#i think what causes him to lash out and struggle to communicate is his inability to articulate his feelings

[qoldenskies]

i think its so funny when people take the way donnie acts at face value even though its a horrible lie because he's a horrible liar, while understanding leo is bullshitting very well despite him actually being GOOD at bullshitting. many such cases

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Koga Yudai (K) Perspective Reading

Disclaimer: No facts, all alleged. This is my interpretation of the cards and energy I work with.

Going in blind with this one as I have never really tapped into his energy that much, so I will see what I can pick up from him and it is fun diving into someone I am not familiar with to see what I get.

Oh man, this dude seems to have some anger issues I am seeing with this card spread. It is like he wants to cause some chaos and destruction. I don't think he likes the clean image he has to portray that much. It is like he would like a bit of drama. I am also seeing him being addicted to things that are not healthy for him, be it drugs, drinking, eating habits, sex whatever his vice may be. I see him having something he constantly fixates on. I see this as a distraction from his own problems. It seems he does not want to face himself.

I wanted one more card and got a card of shame for him, so maybe that is why he likes to distract himself with some sort of vice. He may have done something he isn't too proud of and does these things to cope. I see him being tempted by things and succumbing to it, and there can be shame in that for him.

I continue to see toxic habits here. I think he tries to cut it out, but struggles and once again seeing things about anger and frustration with him and lashing out on others, it is hard for him to control his temper and mouth. It is like he may repress things and then it blows up all at once. There is this inability for him to close the gab and compromise with others, or extend himself to others. I can also see him disconnecting from others as well.

I see another card of him being highly obsessive and passionate about things. Sometimes that can be good for him. Other times not so much. I don't see him as someone who looks ahead to the future or someone who sees the big picture. He just seems hyper fixated on what is right in front of him. So, this could lead him to problems, because he doesn't see things far in advance.

I am not sure why I get guidance from them, since they can't see this, but I am tapped into his energy, so it will connect with his soul source, so I guess that is why. But also, this guidance does give us insight to where he is at. Anyway, the guides may want him to go find his happy place or a peaceful place for him to get space to clear his mind. This may give him an opportunity to see the beauty in things and find joy. He may be someone who struggles to see that and can be one who has a defeatist mindset.

I say he needs to work on taking steps forward and doing things bit by bit. He may struggle to make changes, because he may try to do everything all at once, but he should learn baby steps is the way forward. I see another card of him struggling to move past something or leave a habit behind. It is like he knows he should stop but just doesn't really have the self-control to stop. I wish I can pick up on what it is but can't really get what that is. I see him feeling shame of the past and may struggle to forgive what happened, whether it is himself or what others may have done.

I get with this one card is that he fixates on things and it hard for him to resist certain things. I see him trying to communicate things, or he is someone who likes to communicate with others and share what is on his mind, but also, he wants to learn from others. He seems like a sensitive person, someone who feels deeply. There is a sense of wanting to be love or feel love. Not sure where that is coming from. This energy seems random from what I got so far, but maybe he hasn't felt much love and would want that.

He may have tried to help others in the past, but it feels he may have felt it wasn't returned from others, so he may not be as open to helping others, or he feels he doesn't have much support in his life. It seems he feels he is a slave to the industry. Being a puppet for others. And can't really do his own things. He may want more freedom, but has to stay within certain limits and be controlled by others.

He may get some support from his Father, or look to his Father for inspiration, or he has this energy of wanting to provide and support others, but he may feel like he doesn't get in return or feels he isn't appreciated enough for what he does for others. I think he struggles to cope with what comes with being an idol and all the unexpected things that happen. He may also be someone who lacks patience and can't be still for too long. I think he is trying to find what his skills are and how he can utilize it. He could get in touch with himself through his work as well. I can also see this as him trying to cut things out of his life but that can be a hard task.

He can be someone who is argumentative. Can start fights and may be hard to be around at times. He seems to struggle to be diplomatic and may struggle to communicate at times. I think they are trying to give guidance here, because from what I got from him he doesn't give off Temperance vibes, so they may be telling him he needs to temper his emotions and find some sort of balance in his life to calm down his nerves, I heard. Once he is able to do that everything will make sense. He would need to learn to clear out a chapter in his life and close some doors for him. But I can also see him going into cycles and reverting back to old habits. He needs to learn to see the full picture of things and then everything will make sense. He seems to fixate on certain things, but he needs to expand his vision and see more than what he is seeing.

I found this to be pretty interesting, but it was hard to pinpoint some details, but he is pretty easy to read. I barely struggled in his energy. It seems he is a bit closed off to share more details, but I understand. Overall, I felt I got to know him a bit better through this.

[l-inator]

Hms sonas.

I feel strongly about them.

More photos and info here because I think this is rather long:

Cw for: who cares, general autism and unrational thinking and being an idiot:

Loser:

Trial-and-error incarnate, minus the "try" part. She's the most reasonable one, keeps Lack and Lurk from killing each other (or themselves). Filled with every single issue that the original host does, she just tries to put it all aside to help her trio become whole.

Lacking:

Emotional incarnate. They feel emotions very strongly and because of this she struggles to fit in and communicate. Usually Lack is the punching bag of Lurk. I wonder why her eyeball is inside of her face ?

Lurking:

Rage and emptiness incarnate. They anger inside of him causes him to frequently lash out at his other halves. Gee, I wonder what that device on his throat is for ?

