#this is especially horrifying and im not too sure how to tag it so

[ziptie-bouquet]

About Gutterman.

The body inside its coffin is missing bones. It's missing its forearms and half of its legs.

They sawed them off before welding the suit shut.

The Gutterman's designers probably did this to optimize blood flow to the machine, make the body take up less space inside the coffin as it would have never been big enough for a full body, and especially to kill any kind of hope about escaping for the person inside.

Without hands, they can't unhook themselves from the machine and be allowed to finally die. Without legs they can't even try to kick the coffin open.

No wonder Hell took inspiration from this.

[patheticwomenlover]

Play with me

Young Neil x Gen!Neutral Reader FIC cw: EXPLICIT NSFW Minors pls DNI ! ♡

Summary: You invited your boyfriend Neil to come hang out with you while Wallace and Scott were at a party, which leads to you giving him a blowjob in bed, but Wallace and Scott end up coming home right before he orgasmed. Scott was not amused.

a/n: Hi! First post on Tumblr~! I'm cross-posting this from my ao3: PatheticMenLover! Thought I'd expand my work on here too. I want to do Hazbin Hotel stuff too, seems like most of the fandom is here haha. I've just been doing SPVTW stuff, this one being my most recent one. Though, I hope you like it. <𝟑

You, Wallace, and Scott are close friends. You all share an apartment and a bed too. Some people would say it is a little strange to share it with two other people but honestly it wasn’t too bad. Especially since you and Scott could not really complain, Wallace practically pays for everything aside from your Xbox 360.

 If anything, you, and Scott are considered leaches. You do plan to move out sometime soon and live with your boyfriend Neil. You’re still in the works of getting a good apartment, so for now you’re stuck with a loser and Wallace. Don’t get it wrong, they are good roommates, aside from the face that Wallace bangs his boy toys in the same bed you and Scott sleep on. But…not like you guys can complain because again, he pretty much pays for everything.

You just do not want to feel some random guys jizz stain on your leg. You’re still horrified that one time where there was fresh semen on the bed and you swiped it off, thinking it was lotion but…eventually came to realize it wasn’t, thanks to Scott.

Anyhow, that leaves you here, alone in the apartment relaxing on Wallace’s armchair watching tv while Scott and him had left to go to some party. They had invited you to tag along with them but to be honest parties were not your thing and you do not enjoy socializing with random drunk people. Ironically though a party is where you met your current boyfriend, Young Neil... or well just Neil. He looked so lonely at the party. At the time you noticed he had come with a group of people, but they just parted ways, so that left him alone in a corner with a bored look on his face.

So, you walked up to him, made conversation and surprisingly it went very well. And by made conversation, you meant flirt heavily. He had a chill; calm personality and it went well with yours. Not to mention…he was adorable. How had nobody gone up to him and flirted with him before you is a mystery. After the party you two exchanged numbers and kept on talking until he very shyly asked you to date him, and how could you say no? And so far, the relationship has been going great.

Now back to you. 2 hours had passed since Wallace and Scott left you and it was an understatement to say you were bored. All you did was watch tv, play on your xbox, and eat lunch. You had the apartment to yourself and could do what you want, but why did it feel so boring still? It was because you were doing It alone.

So, you decided to call up your boyfriend Neil and ask him to come hang out with you.

“Oh, hey babe, what’s up?” You could tell by his tone he was happy to hear from you. “Hey Neil. You wanna come over? I’m at Wallace’s apartment.”

“YES!…ehm.. I mean, yeah whatever that sounds cool.” He quickly collects himself, which earned a giggle on your end. That boy was so cute it hurts. “Are Scott and Wallace there? Are we all hanging out or something?”

“Nah. Just us. They’re at a party and won’t be here until….im not sure honestly. I can’t tell with them. Is that okay with you?”

“Perfect..!” He said quickly. “Good! Then I’ll see you when you get here, yeah?”

“I already left the house.”

Today was going to be great, you just know it.

After awhile of waiting for Neil to come you finally hear a soft knock on the door. You quickly got up and fixed your clothes and hair to make it look more presentable and then headed towards the door and letting Neil in. He had on a large puffy coat, jeans, his normal shoes and to top it all off a fluffy hat covered his soft hair. You also noticed his nose was red, poor boy must have had a small cold. Afterall, it has been snowing a lot recently, especially today.

“Hey b-babe!” It was so cold you could see his breath coming straight out of mouth. “Hey baby. Come on inside, you look like you have a cold.” He nods happily as he steps right inside, and you close the door behind him. “You think I look sick?” He asks while a sniffle leaves his nose as he takes off his puffy coat and sets it aside on the armchair. “You have a cold. Have you noticed your nose is red?”

He tries to cross his eyes to look at his nose. “Hmm. No, don’t see it.” A giggle escaped your lips. “Wait..does that mean we can’t make out...or cuddle?”

“Nah. I’d still kiss you.” You grab his hand and drag him to the bed. “I’ve been playing Sims 3 and Minecraft all day, it’s boring so when you’re alone.” You grab your controller.

“Do you have castle crashers?” He grabs a nearby controller.

“Of course. Wanna play that?” He nods.

“Good choice, one of my favorite games.”

“…dibs on the purple knight.”  You playfully push his shoulder. “Hey!- I wanted that one!”

After a few hours of playing Castle Crashers, you two eventually got bored of it. Not because the game was bad, oh trust. But because of the stupid bat boss, could not get past it. So annoying…! Anyways, instead of playing more Xbox games you decided to cuddle up with him under the covers while you watched him play on this Gameboy Advance. He was playing Mario Kart Super Circuit as Luigi.

You snuggled your head into his shoulder while you watched him play. “Babe.. are you sure you don’t want a turn? Is It really that fun to watch me play?” He asks curiously.

“Mhm. You make cute faces when you’re focused.” He sticks his tongue out in concentration. “Huh?..sorry what’d you say? I had to get back in first place.” You snorted. “You’re cute.”

You get closer to him, you lift your leg and placed it over his crotch. His face flushes. “Haah…y/n..you’re..um….you’re distracting.”

“Distracting? Can you elaborate?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Y…you’re trying to make me lose..! I wont let you…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You tease. “I’m just trying to cuddle with my lovely boyfriend, can’t a person just—”

“Mhmm..”

“Oh?”

You feel a growing bump on your naked knee. It didn’t take a genius to understand what that was. He had gotten a boner from your leg laying on his dick. “Y/nnn….” You look directly at him. “Yes?”

“…I’m hard.”

“I know.”

There were a few seconds of silence between you two. “Want me to take care of it baby?” He furiously nods with flustered face. “P..please….b-but first let me finish this—”

“You can keep playing it while I suck your dick.”

“Wh- wha?...you want me to do that..?” He stammers. “Go ahead babe. Pretend like I’m not even here, kay?” You proceed to get under the covers while also getting in between Neil’s legs. His boner was more visible from this angle. “Pretend like you’re not here..?...that’s gonna be h..harrd…but okay.”

You placed your hands on top of his covered dick. You could already feel him throbbing. He breaths with a mix of anticipation and nervousness as he gripped his Gameboy tightly, attempting to concentrate as hard as he can on his game. You then put your fingers in-between his boxers then sliding it down all the way to his knees. His dick immediately sprung up with a string of pre-cum trailing down the base of his dick from the tip.

“Ohh? You were REAL pent up weren’t you?” His heart starts to race as you grab his dick. “F-fuuuck. Don’t…don’t go too fast….you’re gonna make me c-cum early again like last time..”

“Haha..don’t worry, Neil.” You kiss the tip of his dick. “I’ll try to make you last as long as possible. Just focus on your game.~”

You were going to be the death of him.

He watches you with a mix of awe and desire as you kiss and started to slowly stroke his dick. You could also feel him squirming underneath your touch. He felt warm sensations coursing through his body, but still managed to focus on his game somehow. But his eyes did occasionally flicker to your eyes.

“Ah…hnnm…”

You extended your wet tongue to the base of his dick, then began to lick from there towards the tip of it. His pre-cum tasted a little salty. “mmm~  you’re a good boy aren’t you?”

 “Ughn…” A shiver runs down his spine as he tries to keep his focus on the game, but your tongue and touch were already so overwhelming. He lets out soft gasps whenever your tongue glosses over his sensitive tip. “Y…yeah..I’m your good boy….” His whimpers out, his voice barely audible. His eyes continuing to dart between the screen and your movements, his body was growing more tense with each passing second. It just felt too good.

You wrapped your lips about his tip, sucking on it gently. You also used your other free hand to caress his inner thigh. Neil’s body lifted slightly, and he grips his Gameboy tighter as your warm mouth had engulfed the tip of his dick. He bites down on his bottom lip, trying to stifle the series of moans that threatened to escape his soft lips. The sensation of your hand on his thigh and the pleasure from your mouth sent waves of ecstasy through him. “y/n…g..ghhn…ugh!” He struggles to keep his focus on the game, it was getting increasingly difficult for him to both face fuck you and continue playing the game.

You started to take him further into your mouth, his dick hitting your throat each time your lips met his messy pubes. Your tongue trailing over the veins on his dick then back to his tip and then back to the veins. Neil’s head falls back onto a pillow as loud moans escapes his lips, his body trembling with pleasure. He could feel himself getting lost in the sensations, at this point the game had fallen from out of hand, he had forgotten it as he surrenders to the pleasure you’re giving him.

You then could feel a hand being placed on top of your head, gently pushing you further down. “Y..yes…just like that…you’re amazing…” His free hand grips the covers of the bed, and his breath became more ragged. You completely took your mouth off his dick and used your hand to stroke him quickly. “Gonna cum for me baby? You wanna cum on my pretty face, yeah?”

Maybe you were just hearing things but..was someone outside the front door..?

He pathetically lets a few tears fall from his face as he gasps sharply. His mind was going blank with pleasure, too much was going on he couldn’t think of anything else except you. He couldn’t help but let ot a lew, guttural moan, hips involuntarily twitching In response to the intense pleasure. “Y-yes!...I..I can’t hold back much longer…n..need to cum..” He struggles to form coherent words, completely hypnotized by your hand.

Keys entered the lock of the front door. Someone is here.

“Cum for me. Now.” Your trail your free hand from his inner thigh to under his shirt, caressing his chest. As for your occupied hand, your hand kept his dick busy with your fast paced strokes. “I-Im…y/n…I’m so close…ssso so close…don’t stop pleeease…”

The front door opens. Wallace and Scott enter the room before noticing..-

The intensity of your hands pushes him closer and closer to the edge, you consumed his mind entire;y. He lets out a final string of incoherent moans, his free hand gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles were turning white as he approached his climax. “Y-y/n…I’m…I’m gonna…c-cummingg!!” He rolls his eyes to the back of his head and arched his back involuntarily as he finally reached his peak, releasing his cum onto your face with a final, shuddering orgasm.

A string of cum landed on your lips, to which you licked it off. You then stuck your head out from under the covers to see Neil’s tired, exhausted face. He had tear stains on his cheeks and he was breathing heavily. You chuckled at this. “I hope I didn’t go too hard on you babe. You okay?” He looks at you with a small smile before quickly dropping it when he noticed you had visitors.

“Uh..y/n….” He mutters. You tilt your face at him with confusion. “What? What’s wrong? You’ve came on my face before.” He shakes his head. “I-its not that its just uh..”

“What?”

Neil lifts his hand and points right behind you. You turned your head slowly to see….Wallace…and Scott. Both, horrified, Scott more so. They just witnessed their friend give a blow job to their other friend, and it didn’t help that you still had his cum on your face.

“uh….hey guys. How was the party?” You nervous asked.

They said nothing for a few moments until Wallace spoke up. “I never knew you had that in you, y/n.” He teased. Scott however, wasn’t amused…at all. “We..y/n… we sleep on the same BED!...Y-you’re face is covered in—!”

“I KNOW.” You embarrassingly wiped it off from your face and Neil quickly pulled up his boxers and pants. After this incident Scott tried to ban you from bringing Neil over, even when both of them were there. But since Scott was considered a leech too, it didn’t hold any value to you. As for Wallace, he found the whole thing amusing, but…he very gently asked you to not fuck him on the bed…. despite him doing the exact same thing. Apparently, he’s the only one allowed to do that. Fair enough since it was his bed after all.

That’s not gonna stop you from inviting Neil over again. ♡

I was lowkey struggling how to format this. Tumblr is killing meeee

[sexysilverstrider]

reading the japanese and english takukamu S supports im just getting really emotional over the japanese version

when i reread the official english version, i realize they kinda water down how takumi really felt. that explains why i got REALLY emotional reading the japanese version. some of the changes were:

english: there is something else I wanted to talk about… japanese: will you listen to my request?

while this doesnt seem much, the eng version makes takumi sound calmer while jpn version makes him sound nervous. it was a bit odd when takumi says request but then

english: So…does this change anything? About your feelings toward us, I mean. japanese: Hey. Earlier... you said you would listen to my request. So, will you... forgive me for this?

apparently after confessing his feelings n telling the truth, jpn takumi clearly felt disgusted and horrified that he has romantic feelings for someone he was supposed to call sister. eng takumi once again makes him feel calmer and chill as if he had enough time to think and ponder--almost as if the big truth wasnt all that much--while jpn takumi is implied to have rued and suffered through his feelings, fearing that kamui will hate or be disgusted with him. after alls said and done, all takumi ever wanted was for kamui to accept him even if she doesnt love him

english: Avatar: When you said that you liked me, my heart started racing. But I didn't want it to show because I didn't know about Father. Everything is so confusing. Takumi: That's right. But in a confusing world, we must cling to the few fragments of truth we share. And the truth is that I love you, Avatar, and you love me. Let's build a future on that. Avatar: Y-yes. I think you're right. Let's give it a shot. What's the worst that could happen? japanese: Kamui: When you said that you liked me earlier, I was really happy. Because we're siblings, I've avoided saying such a thing... Takumi: Kamui-neesan... Kamui: ... But you came straight out and said you liked me. You showed me that it was okay to love you. Thank you, Takumi. I also want to stay by your side... Takumi: Nee-san...!! For you to have the same feelings as me, I've never been this happy in my life. So... I'll give you this ring. ... I'll protect you with my whole life. Kamui: ... I'm so happy, Takumi! From now on, please take care of me! Takumi: Okay...!

once again this ending!!!! while i do like the eng version the fact that it feels......less emotional than the japanese one. yes takumi is more assured of his feelings now that its reciprocated. i hate that the english version doesnt wanna highlight the 'i cant romantically love you coz i thought we were siblings' like cowards. apply the brocon/siscon themes in this game as its supposed to be. but yeah i still do appreciate takumi being more confident and kamui still being hesitant but they both embraced their feelings nicely

but the japanese one

oooohhh OOOHHH kamui straight up saying she loves takumi too but didnt act out coz she thought they were related. takumi preparing A RING eventho he was 70% sure she wont love him the same way. takumi saying he will protect her with his own life which brings the whole conquest story 10x more painful.

english: If you were aiming for my heart, you've struck true. This was meant to be…

cheesy cute S support dialogue. 10/10. adorable. the last sentence is my otp tag for them after all

japanese: Thank you, sister. I'm so very happy. No matter what people think...these feelings won't change. I love you.

HEARTBREAKING HONEST S SUPPORT. 12/10 MAKING ME CRY. LOVE THAT HE PROMISES NO MATTER WHAT HE WILL ALWAYS LOVE HER. GOOD GOD

and my personal favourite difference of them all?

english: I'm sorry. I struggled with whether or not to tell you any of this. After all, now that you know, we can never go back to being siblings. But I couldn't simply pretend to be your brother for the rest of my life. Especially not with the way I felt about you. It is shameful, I know.

again takumi is being calm and somewhat professional. he knows its weird and tbfh i hate that the localization want to highlight how weird it is. we get it i know. but they make takumi level-headed which when i think back is kind of off for him but i appreciate the maturity of his behaviour here

japanese: I'm sorry... Nee-san. I was really at a loss as to whether I should tell you this or not. Now that I have, we can't go back to being siblings. But I... couldn't have beared living my whole life acting as your brother. I would have rather died...

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK OHHH MY GOOOOD FUCK FUCK FUCK AAAAAAAAAA!!!! i can hear his pain. his sorrow. his guilt. there is no voice acting in the supports but i can HEAR takumis emotions. the very fact that he loves her so so much and he cant bear pretending to be her brother anymore. the very fact that seeing kamui with another man might n will kill him. the very fact that he would rather die than pretending to be someone hes not. this is what im eating. this is what ive been robbed. this very line made me cry THE SECOND I READ IT im about to cry now!!! that very last line is just a big Fuck You to his fate in conquest GOD AAAAAAAAAA

[mihai-florescu]

Okay I did post the au in 3 different parts and had a tag for it but I forgot it so I'm just gonna screenshot my notes app instead

Ummm a basic summary is that a random selection of the enstars cast get affected by this weird disease or something and it causes them to try to inflict suffering on themselves and everyone else as much as possible. In my dream the only character that was focused on regarding who had it was niki so I had to think of who else would get it. You can get the disease through your insecurities consuming you to a point it makes you sensitive to the disease.

An interesting part of the dream was that Sora's synesthesia was able to tell who had it because their colour would be horrifying no matter how well they acted (except one guy. uhh). When everyone finds out about the disease everyone tries to help as much as possible. Natsume and Sora try to find a cure (Tsumugi was one of the first affected and that's how they found it). Because of that Tsumugi's just kinda their test dummy to find out about the disease.

Ummm I thought of a good/bad ending. It's very black and white it's just everyone's fine or everyone's affected. I've only thought about the good + bad ending for crazy:b so don't ask about the others. If you wanna add to this you're more than welcome actually.

