#tommy in character: 'i wake up choking on blood and drowning' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cmyknoise · 3 years

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As your local emo, I noticed I don’t often see punk/alternative/emo songs on playlists regarding DSMP stuff, and uh, for anyone who wants them, here’s what’s in some of my playlists for characters!

Edit: Added more songs, and for those who asked! Spotify playlists!!

(coming from me? my favorite playlists are tommy’s, the crime duo, and bench trio ones. would reccomend them highly)

Tommy & Wilbur [Spotify Link]

Riot - Three Days Grace

For a Pessimist I’m Pretty Optimistic - Paramore

I’d Rather Drown - Set It Off

Freak Show - Set It Off

I’ll Sleep when I’m Dead - Set It Off

Wake Me Up When September Ends - Green Day

Knives and Pens - Black Veil Brides

Oh Raven - Unlike Pluto

Wilbur [Spotify Link]

Atlas Drowned - Gang of Youths

Four Seasons - Los Campesinos!

Do It All The Time - IDKHBTFM

Duality - Set It Off

Partners in Crime - Set It Off

Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance

Dance Dance - Fall Out Boy

Last of the Real Ones - Fall Out Boy

Monster - Ghost Town

House of Wolves - My Chemical Romance

Bench Trio [Spotify Link]

The Kids Aren’t Alright - Fall Out Boy

Teenagers - My Chemical Romance

Burning Pile - Mother Mother

You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring

Horrible Kids - Set It Off

The Kids from Yesterday - My Chemical Romance

Stressed Out - Twenty One Pilots

Miserable at Best - Mayday Parade

Mean Kids - Ghost Town

Tommy [Spotify Link]

Aint it Fun - Paramore

I’m Not Angry Anymore - Paramore

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy

Blah Blah Blah - The Oozes

Could Have Been Me - The Struts

Sing - My Chemical Romance

This is War - Thirty Seconds to Mars

Jesus of Suburbia - Green Day

The Only Hope for Me is You - My Chemical Romance

Fourth of July - Fall Out Boy

Tubbo [Spotify Link]

Na Na Na - My Chemical Romance

Popular Monster - Falling in Reverse

Bulletproof Heart - My Chemical Romance

Save Me - Unwritten Law

Liar - Taking Back Sunday

The Kill - Thirty Seconds to Mars

Had Enough - Breaking Benjamin

Pain - Three Days Grace

Young and Menace - Fall Out Boy

Favorite Record - Fall Out Boy

Ranboo [Spotify Link]

Eighth Wonder - Lemon Demon

Touch Tone Telephone - Lemon Demon

Two Trucks - Lemon Demon

Killer in the Mirror - Set It Off

Why Worry - Set It Off

Planetary Go - My Chemical Romance

It’s Alright - Mother Mother

21 Guns - Green Day

Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace

Bring Me to Life - Evanescence

Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back - My Chemical Romance

Dream [Spotify Link]

Oh Ana - Mother Mother

Hypnotized - Set It Off

A Mask of My Own Face - Lemon Demon

Damage - Fit for Rivals

Heathens - Twenty One Pilots

Mama - My Chemical Romance

Dead - My Chemical Romance

Distance Disturbs Me - Set It Off

Sugar We’re Going Down - Fall Out Boy

Sleep - My Chemical Romance

Quackity [Spotify Link]

You’re All Scotch, No Soda - Sarah & the Safe Word

Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy

Icarus - Bastille

Cult of Dionysus - The Orion Experience

N.M.E - Set It Off

I Don’t Care - Fall Out Boy

Still into You - Paramore

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

Vegas Lights - P!aTD

Fresh - Artist vs. Poet

Badboyhalo [Spotify Link]

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears/Lorde

Venom - Icon for Hire

Make A Move - Icon For Hire

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

Nightmare - Set It Off

Cancer - My Chemical Romance

Headfirst for Halos - My Chemical Romance

Eret [Spotify Link]

Heavy Is the Crown - Daughtry

Paper Crown - Alec Benjamin (unavailable on spotify?)

