ending-- but even so, Tomura still can't picture an ending that doesn't end in tragedy. His rebellion is not about him trying to wring a happy ending out of a miserable, mean-spirited book-- it's about burning the whole damn library down so he never feels let down or hurt by a story again.

Basically: Tomura cannot act outside the confines of his "character" in a way that will truly save him. Even as he rebels, he's rebelling in a way that is painfully consistent with the way his "character" is written-- and that's why AFO (the author) still poses such an enormous threat to him. Destruction cannot save him from this story when he was explicitly penned to destroy.

The only way to break this narrative is to act in a way "the author" doesn't expect, and to tap into all the traits that AFO desperately attempted to "write out" of him-- Shimura Tenko is someone who has always rebelled against his writing, his author, and the unfairness of this story with his kindness and his willingness to accept those that no one else will.

AFO cuts off Tenko's own power at the root by reinforcing Tomura's belief that the world will always inherently reject him, without fail, always and forever-- so he should just reject the world, too (and I've talked at length about this before, but this is why a story that ends with Tomura dying or locked away from society is an ending that fails in its goal to save Tomura). The more Shigaraki Tomura rejects everything and the more Shigaraki Tomura is rejected by everything, the more he distances himself from his root and the source of his power-- and the more Shimura Tenko gets lost in this character.

While AFO is terrified of someone seeing behind his mask, Tomura longs for it. Tenko has been there since the beginning and has been begging for someone to finally see and acknowledge him (both in-universe and out of universe).

"I’ll Be There, Changing Fate by Your Side."

AFO: "Blah Blah Blah Do you still believe myths can save you? Foolish creature. Let me be clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered yadda yadda yadda :) :) :)" ENTER, MIDORIYA IZUKU WITH A STEEL CHAIR.

Izuku's role is that of a completely average boy who gets pulled into a narrative ''that wasn't for him"-- he has no heroic lineage, no hidden powers, and no connection to the centuries old conflict that drives the plot. He's just a boy who did the right thing at the right time and was rewarded for it. Izuku is someone who was "never supposed to be a hero" the same way Tenko was "never supposed to be a villain" per the "rules" of their world-- and Izuku, like Tomura, is someone who exists to destroy those rules and the expectations of their narrative, completely changing the ending.

But rather than burning the book and ending the story forever (like Tomura wants to do), Izuku believes that the story and characters can still be salvaged. There's always something worth saving. It doesn't have to be a tragedy, they can still change the ending. They can talk specifics after Tomura's crazy ass puts the lighter down.

Izuku, like Tomura and so many other characters, throws himself into an alter-ego in an attempt to redefine himself and escape from pain ("Nobody's been saved yet. Don't be the worthless old Deku who can't save anyone" 😬). He almost loses himself in the role of "OFA's torch bearer" the way All Might did-- but just as Izuku managed to find Toshinori Yagi and helped in convincing him that his life as Toshinori has meaning, Izuku ends up getting saved by his friends who couldn't care less about OFA's ~protagonist power~ and know that Izuku is just a goofy, awkward, human boy who needs help.

Like.... If we explore quirklessness as like... a narrative stand-in for characters that the story typically views or dismisses as irrelevant extras/npcs, then AFO's barely restrained anger at Izuku and Toshi (and possibly Yoichi if we're being honest) for daring to ''act beyond their roles'' becomes even funnier. AFO can't stand the idea of his power/the protagonist role being passed on to someone who seems so utterly unworthy, unremarkable, and plain. He can't stand the idea of someone without a quirk/"role" standing up to him, the leading character. Dude really is a toxic comic book fan to the core.

afo really said "I didn't like how things were going so I stopped reading and just wrote a better ending to the story :^)" like...... @mhareddit that's u buddy...........................;

Anyway...........!!!!! AFO is someone who cherry picks what he likes about a story while ignoring the actual intent/message of the work (#theabsolutestateofthemhafandom), but he has no intention of breaking down the dichotomy between heroes/villains and instead actively enforces it (.............#theabsolutestateofthemhafan--). He just wants to flip what side wins in the end.

Tomura wants to break the narrative because he sees that as the only way to escape from his pain (but in doing so, he permanently cuts himself off from being a part of a story with a happy ending). He wants to destroy the dichotomy between heroes and villains because heroes and villains "will never understand each other and never stop creating each other" (lol. lmao, even).

Izuku wants to break the narrative because he's realized that there's something more to this story than your standard "Hero versus Villain," "good vs evil" affair and that he cannot explore what lies behind those masks and labels without tearing them down, first.

These three work together well as a narrative set of Fucking Nerds, and AFO works well as both Tomura and Izuku's villain for all of the above reasons (& also bc he's the only one who is actually benefitting from their current society) ((which basically offers him an endless buffet of hurt and angry children he can exploit on a silver platter)).

Anyway! Kick his ass, Izuku.

#shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #all for one #sophie.txt #midoriya izuku #mha spoilers #mha.txt

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bleachbleachbleach · 4 months

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[Bleach 080]

I think about these panels literally ALL. THE. TIME. I have thought about these panels in a thousand ways. Still, they baffle me. And I still have basically nothing to say about them.

I steadfastly believe that Renji is the kind of guy who would know who all the Captains and VCs were, both because he's a people person and because he'd see knowing who holds these ranks and speaking/acting in accordance with these ranks as a professional requirement. And if Renji calling Aizen 'Aizen-san' isn't going to change this, nothing will--not even Renji not knowing who Matsumoto's entire captain is.

Even if the current state of the Gotei is such that the divisions are highly fractured and there is very little inter-squad cohesion or communication, which I absolutely believe, there are still only thirteen of them. They are numbered! And assuming every issue of the SC is fairly similar to the one we see in Colorful Bleach, at least one magazine is actively attempting to cultivate cults of personality around these dumb captains, so it's not as though they're commanding their divisions entirely from behind green curtains.

So anyway, I'm like, okay, how could I see this working? I've chosen two options to tl;dr about.

