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sporesmoldsfungus · 1 year

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Safety Net | Egon Spengler x Reader

Hi Everyone! This is my first time writing for Egon and I would be lying If I said I did not thoroughly enjoy myself. Im still figuring out how to use Tumblr, so any tips would be well appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 3.1K

Side note: look how cute our man is in this gif, I cannot deal!!!

******

You grimace as you put your sleeve over your mouth, the smoke from the trap causing you to cough in reaction.

“I Don’t think I will ever get used to that smell” You murmur to Ray as you pass him the trap. You were both currently out of town on a job for an old opera house. The job required you to stay at a hotel last night so you could catch the ghost in question early that morning. The ghost busters usually didn’t accept jobs from out of town, but when the owner of the opera house mentioned a large check, Peter could not say no. Of course, he had no intention of doing the job himself, which was why you and Ray were in the current situation.

“Egon said it has something to do with the negative energy the ghost emit when captured” Ray explained, he also grimaced as he took the trap from you. He brought the trap over to Ecto-1 and threw it in the back before closing the door. “I cannot wait to get back and sleep in my own bed” He sighed.

“Yeah, me too. Those hotel beds were horrible” you agreed as you made your way towards the driver’s side of the car. Ray had drove you both to the location, you thought you would return the favour by driving home. “I’ll make sure the invoice for those rooms go to Venkman, he’s the reason we had to do this job in the first place” You joke.

“Always the same, even in college he always got the best side of the deal” Ray agreed as he got into his side of the car, immediately putting the heaters on after he sat down.”

“Oh please don’t remind me of Peter’s Sorority years, I’ve had enough pain today to last me at least a week” You grumble as you gently rubbed your neck. The ghost you had been hired to capture had a little bit of a nasty streak. Just as you were about to capture it, it had thrown you back into a wall, your neck and shoulder hadn’t felt right since.

Ray chuckled before asking in a concerned tone. “Are you alright to drive? I don’t mind switching”.

“I’ll be okay, an ice pack at home should do the trick” You smiled before turning the car on and starting your journey home. Ray’s selflessness was one of your favourite things about the scientist. No matter what the situation, Ray always offered to help.

******

You firstly met Ray, Egon and Peter around eight years ago at Columbia University. As you walked through the door to your first lecture on parapsychology, you had noticed there was only one seat left available to sit in. Next to the free seat, sat the dorkiest man you had ever set eyes on. He had large round glasses that were definitely a decade out of fashion, but you couldn’t picture him wearing any other style. His slightly curly hair was neatly kept, and you couldn’t help but wonder what routine he used to tame it. The more you stared, the more you admired how beautiful this man was. From the way he had dressed himself in a suit just for a lecture, to the way his forehead was slightly creased due to the front on his face as he read over a book.

You slowly made your way over to the empty seat, hesitating before sitting down. “Is this seat taken?” you asked softly, a small blush covered your cheeks and nose.

The man’s head rose to look up at you, his frown softening as he looked at you. It felt like he had been staring at you for an hour before he eventually cleared his throat. “uh, no this seat is free” he nodded before awkwardly going back to his book.

You gave a small smile and sat down on the stool. As you brought your textbooks from your bag, you caught a glimpse of what the man next to you was reading. “you’re a fan of Joseph Rhine?”.

“Uhh, just a little bit of light reading” he replied hesitantly, as if he didn’t realise you were talking to him at first.

You gave a small nod. “I’m more a fan of Arthur Doyle, myself”

“The sherlock Holmes author?” he asked sceptically.

You gave an enthusiastic nod “Yes, many people don’t know that he actually does research in telepathy and seances too”. Just like every time you talked about anything on the lines of parapsychology, you could feel yourself becoming excited. Your family did everything in attempt to get you to choose a more ‘normal’ degree like English or Biology, but nothing could have possibly changed your mind.

“interesting” he mumbled; his face looked as if it was deep in thought for a moment before he opened up a notebook, and scribbled down the author’s name.

“My name is Y/N, by the way” you stuck your hand towards the man, a gentle smile on your lips. You were trying your best to follow your mother’s advice she had given you on the phone this morning. ‘Any day, is a successful day, if you meet a new friend’.

The man returned a very small smile before gently taking your hand. “Egon Spengler”

“Lovely to meet you Egon”.

What you were unaware of that day, was why Egon had been sitting alone, when in fact his two best friends were sat directly behind him. Peter and Ray were well aware of Egon’s most important rule. ‘I forbid anybody to sit next to me in lectures, talking is a distraction of learning’. Almost every day he had turned people down who were looking for a spare seat, earning his friends to cringe away in embarrassment each time. However, when he had looked at you, something changed. He realised that he, for some reason, would not mind being distracted by you. Of course, he later went home and tried to conduct a full study on why he felt this way, but it took him four years before he later came up with a reasonable conclusion.

Later that day, you were introduced to Ray and Peter, through the expense of Egon being the centre of one of Peter’s jokes. After that day on, the four of you had been close friends ever since.

******

After complaining about New York traffic for at least thirty minutes, you finally drove into the firehouse, sighing with content as you parked the car. “Home, sweet, home”.

As you got out of the car, a floating green blob flew towards you, it’s stick like arms wrapping around your neck.

“Awhh, I missed you too slimer” You chuckled as you hugged the ghost back.

“How come he never slimes you; I swear he has full control of that stuff” Peter grumbled as he walked out his office and headed towards you.

“Oh Peter, are you jealous that slimer loves me more? I’m sure he’d love to come and give you a cuddle too” You joked as you let go of the ghost, a mischievous smirk on your face.

“Don’t you dare” He warned, his eyes narrowing as he spoke slowly.

“Fine, you win this time. However, me and Ray have decided you are getting invoiced for those hotel rooms, after all, it was your call to take”.

Peter struggled to find a reply for a moment before sighing in defeat. “Whatever, just give the papers to Janine, I’m too tired to debate this one out”.

“What’s the matter? You’re not sick are you” You asked genuinely. If needed, Peter normally had the social skills to sell ice to someone who lived in the North pole.

“No, I’m not sick. But considering I’m paying for the hotel rooms, I need to call in a favour from you too” He replied, leaning against the side of Ecto-1 as he spoke.

You stopped unloading the equipment from the back to give him your full attention. “I’m not taking the blame again for you not closing the containment unit correctly”

“You forgot to close the containment unit again!” Ray rushed from behind the car, his face frantic as he looked between you and Peter.

“No! The containment unit is fine! Gosh, what do you people take me for?” Peter replied quickly, finishing the sentence with a scoff. “I’m calling in a favour because Spengz hasn’t left the lab since you went on that call”. He finally explained.

Your heart sunk a little as Peter spoke. It was not unusually for Egon to spend hours at a time in the lab, but you and Ray had been gone for over twenty-four hours. Egon tended to go through stages where he become so fixated on science, his personal health was forgotten to him. He had the potential to go days without eating or sleeping, which often made him ill and even more stressed out for a few days. The boys did their best to encourage Egon to stop working, but it just resulting in them being thrown out of the lab. The boys sometimes called you their “secret weapon” which they would release when things got bad.

You gave a sad sigh and nodded in understanding to Peter. “I’ll try my best” you muttered as you took a bag from ecto-1’s side door. You and Ray had picked up some snacks on the way home from your call that you were going to attempt to use.

You headed downstairs and gently tapped on the lab door before entering. “Guess who’s back” you said cheerily, trying your best to act like you were unaware of Egon’s shenanigans. When you entered the lab, he was sat at his desk, microscope at hand.

“Hey Sweetheart” he said softly, although you could hear the tired undertone in his voice. “How did the call go?”.

“It was just a class three, nothing we could not deal with. Although, it did get a little aggressive at the end” You explained as you came up and hugged him from behind.

He gave a soft smile and rested one hand on your arms that were wrapped around him, his other hand continued to write down his notes from the microscope. “You must be tired from the drive home, why don’t you go and get some rest” He suggested.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps me and you could get something to eat first?” you tried at your first attempt of dragging him from the lab. “We could order from your favourite Thai place.” You bribed.

“That sounds great, but I really need to finish my work on this new slime sample.” Egon replied with a sigh as he continued to work with his microscope. “I really think I’m onto something with this sample, the electrochemical bond is unlike any other we’ve encountered”.

“Oh, okay” you gave a small nod, thinking how this was going to be harder than you thought. “Well, I bought some snack on the way home from the call, we could share them in the meantime?” You suggested as you walked over to grab the bag you had put on the counter.

“I would, but I really need to test the polarity of this sample” He abstained.

“Egon, you taking a five-minute break to eat sugary treats with me will not cause Gozer to raise from the dead.”

This time he finally looked up at you, a million thoughts seemed to be going through his head before he finally said. “Okay, but only a few minutes” He agreed, moving over to the other counter to sit next to you.

‘Result!’ you thought.

You gave him a bright smile and laid out the packets of food in front of you both.

“So, did Peter behave himself whilst I was away?” You joked as you opened as packet of crisps.

Egon hummed. “Peter behaved like Peter, if that answers your question.” He also opened a box of twinkies as he spoke. “I suppose it does” You agreed. “I also came up with a new theory” You announced.

“And what would that be?”

“Peter actually loves having slimer around. In fact, I think slimer is Peter’s favourite supernatural entity.”

Egon gave a low chuckle and you mentally ticked off another achievement box.

“Are you sure you’re not lacking sleep? That’s the most impossible theory you have conducted” Egon asked with a small smile.

“Oh, I’m exhausted, those hotel beds should be burnt, they were horrible!” You exclaimed. You moved your neck side to side in order to relieve some of the tension. As you did so, your hair moved to the side, giving a plain sight to the side of your neck.

Any humour that Egon had managed to gather instantly left his face at the sight of your neck. Right under your hairline, a purply black bruise began to form.

Your neck and shoulders had been aching ever since the ghost had thrown you back into the wall. You had gotten your fair number of beatings when being on calls, but you always managed to just walk them off. You thought this was just like other times, but you were unaware of how much your neck was bruising.

Egon slowly reached up and brushed the hair from the side of your neck, exposing more of the skin. You couldn’t help but wince a little from the pain.

“What did this to you?” He whispered; his voice barely auditable.

You hesitated a little. “The ghost I said that got a little aggressive, he had a thing for throwing people too” You replied with an award chuckle, trying your best to lighten the mood.

Egon clenched his jaw. “You need to ice this” he mumbled before going over to the lab freezer and pulling out an ice pack. Before he placed the ice pack on your neck, he very gently tied your hair back with the hair tie you conveniently had on your wrist. You tried your best not to wince which caused him to murmur a small “sorry”.

“I’m okay. Honestly, it doesn’t hurt that much” You reassured, taking his place of holding the icepack to the bruise.

He sat back down next to you and gently took your free hand. “Y/N, you should really go and rest.” He told you softly, but with an authoritative undertone. “An injury like this is only going to heal with rest.”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, really looked at him. The man before you looked exhausted. His eyes were dark but were still looking at you with pure love, His skin was slightly pale and his face had a slightly sad aura. Despite your friends attempts, nobody could persuade Egon to look after himself in the last twenty-four hours, but here he was, fully invested in your health and safety. Oh, the irony.

“Are you in any pain?” He asked sadly, his eyes frowning a little as he noticed your eyes starting to glass over a little with tears.

You slightly shook your head before leaning over and gently placing your lips to his. He seemed to relax at your touch, something that he had developed overtime. “I’ll make you a deal” You whispered as you pulled back to look at him, your face still quite close to his.

He gently rubbed the back of your hand he was still holding with his thumb. He remained quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“I will take a nap and rest my neck, but only if you come and keep me company” You bargained sweetly.

Egon let out a sigh, he looked over his should at the slime sample before looking back to you. “Alright” He agreed. “But you’re keeping the icepack on” He added as he stood up, his hand remaining around yours as he led you upstairs and up to the bedrooms. You and Janine had your own bedroom with two double beds. Meanings that Janine hardly stayed at the firehouse, you and Egon had partly claimed the room for yourselves.

“Now lovebirds, I don’t want to hear any noises coming from that room” Peter joked loudly as you and Egon got to the top floor.

“Oh slimer! Peter said he wants a cuddle!” You yelled loudly with a huge smirk. The distant yelling of peter could be heard as Egon closed the bedroom door.

“I love that little ghost” You beamed as you got a set of pyjamas for you and Egon from the wardrobe.

You both began to change into your pyjamas, Egon having to help you pull your t-shirt over your head due to the pain of your neck. As you got into bed, you gently took off Egon’s glasses and set them on the nightstand on your side of the bed, just in case he got any ideas about going back to the lab. You were a light sleeper and would wake up if he decided to slip out through the night.

Egon wrapped his arms around you as you cuddled up to him, doing his best to avoid your neck at all costs. Just as you were about to drop off to sleep, he mumbled “I’m sorry”. You gave a small frown and opened your eyes again. “You have nothing to be sorry for” you said almost instantly. You repositioned yourself so you were resting on his chest but looking up at him.

“I didn’t realise I was worrying people again” he said softly, looking down at you as he spoke. It had finally sunk in why you and his friends had been asking him to eat and rest a lot recently.

Your heart almost broke when you realised what he meant. “Oh Egon” You whispered sadly. You reached up and gently kissed his lips, his hand coming up to your cheek as you melted into each other’s grasp. “We all care about you so much” you told him sincerely.

He gave a small nod before softly kissing you again. “Get some rest” he mumbled as he pulled away. He gave the top of your head a small kiss as you repositioned yourself on his chest.

Egon acknowledging why people were worried was the winning streak in your eyes. He was not somebody who needed to be told something many times, as soon as he acknowledged an issue, he would do his best to change things.

“Goodnight, my love” “Goodnight, Sweetheart”

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler fanfiction #ghostbusters 1984 #ghostbusters #the real ghostbusters #ray stantz #peter venkman #winston zeddemore #slimmer #janine melnitz #ghostbusters ii #fanfiction #harold ramis #bill murray #dan ackroyd #y/n

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princess-of-the-corner · 3 days

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Gods, I just remembered but I figured out how to do a "Crack taken seriously" version of "All the Holders Know" AU.

1: The Quantum Mask does not work on other Miraculous Holders.

Why would it need to, they are all tied to the order after all! Marinette & Adrien's uniforms compensate with fully face covering masks at first, but they don't have the time (Or in Adrien's case) patience to do much else, so Gabriel recognizes his sons voice.

For reference this is also why known famous person Gabriel adopted a flamboyant costume, a face covering helmet that makes him look bald, deepened his voice and talks like a cartoon villain.

2: Kwami Holders can also be bound like Kwami but by choice.

What I mean here is that a Kwami's name being known gives the one with said name power over them. In this case, if the Users offers up their name in an oath they too can be bound.

3: Once Kwami are bound to someone getting them away is hard as hell.

Not much to add to this one, it mostly just means Fu can't withdraw them on a whim or without the mutual permission of both user & Kwami.

4: Gabriel refuses to concede the wish cannot work as he wants it too.

IE Gabriel is so damn stubborn, so damn proud and so damnibly obsessed with control. That the idea he cannot force the wish to do as he wants, the idea he cannot be clever enough to make it do as he wants. The idea he needs concern himself with the consequences at all when obviously Emilie means the world to him...

Yeah no, he is basically just refusing to accept it.

Story:

Thus, Origins goes mostly the same but Gabriel recognizes Adrien & basically throws the fight and even gets rid of the Akuma. He thinks he can just ask Adrien for his Miraculous and get a "Of course father."

Instead Adrien flips out, argues & when Gabriel tries to reveal the truth he just fucking bolts out the nearest window. Calls Chloe (The only person Gabriel could/would use as a hostage against him) & runs.

Gabriel is so flabbergasted it takes a minute to transform and then transform Nathalie into a tracker. This, and Chat calling Marinette (Cos of how the masking works secret IDs weren't as bug of a deal so they exchanged numbers but with no names) to tell her. Tikki contacts Fu who uses the Horse to get them all together.

Thus we get to how this AU is justified!

Namely, both sides have a Mutually Assured Destruction method.

Fu can just call on all the Miraculous and though it will kill him, basically blitz Hawk Moth or even all of Paris into oblivion.

However, Hawk Moth has the Peacock and can force Doosoo to make Sentimonsters without transforming, basically disgorging an apocalyptic swam of horrors on Paris.

Neither side backs down, Adrien cannot trust his fathers confidence given the Peacock that killed Emilie was his idea, so they are at stalemate.

Thus, negotiations.

Notes:

(Plagg refuses to leave Adrien without protection cos Gabriel both "Has our friends" and "The kid bolted rather than get an explanation. I do not trust this guy at all!") (Chloe is probably there & may get a Miraculous early out of grim necessity. Marinette is low key confounded the nice & cool Chat knows Chloe, or that Chloe's shouting insults at a supervillain)

Basically, they form a mutually assured destruction style deal where neither side will take "X actions" such as targeting one's families or utilizing hostage scenarios to force surrender of Miraculous.

Identities will be kept secret and up held (Because they cannot prove Gabriel is Hawk Moth anyway & he has all the money) but any and all battles will be, if not schedule, then at least structured to follow rules.

& other things that are meant to turn a near apocalyptic scenario into basically an elaborate and ongoing proxy war/duel. Though be it one with both high stakes and legitimate danger.

Also avoiding ambushes, or otherwise targeting people in their sleep and such and so on. Also translations of the spell book are in the deal too for its return as Fu needs it, but Gabriel has it, so shared.

It sets up a dynamic similar to the early seasons in terms of danger & scale. Chat's very cavalier with his life in general but especially because he doesn't think his father will kill him.

As it is, Gabriel did have enough bargaining power to get some of these concessions, hence it happening at all. & like with how he messed with Chloe's head and recruited Lila in canon there are loop holes.

Also Gabriel probably has to straight up move out (Though be it in secret) or Adrien moves elsewhere with Gorilla as Nathalie is onboard if feeling kind of bummed about it.

Adrien also refuses to give up as he deems what his father is doing as his responsibility to fix/stop. Marinette won't quit because she's gonna this far and wants to reward Chat's faith in her. If Chloe's involved its mostly survival, (& secret desire for heroism) and spite.

Its both more and less angsty than you'd expect.

The rules and such give a sense of fairness and safety. Adrien is viewing this as a sort of quest to enlighten/redeem his father. & Fu seemingly has 'a' trick up is sleeve for if things get bad.

But then we remember the Chloe & Lila canon and stuff like Akuma Nathalie, as well as Audrey & Tomoe... Yeah things can get a lot more complicated and a lot grimmer over time, or stay more safe and structured.

Those are my thoughts anyway.

Yeah that sounds about right for how to make it less crack-y.

#public knowledge au

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marshmallowprotection · 1 month

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HI I ABSOLUTELY I love your writing ^^🌷💕 I want all the Saeran versions to try my native country desserts😭 we have a lot of VERY SWEET desserts and I know it will make him (and me) very happy if he eats some😔💘

Ray would want to know everything about your country's desserts. He probably put a lot of time and care into figuring out how to make them but if it's something that can only be made with fresh products, it might be tough for him to do something that's authentic.

There is also the fact that a lot of families do their own recipe and style to each dessert, and he wouldn't know that if you didn't have it anywhere posted online for him to find. But, he probably already knows a little bit about your culture and your desserts, and it would be one of the things he would first use to surprise you if you ever told him you felt homesick.

Suit Saeran would never confess to the fact that he loves sweets. Why would a toy like you need to know something like that? His eating habits are his own and you don't need to worry about that. But, say that you did get to leave your room for a little bit with him, and say that he decided to humor you by letting you make a dessert for him.

Because he's not going to make a dessert for you, no, you're going to show him just how much you love these desserts and if they're even worth his time. His words may lie but his eyes and initial reaction cannot. His first taste of something you make will be of Heaven.

GE Saeran doesn't just want to make desserts from your culture for you. He wants to make them with you. He wants to set aside a day where the two of you learn how to make these things together, either from your family or because you already know them. He thinks it would be a great bonding experience.

Sure, he wants the opportunity to taste everything sweet he can get his hands on, but there's something that much sweeter about knowing that he gets to build the experience with you. He wants to try everything with you. Even if you've already tried it, he wants his first time to be shared with you.

Unknown doesn't really have time to try sweets. You don't have time to do that, either. But, say that you get to go out during reconnaissance missions when you're trying to pick somebody to go to that damn apartment. Maybe he stops at a little place that serves treats from your culture.

Don't talk about it. Don't make a big deal about it. But, you might just get your first taste of something sweet for the first time in a long time that reminds you of home. Don't make a big deal about it, I remind you again. He's not doing this for you. It was just the most convenient place to go. Eat your treat, assistant.

SE Saeran won't say no to a sweet. That's one of the few pleasures in life he's allowed to have. So, if you tell him you want to share treats with him, he'll be more than happy to share them with you. Of course, it's worth saying that he isn't much of a talker.

He doesn't know how to compliment things, so the best way to tell if he's enjoying what he's eating is to see if his face looks more peaceful than usual. If you're lucky, he might even smile at you a little bit, but it's not the kind of smile you would expect. It may not grace his lips but it's in his eyes. He likes spending time with you, and it's... nice to share something important with you.