Body - Mother Mother

King for a Day - Pierce the Veil

Famous Last Words - My Chemical Romance

Dr. Doctor - Ghost Town

Bishops Knife Trick - Fall Out Boy

Irresistible - Fall Out Boy

Technoblade [Spotify Link]

Blood - My Chemical Romance

Plastic Promises - Set It Off

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing - Set it Off

Violent - carolesdaughter

American Idiot - Green Day

Party Poison - My Chemical Romance

Champion - Fall Out Boy

Uma Thurman - Fall Out Boy

Philza [Spotify Link]

Helena - My Chemical Romance

I’m Not Okay - My Chemical Romance

Centuries - Fall Out Boy

Blvd of Broken Dreams - Green Day

Hourglass - Set It Off

The Ghost of You - My Chemical Romance

Novocaine - Fall Out Boy

My Trains - Lemon Demon

Techno & Phil [Spotify Link]

Demolition Lovers - My Chemical Romance

Choke - IDKHBTFM

This Aint A Scene, It’s An Arms Race - Fall Out Boy

Holiday - Green Day

Immortals - Fall Out Boy

It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Fucking Deathwish - My Chemical Romance

Twin Skeletons - Fall Out Boy

#dsmp #dream smp #playlists #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #dreamwastaken #quackity #badboyhalo #philza #technoblade #eret #bench trio #sleepy bois inc #lemon's stuff #long post #links #spotify

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romeulusroy · 4 years

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Baby Teeth (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas

Word Count: 1,321

Inspired By: kind of based off this imagine

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomrecs @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan @captivatedbycillianmurphy @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87

A/N: Just a lil something that's been collecting dust in my writers block folder for a while. I am so sorry about the lack of posts my loves, things will go back to normal very soon. Thank you for your patience and understanding 💜💖💜

Gif Credit: @nofckingfighting :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Burned out. Burned up. Your entire body turned to ash, bits and pieces of charcoal cracked off in your bed, dust coating the cheeks of your children, the remains of your lips burned into his cheeks. A crushing weight on the bones of a ruin, your cracked foundation threatening to cave in. Too strong a wind would have collapsed every strength you had just to pull yourself together, to get out of bed every morning and face the day. Fragile. Exhausted. The circles under your eyes threatening rain, staring back at him from across the table. Prominent. Resembling bruises. He couldn't remember the last time you'd slept through the night, the last time you truly relaxed. You were the result of a house fire, a burning building, a candle left unwatched. You were the stresses of the day, the what if's at night, every terrible thing that could ever happen to you, your family, him. You watched the ghosts so no one else had to.

You could only describe it as drowning. Wasting in the bath, your skin pruned, unable to breathe, choking, your head above water. Your heart racing, rejecting the very body it slept in, pounding, screaming, clawing it's way out. Your breathing labored, conscious, too loud to be your own. The air stung. Tiny hands patting the door, giggles erupting from the other side, a whine escaping one of them. They shouldn't be up this late. Past bedtime. How long had you been sitting here? Pull yourself together. Pick yourself up, one step at a time, one breath in, the next out. Sloppy buttons, wet hair, hands shaking, steadying with the doorknob. A second thought, a want to go back, to scald your own skin in the tub until it was floating in soggy chunks and pieces, too big to be washed down the drain. Maybe that would lessen the weight, the pressure, the tension. Maybe it wouldn't. You were always too forgiving with your chances.

Tossing, turning beside him, startled by the dreams. Even in sleep, these things were inescapable. A terrible feeling left you raw, scared of the dark, checking under the bed, in the closet for things made of shadows. He'd caught you, only once. Frantic, searching for relief, for a pairs of eyes to look back at you. Looking for something you knew wasn't really there. If you didn't check, something bad would happen. It would show up. Exhausted, in a yawn he beckoned you back to bed, holding you close. If you got up again, he would know. Didn't matter. No eyes. Not under the bed, not in the closet, not waiting the corner for you to turn your back. Another night safe. Another night awake. Too late to check the soil, to press your palm to the soft wet grass the way you used to. No use, though. Six feet under. There wouldn't be a heartbeat anyways.

