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twisted-lover-boys · 9 months

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Could I get trans ftm alternative (goth, emo, or early 2000's scene) reader x diasomnia boys. It's okay if you can't do it or don't want to.

Diasomnia crew with an alt fashion FTM boyfriend

{not proof-read}

Of course! I’m honestly addicted to alternate and gothic fashion I just can’t pull it off since my style ranges from “soft boy” and “extremely gay”

Ahh, the beauty of owning sweaters and Hawaiian shirts as a trans man…of course this doesn’t apply to everyone but you get the point—

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🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️

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Malleus actually adores your fashion. While you both share a sense for alt fashion in terms of color and appearance, his is more regal and yours is more casual. Nonetheless, he loves seeing you dressed like that

Seeing you adored in chains and leather, silks and cotton, studs and jewelry, really does something to the dragon fae. Your style is addictive to him

Please please PLEASE let Malleus get you clothes or shop for you. If anyone knows your fashion sense, it’s him. He’s very gothic and alt (at least to his standards) and while some of them may be more of his style, he’d be more than ecstatic to see his boyfriend dressed in things he gives you

On that note, let him dress you up! He has a way of making you feel masculine with how he dresses you up. Of course, that’s only if you want him to since he’ll most likely use very regal-looking clothing

The dragon fae, whenever you feel down on yourself, always decides to play little dress-up games with you. He picks whatever clothes you like best or ones that you haven’t worn yet and makes you an outfit. It’s entirely up to you if you wanna keep them on or not but it sure does help, right?

As one of the strongest mages in the entirety of Twisted Wonderland, there is no way Malleus would ever take any, and I mean ANY, negative comments about you. Whether it’s about your fashion sense or your identity as a whole, a swift lightning strike will set them straight

I cannot stress this enough; Malleus is so deeply in love with you no matter how you decide to present yourself. You’re his boyfriend and that’s never going to change, no matter what

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Literally the founder of alt fashion no one can convince me otherwise. Look at him! He’s literally the king of alternate and gothic fashion and now he has a boyfriend who shares that style! You’re perfect together!

Lilia absolutely praises you to the nines when he sees you all dressed up. He literally treats you like you’re royalty. Leather, studs, silks, whatever you have on gets this old man to do a little jiggy for you

Having Lilia pick out your clothing is literally the best decision you could make. If you need a new outfit but can’t decide which one would fit you best, the old fae will pick for you. He’s just good like that

On that note, letting him dress you up is also the best decision you could make. Being a know-it-all for alt fashion himself, he’s sure to dress you up the way you’d want to

Whenever you’re down on yourself for one reason or another, he sets up a little fashion show for the both of you. Dressing up in clothes you’ve never worn yet or exchanging clothes with each other is just par for the course

Lilia was a general in his early years so he has the man power to scare off anyone who decides to mess with you about…well, you. It’s very easy for him to just…make sure they stop bothering you…

Lilia is an absolute sucker for you. You’re his beloved no matter how you want to dress, talk, or express yourself in any way

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While Silver himself is not an expert in alt fashion, his father is so he’s been exposed to it throughout his life. Now, he has a boyfriend to teach him of the fashion style!

Seeing you dress up in intricate outfits really wants to make Silver dress like that himself but he knows he really wouldn’t be able to pull it off, at least no well. The studs, silks, and leathers that adorn you are mesmerizing to him

He has very little experience in alt and gothic fashion so he wouldn’t be great at picking things out for you, though he can get a few good picks every now and then

Don’t let him dress you up. Not because he’s bad at, have you seen his dad? But it’s because he doesn’t want to disappoint you with what he picks. He really doesn’t want it to look bad but nothing every looks bad on you

However, Silver is amazing in reassuring you whenever you feel down on yourself. He wants you to feel as comfortable at possible. Whether that be wanting to dress up in clothing you’ve never worn before or you just need some good ol’ fashioned comfort, he’s there for you

Silver’s father is literally a general. He’s super strong and one of Malleus’ guards. He’s more than competent enough to knock some sense into someone for disrespecting you, both literally and physically

To him, you’re his lifeline. One of the few people he holds dear in his life. He loves you deeply. You’re his boyfriend, his partner, his beloved, and that isn’t going to change no matter what happens in the future

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Sebek has no idea what alt or gothic fashion is other than the fact that Lilia, Malleus, and now his boyfriend, dress like it. Of course, he tries to imitate and it looks good…but his personality kinda breaks the illusion

That doesn’t mean he loves seeing you dress up in such clothing. All the leather, jewelry, and silks that you wear always seem to look amazing on you…not that he’s complaining

