#funky words ... dark academia

[ani-is-my-username]

Well the word got around, they said

This kid is insane man

Took up a collection just to send him to the main land

Get your education, don’t forget from whence you came

And the world’s gonna know your name

What’s your name, man?

fun words :

bastard

scoundrel

charlatan

harlot

rapscallion

hooligan

ruffian

swindler

[osamucide]

DAZAI HCS! ⊹

LAST UPDATE: OCT 10

cw: talk of mental illness and substance use/abuse, speculation about Dazai’s f’ed up past+trauma, Dazai-typical references to suicide, references to self harm, probably a lot of projection on the author’s part

reid: i feel like yapping about Dazai tonight so here’s a non-exhaustive list of general headcanons i have about him. no word count because i’ll probably update this periodically lol

he does not listen to music from this century. he just doesn’t. not that he goes out of his way not to, he’s just drawn to a certain sound that only older music seems to have—I think The Smiths, Blondie, Tears For Fears, The Smashing Pumpkins, King Crimson, and Led Zeppelin are among his favorite artists

I think he also really enjoys classic jazz/blues/bebop music—Charles Mingus, Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, etc.

he’s anemic. I’m of the firm belief that Kunikida buys him a 100 ct bottle of iron tablets every 100 days which Dazai always graciously accepts. however, he only actually takes them when he gives enough of a shit to (which is not often) so the bottles are just accumulating on his bathroom sink/in the cupboard beneath

nail biter, cuticle picker, hair twirler, thigh bouncer, etc. I don’t think he really sits still unless it’s absolutely necessary

children love him, much to his dismay. they think he’s entertaining. he thinks they’re like puppies (and he canonically hates dogs). he won’t treat them badly, but he’s just not super interested in interacting with them. unwilling older brother vibe when faced with them. shithead kids can stoke his rage much faster than Chuuya ever could

he cannot take care of a fucking plant. has one succulent in his apartment. it’s surviving out of pure unadulterated spite. he hasn’t watered it in over a year

wearer of funky socks. his favorites are either the ones that say "I love my job ha ha just kidding" or the custom ones Yosano got him as a gag gift one year for white elephant at the office christmas party (they have Kunikida’s rage face on them)

really sad that, despite his criminal record being scrubbed clean, he is still banned from driving in the nation of Japan for the rest of his life because he wants a Ford Explorer so bad

PROFOUNDLY SOUND KNOWLEDGE OF MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY

he’s fluent in Japanese and English, proficient in French and Italian, and learning Russian

I think he also enjoys learning math/researching random shit/reading anything he can in his free time when he feels up to it. he never received a formal education and his IQ is through the roof—his yearning for academia is almost like an itch he has to scratch every once in a while. also, he just likes knowing things

he never learned how to ride a bike. wahhhh wahh

BPD king. look at him. my beautiful princess with a disorder. I doubt he’s diagnosed but he strongly suspects it seeing as he’s so self-aware; if not borderline, he just assumes he has severe PTSD. either way, he really won’t do anything other than what he already knows about how to manage it

along the same lines—he’s been a functional alcoholic since an alarmingly young age (I’m talking 16-17). I think it probably got a lot worse post-defection when he was underground, but he hardly had to function then anyway; he gets somewhat better after joining the Agency but still has a dependence, it’s just not severe enough to debilitate him

has a bin of art supplies in his apartment. he only ever pulls them out once every few months, but he rather enjoys painting and wouldn’t mind getting better at it

master at darts. don’t take him to a bar where there’s a dartboard. he will stand in front of it all night and obliterate everyone who challenges him

insatiable sweet tooth. he especially loves anything maple, butter pecan, or butterscotch he’s a grandpa

UPDATE.1

I love to headcanon that he has a glass eye!!! and that the bandages around his head in the dark era were some legitimate injury. he likes to pop it out as a party trick/to weird Kunikida out

he feeds the stray cats and kittens that linger around the ADA dorms. he probably spends some of his grocery money on the fancy wet canned food and leaves it out with a big plastic bowl of water. sometimes sits and watches them eat and likes to give them little scratches if they trust him enough to come rub up on his legs. they’re sort of to him as the orphans were to Odasaku, and it makes him feel closer to his deceased friend

on the note of grocery shopping—he only goes when Atsushi or Kunikida drag him along. keeps his list relatively the same from trip to trip: canned crab, cigarettes, bandages, a few cases of beer, sake, instant ramen, ice cream (particularly butter pecan), paper towels, and 3-in-1 shampoo when he needs it. Kunikida forces vegetables upon him (“put it in the ramen so you don’t die of heart disease”) but they almost always end up rotting to mush in his fridge. he steals his toilet paper from the ADA bathrooms/supply closets or bothers Atsushi and Kyoka for spare rolls when he’s out

religiously orders drinks from the cafe on his way in and out of work. on mornings he usually gets a latte with plenty of sugar and some sort of flavor; in the evenings he probably gets an iced flavored tea to mix or chase his sake with when he gets home

always has a pocket knife on him. probably one he got in his mafia days, or, it’s at least a habit/security he picked up from then

takes a lot of night walks. he doesn’t sleep well, so I think he probably wanders out tipsy with his pack of cigarettes in the wee hours of the morning and scuttles around to tire himself out

UPDATE.2

two words: medical trauma. I know some people get iffy when it comes to speculation about what Mori did/didn’t/may/may not have subjected him too as a young teenager (and believe me I have a lot of thoughts) but I definitely headcanon that Dazai was used as a little bit of a lab rat/sedated and coerced to some degree when it came to turning him into a killing machine. as a result, he’s got a fear of medical settings. after his surgery during the cannibalism arc? I know he got that phone back and was like “Tanizaki get me out of here right neow”

I think sweet little old ladies probably love him and he loves them too. always feels like he strikes up the best small talk with them. will help load groceries into their cars for them. he gets all smiley and stuff when they call him “sweetheart” “honey” “dear” or remark how handsome he is and about his hypothetical girlfriend must be so lucky

he can throw knives with pinpoint accuracy from a pretty impressive distance. he’s a little less accurate with his handgun at long range/with moving targets but HE’S GETTING BETTER

has like a 3.5 ft vertical jump at his best. like why are you a detective when the Lakers need a center

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Chapter Two: Bright in the Sea

(moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter Summary: Lydia continues to settle in at Barrow College, developing a closer friendship with Ben as well as other colleagues. Not everything is smooth sailing, however, and things come to a head at a staff team-building away day at a New England beach.

Word Count: 6.5k (??)

Rating: Mature; will become Explicit in later chapters.

Content (chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; strong language; thinly-veiled racism and discrimination; accent discrimination; "anti-woke" culture war nonsense from academics; not all historians, etc; alcohol consumption; discussion of anxiety and panic disorders as well as coping methods.

A/N: This chapter is part world-building, part "dealing with academic assholes", part meet more characters - all woven through the growing friendship between Lydia and Ben. I guess this is mostly fluff but kinda angsty at times? I did warn you it was a slow burn...

Much of this chapter is set around academic administrative and 'team-building' activities. Trust me when I say that these are the norm if you work in a contemporary university or college (and that I'm jealous of the Barrow people having a cute beach house for these events).

Also trust me when I say that the views and attitudes of K. Wright Lacroix are scarily common in academia on both sides of the Atlantic, and kicking against this is vital.

The title of this chapter is taken from the lyrics to Laura Veirs' song 'Cast a Hook in Me'.

I also listened to Lisa Hannigan's Sea Sew album while writing the last scene, and 'Sea Song' from that record feels very fitting for these two.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Further, short A/N right at the end to avoid any spoilers.

Taglist: @cutesyscreenname; @lunapascal; @fuckyeahdindjarin; @julesonrecord; @tieronecrush; @perennialdoll247; @vermillionwinter ; @iamskyereads ; @love-the-abyss; @tessa-quayle; @javierisms; @imaswellkid

The universal language of twenty-first century academia is, it seems, all-faculty meetings in airless lecture theatres, fuelled by terrible coffee and slightly stale cookies. 

For you, though, attending your first proper meeting of the year at Barrow was a novelty, and the mid-September residual sunshine and warm temperatures (by your standards) meant that your new colleagues were in an upbeat mood. 

Well, more or less.

“Are you ready for your first mandatory death by a thousand statistics? Fuuuuuck me, I hate this shit.”

Ani Sen stands at your office door, hip cocked, dark curls piled on top of their head to show off their freshly trimmed, back to school undercut, and impossibly funky, bright green glasses dangling from one hand. 

“It can’t be as bad as an all-staff briefing I once had,” you suggest, scooping up your notebook, pen, and iPad and popping them into a tote bag. “Twenty minutes with the head of department and every slide had an animated graph, pie chart, or word art on it. I felt nauseous.”

Ani grimaces. “Okay, that does sound fucking awful. But where we lack in pointless animations, we make up for in tedium. And dick-swinging.”

The first time you met Ani, a fellow art historian and specialist in contemporary art, you’d been in awe of how cool they were. Mid-40s, smart, stylish, and highly accomplished, Ani’s coolness was positively glacial. They were also sweet, kind, and incredibly funny, their brand of sardonic (and sweary) humour chiming perfectly with your own. 