The doors, the windows, every lock you could remember checked twice. Sometimes, when the dark was too quiet, too still, you'd carry them one by one to your bed, needing them to be close, to be safe. Apologize for waking them, stirring them from their sweetest dreams, tucking them in with a kiss and a promise of everlasting love. One in your arms, another in his, the rest lay where they fall. Objects of comfort, stuffed animals and pacifiers, baby dolls and cloths littered the bed like landmines. Little hands and feet ice cold pressed against you, a welcomed discomfort. He didn't flinch as he was pulled at, tugged on, all of it a reflex now. Hush them, rock them, will them to sleep again. Without the cap, the coat, those starry night eyes of his closed, he almost looked human.

Baby drool dried in the pillows, tiny snores filling between you, but the distance was an ocean wide. Call it what he may, he knew you were right. Burning greater in these moments. The only one awake, aware, left to brew in your own worries. Regret spilling over your insides, erroding you, your belly full of every bad decision. This life took its toll. The threats. The violence. The way he almost smirked when the blood of others finally washed out of his collar. A second death. The moment that ring slipped around your finger the Grimm Reaper started stepping on your heels. You'd done enough. Faced enough. Scars across your mind, body, and soul the result of the Blinders and their drama. Recovery never easy, the aches and pains living even after the scars have faded, that shop becoming a constant reminder. You put up with it though, because you loved him, and because saying yes was your decision.

But it was not theirs.

A big family, that's what you always wanted. A home full of warmth, of love, of enough mouths to feed to start an army. Hesitant, he was, but not for the reasons you should have been. The world wasn't so scary for a man who saw war. When he walked, others moved. When he spoke, they quited. His presence demanded everyone's attention. He never realized though, he brought that war home, back to Birmingham, to your bed, in his blood. He was only scared of the father he'd be. But you? You knew how easy soft skin caught on the sharpest edges of this life. Every scrape, bump, bruise, cry, it only made the dangers that much more prominent, that much more deadly.

First smiles, first laughs, first words and steps. He promised he'd be there for it all, each of them. Sometimes he was, sometimes he wasn't, but he tried. He loved it, celebrated every milestone no matter how small. You were more careful, more cautious. The first day of school, first tooth, first crush, and every broken heart after that, all of it meant they were hurling towards adulthood, towards their own freedom. For a Shelby, the likelihood of seeing another day dwindled as the candles on the cake grew. Tommy assured you, over each crib and sleeping infant, he would do what it took to protect them, no one would ever hurt a hair on your child's head. Talk was so easy, though, so cheap. He promised the same the night of your wedding, and at your bedside every time after that when he failed. You couldn't bear the thought of history repeating itself in them. If it was between you and them, you made him promise, cross his heart and hope to die, stick a needle in his eye, he would save them.

Always.

He knew. You didn't tell him, but he knew. They all did. They could read in the ways you dug at your skin just to calm down, the ways you paced back and forth, how attentive you were to every coo or gurgle, the glaze over your eyes when they spoke of anything yellowed by the past, brightened by the future. This moment was the only place your thoughts could live. Life was too heavy right now. It wasn't just you and him anymore. It wasn't only your broken bones, or the ringing in your ears, or the paralyzing fear when anything resembling a gunshot pops. It was theirs now and you knew no matter how easy it was to put the blame in his hands, it was your fault, too. It was a decision you both made, a step you took together. Your children were your world, a slice of your own personal heaven, proof there was someone looking out for you after all. They were your pride and joy, the only happiness you found when the thought of a smile was impossible. They were also your greatest weakness, a vulnerability like no other. If anyone ever wanted to get through you, hollow you out, they would use your children against you.