Option A: We get insane with grammar

Option B: We method act

Option A: We get insane with grammar

In Matsmoto's line, the person she can't find is ウチの隊長さん (uchi no taichou-san). "Uchi" is a pronoun that has a variety of usages. One is a feminized form of speech, and, well, Matsumoto is a woman. But うちの (uchi no) can also be used by anyone to refer to things that belong to "the house"--or the family, the company, the farm, etc. So if we get insane with grammar, maybe we could argue that the captain Matsumoto's referencing is non-specific, is the Gotei's captain, and is simply *a* captain in the Gotei she had business with. Why Renji wouldn't just assume it was hers, given that we just talked about the fractured nature of Gotei governance, idk, but I mean, it could be Kyouraku. They know each other. [In the anime] people seem to give a lot of reports to Mayuri, too, so I guess it could be him, too. Yes, I think this is nutballs. Yes, it makes 90x more sense that she'd be talking about her captain.

The question Renji asks Matsumoto is: 乱菊さんとこの隊長って誰でしたっけ?

Again, I think the Viz translation makes sense here: "Who's your captain again?" In the Japanese line, my understanding is that he's talking about Matsumoto and this captain in conjunction with each other, and is trying to remember who the captain is. But I guess there might be some room for ambiguity? Like, "You and this captain--remind me who you were talking about?" At least in Japanese for Illiterates 101 (my lifetime enrollment), there are other more elementary ways he could ask who Matsumoto's captain was. So maybe we could read this situationally and say, well, Renji doesn't know who Matsumoto's trying to work with right now. Could be any captain! Which one are you talking about, Rangiku-san? Again, I don't actually think that makes sense, but WE'LL THROW IT OUT THERE.

Did you say "give it up, B3?" Hmmm. After some consideration... Nah!

Option B: We method act this.

Renji is standing around with Iba, Hinamori, and Matsumoto. They're all VCs now, but he definitely knows them better/perhaps more immediately in contexts other than their being VCs. Iba was his superior in the 11th, and Hinamori is his bff/classmate. (Or his douki, as Hitsugaya would say, LOL.) I don't know that there's any reason Renji and Matsumoto would know each other particularly well at this point, except that they're both loosely affiliated with Hisagi (though this is more true for Matsumoto in the anime and in omake paratexts than in the straight manga) and, having served under Ichimaru, Renji probably has some very vague sense of there being some connection to Matsumoto there.

I do think Renji and Matsumoto know each other socially, as two of the few extroverts in all of Soul Society. (Sidebar: Renji speaks politely but still casually to Matsumoto.) But I would be willing to believe that if that's the context in which one knows Matsumoto, she probably doesn't spend a lot of her downtime talking about work. Matsumoto is the work/life balance advocate the Gotei needs! I say this with acknowledgement that we definitely do hear Matsumoto canonically talk a lot about Hitsugaya in social contexts, whether complaining or disseminating random private information/photos, but I still feel like that's probably the exception rather than the rule--the exception we get to see because as the audience we don't care about the other stuff. (Well, we care. Here on Tumblr, the normal people website, where we definitely think about this series in a normal way.)

It's not like Renji doesn't know who Hitsugaya is, as a general person who exists in the world. Renji's friends with Hinamori, but Hinamori probably doesn't talk about him in a 10th-specific context, either. Renji's also not talking to Hinamori right at this moment, and I imagine it's hard to bring all these threads together on the fly when it's not something you really think about. Actually having out-of-context information about these people probably works against him for this, honestly.

Let's say we're Renji:

We're standing in a hallway with people we know in wildly different capacities. We're wearing our VC badge for the first time and it's all kind of official, but the information we've memorized about the Leadership Structure of the Gotei 13 is somewhat academic outside of divisions where we've had actual practical dealings, and isn't part of our fluent thought patterns and information recall.

Even as "which division are you!" is a normal thing to shout at some guy in the streets of the Living World, we haven't historically thought of Matsumoto as being attached to a division or a captain, because we've interacted with her superficially and socially far more often than the one or two times we have in a work context. If we gave ourselves enough time and were so inclined, sure, we could pull up our latent knowledge of the Leadership Structure of the Gotei 13 and superimpose that over Matsumoto and put together which division she was from and who her captain was.

Or we could just ask.

And once Iba answers, "Hitsugaya," we think, ohhhhhhh right right, of course.

Renji's line is あー例の天才児か.

例の (rei no) gives the phrase a sense of like, that thingy, the whatchacall. That 天才児 (tensaiji) one. (NB: 児 = child, which is information I would want to preserve in the line, since this detail will make it really obvious which captain we're talking about when they all show up in Chapter 81.) So I'd translate the line as, "Ahhhhh. That boy genius one."

Renji knows, he just doesn't necessarily actively know, if you know what I mean.

This matters and is interesting to me mostly for the mind mapping, and just thinking through what this world and information feels like to the characters themselves, rather than from our readerly POV. I THINK IT'S SO SEXY.

#bleach chapter 80 extended edition #matsumoto rangiku #abarai renji #bleach language #bleach headcanons #shinigamiology #bleach manga #bleach カラー #no brain just bleach

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strangegremlin · 2 months

Text

Your Body and Mine Will Sing

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham

Universe: Hannibal

Summary: Will breaks into Hannibal's house to confront him but things get unexpectedly steamy and a little bloody as Will leans into his dark desires.

Word count: 1,148

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, oral, blood kink, power kink, slight praise kink, dom!Will/sub!Hannibal, references to murder, bodily harm

Note: I've never written a fanfic before so I hope this one is okay lol. I drew a little pic to go with it :3 I got the title from a line in the poem Love Poem with Dark Face.

---------

Will stands in the moonlight outside of Dr. Lecter's house, hunting knife in hand, ready to confront him about being the Chesapeake Ripper. The only light on is in the upstairs bathroom.

Hannibal must be in the shower. Now’s my chance to sneak in unnoticed. He picks the lock.

The house is dark, only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the tall windows.

Will hears Hannibal exit the shower and start down the stairs so he crouches behind the kitchen counter.

Hannibal goes to the fridge to pour himself a glass of wine but before he can open the bottle, Will pounces on him from behind. Will wrestles him to the ground, putting the knife to his throat.

“Will, don’t be foolish.”

“You don’t get to talk. I’m the one with the knife.”

The psychiatrist grips Will’s waist, flipping him so that he is now on top. Hannibal grabs his hands and pulls them above his head, pressing them into the carpet and making Will drop the knife.

Will wraps his legs tightly around Hannibal, twisting him and knocking him off balance. He uses this momentum to flip them back over and straddle Hannibal, reaching his hands up to the Chesapeake Ripper’s throat.

Hannibal rests his hands on Wills hips and smiles devilishly. Will looks down, noticing how they’re tangled up and blushes. He's basically in the cowgirl position.