Ani’s best friend in the faculty was Evan Rhys, a colleague of Ben’s in the literature department. Where Ani was dry and sardonic, Evan was bright and effervescent. He was about 40, tall and rangy, piercings dangling from one ear, and a perpetual spark of colour in the faculty corridors. When you first met him, Evan was sporting a shock of bright orange hair and a lurid green slash-necked jersey shirt, paired with white jeans and a pair of Converse exactly the same colour as his hair. 

He was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a huge student favourite. Rather more surprisingly, for a college professor entering middle age, he also had an Instagram following in the tens of thousands. (Ani was completely at a loss as to why he was so popular. “It’s just photos of him in those fucking outfits!”, they whined. “Maybe it’s because he matches them to his hair.”)

Between them, Ani and Evan had wasted no time in ensuring that you were invited for lunches, coffees, and introductions to the colleagues they thought you’d like to meet. Or, as Ani put it, “I’m gonna make sure you meet the non-fuckwits first.” 

There was no shortage of fuckwits, apparently. Ani had drawn up a masterlist - “in case I’ve forgotten someone is, or has been known to be, a dick.” You had scanned it casually, feeling an unexpected surge of relief when you note that Ben Morales’ name is absent. 

You knew deep down that he wasn’t a fuckwit, though lord knows what he thought of you. But you had had one day to get the measure of the man - Ani had been working here, alongside him, for several years. 

“I met Ben Morales on my first day,” you mentioned, trying to sound casual. “He was tasked with doing the welcome for me. Seemed really nice, actually.”

Ani closed their eyes and makes a sort of “awwwwwh!” noise, as if they’d just seen a red panda or a sea otter or some other furry creature of equivalent cuteness. 

“Oh, definitely not a fuckwit. Me and Evan have coffee with him or sometimes go out with a bigger group to Murphy’s - that’s the one bar that even students usually steer clear of. Ben’s the anti-fuckwit, actually, in every sense. Just an all-round good guy.” They raised an eyebrow. “Total fucking dork, though.”

Total dork or not, Ben had continued to take his welcome duties seriously. A couple of days after your welcome meeting, he’d met you in the staff lounge yawning at the filter coffee machine while it brewed up a fresh pot. 

“Are we running you ragged already?”

You turned, smiling when you realised who it was. “I swear to god, I get the worst slumps around 4pm. Trying to get ahead of this one.”

He nodded sympathetically and brandished his blue mug. “Why do you think I’m here?” 

The next day, around the same time, you were about to get up from your desk in search of coffee when you noticed a familiar silhouette in the glass panel of your office door: Ben, bearing two cups of coffee (one black, one with creamer). 

“I hope you don’t mind? I was getting some for myself and remembered what you said about your 4pm slump, so…”

You beckoned him into the office and to a spare seat, gladly accepting the cup and placing it on your desk. “I’m so grateful. Coffee to your door? Come on, that’s the dream.” You rummaged in your tote bag, producing a small box of cookies and shaking them in his direction. “Unfortunately these are all I can offer by way of a thank you.”

It had only been a couple of weeks since you started at Barrow, but in that time the coffee call had developed into a bit of a habit on days where you were both around in the afternoons. He’d claimed that the companionable chatting that accompanied the coffee was just to see how you were getting on and make sure you had everything you needed, but you suspected that he really just liked having someone to talk about books or movies and swap silly stories with.

And you like it, too, especially when you manage to make him laugh so hard he has to take his glasses off to wipe his eyes. You’d bonded with some of your closest work friends (of all genders) at home in a similar way. It felt easy and natural with Ben from the start, and - with Ani and Evan - you were glad to have found such welcoming people so soon.

There was no sign of him at the all-staff event, though. You slip into a row of fold-down seats alongside Ani and Evan, who’s nursing the biggest iced coffee you’ve ever seen. 

“Have you prepared her?” he asks Ani, who’s retrieving a pen and notebook from their bag. 

“I have. From what she’s said, this is a universal experience. She’ll be fine. Right Lydia?” 

He swigs some coffee, ice cubes clattering inside the enormous plastic goblet. “Not every college has a Professor Lacroix, though”, he muses, ominously. 

You are about to ask who Professor Lacroix is when you feel a brush of fabric on your right arm and detect a familiar scent: clean soap, paper, bergamot, slightly spicy cologne, and with the addition, now, of coffee.

“Okay if I sit here?” Ben is gesturing to the empty seat beside you, at the end of the row. He’s a little more formally dressed than usual: black jeans, checked shirt, and a dark red tie. Somehow he’s managing to carry a cup of coffee, his glasses, and a folder all at once, and an old conference tote bag is slung over his shoulder. 

“Of course!” you nod, moving your things over to clear space. He sits down and puts on his glasses before turning to you with a smile.

“Benjamin,” Evan says, nodding and raising his enormous iced coffee in Ben’s direction. Ben reciprocates the gesture, nodding with exaggerated ceremony. Evan’s gaze shifts to focus on Ben’s tie.

“Um. Benjamin. Are those…giraffes?”

You turn to look a little closer. Sure enough, Ben’s tie features a pattern of tiny giraffes, woven into the silk fabric. He looks down and lifts up the tie.

“My brother’s kids got it for me at the San Diego Zoo,” he explains. “I promised them I’d wear it for the first talk I had to give this year.” 

Evan remains sceptical, sipping on his coffee as if the tie has personally offended him. You are about to tell Ben about your eldest niece’s love of giraffes when Professor Jennifer (Jen to most, Jenny to very few) Arden walks up to the end of your row. 

Jen is head of the literature department at Barrow and a formidable figure in the world of gender studies, with a publication record as long as her arm. She is petite and fine-boned, her dark bob neatly slicked down, and she always looks perfect: beautifully tailored palazzo pants, gorgeous silk blouses, and a collection of statement necklaces that you covet greatly. She’s incredibly smart, deeply charismatic and very no nonsense, but has been extremely kind and welcoming thus far, embodying the perfect blend of “do no harm, take no shit” that a role like hers requires. 

She’s also close to Ben, having joined the department around the same time. One day over lunch, Ani had mentioned to you that there’d even been a student rumour about them being secretly married. “Someone in one of my classes once claimed - no, swore blind - to have met them grocery shopping in town with their kids. Their KIDS!!” Ani laughed so hard the tears ran down their face. “Her wife is a goddamn paediatric surgeon for crying out loud, and a gorgeous one at that! I mean, no offence to Ben but if they saw Rachel they’d realise how wrong they were, because she’s incredible.” 

Jen checks in ahead of the staff briefing, making sure you’re okay with being introduced to the entire faculty (do you really have a choice?) and confirming that Ben’s ready for his presentation. 

“It’s going to be great, promise. It’s vital work.” She pats Ben’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.

Ben looks up at her, his expression uncertain. “And if there’s a backlash…?”

Jen raises an eyebrow. “Then we deal with it. Don’t let the bastards grind us down.”

When she's returned to the central podium you ask Ben about the presentation, wondering why he’s preparing for a negative reaction. This sort of trepidation was normally only seen when someone was about to announce a faculty restructure or cuts. 

“It’s the next stage in the diversity and inclusivity initiative we’ve been working on,” he explains, opening his folder to retrieve some of the documents. “It’s a team effort - I’m just the person who reports back on the committee’s plans. Unfortunately, some colleagues aren’t quite so keen and -“

He’s interrupted by the loud voice of Professor Andrew Whitney, faculty dean, calling for attention as the meeting gets under way. “I’ll explain later,” Ben whispers, dark eyes serious behind his glasses, “but…well. You’ll see.”

Professor Whitney introduces you about halfway through the meeting. “…who will be with us for the entire academic year, working in Art History. Lydia?” He scans the lecture theatre. “Perhaps you could introduce yourself more fully, tell us about your expertise and plans for the year?”

Panic rises in your chest. Public speaking is literally part of your job, but something about the rows of expectant faces makes you want to sprint up the steps of the hall and run.

A gentle nudge from your right. “I think that’s your cue. You got this, don’t worry.” 

You nod appreciatively at Ben as you get to your feet, introducing yourself and explaining your research interests. “So, uh, yeah. I’m really excited to be here, and thank you all for being so welcoming so far.”

You sit back down as quickly as possible, heat rising in your face. Jen stands up at the podium and leans into the main microphone. “A reminder too that, as is traditional, Lydia has two elective modules open to students on any major/minor combo in the faculty, so please do encourage your students to sign up! Lydia, would you like to tell us what these are?”

You stand up again. “Um, semester one is a course on unpacking the gaze in visual culture, focusing on the female gaze and queering the gaze; semester two is focused on readings in radical theory and applying this to visual culture studies. All welcome! No prior knowledge required!”

Jen grins at you from the podium and lightly applauds. You suddenly become conscious of a theatrically loud tut-tutting coming from the other side of the lecture theatre, where a pale man with sandy-coloured hair and dressed in a navy blazer, chinos, striped shirt and bow tie is staring directly and disapprovingly at you. 