No one knew that better than this family.

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tenyatrash · 5 years

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Day 4: The Spy and the Storm

This is my (late) entry for Day 4 of the BNHA Noir Week 2019. Tumblr hates my ao3 links so let’s try this instead. @bnha-noir-week Rain, Thrill, Prison

In which Stain has a visitor and Hagakure has a plan.

Ships: None

Characters: Hagakure and Stain

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1517 Chizome opens his eyes, not sure what’s woken him.

There’s lotsa options when your life has coalesced into a waking nightmare like this.

Air that’s always too cold or hot. The smell of mildew that seeps in with the rain and hangs in the dead air of small cells and dank showers. Crummy grub, always on the edge of rotting, that’s served by angry mugs on cheap plastic trays. Hours, days, months, years of nothing, lives so dull that the occasional flash of violence glints like a diamond in a vein of coal.

He never thought he’d end up in prison, always assumed he’d go out in a blaze of glory, tommy guns singing out his name, press and public talking ‘bout his mission in hushed tones as he rotted in the dirt and others took up the call. He coulda been a martyr. A dark knight, a scourge of righteousness against this city and all the false heroes and fakes that call it home.

But luck’s never favored him, so maybe he outta have known he’d end up stuck in here, betrayed by his own lousy body.

There’s a baton in the distance somewhere, the metal of the weapon clanging against cold iron bars in an almost soothing rhythm. Damn, he’s been in here too long, if the sound of a guard is making him think of music instead of mayhem. Still, the sound is nice. Far enough away not to clang in his ears like it must be to the others on the hall, close enough that it mixes with the sounds of rain beating against cinderblock and reinforced glass like some half-dreamt memory of song.

He rolls over on the plastic mat that the state calls a bed and looks up at the ceiling, where the wetness of the rain and his own cursed breaths combine into condensation that drip, drip, drips down to the rusty grate in the floor.

He squints at the entrance to his cell, to the metal bars that do nothing to keep out the screams and groans and panting ramblings of his fellow prisoners, yet do plenty to keep him in. He’s looked at those bars plenty over the past few months, gotten to know every flake of peeling paint and every ridge of bumpy metal, imperfectly forged for imperfect people. He knows every detail of this bleak little slice of damnation, and that’s why he knows something is off with this here picture.

Sure, the bars look right...mostly…

But there’s something weird in the way the metal shines, or in this case, doesn’t, under the swinging fluorescent lights. The scarred prisoner slowly sits up.

Hell, it’s almost like…

He approaches the bars, tryna stay nonchalant about the whole affair, as if he doesn’t notice the small puffs of breath that turn the normally shiny metal dull and push a little life into the dead air that surrounds this crumbling tomb.

He heads to the discount sink that sits above a bolted down metal contraption they call a toilet, red eyes flicking up, tryna make out a shape in the gloom of the rain-shrouded slammer. It’s the damnedest thing, really. The longer he stands here, listening to the dull cacophony of the joint, the more certain he is that there’s breathing, steady and soft, just outta view.

Must be some two-bit stealth quirk. Make em invisible but not unnoticeable.

He’s seen better.

He’s killed better, in his day.

But for now, he’s mighty bored and mighty tired of living this life, so he takes the chance anyway, and starts a conversation.

“How long you planning on eyeballing me, punk?”

The ghost at the bars takes the bait. Must be a really lousy spy after all.

“Well, gee...I hadn’t gotten that far really. I was kinda expecting you to start monologuing, or drawing on the walls or something, in a real revealing way? But mostly you just seem to sleep and squint, so I guess talking is the new plan.”

Chizome rolls his eyes at the dumb as nails assumption that criminals and villains were so simple, just clockwork pieces that lit up and wrapped up stories in neat little packages so the hero could sleep easy and the citizens could be safe and simple in their meaningless lives.

“You watch too many gangster flicks, kid.”