Will tightens his grip on Hannibal’s neck to wipe the smug grin off his face but this just causes Hannibal to bite his lip.

Will feels his stomach flutter.

That was weird. Why am I turned on right now?

Will releases his grip and moves his thumb up to Hannibal’s lips, which part, allowing Will’s thumb the enter his warm mouth.

Will lets out a breath as Hannibal massages his thumb with his tongue.

What am I doing? My psychiatrist, the Chesapeake Ripper is sucking my thumb and I’m allowing it.

Wills eyes focus intently on Hannibal’s curved pink lips around his thumb. He can feel his tongue moving in circles and for a second, Will imagines it is something else that was in Hannibal’s mouth.

Then, Hannibal bites Will's thumb, drawing a few drops of blood and causing Will to let out a breathy moan.

Will's head is swimming as he pulls his thumb out and drags it softly across Hannibal’s lips, coating them in crimson.

He leans in to taste his own blood on Hannibal’s lips, feeling himself get hard. Wills senses are flooded with the taste of iron and the smell of Hannibal’s aftershave… and the feeling of Hannibal’s fingers digging into his hips like he’s holding on for dear life.

Will pulls back, grabbing his knife. Hannibal looks him up and down, eager to see what he’ll do with it.

Will presses the knife gently to Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal doesn’t flinch, and instead leans his head back a little to help Will’s blade find its spot.

Hannibal’s eyes twinkle darkly as they meet Will’s, making him gulp.

Will steadies himself and makes a tiny nick in Hannibal’s neck, just enough to draw a few pearls of red. He leans in, kissing the nick softly, causing Hannibal to let out a whimper.

Will moves his lips all around Hannibal’s neck kissing softly, then roughly, making Hannibal squirm and tighten his grip on Will's hips.

Then, Will pulls back to admire his work.

He looks at Hannibal bathed in moonlight, painted with his bloody kisses, and his heart melts a little.

He had always noticed Hannibal was a very handsome man but he had never seen him as beautiful as he was right now, smeared in red, marked by him.

Will's blue eyes glitter as he smirks, “Who’s my pretty boy?”

Hannibal’s eyes widen as he lets out a small breath. Will feels Hannibal’s bulge harden underneath him.

“Oh, interesting.” Will coos with amusement.

He leans in next to Hannibal’s ear and whispers “You’re my pretty boy, Hannibal.”

Hannibal blushes and bucks his hips up making Will smirk again. He finally had Hannibal under his control. Will's body buzzed from the power he held over the Chesapeake Ripper.

“Would you kill for me?”

“In a heartbeat, Will.”

Will leans in and forcefully kisses Hannibal. Their fingers tangle in each other's hair as they roll around together.

Then, they pull back for a second and look at each other. Their eyes meet and they giggle for a second like they were teenagers fooling around at summer camp.

Their fingers hastily dance around each other's shirts, making quick work of the buttons, even popping a few off by accident.

Will trails wet kisses down Hannibal's neck, torso, and then stomach, until he reaches his belt. After fumbling with it for a second, he is able to free his length.

Will looks up at Hannibal’s pleading eyes as he places a kiss on his tip. A small bead of precum was already leaking from his psychiatrist. Will puts the tip in his mouth and moves his tongue in circles, teasing him.

Hannibal runs his fingers through Will’s dark curls, breathing heavily.

“Mmh Will…”

Will looks up at the man and admires the view from this new angle. Hannibal’s jaw clenches as he arches his back with pleasure.

Will takes the whole length in his mouth and bobs his head, causing Hannibal to let out the softest moans. The feeling of Hannibal's strong hands tangled in his hair sends a warm shiver down Will's exposed back.

Will's pace speeds up as Hannibal's breath quickens; he can tell he is getting closer to climax.

Hannibal looks down at Will, meeting his eyes. The image of his beloved Will with his mouth full of his cock is intoxicating. He growls and bites his lip to stifle himself.

With that, Will takes Hannibal's entire cock and throats it, causing the man to jerk with pleasure.

"Oh- fuck," Hannibal moans loudly.

Will realizes he has never really heard him cuss much before. He also realizes that he finds it incredibly hot that he is able to make Hannibal unravel like that with just his mouth.

Will deepthroats Hannibal again, drawing another whining growl out of him. Hannibal is so deep in his throat that Will's lips are practically pressed against Hannibal's skin.

Then, Will pulls back again and gently sucks the tip.

"Ah- Will... I'm- gonna-"

One more time, Will takes Hannibal's whole cock down his throat as he climaxes. Will feels Hannibal's length pulse as he spills down his throat and lets out a satisfied, breathless moan.

Their eyes meet again as Will swallows. He smiles as he notices that Hannibal's cheeks are pink and dewy with sweat. His own lips are puffy and red from the friction, and Hannibal stares at them longingly.

He pulls Will in for a kiss, tasting himself on his lips. Then, he smiles slyly.

"Now it's your turn."

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nerdieforpedro · 2 months

Text

WIP Wednesday and Thursday

I made a graphic for them I do these so often. 😆

This one will be a bit different from other WIP Wednesday. I’m going to give a brief overview of each one of my WIPs. (There are a lot, not all of them are on Tumblr, I’ll mention which ones are.)

I was tagged by @secretelephanttattoo @trulybetty @fhatbhabie ❤️ and @rhoorl I think. I feel like I mostly got it right. 😂

“This is the Neighborhood Din” My modern Din Djarin AU with a human Grogu (affectionately called Little G). Three chapters are up so far and four is almost done. I’m having a lot of fun writing it (outside of chapter two - Domestic Violence warning on that one.) I’m introducing different Star Wars characters each chapter and their interconnected relationships while keeping with my silly brand of humor. Know that Johnnie Mae is the MVP.

“Weddings 101 with Dieter” A series near and dear to me as with this series I really doubled down on writing Dieter Bravo overall as well as my delusional belief that I am somehow a comedy writer. Maya and Dieter are a hot mess, I love Daisy, Dieter’s trusty goat and that this series is the crazy ridiculous rom-com I wanna see. ❤️ Also I made Oscar Isaac have imaginary beef with Dieter and am having way too much fun writing it. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine loves this series and I love her for loving it. 🥰

“The Lake Between Us” My sleepy, dreamy series with Ezra. He has an airboat, he has a house across of the OFC’s on a lake. He cooks gumbo in a tank top. This series was inspired by Ezra cooking (I dunno why) and turned into an eight part series on two people growing closer. There’s two interludes (I’m scrapping the third one - thanks to @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for beta reading filth. This is the one time it doesn’t fit lol)

“Only Pieces of You Mr. Morales” My angsty sensual (also has a lot of sex because it’s Frankie) short series I created on a whim last week. I finally was able to write for Frankie this year outside of prompts. 👀 I describe different parts of Frankie’s body each Friday. I put out (pfft) two drabbles on Fridays. It’s a friends to friends to benefits to them figuring it all out. Maybe because I put Frankie through the wringer to much is why when I put Frankie drabbles in @i-own-loki ‘s box, she thinks I’m harming the man. 😭 I love Frankie I swear!

