#block people whose vibe is off

[dkettchen]

My "no bad vibes" online safe-guarding rule may have been the best decision I've ever made cause I can just block whoever I feel like now without my brain making me feel bad for it 😩🙏

[kathlare]

taste

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie navigates a moment of frustration after stumbling upon online gossip about her ex, Lando, and his rumored new romance.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

August 19th, 2023 - New York City, NY

liked by f1gossipgirl, wags_f1, and others

landoupdates: Lando spotted living it up in Ibiza with Portuguese model Magui Corceiro during summer break! 🌴🍹👀.

View all 483 comments

amelie4ever: Y’all, bring back the Amelie and Lando era. This ain’t it. → lando_obsessed: @amelie4ever Fr, we traded peak wholesome vibes for this Ibiza nonsense 💔 → lanmelie_sunshine: @amelie4ever Can’t believe he fumbled the literal QUEEN for... this.

f1tea_spill: Okay but are we sure this isn’t just a PR stunt? 👀 → gridgossip88: @f1tea_spill PR or not, I’m TIRED of this man acting like a walking red flag 🚩

magui_not_it: I’m sorry but MAGUI?! Out of all the people?? Lando, sweetie, no.

wicked4amelie: Y’all, remember when he used to simp HARD for Amelie on streams? I miss THAT Lando. → landoluvr88: @wicked4amelie The "Lanelie compilations" era hits harder now. 😭

mclarenmeltdown: I SWEAR if he’s actually dating Magui, I’m uninstalling this app. → lando_fanatic: @mclarenmeltdown Nah, sis, we’re ALL about to block him at this point.

amelie_supremacy: Can’t believe I used to root for this man. Amelie deserves SO much better.

f1teaqueen: NOT MAGUI AGAIN 😭😭 Lando really said "let me ruin my reputation this summer" 💀

-------------

The New York heat pressed against the windows of the rented studio, the kind that made the air feel heavy, like a humid blanket. Amelie sat cross-legged on the couch, her phone clutched in one hand, her jaw clenched as she scrolled through Instagram. The post had popped up out of nowhere, another notification from a gossip page she’d never followed but whose posts always managed to find her.

“Lando spotted living it up in Ibiza with Portuguese model Magui Corceiro during summer break!”

The caption was enough to send her stomach into knots, but the photo was what did her in. Lando sat in a club booth, his signature grin faintly visible as he leaned over to chat with someone she couldn’t make out. Magui, meanwhile, sat close beside him, her legs crossed and her phone in her hand. She looked effortlessly beautiful, like she knew the cameras were there.

Amelie tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back with a frustrated groan. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. She was long past hoping for some grand romantic reunion with Lando, not after how they’d ended things and the fights that followed. But Magui? That was a name that still burned.

Rozzi walked in, carrying two iced coffees and a bag of pastries, her eyes immediately landing on Amelie’s face. —Oh no,— she said, setting everything down on the small studio table. —What happened? Who pissed you off?—

Amelie gestured toward her phone without a word. Rozzi picked it up, her eyebrows knitting together as she read the caption. —Ibiza, huh? Well, that’s a choice.—

—Right?— Amelie said, exasperated. —It’s not even about him being with someone... it’s her. She’s... God, she’s so fake, Roz. And the fact that she’s still hanging around after all the shit she pulled, ugh.—

Rozzi handed her an iced coffee, sitting down beside her. —Okay, so what are you gonna do about it? Besides glaring at your phone like it personally insulted you.—

Amelie took a sip, the coldness of the drink cutting through the heat in her chest. —I’m not doing anything about it. It’s not worth it.—

Rozzi gave her a pointed look. —You’re lying. I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m gonna channel this into something destructive but artistic’ face.—

Amelie smirked despite herself. Rozzi knew her too well. —Fine. Maybe I’ll write something. I mean, I’m here, right? Might as well use it.—

Rozzi grinned, reaching over to grab her acoustic guitar, which had been resting in the corner. —That’s what I like to hear. Let’s make this a masterpiece of pettiness. You wanna start with the hook or just rant your way through it first?—

Before Amelie could answer, Amy walked into the studio, her energy filling the room like a breath of fresh air. —What’s the vibe today? Drama? Sad girl anthem? Revenge banger?—

Amelie and Rozzi exchanged a look, then burst into laughter. —Revenge banger, definitely,— Rozzi said, tossing the phone to Amy. —Here, this is today’s inspiration.—

Amy glanced at the post, her eyebrows raising slightly before she handed the phone back. —Oh, this one’s gonna be fun. Alright, Amelie, where’s your head at?—

Amelie stood up, pacing the length of the small studio as she spoke, her voice steady but laced with underlying irritation. —I just... it’s not even about him. It’s about the audacity. She had the nerve to DM me when they were together, saying all this bullshit about how I was trying to steal him or that I couldn’t let go of him. And now, here she is, acting like she’s some perfect accessory to his life. It’s laughable.—

Amy nodded thoughtfully, her fingers already fiddling with the keyboard in the corner. —Okay, so we want something sharp. Taunting, maybe? Like, a ‘you’re in my shadow, and you’ll never be me’ kind of vibe?—

—Exactly,— Amelie said, her eyes lighting up. —I don’t want it to sound bitter, though. It needs to feel confident. Like, yeah, I know you hate me because I’ll always be in the picture, whether you like it or not.—

Rozzi strummed a few chords, the melody playful yet cutting. —How about something like this? It’s got that cocky energy but leaves room for the lyrics to really hit.—

Amelie nodded, humming along until a phrase popped into her head. —"Oh, I leave quite an impression, five feet to be exact..."— She paused, turning to Rozzi. —What do you think? It’s like, yeah, I’m small, but I’m unforgettable.—

—Love it,— Amy said, jotting it down. —What’s next? Something about how he can’t shake you, no matter what?—

Amelie smiled wickedly, her mind already racing. —"You’re wonderin’ why half his clothes went missin’, my body’s where they’re at."— She laughed as the words spilled out. —Petty enough?—

Rozzi’s jaw dropped. —That’s gold. Keep going.—

The next hour flew by, the three of them bouncing ideas off each other like they were in perfect sync. Amelie’s emotions poured out into every line, her frustration giving way to amusement as the song began to take shape. They leaned into the taunts, crafting a narrative that was unapologetically bold and dripping with confidence.

Amy played around with the track’s beat, layering in a sultry bassline that matched the teasing tone of the lyrics. —This is gonna be dangerous,— she said, grinning. —The kind of song you scream in the car with your friends.—

Amelie took the mic, testing out the melody with a smirk on her face. —"I heard you’re back together, and if that’s true, you’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissin’ you..."—

Rozzi whooped, throwing her head back in laughter. —Oh, she’s gonna hate this. And it’s perfect.—

As the song came together, Amelie found herself letting go of the tension she’d been carrying. By the time they reached the bridge, she was fully leaning into the catharsis of it all. —"Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you’re feelin’ mine. And every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there."—

Amy looked up from the console, shaking her head in admiration. —You’re savage, Am. This might be one of my favorites.—

They wrapped up the recording late that evening, the final version of Taste feeling like a triumph. Amelie leaned back in her chair, her body buzzing with the rush of creation.

Rozzi nudged her shoulder. —Feel better?—

Amelie shrugged, but her smile gave her away. —A little. It’s not like it changes anything, but... yeah. It feels good to take something shitty and turn it into something that’s mine.—

Amy grinned. —Well, whatever it is, this song is gonna light a fire under someone’s ass. And that’s the best kind of art.—

As they packed up for the night, Amelie glanced at her phone one last time. The gossip page was still there, but the knot in her stomach was gone. She smiled to herself, knowing that while the world might be watching him, soon they’d be hearing her.

[bokettochild]

Not sure if people have already asked this before, but whose roles are whose for your Opera House AU doing Epic the musical?

No one has actually asked this before! I kept kind of hoping they would though, because I felt weird just throwing it out there unprompted, but trust me, I HAVE thought about it before! So, huge thank you for asking!

Odysseus: Warriors. Who else? I mean, come on, lets be real here, the Troy Saga alone has influenced my perspective of Warriors for so long now that it would be an utter and complete SIN to not have Warriors play the guy who is, in so many ways, so much like himself. Granted, OH AU Warriors is less like our Ody and more like Jay himself, but who cares? The vocals are there and Wars has the spirit and skill. Also, he has the range, from the desperation of the Cyclops Saga, the sadness of the Underworld Saga, the fury of the Vengeance Saga and the warmth and tenderness in both Just A Man and Would You Fall In Love With Me. He had the audience on the edges of their seats, and even though he's already a fan favorite at the opera, he reaffirmed that position with this role. It's also been one of his favorites of all time, because it's very rare he gets to play such a fleshed out and complex character, as he's usually cast as a knight in shining armor archetype rather than a blood-covered and desperate soul one second from snapping!

Athena: I actually had to debate this one a bit, but Imma say Lullaby. Warriors' own Zelda is too sweet, and while Dusk herself could do it, I have a better role for her, and Lullaby is so Athena in so many ways, so I went with her instead. She has that strong, authoritative energy, while also being old enough to sell the Goddess of Wisdom vibe, and also the agility to be a warrior herself. Also, I can kinda see her just actually sounding like that when she sings, y'know?

Zeus: They brought Dei in for this role. Time would have, but they needed a couple of convincing individuals for this, and Dei being bigger and physically of a brighter pallet than Time kinda gave him High King and Sky God energy that they just really needed for the stage performance.

Polyphemus: Also Dei. For a stage performance, they actually had a puppet and rigging for the cyclops itself, but Dei's vocal range allowed him to do the voice from off stage quite convincingly. (Four himself was the Puppeteer (lol) for the cyclops though, so he also deserves credit)

Polities: It was Ravio. Typically, Ravio doesn't perform, but he could capture that energy they wanted for Polities and his vocal range is a bit higher than most of the other cast. Wind would have done it, but because of his age, the crew divided against it. After all, Polities isn't a child, but a man, and having Wind in the role would have changed that perception. Hyrule was nervous for the part, but he's actually glad that Polities died within five songs because it meant that he only had to show up on rare occasion as a ghost after that, and spent less time in the spotlight.

Eurylochus: They actually had a bit of a struggle on this one, since none of the team actually has a voice that deep, but Twilight ended up filling the role, since it's got less major singing parts and more speaking bits than a lot of the other characters. It's not as demanding as some of the other roles he could have played (like the gods) and he looks the part of the big, strong, best-friend and advisor to the lead, or at least enough that he was believable. He's not the best actor, but he did a great job all the same; better than anyone else could have done it at any rate!

Poseidon: Time actually played this part! Being a former rock-star has it's advantages, and that includes being able to bleed rage and/or agony into his voice while leaving his audience totally and completely chilled! Being the blocking director and stunt coach also means that he was able to really sell any battle scenes because he was right up in there to guide, coax, and otherwise cover for the cast's mistakes when need be. He admittedly had a TON of fun with the role, and I'd be lying if I said that there weren't;t a few people in the crowd watching who didn't have to pause and wonder where they'd heard his voice before, never mind so many online forums comparing his vocal qualities to famously masked singer Major-A, but, hey, Time considers it worth it, even if the role might have blown his cover.

Aeolus: Who better to play the god of winds than Wind himself? It's a small role, so Time and Lullaby felt comfortable letting him take it, even though this would have been a major production and risk for the opera. The fact that he's kid only helped to sell the care-free and mischievous depiction. He had a TON of fun with the role too, and the audience was eating his performance up!

Circe: Artemis! I wanted one of the divas to do this, and Artemis has the right energy, as well as great on-stage chemistry with Warriors! They broke down into giggles so many times as she attempted to "seduce" him during practice, but it actually turned out really great. She's one of the only gals in the cast who could hit the high notes at the end of There Are Other Ways and really sell the emotional range of Circe's character

Hermes: I actually struggled on this one until it literally just jumped out at me. Wild plays Hermes. He's got the energy, physically and otherwise, and I'm going to say that any dancing included was actually something he just ad-libbed in there, rather than being told to do it by Time or Lullaby. They loved it though and totally kept it in, as well as a few other little quirks he added to the character (they sort of just set him free on stage in the end and told him to go nuts, so most of Warriors' reactions to him are entirely real and not faked at all, lol). Yes, this did result in Wild deciding to address everyone (short of his bosses) as "dawling" for the foreseeable future, but no one could deny that it's been one of his best roles ever!

Tiresias/The Prophet: This one was actually a huge struggle for the crew, because while they have a lot of actors, there's a sort of a limit to who can or cannot portray certain character, and in the end, it was Legend who took the role, despite having other parts to play and a prop and costume crew to supervise for most of the musical. He did a great job though, and you know those animatics that sort of depict No Longer You as a sort of twisted waltz? Yeah, the cast went with that, and it was a good thing Legend played the role, because he's the only one who can actually dance blindfolded! He also carried the weight of the song very well, and between him and Warriors, they gave the audience absolute chills!

Odysseus's Mother: Malon! It was a small appearance, so even though she's technically not an actress, and is actually a musical coach, she was happy to join on the production if it was just for one song. Yes, everyone cried. Warriors' tears were entirely real in that scene and everyone else was hard pressed to not show it when their turns came to sing.

Scylla: For some reason I Can Not Explain, I just really want Legend to have told everyone "I know a gal" and just dragged Hilda in to play this role. But, since she isn't an actress, and probably wouldn't want to be one, I'm going to say Fable took it instead. She doesn't give Monster Girl energy, but like her twin, she's very adept, and really gave everyone the creeps even before Styla made her up like a monster lady! Her vocals are chilling, and she really enjoyed reading up on the lore of her character and trying to let it bleed in through her voice to sound more like a tortured soul, punished by the gods and made out as a monster to mortals due to her horrific appearance (and man eating, but details!).

Calypso: Believe it or not, Sun sold this role like the queen she is! Her innocent, almost angelic look really contrasted the horrible behavior but also total ignorance of the character, and I actually think she'd sound similar to Barbara Wangui when she sings, so having her in the role feels right. Granted, she doesn't give "Island Goddess" in the same way that Marin would, but Marin is probably dead in the OH AU, and wouldn't join the opera anyway, so yeah.

Penelope/Siren: (I'm pretty sure it's the same actress for both, but even if not, that's how the crew did it!) Dusk was the only option for this role, and she rocked it! She's got the range, got the mature look of a woman who's been waiting 20 years for her beloved to come home (totally helped by the fact that she spent 17 years waiting for her actual love to reappear), and while she and Warriors did have to work quite a bit to sell the right dynamic on stage, they are both talented actors, and did a great job together. She actually really had fun with the siren role, and her screams as the sirens are slain were positively blood-curdling! She half sacred Warriors to death when he first heard it and he still shiver slightly even when they finally perform.