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #anon #mysme #saeran choi #mysticmessenger #mm #choi saeran #ge saeran #saeray #saeran #se saeran #unknown #suit saeran #ray choi #choi ray

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opia-tarot · 2 years

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🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

I think of the asteroid Chiron. I would assimilate it with this asteroid. shadow work is digging deep and figuring out where your shadow traits stem from. Shadow traits are usually formed from trauma and they’re not usually known traits. It’s usually something you have to actively uncover in order to reveal them. so basically they are subconscious traits. We all have them and they block our potential. Some examples of shadow traits could be people pleasing, self-destructive behaviours, imposter syndrome etc.

I just want to mention a ⚠️tw because i’ll be referring to healing from trauma. I don’t go in detail in regard to trauma itself, but i talk about how to heal from behaviours that are a result of those traumas. So please be aware of this before you read this post.

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

I always emphasise how important it is to uncover your shadow traits. I cannot emphasise how important it is to face your shadow side. this is because if you don’t face your shadow side, these subconscious traits will keep hindering you from achieving your full potential. I feel like it’s not something that’s talked about enough in this community.

I think the reason why shadow work is so difficult is because it can be triggering. Now this is particularly for if you have deeper trauma. Now it doesn’t always have to be heavy, it can be balanced in how you approach it.

A mistake I made when I started doing shadow work was diving deep and hastily unpacking all my shadow traits and i found it very overwhelming, so I really don’t recommend that.

Sometimes facing your shadow can involve more mellow things like discovering your attachment style and where this stems from.

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

The whole aim of shadow work is integration. The end goal is to integrate your shadow side so that it doesn’t overwhelm your other traits. So basically the integration refers to a balance of both your shadow and your other traits. The point is not to suppress these traits or to get rid of them. It is to learn how to deal with these traits which is the whole purpose of integration. By learning your shadow traits and accepting yourself, you can then unpack these behaviours and process them in a healthy way and this leads to the process of integration.

It’s about acknowledgement, unpacking, figuring out where it stems from, seeing how it affects you in the present, acceptance, and integration.

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

Shadow work doesn’t have to be something you schedule every day and sit at a desk and write for hours. Shadow work doesn’t have to feel like a chore. shadow work can be sitting down and introspecting, or perhaps when you’re faced with a particular situation, and it triggers you, you pause and think about how this triggered you and how you can handle it in a better way.

Shadow work is also about taking accountability. Another reason why a lot of people find shadow work difficult is because you have to take accountability for your actions.

whether you’re just starting or you’ve been doing this a while, i always recommend shadow work prompts. Find a list of prompts online (or you can write them yourself) and if you can’t decide where to start use a random number picker and start from there.

Now shadow work prompts don’t have to be questions on a piece of paper. It could be a point your therapist mentioned and you unpack it on your own etc.

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

🐈‍⬛therapy

🐈‍⬛journalling

🐈‍⬛introspection

🐈‍⬛talking to yourself about it and verbally unpacking it (this is great for anyone who find it hard to differentiate their own thoughts from others) sometimes it’s great to verbally express and authenticate those feelings

there’s more and you’ll learn what subjectively works

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

🕷️You are a human being and integration is about accepting yourself as a whole.

🕷️Doing shadow work doesn’t mean you’re ever going to reach a point of completion. You are still human and shadow work is a constant journey of self discovery.

🕷️Shadow work is different for everyone and it is processed in different ways. There is no correct method for doing shadow work.

🕷️For anyone who has a traumatic past or really deep trauma shadow work is going to be triggering at first. It’s important to really break it down into minuscule chunks, so you don’t overwhelm yourself.

🕷️Shadow work is going to bring up feelings of resentment. Now, if you haven’t experienced trauma from anyone else, then you are likely going to feel resentful towards yourself for blocking opportunities and limiting your own potential in the past. This is normal. Resentment is a normal feeling when doing shadow work. Remember shadow work is also about acceptance.

🕷️shadow work is so rewarding and it is honestly so freeing. You’re going to be more receptive to expansive opportunities and you’re going to unlock your potential during the process

❕avoid overwhelming yourself, there are no shortcuts when doing shadow work, so it’s easier to tackle a small amount at a time

❕also be careful not to be critical of yourself. Shadow work requires vulnerability, so be easy on yourself

❕no comparing! this is your individual experience

❕it’s not linear, so avoid being hard on yourself if your shadow traits take over sometimes. Integrate not eliminate.

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

if this helps let me know! Also if you have any other questions about it send me an ask and i’ll help you out.

I’ve been thinking about doing a daily or maybe twice a week shadow prompt post. It could help you stay motivated perhaps idk, it’s just an idea but lmk if you would be interested.

also lmk if u would like links to in depth videos about it

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

#shadow work #opia tarot

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mlobsters · 9 months

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supernatural s7e8 time for a wedding! (w. andrew dabb, daniel loflin)

i read a summary of all the becky episodes after seeing the first one. had some feelings (derogatory) about previous episodes. i was dreading this one

okay i got a question about "guano". every time they use this word i have to do a little mental lookup. is there a region in the US that uses guano regularly for going batshit/insane etc? i haven't lived everywhere but i have lived in the southwest, west, upper midwest, miami (lol it's its own region) and new england. and i don't remember ever hearing it said by anyone. john was in the military, was it something from him? anyway. stalling!

WAITRESS Yeah, okay. You came in here looking like somebody shot your puppy. DEAN Well, things are looking up now that your shift's over. All right. Uh, here's the deal. I have this friend. He's got this younger brother. Right? Cannon's a little loose. You know, his reactor blew a while back. It's not good. Um... My friend – he's, uh... He's kind of been sitting, waiting to see if he goes guano again. WAITRESS And I assume it just hit the fan? DEAN Well, that's the thing. It didn't. The kid's all reasonable now, considering he's crazy. Well, he's – I mean, he's not crazy. He – he's starting to seem like things might be getting a little better. WAITRESS Well, that's a good thing, right? DEAN It's a freakin' miracle. Except... when it happens during their, uh... their sacred annual pilgrimage to Vegas... and he goes off on some granola-munching hike in the desert by himself.

WAITRESS Well, maybe he just needs some time alone. DEAN Yeah. WAITRESS We all need to face ourselves sometime. DEAN Maybe he does. WAITRESS Wasn't talking about him. DEAN Speak of the devil. He's four blocks away? WAITRESS See? Baby bro needs you after all.

(of course, forever and ever amen.) when a stranger can diagnose and therapize you in 60 seconds flat. what a lot of backstory and happenings got dumped in that conversation. a yearly vacation, sam bailing to go vacation alone in the wilderness.

the way his hair is falling it looks like the mutant sideburns suddenly gained a lot ground 😂 (stalling)

how does his hair look so different every episode?

okay, leslie odom jr. i know the name, i've never seen/or listened to hamilton but i gather that's what he's known for? (i love music but don't vibe with musicals generally) i did watch smash though and he was in that, and the second knives out movie. shame he got stuck in this episode.

smash s2e1 on broadway - leslie odom jr as sam strickland

ok extra dumb murder of the week. splatting a dude's face with the baseball pitching machine

(live reaction)

SAM You know, I went after her, Dean. Maybe that's what's bugging you – that I'm moving on with my life. I mean, you took care of me, and that's great. But I don't need you anymore.

having an actress that's about the same age as dean play becky, and having her act so juvenile... it's just all bad and insulting and weird. and then adding in the inherent joke she is about fans... will i save the noncon rant for later? ha ha she raped him too right? heavy sigh

cannot figure out what i know him from. maybe the core?? but also he was a one-off in episodes of a lot of shows i've seen and he has such a distinctive face, i think it might be one of those i think is more familiar but really isn't. also maybe the movie roadtrip? which is so very much not my kind of movie but i definitely have seen it.

having garth be incompetent as a hunter is... again, a choice.

the core (2003) dj qualls as rat

now they tell us there was no sex. see it's funny, guys! just the drugging and the concussion and the tying up and gagging.

GUY Yes! And I'm very protective of my ass. It's one of my best features.

he's so charming in this part. say again it's a shame he got stuck in this episode

you know. it's not just the writing and the styling of becky. but the way she plays her... it's like every moment she's just making fun of a certain type of person.

crowley, sight for sore eyes

SAM Becky, look. You're not a loser, okay? You're a good person, a-and you've got… a lot of… e-energy. So, you know, just do your thing, whatever that is, and the right guy will find you.

no. *gets out the squirt bottle*

was this all just to have some goofy bonding experience to mend things after The Incident with the stabbing and the lying (mutton chop status 66%)

SAM Look, man, uh... When I was all dosed up, I-I said some crap. DEAN Oh, you mean, she – she wasn't your soulmate?

no, because dean is sam's soulmate duh. lol this show. sometimes i'll just be sitting here and think "canonical soulmates" and boggle all over again

SAM Shut up. I mean, I do need you watching my back. Obviously. DEAN Yeah, when, uh, crazy groupies attack.

DEAN I'm just saying. It's stupid to think that you need me around all the time. You're a grown-up. SAM Right.

SAM I mean, you basically have been looking out for me your whole life. Now you finally get to take care of yourself. About time, huh? DEAN Yeah. DEAN Right.

haha this is like, straight out of fic. both of them "ha ha you don't need me anymore :D" and they're both😟

made it through. they really like to shove good brother content into bad episodes, like Bugs.

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 7x08 #spnhiky #smash nbc #leslie odom jr #dj qualls #garth fitzgerald iv #the core #hiky #becky rosen #andrew dabb #daniel loflin #sideburns #chopsurveillance

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ribcage-rodents · 2 years

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Ok so like I saw this prompt post on Pinterest and I didn’t really think anything of it until I was driving home listening to 70s music and thought, “huh I love 70s himbos and bimbos.”

Anyway so the prompt is about a bunch of little ghost kids that died in different ways helping the others figure it out. So what about teenager-young adult ghosts from different time periods all have some connection to this area a 2020 time period person is living in.

Together they work past the trauma of their lives and the strange new world. Maybe they have to figure out their deaths idk yet.

But I’m thinking around four ghosts and the one living person.

Maybe someone from the Victorian era. Like super uptight, naturally awful in terms of sexism and racism and shit. Is probably a victor Frankenstein Stan and refuses to believe a women wrote the book. He grows into a less awful person through out the story. Was super into romanticism, maybe a poet or an artist or he’s a film buff bc film was like just invented.

Or like a cowboy man, super chill. Likes his clothes a lot, he’s very attached to them. Maybe he like always helps the 2020 person w fashion but he’s always like “I darn do reckon a trusty ole hat always do pull an outfit together”. He’s probably believes like all stereotypes, doesn’t think gay people are real, “I mean when you are out in the west w no women you find companion-ship.” Maybe lived through polio. Had a co-dependent attachment style to his horse.

A man from the 30s to 40s. Probably died in the war. Had a family he adored, maybe was Italian and faced discrimination. Maybe was engaged to a girl he loved, some spitfire as he would probably call her. Would be a v romanticized version of old relationships, like she wasn’t an accessory she was an actual person to him y’a know. Actually spoke out against Japanese internment camps or alternatively he learns about them in 2020 and denies it until being rlly sad and losing faith in the us and questioning why he ever fought in a war, then coming around and fining pride and purpose.

Girl from the fifties. Is super misogynistic at first believes a women should be at home cooking, cleaning, and caring after children but becomes like a feminist warrior. Who still loves caring for children, cooking, and cleaning for her husband but now realizes women can be more and should be treated as such. Terrified of communists, maybe her family was falsely accused of being commies and they lost everything idk.

Either a himbo or a bimbo from the 70s. Like some true stoner idiot. Loves music. Protested against the Vietnam war and for civil rights. Had an intelligent best friend who kept them safe, was probably very homoerotic and literally cannot function w out them half the time despite being a ghost. Was maybe serial killered bc it was the 70s. Or maybe drafted idk.

I’m thinking either like a greasy Billy loomis vibes guy from the 90s. Or like a girl boss from y2k. Idk yet, they might be too current to be like rlly fun y’a know.

Also either ghosts no one else sees or they have been reanimated so they have to live in real life and when people are like your roommates are weird, the 2020 person is like “I’m aware.” Things like cowboy getting into fist fights in a bar for some stupid reason and Victorian having to begrudgingly save them. Dotty (from the 50s) and 70s having an impromptu rally for the rights of people with uteruses. All of them comforting the guy from the 30/40s when he struggles with ptsd, or them all having to deal w him stockpiling all their food for when the economy crashes again. Maybe not even a person form the 2020a maybe they all just have to deal but I kinda like the 2020s person so idk. The person from the 70s gay panicking over an attractive person then having a full meltdown bc they feel so guilty for betraying their best friend, maybe going on a quest to find their grave sight and be reunited almost risking all their friends and having to choose them instead. 70s listening to dad music on a turntable way too loud way too late at night and smoking both cigarettes and weed way too much. 30s, 50s, and 70s all sharing cigarettes and having big movies nights were Victorian era is like rants on about beautiful films and it’s like Paul blart or something.

#story ideas #story idea #my work

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penny-nichols · 2 years

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Thinking about my global studios based sitcom again

OK SO BASICALLY it would be a mockumentary style thing (I think that’s what it is???? Parks and rec is a mockumentary right? I haven’t seen the office) and it would follow the cast of global studios in their like. Daily adventures the case was - Dee Vasquez (out of prison or never went) -Matt Engarde (still very much killed a guy but is out of prison because there are 3 total actors at global now instead of 2) -Penny Nichols (Penny Nichols) -Will Powers (of course) -Cody Hackins (Just a guy ya know) -John Marsh (STILL HAS NOT FINISHED AAI2 I’M WORKING ON IT I HAVEN’T PLAYED IN MONTHS BUT I’M GETTING THERE) -Lotta Hart (we need a bigger cast and so she’s the camerawoman) -Roger Retinz (has like. a friendly-ish rivalry with Global, specifically Dee) -MAYBE Shelly de Killer at some point -..... that might be all in terms of current canon characters actually So I had started writing episode one at one point and since I cannot include Sal Manella for more than the most passingest of references I had him leave the studio. Of course, they needed a new director, so they hired one: Bea Mubie (you may notice that Bea is also the name of one of my other OCs that I have yet to really develop. They are the same oc just at different stages and with different last names) I had two different plots planned for the episode (not like. A plot and B plot but more A plot and.... Different A plot because I scrapped the first one. the B plot was pretty solid)

Plot number one (the first one I came up with) was Bea wanted the studio to stop making samurai content and focus on more prestige cinema (I stopped writing it because I realized we had 3 actors and I would also have to explain the characters of Oliver Twist.) The main thing (besides the fact that it wasn’t samurai stuff) was that everyone got cast very wrong (WP was Bill Sykes who is the evil murdering bad guy and she described him as having a scary/murderous face, Matt was Noah Claypole who is an incredibly minor character and also a teenager when he was expecting to be Bill because of the murder conviction. John was expecting to be Oliver and he got the Artful Dodger which he’s fine with but Cody is Oliver and he’s not exactly an actor). Literally I think I was just genuinely not considering how a movie studio WORKS and that it needs PEOPLE and it’s not like an acting troupe (I think at one point I was going to have Shelly audition for one of the roles) Plot number two was about Bea coming to the studio again and having a big idea for a NEW samurai show. the conflict is that she’s taken the plot from a fanfic and the ONLY person who knows is Penny BECAUSE SHE WROTE IT. Once again there were 3 people and I was still treating it like an acting troupe and an acting troupe that had MORE than 3 people at that. Anyway the B plot is still kinda solid and it involved Lotta going off into the woods to find proof of the “wasp man” which is like Mothman but a wasp. She was trying to prove something to John and Cody

Anyway I kinda want to continue it but I would need some serious help figuring out the plot. I think I’m pretty good at writing humor and character interaction stuff, but we’re dealing with limited characters and the fact that I just. CANNOT come up with a solid plot is limiting. I don’t want to add too many OCs because while I can definitely give people unique personalities, I think that I’m bad at describing personalities and coming up with OCs in general, and if I were to introduce them I’d feel like they’d need like.... kind of an episode about them to get people used to them and attached to the character and stuff. That’s why the episode I had written started with the introduction of Bea (although she was probably going to leave by the end of the episode, I only really got about 1/4 of the way through at most). I mean, I know a lot of shows have to introduce a lot of characters at once but I feel like with the cast I have there’s JUST enough people that solidly introducing more would be a problem. And I KNOW that they’re canon characters and people already know them but I kinda want to write this like it’s a thing???? IDK. Honestly though. DM me or shoot me an ask or something if you think this is solidly An Idea and want to help. I can’t really promise anything about this happening but if I did manage to complete a script I’d want to find enough people to do like. a read through. Or maybe I’d just post it on AO3 IDK ...I’m open to including oldbag btw. but I am not including Sal the guy’s not funny and you can’t verbally say leetspeak which would make it useless for a read through

#long post

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featherfur · 3 years

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Jiang Cheng Gets a Farm and Some Zombies

Jiang Cheng has lived a long life, he's become immortal and left his sect behind for peace in the mountains. He's come to terms with the fact that Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen live with him making disgusting affectionate faces at each other day in and day out, and he's fine with that. As long as he has his sheep and goats, his loom, and his monthly arguments with that old bat Madam Chen when he goes into town to sell his fabric then he's perfectly happy. So just why did the gods have to toss two more zombies and their immortal boyfriend at him? Hasn't he suffered enough from other people's love lives?

Warnings: Jiang Cheng's potty mouth, canon-typical violence Length: 5.5k Relationships: Song Lan/ Xiao Xingchen, Lan Xichen/ Nie Mingjue/ Jin Guangyao

This may get a second piece I have like, 80+ ideas for different one-shots including other characters that have become gods or TGCF style ghosts and I have a lot of angst that I'm willing to pile onto Jiang Cheng (affectionate). I guess it depends on how this goes and how much energy i have lol.

“We’re looking for a cultivator with two fierce corpses with him, have you seen anyone suspicious?” A cultivator in green asked, his rough voice carrying over the milling crowd and making the civilians jump in surprise. Behind him, more cultivators were making their way through the crowd and trying to intimidate the truth out of the merchants.

“These Hua sect assholes… I cannot fucking believe we have to deal with them-” A sharp faced man started to snarl only to snap his mouth shut and growl in the back of his throat instead. Purple light glowed around his wrist under his long gray sleeves and with an irate flick, it disappeared.

The two men next to him gave him sympathetic looks, turning away so their faces were hidden more from the market crowd. One pulled a straw hat out of a large blue qiankun sleeve and slipped it on the sharp faced man’s head, tilting it down slightly so he could still see but would be cast in shadow. Neither of the two silent men reacted to his freshly bared teeth, well used to his aggressiveness when provoked, and simply pulled their shoulders in to pretend to be moving the merchandise.

Jiang Cheng was not having a good day. Which wasn’t that strange for a Market Day, but that didn’t make him any more resigned and simply upped his irritation instead.

It was one thing to have to deal with Madam Chen, the old bat, arguing with him over whether or not his wool was good enough to spin. Now he had to deal with the local cultivation sect apparently hunting him and his companions down. Hua Yuxuan was beyond lucky he died almost forty years ago or else Jiang Cheng would be hunting him down.

He flicked his eyes over the crowd of people, trying to figure out whether or not they would be spotted. There was always a chance they could get away free and clear, after all most of the merchants and townspeople knew them by now and they didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. On the other hand, the local cultivators had spotted Song Lan earlier and apparently panicked to the point that they were already calling for a cultivator and two fierce corpses.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” The Song Lan in question signed over to him, making Jiang Cheng turn his head to see better. “I’m sorry to have brought this upon you. If I leave then you and Xingchen will-”

“Enough.” Jiang Cheng snipped the idea in the bud, turning his head away. “We’re not separating. It’s not your fault the bastard pulled down your hood. Anyways, Xingchen radiates ghost energy and you give off demonic. The moment you get too far from Zidian every cultivator with a half-formed core will be able to sense you.”

Almost as if in answer, the purple light came from his wrist again accompanied with the sound of lightning popping.

Jiang Cheng flexed his fingers, using his golden core to soothe the irritated weapon. It had been a while since they’d last had a fight together, but the spiritual weapon seemed to understand that it had a chance of being used if they were spotted and it was ready. Zidian also tended to get hostile if it thought there was a threat to anyone, even if Jiang Cheng himself hadn’t noticed or didn’t think it was worthwhile, which meant the cultivators asking questions were annoying it.

Song Lan’s hands dropped from the corner of his eyes and a soft sigh came from him instead. There was the softest rustle of fabric against fabric and this time a voice came instead.

“Sect Leader Jiang is right, it’s too risky.” Xiao Xingchen’s gentle voice murmured. “But I do think we should get moving, it’ll be a little suspicious but we’re not known for sticking around long after all.”

That’s because we’re usually sold out by now, Jiang Cheng thought to himself, damn Hua sect is chasing away my customers.

It wasn’t like they needed the money, but it was the principle of it. Jiang Cheng sold his woven cloth once a month to drum up business, sell it cheaply and let others either make clothes or sell it for a higher price to the more wealthy patrons outside of their small mountain town. If he couldn’t sell his stuff then it kept building up and then Xingchen would get it into his head that he could sew which never ended well, but Song Lan was too smitten to stop him and Jiang Cheng knew he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Still, his first priority was to protect his companions.

