#maybe i need to be more widely read bc literally the only way i can describe this is incoherence

[silentwalrus1]

in all my random tag/fandom hopping years i have never encountered the sheer incoherency of star wars fic. It’s amazing? Like, most top kudosed stories will have nice staid comprehensible paragraphs tracking perfectly well from sentence to sentence but once you’re like 700 words in you start to feel like you’re in some kind of funhouse mirror dimension. Nothing makes sense. It’s like the authors somehow built a story without any story in it. It’s the storytelling equivalent of hearing that one song where all the lyrics are in a fake language meant to sound like english in order to show native english speakers what their own language sounds like to those who can’t understand it. It’s the narrative equivalent of simlish. Is it all written by AI? Am i having a stroke? I have to understand how this is done

[bunni-v1]

Hnnghh christmas Lighter smut where reader is dressed in nothing but a long ribbon and bow bc he’s been a good boy this year

🍓Did u read my mind? Get outta there… jkjk, but seriously this is EXACLTY what I was thinking about. I really can’t dedicate the time to a full fic, which breaks my little gay heart, but imagine with me if you would… (this is a full fic btw i fucking lied to you and myself)

Tw: Nsfw; kinda rough (not too rough); UNEDITED ITS HORRENDOUS

Mdni

Christmas with the Sons of Calydon is pretty atypical. They have their own traditions that most New Eirduians would scoff at, but they’re rather important to those who live in these parts. Drinking, singing together (usually drunkenly and offkey), taking bike rides out to start a fire and literally burn away past regrets of the year, and of course fights — plenty of fights.

You weren’t exactly a fan of the fighting part, usually meant more work for you to do, but Lighter always seemed to have fun. Obviously he did, he never lost — he hardly broke a sweat for the most part. And he loved showing off, especially if you were there to watch him. Everything else was mostly normal, though… a little odd but custom made to your little ragtag group, and you loved it.

It felt warm, cozy, like family. They passed out gifts, most of them hand made or incredibly thoughtful since money was scarce for most of you. Lighter had gotten you a (rather expensive) bracelet with your and his initials engraved on it. It was sweet, and unexpected from the guy who pretended like the holiday was nothing for the months leading up to it.

It made you melt on the inside and feel nice and warm. However… his nonchalance about the holiday cause you one… teeny tiny, itty bitty problem. You had no clue what to get him, and you hadn’t gotten him anything — time had run out and no one would give you any good hints.

His insistence that you didn’t need to get him anything in return made your stomach ache. It was hard to focus on his fight when your head was rushing with ways to rectify the horrific mistake you’d made quickly. The red ribbon of the jewelry box wrapped around your fingers tightly, then unwound as you mulled over your options.

You could get him something for his bike, but you’d have to drive to the city and it’s unlikely he’d let you go without him — that’s if the stores were even open this late on a holiday. Maybe you could craft up something quick and easy, if you could get back to your place there surely would be something, but… that felt cheap. Especially compared to the bracelet.

“That ribbon’s pretty,” Caesar says next to you, drawing you from your thoughts, “Must’ve been one real fancy place he went to for ya.”

You sigh, leaning back against the wall a little, looking at the ribbon as you twisted it around, “I’m sure it was. He’s so hopeless sometimes.”

“Only because you’re so sweet on him,” She teases, nudging your shoulder lightly.

A laugh huffs out of your chest, then an idea strikes you. The ribbon is pretty. You actually had some like it back at your place, stored away from last years festivities. You twist the ribbon one last time, and then you grin, wide and wild. Lighter catches your eye as he socks his opponent in the jaw, smirking at you like he’d won a prize.

“Hey, Caesar,” You hum, turning to your friend who seemed a little uneasy at your expression, “How long do you think you can keep him distracted for me.”

She hums, watching him thoughtfully, “I’ll buy ya fifteen minutes — wait, why?”

“You’ll hear later~” You hum with a wink, and practically skip back to your place, leaving Caesar alone to deal with your very adrenaline filled boyfriend on her own.

It takes you half the time Caesar said she could get you to find the damn ribbon, and the other half is spent fighting for your life to get the thing on and look at least a little sexy. You tried to recall old articles you’d read on bondage and shibari, but it was hard to do without a guide. You’d managed to get all the good bits wrapped up and hidden, with a few extra crosses to make it look pretty.

You don’t get a chance to check because you hear Lighters heavy footsteps outside the door nearly as soon as you’ve tied the bow comfortably around your neck. Your able to sort’ve arrange yourself seductively on the bed for him just as the front door open and he calls out to you. You could tell he was annoyed from his voice alone. He never liked it when you left his shows early.

“Caesar told me you headed back here,” He called, boots thumping as he threw them off, “We’re you not enjoying the show?”

It’s a tease, you know it is, but there was an underlying annoyance in his voice that sent a tingle up your spine. He pushes the bedroom door open incredibly slowly, to the point you think he’s trying to surprise you with something. You have the gall to feel stupid for a moment right before his eyes land on you, and he stops at he takes in the sight.

There is an audible shudder as his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline. He takes his sunglasses off, revealing those pretty green eyes that rake in every inch of you with hunger. Then, he smirks, shoving the bedroom door closed with his shoulder already working his gloves and jacket off to the floor. Forgotten without a second thought. The rest of his clothes follow quickly after.

“Merry Christmas!” You cheer, though you’re more nervous than happy. He clearly likes it, according to the quickly growing tent in his pants and how fast he is to strip himself, but he’s a little too quiet for your liking.

He sinks onto the mattress in front of you, hands ghosting around the bright red ribbon. Like if he touches it, it’ll all fall apart in his grasp. He traces each inch of it with careful practiced restraint, following the fabrics flow across your body until he remembers that you are under the fabric and he lands on your face.

His eyes soften when you smile nervously up at him, fingers tracing the apple of your cheek with such admiration it nearly makes you cry. “You like it?” You ask softly, unsure of yourself.

He scoffs like you’re stupid for wondering, “This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It draws a genuine laugh out of you, which he follows with his own as he comes down to nuzzle your cheek with his nose. Then a soft kiss that trails down to your lips, easing you into a slow careful dance of love and passion.

He readjusts your position so carefully, you almost don’t notice he’s doing it until he’s between your legs. Pressing them open then pressing his dick to the ribbons wrapping up your folds from him. You’re already dripping, the adrenaline from earlier enough to get you going, but the added friction just makes it worse. You’d never be able to reuse this stuff, that’s for sure.

His hands glide over your stomach, following the ribbon with lazy easy until he’s found the one covering you from him. His thumbs slide under the pieces, rubbing over the flesh of your abdomen gently. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva keeping you connected as he presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” He murmurs quietly, “You could’ve given me a smile and I would’ve been happy.”

You shy away, “Well… I almost didn’t have anything to get you, but your gift, mmm, inspired me.”

He chuckles at you, reaching down to run his dick against your still covered folds. The silky fabric oddly making everything feel more intense. “I can see that. Very cute, by the way.”

“I know, thank you,” You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he presses the two of you back into a laying position, “Now are you gonna unwrap your present, or are you gonna keep teasing yourself.”

A roll of the eyes and another smirk, “Y’know, I’ve never been a fan of ruining the wrapping paper. Shits expensive… so how about we go nice and slow.”

As he says that, he slides his dick between the ribbon, right up against your throbbing clit. You let out a surprised sound, quickly melting into sighs of pleasure and he fucks into the ribbon. Each push and pull stimulates your aching pussy into gushing out more for him, clenching on nothing as he fucks himself against you at a leisurely pace.

You take the chance to look down, moaning out as he head of him touches your thigh. The sight is something you’d see in a porno. Lighter follows your eyes, smiling to himself when he catches you practically going cross eyed at the sight.

“We look good together, don’t we, sugar?” He purrs. A rare nickname, sweet and extra praiseworthy — just like he thinks you are.

You nod along with him, fluttering your eyes back to his with a dumb little smile. Each drag of his dick makes your toes curl and nails dig into his broad shoulders. He sighs at the sensation, pressing kisses into your skin to quiet himself up. He’d rather listen to you, after all, and this was a gift for him.

His fingers begin to crawl up your body, dancing along the ribbon excitedly. They make sure to stop and tweak your nipples through the fabric, humming when he feels they’re sufficiently hard and sensitive under his touch. Then, finally, they reach the neatly tied bow around your neck.

The tug at it, gently unwrapping it from your neck and pulling it away with ease. Replacing the red of it with his tongue, licking and sucking new marks into the flesh. Your hips stutter against his, and he lets out a groan, squeezing your tit as warning. You whine, but don’t fight him anymore. His hands returning to unraveling the ribbon, pressing into the skin revealed until he is the only thing keeping the ribbon and his dick pressed against you.

You pout a little when he pulls away, pussy aching for friction once his dick is gone. You feel it clench as it looks for him, and god it makes you feel like a whore. He takes your hands from his shoulder and leans over you to tie them to the bed board above your head. You can feel how wet your were at the wrists, especially when he kisses them reassuringly.

“I love you tied up,” He hums, “You’re so pretty when you can’t do anything.”

You pout up at him, but he doesn’t stay to admire the look long, leaning over to the bedside table to grab the condoms. It occurs to you, in a state of lust driven stupor, that he shouldn’t have to fuck his christmas gift with a condom on.

“Ah, wait—“ He raises an eyebrow at you, hand just inches away from the condoms, “Would you wanna do it raw?”

He blinks at you, again surprised in the same way he was when he first saw you. “Are you serious?”

“We don’t have to—“ You quickly try to rectify the situation, but he cuts you off.

“No, no, we definitely have to,” He shakes his head, closing the drawer with one swift motion, “You’re trying to kill me out here, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, but he’s not listening as he pulls you up into the position he likes most. Legs over his shoulders, body bent in half so he can fuck you hard and fast. He gives you a few seconds to adjust to the position, then he’s pressing his dick into you at a painfully slow pace.

It’s because he’s just so big, he always has to go slow, but you wish he’d just fuck you through the pain right now. The stretch is perfect as always, and you suck him in like it’s nothing with how wet you already were.

He cusses when he finally bottoms out, pressing his face into the side of your neck. You can feel his hot breath fan against your skin, tingling deliciously. “Fuck you’re always so tight. I’m never gonna get used to it, sugar.”

You hum, though you’re in no better shape. Shivering and shuddering every inch, and still quaking as he sits still inside you. You play with his hair to distract from how hot you are, and how you wish he’d make you hotter.

He gives himself a moment to calm down, then he presses a kiss you your cheek, readjusts you just a little so your muscles don’t tense up, and then he moves. The first three thrusts are slow and easy, then he starts to slam into you hard.

“Oh fuck—“ You cry out as the deafening smack of his hips into your ass rings out across the room.

The pace he sets is brutal and unrelenting, you were hoping for it all night. The unspent adrenaline from his earlier fights coming right back to fuck you so good you know you won’t be walking tomorrow. Each slap of his balls against your quickly reddening ass is accompanied by a stifled moan.

He watches you with an intensity you weren’t aware he was capable of, eyes drinking in every single inch of your expression. He looked crazed, but that’s what made it so hot. He was obsessed with every little look, every little sound that left you.

“Don’t be quiet, sugar,” He hums, pushing two of his fingers along your bottom row of teeth to force the sounds out.

“They’ll hear—“

“Let ‘em,” He dismisses, “They know you’re mine anyway, who cares.”

You really couldn’t argue with that, especially not when he shifts ever so slight to hit your g-spot head on. A salacious moan rips out of your throat, and your sure Caesar has figured out what you were up to earlier from that alone. He doesn’t stop ripping sounds out of you, though, continuing his brutal pace and hitting that spot so well you think you’re seeing stars.

The build up to your orgasm is so quick you hardly have time to realize it’s happening. One second you’re fine the next your throwing your head back and moaning like a whore.

“Lighter- Baby, I’m— fuck me- god I’m gonna cum, Lighter.” You admit, way too loud for your liking.

He hums, seeming to switch gears and fuck you faster somehow, “Go ahead, I’ve got you. Lemme feel you cum for me.”

You nod, chest rising and falling rapidly as start litter your vision. You think you nearly pass out, but Lighters hard thrusts fuck you through your orgasm. You squeeze him so tight, like you’re trying to milk his own out of him. You want him to fill you up, want to feel his warm cum deep in your belly. Want to see it drip down your thighs and pool onto the bed when he pulls out.

“Cum inside, please.” You beg.

“Fuuuck… ‘re you—“

You nod, “I need it, please cum in me. ‘S part of your present.”

He groans, fisting the sheets next to your head, “Suagr, you’re fuckin’ killin’ me.”

Always one to please, Lighter does exactly as you ask. Filling you to the brim with his thick hot cum. You revel in his moans, and only slightly wish you could curl your nails into his shoulders to leave another christmas gift for the morning.

He eases you into a more comfortable position before collapsing on top of you. His weight is welcome against your spent body, as are the wet kisses he presses into your sore skin. He unties your hand with one of his, and you quickly wrap them up into his hair.

“I love you,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “So much. You’re the best gift a guy can ask for.”

You giggle at the praise, “I love you too, Lighter.”

[prodbyton]

the way you LITERALLY READ MY MIND WITH THE PERV!SEUNGHAN YOU WROTE???? like, i had "perv!Seunghan = 24/7 hornball; "i need you right now"" jotted down in my notes 🧍🏾‍♀️ kinda crazy how you looked into my brain, but i love it!!

recently, i've been giving perv!Anton maybe a little bit too much thought. i already decided that it had to do with taking pictures bc DUHHHH 🤪 Anton loves taking pictures of you. all. the. time. you don't mind bc you love posing for him (foreshadowing :D). any time you're together he takes at least 40 pictures of you and usually sends them immediately so you can keep your insta current.

you dressed up for a little morning date in a cute and maybe a little short skirt, but you two ended up spending the whole day together. it was so late you decided to stay over. he was distracted by whatever he was doing on his laptop, and you had to beg for the pictures he took (like full-on send it to me Rachel!! 😫). he tossed his phone to you without missing a beat.

you open the photo gallery and just before you tap the first picture of yourself, you see an album with a puppy. it was so cute you thought "oh, maybe Anton has a whole album of cute animals!" you tap it and immediately your jaw hits the floor. the first photo was a shot right up the skirt you were currently wearing. you quickly composed yourself and continued to scroll. there were so many pictures of your ass and cleavage, it made your head spin. and the occasional shot of your bare pussy from the hot nights you slept in only one of Anton's shirts didn't go unnoticed. you eventually sent the clothed pictures of yourself to your phone and acted like nothing happened. that's when the constant posing started.

you started wearing skirts and dresses more and dropping things more often. every time you get up after bending over, Anton's ears get so red. one day you decided to give Anton the special treat of a short skirt paired with no panties. when you did your usual extended bend-over, Anton very quickly excused himself. he damn near sprinted to the bathroom. you followed him because why not.

you stood outside the bathroom and could faintly hear him whisper to himself something along the lines of "i shouldn't keep doing this. she'll be so mad at me". the whispers soon turned into moans whimpers and the wet sound of Anton fucking his hand. you stood there the whole time just listening. this was probably the hottest moment of your relationship that didn't last long enough. the door swung open and he was so red in the face when he saw you. his eyes were wide and watery as he searched for something to say.

