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theloveinc · 4 months

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

wc: 7.3k — my longest to date :')

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

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

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

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

(read on ao3 - coming soon!)

title credit goes to the ink spots.

enjoy!

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

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

You don’t mind.

…or you tell yourself, at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you start running.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Campus Creeper Found Passed Out in Uni Plaza.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought he had been caught. The creeper.

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

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

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

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

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

The creeper is getting braver, you notice.

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

You think his hair is white.

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

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

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

One day, the creeper catches up.

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

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

“Hey—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be like that, pretty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow.

“It’s been three.”

“Hm, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Later, you learn the creep has two names.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got classmates, don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you,” you try instead.

“You don’t even know me.”

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

“So, what’s your name then?”

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

“Dabi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

“Got any roommates?”

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

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

“Good. Smart cookie.”

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

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

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

“Um.”

He waits.

“It’s got mice.”

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

“Why?”

“Wanna get dinner?”

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

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

“Piss off.”

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

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

Campus Creep Caught Hanging Around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their smile looks almost pitying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want from me, Touya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what?” you ask.

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

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

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

“You are. I know you are. You…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you, you’re…”

He smacks his lips with a yawn.

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

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

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

“Dabi.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

It’s almost contagious. Almost.

“And here I thought we were bonding.”

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

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

“You’re not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #oh m god. i want to do another read thru so bad but i am just going to press post.#please please heed warnings but enjoy #i promise it's not so scary #i love you #caitie fic #gen #caitie post #dabi

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saey707 · 6 months

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Hii! Can I request Heartsteel Kayn having a big crush on reader (who is really close friends with all of them and helping Alune with managing them) and thinking the feeling is one sided when it’s not? If you don’t want to write this I totally understand and respect your decision!! Have a lovely day/night<3

✿ Prompt: Kayn feels his crush on you is one sided ✿

♡ champion focus: kayn ♡ tw: npd ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Hi! Thanks for your request ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა I tried to give this one more headcanons with other HEARTSTEEL members to play a bit into Kayn's jealousy. This will also be a bit of a shorter request. I tried my best with it! Hope you like it! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

Kayn doesn't have a problem with you being well-acquainted and close with the people in his band. Sure, Ezreal could be a bit annoying to deal with, especially when he throws those cheeky, flirtatious comments your way. Kayn has never taken it to heart before. He knows you don't like Ezreal that way... So why is it bothering him so much now?

You'd often help Alune out with band management: Making sure everyone was doing their parts behind the scenes, assuring the band was always prepared for any occasion to pop up, and making sure all of the boys were well packed whenever you'd all hit the road to go to the next city.

But that didn't stop you from helping out the other boys! You served as Aphelios' sign language interpreter and sometimes gave your opinions on outfits K'Sante designed. You'd point out minor flaws to ensembles Sett sewed so the boys can always look their best, and even would allow Yone to vent his frustrations to you while you made him cold brew. These were all minor things Kayn overlooked and had no issues with.

What got to Kayn was seeing how you interacted with Ezreal. The way you two would share jokes with one another made Kayn sick to his stomach. What could Ezreal be saying that was so funny anyways? Kayn was ten times more clever than him! You should be laughing at his jokes!

Sometimes, Kayn feels like he is in the shadows, watching you from the outside. It was expected for you to help out the others, yes, but in a way, Kayn felt like he deserved more attention.

You should be looking his way, but instead, you turn your attention to everyone other than him. It makes Kayn feel like his admiration for you was one-sided, which can hurt someone who believes firmly that everyone likes him!

In a way, it's Kayn's fault. He never made an effort to get close to you. It was his fault for being so broody and distant. It was his fault for never reaching out for help, let alone your attention.

It's when Kayn decided that he had to be a little selfish if he wanted to get anywhere with you. While he still believed you should have been looking his way from the beginning with adoration and starstruck eyes, he supposed he could make an effort to get you to see how hot and amazing he was!

It will come as a pleasant surprise to you when Kayn slowly becomes more forthcoming! While he sometimes comes off as a jerk, interrupting your time with others in order to have you all to himself, you knew he had good intentions and just wanted to get closer to you- As a friend, of course~

Even though you won't immediately reciprocate Kayn's feelings, that won't stop him from trying to win you over. He can accept things as they are for a while longer. And if anything, it will only make him more desperate with time!

So long as you reserve that sweet smile for him, he'll keep doting over you until you grow to love him on your own terms.

#saeybaewrites #request #headcanons #heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #kayn #heartsteel kayn x reader #heartsteel x reader #kayn shieda #shieda kayn #kayn lol #x reader #kayn league of legends x reader #kayn league of legends #kayn lol x reader #kayn shieda x reader #shieda kayn x reader #lol x reader #league of legends x reader

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sea-of-dust · 1 month

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Phantom theif boys x GN! Reader

Dating headcannons!

N: Adding comfort headcannons to knock two asks in one stone, they got changed to just comforting headcannons mostly. Ur not escaping pastel*pallette with this.

He's ready to fully wake up as soon as he hears your voice downstairs or just your footsteps. Morgana is not a fan of suddenly feeling his leg pulled out of bed.

Super ready to tease you. The guys smiling hard before he responds with something stupid. "I dare you" trying to hold off his chucking, he places his hand ontop of yours and spins you, stopping when you face him. "Are you a cheeseburger?" "no"

Let's you brush his hair, in fact you should. Curls are hard, ya know. His wrist can use a break, plus you're the one brushing it he sees it as a win. Ignoring the times you decided to give him pigtails

He can be super romantic at times, especially the most random, "I'm sorry I took so long, your beauty distracted me" he smirked twiddling a bit of his hair, you sigh, after a pause beginning to chuckle "I don't like you" "you love me" kissing your cheek he goes behind the counter "anything you wanna eat?"

He's always gonna be there to comfort you. Holding you close as you cry into his chest over something that had been bothering you, hearing you out while he cooks or staying by your side while you rant. "And then she was like," Oh well you need to go to extra help TO HELL WITH THAT!" You rub your temple "sorry she's just been getting on my nerves" "have you tried dropping or switching classes?" "She would request the request everytime" you'd wonder why she suddenly accepted the following day. Maybe she finally thought you were just bad at chemistry

Will tell you he's a phantom theif trying to rizz you up. "So like we use these things called personas to fight these shadows" "woah, that's cool, Ryuji." You didn't believe him, but you let him cook, he's trying his best

Embodiment of the YIPPE sound. He loves seeing you. Could be walking to class, and he'd stop midway. "Yo!" "Hey Ryuji" great now he's gonna repeat that 3 more times a day, won't even start a conversation, sometimes, just likes hearing you say hi to him

He's super cuddly when sleepy. "Where are you going" "I told you I'm going home" "nooo" he wraps his arms around your waist "you aren't allowed to leave" trying to slip out he tightens his grip. You had to call your parents to tell them you had no choice but to stay longer

He'd get so excited when anything sport related comes along. "I wanna watch the track team compete this weekend. You should come" "do you need me to bring snacks?" "You bring them every time, though! I'll bring them this time" He'd get super hyped up about someone from the school taking the lead he almost fell off the bleachers at times.