An instance of Lacking struggling with.. a lot of things. You could call it emotions, you could call it an inability to communicate, either way...

It does not help that Lurk doesn't understand her needs. He never does. I never do.

A short comic about Lurking putting things off, important things. Refusing to eat and sleep is very bad. And he should be doing them.

Lacking sort of understands but doesn't get the gist of it. She will look after him although she doesn't understand. She will never "get it." I will never "get it."

[atravenefica]

READING:

The reversed Two of Swords representing your feelings suggests you might be struggling with indecision or uncertainty about your role in the relationship, and how your feelings are impacting the partnership.

The Devil representing Zen's feelings indicates that you might perceive him as being trapped in unhealthy patterns, temptation, or manipulation. This perception could be negatively affecting the relationship.

The Six of Cups representing the overall dynamics and future implies that your relationship might be influenced by nostalgia, past experiences, or a desire to hold onto a sense of innocence or comfort.

REFLECTION:

How do I feel about the reversal of the Two of Swords in the "Me" position? What is causing my uncertainty and indecision in this relationship? I think it's accurate right now, and also has been accurate at other times. I'm uncertain if he can offer me what I need, even though what I ask for is very basic in my eyes. I ask for empathy, open communication and curiosity/a willingness to learn and work together. He offers me lots of uncertainty and an inability to discuss or plan for the future. I know I love him and I will work towards anything with him, but he has told me he has doubts about the future. I don't know how to trust him moving forward. I think I will be hurt badly. I already am.

What patterns or behaviors in Zen's behavior are represented by the Devil card, and how do those impact our relationship? Zen struggles with addiction issues with everything from drinking alcohol to binge eating to scrolling on his phone before bed. This has impacted the relationship a lot. He almost always chooses partying over me and also destroys his own body and mental health in the process. He can become mean spirited and lash out at times when in the throes of drugs and alcohol.

How has our shared history, represented by the Six of Cups, shaped our relationship dynamics? Do I feel like our current relationship is fulfilling, or are we holding onto the past? We met in the 7th grade. We are now 30 and 31. Our families knew eachother in the 1980s and our histories are very intertwined. We were raised similarly and with similar values, but mostly because of our mums. His mum died in 2011. He hadn't seen her much since 2008 as she was overseas. I knew her. I think there's a lot tied up in that. We were kids together to an extent and we have always been in eachothers' lives. We also dated from 2015-2016. I think our current relationship has been fulfilling at times but right now it isn't and I don't know if that is circumstantial. I don't know if he wants it or wants to work on/fix it. I do think we both hold on to the past. A few different pasts, too. Our connection is so beautiful but we are both broken people in different ways. Life gets in the way. A lot of time has passed. I don't know if we are growing further from the beauty that this love can be. I don't know if these things are temporary or circumstantial. I know his fear and my hurt have stopped us from growing. It has been hard. I don't think either of us are the same people and I am ok with that, but I don't know if the people we are now work together anymore.

If I could sum up my main takeaways from this reading in one or two sentences, what would they be?

I fear that the cards could be pointing me towards truths I don't want to see and haven't been willing to face. I have had blind faith but perhaps that was naieve. Getting wrapped up in the love of another person can be blinding, I want to see with clarity.

[thomasshelbyy]

A puzzle whose answer need not be spoken

NB: My first fanfic for Peaky and my first one I’ve written in a loooonnnggg time. I posted first on AO3, but cross-posting here so maybe more people can see it! I take requests, so shoot me an ask and I’ll write something for you ;)

Tommy Shelby x Reader

You couldn't decipher the kind of man Thomas Shelby was.

Puzzles, riddles, codes were meant to be figured out, analyzed and solved. Thomas Shelby inhibited all efforts, not by active rebellion against them, but by the nature of his being. Thomas Shelby, a man who could look down a barrel of a gun with no fear, was also a man who insisted on giving back to his community, his roots. He could swing his arm in a wide arc, meaning to slice an antagonist's skin, and he could gently strike a matchbox to light your cigarette before you even asked. Thomas Shelby was everything the rumors said, merciless, ambitious, and intimidating, and he was everything the rumors could never know: considerate, caring, and loving.

Loving in his own way, of course. Not the kind of person to fawn or overly praise, but the kind of person who expressed affection through actions, through deeds done after his attentive listening to one's conversation. Thomas was everything to a lot of people, you could see that quite plainly. You had only been working at the Garrison for a couple months before you started to get a read on the Shelby family. Thomas was the most difficult to see, but Arthur displayed his troubles to anyone who caught the look on his face after a sharp gulp of whiskey. John kept to himself, too old for a boy so young, too many responsibilities for a boy who never had a childhood. Ada was committed to her own power struggle, forced to be subservient in a world that only recognized women as what they could be to men instead of what they are in reality. Polly cared so much, making up for something she has lost through her consideration of the Peaky's.

You ceased your wonderings, your examinations of the family you knew was in the pub but who had concealed themselves in their room.

"A whiskey, please," a man whose accent exposed his foreignness, grunted, tapping two fingers on the bar counter as you already moved to fill a glass. He slid back ten pence in exchange.

"Liquor is fifty pence, sir," you stated, looking at him in a way that you hoped expressed your sternness but wasn't too confrontational.

