#while with each other they make use of each other's attacks to make their own

[thranduel]

i don’t know how many times it must be said… there was literally no reason to make will in love with mike if it wasn’t going to result in something between them.

you cannot seriously tell me they decided to use a traumatised gay character who has felt lonely and broken his entire life because of who he is as a plot device to “fix” a STRAIGHT SHIP.

like seriously, just stop and think about how messed up this actually is.

a gay kid used as a plot device for a straight ship in a show made for outcasts and minorities.

a gay kid used as a plot device for a straight ship who kissed at 12 years old after knowing each other for less than a week and immediately became romantic JUST because one is a boy and one is a girl (it would NOT have happened like this if they were the same gender. there would’ve been outrage especially with how fast it happened and people would’ve said “they’re forcing sexuality onto children!”. it only got accepted without question because anything straight gets accepted without question).

a gay kid used as a plot device for a straight ship who hasn’t known what it’s been like to truly be single since they were officially forced into this relationship + can’t see each other as anything other than romantic since they were just friends for only a few days and probably think they HAVE to stay in a relationship so they “don’t lose each other” (i don’t know how anyone can think this is healthy for two traumatised children).

a gay kid used as a plot device for a straight ship who have absolutely nothing in common, don’t have healthy communication or heart-to-heart conversations, don’t trust each other, don’t feel fully comfortable around each other, are so painfully insecure and fake with each other and can’t be themselves around each other.

a gay kid used as a plot device for a straight ship that absolutely no other character in the show has said anything positive about (other characters have only complained, rolled their eyes and been sick of them excluding and ignoring everyone rudely when they’re together).

a gay kid used as a plot device for a straight ship that wouldn’t even EXIST without him (mike only met el when he was desperately searching for will, who wouldn’t have even been taken to begin with if el didn’t open the gate which resulted in him getting kidnapped. AND their relationship wouldn’t have been “fixed” and mike wouldn’t have said he loves her if will didn’t lie to him about the painting and confess his OWN feelings for him in the van using el’s name as a disguise).

the issue is not mike and el being a couple or because people have a problem with straight characters/couples in general - that’s not why we’re mad. it’s HOW they handled everything. it’s the fact they dragged an innocent gay kid into this mess for extra drama and to USE HIM as a plot device to fix a straight ship. it’s insulting and gross. gay people suffer so much just for who they are and literally live their lives in fear. straight people do not get attacked, judged or hate crimed for their sexuality. they are NOT oppressed for being straight.

they could’ve introduced ANY other love interest for will earlier, but they didn’t. or they could’ve made m*leven a healthier and cuter relationship that everyone rooted for, but they didn’t (even the other characters in the show don’t say anything positive about their relationship, they only complain). and out of all people, why did WILL have to be the one to give relationship advice and help the boy he’s literally in love with get back with his girlfriend??

they’ve only shown us all the reasons mike and el DON’T work well together, while simultaneously showing us all the reasons mike and will DO work well together. how could you possibly blame people for rooting for byler after all of this?

[meleeringo]

Once I read your reblog, particularly that you were describing factors extrinsic to the trans community's control, I understood what you were talking about, and I think it's a good point. I genuinely believed you might be placing undue blame on the trans community, particularly transfems. I want to allocate responsibility to change only as appropriate, starting with myself. I mentioned transfeminism because I aspire to someday be "doing transfeminism," whatever the hell that may mean. I wanted you to understand what my core values are.

We're all concerned that communities could become increasingly insular, more vulnerable to exploitation by outside agitators, and generally less tolerant. I think only time will tell on that front, but talking about it might help. As you said, we are encouraged and sometimes even forced by our circumstances to wield imperfect language that protects ourselves while harming someone else. I am hypervigilant of bigotry cloaked in plausible deniability. You were so convinced of my bad faith that you encouraged me to separate myself from the conversation.

We all want to be understood. On the internet, we have only the words, and whatever identities may be attached to online presences, with which to categorize people. Intent becomes increasingly difficult to prove, and to discern. This is exacerbated by the scrutiny trans people experience.

Let's address the risks of sharing these types of personal vulnerabilities. One is that they can be used against us. By sharing that I've had my own interiority neglected this way here, for example, it may be read as just more evidence of my separatist (or transandrophobic) bias, as if I am implying the absence or relative unimportance of such traumas in transmascs. It may even be used as material for personal attacks & harassment. A third is that it's tempting when we fuck up, to use our personal issues to deflect criticism.

Like, I've been going through nicotine withdrawal for the last several days. Do I think that would justify a murder? No. There, I attempted to dispel the Bad Faith Aura once more with a glib comment. It's a miracle I'm not worse! I'm trying very hard not to relapse right now! Jeez! How dare you assume that I assumed that…yada yada. I'm just some stupid lazy tr*nny who has to put herself down while playing at feminism with people smarter than her on the internet.

And then someone can go: "Fawning, self deprecation -- classic bad faith behavior. Don't worry about HER emotions. She probably thinks men shouldn't have emotions. She probably still thinks transmascs have nothing to contribute." And now I've constructed a strawman to show myself as the real victim; On and on!

In my shoddy way, I was trying to understand, to not make flat accusations. The grace required to clarify oneself and be understood, is something that is often denied to trans people.

puc-puggy:

i think that what you've brought up are good points and valuable to the discussion. i think it's useful and kind to keep in mind that I may be getting the gamut as a sort of.. trust building obstacle course. it's an understandable reaction to a constant state of stress and vigilance and the reality that others do not always have kindness in their heart for you.

i also think that something else you said is really pertinent and useful; once your transmisogyny bell gets rung, you are investigating others from within your context of understanding of transmisogyny for bigotry that may harm you. this is also normal and understandable.

something that may be helpful for you regarding the feeling of neglecting your interiority is the concept of discursive context. a discursive space is basically the environment that constructs a discourse. could be a classroom, could be a community, could be a website. as you move through spaces, the context and connotations of terminology changes, interpretations of concepts and past events, etc etc. we are all interpreting each other through our own discursive spaces every day, and a part of fruitful communication is recognizing when you're in a different discursive space. I was not trying to avoid discussions of trans feminist theory because it's not valuable, but because it's impossible for good faith discussion of trans feminist theory in the context of transandrophobia on tumblr right now. i was protecting the elements of my discursive space that felt necessary to maintain the possibility of good faith discussion. like, to make my point, the term transandrophobia is itself a trans feminist theory. the feminists are trans and they are theorizing. they're just not girls. the idea that trans feminist theory is necessarily limited to the perspective of trans women is separatism, treating men as the enemy and part of why the term transandrophobia itself rang your transmisogyny bell enough to start prodding at me.

a good example of discursive context is "male socialization." there is no point where I won't put it in quotes because even if there's valuable discussion to be had about the harms of being raised a boy and the insight of trans women into it, it's just not safe for trans women to discuss or acknowledge it in the current landscape. an example I'm thinking of is one of my dearest friends, whose "male socialization" primarily taught her that she was probably the issue in every interaction and didn't have a right to boundaries. she believed this because she was told her entire life that she was predatory and dangerous, and she's a profoundly gentle soul who believed them because she did not want to hurt anyone. the "male socialization" that she got was "accept every ounce of shit anyone throws at you forever and pretend you're fine with it or you're the problem." years of abuse at the hands of those she trusted because she wasn't allowed to have real emotional interiority. I think about her, I think about why she was treated like that, and tbh it makes me pretty testy. I want to talk about the impact of lifelong emotional abuse on anyone called a boy, but I cannot because the term makes trans women feel like I'm investigating them for any % completion score on predator training, not that I believe down to the roots of my soul that they were emotionally abused their entire lives for the crime of having a fucking penis and we should be talking about how deeply wrong and cruel it is to treat a child like that.

trans women are frequently forced to make arguments that "male socialization" didn't work or hurt them because they were really a girl, not because it's a disgusting way to treat a human child on top of being a dick about her gender. it hurts the little boys, too. trans women know this and cannot say it because they will be attacked for it in ways that cis women won't. in safe spaces where their womanhood will not be revoked, trans women have provided the most incredible and insightful analyses of men and manhood I've ever seen in my life specifically because they have transgressed that boundary. a trans woman taught me that sensitive, gentle men retreat into stoicism rather than inhabiting masculinity. she became a woman, her dad was a stoic. both deeply gentle. the impact of this environment on solidarity between trans men and women real: the discussion of men's issues becomes a threat to trans women in and of itself because it decays their safety zone.

if men are the enemy and enemies must be labeled, the boundaries of the safe zone must be policed, and trans people are the first to face the violence of that policing. trans people must always stay on the right side of the line or face disproportionate risk. trans women are at high risk of being labeled the enemy and cannot provide any ammunition. if trans women have already made the argument that some experience was cruel to them while they were interpreted as a man because they were really a girl the whole time, trans men discussing the same thing as a men's issue is a direct threat to trans women's safety. it associates trans women with men & men's experiences. not because the experience is truly a man's or woman's experience or but because if a trans woman is associated with men or masculinity at all in this highly separatist environment, she is in fucking danger. it was a lot more common 5 or so years ago to see trans women calling out other feminists for separatist bullshit, but the environment got way too hostile to continue risking it.

the problem isn't that transadrophobia can't exist as a term or that it actually undermines feminism or trans women's rights or the semantics of the term are icky or that trans men are misogynistic. the conversations consolidating under transandrophobia are extremely valuable and necessary feminist conversations. the problem is that trans women are not safe acknowledging or discussing any connections between themselves and men/masculinity because separatist rhetoric makes it unsafe. your transmisogyny bell isn't being rung because the conversations about transandrophobia itself are transmisogynistic, but because of the risk of external transmisogynistic interpretation. the risk that your current womanhood will be revoked-- "if this is an experience that men have too, how am I supposed to believe you're a woman?"

it isn't fair that the term transandrophobia rings your transmisogyny bell, but it isn't surprising either

the transandrophobia discourse is poisoned by separatist feminist theory that terfs and radfems have been maliciously injecting into feminist conversations, so here's The Will To Change excerpts by bell hooks again.

libratory feminism sees no difference between men and women except those manufactured by patriarchy. misogyny is a symptom of patriarchy the system, not a structure by which to interpret patriarchy the system. replacing "sexism" with "misogyny" does not change the nature of the analysis, which is a weak one. patriarchy the system can induce the symptom of misogyny in any person subjected to that system. using sexism/misogyny/male chauvinism is not a useful lens of analysis when looking at patriarchy because women are misogynists too. let's not move backward on that. women are misogynists too and men are allies.

the recent "trans men are misogynists" allegations I've seen lodged against trans men are:

unprepared to be treated like a predator, may cry about it

asked that only trans men attend a trans mens' support group

discussed male loneliness instead of talking about violence against women

all of these are actually feminist discussions. so the backlash seems like angry feminist reactions to Men Having Feelings, which is not a new thing. in fact, hooks addresses it directly.

i see men being mocked for having their feelings hurt, men being mocked for wanting to discuss their feelings, and men being mocked because they're thinking about men and manhood in new and complex ways. exactly what the doctor ordered.

i am not seeing challenges to patriarchy here. I am seeing reinforcement of patriarchal expectations of masculinity on trans men who do not want to perform those expectations. i am seeing separatist radfem bullshit in the assumption that trans men have lost or never had a valuable perspective on misogyny or gender or sexism and cannot tell when the shape of discrimination they're facing has changed. i am seeing toxic separatist radfem bullshit shut down liberatory feminist discussion because one of the speakers is trans in the wrong direction.

[rereisstuff]

DAY BY DAY !

summary: you could stay day by day…looking at scoups being nagged by na pd.

pairing: idol! reader x idol! Scoups (idol! fictionalgroup! x svt)

note: it’s kinda a continuation from COSMIC but more focused on scoups and reader, i may do another part! saty tuned.

“meng meiqi” na pd read awfully making everyone laugh, including the girl.

the pairs were the same, just in a prompt room, a classroom, everyone in school outfits.

“cheol-ah, it’s weird we are pushing the 30’s and na pd is making us wear this” you said lowly to scoups pulling your skirt down, he just laughed it off saying the fans loved it.

“i want the leaders to come forward please” scoups and you walked side by side, to the front podium with this devices to throw air strongly when attacked“the section is called, leader vs leader”

everyone booed trying to make it scary and mythical, scoups and you laughed “please introduce yourselves and explain why are you a better leader, in 60 seconds”

scoups started, making seventeen and your members laugh with the funny introduction and then you went, saying your name and your band’s “…i literally raised the three maknaes, with 24 packages of ramyeon to feed 12 people a whole week, have 3 jobs and i smile when they mock me”

“now we head to a quiz” na pd said, receiving a envelope from the staff.

“have you broke down in front of the members or do you wait and keep it in private?” he asked, everyone looking at both, with attention and silent for the first time.

“i don’t cry in front of them” scoups and you said at the same time mischievously looking at each other after it, the room erupted in chaos, everyone complaining about both being crybabies.

“eeeh” you cleared your throat and held your open hand up, your group growing silent after your gesture making seventeen and na pd look at the interaction amazed.

“give the win to my noona, coups-hyung would never be able to do that with us” mingyu yapped and getting everyone to agree with him, scoups whining by your side.

“how much a leader should control?”

“well, the members have their subunits and lead them, take care of their own concept and display” scoups started “i think it’s up to them to have their imagination running in their own units and coming back at the original concept when we are together”.

“the subunits wouldn’t even listen to me if they had to, so i agree with cheol” you said elbowing his side friendly, him smiling at you and everyone teasing with allegedly love sounds.

“along with this question, is there a time where you should have intervened and you didn’t that you regret?” you seemed to think about it, scoups said something about the cute debut.

“the concept of power up, sullyoon, luna and youngji were 14-15 but yeji and i were 19 so we looked ridiculous” yeji complained about it too.

“what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve scolded the members for?”

“openly talking about farting and burping”

“talking about selling their feet pics on live”

everyone laughed and scoups and you leaned into each other to laugh with bright eyes, na pd caught the interaction holding the bell to announce a break.

everyone scattered around, going to check their phones or drink something.

“want to go buy a snack?” seungcheol inquired low, almost shy so you nodded with a reassuring smile.

youngji, sullyoon, dino and seungkwan in the seats assigned watching everything, giggling while eating gimbap gave by the staff, looking like real school children.

you walked out of set with scoups, following close to a fried chicken store nearby.

when you got the food, seungcheol lose no time and grabbed a piece of it, eating quickly straight out from the box.

“i’m not your member i’m not snatching it from you, you know” you joked while sitting on the chair he took out for you, he blushed and smiled embarrassed.

“the habit, sorry”

“you always sneak off between filming?” you inquired feeling your heart race by the curiosity, not wanting to out your interest.

“no, i only wanted to eat with you” he said blankly, catching you off guard, you knew he was straight forward but not like this.

“i like you, you’re really handsome you know?” you munched your chicken like it wasn’t a big deal, you could be like that too, you had the same job and formation after all.

he opened widely his eyes, cheeks red and full of crumbs.

“well, there’s only one thing left to do” he mumbled after leaving the stress behind “let’s have a real date”

you nodded with a smile, mischievously looking at him.

your phone rang, interfering the moment and the tension.

you came back to the set, seungcheol behind you, both unable to wash off the smile of your faces you sat down under the closest members gaze, trying to figure out what was happening.

the filming was resumed.

“can we have…lee chan and seol yoona on front please” na pd called the maknaes to the front, they got up under the cheering of their groups, both loved too much.

[arkaiveofurown]

ULSRSJT3SEGEJYAYIZR IVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR REQUESTS TO OPEN AGAIN 🥹🙏🙏 (love your writing btw)

I was wondering if I could request a Law x fem reader, angst/comfort ?

Reader was prev on Laws crew, and in a relationship w/ him, during the period he was collecting the hearts of pirates.

They get into a rlly heated argument and Law makes a comment abt taking the readers heart and handing it in along with the others?

The comment scares/hurts the reader a bit and so she leaves the crew overnight, and so the next day when Law realizes the huge mistake he's made she's alrdy left?

I didn't rlly have an idea for the end other than they eventually bump into each other again (maybe in Wano after the whole big fight in Wano?). (Also during this period reader didn't join another crew permanently, maybe she could've been traveling around alone or tagging along with another crew?)

I'm so sorry if this looks long or is confusing, I don't usually request so I didn't know how else to phrase this <3

Take My Heart, Then?

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x fem!Reader

You left without a word after he crossed a line that couldn’t be unsaid — a moment of anger, a cruel comment about handing in your heart with the rest. Law never stopped looking for you. Now, after the war in Wano, you meet again by chance, surrounded by celebration. But the weight of the past lingers, and some wounds are harder to face than any battlefield.

Word Count: ~6,500

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

my masterlist here ♡

a/n: thank you for the request and sorry it took a while! TT

The night was loud.

Drums echoed through the streets of the Flower Capital. Firecrackers popped from every corner. Lanterns floated through the evening air, their soft glow flickering above rooftops. Music drifted lazily through the streets.

People laughed. Danced. Drank. Somewhere nearby, fireworks cracked into the sky, but Law wasn’t watching.

He sat near the edge of it all, high up on a stone ledge just outside a sake house overlooking the main street. Not far enough to truly be alone, but far enough for people to pretend not to notice him.

He hadn’t touched the food.

He hadn’t joined the others.

The war was over. The people were free. Kaido had fallen. His alliance with the Straw Hats had served its purpose. Everything was supposed to be moving forward now.

And yet—

It felt hollow.

Victory was supposed to bring relief. But all he felt was stillness. Like something inside him had already gone quiet long before the final blow.

Why did it still feel like something was missing?

Law stared into his drink, eyes unfocused. He didn’t drink often — not much, not heavily. Not unless he needed to feel something duller than regret.

You hadn’t crossed his mind during the battle. Not once. Not when the sky was torn open by dragons. Not when his bones cracked under the weight of attacks. Not when he was carving open Yonko flesh with Room after Room.

But now that the adrenaline had faded and the battlefield was far behind...

It was all you.

Your voice.

Your footsteps on the submarine floor.

The way you used to sit in the library and hum under your breath without realizing it.

The way you used to say his name — quiet, unafraid.

Law clenched his jaw and exhaled slowly through his nose.

He remembered the fight.

Every word.

Every damn word.

He had been stressed. Cornered. Pressured by the government. By the plan. By the weight of what it meant to become a Warlord. Every step had to be exact, calculated, cold. There wasn’t room for uncertainty.

You had seen that.

You had challenged it.

You were always the one person who saw past his logic and reminded him he still had a heart. And in that moment, when you wouldn’t back down, when he felt everything unraveling—

“I could always take yours too. Make it a matching set.”

The memory of his own voice made him sick.

You’d gone pale when he said it.

And then... you left. Without a word. Without a sound. He hadn’t even realized you were gone until the next morning. Your bunk was empty. Your things were missing. There was no note. Not even a goodbye.

“Oi, Torao!”

The voice hit him like a slap of cold water.

He didn’t look up right away. He didn’t need to.

There was only one idiot who yelled his name like that.

“Go away,” Law muttered, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Why’re you sitting up here all moody?” Luffy asked, popping into his line of sight like a damn ghost. The straw hat captain crouched down in front of him, chewing on a stick of grilled dango, face already smeared with sauce.

“I’m not in the mood,” Law said flatly.

“Exactly! That’s why I came. You’re supposed to be celebrating! We beat a Yonko!”

“Tch.”

Law looked away again, eyes drifting across the sea of lanterns strung above the capital. For a while, Luffy said nothing. Just sat there beside him, swinging his legs and chewing noisily like the most irritating wind-up toy on the planet.

Luffy leaned back on his hands, staring up at the fireworks overhead. “Didn’t think someone like you’d sulk during a festival. Not when we’re finally done with all that fighting.”

Law was quiet.

But something shifted.

A breeze carried more sound than before — layered voices, shouts, footsteps, laughter close by.

Only then did Law realize it.

There were more people around than he’d noticed.

He didn’t know when it had happened — when the noise grew, when bodies filled the space, when familiarity surrounded him. But it was there now. His crew nearby. The Straw Hats, too. All scattered. Present. Talking. Drinking.

He hadn’t noticed any of it.

He hadn’t noticed because his thoughts had been elsewhere — months ago, somewhere colder.

“Captain…”

Law turned slightly.

Bepo stood just behind them, holding a snack in both paws, fidgeting nervously.

“You’re… thinking of her again, aren’t you?”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Law stilled.

Bepo’s face went pale. “I—I didn’t mean—!! That came out wrong! I wasn’t trying to say it like that—!! You just looked like before and I thought maybe—”

“Bepo.”

“I’m sorry!!”

He ducked down with a yelp, as if that might save him.

Law didn’t speak. Just stared out again, his expression unreadable.

That’s when he felt it — the slight change in the air.

Quiet.

Not silence, but attention.

Conversations softened. Movements paused.

Luffy blinked beside him. “Her?”

Law didn’t answer.

Then Luffy leaned in — louder this time, eyes wide. “WAIT—YOU HAD A GIRL?!”

Law’s eye twitched. “Lower your damn voice.”