Evan leans over. “That’s Professor Lacroix. I think you’re his worst nightmare. Apart from Ani. And me. And probably Ben, after this.” He gestures towards the podium.

Ben is standing at the rostrum, loading up his PowerPoint presentation. He seems a little nervous, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and occasionally fiddling with his tie. 

When he glances around the hall and meets your eye, you can’t help but give him a little thumbs up, mouthing “you got this!” in a reciprocal act of reassurance. He half-smiles, and starts the presentation. 

He’s a natural: convincing and engaging, every detail meticulously prepared and evidenced. The project, it transpires, focuses on making Barrow - historically associated with providing a liberal arts education for the “elite” (translation: rich white people) - more inclusive and diverse through a range of admission schemes, scholarships and grants, and ongoing support. 

You can see why Ben is the committee’s spokesperson. His passion for the project is plain to see as he outlines the supports being introduced - monitoring progress for students who’ve entered through the new schemes, offering extra, free support services and guidance to help them throughout their degrees, and so on. 

“A liberal arts education is for everyone,” he says, “A college like Barrow is for everyone. We’ve started to make this a reality, and this year - with your help - we’ll ensure every student gets the support they need.” 

Applause ripples through the theatre - except from the po-faced Professor Lacroix, who exhales, rolls his eyes, and does the most half-hearted attempt at clapping imaginable. 

Ani leans in to you as Ben walks back up to his seat. “Lacroix is Fuckwit Numero Uno. King Fuckwit. The Fuckwit Tzar.”

Sure enough, when you look back over in his direction you notice that Lacroix has his hand up. Andrew Whitney calls on him to ask his question, and you swear you can hear everyone around you doing a sharp intake of breath. 

“Professor Whitney,” Lacroix drawls in a bizarre mid-Atlantic accent, “I suspect you know what I am about to ask. But I must once again express my concerns about the direction of travel in this faculty.” To your horror, you notice a handful of his colleagues in history nodding appreciatively. 

“Fuuuuuuck offffffffff”, Ani mutters under their breath. You steal a glance at Ben, whose usually open and friendly face has fallen into a scowl, jaw ticking as if he’s biting his tongue for fear of what he might say. 

Lacroix turns in your direction, and gestures to himself. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m K. Wright Lacroix, Professor of American History.”

“The K stands for Kevin,” Ben whispers in your ear. “Or Kunt”, Evan adds, draining his iced coffee and forcing Ani to suppress a giggle. 

Lacroix isn’t that old. Hell, he might be younger than you, but he’s got that countenance of someone who came out of the womb clutching a copy of the National Review. He continues speaking, now addressing the entire hall. 

“Over the last couple of years this college has drifted in a dangerous direction,” he pronounces, as if addressing a rally. “We have had the incursion of critical race theory, gender ideology, and now we have our visiting professor offering radical theory to our students. Meanwhile, traditional subjects and approaches - the bedrock of the liberal arts education! - are forgotten.”

You want the ground to open up and swallow you. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this shit thrown at you. It won’t be the last. But the tacit acquiescence to this guy’s bullshit is mortifying. 

Ben is clutching a pen in his right hand, long fingers gripping it like he’s afraid to let go. 

“And of course, we have just heard the latest from Professor Morales and his comrades - pardon me, committee - in their efforts to kill off the grand Barrow tradition of high standards and academic excellence. And I ask once again - where will it end? Who will we ‘cancel’ this year?”

There’s something about the way he pronounces Ben’s surname - technically correct, if one was speaking Spanish, but with an extremely exaggerated accent intended to reiterate its “foreignness” - that makes you feel sick. Coupled with his use of “comrades”, the implication is clear. You’re appalled and surprised. This sort of thing would result in immediate action if it happened in your institution. Wouldn’t it?

The seats in the lecture theatre are close together, and as a result you can actually feel Ben’s entire body tense up. Ani is throwing their hands up in exasperation. 

“Can we move on? This isn’t adding anything to the meeting, for crying out loud!”

Professor Whitney waves his hand in a call for calm. Jen Arden is rolling her eyes and shooting daggers at K. Wright Lacroix. 

“Thank you, Professor Lacroix. As ever, your comments will be noted.” Professor Whitney looks at his watch. “I think that’s us done. A reminder: the annual away day is on Saturday, at the Barrow beach house! A wonderful opportunity for some team building and lobster rolls, as always!”

In your experience, an “away day” literally meant going to another room on campus to eat terrible buffet food while doing team exercises and focus groups. There was no “away” involved. It comes as a surprise, then, when the reaction to Professor Whitney’s announcement from the room is decidedly muted. 

“Why does no one seem to like a beach away day?” you ask Ani as you pack up your things. 

“Because they expect us to attend at weekends, because the actual beach time involves stupid shit like scavenger hunts or building a raft, because Andrew fucking Whitney thinks that’s how you build collegiality and interdisciplinary working,” they hiss. “Plus, it’s cheap - the college owns the property so they don’t have to pay venue hire.”

You turn to ask Ben if it’s really as bad as all that, but he’s already gone.

You swing by the college canteen, in search of some sustenance to bring back to the desk. Evan is still fuming from the briefing. 

“Fucking historians I swear to fuck!” he hisses, assessing the selection of sandwiches on offer. 

“I mean, they’re not all like that guy,” you offer, trying to defuse the tension. You’re still smarting, too - not so much from the stuff Lacroix had directed at you, as the casual racism and classism in his comments about the diversity initiatives. About Ben. 

Evan exhales and reaches for a hummus and roasted vegetable wrap. “I know. Some of my best friends are historians, as they say. It’s just Lacroix. He gives them a bad name. And he’s always had it in for anyone who isn’t a cishet WASPy fucker.”

“Why doesn’t anyone do anything? I mean, he’s clearly guilty of implicit discrimination, at a minimum.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “First, he’s a bit of a nepo baby. Family of academics. Well connected, especially to the head of the college. Well off. So the college leadership doesn't really bother pursuing it when the issues are raised.” 

He fills a paper cup of filter coffee for himself. “Secondly, the Barrow way is that colleagues - as in, permanent employees of the college - aren’t allowed to directly confront colleagues unless it’s specific to a class. There’s a process involving filling out forms. Supposed to stop confrontation and tensions, apparently.”

“What the fuck??”

“I know. It’s toxic.”

You fill a coffee cup for yourself, add creamer, then pour another. Black, this time. You pick up two donuts: one glazed, one powdered sugar. You walk with Evan as far as his office and then continue along the corridor. 

You can see him through the glass panel in his office door, sitting at his desk. He appears to be reading something on his computer screen while absentmindedly playing with a little bobblehead figurine on his desk, lightly tapping its head so it wobbles back and forth. 

You knock gently, holding up the coffee expectantly when Ben looks up. He nods, beckoning you in. 

“This is very kind. Thank you.” He looks deflated. He takes off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose, and exhales. 

“I’ll leave you be. I just thought you might appreciate the coffee -”

Ben shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit down. “No, no. Just a bit of a headache. I probably need caffeine. Stay. Please stay?” 

You sit down in the chair facing his desk, opening the bag of donuts. “Glazed or powdered sugar?” 

His eyes widen and his mouth forms a little “o” shape. “Ooh. I think I’ll go with powdered sugar.” He smiles as you hand him the donut on a serviette. 

Ben’s office is, well, very him, inasmuch as you know what “him” is after a couple of weeks : a substantial desk with an anglepoise lamp stands in front of the tall windows, covered in piles of papers and books; a mid-century armchair sits in one corner with a low table beside it and a floor lamp behind, also stacked with books; and there’s a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all heaving with texts of various shapes and sizes (and in several languages, you’d noticed). Family photos and framed prints are dotted here and there, and you’ve been meaning to ask him about some of the trinkets that you can see on some of the shelves.

“I was really impressed by what you said today about the diversity and inclusion initiative, you know,” you say, sipping your coffee. “It’s such important work, and the plans are great. Like Jen said, it’s vital.”

He shrugs and chews thoughtfully on his donut, powdered sugar lightly dusting his moustache. “You saw what I meant about some colleagues not being keen.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I know I've only been here a few weeks, and it may not be my place to say it, but… that guy’s just one asshole. One asshole on the wrong side of history, ironically for a historian. And he shouldn’t be allowed to treat colleagues like that. Especially not the way he…well, how he referred to you.”

Ben sighs, resigned. “It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. It’s not that simple here, unfortunately. There’s a rule -”

“Evan mentioned it to me. And - again, might be speaking out of turn - in this case it’s fucking stupid. Anyway, more importantly - the scheme sounds fantastic, and I’d be glad to talk over some of the equivalent stuff we do at my place sometime. Maybe share some best practice and swap ideas?” 

Ben tilts his head and smiles. “I’d like that.”

You scrunch up the paper bag. “Before I go, I’ve got two questions.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“One. Is the beach away day really that bad, and what’s the dress code? Because I’m not sure I want to do bathing suit chic in front of the entire faculty.”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s not that bad. Just be prepared to help academics who’ve never as much as changed a lightbulb complete a scavenger hunt or assemble a raft from a selection of junk. And shorts are about as far as anyone goes. Thankfully.” 