Toru snorts and laces her fingers together, unseen.

“Maybe. One of my friends really likes ‘em, so I guess I’ve seen a few.”

The killer known as Stain heads back to his bunk, wadding up an extra uniform to use as a pillow as he props up his body against the smooth cold of the wall that separates him from the outside world.

“So...sneaking in here, watching me, waiting like some rat...what’s the angle on that?”

Toru shrugs, not that he can see.

“You attacked a bunch of my friends, awhile ago. Your League buddies did too. Just wondering what was up with that.”

Chizome squints and thinks back. He’s attacked plenty of people, false heroes one and all. Well, maybe with one or two exceptions, but he never claimed to be no saint. Still, those low-lives in the League too? Well then, that must mean Endeavor, or the pipsqueaks at UA, and he has a hard time picturing a no-good bastard like Endeavor having many who’d call him friend.

UA it is, then.

“Oh, and you here for vengeance, maybe a thrill kill? That it, lil girl?”

“Nah.”

“Why not. You could get away with it, you know. Wait ‘til I’m nice and close, slip your hands, or a rope, if you’re weak, I guess, round my throat and choke me out right against these bars. The rain would drown out my struggling, and probably go a good way towards washing away your sins too.”

Toru won’t say she doesn’t consider it, least for a tic. After all, he’s sure made her life rough, really taken the shine off of her high school education. Made it damn near impossible to dream or date or do anything other than train and suspect and hide.

Still, she’s trying to be a hero, right? And heroes don’t seek into the muck like that, even if they can get away with it. Plus, could just be a trap. If she’s close enough to kill him, he’s close enough to get her blood, and she’s not real interested in dying on a grimy prison floor.

“Look, just cause you’re a killer don’t mean everyone else is.”

He smiles too wide, rotten teeth glinting like dull knives against the blueish glow of the storm that rages outside the window and inside his mind.

“Oh, we’re all murderers kid. Every last one of us, we’re all monsters tryna claw our way outta hell. You just haven’t had your shot yet. Haven’t hit your limit. But you will.”

“Maybe that’s true, but it won’t be today, and it won’t be you.”

Huh. Kid’s got some backbone after all. A glimmer of steel buried in all that youthful optimism. She might not die too young, after all. Pity it won’t be enough. This city is a machine that runs on blood. Hunting heroes is a sport, breaking innocence a past-time for the fox hunters that fill back alleys and boardrooms in equal measure.

At least he had a reason, a real one, a dream to make the city shiny and new. He spits against the floor, not caring over-much if it offends his audience. All this remembrance is making him bitter and he’s not so sure anymore that the break in monotony is worth the annoyance of remembering all that good work left undone.

“Well, what do you want, then? I got things to do.”

Yeah right, he looks real busy sitting in the dark without so much as a book to read or a fellow jailbird to pummel or play.

“I want the inside line. On the League, on your plans, on the whole damn thing.”

They already think she’s a spy. Not all of them, not her closest friends...but enough. It’s quirk discrimination, is what it is. But maybe that’s just how these things go. She just needs to prove herself, to put this whole thing to bed. And hell, if they think her quirk is so good for spying...maybe it’s time to put it work, for herself this time. She’ll ask for forgiveness once it’s done. Better than permission that won’t ever come.

“Oh? And just what are you going to do with those bits of intel?”

“Whatever it takes.”

Chizome smiles, for real this time, leaning hunger-pain arms against knobby knees as he leans forward, ready to make a dark offering. Maybe his work doesn’t have to end, after all.

“Really? Well, I guess we’ll need to go back to the beginning then.”

Toru listens, and learns.

When she comes out, into pounding rain that runs like rivulets against shivering skin and gives her fleeting form, she wonders at what she’s learned.

She’s gained a lot. Only time will tell what she’s lost.

#bnhanoirweek2019 #hero killer stain #hagakure tooru #bnha fanfiction #my writing

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