"Bloody fucking hell. What kind of place is this? Charging us poor people fifty fucking pence for a glass of watered down whiskey?" The man began to raise his voice.

"I don't make the prices, sir," is all you said in return, hoping the man would acquiesce and pay the difference.

"I'm not paying fifty pence of my hard-earned money on a single fucking glass, cunt," he shouted, slamming the glass on the table so that it shattered across the wood. Your reflexes weren't fast enough to cover your face before shards flew at you and you shut your eyes. You could barely feel anything sharp until warm blood began to run down your cheeks. You brought your hands up to try and stem the bleeding, moaning at the pain which had begun to wave throughout your face.

In your state, you didn't hear the door open from the Shelby's private vestibule, but you did hear a man's voice, calm and low, begin to speak.

"Now, I really don't think you know what kind of bar this is, because if you had, you wouldn't have fucking done that." You didn't register anything besides a faint clicking of a gun and the shuffling sounds of men dragging someone from the bar stool and into the middle of the floor. "If you're not smart enough to know who owns this bar, then you probably shouldn't be going anywhere in Small Heath at all," the same voice rang out. The sounds of grunts and punches and bones cracking and blood splattering filled the bar as you started to realize that your efforts to curb your bleeding had only pushed the shards further into your skin. Feeling deeper tissue start to be cut by the glass, you cried out.

"Fucking Christ, get her out of here," someone, you thought Polly maybe, yelled, before you felt two hands grip your shoulders, pulling you to your feet and then being lifted off the ground. The hands you felt on your body were familiar, the scent of cigarettes and musk and gunpowder filled your nose and despite your eyes being shut, you had a feeling that you knew who was carrying you out of the Garrison.

"Tommy?" You whispered, a slight hesitancy to your guess in case your deductive skills were inhibited by the injuries you'd sustained.

"I'm here," he hummed back, "You'll be okay." Immediately you relaxed, trusting that Tommy would take care of you. You knew that the second you started work at the bar you had been brought under the protection of the Blinders. Besides that, despite all of the terrible deeds you knew Tommy had done, something in your gut told you that he would do anything for you. Although you hadn't known Tommy for long, you had felt a draw towards the man with pale blue eyes and razors sewn into his cap brim.

You couldn't say how long it took to get to Tommy's place, but you knew you had arrived when the arms which had been holding you tight placed you gently down on a couch.

"I'm going to be right back," Tommy grunted, rushing to the kitchen and pulling for the scant first aid kit that Polly had first insisted on after Tommy's gunshot wound.

"I'll be here," you called back gruffly, chuckling a little at your joke before wincing at the sting caused from moving your face, "This really fucking hurts, Tommy."

"If having shards of glass stuck in your face didn't hurt you, I'd be a little more worried than I am right now," Tommy retorted. You could hear that he was coming back into the room, feel him pull a stool up besides you and sit on it. "This is going to feel...bad. But I'll do the best I can. Take a swig of this though."

You reached your hand out blindly, knowing that he would thrust the bottle into it for you. Bringing it to your lips, you chugged what you find out was gin for a couple seconds, enjoying the sanitizing feeling the liquor spread through your insides before giving it back to your employer. Tommy let the alcohol settle in your stomach for a few moments before bringing a pair of tweezers to your face, beginning his work. He held his instrument in his right hand, his left gently grasping your chin to hold you steady.

You could feel the stomach churning pull of tissue when he tugged on individual shards, but you also sensed that any damage done would heal. Your eyes were spared and nothing had sliced too deeply into you.

"Do I wanna know what's happening to that bastard right now?" You asked softly, trying to distract yourself from the discomfort.

"Arthur and John are showing him what the consequences in this town are for being stingy with liquor," he replied. For the first time since the incident, you slowly opened your eyes to Tommy only a couple inches away from you, staring intently at the work he was doing.

"Now stop talking, I want to do this right." Feeling comfortable with silence, you quieted, but still chose to investigate the man who was helping you. Your boss, the gangster, who was currently cradling your face as he gingerly plucked broken glass from your skin. When you had first started your job, you had been warned that Birmingham was a rough place, that the people were used to the muck and grime and fires that polluted the air and which hardened them to life. Looking back, you hadn't even been fearful at this description. You knew how to take care of yourself, and anything was better than the boring village you had come from, where you would have likely been forced to marry a cousin due to the dismal agrarian population. Slowly but surely you could feel your skin becoming lighter, the blood clotting as the glass was removed and placed in an empty whiskey glass on the coffee table. Being so close to a man who was so dangerous thrilled you, being treated so carefully by the same man made your heart beat fast against your chest. He was so close to you that you were sure, certain that he must hear your heartbeat, maybe even feel it. He was gorgeous and mysterious and deep down you had a feeling he was good.

"I think I got most of it out, if I missed anything it'll get pushed out anyways as you start to heal," Tommy said, his eyes scanning your face as he set the tweezers down, replacing them with the bottle of gin and taking a significant drink from it. After he finished you did the same, feeling certain that no matter how much spirits you ingested your elevated adrenaline would hinder inebriation.

"Thank you, Tommy. I can't imagine what would have happened without you there," you replied, looking at him from underneath your lashes. He was stunning, take your breath away caliber, and under his scrutiny you began to wonder how feral you looked. "How bad is it?"