“Our Journey Across the Star Ocean” My fluffy Din series where you and Din (especially) are super awkward, very sweet and idiots. Three tropes I love. I have two parts and I’m working on a third. I’m not sure how long this one will be. On the shorter side for sure. Fluff for @grogusmum and @604to647

“Come away with me Angel” This is my Benny series I finally tossed out into the world. There’s only one part but I am working on part two. Friends to lovers and one house I guess as far as tropes go. I see to have a thing with cooking because so far in chapter two Benny is cooking shirtless. @rhoorl and @musings-of-a-rose we’ll need to discuss this.

“Post Apocalyptic Fluff and Stuff” This is @maggiemayhemnj ‘s brain child. She told me I made up a genre of post apocalyptic fluff so we’re going to have more. The stuff refers to darker topics because it is an apocalypse, but 80% fluff. I’ll have emoji indicators.

Unposted Planned Series:

“A Safe Place for Us” is what happens when I think on an obsessive baby daddy Dieter I wrote for a spring prompt because what else goes with a brick house am I right?! No? Well, it’s what we’re getting. Eventually. After Weddings 101. They’re not connected, different OFC and I have all sorts of silly titles.

“Therapy for the Well Adjusted” If there’s someone who is going to be put through the wringer, it’s Marcus Pike. He has an incident at work where he needs to take some time off. Because he’s Pike, he seeks out a therapist. After a miss or two, he vibes with Dr. Mint. The OFC has a longer road to therapy met with therapists whose vibes are way off and also no one needs to touch your Cakatoo. Ever. Not a euphemism an actual bird. Eventually, the OFC finds Dr. Julip. Both doctors share a practice. Nerdie style hijinks ensue. Inspired by a Marcus mini-series I made in my Spring Prompts and my own experiences with therapy.

“So Fairy not Jedi?” Din and Grogu meet a fairy warrior. Possibly might be a soulmate AU too? Din’s having all the AUs Working title just vibes. Expect it to be weird, wild and hopefully wonderful.

“It’s not all bad right cariño?” Javier Peña, the elusive, owner of aviators and the amplifier behind them. I had thoughts about him being in an AU in Loredo post Narcos as a sheriff and his interactions with a lawyer from the DA’s office Thalia. Since I haven’t given Javier much other than major angst, pickles, guava and a lot of fingers (the former DEA agent knows what I mean), I can give him a little bit of silly and something sweet. Also just vibes, but I have bullet points. Dancing and yellow jasmine.

“Ezra as a sex worker” Bullet points. Sometimes you just have him hold you, sometimes he talks the entire time but it’s fine because he sounds like sipping warm bourbon while sitting on an over stuffed chair with your feet propped up and it’s massaging all your limbs. Ezra does wonder why you don’t actually come here for sex but he’s getting paid for his time so he can keep that to himself. Until he’s in one of his rambles and asks. A cascade of events occur and he’s living in your house later. Still cooking because I always want Ezra to cook. Pfft.

Feel free to send me an ask or drop a comment about any of these. I think about them all way too much. 🤣🤣

As I was asked by @for-a-longlongtime earlier this week when talking her ear off about something, “How many words do you even write per week?!” 🙃🙃 I have no idea. It’s a lot. Maybe 2-3k but given what I post per week that feels low. It’s a compulsion at this point.

We’re at the end, thanks for reading this far! 💜💜💜

NPT: @undercoverpena-fics @megamindsecretlair @saturn-rings-writes @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @schnarfer @wannab-urs @connectioneverywhere @inept-the-magnificent @covetyou @gemmahale @goodwithcheese @lady-bess @morallyinept @trulybetty @alltheglitterandtheroar @alltheotps @slippinninque @magpiepills @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @laurfilijames @yorksgirl @julesonrecord @djarinmuse @paulmescal-s @tinytinymenace @pedroshotwifey

#wip #wip wednesday #wip thursday #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #so many thoughts #so many wips #din djarin #joel miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales #dieter bravo #javier pena fanfiction #ezra prospect #marcus pike

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sideprince · 1 month

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Speaking of James, what do you think of him in the prequel + Lily’s letter? She mentioned him not having the chance to go on excursions without the cloak, despite them being in hiding.

I've been thinking about this question and funnily enough it came up in another post where I had a fun back and forth with @seriousbrat! I should probably preface my answer by saying that I haven't put that much thought into James or Lily in general, and I don't really spend time in the parts of the fandom that discuss them at length, so my thoughts are based on a cursory revisiting of the text. Some of what I say may be basic stuff for the Jily/Marauders/¯\_(ツ)_/¯ parts of the fandom, some of it may be stuff that has already been counter argued with points I haven't thought of, etc. This isn't my area of interest, but your question is interesting! Tl;dr proceed with caution I guess lol.

The first thing that comes to mind about the letter from Lily to Sirius is why she wrote it in the first place. My own reading of it is that it's meant to be exposition more than something that has to do with a thought out relationship between these characters. Like many others, I'm frustrated with the minimal and flat way Lily is written. We get very few insights into who she was, most of them through descriptions from other characters like Slughorn. To me it's clear that Rowling held back on her for the sake of the big reveal at the end of DH, and I think a lot of Lily's character development got thrown under the bus as a result. But it could also just be that Lily is writing a thank you to Sirius for Harry's birthday present and it was the only time she ever sent him anything, but in the process she's giving him an update since they know each other as well as anyone knows their spouse's best friend.

In her letter she writes:

James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell - also, Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much.