Telemachus: I debated this one so hard, because each member of the cast has a certain energy and none quite match Telemachus, but in the end, again, Legend filled the role, since he's good at taking the ones that no one else can do and adapting as need be to suit it. Is it sort of method acting if he can relate to the character and thus capture the emotion better? Who knows, but despite playing the prophet as well, a costume change and intermission can do wonders for helping a guy get into character as the opposite of what he was an hour ago! He's also got the stunt training and skill to pull off fight scenes well, and look like he's bad at it, as well as a good irl dynamic with Lullaby that they definitely leaned into for their songs together. As for the Ithica saga songs, well, he and Warriors had to work really hard, given their actual dynamic, to try and sell their parts, but they're both talented actors and they made it through in the end.

Antinous: Don't come for me, but Sky actually ended up taking this role! He's a talented actor, with a special skill for action scenes and fights, as well a great depth of emotion and, despite being an utter teddy bear in actuality, he plays a killer villain! Did Legend and he end up laughing their asses off after having to act like they hated each other? yes, but they kept in character as long as they were on stage and Sky's voice tends to give people chills when he sings, so he really could set the mood well, as well as keeping pace with Legend and giving their scenes together some great energy. It scares the rest of the cast how quick he can switch from softie to scary monster man, but there's a reason he's one of the best!

(Note: I feel like after a while if they decide to revisit the musical, Hyrule might be at a place where he'd be able to play Telemachus, but as it stands in the AU, he doesn't have the confidence needed to basically carry a whole act just yet. He has the vocals quality to sell the character though! And, while Legend's great at his job, Hyrule does look/feel more the part of the sheltered and stumbling young man without a guide or guardian to show him the way. Time and Lullaby probably wanted to cast him, but since Hyrule wasn't ready, they asked Legend instead.)

As for some of the other roles, the team had a ton of fun using puppets for the winions, and various not on stage actors got to voice them via mics! Think sort of Jim Henson style puppets though, since they are mental to be a sort of comedy relief.

The various suitors were played by all the guys who had been 'killed off' previously in the show, with the exception of Dei and Time, whose voices are too notable, and Legend who, of course, is currently playing Telemachus. Same thing for the army, although they did pre-record some of the bits where there's supposed to be more of a crowd, since they can only fit so many people on stage and wanted to really sell the idea of 600 men or 108 suitors, or the countless dead in the underworld, ect. They did hire a bunch of extras for crowd scenes, and used puppets and various other effects to sell the appearance of crowds where they could, but I don't feel the need to state who every extra is LOL.

So yeah! That's how it would go! Thank you again for this ask! It's been a delight to talk about a musical I actually understand, as well as adore! Especially considering I'm working on LU animatics for it even now!

Feel free to ask anything else you'd like, even if someone else might have asked already, because I have a big mouth and I like to talk, and I might have more thoughts now than I did previously!

[greenboyfriend]

choose something cold... (tarot card reading)

"what do you need to know?"

image 1: it's cold. I mean, really cold. but your blood is warm, even if your fingers are blue. where's your soul? image 2: a framed painting depicting a wintry landscape, complete with a log cabin, whose blue smoke trickles from its chimney and blends in with the world around it. image 3: three ornate glasses, made of ice. are those cracks intentional? or just by virtue of its design? image source not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.

1.・。.・゜✭

there’s an opportunity being presented to you. it may be a celebration of some kind, or just something that has a lot of excitement surrounding it. what i’m getting most of all is that this may be a chance to find freedom. with the seven of swords reversed, maybe you’re the type of person to handle your problems on your own, “lone wolf” style. there’s a million reasons why someone might do this, but for you, you’re afraid or distrusting in others. when you opened up in the past, maybe it didn’t end up so well for you, and this has made you keep things mostly to yourself.  however, the four of wands reversed tells us that this lone wolf energy is blocking you from fully enjoying yourself. “freedom”, in this sense, is the freedom from yourself, or rather, your fear. in the original Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the seven of swords shows us a man with his arms full of swords, shirking off to his own devices. for you, these swords represent an unnecessary burden, being wary or even afraid of others to see your true colors/problems/ect. opening yourself back up again is a task much easier said than done, i know. but the 6 of cups shows us what this looks like, once fully realized. when we talk about our problems and emotions, we’re able to release and/or deal with them more easily. i’ve definitely been in the position of worrying endlessly about something, just to finally open up to someone, and realize that the answer was sitting in front of me all along. the six of cups represents this as having a “clean conscience.” being, you’ve released yourself from carrying a burden all alone, and have found freedom– the four of wands. finally, the king of cups reversed reminds you to have patience, and to be tolerant of others. not just one person can supply you with all the information or support you need.

(6 of cups, 7 of swords reversed, 4 of wands reversed, king of cups reversed)

2.・。.・゜✭

you’re in a period of transition, be that between attitudes or people. this change has you feeling down. maybe not emotionally destitute, but not in the best spot, either. as you wade through these waters, know that the queen of swords is by your side, and will lead you to better times. the queen of swords is someone with a good head on her shoulders, and will always tell the truth. she is very forthright, and doesn’t do any under-the-table dealings. she holds herself to these standards because of her past experiences, and knows that an honest, open approach will best suit her motives. you may embody the queen of swords already, and if you do, great! if you don’t, that’s ok, too. but it’s time to start really leaning into that kind of energy. don’t conceal the truth– both to yourself and others–, and let yourself have a laugh every once in a while! the thing about being experienced is that you know not to take everything so seriously. the queen of swords can see the big picture, and knows that, even if right now is tough, later will be much better. the place/person/vibe you’re coming from is represented by the knight of wands. i’m getting, cockiness– to the point where you/they were being presumptuous. this might also have had to do with someone being hot tempered, and restless, where they couldn’t handle being bored, so they’d decide to pick a fight. this energy is still here, but not necessarily causing harm just yet. what’s really impeding your path towards healing is the knight of cups. the knight of cups reversed is in direct opposition with the queen of swords, in the sense that he allows his emotions to take control of him, rather than accurately assessing the truth of his situation. he may let his imagination become overactive, and begin believing things that aren’t true. where the queen of swords faces all her dealings head on, the knight of cups may shade the truth, dance around the issue, or simply hope someone else will deal with it. he may also tend to isolate himself from others, which only worsens his imagination into spurring up unrealistic scenarios and focusing too much on his own “failings.” i’m thinking… you’re going to need to temper the knight of cups with the knight of wands. use that fiery, self confident energy to seek out the truth, rather than make assumptions. and, in turn, the knight of cups can help to deplete those feelings of restlessness through introspection. most importantly, keep your head level, and honor the truth above all.

(queen of swords, 6 of swords, knight of wands, knight of cups reversed)

3.・。.・゜✭

so… there’s a lot to unpack here, image 3! i’ll start with this, the energy of the queens of wands and of pentacles are important right now. the queen of wands seems to be especially important, urging you to work hard to maintain her optimism, confidence, and enthusiasm. this situation will require you to be a sort of “soft” leader for others, where you can be looked to for inspiration. if you’re able to serve as a role model through keeping your head up even when the going gets tough, and to do so with strength and vigor, it will not only help you and your purposes, but will also inspire those around you to do the same. the opportunity to embody this energy is not fully here yet, but once you hear the call, you’ll know it’s for you. strike the iron while it’s hot and give it your all! no time for dilly dallying. in being a leader (even if you’re not completely cognizant of it) you will have to temper your generosity with what you know to be true. so, for example, if someone is late to a meeting one time, you may give them the benefit of the doubt. but if they’re continuously late, some changes need to be made. this can also apply to other situations, where you will need to decide between your loyalties and what’s true & just. you may have already experienced scenarios like this in the past, so it will help you to call back to those times for foresight. doing what is fair may be difficult in the moment, but will lead to the best outcome. the queens come together here to guide you on your way. keep trying! you know that you’re resourceful, so don’t be afraid to try your hand at solving problems. it may also benefit you to remain down to earth during this time, and not to try to control what others think or say. at the end of the day, you are your own person, and what a wonderful person you are!  finally, we arrive at the page of cups. i’m getting a very loving, forgiving energy from this card. it may benefit you to invite that energy into your life, both towards yourself and others. when a challenge faces you, or someone is less than nice, decide to turn away that anger with love. consider, what may compel them to act this way? maybe they’re going through something you don’t know about. it’s not that you need to nurture them back to good health, but realize that maybe, they’re just not worth your time, and a simple nod & turning of the cheek will do you both some good. most of all, listen to your intuition to tell you whether or not this argument/situation is really worth getting into.

(queen of wands, 8 of pentacles reversed, 8 of wands reversed, queen of pentacles, ace of swords, 3 of wands reversed, page of cups)

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Could you do all the greasers and a f!greaser whose neruodivergent? (More so autism but it’s the 60s and no one knows anything then) They know that’s the reason most people don’t hang with her, because she’s not the best at convo and eye contact, but they like her cause she’s cool? Also TwoBit takes her on a few dates

UHM HECK YEAH!

❤️🖤❤️🖤

Ponyboy Curtis

-tbh the least bothered

-I think he’s the most likely to see through the bullshit of other people’s stupidity

-genuinely sees you as human

-doesn’t mind whenever you stim

-honestly I hc that he stims himself

-I feel like he’s a bit on the spectrum (I do headcanon him as that)

-he doesn’t like loud noises and if you have sensitivity he’d go somewhere quiet with you to calm down

-also if you have a special subject and go into depth explaining it to him

-he’d love it

-finds it fascinating and learns more about it just to chat with you about it

-yall are in you’re own world and the gang is just like 🤷‍♀️👍

Johnny Cade

-I feel like he’d be a bit unsure of you at first

-but he gets struggling with eye contact and people

-he would just sit there with you while you snapped your fingers or something (that’s how I stim 🤷‍♀️)

-he’d listen to the rhythm and just vibe tbh

-he thinks you’re pretty cool and if anyone has shit to say he’s tellin them tf off

Sodapop Curtis

-so sweet

-I don’t think he’d judge you in the first place

-I think he ships you and two bit a lot

-If you struggle with anything he would help you

-like explaining stuff

-also helps you a lot with social cues

-he’s super supportive though

-he literally thinks you’re an angel sent down to like, tame two bit

Darry Curtis

-he’s the most likely to try and research

-like learn more about you and certain things

-and when he can’t find anything he wants to try to conduct research

-but he quickly learns about you not liking certain textures, sounds, your trouble with social cues

-and I feel like he would try to understand understand on some level

-the last person who made fun of you got punched by him

-he is really good at giving compressed hugs

-also learns wether you like tighter or looser hugs

-n asks before he hugs you

Dally Winston

-ignorant little shit

-I’m sorry he’d be mean at first because he’s an ignorant little shit

-probably made some rude and hurtful jokes

-and you told him straight up “Stop. You’re being a dick and you don’t even know me.”

-and he was kinda like 🤯

-he played it off as like yeah whatever but

- rest of the gang was irritated with him

-so he stopped making jokes and actually learned you were pretty cool

-he listens to your special subject rants

-and if anyone has shit to say about you they can expect Dallas Winston on their doorstep

Two bit Mathews

-ok but he’s so supportive

-I feel like he made friendly jokes at you, but not quite offensive like dallys

-match made in heaven tbh

-you guys balance each other out

-he probably has shoplifted headphones for you (not noise canceling because it’s the 60s)

-but it was the least he could do

-so in love he actually thinks about your wedding and doesn’t tell anyone

-drinks a lot less when he’s dating you and shows you off to his mom and sister

-SO PROTECTIVE

-if anyone has anything to say the rest of the gang has to hold him back so he won’t get arrested

-asks about all of your needs

-learns them very quickly and is super caring

-textures make you shudder? He’s never letting you touch them again.

-You won’t like the way soap feels on your skin when you do the dishes? He’s doing them every night

-he has his show on too loud and it’s bothering you? It’s always at a lower volume and he grabs you something to block the noise

-I think he thinks it cute when you stim

-he would plan out your dates so carefully

-but whenever you ask him like oh you chose this spot because I mentioned it was my favorite right he downplays the effort so much

-if you have a special subject he’d listen to your rants

-he fs makes jokes about your special subject

Steve Randle

-the second most judgemental next to dally

-but when sodapop lets him know you really are chill

-and people are just dicks

-he actually starts talking to you

-he actually likes you a lot and thinks it’s cool you have your special thing

-just like he has his cars

-he’s fascinated and if anyone makes fun of your special subjects/hobbies

-he runs them over with a car (jkjk)

-he gets the strongest urge to though

[myobsessionsspace]

Buckle up, this is a long one!

Hi Anon! 😊👋

I cut off the link because, that is not what I’m about. I’m a positive person, I don’t like conflict or ‘coming at people’ none of that. I don’t believe in putting anyone against anyone else on this app. Everyone can do or say what they want on their blog and if someone doesn’t like it, they don’t have to follow them. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and everyone else is entitled to follow or block. I definitely don’t believe in pitting jikookers against each other at all.

I’m a chatter box with a lot in my head and don’t know when to stop a lot of the time, so sorry in advance!

With that out of the way...

I'm someone who believes in Jikook. You know this if you look at my posts, I believe you know this to bring a Jikook related ask.

I believe they have a long term exclusive relationship and that they are still together to this day. In believing that I must believe that they are queer, be them gay, bi, pan or anything under the umbrella that has them sexually and romantically attracted to each other and not concerned with their biological assignment and gender presentation.

Because I believe this, I therefore can see the issues behind a couple who for all intents and purposes are both men in a country that vilifies homosexuals.

YouTubers who take to the streets and speak to everyday people in Korea about their experiences being gay in Korea as natives and also foreigners.

I think I’ll do a post one day on some, but feel free to dm me if you want some links before then.

l also have some links of short docs done on homosexuality in Korea and conservatism.

I can also direct you to some articles on the laws that have been upheld just recently to uphold discrimination against gay people in Korea.

“In the comments every US army saying they nor locals care about artist's sexuality and queer concept they put out.”

I’m English, so I guess I’m part of that ‘West.’

I’m not gonna lie to you, no shade to anyone that believes otherwise, but I have personally only seen that when a celeb is known to be openly queer, not just alluding to it, but out and proud, the media bring it up EVERYTIME they mention anything to do with the artist.

The artist can do a food drive and the media will find a way to mention about when they came out, even though it has nothing to do with the music. It’s like when an artist dates someone famous, the media STILL find a way to bring their past relationships into things that have nothing to do with it. It may or may not make an impact on an artists fandom buying their albums, singles etc but it can unfortunately affect their growth with the general public.

Artists don’t just make music in a vacuum, they have brand deals, shows they go on, festivals, collaborations etc. though you may think in this day and age, being queer shouldn’t make a difference, unfortunately it does. Some brands may not want to associate themselves with an out and proud artist, some producers may not want to work with them, some festivals may not think they match the vibe and don’t want a crowd of queer fans turning up, even in the West.