But it was too late.

The outburst caught others’ attention nearby, a shift in the air as the Straw Hats subtly tuned in without Law noticing.

Usopp ducked behind a crate he hadn’t been near a second ago. Chopper straightened and tried to whistle, ears twitching like crazy. Nami casually angled her chair, resting her chin in her palm. Zoro cracked one eye open, gaze sliding over. Sanji, mid-step, stopped like he’d been shot. “A woman?!” Robin smiled behind her cup. Franky, crouching in front of a barrel for no damn reason, slid his glasses down with a quiet, “This is about to get suuuuper good.”

Luffy leaned in closer. “So what happened?”

“…None of your business,” Law muttered, eyes still fixed forward.

“C’monnn,” Luffy said, elbowing him. “What’s she like, then? I bet she’s scary. Or mean. You like mean girls?”

Law gave him a dry glare. “No.”

“So??”

Law paused.

His fingers curled loosely around the rim of his cup.

“…She’s smart,” he said finally, voice low. “Too smart for me, probably. The kind that sees through everything, no matter how cleanly you try to hide it. Annoyingly sharp. Brave. Mouthy when it counts. She doesn’t let things go. Won’t let you shut her out when you’re hurting. Keeps showing up. Even when you tell her not to.”

He hesitated.

Then added, quieter—

“…She’s beautiful. Very. Too much, honestly.”

A beat.

“She smiles like she doesn’t know the world’s cruel. Or maybe like she knows, but laughs at it anyway.”

That silenced everything.

Even Luffy blinked.

There was a muffled choking sound from behind the crate — definitely Usopp. Chopper slowly curled into himself like he couldn't take the secondhand emotion. Nami muttered something under her breath. Robin sipped her drink, looking delighted. Sanji clutched his chest like he’d just been betrayed. “I—WHAT—?!”

Law finally glanced up and deadpanned, “Don’t you dare say anything.”

Luffy burst out laughing.

“You’re so in love,” he grinned, mouth full. “This is even better than I thought.”

Law let out a slow breath and looked away again, like he regretted speaking at all.

Luffy tilted his head. “So… where is she now?”

The words weren’t meant to be cruel. Just Luffy being curious. Straightforward.

But the shift in Law was instant.

The edge in his eyes returned. His mouth set in a thin line. That weight — the one he’d been carrying all night — dropped back onto his shoulders like it never left.

He stood up.

“None of your business.”

Luffy blinked. “Eh? Hey—wait, I didn’t mean—”

Law didn’t look at him. Just turned, dusted off his coat, and muttered, “I need air.”

He walked off — not too fast, but with enough purpose to tell them not to follow.

The others stayed quiet.

Even the Straw Hats didn’t say anything. Not right away.

Behind the crate, Usopp whispered, “Did… did we go too far?”

Robin’s soft chuckle answered gently, “No. He just remembered how much it still hurts.”

Law shut the door quietly behind him.

He shrugged off his coat, tossed it aside, and sat down on the futon like the weight of everything had finally caught up with him. His back met the floor with a tired thud. One arm rested over his eyes.

Outside, Wano was still alive. The streets buzzed with laughter, music, and fireworks, bright and loud even from a distance. The festival hadn’t slowed down. But in here, it was silent.

The silence was worse than the noise.

His body was tired, but his mind was wide awake — filled with voices from the past that wouldn’t stop echoing.

He thought of you again. Like he always did when the world got quiet.

Luffy asking about you wasn’t surprising. Luffy being loud wasn’t surprising either. But what surprised him was how easily the truth had spilled out. How fast it still made his chest ache.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

It had been almost a year. But still the weight of it sat in his chest like it hadn’t moved at all.

The worst part wasn’t that you left.

The worst part was how he’d driven you to it.

He had tried to track you down after you left. Quietly. Discreetly. No orders to his crew, no announcement — but every island they stopped at, every port, he looked. Every rumor, every whisper of a ship with a kind medic, every crew that picked up temporary hands — he listened. Hoping.

Nothing.

You’d disappeared like a ghost.

And he knew he was the one who’d chased you off.

He remembered how things had shifted in the weeks leading up to that night. How he’d gotten colder, sharper. Focused only on the plan — gathering hearts, earning the Shichibukai title, and keeping the government at bay.

Every decision had felt like a necessary cut. Every doubt, a liability.

You weren’t a liability. You never had been. But you challenged him — asked questions he didn’t have time to answer. Called him out when no one else dared to.

And that night… it had all come to a head.

His hand clenched against the futon. The memory always came back the same way. Always sharp. Always too clear.

The sea outside had been wild. Storms tossed the Polar Tang hard against the waves, rain hammering down from above. Inside the medical wing, the lights flickered while the two of you stood facing each other, tension sharp enough to cut through the air.

“This isn’t you,” you said, voice trembling, angry and hurt all at once. “You’re not even looking at the people you’re cutting open anymore. Do you even care who they are?”

“They’re criminals,” Law said, without looking up from his paperwork. “And liabilities.”

“They’re people.”

He paused, jaw tightening. “They’re a means to an end.”

You stepped forward. “No. That’s not the man I know. The man I knew didn’t use people like tools. He didn’t hand their hearts over like he was buying time.”

“You think I have a choice?”

You stared at him. “I think you made one.”

His eyes finally lifted to meet yours. Cold. Guarded.

“Everything I’ve done is to protect this crew,” he said. “To stay one step ahead of the World Government. Becoming a Warlord keeps them away. It buys us freedom.”

“At what cost?” you asked. “You barely sleep. You barely speak. You don’t even look at me anymore unless I’m standing in your way. Do you even realize how much this is costing you? I don’t even know what you’re trying to protect anymore.”

“They’re pirates,” Law said, “they've hurt others. This is justice in its cleanest form.”

You stared at him. “You’re taking their hearts, Law.”

“And I’m handing them to the World Government in exchange for immunity. That was always the plan.”

“It was supposed to be a symbolic offer. A handful. Not piles of them. Not name after name after name—” Your voice broke. “You don’t even flinch anymore.”

His hands stilled over the papers.

You took a breath. “I know you think this is the only way to protect the crew. To protect yourself. But I look at you now and I don’t see a doctor. I don’t even see a captain. I see someone who’s willing to become exactly what he hates just to win.”

He looked up slowly.

“You think I enjoy this?” he said, voice flat. “You think I want to dissect strangers and throw their hearts into a chest like trophies?”

“I think you’re starting to forget they’re human.”

That hit something. You saw it — the flicker of it across his expression. But he buried it fast.

“You’re slipping,” you continued, more quietly now. “We all feel it. You don’t talk to anyone anymore. You don’t look at me. You don’t sleep. You're pushing everyone away.”

He hesitated.

“You’re pushing me away.”

The words sat heavy between you.

Law said nothing.

So you whispered, “Do you even realize how far you’ve gone?”

Still, no answer.

You took a step forward.

“What happens when someone you care about starts getting in the way? What if I’m next? Would you hand mine over too, just to complete the set?”

His gaze snapped to yours.

And before he could stop himself, the words came out — low, tired, bitter.

“I could always take yours too. Make it a matching set.”

The silence that followed was immediate.

It wasn't shock in your eyes.

It was devastation.

The kind of pain that went too deep for words.

You looked at him for a long moment — like you were trying to see the man you used to love inside someone you no longer recognized.

“…I see,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Then you turned.

And walked out.

No yelling. No door slam. Just the soft sound of your boots fading down the hall.

By morning, you were gone.

No note. No goodbye.

Nothing but silence.

Law’s fingers curled into the blanket beneath him.

Regret was heavy in his chest. He had played that night over and over in his head, thinking about what he could have said differently. What he should not have said at all.

But no matter how he twisted it, it always ended the same.

You left.

And no matter how far they sailed after that, how many ports they stopped at, he kept looking. Quietly. Hopelessly. Even when he told himself to let it go, his eyes still searched.

Because part of him had known the moment the words left his mouth that he had already lost you.

The storm outside that night was long gone.

But inside him, it never really ended.

You’d spent the past year moving.

Island to island. Job to job. One ship to the next.

Never for long. Never in the same place twice.

You weren’t looking for a new crew, not really. You just needed motion — something to keep your feet busy when your mind wandered too far back.

The pirates you’d tagged along with this time weren’t dangerous. A small-time delivery group, decent enough people. They didn’t ask questions when you kept to yourself, and in return, you patched their wounds and helped navigate tricky currents when needed.

It was simple. Quiet. Temporary.

And that was enough.

Until now.

Now you stood at the edge of Wano, lantern light flickering on the water behind you, fireworks blooming overhead like paper stars. The Flower Capital shimmered in the distance, alive with music and noise, joy humming through the air like something living.

You hadn’t meant to end up here.

It had just been the next stop. The next port.

But the moment your feet hit the shore, your chest tightened.

It felt like something was pulling you forward.

“Crazy place, huh?” one of the delivery crew, Tobi, said as he jogged up beside you, wiping sweat from his brow. “Didn’t think a closed-off country would be this lively.”

You nodded, barely hearing him. “Is it always like this?”

“Only after they beat an emperor, apparently. Big battle here a few days back. Heard a lot of pirates got involved.”

That made you pause.

You looked back toward the glowing streets.

You hadn’t been following headlines. You’d stopped keeping track of anyone a long time ago. But something about the timing made your throat go tight.

“Come on,” Tobi said, grinning. “Might as well enjoy it. There’s food, music… maybe even a bit of luck waiting.”

You followed him up the hill toward the city.

And for the first time in a long time, you wondered if the next place you were running to… might not let you run at all.

The festival spun around you like a dream.

Laughter echoed from all sides, the sky lit with fireworks, dancers twirling past you in waves of silk and color. You moved slowly, letting the crowd carry you forward, not really watching where you were going.

You’d always hated festivals. Too loud. Too many people pretending to be happy.

But tonight… it wasn’t so bad.

Maybe because the noise gave your thoughts something to drown in. Or maybe because, for once, no one was asking anything of you. You could just be a face in a crowd.

You passed a vendor offering yakitori and a tower of mochi. A little girl bumped into your leg, chasing a sparkler. A couple spun past, laughing, their sleeves tangled together.

You were just about to turn down a side street when the air shifted.

It wasn’t anything obvious. Just something low in your chest. Like you had missed a step you weren’t taking.

Your feet slowed.

You weren’t sure why at first — only that your hands felt colder suddenly, and the weight in your chest had returned. Not heavy. Just… full.

The music ahead softened under a louder firework, and you glanced toward it instinctively, eyes drawn to the glow.

And that was when you saw the edge of a familiar coat.

Black. Long. Trimmed in white. Just barely visible past the crowd.

You stopped walking.

It was far. A glimpse between moving bodies. But something about it tugged at you.

A man turned slightly, only partially facing you. You couldn’t see his full profile. Just the way he held himself. The tilt of his head. The stillness.

It was probably no one.

You told yourself that.

Lots of people wore black coats. Lots of men had that quiet, unreadable posture.

Still, your heart had already started to race.

You stepped to the side, half-shielded behind a tall sign, watching the crowd shift.

You couldn’t see his face.

Not yet.

But the pull in your chest said you already knew.

Then, just as another firework crackled above and the people in front of him moved—

He turned.

And his eyes met yours.

Law..

Everything around you seemed to fall away.

The music dulled. The shouting and laughter faded into a low hum. The warmth of lanterns and drifting smoke became distant, like it all belonged to another world. One that kept turning while the two of you stood still in it.

He froze.

Genuinely, completely froze.

Like the world had punched the air out of his lungs.

His brows lifted just slightly, his mouth parted like he might say something but couldn’t find the words. You saw the flicker of disbelief hit him first — then something softer, deeper.

Law stared at you like you were a ghost.

Like he wasn’t sure if he was imagining you or if Wano’s noise had finally driven him mad.

Your own breath caught. Your heart beat so hard you felt it in your ears. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

It had been so long.

He looked the same. A little more tired around the eyes. A little more guarded.

But under all of that — it was still him.

And the way he was looking at you now…

Like he hadn’t stopped.

Not really.

His lips parted, barely a breath escaping before he said it.

“…Y/N.”

Your name, spoken so softly it barely made it past the space between you.

It knocked the wind out of you.

You swallowed, forcing something — anything — out of your throat. “Law.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak again right away. Just kept looking at you, like every second might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful.

You glanced away, heart pounding. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, and this time his voice was steadier. Not cold. Just honest.

You gave a small breath of a laugh — not quite bitter, not quite sad. “Yeah. Well. I didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address.”

Silence followed, but it wasn’t empty.

It was thick with all the words neither of you had ever said.

He looked like he wanted to take a step closer. His fingers twitched once at his side.

“I looked for you,” he said.

You blinked.

Your breath hitched — just slightly.

Not enough for most people to notice, but his eyes were trained on you. Of course he saw.

You looked away again, eyes falling to the ground between your shoes. The weight of that night settled heavy on your shoulders.

“I don’t…” you started, voice tight, “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Law didn’t push. Not immediately.

He just stood there, still as ever. But his jaw clenched, barely visible under the lantern light.

“I just need to know,” he said quietly, “that you were okay.”

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around yourself — not from cold, but from everything else you were trying to keep inside.

“I got by,” you said finally. “I kept moving.”

That wasn’t really an answer. You knew it. So did he.

But for now, it was all you could give.

You looked up again and saw the shadow in his eyes shift — guilt, yes, but also something else. Relief. The fragile kind.

Like just seeing you alive was something he hadn’t let himself hope for.

You gave a small, shaky breath. “You look tired.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “You look… the same.”

A pause.

Then, softer, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud:

“Beautiful.”

Your heart twisted.

You stared at him, stunned into stillness again.

Law blinked, like he realized too late that the word had escaped.

And for the first time since he saw you, he looked away.

“Oi, Y/N!”

The voice cut through the air — light, casual, completely unaware of what it had interrupted.

You turned.

Tobi was weaving through the crowd toward you, holding a small paper tray with two skewers of grilled mochi. His expression eased when he reached you.

“There you are. You okay?” he asked, stepping close. “Didn’t see you after the last firework. Thought maybe you got swept up in the crowd.”

You gave a small nod, trying to find your voice. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

Tobi smiled and offered one of the skewers without hesitation. “Figured you didn’t eat yet.”

You took it with a quiet thanks, eyes flickering back for just a second.

Law is watching.

Unmoving. Silent. His gaze unreadable.

“Go on,” Tobi said, nudging you lightly. “Give it a try. It’s so good.”

You hesitated, then took a bite.

Some of the sauce clung stubbornly to the corner of your mouth.

Tobi laughed. “You eat like a child.”

You blinked in surprise, half embarrassed. Before you could wipe it off, he reached over with his thumb and gently swiped it away.

“There,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

Your heart gave a small lurch — not from Tobi, but from what you felt behind you.

Because Law had seen it.

You didn’t need to look to know.

You could feel his stare harden across the distance. That sharp, simmering silence. Like tension pulled tight behind his eyes. He hadn’t spoken once. But you could feel the shift.

“We’re heading back soon,” Tobi said beside you, softer now. “Boss wants everyone in before we blow the rest of our earnings. You coming?”

You nodded slowly.

Still not looking back.

“…Yeah. Let’s go.”

You shifted your weight, turning to leave—

But before you could take a full step, a hand closed gently around your wrist.

You froze.

Fingers, warm and steady, curled around your arm — not rough, not forceful. Just enough to stop you.

You turned, and Law was there.

Close now.

Closer than you expected.

He didn’t say anything right away. His eyes met yours, searching for something — maybe permission, maybe courage. Maybe just a reason not to let go yet.

“…Stay,” he said, barely above the noise.

Just one word. Simple.

But it held everything he hadn’t said earlier.

You stared at him, heart beating faster, unsure what to do with the look on his face. That quiet, serious look you’d seen a hundred times — but never quite like this.

“Let’s talk,” he added, voice rougher now. “Please.”

You blinked.

You weren’t used to hearing him like that.

Law never begged. Never pleaded.

But right now… he wasn’t your captain.

He wasn’t a Warlord or a pirate or a doctor calculating his next move.

He was just a man asking you not to leave again.

And for a moment, the festival noise faded all over again.

You were in a private place with Law now.

A quiet corner behind one of the older tea shops, away from the crowd. You had told Tobi you’d catch up. He didn’t ask questions, just gave a small nod and let you go.

The walk here had been slow. Not awkward, but cautious. Like both of you were waiting for the other to speak first.

Now, standing across from each other in the quiet, you could finally hear your own heartbeat.

Law was a few steps away, hands in his coat pockets, staring slightly past you.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Finally, you broke the silence. “This feels weird.”

He gave a small nod, still not meeting your eyes. “I know.”

You crossed your arms lightly, not defensive — just grounding yourself. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“I do,” he said. His voice was low. Careful. “I just don’t know where to start.”

You looked at him. “Why not start with why?”

Law hesitated. His jaw tensed slightly.

“I tried to find you,” he said. “After you left.”

“I know.”

He blinked. “You do?”

You nodded. “I kept moving. On purpose. I didn’t want to be found.”

That seemed to sting more than you expected. He shifted slightly, but didn’t argue.

“I didn’t leave to hurt you,” you said after a pause. “But I couldn’t stay either. Not after that night.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said immediately. Quiet, but firm. “What I said.”

“I believe you,” you replied. “But you still said it.”

Silence again. But this time it wasn’t empty.

“I was scared,” he admitted.

You looked at him in surprise.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. The only thing. Trading in those hearts bought us time, safety… but it cost more than I realized. It cost me you.”

You swallowed. The way he said that — not dramatic, just honest — cut deeper than any apology.

“You weren’t the only one scared,” you said. “I kept wondering what it meant for us. What we were turning into. If the man I trusted was still in there.”

“I’m still here,” he said.

Finally, he looked at you. Really looked.

“I was wrong. About so much. I know I hurt you. And if I could take that night back…” He trailed off, breath catching slightly. “But I can’t.”

You stood there for a moment, letting the words settle.

Then you asked, gently, “Did you ever think I would’ve stayed?”

Law blinked.

“If you had just let me in,” you continued. “If you told me you were scared or angry or didn’t know what to do... I would’ve stayed. We could’ve figured it out together.”

He lowered his gaze. “I didn’t know how to do that.”

“You didn’t even try.”

That one hit. His fingers curled slightly at his sides.

“I was so angry,” you said, voice quieter now. “At you. At myself. I kept asking if I pushed too hard, if I should’ve waited until you calmed down, if—”

“No,” he cut in, voice steady. “You weren’t wrong.”

His shoulders lowered a little, like the weight of it was finally sinking in the way it should have. He didn’t look at you right away, but when he did, there was something raw behind his eyes. Something he wasn’t trying to hide anymore.

“I should’ve said something,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t. I was selfish.”

You looked at him, but didn’t interrupt.

“I thought keeping you out of it would make things easier. Simpler. That if I just focused on the plan, on staying ahead, everything else could wait.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t think about what that would do to you. I only thought about what I needed.”

His voice tightened.

“I shut you out. Pushed you away. And when you pushed back, I punished you for it. Like I didn’t owe you an explanation. Like your loyalty didn’t matter.”

You exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing against your chest.

He glanced at you — just briefly. “You didn’t deserve that. You deserved better than what I gave you.”

A pause.

“After you left… I realized how much of you I took for granted.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“I missed everything. You yelling at me for skipping meals. Telling me my coat smelled like ink and hospital disinfectant. Making fun of my music taste. Sitting next to me without needing to say anything.”

His voice grew quieter.

“I missed you. More than I knew how to deal with.”

His words settled between you, soft but heavy. He looked down for a moment, then back up, and when he spoke again, his voice was steadier — not louder, but more certain.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Just that.

Not dramatic. Not decorated.

But real.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything. I know I said things I can’t take back. But I need you to know… I regret it. Every part of it. Letting you walk away without stopping you. Not chasing after you. Not fixing it sooner.”

His gaze held yours now, steady, open.

“I don’t want you to go again.”

Your breath caught, but he kept going.

“I don’t know what this means now. What you want. I don’t expect things to be like before. But if there’s still space for me in your life — even just a little — I want to try.”

He hesitated for the first time, then added quietly, almost like it was a truth he hadn’t let himself say until now:

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

You swallowed, the tightness in your throat making it hard to speak.

“I miss you too,” you said quietly. “So much it hurt some days.”

Law’s expression changed almost immediately. Just slightly. But you saw it. A breath caught in his throat. His fingers curled like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Like hearing those words hit harder than he was ready for.

You looked away.

“But I’m scared,” you admitted. “Being with you meant everything to me. You meant everything to me. And that night... what you said...”

You paused.

“It broke something. Not just between us. In me.”

Silence.

“I spent months wondering if I made it all up. If I cared more than you ever did. And now standing here, hearing everything... I want to believe you. I really do.”

Your voice softened.

“But I don’t know if I can fall into this again just to lose it.”

You looked at him. Honest. Bare.

“I don’t think I could handle losing you twice.”

Law’s jaw tensed. He didn’t speak right away. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“I want to try,” you said. “But I need to know you won’t shut me out again the second things get hard.”