Deathly Hallows Ch. 10

Lily is showing a lot of sympathy for James here, while also acknowledging that if he had his Invisibility Cloak he would probably be sneaking out under it. I know that this implication is contentious across fandoms, and my own thoughts on it are: it falls within James' character to do something like that and be reckless, but while I think it's irresponsible and shitty, I also don't think he's satan incarnate for it, by any means. To me it - and how young James tends to be written - shows that he's an immature guy in a war where he spends most of his time shut up in a comfortable house instead of fighting (ie. his ideals aren't tested or challenged by trauma), and the first chance he gets to do something brave he forgets his wand on the couch and is immediately killed. I think James had very good intentions but kind of bad follow through.

In her letter, Lily is also asking Sirius to come visit to cheer James up, which I find strange, given the two men are such close friends. Why should Lily have to ask Sirius to visit? Are he and James not in touch? Or is Lily being thoughtful and identifying James needs and trying to meet them when he hasn't done so himself? Again, I think this letter is more about exposition, so I don't think there's any significant meaning here, just that the author was a bit careless. Lily then goes on to say:

Wormy was here last weekend, I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.

For me there's a conspicuous absence of any note referring to what a comfort James was. I talked about this in my other ask, but I think a lot of James, and as an extension his relationship with Lily, is the author's projection of her own experience in an abusive relationship and what she wishes it had been. That isn't to say I think James abused Lily, but rather that Rowling transferred some of her abusive husband's qualities onto James, while also projecting a fantasy of what she wished he had been onto the character too, ie. a devoted, loving father onto him who would - and did - die for his family. A lot of James' actions, mannerisms, and words - his arrogance, dismissiveness, and enjoyment of cruelty towards select people he has dehumanized - raises my own red flags as an abuse survivor. While I think he was a bully at school - and bullying is a form of abuse - I don't think he was abusive to his wife or child. I could draw a parallel with the phenomenon of the prison guard who enacts cruelty on his charges freely and then goes home and is a loving, doting husband and father who wouldn't hurt a fly, because he only abuses those he dehumanizes. Instead, though, what I think is going on is that Rowling is projecting a lot of her first husband onto James, and unconsciously and unintentionally leaving a trail of abuser red flags written into his character.

It hits hard for me that Lily is concerned enough about James, and empathetic enough of him, that she shares her worry about his frustration and cabin fever with his best friend, and asks him to come visit, because she wants to cheer James up - yet she makes no mention of James being a comfort to her when she spends all night crying about her friend being murdered. In short, Lily is identifying and attending to James' needs but we see no indication that this is reciprocated. It doesn't feel out of line for an abuse victim to describe a relationship like this, especially since it would be so simple to have added something like, "as difficult as it is being shut up in this cottage, it was a great comfort to have James that night."

It's odd to me that someone thoughtful enough to attend to their spouse's emotional needs would forgo expression appreciation for them doing the same, so my reading of this is that James doesn't provide Lily with the same kind of comfort. More importantly, it doesn't seem to be on Rowling's radar to mention how James reacted to his wife outright crying for a whole evening, which tracks with how a lot of abuse victims understand relationships, ie. it often doesn't occur to them that they should be reciprocal. And so, Rowling forgets to add in the bit where James offers Lily comfort, perhaps because it was something she lacked experience of and therefore didn't think to write. And while I feel the need to include the requisite statement of "fuck JKR and her transphobic, bigoted views" I also feel that despite that, I won't sink to her level and dehumanize others, and therefore feel it's still important to balance that view with sympathy for her experiences as an abuse victim.

As for the prequel, the implication seems to be that two muggle cops got in the middle of James and Sirius escaping from some Death Eaters. It's a fun little piece but also reveals that Rowling really benefits from having an editor, because the prose is overwrought and a bit clumsy. In terms of what it says about James' and Sirius' character, they don't seem at all concerned with violating the Statute of Secrecy in front of muggles, or with protecting those muggles from the three wizards who are presumably Death Eaters. James and Sirius were described by Rowling as "bad boys" and she talked about how this was something sexy that all women loved in men (which I find problematic for a number of reasons), however she doesn't seem to differentiate between youthful rebelliousness and selfish destructiveness. It's something Lupin talks about in PoA when he reflects on their youthful adventures. In any case, James and Sirius weren't rebellious - not in their bullying at school, not in their animagi nights, and not in the prequel. They weren't challenging an unfair authority or status quo, but instead were pursuing their own fun for fun's sake, and other people often get hurt, or come dangerously close to it.

In the prequel they leave the cops vulnerable and without defense with the three DEs who are knocked out and might be back on their feet any minute. Given that Death Eaters torture muggles for sport in canon, this seems like a careless and callous move. I also feel like the Phoenix shirts are a bit cheesy... Dumbledore would never? Is the idea that James and Sirius made the shirts themselves? Or is this just another clumsy literary device that exists for the sake of exposition but doesn't fit the characters all that well? I feel like if the Order did have some kind of gear with their emblem on it, it would be more subtle and also a bit more refined than a t-shirt. The idea of these besties wearing matching shirts is cute, it just feels out of character.

I'm not sure if this was the parallel you meant to draw or were asking about, but as to whether the prequel story takes place while James and Lily are in hiding, I don't think it does. James and Sirius are described as looking like they're in their "late teens" and this seems to be a pretty clear indication from the author that this is the age they're at. James and Lily are killed when they're 21, and they'd been in hiding for about a year according to @said-snape-softly's calcutations in this amazing post (though I need to adjust the timeline a bit because @saintsenara had some great thoughts too in this other post). So even if it was just a year or six months in between, I think the prequel story is set before James and Lily go into hiding.

#asks #long post

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yamayuandadu · 3 months

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How high are the chances that Ōtakemaru (大嶽丸) will appear in the Touhou Project? He is one of the original three greatest yokai in Japan. Kishin (鬼神) has already been introduced in the Wild and Horned Hermit manga, with Suiki (水鬼) as one of them, though I also hope for more of Fujiawara Chikata's Onis in the series.

I don’t have any uncles or other relatives customarily said to relay such info working for Team Shanghai Alice so I couldn’t in good faith claim I have any real idea what are the odds that ZUN will base a character on him. As for whether I think it would work, you can find out under the cut.

Before Urumi no oni actually shown in the games was based on anyone other than Shuten Dōji’s underlings but it seems safe to say nothing’s off limits now, between her and Zanmu, whose counterpart wasn’t even regarded as an oni (at best you could make a case for tengu since Razan Hayashi considered his Buddhist opponents tengu and this category sort of kind of includes Zanmu since he’s mentioned in one of his tirades against Tenkai).