His hand moved up to slip under the chain around his neck, pulling it out to slide down to the ring that hung on it. The energy still left in the ring sparked in response to his touch, warm and curious. Zidian glowed around his wrist and slid down like a snake to wrap around the chain, curling on itself smaller and smaller until the lightning whip lay as a second ring on the chain.

It was only the sudden lack of Zidian’s fierce energy that made Jiang Cheng realize what he was doing and he dropped the chain like it burned. Zidian didn’t move though, simply glinting in the light until he gathered both rings and slipped the chain back under his robe.

He cast another look on the crowd, but the only suspicious person there was Li Tan who was trying to pick someone’s pocket as usual. Really, that kid needed some help.

If it was Yunmeng then Jiang Cheng could have-

He pulled himself away from that train of thought, he hadn’t been Sect Leader in almost a hundred years. Hadn’t even been home to the lakes and rivers of his birth for half that long. There was no point in thinking about what could have beens, he was far too old for that.

“Okay, let’s go.” Jiang Cheng finally sighed, standing up from his chair and turning to help stuff the fabrics into bags. They could use Qiankun pouches, the little dimensional pockets were perfect for things like this, but it would give them away as cultivators and make it suspicious to anyone who saw them walking around without anything on such a busy market day.

Xiao Xingchen was smiling brightly at him, so pale in the sunlight that he managed to look more like a corpse than the actual corpse among them. Despite being a ghost, he managed to have more optimism within his smile than Jiang Cheng had felt in the last hundred and fifty-something years. Just looking at it made Jiang Cheng feel the urge to scowl, so he did and Xingchen just smiled brighter before taking the bags from Song Lan.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and picked up his own bag, tossing it over his shoulder and reaching for his sword on instinct. He let his hand drop a second later, though he could feel Sandu reacting to him through the Qiankun pouch sewed into his robes. It wasn’t worth risking carrying a sword that would mark him as a cultivator, but still it felt strange to not have the familiar weight in his left hand.

Song Lan seemed to understand his unease, reaching out to press a single finger to his shoulder and get his attention.

The fierce corpse started to sign and Jiang Cheng watched the hands move. They were covered in black lines instead of veins, demonic energy thrumming through them rather than blood. When they’d first met, the hands had been clunky and unskilled at delicate work from being dead for so long but now they were dexterously moving through the signs they’d learned together.

“If anything happens, I will wait for your orders.” Song Lan blinked at him, waiting for Jiang Cheng’s confirmation.

“Stay behind me then, if anyone grabs either of you the moment you can, just get behind me.” Jiang Cheng said, glancing over his shoulder. No one seemed to have noticed their movements- except Li Tan.

Jiang Cheng eyed the kid, he could be useful…

Jiang Cheng nodded at the cultivators in green and then held up two pieces of gold. He dropped it into a pouch, a normal one, and stuffed it into a crack in the wall where no one else would look. Li Tan’s eyes lit up and he nodded his head rapidly, already taking off to the other side of the lane.

“I just saw a fierce corpse! Next to lao-Bai’s house!” Li Tan’s voice shrieked over the crowd and the Hua Cultivators bolted after him. In the complete opposite direction.

“That kid’s good.” Jiang Cheng said approvingly, he was smart and fast and Jiang Cheng had no doubt the kid would be back here to collect his payment before the Hua Sect even knew who called them over.

“Don’t go adopting random kids.” Song Lan signed, making Xingchen frown at him.

Jiang Cheng responded on instinct born of sixty years of snapping them playfully.

“I didn’t hire you to tell me what to do Biy-” The words soured and died on his tongue, and he pressed his lips shut. His companions looked at him curiously, Song Lan’s head cocking to the side with a hint of understanding.

The recipient those words had been for was long gone and Jiang Cheng didn’t want to think about that. Maybe in another hundred years, but not now, he was far too good at keeping the pain fresh much longer than he should. He couldn’t focus on that now anyway, he had to focus on here and now.

“I’m not going to adopt any kids, I don’t even want you two hanging around.” He snipped, his voice free of any true venom, and nodded his head down the alley. “Let’s get back to the horses.”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan shared a look but neither of them said anything, simply stepping up to follow him.

The alley was quiet, decently clean for a place that was really only used for people to escape the market quickly. Jiang Cheng could see a few curious eyes peeking out of windows but when they realized it wasn’t anything special they disappeared again, occasionally with a wave. He nodded in response to those waves, best to keep up appearances so no one reported them for suspicious behavior.

“There!” An unfamiliar voice shouted when they got to the end of the alley. “I see them! Shixiong!”

Jiang Cheng snapped his head around to Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, seeing his own panic reflected back. Then he realized that there was no one behind them, and they weren’t visible from the other road yet-

“Fucking-” A voice that was familiar, came from the corner they had yet to turn. Before Jiang Cheng could do more than think up a few of his own curses, they were overtaken by three people coming around the corner.

Zidian reacted faster than Jiang Cheng, snapping violently under his shirt and zapping over the chain to shoot out of the back of his robe. It launched forward, wrapping around two of them and slamming them together, extending itself further until it could wrap around their mouths and keep them from crying out.

A sword flickered in the corner of his vision, slicing down at Jiang Cheng and with a twist of his hand a surge of power pulled Sandu from the qiankun pouch. He wrapped his fingers around the sheath and with a flick of his fingers the sword yanked itself free and caught the blow in mid air, a ringing sound echoing in the alley.

“Sect Leader Jiang!” Xingchen said in warning and Jiang Cheng held back an aggressive growl before he realized just who’s blow he’d blocked.

Lan Xichen, a once-fellow sect leader long retired from the Gusu Lan Sect, was standing before him looking almost as confused as Jiang Cheng felt. Lan Xichen’s sword seemed to vibrate angrily but Sandu didn’t move and the two were locked in a stalemate that was almost more weapon than cultivator.

“Jiang Wanyin…” Lan Xichen said rather awkwardly, looking like a teenager caught by his parent.

Jiang Cheng didn’t answer immediately, just slid his eyes over to Zidian’s victims and-

“I can’t catch a fucking break.” He swore violently, looking at the two.

Nie Mingjue, the fierce corpse of the once Sect Leader of Qinghe Nie, and Jin Guangyao, the absolute fuckhead bastard who destroyed so many lives and made Jin Ling cry also a prior Sect Leader of Lanling Jin, were currently smashed chest to chest. The purple whip was sparking angrily every time they twitched and kept its hold tight around their mouths, almost seeming to growl when Nie Mingjue tried to wrench away.

“Down there!” The voices shouted and Jiang Cheng suddenly felt seventeen and desperate again. Hunted and scared, people he cared about in danger, unable to protect them-

He forced himself to focus and pulled Sandu back into its sheath after flicking Lan Xichen’s sword away, looking at Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. His first priority was getting those cultivators to fuck off, and he needed to prove there was nothing dangerous here for that.

“Get those two into a building, keep Zidian around them. Sect Leader Lan, compose yourself.” Jiang Cheng ordered, ignoring the two tied up fierce corpses trying their best to shout at him. Song Lan glanced over once, like he wanted to complain, but simply moved over to the two and started to drag them backwards before Xingchen moved over to help.

“Jiang Wanyin-” Lan Xichen said again, this time a warning tone to his voice but Jiang Cheng cut him off.

“Put your sword away. Now unless you’d rather fight the Hua sect. You won’t get out of here without killing them unless you listen to me.” Jiang Cheng’s voice grew short, the authoritative tone of a Sect Leader bleeding through and Lan Xichen was putting his sword away with a half-formed scowl on his lips.

The thunder of feet was loud as Jiang Cheng grabbed Lan Xichen’s wrist and tossed him behind him, doing his best to look like he had been walking down the alley as the cultivators turned the corner.

“What the hell are you doing?” He snapped, purposely pulling his bag closer like he’d nearly lost his goods. “Didn’t anyone teach you brats not to run around corners? Do you know how much you would cost me if you ruined my fabric?”

Lan Xichen choked behind him but the cultivators in front of him didn’t notice. The oldest looking one, presumingly the shixiong that had been called over, stepped up to them.

“Where’s your fierce corpse friends?” He snapped and Jiang Cheng bristeled instantly, flicking his straw hat up to be able to better glare down at him. The one advantage he had was that he did tend to be taller than most people, so even brats like this thought twice.

“Eh? You think I’m hiding fierce corpses?” He snarled, watching the slight panic grow in the cultivator’s eyes. “That’s why you destroyed my chance at business today? You want some fierce corpses go hang around Qinghe Nie, the hell are you going into towns for? What are sects teaching you all these days? Even a merchant like myself knows that fierce corpses don’t live in towns.”

“S-sir, we saw two of them- Ah! The man behind you, the one in blue, we chased him in here with his two corpses, he’s a demonic cultivator.” The cultivator insisted, trying his best not to get overrun but Jiang Cheng had a full deck of moves that the kid didn’t even know existed.

He turned to look at Lan Xichen, raising an eyebrow at the way his face had gone serenely blank. Atleast that was still the same, even it was fucking weird.

“Demonic cultivator? You mean xiao-Chen?” The diminutive fell from his lips and he had to force back a smirk at the aggrieved sound coming from Xichen. Yeah, Jiang Cheng was going to insult him. If someone’s a dumbass, tell them they’re a dumbass, especially when they no longer hold the power to ruin the lives of you and yours.

Jiang Cheng glanced over the other cultivators, taking in the rather young faces and the way they blinked in familiarity to him.

“What’s xiao-Chen have to do with anything? He’s been with me all day selling wares, everyone knows he never leaves my side, how else am I supposed to keep from being robbed?”

“No he hasn’t-”

“Sir, I don’t think he’s lying.” One of the younger kids said, head trying to see over his fellow cultivators. “Everyone knows lao-Yu and his son is always in blue, and that looks like him.”

How fucking old do you think I look? Jiang Cheng thought, feeling quite offended. He hadn’t aged since he was in his thirties at the oldest.

And how blind are the kids these days?

Xiao Xingchen had a rather delicate and soft face, very different from Lan Xichen’s firm and strong looks. Unless you counted that both were considered attractive, they didn’t really look all the same. Maybe it was that both of them had the same ‘smile until everything’s okay’ aura about them.

The original disciple hesitated, scowling over at the one who had spoken before he turned back to Jiang Cheng.

“Let me see your bags.” He snapped, making Jiang Cheng roll his eyes as he thrust it over.

“Don’t ruin a single thing in there.” Jiang Cheng growled, making himself look even more irritated. “If I had known that selling here would cause such a big fiasco I never would have taken Sect Leader Hua’s offer to make his wife something flattering.”

That made them all freeze, looking at each other like someone could confirm or deny it. Nobody said a word. The last person anyone wanted to piss off was Sect Leader Hua and annoying his wife was the quickest way to do that.

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms, eyes narrowing and letting himself steadily look more and more aggravated. The cultivator in front of him suddenly looked incredibly nervous as he passed the bag, unchecked, back to him.

“I uh… I didn’t realize it was you Yu-qianbei, please accept our apologies. My shidi must have been mistaken when he saw someone come down the alley. Please forgive us.” The cultivator said with a deep bow.

Yu-qianbei? I guess so, atleast it’s not as insulting as lao-Yu.

“Just get out of my way, all your fear mongering scared my customers away.” Jiang Cheng snapped, waving the bag in the air to get his point across.

The cultivators shrunk back and nodded, the head one quickly ordering them back out of the alley and then they were left with one. The one who’d said he’d recognized Jiang Cheng from the shops.

Jiang Cheng turned to him, ready to snap at him too, when he recognized the face.

“Lao-Yu? Aren’t you being a little presumptuous you brat?” Jiang Cheng snipped at Li Tan, rolling his eyes at the thief’s bright grin.

“I just saved your life old man, pay up.” The pre-teen bounced closer, hands out greedily.

“Saved my life eh?” Jiang Cheng cuffed the back of his head, messing up his hair. “If you’d done a good job in the first place I wouldn’t have needed it.”

“Lao-Yu,” Li Tan tried to say charmingly, “If it wasn’t for your friends being obvious then my plan would have worked perfectly. So really, you should be paying me for the extra effort.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes again but he couldn’t help but feel fond for another Li he’d known a few decades earlier. She’d been a street rat too, plucked off the street when Jiang Cheng got tired of her picking the pockets of his disciples and decided to just put her to good use killing monsters and putting souls to rest. Li Tan had a good head on his shoulders, maybe he’d actually do something with it.

“You saw where I put the bag, and here.” Jiang Cheng pulled a few pieces of silver out and passed them over. “You fit in, why don’t you join the sect instead of being a menace?”

“Pfft.” Li Tan wheezed as he tucked away the money. “Please lao-Yu, nobody wants an orphan from the streets in their sect. I know you’re old but are you senile too?”

Jiang Cheng swatted him again for good measure, shoving him down the alley.

“It’s happened before… Maybe you should head down south, I hear Yunmeng Jiang is pretty different.”

“Sure, have a good trip home lao-Yu.” The brat said before he was skipping towards the bag Jiang Cheng had hidden for him earlier and left Jiang Cheng alone with Lan Xichen.

Jiang Cheng tapped his fingers against his arm, waiting until he heard Lan Xichen start to move.

“I should be slicing your head from your shoulders for what you’ve done, releasing those two. Letting me catch you, especially with that bastard.” Jiang Cheng growled, his voice low and dangerous, any hint of the levity and affection toward Li Tan gone. In its place was the voice of a man who had spent far too long killing and not long enough knowing peace.

“Jiang Wanyin-” Lan Xichen said, that customer service smile he perfected coming through his voice with just a hint of anger.

“Shut up.” Jiang Cheng snapped, barely taking a second to glance over his shoulder at him. “Knock me out and Zidian will kill your friends, kill me and Zidian will kill them, piss me off and Zidian will kill them.”

The half-glare that was on Lan Xichen’s face was swiped away with shock before barely restrained anger started to boil behind the mask. Jiang Cheng just turned away, tugging his necklace out on purpose this time.

He touched the ring, giving just enough spiritual energy that it woke and warmed under his fingers.

Zidian? He asked with his energy and the ring buzzed happily and tugged at the chain to the left.

Jiang Cheng followed its directions until they were in front of a door, purposely ignoring Lan Xichen. He didn’t know what to do with him, didn’t know what he wanted to do with the mess of fierce corpses. He just wanted to go to his fucking sheep, bitch about Madam Chen, make some dinner for himself and Xingchen, and got to bed.

And yet!

More fucking zombies.

How wonderful his life was, he couldn’t even get zombies of people he liked!

He pushed open the door and took in the sight of Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao standing in the middle of a room, still tied up, with Xingchen and Song Lan holding their swords to their necks. Jiang Cheng could appreciate their willingness to kill for no other reason than Zidian decided it didn’t like someone.

“Jiang Wanyin-” Lan Xichen sounded panicked but Jiang Cheng just waved him off.

“Settle down. Zidian, release.” Jiang Cheng ordered. Xingchen and Song Lan both stepped back and lowered their swords before Zidian sparked once, just to say it was annoyed, and then shot back towards him and wrapped tightly around his wrist rather than returning to ring form. Clearly it thought it needed to act on its own whims instead of Jiang Cheng’s but he didn’t have the energy to fight it out.

“You.” Jiang Cheng pointed his finger at Jin Guangyao when he seemed like he was going to speak. “Shut up, open your mouth and I’ll have Song Lan stab you. He wasn’t a big fan of your Xue Yang ploy.”

Song Lan indeed was gripping his sword tightly, recognizing the man in front of him despite the decades that separated them. Jin Guangyao smiled, lips pressed tightly together in a way that usually gave off the impression of levity and gentleness but now just made the annoyance burn a little brighter in Jiang Cheng.

“As for you… I don’t give a fuck.” Jiang Cheng waved his hand, uncaring of the rudeness and Nie Mingjue was so taken aback he didn’t even respond. “Whose house are we in anyways- you.”

“Now xiao-Yu, I was nice, you owe me.” Madam Chen called from where she was in the kitchen. “Your xiao-Chen was so kind as to give me all this nice cloth, so of course I helped him. But I won’t take any foul language.”

“You’re a terrible old bat.” Jiang Cheng spat. “We’re leaving. Everyone, out.”

“See you next month.” Madam Chen said amicably, waving at them.

“Yeah, yeah, I won't forget the blue this time. Calling me xiao-Yu, I’m older than your grandfather.” Jiang Cheng hissed to himself, turning and pushing Lan Xichen into the alley again. Why did everyone he knew have to be so obnoxious? Why did they all have to show up again at the same time? Give him some breathing space fucking please.

Jiang Cheng stepped into the alley and glanced at the group before shaking his head.

“Don’t talk here, bolt if you want to, god knows I don’t want to deal with this shit. Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, let’s go.” He tilted his head and started walking. A few seconds later he heard footsteps, too many to just be Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen. He held himself back from cursing, because if he started he wasn’t going to stop. He really was going to have to deal with this, wasn't he?

Couldn’t someone have problems with a zombie and not involve him?

Wouldn’t that be a blessing? To be able to look over at someone else’s shit going down and just be able to go “Wonderful I’m not emotionally invested in any of them”?

He was way too old for this, he wanted to go live in his mountain all alone forever. That’s why he left, he didn’t have any family left, he didn’t have any friends, and his sect was long gone from his generation. He wanted to be alone, with his sheep and goats and his horse and maybe maybe! He could deal with Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan staying with him.

Because Song Lan didn’t talk and Xiao Xingchen was too nice to tell Jiang Cheng to shut up when he got upset. Perfect house guests! They occasionally helped kill monsters and they helped shear his animals, great!

Lan Xichen and the two boyfriends everyone pretended not to know about for sixteen years? Not great.

Jiang Cheng only realized they were back to the horses when he got a faceful of horse nose.

“Yeah yeah, I didn’t get you anything. Because you’re a terrible horse, absolutely the worst.” Jiang Cheng hissed into the silver nose, his mood lightening slightly when he got a knicker in response. Dancer simply snorted at his harsh words and lifted her head to gaze curiously at his extra companions.

He took a moment to compose himself, wondering if Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan would be offended if he jumped on Dancer and bolted, before he turned around.

Nie Mingjue looked relatively pissed and Jiang Cheng could feel the vaugest resentful energy starting to come from him even after Zidian had sapped it and did it’s best to block it. Jin Guangyao was taking everything in with a self-assured air, and Jiang Cheng really wanted to stab him, and seemed quite interested in the three horses that Jiang Cheng and his companions now stood beside. Lan Xichen had given up on his smile and just looked exhausted like he was quite ready to simply lay down on the ground.

“Okay, I just… Just fucking… Is it destroyed?” Jiang Cheng sighed, turning to Nie Mingjue. “Just tell me it’s gone.”

“It’s destroyed.” Nie Mingjue rumbled, his voice somehow managing to be deeper than Jiang Cheng remembered. His head lifted to glower at Jiang Cheng, his wild and unkempt hair falling back and revealing a line of stitches holding his head to his body.

Jiang Cheng sucked in a slow breath, nodding to himself. That was one thing off his plate, making sure the Tiger Amulet had been successfully destroyed. Everything else was easy. Anyone Jin Guangyao could hurt was already dead and Lan Xichen wasn’t exactly a vengeful person, so after they left then Jiang Cheng could be left in peace.

“You’re welcome for saving your asses, you might want to take a bath and learn how to hide your demonic energy. You can fuck out of my life now.” Jiang Cheng said, waving his hand dismissively at them and turning to toss his bag onto Dancer’s back.

“You’ve not gotten any better with your words, Jiang Wanyin.” Jin Guangyao’s voice began, so smooth that Jiang Cheng felt like he was twenty three and being admonished for snarling at a Jin disciple back when he gave a damn about Jin Guangyao.

“Song Lan.” Xiao Xingchen’s voice said quietly and Jiang Cheng didn’t need to look to know that Song Lan’s sword was now being pointed at Jin Guangyao.

“Just as loyal as your Yunmeng Jiang, you truly inspire-” Sandu appeared in his hand and he spun, his blow just barely being blocked by Lan Xichen. Yet, Lan Xichen’s sword wavered and Sandu got closer to Jin Guangyao’s head. To his right, Song Lan had reacted with Jiang Cheng and his blade clashed with a terrible shriek against Nie Mingjue’s giant saber, Baxia.

“Don’t talk ill of the dead, or I will send you to join them.” Jiang Cheng snarled, flicking his wrist and in two moves Lan Xichen was disarmed and Sandu was at Jin Guangyao’s throat. “Every member of Jiang is worth a hundred of you.”

“Jiang Wanyin, please.” Lan Xichen said exhaustedly, he hadn’t even moved to pick up his sword. Instead he swayed unsteadily and Baxia ground against Song Lan’s weapon again to shove him back so Nie Mingjue could dash over to Lan Xichen and hold him up with a hand on his back.

“Funny how many people keep asking me for mercy after making my life hell.” But he lowered Sandu and grabbed Xichen’s sword instead. “They’re still looking for you, so wherever you were headed I suggest you get going. I left the world behind, so do whatever you want, just stay out of my village.”