He would buy you snacks, and you two would talk about it on a bench. "He's so annoyingggg" "I know, right!" "Like he can't shut up everything's quiet and this mf 'I HAVE A BUISNESS' shut up" "like at the end of the day he's still an incel" "EXACTLY" you two would end up ranting with eatchother so much you end up calming eatchother down, this would also translate into you just being too sad to even make funny comments. "He's just so draining, kinda makes me wish someone just told him to be quiet" "for real I almost cried at his voice" "it's too squeaky right" "totally" laying your head on his lap you look up at him just thinking. "You're staring into my soul here." he strokes your hair with a nervous expression "good" In the end, he still comforts you the same way

"Oh, it's you" turned to "it's you.." REAL quick, as soon as you started dating, he got shy

He's gonna ask you to help him with art. "Y/n do you mind posing?" "With what?" "These live lobsters I found" ".... no thank you" "but!" "I'm gonna buy you those little wooden dolls just for that" "you're better than any piece of wood!" It turns more into a praise sesson he forgets about the lobsters he's basically keeping as pets at this point

You tried to teach him how to cook, or atlesst follow the recipe. "OK so we have the custard" you grab his hand, holding it up. "Don't use that we need it for later." "My Appologies" "it's alright it's your first time making this" He's fine the first time but gets way better with practice. He'd make you jealous with how nice he'd make his food look

Tried pick up lines they were good, but the execution could use work. "Y/n! Do you have a map? " "For what?" He pauses, looking down as if thinking for the next line "because i can't help but get lost in your eyes" you smirk, watching him get more bashful than you from his own line. "Are you a painting?" You cup his face making him look at you "because I can't take my eyes off you"

He isn't very good in this field...but he has spirit! You'd sigh while watching him paint after a few eye rolls, vacant stares,leaning on him. He's gonna sense it even if you don't do all that. "Is there something on your mind?" You look down to his paints before answering "a friend of mine moved away, and I found out recently she used to steal stuff from others" crossing your arms you continue "I kinda get why some of my stuff went missing now but just to think" "that does seem rather unfortunate" "she's lucky the stuff she took was all under 10 bucks or I would have asked the phantom theives to do something" he pauses his brush for a secound before continuing on "via the website?" "Yea! They'll probably handle her if it genuinely gets outta hand" he smiles as he puts down his paint and brush. "How about we go for a walk for you to let out some steam?" "sounds great"

"I'm alone. Would you like to join me?" "Do you realize how that sounds?" "Do you realize how dirty your mind is?"

He'll be resistant to cuddling at first but then slowly realize he likes it. Won't ask for it tho but he will be a little peeved when they aren't given. Subconsciously learn the way he stares at your arms, how he grips his own, and the way he tries to get a bit closer to you, you've learned the secrets to a touch starved akechi

Would be a bit annoyed when you bring up another dude. "And then Ryuji was shaking the vending machine and the guard thought we were trying to steal snacks" "I see" "I ended up getting em though" "mhm" "you're so aggressively disinterested" "yes I am" You pause before letting the smirk take over your face "so then akechi rubbed my face and asked for a kiss" "I should" he stops typing to press his lips softly on your cheek.

He'd take you everywhere with him. Not a choice, it's only when he's at his job that he's away from you, everywhere else? Same class right next to you. Eating lunch with you, would ask you to play darts with him after school. He'd wonder why you'd look so tired when you two finally got home after school, atleast he helps with homework.

"Akechi" you move hair from his face. "What is it?" You continue touching his face as he watches as your hands move around his face. "Is there something on your mind" "is it that obvious" you pull your hand away, but he takes his into yours. There's a short pause before you decide to speak again. "A person close to me stopped coming to school after an argument we had. I'm pretty worried" "you didn't try contacting them?" "I have, but I think they'll just get more annoyed" you sigh "I just don't know what to do" "let them have their momment they'll contact you when they feel like it, in the meantime" he covers you in the blanket he shared with you momments ago "you could stay here until it leaves your mind"

"So what is skibbity toilet?" "Zen no"

He'd always order for you at places, unless you changed your order he'd get you everytime. "You gotta stop doing that" "Why you jealous I know you better than you know yourself?" "Yes"

He tries to ask you for advice on Akane. "She got upset she couldn't play and eat" "did you try making it a tea party" he scoffs, giggling a bit at the suggestion. "I'm serious. Do you have any tiny tea cups?"

He's definitely touch starved when he gets home. Barely awake, he'd cling onto you, mumbling into your ear. He's fallen asleep for a few seconds on your shoulder. "Let's get you to bed, Zen." "it's comfortable here though." "it'll be more comfortable in bed." "ugghhhhh"

He's gentle when it comes to you, especially when you get home more upset than usual. "So how was work" in a slightly annoyed tone you respond "draining they tried to give me unpaid overtime again" you sigh "hmm" without much words he lays down with you hugging you "do you want anything?" "Sleep" he smiles fondly "this house will be so quiet it's like it was haunted" The next day, do expect most of your chores to be done already, as well as breakfast. It was made with love, not with skill

#x reader #gender neutral reader #phantom theives #persona 5 joker #joker x reader #fluff #ryuji x reader #persona 5 x reader #persona x reader #persona 5 akira #persona 5 yusuke #yusuke kitagawa #yusuke x reader #persona 5 #goro akechi #akechi x reader #zenkichi hasegawa

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thelikesoffinn · 4 months

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been thinking about it lately and Ascended Astarion = Dead Dove content and I'm not sure that's really understood, even by the writers. when I finally got around to the character I decided to ascend him with, I was SUPREMELY disappointed by the conversations options following it. it seemed like the dialogue choices were trying to push the narrative on my character that they made this choice w/o considering the consequences and they are bound to regret it. the closest I could get to answering his question of "why did u let me go thru w it?" was "I wanted u to be powerful".

but with that character? my accept Bhaal durge? that isn't the reasoning. at all. (related: "what do u want as a reward?" "ur body" was the closest answer my character could give. otherwise I'd've answered "murder :))")

for context, this run was born of a conversation w my friend discussing supposed content no one had seen bc "no one's that evil". we thought, what's more evil than killing literally every npc? I failed the conceit of the challenge immediately bc I can't handle senseless animal cruelty in my games. killing children? fine (u need a mod to do this in BG3, but I am thankfully plenty delighted to use mods), killing a neutral animal npc? no can do.

so I started this durge (they are the only character that can come close to "killing" Gale with that first interaction) run with the intention of killing everyone except Shadowheart (only a cleric of Shar can truly kill Aylin) and Astarion (bc I need to smooch him). (and there is a mod for playing an origin character as durge, which would have meant playing as Shadowheart, but I MUST smooch Astarion and I don't tend to do het or female romances, unless I'm forced to (*sighs dreamily* oh, Garrus Vakarian). I'm just not interested in that set of equipment in that way, so may as well just make a durge dude.) somehow something went wonky and Halsin ended up joining us and I was so perplexed I just allowed him to stay. (he's meant to attack if u destroy the grove but free him anyway, but instead he just showed up that night and went straight into his Moonrise spiel. is it bc the wolf Silver never aggro'd me and thus survived???) so I fixed the Shadow Curse all while killing every single humanoid and hostile animal in acts 1 & 2. including Thaniel, which makes Halsin's talks later in act 3 of getting news from Thaniel and the Grove hysterical. idk what I did but I sure as hell broke this poor man.