ZUN’s definition of kishin is basically made up, so I am not sure if it has any impact on who might plausibly show up. There is a real term for oni and oni-adjacent figures shown in scenes of hell, kisotsu (鬼卒) or gokusotsu (獄卒), but I don’t really see much overlap in use with kishin, which is ultimately a label I’ve actually mostly seen in onmyōdō context. Also, the concept of “three greatest yokai” is an entirely modern invention. On top of that, Kazuhiko Komatsu coined it entirely based on the fact that the three stories whose antagonists he refers to with this moniker end with their remains placed in the treasure house of Uji. I’m not sure where the similar grouping with Sutoku listed instead of Ōtakemaru alongside Tamamo no Mae and Shuten Dōji originates, but I find it to be more representative, both because it makes the group into a genuine quintessence of all major medieval fears, and because there is a solid case to be made that these three are the big names with the most reinterpretations. I have nothing against Ōtakemaru, but his historical popularity seems more limited. He’s somewhere between Kidōmaru and completely z listers like idk. Kugamimi no Mikasa in terms of notoriety and I feel like you could make a case for the likes of Zegaibō, Tarōbō or even Tesso over him as “greatest yokai” and whatnot.

Perhaps an argument can be made that Ōtakemaru’s relative lack of actual notoriety makes him more suitable for Touhou. That’s a point I can’t refute. However, in practical terms, I am not sure what a character based on him would offer that Suika couldn’t do better - all that sets him apart from just being a budget Shuten Dōji is the location he lived in and his opponent, and neither of these would really matter in Touhou most likely. Tbh I’m not even sure if there’s any real benefit to going with Ōtakemaru over Suzuka Gozen, frankly. Not even being the character with most potential in own story seems like a problem.

As far as other oni go, I’m not sure if I’d go with Fujiwara no Chikata’s minions either, they are pretty bland themselves; they work well in Megaten but that’s about it. Not like Suiki is a character in the proper sense in Touhou - I’ve seen people not even realizing this is a given name and I can't blame them. As far as oni who would be fun to see go, Momiji instantly comes to mind (the story is even set in the right province lol), but there are many good candidates. Off the top of my head: the oni Ki no Haseo encountered (I feel like you could do a lot with the body parts patchwork woman from that story. Dr. Frankenstein themed oni?), the oni of Rashomon version from the Minamoto no Hiromasa legend which makes him a reincarnation of a master craftsman from India, or Abe no Nakamaro (my personal favorite, I have a character based on him).

#japanese miscellanea #touhou

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chunkymamatam · 1 month

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oh wow from what i have seen your stories sound cool 🤩 what are your relationships w the main cast? my fav character is prolly leona and rook so do you have any stories w them? 😊

So it's a college DR. I'm gonna start everything I'm about to say with that. Like there's probably nothing in these specific stories that I need to say that for but like I'm gonna say that every time.

Some people are weird. I'm an adult and I don't really want to hang out with a bunch of high school age teenagers. I'm also not willing to age myself down and relive the worst years of my life lmfao. We're all in the adult age bracket in my DR. Nothing wrong with being a teenager but it would feel weird for me to have a whole friend group full of them and I'm not about to be perpetually lonely.

Also I tend to not define my relationships with labels. I'm bad at labels so it's easier to define them with my experiences with each person.

Now on to my experience with these men.

Leona

THIS MF- Lmfao I first met this man in the botanical garden like in the game, tripped over and stepped on his tail accidentally. Man threatened to knock my lights out. Now, I'm genderfluid and it was a more masc day but I certainly didn't tell him that. IDK HOW TF HE KNEW. Referred to me as the correct pronouns and shit too.

He sniffed me and I was like "Hey, could you not sniff me...? Do I stink??"

He looked me up and down and proceeded to be like "Not yet but you will when I'm done beating your ass"

BRO I SAID SORRY BEFORE YOU COULD EVEN GET A WORD IN CALM DOWN

Ruggie stopped the fight but still.

2. During The whole Spell drive situation, first of all I didn't even want to be there but Crowely has a habit of threatening me and my housing. I was at Savanaclaw, being harassed by this mf named Blaze, and Leona comes out wanting to be a bitch. I explained why I was there and this man brushed it off and says

"How about we settle this over a game of Spell Drive. You win and I'll answer any questions you have but if you lose. Well I'll think of something." with that stupid smirk of his /pos

I lost and this man tackled me to the ground with his final move. He had me pinned down smirking down at me and I was internally complaining he was taking too long to gtf off me. So me, being a dastardly bastard, smirked up at him and said

"You like something you see that you're taking so long to get up" and I blew him a kiss.

BRO GOT UP SO FAST LMFAO

There's more during book 2 but honestly their overblots in general were kind of traumatizing and I'm not in the mood to talk about it. For now just know they tried to end my life and said some really cruel shit.

3. After the over blot tho. I got knocked the fuck out despite my best efforts and we ended up in the infirmary together with everyone. Cheka jumped on him and started treating him like a pony. I was doing my best not to laugh at him. He looked at me, told me not to laugh and I busted out laughing. I couldn't help it! It was just too cute! He was forced to take me home back to ramshackle by everyone there cuz I didn't look too good but there was nothing else the nurse could do. They essentially told him that it's his fault I was hurt the least he could do is take me home.

4. So during the Octavinelle situation we had to stay with him for a while. Now I didn't mind cleaning up after him and sharing a room with him for a few days. In fact I was giggling at him and making fun of him a little for having Ruggie straighten his hair all the time. He actually has 2B curls in my DR lol

I was like "Damn.. Gentrified." and he was fighting for his life lmfao I was like "Nah but in all seriousness are you not scared to ruin your curls?"

Turns out he uses some fancy heat protection product in his hair. I don't straighten my hair anymore so like I genuinely don't know how well those work but I think that was a funny interaction.

back to the original story tho. Floyd ended up giving me the squeeze and I went into a seizure. My brain was fried I told him this too. I was like "Hey Leona, I just had a seizure earlier so I'm gonna be a little slower and ditsier while cleaning you room. Just a fair warning before you think I'm acting like a little weirdo."

This man fr looked at me and was like "why are you slurring your words" Sir I just fucking told you my brain misfired. I ignore it and he just kept going bro.

"Why are you moving like that."

"You're taking too long, this is just excessive."

"I bet you're just faking it so you don't have to do your part. You probably lied and didn't even have a seizure."