He flicked the pale blue blade around to offer the handle to Jin Guangyao, and after a few curious moments the man finally took Lan Xichen’s sword and held it point down.

Jiang Cheng caught Song Lan’s eye and nodded towards the horses, turning his back on the three. He wasn’t lying, if they wanted to spend eternity fighting monsters then they could, if they wanted to go light the world on fire then whatever just stop dragging him into thi-

“Do you three have a place to go?” Xiao Xingchen’s helpful voice rang out and Jiang Cheng’s eyes met Song Lan's with horror written on both of their faces.

Xiao Xingchen no, no, no, no please-

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Xingchen said in a gentle manner, the one he used when he reminded Jiang Cheng that he had died at barely twenty and in many ways had never actually grown up all these years. “They don’t have anywhere to go.”

“I don’t care.” Jiang Cheng said, and pulled himself up onto Dancer. Xiao Xingchen grabbed ahold of her reins, bright eyes looking up at him hopefully. Jiang Cheng was weak, he knew, he knew he was so annoyingly weak to being pouted at. He blamed Jin Ling, before his brat was born Jiang Cheng was great at being a hardass.

“You took us in.” Xiao Xingchen blinked at him, looking incredibly young. He was young, even after everything he’d been through he was still so kind. He was forty at best now despite his spirit being huddled against Song Lan for ages before that, and yet he looked like the twenty year old he’d died as.

“You were different.” Jiang Cheng growled but his resolve was weakening and when he looked to see Song Lan giving Lan Xichen a pitying look, he broke. “Fine. We’ll take them with us. We don't have enough horses so someone’s going to have to walk to let Master Lan ride.”

Xiao Xingchen was already pulling his palomino around, leading her over to the suspicious three.

“Fuck my life.” Jiang Cheng groaned, letting his head fall back.

Behind him, Song Lan grunted in agreement.

#Jiang Cheng #MDZS #The untamed #Xiao Xingchen #song cover #Lan Xichen #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #meng yao #songxiao #3zun #nielanyao #Ace jiang Cheng #Jiang Cheng will learn to be nice to JGY it's just a matter of breaking down some walls #Jiang Cheng also took one look at a lost Song Lan and doing his best Xiao Xingchen and decided they're his kids despite them technically #being like two years younger than him he doesnt care these are his kids now #He's really going through it guys everyone keeps making out around him and he would like them to Leave #but also don't because he gets lonely #Yes Jin Ling is dead #FOR NOW I PROMISE #Sizhui and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are also dead #FOR NOW #Wei Wuxian might secretly be not dead but I haven't decided yet so you'll find that out when I do #Jingyi is in fact a god and if i write more installments that will come up #ANyone who is dead is dead FOR NOW the intention is 100% to bring them back no one stays dead except the canon dead

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big-ditch-energy · 3 years

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Controversial(?) Opinion: Neurodivergent Folks are Great at Socializing, Actually

So I've been thinking a lot about relationships, boundaries and communication today and one of the themes that keeps coming up when I examine my own life is that, with a few exceptions, it is only ever my neurodivergent friends who are consistently and proactively transparent with me about boundaries, where they're at mental health wise and what effect that may have on our relationship, and other things of that nature. Even my most communicative neurotypical friends tend to only engage in such discussions after something has gone majorly wrong.

And that's just got me thinking that honestly? Past a certain age, I think, in general, neurodivergent folks have better social skills than neurotypicals.

Like sure, we often still suck at picking up on subtext, and yes, we're probably always going to behave differently from neurotypicals and in ways that might come off as awkward or weird, but y'know what both of those generally translate to in mature people???

Spectacular communication. Tolerance for harmless oddities. Willingness to accommodate other communication styles and find something that makes communicating easy for both parties--and plenty of experience doing so, having spent basically our whole lives trying to figure out how to communicate with a society that is on a slightly different wavelength from us.

Like... bro. We have been accommodating and figuring out how to deal with neurotypicals our entire lives, facing huge amounts of criticism and even complete ostracization for failure. We learned social skills on hard mode. We basically had to face the final boss of social skills while woefully under-leveled and now we're walking back to the beginning areas with the best gear in the game and insanely sharp skills, looking around MINDBOGGLED that people are out here struggling with things that could be solved by literally making the most half-assed effort to communicate instead of never addressing the issue.

It is not accurate nor fair to stereotype us as socially hopeless based on the way we struggled as children, especially given how rarely we were actually accommodated or taught what to do in ways that made sense to us.

And frankly, I think part of the reasons things like ADHD and autism are seen as things that only affect children is because most of us have to get SO GOOD at appearing neurotypical to avoid criticism that it makes it appear that there are far fewer neurodivergent adults than there really are. And I mean, I could get really in-depth on why that's a problem and the effects masking all the time can have on us, but that's besides the point.

Also I'm sorry, but if you refuse to adjust the way you're communicating something when the person you're talking with clearly does not understand, or if you're getting mad at them for not picking up on something you refuse to convey clearly and directly? That is on you. YOU are the one who is bad at communication in this situation. YOU are the one who is too inflexible or lacks the social skills to adjust. YOU are the one who cannot make yourself understood.

The exact age where we git gud at socializing does vary from person to person, especially depending on the intensity of their neurodivergence and whether they have access to the tools they need to communicate successfully, but like... dude, once we're in our final form, however long and with however much help that takes each of us, we kick ass at socializing. And yeah, sometimes it's only through unconventional avenues that we can socialize really well because some of us need certain accommodations, but we almost all find at least one way where we're really good at communicating and connecting with people, and we tend to have a lifetime worth of experience communicating in ways that aren't natural to us and can hold our own just fine in such situations.

#neurodivergence #neurodiversity #actually adhd #ADHD #Autism #communication #social skills #hot take?

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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Random date night with Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo

Hello, anon! Ask and you shall receive! This prompt is very interesting and I will try to keep it in character as much as possible. To sum this up, Hisoka would take you to an ice cream shop, a carnival, or apple orchard while Illumi would rather go to an art or historical museum. Chrollo would persuade you to attend a book reading/author signing or go hiking. Depending on who you are and what your ideal date is, I’m sure you’d find them all fun. Going to a carnival or apple orchard is my go-to since I’ve barely been because they’re all in the suburbs. These headcanons are explained much more than the others. That is why Chrollo and Illumi seem to be short, but they’re not. Also, I can’t wait for Halloween because these headcanons are going to be amazing. I am extremely sorry if there are grammar errors! Taking classes on Zoom is frustrating and now my brain has to relearn everything that I lost in 3 months! Before we get started, I have a few announcements.

This post is more laid back than my other headcanons because I tried to keep it as canon as possible.

I want to thank you all for 65 followers! It means a lot! I’m happy to see that a lot of you enjoy my writing and like it enough to follow me! I have a challenge for you! When I reach 100 followers, I will host some type of writing event here...but I need ideas. I’ve seen some pages do specials where you can send an ask and pretend like you're talking to a character and I respond with what they’d say. SEND ME IDEAS! I WILL CREDIT YOU!

I will be stepping back a little more than before. I’ll still be logged in and re-blogging but as far as writing posts like this...it may only be once or twice a week. You see, I’m in college and I’m struggling financially and I have to work on scholarships. If you all send me an ask, be patient.

Voltron posts will only be created based on asks. I will not be writing posts about VLD if no one requests them. I do not receive any feedback from it anymore and no one seems to like them.

Now, let’s get into the post.

Let's start with Illumi first.

Headcanon 1: Illumi has a secret admiration for different types of art but he specifically enjoys pop art and surrealism. He has commented on how surrealism makes his brain twist and his feelings swirl as he tries to figure out the piece and what inspires it.

He prefers not to participate in tours as he likes to digest the art at his own pace.

Headcanon 2: In his spare time, he paints on a canvas. His art style consists of both surrealism and abstract art. For a person with a dark personality, his compositions always contain bright colors and abstract techniques that leave you wondering about his TRUE personality. He is truly a good man with a bright personality but after being abused for so long, those behaviors/personalities have been shoved so far down his throat that they may not come back up.

He has a bad habit of asking you what you thought about every single piece of art you passed. The conversations were great but this is a date after all. The playful conversation slowly turns into a lecture about art. Although you loved your bf’s dictionary-like brain it also drained your energy.

One of his favorite artists is Vincent Van Gough. Although he favors surrealism, Van Gogh’s art style was mind-blowing to him. So amazed that he buys several Van Gogh t-shirts from the gift shop.

His favorite piece created by Van Gough is “Starry Night”.

He notices that you are becoming bored and decides that it is time for MORE excitement, one that you are certain to enjoy.

“Where are we going,” you ask, pretending to be interested.

“Down to the basement. We are going to have a bite to eat.”

Since Illumi rarely smiled, when he did smile it drove you wild. The anticipation of what his next move was going to be is what drove that wildness. Being a bounty hunter was thrilling already but dating a smart, badass assassin was totally out of your league but it worked out.

Headcanon 3: Illumi’s idea of being romantic is dramatically different from yours. He believes just spending time with you on the couch was enough. He is correct; but if you have the time and funds, your time together should be a little spontaneous. You insisted on dates outside of the house because his family will not stay out of your business.

“Illumi, I am too hungry for more trivia.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry. So am I. That is why I’ve decided to take you to a wine and cheese party.”

Huh? Wine and Cheese at 3PM? That’s ok. When was there a time limit on when you can drink alcohol?

Illumi has indirectly attended parties as such when he was 15 years old. He never drank, but he watched as his mother’s friends (surprisingly) talked about business and their children. This time, you weren’t going to talk about business for once. Instead, you two were going to actually talk about what couples discuss.

Headcanon 4: When introduced to alcohol for the first time, Illumi immediately stated how he hated brown liquor. That includes Hennessy, Jack Daniels, etc. It makes him sick to his stomach. He prefers to drink Smirnoff mixed with fruity drinks like strawberry or pineapple.

He loves it when you make these drinks for him on a summer day.

Hence the title wine and cheese, you both go to a stand-up table, place your brochures down, and actually have a wonderful conversation not involving work or hunting.

Illumi smiled a few times, more than usual. Whenever he appears to be softer even around you, that is because he has mellowed out and doesn't have the overbearing weight of his family on his shoulders. You set him free.

Hisoka

According to a one-shot that another manga artist created, they expressed that Hisoka was found on the side of the road, was taken in by someone that worked at a local circus, and learned Nen in a matter of days. Hisoka’s clown look and having the skills of a magician proves that this has to be canon in some way.

Headcanon 1: Given this potential backstory, going to a carnival is his go-to every summer. He wants to take you to a circus but saves that for you as an engagement gift.

Everyone with a heart knows that whether or not you’re in a relationship or not the carnival is fun as hell! Expensive fried food, elephant ears, funnel cake, ICEE’s, rides, and stuffed animals are to die for!

Being at a carnival relaxes him so his bloodlust isn’t activated unless someone bumps into him and causes a scene.

Headcanon 2: PDA is something that Hisoka does well; he doesn’t overdo it but does it enough where people get the impression that you are a couple and aren’t “best friends”.

While completing a mission depending on how rough it may be, he insists that you tag along to see how he handles the situation. You’ve already seen his ruthlessness from Hunter’s exam but he insists.

His sense of pride gets the best of him sometimes. Sometimes his head is so big that it reminds you of a large birthday balloon.

Headcanon 3: ANYWAY, given his nature, he is very adventurous, dangerous, and courageous. If he wants to go on the Demon Drop, he’ll do it and you DO not have a choice in the matter. He’ll tease or guilt trip you into doing something that you would not like to do.

“Well, you wouldn’t want me to cling on to someone else, would you?”

“No. Of course not,” you reply.

“Let’s go then, scaredy-cat.”

As a hunter, you’ve seen worse. Why are you so afraid to go on a ride?

Headcanon 4: At apple orchards, cornfield mazes are one of his favorites. You cannot for the life of you figure out how to get out but he can. He grabs a scarecrow and scares you from behind. That annoys you but is nothing compared to later on that night.

Oh. My. God. It’s haunted house time!

“Hisoka, I’m not going in!”

“Why not? I’ll protect you.”

“Because they’re monsters and I already have to deal with one.”

It took him a second to catch on that you were talking about him.

“That’s going to bite you in the butt, kitten.”

Headcanon 5: Like Killua, Hisoka has a sweet tooth. Don’t allow his buff appearance to fool you!

He LOVES caramel apples, elephant ears, funnel cake, freshly squeezed lemonade, fudge, and cotton candy. How can this man manage to stay in shape? The world may never know.

Headcanon 6: He isn’t one to play by other people’s rules but he sets his own rules with your relationship that you both must obey. One of those rules says that neither of you can be on your phones while together.

Headcanon 7: Hisoka insists that you both wear either matching pants or matching shirts to avoid unnecessary flirtation.

He isn’t jealous but on “us time”, he doesn’t want to lose a single second.

Headcanon 8: Hisoka only jumps in when necessary. Given that you’ve passed the hunter’s exam and work as a bodyguard, he knows you can handle your business. If the person can’t take a hint, then he steps in. They almost back up immediately considering Hisoka is towering over them.

When the moon shines, you both go to the car and off to sleep in your comfy king-sized bed.

Chrollo

We all know that Chrollo loves to read! What does he specifically like to read? What Genre? Does he like to read alone or with other people?

Although Chrollo is a thief and must be hidden in the shadows, the authorities have called off the search for him for at least 3 years. Slowly but surely, he begins to find himself in the outside world again.

Chrollo once discussed a book with the Phantom Troupe when they were being transported to another place for a mission. He read “Tears of a Tiger” by Sharon M. Draper.

The reading sessions are opened with an affirmation and a reason to be thankful to be alive. He says he is thankful for the troupe, glances at you, and smiles. No one catches on to that sly face except for Phinks.

Headcanon 1: Chrollo is very silent and shy to an extent. He only associates with people he knows and trusts. You are the social butterfly at this moment.

Chrollo tags along behind you like a shy child, holding your hand while you stick out your free hand to greet everyone.

Today, the book club was going to read “Divergent”.

Headcanon 2: Although he loves to read, he hates it when others read out loud. Most people are drably read and it annoys him. After a while, he takes over. Chrollo was tense the first 30 minutes of the meeting because two cops were there but neither of them noticed it was him.

Headcanon 3: Chrollo often acts the part of the character that he is reading in the book. His tone, attitude, and emphasis on certain words keep the group engaged. He is complimented on his acting!

“Good Job, honey,” you whisper.

He responds by tightly squeezing your hand.

His tone was so impressive that the host insisted that he read for the entire night. He was ok with that because in between reads he was often distracted by a lovely pair of jeans and shoes you had on. You were into writing, so hearing others read and act out the characters helped.

Headcanon 4: In some settings, Chrollo is very braggadocious. He insisted that the group read one of your stories so you could be provided with feedback.

“We’d be delighted to view your story, y/n!”

“It will be fun!”

The book club wasn’t a stereotypical club that only consisted of soccer moms but instead consisted of men and women who were involved with a business, law enforcement, health, etc. This was an open space for everyone to relax and forget about their demanding jobs.

After the meeting, the group went to dinner at a nearby pizzeria. You all enjoyed large pizzas, beer, salads, and dessert. How could your stomach (or anyone’s stomach) hold that much?

Chrollo laughed so much that it made you question if he was your actual boyfriend or not. He even engaged in conversations with the two off-duty cops! For once, you helped Chrollo experience the greater things in life; true love, friendship, and happiness.

“Thank you,” he whispered and slyly placed a kiss on your hand. “For everything.”

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venuscribble · 3 years

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No open cars, no open bars — Kim Namjoon

A/N: Hello again! Sorry I will do everything but follow the laws of grammar in my writing, I'm working on it... Grammarly hates my guts. Anyways, please do enjoy!

Summary: Joon takes his most favourite person to his most favourite spot in Seoul. He even gains a new friend on the way, too.

Fluff, hints of idol!Joon, gender neutral reader, bullying in a very romantic and charming way

It feels like I’ve lived for this little moment

On the two wheels, everything is just a trivial daydream

“Nearly there!” calls out Namjoon, riding ahead of you with his navy denim jacket billowing slightly behind, spanning out to meet the push of the wind like the wings of a dove. As the same gust pushes itself through your hair and makes waste to the careful styling you had applied to it, you can't help but realise it doesn't treat you half as nice as it does to the man before you. The gentle breeze makes his every movement elegant as he peddles along, head turning side to side to make sure every inch of the scenery around him is taken in. Intently, Namjoon soaks every little detail of his ride up and leaves nothing to be ignored. There’s not a single thing his pensive mind cannot see the beauty in, as his legs continue their steady push of the pedals below him. Nothing is minute, and to Namjoon, everything has its unique charm. It makes perfect sense for Namjoon to demand that the physical embodiment of everything he loves most about biking should accompany him on his next excursion. Despite your feeble argument against it, you knew how much accompanying Joon meant to him, a signal of trust and love which such a small gesture revealed to you. “It’ll be absolutely perfect,” he gushed as you agreed. “My baby and my bike. My two favourite things.”

You’ll do almost anything to see the bright beam of a smile Joon emits when he hears any good news. Even, it seems, deal with the gradual pain in your calves as you carry on peddling your bike along the smooth concrete path. Casting your gaze around, you understand with full clarity why Joon comes here to think - the world around you feels nothing less than idyllic. With the golden light of the sun meeting the greenery on either side of the road which you and your partner now inhabit, it feels like nothing of the cold concrete world you’re used to. Saturated and delicate, the air of perfectness is almost confusing in a sense of unfamiliarity to you. Even the daisies along the path's edge which greet you with a bow as the wind hits them feels closer to a Ghibli movie than your admittedly average life. It feels so unlike bustling Seoul, unlike unforgiving earth, unlike any dimension you could conjure up. This moment between you and Namjoon is so intimate that you conclude the space belongs to both of you and you two only. Only yours and Joon’s reality to feel the sunlight warming your cheeks and to think back on in future days.

“You look so peaceful.” You call out to Joon, hoping your voice carries through the whirring of your wheels and your backpack which audibly jiggles under your peddling. Namjoon smiles to himself, head ducking slightly in bashfulness. Accepting compliments from such a deity as yourself…he knows that will never be his forte. Alas, something his high IQ falters at - the praise of his loved one. He doesn't have a moment to string a reply together when along the path ahead he spots something that has him squeezing his brakes.

“Ah, check it out!” He exclaims happily, dismounting his bike as you brake to find...a traffic mirror? As you settle your own bike out the way to walk to your boyfriend, your head comes to rest on his shoulder from behind, looking up to the circular shape. It gives off an almost fish eye effect, the sky which is gaining an orange hue curving around your interlocked figures. A strong arm moves to hook around your waist, as Joon pulls you into his side. Seizing the opportunity to finally have you close once again, his lips plant a small kiss atop your head.

You give a small puff of a laugh. “Yknow, stopping to look at your reflection is a little vain.”

“Stopping to look at our reflections,” Joon jokes with a soft squeeze to your hip. “Me and my love.”

Your head turns to find where Joon had left his bike - of course, rather half-hazzardly abandoned in the middle of the path.

“You just left your love in the middle of the road.”

Namjoon can only let out a long and disapproving aish at your joke, releasing the hand on your waist only to engulf you in a gentle hug. Your head rests against his chest, finding solace in the familiar deep scent of his cologne. His arms wrap around your frame and rest on your hips, chin resting atop your head as he begins to rock your bodies side to side.

“Stop that.” He whines, rather than scolds. “You know I’d choose you above anything alllll day. Even if it was some kinda super cool mountain bike with an engine built in so I don't have to pedal. I’m still choosing you, okay?”

“Even above a super cool bike with engines?” you pout up at his face. He’s starry-eyed staring down at you, love pouring out of his gaze.

“Even then, and always.”

Content, you allow yourself to settle back into the comfort of his chest. What a sight, you wonder. Two lovers swaying to a melody no one can hear. You hear some chatter in the distance which only becomes a murmur once your senses tune to the soft rise and fall of Joon’s chest. His eyes smile down at you until flicking up to the mirror once more, and the sight of your frame resting upon his as the sunset casts a golden beam over you makes something tug at his heart. "Why me", he puzzles. Why him of all men in this lifetime, granted a gift so precious as yourself. He closes his eyes. His mind spirals into self-reflection. Why should Joon be the sole person granted such a harmonious moment as the one happening in front of his very eyes? What makes him so lucky? He doesn't have too long to analyse what karma he has, as he feels two paws plant themselves above his knee.

“Yeong-Won! We don’t jump at strangers!” ashamedly orders a woman as you turn your head and deduce to be in her mid-30s, whilst she and another older lady pry the golden retriever from hopping up your boyfriend’s leg. Not that Namjoon would care at all. Joon loves animals, and your many days having him give Moni just a few more kisses than you can attest to that.

“Hey, buddy!” coos Joon as he bends to meet the dog’s level. It’s slightly more grown than a puppy yet reaches to kiss Joon’s face with ease as he sinks to greet the boisterous dog. He rakes a hand over its head, running through its golden fur and ruffling his slightly floppy ears. “Nice to meet you, Yeong-wonie. What a handsome boy, eh?”