“Make sense as there are multiple queer artists who are so successful in west. Whole world was singing 'unholy' by a non binary person lol.”

Who are these multiple out and proud queer artists? I’m not trying to be obtuse, I don’t know all the artists right now. I know like Troye Sivan, Lil’ Nas X, Demi Lovato, Sam Smith whose song you mentioned. Please forgive me if there are loads more big western out queer artists I’m missing, I’m just thinking about young big pop artists.

Lil’ Nas X is an amazingly strong person, he deals with a lot but he has such a strength of character, he gives as good as he gets and he gets A LOT! So make no mistake he faces a lot of challenges and fights for where he is and to be unapologetically him.

Demi I can’t say much on because I haven’t taken the time to understand where they are in their journey and their musical career now, but they also came out with a non-heterosexual label for themselves well into their established career.

Jungkook is not Sam Smith. He is not a white man from England who gained success FIRST before coming out as non-binary SEVERAL albums and accolades into their career. Jungkook is not an artist under the same circles as western artists who can rely on the same connections that western artists do.

Big western out queer artists who after coming out of the closet, do not live in a country that still has outdated practices such as mandatory military service, such as terrible women's rights to the point that women feel the only way to take back any control is to abstain from relationships, marriage and children.

This is the country Jungkook is from, the country of his family, friends and loved ones. Though he may make statements that jikookers can see for what they are, that those closely tapped into bangtan and all the fandom intricacies may know about. That’s not on the same scale as a GLOBAL solo debut. The spotlight being solely on him and NOT spread amongst 7 members. That will carve out how the general public, not just ARMY, see him from solo debut and always.

I funnily enough just did a post on Jungkook himself talking about wanting to do music about imaginary scenarios and stories. He said this in 2021. It's my inference (as you want my opinion) that these songs for his solo is that. Is it a reach then to say the music videos do not reflect him?

Also none of these artists are from a group. They are responsible for their career and their career only. They aren’t going to go back to their group work and have deals that don’t just affect them but 6 other people. They don’t live in a country where freedom of speech means something completely different.

“If it's catchy enough not even conservative country fans gives af about artist sexuality or gender imo.”

Your opinion. I don’t believe this to be the case.

Yes one or two catchy songs may get them fame if they’re out from the very beginning, but if they fail to sustain that momentum for any reason they quickly become ‘niche’ confined and limited to their own fandom, not given the platforms again to make a bigger and wider impact, falling to obscurity and only those that were with them from the beginning keep up with their newer projects past those one or two catchy songs.

Unless you come from a conservative country you can’t say with full confidence. Real conservative countries, like Korea have no problem with celebrities calling homosexuality a mental illness and calling queer people depraved, deviants etc. many Korean celebrities have said as much and more to the press and public with no consequence to their fame or career, the same cannot be said for if a western celebrity said as much.

“So how this narrative of JK chose het image to enter western market make sense ? He could get exactly the same results by staying to his authentic self isn't it ? Isn't it just a narrative made by shippers to convince themselves that he's still queer even if he's doing het songs to keep their ship floating? ( I really don't have a problem if he was queer but any excuses given doesn't make sense regarding his choices. Atp the only sensible explanation I can think of is that he's het, it's his choice to portray himself in this concept, it's him choosing to sing about het sex back to back, he agreed to having female lead actress in all his chapter 2 mvs. He kinda confirmed it by saying it wants to show different sides of HIMSELF. So maybe that's what it is.. simple 🤷‍♀️”

Sensible *to you.* with the information and opinions that *you* have.

Again I believe Jikook are together so of course that's my train of thought and with the information that I have what is sensible to *me* is not the same as you.

However to be completely 100. It doesn't matter what I think.

My thoughts do not change who Jungkook dates nor does it change his sexuality.

If you believe him to be heterosexual ok.

If I believe him to be queer ok.

He'll still be with who he wants to be with, he'll still identify as what he wants to identify as.

If I interpret his music videos to not be a reflection of him and you do interpret his music videos to be a reflection of him, ok.

What difference does it make?

I can see Jikook as real and believe there to be deep meaning behind their years and years of words and actions. I can also see his music videos as 4 minute fictional films with actresses and musical background that once the filming ends, so does his dealings with them.

That is also simple

💜

[rayshippouuchiha]

Thank you! So here I am to infodump, full of gratitude, and you can post this if you want no problem it's just a bunch of scattered ideas so yeah. Feel free to chuck suggestions at me too! I really don't know what to do with these... building blocks just yet.

Akatani Mikumo is Midoriya Hisashi.

Toshinori gets sandwiches by the Midoriya couple and it turns into an OT3 but that's much later down the line.

Hisashi is a journalist, keeps getting into everybody's business and Knows™ more than he frankly should.

Hisashi is a Cryptid™. But of a different energy from his son who is all lightning-in-a-bottle jittery On The Verge Of Throwing Hands feral sort of cryptid, Hisashi is mostly of this... supernaturally unflappable blank-faced chill entity.

Who keeps spooking people bc No Footstep sounds.

And might possibly be partially mute or just ridiculously soft-spoken bc when he tries to speak at normal volumehis fire-breathing quirk goes ballistic.

Might or might not have bloodline relations to AFO. Origins ambiguous, Inko just literally plucked the (then) teen off a back alley like he was a stray cat.

Also might or might not have more than one quirk, see the probable AFO connection.

Izuku got his mumbling thing from Hisashi.

A cryptid man who seems normal enough except a little off-kilter, like two inches to the left of what's a “normal” man? Weirdo but nobody can pinpoint how or why. That's the sort of vibe I want with this Hisashi.

And some Wack™ backstory lore I came up w for Hisashi, I dunno what I'll do w it but:

Cw: mention of infant murder, bc I'm Me™ and I was thinking about Yotsumegami (it's my favorite game) and how my version of Hisashi would tie in with it.

Yanno how in Yotsumegami “unwanted children” (children with disabilities, the younger of a twin pair or every sibling except the eldest in triplets or higher, etc) would be killed (it's a real historical practice in Japan, mabiki, they called it) or something like that? Would be kinda fun if an offshoot of that variety existed in the BnHA world, even if it's not outright child murder kids would be abandoned, especially in the chaos of the Dawn of Quirks. People who were scared of quirked people would abandon their quirked child, quirkist folk abandoned their quirkless children, it's chaos.

It would be more prominent during the initial chaos, though I guess laws and stuff would've been passed later on to prevent it or at least cut down the numbers— and the practice fizzled out but there's still a few remote rural villages who accept “unwanted” children.

One such secret community could be like, giving the surname “Akatani” (red valley, for the red of spider lilies used in mabiki in times past) to the children that were discarded at their metaphorical door. Do they still practice mabiki? Debatable. But it's like a giant secret orphanage with questionable, cult-like mentalities.

Akatani Hisashi was one of those until he miraculously escaped and tried to survive in the outside world.

Or maybe he didn't have the Akatani surname at first bc nobody in the remote village had any surname but once he got out he might've created the surname as a way to hm, not quite honor but carry his origins into his new life.

(maybe Yoichi was almost mabiki'd too, like I said I'm still not entirely sure where I'm going with this)

So Izuku gets to grow up w two parents who care a great deal for him. Maybe they move away, resulting in Izuku not having to deal w Bakugou in his childhood. Maybe Izuku makes friends with some other future 1-A classmate.

The Commission keeps trying to track down this one rogue “vigilante reporter” whose name is unknown. And they keep failing because Hisashi (along with his son and excessive gaggle of... comrades? followers? does the Midoriya family accidentally create an organization of rabid info gatherers?) is a certified cryptid.

Izuku has his hands in so many pots. He's a lot more nosey than in canon probably?

Endeavor had better be prepared bc his entire way of life is about to go up in smoke

I don't know why but I just have this very strong feeling that Stain doesn't like Hisashi for one reason or another.

I... wouldn't be entirely opposed to the AU just chucking Bakugou out the window so that he's not in 1-A (or in UA at all, fuck that pomeranian) and instead is replaced by another loud blond...

Fucking Monoma, LMAO.

A lot of the AU is just ?????? for now and most of it is Hisashi backstory but hnnnnng I want to do something with these jigsaw pieces I just don't know what

Also I'll be sending in Hisashi's design in a non-anon ask but could you append it to this ask's answer instead? Thanks!

I adore everything about this!?!?!

Also I didn't get another ask, anon or not, so Tumblr might have eaten it

[fairuzfan]

Tbh this may just be me but my patience for certain people getting mad at being accused of being zionists, and specifically pointing at how they have said that they want Peace and Freedom and it's important to focus on the Humanity of People has become fucking negative (which is all different from when Bibi says he's securing Peace and Freedom as he focuses on the Humanity of Israelis, I guess. Or any time the US has tried it in Pick Your War).

Either explain your material goals or accept that people will get mad at you when you refuse to elaborate on your puddle-deep statements. Politics is material conditions all the way down and the current material conditions are that Palestinians are being massacred by a genocidal state whose heads have repeatedly affirmed that intent!

Badly paraphrasing Kwame Ture here, but any analysis that excludes the oppressor will blame the oppression. The presumption of a need to make Both Sides Understand And Communicate assumes that Palestinians hold significant structural power here and have the ability to come to some theoretical political table—that they are thus doing this, effectively, to themselves, because they don't prioritize Humanity and Peace and Freedom enough. That's what good vibes politics gets you.

(I am so sorry for this being long, I am just, so furious with it, especially after I learned today that an old classmate was hurt by former IOF soldiers w/skunk spray during the Columbia University SJP protest. Just. Goddamn.)

I think you put it into words really well in that there are no material analysis of actual concrete steps theyre providing or stating that Palestinians haven't already said better and more often and they tend to pass it off as their own ideologies rather than... you know... recognizing Palestinians have been fighting this fight for 3-4 generations. Like a guarantee you any discussion you've had we've already had amongst ourselves. So like actively excluding us from those discussions — which is nothing new btw we've always been excluded from them but this time it's easier to push back — is in fact doing harm and refusing us a way to advocate for ourselves.

Truly I've seen it all — there is no way to "peacefully" live under occupation and subjugation for Palestinians. Like no, man that doesn't exist. Even within Israel, Palestinians aren't referred to as "Palestinians" they are referred to as "Arab Israelis" like we cannot even claim ourselves as Palestinians.

You have to acknowledge that at a certain point you yourself are contributing to the dangerous atmosphere by making everything "too complex" to get anything done. I remember there was a talk with Amjad Iraqi (a contributor to al-shabaka who grew up in israel but is palestinian) and another podcaster who is... peak liberal zionist lol but i listened to it cuz amjad was there — that the Podcaster was saying (paraphrasing) "there's an equilibrium of 'freedom' for Palestinians and 'security' for Israelis, and one side pushes the other side further and further away from the center where they could meet so how to you think we reconcile differences" and amjad responds in a way that I admire (paraphrasing) in that he mentions that from the beginning of this equation, zionism has always had the upper hand in that all their demands have been met and self determination for Palestinians have never been recognized (end paraphrase) so it's not equal to say "well we want peace for both Palestinians and israelis so let's block off Palestinians from discussing definitions for these terms" that fundamentally impact them in ways they will never impact nonpalestinians who would BENEFIT from maintaining the status quo.

Within the article from Alma they say "do something vulnerable and ask the other person what their definition of zionism/antizionism is" as if there aren't very transparent people in this world that want "peace" and don't want a ceasefire. Like that's actually the predominant opinion in the world. They straight up say "the only peace in the middle east is if we get rid of hamas so we can't allow a ceasefire" and people run by that definition and say "sorry Palestinians :( we gotta get rid of hamas :( there's nothing we can do about this.... its for peace :("

So I think you're doing far more harm by pretending there's a cognitive difference between zionist and antizionists that theyre just not communicating, which, zionists are very obvious about communicating (which also, it's necessary to boost Palestinians when defining antizionism in this case because when we point out the very real harm of things affecting us we would like a say in how people define the movement meant for our liberation). But the article never said that throughout the entire thing. It just said "maybe you guys have a cognitive dissonance of words" but like.... at this point, if you still ally yourself under the term "zionist" with literally all we have been screaming these past few months then no, I don't think you're necessarily operating in good faith.

And like I don't think tri*utary is a zionist necessarily but they're certainly a zionist sympathizer and like I don't trust them either.

[merakiui]

MERA, THAT NEW TREY FIC HAS TICKLED MY BRAIN SO GOOD LIKE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! ヾ(≧▽≦*)oヾ(≧▽≦*)oヾ(≧▽≦*)o

Surreal horror has always been one of my favorite types of horror because of the unsettling atmosphere and the reality-bending and you wrote it so well! You did amazing when you wrote the dream sequences in DRU, and now to actually read a whole dang fic with the theme?? With Trey of all people???? OTZ OTZ OTZ You've unlocked so many new possibilities with his Doodle Suit, truly the Gaslighting King of all time 👑👑👑

AND THE SYMBOLISM!!!!! please please please please ramble about them if you want-- I'm having so much fun rereading this fic again and again. The Violet Butterwort caught my attention cause isn't that a carnivorous plant? 👀👀 Trapping insects in its leaves like a certain grass-haired man??? 👀👀👀

Anyway, all I'm saying is, Trey is not the only chef around cause you definitely COOKED with this one 🔥🔥✨✨

( ≧ᗜ≦) AAAAA OMG OMG THANK YOUUUUUU!!!!!! ✨ ✨

I'm so happy it tickled your brain! I adore surreal horror in film and writing. There's just so much potential for the craziest of things to happen! Dream sequences or sequences that feel like dreams are some of my favorite things to write. The ones in DRU are also just as surreal. <3 I originally wanted to write this concept with Jade (Kalim was second on my list), but I decided upon Trey in the end because I think he suits the surreal horror vibes so well! Doodle Suit + the power of seamless gaslighting........ what a terrifying combination.

I wanted the story to feel obscure and almost like a trip with the imagery and descriptions. Sort of like the vibes in Alice in Wonderland. Just,,,,, utterly bonkers.

👀 you are very right about the butterwort hehehe!!! As for other symbolisms/details, these are the main ones in the story! I left out some of the symbolisms of various lines or words because that would make for such a long analysis of my own work. ^^;;;

It is under the cut due to length (forgive me)! A warning for mentions of sexual assault and drugging!

✧ the binary can be translated into messages. :)

✧ the feeling of itchiness - feeling as if you don't fit in your body after it's been violated. Feeling like something (trauma/blocked memories) is beneath your skin and you can't get it out no matter what you do. Also, itchy as in discomfort.

✧ grass - this is meant to be Trey. It's how Reader views him throughout the story.

✧ violet butterwort - as you noted, it's a carnivorous plant that traps insects! It's also a symbol of resilience and a common charm used to ward off supernatural evils.