At that point I was fucking done. I looked at him and said "You know what? I don't have to take this. I'm sleeping outside of Ramshackle." I stole HIS PILLOWS and HIS BLANKETS and fumbled my ass out back to Ramshackle.

A little while later he comes up to me and apologizes. I was so weirded out I was like "So who's holding a gun to your head?"

He huffed and made a frustrated face and was like "can't I just say sorry, Herbivore?"

"You personally? No. Someone is making you do this."

I was right, Jack and Grim chewed him tf out for that shit. Grim bragged about it to me that's how I found out lol. But anyway he grumbled and was like "Just come back to Savanaclaw with me"

I said "No. I'm gonna stay right here like I said I would."

This mf decides to pick me up and drag me back by force. I told the mf to put me down which resulted in and argument. Eventually I was like "Fuck you!"

This mfer responds with "You'd like that." with a smirk.

I scoffed and was like "I would NEVER want to do that with a son of a bitch who can't even tie his own shoes properly. I have a medical issue that fucks with my motor skills, what's your excuse???"

Man stfu after that.

It's funny cuz genuinely we were chill after that pfffff

Rook

Our first interaction was literally him looking at Vil sideways for the way that mfer was acting towards me and honestly I think that's so funny.

I don't necessarily have very many stories about him just little experiences. Like when I called him out for watching me before I turned around to look at him and idk what that expression was but it scares me LMFAO

He calls me Monsieur Souris

He woke me up every morning gently but when I went back to sleep got Vil. Like bruh I can sleep a little the school is RIGHT THERE. Overall he truly is mysterious. He's really not as creepy as everyone says. Until he starts hunting you anyway. I am not game monsieur Hunt. Please back off 😭

I think he's still trying to figure some stuff out with me? Idk a lot of people do that to me so maybe that's it.

Sorry if there's spelling/grammar errors. My brain is melting from this heat. Thank you for the ask ❤

#shifting realities #shifting to desired reality #reality shifter #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifting community #shifting to twisted wonderland #shifting stories #reality shifting #desired reality #reality shift #shiftblr #shifters

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wooahaes · 2 years

Text

cold hands, warm heart

pairing: vampire!junhui x gn!reader

prompt: hey remember when i made this post? so do i lol.

word count: 2.1k~

warnings: reader gets caught in a storm and breaks into jun’s house. kind-of pissed reader at their friends. short-lived fears of being murdered. vampire jun being clueless about technology. mentions of vampire minghao as a doctor [heavily implied jun has been around a lot longer than hao]. no drugs depicted but mentions of drugs/dealers in reference to jun calling dr. xu his “dealer” (bc he deals him bags of blood). blood mentions. also reader suffers from hypothermia and jun saves their ass. also like no proofreading i just want to post this rn.

daisy’s notes: no promises on a sequel of just reader n vernon taking jun to stuff at night/on cloudy days, but know the idea lives rent free in my head.

It was a dark and stormy night, and you were a pissed idiot lost in the woods.

All you had meant to do was go on one little nature hike. Something about getting more in touch with nature, just existing, yadda yadda--you’d fight every single person who told you it’d be a good idea to get away from “technology” and “life” this way. Some of them could absolutely demolish you, but you’d go down swinging at the very least--Seungcheol’s buff arms meant nothing to a pissed-off person. Your phone was dead, your belongings completely soaked (to say nothing about you--the rain was cold as fuck), and you were pretty sure your flashlight was going to die too to add a cherry on top of this fucking tragedy of a day. They’d find you eventually, you were sure--Vernon, your roommate, knew approximately where you were and that you wouldn’t have gone too far. If anything, help was probably coming in the next few hours.

But it was still fucking cold and you were miserable. The pains of not having a portable charger (Seungkwan borrowed it and Soonyoung lost it, the assholes). Even then, you were sure your phone was probably fucked from the water.

The only light at the end of the tunnel? An abandoned looking manor a little further up the path you had stumbled onto. The gates looked a little rusted, but you were sure you could pull them open with a hard enough tug. If you could break in, you could at least squat there until the rain stopped. It was better than being stuck out in the rain, at least.

While the front door was locked, you managed to find a window that was slightly ajar. It was annoying as hell to have to hoist yourself through it, the window a smidge too tall for you to comfortably do it--but, fuck, you would rather deal with throwing all three thousand pounds of your soaking wet clothes and belongings and body through a window than stay outside for another minute. Joshua Hong was going to get his ass kicked after all of this. You’d rank everyone mentally later on a scale from “could kill me” to “I could take them” once you got some rest.

Except... this place was definitely not abandoned. The outside sure as fuck was, but there was electricity. The study you had thrown yourself into had books that you were pretty damn sure came out within the past few years, along with a fair amount that were old enough to not warrant a title. Must be some sort of collector.

Oh, shit, that meant someone could call the cops.

You threw off your bag nonetheless. Maybe if you explained the situation (rain bad, might pass out if you didn’t start getting warmer soon because your fingers were going numb from the cold), whoever lived here would let you go with a “don’t come back, idiot,” once the rain was over. If they did, you could forgive the tacky decorations that were definitely not from this century. Despite the modern additions to the home (the books you’d seen, for one, and the working electricity, and you were pretty sure you saw a television in one of the rooms you peeked into), whoever lived here was apparently fond of Victorian decor. You couldn’t blame them, but they could at least tie things together a little more.

You pushed a door open and came into a dining room with a small spread along the table. Nothing too huge like you’d expect from lavish vampire novels where the idiot protag (you, in this case) showed up to a vampire’s house without realizing it, but food nonetheless. But you almost didn’t notice the man on the other side of the table, who had been pouring wine until you opened the door. He softly swore under his breath as he proceeded to directly spill it onto his hand and the tablecloth, before he looked back up at you.

“Who are you and how did you get here?”

You took one full step before slipping on the puddle of water dripping off of you, and immediately felt pain spiral through your body. Almost too fast to be real, the man had crossed the room, coming to check you over.

His hands were colder than yours, but his eyes were warm as he gently began to check you over. “Is it raining...?” He looked up to where the curtains were drawn in front of the windows. “You’re lost, then...”

You nodded. “It’s cold--”

“Oh!” He was already pulling you to your feet, “You’re freezing... Here,” he helped you toward the lit fireplace, not too far from where he was sitting. “Don’t sit too close,” he told you, pulling a spare chair over. He brushed the dust off of it before pushing you to sit down. “If you warm up too fast, you’ll go into shock. Let me bring you something dry to wear.”