“He never does this to strangers,” offers the older of the two women to you. “Looks like he needed to say hello!”

You smile in return, shaking your head as Joon and the dog carry on playing as if the world around them has dissolved away. “What a lovely dog, he’s adorable!” You giggle. Joon rises to stand once again, not without ruffling the golden fur one last time.

“So sorry about that, again.” The younger woman adds as her eyes seem to pause on Joon’s face. Not something you're entirely foreign to.

“Wow, I feel like I recognise your face, mister. Dayeon-ah, doesn't the nice man seem familiar?”

The elder, now identified as Dayeon in your mind, furrows her eyebrows together as she thinks. Namjoon all but turns red.

“Ah, my mother tells me I have ‘one of those faces' all the time. It was nice to meet you! See ya, Yeong-wonie!”

After a quick goodbye, you both share an embarrassed laugh together and settle to resume biking once more. The sunset is in full swing now, casting shades of neon pink and blood orange against the cloudless sky like lazy brushstrokes of colour overlapping.

As Joon promised, it only takes a quick 2 minutes of peddling until you rear a corner and the greenery which followed your left side on the path is replaced by the apricot shade of the Han River. The sight makes your stomach stir - it's like nothing you could ever imagine. The setting sun reflects so perfectly, an oil painting brought to life in front of your eyes. You know Joon meets your level of adoration as the wind carries the sound of his small “Wah, so pretty” to you. Joon, your self-proclaimed bike guide during this trip, guides you along the path beside the river further, the atmosphere tranquil with the sounds of birds chirping and your wheels spinning.

“We’re here, babe.” Joon announces, once again dismounting his bike and prompting you to follow, resting your bike beside his. He is, of course, your guide. Your personal guide pauses to stop at a flat square of concrete just aside from the main path, facing the river which grows more and more picturesque by the minute. Your perfect picnic spot, you realise, pulling the backpack off your body and spreading the soft brown blanket kept inside. Joon gives a soft sigh as his body all but collapses down onto the square. The man is uber-fit, almost shockingly buff these days, yet he groans groggily after your short ride.

“Someone tired?” you tease. “Maybe you should be hitting the gym some more than you already are.”

“You're so mean to me. I bring my favourite spot and you make fun of me like this.” Huffs Joon, leaning back with his hands behind him supporting his body. “You’re lucky I love you as much as I do,” he adds with a small laugh.

“I know,” you reply, rapidly. You know you are, you might just be the luckiest person on earth. The one feeling the warmth of Joon’s unconditional love and companionship every single day. You feel like the moon and Joon is the earth itself, only you are blessed to be in his orbit despite the unfathomable size of the universe and countless other people living as you are.

“Hey, you know I'm kidding, babe.” Joon softly argues, hand running through your hair, ruffling it slightly. A blush creeps up to warm your cheeks, nuzzling into the large hand currently entwining it’s fingers into your hair. After a slight pause to collect his thoughts, Namjoon’s voice becomes more gentle as he replies, “Having you...it's like having this one treasure no one else can find. Like, I dunno. Like everything good you’ve done in life is being repaid to you. Does that make any sense?”

“Of course it makes sense, babe.” Your hand pries the one resting on your head to lock your fingers together, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You feel like that to me, too. I promise. You feel like everything good.” You take a quick look around your surroundings. You catch Joon’s eyes locking onto yours, gazing adoringly at you as if some sort of heavenly body had taken form, moulding into you. “You feel like the sunset and the trees... The wind, the flowers, all of it. You feel like nature to me, Joonie. Just tranquil and loving,” you turn to meet his eyes, “always so loving.”

“Ah, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Didn’t think taking you on my ride would make me so…”

“Gross?” you intercut with a smirk.

“Emotional, Y/N. But, this is the most romantic place in Seoul, I suppose. Doesn't help that I'm here with my angel. It’s human nature to be all soppy.”

You shuffle down to rest your head on Joon’s thigh, the extra bulk recently gained there making for an excellent makeshift pillow. He looks down at you with a tender smile which makes your most favourite pair of dimples on earth take form.

“I’m just waiting for someone to pop out that bush and say ‘Hey, got ya! Look at you being all mushy!’” you joke, the laugh it emits from Joon slightly rocking his thigh and your head in return.

“It’d probably be Jin-Hyung. I would go investigate myself if he didn’t have a schedule after we left. Still, not that I think anyone else can be trusted.” He huffs.

“Mm, definitely not.” you agree, nuzzling slightly into his thigh below you.

“I could stay here forever,” Joon begins after a tranquil minute, “just frozen in this moment.”

You want nothing more than for that to happen. For the laws of time to grant you this never-ending memory, to encapsulate it forever and never again worry about the minutes passing you by.

Joon’s lips press another soft kiss upon your head, lingering there for a while, basking in your warmth and the smell of his favourite green apple shampoo you keep using. Above you the sun gives its last fleeting moments of illumination, sinking to be doused in the Han River. He stays there, engulfed in bliss for a short second, nothing worrying him on Earth. That is, until his eyes widen and his head whips from atop yours to rapidly look at your puzzled face.

“How’re we getting home?” He all but exclaims. He’s right, you're both clearly slumped and what little sunlight that is left quickly fades. You think for a second, then, nothing.

“Shit!”

#kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #BTS imagine #bts scenarios #namjoon scenario #you guys notice my dog name pun?#i was proud

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 20, part three(!)

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This episode has so much crucially important stuff in it I had to write 3 posts about it! Part one is here, part two is here.

Don't Start None, Won't Be None

Lan Wangji has never had a real fight with Wei Wuxian before--remember, in their rooftop fight Wei Wuxian never even drew his sword. And since this is going to be a verbal fight, Lan Wangji is going to lose, badly. He's an elegant and articulate speaker, but he's not quick with words, and he speaks directly and sincerely. Weaponized speech is not his area at all, so he's pretty much bringing a knife to a gunfight. A guqin to a flute fight. Whatever. He tries to turn it into a physical confrontation, twice, but Jiang Cheng holds him back.

This throwdown is 100% about religion and orthodoxy; something that is fundamental to both of these young men's lives. Lan Wangji has made it his mission to be as orthodox as possible, doing shit like volunteering to be beaten for drinking when he didn't choose to drink. He's constantly overwhelmed by emotion, and the Lan rules are a source of regulation and safety for him. His emotions around Wei Wuxian are among the most overwhelming he's got, possibly only second to his feelings about his mom.

Right now his feelings are extra overwhelming.

It's complicated because his relationship with Wei Wuxian literally started off with him punishing Wei Wuxian for heterodoxy. All that time they spent together in the library? Was because Wei Wuxian talked--JUST talked--about using resentful energy for cultivation. Which is precisely the ability he's just shown them, along with a style of killing enemies that's borderline evil and definitely, DEFINITELY unsportsmanlike.

So this is not, Lan Wangji is lovingly worried about Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. This is Lan Wangji freaking out because his entire system of belief is being challenged and he's in love with the person who's challenging it.

Wei Wuxian has shown up to the party wearing an International Mr. Leather tee shirt with a enamel pin stuck to it that says "I get my kicks on route 666" and Lan Wangji just. cannot. deal.

Never Start a Fight But Always Finish One

Wei Wuxian has a couple of options here. One is to accept, kindly, that he and his friend can't be friends any more because of religion. In this option, in order to preserve his friend's comfortable sense of being right, he would have to tacitly accept that he himself is bad in some way, and allow his friend to keep having his value system, while walking away from him.

The other choice is to hit so hard that he makes his friend feel really, really bad, and potentially rocks him off of his comfortable foundation. In the short term, the friendship breaks, but if it forces him to actually question his value system, it might lay the groundwork for a new, more accepting friendship. Anyone who is queer with an anti-queer-religious best friend is probably familiar with this dilemma.

Wei Wuxian chooses the second option, and goes all in from the first moment, calling Lan Wangji "Lan Er Gongzi" and then upgrading to "Hanguang Jun" and even bowing. If it's possible to bow sarcastically, that's what Wei Wuxian is doing. Then he meets his eyes and sticks his chin out, essentially saying "how do you like them apples?"

(more after the cut!)

Lan Wangji's feelings are probably hurt, but he's too busy being mad to show it, and he goes straight to grilling Wei Wuxian, asking him about the killing, the talismans, and giving up the sword, all while Jiang Cheng stands by and wonders what the fuck is happening.

Lan Wangji is making a fundamental error here, which is he's speaking as if he's an authority instead of as a peer. Wei Wuxian has only ever accepted one authority in his entire life, and that was Jiang Fengmian. Jiang Cheng is the one who, for a change, is approaching as a worried friend, while Lan Wangji approaches as if he has the right to call Wei Wuxian to account.

Wei Wuxian won't answer his questions and is getting in his face, provoking him in a very quiet and controlled way, and Lan Wangji responds by just being really aggressive. It's interesting to see Wei Wuxian completely mastering his emotions while Lan Wangji is completely....not. Wei Wuxian pushes harder, saying he's being rude, saying he's being a bad friend. Which doesn't make any difference to Lan Wanji, who keeps pressing for an answer while Jiang Cheng wonders what the fuck is happening.

Come to Gusu

Wei Wuxian says he already explained, that it's complicated, it will take time to explain, so then Lan Wangji makes the utterly dumbassed demand that Wei Wuxian return to Gusu with him to explain it. What, exactly, is his plan? Bring Wei Wuxian to Gusu and have Lan Xichen (at the very least) and probably also Lan Qiren help him to convince Wei Wuxian that resentful cultivation is bad? How is that likely to work out? Let's have our own flashback, to that classroom interaction that led to the punishment in the library.

Lan Qiren: How will you make sure the resentful energy will only listen to you and not harm others? [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian] Wei Wuxian: I haven't figured that out yet ["details," as OP's dad used to say] Lan Qiren: If you did, the cultivation world would not allow your existence [i.e. we, the Lan Clan of Gusu, will kill your ass]

Lan Wangji probably doesn't think he's threatening Wei Wuxian with death by inviting him to Gusu, but he kinda is, if Lan Qiren was serious back then. Lan Wangji is so upset and fearful that he's not really thinking clearly at this point. He loves Wei Wuxian and he's certain that cultivating with resentful energy will destroy him. [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian] But Wei Wuxian is beyond fear. He's already been destroyed once.

Wei Wuxian rips on Gusu and then says, in a super-provocative way, that he prefers Yunmeng, which prompts Lan Wangji to say "don't joke around" as angrily as possible.

This part of the interaction always confuses me because...shouldn't he prefer Yunmeng? He's actually from there and lives there and belongs there and stuff? He's just saying "I think I'll go with my brother" yet WWX and LWJ both act like he said he'd rather go to Demon City.

Lan Wangji takes a big step forward and Jiang Cheng blocks him while Wei Wuxian continues to act unperturbed and puzzled while holding his demon flute out in between them.

Finally, FINALLY, Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Zhan, and asks him a serious question: What do you really want. Lan Wangji calms down for a second--although he keeps leaning into Jiang Cheng's sword block--and gets to the point, which is that the unorthodox path is dangerous, and harmful to his temperament.

Kill one turtle together and you think you're the boss of me

So, these dudes are talking about 2 different levels of unacceptable cultivation, in this episode and the next few. Netflix translates these as "wicked tricks" and "crafty tricks," which both sound absolutely ludicrous in English, so I'm going to use my own preferred terms, going forward.

I think what they are calling "Wicked Tricks," which includes spirit snatching and feeding people to the murder turtle on purpose in order to harvest their resentment could be translated as Heresy--adhering to a forbidden belief or practice; standing in opposition to Orthodoxy.

Edit: After rewatching Episode 35, in which Nie Huaisang explains why their whole blade thing doesn’t count as “wicked tricks,” I’ve changed my mind about what to call this. NHS says that “wicked tricks” specifically involve the use of humans & human spirits (killing, sacrificing, etc.). Which means Necromancy is probably the better term for this particular type of cultivation, although it is still (also) Heresy.

"Crafty Tricks," which is using resentful energy to raise and control already-dead people (ghosts and zombies) as well as just generally using resentment for basic stuff like beating Jin Zixuan's ass, could be translated as Heterodoxy--deviating from the accepted belief or practice, but not to the point of complete opposition.

Wei Wuxian laughs while Lan Wangji tries to be convincing, but since Lan Wangji is just repeating what he's been taught, he's not making much headway. Instead of saying "there's no exception throughout history" he could have, instead, gone with his own actual observations, such as "you are acting like a sadistic prick" or "you seem amazingly miserable" or "you aren't hugging your brother, what the fuck is that about?" But no.

Wei Wuxian responds to the charge of heresy by saying nuh-uh, and explains his methods, sort of, while going back to calling him Lan Er Gongzi. Lan Er Gongzi responds by actually literally yelling at him, and saying he's not allowed to decide for himself about what he's doing, as if the words "allowed to" have ever meant a goddamn thing to Wei Wuxian.

Temperament

At this point Wei Wuxian is done. He goes and gets right up in Lan Wangji's face and sticks a metaphorical knife right in his heart, smiling as he does it. "How do others know my temperament?" he asks; "and why should it be their concern?" i.e. you are not in my heart.

This makes Lan Wangji so mad he calls Wei Wuxian "Wei Wuxian" for possibly the only time in the show, and he also flashes a whole bunch of angry teeth. (Gifset here). In a callback to the JFM-YZY fight back in Lotus Pier before the war, Wei Wuxian just calmly says "Lan Wangji" back at him, and then tells him to go fuck himself.

Jiang Cheng still doesn't understand what the fuck is happening, but this is a sentiment he understands, so he also tells Lan Wangji to go fuck himself, reminding him that Wei Wuxian is Jiang clan property and it's not the Lans' place to discipline him. Adding "and I'm not going to discipline him any way, look how good he is at killing people!"

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continue to stare into each others' eyes from a distance so close that it really should lead to making out, but they are both much too angry for that.

Wei Wuxian is as cold as we ever see him, smiling as he silently confirms: I do not belong to you. Lan Wangji glares back, his anger maybe finally giving way, a little bit, to being hurt.

Finish Him!

Wen Chao picks this moment to wake up and crawl over to the trio, begging Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng to save his life, since he presumably knows it's pointless to beg Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian turns around and gives him the EXACT SAME dead-eyed smile he just gave Lan Wangji, and kicks him.

Then he tells Lan Wangji to please leave so he and his brother can finish torturing this dude to death, and caps it with an official Jiang Clan eye roll.

Lan Wangji, poor bb, just throws in the towel, and turns and leaves, the anger finally starting to leave his face and be replaced with something else...chagrin, maybe? Or maybe just softer anger, for the moment.

After he's out of sight Wei Wuxian turns and looks after him sadly, all of the cruelty and hardness gone from his expression, while Wen Chao says "forgive me," possibly voicing what Wei Wuxian is thinking.

Lan Wangji walks out the front gate, troubled, and hears Wen Chao scream. He stops and replays the most pointed part of the fight in his head - the part where Wei Wuxian asked him, "who do you think you are?" Lan Wangji went into the fight believing he was completely right and was entitled to judge Wei Wuxian, but he's come out of it with his certainty shaken.

Family Time

The Yunmeng brothers go to the ancestral shrine in Lotus Pier even though the whole "reclaiming Lotus Pier" scene doesn't happen until Episode 24. So apparently they just kind of sneak into the the shrine, and then sneak back out. Or, you know, continuity error. Anyway Wei Wuxian is nothing if not adept at sneaking around death-related places.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng bow and offer incense. It's nice that the Wens didn't fuck up everybody's name plaques when they were in control of the place...or the tassels, candles, etc.

Wei Wuxian quietly tells Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian that he did what they asked--taking care of Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli--and they can rest now. Nosy parker Jiang Cheng wants to know what he's saying, but Wei Wuxian just changes the subject.

They talk about going to Qinghe for the final combat of the Sunshot Campaign. Wei Wuxian says that's why he returned, which...dude, you can't even pretend you came back to be with your loved ones? Ouch. Jiang Cheng doesn't really react to that, but he's happy when Wei Wuxian says he wants to see Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian wants to know if she's ok and if she's mad at him, and Jiang Cheng says wait and see, because direct answers are not the Jiang Clan way.

Jiang Yanli is helping tend to the wounded, and we see her telling a particularly fussy wounded dude to suck it up and stop complaining.

When Wei Wuxian shows up she totally stops paying attention to the wounded dude so that she can smile at Wei Wuxian.

He looks back at her tearfully, briefly managing to smile but then just trying to hold it together. He has been to hell and back, and doing his very best to hide it, but when he sees the person who loves him most--the person who will NOT spend 20 minutes yelling at him as soon as they see him--he starts to crack open.

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #restless rewatch the untamed #my gifs #canary3d-original

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angryinternetduck · 3 years

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Lucky

hello hello and welcome to halloween !!!! in august!!!! i know it's weird haha but here's about 6.7k words of harry styles x reader during halloween. featuring a "haunted house" and a cute cat with two names. also caramel apples. enjoy!

masterlist | ask

The house was haunted.

You were sure of it.

And yeah, you thought, looking up at the ginormous mansion looming above you, you were incredibly grateful that the house had fallen to you, but the whole thing was starting to feel like the beginning of a bad horror movie.

Some old relative had died - you weren’t close with them at all, and you felt a bit bad that the only feelings associated with their death were happiness at getting their property - and left you their estates. You’d moved in a few weeks ago, and now you were hearing things.

Things like scratching in the vents, and howling in the wind, and glasses mysteriously crashing to the floor of their own accord in other rooms. The floors always creaked at night, and so did the doors, which randomly swung open and closed.

You hadn’t really wanted to tell anybody about all of this or your suspicions, fearing you’d come off as a bit crazy. Of course, the few people you had told had just laughed and given you the It’s an old house - it’s settling bullshit.

Which you didn’t believe. At all.

What did that even mean, “the house is settling”? Settling for what? Settling down, like it was some middle aged guy who was about to have kids with his wife in the fifties? Or maybe it was settling down like it was angry, and had had a tantrum, and was just settling down into a calmer state. Not that that was any more comforting.

Now, as you struggled to get your key to turn in the lock, you wondered if you could sell the house or something. Everybody you’d asked for advice had told you to wait and fix it up, that you’d regret giving it up when you had four kids and a husband and needed space.

They’d also said it looked like shit so you’d get a crappy deal unless you fixed it up.

Then again, those were the same it’s settling people, so what did they know?

You sighed, finally getting the key to turn, and shoved your shoulder into the door. Making a mental note to oil the door - again - as it creaked, you shut it behind you with your foot before stepping into the living room and collapsing onto the couch.

The couch matched the house: gray, run down, and creaky. There were patches sewn in every so often, and it smelled like old lady perfume. It did the job, though, which was very convenient in the moment but didn’t exactly motivate you to buy a new one very quickly.

You’d turn on the TV, but there wasn’t one. Instead, you stared at the empty, ashy fireplace while you gathered the gumption to get up and off the couch. After a few seconds, you heard something - a little skittering sound in the walls - and frowned, pulling yourself up and towards the stairs.

It was probably just mice, but accompanied with everything else, you weren’t about to take any chances. The stairs, like every other part of the house, creaked as you walked upstairs. You’d almost gotten used to the floorboards around the corner creaking before you got to them, but it still spooked you a bit. When you glanced around the wall and there wasn’t anyone there, as usual, you got changed into comfortable clothes as quickly as you could.

Then you collapsed into the bed. After washing the sheets a few (ten) times, you’d gotten rid of the musty smell, and the huge victorian frame and feathery mattress had become your safe haven. The whole room had become your safe place, really - you’d cleaned and swept until it had somewhat resembled a nice bedroom and not a dusty old crypt.

Once you were there, safe in your room with your headphones on, the house didn’t seem all that bad. A huge window covered the wall right next to your bed, looking out onto rolling grassy fields like something out of a Jane Austen novel.

So you listened to music, imagining a dashing stranger saving you from a twisted angle.

Soon, you were asleep.

***

“Nobody will deliver this far!” you exclaimed, talking into your cell phone as you rooted through the drawers in front of you. “I’ve tried, like, six different places, and they all said it’s too far!” Your friend on the line sighed, and you heard her slurp noodles from the Chinese take out she was eating.

“Well,” she said, “that sucks.”

“Oh, gee, helpful,” you deadpanned.

“Listen, there has got to be someplace you can go,” she told you matter of factly. You frowned, digging through a cabinet. “Yeah, well” - you gasped, jumping a foot into the air as something brushed against your leg - “shit!”

You whipped around, brandishing the pan you’d just grabbed as a weapon. “What the -”

A cat.

There was a black cat, with the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, looking up at you innocently. It meowed loudly, looping through your legs, and you sighed. “It’s a cat,” you explained to your friend.

“You got a cat?”

You scoffed, looking at it as it jumped up onto the counter. “No!” you replied. “No, I - Jesus, of course I didn’t get a fucking cat, I just… I just moved in!” There was a beat of silence, and then your friend said, “So… there’s a strange cat… in your house.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, hesitantly reaching out. It leaned into you, purring loudly, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you said again, laughing a bit. “Listen, listen,” you added, and you put the phone up to the cat.