(on a related note, Halsin will give out to u when u accept Bhaal, but will still give u the "u have exceeding my expectations, also we should bang" in the same conversation. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT IT'S DARKLY FUNNY.)

in the conversation when Astarion is expressing surprise that u let him go thru w it, my durge is just like, yes my motivation is that I like to kill ppl :))). it's not a sex thing for him (that is separate from the murder!), but he's still fine w the outcome. yes, Astarion looks down on him, but that's fine! he's allowed to be wrong about that, durge doesn't care. so long as Astarion lets him kill ppl he genuinely just does not give a shit.

(I actually had the idea that if Halsin were to ever rediscover his morals and tried to leave he'd ask Astarion to turn him so Halsin would not have a choice. as I said, this durge *does not fucking care*.)

this is probably the only character I will play that would let Astarion ascend bc I enjoy dead dove SOMETIMES, but not always or in large doses, but I get so few dialogue options that convey that in an rp sense! I don't think the writers/devs REALLY took that into consideration, sometimes. like, yeah, there are going to be ppl making fucked up choices but surely no one would go THIS far! for THIS reason! honey, u need to look up the Dead Dove tag on AO3, there are absolutely ppl making choices for those fucked up reasons.

(and I understand the whole "this confirms to Astarion about sex yadda yadda". even if that's not Tav/Durge motivation, that's how ASTARION would *interpret* it.)

(oh yes, and also, don't let Orin abduct Yenna. it doesn't matter whether u find out in camp or the sewers, Grub will not survive. I was devastated. if I'd known, I would have made sure Halsin was available for her, but she won't abduct a party member or someone ur romancing.)

long story short, I want to play a durge that even ascended Astarion finds unsettling. that's the dream.

Hello there, duck!

Your run sounds delightfully evil! I wish I could play one of those, haha, but I'm too soft hearted. My one evil run with my durge Salira was ended before even entering the grove because I felt horrible after getting rid of Gales hand! Seriously, I can barely take killing the squirrel as durge, and I always save Alfira because I feel horrendous otherwise!

(Fun fact, on all five runs I've done Yenna just vanished at some point and grubs was left standing in my camp, which was like...eh?)

And yes, Halsin is always somewhat of an issue, isn't he? He's just running around, causing mayhem in peoples games because he seems slightly bugged out, haha. I had one run, where he wouldn't go to the spot where we save Thaniel because he joined the fight against Marcus at Last Light and somehow got stuck, for some reason. Same run, none of his vocals would play, which was also very interesting. Everybody would make noise when they climbed or got hurt but Halsin was always silent and just there! And in another run the dude really straight up hated me - he was so mean and snappy, I swear to god he wanted my Durge dead - and then he suddenly went: "Hey you're super cool and strong and I just want to gently fuck you beneath the moonlight if you'll let me" and I was like: Say what.

Regarding the dead Dove: I've talked to people of Discord before, and some of them mentioned something similar a couple of times, but personally, I do think the writers actually knew what they were doing here!

Of course, I do agree that it relies heavily on the regret notion and that it somewhat shoehorns you into a certain narrative corner, I noticed that too when I was ascending him for research - I hated doing that, but all for the asks, haha - but I thought it was really fitting for what it is!

The bad ending, that is. I know we all somewhat forget that because of how people view him as a character, but ascension is the bad ending. Even on an evil run, where your character may have considered all options, it is very likely that Tav hasn't accounted for one very important part of being a true vampire.

The obsession.

It's still somewhat mild in the game, though definitely there, but it will only get stronger as time goes on, and it will probably get to the point that the only escape is death. Either his or Tav's. So, in the end, ascension will come with an armload of regret and the writers were making sure we know that.

And, on top of that, even if we let him ascend in a pursuit for power - or in in your durge's special case: murder :) - we still cast spawn Astarion aside because he doesn't fit our needs, thus making it very clear to him that who he is isn't enough and his behaviour is the price we now pay.

It's pretty much the same with all the other companions as well - justiciar Shadowheart and ascended Lae'zel, for example. However, it doesn't bother us as much, because we have different expectations towards ascended Astarion than, for example, dark justiciar Shadowheart. We don't expect a positive narrative here, a narrative where becoming shady-shar's loyal subject isn't an objectively dumb decision to make, so we don't mind the dead dove as much. It's exactly what we've been expecting - and Aylin even warned us how Shadowheart would change upon becoming a dark justiciar - so yepp. This went exactly how we thought it would and this is what we wanted.

Astarion, however, is a somewhat special case, because his bad ending is, by far, the one that gets the most romanticised. He's so heavily romanticised by so many, that the bad parts nearly start to fade, even with those who don't like the ascended ending. It becomes just 'the other ending', if you will.

And yet, it's still the bad ending.

Ascension is the bad ending for a character that we've somewhat given up on. That we misunderstood so deeply, mayhaps, that we traded his entire being for power and, quite frankly, beauty. We showed him that he isn't enough, we let the boy run and hide the only way he knew how and now we're faced with the consequences and yes, it's really dead dove but...what did we expect?

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catholic-character-tournament · 10 months

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Quarter Finals - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Shadow

In sonic destruction (the AI generated fan thing snapcube made a while ago) shadow was catholic or something which I think is reallyyyyyyy funny

Ok listen. I know this is a stretch but hear me out. He says “oh my God” in the Twitter takeovers so we know this is a possibility. I see him as a Christ-like figure because I saw his whole confrontation with Mephiles and was like “this is a thing that happened in the Bible??” and the pose Mephiles shows him in is literally like a crucifixion and Mephiles is meant to be a demon / false prophet reference. And also he’s called a demon in Shadow The Hedgehog 2005 then the guy who calls him that is like “I was wrong I’m sorry” and that also reminds me of a thing with Jesus in The Bible. But the biggest reason is his whole thing with Maria cause I think he’d come to earth and hear Ave Maria once and convert to Catholicism idk he’s like we’re comforted by a female familial figure named Mary sometimes called Maria?? And her color is blue????? Heck yeah I’m in because I Will Cry. Also feel free to share this as propaganda obv even if he doesn’t get in the bracket just. It’s funny.

I feel like he’d battle a lot with being seen or portrayed as a demon and how the aliens he’s related to very much look and act like demons idk lmao- and also I feel like confession would just be good for him I think he needs it for his mental health

There is a debate on the lovely website tunblr that Shadow T. Hedgehog is an allegory for Jesus Christ.

He is Jesus, idk what to tell you. He lived, he was sealed away, he was awakened again and deemed the ultimate lifeforms, he’s angry but not evil, does what he believes is best for people and the world at any given time. Total loser.

Vote for Shadow the Hedgehog

There seems to be some confusion in the notes. He is Catholic. It may not be explicit, but it can be inferred.

Shadow was created by Professor Gerald Robotnik, and for the early part of his life, lived with Gerald and his granddaughter, Maria Robotnik.

Robotnik is not a made-up name. Google Search results may only bring up pages related to the Robotniks of the Sonic the Hedgehog series, however, it is a rarely used Polish surname. Poland is a historically Catholic nation, and… come on. Maria is the most Catholic name ever. The Robotniks are Catholic. Shadow was created and raised by Catholics.

Now you may be wondering to yourself: Does Catholicism even exist in Sonic? The answer is yes, at least in the Archie comics, where Protestants are explicitly mentioned.

Couple this with the fact that several characters, including Shadow, have canonically taken the Lord’s name in vain, it is reasonable to infer that Christianity, and therefore Catholicism, exists.