✧ birthday cake with 20 candles - the plot is that Reader and Trey are/were in a relationship and on Reader's twentieth birthday Trey drugged their tea (chamomile) and had his way with them when they were half-conscious. Thus, Reader was never able to indulge in their birthday cake because Trey took it all. Cake can also be a metaphor for Reader's body.

✧ the line "it will take twenty more..." is in reference to the healing process and how it's going to take Reader time to heal from everything.

✧ xylophone chimes/broken glass - the juxtaposition of something sweet-sounding with something jarring.

✧ the white rabbit - a sense of innocence/comfort lost.

✧ "Soups are easy to eat. Easy to slip special sentiments in." - a reference to drugging.

✧ "Soup is what becomes of your brain when your body is too itchy." - disassociation during something traumatic (in this case, sexual assault).

✧ the hedge maze that never has a true exit - the feeling of being lost and trapped and never having a real escape.

✧ the grass bow around the white rabbit's neck - the obsessive and unhealthy hold Trey has on Reader. How he can't let them go.

✧ static - lots of noise and amidst the noise there's Trey, whose own voice is sometimes static and other times soothing enough to cut through the static.

✧ the sequence of "it's here and then there and then here again..." - an allusion to the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland when he's giving Alice directions, but they're all over the place.

✧ every time the grass whispers or speaks - things Trey told Reader when he assaulted them.

✧ "In and out. Out and in. In and out. Out. Out. Out. Incessant itchiness. Get it out." - double meaning for breathing but also the act of sex (thrusting).

✧ the questioning of "that didn't just happen, did it?" - how Reader feels in the aftermath. But also just a general question in response to gaslighting. A consistent questioning of one's reality.

✧ Reader's association of the word "gross" with cake (especially birthday/confetti cake) - it ties into the above and also the part in the story about favorite foods and memories.

✧ teeth falling out - usually, in dream interpretation, this symbolizes a recent loss or mourning of something lost.

✧ hyperdontia - the horror of having a mouth and a voice but never being able to use it because it's so clogged with teeth, so no one will ever listen to or hear the things Reader desperately wants and needs to say.

✧ Frozen Charlotte dolls - Victorian era dolls that could float in the bath. They were also baked into cakes. They're called Frozen Charlottes based on a folk ballad called "Fair Charlotte," which tells the tale of a young girl (Charlotte) on her way to a ball with her lover (Charlie). It's dreadfully cold out, but she frets over the fact that wearing a coat will prevent everyone from seeing her pretty dress. She freezes to death on her way to the ball and arrives in her carriage as a frozen corpse. I think these dolls are fascinating and so cute, so I just wanted to compare teeth to Frozen Charlottes. The description of having a dozen tiny dolls stuck in your throat made for unpleasant imagery, so I wanted to write it!

✧ "A black rabbit blinks up at you with its milky-white eyes. Its nose twitches. Once. Twice. Thrice. A loud gust slithers through the field in which you currently observe, surrounded by decaying greenery and wilted wildflowers. They sprawl endlessly, clawing at the horizon beyond with broken fingers. You watch monochrome tones sway, dried petals flaking off like scabs against a battered, bloodless sky." - this is the same paragraph as seen in the beginning, only certain details have been changed. It's a hint at some sort of cycle that Reader's just only beginning to see. Idyllic beauty is no longer so blinding now that Reader sees what they didn't notice before.

[tavina-writes]

i want to share salt. have you ever had a ship that annoyed you so much it starts poisoning other ships you could have potentially liked? because this is me with xiyao vs nielan. like, xiyaos are so fucking loud and proud of the fact that he sides with jgy over everybody else multiple times in ways that turn out to be incredibly hurtful. so it gets to the point i can't even enjoy cute teenage nielan art knowing xichen is going to so catastrophically fuck this up by repeatedly writing off mingjue as just imagining things and lying to him and leveraging their relationship for someone else's benefit and handing his killer the method to kill him and that people are *gleeful* about all that.

Hi Nonny!

First off, I want to offer you a hug, because this sort of feeling about fandom is never a fun thing to experience, and since you recognize that this is a salty ask, you might want nothing more than a "hey I see this and I get it in some part!"

But if you're thinking about how you might improve this situation and like, enjoy interacting with 3zun fandom again/mdzs fandom in general, I have a few ideas:

block everyone whose takes are pissing you off. There needs to be no bigger reason than "You know what, your takes are ruining this fandom experience for me" or "making me slightly more irritated than I would've been." There's no shame or like, anything wrong with this. Ultimately, we all live in this mosh pit of stuff together, and I might think everyone has a right to whatever kind of take they want, but I don't have to martyr myself on the cross of "hearing all sides" or whatever, and neither do you Nonny.

Recognizing which things are fanon and which are canon. This might help, but like, LXC doesn't, canonically, keep picking JGY at every turn. He is a flawed character with his own problems (as are they all in MDZS lol) but this is...not really what's happening? People can say what they want in their meta and their headcanons and interpretation of canon, but that doesn't make it...true.

this goes with 1 and 2 but also: if a fandom or a ship or a trope or something no longer brings you joy Nonny, there's always the opportunity to pack it up and leave it behind, either permanently or for a time. There's nothing wrong with not being "on" about a ship or fandom or recognizing that it was once something you really liked but not something you enjoy right at this very moment.

All that said, I'm personally of the opinion that there's a very loud and vocal part of the xiyao fandom (who exist on my blocklist by now) who've made me lose interest in the ship altogether, because the parts of the ship that I find most interesting -- the deceit, the almost gothic horror vibes, the slowly rotting center of their relationship when it didn't begin that way -- is obviously not what most (or what seems like most) people who ship it are looking for. And overall, I'm sure that it's no loss to not have me there, and that I (a NieYao girlie at heart) would not be welcome in that sandbox, so like, Nonny, I do get you and your frustrations. Ultimately I guess sometimes it's just easier to recognize that not all fandom spaces are welcoming and to find places that serve you better.

[scary-grace]

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Chapter 4

You don’t see Tomura the next morning, but when you come home from work, Phantom is loose in the yard, and Hizashi is hanging out just beyond the fence, studying an empty jar. “I came to get this, since we’re out,” he remarks. He has sharp teeth, just like Himiko. “So, what happened last night?”

You play dumb for all you’re worth. “Something happened last night?”

“Of course it did. The vibes coming off this house are impressively horny,” Hizashi says, and you cringe so hard you’re surprised you don’t explode. “I’ve been there. Consequence of spending too much time embodied – you start feeling things a normal human body feels, and going incorporeal doesn’t make it go away. That was a nasty shock for me, too.”

You really don’t want to ask Hizashi any questions at all, but you’ve got one – and it’s a subject change, so you seize it. “Is it true that ghosts’ power levels are stagnant? Are you just stuck with what you started with?”

“That’s not what I thought you were going to ask.” Hizashi tosses the jar from one hand to the other. “I’m guessing you’re asking because of our sexually frustrated friend in there?”

“I’ll pay you to never say that again,” you say, and Hizashi laughs. “Yes. He said –”

“That he didn’t want to come here. I’d buy that, easy.” Hizashi glances over his shoulder at the house, then beckons you away down the block. You’re not sure how far you have to go to be out of Tomura’s earshot, but you stop when Hizashi does. “Here’s the thing. He and I are the oldest ghosts in this neighborhood, but we’re not the same kind of old. I chose to be here.”

“Why?” you ask. Hizashi stares at you. “Did you come here to hurt people?”

“I came here because I wanted to be people,” Hizashi says. You stare. “Ask him what it’s like in the world between and you’ll understand. But to answer your question, we don’t spend our whole existences at the same power level. There are two kinds of ghostly power. There’s what you get right at the start. Then there’s your potential. Conjurers – the worst ones, anyway – they want potential. That’s why they grab the youngest ghosts.”

His expression darkens, and your legs almost give out beneath you. Is this how Tomura makes other people feel? You’re surprised that anyone’s ever set foot in your house. Hizashi doesn’t notice what he’s doing to you, or if he notices, he doesn’t care. “Eri had low surface power but massive potential. Her conjurer bound her in the worst situation possible, figuring she’d have to tap into that potential to take control of her environment and make it her own. She found another way out, but your ghost didn’t.”

He glances back at your house. “Based on how strong your ghost is now, his potential was massive. He probably hasn’t even found his limit yet. What’s weird is that he hasn’t used it.”

“Did you use yours?”

Hizashi grins his sharp-toothed grin. “Why do you think it took them so long to burn my opera house down?”

You’ve wondered, every so often, what it would have been like to be haunted by Hizashi instead of Tomura. Now you’re pretty sure you’d have had a breakdown. Aizawa must have nerves of steel. “Anyway,” Hizashi says, “he’s not smart enough to tell a lie that big. He’s telling the truth.”

He tosses the jar at you and you barely catch it in time. “And whatever you did last night, don’t do it again. I can handle his mood, but it’s messing with the little ones.”

You cringe. The last thing you want is for Eri and Himiko to pick up on whatever Tomura’s doing – even if they do know all about sex from observing humans already. But you also don’t know how to fix this problem you apparently caused. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Ask Keigo,” Hizashi says, already walking away. “He’ll know.”

Keigo? You’ve talked to Keigo some, since he’s the only person in the neighborhood who’s actually in your age range, but it’s occurring to you now that you’ve never actually met Keigo’s ghost. You pull out your phone, considering texting him, but there’s no point when his house is across the street and his car’s in the driveway. You walk back to your house, retrieve Phantom’s spare leash from your car, and take her with you when you head across the street to knock on Keigo’s door.

Keigo answers it pretty fast. There’s a handprint-shaped hole burned in his shirt, still smoking faintly, and it draws your attention like a magnet. “Uh, what is that?”

“Ask Dabi,” Keigo says.

“Ask her damn ghost. It’s all his fault.”

“No, it isn’t. You can control your behavior, you just don’t want to.” Keigo rolls his eyes. “I saw you talking to Hizashi. I’m guessing he sent you?”

“Yeah. Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Just let me get my shoes. And a new shirt.” Keigo ducks back into the house, and you wait on the steps, wondering if you’ll get a glimpse of the former ghost who lives here. Keigo’s voice issues from within the house, but he’s not talking to you. “Don’t go out there if you’re just going to get into a pissing contest with the guy across the street. He could crush you with both hands tied behind his back.”

“He can’t cross that fence, and I didn’t give up my powers like an idiot. That means I can do whatever I want with his human –”

“He’d blow that house apart and come get you, and you know it.” Keigo reappears. “Sorry about him. He’s in a mood. Let’s go.”

“Hey, who said you could leave? I didn’t say you could leave! Get back here –”

“I’ll be back when I feel like it! Bye-bye!” Keigo waves and then slams the door. He hurries down the steps and you follow him. He doesn’t stop until you’re at the top of the street. “Sorry about that. I’m guessing you’ve got questions.”

You have a lot of questions. “Aizawa said Tomura was the only ghost left in the neighborhood.”

“He is,” Keigo says. “You know how ghosts have to want to be embodied more than they’ve ever wanted anything for it to work? Dabi tried to change his mind halfway.”

“Oh,” you say. “So that makes him half ghost?”

“It makes him a scar wraith. Half of him is permanently materialized, half of him isn’t, and most of the time he’s a total bitch about it.” Keigo crouches down to tie his shoes. “He lost half of his ghostly powers and picked up most of the downsides of being embodied. He’s going to be like that until he makes up his mind.”

“Oh,” you say again. “That’s, um – is that why your house is always on fire?”

“You got it.” Keigo straightens up again. “I know we got out of there in a hurry, but you’re not actually in danger from him. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. Like you do to yours when you leave.”

Is that what you’re trying to do? You don’t know if you’re trying to punish Tomura or just trying to figure out a game plan before you go back in. In this case it’s definitely the latter. “Hizashi says my ghost is, um –”

“Horny,” Keigo says. Your face heats up. He starts walking, and you follow him. “Yeah, they get like that sometimes. And they don’t like it. Usually they dematerialize to get away from feelings they don’t like, but it doesn’t work, and that pisses them off, too.”

Phantom stops to sniff a tree, and you let her for a second before tugging her along. “Why?”

“Maybe you don’t know, because you’re a girl –”

“Girls get horny too,” you say. This is maybe the dumbest conversation you’ve ever had, excepting the one you had with Tomura about why Phantom can’t have dead birds even though she really wants them. “Are you saying it’s because they have to do something about it? They don’t. They can just wait for it to go away.”

“Yeah, but waiting for it to go away is uncomfortable,” Keigo says. You’re not going to argue that one. Being horny when you don’t want to be is deeply unpleasant. “And ghosts suck at tolerating discomfort. Yours is pretty inexperienced with everything from what I’ve heard, so he probably doesn’t know what to do, and unless you want to leave a copy of The Joy of Sex lying around –”

“I don’t.” You shudder. “I don’t want him getting ideas.”

“Then you’re going to have to explain,” Keigo says patiently. You give him a pained look, and he sighs. “Tell him to materialize fully and get it out of his system. That’ll solve the initial problem.”

The thought of heading back to your house and telling Tomura he needs to masturbate makes you want to die. But you’re even unhappier about Keigo’s second sentence. “What do you mean, the initial problem?”

“Hizashi and Magne gave me the ghost sex talk when we moved here. Kind of late, but it helped, sort of.” Keigo rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Once ghosts figure out how it works, they go one of two ways. Either they decide it’s gross and they’re not interested – that’s what Magne did – or they decide they’re really into it, which is what Hizashi did. And they can’t generate that feeling on their own the way people do, so they go after the people who made them feel that way the first time.”

That sinks in fast, but you’ve got no idea what to think or say or do about it. What comes out is the last thing you wanted to tell anyone. “I just held his hand. That was it! I was just trying to prove that there’s a difference between physical contact that hurts and stuff that doesn’t hurt because he won’t quit scratching his neck until it bleeds – and I’m pretty sure he hated it –”

“If he hated it, then you’re fine,” Keigo says. “Honestly, most of the adult former ghosts I’ve met aren’t into it even after they embody themselves permanently. Hizashi’s only like that because he spent enough time embodied to get used to it before he made it official. If it was a common thing Aizawa would have written a guidebook on it by now.”

Aizawa does have a lot of guidebooks. It took you a while to realize that most of the literature he sent you home with was stuff he’d written himself. “Although,” Keigo muses, “I guess Aizawa never hooked up with an actual ghost. He and Hizashi didn’t bang until after Hizashi was embodied.”

“So, um –” You can’t believe you’re about to ask this. “Did you, uh –”

“Did me and Dabi hook up before he fucked up his embodiment? Yeah,” Keigo says. You thought he’d be embarrassed, or proud. Instead he looks sad. “He didn’t use to be like this, or go by Dabi. His real name is Touya, and he was a lot, sure, but he wasn’t like this. I wouldn’t have gotten into it with him if he’d been like this the whole time.”