You feign wiping sweat from your brow. “Phew. Okay, question two. Can I see who that bobble head is?”

He turns the figurine around. “It’s our old pal Indy. I know you’ve probably never seen a professor with a bobble head in their office before. Please don’t judge me.”

“Judge you?!” Your grin is wide and genuine. “Just wait until you see my historical figures Playmobil collection. I love this! He’s got a PhD and everything. Didn’t you say he’d given you a misleading expectation of what it would be like to be an academic, though?”

He smiles at the figure, sending Indy’s head bobbing in its Panama hat. “I did. Not so much the fighting Nazis thing. More so that he never had to do any admin. And that he could climb out of his office to escape students.”

“That said… some might argue that you’re fighting oppressive and would-be dictatorial individuals, just at work rather than in the field? Wait - I didn’t say that. You never heard anything.” You mime locking your mouth and throwing away the key. 

Ben gasps before collapsing in a fit of laughter. “Holy shit, Lydia, you’re the only one who could get away with that.” He rests his hands on the desk and tries to recover his composure. “Fuck. I really needed a laugh.”

You nod your head as you open the door to leave. “At your service.”

“Has everyone found their teams and their colour-coded sticker?”

Andrew Whitney is trying to corral an entire faculty’s worth of humanities academics into five teams for his grand team-building exercise - as Ani predicted, this year it involves building a raft. To promote interdisciplinary communication (per Professor Whitney’s introductory talk, delivered that morning), the teams are mixed, with people from various departments working together. To your relief, K. Wright Lacroix is on a different team, one primarily made up of other historians. Ben is on a team with Evan, and you and Ani are working together with a mixed group of musicologists and literature colleagues. 

Though most of your colleagues remain cynical - Evan, for example, is wearing huge sunglasses, an enormous black hoodie emblazoned with the word NOPE, and a brightly-patterned pair of board shorts - you’re enjoying the relatively warm mid-September weather, stiff ocean breeze notwithstanding, and appreciating the novelty of seeing the New England coastline. Not having banked on a professional visit to the beach so soon, you’ve rustled up your most beach-appropriate and practical attire from your limited wardrobe: a pair of dark green cropped linen culottes and a long-sleeved Breton striped top, with a trusty pair of vintage-style leather sandals. 

Ani stamps their Teva-clad feet on the sand and pulls up the hood on their tie-dye oversized sweatshirt, wrapping their arms around themselves to warm up. “You know the drill, right? We just have to make something that’s going to stay afloat for like, a minute.” 

You nod. “And we can use the pile of beach trash in the middle as our source for components, and the aim is to work together to decide on a design and execute it. Is there a prize?”

Ani looks at you with a pitying glare. “Two guesses, girl. I’m motivated by spite. I just wanna beat the shit out of fucking Master and Commander over there.” They flick their head towards Lacroix and the historians, who seem to be assessing wind speed and direction by holding up fingers and tossing paper handkerchiefs into the air.

The building process is less an example of teamwork and more a sociological case study in group project dynamics, where one or two people take the lead and do most of the work while the rest kick back. Ani’s desperation to triumph over Kevin Lacroix and his crew has them going hell for leather in designing a simple but lightweight structure, dispatching you to gather plastic bottles and twine for the other team members to bind together. 

You wander over to see how Evan and Ben are getting on. Evan is literally motionless, sitting in a lotus position on the sand with his hood up and shades on. Ben, clad in a pair of dark red shorts, a navy zip-up hoodie, and a grey, well-worn Wilco Yankee Hotel Foxtrot T-shirt, is constructing a mast and sail of some sort from a long twig and an empty plastic bag. The ocean breeze has left his hair a tousled mess and he appears to be squinting against the glare despite wearing his sunglasses, but he looks like he’s in his element. 

He notices you and waves, and you move a little closer. Your culottes flap against your legs in the wind, and you have to rest a hand on your brow to shield the sun enough to see him properly.

“I think you’re enjoying this, Professor Morales.”

Ben stands up, leaning forward to brush the sand from his knees and thighs. The gesture draws your attention, unconsciously, to the strong, lean muscles of his legs. 

Your brain immediately remembers, unbidden, that he cycles to work. 

He shrugs but his smile says it all. “Transferable skills!” he admits. “Building Lego taught me everything I know.”

A roar from Ani jolts you. “Lydia get your ass over here we have like ten minutes I swear to fuck!”

“They want to beat Lacroix,” you explain. Ben lowers his sunglasses and looks at you conspiratorially. 

“Who doesn’t?”

And then he winks at you.

Ani is a pretty good raft-builder when they’re out for blood. Your team's haphazard construction bobs around in the surf while its captain whoops and cheers it on from the shore. The musicologists have long absconded to the beach house, hoping to steal an early march on the lobster rolls, so it’s just you, Ani, and a couple of the literature people left to witness the triumph of the SS Fork This Shirt.

“I thought you hated this stuff?” you ask Ani while they jump up and down in the sand. 

“I love it when I’m winning and Fuckwit Tzar over there is not.” They gesture to where Lacroix is hastily trying to fix the mast on the overly elaborate ship his team had constructed out of an old plastic barrel. “Hey, historians!" Ani roars. "Oceans are battlefieeeeeeelds!” 

Lacroix’s raft is the only one not to successfully set sail, which makes Ani even happier. Evan embraces them in a hug as you all stroll up to the beach house for the long-awaited lobster rolls.

The beach house, which was left to the college by a former professor, is an early twentieth-century building with shiplap cladding painted a pale blue with white accents, accessed from the beach via a white wooden staircase. Two white Adirondack chairs sit in a small garden facing the ocean, perfectly placed to admire the view.

You fall into step with Jen Arden and Ben as you join the rest of your colleagues inside. You’re all ready to dive in for a lobster roll when Andrew Whitney puts himself between you and the food. Never a wise move, but this is technically the boss, after all. 

“So tell me, Lydia, are you settling in okay? What made you want to come to us for the year?” 

You have your responses down pat. Professor Whitney seems impressed enough, moving on to ask about your plans for your elective classes. 

You’re in the middle of explaining the concept of “queering the gaze” when a familiar but unwelcome face appears alongside the faculty dean. K. Wright Lacroix sips his white wine as he tries to insert himself into the conversation, and you feel deeply uncomfortable. 

The next time there’s a natural lull, he pounces.

“I’m not here to critique your ideology this time, my dear. I am here to offer some friendly, constructive advice. Your accent, it's…difficult to follow. Impenetrable, at times. You speak very quickly, you know, and not all of us are used to having colleagues or tutors with an accent.” 

You silently try to draw on some of the grounding techniques you’d learned for anxiety, willing yourself to stay calm. 

“Technically, everyone’s got an accent,” you say quietly. 

He understood that, alright. “Be that as it may - think about your new surroundings.” He speaks to you as if you are from another planet. “Speak more slooooowly. Enunciate. Yes?”

Your eyes are starting to prickle with tears but fury is rising in your chest. Fuckwit Numero Uno, indeed. 

“There’s nothing wrong with how Lydia speaks, Kevin.” Ben, behind you, has overheard the last part of the conversation. “No one else has trouble understanding. Do you, Andrew?”

Professor Whitney is flustered, eyes darting between the three of you. “I…do not.”

Kevin Lacroix looks like he’s sucking a lemon. “Another bit of friendly advice, Lydia.” He flicks a glance at Ben before returning to stare at you. “Choose your friends here carefully. Though, admittedly, it looks like Morales here has already won you over.”

That fucking exaggerated pronunciation, again. 

The red mist descends. 

“Oh, okay. Enough. There you go again. I know your colleagues can’t say this - but I can. I’m not a permanent colleague, am I?” You’re trying not to raise your voice, but it’s taking every ounce of self-control you have not to let this creep have it. 

Lacroix looks startled, clearly unused to someone letting rip. 

“I don’t know exactly what your problem is, but I can take a pretty good guess. And if this is the stuff you throw out in public about someone like Ben - I mean, about Professor Morales - then I can only imagine what you say in private about your colleagues. And it’s disgraceful. No wonder you can’t abide the work being done to make this a more diverse and inclusive institution.”

You do not notice that the hum of conversation in the rest of the room has died down, as your colleagues turn their ears and eyes towards you.

“I genuinely don’t care if you think I speak quickly or not, but I do care that I’m about to spend a year in a working environment where someone can undermine their colleagues on the basis of their ethnicity or identity or gender or their first language or even just what they teach. That is not the image this college should want going out into the world.” You glance over at Andrew Whitney, who shifts uncomfortably.

“I don’t need your advice on how I speak, Professor Lacroix, and I certainly don’t need your advice on choosing friends. I think I’ve done pretty well so far on that front, you know?” 

It’s only when you turn to meet Ben’s gaze that you realise everyone has been watching and listening to you tearing strips off K. Wright Lacroix. There’s a note of concern in Ben’s eyes, and when you look for Ani you see them mouth the words “Fuck, Lyd”.

You fucked up. This isn’t how they do things. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Fuck.