Also shoutout to my mutual @.mutsuowo for helping me with it. Mainly the stuff with knights I know shockingly little about knights

The sickness reminds me of akumatization in miraculous ladybug, i think it's an interesting premise to push people to their limits in crisis. But for worldbuilding purposes, at what point in the timeline did you envision this AU happening? Im asking because im not sure if nazuna being insecure about his leadership skills really fits in current ES2 where he hasnt been the leader of ra*bits in a year. But if the AU happens in like. Spring-summer of ES1 it could add another point of tension. Thinking about this illness being a direct result of the war, even. Maybe.

Im not entirely sold on wataru having it though. You said eichi would be the only one who kind of knows, and to me in that case he would leave no stone unturned to try to help wataru heal. Which would lead to him having to work directly with natsume for a cure... im quite interested in this part. Especially if tsumugi is patient 0 they're testing remedies on. How far would eichi go experimenting? The arguments with natsume that would ensue? Much to think about here...

I like that chiaki gets it and kanata helps make him human again... reverse meteor impact. Also i imagine madara tries to hide it and doesnt tell anyone, espeeecially not kanata. But i want kanata to find out that madara was affected too and to try to help (but also for him to remember how he cant actually heal anyone, he's not a god, do you think he forgot how his first failed miracle was madara's own sister?). Im not sold on madara's insecurity that makes him sick being just. His loneliness. It seems too shallow for how much is actually wrong with this guy, the loneliness is more of a cure he finds for himself to not let others know he is sick more than the symptom itself.

As for knights hmmm depending on when the AU is set i could see tsukasa also getting it. Leo and tsukasa both, and they end up helping each other as well. The description of sick izumi in your notes is just regular ES1 izumi...funny.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

KARASU appearance I’m not ready guys. Ok but very excited to see how you’ve established their relationship (as it’s now no longer a romantic one LOL)

FR it’s especially even more endearing when you factor in Nagi’s lack of parental attention or guidance really?? And how (I think) he’s even mentioned in that one extra chapter from movie promo where he visits Reo’s house and it’s kinda implied how he didn’t fully like being just like left alone and thrown to the wilderness (LMAO)

FR yeah er bllk is quite limited on that aspect especially since it’s also set in like..normal world au(??) like no special powers or systems really besides what’s established in Blue Lock itself which also doesn’t leave much room for anything…and yeah not very conducive to women MCs unfortunately…the only two routes I can even imagine are manager/assistant (kinda like the game setting) or your typical cross dressing mulan sneak in cliche (there’s a rather (unsurprisingly) large amount of those works floating out there I know LOL) I feel like the latter still wouldn’t be plausible though since I’m sure ego and anri do a very thorough background check on all bllkers so….either way those options also don’t really give much room to expand on a whole lot in the verse either so I can imagine the struggle

I was not aware an anti nagireo tag existed LMAO but FR they’ll sometimes come in hordes to bombard antis and it’s a nightmare I see some comment sections occasionally and it’s insane IN IT TOGETHER FR!!

Thinking about a color spread from epinagi just reminds me of the latest one and im like??? They really just took the light novel visuals and lined them all up class group photo style LMAOAOA I was fr expecting like an action color spread scene relating to the current match but um. I guess not!!! :,)

NO FR because the way he’ll be chill and compliment people left and right if they do something cool/unordinary in a match but we’ve also seen him beat the shit out of all those people in second selection + almost igaguri + rin when I first saw him colored my jaw dropped that’s such an interesting color combo…very Shidou though

Also I saw the words Karasu in your CW section of the latest Kaiser fic and I had to double take (fr have the Karasu radar on 24/7) I won’t lie I can’t say I’m the biggest fan of Kaiser but I’m about to inhale another work of yours I also got Karasu baited in a way LMAO (if I get converted I’m holding you responsible /pos)

-Karasu anon

HE’S SO COOL IN HOLLYHOCK TBH like def one of my fav characters i think…i won’t gas him up too much so you can make your own opinion on him though hehe

oh i have many thoughts about how the parental neglect nagi faced is a DIRECT cause of his “laziness” LMAOO let’s just that mr and mrs nagi are NOT safe from me. i think it’s comparatively a subtler form of abuse compared to what kaiser for example faced and maybe not intentional on the nagi parents’ part but nonetheless it is maltreatment/abuse and likely was traumatizing for him!! i do think that as much as he chafes against barou’s bossiness he probably appreciates it in a way (or at least needs it LMAO)

yeah i’ve seen a lot of those “only girl in bllk” type of aus and ykw probability aside…would it not be terrifying to be the only girl in a facility full of boys?? like even as an assistant or manager i guess you have authority so it’s not as bad but being a player would genuinely be horrifying imo. like we the audience know the bllk guys are good guys for the most part and would never hurt a woman but a character in-verse wouldn’t yk?? being the singular girl locked away with 300 boys is genuine nightmare fuel to me 😭 i feel like of the few fics like that i’ve skimmed (never really gotten into any unfortunately) i’ve never seen that aspect being explored — mostly because, again, we as readers trust the bllk boys, so we wouldn’t really think of a character not doing the same?? now i’m tempted to write a version of that more cliche story that takes the cliches and subverts them heheh…i think it would be a fun challenge at any rate although idk if anyone would really read it.

LMAOOO i think tumblr is a very pro-nagireo site so the antis are p nonexistent…i wouldn’t even consider myself an anti necessarily i just am not FOR them!! omg if people ever come for me i’m just going to block or smth i don’t have the time to deal with…at the end of the day it’s fiction and never that deep

THAT’S WHAT I MEAN like he’s one of the only characters who compliments players from opposite teams if they do smth he finds cool so in that sense he’s chill but also as soon as someone does smth he finds annoying he just starts swinging 😭 wasn’t there a point during the u-20 arc when aiku had to stop him from beating up the team LMAOO?? lowkey rare aiku slay

AHAHA OMG THE INSTRUMENT??? i wrote that a while ago actually for my event!! i just remembered it and reblogged because i was like “hold on i actually like this more than i thought i did.” kaiser isn’t one of my favs either tbh (although he has grown on me a lot) so when i got that request i was very very nervous to write it and then for some reason i decided to write it in present tense which i have never done before or since?? it’s honestly not a very romantic story and very contrary to the typical fanon characterization of kaiser but honestly i feel like i ended up loving the way i wrote him…i personally thought it was closer to his manga self than him being super charming and lovable. and HAHAHA the karasu reference in the tags i was giggling when i came up w that 😭 that was in the era before fwtkac and whatnot so the most i had written karasu was his shithead cameo in cherry tree 😓 so adding him in the tags there was like a personal gratification moment FJSKFJJS i’m sorry i karasu baited you 💔 i hope you like reading it anyways!!

[ray-ray-writings]

UMM THIS

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMe24dvmM/

Im sorry I know you are packed and busy but can I make a request based on that video?? BECAUSE HOT DAM JUST WILBUR ENTERING LIKE

‘WHAT IS THIS I HEARD ABOUT HURTING Y/N AND TOMMY ‘

LOOK AT THAT VIDEO LOOK AT IT AND TELL ME YOU ARENT SIMPING TO THAT MAN

I simply cannot tell you that because it would be untrue because I am SIMPING so hard…. Also this was way longer and had a lot more plot than I originally planned so…. There’s that lol. Hope you enjoy. (P.S. Because it’s so long, this is going to be the only post tonight, my brain is a bit fried rn lol. Have a great night everyone!)

Warnings: Mentions of very quickly losing a lot of weight, it’s brief but it’s there. As well as, manipulation from Dream. At one point the reader is like “wow it’s been three days since you hit me… Thanks Dream!” And a few swear words here and there. 

Before Wilbur died, you and Wilbur were married. It absolutely broke your heart to watch the love of your life lose his mind (and then his life) for the nation that you and he created to raise and protect your boys in. But you stood by his side until the very end. You held his hand as he died and clutched his body with Phil once it was over. Ghostbur gave you somewhat of a shock. Because you’re husband was back, and he remembered you. He was the man you had married. The person he was before the presidency, before the war, before L’Manberg… You’re Wilbur was back. But you were still sad. You couldn’t hug him or kiss him like you were able to and although he seemed to be right in front of you, it felt like he couldn’t be farther away. Ghostbur can see this and decides that if he can, he really wants to try to come back to life. He tells his father and older brother about this and so they begin planning and researching. In doing this, they kind of accidentally turn a blind eye to what is happening to you and Tommy. 

While those three are figuring out how to bring Wilbur back from the dead, you and Tommy are being harassed by Dream. Something else you lost when you lost Wilbur was protection from Dream. For some reason, Dream was always afraid of Wilbur. Perhaps it was his ability to always stand up for what he wanted and fight for the things he loves… Or perhaps it was because he was Techno’s brother. Doesn’t matter. Point is when you lost Wilbur you lost the protection from Dream. Dream threatens you and Tommy, trying to provoke Tommy and trick him into doing stuff so that Dream could get him in trouble and one day it finally works. Dream tells Tommy where George’s vacation house is because he knows that Tommy cannot resist checking a place out and looking through other people’s stuff. So Tommy drags Ranboo over there and while they’re there they accidentally knock over a lantern and burn some of the house and some of the chests. On the other side of the server, Dream is in your home, poking fun at you for losing your husband and telling you that it was partially your fault and just stuff like that. You didn’t react. You never could when talking to Dream. But his words stung and slashed deep, and he knew it. Finally after a while of this, Tommy comes bursting through your front door, out of breath and seemingly panicked. “What’s the matter?” You ask softly, leaving your kitchen and going to comfort your boy. Tommy is about to spill everything but when he looks up he sees Dream and immediately swallows his words. “We were playing tag… That’s all… Tag” he says. You absolutely do not believe him but you catch his gaze and know that whatever he’s done he cannot say it in front of Dream. So you decide you’ll just have to wait…. You don’t have to wait long. 

“You burnt down George’s vacation home?” Dream’s deadly tone sounds from the kitchen. Your eyes widen and scan Tommy’s face and the look that overtakes him, you know it’s true. “I did not burn it down… I knocked over a lantern and a small fire broke out… I tried to repair everything, it’s fine.” Tommy insists. But Dream seems too pissed to listen to reason. “Come with me” he hisses, marching forward and snatching Tommy’s wrist tightly and marching out of the house. A small whimper left Tommy’s lips as he was pulled causing you to fly into a rage. “Let go of him!” you demand, chasing after them. Dream doesn’t listen and so you reach out and shove his shoulder causing him to stumble, let go of Tommy’s wrist and whip around to face you too. A chilling smile rests on his face, “Oh you just messed up big time.” Before you can react, he reaches out, grabs your wrist, grabs Tommy’s again and continues on down the Prime Path. You’d try to fight it but the grip on your wrist was just too strong. Dream pulls you to Tubbo and immediately jumps on the boy. He explains what happened as well as says that you assaulted him and that he wants you two exiled from L’Manberg or there will be hell to pay. Dream tells Tubbo he will start a war and will kill everyone and everything if his orders are not followed. You can tell Tubbo really doesn’t want to, but it’s something he has to do. Tubbo lets out a small sigh and nod, “Okay Dream. You win.” He murmurs, not looking at Tommy’s betrayed face. “Excellent choice, Mr. President,” the man spits out. “Tubbo” Tommy utters broken heartedly, staring at his best friend, silently begging him to say sike… It never comes. “Dream please escort Tommy and Y/N out of my country.” “With pleasure” You wrist is seized again and you’re being dragged away from your home. 

After you three get out of the SMP, Dream lets go of your wrists and lets you walk for yourself. You approach Tommy and wrap a comforting arm around him. “It’s going to be okay Tommy. Everything is going to be okay.” You comfort the young boy who sighs and nods, “I just can’t believe that he would throw me under the bus like that,” Tommy murmurs. “I know kiddo. I know.” You follow Dream for a very long time until he is satisfied that you are far enough away from the rest of the SMP. “Okay, we stop here… Put your stuff in this hole,” Dream commands, digging a small hole for the two of you to throw your stuff in. You let out a scoff and roll your eyes, “No way. You’ve already forced us into exile. There’s no way we’re giving you our stuff.” Dream’s face flushed a bright red before he lurched forward and grabbed you. Putting in a headlock to where you’re back was pressed against his chest, his arm around your throat while he has a crossbow to your head. “I’ve had enough of you fucking attitude Y/N. You have no power here. I do. I’m in charge and when I say to do something, you do it. If I ask you to jump, the only thing you may ask after that is “How high?” Do you understand?” You don’t speak, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of obedience. But then the tip of the arrow digs into the side of your head causing you to let out a small pained whimper, “I said, do you understand?” he demands again. “Yes” you finally whimper out. He moves the crossbow away from your skull and lets you go and shoves you forward, stumbling into Tommy who catches you and stabilizes you. “Put your stuff in the hole… Now” he growls, not in the mood for any more ‘games’. You and Tommy share a look and then a sigh and slowly put your things in the hole like he demanded. And you could only watch as he placed TNT above it and blew up everything. All of your items that you had worked hard for… Gone in a moment. Dream leaves with a cackle. You and Tommy are just there. Shocked. Finally, after a few moments, you’re able to shake yourself out of it. “Okay… Let’s get started, there’s no time to waste.” Tommy just looks at you and then he sighs and nods. “Let’s do it then.” The two of you spend the rest of the day gathering materials and building yourself a little shelter. You were all alone… At least you were all alone with your brother.

As we all know, Dream comes back almost every day. He comes back, blows up your stuff and leaves. The first time he came back you tried to stop him… It didn’t go well. “Dream, please he just-“ He cut off your words with a harsh slap across the face. It sends you flying and leaves your head spinning. “Haven’t you learned yet? Stuff. Hole. Now.” And you have no choice but to obey. You watch with a broken heart as Tommy slowly begins to actually trust Dream and believe him when he says that no one misses him. You do your best to be there for him and convince him that it’s not true but as days go by and no one, not even your Ghostbur, you can’t help but slowly believe that they’ve forgotten about you two. As time goes on, it seems that you and Tommy fade. You lose a lot of weight. Your food source is scarce and you have to do a lot of work because you’re restarting every. single. day. You get hurt a lot easier and it takes a lot more time to recover. Every once in a while, Dream will physically hurt you. Whether it a slap or a small sword slash, he does it just to make sure you still remember who’s in charge. You just learn to take it and deal with it. It hurts, but at least it’s you and not Tommy. Ranboo visits you once and is horrified at what he sees. He’s worried about you, but knows he can do basically nothing to help you. He makes a mental note to tell someone about it back in the SMP…. And even though he has memory problems, this is one thing he cannot forget. 

On the other side of the SMP, Philza, Techno, and Ghostbur have done it. They’ve cracked it. They have figured out how to bring Ghostbur back to life and to bring back Wilbur. The three make the plan and tell no one, especially not you. (Yeah…. They don’t even realize that you and Tommy aren’t around rn lol) They want to make sure this works before they tell anyone. So they do all the prep and the work and then they perform the ritual. They perform it in a cave somewhere just a little bit away from Techno’s house so that absolutely no one would know where they are or what they were doing. They begin just as nightfalls. Carefully completely each step and making sure they’re doing everything just right, knowing if they fuck up one small thing it’s over and they won’t be able to get Wilbur back. The three complete the final step and wait…. Nothing happens. “Fuck!” Techno curses, his eyes falling to the book, “We did everything right! It should have worked!” “Techno calm down, we’re all upset but at least we-” Philza doesn’t get to finish. All of the sudden a bright light floods the room. The light? It’s coming from Ghostbur. “Uhh guys?” the ghost questions in fear as he is levitated off the ground. Philza and Techno cannot look at him for fear of going blind. Ghostbur is unsure of what is happening but then the shredding pain fills his body. A scream rips from his throat as his whole form begins to physicalize. The skin begins to become real as the bones, blood, organs, and all other internal body parts forms. All memories that Ghostbur had forgotten flood Wilbur’s mind as his whole life flashes before his eyes, reminding him of everything. It only lasts a few moments more before the light fades and Wilbur is dropped from the air. His body hits the ground with an extremely harsh thump. He feels the impact and lets out a groan. His whole body is sore… But he’s there. He’s real and most importantly he’s alive. “Wilbur?” Philza asks hesitantly. Wilbur lets out another groan. The two standing men share a look before rushing to his side. They kneel beside him and gently reach out. Don’t tell anyone but tears threaten to fall from both men’s eyes, Philza and Techno’s, as their hands actually are able to touch Wilbur and they don’t go through him as if he were a ghost. They gently help him from his side to laying on his back. At the movement, Wilbur opens his eyes and is met with the tear laced ones of two of his family members. “Hey guys” he manages to croak out, “how’s it going” “Wilbur” Philza breaks, a tear streaming down his cheek before he lurches forward and wraps the boy into a warm hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” the older man sobs to his son. “Shhhh,” Wilbur calms his father, “It’s okay Dadza. I wanted it. You did what you had to do. It’s okay.” To the two’s surprise’s Techno’s buff arms wrap around the two and join in the hug. “It’s uhhh… it’s good to see you Wilbur” Techno grumbles, not really liking the emotion that had built up in his chest. Wilbur let out a soft laugh, “Good to see you too Tech.” 

The sweet moment is broken by someone calling Techno’s name a little ways away from the cave. At first, they elect to ignore it, but then the voice calls again, this time for Philza and they can tell now that whoever it is, is panicking. So the two help Wilbur up and gently help him out of the cave. They look out over the snow and find Ranboo there, standing on Techno’s front porch. “Ranboo!” Techno calls out causing the tall boy to turn around and then run at them. “Techno! Phil!.... Is that Wilbur? Like actual real Wilbur? He’s alive?” Ranboo asks, his tone still slightly panicked. “Yes Ranboo… It’s a long story but to sum it up we managed to bring Wilbur back to life… Now why are you here and why are you panicked.” Ranboo’s eyes shift back to Wilbur and gulps, “I knew you weren’t going to like this… But now you’re really not going to like this… Dream is hurting Y/N and Tommy…” All three, especially Wilbur, snap to attention at that. “What?” Wilbur asks harshly. Ranboo gulps and nods before diving into his story. He tells them about your exile and how Dream has been treating you two, blowing up your stuff and even physically harming Y/N. He tells them that Dream has the two convinced that nobody cares about them anymore. The three go stiff at that. Have they all been so focused they really missed all of this? Well time to go right some wrongs. It is almost as if all ache and tiredness left Wilbur’s body at the thought of his spouse being hurt, especially at the hands of Dream. He straightens up and takes a few steps toward Ranboo, “Take them to us” he speaks, his tone pretty damn dark. Ranboo nods and quickly turns around and leads the three men back to the exile spot. 