He always boasts about how well he could pick out your style but, in reality, he’s horrible at it. Even though he sees the ones he cares about dress like that, he can’t pick out any clothes that really speak to your style. It’s a shame but you’d never throw out the gifts he gives you

Don’t let him dress you. He’s bad at it. If you do, prepare to either become the definition of fashion disaster or a literally walking advertisement for the Draconia family. As much as you love him, it’s best to stay away from that idea

While he isn’t good at picking clothes or dressing you, he’s sure as hell good at lifting up your spirits in his own way. The croc fae just wants you to be happy and healthy so that you can both live to see his master’s reign

Sebek is strong and, while he does boast it a lot, is a retainer to Malleus. He is more than capable in both protecting you and getting people to back off of you over matters he deems trivial such as your presentation or gender

Although he has a hard time showing it, Sebek loves you in his own little Sebek way. He sings your praises as the most amazing boyfriend in the entirety of Twisted Wonderland as you will both get to grow together and see the magnificence that is his master!

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🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️

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#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst x male reader #diasomnia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia x male reader #lilia vanrouge x male reader #twst silver x male reader #sebek zigvolt x male reader

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callsigns-haze · 6 months

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Hit you again, like a truck..

THIS IS REPOSTED FROM MY OLD BLOG!

A/n: This is the second post to my new blog so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Y/n 'Haze' Mitchell

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Y/N has finally showed herself after seven years. The reuniting with her friend with benefits may have not been the best but the new confidence boost helped…

Based of the song: Lavender Haze by Taylor Swift

Warnings: Angst and cursing

“Bradshaw!” You yell through the hard deck as your eyes lay upon the familiar to aviator .

“Is that you, Haze?” Bradley calls out not believing that the other Mitchell would be back stateside or even at the perimeter of California, “This is how I find out you’re stateside, Haze?”

Bradley takes of his sunglasses laying a proper look at you as he tucks his glasses into his beloved Hawaiian shirt. “Yeah, I just thought I’d surprise you.”

You do a tiny run up on the three small steps at the deck, making you level with the floor the pool table is; where Bradley and unknown to you aviators are.

“Hmm.” Bending down, he engulfs you into a hug having to lean down a bit due to height difference .

He never thought he would see you again. For the last seven years you've been like a ghost. Text came in from you once for every couple months, maybe a call ever year or so and then you'd disappeared like some old haze.

"You know I think you've gotten shorter from the last time I saw you," he says still engulfing you, inhaling the familiar lavender scent, the sweet perfume you've always chose.

You lift your knee, putting force in the forward motion as it makes direct contact with Rooster’s groin.

He grunts, thinking that somehow the violence of short Mitchells has made itself upon you. Rooster bends, clutching his stomach with a pained expression. “I guess I surprised you twice than.”

Rooster squints in pain as he lift his look directly at you putting on the most unsuccessful smile, “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” you replies but quickly distract yourself by a following question that you ask. “Do you know if he's he—.”

Changing the song on the jukebox to the 86th number and making his way back to the group giving over a beer to Coyote, Jake gaze falls upon you.

“Haze,” he lets out, as he takes the cue out of Bobs hands before he could shoot. “As I live and breathe.

“Hangman,” You say back, looking at the man who feeling you have for are unsure, for the first time in seven years.

“You look…fairly alive.” Hangman lines up his cue with the ball, “Well, I am alive, Haze.” The two of you finally connect eyes, those green eyes as mesmerizing as you remembered, “I’m very alive, Haze. In fact, I really thought someone would have got ridden of you right now.”

All turn to Rooster in disbelief and that look that tells you to fill someone in. “So,” Coyote start, “What's brought the witch back to life?

“Call me a witch one more time, Javy, and I will strangle you with your own testicles ”

The balls clatter as Jake re-takes a shot hitting in the remaining ball.

“You've changed quite a bit, Haze. Last time we talked there was not that much confidence in you.”

Rooster rubs his stache with that ‘you can’t seriously bring this up again.’ “At least I don't lead anyone to an early grave.”

Low punch, grave deep for you.

“Well, look at you Lieutenant, you would've never made it this far without your daddy's and godfathers help,” Hangman steps closer, the distance between his face and yours barely exists.

“Mention my father Seresin and I mention yours.”; The next sentence that comes out of your mouth is solid cold but that doesn't stop you.

"And it's not Lieutenant anymore, Jakob, it's Commander Captain to be exact and the Commander Captain that will be flying with your team for the next couple weeks. So watch out Hangman. One wrong move and you're out."

Hangman really wanted to build up on your nerves and had no problem doing it, “First time I see you're not with your asshole and not running back to me, Mitchell, what happened? Daddy knocked some sense into you?” Jake licks his lip while smirking, “Now that I know that you're not in a grave yourself I might do the honors and put you there.”