Your voice shook slightly.

“I need to know you’ll choose me. Not just when it’s easy. But when it matters.”

Law didn’t answer right away. He looked at you like he was seeing every scar he’d left behind — not just the fight, not just the night you walked away, but all the silence that came after.

Then he stepped closer.

Not sudden. Not rushed.

Just close enough that his voice didn’t have to carry.

“I don’t want easy,” he said quietly. “I want you.”

His eyes searched yours.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance. And I don’t expect you to trust me overnight. But if you let me, I’ll earn it back. Every bit of it.”

You stayed still.

“I’ll tell you when I’m scared. I’ll let you in. Even when I don’t know how. Especially then.”

His voice was steady now, clearer.

“I’ll choose you. Every time.”

Your chest ached, but the kind that came with relief — like a tightness finally loosening after too long.

“I mean it,” he said. “I’m not letting you walk away again. Not if there’s still a chance.”

You looked at him, heart pounding, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then show me.”

The days that followed moved gently, like the sea beneath the Polar Tang.

Before boarding, you said goodbye to Tobi and the rest of the crew you’d been tagging along with. You hadn’t planned to stay at first. But then one day became another. And then another.

No grand promises. No pressure. Just quiet understanding and time shared between long shifts, small meals, late nights spent leaning against the same walls in silence. Slowly, things began to feel familiar again — not like before, but something close. Something new.

Law hadn’t said much about it. He never did. But his presence spoke loud enough.

He let you into his space without asking why you needed it. You found your routines again. Your spot in the infirmary. Your favorite mug somehow still stored in the galley. Your bunk… untouched.

Eventually, you stopped returning to it.

You hadn’t said anything. Neither had he. But that quiet choice — to stay, to be here, to share space — was louder than any conversation.

Tonight, you sat at the edge of his bed, your legs curled beneath you, watching him as he reached to lock the door behind him. He didn’t rush. Didn’t ask. Just turned back to you with that same look you’d grown used to again.

Measured. Heavy. Honest.

He crossed the room slowly, standing in front of you, gaze locked with yours. His hand lifted — not to touch, not yet — just resting in the space between your cheek and shoulder.

And then, he moved.

His fingers touched your jaw gently, thumb brushing your skin like he was relearning it. When he leaned in, his kiss was soft at first. Careful. But full. Real. Like everything else he couldn't find the words for had finally come to the surface.

You felt it the moment he kissed you again — this wasn’t about need, or hunger, or time lost.

It was about letting you in.

You kissed him back.

Harder this time.

His hands found your waist, then your back, drawing you into him as your fingers curled in his shirt. He pushed it up, slowly, like he wanted you to feel every part of this. Every intention. And when he lifted it over your head, he paused, just to look at you.

Like you were something sacred.

He kissed down your neck, slow and deliberate, pulling your body against his as though he needed you to feel it — how much he missed you, how much he regretted, how much he meant this.

“You’re here,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and reverent. “You're really here.”

You didn’t know when the bed found your back, or when his lips returned to yours, or how your hands ended up tugging at the waistband of his sweats. It all melted together — a blur of want and weight and heat and forgiveness.

But what you remembered clearly were the little things.

The way his voice cracked when he whispered your name.

The way he slowed down when your breath caught.

The way he looked at you — like he was making sure you knew it wasn’t just about the body, but you and him.

As if he was saying, this is me. All of me. Yours, if you’ll have it.

He kissed your chest, your stomach, your thighs — everywhere his hands had once been too afraid to linger. And when he finally pressed into you, the stretch of it, the warmth, the closeness — it all hit at once.

You gasped, and he froze.

Brows drawn together, eyes locked on yours. He didn’t move again until you nodded — until your hand came to his cheek, grounding him.

Then he moved.

Slow. Deep. Unhurried.

Every push of his hips was a promise. Every breath was a silent apology. He kissed you like he was building something — something he wouldn’t let fall again.

His body moved in rhythm with yours, not just seeking pleasure but meaning — something deeper. Something shared.

He let his guard down completely.

And that, more than anything, made your chest ache.

Because for once, Law wasn't retreating behind silence.

He was here.

All of him.

His breath caught as he slowed, forehead pressing against yours. His hand moved to your chest, resting gently — not over your body, but over your heart.

His voice came rough, low. Almost a whisper.

“If you still want it…”

He looked you in the eyes.

“Take my heart, then.”

You blinked, breath catching. Your hand covered his.

Soft. Steady.

“I already have it,” you said.

And as your bodies met again and again, heat rising between skin and breath, you felt it in the way he held you tighter. In the way his voice broke when he whispered, “I love you.” In the way he looked into your eyes even as he came apart — like he wanted you to see everything.

No more walls. No more masks. Just him.

And you held him through it.

Tangled in warmth, pressed close, your name and his melting together in the quiet that followed.

This time, he didn’t pull away.

He stayed.

And for the first time in too long — so did you.

[zilonking]

After some time I finally finished another TOHO Monster Hunter design, featuring Mothra. Mothra was tedious to do with the wings, since I wanted to make a pattern that fits with Wilds. I might make a full wing ref in case I need to adjust the patterns at some point.

Mosura:

Beauty, Grace, and Hope define this neopteron, shining through the heavens as a beacon of Inspiration. Hailing from the Scarlet Forest, a giant moth that brings the light amongst the forest. In legends of old, she is considered a goddess of rebirth.

Background:

The only information that was known were old legends of Mosura. These legends told of a moth that was the goddess of rebirth, that shined bright from the heavens as a beacon of hope. Forever protecting the sacred life of the world and the people as a guardian.

However the first encounter was when Gojira was seen roaming the Scarlet Forest, protective of the area around. Erik wandered off too far when Gojira was heard and encountered Mosura by accident. While most monsters would become defensive or aggressive when encountered unexpectedly, Mosura was scared but curious.

She was a caterpillar at that point which surprised Erik more when it showed curiosity when he slowly approached it to feed it. However with all things going smoothly it wasn’t until Gojira came back and attacked Erik, which led to the hunter to repel Gojira. Sometime later when many events upfolded, she would emerge fully grown, aid us in what we were facing.

Behavior/Ecology

Mosura are docile and will not attack any monster or hunter unless provoked and will become very defensive when fighting. They are seen drinking nectar from very large flowers, sap and even from the fruits around, making them herbivorous. When in their larval stage they feed on plants, giant leaves, and fruits, however they do eat very much, which can be a problem sometimes.

Unique to discovery, Mosura and Lala Barina are the only two monsters that will interact with each other through body movements as communication. The only monster she has a biological relationship with is Gojira, due to their shared roles as guardians of the ecosystem. When it comes to Uth Duna, she prefers to veer away from it, only to fight if provoked.

Biology/Abilities

Their wing patterns are intricate and shine under the sunlight and moonlight if light is visible. Noticeably their large wings have an eye at the very edge of them, which could be used as intimidation if they feel danger. At night their very bodies glow from their wings and eyes from bioluminescent light from chemicals around their body.

They can use their wings as a powerful flash attack to blind attackers, their wings have another use but more unique. Their wings have scales coated in a powdered substance that can be used to deflect ranged attacks from monsters and hunters. Her wings can also be used to push away monsters and hunters, by flapping them very fast they propel hunters away from the ground or air.

Underneath their abdomen and from their mouths they can spew silk webbing to entrap hunters and monsters as an offensive ability. This very silk is used when they begin their metamorphosis from larval stage to adult. They somehow retain their silk ability even as they grow, which normally moths don’t.

Under their forelimbs they have two spikes that can be used offensively to poison hunters or monsters. Alternatively if they are flying they have a spike hidden in their abdomen as well that poison hunters or paralyze them. The abdomen spike is sharper and tougher, which can pierce even the toughest armor from monsters and hunters.

Strengths/Weaknesses

The preferred elements/ailments to use against them are fire, dragon, stun, and blast, with thunder and ice only doing minor help to it. Poison, paralysis, and water do not affect it, with sleep barely affecting it at all. Flash pods do not work, and are advised to not be used, as she can use hunters' own flash pods against them with their wings.

Mosura are highly capable fliers that use their wings to their full advantage, but are also maneuverable from the ground. Breaking their wings can severely weaken their flight capabilities and the flash from the wings. The scales also become less effective as well, which can be very beneficial for ranged attackers.

They are fast when attacking from the ground, but will focus attacking from a distance, spewing silk webbing and only use their claws when attacking close. To keep in mind with poison they have, breaking their forelimbs can weaken the poison and their spike attack. Their abdomen which is the toughest to the break can severely weaken the poison, to the point where it can’t be used sometimes.

Lastly for short, breaking the head and abdomen can cause the silk webbing to be less effective.

Other Info:

The only other monster that Mosura interacts with other than Lala Barina is a temnoceran that lives in the same region, seen with striking yellow stripes. The only neopteron Mosura despises is a large mantis neopteron, which both engage in a turf war if they meet. Another monster she despises is a large fire bird wyvern, it's been said that those two monsters are rivals to each other.

A tempered variant of Mosura are quite rare, however they more so prefer to attack at closing distance from afar. They still remain neutral despite being tempered, even in the presence of an apex. Strangely their bodies both in tempered and normal glow a different color depending on their mood.

There has been recent news that Mosura is related to another neopteron, one that is black and yellow, with red eyes. It could be said to be a species variant, but sightings have shown that it's an entirely new monster. It's also been said that those two are related, but are indifferent to each other.

[thedreamofadaydreamer]

I see. However while Dazai did order Akutagawa to attack faster, he is still the one who made him realize the defensive side of his ability, I don’t think these two facts need to cancel each other.

Edit:

I have thought more about this, now I think I disagree with the post. 

The OG post accuses Dazai for doing nothing to help Aku to overcome his shortcoming despite talking about it. And I’ve pointed how the series literally shows the opposite.

Bear with me with this, but I do think Akutagawa is stubborn. The scene in Dark Era is Dazai calling out Akutagawa for making mistake, but instead of admitting it he tried to explain himself. Like that is what I use to do when I was in secondary school. I know he has different background and personality, I don’t hate nor blame him, but at the same time I won’t shy from saying, “this is stubbornness and narrow-mindedness”. Yes he doesn’t get it.

The post I link in my first reblog points out that Dazai was operating based on the threat he saw in Aku, and I also want to add more: Dazai might know Rashoumon was developed to protect, but the first thing he witnessed is a boy rushing to slaughter and death, his own action later on, despite Dazai’s attempt, does nothing to prove otherwise. It’s completely understandable for Dazai to think Akutagawa is a sword.

The narrative actually has shown how stubborn Ryuunosuke can be: Aku left his injured sister alone to avenge despite her begging him to stay; Aku refused to take Higuchi’s help, Aku rushed to fight Port Mafia despite the Agency telling him to stop in BEAST. The narrative consistently shows Aku has tunnel vision of himself and he has the tendency to fight first, not just tell. Dazai told what he saw, Gin accused Ryuu what she went through that day.

In fact, the actual failure of Dazai is he couldn’t change Aku’s mindset. When he said Aku was a sword, he had tried to make him less stabbing without thinking and at the same time maintain his skill (Idk where did you get the “stab first asked question later” bcuz even in that scene Dazai was ordering Akutagawa to fight more effectively and quickly, fighting quickly is different from fighting without thinking; and the latter was literally brought up in Dark Era).

In the main timeline, Aku while still tends to kill, he no longer rushes to fight. Even in Cannibalism arc he captured to interrogate first, directly parallels Dark Era; his very first scene includes him berating Higuchi for possibly killing the weretiger. But the root issue is his ideology, what he thinks that value, and what Dazai couldn’t fix. However I’m not sure if this is what he thought a problem? PM Dazai seems not to think it as an issue that needs working on, or even realized it as one. He only saw the superficial surface - Aku’s tendecy of destruction and self-destruction and only worked on it.

I made it the longest time without thinking about Dazai and Akutagawa's relationship but now I am again and it's pissing me all the way off.

"He's a sword without a scabbard" He was a SHIELD! He was a shield until YOU TOLD HIM that he needed to be a sword!

Rashomon was developed on the streets and used by Akutagawa to protect his sister and friends from the hostile environment they were surrounded by. The first time he had the intent to use it with blood lust he doesn't even get the chance to. Because he meets Dazai.

Pretty much the only flashback we get of Dazai training Akutagawa features him breaking past his defenses, beating him down, and telling him that he needs to be more offensive if he wants to survive in the Port Mafia.

Dazai also laments about Akutagawa seemingly not understanding that his ability works best for support and defense...Why didn't you teach him support and defense then??? The flashback is literally the process of Dazai teaching Akutagawa the "stab first, ask questions later" mentality we see with him struggle with in the present day.

You are literally his mentor why do you talk about his shortcomings like you're not the one who is supposed to be helping him overcome them? Like you didn't instill half of them?

I wouldn't have a problem with this except for the fact that the narrative refuses to acknowledge it. They talk about Akutagawa's poor tactical mindset like it's a natural part of him or formed in a vacuum while showing us the opposite. They never acknowledge that the reason Akutagawa needs so much character growth in the first place is because Dazai failed him as a mentor. Akutagawa is Dazai's greatest failure and imo it would make for a much better story if they treated the situation as such. But since Dazai can do no wrong it's framed more like "Akutagawa just doesn't get it. That's why Dazai gave him Atsushi to help him understand the error of his ways!" with no mention of the fact that Dazai is the one who taught Akutagawa those ways.

And if you want to go the direction of putting it all on Akutagawa, that just means Dazai is the worst mentor ever because he never managed to instill even one lesson in Akutagawa in a way that would stick for TWO WHOLE YEARS.

Ok rant over. (Insert Dazai is a good nuanced character disclaimer blah blah blah)

[sorenphelps]

we only see each other at funerals

We've developed quite a detailed backstory for the Black family, which would only inflate the main plot, but nothing's really keeping me from sharing it anyway.🤷🏻‍♀️ Beware, long post!

BACKSTORY: Orion’s side of the Black family has the noble title “Marquess”. They are intellectuals and collectors of different antique artifacts, Sirius II was collecting special gemstones and jewellery, Arcturus had a remarkable collection of antique weapons, while Orion had a less focused interest and collected a wide range of things, from paintings to furniture. When he started dating Walburga he had his amber phase, one of the first things he gifted to her as an attempt at courting her was a brooch made from amber with a spider trapped in it. When they got married, Walburga made him donate his amber collection to the Natural History Museum. Orion had visited the Museum with his sons to check on his old collection, which eventually sparked Sirius’ interest in fossils too. Orion then moved on to something else, Walburga hoped that Sirius would too, but he instead declared that he wanted to be a paleontologist. She worked so much on making Orion forget about his interest in “weird dead things”, that she, as a preemptive strike, sent Sirius off to a Catholic boarding school. Much to her relief, Regulus only got interested in antique objects. (He has built a career as an art appraiser and authenticator; and got a PhD in art heritage.) Walburga’s side of the Black family has the noble title “Earl” (given to Cygnus I), and they are more chaotic than the other branch. Pollux was a Colonel of the Royal Logistics Corps of the British Army, a controlling and charismatic man, who hadn't spent enough time with his children. Walburga, the firstborn became a Type A overachiever, forever trying to compensate for being “only” a woman (mostly using her sons for this). When Alphard came out as gay, Pollux taught him how to hunt and gave him a whole estate up north for hunting trips. Alphard, however, mostly used the estate for orgies. Cygnus, a very early bloomer, became a teen dad at 14. (Walburga, desperate, gave her sons The Talk very early on, which resulted in neither of them having any interest in women.) When Sirius proved to be talented at the military academy they sent him to, Pollux started to show interest in his grandson, and by proxy, his daughter. They started to use their connections to soothe out Sirius’ path, which annoyed him a lot. He managed to get into Royal Military Academy Sandhurst all on his own after he took his A levels, but most thought he was just a nepo baby. He chose Infantry as his corps and signed up for the Parachute Regiment. When Pollux heard about it, he got a heart attack and died, and Walburga got Sirius disowned from the family. Sirius only saw his family again at Alphard’s funeral years later. Since his graduation from Sandhurst, he had become a Lieutenant, participated in NATO missions and was eligible for UK Special Forces selection as he finished most of the tailored trainings. He also applied for a corps rotation to the Royal Engineers and was approached by Dumbledore to participate in a highly classified black ops mission. Regulus just finished his university degree. The family previously agreed with Alphard that he’d name Regulus as his heir in his will to keep the wealth within the family, as Sirius was disowned and had a very dangerous profession. Sirius only attended the funeral, because he genuinely liked his uncle and was in the country off-duty. However, Alphard had left everything, including his title to Sirius. Furious, Walburga blasted Alphard off the family tree tapestry. Sirius, again getting convinced that he wanted no part in this pointless drama, decided to accept Dumbledore’s offer instead. He didn’t renounce his inheritance though, thinking that if he dies without a will or an heir, it’ll go back to the state. Regulus, after their parents’ death, started to use Alphard’s hunting estate as a storage for the antique collections. They haven’t met or spoken with each other again (beside a very briefly worded card Regulus sent for Sirius congratulating him on the Order of Merlin) until Sirius unexpectedly waltzed in Grimmauld 12 to get the invitation for the fancy auction.

The illustrations above depict three generations of male members of the Black family: Regulus & Sirius, and Arcturus, Pollux, Orion, Alphard and Cygnus on the portraits. (They are at Alphard’s funeral, the brothers are around 23 & 25 years old.) I have a quite clear vision about their aesthetics, so while they all more or less have the “basic Black features" (tall, elegant, athletic build, dark and thick hair, beauty mark on face), I tried to give each family member their own design. There's a summary about their features behind the cut. The main idea is that Sirius takes after Walburga's side more, while Regulus is more like Orion's side. Also, just look at all the generational trauma this dysfunctional family has, and how only Sirius could somewhat break the cycle, so good👌🏻💯 I am endlessly fascinated by them!

Usual links & tags: my Bodyguard AU tag, part one masterpost, @goldenlionprince's AO3 collection, @neverenoughmarauders, @lovelymasks & @diamondmeadow!

Orion's side is marked with purple, Walburga's side with green, Sirius & Regulus are both so they got their own highlight color (blue).

great-grandparents generation:

Sirius II (“basic Black” features, prettier than average face) + Hesper Gamp (tall & skinny, very white skin and light blue eyes); Cygnus I (“basic Black” features, gray eyes) + Violetta Bulstrode (short, strong and muscular build, very thick hair, brown eyes)

grandparents generation:

Arcturus II (Tall & lean, thinner hair, blue eyes) + Melania McMillan (short and chubby, brown eyes); Pollux (average height, very strong and muscular build, hazel eyes) + Irma Crabble (taller than Pollux, skinny, blue eyes, lighter coloured hair)

parents geneneration:

Lucretia (taller than Orion, chubby, brown eyes) & Orion (average height, athletic in his youth, but prone to gaining weight as he gets older, blue eyes, handsome face); Walburga (“basic Black” features, gray eyes) & Alphard (average height, generally strong build but not as muscular, gained weight as he got older, a “Bear”, hazel eyes) & Cygnus II (“basic Black” features with lighter coloured hair, blue eyes) + Druella Rosier (blond & very curly hair, blue eyes, short)

kids generation:

Sirius III (tall and athletic, can gain muscle easily, gray eyes, handsome face) & Regulus (average height, skinny in his youth, can gain weight as he gets older, blue eyes); Bellatrix (“basic Black” features, pretty face, brown eyes) & Andromeda (short, brown hair, blue eyes, stronger build) & Narcissa (tall and skinny, blond hair, very light blue eyes)

[ludolka]

Okay I’ve gathered some initial rough thoughts/pointers about the atla au

(I won against my sleeping meds and exercised my free will to make myself dinner at 4 am, but it’s late now and I have shit to do tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep soon and draw designs for this au after I wake up)

So this AU doesn’t follow the official atla canon, I’m just taking the bending, nations and also the fire nation being the oppressive bad guys who want to conquer every other nation from it

So there’s Gri, he’s an airbender who has to hide. Airbender genocides and all that, but in this au some people managed to escape and hide. He was born in one of the Water tribes and was taught “water” bending to blend in. He isn’t the avatar or anything, but my logic follows that since there is a lot of oxygen in water and he can just swoop up then shape water with air bending techniques, it can look like convincing water bending when he’s just manipulating the air around water and the oxygen inside water

And for once in my life in this au Jimmy and Grian aren’t related. While I haven’t watched Empires, I’m sure the seablings came from there, Jimmy as the Codfather and Lizzie as the Ocean Queen. So they are actual water benders here and are siblings

I’m not yet sure if Jimmy and Lizzie grew up with Gri or they met later on. But they go on a journey to find more airbenders and airbender scrolls bc Gri can’t actually bend his own element how it’s supposed to be bent

In my AU most of the escaped and hiding airbenders went to the Earth kingdom, that’s the easiest place for them to hide in. So they go there

They meet Joel there, who grew up there and is supposedly a non-bender, but he’s actually a fire bender who also has to hide his bending bc the Earth kingdom and the Fire nation are at war and they really don’t like each other

Gri’s airbending mimics waterbending while Joel’s firebending follows the same movements and techniques as earthbenders since that’s what he grew up surrounded by. Neither know how to actually use their bending to its fullest potential or know the actual techniques

But when they meet Joel introduces himself as a non-bender while Gri as a waterbender. Joel lies about knowing where airbenders and airbending scrolls are and tells them he’d only help them if they helped him go to the Fire nation and get bending technique scrolls from them. For research purposes only of course, so he could learn their moves to be able to know how to attack back if he had to

Maybe Mumbo could also be there as either a non-bender or an earthbender who is fascinated by airbenders and built himself “wings” to fly with. Maybe Scar could also be there, he gives me strong earthbender vibes. Maybe he could use his bending to help him walk, making pseudo leg armor to keep him up and help him be able to run and fight and such

[xx-thanatos-xx]

Mcr theory rant

Okay so once again I really should be going to sleep but since the Seattle show I’ve been going back and forth on theories for the entire story of whats going on and I think it is possible that all four mcr albums are connected as well as some music videos. I also think that the fact that dangers days and the black parade being connected in cannon also has interesting implications of how death operates in this universe which could also be used to tie in the “give the devil the souls of a thousand evil men” story which will more easily tie in revenge as a concept album to the story. I would like to say I often jump to conclusions and this theory is mainly based off of my own head cannon and that it is very early into the tour so this could possibly change but if you are willing to hear me out then enjoy the insane ramblings of an mcr fan.