Back in exile, you and Tommy built a house… Logsted! It wasn’t exactly your taste, but it made Tommy happy so you lived in it together. You had woken up, actually feeling kind of good. The bruises and nicks on your face had slowly begun to heal and Dream hadn’t hit you in the past three days. You had a nice dinner last night, you and Tommy had found some chickens and made a small chicken farm a little ways away from the house so that way Dream couldn’t easily find it, but point is you had chicken for dinner… that’s what I was getting at… I’ll move on. So long story short, you were feeling good. The sun had risen and so Tommy and you were just kind of waiting for Dream to show up so you could get the daily blowing up over with. And like clockwork, he shows up, but for some reason he’s angry. For the past couple days he’d actually be pleasant to be around, greeting you asking you how you’ve been. But today was different. He slammed the door open and begins digging a hole in the middle of Logstedshire… That’s really weird. He was going to blow up the stuff inside the house? No way. But he points to the hole and you know he wants you to dump your items in. You move to the hole but don’t throw your stuff in, “Inside the house? Can we please go outside, I don’t want to ruin our hard work” wrong thing to say. A growl escapes Dream’s lips as he reaches forward and slaps you hard across the face, harder than he’s ever slapped you. It is enough to make you dizzy, but you don’t even have time to recover because his hand is in your hair, yanking it back forcing you to look at him. “You stupid bitch. You would think that after all this time, you would have learned by now… I mean you were doing so so well. But it just seems that you never learn your lesson… Guess I’ll have to teach you yet again.” And he pulls out his sword and points it at your stomach, ready to slice you again. Just as he’s about to harm you, the door swings open again and someone stumbles in. They lean against the doorframe with their hand grabbing the top of the frame. You can hear Tommy let out a gasp and you watch Dream’s eyes widen in fear. “So Dream,” an all too familiar voice calls, “What’s this about hurting Y/N and Tommy now?” And then you’re let go by Dream. You crash to the ground, fall flat on your ass, but you manage to scramble to a stand as you stare at the door frame in complete... Shock? Amazement? Fear? You can’t tell. You’re husband, Wilbur, is standing there in the flesh. Literally in the flesh. He’s alive again and you cannot believe it. “Wilbur” Dream stutters out, “You’re alive? How-” “That doesn’t matter, Dream. What matters is the fact that you’ve been hurting Y/N and Tommy… We can’t have that. So now what is going to happen is I’m going to take my family back to L’Manberg and you are never going to hurt them again,” Wilbur announces, moving ever so slightly further into the room. Seeming to have recovered just a bit from shock, Dream actually retorts, “Or what?”. Two more people enter the house and it causes Dream to blanch even further. “I think you know what… now run along.” Not wanting to risk it, Dream takes off running. 

Once you’re sure he’s gone, you allow yourself to speak. “Wilbur?” You whisper out, still not sure if this is real or if you’re dreaming. Wilbur’s attention shifts to you and he completely soften. “Hello,” he greets with a soft smile on his face, taking a few steps toward you, “Have you missed me?” Deciding you don’t care if he’s real or not, you rush forward and throw yourself into his arms. You, like Philza and Techno, almost cry at the feeling of your body’s connecting. He’s here. He’s real. And he’s alive. His arms wrap around you and hold you to him so tightly, you almost can’t breathe. But you don’t care. You’re hugging your husband. You’re actually hugging your husband. “I missed you so much, Wilby. I mean we had Ghostbur but it wasn’t the same. I missed you,” you mumble into his shoulders, the tears slowly falling out of your eyes. His hand comes up and slowly pets your head, in silent comfort and reassurance. 

After a few minutes you pull away slightly, “How are you-” You’re cut off by his lips pressing against your and you cannot help but melt. It has been months since his passing and this was just the absolute best feeling in the world. You kiss back with so much passion it makes your head spin, this time in a good way. It’s also probably the only time ever his brother’s didn’t fake vomit at the sight of you kissing. You only pull back to catch a breath, but right as you breathe in, Wilbur’s lips are back on yours. The process repeats a few times, before you manage to breathe out a “Will,” causing him to pull back, but leaving his forehead resting on yours and his lips just hovering above yours. “Yes my love,” he mumbles to you. “Can we go home please” you ask, not wanting to be here at Logstedshire any longer. He gives you a warn grin, leaning the inch forward and kissing you once more before giving his answer. “Of course my love. Let’s get out of here.” 

[starconsumer444]

“When Things Fall In Place” (18+)

Creepy Roommate!Kenma

(A/N: This is...about 3.1k of pure degeneracy, which I actually had no intention on writing, finishing, or publishing and just thought out as I went... There was no planning, no actual ideas prior to this {actually its based off this guy I met recently because im always stuck with the creeps}...I just started it late at night [basically the early hours of the morning] and finished it this afternoon. I haveeee to stop writing for haikyuu... But I’m probably gonna fall off, comeback and write one or two request with a bunch of other random bs, and then disappear again after this, but thats just how it is. I get bored of writing every three days then come back to write my heart out. I really have to write my requests soon or they’ll hate me...) 

(Cw/Tw: Fem!Reader, Stalking, Somno, Rape/Noncon,  Virgin!Kenma, Theft, Crying, Poor Writing, Kenma is a sweaty, friendless, looser in this one guys, I’m bad at tagging these but you get the idea... this is bad and nasty. 3.1k!!!! THIS IS LONG AS HELL)

You don’t know much about him, Kenma— your roommate. You’ve been living together for almost a year at this point and that can’t be normal. He stays in his room playing video games, doesn’t seem to have friends, leaves for work in the morning, and keeps to himself for the most part. Honestly, if you didn’t greet each other in passing you would’ve forgotten the sound of his voice by now. It’s low, unaffected, and monotone for the most part. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be bothered?

But see, Kenma knows everything about you. You went to middle and high school together, but he was just as standoffish in those days too. He doesn’t expect you to remember him, you clearly don’t, but it still weighs on his heart. Was he that forgettable? It’s okay, because one day he’ll tell you. One day he’ll tell you everything.

He’s been obsessed with you since middle school, you were the pretty girl that sat in the front of the class and smelled so good. You would talk to give answers in class and he would be all ears, because to him your voice was his only source of happiness. To hear you speak and smell your perfume as you walked past him was a reason to live. Sure, it was weird, but so were a lot of things about him. He had no friends, could you blame him? Would you?  So maybe, then, in middle school it was an innocent harmless crush, not an obsession, but in high school he was definitely obsessed. 

He overheard you say it to your friends— where you were going to high school, and he told his parents thats where he wanted to enroll. The entire time he never spoke to you, much like middle school, he was off in a corner playing a game alone, inconspicuously keeping an eye on you. He used to trail you and your friends around the school and he always wondered how you were so perfect? How you were so good at making friends? How you stood out like that? Maybe that’s why you were so unapproachable... 

He remembers you were class president for three consecutive years up until graduation. You were so damn intimidating, but everyone loved you, especially Kenma and you were blind to it. You never ONCE noticed him or gave a damn about him and you were class president. He wanted to talk to you so bad, but he just couldn't. He would steal things from you with the intent to say he found them and maybe start a conversation, but he ended up hoarding them in his room at home. The biggest thing he’d stolen was a sweater because you hadn’t seemed to notice the erasers or pencils. 

He vividly remembers the sheer panic and urgency he stuffed that damned pink sweater into his backpack with, so scared he’d get caught and called a creep. He really did plan on returning it but he just— it smelled so good back then...he remembers. He took it home and hid it under his bed, only opting to take it out and hold it to his face and just smell it on special occasions when he felt up to it and guilt wasn't taking over his mind, body, and soul. He knew it was wrong but he felt the most alive in moments where he didn’t care. He’d tried to resist the urge, but at some point he started to pleasure himself with it too. It started happening so often that he’d get hard at the smell of you even when you walked by him in class. He still has that sweater.

At some point during that time, he’d picked up the strange hobby of following you home from school. You walked alone all the time so he’d lie to himself and say it was for your safety as he stalked around corners and made sure you never saw him. He’d always watch you enter your home from down the block, far enough so he wouldn't catch your attention. Those times he didn’t want you to notice him, he felt sick doing it, but it was something akin to an addiction and he just couldn't stop himself. This was a short lived addiction though...about a month or so. 

His mom started to pick up on his staying out later than usual and by then he’d actually started to go up in front of your house and just stare at it. He prayed to god that you didn’t see him being a creep like this, but sometimes he wished you did because at the very least you would recognize his existence. Still, you never saw him. He went back to being locked up in his room, playing video games until the early hours of the morning, rubbing himself raw against your sweater, and being consumed by you in private. All he wanted was for you to acknowledge him. Tell him that he exists to you, because he’s sure his existence is for you.

Those days were hell on earth, he struggled to shower and his only motivation for getting up and doing anything was to see you, who didn't know he existed. It was a depraved cycle. 

Now he’s here with you, and the first time he talked to you was to respond to a “roommate wanted” ad. Isn’t it wonderful how things come full circle? 

Still, he struggles to actually hold face to face conversations with you. How could he? He fantasizes about you so much...it feels wrong.

These days he finds himself rutting into your sheets when you're out praying that you don’t catch him, stealing your panties just to hold them to his nose and eventually soak them in his cum, and even worse having disgustingly sadistic fantasies about you belonging to him. He pushes those fantasies to the back of his mind, though. He doesn't want to be fucked up, but then again, it can't be that bad to want to own your source of happiness.

His infatuation reaches a peak one night when he finds himself groggily trudging his way to your room in the dead of night with his fleshlight in hand. He tried everything, he didn't want to jack off so he played his video games like usual, but even that didn’t take his mind off of you. Typically, he’d jack off with his fleshlight alone in his room to depraved and deluded fantasies of you, but tonight he needs to be near you; to see you, to smell you, and to know you’re there.

Upon entering your room he flips the light on, and it’s actually really dim— not that he hoped to wake you up or anything. He tip-toes over to the side of your bed and stands over your sleeping figure. You look so beautiful when you’re asleep, a shame he’s never thought about seeing you like this before or rather...a shame he’s violating you like this. He wants himself to stop because he knows it’s wrong, but he’s wanted something like this for so long and right now it’s in the palm of his hand. He’s sick and he knows it.

Still, he pulls his sweats and underwear down just enough to where they’re right under his balls. The cold air of your ceiling fan hits his painfully hard shaft and it feels so good it makes him sick. He slowly sheaths himself inside the faithfully used toy imagining it was you. That’s even easier to do now that you’re right here in front of him.

His heart is racing, and he feels sick to his stomach...

“Gotta make this quick,” That’s what he says under his breath, but he want’s you to wake up and see him, he want’s you to call him a pervert and make him leave you alone forever. He wants to see you horrified by the sight of him pleasuring himself to your sleeping body. Is that so wrong?

Yeah, he knows it is. He can’t bring himself to care, though. He pumps himself in and out with hurried movements. He feels so gross and so good like this. Even with the fan on above him he’s sweating bullets like a madman, but he just can’t stop himself, he swears this isn’t his fault. His rational mind would never permit this, but when has he ever gone with that side of himself?

He starts to lose himself in pleasure, moaning out your name in his typical low voice rather than a whisper. He doesn't catch himself, and his moans start to get louder and louder. You start to stir and he can’t bring himself to shut up. You can’t be that light a sleeper, right? 

Wrong.

Your eye’s flutter open and then meet his and he cums unreasonably hard and his moan is gross and loud. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and he doubles over from the pleasure. His hand grabbing on to your mattress is the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor.

His heart pounds in his chest and his breathing is erratic, but that’s not why the look in your eye’s is nothing but terror. He's sweating so much, he wants to apologize, but he doesn't.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says sliding the toy off of himself. He thinks you look even more beautiful when you’re awake and scared out of your mind. 

You lie there, staring up at him, still trying to process how your aloof roommate could—

He climbs on your bed, fleshlight in hand, and straddles your waist and all you can bring yourself to do is shake your head.

“Kenma-” He presses his index finger to your lips and you freeze again.

Suddenly, he’s bringing the fleshlights opening to your mouth and you still can’t bring yourself to fight him.

“Please go away,” You ask like this is just some nightmare. You know it’s not, you can feel his weight on top of you and it feels too real. He’s so warm and so heavy.

“Lick.” He commands. He swears to himself that he’ll go away forever after this, the final piece to his happiness puzzle.

Tears start to fall down your face but he’s still insistent on having you eat his cum out of his gross plaything. When you don’t move, he leans over and presses it to your face.

“Lick.” 

This time, out of fear, you do. His cum tastes rancid, like battery acid. Disgusting would be more than an understatement. That doesn’t stop you from cleaning the toy with your tongue like your like depends on it, because right now...it might.

His eyes are tired when he smiles, almost dead, he looks sick. His hairs greasy, skin is pale, and he’s fisting his half hard dick while he watches you take his seed into your pretty mouth. You’ve never been this close to him before.

He strokes himself back to hardness like a delinquent. He knows he wants to leave you alone, but now he just can’t. When he tosses the fleshlight aside you’re shaking and crying begging him to go away.

“Kenma, please-” As much as he likes when you say his name, he can’t help but stifle your desperate begging with a kiss. 

It’s gross, wet, and all over the place, but Kenma doesn’t notice that. He’s never kissed anyone before and he’s beyond ecstatic that it’s you. You don’t bother with kissing him back, you just lie there, eyes open and crying. 

He savors this kiss, his first kiss. His lips are softer than expected, but he’s not— violence plagues his movements. His heart races even faster now, and when you try to turn your lips away from his he just grabs your jaw and holds you still. He gets drool all over both of your faces, and you can barely breathe. You can still feel him jacking himself off between your bodies and you feel nauseous. This “kiss” is so unpracticed and unrefined, he’s basically licking the inside of your mouth and breathing in your face.

Why is he doing this?

You feel him finally moving from your lips and pulling your shirt up to let cold air hit your tits. For a second, he pauses to catch his breath, chest heaving and spit covered mouth hanging open. He stares down at your chest in awe. You turn away in embarrassment, he doesn’t mind it; you must be terrified.

With one hand holding your shirt up, he brings the other from his dick to squeeze at your chest. You wince and struggle against him because he’s so fucking rough and it hurts. Then he gives one of your breasts a hard slap, and you start to writhe up under him. 

It brings a smile to his face, but he doesn’t do it anymore. He wants to try something different.

He carefully slides down off of you and between your legs. He grossly presses his face against your clothed cunt and smells you even licking you through your pajama bottoms.

He sees the shock on your face when you sit up to look at him and he simply brushes it off, too far gone to be considerate at this point.

When his hands pull down your pajama bottoms-

“No no no no nononono Kenma please stop it.” You whine and kick at him uselessly. You sit up to try to push his hands away but its all useless, he’s so unreasonably strong for someone his size. When he finally slides your pajama bottoms and underwear off of you and on to the floor he buries his face between your folds.

It’s like when he was kissing you, gross, wet, and unpracticed. He’s just haphazardly lapping at your labia and vulva. You push at his shoulders trying to get him off of you while crying your eyes out. It doesn’t seem to effect him though, he just locks his arms around your thighs, sliding you down onto your back. 

At some point his tongue washes clean over your clit and he feels your body jolt from the pleasure. He finds it again and your body stiffens. He looks up at your crying face and squeezes the meat of your thighs between his fingers as he abuses your clit to no end.

You’re sobbing at this point because to you this all feels without reason. For the first time in your life you are scared of Kenma. From what you remember of him, he was always voiceless and sweet, even during school when he decided to show up. He was a kid who always greeted the teacher, even if it was wordless, he got his work done on time when he could, and he minded his business. You never talked to him, but you did hold his understated presence in the back of your mind— for the longest you pegged him as a boy who could be pleasant if you got to know him. So, why was he doing this? Why is he hurting you?

You made him your roommate because you thought that he of all people wouldn’t do this. You wanted to be friends. What did you do?

Now he’s violating you after a year of little to no interaction and him being barely there. He knows it’s wrong and you're not fighting him anymore, you’re just laying there, chest heaving and silent.

He lifts his head to plant a wet kiss on your inner thigh and drags his tongue against the soft skin momentarily. He looks at your scared face and gives a crooked smile. He’s sorry, he really is but this feels like a dream to him. You're too good not to take. 

He finds himself positioning his dick right between your folds and rutting against you. You really must’ve given up, your fight is long gone as he holds you down by your pelvic bones—uncut nails breach your soft skin.

Excitement fills his body as your wetness begins to coat his length as he rocks himself back and forth. He’s careful and his breathing is labored.

“I-” He tries and fails. “You never noticed me, but I’ve loved you forever.” He’s shy. Kenma looks down at your stomach, too embarrassed to meet your crying eyes. 

“We went to school together for years...” He trails off, still staring down. He doesn’t have the guts to look at the mess he’s made of you. “I wanted to talk to you, but you wouldn’t like- no. I was scared.” He shakes his head softly and finally meets your eyes. You're still crying. He feels his throat tighten and he doesn't want to talk anymore.

“Don’t look at me like that!” He stops his movements to reach over and pull the pillow from behind you. He puts it over your face and thinks to hold it there, maybe to suffocate you for a second, but he doesn't. He’s already done enough bad. He just lets it sit there, you’re the one to grab it and hold it there. 