“Watch it, Seresin,” Phoenix snapped at him, but got ignored by his act. She might fly with him and barely know you but that's beyond the point.

He's getting to arrogant even for himself and at this point it's just bullying. “I love this song.”

‘Slow ride.'

He smirks and walks back down to the bar.

“Well, he hasn’t changed,” you says with the lack of surprise in your tone, expecting worse than this.

“Nope,” Bradley agrees, hands in a fist still mad at what Jake said to you. “Sure hasn’t.”

Fanboy comes up to you and Rooster full shock of what just happened, “I don't know if we're on your side or not but the way you stood up to Bagman was just wow.”

He waves his hands in front of you trying to prove his point. Fanboy doesn't know you but surely is already impressed that he gets to work with you.

Phoenix puts her cue down, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. “Y/n "Haze" Mitchell. The legend of the sky is finally back and hopefully can kick Bagman's ego down to the grave. This little lady is a legend and a god. The things that she does in the air are mental.”

Fanboy exhales, not expecting your second name to be Mitchell.

“Mitchell. As in Maverick kinda Mitchell?”

“Ughhhhh people still recognize me as that—yeah Maverick is my dad. And I'm not a legend Phoenix, I'm a psycho, nearly died last time.”

Rooster frowns, “What happened?” This is not the first time he heard such thing.

Hangman glances over to Rooster and the rest of you talking like he still cared, “Milo, McKenzie, Conor, Eammon, Jacklin, Marko, Nathan all got shot down. Only Marko, Nathan and Milo survived. We all got caught it a dead end.”

They all feel sympathy just aren't showing it in the same way.

“Shit, Haze, I'm so sorry,” Phoenix answers, the sympathy is the only thing she's showing.

“Bit of a while back but everything is okay now.,” You answer. It was a crap few months you're not gonna lie. Seeing and hearing your fellow pilots getting shot down or crashing is not a sight anyone wants to see but it happens and you learned how to deal with it.

So you were right, you know how to deal with it, “Now can you explain to me why you call Jake, Bagman?”

Hangman took in the information. He added up that all the people you have just named were in the 'Stricker Crew'. The Strickers' were established seven years back after the storm in mid May.

The strongest fighters were randomly called down to a mission, completely off-grid. He heard Mav talk about this but never expected the miny Maverick to be called down there herself especially the night of their last scandal.

Hangman makes his way back down to you, beer in hand and cue in the other. “Let's see if you still got it in you.” He puts out the hand he held the cue in but instead you take the beer.

He makes pure eye contact with you as you lift the bottle up to your lavender chap sticked lips taking a sip frow the nice cool beer and never drop the eye contact with him.

His eyes were the hue of the new spring growth, bright and soft all at once. There were flecks of strength, of the kind of green that comes only as summer advances.

And you remember they were never more beautiful than when he cried, when his gentleness flowed over his cheeks, nor when he became the cocky man you came to depend on, decorated with laughter lines. Yet the soul and the eyes are ageless, and to you, so was he.

You take the bottle away from your lips handing it back over to him “Cheap….. just like you,” you smirk as his one falls, “I'll see you bright and early on Monday, Jakob. Don't be late.”

And you leave, leaving him shocked just standing there with a cue and bottle in hand watching you walk away like all those years ago.

Fanboy just casually walks over patting Hangman on the shoulder, “Like I said, I don't know if we are on her side or not but she's wow.”

To Jake, you really were wow.

A/n: And this is the second post for Haze and Hangman! Please reblog this post and give them love! Please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist and follow this blog since we're only getting started!

Tagging some friends:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@rosiahills22

@horseslovers2016

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

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clingymickey · 2 years

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#hawaiian shirt mickey my beloved!!!#i'm feel like i've made this post before but wth #gallavich + textposts #mickey milkovich

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xjoonchildx · 2 years

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adonis | pjm x reader

🚨 summary: your crackpot of a neighbor will not rest until you throw yourself at the gorgeous paramedic in town. she's nuts, y'all.

🚨 pairing: reader x paramedic!jimin

🚨 genre: meddling neighbors? horny little old ladies with bad-slash-good intentions? awkward OCs who can't find the words to speak in the presence of greatness?