He was being too nice now. He went from rightfully offended to concerned and caring, and you were starting to suspect you might actually get murdered. If you were going to get murdered, maybe he’d at least wait long enough for you to feel your fingers first. It’d give you a fighting chance, and you sure as hell weren’t going to go down without a fight. Yet the man soon enough returned to you with loose clothing that you were sure were both not his and picked out in a large enough size that they’d fit you loosely.

“I’ve had a lot of guests a long time ago,” he told you, setting down the clothing. “If this doesn’t fit, I should have something that does...”

You had to wonder what kind of guests showed up here when the outside of his house looked abandoned. The man disappeared, muttering something about having towels--that you should change while he fetched them for you. Despite how much your body didn’t want to move, you pushed yourself to change while he was gone, moving as quickly as you could. Minutes after you finally set back down with a groan, warmth slowly returning to your body, he returned--and you realized how he must have been waiting longer, just to give you your privacy.

“I called my friend,” he told you, draping a towel around your body, and then a blanket he had draped over his shoulder. “Are you able to swallow? You seem alert...” He crouched down, watching you a moment longer. “He said you should be fine with warm drinks...”

“Is he a doctor?” You stared at him warily.

And yet he smiled at your question. “He is,” he said. “He works in the hospital here,” he sat down next to you. “I’ll have to ask him if you’ll be fine with food...”

This man was way too friendly and helpful to not be planning to kill you, probably. Then again... if he wanted to harm you, why help you at all?

“I don’t have a need for it, so I don’t know what hu--you would need right now...”

You stared at this man. What the fuck was that supposed to mean.

He changed the topic. “Junhui,” he told you after a moment. “My name is Wen Junhui.” It was something he took pride in, at least, considering the way he straightened up ever-so-slightly. If you had to admit it, it was a little cute, but...

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Dude, are you, like, a vampire or some shit? Your hands are freezing.”

Which, admittedly, not also the smartest thing you’d done. You’d done a lot of stupid things that day and you could maybe blame it on the mild hypothermia.

He blinked at you. “You didn’t notice...” He said, and you just realized that this bitch had fangs.

Again, not your smartest moment. Or hour. Or day, for that matter. Might as well mark the beginning of “not your finest hour” at when you agreed to go fuck around in the woods “to get in touch with nature” after Joshua pitched the idea to you, the endpoint yet-to-be-seen.

“Maybe you’re more sick than I thought,” he frowned. He pressed the back of his hand against your face--just enough to gauge your body temperature before he pulled it away. “Most people notice sooner.”

Oh, great, and now you were an idiot in the eyes of the pretty vampire man. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He giggled at you. “That’s okay,” he said. “That’s why I live out here, by the way. It’s actually quite shady--I can go outside during the day and not burst into flames.”

You raised a brow. “That’s real?”

“It takes a little time, but it is.” He pulled his knees in, looking at you in the cutest goddamn manner--how the hell was this man a vampire? Weren’t they supposed to be creepy? He just seemed glad to have some company. “If it’s cloudy, I can go outside for longer. It helps when I have to go into town.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you shifted a little closer to the fire, “but, uh... Why do you go into town?”

“I like cooking.”

“But you don’t need food.”

“I like doing it,” he said. “So I have to get ingredients.”

“Why not just get them delivered?”

“You can do that?!” He stared at you, immediately picking up his phone. “I’m not good with technology,” he said to you, and turned his phone to show you texts between him and someone named “dr.xu [dealer].” Junhui pushed his hair back from his face, “Dr. Xu helps.”

You took his phone from him, looking over auto-corrected texts that this doctor man was somehow able to decipher. It probably came with knowing Junhui, if you had to guess. “Why does it say he’s your dealer?”

“Because he deals me blood.”

Oh. Oh no, he’s obliviously cute, too. “Maybe you shouldn’t call him your dealer.”

He blinked at you, head titled. “What?”

“Just... Just don’t call him your dealer. People will think you’re talking about drugs.” You started to look for a weather radar before you showed him the wonders of modern technology and things like grocery deliveries. The storm wasn’t going to clear up for a few more hours, from what you could tell.

“Oh.” He nodded. “I see.” He paused. “What happened to your phone?”

You frowned. “Probably destroyed by water damage. I’ll have to clean it with alcohol.”

“Why not rice?”

“That is bullshit and you shouldn’t believe anyone who says it now,” you pointed at him. “My friend had to get it fixed after rice got stuck in the charging port and it cost him more than cleaning it normally would have been.”

Junhui nodded, making a mental note of it. “You’re smart,” he said. “I think Dr. Xu said something similar.”

Something told you that Dr. Xu was likely the one keeping Junhui relatively modern, in terms of technology. The food on the table looked delicious, but everything from the last twenty years or so... probably went straight over Junhui’s head. It made you wonder how long he’d been around.

“So...” You hesitated for a moment. “Why do you need blood from Dr. Xu? Don’t you like.. feed on people?”

Junhui frowned. “Ah... It’s inconvenient. Most of my partners move on after a while. It’s draining. I don’t blame them,” he shrugged. “I’m used to it. The deal with Dr. Xu works better.”

“Is he your only friend?” You asked, immediately smacking yourself mentally for it.

He paused. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“You could be my friend,” he said. “If you’d like.”

Something about the way he asked warmed your heart. That shy look on his face, the timid smile he was giving you... You had to wonder how long he had been mostly on his own. When Dr. Xu came into his life, who was in it before then...

“I think I’d like that,” you said. Something about this pretty vampire man was endearing. Maybe it was how genuine he seemed to be after all: you stumbled into his home and he was here to take care of you, looking after you like he’d done it before. You introduced yourself at long last, watching the way his eyes lit up at the sound of your name.

He repeated it back, testing it on his own tongue. “It’s a pleasure,” he said to you with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve made a new friend.”

Well... You’d just have to fix that, wouldn’t you? You were sure that Vernon would like him--Vernon was into supernatural stuff. You’d just have to introduce him slowly before the enthusiast in him took over.

“Do you want to see the videos of cats that I found?”

... Okay, maybe you already like the cute vampire man a lot more than you thought. Hopefully this would be the start of something sweet.

general taglist: @wonuziex @twancingyunhao

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seventeen fluff #junhui fluff #junhui x reader #junhui x you #wen junhui x reader #wen junhui x you #jun x reader #jun x you #jun fluff

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