“That’s cute,” your friend said when you brought the phone back to your ear, sounding a bit worried, “but, uh… does it have a tag, or something?” You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see you, and felt around the cat’s neck. Just fur. “Nope,” you replied.

“Are you gonna… keep it?”

You grinned, scratching its ears, and shrugged. “I dunno.”

***

You wanted to name the cat Lucky.

That night, as the crisp October wind howled outside, you didn’t hear any creaks. The house was practically silent, and you slept like a baby with the little creature curled at your feet. Plus, she - as you’d determined earlier - was black, and with the whole Unlucky Black Cats thing, “Lucky” seemed like a nice little joke.

She was gone the next morning, but you figured she was just somewhere around the house, so you went around calling, “Lucky!” as if she’d respond. It was almost two hours before you gave up, and convinced yourself it was just a fluke and you’d never see her again.

“She’s gone,” you said mournfully by way of greeting your friend as you made breakfast.

“Who?”

“Lucky!”

“Who?”

“The cat,” you sighed. “She’s gone. Wasn’t here this morning.”

“Oh,” your friend replied. “Well, maybe she found her owner!”

You pouted, sliding butter around your pan. “I thought I was her owner…”

“You cannot possibly be so attached to that thing after one night.”

“She’s lucky, though! I swear, the ghosts are afraid of her or something - I didn’t hear a single sound all night!” You could practically hear your friend roll her eyes. “A fluke. Or maybe - yeah, maybe luck. I’m sure you’ll be alright without her.”

“Maybe I should get a cat,” you mused.

Your friend sighed. “Oh, boy.”

***

She was lucky.

Lucky was lucky.

One hundred percent.

There was no doubt about it.

The floors creaked like crazy that night. After hearing it for the first time, peering fearfully into the pitch black hallway, you shut the door tight and huddled underneath the blankets. A terrifying cry accompanied the wind, one that gave you nightmares of women in long white dresses stumbling over the moor, and you woke up in a panic in the middle of the night when you heard something shatter downstairs.

It wasn’t exactly your proudest moment, but you stayed in bed, watching the clock and keeping under the covers and deciding you’d deal with it in the morning. It took forever for you to fall asleep, but once you did, thankfully, you were out until the morning.

Half asleep, you stumbled down the stairs at almost noon.

And there, Lucky was waiting for you.

She meowed at you indignantly, as if you were late, and you gasped, crouching down and scrunching her face between your hands. “Lucky!” you exclaimed. She meowed, and wiggled out of your grasp, and walked in circles around you, keeping her tail against your leg.

You were so relieved that you only got partially annoyed when she made you trip over yourself every two seconds while you cleaned up the broken mug and made breakfast. She was very talented at getting in the way, sitting in the perfect position to be as inconvenient as possible.

She wandered around when you started work, getting bored after twenty minutes of jumping onto your laptop and being pushed off, only to do it again, and again, and again. You lost sight of her but somehow weren’t too worried - if she came back the first time, she’d probably come back again, you reasoned.

Which she did!

Sometimes.

She became your companion as the weeks went on, coming every so often to bother you as adorably as possible before disappearing for a few hours again. Sometimes she’d come during the day, but you were always relieved when she came at night because, for some inexplicable reason, she really made the house quiet and let you sleep.

Sometimes you’d give her a little bit of milk, or whatever you had on you (after properly researching what was okay for cats, of course), but she never seemed very hungry, so you’d never really thought about buying actual cat food for her.

You thought about getting her a collar every so often, but between working on the house, normal work, and just… life, you never really got around to it. Plus, she always seemed to come back, so you didn’t think it was super necessary.

So Lucky hung around, and you got some work done, and everything was good.

***

You’d heard creaking. Lots of creaking. And the occasional mysteriously shattered glass. And the howling in the wind, and skittering in the walls, and the weird drafts, and the unexplained cat - all sorts of weird things.

But this was the first time you heard a voice.

A real, live, human voice.

Well, maybe not live.

You’d been cooking when you first heard it, and, in a panic, you’d grabbed a frying pan. Maybe frying pans were lucky, too; after all, one had been your “weapon” when Lucky had sneaked up on you. She was notably absent, Lucky, by the way, and you wished you had your good luck charm with you as you made your way to the basement, feeling only slightly like an idiot.

Maybe a very scared idiot.

The voice was coming from the basement, which you hadn’t exactly ventured into yet. The whole house had a bit of a creepy-basement vibe, so you weren’t quite enthusiastic to go into the actual basement, where you’d imagine the creepiness would be increased exponentially.

The voice sounded male. And British.

You pictured a British ghost - something old and ancient, judging by the rasp of the voice, although it did sound on the younger side… Maybe it had some sort of paranormal ancient youth. Maybe a sailor, who lived in the house hundreds of years ago, and died at sea… And now, he was back, to haunt you, because you’d… offended him… with your… redecorating?

The stairs were actually pretty quiet, you realized, creeping down them as quietly as you could with your frying pan and marveling at the lack of creaks. You stepped onto the floor, peering around the corner, and realized the ghost - or whatever - must have been outside since the back door was slightly ajar, blowing cool air onto your legs.

If you were being honest, you hadn’t even known that that door existed. A mini lightbulb went off in your head as you realized that was probably where Lucky had been getting in, and you wondered absently if you should get a lock or something for it.

Then your brows furrowed as you got closer and the voice became coherent.

“... you been? ‘ve been looking all over for you… Think you’re so clever, don’t you? Disturbing our nice neighbor like this… Got them to talk to you, did you? Oh, I’m sure, you charmer…” You heaved a breath, kicking open the door -

You brandished the frying pan, yelling, “Who -?!”

“Bloody hell!”

So, you realized then, it was a guy.

And not a ghost.

Very decidedly a guy, actually, from the way the pan hadn’t gone right through him but had rather clanged against his forearm as he threw it up to defend himself. His other hand, it should be noted, was holding a cat.

Specifically, Lucky.

You gasped, lowering your pan. “Oh, my god,” you breathed. “Oh, my god, I am so sorry - I thought you were -” You stopped as Lucky slipped out of the guy’s arms and weaved around your legs, purring louder than a motorboat.

“Hello, there,” the guy said, incredibly pleasant for someone who’d just gotten attacked with a frying pan. “Um - hi,” you replied hesitantly, holding the pan behind your back as if he’d forget about the whole thing if he couldn’t see it. “Hi, I’m - um, I’m sorry.”

“Hi, Sorry,” the guy joked, holding out his non-injured hand, “I’m Harry Styles. Your neighbor.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, shaking his hand as you corrected him with your name.

He repeated your name, smiling as it rolled off his tongue, and despite yourself, you felt a shiver running down your spine. He was good looking, this Harry guy. His eyes rivaled Lucky’s, bright green as he grinned at you. His hair looked a bit grown out, chestnut brown and curling slightly at his temples.

And he had dimples.

Very cute dimples.

And muscles, and -

There was a beat of silence, and you realized you were not so subtly checking him out, and even though you kind of realized he was doing the same to you, you felt your cheeks heat again. Harry cleared his throat, crouching down to pet Lucky as he said, “So, erm - I haven’t seen you around a lot.”

“Yeah,” you replied, laughing a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been… busy.”

Harry nodded, his gaze drifting around you to the messy basement. “I’m sure,” he said. “This place seems like a lot of work.” You shrugged, following his eyes and inspecting the dust and various junk cluttered throughout the room.

“Well, I have time…”

“But not for neighbors, hm?” Harry asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I’m… sorry,” you said again, putting your head in your hands for a second before looking back up. “I hadn’t even thought… I can’t even see your… Do you live, uh - close?” Harry nodded, gesturing vaguely out the back door. “Relatively, I suppose, although - you’re right, you can’t quite… see it… from here.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” you said impulsively, and Harry glanced at you, dimpling again. “Yeah,” he agreed, “reckon I will.” You smiled, suddenly unable to keep eye contact, and then let your gaze dart away after a second.

“And the, erm - the market,” Harry went on. “Haven’t seen you around there. Have you been?”

You shook your head, murmuring, “No,” and Harry tsked, shaking his head back at you, oozing disappointment. “Right, well, that’s just not right,” he said. “That we’ll have to go to sometime. ‘specially now that it’s autumn.” You nodded, and he stood up, dusting off his hands as Lucky came over to you for cuddles.

You expected him to say he was going to go, that he had work to do, or something, but instead, he asked, “Doing anything now?” and grinned, glancing down at the pan, still in your hand. “Besides attacking perfect strangers, of course.”

“I am… so sorry about that,” you said, again, laughing sheepishly, again.

“I’d say it’s fine,” Harry replied, “but, erm… It’s not.”

You felt your eyes widen. “What?”

“I think you’ll have to make it up to me, love,” he told you. You just raised a brow, and he grinned. “Maybe I’ll forgive you if you give me a ride to the market,” he said, and then you smiled. “Easy enough,” you replied, grabbing your keys from your pocket.

Harry dimpled and looked down at Lucky. “Right, then, Dee, let’s go, shall we?”

You frowned. “Dee?”

“Oh, right!” Harry exclaimed, bending down to scoop Lucky into his arms. “I think you’ve met, but this here is Demon. Dee for short.” You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Demon?” you echoed incredulously.

Harry nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, look at this menace! What else would we call her?”

“You’re her owner?”

“Yup. Found her a few months ago, and she just… stuck.”

“Good at that, isn’t she?” you murmured, reaching out to scratch behind her ear.

“Has she bothered you?” Harry asked, looking sympathetic, and you nodded. “Oh, yes, all the time. In the most pleasant way possible, though, so I’m not too mad.” Harry laughed, letting her slip out of his arms and onto the ground.

She ambled out of the basement and into the grass, and, after exchanging a glance with Harry, you both followed her. “I’ve been calling her Lucky,” you told him, closing the door behind you. Harry glanced at you, hands in his pockets, and smiled. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. See, the house is -” You stopped, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “The house is what?” You laughed, a bit embarrassed, and then mumbled, “I think it’s haunted.” Harry nodded, understanding on his face. “Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” he agreed.

You laughed again. “That sure of it, are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips, and nodded at Lucky. “That’s your ghost.”

“Lucky? How -?”

“She’s the one howling, and walking everywhere to make the floors creak, and knocking glasses off the tables,” Harry explained, and your jaw dropped, just a bit. “Oh, my god,” you said, as it all clicked into place. “That’s why - Well, see, I called her Lucky because the” - you put up air quotes - “‘ghost’ never seemed to be around when she was with me. Which I guess makes sense, since if she was with me, she wasn’t… anywhere else…”

“Yup.”

You frowned, glancing over at him. “So, wait - how did you know?”

“Same thing happened to me,” he replied with a shrug. “Was right convinced the place was haunted when I first moved in - was about to sell and everything. Couldn’t take replacing half the cupboard every two weeks. Then I caught her shattering one of my mugs. Then, I got a night light, and saw her lurking around and making a ruckus with the floorboards.”

“A night light,” you repeated, lightly smacking your forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Took me a few weeks, too,” Harry laughed. “You’d’ve gotten there eventually, don’t worry.”

“Sure hope so,” you murmured, smiling as Lucky jumped up onto your car and started to stretch out on the hood. You opened the driver’s side door and leaned against it as Harry gave Lucky a scratch behind her ears.

“Pesky little thing, she is,” Harry said. “Always does the same on my car, and I’m always tempted to just drive with her on top and see what happens.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “How could you?” Harry shrugged, grinning at you. “I’m sure she’d land on her feet.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that now,” you replied, gently scooping Lucky up and placing her on the grass, where she started to daintily lick a paw. Harry got into the passenger seat, and you asked him, “Where’s this market of yours?”

“Up the road,” Harry said vaguely.

You raised a brow, but he didn’t offer any more information.

So you just drove.

***

“Halloween,” Harry said, “is not fun.”

You gasped, scandalized, and exclaimed, “What?”

“It’s too stressful!” Harry groaned. “I never know what to wear! Especially to parties, bloody hell! Like, do you go for it? Full makeup, tons of tulle, a wig? Or don’t go for it? And if it’s really go for it, and you don’t go for it, it’s like, oh, well, too bad. Or if it’s a party, and you’re invited, like, the day of, and everybody’s going for it, and you’re like, oh, I can’t, can’t go, because I don’t have time to plan it, and -” He stopped, sighing, and shook his head. “It’s a whole ordeal.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you replied, biting back a grin.

You were pulling into a parking lot, and you could already see the hustle and bustle of the market. There were booths set up all along the street and around a little courtyard. People talked and chattered, exchanging money and trinkets and smiles and waves.

You both got out of the car and met at the front, taking a moment to admire the view.

“The caramel apples are the best,” Harry told you with a smile.

“Guess we’ll have to go there first.”

Harry nodded, and you started walking. You shoved your hands in your pockets, a bit cold in the autumn wind, as a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. It was only a few seconds before you were stopped, though, when an old man behind a table covered in small wooden carvings called, “Harry!”

“George!” Harry exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

“It’s good to see you,” George said cheerily, his gaze darting to you and back to Harry inquisitively. Harry smiled, introducing you as his neighbor. George grinned, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise,” you replied.

“You must be pretty special,” George said. “Don’t think I’ve ever met any other neighbors.”

“We share a cat,” Harry explained, and George’s brow raised.

Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and then said, “Nice talking with you, George. We should catch up later - we’re headed for Mara.” George nodded. “Good boy. You know what they say! The way to a woman’s heart is her stomach, eh?”

“Alrighty, then,” Harry said, gently leading you away. “Bye, George!”

“Bye, Harry! And nice to meet you, neighbor!”

You smiled, waving at him over your shoulder. “You too, George!”

“Swear he’s been running that booth since about 1804,” Harry murmured as you walked away. “‘ve known him all my life, and he’s always looked the same. Beginning to think he’s a vampire.” You grinned, nudging his shoulder. “He seems nice.”

“He is!” Harry agreed. “He is. Like a second father. Hey, here’s Mara.”

You came up to a cluster of booths that steamed and bubbled and swirled together to smell of a blend of spices, sugar, and caramel. One of the booths proudly proclaimed Mara’s Caramel Apples, and shiny golden apples dotted the table.

The woman behind the table - Mara, presumably - lit up when she caught sight of Harry. “Harry, darling!” she cooed, coming around her table to press kisses against each of Harry’s cheeks. “Hullo, Mara,” Harry replied.

“It’s so good to see you!” Mara exclaimed, pinching his cheeks. “You should come around more often, love, you need some meat on these bones of yours.” Harry nodded, gingerly pulling her hand off of him. “I’ll work on that,” he replied, glancing at you and looking amused, if not a bit embarrassed.

“You do that, Harry,” Mara said, stealing one more pinch and making Harry wince before she turned to you. “And who is this, then?” Mara tutted, shaking her head. “Haven’t forgotten your manners, have you?”

“Never, Mara,” Harry assured her, and introduced you.

“Lovely to meet you!” Mara said cheerfully, wrapping you in a hug.

“You too,” you responded.

“How long have you been together, then?” Mara asked, making your face heat as she walked back around the table and started stirring a pot of caramel. “Haven’t seen you around, dear.” Harry coughed, shaking his head, looking as embarrassed as you felt. “Nope, no, we’re not together,” he corrected her. “Just - erm, we’re neighbors.”

“Ah, neighbors,” Mara hummed.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, she moved in where the Carlsons were.”

“Oh, the Carlsons!” Mara said. “A tricky bunch, they were - I’m glad you’re there now.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, smiling slightly at Harry.

Mara wiped her hands off on a cloth and tucked it on a rack before carefully grabbing two pristine caramel apples. “Well,” she said, handing you both a stick, “here you are, dears. Enjoy, now! And come back soon, the both of you!”

Harry pulled out cash, but Mara waved him off. “Oh, nonsense, Harry, you know better than that,” Mara told him. “I’ll give you the family discount, as long as you both promise to come back on your next date.”

“Not a date, Mara,” Harry mumbled, flushing red, and Mara grinned. “Of course. My mistake. Your first date, then.” Your face felt about on fire, and Harry’s was red as a beet as he said, “Right, then, nice talking to you, Mara! Bye, now.” He walked away as she waved cheerily, and you followed him.

Harry looked at you apologetically. “She’s a bit, erm - concerned, as it were,” he said sheepishly. “Haven’t exactly…” He cleared his throat. “She thinks I’m a bit lacking in the romance department.” You raised a brow, and he somehow managed to get even redder.

“I mean! I mean, I’m - I’m not,” he added hurriedly, “I’m really not, ‘f course - but, erm - she thinks…” He sighed, stopping, and shrugged at you helplessly. “So you’re not?” you said, and Harry’s brows furrowed, confused.

“You’re not lacking in the romance department?” you clarified.

Harry frowned. “... No?”

“So… Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

A bit of the red faded from his cheeks. “Oh,” he said. “Well, then, yes. I suppose I’m lacking in the romance department right now. ‘s unusual, though, I’ll have you know. But, erm - how about you?” You shook your head, glancing away from him and around the fair. “Single as a Pringle,” you told him, and you liked to imagine seeing the hint of a smile on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“Gotcha,” Harry hummed. “Right, well, how’s the apple, then?”

You took a bite, savoring it as you crunched on it, and then nodded your approval. “Superb,” you said, and Harry grinned brightly. “Wonderful,” he replied. “‘m glad you like it. Might’ve been a deal breaker if not.”

“That important, huh?”

“Oh, the most important,” Harry said seriously.

You grinned, and Harry dimpled back.

There was a beat of silence, and then he said, “Right, then. Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, licking caramel off his lips. “Anything. Hopes, dreams, fears, favorite color…”

You hummed as you thought, and then told him the first thing that came to mind. He listened as you talked, looking genuinely interested in what you were saying. Butterflies erupted in your stomach every time you made him laugh, and when you flipped the spotlight to him, you found yourself completely lost in his words.

Something about his voice, and his humor, and the way he giggled everytime he made a stupid joke, made the butterflies linger. It was pleasant, though. It wasn’t alarming, or nerve wracking, or even remotely uncomfortable. You weren’t self conscious, or scared to mess up, or worried you’d say the wrong thing.

You were just… happy.

The fair, you realized, wasn’t nearly big enough.

You’d walk the whole world just to keep talking with him.

***

“That was a date,” your friend declared as soon as you finished telling her what had happened. You balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder and blew softly on your hot tea. “No,” you replied, “it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was!” she squealed. “I can’t believe he didn’t kiss you!” She huffed. “I can’t believe you didn’t kiss him!” You rolled your eyes, amused despite yourself, and insisted, “It really wasn’t a date. I was just… making up for slamming a metal pan into his arm.”

You heard her wince. “Yikes.”

You sighed, again, and took a sip of your tea. “He probably has a bruise.”

“Yeah, probably,” she snickered.

“Hey!”

She laughed, sounding way too amused at your misery. “Talk about a meet cute!”

“You are not helping,” you groaned, feeling yourself starting to laugh too anyway.

“Don’t worry,” she giggled, “he’ll think of you everytime he accidently puts pressure on it and screams in pain.” You scoffed indignantly and argued, “He will not scream in pain - it wasn’t that bad.” Your friend hummed skeptically. “I dunno about that… It was a pan, right?”

You took a sip of your tea, sighing heavily. “A tiny pan,” you mumbled into the lip of your mug, and then laughed when your friend started cracking up. “You gotta text me a picture of the bruise,” she gasped through her laughter.

“Okay, there’s no bruise.”

“Dude, it was a pan.”

“A tiny pan!”

That just set off another round of giggles, before finally, your friend relented. “Fine,” she said, “send me a picture of him, and the bruise will just be a bonus.” You agreed, and then said goodnight, and fell asleep with a smile on your face.

***

Your fingers did a dance over the screen of your phone, your lip between your teeth as you debated whether or not to send the text. Harry had given you his number the other day at the market, but you were getting a bit anxious about what to send.

The door really did need to be fixed, you told yourself, glancing down at your flirtatious-if-you-squinted text asking if he’d help you fix your basement door. Especially now, since it wouldn’t stay closed at all; you’d had to put a brick behind it to keep it shut, and even that kept sliding around. It was where Lucky had kept slipping in, you’d figured, and even though she was a pleasant enough intruder, you didn’t really want other less adorable trespassers coming through.

Finally, you took a breath, and sent it.

You stared at your screen for a few seconds as if he’d reply within the minute, and then threw your phone across your bed. Heaving a sigh, you pulled yourself away from your bed and towards the window, fidgeting with your fingers.

You lasted about ten seconds, and then grabbed your phone, and checked.

Nothing, of course, because you sent the text thirty seconds ago.

You groaned and belly flopped onto your bed.

***

Lucky came first.

She jumped up onto your bed and butted against you until you sat up and started petting her.

You pouted at her, smoothing your hand over her head. “Maybe I should’ve waited a few more days,” you murmured to her. “Maybe I made it obvious how desp- or, like, made it seem like I was too desperate.” You raised a brow, gazing down at her. “What about you, huh? Are you too desperate?”

Lucky purred and rolled over, stretching languidly.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you laughed, sliding off your bed and heading for the kitchen.