🚨 warnings: one very mouthy senior citizen, sweet/shy jimin, an OC who can't find a clean shirt throughout the entire fic, one very spoiled pomeranian, smoking, sexual innuendo, literally one line of implied smut

🚨 word count: 3.4K (lmao)

🚨 notes: this is my drabble *snort* for the possum anniversary and i am celebrating the wonderful @starlostjimin who is such a cool, funny, amazing, talented person. did you know that 911 is 911 in america AND canada? anyhoo. i hope you like my very first jimin fic ever, and i hope it delivers on the things that you wanted 💕

thank you always to @hobi-gif for being the most amazing beta and person in general.

If you had to wager a guess, you’d say it was Mrs. Choi from the fourth floor who’d dialed 911. That miserable old bat has always struck you as kind of a snitch.

At any rate, that’s how you find yourself standing outside your condo at ten o’clock at night, wearing nothing but a faded bathrobe and a pair of worn-out house slippers. Lights mounted on top of the fire truck idling at your building’s entrance turn the courtyard into a tragic makeshift disco, everything and everyone splashed in flashes of red and white.

You mill around on the damp grass with the rest of your neighbors, each of you turned into temporary exiles in mismatched sleepwear.

Mr. Nam from the sixth floor is yelling into his phone as he paces, giving someone an earful about the disruption. Mrs. Song from the seventh floor was smart enough to grab a lawn chair and she watches the scene unfold like it’s one of her beloved dramas. Mr. Baek from the first floor doesn’t pay any mind to the fuss around him, engrossed in a book good enough to drown out the grumbling and sirens.

But you don’t spot the woman who lives in the unit next to yours – not right away – because it takes her an absurdly long time to heed this whole evacuation business.

When Mrs. Yun finally breezes through the condo’s glass doors, she does so with all the subtlety of a pageant queen. She makes a beeline for you, decked out in a Hawaiian-print muumuu loud enough to wake the dead – accessorized by a full face of makeup, a full set of curlers, and her trusty Pomeranian tucked under one arm.

“What is all this fuss about?” she pouts, giving Chichi an affectionate scratch. You lean over to give the dog your own scratch and she licks your fingers as thanks.

“Hell if I know,” you shrug. “I came outside when I heard the sirens. Which, by the way, was about ten minutes ago.”

“I was busy,” Mrs. Yun sniffs, affronted by your reprimand. She sets Chichi down to pat her curlers and make sure each is still in place. “I have a friend coming over tonight.”

“A friend.”

“Yes honey, a friend,” she echoes, tone haughty. “You should try it some time.”

God, you really should. The only man in your life these days is the Doordash driver and the last time he’d come by, he’d made a clumsy joke about your sodium intake. You’d been embarrassed, sure, but somehow that pales in comparison to this reminder that you’re being outsexed by the little old lady next door.

“You should ask someone when they plan to let us back in,” Mrs. Yun says, tapping her foot impatiently. “You should ask – ” she pauses to look out over the crowd, eyes lighting as she points one fresh gel nail in the direction of the fire truck, “ – him.”

You follow the trajectory of that thin finger with your gaze until your eyes land on Mrs. Yun’s intended target. And then you blink as you take in what is surely the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Dark eyes and sandy blonde hair and a jawline so sharp, it could have been cut from granite.

Holy shit.

“I’ll say,” Mrs. Yun grins, and your face burns with embarrassment when you realize you’ve spoken out loud. It flames even hotter when she raises an arm to wave him over.

“Sir? Sir!”

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” You panic, whispering in the most threatening tone you can muster. “Put your hand down. Don’t – ”

But it’s too late. Mrs. Yun has already caught the attention of this Earth-bound Adonis. He makes his way towards you both without delay, wearing an easy smile so devastating it makes sweat bead at your temples.

“Hi there,” he greets kindly. “How can I help you?”

“Thank you, Mr. – ” Mrs. Yun pauses to squint at the name embroidered on the man’s dark navy uniform, “ – Park. What’s all this uproar about tonight, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he chuckles, and you find yourself mesmerized by the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Someone called 911 because they smelled smoke, so we had to come check it out.” A radio secured to his shoulder crackles with an incoming transmission and he pauses to listen before he speaks again. “Pretty sure they’re almost done checking the building. Old places like this, we’ve always got to put in a bit more attention where the wiring is concerned. Wouldn’t want to leave you ladies in a dangerous situation.”

“Oh, of course not,” Mrs. Yun purrs, making no effort to hide the cheeky once-over she gives him. “We certainly appreciate you being thorough.”

The Adonis – Mr. Park – flushes, clearing his throat as the tips of his ears turn pink. You make a mental note to sit Mrs.Yun down later to explain that a few things have changed since her heyday.

The radio crackles again, a garbled voice coming over the line.

“Sounds like they’re almost done,” he explains, looking down at his feet to find Chichi sniffing at his boot. He crouches down to pet her and she curls into the curve of his hand, eager for his touch.