-🎀 (i am once again asking the universe for a man who is obsessed with me and is Anton)

im glad we’re on the same page abt perv hani, but i lowkey wanna hear your thoughts now 🙈 but thats just cuz seunghan makes me crazy

PERV ANTONNNN im doing backflips. been waiting for this one fr 🫦 but ugh he’s definitely the type to sneak pics. he has you and everyone fooled with the dog as the thumbnail trick so no one would suspect a thing. but you’re just a girl and if you see a photo album with a cute animal on it ofc you’d click on it :/ but then you see what your boyfriends been doing behind your back and you don’t know what to feel.

any normal person would be disgusted, it was perverted and just nasty to put your take photos of your girlfriends panties under her dress/skirt, using his height to his advantage so he can get better cleavage photos, keeping his phone by his side to get various shots of your ass, all behind your back. but you can’t help but be a little turned on. your boyfriend was so obsessed and attracted to you that he felt like he had to sneak to get a few panty shots.

i think if you gave him photos of your body he would appreciate them soo much, but something about sneaking them and getting them during candid moments just made the photos sexier for him. he even has his live photo setting on so he can play the 2 second clip of you bending over while he’s jerking off.

you had already found out about his little secret, but when you decide you wanted to catch him in the act you knew you had to think of a plan. when he sees you outside the bathroom door you play it off as you were just checking on him since you needed to go after him, and he tries to calm his racing heart from the idea of being caught.

it’s not until later when you ask for his phone, an innocent request and it’s not like he would ever hide his phone from you. you said you just wanted to play games on his phone while he watched whatever was on tv. he wasn’t even thinking about moving his little folder into his hidden before handing you his device, but he didn’t think you’d be going into his photo library if you were playing games.

after a bit, you open his camera and start taking selfies and this shouldn’t be an issue, anton loves when you do this, he loves having photos of you in his phone, but he was so nervous of you opening his camera roll. he got tense, suddenly wanting his phone back and you raised a brow at him but ignored him. you played it off by saying you wanted to look back on the photos you took so you could send them to yourself. now he’s praying that you dont notice that one specific folder when you open the photos app.

but you do. and anton feels like he’s going to throw up.

“you have a folder of animals? thats so cute how come you never send me these?”

“it just slipped my mind i guess…” he chuckles nervously and runs a hand through his hair, and then everything hits the fan the second your finger clicks on the icon.

all the photos he had of you in compromised positions, up your skirt, down your shirt, and just full on naked photos of your weak body after you two had sex was on display. you pretended to be shocked, like you hadn’t already discovered the folder some days ago, but anton was a mess trying to explain himself. strings of apologies leaving his lips and he’s basically on his knees begging for your forgiveness. you just cup his face in your hand, rubbing soothing circles on his cheek with your thumb.

he looked super hot like this, so pathetic under your touch begging for you to forgive him and to not think he’s some sick pervert. but you reassure him that it’s okay, and he can continue taking all the pictures he wants of you.

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Silvans are Nocturnal

No but seriously though, considering that the elves of Beriland very much did not have any form of light other than the stars until the sun came up, they probably feel more at home in the darkness of the night and this continues to be the way the silvans opperate through the ages. It helps that ultimately they do not interact that much with other elven realms so it’s not as if they need to change to accommodate them.

Furthermore, elves can stay awake days at a time, so when the silvans do need to interact with outsiders they can simply stay awake during the day when needed and leave no one the wiser.

A more tactical reason for the nocturnalness is that the enemy, the darkness is more active during the night and less during the day, so it’s safer to sleep during the day than at night.

I must emphesize that, due to their nocternalness, they also do not need much light to see in the dark, so at most you have faintly glowing plants or lamps throughout the settlement/stronghold/palace that are only strong enough to give a vague outline of the place, but not enough to give anyone any details. It makes it very hard for outsiders to navigate through the place during the night.

The silvans, of course, have no issue seeing everything clearely, allowing them to get the drop on many beings. Their eyes also have an odd glow to them, not like that of the trees, but it’s unique to the silvan folfk and other elves find it highly unsettling.

(Off topic, but i personally believe that the silvans stalk through the forests like leapards and jaguars, largely due to them, well, living in a forest with uneven ground surrounded by foilage that makes it hard to see enemies from far away. They also slink through the forest to hunt, getting a literal drop on their prey from the trees.

The way silvan’s behave is very different from any other elves (except maybe the avari and/or green elves) bc they do not reside in large cities with towering buildings and wide open space)

This in turn has the side affect of at least Thranduil and Legolas walking as if they were stalking their prey and everyone finds it highly unsettling and it makes them think as if the silvan royals are pissed off at sm1 bc surely that must be why they’re behaving as if they are about to kill.

This is why Thranduil got himself accidentally painted as a very scary and temporal elf when in reality he’s a legit chill, calm, and fun guy who likes to party.

HE’S NOT TRYING TO BE SCARY, OK, HE’S JUST A SILVAN TRYING TO LIVE HIS LIFE! (Read: get drunk and make merry)

Also:

Elrond, getting up at the crack of dawn to get to work: oh, Thranduil! I didn’t know you’d be up already!

Thranduil, whose internal clock demands it’s evening and is getting dinner: how the fuck do you function during the day

And:

Boromir, whose taking the night watch: *sees legolas* aY YO WHAT THE FUCK-

Legolas, staring in the general direction of Boromir while sitting perfectly still with a bow in hand bc for him it’s day: *waves* nice night

Aragorn, trying to sleep, used to this: stop being a creepy bitch, Las.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

🎶Oh my God, we’re back again🎶

Well hello….it’s 💛. You said that my requests make you happy and that you don’t mind them so I have returned. By the way, if this ever changes, do not hesitate to tell me. Even if you just don’t want to write TØP anymore. I’m a fan of a lot of fandoms you appear to write for, so I’d probably be able to request other things (again, only if you don’t mind me doing so). For what it’s worth, your stories are the highlight of my day. I frequently reread them when I’m feeling down or in need of an escape.

Alright, enough with my sappiness. You know that meme of the girl explaining something to her mom and the mom is just like 😐 (google “Me explaining to my mom meme” and it should be the first pic that shows up)? I was thinking that a fun story would be Josh trying (and maybe failing) to explain TØP lore to the reader. It doesn’t have to go super in depth to things by any means. I just can imagine that such a scenario has happened before and, quite honestly, half the time I don’t even know the lore. As always, if you hate this idea, no pressure to do it. ❤️❤️

Lore - Josh Dun x Reader

Pairing: Josh x Reader

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 1374

A/N: I love that you re-read my stuff. It makes me so happy that it’s the highlight of your day. Getting your requests is the highlight of mine, writing helps me relax at the end of the day-especially with how rough it is being in senior year (I’m in the southern hemisphere and finish school late November so exams are imminent 😭). I actually re-read some of mine quite a bit. Honestly I’m so proud of the number 16 cotton candy. The way part 2 ended made me want to cry - I believe I ATE that if I do say so myself 🙌. It makes me want to add more parts, like the reader watching Clancy perform on Good Day Dema and seeing how upset/zoned out he looks and being hurt by it, the conversations they have after reuniting, more of that series’ torchbearer bc he’s funny af, and more! Literally love this request btw bc I tried explaining the lore to my mom and she pulled the exact face in the meme. 

Tyler and Josh were always on social media. It had always been a key part of their relationship with the clique, and I’d noticed it more and more when they started tagging me in memes and pictures that I didn’t know the meanings of. 

“Josh?” I asked. We were sitting on the couch under a blanket in our apartment, the weather outside cold and rainy. Josh looked down at me, I’d planted myself in his lap, my head resting perfectly on his thighs while the rest of my body stretched out across the couch. 

“Yeah?” I brought my phone up to his face. 

“What’s a forest fic and why are the clique tagging me in memes saying you don’t exist?” His face dropped, mouth open wide in shock. “Tyler reposted something about it earlier and I don't get it.” He said nothing, the silence in the room growing with every second. “What?” I could tell he was trying to frame a way to tell me the truth, surely it wasn’t that bad.

“It’s a uh….uhhhh, like a fan fiction. And like….uhhh… I’m like not real in it… like a figment of Tyler’s imagination. Uhh and then a treehouse burns down THE END,” he mumbled, stumbling through the words and giving the worst plot description I’d ever heard. I was still confused. “That’s all you will EVER need to know… no need to look it up or mention it ever again.” He flashed me a quick smile before going back to his phone. I sat there for a few moments trying to understand his words before continuing. 

“But how is that relevant to whatever Tyler posted this morning?” 

He let out a loud sigh, telling me I was starting to get on his nerves. He put down his phone and properly sat up, giving me his full attention.

“It’s related to the lore of the new album, the whole Dema thing,” he explained. I knew that over the last few albums the boys had been telling some big story but that it was too complex to just google and learn about in five minutes. 

“Like how your character is the Torchbearer?” I asked and he nodded in response. “But how is that related to you not existing?”

“Do you really want me to explain the whole lore to you?” he laughed. 

“Yeah, I guess today’s the day.”

Josh had tried to explain everything as clearly as he could but it still didn’t make any sense. He explained that he was called the Torchbearer–which I’d proudly already known–and that Tyler was called Clancy. He also said that Clancy was trying to escape Dema because of the Bishops–I still didn’t really understand the concept of the Bishops… or Dema for that matter. 

“Wait, wait, wait, so you’re saying that there’s like… nine different Bishops?” I asked, trying to get my head around it. 

Josh nodded, “And they’re in charge of different sectors of Dema where the citizens live.” 

“If I’m being 100% honest, I have no idea where we are on the timeline or what the difference between Trench and Dema is,” I laughed. Josh covered his eyes and shook his head. He grabbed his phone, sending off a couple of texts before continuing trying to explain the lore. After about an hour, we both had our computers out, Josh was on the clique side of reddit and I was taking notes, typing frantically. A loud knock sounded from the door and I got up to answer it. It was Tyler, standing in the doorway with a large blanket with ‘twenty one pilots’ printed on it, snacks–including my favorite candy, the mask he’d worn during all the Clancy promotional stuff, a roll of yellow tape, and a stuffed animal which looked like a fat goat. 

“Where’s Josh? I heard there was an emergency and I came prepared,” he spoke, running inside and jumping on the couch next to my boyfriend. Closing the door I chuckled to myself and walked back over to the boys. “Josh said you wanted to learn the lore.”

“Well I tried explaining it to her myself but she wasn’t getting it,” Josh claimed. 

“That’s because you don’t get the lore yourself, come on,” Tyler laughed. He grabbed Josh’s computer and switched the tab to YouTube. “To start with, watch this.” He started playing the band’s ‘The Story’ playlist which featured all of the lore-related music videos. We started with Heavy Dirty Soul–which I’d seen before–and then went on to watch the videos from Trench. 

“Okay so Tyler’s character, Clancy, basically tries escaping Dema but then gets taken back. Josh’s character, the Torchbearer, is in charge of the Banditos–the rebellion group–and gets Tyler–sorry Clancy out of the city and takes him to the camp but then he gets captured again?” 

Tyler nodded, confirming my understanding. We continued watching the music videos till we got to ‘The Outside’. Josh  pulled out the stuffed animal and passed it to me before pressing play. I watched the video, Josh leading Tyler through an island and into a cave. A small gremlin with black eyes, gray horns, and white fur popped onto the screen, the exact same creature the stuffed animal was modeled off of. He jumped about the dark cave mysteriously, leading Tyler to a larger group of them. “Oh my god what is that thing?” I moved into Josh, cuddling up to him, completely stunned at this creature who was both cute and terrifying at the same time. 

“It’s Ned,” he smiled, “it stands for Neuro-Expansion Device.” I nodded and continued to watch the video. Tyler had gotten the horns from Ned and was able to control the dead bishop I’d learned to be Keons. When we finally reached Navigating, Josh paused the video. “This is the video those instagram memes were referring to, the ones Tyler has been reposting.” Tyler pressed play and we sat through the entire thing. The song was catchy and the video showed Josh leading Tyler through the forest and back into Trench after leaving the island Vøldsoy. What I didn’t expect was for Josh’s character to be a figment of Tyler’s imagination and the real Torchbearer to be the Bandito one from the Trench videos. 

“WHAT?!” I gasped, “NO WAY.” There was no way this whole time the Torchbearer was not there for Clancy. I wanted to cry from how sad it was and I had to find out how the story ended. “Wait so what happens next?” 

Tyler sat up and put the computer away, “Well basically we have another music video for Paladin Strait but that’s not coming out for a while. We’ve also got some lore stuff planned for the tour so I’ve got to finalize that soon too.” 

I nodded listening to everything he was saying and trying to remember the few follow up questions I had. “So, the bishops,” I started. 

“Yeah, what about them?” Josh asked, wrapping his arms around me. 

“So I get that Keons and Nico are the main ones but what about the others? Like what kind of a name is Nills?” Tyler laughed loudly, bringing a hand up to his chest.

“They’re from the songs off Blurryface, like Sacarver, “she’s a carver,” he explained. 

“Oh so you went through the lyrics and highlighted things that sounded vaguely like names?” Josh seemed to find that hilarious because he nearly fell off the couch. Tyler however, found it less funny and rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” he got up and packed up the blanket. “You can keep the Ned by the way.” I grinned and cuddled him closer to me. 

“Thanks for the help Tyler,” Josh held me against his chest. 

“No worries,” he smiled before leaving the apartment. Josh and I were left to ourselves, the rain still pattered on the roof and I could hear the occasional grumble of thunder. 

“So Torchbearer, what’s the plan for dinner?” I asked, getting up off the couch. I got up, put away all the snacks and drinks while Josh folded up our blankets. 

“You’re never going to stop calling me that are you?” he laughed. 

“What’s that? I can’t see you, maybe you’re not really here.”