You paused when you heard the doorbell ring, glancing at Lucky inquisitively like she’d tell you who it was. She gave you a slow blink, and then jumped up, and stretched, and meandered down the hallway. You followed her, almost tripping over her when she stopped suddenly in the middle of the staircase to lick a paw, and opened the door.

“So I sort of forgot any tools,” Harry greeted you. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

Your brows jumped. “I - of course it’s not a - I just thought -” You stopped, glancing down at your phone, which showed no new notifications, and no new texts. “Sorry,” you said, “I wasn’t expecting you so, um - soon.”

Harry laughed, a bit sheepishly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Sorry. I was… on the way. I mean, not on the way here, but, like - driving past. Well, not driving past, but sort of - you know, in, erm - in the area. Sort of. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, feeling yourself smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” You stepped back to let him in. “I think it’s open right now, the door - there’s kind of a draft,” you lied. Harry nodded, glancing around the house. “Place looks nice,” he said, and you smiled again, following his gaze.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Was a bit dreary before,” Harry said softly, letting his hand lightly skim the bright throw blanket you’d put on the sofa as he passed. “Downright dull,” you agreed, and he glanced at you, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “Where’s this door, then?”

“Downstairs,” you answered, stepping forward to lead him around the corner and down the steps. “The basement’s a bit creepy,” you warned him, tugging on the light. “Haven’t quite gotten down here yet.”

“Noted,” Harry murmured.

“It’s back here,” you said, weaving around a few cardboard boxes to get to the door.

It was, in fact, open, which was purely coincidental but pretty convenient. “Cold,” you said simply, shrugging at him. “Yeah,” Harry replied, “cold.” You smiled, not sure why, and then stepped outside, inspecting it without a real purpose in mind.

He stepped out too, and you gently pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then it swung open with a creak.

“Might be the lock,” Harry said, bending down to look at the little bit of metal against the side.

Lucky appeared as he fiddled with the mechanism, weaving through his legs, and he gave her scritches as he pushed the lock in and out a few times. “Looks fine,” he started, and then stopped when Lucky plopped down on top of his foot.

“Don’t know how she expects us to do any work like this,” Harry said with a grin, and you laughed, crouching next to him to pet her too. “She’s moral support,” you replied, and Harry raised a brow. “The most bothersome moral support ever.”

You shrugged. “The cutest most bothersome moral support ever.”

“If you say so,” Harry said, gently sliding her off his foot. He slid his hand over the door to its other side, where the hinges were, and then his face lit up. “Right, I have an idea.” He turned to you, looking excited, and asked, “Have a hammer?”

“Uhhh… probably?” You looked around the basement, then pushed open a closet door where a tool box poked out, and handed him a hammer. He nodded, glancing at the hinge again. “Er - how about a screwdriver?”

You gave it to him, and then watched over his shoulder as he gently tapped the pin out of the hinge in the middle of the door. He put it on the floor, raising the hammer over it, and you raised a brow at him. He looked up at you, grinning, and you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. “I have a plan,” he told you.

“Sure, Styles.”

He scoffed, sitting back on his heels. “You know, your lack of faith is a bit disheartening.”

“I think you’re just stalling because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He smiled, a challenge in his eyes, and then sat forward and hammered the pin, right in the middle. It bent, just slightly, and then he held it up, looking satisfied. He slid it back into the hinge, tapped it down, and worked on getting the other one out.

Once he’d gotten a curve in that one, he put it back and got the next. You watched in skeptical silence as he put that one back… and then stood up and dusted off his hands. “There you have it,” he announced.

“There’s no way that’s gonna work,” you said.

Harry just stepped back and pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then -

It stuck.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, pulling it out to close it again. It stuck, again, and you looked up at him happily. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe that worked! How did you even know how to do that?” Harry shrugged, fiddling with the door. “These old houses are practically identical. My bedroom door had the same problem.”

“Well, lucky me.”

He glanced at you, and held your gaze, just for a second, with a smile on his lips, and then his cheeks dusted pink. You felt heat rise on your own cheeks, realizing in the back of your mind that the whole door endeavor took a lot less time than you’d expected and now he’d probably leave.

He walked inside, making a grand gesture of holding the door open for you. “C’mon, then,” he said as you walked through and wracked your brain for ideas on how to keep him with you, “I need a tour.” You grinned, wondering if he could read your mind, and then nodded. You paused at the edge of the basement door and turned around.

“So,” you said, “this is the basement.”

“Enlightening.”

“The land of boxes,” you told him, and he smiled before following you out and up the steps to the living room. This was where you’d done the most work, clearing out the old grey furniture and replacing it with bright new pieces.

You put your arm out, gesturing widely to the room and spinning around. “And here’s the living room.” Harry followed you, making a slow circle and inspecting it. “I like the art,” he said, his eyes on the paintings you’d put on the wall.

“Thanks,” you said. “Me too.”

“Have you seen the gallery in town?” Harry asked as he followed you towards the kitchen. You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “No, I haven’t,” you answered, giving him a smile. “You’ll have to take me.”

Then, ignoring the butterflies his returning smile gave you, you went on, “And here’s the kitchen.” Lucky jumped up onto the counter next to you, and you grinned, petting her. “It’s her favorite room in the house.”

“I’m sure,” Harry laughed. He scratched her behind her ears, then walked around the room, his fingers tracing lightly on the white wooden table you’d chosen for the center of the room. “I like this better,” he said. “The Carlsons’ made the room look a lot smaller than it was.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I agree… Was too big. Made it cramped.” Harry’s gaze went out the back windows, which were floor to ceiling and looked out on the small woods in the backyard. There was a beat of silence, and then you walked over to stand next to him. “Were you… in here a lot?”

Harry shook his head. “Not really. I think they invited me when I first moved in… but that’s sort of it.” You hummed in response, and then asked, “Were you close with, uh - with the Carlsons?” Harry shrugged. “Eh. Not really. Y’know. Neighbor stuff.”

You bit your lip, smiling slightly. “Didja take them to the fair?” Your smile widened as Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “But we didn’t share a cat, so I think the rules are a bit different.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” Harry hummed, looking back outside. “Yeah, there’s a bit more…” He tilted his head back and forth, searching for the right word. “Intimacy,” he finally seemed to decide, giving you a smile that tugged his lips into an almost-smirk. “We’re co-parenting a little one, after all. There’s got to be some… dinners involved.”

“Ah, yes, dinners,” you echoed solemnly. “To discuss parenting techniques.”

Harry nodded. “You get it.”

“She’s a bit spoiled, you know,” you said, watching her jump from the counter onto the table and sprawl out on the wood. “So we should probably get on those dinners.” Harry grinned. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, and you nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Like, as soon as possible.”

His face lit up. “As soon as possible? As in, tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a slow smile growing on your face. “As in tonight.”

Harry grinned back at you. “It’s a date.”

***

okay i KNOW this is weird sldkfj but it'll all make sense soon <333 hope you enjoyed !!!!!

and if you're liking this whole wrong-season-for-the-holiday thing, have no fear because there's a christmas fic coming soon!!!

masterlist | ask

#lol. never too soon to start celebrating halloween am i right !!!!!#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x you #halloween #halloween in august

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30secondstoanime · 3 years

Text

The Birthday Present

pairing: Pro!Hero Midoriya x Fem!Reader

genre/warnings: Reader Insert, Birthday Sex

Kinky Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Gets Out of His Comfort Zone, That's Not How You're Supposed to Use Your Quirk, Porn With Plot, praise kink?, very smutty, Rough Sex, role-playing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Choking, Doggy Style, Fluff and Smut, after sex cuddles

word count: 7,467

→ summary: Your birthday is around the corner. What better gift than your boyfriend, the #1 Hero Deku, finally giving you what you want the way you want it: rough and kinky. But first plot!

a/n: Sorry about the crap summary and title, I'm working on that lol. So this is my first fic for the bnha fandom and first attempt at writing very explicit sex scenes and venturing into kinks/BDSM, so please be kind, but also I’d love feedback! This was supposed to be a cute four-page oneshot but turned into a sixteen-page, 7k+ word behemoth, hence the self-indulgent tag ‘cause I couldn't stop writing. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labor ;)

In a few days, you’ll be turning twenty-four. Your birthday has always been an odd day you think for someone with your quirk because age really was just a number. That’s not to say you weren’t planning to do something fun, at least if you could figure out what you’d like to do. Okay, so that was a lie. You knew exactly what or should you say who you wanted to do and that it involved getting your back blown out. As soon as the thought pops into your head, your epiglottis forgets its job, and you choke on the sip of UCC coffee, you had tried to swallow. You cough to clear your airway, gasping when air finally expands your lungs. You tap your pen nervously against your desk, eyes scanning the other pro heroes’ faces in your agency. It seems your sudden outburst hadn’t disrupted the comfortable silence of the natural lull of the workday. A beep from your hero pager pulls your attention away from people watching in the office. Coordinates flash in five consecutive seconds before the transmission ends. You stand grabbing your toolbelt and strapping it across your hips; you make your way to the front. As you near the exit, you hear your hero name being called. You turn and see Yaomomo briskly walking towards you.

“Hey Creati, you got the page too?”

“I did, sounds like they’ve made a bit of a mess of things.” You scoff good-naturedly.

“When do they ever not. Were they really like this during your time at U.A.?” She giggles and nods her head. You wonder if you’ll ever stop cleaning up after the nation’s top three heroes.

“Better get going then, we both know they share a singular brain cell, so there’s no telling how much time we have to fix things.”

“Atomic!” You laugh at Yaomomo’s weak attempt to scold you — the amusement in her black eyes softens the tone.

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Oh my.”

You blow out a low whistle. Ice and scorch marks are scattered across the street and surrounding buildings. Explosive ash is still gently falling from the sky, and black tendrils are haphazardly keeping electric poles, exposed building foundation, and an abundance of wrecked vehicles from collapsing.

“Creati, check the building foundations. Create new beams and weld them together if necessary. I’ll get started on the pole, we can’t have a live electric wire falling.” She nods, and you split off. The work is slow and arduous, but the orderly nature of reorganizing and coaxing atomic particles back into place helps the time pass quickly. You’ve just finished rearranging the anatomical structure of a car hanging from a, thankfully, undamaged light pole, so that it falls to the ground weightlessly. You touch the damaged side, pull it back together, and return the car to its original density. You give the car a quick tap with the toe of your foot to test the structural integrity, satisfied you step back taking in your handiwork. What had a few hours ago looked like a DEFCON 3 military mission gone awry is now back to looking like an ordinary Japanese street. Well, as normal as you and Yaomomo could reconstruct — you weren’t miracle workers, and Ground Zero’s explosive residue was hard to get rid of. Instead, the way it collected and hung in the atmosphere made it difficult for your quirk to erase without condensing the air. That was out of the question unless you wanted to suffocate Yaomomo. Which you didn’t, so the employees of these buildings would be dealing with the smell for at least a week. Sighing, you tuck your hands in your pockets and make your way over to Creati. Her welding mask obscures her face, but you know it’s in deep concentration. After she cuts the torch and pushes the protective gear up, she gives you a smile.

“All done?”

“Just about.”

“I’ll page H.Q. Might even lodge a formal complaint against those three bird brains while I’m at it.”

“(Y/N), you can’t be serious.” She shoots you an incredulous look.

“They make this huge ass mess and don’t even bother to wait for us to arrive before dipping. Total dick move.”

“Ah-huh.” You don’t like the teasing note in her voice.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You cross your arms defensively.

“Spit it out, Yaoyorozu.”

“You sure your foul attitude has nothing to do with not seeing Deku?” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll see him at home like I do every day. So no, I’m not upset about not seeing him.”

“If you say so.” She gives you a look, and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“You cannot still be stuck on that!”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” She bats her eyes at you innocently while creating a duffle bag to transport the welding equipment.

“That God awful theory you and Ashido have about me having a hero kink for Izuku." You begin to walk side by side back to the agency. You hand her an energy bar from your utility belt.

“I mean, you do get very flushed whenever you see him on patrol. Like, if it were a hentai video, you’d definitely be drooling with your tongue lolling out of your mouth.”

“Ugh!” You shove her with your shoulder. “That is so gross.” Both of you laugh, and after a small lapse into silence, you give.

“Okay fine. I might get instahorny whenever I see Izuku in costume, but I can’t help it. He just looks so good, and it’s heightened because I know what he looks like out of costume, and then all I want to do is jump his bones, but of course, I don’t because propriety. So I’m left with all this pent up sexual frustration!”

“So, are you going to ever mention this to him? Your birthday is in a few days and if I may be so bold —”

“It’s never stopped you.” You mumble under your breath with a smile.

“I’d suggest you request it be your birthday present.”

“Pfft. Yaomomo, we’ve been together almost a year and a half, and while our sex life is fucking phenomenal, I’m talking multiple orgasms almost every time, amazing — it’s been very strictly vanilla. Not from any lack of trying on my end, but every time I’ve tried to spice things up, he gets as close as humanly possible to spontaneous combustion. Don’t even get me started on the one time I tried to get him to choke me while I —”

“(Y/N)! Stop, goodness, I do not need the play by play of your and Izuku’s sex life. I just,” she massages her temples, “wanted to make a suggestion. While I’m relieved you feel so secure in our friendship to be so open, please remember I went to high school with him. He’s like a little brother.”

“Oh, Yaomomo, there’s nothing little about him.” Her face pales, and you can’t stifle your cackle. It quickly becomes a full-blown laugh that rattles through your body.

“I went a little too far with that last comment, gomen. On a serious note, though, how would I even go about asking him? ‘Hey babe, it’s my birthday so I want you to fuck me until my knees are jello while in your hero costume because it gets me all hot and bothered oh and since I’m risking it all I’d love it if you tied me up and maybe choked me too.’”

You glance over your shoulder, a look of profound regret is plastered over Yaomomo’s face. You give her an impish grin.

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue does it.”

“Oh (Y/N).” Your friend shakes her head. When you finally turn the corner onto the street, your hero agency is housed, you catch sight of a mop of green hair. You pick up your pace, a mischievous grin on your face. Using your quirk, you redistribute your mass, so your footfall’s noise against the pavement is silenced. Izuku is talking with someone, his back turned to you. The goods were on display. When he’s in reach, you stretch out your arms, hands cupping his butt you feel him stiffen as you whisper against his ear.

“You’re under arrest for transporting illegal buns of steel.” You watch the blush creep up from his neck before capturing his entire face. He turns his neck, trying to get a good look at you.

“Wh-what!” You begrudgingly let go of his ass, and he turns his body to face you, his freckles standing out against the pink hue of his flustered expression.

“Sorry hun, I don’t make the rules.” You shrug your shoulders.

“I- I, (Y/N) that’s not even a legal penal code! A-and there’s no way I could transport enough steel on my person to warrant a body search.”

“Ooh Deku,” you loosen up the state of your atoms, allowing them to vibrate in mock arousal, “I love it when you talk legal code at me. Repeat it: penal.”

He flounders for a reply, mouth agape at a total loss for words. You giggle at his expression, a total deer in headlights. The person he’d been talking to finally makes themselves known.

“Atomic, you’re still teasing the living soul out of Deku per usual. Glad to know things haven’t changed ‘round here.” His shark tooth smile pulls an equally toothy smile from you.

“Eijiro! When did you get back? I’ve missed you.” You rush to the redhead, and he reciprocates your hug, holding you tight.

“Man, I’ve missed you too (Y/N). The States were cool, but there’s no manlier place than home sweet home.” You pull back and take him in. He looks the exact same if not a little bit more tanned.

“Damn straight.” Yaoyorozu arrives at the end of your reunion. Her excitement at seeing her old friend is nearly palatable. They catch up enthusiastically, and you saddle up next to your boyfriend, who’s finally gotten his blush under control.

“Hey, babe.” You give his cheek a chaste kiss, and he smiles.

“Hey, love,” Izuku gives your hand a squeeze, “How was your day?”

“It was pretty run of the mill except for the utter shitstorm Yaomomo and I had to clean up in Minato City.” You glance down and watch his feet shuffle from side to side.

“Huh, sounds pretty epic.”

“Not the first, second, or even the third word I’d use, but we’re all entitled to our opinions. And don’t you try acting coy with me, Izuku! That blonde ticking time grenade, the confused weather pattern, and your quirk were all over that place.” Izuku gulps.

“I expended a lot of energy cleaning up after you and your friends baka. As compensation, you’ve gotta cook me curry rice. Deal?”

He kisses your cheek in assent.

“Great!” You beam. “I’m gonna go change, be back in fifteen.” You disappear through the agency’s massive double doors. Yaomomo watches until you’re out of view before she walks over to Midoriya.

“So about (Y/N) ’s birthday . . .”

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

When you come out, you find a peculiar scene waiting for you. Yaoyorozu has crafted a fan for, you presume, Izuku, who is so red you could almost see the light refraction from his face’s heat and sweating by what looks like the gallon. Eijiro is by his side, trying to calm him down. You heighten the sensitivity of your cochlea to pick up the tail end of their conversation.

“It’ll be super manly, dude!”

“Bu-but I’ve never . . .” Your boyfriend seems tongue-tied.

“You’ve definitely got it in you,” Eijiro slaps Izuku on the back, “Plus Ultra!”

Izuku echoes Eijiro, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it.

You return to your average level of hearing and walk up to the trio.

“Everything good?” They all look at you with expressions that clearly scream, ‘No, everything is not good dumbass.’

“Riiight, foolish question. Izuku, babe, do you need me to help you?” He squeaks, and that stops you dead in your tracks. The last time he had squeaked in your presence was when he’d asked you out on your first date, and you think it was mostly because you had bluntly told him you had every intention of having sex with him if not after your first then for sure after your second date. He didn’t even squawk when you made good on your declaration, and you had been positive he was going to. Your assurance cost you a ¥2,000 bet with Ochako and Shoto. Whatever had transpired while you were changing had him spooked.

You crouch down and gently take his face between your hands. His cheeks are unnaturally warm. Closing your eyes, you reach out with your quirk to scan his vitals. What the actual fuck? Izuku’s pregenual anterior cingulate cortex is enormous. Your boyfriend is next level embarrassed. His heart rate is in the 200bpm range, which should have been impossible because it only ever got that high when he was exercising, and you were quite familiar with getting it there.

You’re honestly shocked his heart hasn’t started to palpitate with the sky-high levels of cortisol in his blood and high heart rate. Taking a deep breath, you begin to gently persuade the firing neurons near his PACC to chill, its size slowly decreases. You travel down to his hypothalamus and rearrange some of its chemical balance, so it stops producing corticotropin-releasing hormone, creating a negative feedback loop that would lead to his body to drop its cortisol production. You vasoconstrict a handful of the blood vessels in his face for good measure, hoping to cool it down. Your eyes flutter open, and the ruddiness is gone, and his cheeks feel cool against your palms. He gives you a weak smile and gosh that smile, these freckles, those lively emerald eyes. You lean your forehead against his, taking a moment to collect yourself. You kiss the tip of his nose before pulling yourself up, stretching once you’re fully upright.

“Well damn, I’m starving now. I know I said you had to cook for me, but I don’t think I’ll last. What do you say, Number 1. Hero, care to take me out to eat?”

Izuku gets to his feet, with a bit of help from Eijiro, who keeps a hand wrapped around his waist to keep him from stumbling.

“Yeah, of course, love. Just tell me where you want to eat.”

You grin in delight. Before making a decision, you turn to your two other companions. You’re not sure when Yaomomo had time to change, but she’s no longer in her hero costume.

“Would y’all like to join us? Izuku’s treat.” Your cinnamon roll’s protest is drowned out by their loud acceptance.

“I mean, if my bro is gonna treat us, then how could I say no?”

“How gracious Izuku, I’d love to share a meal with everyone.”

“Let’s get going then!” You grab Izuku’s hand and turn around, heading in the direction of the train stop. The walk will give you time to decide where you want to eat.

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Hold on one sec, almost got it.” You pace next to Izuku; the pressure on your bladder almost debilitating. At the click of your front door unlocking and seeing Izuku push it open, you rush through over the threshold. You kick the heels off your feet, your slippers abandoned at the entryway as you make a break for the bathroom. You can’t get your underwear off quick enough. The relief is almost pleasurable. You’d forgotten what it felt like to pee while exceedingly inebriated. Typically when you go out drinking, you elevate your liver’s production of alcohol dehydrogenase so you can avoid getting drunk, but tonight was your birthday celebration, and you wanted to get shitfaced, so you dialed it back. Now that you’re home and not interested in a hangover, you make the necessary adjustments to your liver. The night out had been a pleasant surprise. More people had shown up than you’d been led to believe would, most importantly, your younger siblings had stopped by — you hadn’t seen them since moving to Musutafu to pursue your hero career. You finish reminiscing over the night’s events. Quickly wiping, you flush the toilet and wash your hands. When you open the door, you find your slippers are there waiting. He was a total sweetheart.

You slide your sore feet in and sigh at the fluffiness. You make your way to your bedroom, surprised to find it empty. Where had Izuku gone? You take off your earrings, dropping them into your jewelry box. Making your way to the main bathroom connected to your room, you’ve just finished wiping away your makeup when you hear the door open. You walk to the bathroom door to peek and gasp as soon as you spot the figure closing the door behind them. Now you’d be the first to admit you are a horny bitch, but never have you felt your pussy throb with such a deep longing the way it was throbbing now. You stand still dumbfounded at seeing Izuku in his hero costume in your bedroom.