Somehow you’re willing to bet this man has that kind of effect on everything in his path – men, women, and houseplants alike.

He gives Chichi a few firm scratches before getting back to his feet. The rigid fabric of his uniform pants strains against the lean muscles of his thighs as he moves and Mrs. Yun’s eyes practically bug out of her face. You’d jam an elbow in her side if you thought there was a chance you could pull it off without being caught.

“I’d better get back,” he says, turning to you with one of those debilitating smiles. Your toes curl inside the shabby velvet of your slippers. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

“Oh, we won’t!” Mrs. Yun calls out, appreciating his retreating form with a lifted brow. You wait until the man is well out of earshot before turning on her.

“What the hell was that?” you demand.

“That – ” she says with her nose in the air, “ – is why you never leave the house without your face on.”

“You were practically undressing that man with your eyes,” you accuse hotly. “You do know what sexual harrassment is, don’t you?”

Mrs. Yun huffs as she bends down to scoop up Chichi. “I wasn’t harassing the man, I was appreciating him. Fine art is meant to be admired.”

“Oh, please,” you grumble. “And don’t think I missed that little detail about the smoke.”

She narrows her eyes at you.

“Mind your business.”

🚨🚨🚨🚨

One week later, a knock at the door nearly startles you right off the couch. You frown into your half-eaten carton of ramen and set it down on the coffee table, taking a moment to seriously contemplate pretending not to be home.

But then there’s more knocking – more insistent this time.

You pad across the floor, crack the door open and the ramen in your stomach threatens to come right back up.

“Hi again.”

You blink.

“Sorry to bother you, it’s just that your neighbor suffered a fall and she said you would have a key to get into her place.”

The Adonis – Mr. Park – looks a little sheepish as he stands in the doorway, waiting for you to speak like a normal human being with a passable set of social skills. He shoves one hand through his sandy blonde hair and the locks seem to fall back in slow-motion.

“I – y-yes of course,” you stutter, so flustered that you nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to scramble for the kitchen. You dig Mrs. Yun’s spare key out of the silverware drawer and rush back to drop it into his waiting palm.

“I hope she’s okay,” you worry, biting at the inside of your cheek. “I’m right here if you guys need anything else.”

“We’ll take good care of her,” another voice promises, and you crane your neck to peer past the stunning Mr. Park to search for the source of it. A second man stands out in the hallway, a heavy duffel bag slung over one muscular arm covered in a myriad of tattoos. His face is boyish and beautiful and soft, a stark contrast to his powerful body.

Jesus. Who’s doing the recruiting in this city?

“We’ll have this back to you right away,” Mr. Park promises, and your neck heats when he rewards you with one of his sweet smiles.

The second they leave, you make a beeline for the bathroom – and cringe as you stand in the mirror and peel one half-dried ramen noodle off the front of your shirt.

🚨🚨🚨 🚨

15 minutes later, Mr. Park’s picture-perfect partner is knocking at your door.

“Hey there.”

You might have run a brush through your hair and dabbed on a bit of tinted chapstick in the last five minutes, but he notices that – or the absence of one half-dried ramen noodle, he makes no indication.

“Hi again,” you say. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, for sure. Maybe a little banged up, but otherwise she’s alright. She’s asking for you though, if you can walk over with me.”

“Yes, of course.” You shuffle into the hall and let him lead the way, through the open front door to Mrs. Yun’s unit and the narrow foyer that opens up into her living room. She’s upright on the couch, holding an ice pack to her head. The glorious Mr. Park is bent down on one knee at her side.

“I’ll tell you what,” she says, looking as pleased as a queen holding court, “I’m grateful every day for the very dedicated public servants in this city. That was terrifying.”

“But you’re okay, right?” you ask.

“Nothing broken, so far as we can tell,” the Adonis says. “She’s probably going to be good and sore tomorrow, but for now she’s doing just fine.”

“Thanks to Mr. Park and Mr. Jeon here,” Mrs.Yun says sweetly. A little too sweetly, in fact. The wheels in your brain start to turn and you eyeball her from across the room. She peeks at you from behind the ice pack and dons an angelic smile.

“Yes, they are certainly appreciated,” you say slowly, the skepticism in your voice vibrating at a frequency only Mrs. Yun can hear. She beams at Mr. Park as he gets to his feet and starts to pack up his things.

Mr. – Jeon, was it? – slings his heavy duffel bag over his shoulder. “Be sure and take those anti-inflammatories tonight, okay? You’ll be all locked up in the morning if you don’t.”

Mrs. Yun practically preens at the personal attention she’s gotten from these two insanely good-looking men. “I will.”