//

Hopefully this is good, I wasn't too sure about it but I think it's worth publishing. I'm so glad that I have 💛 anon bc their requests are awesome and I love hearing their feedback. I felt guilty last night about declining a Joshler fic but bc of 💛 saying I should write what I want it felt okay.

[velvetvexations]

I'm answering these via text again because it would take way too long otherwise!

read the screencaps of that one really nasty transradfem you rb'd a little earlier and you know what struck me in particular is, especially as they went on (there were many) it was so interesting seeing how many of them used text like "trans women" almost exclusively for trans women but trans men/mascs got almost exclusively called 'tboys' 'they/hes' 'tmes' 'theyfabsbians (???)' and 'aidans' and not once just called trans men. and i wonder if theres some part of them that is aware of how bad that would look. how much more spiteful that would seem. or at least more obviously full of shit. or maybe its just self-righteous rage idk. it doesn't REALLY matter WHY, its just stomach-curdling dehumanization and its suuuch a bummer. anyway youre great as ever! have a good weekend :)

It's so fucking gross and weird, and blatantly transandrophobic specifically in a way that's undeniable.

The conversations around it have cooled down, but it was disconcerting seeing people act like the reaction to intersex people in athletics is purely transphobic (and only impacting intersex athletes incidentally), when one of the people actually supporting rulings against intersex women is Joanna Harper, a trans woman and scientist. She has previously testified against Caster Semenya on behalf of World Athletics. I support Harper's work in arguing for trans women's inclusion in sport. It is vitally important. I do not wish ill on her whatsoever. But she showcases the huge intersexism problem the wider trans community has, which needs to be more widely acknowledged. ("Hyperandrogenism and women vs women vs men in sport: A Q&A with Joanna Harper" is perhaps the most illustrative example of her views.)

Also, you straight-up have countless numbers of radfems and other transphobes taking the intersex argument into account wrt Imane Khelif and going "yeah well he's still a male sweetie :)" so it's not like you can even say her situation specifically was about trans women even if that was a large part of it.

this isnt a trans related thing but i know you answer asks often so apolgies in advance do you ever get so excited that you just dont do something? like, not "oh i dont have the energy/cant focus/ect" but your just so excited to do something that you literally can't? i'm having that with some videos i wanna watch and its like pleaseeee i just wanna watch themmmm but now i've been plagued with energy

sorry, anon with to much energy again, would like to add i'm not sure if i have adhd or not but i'm leaning towards no cause it would be really inconvenient if i did and also this happens with literally everything not just videos, books, youtube vids(rn), tv shows, games idk how to end this so have a good day!

My problem is definitely in the opposite direction, I never have enough energy. Would that we could switch.

So I will say iirc social murder is a legitimate concept that's typically used to describe the ways that vulnerable populations are quietly killed under the guise of "letting die" such as putting DNRs on disabled patients during covid who had no desire for and indeed no idea they had effectively been marked as "acceptable to let die". It goes along with stuff like abjectification aka a demographic is made into not simply an object or non-human but a monster worthy of being put down. The abjectification of Palestinians is what allows the state of israel to say explicitly or implicitly things like "there are no innocent civilians" Sorry if there's any typos I've missed ^^;;

Pervious anon again to also clarify that social murder is something done systematically and can be done by omission too like the way in which adoptees especially trans racial & international adoptees face higher rates of suicide, risk of harm fron caregives, and medical issues that go treated bc of a lack of family medical history bc were just seen as ungrateful for wanting contact with our families of origin even if it's SOLEY for getting our medical records

Trans ppl of all kinds experience social murder through medical neglect, domestic/caregiver/workplace violence and though omission via lack of legal protection/trans panic defense stuff. Social murder is not something one individual does to another individual though individuals do uphold the systems that allow social murder...it's very uncomfortable to be part of the demographics that are subject to these quiet "letting die" situations and fear that we'll become a statistic and then have ppl try to turn it into an interpersonal gotcha for lateral aggression / separatist purposes so like ty for trying to course correct that Again sorry if we missed any typos and we think your really cool ^^;;

I think that's just a similar name for an entirely different concept, though. I don't know to what extent "social murder" is or was used outside of transradfem circles to mean "canceling but like, evil" but it was the first time I heard either the phrase or that context.

hey as a trans man I just wanted to let you know I really really appreciate your blog and you standing with us, I hope we can all endeavour to stand by each other in times like this. we're stronger together than apart and every trans person, regardless of identity, deserves to have a voice.

It's always my pleasure, anon.

nice transandrophobic opinion, nerd. did you get it from your favorite tankie blogger?

lmao fr I need to start using that

Miss Velvet, I am unfollowing, flambéing, blocking, etc for your dragon ball takes! …just kidding. I love your posts.

I have all the right takes.

youre so cool

I knowwwwww

such a weird assumption that trans women cant be into detrans kink too?? my trans girlfriend was into it and even if i personally wasnt i like being a kink sponge so she could get it all out on me

It's especially bullshit because the coiner of transandrophobia was crucified for a indulging a trans woman with a detrans kink.

out of curiosity. any thoughts on cannibalism? hypothetically of course. fantasy only

Not my thing, although I think the metaphysical idea of incorporating what you eat into your spirit somehow is fascinating.

I checked the post and I'm not seeing ops letting terfs call trans women rapist in the replies Like its not there They were just offline and can't be online to block every shit terf that speaks every three seconds. Also love how that person remived rbs after u saw the post bc they know theyre lying and pretending they're being "dogpiled"

I relaize I might just have all the terfs blocked but my point stabds: this person probably isnt chronically online to argue with every terfs who makes up lies. i sometimes just ignore them bc yhe obly terfs i worry about are the ones who say that shit in real queer spaces an noth their pathetic little blogs

Yeah, like. The idea was that they were deleting one group of radfems and not the other and that just wasn't true. So frustrating, but them killing the reblogs is hilarious as always.

[dayurno]

sorryyyy for bringing some type of discourse to your inbox but I just giggle whenever anyone brings up the fact that nora soad andrews a misogynist and their only argument is the fact that he's friends with renee and dating neil who said women are the strongest ppl i know, like i don't personally think he's a misogynist, but i feel like there has to be better arguments for it😭

maybe it's bc the fandom gets on my nerves so I'm more sensitive to any attempts a defanging and making characters more palatable bc I'm not a fan of the widespread fanon versions of the characters also it's sad I feel like the fandom made some sort of progress where discussions were being had about the problems in the series and now after tsc came out it feels like we're back to where the author can do no wrong and it's hard to criticise anything

what do you think about tsc being a triology, I feel like two books can hopefully give Jeremy the depth he needs i remember you found him a bit flat as well when you read the book, I see a lot of people saying he needs to have a mean side or a traumatic past but I feel like a kind, nice character can be interesting without those things and not every kind character needs to have this secret mean side anyway, personally I groaned out loud when I found out it was a triology bc that would mean the fandom would be alive for longer and it's so crazy out of any book fandom I've ever been in for some reason the aftg fandom feels the most obnoxious maybe it's bc the books deal with heavier topics close to the heart so there's more feelings involved🤔the only book fandom who has pissed me off a comparable amount would be asoiaf but that's a whole different thing

I really do try and be happy I'm not even in the fandom anymore and I've never followed aftg twitter accounts and I don't even check the tags I just go on certain blogs but i still see things it's horrible💔like I can't believeeee we're still discussing if Kevins a coward or not and how selfish he is for leaving the nest like we've already argued about this to death on tumblr back in like 2016 now it's the same thing again💔

LOL i understand honestly so many of these discussions are repackaged wide-spread 2015 opinions which don’t reflect the original text that it’s hard to do anything except use the we have this thread every week comrade image and let it go. andrew being misogynistic is not even hard to come to terms with considering it’s not an interpretation or a headcanon it’s the author’s own words and will for the character incorporated into canon. there are things to disagree with nora sakavic for, but ultimately there is a difference between disagreeing with the author and willfully ignoring the intention with which a character was written

& i didn’t really care much for the news, i think the lack of planning and the rushed way the books are coming along are grating on both the author and the fandom, but i don’t blame her for wanting to get this done and over with. it will show more insight on jeremy hopefully, but unfortunately i already don’t care 😭 i think the route tsc took was in general uninteresting and pedestrian enough to not warrant a second thought, and i’m not particularly interested in any plotline beyond what pertains to kevin and the ravens. what surprised me really is the total lack of impact tsc had on the fandom, which is to say, i think it was so in line with the same 3-5 headcanons passed around the last 10 years that it has genuinely done nothing for anyone aside from the people who were already very invested in jean and/or jeremy. it feels like a different fandom from aftg altogether, which i’m happy about if only because it keeps us all locked in different cages, but it still baffles me to see people dedicate so much thought to a book whose characters bar jean are, as of now, the very definition of Nothing burger. all in all the answer to that question and most questions pertaining to tsc is Who cares. because literally who cares

LMFAO staying away from aftg twt is really good for you & honestly all of us. it’s still so funny to me that not even nora sakavic herself wanted to touch that mess. mentally ill white suburbanite teenage shut-in echo chamber ass fandom

[wuxiaphoenix]

Stray Thoughts: On the Artificer’s Record

AKA the Kaogong ji, a 5th century BC Chinese text on crafts and technologies that’s part of the Zhouli (The Rites of the Zhou Dynasty), one of the Confucian classics. Which makes this book useful as a writing reference in multiple ways. It’s good for crafts of that time and many later centuries; even today, techniques for, say, cleaning silk are essentially the same. It’s also good for character backgrounds, because any educated Confucian scholar in most of East Asia up until near-modern times, or heck, anyone trying to educate themselves, would read the classics. In the Colors ‘verse, for example, our magistrate and scholar-trained vampire Lee Cheong would have read this, our marksman Ha-neul might have poked it, and our Heavenly cultivator Chae has definitely read it, has opinions on the silk methods, and will shove it at Jason and Mary as soon as she learns they probably haven’t read it.

If you know what your characters have read, you have insight into how they think, what problem-solving methods they’re already familiar with, and maybe even a shape of things they wouldn’t know.

This leads to an interesting conundrum writers need to consider: in the age of the Internet and cheaply published books, we may know more and feel more connected to events and people widely separated from us in time and space. Especially when it comes to ancient but literate cultures. Odds are someone’s translated their works into your native language (as Jun Wenren did for this edition of the Kaogong ji) and done archaeology to fill in the gaps. Whereas when it comes to modern stuff right next door....

Well. That’s the kind of thing most people keep up with by way of local gossip and the daily newspaper. Only writers often aren’t good at plugging into the gossip networks, and may be a bit out of pocket when it comes to newspapers that keep going behind more paywalls. So... yeah. There are days I feel I have a better understanding of the politics and motivations of the Bakumatsu than whatever insanity’s been brewed up at the local town hall, much less D.C.

(If any member of Congress happens to read this blog - go get incandescent bulbs back into legal territory. They’re way less hazardous to dispose of than CFLs and LEDs, and they don’t give me a headache.)

So what can we do about this mental rift?

First and foremost, be aware it exists. The people and places you feel connected to color your writing. Not to mention if you casually toss around terms like shinai, onmitsu, and hatamoto when your readers aren’t familiar with the history of Japan, you may lose them. Slip in some explanations!

Second, study up on interesting times and places. Lots of readers like learning something new, especially if it comes as part of a story.

Third - it might not hurt to see if you can find resources written specifically about where and when you, yourself, live. Heck, books like “The Making Of” a show or film can ground you in all kinds of things you didn’t know about your own time. Also sites like Science Direct and Science Daily, to keep up on interesting tidbits in the realm of Science!

In the meantime, I’m going to cuddle my early Christmas gift, and glee how it’ll help me write some scholars!

[goobie-goo]

for the assorted multiverses, i just have harry potter (mom showed me when i was young hhhh i dont interact w it anymore bc loss of interest and uhm. *stares at jk rowling* eugh) and avatar: the last airbender (its the best ever /j)

the only thing i have written down for HP lore-wise is literally “HATES DUMBLEDORE” i mean. you do you. i did a house test for him bc i was bored— he got ravenclaw. not even surprised -> im a ravenclaw. his patronous is a nebelung cat which is funny bc my childhood cat was a nebelung (i have photos if you wanna see) (theyre from 2017 im so glad i have them still)

for ATLA:

THERE WAS AN ATLA PICREW AND IT WAS COOL OKAY? AAABJDNSNJS

dallas to aang & zuko, talking about ozai: you need me to kill that guy for you? 👀 /ref

“i’m gonna say that he’s probably an outlier bc of the world-hopper thing. something like an avatar but not? aang and the others are still the avatar, dallas isn’t considered an avatar. he can control all elements but isn’t an avatar bc he isn’t a reincarnation. the only reason he can bend all 4 is bc of his otherworldly status.” <- dallas also is a part of The Family aka is OP as FUCK! he has powers from that before he came to ATLA’s universe but he only bends the 4 elements and then the sub-types of bending styles (metal bending, blood bending, healing, lava bending, etc.) of the ATLA universe so no one gets suspicious.

cant add anything about Korra bc i havent watched it. im too attached to aang :[

thats really the only 2 assorted universes i have solid, written lore for. hermitcraft is dallas healing, nothing written yet— no ideas. i dont dare of bringing dallas into the DSMP. no way. that would only send him into a relapse. oh right! uhh i did think of some genshin ideas but its not in my notes… its in disc though lemme grab it-

THE FOLLOWING IS COPIED N PASTED!! (was talking about dsmp to a friend that doesnt know dsmp)

had a vivid reminder of one scene from an animatic (i think??) off dsmp wilbur asking (read: demanding) philza to kill him

and i literally forgot it was dsmp— i was just thinking of a crazed face and that person desperately asking another to ruin them through with a sword, while in a bout of insanity and mental breakdown. said sword is held by the other person (the one being asked to kill) and the insane one is basically pressing it into their own neck as they yell and scream to ‘just kill me!’

and i was like. hm. i cant remeber what thats from.

and i open my photo folders and scroll titles and then see dsmp related ones and go OH MY GOD ITS THE C!WILBUR DEATH—

anyways the reason i bright this up is bc i got the random vision of the scene i saw,,,

but w dallas during a breakdown of his. ***(AU bc i would not do anything to this extent)***

like oh my god imagine being the person on the other side of the sword???

i’m thinking genshin maybe. and rn, venti bc dallas and venti are like— BESTIES.

and imagine???

dallas is like: just kill me— *kinda crazy wide eyes and smile but yk also small bit of tears. not a lot,,

venti: *literally in tears* no— no!? dallas, i’m not doing that?!

dallas: this world is better off without me! besides, it’s not like i *won’t* come back!! you could push me off a cliff and break every bone in my goddamn body and *i’d be fine!!!*

venti: no, you wouldn’t be fine!? what the fuck?! im not going to *kill* you!||

or whatever idk i’m not good with writing mentally unstable characters in that way.