"Well. You'll have some scars, I'm sure. You don't look bad though," Tommy responded. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pushing his sleeves up to his elbow as he had discarded his tailored jacket long ago, and wet it with the liquor. He brought the cloth to your face, dabbing gently along the cuts to sanitize as best he could. It stung, almost worst than the initial pain, but it quickly faded and he placed the diluted blood-stained handkerchief on the table next to the gin. His gruffness alluded to his straightforwardness, his inability to empathize with the insecurities you were feeling just then. Men, you thought. At least you knew he wouldn't lie to you. You brought your hand to your hair, feeling strands of it fallen from the few pins you had haphazardly used for your typical work style. As you did so, you felt his intense stare, and the minuscule space between you seemed to electrify and pulsate.  

"I'm going to have to release you for your employment at the Garrison," Tommy blurted out, breaking the moment. You heard what he said, but blinked a couple times as you processed his words.

"What?!" You exclaimed, pushing yourself up off the back of the couch, only bringing you closer to Tommy's face, "I didn't do anything wrong, that crazy motherfucker did this!"

He took your outburst without flinching, keeping his gaze level despite the proximity between you two.

"I understand. But you got hurt, thankfully not badly, because of your job. What if that guy had been a Sabini, or IRA, instead of some stupid fucking civilian? You would be dead. You're in harm's way and that's not acceptable," Tommy retorted. As he continued talking, his voice got more strained, although still low.

"Fuck that! I need this job, I need money, and you can't – you shouldn't – feel the need to protect me from every fucking possibility of harm in this town. You can't just fire me," you replied. Why did he feel such obligation to you? You couldn't – you wouldn't dare hope that he was trying to protect you from a place of sentimentality. Although you had exchanged small touches, long stares, and short conversations at the Garrison, you knew that he didn't go after women with all of his goals he had for his business. He didn't have time for you, and there was no way he could have noticed you in the way you had him.

"You would still be on the payroll, but I don't want you in the bar anymore. You can help me with the office, be a fucking secretary or someth–" he started before you interrupted.

"No offense, Tommy, but I'm not going to let you keep me in your fucking jail cell of an office. You're not my husband and I will make my own decisions." The passion you felt for him began to seep into your words, making your body grow restless on the couch. Getting tired of being so close to the man who you knew you could never have, you stood up and hurried to the corner of the room, running your hands through your hair and avoiding your cuts as an afterthought.

"I know you can make your own decisions. But I can't let you get hurt, I can't even begin –" Tommy responded, getting up from his stool and following you across the floor.

"You do you care so much, Tommy? What does it matter to you if I get hurt anyways? I'm just one of your employees, a new one at that! I don't fucking matter to you!" You shouted. All of your frustration, the potential of losing your job, the residual pain from the evening, the hurt you felt from feeling Tommy's rough hands on your skin in the only way you will ever experience his touch. You wistfully laughed, realizing that you would probably never be this close to him again; all it took was some drunk asshole to get mad for him to touch you, though it was a cheap alternative to how you really wanted him. You looked up at this man, with eyes that shone like the weapons he used. Your anger faltered, and turned to sadness as you waited for him to respond.

He stood there, no more than a foot away from you, his lips still and his jaw flexing underneath his taut skin. Nothing. You stared at him for another second, willing him to say anything. Nothing.

The pain of looking at the man you loved who obviously didn't love you back became too great. You tore your eyes away from his, led the towards the floor, and sighed.

"Thanks for pulling the fucking glass out of my face," you murmured, brushing past him and heading towards the door. Feeling a slight draft coming from outside, you realized your coat was still at the Garrison, with your apartment keys in the inside pocket, that had been left in the hurry to help you. Great, you thought. After everything tonight, you also get to walk home in the cold without anything covering you.

Just as you turned the door knob, lightly pushing outwards on the worn wood, Tommy cleared his throat.

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

You halted opening the door, but still kept your back to the man who spoke. "Believe what, Tommy."

"That I don't matter to you." At this, you turned your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He was in the same spot, but had turned to you.

"I mean –" you started, not sure what to say and scared to hear what would come next.

"Because that's the biggest pile of shit I've ever heard in my fucking life. I care for you, I care for you too much. I am the most feared man in Northern England, and the thing I fear most is seeing you – seeing you harmed because of me... Tonight you got lucky, but you still got hurt. You are fragile, so fucking fragile, and all it took was one random drunkard to tear up your face," his words spilled out of him, in a rare sacrifice of his usual brevity. His eyes were wild, his hands moving through the air frantically in between pulling through his hair. What he was saying, the words which you were terrified to believe were true, seemed to blur together. His words almost didn't matter. You saw how much he cared, how scared he was at you leaving in the tenseness of his body, in his fingers fidgeting as if moving towards a cigarette with a mind of their own.

You knew Thomas Shelby had braved some unimaginable terrors in his life, but this was by far the most you had ever seen him flustered. Thomas Shelby always used his words economically, always saved his true intentions to be displayed through action.

"Please, please don't get my hopes up, Tommy. You must know, surely you must see how I feel about you," you whispered. Although you were separated across the room, you knew he could hear you in the deafening silence. You stared at each other, both searching for the validation in what you believed you were hearing, before both going into motion at precisely the same time, traversing across the floor to each other faster than you thought possible. When he reached you, Tommy pulled you into his chest hard, moving his hands up from your arms and to the side of your head, bringing your lips to his in a feverish touch.