The Dictators Rising

At the moment, the history of the dictator is very vague and we don’t know a lot about how the dictator came into power. This is where I think we can tie in the past albums and music videos to show how this happened. Dictators and fascists come into power by often pining a country or the worlds problems on a group of people and use fear to persuade the public and other politicians into giving them more power in the belief that they will “fix it”. I think this world was having more and more people become violent and rebelling against society, particularly in the younger generations which is shown through the demolition lovers, the I’m not okay music video and the teenagers music video. Each of these groups show violent young people as the demolition lovers are killed in a gun fight in the desert, Illi and her group get into a fight at school with them using croquet mallet while the jocks used hockey sticks to attack each other with and finally the teenager video showing an entire high school attacking their school stage while a band was singing a song about school shootings and teenage violence. This fear is possibly what the dictator used to grow in power promising that he will make the youth less violent, while missing the point that all three events were an act of rebellion as the demolition lovers are supposedly forbidden to love each other, illi and her friends were sticking up for themselves after years of bullying from those jocks and the teenager music video is a plead to stop the violence, not to encourage it. But this didn’t matter and it would eventually work as the dictator became well… a dictator and discouraged anyone to act “different” and suppressed all forms of rebellion.

The Black Parade

I think the Black Parade is what we originally saw back in 2006, a band that toured around and gave hope to people as well as promising that no soul will ever be forgotten. They made songs, music videos, did interviews, the normal thing that bands do. But what made them different and special is just the amount of hope and happiness it gave to its audience, an audience that completely trusted them, which makes their deaths in Mexico City the perfect opportunity for the dictator. In some way the dictator managed to revive the black parade, pretending that they didn’t die but actually faked their deaths. We can assume this because of the fact that there was literally an entire tour dedicated to killing off the black parade and that during the Seattle show when gerard was forced to wear the jacket he acted like a zombie, so they are aware that they are dead and in some ways they might still be. This resurrection meant that they are also somewhat under control of the dictator and uses the trust they have with their audience to spread propaganda against their wishes, which is also why in the Seattle show they could only show small acts of rebellion either as a way to test their freedom or make it be a sign for help. But this still angers the dictator who not just kills one member of the black parade and kidnapped the others, presumably then killing them offstage, (which doesn’t matter to the dictator if they die as they can be brought back to life), but also sent in the suicidal bomber clown to remove all witnesses.

After the Tour/Start of Danger Days

From here it’s all a bit of a mystery since we’re only one show into the tour so anything could happen, but if I had to guess, the black parade will continue to rebel and continue to die over and over again, we could possibly even witness their bodies decay over time. This will happen until possibly the last show where something big could happen, possibly killing the dictator and leaving all those left on his side to scramble into making what will eventually be known as BL/ind which will lead us into danger days, which would explain why there are similar red x posters and why the magazine from the Seattle show and na na na na music video is the same company. But I think no matter what happens, the black parade members will die, they will finally pass on, which could possibly lead to the patient story line as they become a part of death, carrying on with what they wanted to do in life which was to make sure no one is ever forgotten.

Death

Okay this is more of a red yarn conspiracy board theory but I’ve always been interested in interpretations of death and the revelation that the black parade and danger days are in the same universe is just fascinating to me in this particular area as both albums have different ways of showing death. The black parade obviously has the black parade being death and while danger days has the phoenix witch who takes the masks of those who died and cares for the souls. This makes me wonder how death operates in this world and I guess I just want to propose a few ideas on how it works. I also possibly want to through in the original plan for revenge having the devil and hell too cause I think that’s fun and could lead to some more interesting theories.

1. It is the same entity it just comes for souls in different ways.

So death is one entity but I think that when it comes to collect a soul and take it to the afterlife it will take a different form to better suit that soul, so the patient will see the black parade because maybe they always looked up to them and saw comfort within them, the girl in the danger days comics sees death as the phoenix witch as that is what the zones and killjoys believed in, and the demolition lover went to hell and saw the devil as maybe that’s what he also believed in. But no matter what form it takes, it is the same entity.

2. Each version of death is a different entity working in a different afterlife.

Okay with the different ways each entity shown acts differently such as the devil being obviously an evil version of death it also toys with the souls as it tricks and messes with the demolition lover and tortures its inhabitants, the black parade being a more neutral version of death as although it is all about remembrance it also has negative aspects such as imagery of war, while the phoenix witch seems more positive as she cares for all souls she collects no matter who they are. So maybe there are multiple version of death but each one is separated from one another and only get souls that best suit their afterlife which is based off of beliefs, personality and actions of that soul.

3. There are different entities of death but they all work together

Maybe there is only a few afterlives or just one and each entity have their own jobs in working and maintaining it, maybe the phoenix witch is the one who guides souls to the afterlife, working as a psychopomp and the black parade is the actual afterlife where the souls end up. It’s possible that hell is just hell or we could remove it from this interpretation entirely as I feel like hell is very disconnected from the phoenix witch and the black parade. This one is not as well thought out I just thought it was neat.

4. Death evolves to fit whatever humanity needs in that point in time

Okay so this is possibly the most far reaching one but I just love the concept so I’m throwing it out there. I think if we say that bullets and revenge are early in the timeline, and we go along with the whole younger generations are growing in violence thing, then it makes sense that at this point in time due to that and maybe christian beliefs being more dominant at this time that the afterlife is heaven and hell, which is why the demolition lover ended up in hell and not the black parade or saw the phoenix witch as at this point the black parade isnt as important as it would be later down the timeline nor did the beliefs of the phoenix witch exist yet. It is also because maybe because humanity is on the verge of fascism so there needed to be harder consequences and reward for peoples actions in life to possibly steer humanity away from fascism.

Eventually, the dictator takes over, the black parade band is being controlled by him so death comes in a form of the parade as what they needed and believed in at that moment was hope and the start of a rebellion as well as the safety of knowing that no matter what everything will be okay. That is why the patient ended up there as well as the members of the black parade band who will eventually lead it, continuing the rebellion against the dictator even in death.

Finally, death evolves into the phoenix witch, who isnt there for the rebellion, but the end of it, as she cares for all the souls who died fighting. The danger days comics is what introduces her while ending the fascist regime the world had fallen under, so now the souls need comfort. The fight is over now the dead can finally rest.

Okay so that’s like all my big theories of whats going on at the moment. Truth be told we don’t need to connect all the albums as that’s probably not what’s happening nor what is implied but I think that maybe if you wanted to have this big over arching story then here you go! This is all for fun really and I am still very excited for what will happen and what else will be revealed during the tour.

[callingitquits]

would you say johan is a “yandere”? I’m really curious of your thoughts on this

Honestly? No, Johan isn’t a yandere.

While some of his behaviors may superficially resemble the archetype, the root is entirely different.

It’s not the method that sets him apart. It’s the motivation.

(To keep things clear, I’ll try to break it down section by section.)

Motivations Behind Attachment

• Yandere: Acts out of obsessive love and fear of losing their person. They want to be loved back, often at any cost.

• Johan: His fixation on you isn’t about love in any traditional sense. It’s about the singularity you represent—someone who sees through him without breaking, someone he can’t entirely predict. You’re not a possession. You’re a mirror.

Emotional Display

• Yandere: Emotionally volatile: crying, screaming, etc.

• Johan: Calm, composed, emotionally unreadable. His intensity lies in his stillness, not in outbursts.

Attachment

• Yandere: Desperately clingy and terrified of abandonment.

• Johan: Detached and elusive. Even his attachments are layered with existential reflection and control, not desperation.

Violent Behavior Toward Others

• Yandere: Attacks or eliminates perceived rivals out of jealousy or protection.

• Johan: Doesn’t act out of jealousy. If someone gets too close to you, he may erase them—not out of romantic defense, but to protect his identity. In truth, it’s their proximity to him that he’s really watching.

Possessiveness

• Yandere: Extreme possessiveness. Often says things like ‘You’re mine’ or ‘If I can’t have you, no one can’.

• Johan: His version of possession is subtle. More infiltrating your mind and shaping your reality. He won’t say it, but he will move people (or events) to ensure you don’t drift too far. His control is about domination of the soul, not ownership of the body.

Self-Perception

• Yandere: See themselves as in love and believe they’re the only one who truly understands or deserves you, even if it’s destructive.

• Johan: He won’t even label it as love. It’s more a study in duality: two damaged, self-loathing beings circling each other. You’re the only person he lets see the monster—not to scare you, but to see if you’ll stay.

Romantic Rival Response

• Yandere: Jealousy is explosive. Reacts violently to romantic rivals.

• Johan: Rarely, if ever, shows jealousy. If he removes someone from the picture, it’s not out of emotional impulse, but with calculated precision—as part of a larger design. Even when jealousy arises, it never manifests as violence.

Core Fear

• Yandere: Fear of rejection or losing the one they love.

• Johan: Fear of confronting his own identity, past, and the existential meaning of his existence. His relationships feed that introspective spiral.

Manipulation Style

• Yandere: Uses emotional blackmail or overt threats (‘If you leave me, I’ll die/kill myself’)

• Johan: Intellectual and existential manipulation. He breaks people down by exposing their traumas, fears, and illusions about themselves or the world. He doesn’t beg you to stay—he makes you feel like you have no other choice.

Self-Perception in Love

• Yandere: Thinks they’re in the right, even noble.

• Johan: Sees himself as irredeemable—but still, lets you in. Not because he wants to be saved, but because he needs to see what you’ll do with the truth.

So what is Johan…. if not a yandere?

Johan is a mirror with no bottom—driven not by love, but by the need to understand (and sometimes destroy) whatever disturbs his ‘perfect detachment’.

What binds him to you isn’t affection. It’s recognition.

If anything, he’s more of a philosophical parasite. Voidere. Not feeding on your love, but on the existential threat you pose to his carefully constructed emptiness.

(So if you’re here for gushing and swooning, sorry to disappoint—Johan’s just not into that haha)

[bloodismymedium]

🪝Dead by Daylight x Urbanspook’s The Painter Fanmade Chapter 🎨

i’ve been working on this in secret for a while but here is my fan concept for what i’d want from a Dead by Daylight x UrbanSpook chapter (because a girl can dream) and i went ALL OUT, going into practically everything worth mentioning in a typical, high-effort DbD chapter such as the Killer, Survivors, Map, Perks and some extra surprises as well, all in great detail too. I hope you guys like it, it took four Red Bulls and most of my day off to make it happen XDDDD now if you excuse me, i need some sleep REAL BAD.

🪝New Killer: The Painter

Lore: Mona D. Lanius is a deranged, morally corrupt yet artistic soul whose motives behind committing the most gruesome and infamous murders in American history is as mysterious as the pitch black abysses that are her eyes. Lurking in the darkest corners of Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana, the strange looking yet mostly unassuming drug addict and struggling artist, Mona Lanius is a depraved, psychosexual sadist who’s muse has always been pain and suffering, whether it be her own or from others. It wasn’t enough to simply kill, Mona Lanius subjected her victims to unparalleled agony and torture before immortalizing their pain in her infamous paintings that she used as calling cards to taunt police and to terrify the masses, the depths of her horrific creativity knew no bounds as she displayed zero mercy to those she chose to use as inspiration for her art and no one, regardless of age, sex or background was safe. Mona Lanius would remain uncaught long enough to see over a hundred murders through, each one a nightmarish art display in their own right and she would even take in a reluctant yet no less obedient accomplice in the form of Bill Collins, a former police officer and family man twisted both mentally and physically into a loyal lap dog through unspeakable acts of torture, the walking mockery of the man he once was would meet his end when he was fatally wounded by police officer, Nathan Cole who was conducting a wellness check on The Painter’s only known survivor, Tina Rosenberg who was attacked and mutilated by Mona and Bill in her home years after their initial encounter, presumably to finish what they started but Nathan would apprehend Mona after cornering her and save Tina’s life in the process. Now in police custody and in shackles, Mona awaited trial and possibly execution and although she did not fear punishment nor death, she couldn’t bare the idea of her career of extreme art ending, her insatiable bloodlust and burning drive to express herself in all her nightmarish glory made her desperate enough to make a silent plea to anyone or anything willing to hear her, although never a believer of a higher power, her prayers would nonetheless be answered in the form of The Entity welcoming her into The Fog, a place where her artistic talents can truly be appreciated amongst her peers and a whole host of new, hapless innocents were just waiting to be molded into something glorious by her hands, with a crooked grin and a warped mind swirling with new ideas, The Painter went to work.

Weapon: Rusted Knife - A well-used yet no less deadly and effective knife that has seen a lifetime’s worth of murderous acts, having served it’s wielder well during her “novice” days. Upon striking a Survivor, The Painter will wipe the blood off the jagged and rusty blade with her fingers and lick them clean, moaning with content upon doing so.

Movement Speed: 115% | 4.6 m/s or, 120% | 4.8 m/s when Prowling.

Terror Radius: 22 Meters / 16 Meters when Prowling.

Chase Music: A remix of the track used in FAMILY with elements taken from tracks used in PIGS (such as Fiona’s scream), MEAT and HELL as well.

Carry Animation: Upon choosing to carry a downed Survivor to hook them, The Painter summons a manifestation of Bill Collins that The Entity created for her to pick up and carry the Survivor over his shoulder while The Painter leads him with a leash attached to his collar.

Hook Animation: Upon deciding to Hook the survivor, The Painter snaps her fingers, silently commanding the Bill manifestation to hook the survivor, The Painter chuckles darkly and whispers “good boy” before the manifestation disappears in a puff of shadowy smoke. If the carried Survivor wriggles free from “Bill’s” grasp, he will let out an inhuman shriek (the same one he did in Nathan’s body cam footage) and disappear, The Painter merely groans in contempt and rolls her eyes before readying her blade once more.

Stun Animation: The Painter will scream “you bastard!” while covering her face with her hands in a cowering stance, she will then raise her hands up in the air and flash a murderous smile in that Survivor’s direction (a reference to her pose when she was caught by Nathan Cole in HELL).

Vault Animation: The Painter places her hands on the windowsill and frantically looks to her left and to her right with a curled lip grin before crawling over the window in a crouched position, her long black hair dragging across the windowsill and the ground while doing so (a reference to how she crawled over the porch railing in MEAT).

Momento Mori: The Painter stabs the Survivor in the stomach with her knife and leaves it in, proceeding to then grab them by the head and gouge their eyes out with her thumbs, as the Survivor stumbles back in pain, a manifestation of Bill Collins rushes behind them and viciously bites their neck, taking out entire chunks of flesh. The Painter than knocks them down by hitting them in the face with a brick with the word “MEAT” crudely written on it with blood, she then tops the Survivor and savagely smashes their head in with the brick until their face is an unrecognizable puddle of gore. The Painter pants heavily, almost in a sexual manner and takes a photo of the Survivor’s destroyed face and head with an old fashioned camera (more or less a reference to Flora’s death).

Power: Prothetic Paintings - At the start of the Trial, 4 or 8 Paintings (depending if it’s a 4v1 or 8v2 match) will spawn in random areas across the Map, each painting being identical recreations of the paintings The Painter made of her victims in her original plane of existence, each now an extension of The Entity. Upon discovery of a Painting, the Survivor is bombarded with visions of the depraved acts that inspired it, causing them to Scream, exposing their current location to The Painter and making their Aura visible to The Painter for 3/4/5 seconds, the exposed Survivor will then become the Obsession and will suffer from the Oblivious status effect for 4/8/12 seconds. Other Survivors who discover Paintings will not become the Obsession unless the current Obsession has been Hooked or Killed but they will still Scream and suffer from the Oblivious status effect. Upon discovering a Painting, that Painting will disappear and enter a cooldown of 60/50/45 seconds from which it will respawn in a random location.

🖼️ Ability 1: This Is The Painting - If The Painter finds one of her Paintings, she can Paint over it to turn it into a Survivor Painting, repainting it to resemble the face of a chosen Survivor (taking the form of a warped version of their face in a similar fashion to the Tina the Witness painting) where she can than choose where to manifest it on the Map or leave it in it’s current location. If a Survivor finds the Survivor Painting depicting them, they will suffer from the Revealed and Exposed status ailments, allowing The Painter to hunt them down and put them into the Dying state in quick succession, especially when making use of her second ability made possible by her Power. Survivors who find a Survivor Painting not depicting them can choose to destroy it, the action to do so taking 4 seconds, potentially saving that Survivor but exposing their location to The Painter for 2 seconds. The Survivor Painting will disappear upon being found by the Survivor it depicts and The Painter will enter a cooldown that prevents her from making another Survivor Painting of that particular survivor for 40/30/20 seconds, The Painter can also only make one Survivor Painting at a time.

🖼️ Ability 2: Prowl - Prowl is a special, alternative form of movement that can be activated when The Painter uses the special action key used for painting when no Painting is present. Upon entering Prowl, The Painter will run on all fours in an animalistic manner and even climb over Pallets without slowing down for 6/9/12 seconds. The Painter can execute a unique attack while in Prowl called Maul. When in close range with a Survivor during a chase, The Painter can use the special action key to lunge at them, pinning them to the ground and clawing at their face in an excited manner, a Survivor that has been Mauled does not enter the Injured or Dying state but will Bleed, leaving a blood trail and suffer from the Blinded status ailment as well. The Painter exits Prowl after performing Maul, crawling over a Pallet, vaulting or upon being Stunned. Prowl has a cooldown of 35/30/25 seconds.

Perks: The Painter specializes in applying pressure onto Survivors and make recovery exceptionally difficult for them as her Perks allow her to prolong the agony of her victims for her and The Entity’s enjoyment (Sadistic Pleasure), deny escape for your Obsession and make the others suffer for it (Grim Inspiration) and strike fear into the hearts of remaining Survivors after slaying one of their own (Drawn Conclusion).

🔪 Sadistic Pleasure: You are no stranger to mixing business with pleasure and why rush a masterpiece when you can revel in the process? Each time you injure a Survivor from full health to the Injured state, you gain a Token and can earn a maximum of up to 4/5/6 Tokens. For each Token spent, the Survivors’ mending and healing speeds are reduced by 4% for a maximum of 16%/20%/24%.

🔪 Grim Inspiration: You’re drive to hunt your chosen prey inspires you to pressure them into always falling back into your grasp. When you hit your Obsession, they suffer from the Hindered status effect for 3/4/5 seconds, reducing their movement speed by 8%. While your Obsession is alive, all Exit Gates regress by 7%/10%/13% and Survivor’s checks on repairing Generators are harder to hit.

🔪 Drawn Conclusion: The death of a Survivor weaves palatable doubt and terror among your remaining victims, making your pursuit all the more enjoyable. When a Survivor is sacrificed or killed by any means, all remaining Survivors suffer from the Exposed status effect for 10/13/16 seconds and their repair/progression speed is decreased by 6%.

Add-Ons:

📼 “MEAT” Brick (Common) - Pallets broken by The Painter take 4/5/6% longer to reset.

📼 Damaged VHS Tape (Common) - Survivors suffer from the Oblivious status for 9 seconds after destroying a Painting.

📼 Worn Paint Brushes (Common) - Cooldown of destroyed paintings is reduced by 6/8/10%.

📼 “Scream Maggie Scream” Painting (Common) - When you kill a Survivor by any means, gain 5% Haste for 8 seconds.

📼 Blank Canvas (Uncommon) - Each Survivor loses a Token after finding or destroying a Painting once per Trial.

📼 Prescription Medication (Uncommon) - Increases your movement speed by 4/5/6% while Prowl is on a cooldown.

📼 Used Sandpaper (Uncommon) - Survivors performing a healing or mending action within 20 meters of your eyesight suffer a 5/6/7% penalty of healing progression.