“Babe?” You try to suppress the quiver in your voice.

“Ma’am,” He tilts his head in greeting, “I got reports of a villain in the vicinity. I’m Deku, and I’m here to take care of you.”

Why the fuck did he just introduce himself? And a villain? You reach out with your quirk but don’t feel an unknown presence nearby. You start to walk towards him but stop at the foot of your bed. He meets you there, and you don’t know what to expect, but it definitely was not him pushing you onto your back. You fall with a muffled thud against the comforter. You stare up at him at a complete loss. You then become hyper-aware of what you’re wearing. The sparkling strappy mini dress leaves little to the imagination, and you’re positive that from his angle, Izuku can see your panties and the growing evidence of your arousal.

“Apologies, ma’am, but I’ll be using my quirk to restrain you as a precautionary measure.” Your mouth goes dry as you watch Blackwhip manifest wrapping around your wrists, pulling your arms above your head, and adhering to your shared bed’s headboard. You have to scoot yourself back a few inches to ease the tension in your shoulders. Holy shit. He just tied you up. This whole time he’s been standing at the end of the bed taking you in. You know your face is flushed, and you can feel your nipples brushing against the material of your dress now that you’re so turned on. Izuku’s hands come into view, and that somehow gets your mouth to work again.

“What are you going to do?” You arch an eyebrow and part your lips to let your tongue dart out and wet them. Fuck Yaomomo wasn’t off the mark with her comment.

“I’ll need to do a full-body search to ensure you’re not concealing anything illegal on your person.” You don’t have time to respond before his gloved hands caress down your pinned arms, across where your neck and shoulders meet. Leaving goosebumps in their wake. He cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You groan as the sensation travels down, pooling between your legs. He moves down your sides, slowly over your exposed thighs sticking strictly to the outside of your legs until he reaches mid-calf. You feel his hands move, and suddenly their inching closer to your aching cunt. Using his right hand Izuku runs a finger teasingly up between your clothed slit and your hips give an involuntary buck. He removes his finger and tuts at you, that pisses you off.

“What the fuck Izu —” You stop yourself when you see another tendril of black materialize near your face.

“Don’t make me gag you. My name is Deku, and you will address me as Deku-sama.” There’s a finality in his tone that leaves no room for argument. You’re torn between being really fucking aroused and very vexed at this role reversal. You’d always been on top, literally and figuratively, and now here he was, your cinnamon roll, threatening to gag you and not even blushing about it. He takes your silence as understanding and begins to hike up the bottom of your dress. With your midriff exposed, he finally settles between your legs, his toned abdomen flush against you. He places an open-mouthed kiss just above your belly button, his tongue flicks out to taste your skin. Izuku’s lips continue to roam over every inch of your exposed abdomen, sucking and biting. He’s going to leave love marks all over your stomach, you’re sure. His hands travel up under your dress, coming to rest just below your breasts. You feel the flat of his tongue working its way towards his hands. When you can feel his breath tickling you already hard nipples, he pulls his face away. You squirm and pull against your restraint — you feel them tighten.

“What is it you want, villain?” Fuuuck. The word falls from his lips wrapped in sinful promise sending another steady pulse of need through your body. Your nervous system was on fire.

“I want you to touch me.” You try to taper down the pleading in your voice, but the mildly amused expression on Izuku’s face says you failed.

“Like this?” His hand runs down your neck, over your dress and through the valley of your cleavage, past your naval stopping at the band of your panties. It dawns on you that he was teasing you.

“Or like this?” You’re not sure when his gloves came off or how he managed it, but one second you’re covered by the flimsy dress material next, the straps keeping it up are torn, and the dress pulled down. You hiss at the shock of the sudden temperature change, but quickly warm up as calloused fingers massage your breasts. A greedy moan is the only answer you can manage as you arch your back into his touch. He leans closer, breath warm against your neck, and moves a hand down to grip your ass,

“Let’s see if these are illegal buns of steel.” Even with how incredibly husky his voice is, you almost laugh at his remark’s absolute absurdity. Still, having maybe foreseen your reaction Izuku wraps one of your nipples between his lips before you can utter a sound.

“Deku-sama.” You inhale sharply coming completely unwound as his tongue flicks and swirls. His mouth sucks and pulls playfully. When his teeth graze your nipple, you contemplate making your hands boneless to escape the restraints just so you could tangle your hands in his hair; even with the undercut, you knew you could make him moan. The idea is quickly dashed as Izuku releases your now overly sensitive bud with a resounding pop that sends the ache in your pussy into a frenzy. Good god , he hasn’t even gotten inside of you yet. He treats your other nipple with much the same attention. However, this time, he lets his teeth give it a gentle nibble, and the shock of the feeling causes your skin to prickle. You feel him grin at your reaction before giving your nipple a farewell lick. He captures your lips, shoving his hips down against your own, as his hands’ ghost over your neck. You hook a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, trying to create as much friction as possible as you roll your hips upward. He lets out a breathy chuckle, as his mouth moves to replace his hands. He kisses up your neck, his breath tickles your ear, and you stutter out a needy whimper.

“Someone’s eager.” You groan in frustration as he pulls back. His hands grab hold of what’s left of your dress, and you help him get you out of it. He runs a finger up your stomach, stopping just below your sternum. The tip of his index finger traces a lazy circle before leaving a trail of goosebumps back down to your hip. The pressure of his finger is replaced by his mouth, biting the flesh of your hip crease hungrily. He kisses his away across to your opposite hip, traces of his kisses wet against your skin. You feel his fingers toying with the lacy hem of your panties before he hooks them in the elastic, pulling them down. You lift your hips as they pass over the curve of your ass, and you wriggle in anticipation. Izuku braces his left forearm against your right thigh, pushing your legs wider. His index finger explores your wet folds, dipping briefly into your slit, before brushing against your swollen clitoris.

“Deku-sama, please .” You don’t care how desperate you sound, the ache in your pussy is becoming unbearable. The slow burn was killing you.

“Since you said, please.” He slips a thick finger inside of you, curling it just so it massages the soft and spongy spot that makes your toes curl and lewd obscenities fall from your parted lips.

“Aah, fuck. Fuck, yes, there, right there. More. Izuku give me more.” A second finger is roughly inserted. You cry out as a jolt of ecstasy consumes every inch of you. He begins to scissor his fingers back and forth, “It’s De-ku sa-ma,” each thrust emphasizing the syllables of his declaration. You rock your hips up, trying to get his fingers deeper because you are close. You can feel the dam getting ready to burst. When his thumb circles your clit, you feel yourself clench around his fingers. He inhales sharply. You bite back a moan as stars begin to dance across your vision. The rhythm of his fingers picks up, and the pressure on your clit begins to be too much.

“You’re about to cum.” It’s not a question, but you manage to pant a yes, and it becomes your undoing. Tongue replaces fingers before you can bemoan feeling empty, hands wrap under your thighs, keeping you exposed when they instinctively try to shut. His fingers dig into soft flesh, and the pain leaves you dizzy for more. He unhooks his left arm from your thigh, again using his forearm to keep your leg down. Two fingers spread you open, and his breath is warm, and you screw your eyes shut because fucking hell, you feel ready to erupt. You feel the warmth of his tongue as it slips inside you and starts to lick around. His nose brushes against your clit as he laps up your wetness. When he takes your clitoris in his mouth, you feel yourself at the edge of a precipice.

“Y-your fin-fingers. Deku-sama.” You frantically tug against your binds as you arch your hips rutting into his face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You feel yourself drowning in pleasure when his fingers join back in the fray. You’re full, and his tongue is everywhere. Inside you along with his fingers, pressing in all the right places. There’s no room to be embarrassed by your body’s wet sounds as you thrust against his fingers or the sounds he’s eliciting from you — loud, throaty, and gluttonous. He laps up the juices wherever they end up, on your thighs, in your folds, the space between your pussy and ass. At your clit he teases with nibbles, quick flicks of his tongue, and long flat strokes. He was treating you like you were his favorite meal. Coming back for seconds, thirds, fourths. You lose track of time. The air crackles with electricity, Izuku, the electromagnet to your copper coils. It sparks against your skin. Were you doing that? You couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter because something was building. You feel it in your core, your quirk causing your atoms to buzz in excitement. He lets you hook your legs around his back, locking your ankles. You make a strangled noise when a particularly aggressive thrust combined with the head-splitting euphoria of Izuku’s tongue on your clit brings your Earth stuttering on its axis.

“Oh fuck, oh kami. Shit, Deku-sama!”

You flicker in and out. One second howling Izuku’s name like a prayer to the Gods, hips rolling up to meet his mouth. The next, you find yourself weightless in a void no longer in a corporeal form. What the fuck? It lasts no longer than a second before you return to your body and the sound of him cooing against your aching cunt.

“That’s it, cum villain. Cum for me.” And cum, you do. Waves of fiery ecstasy set your body aflame. You clench your fists and use your legs to pull Izuku’s face further flush against you. When you think you can catch your breath, Izuku surprises you by coaxing you into another smaller orgasm. You don’t know how he did it, but you really can’t complain, you’re feeling blissful as fuck. The bed creaks as he shifts back onto his knees, unwrapping your legs from around him. Blachwip is deactivated, and your arms fall uselessly to your sides. You feel your legs quiver from exertion, and you watch your chest rise in fall sporadically as your breathing levels off. You prop yourself up on your elbow to give Izuku a once over. He’s got a bit of sweat on his forehead, you can see the outline of his erection against the front of his hero costume, and your cum glistens on his nose, mouth, and chin. Not sure how you manage it, with your body feeling so close to putty, but you scoot back, pulling yourself up into a seated position, and rock forward onto your knees so you’re facing him.

You move closer, so your knees brush against his. Now that you’re close enough, you can see how blown his pupils are. They almost wholly eclipse the dark shamrock of his irises. He had it bad for you. You could fix that. You grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting it down to your lips so you can lick it clean. When your tongue traces the outline of his mouth, a low moan rumbles in the back of his throat. You get his mouth open with a hard nip to his bottom lip. Tasting yourself in his mouth and on his tongue makes you squeeze your thighs together briefly before you let your free hand wander between your legs to stroke your clit and moistening labia. You give the tip of his nose a cutesy peck that almost brings a blush to his freckled face, but he remains in character, so you palm his cock with your damp hand grinning devilishly when he stutters an exhale.

“I want you, hero.”

Izuku’s chuckle is rich, and you can feel it reverberate against where your chests connect. You start to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, the short buzz of his undercut tickles your fingertips. Sliding your hand up, you finally get to tangle your fist in his hair, your grip tightens, and you pull his head back, exposing his neck. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to just below his earlobe, all the while your hand strokes him into fully hardening.

“I’m not fucking around, Deku.” Your voice is thick and your tone dark, dangerous. He grabs the wrist of the hand that’s between his legs and growls,

“Neither am I villain slut.” You swallow hard at his inflection on the word slut. You’d never been called a slut during sex, and under any other circumstance, you’re sure it wouldn’t have sent a thrill of arousal pulsing from your fingertips down to your toes. He brings the hand up above your head, reaching behind his head to grab your second hand. You give him a feral grin, and his eyes flash before he sends you to your back. You’re about to stretch out your legs when he commands you to flip over onto your hands and knees. You do as you’re told, biting your lip as warmth begins to once again pool between your legs. You wish you could help him out of his costume, but it sounds like your help wasn’t needed. His dick grazes against the back of your thighs. A finger follows the curve of your spine. You arch into the touch and moan when it dips at your hip to tap your clitoris.

“You’re so wet already. You villains really know nothing about bedroom decorum.” He skims a hand over your stomach, stopping to grope and tease your hardened nipples.

“Oh? Keeping a woman in suspense isn’t exactly proper in my book De-ku sa-ma.” You look over your shoulder with a smirk.

“You’re,” he thrust into you without warning, quickly turning the grin on your face into an open-mouthed ‘oh,’ “not,” he pulls out, so the tip of his head just barely touches your cunt, “a woman.” He pushes into you, swearing under his breath as you push your hips back to meet his momentum. A ragged breath escapes your lips as you adjust to him, filling you. Shit, the boy is thick. His nails dig into your hip as he continues to fuck you at a painfully slow pace. Fingers tweak your nipples, and you feel your whole body flush with pleasure. You clutch the bedsheets in two tight fists when he starts to quicken his thrusts. His chest is slick with sweat against your back, his tongue tracing circles into your shoulder. An aggressive stroke sends the head of his cock rubbing up against your G-spot, and you feel your walls squeeze around him.

“Shit, shit, fuck Deku. That’s it. Just keep putting pressure on that spot.” You feel your elbows buckle, and you expect to crash into the bed. Instead, black tendrils wrap around your arms to keep you upright. This is definitely not how Lariat intended Blackwhip’s tendrils to be used. The thought makes you giggle. It seems that this was not a sound Izuku wanted to hear coming from you. He bites down on the spot of your shoulder he’d been suckling, making his displeasure known. You feel him adjust himself behind you, perhaps too quickly, because he slips out of you, and you protest immediately with a loud whine.

“I’ll give you something to whine about.” He thrust back into you, your knees go weak, and your pussy’s stimulation begins to pull the taught rope of your impending orgasm closer to snapping. One of his hands grabs the hair at the base of your neck, tugging with just enough force to tease a guttural mewl from you.

“That’s more like it.” You’re so overstimulated, with the rhythm of his dick coming in and out of you. The attention he’s paying to your clit, you scarcely have the headspace to be shocked by the personality change. Izuku doesn’t release his hold on your hair; instead, he deactivates Blackwhip and uses the grip to guide you, so your back is flush against his chest. You can smell the muskiness of his sweat with him so close. It mingles in the air with the scent of your arousal. Sex, the whole room smelled heavily of your fucking. He brushes a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down gently. You open your mouth, taking it in, holding it gently between your teeth, your lips acting as a cushion. You suck on Izuku’s thumb, letting your tongue swirl over the tip treating it how you would if you were instead sucking on the head of his cock. You hollow out your cheek and release his thumb with a satisfying pop. Your reward is the sound of Izuku’s heated gasp. The sound tightens the coil in your groin. You feel his right hand lightly trailing up your side. You expect him to stop to cup your breast, but a tingle runs up your spine when he skips it entirely. His thumb rests a few inches under your right ear, the fleshy part of his palm rests against your trachea, the remaining four fingers occupy the same spot under the opposite ear. You can’t hide your excitement as he begins to apply light pressure to your neck. It’s amplified when he whispers in your ear,

“Whose slut are you, villain?”

“I’m yours. All yours.” He squeezes a little tighter, and you squirm, gripping his left hip for stability.

“Yours, Deku-sama. I’m all yours.” You choke over the words while he loosens his grip satisfied with your correction. The brief bout of intoxicating lightheadedness dissipates quickly, but he keeps his hand around your neck.

You feel him, hard and slick, throbbing inside you, and you know he’s close. You prepare to ride out the coming crescendo that you’ll set off with your silver tongue.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you, hero? I can feel your cock pulsing.” He squeezes your neck tighter than he has before reminding you who was in charge. You dig your nails into his hip and bite your lip. Was he turning into a masochist, or were you?

“I want you to cum in me. Make me your bona fide villain bitch — think you’re up for it, big boy?” You were being so bold, goading him. It does the trick. He releases his hold on your neck, you’re a little sad, but are swiftly distracted by a sudden burst of heat and green energy crackling, the telltale sign of Full Cowl being activated. What the hell was he up to? Your answer comes moments later when his hands push your bent legs further apart, hooking his arms under your thighs to lift them up. You feel weightless, free, and so very wanton. Then like being dosed with ice-cold water, you come back to your senses; you’ve always been terrified of being picked up during sex. Your arms flail, searching for anything to grab hold of. They settle awkwardly at Izuku’s neck. Your breathing is a little erratic.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” Oh, he was being a total ass.

“Absolutely not.” You bite back.

“Heh.”

Sensing your discomfort, he places you back down on your knees, his hand returning to your neck — where it belonged. Shit, it was you, you’re the masochist. You feel him throb inside you, the head of his penis gets a little bigger and his cock harder. His movements become more sporadic. You take his free hand and lead it to your clit, you’d be damned if he cums before you. His groans become music to your ears, loud and ravenous as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts. Soon that’s all you can feel, like tunnel vision nothing else matters, there are no other options, but his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you as his fingers dance around your clit. He flicks and pulls, rubs circles, and you savor every second of it. Everything cumulates into a blinding flash of white-hot light as if you’re staring directly at burning magnesium. You hear him crying out your name, and it mixes with your carnal pleas into a cacophonous soundtrack to your mutual climax. He finishes inside you, the thick viscous liquid of his orgasm, filling you with more warmth than you anticipated. As you ride out your orgasm, you don’t stop gyrating your hips until you feel Izuku become soft. You let out a shaky breath as you come to a stop to catch your breath. You’re thankful that he doesn’t seem eager to pull out quite yet while you bask in the quiet exhilaration of having orgasmed three times this night.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay?”

You nod your head slightly, words out of reach with your euphoria’s hum still clouding your mind. Cum trickles down between your thighs, the sensation almost ticklish, but far more erotic. With nothing connecting you to Izuku, your body gives in to its exhaustion, falling forward unceremoniously. He wraps an arm around your waist, setting you gently down on your stomach. Rolling onto your back, you shimmy up onto a pillow to support your head. You glance up at Izuku and sigh in content. Hair stuck to his head, abs contracting as he slows his breathing (his heart rate close to 180bpm), and his left-hand traces the scars on his right arm absently. Even in such a worn-out state, he looked otherworldly. You lock eyes, and you pat his side of the bed next to you.

“Cuddle with me.” At hearing those three words, he sheds his façade, his eyes soften, his jaw loosens, and he eagerly obliges your request. He rests his head on your chest, your fingers playing with his hair as he gently brushes your side. You stay like this for a few minutes until he starts out of your arms like someone’s lit a fire under his ass. He sits up, you follow suit intrigued by what’s got him so worked up. You watch him reach across towards his nightstand. He pulls out a notebook and a pencil. You have to suppress your snort as he begins scribbling furiously. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised, catching bits and pieces of his muttering.

“. . . dominated . . . choking . . . loud . . . buns of steel. . .” You can’t stifle the laugh that escapes you. He glances up and gives you a sheepish grin, his face like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“You fucked me into another dimension, jot that down in your sex notebook.” A blush erupts across his face.

“I-I what? Seriously?”

“Mhmm, as seriously as my orgasm.” Embarrassment flickers momentarily in his eyes, quickly replaced by intense curiosity. You dare say you see a little triumphant gleam too.

“What happened, tell me everything, love.” You recount what he’d been doing with his tongue and fingers. The feeling leading up to it and what it looked like in this other dimension.

“Sounds like you’ve unlocked another facet of your quirk.”

“Looks like it, but it’s not really useful.” He gives you an inquiring look; you roll your eyes. He could be so dense sometimes.

“I can’t exactly have you eating me out in public every time I want to astral project now, can I?” His blush returns full force.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

“Possibly, but I’m beat. My legs feel like jello, and I’m starting to feel sore.” You massage your neck, glancing at your exposed breasts and the marks that speckle them. Izuku looks at you with worry.

“You can’t fix it with your quirk?”

“I can, but where’s the fun in that? One of my favorite parts of sex is feeling it the next day. I’m definitely going to tomorrow and maybe the day after thanks to you.” You give him a wink and admire as he fumbles with his words.

“Oh! Well, I mean. Yeah. No problem. I think?” He was definitely back to being your cinnamon roll. You giggle quietly.

“Before I go clean up, I’ve gotta know. How did you do that.” You motion with your hand, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does.

“Simple, lots of research.” You squint at him, touching the pulse at his neck. It was slightly elevated.

“Ah-huh, and what else?”

“No-nothing!” The pulse quickens a little more.

“Did you role play with someone?” The idea sounds absolutely preposterous, but when he pushes your hand away from his neck and gets up off the bed, you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re using your quirk, that’s not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war. So, who was it with? Shoto? Eiji? Or was it Katsuki ?” The light hue of pink that creeps up his neck is all the confirmation you need.

“Ah,” you bob your head sagely, “it makes sense, babe, he gives off a total masochist vibe. I’d have practiced with him too. What was it like? Would he be open to a threesome? Or would it be a foursome since he’s got that not, so secret thing going with Eiji? Could I even handle the three of you?” You wonder out loud.

“(Y/N)!” Izuku rushes into the bathroom, adamantly trying to end this conversation. You weren’t letting this go, oh no siree, so you get out of bed and walk to the bathroom where Izuku’s turned on the shower and is standing under its current.

“Nice try. You’re giving me the details.” He sighs defeatedly.

“Can it wait until we’re in the bath.” You cross your arms in a huff, pouting.

“I guess.” Izuku grabs you, pulling you into the shower with him. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. He gives the top of your head a kiss.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

Happy fucking birthday to me. You smile to yourself.

#bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku #midoriya fic #reader is female #reader insert #midoriya fluff #the gift that keeps on giving

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