“You’re lucky to have a good neighbor,” the Adonis says to Mrs. Yun, turning to you with a genuine smile. Your heart thuds in response. “If it’s alright with you, keep an eye on her tonight? She might need your help.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her, alright,” you say with a tight smile, and Mrs. Yun clears her throat.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

“Promise me – right now – that you really fell.”

“What did I tell you about leaving the house with your face on?”

“Answer the question,” you fire back and Mrs. Yun sighs, tossing the ice pack down on the couch.

“Yes, honey, I did fall. I fell in love with that scrumptious Mr. Park the second I saw him. And if I were a woman thirty – ”

You raise an eyebrow.

“ – Okay, fifty years younger than I am, I would be taking him for a spin myself. But since I’m not, I’ve decided that you should have him. Did I bend the truth a little? Yes. But for a good cause. I’m a very thoughtful person, you know.”

“You are outrageous,” you hiss, pacing as Mrs.Yun pretends to look for dirt under her fingernails. “This is a waste of public resources! They’re supposed to be responding to emergencies. Real emergencies.”

“First of all – ” Mrs. Yun is defiant, chin in the air, “ – Nothing ever happens in this town. Nothing. And second, there’s dust in your panties, sweetheart. If that’s not an emergency, I don’t know what is.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream and Mrs. Yun ignores it, climbing off the couch with ease to cross the room and crack open a window. She pulls a box out of the tiny accent table perched beneath it and proceeds to light an absurdly long cigarette.

“You’re too damned young to be shut away in your house all the time,” she argues, pursing her lacquered lips to blow a stream of smoke out the window. “Work. Couch. Work. Couch. How can you stand it? Let me tell you what I’d be doing right now if I could turn back the clock and have your youth again: Mr. Park. I’d be doing Mr. Park. You should be doing Mr. Park.”

You stifle a disbelieving laugh. The novelty of your neighbor’s loose lips and bad habits wore off a long time ago, but sometimes she still manages to catch you off guard.

“Well, I’ve got an early morning so unless you have any more unsolicited sex advice to share, I’m going to have to call it a night.”

Mrs. Yun blows another long stream of smoke out the window.

“Nope. I’ve got it all off my chest.”

“Good then,” you say, turning on your heels. You make it all the way to the door before you pause and call out to her.

“And put that thing out!”

🚨🚨🚨🚨

Three days later, you find yourself struggling with an overloaded paper bag from the grocery store. Yes, you’ve purchased the reusable ones and yes, they’re a hell of a lot stronger – but you never miss an opportunity to leave them hanging in the closet on your way out the door.

Something in the bag is wet – well, moist at the very least. And it’s enough to have you gripping the bottom tight with both hands as you try to maneuver your way through the revolving door at the entrance to your condo. It’s an awkward fit inside the narrow sliver of space and as you’re shuffling forward, the door’s momentum dies. You push at it with one foot and lose an onion from the bag, nearly losing your balance in the process.

You blow out a heavy breath and go to push the door again, only this time it smoothly glides away before you even make contact. The misstep makes you jerk forward, but at least the door keeps moving long enough for you to step out of it.

“Think you lost something back there.”

Most of your hair has slipped out of your ponytail holder by now, the strands matted to your forehead with the sweat you worked up on the walk from the car. But when you turn, you can still make out the glorious Mr. Park quite clearly. He drops the onion back into your bag and smiles at you.

“Please, allow me.”

He lifts the bag out of your arms, carefully securing the bottom like you’d done just moments before. With your hands now free, you push your hair out of your face and silently pray that you don’t look as unfortunate as you suspect you do.

“You don’t have to do that,” you demur. “But I appreciate it anyway. Mr. Park, right?”

“Well, I’d much prefer you call me Jimin,” he laughs, the sound of it making heat bloom inside your chest. “But yeah, it’s me again.”

He’s not wearing his uniform, you realize. And though some small part of you mourns the loss of those fitted shirts and pants, his off-duty look – an oversized sweater, jeans and pair of sharp boots – sure as hell doesn’t disappoint.

“Do you… live here?” you ask stupidly, as though a man this handsome could live anywhere on this entire street without someone taking notice. “Or – ”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I came by to check on your neighbor. You know, after the fall and all. I told her she could call me if she ever needed anything and she asked me to stop by.”

“You gave – ” you pause, shock forcing your voice at least an octave higher, “ – You gave Mrs. Yun your phone number?”

His cheeks pink at the observation. “She’s in her 70s, you know? Lives alone. I really don’t mind.”

You truly have no idea how your chain-smoking, jazzercising, oversexed hellion of a next-door neighbor has managed to convince this man she’s a frail old woman in need of a hero.