“Um, Professor Whitney? I will follow the official complaints procedure, just to keep everything above board, and…yeah. Excuse me.”

You walk as quickly as you can out of the house, settling on one of the wooden chairs out front as you try to quell the panic starting to grip your whole body.

Deep breaths, and the sound of the sea. Eyes closed, you concentrate on your breathing and on the waves lapping at the shore.

“Hey.”

Ben is standing beside you, a plate with a lobster roll in one hand and a glass of what looks like lemonade in the other. “I don’t think you managed to get a lobster roll in there, did you?”

You shake your head, and he hands you the food and drink, tilting his head as if he’s trying to read your mood. 

“I wouldn’t mind some company, if you’d like?” You gesture to the other chair, placed just to the right of yours. He does that little half-smile of his and sits down, looking out to sea as you tuck into your food.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck me!” 

Ben turns, startled. You swallow the bite of your lobster roll.

“M’sorry. It’s just so good. I didn’t realise how hungry I was. Or hangry, maybe.”

“You didn’t have to say that, you know? Inside.” He looks back out towards the Atlantic, brow slightly furrowed.

“I’m really sorry, Ben. I just…me and my big mouth. I am so sorry if I’ve caused trouble for you, and - fuck. Not even been here a month and I’m a troublemaker. Typical.” 

“You’re not a troublemaker, Lydia. I meant that you didn’t have to feel it was on you to take Lacroix to task like that.” He turns slightly towards you and a smile creeps over his face. “But I’m kind of glad you did. Dropping that ‘international reputation’ thing with Andrew Whitney there? Fuck, Lyd. It was…pretty badass.”

“I just hate that fucking gatekeeping shit from people like…him. It’s hard enough making it in this job without connections and family prestige or whatever he’s got.” You shrug. “And anyway, you stuck up for me and my accent, too.”

He hums thoughtfully as he watches the surf breaking on the sand. “It’s what friends do, isn’t it?” 

You study his profile for a moment. The art historian in you is somewhat tickled by its near-classical proportions, noting the strong curve of his aquiline nose. You’d never noticed the little heart-shaped patch of bare skin in his beard before, either.

“It’s really beautiful here, isn’t it?” you say quietly, turning your gaze back to the water. “Maybe they’ll let me just move out here for the duration of the visiting role, keep me in lobster rolls all year.”

He chuckles. “It is beautiful. It’s nice to have the ocean relatively close. And hey, if you do stay here and need help eating the lobster rolls, well…”

A crunch on the gravel of the front yard interrupts the conversation. Ani has come to find the two of you. 

“They’re loading us back on the buses to campus now, dudes. You okay, Lyd?” 

You pop the last of the lobster roll into your mouth and give them a thumbs up. 

“More than okay. Apparently, I’m a badass now.”

This time, you wink at him.

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

Further A/N: Kevin Lacroix's comments to Lydia about how she speaks and her 'having an accent' are, believe it or not, based on actual stuff that was said to me by a colleague at a conference in the US.

Reminder: everyone has an accent.

Thanks, as ever, to the Visiting headcanons and sounding board: @cutesyscreenname, @julesonrecord, @lunapascal, @imaswellkid

[storiesbyrhi]

calling all little freaky deaky babes

for the purpose of Burning Yarrow's final chapter, I need a list of cute/sexy/weirdo things for Eddie to do to Little Witch

examples: spit in mouth, chew on hair, push tongue up nose

shit like that, you know?

PM me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

adding the taglist

Fic Taglist:  @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03 

New additions to the taglist: @awkward00noodle

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

Idk why the tags have been funky, it never lets me tag @pastel-pillows and @moviefreak1205 - so rude

[ao3feed-hitoshi-shinsou]

The Light Peeks Through

the light peeks through by MomImBusy

A collection of extras/deleted scenes (or even just funky little "what-if scenarios" from Darkness shrouded in light. Tags will be added as more chapters are added, rating and such might also change if I get there.

Words: 1724, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Shadows Follow You Everywhere

Fandoms: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Shinsou Hitoshi

Relationships: Shinsou Hitoshi & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Necromancy, Angst

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48460276

[lost-dreamers-system]

Oh god help me, I'm practically writing a thesis on Our style...

The general idea of the style:

A depiction of the tension between the two halves of a soul, darkness and whimsy, horror and fairytales, 1960s psychedelia and 1980s goth to y2k's imitation of 1960s psychedelia. A retrospective and a flashback to a generation where everything feels like it was overshadowed by nostalgia for a previous decade ... Between the changeling child and the bloodthirsty vampire...

It's not refined at all. But the idea is to find the place where urban fantasy, fairytales, horror and whatever genre you wanna call BTVS, can blend together and where the various different stylistic loves of this collective of people can meet and synergize.

Fuck that feels like a total pretentious ad read, I sound like a douche. Anyway...

It's just trying to get everyone's shit to gel together.

Planning to do it by creating a set of style words and what those style words mean, then assign those keywords to specific alters - and then come up with key clothing items and say which alter they fit...

Those would be

Fun(ky): Hawaiian print shirts, kitchsy prints, 1960s psychedelia and 1970s Technicolor disco rainbow and 80s jewel toned paisely patchwork suede. Basically, shirts that are fun (kitsch) or funky (psychedelia, paisley, early 90s aesthetic patterns (Memphis something).

Dramatique: Excessive, 80s glamrock, 19th century romantic dandy, 18th century aristocratic hedonist, medieval court jester or fairytale prince (Jareth from Labyrinth is a perfect example of "dramatique")

Gothic: this includes the morbid and macabre as well as the ~romantic Victorian vampire goth~ style brocades has overlap with dramatique but is much darker and tends towards more violence. In essence, Francis Ford Coppola's Bram Stokers Dracula and 90s vampires covered in blood and dripping in bondage gear (Blade's aesthetic).

Academia: look, we're on Tumblr. We know what this means. Things Giles would wear on Buffy but also with a hint of 80s prep drenched in black rit dye.

Flower Child: How Roz's memories think hippie should look. Harem pants and crochet and all of that. Hard to tell if this is his brain's interpretation of 1960s aesthetic or his brief exposure to early 00s hippies through the libertarian party in Colorado... But it's not quite the same as fun(ky). Crunchier and earthier and a little more adjacent to a softer, earthier sort of modern fae perception.

Whimsigoth: Where Dramatique and Flower Child intersect with Gothic... There's some good examples of this in Buffy.

Y2K Nostalgia: mall goth and the stuff Roz liked as a six year old.

Pansy: oh boy Roz why this word okay anyway, this is just "does it tell the world I am a dirty rotten queer and a degenerate bondage pervert?" Thing kind of comes out.

Femme/Queen: OVERTLY "femme" stuff. This is all vibes that we can't 100% explain . (Could honestly call this category "Morgan" and "Florian")

I think that's a pretty approximation of the words we're working with....

Next part: who is what category...

Fun(ky): Laurent, Louis, Daffodil

Dramatique: Louis, Adam, Daffodil, Florian, Morgan

Gothic: Adam, Louis, Laurent, Daffodil

Academia: Adam, Laurent

Flower Child: Morgan, Daffodil

Whimsigoth: Morgan, Daffodil, Louis

Y2K Nostalgia: Florian, Morgan

Pansy: Florian, Daffodil, Louis

Femme/Queen: Morgan and Florian

Some key fashion items:

- fun(ky) or dramatique button downs

-gothic, dramatique, pansy and flower Child dress shirts

- turtlenecks

- fun(ky), academic and flower Child sweaters and cardigans

-fun blazers

-pointed or clunky heeled boots

-interesting pants

-slutty mesh

- too many vests with so many patterns

We've gotten....kinda sidetracked and lost sight of what we were doing. Posting this so we can check it later.

[tomes-and-trinkets]

greetings????

basically, i'm nyx and i'm honestly just here to have a swell time

this is mainly just a blog for all of my little images and words, but i'm not completely devoted to the aesthetic, so you may find a meme or two sneaking through

below are some funky facts for those that want them

'vital information'

i'm 18

she/her

ace? bi?

intp / 5w4

libra sun / aries moon / capricorn rising

my interests

history (in it's many forms and genres), literature, reading, art of all varieties, manga, collage, dark academia (obviously), journalism, theater, fashion, editorial makeup, astrology, astronomy, research, jewelry-making, and generally being a nuisance

about this blog

as previously mentioned, this is a vaguely hypocritical blog wherein i collect my little pictures and words surrounding dark academia and adjacent aesthetics. i do have other interests and may create side blogs for them, but, as for the moment, i have not

[ao3feed-dadzawa]

Existing in the Periphrial

Existing in the Periphrial by Thycilen

Izuku Midoriya is exactly four years old when he goes missing.

It's an abrupt thing. One moment he is playing “All Might” with his mom and the next he isn't. Let me rephrase, he isn't as in “is not”. He isn't there and he isn't somewhere else and he is not.

Not anything.

It's only a fraction of a second, the time it takes to blink but it feels like an eternity. Both to the mother who just watched her child disappear and the child who closes his eyes and can suddenly see everything.