You hold it against your face like your life depends on it. You can't breathe very well, but what does it matter? You want him to go away.You want this to end. So, you cling onto that pillow and pretend like you’re anywhere but here.

It’s an illusion that fails quickly. You feel him press his length into you. It’s rushed, it hurts, and he doesn't know what he’s doing. You squeeze the pillow, and his sweaty hands play with your tits. You can feel the tears well up in your eyes. You don’t want this, it’s a nightmare.

He’s not that big, rather small actually, but he has girth. He hopes you can feel it. He moves slowly dragging every inch of himself against your walls. He mouths at your nipples and it feels yucky. At some point you’re sure you feel him lay a wet kiss on your stomach.

You don’t know. It’s over quickly, but it feels like forever.

 His thrusts were sloppy and unseasoned just like everything else he’s done. He’d never had sex before, but he hoped he was good. When he came his body seized and his fingers dug into your sides. He was glad you weren't watching because the embarrassment from coming so fast a second time was much easier to handle. 

You two sit in silence for a while after that, the only audible sound is you sniveling. He watches silently as your body shakes and tucks himself back in, to at least feel decent. It’s like that for five whole minutes until he finally decides to go back to his room. 

In the silence of his own dark room the water works start in full force as he comes to terms with what he’s done. He’s a degenerate who will struggle to sleep tonight.

[whumpzone]

ok I know this might stress him out but Col and the teddy bear was so cute what if he name it 😭😭

(set a few days after this)

Linden tried not to comment on Colton's bear too much. He didn't want to make him self-conscious, or even draw attention to it. Col clearly liked it, and Linden wanted that to feel natural.

There were still times where he felt perhaps Col wanted Linden to notice it. He would hold it very deliberately when he came into the room, and god, it was still so hard to read his body language sometimes. Especially knowing Col's mind worked so differently to his own. Did he want Linden to see that he was enjoying it, that he was grateful? Did he want to make it clear that he was still "using" it, in case Linden had decided to take it away? Was he clutching it tighter, ready for it to be snatched it out of his grip?

Mostly he just pretended he hadn't seen. The bear was cute, though. He almost wanted one for himself.

One night, as Linden sat at the dinner table, and Colton kneeled beside him- refusing to sit on the table, trembling so so badly when Linden mentioned it that he immediately retracted the suggestion- he couldn't help but look down and smile.

Col was doing well with his hands, only spilling the soup a little bit, but that was what the teatowel spread around his bowl was for. He still whimpered, sometimes, horrified at making a mess, but Linden made sure to demonstrate exactly how easy it was to pick the stained teatowel up and put it in the washing machine.

That night he was delicately spooning the blended sweet potato and butternut squash into his mouth, his bear leant beside him like an attentive partner. Resting on his bent thigh, over some old scar, almost protectively. He looked far less lonely down on the floor, with his little friend beside him.

Colton's prey senses felt Linden's eyes on him in an instant and he cocked his head up, searching Linden's face in the quickest of movements. Once he didn't see any anger, or disappointment, he lowered his gaze to Linden's chest. Enough to not make eye contact- better than staring at the floor, though.

"It's nice, the way your bear keeps you company," Linden said, trying to make it conversational. Col reflexively glanced down to it, his features softening, his shoulder unwinding a few notches. "Does it- he- have a name?"

Oh my god, he immediately thought. He can't talk, you moron.

Col frowned, his eyes wandering, clearly trying to figure this cruel test out.

"Uh, I mean, you could wri- can, can you write? I can't believe I've never asked."

This only made Col frown harder. He nodded, very reluctantly, but held up his hands. Crooked and scarred. "Oh, you can't hold a pen well enough, is that it?" Another nod. "I see. I'm sorry. That's okay, Col, of course it is. It was a silly question for me to ask."

-

Pet looked down, hoping that was the end to Master's little humiliation game. What had he done wrong? Anything? Or did Master just want to put Pet in his place.

Reminding him that he was a defunct Pet had done just that. At least he'd passed Master's test- he wouldn't speak, he knew better.

He carried on eating. If that privilege had been removed he would know about it very soon, which gave him a strange sense of calm. The kick never came, though. The soup was never flung into his face, the bowl never smashed against him, he was never shoved to the floor, he was never forced to throw all the food back up. Master was kind.

Chu rested next to him, his nose brushing against Pet's skin on purpose. Master hadn't taken him away, yet. Pet would take all the humiliation in the world to show his thanks for that.

gonna tag cause im happy with this and its canon!

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70@unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure@yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @whumpwillow @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914 @kween-pinescales @kim-poce @jedibookworm @magpiestrashpile @oracle-of-maybe @pinkraindropsfall @teasnake @lightdrinker @wh-wh-whu

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), MILD SPOILERS, also this is a sequel, the first work is here. (I promise it's good, the formatting of the origi post is just a little plain cause I hadn't figured out what I liked yet). There's some... stuff in this, idk, its nothing much but check the description or ao3 tags if you're not sure of how you feel about dads who are Assholes, lots of angst because yours truly is a masochist :)

Description:

Levi returns from the war with a broken body only to have his heart broken as well when he finds (Y/N) has gone away from her father's farm never to return or so much as remember his name- or so her father says. (Y/N), recently returned from a medical emergency in a neighboring village, is informed of her lover's death, and the ensuing grief is almost too much to bear.

Months later, (Y/N) finds herself trapped in her father's house, and Levi finds a very interesting ad in the personals column of the newspaper. Letter-writing shenanigans ensue, and Gabi and Falco get ideas.

Ao3 link here

Chapter 1

The moment the conflict ended and Levi was mended enough to travel, he belligerently insisted to be taken to see (Y/N) until the brats collectively decided to convince Armin to allow the trip back across the sea. However, Armin— who was now the head brat— had been vehemently against the idea of Levi returning back to Paradis even at the request of his comrades, especially since the Jaegerists had left their mark on the public enough to poison them against the rest of the Corps, but after Levi’s bitching and that of the two most unlikely allies he had made for his cause, the newly-minted Commander of the Survey Corps was left no choice but to give in lest he be plagued by malcontent to the point of near-mutiny by one incapacitated old man and two loud, annoying children.

“It’s for true love, Armi— I mean, Danchou!” Falco had insisted, his eyes shining as he pleaded.

“Besides,” added Gabi, ever practical, “Levi-heichou has little to no chance of ever finding someone to like him again if he misses this chance. He’s mean and grumpy, and this girl already likes him even so! How is he gonna find that elsewhere?”

Levi didn’t know whether to be offended by their disparaging description of him, or to be relieved that they had each neglected to mention the pitiful state of his body. He knew what he looked like right now; his face was a mess of stitches and scarring, his body was mangled, and there was a chance that he would never walk again. He was damaged goods now, and he could count himself lucky if (Y/N) wasn’t horrified just by looking at him.

She would never be, said a still, small voice in the back of his mind. She loves you— you do her an injustice by even thinking such a thing.

Still, the thought was there, grating at him like a piece of sand stuck in the crack of his ass— and so it was with a mix of joy and trepidation that he accepted Armin’s permission to return to Paradis under strict orders to remain discreet.

“It seemed like a much shorter ride the first time around,” grumbled Gabi as the flying boat glided above the sea that stretched between Paradis and the mainland. “Now it’s taking forever .”

Levi couldn’t help but grin. Armin had attached Gabi and Falco as conditions to Levi’s permission to return to Paradis, allegedly to have someone “keep an eye on him,” but the truth was that the Survey Corps was woefully short on manpower, and putting Gabi and Falco’s talents to use was far too tempting for them to remain as a factor on the mainland. They might have been soldiers for Marley, but they were still children by anyone’s standards; they had no place in the post-war cleanup that the 104th would be taking care of— and besides, Levi was still confined to his chair and would need a bit of help getting around for a while yet. It was likely that Armin saw this trip as shooting two birds with one stone; the first being ensuring Levi’s well-being on the island, and the second being finding a place where Gabi and Falco could come into their identities as people outside of the life of a soldier. Levi was an expert in dealing with child soldiers, and the brats would find purpose in caring for him until he was well. So, problem solved… and Levi happened to actually like the ankle-biters in spite of himself.

“That’ll be the adrenaline, kid,” Levi explained, wishing like hell he could cross his legs without discomfort. “Your brain and body had a hell of a lot more to focus on then than it does now. Just pipe down and be patient— your squirming makes me fucking nauseous.”

“You’re not supposed to swear in front of children,” Gabi huffed, folding her arms, and Levi tch-ed .

“I’ve been swearing in front of children since I was a child,” he replied, “And don’t act like you haven't said worse yourself on the battlefield.”

Gabi was about to protest when Falco piped up.

“He’s got you there,” said Falco, grinning. “You have a mouth that would put a sailor’s to shame.”

That, of course, prompted a heated (if childish) debate, and time seemed to fly by as Levi allowed himself to sit back and spectate. Distantly, he wondered if (Y/N) would mind too terribly if he decided to adopt those two brats. He knew she’d wanted kids of her— of their — own at some point, but he couldn’t imagine any opposition from her on the adoption front either.

You have to get her to agree to still marry you first, his brain supplied altogether unhelpfully. Who knows how she feels about you now.

As Levi closed his eyes against the rising frustration in his gut, the flying boat began its descent, and from there, the journey transitioned to a carriage-ride. Onyankapon waved him and the kids off before turning around to make the trip back to the mainland, and the doors of the carriage were pulled shut, closing Levi in with Gabi and Falco on the opposite side of him.

“So this lady,” said Gabi, staring at him with those big, beady eyes, “Is she really all that special to you?”

Levi thought back to his bright-eyes, his beautiful, sweet, spunky lover, and the memory itself was enough to make him long for his right eye back so that he could see clearly her beauty even just once more. He thought back to her hands— so soft and gentle— wandering the expanse of his chest, roaming over the globes of his ass, tracing lazy little circles on the bags under his eyes, and wished for his two fingers back with which to hold hers. He thought of lager and laughter and lightning bugs, and his chest constricted so violently that he wasn’t sure he wasn’t having a heart attack.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick. “She’s one of a kind, my bright-eyes.”

“Bright-eyes?” asked Falco, tilting his head. “Is that some kind of pet name?”

Levi shifted in his seat, suddenly flustered. Damn kids were too nosy for their own good.

“I guess so. I just started calling her that when we first met, and it stuck. It fits, after all.”

If you get to meet her, you’ll see, he wanted to say, fighting back the urge to— to— to something , he wasn’t sure. She’s the best, brightest thing in this world. She was worth the rumbling to me, and would be to you too if you knew her.

But that was crazy-talk— he closed his eyes and tried to think of what he would say to her when they met again instead of the what-ifs and what-fors. He would tell her that he missed her, he thought… or maybe that he loves her, that he came back for her. Something grand and romantic and not as tired and broken as he felt. (Y/N) deserved so much more than that; she deserved only the finest things in life.

After what felt like forever, the carriage finally rolled to a halt, and Gabi and Falco helped him back into his chair. It was an ordeal, this being injured business— and frankly, Levi was more than a little embarrassed by it— but Gabi and Falco were nothing if not patient with him as he navigated his injuries. They helped him settle in, and once the world stopped spinning with the effort of it all, Levi realized that they had, in fact, appeared to have stopped at the correct destination:

(Y/N)’s home town.

“Here,” he said, handing Falco and Gabi a few coins each. “Buy something to eat in the village— I won’t be long, so don’t stray too far.”

Gabi cheered, but Falco paused.

“You don’t want help?” the boy asked, giving Levi a God-awful pitying look, and Levi waved his concern away with his good hand.

“There are some things a man needs to do on his own,” Levi told him grimly, “And this is one of those things. Like I said, I won’t be long, so don’t worry about me and just enjoy what the village has to offer.”

Reluctantly, Falco nodded, and Levi pushed his wheels in the direction of the other side of the village, where (Y/N)’s father’s farmhouse would await him.

Shoulders square, chin high, Levi told himself as he propelled himself forward. Look like the soldier she wanted to marry.

Love was a funny thing. Levi could and did throw himself against any enemy and hardly bat an eye. The blood of many— including that of his comrades— had stained his hands many times over. These things, these horrors had become small, mundane occurrences that he handled with practiced ease, and yet the thought of facing (Y/N)— of facing her father — had his heart racing and his gut tying itself in knots. More than once, he nearly wheeled himself right back around and fled in the face of such a challenge, but for (Y/N)’s sake, he steeled himself. Because she was worth it— because she was worth the stares of the villagers, worth whatever her father might say or do, worth any price Levi had to pay— he would do what needed to be done. She was the love of his life, and Levi would do anything to make it back to her.

It took a while— using his arms to maneuver everywhere was still going to take some getting used to— but Levi eventually arrived at the farmhouse door, sweating bullets and wishing for his heart to stop that incessantly loud thumping. He rapped three times on the door and waited somewhat impatiently for an answer, and when he finally got one, it wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting.

The man he assumed to be (Y/N)’s father— a portly old man with thick spectacles and a disposition not unlike that of a pissed-off wolf-rat— opened the door with an agitated snort, and Levi could smell brandy on his breath even from where he sat.

“Good morning,” Levi said, though it was well into the afternoon. “I’m looking for (Y/N)— this was the address she gave me for when I— well, for— ”

Levi cut himself off, then started again.

“I’m Lance Corporal Levi Ackerman, and (Y/N) has promised me her hand in marriage. I’d like to see her, if I could. If she’s well, I mean.”

Oh, boy, this was fantastic. Levi Ackerman— humanity’s strongest soldier and biggest buffoon.

“I’m afraid you’re too late,” said the man, folding his arms. “My (Y/N) got tired of waiting around here for you. She said she was washing her hands of you and took clear off into the sunset to go pursue that medical rot she's always on about.”

Levi's chest constricted once more, though he tried desperately not to let it show.

"That can't be," he said aloud, though he didn’t quite mean to. "I know your daughter, sir, and she— we’re in love.”

“Girls are fickle,” her father said, handing him a small coin purse. “One month they love you, the next they’re gone away to school or to work, never to think of you again. I’m sure you’ll find another bird around here to chase. Try the Whilloby family over the hill— I hear their daughter is exceedingly fine.”

With that, the man closed the door in Levi’s face, crushing his hopes and dreams with a mighty slam .

Levi opened the bag, and found the plain gold band he’d given to (Y/N) before he left in it.

She’s gone, he thought to himself as shock washed over him. She’s well and truly gone.

In the moments that followed after, Levi wished he could boast of numbness. What bliss it would be to feel nothing in comparison to the torment that heaved in his chest! He could not weep, for he could not breathe, and because he could not breathe, he could not see nor think. He blindly wheeled away, unwilling to stay a moment longer at the site of his greatest defeat, the ultimate humiliation and heartbreak, but he found himself lost in the scattered crowd, wondering for the first time since Kenny Ackerman took him in what it might be like to have someone left in the world that truly loved him.

“Levi-heichou!” he heard Falco’s voice call from some ways away. “Heichou, are you okay? Can you hear me? Levi!”

Levi didn’t want to hear anything. He never wanted to hear, see, taste, or touch anything ever again. His love was gone— his life was gone. He wanted very much to simply cease everything, to shatter the world the way he had been shattered, body and soul.

“Oi, old man!” said Gabi, pinching his arm savagely to get a reaction. “What’s the matter with you?”

Levi couldn’t speak— his jaw was clenched too tightly, his teeth grinding against one another. There was a wet warmth running down his cheek, and he realized that though his face hadn’t moved, he had begun to cry.

“We need a place to stay for the night,” he finally managed to say, though his voice did not sound like it belonged to him. “Take me to the nearest inn and pay for a room on the ground floor. We’ll be gone by dawn tomorrow.”

“Gone?” asked Falco, his eyes widening. “Why? Isn’t your bright-eyes here?”

“My bright-eyes?” he asked, feeling hollow. “I have no bright-eyes. She’s gone.”

Gabi inhaled sharply, and Falco took a step back.

“Is she— did she— ”

Levi shook his head. “Not gone forever. Just gone from me.”

Levi Ackerman had endured many hardships. He had looked Death in its grisly, horrific face, and had tasted the bitter bile of defeat. He had known well the gall of a life of repeated ignorance and failure. He had known hunger, fear, and abandonment, and he had conquered all despite the odds. This, he knew, he could conquer too… but something about the pain of this heartbreak made him want to succumb to it.

“Come on,” he told the kids, though he felt like dying, “Daylight’s burning.”

***

A few weeks later, (Y/N) rode into town, oblivious to what had happened prior to her return from the fever camps just outside a neighboring village.

There was a buzz about the town, she noted, but no one was buzzing to her about it, which could only mean that whatever had happened to cause such a stir had happened either to or because of her. She began to hope as she had scarcely dared to hope since the day Levi left for Marleyan shores; her heart began to beat hard against her ribcage, and she urged her horse onward with her heels. If Levi had come for her— if he had kept his promise— oh, the day had finally come when she could be free! No more would there be farm chores, no more would there be oppression from her father— there would only be love and happiness and a life lived fully.

(Y/N) had waited so long for this day!

When she came up to her childhood home, she dismounted without even remembering to tether her mount and pounded the door with her fist.

“Dad!” she called, excitement coursing through her veins. “Dad, I’m home!”

Before her fist connected with the door another time, it opened to reveal her father standing there with his usual dour expression.

“Daughter,” he greeted her, but nothing short of a disaster could spoil her mood.

“Has he come?” (Y/N) asked, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. “Has Levi come for me?”

Her father looked away, and the first small seeds of panic were sown.

“He did come, didn’t he?” she prompted, and her body began to tremble. “Was he well? Did you tell him where I had gone and when I would return?”

Her father grunted.

“He came, alright,” her father said, finally meeting her eyes. “Came back in a coffin.”