📼 “James’ Secret Face” Painting (Uncommon) - Every time the Obsession is hit, reveal the auras of all other Survivors for 2/4/6 seconds.

📼 Used Syringe (Rare) - Successful Maul attacks cause the Survivor’s run speed to drop by 5%, which stacks for every additional status ailment they have for 3/4/5 seconds.

📼 Candle Wax (Rare) - The cooldown for Survivor Paintings is reduced by 10%.

📼 Gimp Mask (Rare) - Survivors who found a Painting will suffer from the Exhausted status ailment for 4/5/6 seconds.

📼 “Long Necked Angel” Painting (Rare) - Survivors within 7 meters of a Painting become Oblivious for 6 seconds.

📼 Cory’s Camera (Very Rare) - Survivors within 8 meters of a hooked Survivor suffer from Blindness for 10 seconds.

📼 Hammer Drill (Very Rare) - Breaking a Pallet or Wall will cause the furthest Generator to regress significantly.

📼 Garden Shears (Very Rare) - If an injured Survivor finds a Painting they suffer from the Exposed status ailment for 10 seconds.

📼 Bill’s Mask (Very Rare) - If the Obsession struggles free from being carried, the nearest Generator is blocked off by The Entity for 15 seconds.

📼 “The Collins” Painting (Very Rare) - Your lunge speed is increased by 8% while Prowl is under cooldown.

📼 Bloody Knitting Needles (Ultra Rare) - When a Survivor is sacrificed to The Entity, all Survivors are inflicted with Hindered for 5 seconds and reveal their Auras for 4 seconds.

📼 Self Portrait (Ultra Rare) - Killing the Obsession permanently decreases all Survivors’ repair speeds by 8% for the remainder of the Trial.

📼 “Rubberhouse” Game Cartridge (Ultra Rare) - If a Survivor who is not the Obsession stuns you for any reason (flashlight, pallet stun etc.) there is a 5% chance that Survivor will immediately enter the Dying state.

Skins:

👗 Blood Bath: The Painter is covered head to toe in blood, chunks of viscera are visible in her hair and human intestines (large and small) are wrapped around her neck and left arm like a scarf, her knife is also constantly bloody and covered in webbing-like viscera.

👗 Blighted: The Painter becomes a walking garden of pain, possessing large flower-like protrusions oozing with Blight Serum sprouting from all over her body, a particular large and “fully bloomed” one sprouting from her left eye socket, her right eye now piercing orange and glowing, her back becomes swollen and hunched with many “Blight Blooms” and mushroom-like polyps growing from it like a bed of accursed sod, her painting smock is stained with blighted nectar while she wields a pair of rusty Garden Shears in her gnarled, root-like arm.

👗 Flesh Weaver: The Painter wears a “handmade” dress made entirely from the skin and flesh of countless victims sewn together in a patchwork fashion which includes whole faces, such as the two comprising the bosom of the dress, this gory ensemble is complete with a belt made from human nipples, arm-length gloves made from human hands and arm skin, a skinned sun hat adorned with eyeballs, a necklace made from human teeth and she is armed with Barber Razor. A reference to the skin dress that appeared in HELL but with a few extra bells and whistles.

👗 Devil Woman Doctor: The Painter is dressed in surgeon’s garb consisting of blue green scrubs, pitch black latex gloves and boots, a plastic apron splattered with blood, a hospital mask over her mouth, a pair of goggles, a doctor’s mirror, a doctor’s satchel with bloody scalpels held in a holster strapped to her hip and armed with a Worn Bonesaw.

👗The Prettiest Girl in the Asylum: The Painter is dressed in a straight jacket covered in straps, zippers and buckles fashioned into a makeshift jacket with a comfy pair of mental ward sweatpants, the left sleeve of her straight jacket is long enough to engulf her arm completely while the right sleeve has been cut off in order for The Painter to wield her pair of Ornate Scissors properly, The Painter is also half-shaven, the shaved part of her cranium has fresh stitching across it as if “work” had been done on her brain, her left ear has a yellow tag stapled on to it with a serial number and she has shackles around her heels.

🏭 New Map: Tiger Lake Paint and Textiles Factory

Overview: The Tiger Lake Paint and Textiles Factory is a sprawling, industrial ruin in the heart of a forgotten industrial park long left to rot only to be adopted by The Painter as her main base of operations and turned into a macabre labyrinth of horrors with death and decay at every turn, halls lined with the cruel machinations of The Painter’s repugnant imagination and what remains of her past “muses”, this factory has become her personal museum where her victim’s screams have long since been silenced yet their suffering is still palatable as you roam the halls, once you’ve been to Hell, you don’t come back. The Factory is an indoor-heavy map that is ideal for 2v8 trials with multiple levels, rooms, narrow corridors, and a never before seen outdoor location. The atmosphere is suffocating and claustrophobic and aside from two floors of twisting corridors littered with macabre paintings, scattered junk and human remains, the Factory is composed of five Key Rooms where a Hook can be located in each, these being the Crafting Room, the Painting Room, the Cage Room, The Sewers and the never before seen Loading Dock where the Exit Gates are located and The Hatch sometimes spawns in The Sewers, said sewers is the largest area of the factory and has two Hooks rather than one as well as two more Hooks found in the adjacent ends of the factory’s corridors. The Tiger Lake Paint Factory also features an above-average number of Breakable Walls, giving Killers more area control while Survivors have a surplus of hiding spaces such as in Waste Barrels.

🔦 New Survivor: Nathan Cole

Lore: In a time where tensions were high between the police force and the general public, the integrity of the men and women supposedly tasked to protect us was put into question after rising scandals of corruption in the police shattered the blind trust we placed in them for decades, and Nathan Cole wanted to be the shining example of what an officer of the law is supposed to be. Practically born with a strong moral compass and an old fashioned sense of justice, Nathan was never skittish when it came to running headfirst into danger to protect and serve, earning him a reputation of being reckless and a “boy scout” amongst the Terrebonne Parish Police Department, and no one was more critical towards Nathan’s “wannabe superhero” attitude than his partner, Bill Collins. Nathan Cole wasn’t perfect by any means however, his hotheadedness could get the better of him and he has had his fair share of misdemeanors and infractions while on duty such as nearly disfiguring the drunk mug of a wife beater that he caught red handed but he always had good intentions. Nathan Cole would eventually get the recognition he deserves when he answered a call to perform a routine wellness check on Tina Rosenberg, a young woman who was crippled by the infamous serial killer that has rocked Terrebonne Parish for the past five years and although she survived her horrific encounter with true evil, her boyfriend and younger sister weren’t so lucky. Upon hearing screams coming from the Rosenberg home, Nathan rushed in to see a horrid scene, Tina’s mother was dismembered in a way that one would think only a wild animal would be capable of and upon rushing into Tina’s room, he saw the figures of a towering, wraith of a woman and a faceless monstrosity, not quite a man, not quite an animal, looming over the wailing and bleeding Rosenberg girl, Nathan didn’t hesitant in drawing his gun, he knew exactly who these two were. The Painter’s accomplice, nicknamed “Skinface” by the media lunged at Nathan in an effort to protect his mistress, only to be met with a bullet in the head and The Painter, now identified as Mona Lanius, a homeless addict and starving artist believed to be merely a petty vagrant once described as “mostly harmless” by the few who knew her, was apprehended by Nathan Cole with no fight, the horrors of the most infamous serial killers in American history was finally and swiftly put to an end in one night and yet, Nathan Cole’s troubles were only beginning. Traumatized by what he witnessed that night and baring the weight of killing his former partner Bill Collins, a family man transformed into a mindless animal by a depraved monster, Nathan would spiral into a depressive state five years after the Louisiana Painter and Skinface Killers case has closed, spending many nights where he would fruitlessly try to drown out the screams of Tina Rosenberg and the smile of that monstrous woman that haunted his dreams with alcohol. Nathan drifted into a deep, intoxicated slumber as he watched the announcement of Mona Lanius’ sentence to execution via electric chair, when he came to, he found himself in a dark forest blanketed by a thick, chilling mist now dressed in his old uniform, before Nathan could question if he was dreaming, he heard screams coming from The Fog and somehow, he knew that she was behind it, without a second thought Nathan barreled into the fog, as long as he wore that badge, he had a responsibility to protect and serve.

Perks: Nathan Cole’s steadfast commitment to protecting those in need and never backing down from overcoming the cruelty that surrounds him allows him and other Survivors to find the resolve to courageously stand up to evil when it counts most (Fighting Back), embolden one’s resolve even after witnessing true horror (Protect and Serve) and selflessly lend a helping hand to those in need even if it disadvantages you (Wellness Check).

🚔 Fighting Back: It is when your life is in peril where you find a level of strength and resolve that you never thought you were capable of. If you are the Obsession and the Killer has put you into the Dying state by any means and tries to carry you, you immediately recover from the Dying state to strike the Killer with a punch strong enough to knock off their mask (if they’re wearing one), leaving the Killer stunned long enough to escape, you do however re-enter the Dying state after 7/8/9 seconds. Performing a Strike Stun on a Killer with a mask causes them to drop it as a unique form of Offering known as a Frightful Visage.

🚔 Protect and Serve: Risking your own life to save another is not just part of the job anymore. When you Unhook a Survivor, help a Survivor recover from the Dying state or help a Survivor escape from a Chase in any way, you earn a Token and can earn a maximum of four Tokens, spending a Token will reveal the Killer’s Aura to all Survivor’s including yourself for 3 seconds but each additional Token you spend increases the visibility of a Killer’s aura for an additional 6/7/8 seconds.

🚔 Wellness Check: Helping those in need is its own reward but no good deed goes unpunished. When healing a Survivor, you can instantly heal a Survivor by 1 health stage once per Trial by pressing the special action key while healing and every Survivor on the Map earns 1 token, at the cost of you losing all of your Tokens.

Skins:

👗 Honor Guard: A formal policeman’s uniform that Nathan wore to Bill’s funeral, complete with white gloves, a cap, a belt with pouches, a shoulder guard with a woven rope, black penny loafers, a bandolier cross his chest and a jacket adorned with medals, including the Medal of Valor he earned for apprehending The Painter and saving Tina Rosenberg.

👗 Casual Nate: The attire that Nathan was wearing when he was drifting off to sleep in his chair and found himself in the realms of The Entity. A pink polo shirt with white Khaki pants, a knockoff Rolex on his left wrist, a shark tooth necklace (yeah he’s one of those) black slip on shoes and a five o’ clock shadow that’s definitely not a sign that he’s depressed and going through some shit.

👗 Donut Boy: Literally just Nathan but three hundred pounds heavier lol, his police uniform is mostly unchanged except for the addition of jacket buttons that look like they’re barely holding on for dear life.

🎭 New Item: Frightful Visage

Lore: Frightful Visages are Offerings of Legendary Rarity as they are the cursed masks worn by many Killers and are said to be a direct link to them and The Entity itself that can be collected via the new Fighting Back Perk but Frightful Visages also have a very small chance of appearing during Trials that coincide with which Killer is participating in said Trial. Survivors who use the Frightful Visage Offerings are given significant advantages during Trials that are especially unique compared to other Offerings as they function as one-use items that can be equipped during a Trial, a Survivor donning the mask of a Killer that they’ve taken as a trophy to activate the special ability associated with a particular Frightful Visage, some benefit only the Survivor using it while others benefit everyone and most also bestow unique effects that gives Survivors an edge over the Killer the Frightful Visage coincides with until the Frightful Visage breaks after 15 seconds. Taking the Frightful Visage from Killers reveals their true face to you and said “Unmasked” Killer becomes a new Skin that is instantly unlocked for both Survivor and Killer players involved in the “Unmasking”. Frightful Visages are not only one-time use during Trials but their one-use period, you will lose the Frightful Visage that you used until you can find it again or purchase it in the in-game shop (save up on those Iridescent Shards boys and girls).

All known Frightful Visages are as follows.

👺 Rusted Identity (Trapper): Turns the Survivor into a walking trap disarmer as all forms as traps, such as The Trapper’s Bear Traps will be deactivated when the Survivor makes close enough contact with it. After disarming 3 traps, you gain a 10% Haste for 6 seconds.

👺 Split Hare (Huntress): Spawns illusions of Survivors known as False Survivors that can fool and distract the Killer, disappearing in clouds of dust upon being hit. If the Huntress hits a False Survivor with her Axe Throw, she will suffer from an extended cooldown.

👺 Demonic Grimace (Oni): Gain the ability to release shockwaves of pure, wrathful energy that Dismantles Hooks for 10 seconds and Stuns the Killer if their caught in the blast radius.

👺 Synthetic Skull (Skull Merchant): For each time you succeed at a great skill check on a Generator, you block that generator from being damaged by the Killer for 8 seconds.

👺 Fractured Psyche (Legion): Gain the Haste buff, boosting your running and vaulting speed by 5% which stacks with each negative status ailment you suffer through. Essentially gaining the Legion’s Frenzy power when max speed is reached.

👺 Plagued Crown (Plague): Give off a cleansing Aura that slowly heals Survivors within radius over time and grants immunity to most negative status ailment for as long as they stay within range. You yourself also gain immunity to the Broken status effect for the duration of wearing the Frightful Visage.

👺Warlord Helm (Knight): Summon your own AI controlled minions in the form of Knaves that you can assign to do many tasks such as progress Generators, dismantle Hooks, progress Exit Gates etc.

👺 Giggling Ghoul (Ghost Face): Become Invisible to the Killer’s Aura reading abilities and leave no Footprints or Scratch Marks for the duration of wearing this Frightful Visage. Also, Killer Perks revolving around instinct and reading Survivor auras are delayed by 4 seconds.

👺 Pale Stare (Shape): If you are at least 18 meters within the Killer’s line of sight, you gain the Endurance buff while the Killer gains the Blindness, Deafened and Hindered status ailments for the full duration of the Pale State’s usage.

👺 Springlocked Mask (Animatronic): Delay teleportation and Map control based Killer Perks by 12 seconds while you gain a 12% increase to speed for 12 seconds.

[tartquez]

Gossip Girl au (part 3)

(part 1)

(part 2)

Casey looks up from her battered copy of Meditations, “you’ve added too much flour to the roux,” she points out, matter of fact.

Vale was meant to be the one cooking tonight, had been crowing all week that her French onion soup would be the best thing they’d ever tasted. Better than all their mothers’ home cooking combined, better than liquid gold, and better than the finest pussy on the continent. Spectacular enough to lure even Casey into joining their longstanding Thursday night dinner, or so Vale had declared.

Casey had nevertheless declined the invitation. She claimed that the only reason she was here tonight was to return Dovi’s forgotten beanie.

Dovi dribbles some water into the pan from a mug in the hope that it will thin out the clumpy roux. The sleeves of her sweatshirt are distractedly pushed up so they don’t get in the way as she attacks the mixture with Vale’s bright orange whisk.

A second pot is cooking uncovered and unattended, filling the apartment with the rich sweetness of thinly sliced onions caramelising in butter. The onions might start sticking to the bottom of the pan soon but Dovi has other more pressing matters to attend to and anyway, sticking her head in the living room to ask Vale to check on her own fucking onions is the last thing Dovi wants to do right now.

In the background, Dovi can make out the sound of Marc and Vale yelling at each other. Considering the onions Vale dumped into the pot when they first started squabbling are now almost translucent and burnished golden brown, they’ve been going at it for a while. Judging from the pitch of their voices, Marc will start crying soon — which Dovi also suspects Marc will be annoyed about afterwards.

Dovi frowns, she’s whisking vigorously but the roux still looks like a lumpy uncooperative paste. There’s a rustle and then Casey materialises at her side, cool fingers rolling up the sleeve of Dovi’s sweatshirt where they had slid back down her forearm. The copy of Meditations sits abandoned on the kitchen bench.

Casey smells like jasmine and faint dregs of the cigarette she must have smoked in the street before buzzing the intercom.

“Are these the culinary skills that I have been led to believe have bewitched half our female cohort?” An amused half-smile tugs on Casey’s lips as she studies Dovi’s handiwork.

In Dovi’s defence, she has a pretty healthy awareness of her strengths and weaknesses, that’s one thing she likes to think she has going for herself. So on the nights when she finds herself entertaining houseguests, Dovi orders in.

And the next morning? Well, Dovi has it on reliable authority that she makes decent eggs.

“This is Vale’s recipe,” Dovi jerks her chin towards the crumpled sheet of paper covered in Vale’s loopy scrawl and wedged under a glass of wine.

Casey hums thoughtfully. There are bags under her eyes and Dovi hasn’t seen her outside of class for over a week. Vale had mentioned in passing that Casey’s parents are in town visiting from Australia, how she came into possession of that information is anyone’s guess. More importantly though, it begs the question why Casey is here peering over Dovi’s shoulder and hooking a finger through one of the belt loops of Dovi’s old jeans.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of Dovi’s neck. Her arm is starting to get tired from the whisking.

“Do you think they’re going to run out of steam anytime soon?” Casey asks, lips twitching wryly.

Marc and Vale? “No,” Dovi snorts, “they probably wouldn’t even notice if we left and went to get dumplings instead.”

She uses the whisk to prod at the contents of the pan, her nose wrinkles, the situation is beginning to look unsalvageable.

Casey rests her head on Dovi’s shoulder, startling Dovi. She almost drops the whisk but recovers just in time. Casey must really be tired, Dovi thinks.

“Mm, that late night dim sum place? With the steamed prawn dumplings?”

Dovi hadn’t been thinking about any place in particular but finds herself nodding in agreement, “yeah, sure.”

“I could go for dumplings,” Casey admits wistfully, she darts Dovi a sideways glance, “and maybe some steamed rice rolls.”

Dovi grins crookedly, the steamed rice rolls are her favourite. Casey knows this. Casey is also not normally this unsubtle, it must have been a really long week. Dovi checks the clock on the wall, they could be there in fifteen minutes, settling into a booth and pouring each other cups of fragrant chrysanthemum tea.

Fuck it. Dovi is getting hungry now too, she’s reaching back to untie her apron and about to suggest they make a run for it when Marc appears in the doorway.

Marc’s smile is big and unconvincing, tone deceptively chipper, “so, ah — Vale said she’s left to get a bottle of wine for us,” she announces. Her pointy little chin juts out defiantly, “apparently she left the bottle she was going to bring at home.”

Dovi’s well stocked and meticulously organised wine rack stands in the corner of the room, neither Casey nor Dovi mention it.

Marc sniffles and then wipes her nose with the back of her hand, she looks so very young in that moment. Even Casey is biting her lip, expression sympathetic. Marc shakes her head, dark ringlets bobbing, she laughs softly like she’s embarrassed.

Dovi’s heart aches. She darts a sideways glance and Casey’s lips are pressed together like there’s something she wants to tell Marc but doesn’t want to say either.

It doesn’t matter in the end because Marc marches over and smacks a loud kiss against Dovi’s cheek, “anyway, it smells good in here, Chef.”

The finger hooked through Dovi’s belt loop retreats. Casey straightens up. Dovi can practically see Casey retreating as well, her expression shuttering as she re-establishes a safe evacuation distance from all of them. Dovi opens her mouth and then closes it upon realising that she doesn’t know what she even wants to say.

“I should probably go,” Casey smiles tightly, checks her watch, “my parents have a reservation at Le Bernardin and I’m already late.”

Dovi’s brow furrows.

“Oh, I forgot your parents are here,” Marc’s smile softens, “how are they?”

Casey snorts, “they’re fine, still jet lagged but fine — or at least they will be unless I make them wait any longer,” she runs a hand through her hair, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay,” she smiles apologetically and Dovi almost believes her. “I’ll catch you both later.”

Casey’s lips quirk, “and, I mean, Vale,” she adds, pauses as she chooses her words, “well, I’m sure I’ll see her around too.”

Marc nods, cheeks tinged pink.

“Bye Casey,” Dovi murmurs.

Casey blinks. Her lips press together, a nod, she offers them both a small tired smile before turning to leave.

Dovi watches through the doorway as she shrugs on her heavy wool coat — probably belonging to her boyfriend — the hem swishing around her stocking covered ankles.

Dovi’s chest does something truly treacherous as Casey inspects herself in the hall mirror, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. A pale hand smooths down the front of her coat and Casey tucks a stray tendril of hair behind her left ear before she quietly lets herself out. Dovi’s squeezes the handle of the whisk until her fingertips go numb.

“Hey.”

Dovi blinks, twists around guiltily to find Marc smiling sheepishly up at her.

“Sorry about all of,” Marc makes a face, “you know — that,” she presses another kiss to Dovi’s cheek, gentler this time. Oh right.

“That’s okay, I understand,” and Dovi does. Asking Marc and Vale to be civil is like asking Casey to stay in a room after she’s already decided she’s going.

Marc huffs, bright eyes crinkling, her mascara is visibly smudged. “Dovi,” is all she says, soft and fond, and Dovi understands that too.

Marc licks her lips, blinks slowly, expectant. Dovi snorts before leaning in and pressing her lips to Marc’s. She understands that as well.