So… while Shadow’s own religious beliefs may not have been explicitly addressed… at minimum:

Catholic is a cultural designation that Shadow will always be allowed to claim based on the family that made him.

Whether he’d actually want to claim that designation is a different conversation, but the other propaganda does a fine job of explaining why it may be appropriate to headcanon him as a practicing Catholic.

Now that we’ve established that Shadow has as much of a right to be in this tournament as anyone else, there’s one very important reason you should vote for him:

It would be funny if he won.

Thank you.

Essays are done!! Here’s some Shadow propaganda because the propaganda we currently have sucks and I need to fix that. While yes, Shadow being Catholic is a meme, there is more to outside of the simple “fandub said so” and its not quite stated its Catholicism but just how he behaves and his actions. There’s a lot of Sonic content so I will try to keep this brief. Gonna get headcanons out of the way.

Shadow is Chilean and so are Maria and Gerald Robotnik because I fucking say so and they’re Catholic. He definitely had un rosario next to his like. Bed or test tube whatever he slept in. So did Maria btw. Alright let’s move on because I am 100% correct.

Let’s start with some background for Shadow. Shadow was created as a cure for a girl called Maria and he grew to care for her as a sister and loved her deeply. He was artificially created but still holds a soul that is similar to Maria’s. Long story short, Maria is killed protecting Shadow who watches as she’s shot in front of him. He has his memories tampered by Maria’s grandfather, Gerald, who manipulates him into carrying out revenge on the Earth, even if Shadow ends up as collateral.

Shadow struggles with frequent identity crises, even before Maria’s death and always wondered what his purpose was, what he was made to do. Was he a weapon? Was he a cure? He’s the Ultimate Lifeform, but what does that truly mean? ? He’s Shadow, but what more is there to him? He doesn’t know what his purpose is other than what others have prescribed to him, and he guides himself through the will of others (something that he breaks through afterwards but not yet). Shadow at his core is self-sacrificing and constantly punishes himself. This is where you can see some of that good old guilt that everyone has been using as propaganda, but we also see someone who is giving and kind.

He is snarky in the game, especially when interacting with Sonic, but he’s having what is essentially an ongoing mental breakdown but keeps moving because it is his duty to his sister. He doesn’t believe himself important enough to continue on after her and sees it in himself to act out on “Maria’s wishes”. After the revelation that Maria’s final wish for Shadow was for him to make those on Earth happy and to protect them, he immediately sacrifices himself to do so.

Okay, that’s a lot and you’re probably asking “Okay, you mentioned he is a giving person and yeah he has guilt, but that’s not really Catholicism” and yes you would be right! So let’s go into the more important part of being Catholic. The charity, the community, the kindness, etc. Shadow is a very reserved person and has the habit of being a dumb teenager because well. Yeah. Anyways, he definitely has a soft spot for those he cares about and while his whole arc (in my opinion) is about finding the freedom of self-autonomy, it is also Shadow growing as a person and deciding not to save people because others have told him he needs to, but because he wants to. It is born from his soul and its his nature to care for people. It is who he is, and he knows it now. He’s not doing it because he’s a hero or because he is told to do so. Shadow is a very giving person and I think people tend to forget about that especially due to bad writing from the past decade or so. He is also stated to help out at food shelters and volunteers a lot. He is proud and a bit prickly, but he cares so deeply about those he loves. He is stronger with his loved ones and will always do his best to protect them. These are minor, yeah, but you don’t need sweeping and enormous acts to get attention for the good deeds you do. Most of what you apply of Catholicism is done at the personal level, between your friends, family, and community.He also goes to Mass whenever he can and if he can’t he goes to the capilla and also does the sign of the cross whenever he runs by a church. Cutting this off because this is already 740-ish words and I had to send these across multiple asks I am so sorry Catholic mod

Harrowhark

I'm pretty sure you've already got plenty of submissions for her so I'll just say she was raised in what is basically a cult (technically a nunnery but let's be real) dedicated to keeping the body of the thing that will kill God behind the rock. One of their prayers is actually "I pray the rock is never rolled away". Harrow is extremely devout as penance for her earlier heretical actions in the tomb as a child (spoiler!) so the Catholic guilt really comes through

imagine being a catholic nun and you meet god, but it turns out he’s a twitch streamer from new zealand who became god because everything got a little bit out of hand. and just before you met him you gave yourself a diy grief-fuelled lobotomy with the help of your best frenemy. imagine how insane you’d be. now multiply that insanity by nine. that’s the fictional love of my life right there.

she meets god. she’s not inspired

she’s number one practitioner of space Catholicism. The locked tomb is chock full of Christian (catholic) imagery themes metaphors etc. just look at her she’s got a bone rosary

They're Catholicism with extra bones. Everyone is a nun. They have what is basically a rosary made from knuckle bones. They technically worship the same God as everyone else, but they're waaaay more focused on The Body in the Tomb (Mary) and we get a moment where we find out that while everyone else prays the equivilent of The Lords Prayer, they're doing the equivilent of Hail Mary. And they paint their faces with skulls.

She thinks leaving dry bread in a drawer is taking care of someone. She's in love with a 10,000 year old corpse (the same one they worship). She spent ALL NIGHT digging with her bare hands to make sure a field had bones every 5 feet so she could fight her girlfriend - I mean, greatest enemy. Spoiler territory: She's been puppeting her parents corpses since she was 8 years old. Instead of grieving her dead girlfriend, she gives herself a lobotomy. She makes soup with bone in it so she can use the bone IN THEIR STOMACH to try and kill them.

The author is/was Catholic and the entire series had heavy Catholic overtones. https://www.tor.com/2020/08/19/gideon-the-ninth-young-pope-and-the-new-pope-are-building-a-queer-catholic-speculative-fiction-canon/ A good breakdown of how it's Catholic

Anti-propaganda (spoilers)

I love the Locked Tomb series but Harrowhark has daddy issues with God, had a childhood crush on God's cryogenic partner, and is in love with God's daughter, not to mention that she's essentially a bone-bender. The religion on her home planet exists in a way that is technically against the will of the canon in-universe God, even. All of this to say, Harrowhark is heretical at minimum if not an outright witch. Terrible Catholic. Burn her.

#cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #r6 #sonic the hedgehog #Sonic Destruction #shadow the hedgehog #harrowhawk #harrowhark nonasigmus #tlt #the locked tomb

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justatalkingface · 1 year

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There is a difference between making your characters suffer for story purposes, and just flat out torturing your characters for shits and giggles.

And Izuku Midoriya unfortunately falls into the latter category.

Because for whatever reason, Hori just flatout refuses to allow Izuku to have anything nice.

From a lack of supportive adults in his life regardless of his quirk status, lack of teachers actually giving a shit, lack of friends to confine in so he could be paired with the Cash Cow Triplets (Him, Shoto, and Bakugou), and just overall being the butt of many "jokes" that're not funny given his history.

There are even times where it seems like Hori wishes Bakugou was the main character instead of Izuku, and that's honestly sad to be honest.

You know, it's exhausting sometimes being an Izuku fan, because it feels like Hori took the standard shonen formula with him and just... made it worse.

Izuku starts off beaten down, bulled, and discriminated against, then he meets All Might and changes, and trains, and it's great! And then he gets the Quirk.

The problem isn't that he has problems using it, the problem isn't that it's even dangerous, it's that it's so dangerous that using it causes him instant, permeant harm, even with an OP healing Quirk. And when he tries to get help with it?