You felt his lips on yours, his body up against you, almost certain that this was a hallucination from poorly distilled liquor, but then you sighed, falling into his embrace and opening your mouth up to feel as much of him as you could. He responded in kind, tongues coming together and lips moving languidly as though both of you were cherishing this moment, lost in the realization that your feelings could be realized. A haze fell on your mind, Tommy becoming the beginning and ending of all your thoughts as he pushed you towards the couch, turning around so that he could fall back on the cushions and you could settle on his lap. Friction become pleasure, hot and necessary and everything, as the space between the two of you vanished like a wisp into the air. You could feel him harden underneath you, the sensation sending you into a frenzy. Your hands roamed his chest, undoing the buttons on his vest as he moved his hands up, down your back, and along your breasts, each time getting closer and closer to lifting up your skirt.

It was only when he started to kiss away from your mouth, to your cheek and aiming for your neck, that you remembered your wounds and the cuts that were still frustratingly fresh. You winced, and he was reminded as well.

"Ah, fuck. Fuck. I'm so sorry, your face –" he stammered, pulling away and bringing his fingertips to lightly skirt along your cheekbone.

"It's okay. They just sting a little bit," you breathed. Tommy stared up at you with the purest sheen of adoration in his eyes, and you felt your cheeks warm, a smile becoming too difficult to conceal spreading on your lips. You sat back on his lap, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck to let your flush subside as he pulled you even closer.

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, both basking in the knowledge of requited love, before he lifted you up off his lap and began walking towards the staircase. You ran your finger along his chest in circles as he stepped up the stairs, opening the door to his room and setting you down on his bed. He unbuttoned your top, starting at the top and moving down, pulling it off your shoulders to expose your slip. You stood up to step out of your skirt, toeing off your shoes, as he unfastened your garter from your stockings, deftly slipping both of them off. You began to work on his shirt, taking it off as he pulled the pins from your hair. You felt it fall down your back, causing you to shiver from being so exposed. You bent down to tug his trousers from his hips, level with his cock that was keenly tenting his underwear. Tommy untied his brogues, taking his remaining outer clothing off. You examined him, the man who you love, seeing the scars which littered his skin, the stark tattoos and the lean muscle making you question again if this was real. His fingers touched lightly underneath your chin, inviting you to look up at him, snapping your dreaming as you gazed into his eyes, the eyes of the man you love, looking down at you with all the answers to all the questions you could possibly ask right now.

You brought your lips to his, softly this time compared to the last, slowing shutting your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him. His chest, his hands, his lips, his tongue, all served to insist that this was real, that you were with Tommy Shelby. He pulled back, slipping his hand from your tender cheek, grazing all along your arm and grasping your hand, tugging you towards his bed. He laid down and you folded yourself up into his chest, his arms holding you close. The stress of the night, the pain and the elation, suddenly bore down on you, sinking into your bones and pressing you into his mattress as sleep began to tug your eyelids closed. You hadn't realized how exhausted you were, and you inwardly thanked Tommy for bringing you up to bed. You felt his lips press against the top of your head, the pressure staying there, while his fingers twiddled with the straps of your undergarments.

"Please get some sleep, my love," the words of endearment seemed almost foreign to you as you breathed them out, breaking the stillness of the night.

"I have a feeling I'll sleep well tonight," Tommy replied, his voice even more crackly than usual. You smiled to yourself, having never believed you would ever fall asleep with the Tommy Shelby, the man of enigmas who somehow straddled the plethora of very fine lines he so loved to toe. As you felt yourself more and more pulled into sleep, the cadence of Tommy's breaths and heartbeat lulling you so, you heard the front door open, the rest of the Shelby clan noisily shuffling into the house.

"Fucking idiots," Tommy cursed, causing you to chuckle. You knew the group had at the very least beat the man from the bar badly in retaliation for the shattered glass, and while before you may have protested the use of violence, being around the Shelby family had shown you that sometimes this world necessitates such a response. And with Tommy Shelby's arms around you, you didn't really feel the need to object to anything at all.  

[ayakashiramblings]

What the Foot: Kuya the Debut and Finale

Author’s note: Read this in Sir David Attenborough's voice, please. Actually, I would be still impressed you managed to read this mess. Also, I still don’t know how to use colour fonts, help.

                                      The Mystery of Kuya’s Shoes

It is at this mansion where evolution’s most impressive feat is documented: Kuya’s legs. 

So defined and long. Both can be contorted into any position should the user choose to execute any sort of movement. Little do people realize that the tengu does not even know what they are called because he has never learnt how to use these fine, magnificent specimens in his feeble life. In fact, the only reason why they move is because of sheer desperation in those mad, mad golden eyes to avoid doing work.

Right now, it seems that he has achieved his greatest wish at this warm verandah. There, he slumbers with wings tucked securely against him, curled up for comfort… the only things that stand out are… the shoes... 

Ipponba-geta (one-tooth-geta) or tengu-geta due to Japanese folklore depicting tengu goblins as the most popular wearer. The tengu-geta are mostly used as ceremonial footwear because they give the impression that they are hard to walk with and dangerous. Recently though, studies have shown that such footwear has promoted strength in muscular training...