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold.

“What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly nauseous. “That’s— that’s impossible, he—"

“I'm sorry, child,,” her father replied, deadpan. “I told you that a soldier's lot was to die when ordered to."

(Y/N) shook her head. She refused to believe such a thing. If it were true, then why hadn't news reached her before then? The whole island should be ablaze with the rumors by now!

“He was different,” she said, but her voice gave away beneath the weight of her emotions. “He— He wanted to marry me, he promised he'd come back—”

“A promise he never had a choice whether or not he could keep.”

(Y/N)’s head was spinning, and her vision went blurry with tears.

“I’m sorry,” her father repeated, grabbing her arm. “Come inside and have a meal. I’m sure you’re tired from your journey.”

“I’m not hungry,” she replied, but numbly let her father pull her inside. What use was protest? What use was anything? These past months of hell, she had endured for Levi’s sake. Without him, what more was left? What had been the purpose of her suffering?

Was he truly gone? Forever?

She couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore. A part of her wished that she would jolt awake to find herself sleeping on the ground in a medic’s tent so that she could cry the bitter tears of loneliness while knowing that it was all just a bad dream that would be gone come the morning; another, larger part of her knew that this was no dream, no nightmare.

Only reality could be this cruel.

***

"Oh Memory, torture me no more,

The present's all o'ercast;

My hopes of future bliss are o'er,

In mercy veil the past.

Why bring those images to view

I henceforth must resign ?

Ah ! why those happy hours renew,

That never can be mine?

Past pleasure doubles present pain,

To sorrow adds regret,

Regret and hope are both in vain,

I ask but to — forget."

~Lord Byron

[shoutaaizawas]

↳  ❝burn❞ dabi x fem!reader → part V

summary: touya todoroki, your childhood friend was dead or so you thought. things get more complicated than you ever thought they could. word count: 2.7k+ tags/warnings: angst, mentions of abuse  a/n: i'll be gone for a while but im hoping to have a couple parts done while im away. enjoy this until i return~ spoilers for chapter 265 of the manga. also im sorry i need to get better at writing action scenes. masterlist

part IV part V part VI

It was a night you had tried to forget but it always replayed in your mind, over and over. How could you forget that night? You would always carry the weight of it, the grief, the guilt.

It was a gut feeling. You were always in tune with Touya for better or worse. It had been a bad night, Enji had yelled and screamed at him and it was the breaking point. Touya knew he would never be enough to make his father proud. His quirk wasn’t the perfect quirk Enji wanted but Shoto did have that quirk.

Once Enji knew he had his perfect child Touya was even more neglected. Before that, he was at best a backup if Enji couldn’t have the child he wanted.

This pushed things to their limit. Touya had enough of never being enough. Sure, he hated his father more than anything but deep down there was still something in him that wanted his approval. Touya reasoned the best way to prove himself was going against his father’s biggest rival.

It was probably stupid but when you got that gut feeling that something was wrong with Touya you would go to him just to make sure. You hadn’t been wrong. You found Touya changing late at night and you knew he was up to something.

“What are you doing?” You questioned.

“Proving myself.” He said.

“By running around at night?”

“No, I’m going to find my father’s rival and show everyone that I’m strong enough. That I’m good enough-” He cut himself off taking a shaky breath.

He didn’t have to finish that sentence for you to know what he meant. How many nights had he opened up to you in his most vulnerable state? He had told you how through it all, even with how awful his father was to him he just wanted validation. He wanted his father to be proud, to be supportive, to love him. What kid didn’t want that? You knew that he just wanted to be good enough to be loved.

Touya was good enough to be loved even if Enji Todoroki would never see that.

“You are good enough, I know you want him to understand but this is dangerous.” You said. “This isn’t the right way.”

“You can’t change my mind.” He said as he walked past you.

“I’m not going to let you go alone.” You said as you followed. “What kind of friend do you think I am?”

“The best.” He said as he looked at you with that playful smirk you loved so much.

You wished more than anything that you had stayed home. Over the years all you could ever thing was what you could have said, what you could have done to stop him, anything to change what happened.

Touya had tracked him down to an abandoned building. Before you stepped in you knew this was a bad idea. Things only got worse once you found him.

The fight was bad, indoors there was only so much you could do. You could use your quirk but you had a disadvantage in a smaller area. It was bad, Touya’s quirk was getting out of control. More so than you had ever seen it before. The heat from his flames was nearly burning you.

Endeavor had caught on to his son sneaking out and followed but he had not been fast enough. The villain collapsed the building, with a rumble you knew that you had no chance of protecting yourself from the debris that came crashing down.

Your eyes opened to find Endeavor over you, guarding you against the debris. You quickly realized that if he had saved you where was Touya? Endeavor burnt the rubble away freeing the both of you. Standing up you looked around but there was no sign of Touya.

You screamed and screamed for him but there was no reply. Looking at Endeavor you saw his face fall.

“Why didn’t you save him? Why did you save me?” You screamed at him, hitting his chest.

You tried pulling up the rocks, looking for any sign of him but there was nothing. You screamed his name hoping for something, anything to tell you he was still alive.

The villain had disappeared and Touya was gone. Endeavor had been doing the same thing as you, looking for any sign of him but he realized it was useless. Sirens approached and he pulled you away from the scene and to the ambulance. You screamed punching and kicking but it was pointless against his strength.

“They’ll look for him. They can search better than us you need medical treatment.” He said putting you down on a stretcher.

“This is your fault! He did this because of you! Why couldn’t you just show him, love? Why couldn’t you tell him you were proud of him?” Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed.

Enji stared at you with a solemn face before he turned to the search and rescue team.

You were taken to the hospital to have your injuries treated. By the next morning, you were told that the only thing they found was a pile of ashes.

Touya was dead. Your best friend. The only person you had ever loved and you never had the chance to tell him.

After it all, you found it hard to care about anything. Hero work seemed so pointless. Your classmates tried to help you, cheer you up but it was an impossible task. Eventually, you were a loner, you went to school and did your work but didn’t connect with anyone around you. What was the point if you would just lose them.

Most days you would sit under the tree you and Touya always sat at and remember all the good times you had with him.

You remembered all the times he had patched you up after a rough training session. All your scrapes and bruises were worth it for the disgruntled look on his face as he kneeled in front of you with a first aid kit.

“Touya with how good you are with a first aid kit I think you might consider interning for Recovery Girl.” You would tease.

“Only for you, rain drop. Only for you.” He would always reply.

It hurt being there, under that tree thinking about him, knowing you would never see him again. Students passed and gave you a sad look.

It was odd, that night was present in your mind often but lately, it felt like you couldn’t push it away at all. You missed Touya, you always missed him. How often did you see something he would have liked and thought of him? How often did something happen and you wanted to tell him? It didn’t matter how long he had been gone, his loss was fresh as the day it had happened.

There was no connection that you could see between his death and the situation with the hero commission but it still felt personal.

You had pushed for more information but were unable to find anything. Your last resort was risky but you had a feeling it was the only way you would get a real answer.

Walking into the hero commission’s building your heartbeat in your chest. You knew it was dangerous but you were in this so deep, you couldn’t walk away without understanding what was happening.

You had scheduled an appointment with the commission to report on villain activity in your patrol territory. It was something you had done here and there and something a lot of heroes did to keep them informed.

But the real reason for your visit was different.

“Thank you for visiting us again, if you have everything written down in a file you don’t have to stay and explain it all, we will review it and deal with things as necessary.” An older man said. “Just to clarify have you found that we need more heroes or less in your area?”

You handed them the file. The man took it and set it down not even opening it.

“Things have been quiet so for the time being I think some heroes could be put to better use in other areas.” You said.

“Good to hear.” He said. “Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you for yours.” You said as you turned to leave.

This was your time, now that you were deep inside the building all you had to do was find where they kept all their files. Of course, they had a lot of different file rooms but you wanted the one that had the information they didn’t want out there.

It was unmarked but had a serious lock on the door. Obviously, they didn’t want people in there. You looked over your shoulder confirming there was no one around and no cameras before you started to pick the lock. You thanked your internship with a hero that specialized in more subtle hero work.

It wasn’t easy, especially with how shaky your hands were from nerves but finally, the lock clicked and you knew you were in.

Opening the door quietly you moved in looking around all the shelves. You had to be quick but you wanted all the right information. Most of it was unmarked. As you glanced over the information you were disturbed.

The hero commission had a program where they took in children with promising quirks and trained them into weapons. The most notable one being Hawks. Skimming through more of the information you found Hawk’s file. He was in fact was working as a double agent. What horrified you, even more, was that the commission approved the killing of Best Jeanist. Everyone thought he was missing but he was dead.

The paper slacked in your hand at the realization. You kept reading, you would have time to process this later. Looking over more files you found evidence of them killing off heroes and covering it up to keep this information from getting out.

A shiver went down your spine. You were now one of those people. If they found out you would be another casualty. You grabbed the most incriminating papers and folded them up and hid them in your pocket. You had to get out before someone knew you had been there.

Once you were out and around the corner you let out a breath you had been holding. You made it out but that didn’t mean you were safe. You had to decide what to do with this information before it was too late.

That night you couldn’t sleep, all you could think of was all the children that had been taken from their families only to be stripped of their identity and treated like soldiers. How could an organization that was supposed to stand for justice and heroism do something like this? It was wrong and that was just the tip of the iceberg of their misdeeds.

You were just one person, what could you do?

Enji Todoroki. Your interaction with him stuck in your head. He claimed to be a changed man, or at least a man trying to change. If you approached him with this information he might want to help, even if he didn’t want to you could guilt him into it.

The thought of working with him made you sick.

Hawks was a more dangerous option. He was a victim of their system, there was a chance he would want to get out. There was also a chance he would be the one trying to kill you if the commission found out you knew.

Perhaps it was your pride but you chose the more dangerous option, tomorrow you would talk to Hawks and see how it went.

As you left your house you had a bad feeling. Someone was following you. You tried not to look like you knew as you walked along the street. There were people around so you were most likely safe for now.

You had been wrong. A weight collided with you and you were thrown into the street. You were disoriented but you tried to gather your senses quickly.

The man that stood over you was familiar, he was a villain. You hadn’t fought him before but you knew his face. He had a teleporting quirk. As you stood up her appeared behind you a knife in hand. You swung your elbow back, hitting him in his ribs. He was quick, as your arm went back he took advantage leaving a gash across your arm before you hit him. He let out a sound of pain but recovered quickly grabbing your arm and flipping you onto the ground.

Your lungs burned as the wind was knocked out of you. He leaned down to grab you by the collar of your shirt but you kicked him in the stomach knocking him back. Standing up quickly you used your quirk to push him back with a gust of wind before you summoned a lightning bolt down on him. He let out a grunt of pain.

Even while he was still in pain he teleported behind you so quickly you couldn’t react. He kicked you to the ground, hard. You landed on your face, unable to brace for the fall. Your head was spinning from the impact. He placed his foot on your back holding you down, not that you could move with how disoriented you were.

“The hero commission sends their regards.” He said leaning down close to your ear. You had expected another hero to come after you or even an underground vigilante but a villain?

You let out a scream of pain as he dug the knife into your side. Great, he wasn’t going to go for the killing blow he was going to torture you first.

You waited for another stab but you were shocked when a burst of flames blew over you, knocking the villain away. When you rolled over you expected to see Endeavor, which would have been odd considering he wasn’t over here very often.

When you saw Dabi you were confused.

He walked past you towards the villain saying something you couldn’t quite make out before he let out another burst of flames turning the man into a pile of ashes. You flinched at the heat from his quirk. He turned to you looking at you with an odd expression.

Why was he here?

He didn’t say a word as he picked you up in his arms and walked in the direction of your house. Did he know where you lived?

“Where are you taking me?” You asked.

“Your house.” He said as if you should have known.

“How do you know where I live?” You asked.

“A hero is stalking me and you didn’t expect me to do some stalking of my own?” He said in a teasing voice.

“Oh.” You said. That made sense you supposed. You were in over your head, you should have realized that when a villain was trying to kill you for the hero commission but being carried home by a villain was somehow more confusing. “Why aren’t you trying to kill me?”

“One attempt on your life in a day isn’t enough for you?” He joked.

“Are you the one who took me home after that night in the alley?” You asked.

“None of your business.” He said.

It seemed you weren’t going to get a straight answer from him. You supposed that made sense. You got home and he opened the door and took you inside setting you down on the couch.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” He asked.

“Under the sink.” You said. “Wow, so you not only saved me but you're going to patch me up. I’m starting to think villains aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be.”

Dabi returned kneeling in front of you looking at you with those familiar blue eyes.

“Only for you, raindrop. Only for you.” He said.

The realization hit you and it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“T-Touya?” You could barely the name out. He looked at you with shock, it seemed he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

a/n: i swear i didn’t mean to leave it on a cliffhanger but it was getting really long and i didn’t have much time to finish it all

taglist:  @flowersgirl02 @wesparklebitch @moon-write @strangely-charmed @ibookishqueen @tomomoni @why-so-red @grungy-pansexual @sugarandsoft @pansexual-potterhead @ha-tep @milegonzalez96 @prettyinblack231 @jadepersonaldriscal @nanamichan @multi-madison @e-wwis @itlivesintheanime

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt54

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

Marinette had been distracted by the broach Nathalie was wearing. She was certain it was the Miraculous and she was trying to come up with a plan to lift it. Hearing Gabriel call Damian ‘Mr. Wayne’ brought her attention back in time to see everyone’s reactions. She had no idea why everyone but Luka was acting like it was a huge deal, but Nathalie looked on the verge of passing out at that would give her the perfect opportunity to get the Miraculous while helping her.

“So your father sues me.” Gabriel scoffed in annoyance but Nathalie still looked horrified. Marinette wasn’t even sure she was taking in what was happening anymore. “I’ll get slapped with a fine and that will be that.” Damian’s looked turned to one of disdain, and possibly a little pity.

“That would be the case had the contract not included a specific penalty.” He sounded like he was lecturing a small child and now Gabriel and Adrien wore identical expressions of anger. It was really creepy if she was being honest. “My father wanted to keep my identity and me protected so that penalty was designed to ensure you wouldn’t break the contract. Mme. Sancoeur, would you please enlighten your employer as to what it was he agreed to?” Nathalie was staring off into space, her expression completely vacant.

“Chloe, would you get Nathalie some water… or maybe something stronger please?” Chloe nodded to Marinette and went to find something while she moved closer to the other woman. She began to rub her back in soothing circles but it didn’t do any good. Now if only Damian would distract Gabriel again she could grab the broach.

“Well, since it seems your stupidity has incapacitated her allow me to tell you what you signed.” That was all she needed. As Gabriel and Adrien turned to glare at him again Marinette swiftly removed the Miraculous and put it in her purse. She felt Tikki grab it from her hands and heard a small sigh of relief. One down, one to go. “The penalty stated was either half the total value of your brand paid to my father, or all of your shares in the company. Whichever you can come up with will be fine.”

Marinette heard a choked sound from behind her and saw that Chloe had returned. Adrien looked like he’d swallowed his tongue while Gabriel just looked… well blank. Except for one of his eyes twitching subtly. He gave the impression of an impending explosion. If Damian wasn’t just messing with the man, he was ruined. There was no way he had that kind of capital on hand and if he lost control of the company Marinette had a feeling Damian’s father, whoever he was, wouldn’t keep him on even as a designer. In one moment of pettiness the man had probably destroyed everything he’d built in his lifetime.

“No court will uphold that penalty, it’s far too extreme.” He’d probably meant to sound firm but his tone held hope more than anything else. He was trying to convince himself he was right.

“Oh, they’ll agree to uphold the contract. After all you had it signed, notarized, and filed with the courts before I even got here, which was also on the contract. There’s no reason for them to be lenient when you’ve already followed through on some parts of the contract, signifying that you did in fact read it, or at least she did.” A calculating light entered Gabriel’s eyes as he glanced at the still unresponsive form of his assistant.

“Nathalie must have forged my signature. I don’t ever sign documents without reading them thoroughly.”  Marinette’s head snapped up at the declaration. He’d really just accused his assistant of a crime that could come with jail time attached. If she hadn’t believed he was a terrible person before that would have done it. It took everything in her not to give the man a black eye. Even Adrien seemed taken aback by the claim. But Damian just rolled his eyes.

“You had it witnessed and notarized by a court employee M Agreste, but feel free to perjure yourself.” Damian’s dry words brought a sigh of relief from Chloe who had stepped up to Nathalie’s other side to help support her. She may be Mayura, but she didn’t deserve to be accused of crimes she didn’t commit. Especially by the person who convinced her to commit those other crimes in the first place. Marinette still didn’t know his endgame but if he was willing to sacrifice his most loyal supporter he was even more dangerous than she thought.

“You won’t get away with this you little-” Damian’s laughter cut him off.

“There’s nothing to get away with. You made your bed and now you have to live with the consequences of your actions. Something you don’t seem to have much experience with. Come on Luka, let's go get my stuff before he burns it.” Luka shot him a surprised glance. “They are busy.” He indicated Marinette and Chloe. “I need someone to come with me as a witness to make sure he doesn’t try anything and so that you can say I didn’t take anything that wasn’t mine.”

It was sound reasoning but Marinette saw a slight redness in his cheeks and he wouldn’t look Luka in the eye. He may not be ready to believe it but Marinette had a feeling he was finally ready to at least stop avoiding Luka. They were out the door before anyone else could react, but Gabriel followed hurriedly once his paralysis wore off, Adrien at his heels.

Nathalie finally seemed to be coming out of whatever hole her mind had fallen into. She blinked at Marinette before looking over at Chloe on her other side. Her stare was penetrating now, focused and intent.

“I need you to get me in contact with Ladybug.” Chloe dropped the woman’s arm as if burned.