(btw venti doesn’t kill dallas, just wraps him up in a hug until the episode passes or whatever while venti cries. dallas apologizes for saying that, even though they both know he wasn’t in the right state of mind bc he still kinda traumatized venti. they tend to walk on eggshells when it comes to dallas’ suicidal tendencies after that— jumping into fights, taking blows for others, no self-preservation, etc.)

anywayssss :p

I WAS GOING THROUGH CHATS TO FIND MORE DALLAS MORE. GOOD NEWS. I DID FIND MORE AHHAAH

was finding music for dallas spotify playlist and got sad over lore again. and then nesquik (their nickname) started grilling me over how okd dallas is ehe

first two speak for themselves i think? the last ome was on the topic of dying and then brought up how The Eyes cannot die. (aether is the name of the male MC)

anywho-

DALLAS LORE!!!!!!!!!!!!

poor gyu :(((((( hes just a little silly!!!!! just needs a big ol hug!!!!!!!!

[golbrocklovely]

since this anon kinda gets into some bridgerton spoilers, i'm gonna put it behind a keep reading so in case you haven't seen it yet, nothing is spoiled for yall :)

i'm gonna make a whole post on my feelings for part one bc omg i have so many, but i'll go into some detail about how i feel now.

BOOK SPOILERS ARE IN HERE (so if you don't want to know anything at all about this season/book, turn back now)

i was interested to see how things played out with eloise and pen strictly bc in the books, since LW has been doing it for so long, eloise isn't all that upset at finding out about pen being her.

but in the show, i was curious to see how they would make el and cressida work. and i think it sort of works. but my whole thing is, i can't stand c. like i get why she acts the way she does, but compare her to pen who is basically in the same situation.

pen also comes from a family that is mean to her and doesn't treat her well. she is also in competition with the ladies of the ton (and not only them but her own sisters at one point) to find a man, and yet she isn't mean. she doesn't pick on others to make herself feel bigger. her and c are basically one in the same, but the difference is that pen is internal with her negativity while c boasts herself as something more while simultaneously not feeling like she measures up.

this obviously brings into the question LW, but i think in a way pen isn't really saying anything the ton isn't already thinking. she's just making it widely known. in a way, she's the gossiper for all ppl - the rich and poor. so while yes, she can be mean in the LW columns, she's really only saying what everyone was saying to her and around her. and even then, she's also bringing herself down by reporting on herself and her family, which puts her in even more negative withstanding.

i kinda wish they would have kept c mean just for the sake of being mean, not have the audience try and pity her in a way. i think it would have been more entertaining if she was just rude bc she was never taught to be nice, rather than it being a desperate ploy to get a man before everyone else while being deeply insecure. idk. in my own personal experience, while you have bullies that are bullied themselves, which is why they act the way they do, some ppl are just destined to be dicks lol

and pen will definitely reveal herself as LW to colin, and probably her family and the bridgerton family. but i don't see it being shared with the rest of the ton only bc that kinda defeats the purpose of the show. in the books, there is the whole carriage scene, but then she continues being LW even tho colin thought they both agreed to her stopping it then and there. but regardless of that (since that won't work in the show), i think she'll reveal it right before they get married, and some form of drama will occur.

also.. and don't take my word for this since it hasn't been confirmed or anything, but i heard there's gonna be another carriage scene so……… maybe we'll get that from the books after all lol

(plus the mirror scene... plus an apparent montage of them fucking so............... i'm sat and ready)

as for what's gonna happen in part two, i have seen some spoilers so i won't say them since i highly doubt you want to be spoiled, but from the little preview they did show (plus some bts i've seen that has been going around twitter from some news network that went on the set to film them do part 2) i think like the books c is gonna confess to being LW and that's what makes pen pass out. and then she's gonna try to counter c with her own LW column calling her out, and then she'll get caught by colin. i think a variation of that is gonna play out.

i'm just hoping that by the end her and eloise are friends again. bc their scenes in this first half… i literally cried twice. especially at the "would you like to come up" part. it just hits a bit close to home in a way for me.

i just can't wait for what's gonna happen. like i need this second half NOW.

[hannahbanana29]

newjeans' Danielle x fem!r

Get to know you better pt2.

Sorry it took so long for me to update again 😞 I'm just getting huge writer's block. Anyways, if you haven't read part one, I suggest you do bc then you'll have the full background, but either way, enjoy!

**sneak peek** "I'm surprised and honestly bummed we haven't met each other before tonight. How'd I not notice you… you're really pretty."

Chapter TWO: Overnight

Danielle was still on your mind by the time the digital clock on your bedside table told you it was now 12:47am. She hadn't really left it at all, and as much as it wasn't awful to have this pretty girl stuck in your head, you valued your sleep. But also, you felt so pathetic when you realised you'd not even spoken to this girl for five minutes and you were already growing a small crush on her.

You weren't being dramatic. Literally, even when you told yourself not to think about her for at least another 60 seconds, she'd appear next to you in your mind.

Like when you realised you wouldn't sleep properly until Minji got home, so you went downstairs to get a late snack. You'd opened the fridge to get the milk as to pour yourself a cup of tea/coffee, and you caught your stupid self imagining what it would be like for Danielle to walk up behind you and ask what you were doing.

Something as mundane as that, yes. But the idea of such a domestic, meaningless and easily forgettable moment between you and this girl was bringing you to paradise. As shameful as that was to you, it was also something that you couldn't stop doing. Like a guilty pleasure you'd gained jn the last two hours.

You thought back to how you'd been feeling before Minji had entered your room, about to tell you her plans to go out with her friends. You'd been scrolling on whatever Netflix had to offer, which wasn't a lot. You could remember a time when you'd be able to spend a day just the same old shit on TV and not get bored, but now…

These days…

Something felt bitter. Almost as though you'd lost something, and you knew what it was. It was that thrill, that excitement, that reason to get up in the morning. You weren't depressed or anything, but you just had a lack of motivation and enthusiasm for the past year or so, and it was getting to your brain.

This might be why you couldn't stop thinking of Danielle, despite how you'd only known her for three minutes. You were at a point in life where you needed something not quite insane but just new and exciting enough to give you energy, for you to care about living a little more. And that new and exciting something - or someone - just waltzed through your door looking stunning and acting like God's gift to you.

Maybe the man upstairs is making up for my utter boredom.

You'd taken yourself back up to your bedroom, where things were the same. You liked your living space, especially your room, but it had been the same since… well, a long time ago. You were thinking perhaps you could dive into Pinterest to get some new bedroom inspiration.

In your room, you weren't doing much. You were just laying on your mattress with closed eyes, but you were wide awake thinking about what your life is like in comparison to what you want it to be like right now.

Then you heard the door open.

You perked up a little, but didn't decide to go downstairs just yet. You knew it was most likely Minji, no one else, and your assumption was only confirmed when her voice was heard. God, she sounded sort of breathless, but at least she was happy, which was obvious.

What made you decide to leave your room, however, was when a second voice came from downstairs.

"Minji-ah, can I borrow some clothes, please? Anything will do, thanks so much."

Without a doubt, that was Danielle's voice. Danielle Marsh's voice. As in, the same girl who hadn't left your mind for the last few hours. She'd occupied your thoughts very frequently, and now here she was again, downstairs. But she was asking for clothes from your older sister.

You raced down the staircase of the second floor in your home, and stopped at the bottom when you were able to clearly see Minji and Danielle. Both were still dressed in their pretty dresses and expensive shoes, but their hair was a little tousled, their foreheads shone with a sheen of sweat and their makeup faces had been smudged around the eyes.

Minji was supporting Danielle, and sat her down on the couch of your living room when she turned and saw you.

"Oh! Gosh, Y/N, hey. Sorry if we woke you, I was just about to get Danielle some ice water to even out her, uh, drunkeness." She awkwardly managed to string together a sentence or two.

You shook your head, and tripped a little as you hopped the last step. "No, no, I'll get that." You insisted.

Sure, because Minji was your sister and was obviously intoxicated and vulnerable and worn out. But also, Danielle was here, and the more you observed her, the more you realised what a state she was in. She seemed happy enough, smiling lazily at your sister, but she was sprawled across the couch, pale and covering her mouth a little, as if she were about to vomit.

This only made you whip up the iced water even more quickly, and you were about to hand it to Danielle after walking from the kitchen to the living room, but Minji gave it to her instead once she took it from your hand. Minji probably thought she was just being a tiny bit helpful, but you sort of sulked internally, having rathered you gave it to Danielle instead.

You were about to question, too, why she was so wasted, but Minji beat you to that, as well.

"I think Dani here oversaw how much she could manage. She's been vomiting a bit too much for her brother to handle, and so I offered for her to stay overnight with us. Is that okay?"

You were already nodding, but Danielle, who wasn't watching, decided she had to add to what Minji had said.

"I won't be any trouble at all, Y/N-ie. I'm sorry, I just didn't realise I was such a lightweight until -"

"It's fine, Dan." Minji cut her off, and you pouted stupidly because you would have never stopped Danielle from talking.

And also because you loathed yourself for thinking too much tonight.

"Right! Let me just grab some pj's for you, and then I'll help you get changed. Y/N-ah, please just watch over her for a moment. If she vomits, just take her to the bathroom of course."

And then you were left alone, with a very drunk Danielle. Her flowery scent was now tainted ever so slightly by the alcohol and skunky smell of the club, but she still graced your house with her scent. Without thinking, you sat next to her, and just waited for her to need anything from you. You were ready to run and get it.

"Hey, Y/N-ie…"

You hadn't noticed what she called you the first time she used the nickname, but this time, you did. And it stuck to your cheeks in a red hue, so deep a crimson that you know Danielle could dip her fingers in it and paint a sunset by hand. Gosh, you wonder if she likes to finger paint...?

"Uh, yeah? You okay?"

She was too out of it to notice your stutter and your delayed response, luckily. Even while she was lying across your couch, a little messy and very intoxicated, she made you feel stupid. It was sort of funny. This angel was just in your house, and you were silently worshipping everything you wouldn't have if it was anyone else.

What was it with this stranger? What was it that made you so… how do you even describe it?

"I'm 'kay. Just a bit, haha, tired. You know, I'm used to the odd drink at home under supervision, but I suppose I forgot that I normally even it out with lemonade. I think I overestimated my limits," She admitted with a melodic ring of laughter.

"…Ah", you weren't sure if she wanted you to answer.

"So... Mrs Stokes, huh? We didn't get to finish our conversation did we?"

"Oh-"

"I didn't forget." She smiled up at you from her hunched position. "I actually would have talked longer with you, but Minji was obviously excited to go to the club. Anyways, what other teachers do you have?"

You guys had a sweet conversation while Minji was away. It wasn't much more than small talk, but what made it special was that you didn't feel awkward. Small talk, as a lot of us can agree, made you want to sink into a hole in the ground and let it swallow you up, but with Danielle, small talk was better.

Maybe she has lots of friends at school. Although, you were sure you would have heard of such a popular person at the place you attended five days a week for seven hours.

Danielle sighed softly. "I'm surprised and honestly bummed we haven't met each other before tonight. How'd I not notice you…you're really pretty."

She'd mumbled that last part. You were pretty sure though that she wasn't bothered if you heard or not. Was it even directly towards you, or just for her own ears? Was she so exhausted that she needed to hear her thoughts out loud in order to understand them properly?

Your mind had gone into a small frenzy at the way she spoke either to or about you, but at the worst moment, Minji walked downstairs with a matching set of pyjamas in her arms for Danielle.

[izzy-b-hands]

Rambling abt the half dream half nightmare that woke me up today below the cut. feel free to ignore, just need to vent it out somewhere. Probably going to include me talking abt Current Family Issues and Feelings so. yeah. TW for mentions of someone in hospital, death, religion, and overall family dysfunction lmao

I know that ultimately, right now, if something big and/or terrible happened medically to anyone in my family back in ND, I wouldn't be able to go see them. The money just isn't there (part of why I'm not going out there this summer nor are they coming out here at all.) I've accepted it, and I try not to think abt it.

That said, LOVE (read: HATE) my brain deciding a hyper realistic yet weird dream abt my mum winding up in hospital is the way to go this morning. Complete with:

-her bf refusing to speak to me abt it, and telling me not to bother going to visit her in the weird, somehow existing in both CT and ND simultaneously, hospital with a 'haven't you already been enough of a burden to her?'

-me staying in my grandparent's old house in ND, and for some reason that meant being wildly unable to get ready to go to the hospital. Finding my clothes was nearly impossible, but. all their old decorations were back up on the wall so even as I was searching for them I like. Didn't want to leave? As if the house would revert back to being sold like it has been irl, if i left it. Finally I wound up just stealing clothes from my grandfather's side of their closet (specifically his old 80s styled 'eagle on a tree branch' print sweater that he got forced to toss a few years ago bc it was becoming more holes than sweater, and one of his old, big leather jackets. somehow i found jeans that fit me, idk how considering i can't seem to do that irl rn but i digress)

-me showing up to the hospital FINALLY only for Noel Fielding?? to be sitting outside it with a friend dressed in what i can only describe as absolutely gorgeous future techno witch clothing. Unfortunately they were fucking dicks in this dream and scared the shit out of me by joking that 'it was so nice I'd shown up still despite the worst' and implying my mum had already passed. Noel did shout apologies as i stomped off inside and that as far as he knew she was still okay, but his friend is the one who handed me a wrapped in plastic, small, metal stool with a weird cartoon face on the seat so i could 'sit with her body, like sitting shiva, right?' (not like that at all to my knowledge, but then again my family has rarely to never fully followed any of the various religious rituals around death, we just. take the bits the dead person liked from them and ignore the rest, for better or for worse. Maybe that's just what happens when a family is a mishmash of various christian sorts from Catholic to Protestant with the hidden knowledge that actually, prior to ppl moving to the States, ppl in the family were Jewish but inter-marrying into Catholic families for safety-sake, and so any Jewish traditions used now are done wrongly and weirdly and in odd bits and pieces. At least that's as much as I've been told/have found out abt it, anyway)

-I proceed into this stupidly fancy and open concept hospital, to immediately find a hugr crowd mucking up the elevators (crowding the elevator bank and refusing to let others on.) That's where Con showed up, and helped me make it up the ridiculously wide, roundish staircases (think like. wide rounded stage steps, but for each level of this hospital), while also trying soothe me by telling me Housemate was already here and waiting for me, so were my grandparents and even Mum's bf (he promised to keep him away from me lol, it was v sweet in an otherwise filled with anxiety dream.)