“I get it,” you say. You’ve had bad relationships before. “Do you think he’d go back if he embodied himself all the way?”

“Probably? I don’t think he’ll do that, though.” Keigo sighs. “They almost never decide consciously that they’re going to embody themselves. It happens because of how they feel. The little ones, they embodied themselves because they wanted to be with their families. They wanted to be seen and loved more than they wanted to be powerful. Magne jumped because Spinner didn’t have anybody but her, and as far as I can tell, she’s sort of surprised she did it. Hizashi did it on purpose, but Hizashi’s different – and from what he’s said, he’d probably have done it unconsciously at some point. He loves Aizawa that much.”

Now you get why Keigo looks so sad. “I bet Touya just got nervous,” you say. “I mean, it’s kind of a big decision, right? The biggest one they’ll ever make. And it’s not like he left. Even after you left his old haunt he stayed with you. That’s got to mean something.”

“Maybe.” Keigo smiles halfway. “A guy can hope, right?”

“Of course,” you say. Personally, you’re hoping for something different from Tomura.

You spend way too long pacing up and down the street after you say goodbye to Keigo, trying to work up your nerve. But eventually the weird tension from the house becomes perceptible to you even from outside it, and you remember what Hizashi said about the kids. You order yourself to suck it up, unlatch the front gate, and make your way inside. You can tell Tomura’s watching you, marking you closely, while you give Phantom a treat and some water. Once you’ve gotten her settled, you make your way upstairs to your room and shut the door. You can’t look at him while you have this conversation. You squeeze your eyes shut and speak up. “I know how to fix your problem.”

“What problem?” Tomura’s voice sounds tight and uncomfortable. “I don’t have a problem. You have a problem. You hung out with that guy across the street –”

“Because I needed help with you,” you say. It’s quiet for a second. “I figured out a solution to your problem. So you won’t feel the way you’re feeling anymore. I know it’s uncomfortable.”

“No, you don’t. Humans don’t feel like this.”

You manage to laugh at that one. “Humans feel like this all the time, Tomura. Half the dumb decisions people make in movies are because they feel like this.”

It’s quiet again. “How do I fix it?”

You bury your face in your head. “You have to materialize all the way. Then you have to touch yourself.”

“What do you mean, touch myself? You said I wasn’t supposed to scratch.”

“Not there.” You’re pretty sure your face is melting off from sheer embarrassment. “You know where that feeling is? The one you don’t like? You have to touch yourself there to make it go away.”

“Why?”

“It –” You chicken out. “You’ll figure it out once you try it. Go in the bathroom and shut the door.”

“Why do I have to go in there?”

“Privacy,” you say. There’s no way to tell him that you don’t want to have to clean ghost cum off the hardwood floors.

You hear footsteps down the hall, followed by the bathroom door opening and closing. “This is stupid,” Tomura says. You couldn’t agree more. “I’m doing it. It still feels – weird –”

That catch in his voice is something you really could have gone without hearing. “You don’t have to narrate,” you say. “You deserve privacy. I’m giving you privacy. I can leave the house –”

“No, don’t.” Tomura sounds pretty sure about that. “This was your idea. Don’t you want to – ugh.”

You don’t want to know what that was about. At all. You think about getting your headphones, except if you don’t respond when he talks to you, he’ll come looking to see why, and you really don’t want him to come talk to you in whatever state he’s in at the moment. Maybe it’s over already. Maybe he’s one of the vast majority of ghosts who think it’s gross and this will never happen to you again. You’re sure that’s it. It’s over already. It –

A low sigh echoes through the house, and you freeze in place. There’s a few uneven breaths, and then another sigh, followed by a sharper sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. “What is this?” Tomura asks, his voice strained in an entirely different way than before. When you don’t respond, he says your name, followed by another one of those sharper sounds. “I don’t understand. Why – ah –”

You clamp your hands down over your ears, but it’s like your ears are attuned specifically to him. You can hear everything. Every ragged breath, every whimper, every needy, desperate moan, and suddenly you’re sure that you got the other kind of ghost, the kind that finds sex and lust fascinating instead of gross. You’ve made a mistake. Not just in telling him to solve the problem like this, but in sticking around to listen. Because listening to this, knowing that you touched his hand and turned him on so badly that it’s been permeating the neighborhood all day, is doing something to you, too.

Your face is flushed, but it’s not just from embarrassment. When you touch your wrist to feel for your pulse, it’s fast. And worse than all of that, you’re wet. Knowing it’ll make things worse doesn’t stop you from sliding one hand down the front of your jeans, recoiling when you realize just how wet you are. This is a disaster. You can’t let him know.

There’s only one solution you can think of. No time to get to the bed, or to do anything more than sink to the floor, unzipping your jeans just far enough to give your hand room to move. You shove the heel of your other hand against your mouth, because you’re not loud but you’ve never done anything like this before and you’re not sure what will happen. You squeeze your eyes shut as you brush your fingers between your legs, the sound you make muffled by your hand and drowned out by the almost-agonized moan that issues from the bathroom down the hall. “I can’t,” Tomura pants. “I can’t – stop – how does it stop –”

“You’ll know.” You think your voice is steady enough. How is he still going? The first time you masturbated, you were so wound up that you were done almost faster than you could think. And he’s a guy. “Just keep going.”

“Keep talking.” Tomura’s voice is just as raspy and ragged as his breathing is. It shouldn’t be hot. You shouldn’t find this hot. “Is this –”

He breaks off in a whine. “How it’s supposed to feel?” you ask. You increase the pressure of your fingers against your clit in spite of the fact that he’s clearly expecting you to talk and you don’t want him to know what you’re doing. “Like you’re going to fall apart, but it feels so good you don’t care?”

“Yeah. Ah –”

“Like that,” you say. You find yourself spreading your legs wider, giving more space for your hand to move. “Exactly like that, Tomura. Don’t stop.”

You’re telling him how to touch himself, but it’s all wrong. It sounds the same as what you’d be telling him to do if he was here, if the fingers slipping inside you were his. What is wrong with you? Thoughts flash through your mind, thoughts you shouldn’t have, and your breathing turns shallow and harsh. “Say something,” Tomura whines, begs. You picture what he must look like right now, face red and hair stuck to his neck and forehead with sweat, completely at the mercy of a body and a need, and crook your fingers, shuddering. “Come on. I need you. Don’t leave me. Please –”

“I’m here.” The strain in your voice would let anyone else know exactly what you’re doing, but Tomura doesn’t know – and even if he did, the sounds you hear tell you that he’s lost in his own touch, chasing his own high. You might as well not be here. All you are is a friendly voice, a guide in uncharted territory. “You’re doing great. You’re almost done, aren’t you? You know what you like by now. Do that, and keep doing it. Don’t stop until –”

The sound he makes is inarticulate and absolutely filthy. Your muscles clench around your fingers, and you rub desperately at your clit with your free hand. Without a hand over your mouth to muffle yourself, you’re reduced to biting your lip until it bleeds as you listen to Tomura shuddering through the first orgasm of his existence. And that’s what tips you over the edge, really – the thought that it’s his first, the thought that it’s because of you. Blood spills into your mouth as your hips jerk against your hands, your vocal cords straining with the effort of holding back the sounds you want to make. You can’t remember the last time you came this hard. All you want to do is sprawl out on the floor and go to sleep.

But you can’t. You need to hide the evidence. You can’t let Tomura know what you just did. You zip and button your jeans, cringing at the slickness of your fingers, and leave your room, hurrying to the downstairs bathroom to splash water on your face. You get a glimpse of what you look like in the mirror and stare in horror. Your face is flushed and your eyes are dilated and there’s a drop of blood at the corner of your mouth that you smear away with the back of your hand. You look like a mess. The only thing that will save you is that Tomura doesn’t know what to look for.

His voice drifts through the house, still unsteady. “There’s a mess in here.”

“I’ll clean it later,” you say. “Since it’s my fault.”

The floor creaks once or twice, then stops, and you know Tomura’s dematerialized. It’s not a surprise. You can’t imagine how much energy he burned through, and sure enough, when you look out the kitchen window, you see a line of dead blackberry bushes along the back fence. Sex stuff takes more life-force than anything else. All the more reason for this to never happen again.

Tomura’s presence slips into the room, surrounding you like he does sometimes. Usually you shoo him away, or threaten to leave until he slinks off, sulking. Today you can’t. You coped okay with your first orgasm, but you were alone. You know you’d have felt weird if you hadn’t been, and if the person who talked you through it had ignored you afterward. You let him settle in, staring fixedly at the dead bushes along the fence. Only one or two are still alive.

Tomura’s voice rasps against your ear. “Do I have to do that every time?”

“There’s not going to be another time,” you say. “It’s my fault for touching you like that last night, and you told me not to do it again. So we’re good.”

“It felt good.” Tomura sounds sure about that. Your stomach twists. “It only felt bad because I didn’t know what to do. Now I know.”

“I’m still not touching you like that again. You said no. I can’t ask you to respect my  boundaries when I don’t respect yours.”

“What if I take it back?” Tomura asks. The twist in your stomach is painful this time. “What if I want you to touch me?”

“Then it starts being about what I want,” you say. “And I don’t want to.”

It’s a lie. You’re lying. Another human would know you were, would know by the heat of your body and the flush in your cheeks and the heavy, painful sound of your heartbeat. “You don’t want to,” Tomura repeats. His presence slips away again, going to some place far enough that you can barely feel it. “I didn’t say I wanted it. Like I’d ever want you to touch me.”

His voice is the last thing to vanish. You want to stick your head under the faucet and drown. “Fine.”

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it, and after the hand-touching incident and everything that followed, the atmosphere in your house feels worse than it ever has before. You don’t know where Tomura’s going, but there are times when his presence vanishes almost completely, and when it does, you can barely stand the emptiness he leaves behind. You never lived alone until you lived here, and you thought you loved it. Now you realize that you were never living here alone at all. Until now.

The jar of bugs start piling up on the front porch, and rather than letting them die, you let them go. You don’t tell the others to stop bringing them. Some part of you is hoping Tomura will come back, that you can go back to the way things were before, but you don’t need one of Aizawa’s guidebooks to tell you that it’s not happening. You rejected him. And if there’s anything you’ve taught Tomura about how humans work, it’s that no means no.

You start spending extra time at work. Sometimes you bring Phantom with you, with Mr. Yagi’s permission, and it makes you popular with your coworkers like you never were before. You still hate it, but it makes it easier to be at work. And it means you don’t have to go home until you’re ready.

At least, most days you don’t. But you woke up with a splitting headache today, and a sore throat, and because you weren’t coughing, you decided that you didn’t have an excuse to skip work. You leave Phantom at home and drag yourself into the office, and you get through four hours of your workday before Mr. Yagi spots you and sends you home. Your pleas not to go home fall on deaf ears, and you drive home slowly, struggling to keep your eyes fixed on the road in front of you.

When you get home, Phantom greets you anxiously. She knows you’re not feeling well, and when you sit down in the front hall to pet her, you realize that you’re going to have a hard time getting up. It doesn’t matter. You can take a break. You let your eyes fall shut.

When you wake up, it’s to grey, rainy, late-afternoon light falling over your face, the sound of Phantom whining in your ear, and a voice you haven’t heard in three weeks. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Tomura,” you mumble. You were hoping sleep would make you feel better, but it feels like your headache’s actually gotten worse. “I’m fine. Just wanted to sit down.”

“Don’t be stupid. And don’t lie.” Even the sound of Tomura’s footsteps across the floor hurts your head, not to mention Phantom’s whining. “You fell asleep on the floor. You’re making this weird face. You don’t look right. What’s wrong with you?”

He almost sounds worried. “My boss sent me home. He thinks I’m sick.”

“Are you sick?” Tomura asks. You think about lying, decide not to, and nod. The pain that splits your skull makes you want to throw up. “Can you fix it?”

You have cold medicine somewhere, and pain relievers, but you’d have to get up to get them, and you’re so dizzy. Maybe you should call somebody for help, but who would you call? Nobody in your neighborhood is going to set foot in your house, and you don’t have any friends from work. And all your old friends have started to slip away, courtesy of your new world, your new friends, your new life. Who do you have to call? Nobody. The thought makes you sad, and feeling sad makes you even more tired than before.

“Wake up,” Tomura snaps at you. Phantom whines and licks your face. “Stop it. Wake up!”

Phantom’s worried. Tomura’s mad at you. Somewhere in your clouded mind, it occurs to you that you need help. That maybe it doesn’t matter who you call as long as you call somebody. You pull your phone out of your backpack and get as far as unlocking it. Then your head starts to ache worse than before, a dull pounding that fills every crevice and corner of your skull. Everything feels hot and humid and awful. You shut your eyes again. Anything to make it stop.

You’re cold when you wake up again. Well, some of you is cold. There’s a small warm patch on your stomach, but the rest of you is cold. Not regular cold. Tomura’s cold. He’s materialized, completely or close enough, and he’s holding onto you awkwardly with one arm while Phantom rests her head on your stomach. You can hear Tomura’s voice. He sounds pissed. “If I knew what was wrong with her I’d say it,” he snaps at whoever he’s talking to. “She keeps falling asleep. She’s not supposed to be home yet. She’s too warm.”

“So she’s sick.” That’s Keigo’s voice. Is Keigo here? Why did Tomura let Keigo in the house? “And she’s sleeping a lot?”

“I said that already. Stop repeating what I already said.”

“What are her symptoms?” That’s Aizawa’s voice. It starts to dawn on you slowly what’s happening here, and you almost laugh. “Symptoms. You named some of them already. Fatigue. Fever. Is she coughing?”

“No.”

“Does her breathing sound different than it usually does?” Jin’s mom is talking. Now you know for sure. “Does she have a rash?”

“Her breathing sounds normal,” Tomura says. He’s on the phone. He somehow unlocked your phone, went into your text messages, and conference-called the entire ghost friends group chat. You’d laugh if you weren’t worried it would make your head explode. “What’s a rash?”

“It would be on her skin. Does her skin look like it usually looks?”

An ice-cold hand brushes over your cheek. “It’s too hot. Her face is red. The rest of it looks okay.”

“Check for bites. We brought over tons of bugs. If enough of them bit her –”

“Hitoshi, hang up the phone,” Aizawa orders. “You’re supposed to be at school.”

“You’re supposed to be driving,” Shinsou fires back. “You’re picking up Eri from school early because she’s sick.”

Eri’s sick. You claw your way out of semi-consciousness and grasp the phone. “Does she have what I have?”

“Oh, good. You’re alive,” Keigo says. “Your ghost was pretty panicked.”

“I wasn’t panicked. Shut up.” Tomura’s grip on you tightens. “Someone else is sick?”

“She fell asleep in class. She has a headache and a fever,” Aizawa says. He sounds unhappy. “When would she possibly have been exposed?”

“We brought over some bugs last night,” Shinsou says. “Maybe it was then.”