[arolesbianism]

Why would I draw or further flesh out the other members of Chou's party when I can instead think abt how all of them play in game and spiral out into making up a shit ton of other game mechanics that do not matter to the actual story

[patchwork-crow-writes]

The Roaring Knight encounter at the end of Chapter 3 is a masterclass at showing you that the REAL protagonist of Deltarune isn't Kris - it's Susie.

This doesn't really make much sense at first glance - you can't even really FIGHT the thing on equal footing without the Shadow Mantle, and to even get that Kris has to go through a harrowing gauntlet and fight a whole OTHER secret boss that doesn't even use the battle mechanics we've grown accustomed to. Kris Suffers to get that item, the one thing that can let them stand up to the Knight's merciless assaults. Hell, the game won't even let you retry if you lose until you have the Mantle in your possession. You would therefore assume that the Mantle belongs to Kris, and that they are the ones who should wear it.

And yet. Even when you don't have this item, who stands up to defy it? Susie. Who stops it from doing... whatever it was trying to do to Toriel, TWICE? Susie. And who gives chase across the boundary between light and dark, across the entirety of hometown, to stop it from abducting Undyne? Why, it's Susie. Her actions are those of a hero standing up to a terrible villain of unknowable power, and she does it without a shred of hesitation, even faced with the very real prospect of being killed.

And if that were it, it'd be kind of boring. But that's not it at all, because the reinforcement of this idea continues into the fight itself. Because if you can keep Susie alive for five turns, she starts monologuing against the boss, telling it how much it sucks and that she'll always have her friends behind her.

The Knight is presented to us as unknowable, invincible, unstoppable. Regular attacks bounce off of its absurdly high HP, it cannot be Checked like a normal enemy, attempts to reason with it fall on deaf ears. And yet, what's the one spell that can meaningfully hurt the Knight, to the point of temporarily disrupting its form? Susie's Rude Buster.

And then, when you throw yourself at the Knight again and again, trying to figure out its weakness, trying to outlast its brutal onslaught, it hits you - the Shadow Mantle does NOTHING for Kris in this fight, but it does EVERYTHING for Susie. Susie's the one doing all the damage. Susie's high HP perfectly compliments the shadow mantle's protection against the Knight's more absurd attacks. Ralsei has no way to meaningfully contribute to the fight at all, and while Kris can use Hold Breath to give the SOUL a boost, their utility begins and ends there. The most that either of them can really do is to act as TP and healing bots for Susie, and to equip weak armours that have beneficial effects, such as the TwinRibbon, Silver Watch, Blue Ribbon, TensionBow and Lodestone - the effects of these items persist regardless of whether the character wearing them is DOWNed or not, and, you guessed it, are equipped not to help them survive, but to allow them to support Susie even when incapacitated.

Then you start seeing it in other areas. Who is it that facilitates change in the other characters - Ralsei, Noelle, Berdly? Susie does, each and every time. She effortlessly upends their own myopic views of the world, defying them to change and be better, without even really realising that's what she's doing - is it any wonder that EVERYONE in the main cast seems to have a thing for her? She's magnetic in the way that heroes are, not despite her brashness and short temper but BECAUSE of them - because she cuts so effortlessly through the FICTIONS that other characters cling to, the stories they tell themselves about who they are, what they can do, and how they ought to be. Susie shatters those preconceptions and offers an alternative - live how you want to live, make the choices that you want to make, and let no-one else ever tell you who you are.

Susie is the hero of Deltarune, and the Roaring Knight's fight encapsulates why perfectly, without ever once drawing attention to the fact. It's sheer genius on Toby's part and I salute the skill with which it conveys those ideas in such an organic way.

[rainrot4me]

My Muse - Halloween Special

Summary: What if the Creepypasta characters were real life killers idolized the same way horror movie slashers were? Kids dressing up as Ghostface or Pennywise? More like kids decorated as Jeff the Killer or Slenderman! You chose to dress as your favorite mass murderer, Ticci Toby- and, oh, how he couldn’t get enough of it. He had never seen someone look so good in his goggles.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Vaginal, fluff and smut, fluff, vaginal fingering, handjobs, use of a condom, slight stalking, slight obsession, praise, alcohol, slight bullying, Jeff being a big brother, slight miscommunication, slight panic attacks, decompression, Toby is obsessive but we knew that, first time?

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 12k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! This work is based off of @h3llw1’s request made a while ago that I felt fit perfectly with a good spooky special! I will tag the request! Please be responsible and have fun tonight and this weekend!

Find the original request for this story here!

“Wait, so… Who are you dressed up as, again?”

You shuffled the goggles off of your eyes, pushing them onto your forehead and messing into your hair, turning back to your friend.

“Toby Rogers- y’know, that kid who burned all those houses down? Serial killer, dude.” You smiled awkwardly, turning back to your vanity mirror and pressing the makeup brush against your cheek, trying to recreate the infamous cheek gash in the image you had pulled up. You were almost done, detailing the fake teeth at the corner of your lips. “Was really obsessed with him in middle school…”

“Oh, right.” Your roommate, Avery, rolled her eyes, curling the strands of her hair into big voluptuous rolls, making sure each piece looked nice under her hat. She was supposed to be Strawberry Shortcake, you think, it was hard to tell with how little she was wearing of the actual costume. It was really more of a bikini topped off with a strawberry hat.

“You’re still planning on going to AJ’s party, right?” She chirped, flipping the curling iron off and lying it on the counter, reaching back to grab her phone. You paused, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror- your costume really wasn’t the ‘AJ’s party’ type. You turned around in your chair, a little overwhelmed with how messy your bedroom floor was, but promising yourself you would clean it up later tonight.

“Uh, sure- If you guys are still going.” Avery tapped away at her phone, your own lighting up with text messages to your group chat sent by her. You were waiting on the rest of her friends, some people she had become close with in her classes.

It would be fun… you hoped.

“Oh, they’re here.” Stepping out of your room, you followed her to the front door, making sure your makeup looked good in the mirror. Standing on your front step, the rest of the group was there, chittering their excitement as Avery swung the door wide.

You stood awkwardly as they all hugged, complimenting each other on their matching costumes- the other two girls were supposed to be Orange Blossom and Blueberry Muffin, but they more or less matched with Avery’s.

They each had a guy with them, the tallest one wrapping his arm around your roommate’s shoulder, the Ghostface costume he had on making her all giggly. You cringed, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie you had stitched to look like Toby’s, the stripes on your sleeves were the hardest part.

“Oh! This is my roommate [Y/N], she’s gonna come with us tonight.” You nodded, giving a small wave as they all turned to you. Brushing your hair behind your ear, they all smiled sweetly, but you could tell they were a little put off by the outfit you were wearing.

“Ah, what’re you dressed up as?” The Ghostface guy chuckled, shuffling his mask up to get a better look. 

“Oh- uhm, Toby Rogers? Like, that serial killer. Yeah.” None of them had a clue, you could see it in the weird glances they cast at one another. Avery waved them off, jingling through her keys to pull the door shut and locking it behind you. “We should get going, I don’t wanna miss anyone.”

Nodding, everyone began to walk down the hallway of your apartment building, the guys carrying six-packs of beer under their arms. Sighing, you followed behind, taking the fabric mask from under your chin and pulling it over your mouth.

You would try to have fun tonight, you swore it.

-

“Listen, kid, if you don’t hurry up I’m leaving you here.” 

Jeff crossed his arms, a scowl on his face as he watched poor Sally try and adjust her costume. Toby shoved him, kneeling beside her and reaching back to tie the little bow around her waist, casting a nasty look at the killer.

She was dressed as Annabelle, the creepy dress splattered with fake blood, making the real blood pooling from her forehead look like nothing more than some face paint. Her hair was tied into two neat little braids, Nina’s doing. Sally turned to look at herself in the reflection of EJ’s truck- Jeff had stolen it for the night, claiming he wasn’t going to walk all the way into town just for some candy. She finally nodded, holding her little basket tight in her hands.

This was her first Halloween, with Jeff of all people, so she was a little anxious. The killer, on the other hand, found this holiday to be his favorite. He could waltz the streets of the small town closest to the mansion, hood down and everything, snagging as much candy and compliments as he wanted. People really admired his ‘makeup.’

Toby decided to tag along this year, curious to see all the costumes and jack-o-lanterns. He really loved this night as a kid, he wanted to make sure it was good for Sally, too.

“I’m ready now.” She hummed, skipping forward to wrap her hand around Jeff’s hoodie sleeve, the killer rolling his eyes as he began to walk. Toby followed behind, admiring the decorations and darkly colored leaves littering the ground, a surge of excitement coursing through him. It felt just like one of those older scary movies, the sun dipping just low enough to cast an orangish hue across the clouds, kids running around giggling and screaming, parents tossing out candy left and right- he missed this feeling, what it was like to be normal.

He was older now, officially ‘candy handing-out’ age. He used to relish these days, promising that he would dress up for Halloween until he was sixty- now he had much more important things to worry about than what costume he was going to wear. If only his younger self knew how much of a genuine horror his life would become.

“C’mon, twitch, I ain’t waitin’ on you, too,” Jeff called, snapping Toby out of his trance as he watched kids race across the road, some mother yelling about being careful. He nodded, pushing his mask up over his nose, shimmying his goggles off of his forehead and over his eyes. He was still too paranoid to go outright, the covers made him feel more secure, like fewer people’s eyes were boring into him. He felt that swell of anxiety, having to remind himself that people would be far more concerned with Jeff’s look than his. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he took a deep breath- he had to calm down.

He wouldn’t lose himself tonight, he swore it.

-

“Wh- What’d you get?” Toby helped carry Sally’s basket, the thing nearly overflowing with how much she was getting, everyone was loving her costume. They were nearly done with this neighborhood, but Jeff heard some kids yelling about a Baptist church’s trunk-or-treat, and he was more than excited to show up somewhere holy. It was getting late, the sun almost nearly disappeared, so Toby knew it was almost time to wrap things up.

“Lots’a chocolate. Jeff keeps stealing the good stuff, though.” Glancing up, the killer was popping a tiny box of nerds into his mouth, tossing the cardboard onto someone’s yard when he shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got like, six more of ‘em- you’ll be fine, squirt.”

It was turning out a lot better than Toby had thought, the brunette’s worries nearly washed away as the night grew more crowded. Jeff had spotted some middle-schooler dressed as Slenderman, the killer nearly doubling over in laughter as Toby hauled his phone out to take a picture. The brunette had forgotten just how popular their boss really was, more of an internet spectacle than folklore now. A meme? Yeah, his big scary boss was a meme. Tim and Brian were going to get a crack out of it. 

Teenagers were out now, older kids walking in packs with their friends, not so much worried about getting candy as they were trying to hide the alcohol they were carrying. Toby had forgotten just how much different Halloween was when you got older- girls dressed in skimpy outfits of cartoon characters, guys trying to play cool as some movie slasher chasing everyone around, and then you had the ones who just didn’t dress up at all. It was weird.

“Damn, when did Strawberry Shortcake lose the baker getup and start wearing lingerie?” Jeff snickered, crossing his arms and nodding towards a group across the street. Toby scanned them, the orangish tint of his goggles obscuring them, but he could easily make out who the killer was talking about. He gave the rest of the pack a once-over, their outfits more or less the same as guys clung to their hips, flirty little touches as they all walked.

He almost missed it though, the one in the middle of the group, unaccompanied. Jeff must’ve seen it at the same time because he was slapping Toby’s arm like crazy.

“Oh fuck, isn’t that supposed to be you?” Toby shoved his goggles off of his face, ruffling them into his bangs just like how you had them, looking utterly bored as your group quickly began to get out of his eyesight. The brunette looked down at himself, wearing that same hoodie that every popular image depicted him in, the stripes on his sleeves the telltale sign. There was no mistaking it, you were dressed up as him.

The brunette didn’t know how to feel, didn’t even really know what to say as Jeff’s teasing went unheard beside him. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, couldn’t stop his hands from flexing and fidgeting with utter excitement.

He had to get a better look at you.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Jeff yelled across the road, Toby shoving the candy basket into the killer’s hands and jogging in the direction your friends were going.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later! Don’t wa- wait up!”

He disappeared into another block, Jeff letting out an exasperated sigh as he took Sally’s hand. “C’mon, kid. We’ve got some Baptists to freak out.”

-

It was already loud inside the house, music thumping against the walls as people tried to shout to hear one another. 

You hung against the wall of the living room, sipping slowly on whatever alcohol-filled punch they were serving in the kitchen. People were spilling out everywhere, the front yard just as busy as the rest of the rooms of AJ’s house.

It was barely even 9 PM, but nearly everyone from your school was here, familiar faces passing by with glances or cheesy small talk. Avery and her friends had disappeared into the crowd near the speakers, couples dancing and talking with one another, the pulsing neon lights, cheers following every finished game of beer pong, and the atmosphere heavy with vodka and laughter. It was nice, a little overwhelming, but nice.

You could feel the buzz in the back of your head, the tipsy dizziness you held making it a little easier to relax, the music swaying your hips gently.

You couldn’t see through the crowd, but Toby rested his shoulders back on the wall across from you, tapping his fingers across his thigh as he surveyed the crowd. He didn’t even have a drink, awkwardly trying to pretend like he was supposed to be here amongst the buzzed-out college kids.

He had followed you there, staying a comfortable distance behind your group and out of your curious eyes. It was hard not to notice the way your eyes lingered on the houses you passed, smiling at the kids who ran by, and pointing out the overzealous house decorations. You really stood out from your group, a sore thumb from the rest of them. 

What was he doing? Why was he even here? Following some girl because she was dressed as him? Toby knew he was popular, Ben reminding him every time some new post went up on the internet trying to debunk his whereabouts. It didn’t bother him, with his job came weirdos who idolized him- he had just never seen it in person before. 

It really was surreal. 

“Oh my god.”

Toby shot up, straightening as he looked to his side, panic sweeping over him.

Lost in his thoughts and the rush of the party, he hadn’t noticed you pushing to his side of the room, shuffling past to get back into the kitchen for more of whatever you were drinking. You had your mask tugged down under your chin, the facepaint on the left side of your cheek standing out against your flushed cheeks. You even had torn tissue paper to make it look realistic- God, he was going to freak out.

Holding your hands out, you look down at yourself and then at him, comparing your almost identical outfits with a bright smile. “Nice costume, man.” 

Of course, you were cute. He was trying to register you, eyes flinching across your sweet face smiling up at him.

Toby teetered, shoulder flinching just enough to make you glance, but not enough to take the excitement away from your face. He also realized he was just staring and not saying anything- “Oh! Yea- Yeah, hah-” The cool metal of his mask pressed against his cheeks, staring oddly at the fabric one you had.

“Oh damn, you’ve got like- the legit facemask. I just got mine from Spirit, it’s pretty crappy.” You laughed to yourself, holding the solo cup awkwardly in your hands, fidgeting with the lid. Toby immediately regretted his decision, wracking through his brain for some way to get out of here- he forgot how painful small talk was. “I didn’t know anybody else even knew who Ticci Toby was.”

God, that nickname. The play on words was supposed to be funny, but its holder didn’t think it was all that humorous. He smiled at you anyway; there was just something about the way you said it, all giddy.

“Ah, yeah. Mine’s pre- pretty old.” He was fidgeting again, unprepared for how you snuck up on him. “I, uhm, tried my best. Haven’t re- really dressed up in a while.” You complimented him heftily, pointing out the ‘fake’ dirt and blood stains across his hoodie, the great quality of his goggles, and even how he got his makeup to that weird milky-gray skin color. To you, it was just a very well-done costume. 

“No, I get it. I don’t usually go all out like this,” Looking down at yourself, you put on sort of a blush, nervous chirping about how niche it was. Toby couldn’t help but smile. “I just have always really loved his story, so I wanted to make one of my last Halloween’s memorable, y’know?” Ah, candy-handing-out age. A million thoughts ran in the brunette’s mind, but he found himself relaxing again, shoulder pressed onto the wall as you rambled. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one who likes him.”

With you, this close, cheery little features continuing to blab on about the rest of the small details of your own costume, he couldn’t help but find himself listening so intently. A fan? Is that what you were? It felt weird to think about it like that, but the brunette found himself blushing at the thought of an admirer.

“-And I fringed the bottom of his hoodie with a lighter. It was hard to get it to look right, but I really liked how it came out. Y’know, for like him burning his house and stuff- I thought it was a nice detail.” Toby was nodding along, surprised by the little burn holes near the pockets of your lookalike hoodie, the attention to detail far more than he was expecting. “That’s really cool, uh-”

“[Y/N].”

“Uh- Toby.” Was that going to give it away-

“Even got the name down too, huh? Man, I see why you dressed up as him- you fit everything to a T.” He relaxed, your obliviousness laughable, but also a heavy relief.

People brushed by, bumping into both of your shoulders and shimmying their way through. You refocused again, pointing back over your shoulder with a shy smile. “Would you, uh, wanna get some more to drink? I was going anyway-”

Woah- You were inviting him to hang out longer? He was about to refuse, come up with some weird excuse to get back to Jeff and Sally, but the way you gleamed up at him, flashing lights and overstimulating music, it felt so odd.

He was going to let himself give in. He was wearing a ‘costume’ after all, so why not play up the act and enjoy himself a little bit? Slender would have him out running these woods by tomorrow, so why not just take the night and at least pretend like he was still a normal kid? Like all those bad things never happened, being a proxy never happened… He was just a kid who grew up, spending Halloween how normal teenagers did now. Yeah, he was going to let himself have this one night if nothing else.

Toby nodded, pushing off of the wall as you led the way, pushing through the mess of wildly dressed people into the kitchen. Behind you, now, Toby could see the way you still stood out amongst everyone, odd glances being cast in your direction. Just like him, almost, a freak in a sea of hateful eyes. You get it.

“I don’t really know what this stuff is, but it tastes pretty good.” You laugh, flipping the nozzle of the jug holding whatever concoction was mixed with red Kool-Aid, pouring some into two cups. You handed it to Toby, the brunette awkwardly swirling the liquid around with a nervous stare. You giggled at him, wrapping your hand around the sleeve of his hoodie, and guiding him out the back door and onto the patio.

The atmosphere was much calmer than inside, the muffled thumping of whatever song was playing giving a nice rhythmic atmosphere as you sat on top of the stairs leading out into the backyard. You both watched friends and couples dare each other to jump into the pool, the chilly autumn air guiding you to believe the water wasn’t much warmer. Toby sat next to you, mask still snug on his face, revealing nothing for your curious mind.

“So, Toby, what’re you doing here?” You sipped lightly on the drink, contrasting flavors of vodka swirling in the fruity punch, the sting of alcohol making you cringe. Toby hesitated, still tapping his fingers on the side of the plastic cup, trying his best to calm his rushing nerves.

“Uhm- well, y’know… Halloween par- party stuff…” Even though you had taken notice of his stutter ages ago, you forcefully ignored it. You knew better than anyone about nerves, you didn’t want the poor guy to feel any worse about it. Still, his answer made you laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” You smile as he shakes his head, leaning back to glance up at the sky, the moon hanging bright and casting a milky glow across the clouds. Toby really enjoyed it when it was like this, made it easier to see where he was going at night. “That’s alright, I don’t really belong here, either.” You enjoyed the moon because it was pretty. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“How come?” Toby leaned back, too, kicking his legs out as he relaxed, easing into the conversation. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I only came because my roommate invited me, I didn’t really want to come. These things aren’t really my deal.” You took another sip, Toby taking in every inch of your face, studying every detail as you spoke. “I would’ve much rather gone trick-or-treating. I guess we’re all a little too old for that now, though, huh?”

The breeze ruffled your hair, wrapping your knees in tight against your chest as the air chilled you. Toby caught himself admiring- it was almost like you were wearing his hoodie, the top just a little oversized on you- he could imagine it. “Nah, I used to love it. Wish it wasn’t we- weird to go when you got a certain age like there’s a time lim- limit on when you can ask for candy.” He smiled, flinching his leg a little.

Toby felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, leaning over to dig it out, flipping the screen up to see a text message from Jeff.

“wtf r u?????” “party. dont wait up.” “😡🖕🙄”

Just to make sure, Toby shared his location with the killer, flipping his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket.

You gave him a sideways glance, smacking him on the shoulder playfully. “You haven’t even drank anything- at least try it. It’s not all that bad.” Clearly, considering you were throwing the cup back to finish off presumably your second glass.

Toby awkwardly cupped his hand onto the metal of his mask, sliding it down below his chin. Thankfully, he had remembered to get EJ to redo the bandages on the corner of his mouth, the gaudy wound becoming irritating to deal with. He wishes it was just cool makeup like yours.

Taking a sip from the cup, he cringed, brows knotting as he shut his eyes. “God- That’s like- straight vodka with fru- fruit syrup- Fuck-” It burned his tongue, your laughter so sweet beside him, resting your hand on his shoulder. He made a funny face, fake gagging on the terrible thing.