-however, as we were struggling up the steps (also full of crowds, pushing each other around, so we literally had to hold hands and hold onto the railings and walls to avoid being shoved down the stairs), he kept hesitating on saying more abt mum. He tried to distract me by mentioning that, since I was here, the docs might want me to address some of my own health issues but that he wouldn't let them force me into any treatment i didn't want. Then he finally alluded to mum being in worse straits than I'd been told abt and said something to the effect of 'doing only what you can, not what she or others would expect of you' and 'not to set yourself on fire to keep someone else alive' plus admitting he was deeply worried my family was abt to force me into a big decision that absolutely wasn't the ONLY treatment option that would help mum, but it was implied to be the one mum's bf and my grandparents were pushing for.

-still dunno exactly what that option was, but just before i woke up i started hearing the latter part of the song Gethsemane from JCS (Housemate and I have been watching various versions irl this weekend lol), specifically the bit where Jesus dares/begs/etc God to see how he dies. This was accompanied by me finally reaching my mum's hospital room, and a stupid bright light emanating from it and like. Not to critique my own brain and the dream it created, but that was far too on the nose for me personally lmao.

-and I woke up thinking abt the call with my grandparents that I had on Thursday (didn't go super poorly but went. kind of weird and uncomfortable and confirmed again that like. they're happy for me being out here in CT, yet at the same time hold it and my happiness against me to some unconscious degree as originally outright confirmed by Mum in an earlier call her and I had like. Tail end of last year lmao. the main crux seeming to be 'why couldn't i find happiness in ND/what's wrong with all of them/why wasn't i willing to keep trying to make my life work in ND regardless of my happiness/don't i know how hard it is without my being there to help everyone whenever they ask/etc family bullshit')

And now I'm laying here thinking. If the Worst would happen for any of them, they would fully expect me to empty my bank accounts and do whatever else i had to, to get to ND not just to see them, but to help. to take care of as much as possible for them (mum and grandma get decision paralysed by sad/scary life events, my aunt is so uncomfortable with sickness and death she won't do hospital visits or funerals at all anymore for anyone, my cousins...are young enough they won't know how to handle it/won't want to, my grandpa tends to just shut down and isolate when things go to shit, and that's not to say that they all don't still get done things that need doing in these situations, but that they DO all usually need prodding and help and have leaned on me for that since i was a kid.)

And i would of course want to see them/help however i could, but. not to that extent. not to the point that I'd have nothing for myself, no money or help (bc they're not in a position to return that help or money to me, and they'd be so emotional as to likely be extremely offended and upset if i mentioned needing help myself.)

That said, I'm sick of silently daring them to watch me die just for their sakes, even tho i do still love them all dearly. and of course, that's entirely too dramatic but at the same time, Mum and I have had convos abt 'what if there's a shooting somewhere that we're at, how do we handle it, how are we attempting to protect each other' and Mum always says she would take a bullet for me, but she didn't protest when i say that I'd take one for her or anyone else in the family first. Last time she just nodded like. yeah. of course you would. so. Feelings, abt all of this.

If u actually read this full thing that was A. very sweet of u and i appreciate that u care abt my silly lil fucked up brain enough to do that (genuinely, I'm v grateful) and b. here is a pic of Nisha as what little compensation i can give for u reading this long ass ramble lol

[hyunrun]

mommy issues below 🐱

me when I'm third wheeling my mum and sister 😔 like ok I alr knew she was the favourite child you didn't also need to make me walk behind you on the very wide sidewalk 😂😂

my mum also got mad at me for being a considerate person 😶 apparently I'm acting too 'righteous' and asking her to not be in the way of old people is annoying her BC 'they can walk around us'

If I tried to explain to her that my social awareness is so high strung because I feel constantly anxious I know she'll shoot me down because she has diagnosed anxiety and she doesn't feel like that (let's forget that these things are not the same for everyone 😋)

and then once we pick up my little sister I have to watch her hug her and kiss her and whatever when a few hours earlier she shook off my hand for trying to hold her hand while we were walking 🐱

i know she loves me but sometimes she makes it really hard to believe that the love she holds for me measures up to the love she holds for my sister. i feel a little more like a failed experiment.

I don't want to feel bad because her period is starting soon so maybe she's just snappy because of that. I'm not even angry at her I'm just sad and mad at myself for being stupid and always getting on her nerves (I am a little mad at her but I don't want to be because we'd only get in a fight if I am and then I'd just feel worse when I lose it because I'd never try to win a fight w her because she'd probably kick me out on the streets for a night 😼😎).

sitting across her on the verge of tears at a restaurant and she hasn't noticed yet because she's too busy doing something (literally idk what they're on her phone) w my sister but to give her credit I'm good at looking like I'm not crying when I'm crying

sometimes I feel like it's just a bit of retribution for me causing her hell before and after I was born but sometimes I want to disappear from this earth just so my family has an easier time I'm really tired of feeling like a constant burden and annoyance.

i always want to be like my sister too and it sucks but she's so cool for being 11. she's so self assured and strong and literally everything I'm not which is so embarrassing. whenever we meet Anyone all my mum cares to say about her is positive in comparison to my negative and I hate it so much because I just have to smile through my teeth. but I also love my sister too much to condemn her for it BC she's so talented and pretty and amazing and deserves everything she has but I just wished I had it too. even socially she's so graceful. i love people so much and I care too much and I run after them and stick to them and act like a leech just because I love them but I feel like everyone slips between my fingers but on the other hand my sister is so chill and doesn't need people around her but somehow is so magnetic and wonderful that people flock around her anyway.

my mum always jokes about the fact that she had to put so much effort into knowing kids' parents when I was younger BC she had to arrange playdates n stuff for me and I feel so bad and disgusting but I know it was just the reality but idk.

i feel like I'm about to hyperventilate and cry but my mum wants me to give her a leg massage and my dad wants me to video call him so I'll be back later ig 😋 (future me - my mum yelled a time for taking too long to give her the leg massage (I wasnt going to her because I was about to cry) and my dad was too sleepy to see I was upset (not his fault) so that was fun) anyway I'm tired of writing this post because I seem so annoying so if anyone reads this far then 🙏⁉️ this is embarrassing but ty for sticking around haha

[leynaeithnea]

Literally taking notes as I read your reply so I can remember everything I want to say to you akdmmsan ( also my fingers also hurt from refreshing Tumblr, waiting for your reply aaah)

First of all sorry for making you type so much but actually I'm not that sorry bc I'm having the time of my life talking to you, also I really like your takes and seeing your perspective on stuff (I will now proceed to tell you what I think about what you said , I swear I am sorry but I can't help it, it's the voiceeees)

2. I never stopped to think about the implications of the others joining in the song bc they are seeing Odysseus getting closer to the wall and on the brink of doing something so unforgivable that they have to wonder, should we consider him a monster? Where do we draw the line ? Kskdkd good shit

3. I 100% agree about full speed ahead, I LOVE IT and sing it to myself all the time, 4.we do need more polities , and I also adore the "stay back" part and whenever I sing it I do this silly thing where I pretend to have a sword and I use it to threaten the lotus eaters that are surrounding me ( is it silly? Yes. Do I have the time of my life being this silly? Also yes ). And I totally understand the Ody appreciation because the tragedy in his story and the way he tries to overcome all the obstacles only to realize he is a pawn of the gods anyway jajsnsnsnnjakam and how all this fighting and struggling changed him so much he became unrecognizable but somehow at the core he's still the same aaaahh 6. Agree on anything and everything you say at this point bc "there's been a misunderstanding" scratches my brain so good. 7. I'm so happy for you I wish I could pick up even half of the motifs and stuff Jay always talks about, after his explanations I'm always like "mmmh yes yes I get it (<- does NOTget it for the life of her )" 8. Hands down my favorite 10/10, I am also not 100% sold on the new version bc I am just so used to the old one but I like a lot how Athena says "don't "in this one , she feels more surprised (?),like she didn't think she HAD to warn him not to do smth this reckless, don't know how to explain it lol. AND the silence that screams "oooh you really fucked up" after Odysseus revelas his name and address is UNMATCHED , chills every time. Also the fact that in the whole musical this is the first time we hear his name is just amazing. Keeps me up at night 9.again , seeing your take on things is so good !! In this song Athena is confused by humans and how they process their emotions?? Akksks how did I not see it?? 11. I adore this one but now it's so hard to listen to it and not be haunted by mutiny

Sorry again for dumping all of this here lol, also if you want I would adore a part two for the other sagas but literally no pressure :))

BY THE GODS THANK YOUUUU OMxjdkdksks mfjfjdjsFUSJDS THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME DONT APOLOGIZE FOR INFO DUMPING I LOVE IT

AND YES part 2 is to come, I stopped at luck runs out yesterday because Keep your friends close has soooo many parts that I love, its one of my favorites

Also yesss Luck Runs Out really hits different now, loveeee how it sets up mutinity in the motifs so good okay I might only finish Ocean Saga in this one bc SO MUCH TO SAY but i would be honored to do this maybe saga by saga with some asks or smth idk rjsjsjs

Ok

12. Keep friends Close

"Great wind god aelus" kicks just the right way again

"Hahahaha i am the wind" Omg the melody and music in this song is so gooood so floaty and airy its big joy, aelus playfulness and the whole first part of the song is so goooodd ALSO WINIOKS "sometimes killing is a must" - "what??"

And then it shifts to the crew where i love the voice acting of the whole scene up until "we'll try" AND THEN my favorite part: Odysseus tries to stay awake

For 9 days Ive sayed wide awake, trying to make it home with no storm or tidal wave, I remain unapposed the bag is still closed and Im getting closer to youuu (penelope) i cant wait to make some new memories (telemachus) time for me to be the father i never was (just keep your eyes open) why are my eyes and my heart and soul so heavy? (Just keep your eyes open) I keep on trying to embrage you both why wont you let me?? (Just keep your eyes open) so much has changed but im the same YES IM THE SAMMEEE (just keep your eyes open) -> FIRST TIME WE HEAR TELEMACHUS BTW IM SO EXCITED FOR HIM

ALSO THEY ALMOST REACHED ITHIKA IF EURY HADNT OPENED THE BAG---- THEY WERE WITHIN SIGHT, HIS MOM COULDVE SEEN THE SHIPS

So, yeah this whole part? So good, and then penelope wakes him and he wakes up to the storm and the "NooOOooooO" is so niceee ans THEN "ODYSSEUS OF ITHICA, DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" WE LOVE POSEIDON HIS VOICEEEE

13. Ruthlessness

Danger motif (ehehe) the -sei-don in the chant in the beginning I think, madbe the po-sei im not sure

STEVENS GRIT IN HIS VOICE ITS SO GOOD like either mortius or casper said it but he literally sounds like he just gurgled salt water fr, And hes SO SASSY

"it isnt very often that i get pissed of" ....i feel like you dont have s very realistic selfimage Poseidon

"Ive been so gracious" hits right too, so good

"The cyclops youve maee blind, is mine" - No

Love how the theme of Ruthnessless finially gets spoken out directly and literally thrown into his face I ALSO LOVE HOW EVERY ANIMATOR PORTRAYS THIS SCENE AS POSEIDON BEATING UP ODYSSEUS LIKE GUDJDKSKSKSJSJ hell yes anyway

"You are the worst kind of good cause youre not even great" THE music in this moment, the drop and the how it picks up again fhsjdjskaja

Also not Ody not even apologizing smh smh

"If you jusr killed my son, But NooOooouu" SASSY SEIDON gjdjfjwj hes so pissed he didnt kill polyphemus :[ (jkjkjkrks)

Then the whole part with

RUTHLESSNESS IS MERCY UPON OUR- CAPITAIN

RUTHLESSNESS IS MERCY UPON OUR- CAPITAIN

(Also those lines asding up to 11, for the 11 ships ody looses there oml)

I love "the line between naivetë and hopefullness is almost invisible" its such a cool quote

And then the pause into "Die."

THE CALL BACK TO "when does a ripple become a tidal wave" of jusr a man Omg I LOVE just a man call backs and the disbelieve and horror in "what have you done" and Poseidons calm response, and then THE WINDBAG and "Remember Me" omggrttt yes def two of th3 best songs in the musical so far

Edit:

OH AND I FORGOT THE ACTING?? THE SWORD? YES PLS, i acted out the whole musical so far on a whim with a friend a few days ago and it was the best things in my life fr, acting for the win i also tend to act these things out by myself ghjjdg

Edit 2: Circe saga next!

[notvil]

caitie u ate so bad w this im wondering if you demolished the table, utensils, and atoms of air inside the room. i literally can’t get over this, it’s just too damn good im so happy i had the time to read and really dig in again bc the first read was good, the second one was epic, making the third legendary. /g CAITE IM BEGGING FOR MORE /lh I DONT BELIEVE I WILL BE NORMAL IF YOU DON’T MAKE MORE OF ANYTHING I CAN CONSUME !!! PLEASE FEED ME !!!! 

“The figure, of course, freezes–like it’s not obvious, like it’s possible you won’t pick up on the sudden shift from dance to pause, autonomous to marionette, breath to stone.” OOOUUUGHHHHH the description of this and sudden onslaught of terror in realizing you’re being followed is just so palpable here. i keep coming back to this block, i just LOVE it. plus the way you wrote immediately worrying if this will bw a normal occurrence or if this has been happening and you just didn’t realize, MHM MHM!!! Great food. 

“You go to bed that night, not having eaten but not hungry, still feeling the phantom sensations of your bounding footsteps on hard concrete [...] putting his hands on your back.” so good. like, excellent. will nvr forget.

can i say, i love the bubble you’ve written around the reader. i love seeing the outside world from this view. idk how to properly explain it, but it’s like everything happens outside of this bubble and all other interactions beyond the bubble feel so… muted? almost like a happenstance of sorts. idk i simply love it. “(and the person to your left stops chattering into the ear of the person sat behind you)” < kinda like here, the human-ness of this just tickles my brain in way that’s top notch.

“(You had remained after class one night to ask your professor a question you no longer remember, and a wispy haired girl sneered at you so badly you ended up weeping on your way out the door. Not only did it kill your urge to ever stay longer on campus than you needed to, it also caused a wane to your desire to even arrive home at all).” i have no words for the way this resonated with me, but it did. so i add.