Yet, none of these solid reasons offered seem to apply to the gentleman Kuya, for he... is rather subdued by nature.These very shoes are more alive than user as even though it is subtle, one can hear the slightest slapping sound as he occasionally shifts sleeping positions...

Gaku, are you getting this on the camera?

How can I not? He is just lying there like a couch.

Point taken, maybe we should wait for him to wake up.

Why am I doing this again?

Because Yura wants to see a homemade movie.

Yes, but why this topic?

Because aren’t you curious?

At the fact that you’re dropping the British accent while speaking in Japanese?

No, I mean Kuya’s attire. Like, if he really wanted to be comfortable, why that footwear of all things. 

Well...

Besides, according to Koga who got it from the maid who got it from Nachi who got it from the fish vendor who got it from Oji, Kuya should be forced to wake up...

In exactly 29 seconds, this particular male tengu shall be roused by the burning urge for sustenance at the chicest restaurant.

Chic?

Ok, you’re right but I’m not going to correct myself because I am getting tired of this position. How did you even get the camera here?

What? Isn’t it obvious?

No, it... wait, darn, we missed his flight. He’s on the move, after him!

Tensions are high as the tengu confronts another member of the Dawn Faction. 

Aoi from the quaint Milk Hall, Raccord. As a Satori Seer, he wields the ability to peer into people’s hearts... and their afternoon schedules or lack thereof. He stands as the tengu’s lone but powerful opponent against the ever-so-coveted... Oji-san’s omurice.

Oh wow, you really made the camera capture it. 

Erm... actually, it really is glistening and there are sparkles around it.

... On that topic...

It should be noted that within the ayakashi community, there is a clear divide between the ones who do 95% of the work with sensible but fashionably questionable shoes and those who do 5% with weird and fashionably questionable shoes. 

It does not help that Kuya flew all the way over here without being spotted somehow except by Aoi.  

Now, it is no secret that Aoi is a sharp-tongued young man with a caring disposition. It is only his inability to be honest with himself and those around him that plagues him. Thus, he relishes the rare opportunity to be completely vulnerable and engage in a secret hobby that is to be captured on the camera for the first time.

Fighting with Kuya. 

“Hey, deadbeat, we have actual customers so don’t sleep here!”

How is that a secret?

The secret is that he likes it. Now, hush and aim.

Kuya... seems not to care, nodding absent-mindedly to the tongue-lashing he is receiving. Will he finally rise to the occasion? Will he take flight? Will he fight with all of his might?!

Hey, quiet! 

Oh, sorry.

“Shh... I’m sleeping while waiting.”

Kuya alas remains aloof and detached as he lays into a fuming seer, never letting his opponent get a word in. Maybe this is the power of the shoes? 

After all, legend has it that once the tengu bestows his footwear upon a human, the receiver will be able to fall easily and get rich with each fall he takes until he becomes too short to even lift his profit. 

Who knows if Kuya is utilizing the knowledge left by his descendants with something of equal value but with a bitter price — an “I do not care about anything you said to me” attitude obtained only by reluctantly gaining an “I do not care about anything.” attitude as well. 

Then, there is a sound much like a bell’s ring, signalling all present members of the species to return to their dens for more customers and the proprietor of the place.

Seems that the Domeki has abated the crackling animosity over laziness with... more laziness. And asking about tengu-branded cigarettes? Either way, Aoi is distracted by the long-awaited cooking oil.

... This is proving valuable content for my brother, I guess. 

... I kind of want...

No food yet, we are recording it until the end now. Hush.

Ugh, you’re right, ok, zoom in on Kuya’s feet.

Notice that the tengu has propped his feet on the furniture. But wait, that’s not all. Nay, one must observe the new angle taken to accommodate those shoes. So why does he bear such a burden? Is this to justify his lethargy? The sheer struggle against some geta?

Wait, how did he finish his omurice so fast?

My god, he literally inhaled it. 

Fascinating...

His stretch causes big, onyx wings to expand widely outside. Jet-black feathers fluttering about the room for Aoi to clean, as if taunting.

... Oh wow, that is actually a legitimate theory.

You are the one coming up with the script, why are you so surprised?

Wait, look at that. He just took off! How?

... Oh, I think I know why now. 

What? 

Finally, the mystery has been unravelled by the marvellous...

“We don’t have to narrate anymore.” “But this is marvellous...”

“Ugh... fine. But I’m doing it.”

Now, observe this exclusive footage of a tengu gracefully taking flight. The takeoff is the most energy-demanding part. So does the naturally tired creature summon the required force? See how he braces himself.

Due to his large wingspan, he must take a small run up to generate sufficient airflow. Thereafter, comes a significant jump upwards and propped by those shoes. Notice how the single tooth provides the exact position needed that would have required him using another muscle.

Now, he soars, his shoes somehow securely still on him... 

Why is he coming closer?

... Run...

It was too late though once MC had collided into his chest. With an arched eyebrow, the tengu mumbled, 

“What are both of you doing?”

Even Gaku flinched. The times they exchanged furtive, accusing glances, offensive fingers and switching whoever was nearest Kuya was enough for the tengu to roll his eyes, take off his shoes and dangle them in front of the pair.

“So, do you have a better close-up?”

Defeated, MC was the first to squeak out a mortified, “... Yes...”.

“Good, say hi to Twin Number one when you show this to him. Now, do the closing thing or whatever. I’m going back to sleep.”