“How… what makes you think I can do that?” Nathalie’s bland look had the same effect as most people rolling their eyes.

“You have that ridiculous signal and while I’m certain she’d rather fight an Akuma than cater to your whims, she’s far too noble for her own good and will come to see what you want just in case it actually is important.” Chloe’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Marinette saw her hand twitch towards the earcuff she and Plagg had changed the Miraculous into before she caught herself. Nathalie shouldn’t have noticed, Marinette wouldn’t have if she hadn’t known her girlfriend so well, and Chloe managed to settle into her spoiled rich girl persona at record speed.

“And why should I do that for you? I’m not going to waste Ladybug’s time because you had a falling out with your boss.” Nathalie didn’t react to the dig but Marinette could tell Chloe felt bad for it as soon as it left her mouth. They were working on her defense mechanisms but it was a slow process.

“You should do it because I can give Ladybug all the information on Hawkmoth she could ever need or want and a lot more besides.”

AO3   Beginning   Previous    Next

Kofi

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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 7: Forget Everything You Know]

Hi y’all! I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all so much for reading and for showing me and my fics some love. You better believe that I see EVERY. SINGLE. reblog, comment, tag, and message, and they mean the absolute world to me! I know that a lot of content creators are frustrated and taking breaks right now, but rest assured you will not be able to get rid of me if even a SINGLE person looks forward to something I write. I’ll finish this fic (eventually), and I’ll finish the next one too (it already has a name!), and I won’t disappear or leave the Queen/BoRhap fandom at any point in the foreseeable future. Lots of love to you all, stay safe, and I hope you enjoy! 💜 💜 💜

Chapter summary: Y/N brings home some friends; Brian attempts an intervention; John draws a line; Roger gets an answer.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Smile, everyone!” Your dad peeks through the viewfinder of the Canon F-1 and beams. “One...two...three...say Queen!”

“Queen!” you all shout gleefully. The flash illuminates the dining room, and you blink away momentary blindness. The table materializes back into vision: lobsters, clams, haddock chowder, sourdough bread, fried oysters, pierogis with Vermont cheddar cheese, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes...and, of course, Boston cream pie for dessert.

“Ah, perfection,” your dad sighs contently. “Please continue, Mr. Mercury.”

“Mr. Mercury!” Brian whines, incredulous. “Like he’s got a bloody PhD or something!”

Freddie cracks a lobster claw. He hasn’t taken his sunglasses or wrist-full of clanging bangles off all afternoon. Your parents are profoundly confused by him, but welcoming nonetheless. “I’m a professor of lusciousness. Pay attention and you could learn something.”

Brian rolls his eyes and dunks a hunk of sourdough bread into his chowder.

“So,” Freddie tells your mother between bites of lobster dripping with drawn butter. “Our darling damsel in distress was in the clutches of that horrid, dodgy wanker when none other than our very own Roger Meddows Taylor—”

“You weren’t even there!” Brian protests. “I wasn’t even there! This is, what, a third-hand account?!”

“Eat your soup, peasant. Thank you. Anyway, our beloved Roger comes raging out of nowhere, red-faced, nostrils flaring, a terrifying sight to behold, grabs this guy by his hair and slams his despicable face directly into a marble column. Broken nose, cracked orbital socket, blood everywhere! It was magnificent. I’ve never been more proud.”

“Good for you!” your mother cheers, patting the back of Roger’s hand encouragingly. He smiles at her, warmly, radiantly, like the wildfire he’s always reminded you of. And you marvel at how every human on this earth is made of the same fundamental components—blood and muscles and vessels and nerves, hearts and enigmatic brain matter and ribs, vulnerable parts, armored parts, all webbed together like nature’s own organic circuit board—and yet the marks they leave on you can feel so different: burns, scars, bruises, shadows, imprints that are deep enough to brush bone and never fade.

“Mom, the guy could have died!”

“Did he?” she asks innocently.

“Nope,” Roger says.

“Well then, Mr. Taylor here is a hero in my book.”

“Mr. Taylor!” Brian groans.

“I was petrified he would turn out to be the son of an executive or producer or something and the band would be ruined,” you say. “Fortunately he was just someone’s annoying frat brother from college who already had a reputation for being a sleazebag. So, we were in luck.”

“You were in luck that Mr. Taylor was there,” your mother points out, gazing at him dreamily. This delightful English boy is going to be my son-in-law and give me gorgeous, doe-eyed grandchildren, that look says.

“Yes, a literal superhero,” John says ruefully, sipping a Manhattan. Your dad has a passionate love for mixing cocktails, especially for guests who also happen to be rock stars.

“Mom. Don’t make his ego any bigger, please. I’m begging you.”

Roger snarls around a mouthful of Boston cream pie, sending your mom into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, dear.” She smooths your hair. “And that you have people to keep you safe all the way over there across the ocean, and that you’re happy.”

“Yes, your work environment is much improved, isn’t it?” Brian says. “That supervisor you had at the hospital was an absolute bear!”

Your dad strokes his short grey beard. “Well...” he admits. “That may have been my fault.”

Brian’s brow crinkles. “Really?”

Your mom turns to you. “You didn’t tell them?!”

“Oh, is there a scandalous backstory?” Freddie inquires, elated. “Do tell, darling!”  

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away—just kidding, it was here in Boston—my archnemesis Patricia and my dad dated.”

Roger drops his fork, appalled. “No!”

Freddie’s nose wrinkles in revulsion. “Why?!”

Your dad rocks back in his chair and laughs loudly, heartily. “She wasn’t always so cantankerous, if you can believe it. She was a sweet girl, wonderful even. But then I met my future wife, and...” He smirks guiltily. “What can I say? The heart wants what it wants!”

You nod along. “And I got the illustrious honor of being an outlet for the frustration stemming from Patricia’s lifelong unrequited love.”

“You saucy minx!” Freddie playfully lashes your mom’s shoulder with a cloth napkin. “Homewrecker!”

She chuckles, not the least bit offended. “People get together under all sorts of strange circumstances, and you know what? You can’t wreck a home if the home wasn’t already half-wrecked before you got there, that’s what I think.”

Roger raises his Patriot’s Punch. “I’ll drink to that.”

Brian clutches his New England Express, bewildered. “Are we...toasting to infidelity?”

“Oh, does that horrify you?” Rog asks sarcastically. Brian grimaces, but dutifully raises his glass.

“We’re toasting to love,” your dad clarifies. “However it comes, as long as it’s true.”

John holds his Manhattan aloft. “To love.”

Freddie clinks his Flying Elvis against the other beverages, including your parents’ wine glasses and your Cranberry Crush. “Cheers!” Then Fred glances at the clock and swiftly polishes off his slice of Boston cream pie.

“Can’t you all stay a little longer?” your mom pleads, collecting plates and gazing longingly at Roger. “This has been so much fun...”

“They have soundcheck at seven, Mom. We have to leave for the stadium soon.”

“Well, before you jet off to your next adventure, can I treat anyone to a long distance call?” your dad asks.

Brian perks up. “Really?!” You know there’s a ring in the future for Chrissie; not an expensive or extravagant ring (not that Chris would want that anyway), but a ring nonetheless. You know because Brian has taken you shopping to help him choose one.

“Of course! You can use the phone in my office. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. I’m sure there are some lovely ladies back in jolly old England who would be over the moon to hear from you.”

“That would be very much appreciated!” Brian says. “And thank you so much, this has been such a treat, you have no idea how long it’s been since we had a proper homemade meal.”

“I had to rehabilitate the reputation of us Yankees, didn’t I? Now come on, Mr. May, I’ll show you to the office...”

“Mr. May...I like the sound of that!”

“Ten minutes, Bri!” Freddie calls, following them down the hallway. “Then it’s my turn...!”

You begin gathering up the empty glasses, but Roger promptly snatches them away. “No way, Boston babe. You go relax. I’ll help your mom.”

“I think she’s in love with you.”

He grins. “Do you have a secret stepdaddy fetish I could exploit?”

“Oh my god. Roger.”

He snickers and sweeps off into the kitchen. It’s only then that you realize John has disappeared. You check the kitchen, the living room, the hallway, the study, and finally the front porch; John is standing outside in the cold, smoking and watching the setting sun. The sky is threaded with cerulean, rust orange, lavender, indigo. You pull on your coat and go out to join him.

“We’ll make it to Florence one of these days,” you promise John, resting your arms on the wooden, white-painted porch railing. Your mother hung baskets of fresh flowers for the band’s visit, which swing lazily in the breeze. “Crank out a few more hits and we’ll get the record company to add it to the tour itinerary.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Are you going to call Veronica?”

He shrugs, frowns, exhales a lungful of smoke into frigid New England air. “I don’t know if I should.”

“You don’t think she’d like that?” you ask, confounded.

“I think she might like it too much.”

“Ohhhhh.” You read his soft greyish eyes, which are faraway and somber, sad even. “I’m sorry, John. You know she’s wild about you.”

“I know it.” He takes a drag off his cigarette. “She’s the first person who ever was, actually. The first person who ever noticed me. Came up to me out of the blue at a disco and asked me to dance, me! So I said yes, like you do when you’re the guy nobody notices. And then I said yes again, and again, and again, until one day I realized...oh, this girl thinks we’re getting married. When the hell did that happen?”

“I noticed you,” you contest.  

John chuckles and nods. “You did,” he agrees. “Right away. Tried to win me over when I was too nervous to finish a sentence around you. But that was long after I’d met Veronica.”

“Well, you can’t break up with her tonight. On Valentine’s Day?! That would be traumatic.”

“Agreed.”

“We’ll have a few days in London between the American and Asian legs of the tour. You can think it over and decide what to do then. I’m happy to arrange the getaway taxi if that’s something that interests you.”

“Yeah.” Again, he peers out into the Western horizon, into rising stars.

“John?”

Now he looks to you. He’s a little too thoughtful, too low. There’s something you’re not seeing.

“...Is there somebody else?”

He doesn’t speak; he just stares at you with those velvety azure-grey eyes, drums his fingers against the railing, lets the ash from his cigarette crumble into the snow-dusted Blue Pacific Junipers.

Roger barrels through the front door and out onto the porch. “There you are, Deaks! I thought we were going to have to find a new bassist. Enlist Nurse Nightingale’s mum or something.”

John smirks and crushes the rest of his cigarette in your father’s ashtray. “I suspect you’d do just fine without me.”

“Oh no. No way. Not happening.”

“That’s kind of you,” John says, unconvinced.

“Here, I’ll prove it.” Rog holds out his calloused hand. “If you ever leave, I leave too. Come on, Deaks, shake on it. It’s official. It’s a pact. There’s no Queen without John Deacon.”

Reluctantly, trying not to show how pleased he is, John shakes. “Alright.”

Roger grins triumphantly. “Signed, sealed, delivered. You’re ours for life, baby.”

“Deaky, do you want the phone?!” Freddie yells from inside the house.

John sighs and exchanges a knowing glance with you. “I guess I should say hi.”

“Okay, but quickly!” Rog presses. “We gotta go!”

“So bossy...” John ducks inside; and Roger, though he’s not wearing anything over his pale pink button-up shirt—sufficiently sophisticated to impress your parents—comes to the porch railing to join you.

“You’re not staying out here, are you?” You eye his thin shirt worriedly, the goosebumps rising over his collarbones, his bare forearms where he rolled up his sleeves to help your mom wash the dishes.

He tosses you a mischievous wink. “I’ve got no one to call.”

Roger looks up at the hanging baskets of flowers, plucks out a cerise carnation, and offers it to you. You mean to say something witty, something sardonic, something that will make him laugh; but all your words vanish into cold February air. You take the carnation, smiling helplessly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Roger whispers.

You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?

Okay.

He turns to go back inside the house.

I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him.

Then Roger pauses in the doorway. “You coming, Boston babe? I can’t have you catching pneumonia or something. I won’t know how to fix you.”