All Might: Sorry! I'd love to help, but I used up my entire quota of usefulness just getting you to this point. If I do anything more, God will literally murder me!

Izuku: ...What?

All Might: Being your mentor would have been great, I was looking forward to it, but sadly I must slowly fall apart, both in body and as a character, and grow more and more pathetic until little old ladies help me across the road!

Izuku: What?!

Then he goes to UA, and meets Aizawa, whose basic response to children half the time is to ignore them and the other half boils down to:

"Look at me one more time and I'll expel you so fucking hard your limbs will fly off!"

Beat.

"Psych!"

Beat again.

"Or not psych?"

And then finally, finally, we get to Gran Torino, and sure, he only knows how to express affection through causing physical pain, but he's the only person to just actually help Izuku, and he's so desperate not to kill himself he's pathetically grateful to be beaten up just so he doesn't pull a Deidara.

And the thing is? Izuku is hardly the first protagonist to suffer from power related problems. What makes him unique is how unusable his power is, and yet it's his only option.

Naruto, for example, has the Nine Tailed Fox, that big oogie-boogie, living hate, all that stuff. It controls him, drives him berserk, burns his flesh.

But. You know. He doesn't actually use it all that often. He has all these other options available to him, and even even if it ultimately boils down to 'More Shadow Clones' and 'Bigger Rasengan', and that's kinda boring, but it doesn't hurt him. It's a simple but serviceable combination that doesn't in any way, shape or form harm him, and allows him not to use his self destructive powers.

Izuku has OFA and... his brains. That's it. And, I think in a different version of MHA, brains alone could have been enough, hell, it was, for awhile. But you'd have to adjust the goals, is the thing.

Lets look at the Sports Festival.

Izuku did well in the Sports Festival, and honestly that should have been enough, but he had to win for All Might (for... some reason). Acting as an effectively quirkless person, he got to that final round, and even if he got stopped there, that could have, maybe should have, been enough.

But it's not enough to be 'enough'. It's 'Plus Ultra'. He has to be the best. If you look at the festival as a grade, Izuku, before fighting Shoto, had an A, maybe an A minus. He got to the final round where god knows how many other people didn't. But an A wasn't enough, he needed an A plus. And, honestly, that's a typical shonen thing, sure, to strive to be the best, but again, just brains isn't going to make you the best, so he needs more. He needs a typical shonen powerset to match those ambitions. And all he has is One For All.

Another example is Bakugou; I don't want to get into it too heavily (because talking seriously about Bakugou leads to you getting sucked down into the Endless Abyss of Bad Characterization he creates around him) but Bakugou has the formula of a typical shounen rival, but the execution doesn't match. Skilled, powerful, an opposite to the hero in personality and somewhat antagonistic to them... like Sasuke was. But Sasuke lost. He didn't just lose unfair fights, against vastly overpowered opponents, he lost against people on his level, like Rock Lee, or Haku, and critically to Naruto, his rival. There weren't secondary objectives confusing things, there weren't mitigating factors, he just wasn't good enough. Moreover, Sasuke had a reason for being who he was, a deep purpose that drove him that made him aggressive and unwilling to cooperate (immense psychological trauma!) that made his character make sense if you thought about it. And, honestly, and most damning of all, Sasuke, before he had about eight psychotic breaks and became a criminal, was nicer than Bakugou.

Sasuke fought with Naruto, true, but he never bullied him. Sasuke never hunted down to Naruto to tell him he has no parents, that nobody loves him, and that nobody ever will (though, ironically, I think Naruto actually did something like that to Sasuke early on, though that's digressing a bit). And the fact they weren't that antagonist, that their dynamic wasn't so one sided, made their rivalry so much more... palpable to read about, while it was still a rivalry (I'd argue that they stopped being rivals after he left and Naruto was the only one who cared, who seeked him out, while Sasuke was off doing his own shit and living his life without Naruto, and but I digress yet again).

I mean, hell; it's the final arc, and we had this big... friendship moment. All of Izuku's classmates are uniting, under the banner of working together to help each other. Sounds good, right? It's a classic formula. Except... they united against him. All of them, together, formed up under the banner of Bakugou, his 'rival', to hunt him down. Not with Izuku, against... Tomura, or AFO, but against him.

The thing is, I can sum up Izuku's struggles, ultimately, in three ways: he loses. He wins, pyrrhicly, in a way that either damaged the value of victory (or himself) immediately, or had lasting long term negative repercussions for him (or both!). Or, and this is a lot more common lately, he wins, but it feels like an empty victory because it doesn't feel like Izuku won, but Hori made it so he won, so that his victory feels unearned.

Izuku can't win. He can't get respect from anyone, including himself. He can't have his issues be discussed in a meaningful way, and it's just... exhausting, sometimes, to read this, and realize that he's just... suffering. He's suffering all the time, and there just doesn't seem to be an end in sight. After this is over, assuming he's still alive, assuming he still has a Quirk, and is still able to be a hero (all of which I could easily see not happening), do you think he's going to be any better? Is he going to respect himself now? Because I can't really see that happening, anymore, the way I could early on.

#mha critical #bnha critical #bakugou critical #ask #izuku deserves better

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teaandsmut · 3 months

Text

I've been struggling to write anything at all after the horrors of writing and rewriting my thesis. But I'm starting to emotionally recover from my various ordeals and I really miss writing for fun, so I've been trying to think of a warm-up exercise that will allow me to reawaken my writing brain and regain some confidence without too much pressure. I've settled on writing an alternative version of the first chapter of Tactical Disadvantage from Catra's POV (instead of Glimmer's as in the original).

It's been fun so far! I'm enjoying getting excited about this fic again. I'm undecided if I'll finish the full alternative chapter, it might fulfill its purpose as a warm-up before then, but if I do then I'll post it to AO3 as TD bonus content. (Also I think it'd be funny to call the flipped POV chapter Tactical Advantage...?)

I feel like sharing, so here's the WIP so far. Around 700 words. The fic starts towards the end of season 2, sometime after White Out.

---

Catra sulked aimlessly through the Fright Zone corridors, trying to shake off a dark mood.

No matter what successes she achieved, Hordak continued to find fault with her. This time it was her ‘inability to command authority’, after a training exercise she put her team through had turned disastrous. As if it was her fault she had inherited such poorly trained cadets.

Catra’s thoughts were interrupted as her attention caught on something.

She paused where she stood, ears twitching and tail bristling, while her consciousness caught up with her instincts. What was different? She sniffed the air.

There! An ionic fizz that didn’t belong. She sniffed again. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn it was just like the infuriating crackle in the air that appeared whenever that sparkly princess teleported.

Catra scowled at the thought of her. Something about her was deeply annoying.

The ionic scent grew stronger as Catra stalked further down the corridor in her hunt for its source, then faded again. It definitely smelled like the clouds of sparkles around the teleporting princess. Catra should know – it was usually all over her when they fought.

Could she actually be here? Catra narrowed her eyes and scanned the corridor. Where would I hide if I were a dumb princess alone in hostile territory? Her gaze rose to a wide, rectangular utility duct that ran high along a wall, with a sizeable gap between it and the corridor’s exposed ceiling beams. She had spent more than a little time hiding in similar crevices of the Fright Zone. Where would I hide if I were a dumb cat alone in hostile territory?