As they stared at Kuya’s retreating form in the sky, MC-chan chose to do the most important thing...

Tune in for the next episode of WTF, What The Foot!

Italics: MC still pretending to narrate but interrupted

Bold: Gaku having to narrate for his beloved brother but interrupted

Normal Text: Either one of them narrating unless accompanied with quotation marks

                                                          Epilogue

Yura found this hilarious and decided to use the only camera in the house to film animals. One day, the camera broke thanks to a deer. The damage was beyond even Gaku’s control. 

[bloodline-rpg]

Congratulations, Bigby! We have accepted your application for your OC, Tyler Orville (FC  Dane Dehaan) Please create a new blog (not a sideblog) for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Along with your link, please let us know what lyric you’d like for us to use for Tyler in his bio if you do not wish to use the one on the skeleton. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Bigby

Age: Twenty-Six (twenty-seven as of jan 26, 2020!).

Preferred pronouns: they/them

Timezone: est

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible): I work full-time midnight shifts from 11:30pm - 7:30 am. I am gone from the house from 10:30 pm until 8:30 am. I do not get online in my “mornings” but after work I’m usually on for a couple hours before bed. This is/would be my only rp group so I can devote my free time and attention to it outside of regular adult responsibilities. That being said, I do have regular access to tumblr IM and discord while away for plotting and keeping in touch/up to date.

CHARACTER DETAILS

(The Resurrected skeleton).

Character’s Name: Tyler Orville

Desired FC: Dane Dehaan

Character’s Age: Twenty-Seven

Character’s Species: Immortal Witch

Character’s Sexuality: Bisexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Tyler lived a fractured childhood. Fragmented moments glimpsed of a possibility, at something forever out of reach. He was born sick. Sick in an ever changing way, as if the unnamed disease that ravaged his body was more than such, as if the very illness were alive. He was their first child born following two miscarriages, two elder siblings he’d never know and he couldn’t help but think bitterly that whatever awful thing nested within his being had been the root cause of their deaths.

Francine Calhoun, his mother came from a long, long line of original witches; the kind of old blood that prided themselves on their lineage so much so that inbreeding had been commonplace in generation’s past. Her courtship and subsequent marriage the kind of witch that barely qualified as a witch. The kind of witch, that if it were a mere man and nothing more; would only go to church on Easter and Christmas and call themselves a devout Christian.  In fact, Teddy Orville hadn’t been much of a witch for the last several years; a decade even, outside of the odd potion infused tea to help during the university crunch before exams anyway.

Much of Tyler’s life was spent in hospitals. Moved from one doctor’s appointment to the next; a seemingly endless stream of doctors approaching his case with first fresh faced enthusiasm and big dreams of curing the incurable before frustration, disappointment, shame…no tests they ran produced conclusive results. Were they absolutely certain it was not environmental? Were they certain it wasn’t all just in his head? What a wicked thing to ask a boy of barely nine years, far too small and too many sharp edges, sunken eyes and blood stained lips.

His parents refused to give up.

Isolated from their magical foundations (your child’s illness, your child’s pain and suffering, your damned spawn’s death is what you deserve for allowing your body, your womb, to be tainted with such a lesser man’s seed) Francine struggled to cope, struggled to combat the evil plaguing her son’s body with her magical abilities coupled with modern medicine. For the time being, Tyler was alive even if that was touch and go; would it not be kinder to let him pass? To let him go?

He drifted from palliative care back to intensive, back to long term; his education was sporadic at best. Not once did he set foot in an actual school and he longed for a life outside these walls; to be like the children he watched on television or read about in his books. He longed for some greater being to come and purge him of this wicked illness in his breast and though his parents struggled to provide him with a life; he wasn’t living, was barely surviving the day: rinse and repeat.

His life changed when he received a clunky laptop at thirteen, it allowed him an unheard of outlet to the world in forums, in chat rooms, through games. He could be anybody. Anyone but himself. And maybe in the beginning he fell in love with that anonymity. He was no longer the sad little sick boy, he could be a regular boy doing regular boy things like going to school, playing sports, and hanging out with his friends. Friends. He began to make those too.  That was new. He’d never had friends that weren’t the nursing staff in the unit he stayed at or the PSWs that came to his home when he was enjoying one of his rare “good” streaks (they never lasted).

There were other children in the pediatric wards of course, but they were never the long term kind of patients. Not like him. There were the odd handful that stayed for a couple months, and some even a couple years but…their endings were not happy ones.

Technology improved with time, not just with his laptop but with medicine. With such improvements came new hope. And new disappointment. Funny that, he thought he’d long been accustomed to the bitter taste. As he got older, his good streaks became less and time spent within the gently titled comfort of his own home became sparse until it became nonexistent. By this point in time, the knowledge of witches had become common; and some younger, braver, perhaps even brasher doctors went against the norm to seek help out in these communities but came up empty handed.

His parents were drowning in debt, in sorrow and their exhaustion showed. Tyler almost wished they hated him. Wished they’d move on. Try again with another baby, a healthy baby. Do it right this time, since he was nothing but wrong.

He’s so young. The staff whispered, pity, sorrow heavy; had been whispering since he was in the single digits. Tyler would be forever young despite being closer to thirty than twenty. His activity in his group chat dropped to an all time low, his oldest friends feared the worst.

And he discovered something unheard of.