Will wonders never cease?

“Besides,” he says, “She’s kind of...quirky, you know?”

“That’s a very strange way to say unhinged,” you counter.

He laughs.

“You’re funny. Come on, I’ll walk you up.”

yun: DID YOU HAVE YOUR FACE ON [ 9:15 PM ]

yun: he told me he helped you with your groceries [ 9:15 PM ]

yun: now tell him to help you out of your clothes [ 9:16 PM ]

you: go to bed [ 9:16 PM ]

Two days later, legs like noodles from spin class, you limp through your front door and sag onto the couch. You might have napped for a second, you’re not entirely sure – but after a knock sounds at your door, you are most definitely alert. Your thighs protest as you force yourself off the couch to answer it.

You crack the door open and it’s him. Adonis. Mr. Park. Jimin.

And you’re wearing a gray workout shirt with what you are certain is one very sizeable sweat stain down the front. Good God, will there ever be a time when you see this man and don’t look like a complete wreck?

“Oh my gosh, did she call you again?” you ask, incredulous. “You are so sweet to do this for her, really but this is too – ”

“ – She didn’t call,” he interrupts, looking just the tiniest bit bashful.

“Oh.”

“Listen, this is kind of embarrassing and maybe not entirely appropriate given I know where you live, but it’s just that I don’t have your number.”

Your eyes widen and your already distressed legs start to feel a bit more weak. Jimin scrubs a hand down his jaw before he speaks again.

“I was actually wondering if you might let me take you to dinner sometime.”

You blink.

“Or I could cook you dinner. I make this really great prawn dish? But again, I’m not trying to be a creep or anything and it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with that – ” he’s backpedaling now, his words coming out in a rush.

“– You are not a creep,” you insist, when you’ve finally come to your senses and figure out how to access your words and use them to form sentences. “I just – I was just not expecting that. But yes, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

Your knees threaten to buckle at the slow smile that comes over him.

“That’s great.”

🚨🚨🚨🚨

You fling the silverware drawer open and practically rip Mrs. Yun’s key out of it in your mad dash to her apartment. No, you do not feel guilty for letting yourself into her house, the woman has absolutely no boundaries and could use a taste of her own medicine.

You slam the door behind you when you walk in, and Mrs. Yun squints at you from her perch in the window. She blows out a perfect ring of smoke and then raises a brow.

“Got a bee in your bonnet?”

“Give me one of those,” you demand. “Right now.”

🚨🚨🚨🚨

There’s a knock at your door – again – only this time, you already know who’s on the other side. It’s your beloved Doordash driver, bringing an order of your beloved shio ramen. Two, actually.

You open the door to grab your food and Jimin calls out from the couch.

“Need some help with that?”

“Nah, I’m good,” you say over your shoulder.

When you turn back to thank the Doordash guy, he’s staring into your living room, eyes wide and trained on Jimin. You clear your throat and he snaps his focus back to you.

“Have a good night,” he says pleasantly.

And then he gives you a thumbs up.

yun: can the two of you keep it DOWN [ 11:22 PM ]

yun: some of us need our beauty sleep [ 11:22 PM ]

#jimin fic #jimin x reader #park jimin #possumversary

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its-your-mind · 2 months

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11 year old Gerry Kaey - a psychological analysis

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “First Name,” with “Gerard” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Last Name,” with “Kaey” listed below it. End ID]

Like everyone else, I was of course delighted by the presence of our beloved arsonist on our list of child test-subjects at the World Line 2 Magnus Institute (not delighted that he was having unethical psychology experiments performed on him, delighted by his presence. though it’s possible that this was actually a better childhood than he had with Mary. but I digress.)

(Data set can be found here, if anyone else wants to make a copy and play with it, and this post has my fave analysis of the sheet itself)

The data for Gerard Kaey was absolutely delightful, and it indicated more than almost anything else that some people were in fact the same (or very similar) across world lines. I was going to post about it and then I remembered that not everyone was forced to take a slightly outdated Educational Psychology class recently, and thus the random names at the top would not be indicators of fuckin anything without extensive Googling.

I figured trolling the internet for details on outdated developmental psychology theories and unethical sociology experiments is not most people’s idea of a fun afternoon (tho in the magnus fandom you never know); either way I figured I’d pull out the fun and interesting data on this goth child and translate it into human terms for us all to enjoy.