“The shadow, however, instead of shrinking into disparagement like you so hoped… laughs, skipping towards you, laces flying, smiling wide.” what a dickhead (i love the blase introduction of him sm caitie like…. he’s so unserious thinking you’d be welcoming to the person invoking such a deep fear in you it causes you to run back home to avoid them. he always has to defy expectations, and this is so well portrayed. i am giddy.) make him leave. (the back and forth and the way dabi diverts and leaves things in the air… oh it’s… authentic… yeah. “didn’t think [you’d] care” and the pet names bc he loves being overly familiar to ruffle more feathers and get more reactions out of you. he wants to see you in your actions, not hear it from fickle words ARRHGGG) i hope he trips over his laces.

“”Then leave me alone,” [...] It’s the first night since first learning of him that you’ve walked home alone.” OH why does that make me…

“The creeper, the shadow, your stalker, [...] it’s like he soaks up your, any kind of, attention like a bonfire being doused with gasoline. You’re still scared, unknowing of what he wants, but now that you’ve spoken, there’s somewhat of a static that’s settled, too; it’s tense and awkward, but the horror of it all is stagnant in build, [...].” STOP STOP STOP SHUT UPPPPPPPP. caitie. this is sooo epic i want this embroidered on a sweatshirt. it’s like i hcd before, he wants to see because there’s only so much you can glean from words, he’s annoying, he wants to see it. near needs to… dabi is so irritating. 

“This time, he doesn’t laugh. “Maybe,” he says, then when you don’t react, “no.”” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it’s no fun if there’s no reaction OMG

“A name from his mother. Your lips wrap around it, caress the warmth of the dip, the bend, the aim… and his face breaks into that knowing, wolfish grin. // “Yeah, sweetheart?”” my tummy… the after, the vague chastisement, the weird feeling you get from laughing with the man who’s plagued you, him trailing along where he did before he decided to speak to you, the humming, filling the spaces, the odd sense of familiarity when you’re home. yeah. yeah….

“But later, when you spare one more glance, the way one glances, out of the window of your living room as if to merely check the weather, Touya is smoking his cigarette on the street corner.” the slight dynamic change, and the way he’s almost there like a sentinel… mhm mhm. love the “it’s got mice too” bc yeah, facts, did you need to warn him? no, but you do, it’s a weird camaraderie. and yeah…… “...he has the smile lines of someone who has lived a happy life, and he looks so pretty you almost want to cry.” he’shandsome LOOK AWAY

“You’re not exactly sure when he morphed into your friend. You don’t even think he has yet… but the words feel natural, eager, and easier than sliding onto leather seats in between two people who have never once looked your way with a nice expression and probably never will.” the suddenness of people talking to you is awesomely displayed here, crazy how tragedies and horrors will pull people together, especially with how it contrasts in concern with your safety in mind. before, you were there (in the bubble) and now you’re interacting outside of it with people who still don’t really give a damn but don’t want to be labeled as not trying in some twisted aftermath. and looking at dabi as a means of a friend who follows you and is the campus creeper in your eyes that still gets you where you need safely is great.

the realization that he is not the campus stalker scene and everything in it is so good, like i can’t enumerate the number of emotions it evokes in me it’s soooo weird: 

first from the way you just want this to be over with, asking why he hasn’t killed you or taken you despite knowing your every move and all that jazz because the tensions inside of you needs to alleviated for the love of all that’s holy. and the way he responds like it’s old news and essentially tells you that he could have, but didn’t and won’t.

“All those torturous moments, since that first night of running, all amounted to something even he won’t name. A silent end, [...] It’s not like it ever kept you safe.” this literally punched me in the gut i will not lie. there’s a general despair that covers most interactions with your classmates but here it’s just so palpable, and a little more horrifying when you realize the most interaction you get is from the guy that follows behind you like a shadow that makes you despair in a different way. OUUGH CAITIE U ATE

a few lines i simply love:

“Because, because no matter what I do, you won't quit chasing me. I’ve been running from you. ‘Cos you won’t leave. Me. Alone.”

““I’m keeping you safe, lollipop,” he interrupts, though the words hardly register.”

“[...] You never once thought, realized– // “Not your fault. His. The neighbor stalker.”” 

“Yeah, I beat him black and blue, maybe. But only cuz he was trailing you, I wouldn’t…” he shoves one hand in the pocket of his coat, waves the other dramatically in the air, “go after someone unless—” (PERIOD ILY KING)

he thinks ur pretty (:sobbu:)

love the voulntairy getting close to him bit, cause yeah. for up to now, he was the big bad, of course you would keep him at a distance, but now the field has changed, and it’s okay ?? you’ll find out sooner if it is or not, and that’s okay, especially since he gives in just like you. 

““I beat the snot,” he emphasizes, exposing teeth, “out of your stalker. And you didn’t even know he wasn’t me.”” love it. plus the slight rebuke of you just being okay with wandering home alone at night while there as a creep, love. little white knight-y on his part, i adore bc it’s like he was so kind to bestow you with this honor of him keeping watch. (also the “i woulda been fine right?” bc he just told you he resolved the issue but continued to follow after you…. mmmyeahhhhh love this form of slowburn)

““Buy me dinner to make up for it. Or kiss me sometime. With tongue. Either’s fine, cookie.”” asshat (i love him dearly and it’s your fault caitie bc when did this warm feeling in my chest happen? not until i read this fic :((() i wish he would go away

““But, now, you know, Touya can sneer, too, and sneer for you in ways that light a fire in the hearth of your existence…”” OHOHOHOH UMM YOU SEE. the way he defends because somewhere though your actions you’ve let it slip that there was once no love lost between you two, and in your stead, he protects you (like he’s done since you’ve met) because he wants to and know you really won’t given the chance. leaving it to him is just as good though….. oh. def want to dislike her, but given the circumstances and the nature of the world, everything can change, i adore how it’s highlighted several times throughout this piece. 

if i could use a memory wiper i would use it to read this again for the first time im ngl… and i'd use it like a lot. concerningly so.

if i didn't care (more than words can say) - a dabi / touya todoroki x reader fanfiction—NO QUIRK!college-ish!AU

wc: 7.3k — my longest to date :')

sum: a beautiful but notorious shadow keeps following you home. over the course of some weeks, you eventually get to know him.

a/n: more than anything, this is really just a huge ode to my hatred of graduate school, though since the start of writing this, i admit it has gotten a lot better—hence there being a mixture of characters and ocs included. i don't think i was able to nail this exactly the way i envisioned, in clarity and thematically (and it's wordy as all hell)... but i am still delighted by this concept. i hope it tickles you, as well!

a MAJOR thank you to my beloved @weird-dere-writes for beta-ing this! twyla is a a real one whom i adore like the shining sun.

warning: lighthearted in spirit but DARK CONTENT! features stalking, physical assault and mentions of sexual assault, miscommunication, suicidal ideation, talk of death, gore + general sense of unhappiness/unease. gender neutral but some of the pet names include: pretty, sweetheart, lollipop, cookie, hon, baby + etc., also I think you might have a purse?, HAPPY END!

(read on ao3 - coming soon!)

title credit goes to the ink spots.

enjoy!

The sun has just barely set by the time you leave your final class of the day. Fog seeps from over the distant hills that surround your city, subway tracks murmur from underneath the thick concrete, and car high beams yellow in the fading light of the sun and slate blue sky. 

Your classmates—those who have all left the lecture hall before you to give each other rides home—laugh, their voices echoing throughout the campus plaza as they disperse; the last students of the night to begin their trek home, down the hill that is your campus, and far, far away from you. 

You don’t mind. 

…or you tell yourself, at least. 

Your walk home is pleasant enough, not so close that it doesn’t feel like a trip worth making, not so far that it feels like you’re a freshman again, tearing out of class just to run to catch the bus in time. It’s the perfect temperature where walking is comfortable, and if timing allows, you’ll get to enjoy the sunset as you go. Maybe today you’ll see the funny looking tuxedo cat that stares at you sometimes from the ground floor apartment window of one of your neighbors; you only recently found out that they have a little tortoiseshell, too. 

Besides, while it’s not as though you enjoy your time alone any more than you enjoy anything else in life, home has become a sort of sanctuary, the trip to-and-from, a ritual, from school and the tension that sears your nerves on a daily basis. You still can’t help but wonder why it is that you’re only ever regarded by other students with hateful looks or by plain being ignored, sitting in the front corner of every classroom, freezing from both the weather's cooling breeze and the fact everyone just happened to ice you out by sitting in the back. 

It's no surprise that nor can you ignore it, either.

For as much as you try, which is almost as often as you open your eyes in the morning, you simply haven’t succeeded. Hence why, with the cold air nipping at your cheeks and your fingers numbing from a chill you know will only get worse the longer you stay outside… you suppose you should finally start heading back, too.  

-

You notice them first when you stop to adjust a faulty earbud. 

A figure behind you that stops. Waits. Lingers. More than a block away, under the newly darkened sky and opaque clouds. A street light illuminates their body as they appear to dawdle; awkwardly hovering about a pole, staring at something you don’t see on the ground, trotting a couple steps, and then looking up at the sky.

You glance at them, the way one glances, with one hand pressed to your ear, the other gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you turn your head ever so slightly to look out of the corner of your eye and pray the movement isn’t noticed. 

The figure, of course, freezes–like it’s not obvious, like it’s possible you won’t pick up on the sudden shift from dance to pause, autonomous to marionette, breath to stone. You can’t make out much about them aside from their long, dark clothing as their face is hidden by dark glasses and a hood, but when your stomach knots with something sour, nerves that twist and scream, you know nothing good will come from standing around and waiting to find out anything more. 

You let your eyes shift back to the paved street in front of you slowly, as if you just found yourself caught up in the frustration of skippy music. Then, you start walking again, hoping it was all just some coincidence, illusion, pretending that if you were to look back, the figure would have since simply turned the corner and left you behind, like most people almost always seem to do. 

But you look again. Peek, from the corner of your eye, briefly, like you normally would when no one is there and you just want to make sure… but this time, someone is, and by the time you really catch sight of them (closer now, like they were walking fast, jogging maybe, red light, green light), you don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself and turn back before you can make things any worse. 

Your heart beats. Your breath shudders. You flex your fingers where they’re held, stiff with terror, wondering: is this really happening? What should I do? Am I crazy? 

It’s five more blocks until your house. Three stop signs, then two traffic lights. One liquor store, and an empty cafe that has already closed for the day, filled with stacked chairs and little mice you sometimes catch scuttling by the edge of the curb. You live by a school, but since it’s already dark, there will maybe be a total of four cars that pass you by. Maybe. Then there’s a trek up a short hill before you finally reach your street. 

You wonder, not once slowing your step, if this is something you need to be worried about, if you’re really being stalked like you’ve always been warned of before, if anyone would even care if you didn’t show up to class tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that… and then, despite the whisper of your unconscious telling you not to be so self-involved, no one wants you, anyway, you increase your step. You want to look back, confirm what you think is happening, face a fight you don’t think is fair but haven’t yet decided whether or not you want to win.

But you don’t, thinking you can almost hear their footsteps now, though maybe you’re just confusing them for the wild thump, thump, thump of your heart and the catches of your breath. And when you check back, they’re half a block away but feel closer than ever, eyes on you and hands halfway around your throat though they’re still hidden deep in their pockets. 

You feel a little like hurling, a bit more like giving up and letting them have you (though you’ve only ever written a suicide note, never a will)... but the creature of fear in you ends up prevailing, throwing it’s tentacles up through your gullet into your brain and dragging you into the depths… just as you say a prayer for the first, or any, god willing to listen. 

And then you start running.

Heft your bag over your shoulder, suck in an icy breath and charge forward into the night, past the three stop signs and through the red of each stop light that blares at you, really the only thing that seems to acknowledge you as you refuse to waste any time looking back. 

Self preservation is one hell of a drug, you only manage to briefly think in between gulps of air, your cheeks stinging with the breeze and your feet beginning to grate and blister against the friction of shoes that aren’t meant for running. You figure at this point you’re more likely to trip and crack your skull open on the pavement than be caught and dragged away by some freak with a violent agenda. Would that really be so bad? 

But your answer quickly arrives in the form of making it home and climbing the stairs so fast you manage to forget the thought entirely, along with most of the rest of the world aside from the few people you come up with (and proceed to scratch out) when determining who, if there's anyone, you can call for help.

It's inside, silent and alone in the dark, you try to process what just occurred for so long that eventually your roommate comes home from their shift at the bar. It’s only at their surprise from seeing you still awake (ghostlike, on the couch) that you realize hours have passed in the span of what felt like only seconds, minutes, the metronome of a few steps home–and that you hadn’t actually processed anything at all. 

You go to bed that night, not having eaten but not hungry, still feeling the phantom sensations of your bounding footsteps on hard concrete, cold sweat sliding down the slant of your neck, and the feeling of a man just inches from your putting his hands on your back. 

-

The next day during lecture, you are awoken from a hazy daydream by a notification on your phone.

Campus Creeper Found Passed Out in Uni Plaza. 

You blink, exhausted after an adrenaline crash made worse by your night of haunted sleep, eventual overheating, and your roommate taking a shower at four am. You were happy to even drag yourself out of bed this morning and make coffee just tolerable enough not to spit out all over your kitchen floors. 

Local man, you read after clicking, deemed the “campus creeper,” was found passed out on the Student Union steps early this morning. Identified by a member of student patrol at Mustafu University, the man’s name has yet to be released to the public as it appeared he was suffering from a number of wounds, mostly external. 

Despite condition, students have taken to social media to express their relief, as the man has reportedly been following students—

You stop reading, having hardly even processed the words, really, as you try to shake off the fog that keeps you from really understanding what the words are telling you. 

A tightness settles in your stomach, heavy and painful with a nausea you can’t shake, a question you don’t yet realize: is this the same person, same man, who scared you half to death last night by trailing you all the way home? It’s unclear from the article, the timing, the picture with his blurred out features… and the fact that he must've been dragged all the way back up to school because he was found nowhere near your home. 

While you assume you’ll be more excited once the new sinks in and the nerves turn to consolation (and the person to your left stops chattering into the ear of the person sat behind you), you can’t help but shoot to your feet and run to the closest bathroom in a panic, trying not to hyperventilate looking at yourself in the mirror in between splashing water on your face. 

-

The day has once again fallen into night. Your bag is heavy with the weight of books and pens and your schedule notepad that has all your plans for the rest of the week and even the month beyond that. Today, however, the clouds don’t creep and instead, you see stars, maybe only a handful or so, one airplane too, as the sun descends in a tender calm and the windchill greets your cheeks once more. 