“Black is a lack of light” is a lie. Black is the absence of light reflecting back at you. The more things present, the more pigmented the color the darker it is. The void is a black hole, dense and overflowing with too many things occupying the same space.

Monsters hide in the dark because they're the opposite of claustrophobic. They squeeze and claw their way into the space and settle into the nooks and crannies that shadows provide.

Izuku Midoriya is exactly four years old when he learns monsters are real by becoming one himself.

Words: 691, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Inko, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Masaru, Tokoyami Fumikage, Dark Shadow

Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Therapy

Additional Tags: no beta we die like sir nighteye, Eldritch Midoriya Izuku, eldritch horror, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, and so does Inko, Actually hugs all around are needed, Monsters are Real, In a weird funky way tho, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Dadzawa, i'm driving this bus blindfolded and y'all are all duct-taped to the seats, sorry I don't make the rules, tags will be updated as we go

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40903134

[ao3feed-tododeku]

Existing in the Periphrial

Existing in the Periphrial by Thycilen

Izuku Midoriya is exactly four years old when he goes missing.

It's an abrupt thing. One moment he is playing “All Might” with his mom and the next he isn't. Let me rephrase, he isn't as in “is not”. He isn't there and he isn't somewhere else and he is not.

Not anything.

It's only a fraction of a second, the time it takes to blink but it feels like an eternity. Both to the mother who just watched her child disappear and the child who closes his eyes and can suddenly see everything.

“Black is a lack of light” is a lie. Black is the absence of light reflecting back at you. The more things present, the more pigmented the color the darker it is. The void is a black hole, dense and overflowing with too many things occupying the same space.

Monsters hide in the dark because they're the opposite of claustrophobic. They squeeze and claw their way into the space and settle into the nooks and crannies that shadows provide.

Izuku Midoriya is exactly four years old when he learns monsters are real by becoming one himself.

Words: 691, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Inko, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Masaru, Tokoyami Fumikage, Dark Shadow

Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Therapy

Additional Tags: no beta we die like sir nighteye, Eldritch Midoriya Izuku, eldritch horror, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, and so does Inko, Actually hugs all around are needed, Monsters are Real, In a weird funky way tho, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Dadzawa, i'm driving this bus blindfolded and y'all are all duct-taped to the seats, sorry I don't make the rules, tags will be updated as we go

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40903134

More Dadzawa Stories

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Existing in the Periphrial

Existing in the Periphrial by Thycilen

Izuku Midoriya is exactly four years old when he goes missing.

It's an abrupt thing. One moment he is playing “All Might” with his mom and the next he isn't. Let me rephrase, he isn't as in “is not”. He isn't there and he isn't somewhere else and he is not.

Not anything.

It's only a fraction of a second, the time it takes to blink but it feels like an eternity. Both to the mother who just watched her child disappear and the child who closes his eyes and can suddenly see everything.

“Black is a lack of light” is a lie. Black is the absence of light reflecting back at you. The more things present, the more pigmented the color the darker it is. The void is a black hole, dense and overflowing with too many things occupying the same space.

Monsters hide in the dark because they're the opposite of claustrophobic. They squeeze and claw their way into the space and settle into the nooks and crannies that shadows provide.

Izuku Midoriya is exactly four years old when he learns monsters are real by becoming one himself.

Words: 691, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Inko, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Masaru, Tokoyami Fumikage, Dark Shadow

Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Therapy

Additional Tags: no beta we die like sir nighteye, Eldritch Midoriya Izuku, eldritch horror, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, and so does Inko, Actually hugs all around are needed, Monsters are Real, In a weird funky way tho, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Dadzawa, i'm driving this bus blindfolded and y'all are all duct-taped to the seats, sorry I don't make the rules, tags will be updated as we go

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40903134

[emsie-belleguarde]

things that just are Chaotic Academia (2)

turning the music up to full volume and yelling along to it whilst jumping around and waving your arms in their air

buying a vast amount of books in one go and then never getting round to reading them 

owning a large amount of funky mugs 

pretending black coffee is the only thing you’ll drink but in secret loving anything with cinnamon and whipped cream 

baking at midnight 

you: “halloween is the superior holiday don’t f.cking argue with me on this one”

someone stupid: *argues with you on this one*

you: “alright you asked for it!”

your friends: “oh god here we go...”

you: *pulls out the worlds biggest binder organised alphabetically with sub sections containing all the reasons why halloween is the best holiday*

commitment? who is she?

you procrastinate studying, you have basically zero organisation but you will do the following:

- the halloween binder 

- writing someone who dumped you a 3000 word essay entitled ‘it’s your loss. discuss’ 

- creating a complex five page quiz with scoring system for each of your friends so they can assess if a person they’re dating is good enough for them 

- staying up all night to read (only if the books got you hooked)

something about chaotic academia screams ‘I listened to story CDs as a kid’ 

crushing hard on Draco 

you definitely started out wanting to be Dark Academia, and still now the pictures of dusty corridors and old books on pinterest occasionally draw you in, but in reality you use the phrase “fuck off you fucking fuck” too much to truly fit as DA. besides, you just get bored of it every time you try

the biggest ‘ride or die’ attitude 

going on a walk then, for no reason, just starting to run until you can’t breathe

not knowing how to tell people that you’re hurting 

[vvanini]

whats your favorite obscure hc about each of the losers?

Fucking perfect thank you

1- Mike he reads books or articles like “how to understand woman”, “why women like jerks”, not because he wants to woo woman or is a nice guy or anything but just because he thinks it’s interesting

I don’t think he’d date anyone

Gives great dating advice tho

Reads manga Likes Junji Ito

“The manga/book was better” kind of guy

I don’t know why but I feel like he’d be this ENTP-ish dude who likes to gather information about a lot of useless things and likes to debate He likes film and game theories Watches MatPat for sure

Also he likes The Walking Dead and… zombies in general

Also I’m sorry but he likes Quentin Tarantino and Wes Anderson

He likes grindhouse movies and appreciates the gory details but is chill about it Likes cinematography in general

Watches video essays about movies

2- Richie

Unlike Mike, Richie isn’t chill about gory details and whenever someone gags while watching a movie he goes “You think that’s disgusting??? Lmaoooo that’s nothing.”

He’d be the type of guy who brags about being immune to disturbing shit

Google searches include “top ten disturbing movies of all time” “scariest movies ever” “movies worse than a serbian film”

Still likes pink guy and thinks Joji is a genius

Unironically loves the song “I Love Sex” by Pink Guy and listens to it at least once everyday

Uses Discord a lot

Always starts studying on the last day

I think he’d like history

Not like Mike tho, he just likes textbook history and world wars etc

Plays Hearts of Iron and League of Legends

Also :) he likes to code

he is a Linux >>>>>>>>>> Windows kinda guy

Likes breaking bad

And Rick and Morty

Understands politics really well

His music taste is… anime opening songs

Evangelion especially

Likes science fiction books

Pretends to be a flat-earther/conservative/anti-vax for the meme

3- Ben

LIKES BACKSTREET BOYS

and boy bands in general

he is old school and still carries an mp3 around

Doesn’t use spotify, he illegally downloads songs like a champ :D

Likes story rich games

Especially RPG’s. He really likes Planescape Torment and Baldur’s Gate

Kinda lame about women, like he hears Jordan Peterson say something like “the eternal image of the divine feminine” or some shit like that and he goes “wow poetic. agreed”

Doesn’t read “How to woo women” books like Mike but thinks about it a lot that’s for sure

Likes Audrey Hepburn

And Steinbeck

Saves different versions of the same song to his mp3. “The Less I Know The Better but you’re crying in a bathroom” “The Less I Know The Better Slowed & Reverb Listen With Headphones” “The Less I Know The Better Nightcore”

Shares playlists with Eddie

ALWAYS. ALWAYS waits for the person who’s tying their shoes

He notices if someone is walking behind the group alone and walks back to accompany them

If no one laughs at your joke, he does

Bleached his hair once and regretted it immediately Writes poetry in his free time and makes Stan proofread it

Into psychology

Hands always in pockets

Probably owned lots of lego sets as a kid

People go to him for dating advice because he is seen as this “romantic guy”, I mean he is but he gives terrible dating advice

4-Stan

He likes geography

Literally knows all the flags in the world and all the capitals

Blindfold him and give him a country name, he can show you exactly where it is on the map

Also he plays those google earth games where you get a random location and try to find out which country you’re in/ or try to find the nearest airport

Also I feel like he’d like planes a lot

Idk he just likes things that fly lol. Birds, planes etc.

Likes to read classics

LOVES H. P. Lovecraft

carries little poetry books with him everywhere and reads them he’s so cute

Dark academia is his aesthetic

Can play the piano

Likes to read Ben’s poetry :D

Dark humor

His ringtone is Le Festin :)

Has an instagram account but never posts, just watches people’s stories

Very photogenic tho.