Oh, you realize, with horror and yet relief, all those grueling lies stripped away. It’s too late.

~~~~~~~~~~

You knock on the frame of the dressing room door. “Hi Bri!”

He glances over from where he sits in front of the mirror, rimming his eyes with inky liner. Soundcheck went swimmingly, and now Queen has thirty minutes until they need to be onstage. You can hear the disembodied reverberation of voices from the waiting crowd through the walls. “Hello, love. Come in.”

“Freddie said you needed to see me. Did you rip a sleeve or something? I brought my kit—”

“No, it’s not that.” He pats the chair beside him. The boys practically always get ready together before a show, but you suspect profoundly introverted Brian is experiencing one of his post-socialization crashes after dinner with your parents. Something about him is tired, very tired, almost drained to empty. “Join me.”

“Sure,” you say cautiously. You shove your medical kit onto the countertop and then reach to feel his forehead. “Are you feeling alright...?”

“I’m fine, love. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

Brian sighs deeply, sets down the eyeliner, swivels his chair towards you. “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to start seeing Roger.”

You titter, deflecting, brushing Brian’s hair away from his troubled, angular face. “Well, as the official Queen touring nurse, I see him quite a lot.”

Brian catches your wrist. “I’m being serious.”

Now your brow knits into tight agitated lines. “I’m curious as to why you think that’s something you have a say in.”

“Bloody hell, I’m not trying to offend you—”

“Job well done.”

“Dear, please, listen to me—”

“Eight months,” you hiss through your teeth as you tear away from him. “For eight months I’ve listened and avoided and resisted and ignored and it’s not going away.”

“Oh, fuck,” Brian breathes in despair. “You love him.”

There are tears biting in the periphery of your vision; you don’t want them to be there, but they are. Your voice is hoarse and trembling. “Bri, please don’t.”

Brian shakes his head and motions with his hands frenetically, desperately, trying to make you understand. “Look, sometimes...sometimes the people we love, the people who own us, the people who fucking set us on fire...they’re not the people we end up with. And that’s not always a bad thing. It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.”

You gape at him, furious, stunned. “That’s just fantastic, Brian. You’re a true romantic. Jesus christ, does Chrissie know about this? Is that why you’re with her, because she’s, what...safe?!”

“No, that’s not fair, Chrissie’s great, she’s steady and supportive and she’ll make a wonderful mother one day, and my parents adore her—”

“Those aren’t reasons to marry someone, Brian!”

“They are!” He leaps to his feet. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You have to think about these things, you have to be rational, you have to protect yourself—”

“Why the fuck do you care?” you flare bitterly.

“Because you saved my life.”

“Stop it, I didn’t.”

“You did, I truly believe that. And I want you to stay with the band. And I want you to be happy. But, dear, please, I’m begging you...this is not the way to do it.”

“I’m not going to go out to some pub and drag home a random guy who’s suitably passionless and predictable enough to be Brian-May-approved.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do—”

“Because you’re such an expert on relationships!” you shout, exasperated. “Planning to propose to Chris while you’re still secretly pining over some fling from New Orleans, fucking groupies and then having the nerve to mope around guilt-ridden the next morning as if anyone but you was responsible for that decision, and do I say anything about it?! Do I ever say a single fucking word about it to you, or Fred, or Roger, or your future wife, or anybody?! No, because it’s not my life!”

The dressing room door flies open and John storms inside. “What’s going on?!”

You cross your arms and stare at the floor. Brian’s wide green eyes flick to John, to you, back to John. If it was Freddie, Brian would tell him in a second, would try to enlist him in the effort, and it would probably work; but John is a different story. John won’t side with Brian over you, everybody knows that. And John has a talent for sharpening words into blades. “Um. Nothing.”  

“I could hear you in the hallway,” John says flatly. “Obviously it wasn’t nothing.”

Brian points to you. “Have you tried to talk her out of this? Maybe you should, maybe she’d listen.”

“It’s not my choice to make, just like it isn’t yours. Worry about your own body count. It seems to be growing exponentially these days.”

Brian scoffs. “Because you’d be so thrilled if she ended up with him, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” you demand.

Brian and John glare at each other from across the room. John raises his eyebrows, daring Bri to answer. Brian gnaws his lower lip, but doesn’t elaborate. The air is heavy, tense, electrified.  

“Don’t upset her again,” John says darkly.

Brian shows the white palms of his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

John waves for you to follow him. “Come on.” And he slams the door behind you as you both escape into the hallway.

“I’m sorry.” You chase away stray tears with the back of your hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get anyone worked up right before the show...”

“Don’t worry about it. I treasure any excuse to harass Brian.”

You study him, seeking answers, seeking more than you know how to put into words. “Do you think I’m being stupid? If you do, you can tell me.”

“No,” John responds carefully. “I think you’re being hopeful. And I’d like to believe that stupidity and hopefulness are two very different things.”

You smile. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s very inaccurate.” He fluffs his hair with his fingertips. “Do you want to touch it before we go on stage?”

You feign demureness. “Hmm...”

“Oh come on. You know you want to. It’s extra voluminous right now, Roger shared some of his magical mousse or whatever. Something way too expensive. You should thoroughly berate him for it.”

You laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” You comb your hands through his brunette hair, and John’s right; it’s extraordinarily full and soft, and smells like honeysuckles. “You always know how to get me smiling, don’t you?”

“You do insist that I have game. Though I remain skeptical.”

“Good luck tonight. Not that you need it.”

John’s rough thumb lifts your chin, then whisks away a tear you missed. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“I always am.” And that’s the truth; you haven’t missed a Queen show since you met them.

He beams, those gentle grey eyes incandescent. “Then we’ll have an ocean of luck.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly twenty-four hours later, Queen is in New York City.

The thunderous bassline of the opening act shudders through the concrete walls. You’re staring yourself down in the bathroom mirror under harsh florescent lights, your palms gripping the cold rim of a white sink, your eyes shimmering with black and gold shadow, your lip gloss slick and crimson. There’s not a single thing left to do. You’re running out of time.

You breathe in, breathe out, snatch your purse off the floor, breeze out into the hallway.

You can hear the boys’ laughter even before you open the dressing room door. Inside, Brian is tuning his Red Special with his mantis-like legs propped up on the countertop, John is attempting to teach Freddie how to make popcorn in a microwave without setting anything on fire, Roger is scrutinizing his hair in the mirror and frowning as he rearranges it with a comb.  

“Hello, darling!” Freddie warbles. “Can I interest you in some delicious and expertly-prepared popcorn?” He opens the microwave, and smoke pours out. “Oh, you bitch!”

“I’ll pass, Freddie.” You glide to where Roger is sitting, knot your fingers through his blond hair, and tug his head back so you can kiss him. He tastes like mint gum and the ghost of smoke and reckless intemperance; he tastes like everything you’ve ever wanted. There are gasps, and surely dropped jaws as well; but you don’t have eyes for them. “Okay,” you tell Roger.

He stares up at you with huge, starry eyes, a dazed grin slowly lighting up his face. “You changed your mind.”

“Come find me after the show.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You move to wipe your blood-red gloss from his lips, but Roger stops you, knits his hand through yours, stands to meet you.

“Leave it,” he murmurs. “I want them to know.”  

“Want them to know...?”

His lips touch yours again, smiling and scorching and ravenous. “That I’m yours.”

[jedi-order-apologist]

yooooo just wanna say im legit SO glad i found ur blog. ur fantastic at putting words together to form solid debate w/o making it feel like unwarranted aggression. u would make a fantastic jedi. i totally get why more people dont bring up the issue considering how ppl get online, but its so great to just read good jedi meta! i also think its fascinating (in like. a horrifying way) how the jedi hate in the fandom came to be, and your explanation feels like it hit the nail in the head. (1/?)

Fundamental misunderstandings about Asian philosophies, false equivocacy with the Christian religion, intolerance toward aro/aspec folk, being just flat out unable to relate to or sympathize with characters that dont act or process in certain ways, these are all things i def noticed but never had the words to put into! Ive seen the term "marital bliss" used maybe 4 times in fandom unironically, (2/?)

ALL in star wars. someone once compared the no attatchments rule to "pray the gay away" (yes about anidala, a very much het couple) The way they cry "child thief cultists!" one minute then joke over soldiers in the aftermath of a battle (that they fought in and walked away from) finding a small child in the wreckage (of what was likely their home, meaning said soldier was likely responsible for attacking and destroying and uh. orphaning them) and then taking them from the planet without (3/?)   

, i dunno? checking for extended family? And i LOVE true mando culture (i am sabine wren's bitch forever and always, and each and every one of the clones are a babe) but somehow other sw culture tags, (mando and tatooine basically) are just hella anti-jedi??? and this really unfounded idea that no one in the order liked anakin, and that they didnt have a fufilling sustainable way of life after a millenia of existing, and the inexplicable but we all know why dislike for windu especially?? (4/?)

youve managed to answer so many questions while also giving and linking genuine, informative, interesting meta for anyone interested in listening and im super grateful for it! (sorry for the monster of an ask lol. also just realized i ended up talking more about negativity than anything else of the MANY things i wanted to compliment u on T^T) (5 or 6 idk anymore/?)            

Thank you so much! I’m really glad that my blog and meta has been able to resonate with you and so many other people :) And I’m glad that it doesn’t come off as aggressive, because I do worry about that sometimes when I’m trying to think of the best way to word things.

It really is so unfortunate how much more criticism the Jedi get in all aspects than any other culture in Star Wars, and how often appreciation for those other cultures spends an inordinate amount of time taking potshots at the Jedi as if to bolster their favored group by comparison. Sure, in-universe, it makes complete sense for many Mandalorians to be anti-Jedi, but the fandom doesn’t need to be.

People really don’t understand the “no attachments” thing - a lot of the expanded material didn’t help with that because they too often conflated attachment with love, and people projected that onto the films. (I also think the AOTC marketing is to blame a bit too - I was only 6 at the time the film came out so I don’t really remember but a lot of the marketing stuff seems to have gone really hard on the “forbidden love” aspect. A lot of the trailers, for example, have the line where Padmé says she thought love was forbidden for a Jedi, but don’t include Anakin’s response to that explaining the difference, so of course the former part sticks out in people’s minds through repetition).

And yeah, the Order was, as far as we’re shown in the films/TCW, generally reasonable towards Anakin and did their best to support and guide him - it’s just, well, evidently guidance is criticism in the fandom’s eyes. That, and a not-insignificant part of fandom likes to woobify him, and twisting the situation into a “everybody was so mean and unfair to him” thing is a pretty standard woobification tactic.

Fanon interpretations of the Jedi are just...really annoying, in general, and if I can at least get people to consider a more charitable view, then I’ll be much happier. If not, well, at least I can commiserate about it all with other Jedi fans like you!

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (13)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 4.3k (this chapter), 42.9k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Phil is herded out of the house before he can shower, style his hair, or put in his contacts. As soon as his clothes are finished drying, his parents are pushing him and all of his bags out the door.

“We’ve got someone coming to see the house,” his mum had explained in that half-frantic voice he associates with company arriving. “You’ve got somewhere to be, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t have the gumption to explain that he’s still got hours before he has to be anywhere. Instead, Phil just hoists his bags higher on his shoulders and sets off for the bus stop. The wind isn’t bad today, thank goodness for small mercies, but it still isn’t pleasant to be outside in November. He pushes his floppy, unwashed hair off his forehead and reluctantly sends Dan a message.

It’s still pretty early and Dan might be in class by now, so he doesn’t expect an immediate response. He’s halfway through a Buzzfeed article and leaning against the shaky bus window by the time his phone buzzes.

im omw from class now just meet me at my place

An address follows, close enough to the coffee shop and the Wilkins place for Phil to feel comfortable finding it. He’s not sure how comfortable he is with being in such a small, private place with Dan before spending most of the night with them. He wonders if his brewing feelings and abject confusion surrounding them will be obvious.

Phil bites his lip and taps away from the article. He’s not sure where to start, but he thinks it’s about time that he started looking into gender stuff. He’s lived with PJ for almost two years and been friends with him for longer, but this isn’t something they tend to talk about. Technically, he hadn’t even been told, he’d just picked up on it from conversations around the old Brighton house. PJ isn’t in the closet, but he seems to have the same attitude about his gender identity that Phil has about his sexual identity - it isn’t anyone’s business unless they’re actively pursuing him.

This isn’t about PJ, though. Phil can’t pretend like these bewildered Google searches are in any way an attempt to understand his friend better. This is about Dan.

--

“Dan?”

The girl looks confused enough that Phil thinks he’s gotten the wrong flat for a horrified moment, but then her brow uncreases and she laughs.

“Oh, duh. Sorry, she doesn’t have many people coming to visit.” She waves Phil inside and eyes his bags. “Especially not many that look like they’re moving in. You planning on staying long, mate?”

“Just the night,” Phil says, more or less honestly. His brain is still stuck on the new pronoun. He knows that Dan is fine with any pronouns, and that includes feminine ones, it just feels strange to have someone use the opposite of what most people might assume. “Er, my parents are selling their place and needed my junk out of the way.”

She nods and gestures deeper into the flat. It doesn’t have as many doors as the Brighton house that Phil shares with a rugby team’s worth of people, but it’s still enough to overwhelm him a bit. Seemingly in response to whatever panicked expression finds its way to Phil’s face, the girl laughs. “Winnie’s room is at the end of the hall,” she says. “Her name’s on the door, you can’t miss it.”

“Her name being Winnie,” Phil says slowly.

“That’s what she wants us to call her,” the girl says. There’s an edge to her voice now, a sort of protectiveness that Phil doesn’t know how to respond to.

Phil gives her an uncertain sort of smile and heads down the hallway. The common areas are surprisingly tidy for a student flat, but he still doesn’t feel comfortable there. He finds himself in front of a dark wooden door with a Winnie the Pooh poster stuck to it. It’s not exactly a nameplate, but Phil understands why their flatmate said that.

He knocks lightly, not wanting to disturb the other people who live here and might still be asleep. It’s barely past noon, after all, and Phil remembers what it was like to be a student. Hell, he doesn’t really have a proper sleep schedule now.

“Come in!”

Dan’s room is darker than the rest of the flat, and Phil has to let his eyes adjust for a moment as the door closes behind him. There are blackout curtains over the single window and fairy lights draped over every possible surface, giving the whole place a soft vibe. Phil doesn’t see Dan at first, but then he realises that they’re on the floor with -

“Is that a weasel?” Phil asks without bothering to say hello, dropping his bags carefully. The last thing he wants to do is scare the creature that’s scampering all over Dan’s shoulders and arms.

“Excuse me,” Dan laughs. They hold out the animal for inspection, and Phil joins them on the floor. “This is Tofu, he’s a ferret.”

“Hello, Tofu,” says Phil. He reaches out to gently take the ferret’s paw between his thumb and finger, and he pretends like they’re shaking hands. Dan laughs again, bright and happy, and Phil decides that he really likes seeing Dan in their comfort zone. “It’s very nice to meet you! I’m Phil.”

Tofu makes a squeaking sort of noise and wiggles out of Dan’s hands to roll around on the carpet.

“He’s kind of an idiot,” Dan says fondly. “Pixel is the smart one in this family, but she’s sleeping.”

Phil’s eyes follow Dan’s vague gesture to a surprisingly large, multi-level enclosure. There’s another ferret curled up in there, and Phil assumes that’s Pixel. “Exactly how many weasels do you have?”

“Just the two,” says Dan. They’re smiling so wide that Phil can’t bring himself to look away. Their lips are a dark shade of red, or maybe burgundy, but it’s hard to tell in the low lighting. The dark lines around their eyes are even more shadowed with it, though, and it’s an entrancing sort of effect. “Originally it was just the one, but she got so lonely. I should have gotten an introverted animal, I guess, if I didn’t want multiple, but I didn’t mind. Pixel wanted a buddy, so. Pixel got a buddy.”

“I think even introverts need buddies sometimes,” says Phil.

He’s suddenly so self-conscious about being here in his current state. He’s wearing his trusty denim on denim, which he knows suits him fine, but he’s also got his clunky glasses and can’t remember if he put deodorant on or not. Dan, on the other hand, looks as stunning as always.

That gets even more obvious as they lounge out a bit, uncrossing and stretching their long legs. Their leggings are tight and translucent enough that Phil might find them indecent if there weren’t a short, swishy skirt covering the important bits. When Dan stretches their arms out, too, their unbuttoned flannel falls further open and shows off the cropped band tee underneath.

Most of Dan’s body is covered, really. Only their hands and neck and navel are out, but that’s enough to make Phil’s brain short-circuit. Their hands are distractingly big, but still so gentle when they pick Tofu back up; their neck is long and ends in either a sharp clavicle or a soft, rounded jawline; their tummy is soft like the rest of them and there’s a simple barbell piercing through their belly button that Phil has to force himself to look away from.

“Have you talked to your friends about us going back?” Dan asks, seemingly oblivious to the way Phil is taking them in from head to toe.

“What?” Phil bleats, and then his brain catches up to the conversation before Dan can repeat themself. “Oh, yeah. I texted them about it, and they’re a bit worried, but they’re glad you’re coming along. They were pretty nervous about me doing this alone.”

“PJ said you tend to do stupid shit,” Dan says bluntly. Tofu is climbing up their arms and biting at their hair, but they don’t even react.

“When did PJ say that?”

Dan’s lips curve into a smile. “When he drove me home. We talked about you.”

Normally, a statement like that would make Phil anxious. He still feels it, a bit, that creeping sense of frustration and nervousness that he associates with mild anxiety, but it’s more dull than it would be if Dan wasn’t smiling at him so softly. Something about it makes Phil certain that he’d get an honest answer if he asked what they all said about him.

That certainty and budding trust are enough to keep his loud anxiety at bay, and Phil finds that he doesn’t feel the need to ask.

Instead, he looks around Dan’s room some more. Pixel is still napping soundly, and Phil doesn’t blame her - the room is so quiet and dim and full of pleasing scents from the candles on Dan’s nightstand, Phil can easily imagine curling up somewhere soft in here and nodding off.

The furniture itself is crappy in the way that most students have to deal with, but Dan seems to have an eye for design that Phil has never had. Sure, there’s no bed frame to hold Dan’s mattress, but their duvet matches the monochrome colour scheme of the posters and paintings on the walls, and their pillows look welcoming surrounded by a small collection of stuffed animals. Their desk is organized, but their closet is open and spilling clothes onto the floor a bit. Phil wonders if that’s something Dan had planned on fixing before he got here, or if Dan doesn’t mind having their dresses and jeans and boots on display.

There’s barely any colour at all, really, but it doesn’t feel depressing like Phil would have thought it might.

That’s not exactly true. There’s some colour.

Phil must be looking at the flag on the wall for too long, because Dan makes a humming sort of noise and breaks the comfortable quiet. “I know it’s a bit tacky,” they say, “and it doesn’t match, but… I dunno. I wasn’t able to be out until I got to uni, and I might have gone a bit nuts with it.”

“Yeah,” says Phil. His throat is a bit dry. “I can understand that.”

“It makes me feel safe,” says Dan. Phil turns to look at them again, but he regrets it as soon as he sees the genuine emotion in Dan’s wide eyes. He isn’t good with that. “Like. Knowing I can have it hung here, that I can be open with people without them being upset with me or something. I don’t think the flag itself makes me feel safe? But maybe that’s not true, either. Maybe embracing that part of myself helped me embrace the community as a whole. I haven’t done Pride yet or anything. Maybe next year. But - safety. Comfort. Y’know?”

“I do,” Phil says quietly. “I do know.”

Dan’s eyes go sharp. Phil hasn’t seen them do that before, and it’s unnerving how much it feels like his very soul is under scrutiny. He wants to squirm away from that feeling, doesn’t want any part of himself under a microscope, but he doesn’t want to run like he might normally.

There’s another moment of quiet, where Dan looks at Phil and Phil doesn’t look away, but of course Phil is the first to break.

“Which of those is your favourite?” he asks instead of saying the words he knows Dan is waiting for. He doesn’t want to run, but that doesn’t mean he needs to be more forthcoming. At Dan’s furrowed brow, Phil gestures to the bookshelf. Dan has a lot of books and movies and boxsets and textbooks, more than Phil can take in all at once. “The, uh, the anime. My favourite’s Fullmetal Alchemist. Er, Brotherhood, not the first one, but both are good.”

For a second, it doesn’t seem like Dan is going to allow him to change the subject so easily. But then Tofu bites at their ear and they’re both giggling, the intensity of the moment slinking off to make way for casual conversation.

--

Talking to Dan is easier than talking to some people that Phil has known for years. They put on a show that they’ve both seen and enjoy and they chat the whole time. Phil points out camera and editing choices that Dan hadn’t put much thought to before, and Dan rambles about theories they’d seen on Reddit for so long that Pixel has become Phil’s best friend by the end of it. Dan makes food at some point, their brief absence allowing Phil to look more carefully at the titles on their shelves. They have even more to talk about when Dan gets back, because Phil has a lot of opinions on some of the quote-unquote ‘classics’ that Dan reads and Dan has some opinions on Phil picking the cheese off his sandwich. Phil almost forgets that he’s here for a specific reason, that they aren’t just friends hanging out, until Dan brings out their Polaroid and starts asking questions about what to expect on the haunt.