You walk, out of class and down the ancient steps of the building, start descending the hill down to the first busy intersection of streetlights where the president of your school was once hit by a car. 

It’s not three blocks into the way home, however, that a shadow appears once more. Distantly, though you’re sure it’s calculated enough so as not to ring as intentional no matter how much you know it is, and can feel it in your bones. 

You thought he had been caught. The creeper. 

You hadn’t realized you were so relieved by the thought. It slipped your mind, the celebration over as quick as it started under the weight of all your schoolwork and the dirty looks your classmates sent you after you came back from dry heaving into the bathroom sink. Maybe it was a different guy they caught, you wonder, then kick yourself for being so naive as to think that maybe you’d been spared. 

Of course not, you think. It’s never that easy, is it? 

Panic once again bubbles up in your throat, anxiety pooling in your stomach like something hot melting through stone, and tears start to sting at the center of your eyes. You do your best to ward away the urge to collapse, instead trying to focus on the fact that everything was fine yesterday and tonight’s just another dream you’ll wake up from again tomorrow…though by now you know it’s not. 

It is easier, this time, however, to begin to run, to bounce on your feet with a purpose you hope isn’t any more transparent than your fear. You’re happy that today you managed to pack light, skipped filling up your water bottle, and happened to put on your sneakers instead of your slip-ons, as if you didn’t spend half of your entire morning trying to convince yourself that potentially saving your own life was a good thing.

By the time you make it to the door, chest heaving with a wheezing heat as your hand shakes the key into the padlock, when you turn back to look one final time before ducking inside, still gasping for air, the shadow is no longer behind you. 

-

The creeper is getting braver, you notice. 

It has been weeks since the shadow appeared and the following began. One week of that same distant trailing which had you sprinting like some sort of track star, two weeks of running only the last block home, locking every single bolt on your door (then unlocking when it was time to let your roommate in), and three in total of squinting behind you in stinted moments and wondering what you see. 

You think his hair is white. 

Now though, tonight, he stays not a block or two behind you but rather, less than fifty feet. You can make him out—see now the faded black of his jeans and the red of his chuck taylors, dirty. He’s young-ish, you think, more noticeable than before, and skinnier–though maybe your eyesight has just gotten worse, or the memories have faded in trying to spare you from another trauma, maybe even from awakening any of the first ones.  

You wonder how he was able to speed up, where he was waiting for you, where he came from that first night, the second, and now. And you wonder why you’ve stopped running as fast, even if you’ve been trying to leave campus earlier and earlier as if that will keep you any safer from walking home at night. 

(You had remained after class one night to ask your professor a question you no longer remember, and a wispy haired girl sneered at you so badly you ended up weeping on your way out the door. Not only did it kill your urge to ever stay longer on campus than you needed to, it also caused a wane to your desire to even arrive home at all). 

-

One day, the creeper catches up. 

Reaches, like he’d be able to touch you, smiles, like his canines are sharp enough to chew through you…hopefully in one bite if he was even able to swallow that much. Maybe he is. 

But you swat back when he does. Hoist your bag in close. Glare over your shoulder. Then speed up, and your lungs tighten into stone almost immediately when he speaks.  

“Hey—” 

“Get the fuck,” you screech, turning back just enough to say the words despite not knowing if you’d even be brave enough to let them out, to get away unscathed, “away from me!”

The shadow, however, instead of shrinking into disparagement like you so hoped… laughs, skipping towards you, laces flying, smiling wide. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he jeers, to which you wince as you try to stomp away from his pull. That is, in between your attempts at keeping your eyes on him so that he doesn’t pull anything else fast, or deadly. 

“I swear to fucking god. I will call the cops.” 

Another laugh, his footsteps now lighter, his voice switching to something airy and cool.

“Don’t be like that, pretty.” 

You barely look, but you see a flash of red as he kicks out his foot, the curl of a grin pulling one side of his lips lopsided as he lazily trots to match your hurried pace. 

You want to start running, to disappear, dissolve—anything to stop things from developing further into a conversation and your possible demise—but he catches up to you again before you can even try to skirt away in any direction other than forward. 

“You noticed quicker than I thought you would,” he almost hums, the words exposing the soft, pink tissue of his gums. “‘didn’t think you would.” 

There is a question in his statement, though his voice doesn’t lilt and only his eyebrows give it away, quirking, stretching, falling, the piercing on his left one along with it, when you slow down (hardly, still breathing rough and nervous, not wanting to look) but don’t respond. 

“Most people…” he shakes his head, “eh.”  

“What?” you stop your stride, more out of surprise than want, and stare at him despite how distinctly you avoid catching his eyes. “Like people don’t know when they’re being followed?” 

“Nah,” he says, his mouth remaining open after, humorously, like you’re supposed to get the joke, think it’s cool, that he’s a zombie, maybe. Something. “Like I thought you wouldn’t care.”

You cross your arms, blink at the ground in trying to hide what is most likely a stupid looking pout in your failing attempt to get hot and angry. You shouldn’t even be speaking. “I care when creepy people follow me.” 

He laughs again, raspy and free. “It’s been weeks.” 

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking at him, but you look at him anyway. Truly focus on the mop of messy white and black streaked hair atop his head, the stained, canvas jacket with extra pockets and copper zippers, and his smile; the delicate, creased skin of his jaw that fades smoothly up his cheeks and down his neck. He isn’t bare of a good amount of piercings, either: he’s got all sorts metal in his ears, nose, and dimples, as far as you can tell by simply looking at him

He’s not really all that creepy-looking after all. To your surprise (and slight disgust), in fact, you find he’s somewhat… handsome.  

You swallow. 

“It’s been three.”

“Hm, baby?” 

You tense, the claws returning, this time aiming for your heart, shredding it open, every insecurity lighting aflame when he smiles that smile again. 

“Three weeks. That’s how long you’ve been stalking me,” you say.

There’s a pause, a shift, something you don’t catch and can hardly read. Then, he rolls his eyes, shoving his white knuckled fingers into the pockets of his coat. He doesn’t move otherwise, doesn’t even look angry, or as though he’s going to take any steps backwards or forward, and not like he’s going to lunge at you as if you’re prey and there’s an animal in him that he’s already promised food.

You feel otherwise, though he shakes his head with a ‘tsk. “I’d say stalking is a little harsh.” 

You’re not sure why you object, “But–” 

“I don’t stare into your window,” he taunts, “don’t have your number, don’t send you stupid love poems every night and every morning that say,‘I love you, be mine!’” He pretends to sing-song, 

You can feel the irony, hear the chuckle but turn anyway to resume your walk into the night. Briskly. Refusing to look back and acknowledge the stranger you’re not sure wants to kill you.  

“I don’t throw rocks at your window,” he continues to call after you, “or approach you in cafes and pretend you’re crazy when you scream.”   

“Then leave me alone,” you shout, hoping the wind carries it far enough behind you to reach him, though you shiver still. 

You don’t see it, but he shrugs. And surprisingly stays where he’s put, watching you try not to look like you’re peeking at him before nearly tripping on your own feet. You’re not sure if it’s a relief.

It’s the first night since first learning of him that you’ve walked home alone. 

-

Later, you learn the creep has two names. 

It’s been five weeks now, just after winter’s turn, the clouds not so big anymore but often dense with the slightest bit of rain you enjoy only when you wake up in the middle of the night too scared to go back to sleep.

The creeper, the shadow, your stalker, basically lives behind you now, grinning whenever you glance, dancing whenever you glare; it’s like he soaks up your, any kind of, attention like a bonfire being doused with gasoline. You’re still scared, unknowing of what he wants, but now that you’ve spoken, there’s somewhat of a static that’s settled, too; it’s tense and awkward, but the horror of it all is stagnant in build, in wait for the spark to light and set your whole world ablaze.

Though he finds you again, two red lights in, halfway to your house. 

“Hey,” he says, following with your name. 

You immediately shudder, jerking away from him in surprise as if there’s anything else you could do, but he just laughs that laugh of his, undisturbed he’s now talking to your back. 

“Where’d you learn that?” you snap, but you can practically hear his grin when he responds. 

“Got classmates, don’t you?” 

Most of your classmates ignore you half the time, the other half just roll their eyes. Most of your classmates laugh whenever you speak, the ones who don’t have made you cry in front of your professors. 

“They wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.” 

“I would,” he says, pausing as if he’s some sort of pensive, then giving you a look that assures you he’s up to no good,  “and they gave me your name. Ibara, Setsuna, Yui–I could go on, you know?”

You’re surprised. You’re disgusted. At him, at them, and you gape, the only thing you can think to do under a circumstance that implies no one has any regard for your safety and yet, hardly leaves you surprised. “I think I’d rather just die.” 

“That’s not true,” the creeper laughs, seeming oddly sure of the answer. You’re too nonplussed to decide if he’s right. 

“I hate you,” you try instead. 

“You don’t even know me.” 

And it’s no nice to meet you, but the words slip out before you can stop them. 

“So, what’s your name then?” 

He hesitates, sucking on the piercing on his bottom lip before letting it pop back out in a sneer that shows pointed teeth. You’re not sure if he’s meaning to come off as upset or pensive, bitter or just plain rude. 

“Dabi.” 

The words fall off his lips, snappy and hot, like you’re lighting the burner on an old stove, or flicking a match against a matchbox for the first time and getting surprised when it sparks.

You pause, peeking over your shoulder. “‘gonna cremate me once you kill me?” 

This time, he doesn’t laugh. “Maybe,” he says, then when you don’t react, “no.” 

Your foot taps the ground when you look forward again. “You should really think about changing it, then.” 

There’s a pause, a shift in clothes and in breath despite the pace at which you walk. You feel nervous, awkward the way one does when someone catches you with bad hair, or wearing the last clean clothes in the house on laundry day. You’re not sure why you care so much about a man who clearly does not care about you. Or does… in the same way a farmer fattens up a chicken for slaughter. 

“Call me Touya, then,” he says, his eyes dark. “That’s what my ma calls me.” 

“Touya,” you repeat, sounding the word out on your tongue soft and slow. Lamp. Arrow. A name from his mother. Your lips wrap around it, caress the warmth of the dip, the bend, the aim… and his face breaks into that knowing, wolfish grin. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

You freeze, one foot freezing in the air, and he bursts into a rasp of laughter so loud your eyebrows immediately shoot up and almost off your head entirely. You go in to shush him like you would as if you were accused of something embarrassing, your expression morphing into a deep frown, and his own lightening with humor but still twisting with something hidden, something you really hope is not satisfaction. His lopsided smile falls just the slightest when he sees you readjust your bag and start, almost, stomping away. 

He lets you find distance, of course, he’s always been a shadow not a stable fly, but Touya once again resumes his lazy trailing, joyously humming now, the sound echoing in your ears much longer than it probably should as he falls into a careful step behind you just as he always does… until you eventually make it home. 

-

At six weeks in, he finally drops you off at your house. 

Normally Touya stops his trail about a block or two before you make it, today, however, by the time you’re on the stone steps leading up to your front door, he’s a mere ten feet from your side like a chivalrous date making sure you get home safe (or like someone intending to grab your hands when you’re opening the door and rush in after you, as if to mount you right there on the floor). Your knees wobble on the first step when he speaks, though he remains standing politely next to the fire hydrant by the curb, playing with an unlit cigarette in between his fingers. 

“Got any roommates?” 

You stop, keys dangling from your fingers as you refuse to turn back and look. 

“Yeah,” you say, staring at the chopped firewood on your porch as you let the silence sprawl. You would’ve said the same even if you didn’t. 

“Good. Smart cookie.” 

Your stomach twists. Your face burns. He bounces on his heels. You can’t move. 

“That bakery down the street,” he begins again, nodding his head when you peek at him, barely. “It got food?” 

You squint, your stiff hands cold and tight, his in his pockets. 

“Um.” 

He waits. 

“It’s got mice.” 

Then he bursts into laughter, quickly quieting to suck his teeth and kick a foot forward like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. There’s a part of you that knows you need to stop indulging this man, for your own safety and sanity, but there’s another part that also doesn’t flip when you think of the possibility of dying. Instead of going inside, you kick your own feet out and ignore your trepidation. 

“Why?”

“Wanna get dinner?”

He grins, and you hate the thought as soon as it arises, but it’s lovely; he has the smile lines of someone who has lived a happy life, and he looks so pretty you almost want to cry. 

(Today he’s dressed in dark, stained jeans and dirty boots. His hair is still a white and black mess and his smile is boyish and toothy. It sends a current up your spine that makes you jerk when you turn back to face your front door.)

“Piss off.” 

You shove your key in the lock to ignore the way he responds with a chuckle as his farewell, goofily waving when you manage to get the stupid thing to turn and yourself inside (which you notice only when you turn to slam the door closed and the curtain ripples). 

But later, when you spare one more glance, the way one glances, out of the window of your living room as if to merely check the weather, Touya is smoking his cigarette on the street corner. 

-

Campus Creep Caught Hanging Around. 

Busted, but this time, not blue! The attacker who was dubbed the “campus creeper” by Mustafu University students was spotted once more about a mile away from the local school. A local cafe owner claims he saw the man being followed by another of a similar size, but is  unsure if the two men are of a related circumstance or other. 

He reports that the neighborhood has been in good spirits lately, so this comes as a shock. As we continue to find out more, the public will be updated—

-

Today your shadow is waiting for you at the end of the block. You spot him from out of the third story window of your classroom, feet sticking halfway off the curb and a lit cigarette between his lips that curls pretty, silver smoke into the golden blue light of the nighttime air. 

“Hey, need a ride home?” one of your classmates asks beside you, the one that has your same name, shocking you out of your stupor as they tap the fingers of one hand against your table and swing their car keys around in the other. 

You can barely tear your gaze away from the window to look at them; their flushed face, their short curls, tight and bouncing, and their awkward, half-assed attempt at generosity. You wonder if this is some kind of exercise they were told to practice in therapy. 

“I heard about the campus stalker,” they continue without prompt. “Shihai and Kinoko are coming too, but you can squeeze in the middle, if you want.”

Their smile looks almost pitying. 

“Uh,” you blink, a little stupefied, a little shy. “It’s alright, but thanks.” 

They raise their eyebrows. “Isn’t your neighborhood a ways down by that cafe?”

“Yeah,” you nod, pausing to flick your eyes upward, “But I, uh...my friend is gonna walk me.”

You point toward the window, where your shadow, Dabi, Touya, whoever, has stopped smoking and is now bent over (teasing, most likely, with a gray-tinted shoelace) one of the mouser cats owned by the keepers of the small temple that sits snug at the back of your school.