Catra hastily refocused her thoughts on the matter at hand: was Sparkles here in the Fright Zone and, if so, what was Catra going to do about it? She stood on her toes and lifted her nose as high as she could. This time she thought she caught an out-of-place but familiar sweetness. After checking the corridor was empty, she climbed silently up the wall opposite the metal duct until she was almost level with it. She twisted around.

Despite her suspicions, Catra almost lost her grip on the wall with the shock of seeing tufts of pink and purple hair in the shadows above the duct. She recovered quickly and – determined not to let a princess keep the element of surprise – sprang up from the wall to grab a central ceiling beam, from which she swung and leapt. She landed lightly on the duct, ready for a fight.

The Bright Moon princess lay at Catra’s feet. She was asleep. Catra nearly laughed in disbelief – as if her mere presence wasn’t strange enough. Catra studied her for a moment, looking for anything that explained why she was here.

The princess’s boots were freshly scuffed and muddy, so she had been travelling on foot. She was far from home, hiding, and tired enough to fall asleep in an unsafe location, so she was probably low on magic. She looked a little bedraggled but not so much as to suggest she had been in a fight, so she had avoided being seen. She had been here long enough to fall asleep yet no alarm had been raised, so she was likely alone. This wasn’t an official visit.

Catra went down on her hands and knees to look more closely at the sleeping princess. She was quite pretty, really. It was odd to see her face so relaxed, lit by the soft glow from her shimmering hair. Glimmering, thought Catra.

Catra pulled back. She had a golden opportunity here. For what, she wasn’t yet sure, but she mustn’t waste it. She closed her eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and opened her eyes as a ruthless Force Captain once more. The princess was perfect prey, lying defenceless before her.

Catra straddled Glimmer’s waist, roughly jostling her onto her back as she did so, and knelt over her. When she didn’t wake, Catra tapped her face impatiently. Glimmer moaned and squeezed her eyes closed. Cute, thought Catra. She drew her claws and pressed them hard against Glimmer’s cheek.

��Wakey, wakey, Sparkles.”

[If you like, you can read the original and the rest of the scene on AO3 here.]

#glitra

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pitroig · 1 year

Text

SpyxFamily episode 25: lessons on parenting

Or a reminder that Twilight is here for a very specific reason that we should not forget.

SxF episode closed season 1 with the first meeting between Twilight and Desmond Donavan. The animation encapsulated the same tension between Twilight/Loid that we perceived in the manga and with a beautiful play of lights and shadows conveyed the character duality, addressing the fact that, we like it or not, for the agent the mission goes first and above everything else.

I have a couple of thoughts about it:

1. it's sad

Because Anya - cute, and small, and funny, and so many times rejected by other families - says that she doesn't know if his father loves her, and sometimes she’s afraid of how he reacts when she shows him her poor school performance, but it's ok because she loves him and that's enough. And despite we know that Twilight cares about her, he still uses her as a cover, his family as a mask, their bonds as and excuse.

And yet, he uses the poor Damian - so love deprived, so lonely, so approval-seeking - to get closer to Donovan. All for the mission, of course, all for the greater good, but still: he is taking advantage of the untamed love of children for his purposes.

One of the main themes of the series (as also shown in the current arc in the manga) is what are we able to do in order to protect our loved ones. How far does Yuri goes with his torture to protect Yor? How many people should Yor kill for the sake Yuri’s smile? For how long Loid Forger is going to use Anya? Is the Handler truly worried about the Forgers future? And, what if the Desmonds and their detached love is a way of protecting their children, keeping them far and away of the danger? What if the experiments conducted on Anya by some hidden structure of the state were meant to create a super diplomat and not a war weapon?

As nations and countries and states conduct questionable operations in the spirit of their citizens safety, parents may be as ruthless when it comes to their children wellbeing.

I believe that at some point, Twilight will abandon his all-for-the-mission attitude and will think about his relationship with Anya - but is still a long run. (My suspicion is that the horrible scientist that didn't allow Anya to draw is going to be the real bad guy, but sssh 🤫

2. There is also a lot of hope

Loid Forger doesn't understand Anya. Like, the poor guy is absolutely clueless when it comes to his daughter motives, plans and actions - who can blame him. The little girl is as adorable as random.

But he talks to Donavan and makes a wonderful hidden paralelism of parenting and politics, when he admits that he tries to accept her and set a common ground where they can meet and start listening to each other. The same low key diplomatic core embedded in Anya’s talk to Damian.

And both talks lead to a brief but meaningful word exchange between father and son, and that's enough for now.

But it also leads to un unexpected development: Damian tomato red admitting that he really wants to get on we'll with Anya. Cutest crush ever.

PS: This post was written while in an airport stopover, sorry for the poor quality

#spy x family #spy family anime #spyxfamily #sxf #analysis #loid forger #anya forger #anya supremacy #damian x anya #damian desmond #sxf twilight #twilight

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oceansprompts · 9 months

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𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕠𝕡𝕤 // 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕪 𝟚 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

this dialogue taken from destiny 2's vanguard ops strikes; hypernet current, lake of shadows, and the arm dealer. . . . adjusted for general use. . . . change as needed for usage

Let us hope that your technology continues to be resilient.

We need to get in there and stop them.

Screams, weird voices, nightmares... you name it.

It's resilient, but not impenetrable. A backdoor wouldn't be impossible.

Hopefully getting rid of whatever is at the center of this will shake all that weirdness out of the system too.

It looks like you're getting closer to the source of the problem. That track nearby looks like your best bet!

Let's just hope it's stable.

What-what was that?

Such a fragile space. This will do.

You don't want to see the pot of tea I made this morning.

Civilians are depending on you.

Mobilizing team for Operation, uh... Babydog? Why does this say Babydog? I must have forgotten to reboot the name generator.

Operation "Babydog?" Well, it has a certain ring to it, huh?

Yes... "Babydog" ... Well, the protocol is already running. Can't stop it now.

Yes, sorry, Operation "Babydog" ...We need to determine the source of — Haha! — I'm sorry, I can't.... Stand-by!

Our purification tech can only do so much. If the contamination spreads, people will die.

Good work. There's bound to be more than one.

We're making good progress, but energy readings are still off the charts.

This place is old; good thing we can't get tetanus.

If for nothing else but principle, I'm glad you're reclaiming it.

They just left that unguard...? This smells fishy to me.

Time for me to step out. I leave it to you.

Usually for an operation like this, logistical support would be provided. But it sounds like it's just us this time around.

Where'd you put my datapad? It had the notes about that thing I'm in charge of.

Into the action right away. I'm not surprised. You're up.

Whoa, wait wait wait, I'm not ready! I had a whole thing for this guy — I had charts and pictures — you know what, the one time I get it all — geez, forget it. You know what, just forget it.

Door's unlocked. But I couldn't get through without tripping their master alarm.

Not a trade I would have made, but you're the one on the ground.

Come on, how bad could one little alarm be?

Good different or bad different?

Did I just see a FLARE shoot into the sky?

Did you shoot up a flare? I thought we weren't allowed to have flares anymore after I… had nothing to do with why we're not allowed to have flares.

That's me! I must have… Oh, wait a minute. Nope not me.

Plan, schman. Take the radioactive thing, put in explode-y place. There! There's your plan.

Is this what "be brave" means for you? Didn't know it was a prayer.

Yeah, not blowing up is as good as you can hope for sometimes.