Phil kind of wishes they could just stay here.

--

Before they left, PJ, Sophie, and Chris had all drawn several Sharpie sigils on a thin piece of scrap fabric and insisted that Phil tie it around his wrist or something. He takes it out of his pocket as he and Dan approach the house.

“Here,” he says, pulling them to a stop and rolling their sleeve up a bit. He ignores their big doe eyes and wraps it around their knobby wrist a couple of times. “Is that too tight?”

“No,” says Dan. They stay still while Phil ties it, and then they raise their hand to inspect it.

“It’s from the gang,” says Phil. “I know it seems like the sigils didn’t help last time, but - well, I dunno. Maybe they did help and it was going to be a lot worse without them. Or maybe they just rubbed off our skin too quickly. But, y’know, I know you don’t believe in this stuff, it just… it makes us feel better. I thought it would be a good placebo for you if nothing else.”

Dan touches the fabric and then smiles, looking for all the world like Phil has given them something precious.

“Thank you,” they say, their voice altogether too sincere for Phil to respond to without some major awkwardness. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m already wearing my thing,” Phil lies. “C’mon, let’s get inside.”

The thing is, Phil figures Dan is the one who needs protecting from whatever is going on in the Wilkins place. They’re the one who got attacked last time, while Phil only dealt with flickering lights and the feeling of being watched. The last thing he needs is for Dan to insist on coming along again only to get themself hurt again.

He’s not sure if Dan believes him or not, but it doesn’t matter. Phil is already shouldering the back door open. He could climb through the window again with a boost from Dan, but he doesn’t think he has enough upper-body strength to pull Dan up after him.

The kitchen is as dark and dusty as ever, but that smothering, creeping feeling of eyes in the walls isn’t present. Phil stands still for a few seconds, waiting for it to wash over him again, but in the end he’s in the same place he figured he’d be from the beginning - listening to the creaking sounds of a house with absolutely nothing supernatural about it. He’s weirdly disappointed, but he imagines that Dan must be relieved.

He turns to Dan to see what they think, but their eyes are just as wide as they’d been the last time.

“Hey,” Phil says, quiet so as not to disturb the dust. “You feel something?”

“No,” Dan admits. They move closer to Phil, twisting their fingers into the cuff of his jacket and holding tight. It’s sort of sweet how they think he might leave them alone in this house, but it’s also somewhat of a nuisance to have a large person attached to him while he’s trying to move quietly.

“Then what’s wrong? Do you need to leave?”

Dan shakes their head. Their teeth dig into their dark bottom lip, and even though they reapplied their lip product before leaving the house, it still ends up on their teeth a little bit. Phil isn’t sure if he’s supposed to point it out or not. “I don’t need to leave or anything, it’s fine. I’m fine. Coming with you was the whole point. I just don’t… okay. Promise not to laugh at me?”

“I think I promise,” says Phil. He gives Dan a reassuring little smile. “But if you break into song and dance or something I reserve the right to change my mind.”

“Shut up,” Dan says, but they’re giggling. “No, I just… I just don’t like the dark, okay?”

It clearly takes something out of Dan to admit that. Phil shifts his hand so he can squeeze Dan’s. “Nobody really likes the dark,” Phil says. “I mean, it’s kind of my job, so I’m used to it, but I wouldn’t mind being somewhere brightly-lit and clean instead.”

“Thanks.” Dan’s cheeks look a bit darker, but that might just be the low lighting. “You can lead the way.”

--

Nothing happens.

There are spiders and dark corners and once or twice a loud noise from outside makes Dan jump and grab at his hand again, but Phil never feels like anything more is going to happen. The walls don’t have anything behind them except maybe rats, and even the attic simply makes Phil sneeze.

It’s frustrating. It’s almost worse than the night that he put his friends in danger, because at least then he knew that he could have a chance at a decent video. Now, there’s nothing to record.

Phil finds himself wishing for a flickering light or a quick shadow. He wants something, anything, to make him feel like he’s doing something productive with his life.

Instead, he just feels like he’s wading deeper into the confusion and shadows of his own future. He doesn’t know where he’s going to go if he can’t keep going back to the darkness of abandoned houses and old cemeteries. He went to uni, sure, but he hasn’t had a ‘real’ job in his life. Unless a month at the stationery store counts. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with figuring out what he ought to be doing with his life if he isn’t chasing ghosts, but he’s not having fun with this anymore.

He’s twenty-six. It’s not old, he’s not old. He’s got plenty of time to figure his life out.

But if he’s spent the last decade wasting all his free time on something that isn’t enjoyable anymore, then he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to forgive himself.

Dan is in his personal space again, pressing close to avoid the encroaching darkness, and they smell like… lavender. Phil remembers spice and mint from them, and he wonders if they’re wearing some kind of perfume today. It’s such a feminine scent that it’s hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that he wants.

Further and further into the waters he goes. He doesn’t know what comes next for any of it, and it’s terrifying.

--

“We could stay all night again,” Phil is protesting, even as Dan frogmarches him down the back steps. “I know we didn’t find anything, but maybe it only works when you’re trying to sleep over? I could -”

“You’ll do nothing,” says Dan. “We are both going home, and I’m seeing you onto the bus so you don’t sneak back without me.”

Phil wants to object, but Dan tightens their grip on his arms like they know exactly what he’s going to say. Besides, it would probably be a lie. Phil is stressed and frustrated and in over his head, and if he could just get one clip or photo of this thing, then maybe everything will be okay. Maybe he can keep doing this after all.

He gently detangles himself from Dan and sighs, hoisting his backpack up. “Fucking… fine.”

“Fucking fine,” Dan repeats, their lips twitching.

“Maybe the sigils worked too well,” says Phil. He keeps his tone level so that Dan won’t be able to tell that he’s joking right away, but Dan shoves at his shoulder like they’re well aware of what he’s doing. “You know, I bet -”

“You’re annoying when you can’t do what you want, huh?” Dan interrupts. Their hands are shoved in their jacket pockets, but Phil wishes they weren’t. He wishes he could brush his hand against theirs as they walk and convince himself that it’s all an accident. “Bet that’s the baby brother in you.”

“No comment.”

The walk to the bus stop is quieter than the last time Dan walked him to it, but it's not uncomfortable. Phil can’t believe how much he cares about this person already. They’re friends, he’s pretty sure, and it’s impossible to deny how much this crush is starting to get to him. Still. It’s new, Dan is new, and Phil has to consider the possibility that the novelty is all he’s feeling.

It’s not. But he has to consider it, because Phil has to consider every possibility before he makes his mind up about anything.

“Hey,” Phil says, careful not to sound like he’s pushing.

“Hi,” says Dan. Phil isn’t looking at them, but he can hear a grin in their voice.

“I was just wondering,” says Phil. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if it’s a sore spot or anything like that, but. Your flatmate said you were called Winnie. Obviously I know you go by Winnie online, but I didn’t know you did it, uh, outside of cyberspace.”

“Cyberspace,” Dan repeats like they can’t help themself. “Yeah, sometimes. I usually use it like a test.”

“A test?”

Dan hums. Phil wishes, again, that their hands weren’t trapped in the confines of their jacket. “For people I might get closer to. I ask my flatmates to call me something that’s clearly not masculine and see how they react and how often they slip up. Maybe it’s mean, I guess, since I don’t actually care one way or the other, but it’s a lot easier for me to open up to people who have already proven that they’re able to think of me outside of the Daniel box.”

“I can call you Winnie,” Phil offers. “If that’s what you want to be called. And I’m not a complete idiot, I’m sure I could remember to call you Dan when I’m bothering you at work.”

“Planning on bothering me at work some more?” Dan asks. They don’t wait for an answer. “No, I like Dan fine. They’re both fine. They just serve me different purposes, I guess, and I’m not bothered by either of them.”

“I don’t totally get it,” Phil admits. “But I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, Dan is tangling their long fingers with Phil's. It’s just for a second, long enough for the same sort of reassuring squeeze that Phil gave to them in the Wilkins place, but it makes Phil’s heart jump into his throat.

“You’re, like, overly considerate,” says Dan. They sound like they’re teasing - Phil hopes they’re teasing. He really, really doesn’t want to mess this up.

“I just think you should be able to, like, tell me if I do something wrong.”

Dan laughs. “You’re not getting it. That’s okay, you don’t have to get it. I will tell you if you do something wrong, I just have a really wide range of things I’m indifferent about before you get to the things that matter. Call me a boy or a girl or whatever, I don’t care. Try to imply that my favourite Pokémon is fucking Goldeen, on the other hand -”

They ramble all the way to the stop, and Phil finds himself feeling better despite the fruitless hours of wandering a dusty house.

“This is me,” Phil says as he sees headlights coming down the street towards them.

“Message me tomorrow,” Dan insists. For a moment, they’re both just standing there. Phil has no idea what he’s supposed to do in this situation. Surely a handshake would be weird, but would a hug be weirder? Should he just pat their shoulder, or is that absolutely the creepiest thing he could do? They had both waved, yesterday, so maybe that’s what he ought to do again. His eyes drift to Dan’s mouth. The product is still mostly there, but there are indents where their front teeth have been digging all night that show the natural colour of their lips.

That’s not an option, Phil reminds himself with a little shake. He’s about to keep overthinking it when Dan wraps their arms around him and says something that sounds like a goodnight. They smell good, and they feel good, and the only thing that gets Phil stepping back is the sound of a bus stopping next to them.

“Bye,” he says, quiet. Dan’s smile is almost enough to make him miss this bus and wait for the next one.

[toziers]

can you explain what's going on right now? i keep seeing big IT blogs talking about some discourse or something but i have no idea what they're talking about other than it involves you lol

alright i like. i truly do not like having diScOurSE out in public because i’m not one to air out my dirty laundry 24/7 but seeing as how it was brought into public against my will i feel like the least i can do is clear up the situation for those who’ve been seeing the posts. 

i’m putting this under the cut bc it’s long. tws for some biphobia, brief mention of transphobia and, at the end, a rape mention. 

so if you don’t know: hi, i’m migz, i’m an it fandom blogger. its okay, i know, its really cool. part of my shtick here is that i like to turn normal thirst tags into works of art for the sake of comedy. perhaps you’ve seen some of my highlights from my “fhg” tag - perhaps your brain has been spared. either way, it became kind of “my thing” around the third or fourth week (mid nov) of me having this blog. at first, i tagged just about every ask i got mentioning the thirst tags with “bill hader” - they had to do with him, so why not tag him? it would draw more like minded people! about two days into that i got a message asking me to tag my nsfw. i am a big dumb idiot, and apologize for not initially doing it. i havent had a following bigger than like 10 in several years and completely spaced on basic etiquette. so by the end of november i was tagging everything applicable  with “notsfw” and “bill hader”. 

now you’re caught up.

on december 1st i got this message from user billhaderanti:

now i want to start by saying i absolutely was in the wrong here. i didn’t even think about how many people were being subjected to the asks i was getting - especially ones who had no idea they were all jokes. i don’t track the bill hader tag, so it just didn’t even occur to me - that’s ignorance on my part, and to anyone who was subjected to the terrors of me before my tagging system: i am genuinely sorry. i relay the same sentiment in my response, though you can tell i’m on edge.

and they replied:

clearly they Were offended by it but thats.. not the point. at this point, im feeling Really weird about the whole interaction, but still understanding, because again - i GET it. i know my posts are gross - that’s the point. it doesn’t make it excusable, though, which is why i understand why people are offended. so i responded with the only solution i Knew would keep us both safe and happy posting on our own blogs. 

so i thought this would be the end of things! i’d been pretty anxious lately already since i’d started to receive anons telling me i was gross and whore-ish for thirst posting in this way (i delete all of those, so if ur thinking about sending one, i guess no one’s stopping you but it won’t be seeing the light of the dashboard). i’m unsure if it was immediately or a few hours later, seeing as how i have a bad concept of time and the post-dates are right on the edge between nov 30 and dec 1, but i went to their blog - because anyone who has been on the internet knows the opportunity to vague post is near irresistible. and...what do ya know

fair! it’s their blog. however i am an emotionally fragile egg girl and immediately got freaked out. the odds that they were the only one who thought this were low. and, again, i’ve been very open on my blog about how important it is to respect boundaries; my posts are absolutely prone to breaking those boundaries people have created for themselves. 

so i made my own, semi-vague post, letting my following know (and i’m pretty sure i’d answered asks about it before, but this is going to be long enough w/o me searching those up too) that i understood if they wanted to block me or unfollow or whatever - people need to create their own safe spaces. the tension is pretty clear in the tags, i’m not trying to hide that. i felt that the way this woman slid into my dm’s was pretty abrasive (just my opinion/how it made me personally feel) and i let myself be a lil emotional about it in the tags of my post.

alright! maybe this is the end. maybe we both go our separate ways and post happily on our own blogs... except it’s not the end. later in the day (some of this was happening like 1/2am, so now its Day day, i believe - again, not good w time passage lol)

clearly, i’m upset. my groupchat double checked that i didn’t get too emotional in my response - did i mention im anxious about discourse lol - and apparently.. it did the trick. she didn’t message me again. great. it was over. 

at this point, i decided i needed to make an even bigger change. so a few days after i’d calmed down i created an entirely new tag for my thirst posts so if people hadn’t already hidden the notsfw posts or just blocked me outright, they’d have a third option to escape the madness. at this point, id had my blog about 6? weeks, but there were still 2k posts for me to sift through - some of them were completely untagged. i also had to do it post by post, because one of xkits features - the mass re-tagger - was getting blogs deleted for some reason, and i wasn’t going to do that. so i spent a few days going through all 2k+ posts, adding the “fhg” tag. 

YEEHAW! a brand new tagging system, no more hopping into the bill hader tag (minus one or two really funny, not super explicit asks, like the bill hader farquaad meme), and, tbf, i’d completely put this woman out of my mind. i don’t seek out drama and do my best to stay in my lane. yesterday, i checked my activity for the first time in awhile since id put out a couple new original posts that had started to get traction and i Love reading tags. i noticed a mutual had @’d me, and realized i havent checked my @’s in...ever, maybe. i see a post from my good pal billhaderanti. 

since i dont follow them and never check my @’s, i’d completely missed it. however, once i did see it, i was horrified. id gone through all that fucking work to keep my blog My Blog and also respect everyone’s boundaries and it still hadn’t been enough. i’d been awake for almost 24 hours and went. a little crazy. and i didn’t reply immediately because i just had no words. i sent it to my friends because i... i just wasn’t going to be able to figure it out myself. 

there’s a lot to unpack in this post alone, but whatever, i’m gonna put my own grievances with the immaturity of 1. making a callout post to begin with when i’d been nothing but civil 2. making a callout post about something as (in the grand scheme of Life) minor as some tags where i refer to a someone’s genitals as a “whack pack” and 3. making a callout post in such a rude way - aside. at the end, she calls me (and whoever else!) a demonic mlw (man loving woman, we assumed, and then later confirmed with a post further back on her blog). 

which - yeah, we started scrolling. at first we were looking for more vague blogs, and then we just...started finding things. billhaderanti is a self proclaimed lesbian separatist, which... fine. but it’s already pretty clear that this woman hates me on some level simply because i am a bi woman (demonic mlw, remember!) which is just. damn man i can’t believe we are still fighting the biphobic fight lol. so the more we scrolled, the more we uncovered - and not just the biphobic / vaguely mtf transphobic things they posted (or put in tags), but we also found that they had their OWN thirst tags. certainly not as hyperbolically comedic as mine, but they were there, talking about his body and his person the same (and, frankly, a bit creepier for other reasons) as mine. 

there’s one post in particular that snatched my wig in it’s creepiness - and i say creepiness in the sense that it feels personal. like this woman feels like she knows bill to some degree where she can say these things. my tags have always had a sense of distance, as they’re written for humor. and maybe this particular post was written for comedic purposes, but it doesn’t read that way, and if it WAS, then she has no right to call ME out for MY comic tags and posts. 

i’ll let it speak for itself, mostly because i don’t want to read it again. 

i also won’t be going through her blog again to find the posts with biphobic and other Interesting:tm: tags because there are plenty and i just really! want to be done with the whole ordeal! her blog is public and i’m sure you can all find it and look to your heart’s content. 

feeling a bit feral and a bit pissed off now that we knew the depth of how rotten this woman’s vibes were, a couple of my pals made a post or two similar to what my tag’s are like except turned up to eleven (if possible) - and tagged them with “bill hader” (and notsfw!!). yes, a bit childish, but at this point, the entire situation was childish, and making jokes was truly the only way we were going to get through it. another vague post went up on her blog soon after.

talking down to us, calling us children, and then for whatever reason calling us virgins... whatever, weird post. around this time most of us (est) went to bed, because it was nearing 3 or 4 in the morning. 

and then today happened. i woke up fresh and ready for the day after a wonderful 4 hours of sleep and found that jane had made an incredibly intelligent post in response to the situation. i won’t ss it, but i’ll LINK in case you missed it. attached there in the reblog is my own response. i think they can speak for themselves. 

after that, things were kind of jumbled, since i wasn’t online a lot and when i was i was Not checking my activity simply because i was afraid of what i’d see. for the most part, it ended up just being support (which i am very grateful to all of you for - it means a lot that you all enjoy my content to any degree). 

there was some more vague posting from both “““““sides”””””” of the “““““argument”””””” - mostly just people restating the fact that this is a public space and we should All be aware of how we effect others. i still hadn’t heard directly from billhaderanti, so i assumed we’d all be dropping and disengaging and moving on. i still wasn’t blocked, though, so who really knew what would happen. 

eventually, it culminated in this last post. tw for mentions of rape

i’m going to start by saying that 

1. there are nearly no teenagers that were involved in this. im turning 23 in january and most of my friends are 20+. maybe one or two are 19. 

2. none of us sent any sexually violent asks - most of us didn’t send asks at all. i believe one or two of my friends admitted to sending asks however they assured me their nature wasn’t bad; as far as i know, everyone remained civil in whatever went on (again, unclear to me as to what was being sent; no one was actively posting or talking about it. if billhaderanti wishes to elaborate, they can, but i don’t have anything to put in). 

3. before i finish this, i would like to apologize to billhaderanti. as a comedian - not just my stupid tags, i mean in real life, too - i know that humor can hurt. it’s not always funny, it’s not just stupid hahas. sometimes things that are supposed to be jokes just hit people differently and cause bad things. i recognize that. i never meant to trigger you (if you’re reading this) or cause you any severe mental/emotional harm. i apologize for my humor bringing up your trauma, and i never meant for that. regardless of my own thoughts and opinions about the nature of my posts/the thirst tags themselves, they hurt you, and i’m sorry. 

anyway, i’m going to wrap this up (i’m bad at endings, what can i say! steven king and i took the same writer’s class!). if you read all this... sorry. i probably won’t be taking any asks about it, because i find the whole “drama” of this to be stupid and rooted in some seriously biphobic issues this fully grown woman has. 

tldr; i attempted to contain my blog so this woman could exist and function safely on her blog, but it wasn’t enough for her, so she called me out, and then some of the fandom called Her out for being biphobic and mean and overall just immature about the situation. as of now, she’s yet to block me, though her and her wife have blocked a few of my friends. her wife continues to clown on my friends. this post was made for clarity’s sake. the end, i’m getting a drink. 

[carapeace]

Hey I really hate to be that person but would it be possible if you didn't reblog the political BLM stuff on your ML blog? Trust me, i get it, i really do, but im black and that stuff is really horrifying and stressful, and i just come to tumblr to get my daily dose of furry superhero kids and destress. seeing it on ML blogs too just makes it feel inescapable. if you do wanna keep reblogging it its totally good, id just have to unfollow and id like to avoid that cause you seem cool. thank you

don’t worry about it, i completely understand. i’m black as well and sometimes those things can be super stressful to see, especially when you’re just looking for a break and some fun content.

although i want to let people know about everything going on now, i also really don’t want to make anybody feel uncomfortable especially because i understand what that’s like. i promise to try my best to keep those kinds of posts off this blog, though i can’t guarantee anything because i might end up forgetting.

however, i tag all posts not related to miraculous with #not ml and i’m pretty sure there’s a way you can block tags (i don’t know how to do it, but i bet somebody does). if you’d like to only see miraculous content on my blog you can block it so you won’t see those anymore.

thanks for letting me know about this!