He sat straight when you gasped, cupping your hands onto his cheeks and turning his head forcefully. His instincts kicked, hands flexing to grab at you, to slam you down across the pavement below- 

Until you were rubbing your thumb across his bandages gently, flattening out the ends that had become soiled with dried blood. Toby forced himself to relax, his heart thudding in his chest with adrenaline. No one usually got this close- touched him- unless they were clawing for their life. It was like a whiplash, having to condition himself differently for your ignorance.

“Dude, no way you’ve been hiding these all night! Fuck, even these look real- how in the world are you so good at dressing up?” You were taking in every detail of his face, assuming the scars across his lips and cheekbones were merely good makeup skills or a talented friend, Toby trying his best not to freak out with you this close.

You seemed to notice it too, because you were snapping your hands back, eyes blowing wide-

“Shit- sorry- I get real excited about these things… The drinks probably aren’t helping either.” You chuckled, awkwardly sitting back and tucking your knees against your chest, silently cursing yourself for making him uncomfortable with your weird obsession. Toby noticed it, immediately catching the switch-up in your attitude.

Holding his palm out, he levels it in front of you, catching your attention. “I’ve, uhm, got the weird hand bandages, too.” He sheepishly smiled, watching as you slowly lit up again, taking his hand between your own.

“No way…” You picked at the medical wrap clinging around his hand, little bandaids and medical tape snugged tight around his fingers to hide the terrible bite marks and scars he had given himself, that gaudy proxy symbol etched into his flesh. He wanted to compliment your makeup, to say something about how realistic it looked-

Until you both heard a piercing scream from across the patio.

“Tyler!”

Snapping your gaze to the noise, you watched as a tall jockey guy hauled a tiny blonde girl over his shoulders, taking two heavy steps before he jumped into the pool, dragging her along with him. Toby was concerned but was quickly caught off guard when you began to laugh, slapping his arm.

“Avery! Are you okay?!” The other girls on the side of the pool knelt down beside the water, reaching their arms out to help the poor girl back onto solid land. They quickly had a towel wrapped around her, and the guy, Tyler, hopped up onto the side, high-fiving the similar-looking guys accompanying them.

You were still laughing, Toby smiling even when the girl came over to the steps, hurriedly trying to get back inside.

“Ah- [Y/N]? Who’s this?” Your roommate gave Toby a once-over, casting a sideways glance as she noticed you both were wearing the same outfit.

“Uh, This is Toby- we’re dressed as the same thing, see?” You were all cheery, smiling up at her even as she dripped water everywhere. Toby recognized them now, the skimpy group you were walking with, the ones who left you alone almost immediately after getting to the party. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt you, but the brunette had seen it all, catching every time you longingly stared at them through the crowd- the way you still did now.

“Right… Well, I’m glad you guys found each other,” You could hear the sarcasm in her voice, her friends hanging behind her and giving you both funny looks, whispering to one another as she talked. Toby knew you noticed it, too. You were pressing your knees against your chest again, shriveling up into yourself. “Look, we’re leaving. Probably going to finish the night out at some bars if you want to head on back to the apartment.”

You began to nod, giving Toby a half-glance of defeat, taking your empty cup in hand as you began to stand up.

“Uh- Ac- Actually, we’re going trick-or-treating. So, don’t wa- wait up.” Toby stared daggers into the girl, unapologetically snagging your hand in his as he stood, taking his cup in hand. Avery watched him with a sour look, glancing back and forth between you two before stepping up the rest of the stairs. “You two have fun, then. Freaks.”

She definitely said the last part louder than she meant to, because her friends were giggling as they trailed behind her, quickly scuttling into the crowded house. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let it show, but the pang in your chest was heavy.

Toby looked at you, took a firm grip on the solo cup, and closed his eyes. You watched with bright eyes as he chugged the rest, throat burning as he groaned, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. You smiled, forgetting that your hand was still tucked neatly into his as you both raced off the patio, pushing through the fence gate, and climbing out onto the road. The street lights were on now, kids dwindling as houses stopped handing out candy, but Toby was determined to get you some.

“Are we actually trick-or-treating?” You laughed, Toby dragging you along with him, pulling his mask back up and over his nose. “Dude, we’re like, totally too old for this stuff, now-”

“And? Just cause I’m older doesn’t me- mean I stopped loving candy.” He hollered. You clung against his side, the breeze pushing through your hair and giving your nose a cute little blush, eyes bright with excitement as you gripped his hand tighter. You tugged your own mask up, shimmying your plastic goggles off of your head and over your eyes, completing the entire look. Toby stalled, heart whirling in his chest as you raced down the sidewalk, excitement buzzing in the air.

Jeff was going to kill him, but it would be worth it.

-

“Trick or treat!”

You held out a plastic Walmart bag, the thing nearly busting with how many pieces of candy it was holding. You both had meant to stop five houses ago, but when you somehow wound up in the nicer neighborhood four blocks over, you couldn’t pass up the full-size candy bars they were giving out.

The tipsiness was really hitting now, you both holding onto one another as concerned glances from parents dumping the rest of their candy into your bag. You always hated those obnoxious people who laughed or talked too loud in public, but now, you found yourself doubling over, cackling at the mean comments Toby was dishing out to little kids’ costumes.

“Tha- That’s supposed to be Spiderman? Yeesh.” It wasn’t even that funny, but you nearly hit your knees from lack of air, laughing so hard that your chest was hurting. Toby’s eyes were heavy, neck jerking and body twitching from the overstimulation, his cheeks a rosy color from the swirl of alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Okay, okay,” You raised up, catching your breath as you leaned against his arm, the rusty smell of his cologne surrounding you. “I think if we get any more- hic- we’re gonna be picking all of it up off the ground.” You pointed at the sack, the plastic stretching and threatening to bust out everywhere. Toby nodded, reaching in and snagging a Hershey’s kiss, popping the sweet chocolate into his mouth. You acted offended, holding the bag close as you both laughed.

The streets were nearly empty now, most of the houses’ lights being turned off and decorations unplugged, the only sign of activity from cars driving by or random groups of kids racing back home to review their hauls. You could feel your own room calling to you, your intoxication pulsing sleepiness into your mind.

Toby noted when you yawned, taking that as a silent sign that the night was ending, preparing to part ways with you. He nearly reached back into his pocket, going to give Jeff a call to come pick him up.

“Wanna go back to my place?”

He paused, your heavy eyes grinning up at him.

“Uh- What?” He could feel himself blushing. Was it just the vodka? He hoped so.

“Well, I ain’t gonna eat all of this by myself. Besides, I’m not trusting myself to get back without crashing out in a bush somewhere.” Toby laughed, rolling his eyes as you waited for his answer, shifting your weight nervously. You smiled when he nodded, your arm quickly wrapping around his and dragging him down the rest of the street.

Reaching over, he took the bag of candy from your hands, stuffing it under his arm. You walked slowly, taking in the dulled-out character inflatables and oversized skeletons in people’s yards, pointing out the Spirit Halloween animatronics that you found so cool. He couldn’t help but find himself staring, encapsulated with you. You found such beauty in what everyone else found offputting, admiring what even he would call strange.

“You’re so weird.” He huffed with a grin.

You glanced up at him, rolling your eyes. “You like it.”

Toby couldn’t find a good answer, turning his attention back to the street lights out front. He did like it. 

“So, I never asked about you- Like, really. What do you do when you’re not wearing the best Toby Rogers cosplay ever?” Toby glanced at you, stalling out mentally as he tried to come up with something.

“Uh, I travel a lo- lot. Kinda like an on-call thing. Uhm… Yeah.” You nodded along, but the brunette wasn’t entirely sure you were hearing what he was saying. You were just looking at him, eyelids hanging low as you took in every detail of his face. He smiled, reaching his free hand to tug your mask down under your chin, your sly grin hidden underneath.

“Tell me abo- about you, [Y/N]. What is Ms. Rogers doing when she’s not ob- obsessing over me?”

Toby paused, a dead stare into your eyes as he choked on his words. He slipped up- Did you notice, would you care? He could feel the panic rising in his chest, jerks twinging at the back of his neck, anxiety swelling-

“Woah, easy tiger-” You’re giggling, pushing the strands of hair that fell in your face when you did an unbalanced little bow. “Didn’t know I was in the presence of such a celebrity.”

Toby was already relaxing, shoulders untensing faster than they wound, trying his best to settle his shaky hands. “But, I don’t know. I’m in between jobs? School?” You fidgeted with your hands, your arm still wrapped tightly around his. The weight was comforting. “I’m only still here because it’s where I grew up, but I don’t know what I’m doin’ now…” Your stare was distant, fidgeting with the fabric of his sleeve as you talked. 

He was about to say something, trying to muster up some affirming speech that Tim used to tell him when things got rough. But you were tugging him off of the sidewalk, skipping towards some apartment complex building. “We’re hereee…”

He followed you through the neat hallways, the stout smell of clean and tacky air fresheners strong on the brightly colored carpet. Toby didn’t know if he had ever been in a place so nice, dozens of doors lining everywhere you went, feeling like he could get lost if you weren’t dragging him into an elevator.

Pressing your floor button, he leaned back against the brassy walls, your hands rummaging through your pockets and hauling out a set of keys. Cute little keychains were hooked onto the loop, reaching back into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the screen.

“Here, smile-” You were leaning back against him, holding your hand high in the air to take a selfie, Toby grinning goofily up into the camera. Looking over the picture, you smiled, never moving off of his shoulder as the elevator took you up, Toby’s heart soaring much higher.

-

“How many of those are you going to eat?” You gasped, tossing another Skittles wrapper onto your floor, adding to the mess that you swore you were going to clean up.

Alternatively, you were lying on your back, laid out on your even messier bed, stuffing your face with possibly the most unhealthy amounts of sweets. Toby sat on the floor, his back pressed against your footboard, rummaging his hands through the sack and tossing pieces up to you. 

He looks really good in just a t-shirt, you thought, catching yourself staring at his toned shoulders.

“As many as I want.” He grinned, popping another jawbreaker into his mouth. Your twin pairs of goggles and masks lay scattered on the floor, hoodies bunched at his feet. Toby was in bliss, the sweet smell of your perfume and clothes soaked in all around him, pieces of you everywhere he looked. Posters of your favorite bands, corkboard full of keychains and polaroids, even your wall-mounted TV playing some older murder mystery documentary. He loved how normal it felt, how comfortable, and different.

In his mind, he could see you going through the motions every day, the boy longing for even just a taste of that. In the way you admired his weirdness, he admired your normality. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“I’m officially cutting myself off until Christmas.” You huffed, climbing off of the bed and staggering to your vanity. Toby watched as you fiddled through your makeup, popping open the box of makeup wipes and taking one out. Pushing your hair behind your ears, you began to wipe the design on your cheek off, rubbing the wipe over your eyes and cleansing your skin of the fake deep-set eyes. The brunette was lost, mesmerized by how your rosy cheeks looked so sweet in the warm light of your bedside lamp, eyes brighter than ever.

Sitting off your chair, Toby sat up a little when you grabbed another wipe, kneeling next to him. “Your turn.”

He stuttered, glancing from your now-clean face to the wipe in hand, nervousness creeping up in his throat. The wipe was cold, pressing it against his as you tried to clean him off, Toby watching through worried eyes when your face started to contort, confusion heavy in your features. “Dude, like, none of this is coming off. What kind of makeup did you use?”

“Hah- Uh, the good stuff, y’know?” He could tell you weren’t convinced, scrubbing just a little harder on his cheekbone until the grayish skin became littered with red irritation. You sat back on your heels, cupping the side of his cheek with your free hand, running your thumb across the skin under his eye. Toby flinched, your other hand coming up to cup the other side of his head, eyes tensed in focus. 

Fuck, here it goes.

“This isn’t makeup, is it?”

Toby cringed, refusing to look you directly in the eyes. His fingers flexed, the outline of his pocketknife pressing against his leg, a silent reminder. He didn’t want to do it, God, he silently begged not to, prayed for you to brush it off so he could get out of here. The room felt so small now, your closeness becoming increasingly irritating the longer you stared.

But the brunette knew that if you reacted how everyone else did, with panicked screams that would have your curious neighbors come knocking, he knew what he would have to do. Even someone as awestruck as you couldn’t keep him from the inevitable.

He clenched his jaw when you dropped your hands, parting your lips like you wanted to say something, but getting tangled in your own thoughts.

“[Y/N]. I’m- uhm- I’m him, okay?”

You just kept staring, “I get it, your costume was good- okay? I don’t-”

“No, I’m not- Jeez,” He slid his hand up the side of his thigh, finally forcing himself to look at your confused face, eyes snagging onto every detail. “I’m Ro- Rogers. Like- Toby, Toby Rogers… I’m Ticci Toby.”

Tapping his heel on your carpeted floor, the brunette waited, collecting every twitch of your eyes or shaky breath that you took. He was ready for the yelling, the panic, taking calculated measurements in his head of just how many steps it would take for you to get to your bedroom door. He had done it a million times, ended someone’s life a million times. He would force this time not to be different.

His hand flexed around the indent of his pocketknife, ready to flip the metal open as you sat up onto your knees.

Your hands moved slowly, following the same motion you had been making all night, but this time it was more meaningful. Toby flinched as your warm fingertips brushed along his jaw, wrapping gently around his cheeks as you said nothing, the brunette trying to keep the floodgates of panic from cracking open in his mind.

That’s when he felt your fingernails picking at the bandage on his cheek, pinching the edge, and slowly, carefully removing the sterile cloth underneath, the fabric spotty with dried blood. Toby let his eyes shut, his facial wound now on full display, slowly ticking the seconds of silence by in his mind, relishing in the fleeting feeling of his ‘normality.’

He was a fool to ever think he could have something so nice-

“The pictures on the internet do not do you justice.”

The rush came to a stop, eyes slowly flinching open as he looked at you, his brows knitted in confusion. “What?”

“There’s these pictures on Twitter, really blurry, but still- of you. They don’t make this thing look half as cool as it really is.” As if to confirm it for yourself, you brushed your thumb across the edge of his skin where the flesh broke off in torn tissue and exposed the side of his gums. You watched to see if he would flinch, carefully pressing the softness of his cheek to watch the skin stretch and move- it was real.

Toby watched as you sat back, setting your hands down in your lap. It was strange how the brunette found himself missing the warmth of your touch, already.

“Toby… Toby… How the fuck did I not see it sooner?” You repeated his name over and over, rolling the syllables off your tongue and stapling them in your mind. “How did I not notice? I’ve seen your face a million times.”

Toby could barely register any of it, his heart thudding a mile a minute as you carried on like everything was normal, more angry with yourself for not noticing it was him than anything. It was almost a blur as you scooted forward, leaning in close to wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him in so gently. 

He could feel himself melt, hand unraveling from his knife as the panic dissipated, the sweet, lovely smell of your perfume heavy in his nose. He had to be dreaming, he thought, slowly coaxing his hands around your back and pulling you in closer, forgetting the last time he had even had a hug at all.

But then it ends all too quickly, your hands pushing back on his shoulders, a panicked look in your eyes.

“I must seem insane.” And then you’re standing up, running your hands through your hair, pacing back and forth across the messiness of your bedroom. Toby shakes his head, standing off the ground, reaching out to you. “I’ve been going on and on about you all night- I must seem so psycho and crazy. This is so embarrassing- What the fuck?” 

He’s grabbing your arms, pulling you back over to the foot of your bed, and sitting you down, an exasperated smile on his face. He was so worried about you freaking out or becoming terrified that he completely forgot who you were. You had been rambling about him all night, unknowingly complimenting the boy right to his face, and Toby was scared you wouldn’t like him. Just like how you’re worried about looking crazy, embarrassment flooding your face as you hide your palms in your hands.

“[Y/N], lo- look at me.” He tugs your hands away, sitting beside you on the bed, leaning down so you’re forced to look at him. You nervously hold his gaze, face so red and flustered, he’s smiling at you like a little kid. “It’s cute.”

And then you’re flopping back onto the bed, screaming into your hands as Toby laughs, running his hands through his hair.

Is this what it’s like? Teenagers hiding out in their rooms, casting sheepish glances at one another all night until one of them cracks, everything flooding out. He should be taking a priority, getting the hell out of your room and out of your life before he gets mixed up with something he can’t pull himself away from. But the flirty touches, teasing, and everything else that got him here clouds his judgment.

Then you’re sitting back up, scooting closer, and throwing your arms around his neck, abandoning every thought he was just brushing over in his mind. He holds you close, your face hiding in the crook of his neck, taking uneven, steady breaths as you try and rationalize it all, before giving up. “I’m sorry, Toby.”

And now it’s his turn to be confused, leaning back to look you in the face. “For?”

“Everything. The things even I couldn’t have controlled, the things that made you this way- Nobody’s probably ever told you before, so I will: I’m sorry. I’ve studied your story so many times, went over every detail, ran your perspective in my dreams- but even still, I can’t possibly imagine.”

The brunette can’t feel pain, he doesn’t understand the cut of a knife or the sting of a bullet. But the pang that snags in his chest, this heavy weight that feels like all the pain he's ever missed out on- that hurts worse than anything. But looking into your eyes, his hands planted firm on your skin, the solid weight beside him- It’s like it's all never even mattered in the first place.

For the first time in his life, he’s being seen. Viewed as more than just a weapon.

Screw the different perspective, screw the polar opposites, he’s in the here and now. It doesn’t matter if he’s been pretending tonight or his entire life, right now is real. He’s not going to lose it.

“Ca- Can I kiss you…?” It’s nearly a whisper, his voice so quiet and nervous as he leans forward on your bed.

You glance from his eyes down to his lips, heart thumping so loud you’re scared he might be able to hear it. You nod anyway, blinking slowly as you hold his gaze. “Y- Yeah.”

Toby brings his hand up nice and slow, cupping the side of your cheek as he leans in, fingers trembling against your skin. Your hand reaches to cup his, warm fingers relaxing atop his, a satisfying weight that has the boy swooning. Then you’re leaning in, too, slowly fluttering your eyes shut.

And then your lips touch, and everything just holds for a moment.

All the rush of the night, the nervousness, the excitement, it stops for just this one second.

You’re leaning into his touch, soft lips pressed firmly against his rough ones, slowly twinging your jaw to coax him deeper. He feels like he’s melting, skin so hot to the touch when you reel him in, your free hand snaking up the backside of his neck and into his messy curls.

He groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss and leaning back, breathing heavily. Your face is so flushed, cheeks a deep vermillion that makes Toby smile a little, grinning as he still cups your cheek. Your fingers brush through his hair, coaxing his head into your hand with such gentle touches. It’s so sweet, so calm, a complete turn from what the brunette is used to.

He knows pain, and rough, and cold- but you- there’s only sweetness, and caring, and warmth behind those eyes. He wants more of it, to feel more of it, he has to have it- to have you.

It doesn’t hit him what just happened until you’re giggling in front of him. Then that hold snaps, his conscience rushing back into him, and he’s leaning back further-

“I’m so so sorry- Oh my god- I don’t kn- know what I was thinking- I- Gah- I’m so sorry-”

“Toby.”

“If I should go- or- Oh, my god- I’m sorry- I should-”

“Toby.”

“I’m just so-”

And then your hands are wrapped into his hair, pushing forward until your lips collide, hurried, loud kisses that have the brunette spiraling, eyes fluttering shut again. There’s that warmth, your body leaning in to press close to his, arms wrapping around his neck, he thinks he might pass away.

You pull back, taking a deep breath as Toby collects himself, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He’s a mess, brain running a mile a minute, his body having a hard time catching up as he twitches and jerks. 

Throwing your leg over his, you straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and holding him close. He’s swallowed by the sweet smell of your perfume, resting his chin on your shoulder as he wraps onto your back, heart thumping against your chest. He finds the thoughts flooding, dissipating the more he breathes, disappearing into this blanket of quiet.

“You alright?” You whisper, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair, his skin tingling with your touch. He hums low against your shoulder, running his fingers up and down your spine, the touch making you sigh. He could live forever in this moment, could die happy right here.

But when his fingers mindlessly dip a little too low, brushing your lower back right above the waistline of your jeans, Toby mewls at the way you grip onto tufts of his hair. It’s abrupt, a reaction, but he feeds into it anyway. He brushes that spot again, right above your tailbone, and you’re taking a deep, shaky breath against his neck. He likes that a lot.

Gently, he tugs the hem of your shirt up, just enough to see a peak of your skin. You pause, hitching a breath when you feel his cold fingers wind up under your shirt and press against your back.

“Toby-” He promises he’ll stop if you ask him to, making sure you know that- but you’re shaking your head, gripping onto his arm as he pushes his hand higher, snaking his fingers along the bony press of your back. You let out a low groan, quiet, but just enough to have Toby aching for more. He stops when his fingers brush the strap of your bra, dipping back down to caress the curve of your skin, studying every detail you’ll let him get.

“You’re so pretty…” He whispers, the dull lamp glowing across your flushed face making him blush, your body relaxing against his hold. Your noises are like a drug, he wants to hear them over and over, the softness of your voice so intoxicating. But more than that, he wants you. If this is all he gets, he’ll cherish it for the rest of his days.