He’s a man of culture. He likes visiting aquariums and museums

Hates zoos tho, thinks it’s evil to cage animals

Also I don’t know how to explain it but… He just likes to decorate his place? Like to the clubhouse he’ll bring stuff he likes and just quietly claims a corner as his own and make it as comfortable as he can

Has...beautiful hands

you know how some people cut the cothing labels because it irritates the back of their neck? Stan does that with everything he buys

5- Eddie

Likes Backstreet Boys because of Ben

Replies to texts immediately. Communication and social interaction gives him serotonin

I have no idea why but I feel like he’d have an obsession with Tekken and his favourite character is Ling Xiayou

Big fan of classic playstation games. Loves Spyro, Crash Bandicoot and Ratchet and Clank

He likes wearing long sleeves under t shirts

Listens to emo music, stares out the window and imagines scenarios matching the song he’s listening to

He considers MCR to be emo btw. Loves G note memes

Likes astrology

Can’t watch horror movies, and gets teased by Richie about it

However he likes media that is presented as funky/funny/happy but is actually depressing/disturbing

He likes courtroom dramas

Wears sunglasses indoors for no reason

Probably likes fallout and metro games

Has a collection of finger skateboards

#weirdcore #oddcore #nostalgia #grunge

buys and wears random college sweatshirts

Hates and loves study groups, hates it in the sense that he can’t focus on anything and just wants to hang out and talk, loves it in the sense that he CAN hang out with his friends and talk

Romanticizes everything

6- Bill

Has lots of taurus energy and is sleepy all the time

Has major Leonardo DiCaprio in The Basketball Diaries vibes

Dresses effortlessly

And likes basketball lol.

He just has… boy energy. If that makes sense. Boy next door

Likes to draw his friends

posts his drawings on Instagram

Has lots of OC’s but doesn’t know they’re called OC’s, just refers to them as “this character I created”

He likes being praised a lot ngl

His taste in memes is very similar to Richie’s

You know how they put a random word on top of a random image and it doesn’t make sense at all. He laughs at things like that. Like Richie sends him something like this:

ME WHEN I WHEN

[image of monkey]

BOTTOM TEXT

and he thinks it’s funny and loses his shit im sorry

Like someone sends a picture of Keanu Reeves to the groupchat and texts “g” and he thinks it’s funny???? He sees a picture of a cow in the backrooms and starts choking

He memorized every line in Boneless Pizza and can quote it wihtout stuttering. Like he would be sitting alone talking to himself saying shit like “ya pizza. Watchu want. 2 liter machine broke we got one liter tho. fuck you mean B.”

Never answers calls? Doesn’t like talking on the phone. He just has “Don’t fucking call me when you can text!!” energy

phone is always on silent mode

doesn’t do anything but attracts people anyway

7- Bev

Likes musicals

Theatre kid

Chews gum a lot

And swallows them :(

Likes cottagecore

Buys notebooks with cute covers but can never fill them so she just gives them to bill who turns them into sketchbooks

I think she’d give advice or reaussure people in a way that sounds kinda rude but isn’t really? Like she tells it like it is. Blunt

Likes Avatar The Last Airbender

Sense of humor is:

[Picutre of the fox from Zootopia]

why is he hot help 😭😭😭

wears baggy clothing + long skirts

[rataltouille]

IT’S GENE MAGIC AND/OR TURPENTINE: A SHORT STORY

the narrator doesn’t know what’s going on and neither do we: surrealist version.

GENRE: surrealism.

POV & TENSE: third-person limited, present tense.

SETTING: an apartment in an unnamed suburb, present-day.

TONE: satirical, resentful, delirious, wistful.

THEMES: toxic manifestations of grief, the limbo after facing loss.

STAGE: completed first draft, 1807 words.

LOGLINE: after being called back from college upon her family’s death, july contemplates her situation by villanizing and blaming her dead family.

LITERAL LOGLINE: life got you down? your entire family dead under mysterious circumstances? don’t worry, your friendly shoulder demon’s got your back, just smoke it out!

CHARACTERS:

JULY: she’s a college student who was called back in the middle of her course— something that she worked super hard to get into— to go vacate her now-deceased family’s home. she’s angry about this, because she feels robbed of her dream. as time goes on and the story progresses, july continues to detach from her pain over her family’s death and reality itself, subsequently leading to her unravelling.

HALE: they’re the shoulder demon. they’re a fun and sarcastic person, and secretly worries for july and her increasing detachedness. nobody knows why they’re here, what they’re doing, or even if they’re real in the first place.

WHAT GOES DOWN:

july is called back from college to attend to her now empty home following the sudden death of her family— mother, sister, grandmother— under mysterious circumstances. this is a source of dual emotions for july. on one hand, she’s grieving for them immensely, and this is signified through the various memories she has of them + her relationships with each member. on the other hand, she’s extremely annoyed by this, because she knew they would die together eventually— it’s implied to be something that runs in the family, and had happened to her father before— and the timing inconvenienced her.

july is,,,, pretty unhinged. a lot of surreal things happen in the story and it’s difficult to distinguish reality from her mind. she also has a friend in hale, the demon on her shoulder. the story chronicles the short period of time she spends in her home, trying to collect her thoughts and prepare for her own inevitable death.

EXCERPTS:

this is a very short story so i don’t want to share much, but here’s one little peek into the tone + style of the prose.

July scoffs again, but now it’s silent and nobody hears. The will features meaningless drabble, small talk and verbiage typical for her mother, and she’s tempted to rip it and swallow the pieces whole. [Why, she can’t say. There’s an odd craving in every object and she’s the only one who makes herself tick.] She concludes that the house is now her’s. How wonderful. Of course July would have traded her college room for a nowhere house any fucking day.

SPARE THOUGHTS:

this is the weirdest thing i’ve written. it’s high-key surrealism and plays with form and character a lot. july is an extremely unreliable narrator. there’s a lot of funky concepts—every speaker’s dialogue is formatted differently, she’s spying on her neighbours, there’s a demon on her shoulder— and while it’s been hard threading them in coherently and fluidly, i’ve never had more fun drafting before. it’s also one of my best short story titles, hands down. feel free to ask anything about this story because there’s so much meta i can get into. [general taglist under the cut]

@lovingyou-is​ @elaichichais​ @andiwriteunderthemoon​ @coffeeandcalligraphy​ @shaelinwrites​ @melonmilk​ @charles-joseph-writes​ @eklavvya​ @wolf-oak​ @bitterwitchwrites​ @laughtracksonata​ @whatwordsdidnttouch​ @indeliblewrites​ @thenataliawrites​ @summersguilt​ @illimani-gibberish​ @writing-in-delirium​ @sienna-writes​ @jennawritesstories​ @chloeswords​ @aelenko​ @keira-is-writing​ @cherylinanika​ @infinitely-empty-pages​ @jmtwrites​ @august-iswriting​ @sarahkelsiwrites​ @freedelusionbanana​ @beetleblue88​​ @mistercaleb​​ @iwannawritepls​ @hanwatchingmovies​​ @mortallynuttyqueen​ @maisulli​ @thegreyboywrites​ @ahowlinwolf​ @ravens-and-rivers​ @oasis-of-you​ @yanittawrites​ @chazza-writes-sometimes​ @lesbianbirds​ @lovebenders​ @treybriggsthewriter​ @themidnxghtwriter​ @ash-karter​ @queen-devasena​ @desi-dark-academia​ @gaymityblight​ @beyondthebracken​ @madmaxst26​ @adielwrites @moonpixxel​ @hollow-knight-dnd​ @keep-looking-here​ @overlap​ @ryns-ramblings​ @wordsbynathan​ @novaemlynlewis​ @sophiewritingstuff​ @howdy-writes​ @occiidens​ @nsanelyawkward​ @viawrites-andacts​ @radiomacbeth​ @frauleinschwimm​ @piyawrites​ @avtful​ @kitblogsthings​ @aetherwrites​ @avi-burton-writing​ @bookpacking​ @ezrathings​ @chewingthescenery​ @oceancold​ @ambrosiadarling​ @reverieternal​

[d0ntw0rrybehappy]

i think part of growing up or of this day and age is that i dont feel the same aura of mystery anymore. like when i was a teenager/in my early 20s, skaters, the rappers bones and xavier wulf, fetty on fetty by carti, the beginning of trap, memphis rap, salem, held so much mystery and power. they made you feel like there was a world -- or at least moments, places, people -- somewhere out there, a hidden subaltern world which they were a part of and you were not. now i can respect the theater and musicianship of it, and it makes me FEEL certain ways, but the affective hypnosis -- the idea that somewhere out there the thing they speak of could be real -- is gone. when i see rappers with guns and cough syrup i'm like holy shit you're a kid..stop... when i see salem videos i see what a deliberate and shallow interpretation/appropriation of black culture their act is. skinny white dude edits together VHS videos of crips doing car tricks and pitches his voice down to sound black while comparing it sonically to some kind of satanic ritual. i'm not even saying this necessarily as moral condemnation. it's just so obviously farce. bones -- who is, in a literal sense, an underground hero, as he never signed a major record deal -- fully admits that "bones" was just a literary icon, a fictional character he came up with deliberately to market himself. elmo o'connor has a normal-ass wife and kid. he is no more and no less than a musician with a profound aesthetic understanding of the apprehensive, the hollow, and the cold. yet as a teenager i half-believed there was some place called the "underground" and that i could find it if i knew how. now i wonder what the underground would even be. violence? drugs? good ideas?