“It could have gone the other way, too,” Jin’s mom says. “Kids get sick a lot easier than adults.”

“Good point. Maybe Eri got it first and brought it –”

“But Shinsou isn’t sick. If Shinsou lives with her and isn’t sick, how come –”

“I don’t care,” Tomura says loudly. “I don’t care about your sick kid. I want to know how to fix my human.”

Tomura’s making a great first impression. You’ll be doing damage control with Aizawa later, once you feel less like a puddle of body aches and sweat. “If she’s got what Eri’s got, it’s probably the flu,” Jin’s mom says. “She should have cold medicine on hand. Most people do. Pain relievers for the headache and body aches, cough drops if she has a sore throat. And she’ll need to eat. Do you know how humans eat?”

“I’m not stupid. I know how food works.”

“Don’t cook,” Aizawa, Shinsou, and Keigo all say at once. Keigo keeps talking. “You’re not embodied. You don’t have tastebuds. Whatever you end up cooking is going to be –”

There’s a scuffle on Keigo’s end of the line. “It’s going to be fuck awful,” Dabi announces, and Shinsou snickers. “Go ahead and poison your human. See if I care.”

“The next time you even look at my human I’m going to disintegrate your ugly face.”

“My ugly face? Have you seen what you look like? I’m surprised your human hasn’t gone blind.”

Tomura snarls. “At least I never set my human on fire –”

“You’re both pretty,” you mumble, and Keigo cracks up laughing. “I’m not that sick. I can heat up a can of soup in the microwave.”

“You’re so stupid. You fell asleep on the floor,” Tomura snaps at you. “You can’t do anything. I’m going to have to drag you everywhere.”

“No one made you touch me,” you protest. “If you weren’t here –”

“Well, I am here. So shut up and let me –”

“If you two are going to have a domestic, hang up the phone first,” Hizashi says loudly. You didn’t realize he was there. You jump, and your head collides with Tomura’s chin. He swears and so do you. “One of us will stop by later to make sure neither of you are dead. Goodbye.”

There’s a click as he hangs up the phone. Shinsou hangs up a second later. Jin’s mother hangs up after promising to bring over some food, and Keigo stays on the phone a little longer. “I’ll drop by in an hour or two, like Hizashi says. Can you promise not to kill me if I set foot in the house?”

“The only person I’m going to kill is your idiot ghost.”

“Cool,” Keigo says. You can hear Dabi arguing in the background that it’s not cool at all. “Bye.”

He hangs up the phone, too. Now it’s just you and Tomura and Phantom, piled up on the couch in the living room. You don’t remember getting to the living room. Tomura must have dragged you, like he said. You thought he was so mad at you that he was never going to show himself again. Apparently not.

“What’s a domestic?” Tomura asks after a while.

“A fight,” you say. “Just another word for fight.”

“Then why didn’t he just say a fight?”

You really don’t want to get into this right now. “A domestic is a kind of fight. The kind couples have. He was making fun of us by pretending we’re a couple.”

“I don’t like him,” Tomura says after a moment. “I can kill him for you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say.

“He scares you.” Tomura scratches at his neck with the hand that’s not gripping your shoulder. “If I can’t not scare you, I might as well be the only thing that does.”

Maybe you’re just sick and stupid, but you don’t hate the sound of that. “That’s kind of sweet.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He slides out from behind you and drops you onto the couch with a thud. You see a patchy flush on his face before he turns away. “I’m getting your medicine. Stay there.”

You’re not really in a position to go anywhere. You scratch behind Phantom’s ears with a shaky hand and close your eyes again.

When you wake up, you find that Tomura’s turned your medicine cabinet inside out and brought you absolutely everything. Sorting through it is the first laugh you’ve had in a while, and once you’ve got a double dose of painkillers on board, you’re willing to risk it. “Why did you bring this?” you ask, waving a box of band-aids at him. “You’ve seen me use these. You know they’re not for this.”

“How am I supposed to know that? You use stuff that’s not for the stuff you’re using it for all the time.” Tomura snatches the band-aids away and picks up another box. “What are these?”

“You definitely didn’t need to bring those,” you say. “They’re condoms.”

“What?”

It figures. He didn’t know male from female until Hizashi told him, but he clearly has certain associations with condoms, and he doesn’t like them. Probably because of all the movies you didn’t know he was watching with you. “Relax. Does that box look open to you?”

“No,” Tomura says, inspecting it from all angles. “If it’s not open, why do you have it?”

“In case I need it,” you say. “I don’t need it right now.”

In fact, you’re having a hard time imagining that you’ll ever need condoms again. You can’t exactly bring anybody home to hook up with, not with Tomura constantly lurking around, and you like sleeping in your own bed too much to spend the night at anybody else’s house. Beyond that, if you ever wanted to get serious with anybody, you’d have to explain about your house, about Tomura. There’s no way to explain that. No way to explain him in a way that won’t end any relationship instantly. Maybe it’s just that you’re sick, but you find that you don’t mind the thought.

You choose a box of cold medicine and swallow a dose of it, then pop a cough drop into your mouth to soothe your throat. Tomura watches you the entire time, only partially materialized. “Does that taste good?”

“No. It numbs my throat so it hurts less.”

“What do you do when things hurt?”

You were going to try to fall asleep again as soon as you’re done with your cough drop, but Tomura’s in a mood to talk. And as much as you hate to admit it, you miss talking to Tomura. “There are different kinds of hurt, for people. If it hurts physically, like this does, I can take medicine. I can put ice on a bruise or use a heating pad for cramps. There are ointments that have numbing agents in them, same as the cough drops. There are lots of things to do when something physically hurts.”

“If something hurts my body, I can dematerialize,” Tomura says. You wish it was that easy for you. If you could evaporate right now, you’d do it in a heartbeat. “What about other kinds of hurting?”

“Um –” You break off, trying to wrap your head around it. “Emotions hurt sometimes. The bad ones, usually. Being sad or angry or lonely or scared – all of those can feel like they hurt. They can hurt a lot.”

“How do you make them go away?”

“You can’t,” you say. Tomura’s expression darkens. “There’s not medicine that fixes feelings, at least not all the way. You just have to live with them until they stop. Or until you get used to them.”

“That’s stupid,” Tomura says.

“You’re telling me.” You close your eyes. “I guess talking about them helps sometimes. Not for everybody, not all the time, but it can make you feel less alone.”

“I didn’t hate being alone before,” Tomura says. You open your eyes and find him scowling, his face flushed. “Now I do.”

You want to remind him that he’s the one who pulled away, that he’s the one who left, but there’s no point. You roll over instead, facing the back of the couch, and the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. “I missed you.”

You couldn’t have picked a dumber thing to say. Tomura’s got the emotional maturity of a frat guy – he gets mad easily and takes “no” poorly and makes you explain your boundaries five billion times before he even thinks about respecting them. Telling a guy like him that you missed him is a one-way ticket to being mocked for being needy and clingy and pathetic. You can already feel your eyes burning in anticipation of being humiliated.

But Tomura’s not a human man. He’s a ghost. The rush of air filling a previously occupied space tells you he’s dematerialized, but the cold settles around you, and his voice rasps in your ear. “I missed you too. Idiot.”

“You’re the one who left,” you answer. “You’re an idiot, too.”

You’re expecting him to slip away again. Instead the cold spot envelops you more securely than before. “Shut up.”

You fall asleep like that, and when you wake up, it’s to the sound of the fire alarm going off. Tomura’s watched you cook plenty of times and probably should know better, but apparently when you mentioned sticking a can of soup in the microwave, he took it literally. You should be pissed. You probably will be, once the cold medicine wears off. But at the moment, when you’re dizzy and sleepy and feverish, all you can think to do is be pleased that he tried at all.

[yuurei20]

Cater Info Compilation part 9: Malleus

While Cater is aware that Malleus is seen as terrifying by most people, he never seems intimidated.

He approaches Malleus during a PE class to ask for permission to post a picture to Magicam, but in doing so tells him that he has a “vibe” that is “kinda otherworldly, which makes it hard to know what you’re thinking. I guess ‘terrifying’ is the word?”

Malleus appears unamused and Cater tries to lighten the mood with “Do you even show up in pictures? …JK”.

He does apologize for the joke, but Malleus assures him with “As if such a jest could anger me”.

Cater makes a third comment of “You’re just such the mystery boi all the time” and Malleus gives him permission for a photo only to intentionally move too quickly for a proper shot.

Malleus taunts Cater with, “Perhaps because I am an otherworldly ‘mystery boi’, whose thoughts are inscrutable and hence terrifying, I do not show up in pictures at all?" and “go on and take as many photographs as you like. If you can, that is.”

After scaring off a group of students from the monster team who were ganging up on Malleus during Beanfest Cater tries again to take a picture of him, but Malleus disappears.

Disappearing mid-conversation with Cater is not unusual for Malleus: after hearing that Deuce may be able to repair a beloved treasure he received from Lilia, Malleus teleports before Cater has a chance to caution him against scaring the first-year students.

The two share very friendly interactions during the Firelit Sky event. Cater compliments Malleus with “It’s neat seeing you in something other than black…you look FANTASTIC. It’s not your usual vibe, but you can totally rock bright colors!”

Malleus responds, “Bright colors suit you quite well. You look so colorful and eye-catching, much like fireworks.” (With Trey “standing awkwardly” in the background).

Malleus compliments Cater's appearance again in a voice line for Cater’s second birthday.

Cater finally gets his photo with Malleus by suggesting they send one to Lilia to make him feel better when Malleus expresses regret that Lilia wasn’t able to join them during Firelit Sky (Lilia called out sick, sending Malleus out sans escort for the first time in his life).

When Cater suggests a second photo with the silky melon that is “supposed to make friendships last forever”, however, Malleus characteristically responds with “I’d rather not”.

Later on Cater reins in Malleus’ attempts to block the escape of a pickpocketing monkey by “building up a ton of power”, saying “if your magic hurts anyone, we’ll have an international crisis on our hands!”

Apparently well aware that his magic was going to cause physical injury, Malleus complies.

At the end of Firelit Sky Cater teaches Malleus about toasting for small celebrations (like watching a fireworks show), leading to Malleus suggesting a toast to celebrate Jamil’s upcoming performance.

During Halloween Cater was the only one who heard Malleus’ voice when the students were kidnapped, reporting that Malleus said, “How could I of all people struggle so?”

At the conclusion of the event it is revealed that Malleus was struggling with pipe organ music.

[jjsmaybank20]

Could I request this, please; Reader is on the soccer team with Whitney and is her best friend. Leighton has a huge crush on the girl. (R is a sporty badass? Has a couple tattoos and doesn't give a fuck about anything.)

Stumbling

Leighton Murray x fem!reader

Summary: 3 times that Leighton gets overly flustered by you, and the 1 time she finally gets you back for it.

Warnings: Leighton being uncharacteristically

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: So sorry it took so long! I had some serious writers block on this one. Hope you enjoy it!

navigation  the sex lives of college girls masterlist

---

Soccer has always given you a rush that no other sport has. You discovered it when you were 10 years old, and you haven’t stopped playing since. That was how you met your best friend, Whitney Chase. You both bonded immediately, and haven’t separated since.

Your parents weren’t always there for you, but surprisingly, Senator Chase took you in as her own.

You were the type of person that she would usually try not to associate with, due to your tattooed, leather jacket-wearing, motorcycle vibe, but she loved you as if you were her daughter. 

You and Whitney were both child soccer prodigies, and by the time you hit senior year in high school, colleges were vying for you to attend. When you were younger, you had made a pact with Whitney, promising that you would always stay friends and always go to school together.

So when two offers came from Essex College, one for each of you, you knew it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. 

Now, having been at Essex for a while, you couldn’t be happier. You found your people, and you stayed close with your best friend. 

---

One

“Who. Is. That.”  Leighton sputters out, transfixed on your sweaty, shirtless body. Looking up from her homework, Kimberly glances over at you. “That’s Y/N. She’s like, Whitney’s best friend. She talks about her all the time.”

Leighton whips her head towards her roommate, snapping, “I don’t listen to what you guys say! How could she keep such a hottie from me?” At this point, Whitney had made her way over. “Who kept a hottie from you?”

Leighton glares at her. “You did! Look!” She points over at you. Whitney does a double take, not realizing who Leighton is talking about at first. “Y/N? I haven’t been hiding her! You just never listen when I talk about my other friends!”

Leighton looks at her roommate guiltily, at least until Whitney calls you over. She quickly scrambles to try to hide, but to no avail. You jog over to the three girls sitting on the bleachers, taking note of the cute blonde whose blush is taking up most of her beautiful face.

You sling your sweaty arm around your best friend and say, “Hey, Whit. Are these the famous roommates?” Whitney laughs, pushing your arm off. “Ew, get your sweaty body parts off of me! And yeah, that’s Kimberly and that’s Leighton.”

You jut your chin out towards them when your best friend points. The brunette that she points to gives you a friendly wave, while the blonde avoids eye contact. You smirk, deciding to see if you can get a response from her.

“Hey there, blondie. How’d you like the practice?” Leighton looks up at you shyly, pointing to herself to confirm that you were talking to her. You nod, smiling slightly, and lean on your knee that is propped up on the bleachers.

The blonde glances down and immediately regrets it. She can’t tear her eyes away from your toned legs, your flexing tattoo-covered forearms, your veiny hands. You know she’s staring, and you can’t help but smirk. You move your head so that you can make eye contact with her, waving your hand in front of her face.

“You okay?” She somehow blushes even harder, stuttering out her answer. “Yep, mhm, I’m- I’m okay. All good. Practice was great, really enjoyed it, gotta go.” She quickly grabs all of her stuff and runs off. You chuckle in amusement, happy that you could fluster such a pretty girl so easily. 

Before you run back to gather your things, you turn to your best friend and say, “Your roommate is hot. Bring her to the Theta party in a couple days. I’ll try to bump into her.” Whitney laughs, nodding in acceptance. “You know her brother is Nico Murray, right?” 

You blink at the Chase girl. “No shit! Really? Man, Nico Murray is the man. I love that dude. Alright, I’ll just text him about letting you guys in. Bring the rest of your friends! I want to meet them.” Whitney nods again, and you run over to your stuff and grab your phone. 

You click it off before climbing on your motorcycle and riding towards your dorm. This was going to be a fun party.

---

Two

On the night of the party, Leighton and her friends made their way into the basement of her brother’s frat house. She couldn’t help but look around for the soccer player that had been plaguing her thoughts for the past couple of days.

When she finally spotted you, she had to do a double-take. You were chatting it up… with her brother?! It seemed like everybody was keeping you from her. Leighton moved off to one side of the basement so that she could observe you out of the way.