You’re not exactly sure when he morphed into your friend. You don’t even think he has yet… but the words feel natural, eager, and easier than sliding onto leather seats in between two people who have never once looked your way with a nice expression and probably never will. 

“Oh good!” same-name laughs, tipping their head back in a way that almost seems exaggerated. “I was scared someone might try to nab you. Not anymore, though.”  

You’re not quite sure if they’re joking, but you try to smile and nod along anyway.

-

By the time he catches up to you that night, he’s half out of breath.

“There you are,” he says, grinning that stupid, wolf-like grin. “‘thought maybe you’d left out the back. Would’ve had to run to catch you.” 

You frown, readjusting the weight of your bag on your shoulder like always, distracted as you multitask trying to make sure your water bottle hasn’t leaked as you run through a list of things to remember as well as double check that you haven’t forgotten anything inside.

 “The north wing is halfway around campus,” you purposely avoid mentioning you took the long way to skip the corner where Touya usually stands. Instead of his face, you stare at the ground instead, by now resigned to the torture of waiting for your end… even if you’re secretly a tad disappointed he hadn’t brought the cat with him. 

“So?” Touya doesn’t look perturbed when you finally face him, almost as if he was waiting for you, “’woulda caught up eventually.” 

You make a note to add that to your list of things to remember, raising your eyebrows. 

“Why?” you ask, and then before he can tease, “Why bother, I mean?” and you can tell he must think you’re joking by the way he doesn’t answer, instead responding by flattening his face–his eyes sinking back into the cozy crevices where they rest and the skin of his chin tightening with exasperation as dry as tinder.

You try not to be too perturbed by it, instead of pressing him for answers, simply turning to set back off as if that will stop the eye roll he’ll give you behind your back and change his mind about following you home. But, as always, or at least, as of more recently, Touya waits a mere five steps before starting right along behind you like the shadow his is. 

-

“What do you want from me, Touya?” 

You ask the question one day, finally, two and a half months in. Classes aren’t over yet, but the end of winter semester is fast approaching. The words seem to scratch at your throat, their destination apparent even if you find they’re hard to spit out and burn on their way out. 

“What?” he asks, falling into a perky step beside you. He’s been that close everyday for the last two weeks now. And now, pressed up against you, near hopping like you’ve been friends for years, he doesn’t back away from the inquiry. 

You’re tired. Sick of waiting. Sad that you let this whole thing last so long when you’ve been quite aware of your impending doom (not that you ever told anyone, not even your roommate) and have done little to try and stop it.

“You wanna kill me or something? Take me home so you can fuck me then run me over?” 

Touya’s footsteps slow, and he halts (for the first time ever of his own volition) a little ways behind you. He’s not as tall as you initially thought him to be back when he kept his distance, but you’ve also since learned that his eyes are the prettiest cyan you’ve ever seen, and his scarred skin is soft and pink. Silver piercings adorn his cheeks like dimples, scars cutting the two different textures right in half. 

“No,” he says, then half heartedly and calm, “you know I’ve done enough of that, already.” 

You glance at him, pulling your head back in a half-horrified glare. But instead of the only half-serious expression you’re so used to seeing on him, however, you find a shit-eating smirk on his face that tells you he’d laugh if he weren’t so obviously trying to yank your chain by not doing so at all. 

Still serious, he jumps at you though, eyes opening wide, hands outstretched and twitching like a monster in a cartoon out to grab you, and you hop back like he’s on fire. No sooner does his face fall that he glances at you as if waiting for some kind of reaction, positive review, happy Halloween (even though it’s ages before Halloween). 

When you stay silent, the hands on your chest not falling, your expression still one of terror but to him quite bitter, he rolls his eyes so far up that only the white are showing. 

“I’m joking,” he says, his baby ocean blues coming back down to settle right on you. “Obviously.” 

You pause, standing still, trying to breathe, comprehend the, the, the predator that has been following you so closely for what you finally conclude has been months now. 

All those torturous moments, since that first night of running, all amounted to something even he won’t name. A silent end, for someone as lonely and pathetic as you; it’d almost be fitting, except for the fact that there’s no specific reason for it to be you. You’re a nobody, friendless and unhappy, waiting for the day you finally graduate and can leave this shitty city behind. It’s not like it ever kept you safe. 

“Then what?” you ask.

You feel resigned, defeated, undermined… yet he looks at you dumbly, as if you’re supposed to know something you clearly do not, and while you’d normally be embarrassed, you find you’re too worn down to care. Touya raises his brows sharply, the bruised-looking (but delicate) bags under his eyes shifting slightly with the tension of an annoyed frown as his voice strains to mock you. “What do you mean, ‘then what?’” 

Your face goes slack, and you think you’d try to hit him if you knew that wouldn’t end up with you on the ground or sobbing alone at home. “Seriously, Touya? We both know you’re stalking me.” 

He laughs dryly, one of the few times you’ve seen him so serious (the last time when he pointed out something dead on the pavement you had to stop him from trying to pray for. ‘I don’t even go to temple,’ he had said at the time, sounding so offended that you decided to drop the subject altogether and just let him go for the little dead bird he said he wanted to give to a friend). “I’m not.” 

“You are. I know you are. You…” 

“I can assure you, hon, if I were stalking you, you’d already be roadkill,” he twists one of his earrings, making a show of staring at the painted nails of his other hand, dark purple, before tsk-ing at you, sassy. “Not like you run from me, anyway.”’

You feel your stomach turn in embarrassment, in shame. You know he’s partly right, but you’re not about to admit that to the man who started it in the first place, who chased you home that whole first month, who, despite the familiarity you share now, still takes pleasure in your pain. 

“Because, because no matter what I do, you won't quit chasing me. I’ve been running from you. ‘Cos you won’t leave. Me. Alone.” 

Touya rolls his eyes, then sighs like you’re being a hassle. “If you really didn’t want me here I woulda left. I’m not stupid.”

“But I don’t want you here. I never did. You show up out of, of, fucking nowhere, acting like you know me—”

“I’m keeping you safe, lollipop,” he interrupts, though the words hardly register.

“Safe? As if it’s my fault you can’t leave me alone?”

You think of all the nights that had you near paralyzed with terror, from that first day onward, of rubbing your feet raw in your shoes, of wishing someone would come save you, of puzzling why you never ended up dead, to now. You never once thought, realized–

“Not your fault. His. The neighbor stalker.” 

You can barely respond, your arms shaking at your sides, eyes watering with distress. 

“But you, you’re…” 

He smacks his lips with a yawn. 

“Yeah, I beat him black and blue, maybe. But only cuz he was trailing you, I wouldn’t…” he shoves one hand in the pocket of his coat, waves the other dramatically in the air, “go after someone unless—” 

“Touya?” you question, your throat rough, your swallows heavy and thick with a syrupy confusion. 

“They did something real bad, like messed with a—“

“Dabi.”

He finally looks at you, the sheen in his eyes, for once, solemn, as if he harbors a genuine concern for your safety all brought on by your confusion. 

“What?” 

It’s a question he asks a lot, but this time, he seems to mean it. 

“Dabi,” you repeat, “you mean… you’re not the campus creep? The one on the news?” 

He gawks at you suddenly. The silence stretching, the night suddenly looming, the breeze even seeming to laugh. His disinterested expression begins to fade into a blank, unreadable nothingness… and then he howls. Hoots. Yells. His smile returning then, wide, blazing, hot. 

He laughs like you’ve never seen anyone laugh before, guffawing joyously and jollily, slapping his hands against the ripped holes of his jeans as his chest heaves underneath today’s thin, white tee. 

It’s almost contagious. Almost. 

“And here I thought we were bonding.”

You prickle like a cat, digging your toes into the tips of your worn out shoes. “Stop it. I’m being serious.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he manages in between snickers, “you thought I was the creeper this whole time?” 

“You’re not?”

“That guy?” Touya straightens up to wipe his eyes, and you finally notice the crow’s feet that crinkle around his eyes, “Hell no. You think I do this for fun? Wear fuckin’ ugly hats and shit to terrorize pretty students at the school my ass of a little brother attends?” 

You say nothing. He starts laughing again, clapping his hands and keeling over. Even in jest, his voice still has that soft, raspy charm as he hoots at the ground. 

“Dabi. Touya. Whoever you are,” you plead, the first time ever you think you’ve voluntarily gotten closer to him, grabbing the rough shoulder of his jacket and tugging. He stumbles, maybe more on purpose than because of your grip, closing the distance between you such that his chest is pressed against yours and his hands are on your hips. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?” 

He snorts, the only difference in sound now that it’s muffled by the closeness of your lips, but responds slowly nonetheless.  

“I beat the snot,” he emphasizes, exposing teeth, “out of your stalker. And you didn’t even know he wasn’t me.” 

“But…” you say, hesitating against him, your hands slipping from the stiff collar of his jacket to the front of his chest, confused. His eyes are as cold as ice but set you on fire when you meet his gaze.  “You didn’t have to. I mean, I woulda been fine, right?” 

He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “You tell me, when you’re the one still trying to walk your stupid ass home alone at night.”  

You flush, cheeks heating the skin all the way down to your neck. Touya seems to have clocked you far better than you ever knew it yourself–that he was never the enemy, that you were trapped in a self pity so deep only he could drag you out of it before choking, that dying, being tortured, being stalked, was far from the punishment you needed to get that kind of smoke out of both your lungs and your head. 

And, if anything, that you were lucky to have him.  

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t care.” Touya steps back only to purposely step gently on your toes. When you glare at him, hand still stretched  out to link the two of you together somehow, he only grins. “Buy me dinner to make up for it. Or kiss me sometime. With tongue. Either’s fine, cookie.” 

-

It’s been six months. Summer is just about to begin, your roommate has already left on vacation, and the closer you get to the end of the season, the more you feel your worries begin to melt off of you like layers upon layers of frost on an icy window of a warm cabin. 

The shadow still walks you home, but he no longer trails behind you, and you no longer call him a creep. You call him Touya–now your lamp, now your arrow–and sometimes Dabi (that is, when you feel like he’s not listening). 

Though the sun now sets a whole hour later than it did during winter, excusing as much of a need for Touya’s presence in your routine, you have now welcomed him into it,  (even if you spent the first couple months of your real relationship trying to make up for your initial confusion at his presence with bowls of soap and burnt bread from the cafe near your house.)

It is a Thursday when a wispy-haired classmate comes up to you on the steps that lead away from campus. She’s the one you knew vaguely from elementary school in your distant home town, and who made herself reacquainted by sneering at you once for eating a candy bar in class; she bared fangs at you like she herself had never been hungry, and then ignored you every time you saw her after (even during assigned group work, when you realized she wasn’t even that intelligent). 

But, now, you know, Touya can sneer, too, and sneer for you in ways that light a fire in the hearth of your existence… and he does so, sharply, arrogantly, when she approaches underneath the fading light of the sun and slate blue sky. She looks almost scared, even more so of his smile, big, wide and scary—that is, until you interrupt the moment by calling out to her from behind his back. 

“You ever heard about the campus creeper?” you ask, to which she nods anxiously, big, wet tears welling in her eyes as she hobbles right over to your side, Touya already barking into the warming night air as he begins to walk you both home. 

[raytorosaurus]

Wait what dumbassery got tweeted? I wanna see it so I can laugh

lol okay under a read more bc i was like "i don't have the energy rn to spark a whole discussion about this" but then it got kinda long anyway so. the tweet itself is your average annoying twitter bullshit but it speaks to a wider pattern that really fucking pisses me off and worries me so that's what this is about

someone tweeted this, which had like 900 likes and multiple people in the replies and qrts going "omg did she really do this/when did she do this" and op would be like "it's a joke," to which the reply would always be "oh well it does sound like something she'd do."

it's a) not funny in the first place lol and b) a very common type of joke to make, hinging on this widely-accepted idea that frank and lynz hate each other and are petty about it, and that lynz abuses gerard & is extremely controlling. both of these things are literally completely fabricated but people just believe them, and it really goes to show how all these people who hate lynz sooo much don't hate her for the reasons they claim to. these people could not any more transparently give less of a shit about jimmy urine's abuse victim when it really feels like they gleefully use her as an "excuse" to make frerard "jokes" where lynz is a villain. it's disgusting and so so insensitive. domestic abuse is also such a fucking disgusting thing to accuse people of with literally zero evidence besides the kind of thing that was touted on blogs like ode2's, including things like "lynz saying she deadheads the flowers is her sending messages that she emotionally or physically enjoys beating gerard into submission" and "the way gerard's behaving on instagram (i.e. not using it very often) just feels fishy to me...something must be wrong" and "frank and lynz are sharing coded messages about hating each other via opossum memes on their instagram stories or in their instagram likes".

my point is: if you really hated lynz THAT much for reasons such as her association to msi and the tweets where she claimed to have indian descent and was weird to people who called her on it, then you should not need to invent additional reasons to hate her. you would also have to admit that those two things are not exclusive to lynz since everyone in mcr also has extensive voluntary associations with msi, most of all gerard and frank, who have also done/said racist things in the past, and you would have to come up with reasons why you are willing to forgive them but not lynz. i also don't like lynz and find a lot of her actions distasteful but it's literally impossible to get a reasonable explanation from any of the mcr fans who hate her SO much for the depth of this hatred without them including complete fabrications or deeply bad-faith suppositions (or actively misogynistic comments) in those explanations. it's extremely transparent and only goes to show how little these people care about the actual genuine issues related to jimmy/msi and weird racist comments/claims.

also as a side point i don't understand why people also love to act like frank is a perfect innocent in any situation to the point where they'll literally make up reasons to like him or claim that he's on "their side" (e.g. the idea that he hates msi when he was a vocal fan). i love frank so much but fandom as a whole seems to have such a weirdly distorted view of him, despite him being the one in the band who's most open about his thoughts and feelings/life in general. or maybe for that reason? he certainly seems to be the one people project onto the most with a lack of self-awareness about what they're doing, idk. it's weird though frank is such a lovable and admirable guy but sometimes i see the way some of his intense fans talk about him and i honestly feel like they're talking about a different person? of course none of us really know him at all but idk i really feel like the version of him that exists in the most prevalent fan-driven frerard narrative is so bizarrely separate from reality skfjfkssk. idk anyway that's kind of off-point, the most important thing here is that if you make things up about frank or attribute your own opinions to him when he hasn't actually said anything like that (e.g. hating msi or hating lynz) you're gonna get further and further down that rabbithole and end up setting yourself up for disappointment when frank inevitably doesn't behave/think the way you want him to irl lol.

so anyway i qrted that tweet, and op deleted their account between my second and third tweet here lol.