It was the kind of discovery one could only stumble upon in the places on the internet that no one should go. Where only those with wicked intent did linger. Immortality. It seemed too good to be true, some old wives tale; some fantasy story straight out of the games he played with his friends (less and less so these days).

Only it was real.

And it was obtainable.

A cure.

I’m a real boy.

Talking about being forever young had never rung so true, the doctor’s were baffled. His family was torn between horror and gratitude. He stood in the hospital garden, barefoot with dirt between his toes (and the odd cigarette butt or two but that’s less romantic) and simply basked in the sun. It was as close to a religious experience as he’d ever experienced, and he’d spent a lot of time praying to an uncaring God over the years. Begging. Pleading. Cursing.

He sent a letter written in a terribly untidy scrawl to Carden Manor requesting the chance to relocate. To discover the culture he’d never had the chance to experience, of witches and wolves and perhaps others like him. After all, it was the only community of their people he could name and maybe he was still on the tail-end of euphoria that had him wanting to throw himself into the deep end so to speak.

Maybe there was something darker there, something darker that festered close to pain towards his parents. Resentment. Anger. They claimed to have exhausted all means but what of this? “It’s something born of the darkest of magic Tyler please…” had it been a line they were unwilling to cross? Had they known about it all along but their morals had them unable to act?  This was an old magic, this wonderful beautiful thing that had been a boon to his ravaged body. This thing that had given him a new lease on life, was to him far more a blessing than any kind of curse. Already accustomed to the taste of (his own) blood on his tongue, the need to consume such a thing to survive was such that he didn’t even bat an eye.

Anger. It simmered, boiled toward all consuming and dark. Terribly, terribly dark. A want for violence, to let his hands hook into claws and act out such emotions; revenge? He wasn’t sure. Though, Tyler was absolutely sure of one thing: he wanted away from them.

Moving to the manor was the second best thing to ever happen to him and he’s all too eager to dive into a life he never thought he’d get the chance to have.

To live.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

It’s almost painfully obvious that Tyler’s social skills are lacking. Limited socialization during his formative years has left its mark. The bulk of his ability to interact with his peers is stilted and awkward, he can come off as blunt, flat, and even cruel. Withdrawn as though secretive (and he is hiding something, hiding who and what he used to be before his immortality) he comes off as standoffish and every bit some kind of “edgy loner kid” persona. Though he is most comfortable when alone or in front of a keyboard, residing at the manor demands that he evolve past this. As does his new lease on life. He’s trying.

Incredibly self-motivated, Tyler is almost too eager to learn more of the supernatural world to which he’s been removed from for so long. His own magical talent, lacking largely in part due to a lack of proper training. His parents, understandably, had been much too focused on his ailing health. He has a truly impressive repertoire for potions and enchantments; the kinds of witch’s work one can learn from a tome but has very little hands on experience. His frustration for his…otherness that still remains is palpable. As though he hasn’t really changed. And due to such a state, he tends to lash out at his peers which does little to earn him any friends.

He’s used to not having friends, even if he finds himself frustrated with his inability to adapt in this regard. It’s a lot more difficult than he anticipated to reshape himself into somebody, a new and improved version of Tyler Orville.

Some parts of his original self remains, a quiet thoughtfulness, an impossible patience at odds with his frustration, and an optimism he tries to keep buried deep down for fear of coming off over eager and annoying.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Presently, Tyler stands fairly neutral on the in game political spectrum due largely in part to his inexperience. His outsider status borders on some sort of isolation; which in a way, speaks the truth. He was woefully isolated from his people and hardly had it in him to follow the news much outside of the big events. Like the world discovery their kind in 2016, he saw that; read about it. His friends in the group chat talked about it. A lot. He and his best friend, Alex, fretted in a private chat about the repercussions of such a thing.

He’s not too overly keen on the servitude aspect of other species, finds it rather barbaric if he’s being honest but is well aware of the delicate line he walks here. Outsider. He’s the son of a marrying of a strong bloodline into a weak one, he never once met his Mother’s family and knows nothing of their history. Of their possible feuds. His Father’s family could never hope to hold a torch to such greatness. Tyler straddles the line between a somebody and a nobody.

In this, he could potentially be shaped into a supported of any party with the right guidance. He has power given his immortal status and his bloodline is strong, if watered down some with his Father’s genetics. He could prove to be a promising ally to any party should they wish to court him so.

As far as plots go, I want to explore him well, exploring life in person instead of looking on from the outside in. I want him to interact with his peers from wildly different walks of life and learn more about the world. The world, his world that had been so very small has suddenly exploded into something so grand.

I also have a potential wanted connection for him to offer, in the form of his best friend Alex (who can be played male, female, or non-binary) who is also a supernatural (species up to the potential other mun) and they met playing an unnamed fantasy mmorpg. Alex brought Tyler into their group of friends and they’ve been Tyler’s main friend group ever since. Tyler has gone radio silent before, but this is something new altogether. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the Earth and Alex fears the worst. What exactly brings Alex to the manor would be 100% up to the other mun but a reunion would absolutely be required and their future interactions and relationship is anyone’s guess!

[carrots-bear]

Using this its so helpful

i think its so funny when people take the way donnie acts at face value even though its a horrible lie because he's a horrible liar, while understanding leo is bullshitting very well despite him actually being GOOD at bullshitting. many such cases