She watched as you downed a red solo cup probably filled with some vile alcohol. A couple drops escape your lips and roll down your chin, hypnotizing the blonde, causing her to miss you catching her staring. She’s so distracted that she only realizes that you’re making your way towards her when it’s too late to run away or hide.

“Hey there, pretty lady. Want a drink?” You slur slightly, holding out a drink for her to grab. She takes it then says, “You didn’t tell me that you were friends with my brother.” You laugh drunkenly, replying, “You ran away when I tried to talk to you. But that's okay. I think you’re hot, so I’m willing to chase. Ha, Chase! Like Whit!” 

You then wander off to go find your best friend, completely forgetting about the conversation you had just been in. The flustered blonde stands in place, frozen. She begins to process what you said, which makes her turn bright red. 

In your drunken stupor, you don't realize how much of an effect you have on Leighton. When her friends find her in the same place she was when she talked to you almost an hour ago, they know that it’s time to take her outside to get some fresh air.

“Are you good?” Bela asks her, not-so-secretly wanting to know what or who made the Murray girl this shocked. “She… She called me hot, said she was willing to chase me, and then got up and left!” Bela tuts in understanding, nodding her head. “You’re talking about Y/N, aren’t you. Yeah, she’s black-out drunk right now. She’s also not wrong, Leight, you are hot!”

‘God, how am I going to face her whenever I see her next?’ Leighton thinks to herself.

---

Three

Turns out, she can’t face you. Instead, she runs and hides behind a tree. Honestly, she isn’t very subtle about it, but you find it adorable so you pretend like you didn’t see her sprint away. When you approach your best friend, the first thing she says is, “Did you really have to hit on her at the party? She turns bright red if someone even says a name similar to yours.”

You laugh in astonishment. “I hit on her? Well, actually that makes sense. They do say a drunk man’s words are more honest than a sober man’s.” Whitney slaps your chest, giving you a look that says ‘be serious’. 

“Look, I don’t want you messing with her feelings. I’m your best friend, which means I know you better than anyone. I know how you are with girls, and I can’t have you doing that to Leight. You have to promise me that if you make a move on her, It’s because you're serious, not because you need another conquest.” 

You take your friends' words to heart. She’s right. But you know that you genuinely want to get to know Leighton, and that if things work out, you would be committed to a serious relationship with her. You tell Whitney exactly that, and she nods in acceptance. 

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Leighton can hear your whole conversation from behind the tree. She then realizes that if she wants to actually have a chance with you, she needs to stop running away. She resolves to ask you out as soon as she can get you alone. Which leads to…

---

One

“You. Me. Dinner then a movie. Pick me up at… say, 7 on Friday. Don’t be late.” After blurting all that out at you, Leighton walks away, leaving you speechless in the dining hall. Quickly glancing behind her, she sees your shocked expression morph into a love-struck look that has your mouth twisting into a silly little smile.

It seems out of place, seeing that you were always either smirking, frowning, or somewhere in between. Right there and then, she decides to be the one person that can make you smile like that. The one person who can make you drop your cold exterior and let your inner softness shine through. 

She was going to take a hammer to all of the walls you put up, and you were just in for the ride. And you couldn’t wait to see where the ride would take you.

---

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[thegeminisage]

STAR TREK UPDATE TIME, holy shit! tuesday we watched ds9's "a time to stand" and "rocks and shoals."

a time to stand:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGH

i feel like ds9 is so fucking good every episode i rate "watch" on ym spreadsheet would easily be "must see" in any other trek show. where do i even fucking start

i love that theyre just casually mentioning bashirs darkest secret in playful banter now. theres something in there that makes me very emotional but also it's extremely funny. also, he really DOES quote percentages like a vulcan. whatever he and garak were doing, i don't know what that was but i loved it. literally his boyish smile

oh speaking of couples. KIRA AND ODO. they've got the station all to themselves...um, e quark. i did get deluded for a hot second, when they were all at the bar together, into believing in kira e odo e quark. i don't think that's going to be a permanent feature in my psyche but it was fascinating to experience just once

ODO. MAKES HANDS. TO TOUCH PEOPLE WITH!!!!!!!!!!!

no one made this gifset so i have to make do with a screencap

HE MAKES HANDS TO TOUCH PEOPLE WITH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i may have had to pause the episode to start screaming

also. hi. "im glad you can still smile" "only when im with you" what if i threw myself into the sun

dukat and kira, holy shit. i've never been so scared in my life. i think about it all the time that he essentially called leeta into his office to fuck him. he BLOCKED KIRA'S EXIT. jesus christ we've come so far from his gay little fireworks show and the thron in his ass

odo manipulating weyoun who's obsessed with him <3 king. but he only did it because <3 kira asked him to. he literally said i've walked this horrible horrible line before i can do it again...their relationship is somehow moving forward because they are going back in time

and like GOD she knows he loves her and she hasn't decided how she feels back but somehow it's still comfortable because he doesn't ask for anything...IMPECCABLE fucking vibes. WHO is doing it like them

on the spaceship side, all of that was very fun, especially sisko and his <3 headaches. but even funnier was them getting stuck 17 years away from help. JUST like. star trek voyager

rocks and shoals:

AND IT GETS BETTER!

kira in this episode. mwah. she quite literally can't live with herself and it's SO clever because at first you the viewer are also like aaaa no dont let the bajorans protest aaaaaa theyll get in trouble and then kira has the change on heart and youre like oh shit. oh fuck. whose side am EYE on?

also, the fact that this was also odo's kneejerk reaction, and she said "don't make me fight you too" and he immediately fell in line. that's love.

garak's "oh, NO" as they were falling. please let the man say "oh shit"

o'brien ripping his pants <3 incredibly funny i felt like i was getting loopy right along with them. the wide shot of the flaming ship sinking into the sea as they laughed their asses off.......cinema

poor dax!!! she tries so hard to be brave but man she really did get fucked up

the little vorta freak in this episode...i want him dead. what an evil thing to do to your own guys AND one of sisko's people died too because of it. ik they won't kil him but they should kill him

i wasn't expecting the thing between garak and nog to have like consequences but it was funt hat they brought it back up. good for them and good for nog, even though i still wish it had been bashir on the post

julian being so chirpy and cheerful w the vorta after fixing him up as though he is a normal patient...sir please control yourself

my only complaint is i wish jake had more to do...right now he just seems to be getting underfoot, when staying behind was supposed to be a sign of maturity. hopefully all his reporting isn't for nothing!!!!

TONIGHT: voy's "day of honor" and "nemesis"

[director-yomi-hellsmile]

Whenever I see a Yomi Fan out in the tag I usually just block them if the vibes are off and 99% of the time the vibes are very off. I scroll then go ew and I'm out and that's it. You will never fix me and I'll never see you as a person. In order for me not to feel threatened and scamper away like some sort of frightened prey animal the random rain code tag user needs to sound as non-aggressive and weak as possible so I will not consider them a potential threat and tentatively approach them to sniff at the seeds they're holding out before retreating back into my burrow after I hear a twig snap. I kind of forgot what I was typing so I had to read what I wrote over and over again and still I think I'll just give up at this point. I love being slow and having thoughts just randomly delete themselves from my mind, whenever I watch some show I go "wow what pretty lights the characters whose names I forgot sure are saying stuff to each other I struggle to make sense of what exactly but it sounds nice" then go to the comment sections and everybodys fighting over what they've said say its either important moment or egregious mischaracterization and I'm just there not getting anything. Too complex for my brain can you simplify it a bit. This is also why I'm never offended at danganronpa/rain code having "obvious" culprits or conclusions because I am literally always end up surprised cause I don;t know what the hell is happening but I really like the way the words are shaped. Sometimes I'm normal at this though. Butttt if I want to ever made some sort of more in depth analysis on anything I gotta wait for a lot of time first to gather my thoughts and listen to what other people are saying about it first because I don't trust my own judgment I need to base it off of other smarter people first so I don't sound incoherent. I feel like if I am ever seem a bit too coherent then I must be wrong and that everyone who ever reads what I write then either only pretends to care cause they secretly can't stand to listen to what I have to say or that I'm unknowingly lying/manipulating them into agreeing with me cause nothing I write down is based on the actual truth and reality. When I was making the Ichinose post I went thrugh like 19 stages of grief and was convinced it was pointless to keep going because I will get everything wrong and it's actually not that deep and its pointless to keep going cause other people already like him and will see me as competition and an embarrassment and everyone will hate me and throw beans at me and nail me on the cross like jesus. Anyway it turned out fine and apparently I am actually the most correct person on Ichinose ever so I won in that regard but still I struggle to comprehend people well. Comprehending my words like I always feel like I'm not making sense at all ever I don't trust my thoughts to be coherent language. What the fuck is this post

[minervadashwood]

daryl dixon x fem!reader

Summary: It’s 1997 and you’re a 20-something just now getting your life together. The one problem is that you are hopelessly in love with your brother’s best friend. 💘 Daryl Dixon has been dreaming about you for almost as long as he’s been alive. But you’re a college graduate and career woman whose every date turns out to be a polo-shirt-wearing dumbass. What chance does he have of ever making you his? 💘 A date gone wrong has you running into Daryl’s arms, and what happens after that might change your lives forever. Warnings: Blood, violence, sexual themes. Attempted sexual assault. Dividers: @firefly-graphics Here and here. Notes: This is a long one-shot I’m publishing in two parts (simultaneously) because I hate reading posts longer than 5K. So much mutual pining!Classic friends to lovers. Classic idiots in love. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Romcom vibes with a dash of thriller (it's a tiny sprinkle, really). Hope you enjoy!

Part 1: The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Saturday morning you were up almost before sunrise. You planned your outfit the night before: A new pair of boot cut jeans that fit your hips and butt just right. A form fitting t-shirt of your favorite band, tailored to fit around your curves while revealing a sliver of skin just above the waistband of your jeans. The collar was shaped into a v-neck, the cut not deep enough to scandalize your parents, but certainly showing a swath of skin between your breasts and collarbones.  You complemented the outfit with a men’s flannel shirt you’d thrifted from the men’s Big and Tall section. It was tied around your waist, and a pair of chunky boots was on your feet. On your hand was your class ring from high school, a gift from your brother and his best friend. A handmade necklace with a pewter pendant dangled from your neck, inviting wandering eyes to follow it down your chest. 

Though you might run into a number of people today, there was only a single pair of eyes you hoped to capture.

You looked into the mirror and took a moment to say five things you liked about your body. This body acceptance thing was still new to you, but you were trying. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was a fat woman’s self esteem. After showing your body some appreciation, you took one last perusal of your ensemble and smiled. 

Like your carefully chosen outfit, the day was full of promise.

You’d made coffee and breakfast for your parents before they’d even come down the stairs at 7:30. By the time the clock struck 7:45, you were out the door and walking the few blocks it took to get to your brother’s garage apartment.

Butterflies were in your belly as the July Georgia sun continued to rise. You turned your final corner, your feet moving as if they were floating over the pavement. Tool sounded from a tape deck, the music getting louder as you approached. Then, at 8:00 precisely, you stepped onto your brother’s driveway and held your breath.

You hadn’t seen him in over a month, but that time away was a distant memory as you set your sights on Daryl Dixon. His back was to you as he looked through a standing tool chest. You could see the shape and muscles of his arms since he was wearing an old t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His broad shoulders were just as you’d remembered them, but his hair was longer, coming past his ears and nearly covering the back of his neck.

What you wouldn’t give to thread your fingers through those dark blond locks, and hold him close. That wish was the same now as it was back in junior high.

“Hey, sis!”

Your brother, John, suddenly appeared. You jumped in surprise and simultaneously the toolchest clanged and nearly fell over.  You looked on as Daryl righted it before finally he finally turned to face you. 

 “Hey, Daryl,” you greeted, your cheeks hot as a smile overtook your face. It was the same rush of butterflies you’d had when you were thirteen and realized you’d fallen in love with your brother’s best friend.

He jutted his chin in response, but remained silent as his eyes traveled from your face to your chest and lingered for half a second until he suddenly turned away. You released a silent sigh.

John wrapped his arm around your shoulders, again, startling you. It was as if you’d totally forgotten your brother existed.

You returned his side hug, avoiding the oil grease on his clothes and hands. His motorcycle rested in the center of the driveway, various parts littered about, all of them foreign to you, even to this day.

“Mom and Dad doin’  alright?”

You nodded vaguely, your eyes tracking Daryl’s movements as he found whatever tool he’d been looking for and proceeded to squat next to the bike.

John whispered, “He’s been askin’ ‘bout ya.” The music blasting from the tape deck in Daryl’s truck kept the other man from overhearing.

Your grin was back and you looked up at your big brother, who was a whole two years older than you.

“Look, “John said, nodding his head toward Daryl. Nearby you noticed “your” stool, the one you’d been using for years. The same one you’d sat on countless times before as you watched John and Daryl work on everything from 10-speed bicycles to Daryl’s rickety pickup. Today it sat a couple of feet away from where Daryl was working.

You knew nothing about cars, didn’t even know a Chevy from a Ford. You rode the bus to work, and you walked everywhere else.  Yet, every time John invited Daryl over, you somehow found yourself fascinated with vehicle repair. Over time, that stool became your little perch, where you’d sit chatting with the boys and staring at Daryl Dixon every time his back was turned. And sometimes when it wasn’t.

 “He put it there, or did you?” you asked.

John shrugged. “Said it was in his way, then he moved it there.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to contain your glee.  

Gradually, John’s playful smile faded. “Things ain’t good with his dad right now. Be patient with ‘im. He’ll come around.”

John squeezed your shoulder before he walked over to the toolbox, leaving you to once again gaze at Daryl. Over the years, you’d had sparks of hope ignite where he was concerned, hope that he saw you as more than a friend, that he could love you the way you loved him. Sometimes he’d hug you for a moment longer than usual, or he’d sit up with you after one of your family’s cook outs, long after everyone else had gone to bed. 

But every spark of hope would eventually go out. Whether it was Merle dragging him off on some road trip or Daryl himself hiding away in the woods for weeks on end, those little sparks never grew into flames. 

For years and years you blamed your body. You’d come out of your mother a chubby baby, grew into a heavyset child, and blossomed into a plus sized adult, never at any point coming near the beauty standards set by society. 

In college, your dating prospects had been slim, but there were a few. Each one was the antithesis of Daryl, the man you truly loved. The guys you dated were extroverted and assertive, planned your dates and talked more than they listened. Homesick  and starved for male attention, you welcomed their perverted form of affection. You had slept with them too, your freedom at college had you parting ways with your Protestant upbringing and its backward teachings on sex. Despite your healthy amount of experience, you still wondered what it would be like to have sex with someone you loved. With one person in particular.

It took until your senior year before you realized why you let yourself be with those men, men you didn’t really even like. You were afraid that--if you dated someone you truly cared about--you might fall out of love with Daryl.  Even now, you would go out with men that couldn’t hold a candle to him, marking time until the day Daryl might someday be yours.