(QUICK NOTE: Pretty much all of these theories are outdated on account of being No Good and quite reductive and many of the experiments are EXTREMELY fucked up (all of which makes sense, given where these fictional data came from). If you’re curious about any of the actual psychological theories and criticisms, here’s a relatively jargon free summary, with further reading at the bottom. I’m gonna follow the time-honored tradition of psychology professors and say “well it sucks and was bad that this happened BUT it did happen and we might as well use the data to come to some general conclusions and/or ask better questions, especially about the people performing those tests in the first place.” anyway ty for coming to my TED talk ONTO THE GERRY DATA)

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of three columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “Kholberg,” with “Level 3” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Prosocial,” with “High” listed below it. The third column is labeled “Empathy Index,” with “95%” listed below it. End ID]

Let’s start here.

Kholberg’s Theory of Moral Development is a metric for measuring the moral development in children. It has three stages. A child who has reached the “third stage” demonstrates a consideration of the needs and feelings of others when making morality-based decisions and judgements, even above the norms and expectations of society.

Prosocial behavior is behavior that can be characterized as having no direct benefit to the person performing an action; something done entirely for the good of others.

Empathy Index is pretty self-explanatory (as far as I can tell, it’s not actually based on anything and is something the researchers created just for this experiment).

So far, we’ve got a rough picture of Gerry as a kid who has a strong moral compass, who is quick to help, even when there’s no benefit for himself. Who considers what the people around him might want or need. Who is able to throw social expectation out the window when someone else is in need.

Reminds me of that older, slightly different version of himself, sitting alone at a table in Venice, wearing a Hawaiian shirt because he’s “on vacation,” sighing in exasperation at the interruption and telling a stranger to think of her mother.

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “Milgram,” with “Low” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Asch,” with “Low” listed below it. End ID]

These are my favorite rows. They’re all the way at the end of the spreadsheet, which kind of makes me imagine that the testers had this image of a highly developed child, a kid who seemed perfect for whatever they had planned. And then…

Milgram was the motherfucker who ran the experiment where people were told to press a button, and when they did, another participant was delivered an electric shock. (there wasn’t actually a shock in Milgram’s experiment, just an actor pretending to be shocked. The socks were fake, but the psychological damage was real!) The test was designed to measure how long people would continue to do what they were told by the “scientist” running the test, even as the electric shock appeared to grow stronger. A “low” score is indicative of someone who bailed out ASAP, no matter what the test-runner said.

The Asch Conformity Experiment put a large number of people in the room (most of whom were actors) and showed them a series of images of lines with different lengths, and they had to identify which was longest. The actors all gave the correct answer for the first few, and then all of them started to give the exact same wrong answer (i.e. all of them would say B, even if Line A was clearly longest). The test measured how likely a subject was to conform to the group opinion, even when they knew the people around them were objectively wrong, if they were the only one offering a different (but correct) answer over the course of several rounds of images.

I have this super clear image of little Gerry in a ratty pair of jeans and a band t-shirt, long hair absolutely unbrushed, walking into a room with a dude in a lab coat and someone else strapped to a chair and IMMEDIATELY getting suspicious, and just refusing to press the button again once he realized what it did, leaving the actors just… lost as to how to proceed. And then with the Asch test, he’s just sitting there with a look of incredulity on his face looking at the people around him and saying “do you people need fucking glasses all of a sudden? it’s not fucking B.” and just ignoring them for the rest of the test.

and all of the Magnus people who had been VERY excited about this promising young person all of a sudden realizing that they have accidentally recruited a VERY intelligent juvenile delinquent.

so there you have it! World Line 2 Gerry Kaey was kind when he didn’t have to be, he didn’t give a shit how other people felt about him, he cared deeply for other people, UNLESS of course they were people in authority, in which case he told them to go fuck themselves.

*dreamy sigh* that’ll be our Gerard

final fun notes:

Gerry has the second highest number on the Empathy Index at 95%

The only kid who beat him, with a score of 98%, was 9 year old “Samara Khalid”

10 year old “Conner Dyer” scored “Low” on the Milgram and Asch tests JUST like Gerry. I wonder if they were friends.

Other than that, Dyer is almost exactly average among the rest of the data

Khalid scored “High” on both Milgram and Asch

Wonder how that’s gonna affect things 👀👀👀 high empathy, high value on what other people think

Sam thats so autistic of you I love u

Khalid was also on “Level 3” of Kholberg and had “High” levels of Prosocial behavior, despite being only 9 (super young to have the abstract thinking necessary for that)

#long post #tmagp #the magnus protocol #gerard kaey #the magnus institute #tmagp meta #gerry kaey #tmagp spoilers #tmagp arg #I have so many wikipedia pages about psychology open on my bowser #anyway I hope you ENJOY #I was gonna just make a post with the screenshots and the ‘that’ll be our gerard’ but then I realized that would be fucking inscrutable #so now we have this #yw #(???)

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