it's the edgelords who grew out of this feeling, i think -- at least are the ones who currently form it. (or maybe i'm just old). the ones who actually feel subversive. these are weird, funky times. no authority appears permanent, inevitable, just. corporations and individuals express themselves publicly and digitally, in the midst of a lot of open questions re: racism, sexism, all the other -isms. and a time of paranoia. mcdonald's goes rainbow-golden-arches or facebook says to "buy black." all liberal institutions jumping on the cultural bandwagon -- politics, academia (everyone but spotify)-- but without an overarching sense that this change is positive. it's moreso...some sort of positioning. so we resist corporate, sanitized images by tempting the present darkness. and that's the niche, self-selecting group, that's the "underground."

so first i'll say, we may live in a time when women can show their ankles (in fact, porn is legalized), but we don't live in some kind of "post-taboo" world. there are taboos around sex and race, e.g., that i think are probably some of the most logical they've ever been in history? but still, as individuals and as a society, there are gaps in our ability to deal with these taboos and the fact that they are taboo. and these taboos all kinda get collapsed together bc of the fact that they are taboo.

so, for example. you get non-white communities insisting there are words and thoughts that need to be repressed (suppressed?). most people understand and can do this -- because they recognize this is an indication of respect -- or at least of public decency. in other words, having a filter. but then you get people who can't completely deal with these boundaries. example: the white kids at my extremely white LA private high school. who had a friend over, a fellow student who is black, and this teenager wakes up to find his white friends saying the n word over and over again in the bathroom. the combination of what i could only imagine was horror, confusion, and obliteration of trust for this black child (or sadly something all-too-familiar), and for these white friends, this need to say it -- to whisper it -- like a tic. this need to express, to let out, this race thing in america. the blatantly obvious fact of racial inequality which white people in polite society can often only express in paranoid, highly mediated ways. and the need to let it out by doing something racist.

so at the end of the day, what's gonna fix this is marxism -- y'know, material changes -- but on an artistic level this is a force i want to contend with. this underground, this taboo thing. i don't know about the taboos themselves -- but i do think darkness and evil are forces i have needed to face and contend with and this process can be beautiful perhaps? especially in the mediated yet direct form of art. that's what i'm trying to deal w/ in my story: how do we talk about taboo? how do we psychically and spiritually fix it?

comparisons. @opiate crisis lookbook -- resurrecting gummo aesthetics -- pics of poverty and addiction, with the surprisingly liberal justification, on the part of its author, of testimony. "this happened to me too." also: "i used to be addicted to drugs. a relatively privileged suburban kid, i began so that i could feel connected to 'normal' people, whom i saw as having access to a depth of humanity i was not privy to. by sharing the experience of drugs, we shared our humanity." @cumjokes420 -- thrice-baked meme artifacts re: porn, boobs. a slight comfort to know that, if u look at it in the inverse, this is a sign that many straight men are in fact quite uneasy w contemporary porn and hetero sexuality -- but they stop there and make jokes about it. honor levy and ilk plumb the internet wastelands -- and thus point to its terrifying anonymity and scale -- but without having much to say about it -- just trying to replicate its structures. saying "cancel me" -- saying things that have been derided as offensive, hanging out with "canceled" new york boys -- yet insisting they are marxists. so the problem of semblance. again semblance. both on the liberal corporation side (semblance of marketing do-goodery to genuine activist good). and on the dirtbag left side -- semblance of racism by using racist language, for example -- while insisting they're not racist. semblance being one of the most interesting probs of the moment imo.

but no one's really getting at... the central problem. which is racism that exists in our brains?? idk i’m having second thoughts about this whole writing...brb

[childrenofthevoid]

yo! we’re the ChildrenOfTheVoid system!! heres an updated system member list cuz since we started this blog we’ve gained like,,, 8 people or something like that

oh and an explanation on our headspace cuz its funkie, its changed a little bit since we last posted about it! and also just more precise names for arias haha

- chara (fyi, from now on if there's a cut we’ll sign off above the cut instead of at the bottom like normal hehehe)

as before introjects, aproxives and others have been separated cuz we’re super fictive heavy ahaha

our fictives:  •Janus (sanders sides) •Remus (sanders sides) •Chara (Undertale) •Asriel (Undertale) •Grimm (Hollow Knight) •Shade (Hollow Knight) •Jack (Creepypasta) •Ben (Creepypasta) •Miku (Vocaloid) •Toga (My Hero Academia) •Dabi  (My Hero Academia) •The Beast (Over The Garden Wall) •Anti (Jacksepticeye Ego) •Green Mage (Everhood)

our aproxives: •Rep (aproxive of both Patton and Jevil) •Larkspur (aproxive of Virgil)

the rest of us!: •Raven (our host) •Kitty •Mirror •King •Twelve •SomeOne •Moss •Dove •Vex •Vinca •Lucien •Beatrix

thats all of us afaik! and now headspace explanations, you might sometimes see us call the mindscape the mindscape and you can blame that on gravity falls 110%

the house: main aria! most of us live here we each have our own room but theres plenty of common space too (has no outside or windows but does have a front door, it goes to small void)

small void: aka the front zone, peeps fronting can go to other places in headspace but its the default n its easier to front from small void, its also the space outside the house!!

big void: zone (presumably) under small void, only like 4 people can actually get in there so its like,, mysterious all we know is word of mouth, we think its under small void cuz shade jumped down a drop in small void (we didnt know that was there??) and they live in big voids so?????

the forest: second most lived in place!! its a silver birch forest, the ground is covered in crunchy leaves and its always sunset, the weather there does change, its always nice tho (it even snowed once!) we plan to draw this down someday but it would just be the main landmarks n stuff (like where paths n tents are) because no ones gonna draw down where all the trees are lmao

the dark forest: an oak forest you can get to by following a path in the main forest, it appeared when the beast showed up! it seems to be always night in there, the beast lives in there and lucien visits alot (its only been there for a few days so we dont know much about it)

as always if you’d like to know anything about us feel free to send in an ask!! it can be anything even just silly things, answering any questions is fun!!

[metastablephysicist]

since it’s warming up outside, I’m able to do homework in my backyard. the neighbor’s cat comes over for pets if she hears me--she’s very friendly.

lots of tasks are building up: 

branching ratio/decoupling constant calculations for various nuclear deformations of my isotopes

finish up research project

start writing up results for publication

write & submit a prospectus (so that I’m officially doing my thesis)

prepare for invited talk about impostor syndrome at another university

but right now I’m riding the excitement and good feelings of getting a nationally competitive award! I think that will help with my momentum.

zoomester studyblr challenge days 23-30 below the cut!

Day 23 - What’s some random miscellaneous piece of information that you just happen to know?

nautiluses can live for over 20 years, and can only reproduce starting at 15 years old. funky little dudes.

Day 24 - Share with us your favorite word (it can be in any language)

i like the word achuchar, which can mean to hug or cuddle. be careful not to use reflexive pronouns with it, as they can give it a more sexual meaning. (based off of Spain Spanish)

Day 25 - Tag someone who has great text posts.

@mathed-potatoes always manages to make me smile :)

Day 26 - What has been your best zoomester experience so far?

meeting my thesis advisor/research mentors for the first time in person (after a whole year of working together) is the icing on the zoomester cake. I hate cake but love icing (literally and figuratively). we sat 6+ feet apart outside and drank coffee. it was very exciting to meet with them in 3-D.

Day 27 - If you’re about to graduate, what’s something that you’ll miss from school? If you aren’t about to graduate, tell us something you really love about school.

I really love the satisfaction that comes from solving physics problems/figuring out programming assignments. I know that I’m unlikely to do similar things if it’s not assigned with a deadline. for really difficult problems, I can get frustrated/angry; I used to blow off that steam by sprinting up the massive hill outside my dorm. but when I finally understand how to get an answer, it’s my favorite thing.

Day 28 - Spill the tea about the things that you’ve done during the zoomester (Online shopping, courses taken, any hobby)

I’ve really gotten into baking cakes this semester! I even made a dog-friendly carrot cake for my roommate’s puppy.

I’ve had a relatively light course load. two of my classes reeeally annoy me. one is a thesis writing class that has felt like a waste of time. I’m already in the midst of my thesis but this class seems to be more about choosing a thesis topic. it would have been nice a few years ago maybe. the other is an online lab course. it’s okay, but the instructor is very disorganized and the lab manuals are extremely out of date--it would be one thing if I could just go into the lab and figure things out there, but I can’t.

I’ve also had a lot of time to work on my thesis! as soon as this week I could get approval to go into the lab and help run experiments, which I’m thrilled about.

Day 29 - Quick! Name your own aesthetic! or alternatively, what’s an aesthetic you’d like to try out?

mine is dark/science academia probably. I’m in the community of grey academia too. otherwise, idk? nuclearcore? lol

Day 30 - What’s the best advice someone has given you? 

I’m not really sure. I think I value support over advice; being able to work through my thoughts out loud & be listened to is better than being told what I should do.