Now, you were working as a paralegal in the next town over, dating here and there, but only truly living on the days when Daryl was in town visiting John. Because that always meant he was visiting you, too.

After you’d graduated college, you admitted all of this to your brother, your closest confidant and best friend. Upon your admission, your sympathetic brother looked in your eyes and told you not to give up on your childhood crush. 

John never told you outright, but you understood him in the way that siblings do. You realized that Daryl wasn’t ready for a relationship. But maybe he would be. Someday.

That was a few years ago. Since then, you’d joined a group called HEAS, Health at Every Size, and learned to love your body. With that newfound confidence, you understood Daryl much more than you did before--back when you’d spent so much time hiding your rolls of fat and rippling thighs and jiggling upper arms. Once you started liking the way you looked, you realized Daryl liked it, too. Time and time again, just like today, his eyes would wander over your body, lingering on places you used to hate. You would watch his chest rise and fall, his cheeks redden. In your heart, you willed him to say something, anything to indicate he was ready.

To this day, you were still waiting.

The sweat on Daryl’s palms had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with you. Tightening a bolt never required much thought, but with you sitting less than three feet away, he was hyper-aware of everything, from the coiled tension of his body to the scent of your perfume floating through the air. He almost regretted putting your stool so close to him. Almost.

You were chattering on about your parents, two people who’d always been nice to him, especially the times he was too afraid to go home. Many nights and weekends he spent in your house, bunking with John while you slept in the next room. Now, when his old man was on a tear, Daryl slept on John’s couch. Not much had changed since high school.

Just as he did then, Daryl loved the sound of your voice. He hung on every word you said.  He’d learned so much about you, just by listening, He knew what pissed you off, and could tell the difference between that and petty annoyances, just by the tone in your voice. He knew what made you happy: the people, the places, and events that you would talk about often, repeating stories he’d heard many times before but pretended not to. He half imagined himself deeply in love with you, he knew you so well. Each time you spoke to him, all he had to do was listen. As you talked, you dropped treasures from your lips, and he picked up each one, collecting them in a metaphorical vault, a place filled with his most prized possessions, all of them about you. 

“So, Dare,” you sighed, ready to change the subject, “What’s Merle up to these days?”

Daryl scoffed. “Two to five for possession.”  

“At least it wasn’t intent to distribute again. Maybe he’s learnin’ something in his old age.”

“They just caught ‘im comin’ out instead of goin’ in.”

“Still…not as bad as it could be.”

Daryl didn’t need to look at you to know you were giving him one of your small smiles. He knew the expression well. Despite all of Merle’s faults, you never once badmouthed his brother, instead you always said something kind or thoughtful about the drug dealing lout. Maybe it helped that you’d never actually met Merle. Both Daryl and John made sure of it. No telling what hurtful things would come out of Merle’s mouth, and the thought of Merle hurting you or insulting you had Daryl determined to protect you from that possibility.

Daryl also didn’t need to look at you to remember that outfit you had on. One glance at that form-fitting t-shirt and he’d conjured up enough sinful thoughts to last him a lifetime. There weren’t enough Hail Marys or Help me Fathers in the world to save him. You’d always been pretty, even as a kid, and you’d grown into such an attractive woman that it sometimes took his breath away. But these days, you were downright sexy. Each time he saw you, he learned more about your body: curves that went on for days, delectable glimpses of skin he’d never seen before, a confidence in your stride that made him proud of the person you’d become. 

He was getting hard as he imagined his hands ripping that sexy tee off of you and kissing you senseless. 

“Daryl?” you exclaimed abruptly. “Y’alright? I’m goin’ to fetch you some water. You look like you’re ‘bout to keel over.”

He dropped his tools and gazed at your backside as you jogged to John’s front door and disappeared through it.

John made his way over, and Daryl sat himself down on the pavement, confused as hell.  Here he was with a hard on and you thought he was dying.

“Dude,” John chuckled. “Ya ain’t hiding jack. Y’all’re makin’ eyes at each other like teenage virgins.”

“Fuck you,” Daryl mumbled, getting to his feet.

“I’m serious,” John went on, still laughing. “I’m two hours from whisking my girlfriend away for a week of vacation--where I’m going to propose to her, I might add.  Yet here I am, with you getting the hots for my sister and I find myself wishing you’d just do something about it. Fuck’s sake, dude. Ask her out to Cleo’s or the movies. Just do something.”

“Shut yer trap.” Daryl huffed, storming his way past John and to the truck. He threw himself into the driver’s seat and grabbed a handful of cassette tapes. Punching the eject button, he stopped right in the middle of  Maynard James Keenan shouting his way through “ThirdEye.” The sudden silence made him realize he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He gripped the random cassette tapes, pretending to study each one intently, avoiding the gaze of his best friend, who was staring at him through the windshield.

So what if Daryl thought you were hot? So what if you’d been in every single one of his wet dreams since the time he was seventeen and saw you in that yellow swimsuit that inspired his earliest dirty teenage fantasies? It didn’t matter that he ached for your touch every time he thought of you, or that he hung on your every word like it was the air he needed to breathe.

He loved the way you looked at him, always smiling, greeting him with such joy that he felt like he was melting from the inside out. But you smiled at everyone. You were kind to everyone. You cracked jokes and chatted endlessly. With everyone.

He’d be crazy to think any of those smiles were because of him, not when you would date guys with bona fide careers and mortgages on two-story houses. Not once did you ever show up at Cleo’s bar with someone remotely like Daryl. It was painfully obvious you’d never fall for a guy like him, not in a million years.

The front door of John’s apartment slammed shut, and there you were again, a full glass of water clutched in one hand and a towel in the other. You paid no attention to John as you breezed past him, your eyes staring straight ahead, pinning Daryl in place. The handful of cassette tapes fell from his grip as he drank in the sight of you. Before he realized what was happening you’d rounded the truck and stood right next to him.

“Drink.” You thrust the glass into his hand, leaning close as you did so. He took the water from you, touching your hand in the process. There was nothing sexy or romantic about it, but butterflies filled his belly anyway.

He gulped down the water as you stared up at him, concern furrowing your brow. As soon as he’d finished, you reached up, took the glass, and set it on the back end of the truck.

“Get yourself outta that sweat bucket, Daryl,” you ordered, stepping back to make room for him. “Don’t you know that’s the worst place you can be when the sun’s out like this?”

“‘M fine,” he murmured, finding his voice at last. “Quit fussin’.” Still, he did as he was told and got out of the truck.

“Hush up," you whispered, reaching to dab his face with the wet towel. “Bet all you had for breakfast was a chocolate bar and beer.”

Daryl knew all too well what dehydration and hunger felt like, and neither one of those was to blame for his condition. He certainly craved something, but it wasn’t food or water.

“Time to pay up,” he grumbled. “It was Sprite and a Payday.”

“I swear to god, Dare,” you said, reaching around him and draping the wet cloth around his neck.  “You're worse than John.”

Dumbstruck with your arms around him and your body millimeters from his own, Daryl could only stare down at you. His gaze wandered, following that metal chain around your neck as it dipped into your cleavage.

Hail Mary full of grace...

“Dare?”

He tore his eyes away from your chest and stared up at the cloudless sky. “Mmm?”

“I’m thinkin’ of goin’ to Cleo’s this evenin’. You wanna go with me? My treat?”

To show up at Cleo’s with you? Open the door for you and order your drinks and sit with you in the corner booth sharing a basket of fries? He’d been dreaming of doing that since eleventh grade. Well that was up until last February when Merle started a fight in the middle of the Super Bowl and got the two of them banned for the next year.

You smiled at him, waiting for his answer.

“Can’t,” he murmured. “Got some stuff to do this evenin’. Stuff and…things.”

Your smile faded. “Okay. No problem. Maybe next time.”

Backing up, you grabbed the empty class and turned away. “I’m just going to wash this real fast.” You left as quickly as your feet would carry you.

The moment you disappeared back inside, Daryl slammed the truck door closed. Fuck Merle. And fuck that stupid bar. He ripped the towel from around his neck and threw it at John’s motorcycle. The white cloth hit the metal and plopped onto the asphalt.

John tried to get his attention, but Daryl ignored him and went back to work on the bike, willing his hands to stop trembling. He wanted, with every part of himself, to chase after you, but he didn’t. 

Twelve hours later, he really wished he had.

Cleo’s bar was just like it’d been every other Saturday you’d spent there. The after work crowd trickled in around 5:30. A bit later, some seniors from the local high school made their appearance, preening around the place like peacocks just because they were eighteen and finally old enough to get in. They usually got bored within half an hour and went off to make their teenage mischief elsewhere.

You sat at the bar, nursing your beer and Daryl’s rejection while making small talk with Cleo’s daughter, Nellie. Sometimes Lafayette would pop his head out of the kitchen to have you taste test one of his latest creations. The two of them were nearly as old as your parents and were fixtures in your life. Cleo’s was about the only place around to socialize except church, and you’d parted ways with JC long ago.

By 8:00 most of the family crowd had wandered off, leaving people your age to fill up the place. Friends from high school would come by and chat with you. Most of them you were still on good terms with, friendly enough, but not friends. 

You’d been bullied only once growing up, by a nasty boy named Taylor. The day after you told John and Daryl, Taylor came to school with a black eye and his hand in a cast. Nothing like that had ever happened to you again.

You were mindlessly munching on some of Layfayette’s homemade potato chips when Blair Foster sat on the stool next to you. Former homecoming and prom king, Blair had never given you the time of day, not in high school and not after.  He’d gone off to Dartmouth and came back home with an MBA six years later. Now, he helped his daddy run a small chain of car dealerships.

“Well, if it isn’t John’s baby sister,” Blair said.

Struggling to get over your shock at the man’s mere presence next to you, you barely eked out “Hi, Blair,” before he’d motioned for Nellie to get you another drink and a beer for himself.

“They keepin’ you busy over and ‘The Law Offices of Schafer and Sons?””

You moved your little basket of chips over, offering them to Blair.  He took one and shot you a friendly smile.

“Sure are. How about you? Still trying to grow your family’s empire?”

He chuckled, leaning closer. “You know how it is. If Daddy’s face isn’t on a billboard at every stoplight in King’s County, he can’t sleep at night.”

You’d never been on the receiving end of  one of Blair Foster’s smiles, but you could certainly see the appeal. It made sense why all the popular girls fawned over him. You chatted with him about your jobs, parents, and old high school gossip.  Unlike everyone else who’d talked to you that evening, Blair didn’t seem eager to mingle with anyone else.

“You’ve been looking real cute lately,” he said during a lull in the conversation.  “New haircut or something?”

You shook your head, basking in his compliment even though you felt nothing more than friendship for him. It was nice to be called cute and pretty.

“Just learning to take care of myself a little better,” you replied.

“It’s working.” Blair pushed your empty glasses to the side, and leaned on the bar. He put his hand on the back of your bar stool, his gaze dipping down your torso before he found your eyes again. “E.T.’s playing at the drive-in tonight. Didn’t you really like that one when it came out?”

The fact that Blair Foster of all people remembered your obsession with E.T was surprising. You had the lunchbox, the trapper keeper, the fucking sneakers.  Again, you felt nothing for Blair. His appreciation of your outfit was nice, but didn’t make you feel at all like Daryl’s had.

However, you refused to let yourself think about Daryl too much. John even told you Daryl was having a rough time this weekend. You were doing your best not to wallow in self pity.  Still, your options now amounted to either going home to that quiet house with your parents or seeing one of your favorite movies on the big screen again. To you, the choice was clear.

You put some cash on the bar to pay your tab, and said to Blair, “I buy the tickets, you get the popcorn?”

“Deal.”

E.T., the cutest alien to ever hit the big screen, was hiding amidst Drew Barrymore’s collection of stuffed animals when Blaire Foster’s hand slid onto your knee.

It gave you such a surprise, that you nearly dropped your popcorn.  

Blaire was unfazed, and his hand crept farther up your thigh.

You took hold of his wrist and gently moved his hand away. “Let’s just watch the movie, Blaire. It’s really good.”

Blaire shifted closer, lifting the center console to reveal a bench seat underneath. “Don’t be shy with me now,” he said in a low voice. “You want this as much as I do.”

He put his arm around you and grabbed your thigh with his other hand.  

You couldn’t move or think, at first. For a second your mind left your body and floated somewhere overhead as Blaire squeezed your leg and tried to pull you closer.

Finally, after tortuous seconds, you came back to yourself and reacted. As hard as you could, you shoved him away from you and pressed yourself against the passenger side door. You fumbled, frantically searching for the door handle when he grabbed your wrist.

“Look here, you little bitch. You can’t tell me you don’t want this. You got your tits half out of your shirt--”

THWACK.

You punched him in the jaw. Your class ring left an imprint on his cheek, but you regretted it instantly. The impact on his jawbone cracked something in your hand, and a sharp pain throbbed in a couple of your fingers.

“You little fuckin’ bitch,” Blaire seethed, blood dripping down his face. He grabbed your head and slammed it into the dashboard. You nearly blacked out, seeing stars and feeling a sudden urge to vomit. Your hand finally found the door handle and you opened the door, throwing yourself out of the SUV. 

To your horror, you heard Blaire getting out, too.

Thinking quickly, you pulled your mini Swiss Army knife out and flicked out the blade. It, too, was a gift from Daryl, custom made in your favorite color with your name and the year you’d graduated college engraved on it. The knife sliced into the hard rubber of the tire, and you dragged it through a few inches for good measure before returning the knife to your purse.

Then you ran, avoiding lights and people, too afraid to even spare a second to look behind you.  The whole drive-in was bathed in darkness, the other patrons either focused on the movie or each other.  You made your way out, hoping that Blaire would care more about his slashed tire than chasing after you.  Still, you didn’t dare stay on the main road or even try to get home, the first place he’d go to find you. Instead, you went down the alleys and backroads, making your way to John’s. Your brother wasn’t home, but you had his spare key.

You ran as far as you could manage, the whole time with your broken hand held against your chest and your head throbbing from where it had hit the dashboard.  The light from someone’s porch made you realize blood was dripping from your face and all over your t-shirt. 

That’s when you started crying. How had this happened? Five minutes ago you were lost in the world of Speilberg and now you were hemorrhaging your way through town. Blaire Foster was a fucking monster. What if you hadn’t managed to get away? What if he’d trapped you in that vehicle?

Panic overtook you, and you ran again, blood and tears dripping down your chin and onto your clothes. You didn’t stop until you’d unlocked the door to John’s apartment and slammed it shut behind you.

Part 2, The Art of Love

A moment of thanks for the DDC, @doe-writes-stuff @littlegodzilla, Aggie (@bringinsexybackk69) while @livingdeadblondequeen and @green-eyedladywrites helped me with all the 90s accuracy. They also came up with the idea for reader's engraved knife!)

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