Way to reach for the stars.

Sounded like a nice dunk!

This guy's no ordinary space rhino. His weapons ain't half bad, either.

He's bound to have more. Insecure men tend to surround themselves with others like them.

Nope, she's totally right. Which is why I work alone.

I'm sorry, painted it what now?

Yeah, funny story about the Oh-roh? Oh-roh… Oh-roh-bahn… uh…

I think you should call it "payback."

Could be some really weird defenses in there. Not just flame turrets - I'm talking REALLY weird.

Why would they put a tank inside a ship?

Remember that elevator? Looks like we have to bring it down again.

Ok. Well, there are many… levels of easy.

Please don't encourage him

Oh, come on! ANOTHER one?

Wait, wait wait! Let me guess — giant flame turret.

Try to grab his flame turret blueprints after he's dead.

Watch for air support. This guy's too smart to not have a backup plan.

Eh, backup plans are overrated.

This is it. We've got him cornered… in an airfield. OK…

Now we've got you! In a… place you know way better than us. But that won't stop us. Let's get him!

Watch your six. And your twelve. You know what — just — just be careful

Sounds like I returned at just the right time. Excellent work, team.

Thanks, boss! It was by the book, the whole way.

Ok, you all are getting way too formal. Where's the energy? Let's hear some chatter out there! Huh?

The job's done. You can handle the chatter for a while.

You ever been hit with a rock? Don't joke about that.

YOU miscalculated?

Yes. Do you have any further questions?

It seems this new guy has done some “redecorating.” Although I don’t think I can call this an upgrade in terms of taste. But perhaps the cannons could be of use?

Names hold power. It is not unlikely that this new guy is a successor, who has taken up the mantle.

Unless we disable that shield, we’re sitting ducks out here!

That shield is making me mad! We’ve got to get rid of it!

Well fought! We’ve cut another head off the proverbial Hydra.

#destiny 2 starters #roleplay memes #rp sentence meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay #roleplay prompts #roleplay starters #starter prompts #sentence starter prompt #ask box prompts #ask box #inbox meme #destiny 2 quotes #destiny 2 sentences

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inviridescent · 2 years

Text

✦ antiscian – “whose shadows at noon are cast in opposite directions.”

“why are you calling, ‘bedo?”

aforementioned person rolls his eyes through the phone, setting up his own to give you a clear view of him and his dim room, “what, am i not allowed to call the one i love now?”

“it’s around three in the morning in yours,” you reply.

“you know me and my sleeping habits. it’s harder to sleep now, since you aren’t here. it’s too quiet.” funny, since you think the same.

ever since albedo flew to the other side of the world for a convention, you found the apartment you shared with him too... soundless; too void of life. you missed the ambience he brings, and his small hums while he works, and his small cactus (that he brought along with him – “something to remember you by!” “you sound like i’m going to disappear” – as unconventional as it is), every little thing you can see him in. home without albedo does not feel like home.

“love? are you okay?” he eyes you with concern while jotting something down in his notebook. busy as ever, you think.

you sigh, disapproving of his decision to continue his work. “go to sleep, ‘bedo. i’m sure you should be early tomorrow, well, today, in your case.”

he frowns, “you didn’t answer my question.”

no, you want to answer. no, i’m not okay. because i miss you, and you’re on the other side of the world. you’re too out of my reach sometimes that it makes me question, truly, are you even real? even with the world in your fingertips, how can i still be able to call you mine?

sometimes, i feel bad for asking too much. “i’m fine, love. go to sleep.”

“you do know that i’ll drop anything for you,” albedo whispers. neither of you know why he says it so quietly – but you could only focus on what he says, and that he knows, and still chooses to be patient with you. you try not to break down.

“i miss you, albedo,” you breathe with a shaky sigh. “come back quickly.”

he smiles softly, “then, wait for me, my love.”

note: projecting except i dont actually have a long distance relationship bc i dont have an s/o and im also delusional

#albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #+✒️works #i actually hate this piece i will make up for it Later

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underratedandoverit · 10 months

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okay, last orangekip request lol i love introspective fics, like when a character is thinking about how much they love the other and what exactly they like about them. so maybe a fic where oc is thinking about how much he loves kip during a mundane thing, like watching kip streaming or playing with his hair while he sleeps in his lap. can take place in the belt corruption arc or not. i'll leave it up to you 💚

~2,3k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

set in immortal fears/the belt corruption au. this is literally 2k words of me rambling about details and plot points in immortal fears and then the remaining few hundred words are like. actually something cute and fluffy lmao. i mean sometimes a man just gotta think, you know. but he has a good reason, as you can see in the end :3c

@stormbornpirate

on ao3

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

Usually nights like this made him anxious. The darkness surrounded by almost a deafening silence was rarely tolerable, whether he was alone or not, despite the horrors being mostly left behind him a while ago, he could still occasionally see shadows and figures move around in the darkest corners of the rooms he occupied.

Tonight things felt different. Maybe it was because it had been a relatively good day compared to many previous ones, maybe because he was tired but content with today's work that had gotten done even though it wasn't absolutely everything he wanted to do…

Maybe it was the sleeping Kip laying on the couch next to him, curled up against the side of his leg, head laid down comfortably on his lap.

Cassidy looked down at him, a small smile playing on his lips. They probably should have moved to bed ages ago, but ever since Kip had passed out on him almost as soon as they had gotten home, Cassidy just didn’t dare to wake him up and move the two of them to the bedroom. He looked so comfortable there, his steady breathing the only sound in the living room as Cassidy had muted the television to allow Kip to sleep in peace, as he was clearly exhausted after spending the whole day out in town.

Cassidy’s fingers ran absentmindedly through Kip’s hair, watching the bright coils he wrapped around his fingers untangling themselves and settling back to their places time after time. He honestly couldn’t really figure out how they had ended up here in the end, considering the extremely rocky start they had gotten off to years ago at this point.

They never really got along, or at least they never actively tried to. Cassidy was always with his tightly knit friend group, Kip was with his like-minded people. They didn’t hang out, they barely shared greetings in the hallways when they crossed paths. Sure they were familiar with one another, knew that they worked together and occasionally shared the ring too, but that was about the extent of everything.

Then one day, pretty much purely as a prank as Chuck had egged him on to do it saying how funny it would be to mess with them a little, Cassidy interrupted a promo by Miro and Kip. And that was pretty much the beginning of what had become a years long rivalry in most people's eyes at this point, most of them saying that Cassidy costing Kip the International title wasn’t the end of it either. Of course behind the scenes it was, leading them ultimately where they were now, but if people wanted to believe that the story still wasn’t over, Cassidy wasn’t going to let them in on their little secret.

Not that the road to get here had been easy for either of them. Cassidy could still remember Kip just disappearing after Arcade Anarchy was done, only later on hearing about the injury and the surgery he had to go through. At the time he partially blamed himself for it and putting them all through the match, though Chuck had convinced him that nobody was to blame, these things happened. Which, he was right, but knowing that he had been one of the last opponents Kip had faced in that match still poked his conscience occasionally, even after all these years. They had talked about it and Kip had said, multiple times, that he didn’t put blame on Cassidy as this was an issue he had dealt with prior to the match, but it was still occasionally bothering him, for one reason or another.

Maybe Cassidy blamed it so much on himself because he had seen and felt firsthand what being on the shelf had done to Kip when he eventually started to return to shows and the ringside.