Wrapping an arm around your back, he’s flipping you over, pushing you up to the center of your plush bed and towering over you. “Toby…” He drinks in your sweet gasps as he intertwined his lips with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were with a swipe of his tongue across your lower lip. Toby’s hands wandered the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to rub your waist. It’s so greedy, so hurried and eager, but doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

Your fingers run through his curls, following his head as he moves off your lips, slowly pressing a trail of gentle, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. You’re gasping, running your hands across his shoulders, digging your nails in when he kisses just above your collarbone- but then he’s sitting back, pushing up and off of you with a worried look.

“Fu- Fuck, I’m sorry-” And then you’re sitting up on your elbows, a concerned look on your face. “I’m not be- bein’ myself tonight- I don’t know what’s wrong. Shit, [Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Toby, it’s alright-” You laugh, pushing up to sit in front of him, reaching out before he takes your wrists in his hands, holding them down.

“No- I just, never do any- anything like this- It’s like I can’t stop-” Even through his apologies he’s staring at your lips, that hunger pooling in his chest for another sweet taste.

“You’re telling me I get to kiss the boy I’ve had a crush on for years, and he’s worried about not being able to stop?” Exasperation was heavy on your face, it’s almost laughable how much playful irritation was in your voice. Toby caught that last part though, the words going straight to his head.

“You gotta crush on me?” He smiles, redness tinting his cheeks. He’s still holding your wrists, your eyes slowly widening as the heat settles on your face.

“I, uhm- Well, you see-” You’re scrambling for words, the cheesy smile on Toby’s face not helping your case at all. “I mean, I thought it was kinda obvious. I dressed up as you for Halloween, man.”

He doesn’t let his conscience weigh him down anymore, pulling your hands to wrap around his neck before he pushes you back down onto the bed, swallowing the sweet taste of your lips against him. He can still taste the sourness of the candy you were eating on your tongue, too. He licks at the plush of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck- he probably won’t.

You’re a giggly mess, spreading your knees for him to slot between them, his muscled arms wrapping around the small of your waist. “And I’ve nev- never seen someone be able to pull off my go- goggles so well.” He prays you won’t be able to feel the bulge he’s sporting, but when your legs wrap around his hips, he loses all hope.

Your stomach flutters, tingles across your skin as he’s back on your neck, little nips and kisses that have your back arching off of the comforter, arms tightening around him. He would kiss you forever, marking every inch of your skin with a delicate brush of his lips, he could waste his time like that forever. You wrap your legs around Toby’s waist to pull him closer, feeling the outline of his cock. He grinds against you, letting out low groans at the snag of your clothed core. Both of you knew it- he needed you so badly.

But then you’re pushing your warm hands up the back of his shirt, fingers scorching across his toned muscles and scratching your nails into his skin. You push the top off of his shoulders, up and over his head before throwing it to the side, glancing down at the slim but strong figure looming above you. Scars adorn his skin, long gashes or scattered fragments of bullets that have clipped him, not to mention the littered cigarette burns all down his abdomen. He finds it disgusting, blemishes that he can’t stand to look at.

But you’re tracing them with your fingers, rubbing your thumbs across the blistered burns that made him sick, taking in every inch of him. And smiling. Was it possible to fall in love this fast?

“They’re disgusting.”

“They’re so cool.”

He can’t muster the words to fight you as you’re reaching deeper, pushing your hands further down his torso to snag onto his jeans, reaching for his belt. Toby’s body comes to a rushing halt, his heart beating so hard, the feeling of his cock finally getting the attention it wanted.

His hands rest on either side of your shoulders, a dark shadow over you as you slowly undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans hastily. Hands dipping past the band of his boxers-

He was big- so mouthwateringly big. Flushed a deep shade of pink at his tip, pulsing in your hand so comfortably- every part of Toby was so endlessly pretty to you. He was gasping, eyes trained on how your fist slowly moved, so hot and heavy in your grasp as you pumped him at a steady, methodical pace. “Ah- Shit…”

Glancing back up to you, your face is so red, lips parted as Toby takes your jaw into his grasp, forcing you to look up at him before he bullies his tongue past your lips, little groans slipping past. Your back arches into him as his hands snake up your shirt, parting from your lips only to push the fabric over your head, capturing your kiss quickly again. He thinks he can manage, thinks he can keep his composure- but then your thumb runs over his slit, precum dribbling out onto your finger, and he's moaning into your mouth like he's never been touched before.

He hasn’t, not like this, not this gentle.

“[Y/N]- Oh God-” You’re biting his bottom lip, fingers clenched tight around the swollen head of his cock and pumping gently, his hips twitching and jerking for more. He pushes off of you, the breathless flush of your face so pretty under him, but then he’s glancing down.

And, fuck.

Your tits sit so pretty in your bra, blushed skin laid out beneath him as shaky hands reach to unbutton your jeans, jerky fingers quickly tugging them down your thighs and onto the floor below. And then he can’t believe how he's gone this long without you, or how he'll be able to survive another night if you’re not with him. 

Where you admire his blemishes, he admires your perfection. Not a nasty knife scar or bullet nip anywhere on you, skin so soft and warm, his cold hands running across your smooth hips. “Gorgeous.” It’s the only thing he can think to say, but it doesn't do you any justice.

“Let me- Can I touch you? Pl- Please-”

You don’t answer, just rising up off of the bed to reach behind your back, unclipping your bra so seamlessly as it falls off your shoulders. Toby nearly moans when you toss the fabric to the side, chest rising and falling with shaky breaths, tits so round and heavy- so pretty.

Falling to your side, he’s holding you close, one leg draping over his bony hip as he shimmies his jeans off. Your legs spread wide, hands gripped tight into the softness of his curls as rough lips wrap around your nipple. You’re gasping, skin fluttering with every touch across your abdomen, cold fingers slowly trailing down just below your belly button. He stays there, tongue pressing flat across your nipple as the pads of his digits line the hem of your panties, teasing as you buck your hips up, silently begging for him to go lower.

The brunette’s fingers were now rubbing against your folds through your panties, causing you to jerk at the friction. He playfully nipped at your collarbone before glancing up at you through heavy eyelids. “My turn, pretty girl.”

“Toby- hah- Yeah-” His free hand wraps behind your back, cradling you into his side as he pinches at your unattended nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. He smiles against your tit, a long sigh of relief when you feel his fingers break past the line of your panties.

His fingers dip into the warm folds of your cunt, dipping down to collect your arousal on his digits, messily swiping across your plushy lips. You’re already soaked just from kissing, Toby popping off of your nipple to snag your lips, kissing you hungrily as you pant into his mouth. His fingers circle your clit, the nub pulsing and jerking at his touch, hips rising and falling as they chase the sensation. “Jesus- You’re soaked.”

Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub, you gasp, heat so prominent on your cheeks. “Don’t worry, I go- got you.” He’s unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor nipples, or soaking his tongue in the warmness of your mouth, lips glistening with his saliva. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You’ve never been touched like this before, and Toby didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your gummy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. You cry out, breaking from his kiss and giving him a good excuse to snag back onto your tit, gently biting on your reddened nipple.

He’s pumping his fingers rhythmically, curling them in a way that has your eyes fluttering shut, fingers tugging his hair so hard it makes him groan at the pressure. His digits glisten in the low light, hand stretching the fabric of your panties He’s hitting that little spot each and every time., looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your nipple, lips wrapped tight around the skin.

“Sh- Shit, Toby-” You groan, grinding your hips down as he stuffs his fingers all the way to the knuckle, the two middle digits spreading and pressing against your walls, coaxing your legs to spread wider. His palm bumps against your clit, holding his hand there to press firm against the bundle of nerves, your jaw hanging loose when he leans up to go in for more kisses. He is all over you, barely able to breathe as he ravages your skin, fingers bullying their way deeper until you can feel yourself gushing across his palm. The noises are so lewd, the schlick, schlick of your wet cunt taking him back in, walls clenching around his thick fingers. You can’t stand it, can’t take it anymore-

Toby can see it in your face, in the way you stop kissing him back to let out a long, guttural moan that has him in bliss. His fingers beat faster, fucking your swollen cunt open as his unattended cock throbs and leaks against your thigh, begging to replace his fingers.

“S’good Toby. Fuck. Right there- Don’t stop.” And then your arms are wrapping around his head, cradling his face into your neck as you fall apart on his fingers, pussy gushing and practically dripping with your orgasm. You think maybe you see stars, or it’s just the freckles on the brunette’s skin when he captures your lips, drinking up every moan you feed him.

His cock is wilting, throbbing, and twitching against your leg as you finally settle out, breathy groans that have you both staring at each other through heavy gazes. He slips his hand from your ruined panties, pulling your knee up higher to spread your legs more as he slides the fabric from your hips and tosses them somewhere unseen, taking his cock in his soaked fingers. 

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip, smearing your juices with his cockhead as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good, his face disappearing into the crook of your neck as he gently nibbles your burning skin. “Need you so bad, Toby.” You breathe out, nearly panting. “Co- Condom. In the nightstand-”

Despite wanting to feel you, really feel you wrapped around him, he kisses just below your jaw before rolling over. Fishing for a condom in your drawer, he misses you sitting up, fresh orgasm giving you a rush of need as you watch him haul the packet in between his fingers.

Because then you’re pushing his shoulders down onto the bed, straddling his thighs as you snag the condom from him, quickly tearing open the packet. Toby watches with excitement, hands reaching to cradle against the sides of your thighs, fingers digging into your plush skin when you slowly slide the latex down his throbbing length. It’s snug, but thin, able to feel every pulse of your cunt as you take the base of him in your hand, swiping his tip along your folds, wetting himself. It was all the preparation you were going to give yourself because fuck Toby needed to be inside your pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart- Toby’s cock was slowly pushing up into your warmth as he presses through the first ring of muscle. Before you can overthink, you’re nudging your hips down gently. So agonizingly gentle that Toby has to stop his hips from riding off the bed. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as you seat yourself on his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. “Ah- Hah-”

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy, hands resting on his chest as he watches you. 

You’re so nauseously tight, gripping his length in a way that had his eyes rolling back, fingers digging red marks into your skin. You’re both breathless, eyes clamped shut and bodies shaky when your hips finally meet his, so utterly full of him. Toby can’t even find the words for it.

That’s when you hear voices from outside your closed bedroom door, Avery and her friends returning from whatever drunken night they had, loud as ever.

In a panic, you push your hands over Toby’s mouth, the brunette’s hot breath fogging against your skin as he smiles, waiting patiently as they all file into Avery’s room, voices slowly dwindling out. Meanwhile, you’re pulsing around him, cunt clenching as you’re forced to wait.

But eventually it's all clear, palm slowly letting off of his mouth, a teasingly smile plastered on his face. You roll your eyes, quietly laughing as you steady yourself, pushing your knees further against his sides. You’re pulling your hips up eagerly, achingly fucking yourself at a slow, sensual pace. His tip kisses your cervix as you roll your hips sensually against his, making sure you feel every vein and twitch against your tight walls.

“Y’looked so beau- beautiful tonight. So pretty dressing up as me.” Toby gasps, running his hands across your thighs, up the sides of your waist as you dig your knees into the mattress. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that go directly to your clit as you lean forward, pressing your chest against his. Sweaty forehead meeting his, he leans up to meet your pitiful kiss, hips still pushing back as your clit rubs against his abs.

Surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth, pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole, slick glistening on his length, just to nudge yourself down again, relishing in that full feeling. 

Wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, he massages the plushness of your ass, smiling to himself when you wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face into the crook of his neck. “More, Toby.”

“O- Okay…” He breathes, bending his knees to get a better angle, the divot of his cock pressing against that sweet spot and making you mewl. The weight of you on top of him is so satisfying.

Toby starts up a satisfyingly good pace, thrusts get deeper and deeper until he finally buries his cock into you as deep as it could go. Throaty groans spill out of his mouth, he looks over and kisses your forehead gently, taking in every moan and whine you muffle into his neck. “Oh- hah! Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

Even if his body was exhausted, he couldn’t feel it. All he could tell was that your cunt was gripping him so hard his jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth as he fucked himself up into that sweet warmth. “So good- Oh, feels so good-”

“Oh god. Toby, right there-” You gasp out in pleasure, starting to move in shallow thrusts that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, the curve of his cock knocking that swollen sweet spot over and over, each thrust more prominent than the last. You bounce your ass back on him, meeting every thrust that he delivers so deep into the swell of your pussy, clit aching and throbbing as it rubs against his hard abs. “You’re so- doing so good, baby-” He huffs.

Feeling that very familiar coil in your abdomen, you mewl, “Toby- I’m gonna-”

But then his thrusts halt, hands reaching further up your back to hold onto you tightly, sitting both you and him up as he crawls up onto his knees. He’s got your weight in his arms, cock still nestled so deeply inside of you as you wrap your limbs around him, leaning in to kiss along his jawline sticky with sweat.

He gives up thrusting now, hips rutting and grinding into you in a way that has you moaning deep and long, cunt throbbing with the ache for release. He’s in so deep- so full. 

Kissing against your rose cheeks, he looks at you with fucked-out eyes, trying his best to ride out the last of this moment as he feels his gut pool with warmth. His arms reach around your slender back to dig his nails into the unblemished skin, holding you as close as he physically could. It felt so perfect. Your hips grind back to meet Toby’s, thighs trembling as they cling to his hips. “Shit, [Y/N], I think yo- you were made for me.”

And then you’re capturing his lips, breathy moans as you feel him throb inside you.

“Close?” 

“Mhm…” He sighs, leaning down to kiss along your shoulder.

You grind your hips deeper, chasing that heavy feeling that builds in your gut, clinging onto whatever you can grab of his skin, brushing your hands up into his hair and pulling. “Hngh- Toby. Inside- ” You whimper, overstimulated, and your senses filled with only the brunette, you finally cum, riding it out on his deep thrusts. “Oh, fu- fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna cum, my pretty girl- Hngh-” He moans out as your pussy clenches down on him, finally tipping over the edge as well.

You feel Toby cum in hot spurts into the condom, rasping your name over and over as if it was the only word he knew. He collapses onto you, careful not to crush you with his full body weight as he pants against your neck, slowly tugging himself from your gooey warmth.

As you both come down from your highs, he quickly removes the condom and hugs your sweaty body closer to his, kissing along your neck and up to the corner of your mouth. Eventually, he climbs off of your bed, searching your messy floor for his boxers, tossing you his t-shirt which you happily pull on. 

He fishes new panties from your dresser- quietly spazzing out at all the different colored bras and matching bottoms you had to choose from- and tugs on his own boxers.

Every movement after that is laced with exhaustion, tired, sticky bodies shuffling under the covers as you cling to his side, breathing in his smell like it’ll be the last time you do. He’ll make sure it’s not.

Flipping your lamp off, the only glow is from your TV, dim lights reflecting off of your still-rosy skin. He takes every moment to kiss along your cheeks, brushing your hair from your face, and cradling your body tight against him. He doesn’t really remember how you coaxed him into taking off the wrap on his hand- with the false promise that you would change the soiled bandages out tomorrow- but you do, unraveling the fabric until that horrific proxy symbol contrasted against his pale skin. A mark, a reminder of who he was returning to when the sun rose tomorrow.

He promised to let himself have tonight, but he knew that tonight wasn’t going to last forever.

But then you’re bringing his hand to your lips, placing a sweet, deep kiss right at the center of his palm. And he melts. He wasn’t lying when he said he thought you were made for him, the sour look on his face disappearing when he was cupping your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to kiss against your skin.

You kissed against the scar on his cheek, soft lips on jagged flesh, and he knew.

You spend the rest of the night fishing stories from him, things he promised he would never tell, but find your reactions just too good at the mention of Masky and Tim. Your obsession seemed to run deeper than him, but he was your favorite.

-

Toby would have never felt the dip in the bed beside him, or the fingers that messed in his hair, but he did feel the fist that clenched onto his jaw much harder than you ever could’ve.

“Rise and shine, twitch.” Jeff, in all of his ugliness, sat on the edge of the bed, teasingly patting Toby’s cheeks. The brunette sat up, pushing the killer off of him and out of the bed, hoarse little chuckles erupting as he felt you stir next to him.

“How the fuck did you get here?”

“Front door, duh. You sent me your location last night, remember?” Toby noticed through your open bedroom door that your front door was swung wide open, the killer smiling with satisfaction, but his face slowly dropped when he saw you slowly sit up.

“Toby? Wha-” You see Jeff, Toby ready to reach out and clamp your mouth shut, prepping for a terrified scream. But then you’re sitting up, Jeff awkwardly glancing back and forth between you two as your lips part. “No way.”

Toby should’ve known better.

Because then you’re bombarding the killer, sitting on the edge of the bed, and studying every detail of his face, fangirling, of all things. Toby smiles, laughing to himself as you banter on and on about newsletters and obscure websites, Jeff casting you concerning looks as you recount his entire backstory. 

-

It’s well into the afternoon by the time Jeff finally pushes Toby to leave, barking about how he was supposed to have him back hours ago. The killer would never admit it, but they were only there that long because he enjoyed hearing someone harp on how good of a killer he was, complimenting him like he had always wanted.

Jeff’s already in the truck waiting as Toby kisses your face, kissing against your hands as fear courses him, fear that this will be the last time. But then you’re grabbing his phone, typing in your number, and sending yourself a text. A promise.

“For whenever you want to stop by ;)”

Followed by your address.

And then he’s back on the road, Jeff harping on and on about how ‘you weren’t that bad’ or ‘if Toby wasn’t careful he’d snatch you up.’ He couldn’t hear him though, too busy studying every detail of the photo you had sent him, the two of you smiling half-drunk in that elevator. It was already his wallpaper by the time they made it back to the mansion.

And he was already making plans on how he could sneak away tonight to come see you.

God, how he loved Halloween.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

Happy Halloween!

[sluturu]

don’t mind me, just manifesting jealous/possessive nanami content🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

cw. exhibitionism (sex in public), jealousy ⋆ mdni — 18+ 𐙚

nanami doesn’t like what he sees. you’re mingling, just like he’d begged you to when he brought you to this work event that neither of you wanted to come to, but you’re mingling with the company’s biggest flirt. aka nanami’s best friend (by force) gojo satoru. 

he doesn’t like the way you have one hand clutching your stomach while the other grips onto gojo’s arm like your life depends on it. he doesn’t like the giggles he’s hearing– not because he hates your laugh, but he hates that it’s not him that’s making you laugh. he definitely doesn’t like the look of awe on that jackass’s face while he watches you die over a joke that probably wasn’t even funny to begin with. 

nanami is usually cool and composed. it’s not like him to overreact or let his emotions control him, but this is you we’re talking about. this makes his stomach turn, his blood simmer, and he knows he needs to leave with you before he inevitably blows up.

 the problem? nanami is mid conversation with his boss and he can’t just leave without reason. so he endures it, but his blood pressure continues to rise by the second while irritation gnaws at him. every time he turns his head, you’re there smiling or laughing with another man. 

nanami watches as gojo picks something out of your hair and he decides he can’t take it. he politely excuses himself telling his boss he feels like he might’ve come down with something (a case of jealousy, he forgets to mention) before making a beeline right towards you. 

“nanamin!” gojo exclaims as soon as he spots the blonde. “your wifey here was just–”

he pretends he didn’t hear his so-called friend, “sweetheart, i’m not feeling too well. would you mind if we turned in a bit early?”

your smile morphs into a frown at the words and you give him a soft ‘of course.’ you’re turning to gojo to bid him goodbye, but nanami is pulling you away with his arm wrapped securely around your waist before you even get the chance. 

it’s not till you’re pressed against his audi with nanami flushed against you, his big bulge rubbing against your stomach, that you realize what’s going on. 

his lips are right above your, honey like eyes wild and boring into yours, “wanna tell me what the hell was so funny?”

“what?” you reply breathlessly, your own eyes darting to look around the parking lot to make sure there was no one around. 

his fingers slip under your dress, rubbing circles into your clit over your panties. when you let out a surprised moan, nanami chuckles. it’s almost sinister, but it has you absolutely, positively soaked. 

his speed picks up with each second that passes and pretty soon you find yourself grinding against his hand for more. he speaks up, “you were having the time of your life with gojo. i want to know what he said to make you laugh so hard.” 

“it was n-nothing,” you throw your head back against the sleek car, another moan comes out of your mouth. “k-ken, ugh– please,” you beg. “more, please, need more.”

he tsks disapprovingly, “nothing, huh?” he slows the pace of his fingers and relishes in your whining protests. “didn’t look like nothing. looked like my wife was having the best night ever with another man.”

you open your eyes to look at him, “i can’t remember what he said, ken… can’t think about anything except for you.”

it’s like you know exactly what to say and he swoons. he presses his lips against yours and his fingers skillfully tug your panties to the side before continuing their vicious attack on your gushing cunt. 

you sob into his mouth, body completely wracked with need, but you start hearing voices a few rows down and you freeze.

“k-kento, wait–” you say, panicked and frenzied. “what if someone sees us?”

“i fucking hope they do,” he groans, gripping your chin with his free hand and making you look back at him. “i hope they catch us so they know you’re all mine.”

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