His eyes focused back on the sleeping face of the Brit, watching the little content smile linger on his resting face, lips slightly apart as he was clearly asleep. The dark circles around his eyes were partially from the sloppy job of removing the makeup when they had gotten home, but Cassidy knew a big part of them were also the sleepless nights and the nightmares that kept him awake and alert for too many hours of the day. Kip wouldn’t admit to it at this point that it was still a problem, in his mind it had been tackled a long time ago, but Cassidy knew. He knew it all.

He knew how much of the makeup was a facade and how much of it was the real Kip Sabian. As much as the base of the eyeliner was real, the rest of it was nothing more than a cover up. To make sure nobody else saw how much it all had messed him up. The injury, the recovery, the return…

The box, the title hunt, the belt itself.

You could have shown Cassidy a single picture of Kip from any point of this timeline and he could have pinpointed exactly when it was taken, based on nothing but the way he looked. He had seen Kip go from the colorful though vengeful persona to the man in the deepest depths of hell, hellbent on revenge and redemption. While Cassidy hadn’t been there or a part of it every step of the way, he had observed it enough from the sidelines to have seen all of it develop. And he had been there enough to experience the worst of it firsthand.

His hand slowly left Kip’s hair, the palm pressing gently to the side of his head as his thumb ran over the other man’s cheek. Even in his sleep Kip leaned against the touch with a content hum, making Cassidy’s heart flutter at the sight. Despite everything they had gone through, both separately and together, they were still here, able to have this kind of a moment together. In complete peace.

He didn’t intend it to, but Cassidy’s mind wandered on its own back to the first days they spent together after Kip had been broken out of the curse, after he was no longer a champion. Cassidy had been the one to cost him the title, sure, but that had just been the beginning of it. It didn’t take long for Kip to fall prey to the aftermath, just as Cassidy knew he would be. And he had been there to pick up the pieces, to help Kip back up on his feet, whether he liked it or not, whether Chuck liked it or not, whether anyone liked it or not, because Cassidy knew he was the one that needed to do it, and he was the one that was able to do it.

It all started very rocky, and continued very rocky for a long time. Understandably it took Kip a long while to be able to get not only used to this changed situation where he was alone but no longer in control, and to accept the fact that he was not only getting help, but that he needed the help of the man he had proclaimed his nemesis. Cassidy didn’t mind this, it felt kind of bad to admit it, but he knew Kip didn’t have it in him in the end to fight against it. If Cassidy kept up with it, eventually Kip would give in, he would understand how all of this was necessary. Cassidy knew this, as he had been in the same boat before, only he had been in Kip’s place and Kris, and occasionally Chuck and Trent as well, in his.

Cassidy’s hand moved from Kip’s face, grabbing a gentle hold of his hand resting next to his head, easily interlacing their fingers. Even if Kip was asleep, this setup was so usual for them that it was ingrained into his muscle memory even if he wasn’t aware of what was happening around him. Cassidy observed his content face for a while, thinking how long it had been now that he had been able to look Kip like this.

It hadn’t always been like this. Hell, this hadn’t been the end goal at any point. Cassidy was just supposed to be here until Kip was better and able to get back on his own feet and take care of himself again, and then he was supposed to be out. That’s how it was supposed to be, only for a short period of time. Instead it had been almost a year at this point since they had moved in together, at some point down the line they had moved into sharing a bed – at the beginning this was to avoid extra nightmares and make sure Kip got the sleep he needed, but something about that clearly shifted the dynamic in the end.

Cassidy could remember multiple nights looking at Kip’s sleeping face, much like tonight, wondering how they ended up here. Where they would go from here. If there would be more than just him taking care of the Brit like it had been up to that point. Slowly seeing his actions help Kip, to genuinely make him get better and be able to get somewhat back into normalcy…

Somewhere in there, between all the good and the bad, the laughs in the day and confused, fearful tears cried in the night, his heart had decided that Cassidy was feeling more than just the need to help Kip to overcome this huge obstacle.

Cassidy felt extremely lucky to know that Kip shared those feelings with him though, he couldn’t even bring himself to think how things would be if he didn’t.

Feeling a lump forming on his throat the thought, Cassidy closed his eyes, inhaling deeply in hopes of calming himself down. Today had been such a tiring, hectic day it was no wonder him being this tired and having his thoughts running so rampant that it was making him emotional, but at the same time he didn’t want to cry and risk waking Kip up because of it. Cassidy was supposed to be the calm and collected one, he was always the stoic one, he wasn’t the one that was supposed to cry.

And yet, the tears were inevitable.

He barely stifled a sob, but the tears slipped past the shut eyelids, wetting his cheeks. Almost as soon as Cassidy could feel that, he felt a hand being pressed on his cheek, a thumb running over it, wiping away the tears.

“Hey.”

Cassidy opened his eyes, looking down at Kip, seeing the smile still on his lips, tired eyes looking back at him, just barely a hint of worry in them. While it wasn’t usual for Kip to see him cry like this, seemingly unprompted, Kip knew to not get him more agitated whenever it did happen.

“Everything okay?”

Cassidy offered him a smile, wiping his face with his free hand, giving a squeeze to Kip’s hand with the other. “Yeah… Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Kip looked at him, observing his face, like he was trying to find the lie that he knew he wasn’t going to find. “You sure?”

Cassidy nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Just thinking. About this. Us. …How we got here.”

Kip hummed in response, eyes finally leaving Cassidy, allowing him a little breathing room. Kip pushed himself up from his lap, stretching a little with a yawn. As Kip settled back to his spot on the couch next to Cassidy, he leaned closer to the blond, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I think about us all the time,” he smiled, pressing another kiss on Cassidy’s cheek before he pushed himself up from the couch, stretching again. “But it’s bedtime. Come on.”

Kip offered a hand towards him, Cassidy taking it without hesitation. But instead of letting Kip pull him up, Cassidy pulled the Brit closer and into a kiss. He obviously intended it as a passionate one, one hand running through Kip’s hair to keep him close as the man basically melted against him, in the end ending up sitting in Cassidy’s lap as the breath taken out of him was too much to keep him up on his feet anymore.

“You’ve really been thinking tonight, huh?” Kip gasped as he was finally able to get air into his lungs again, Cassidy just responding with a quick peck on his lips and a smile. Kip looked at him for a while, leaning closer as he snuggled his head against Cassidy’s shoulder with a quiet sigh. “I love you.”

Cassidy’s hand ran through Kip’s hair again, leaning his head against the side of his. “I love you too. But you’re right, we really should go to bed.”

Kip chuckled at him but obliged, pushing back onto his feet, raising a brow as Cassidy didn’t follow suit immediately.

“I’ll turn off the lights and such. You go ahead.”

“Well, if I pass out before you get there, that’s on you.”

Cassidy just chuckled at him, watching Kip leave the living room. Only after he could hear the footsteps going up the stairs to make sure he really was leaving his immediate vicinity, Cassidy stood up from the couch, reaching for the remote to turn the television off. He grabbed the jean jacket that had been laying on the back of the couch, hand stuffing into its pocket.

He looked at the little black ring box in his hand for a moment before putting it into the pocket of his jeans, knowing he could get away with hiding it from Kip for a little bit longer until the morning.

#fic #setting: belt corruption arc #character: orange cassidy #character: kip sabian #ship: orangekip #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #request

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