#on one hand without a hyperfixation i feel so Empty but whenever i have one i get so swept away despite KNOWING that will happen and trying
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With Bad joking about preparing to go live as a hermit if the eggs are gone for a long time it really got me thinking about how important the eggs and their eggy actors have been to him.
Not that they haven't been important to everyone, the eggs are such a huge part of the server but tonights ramble is about Bad.
To the shock of absolutely no one! I'm a Ghostie first and foremost, with a hyperfixation and a penchant for writing novel length rambles. This is just the usual atp :')
Before the Qsmp Bad was not a daily streamer, not even close, just check his vods channel. Hell, even when he joined the QSMP he didn't stream every day of the start of the server. He only streamed one or two days for a handful of hours...but then he got Dapper.
And with him being a single parent Bad had to log on every day to do Dapper's tasks.
(Yes, Q was also a single parent but he had ppl babysit Tilin, also she died within the first 2 weeks of her being around soooo yeah, different circumstance)
Then because Bad was on every single day he took up a position of babysitter for most of the eggs since their parents couldn't be on as frequently.
To begin with it was mostly just Tallulah, she could've been taken care of by Philza but her schedule didn't originally line up with Phil's so it was easier for her to wake up for Bad to do her tasks.
Then Ramon started joining them some nights so he could hang out with Dapper.
Then Bad became closer with the French and started to watch Pomme for them when they logged off for the night since Pomme was a night owl.
Then Vegetta stopped logging in as often and Leo kept barely missing Foolish so Bad started taking care of Leo's tasks when Foolish couldn't and she started spending time with him as well.
Then Richas started hanging out with Dapper and Pomme, so they formed the late night trio and hung out almost every night which eventually became Richas just hanging out with Bad whenever he felt like it.
Then Pepito arrived and since Roier wasn't on as often late last year Pepito would hang out with Bad and Foolish most days.
Then Em immediately decided that Bad was her favorite Uncle and would hang out with him when Bagi went to bed if she wanted to stay up.
When the eggs disappeared, rather than his usual 6-10 hour streams Bad was streaming 3-5 hours because his entire time on the server was usually spent hanging out with the eggs.
I've rambled before about how qBad and Tio Bad are two separate things because Tio Bad isn't rp, it's just ccBad atp but I feel like some people don't realize the extent to which ccBad spends time with the Eggy actors.
Every single stream, from 5-12 hours, he's only ever without an eggy companion for a couple of hours maximum.
I mean there's the probability of each egg just showing up to hang out with Bad at any point in the day,
Obviously you've got these 3;
Dapper, Pomme, Richas - highest probability
Then these 3;
Empanada, Pepito,Tallulah, - high probability
Then these 5;
Ramon, Chunsik, Sunny - low probability
Chayanne, Leo - lowest probability
There is no egg that has never shown up randomly to hang out with their Tio Bad (and yes I am counting the Ghostie streams in this, it was still ccBad so yknow)
ccBad spends so much time with them.
Not counting all the stuff he's done on stream with all the eggs, he has;
built the snowman with Talluladmin and Pommin,
played battleship with Pommin and Ricardão,
worked on create farms with Dappmin,
worked on the signs with Pommin and Ricardão,
built decorations with Empanadmin and Pommin
Just to name a couple of the stuff we know, not even mentioning the nights they just spend together after stream doing nothing important
The server feels especially empty as a Ghostie because ccBad himself is just so used to hanging out with not just the eggs but the eggy actors as well.
His days are usually dictated by what one of the eggs wants to do, not even necessarily his kid.
If an egg wants to go on an adventure to find a particular thing but knows it's rare or could take a while, they know that the easiest thing to do (if they don't want to drag their parents to do it) is probably ask Tio Bad to take them to look for it. Em's done it, Tallulah's done it, Sunny's done it, Pepito's done it, Leo's done it, literally every egg except Chay and Chun.
His ass is always online and always willing to do anything for the eggs, unless it's ridiculously dangerous, then he draws the line.
If that man does go live as a hermit due to everything reminding him of the fact that the eggy actors are temporarily on break I will not be shocked.
ccBad spends so much of his time with them, not just their little eggy characters.
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Hello! Your art is very eatable /pos
Also, do you have any HCs (well not really HCs since you made the ship) for inky ribbons you'd be willing to share?
TYYY IT MEANS A LOT
I strive to make my art as eatable as possible
Also yay more excuses to ramble about them teehee 🐙🎀 (these are all for their established relationship)
🐙 They enjoy spending time together alone after the mostro lounge closes, enjoying a nice cup of tea and just talking about anything that comes to mind. (usually jovie info dumping about their current hyperfixation).
🎀 Azul pays close attention during those info-dumps and gifts Jovie merch of her strongest hyperfixations, despite her never asking or even expecting gifts.
🐙 They're the only person Azul can give a gift to without feeling indebted to her.
🎀 Jovie hoards earrings. She ADORES earrings. No wonder Azul's gifts tend to be...well, earrings! (sometimes necklaces too).
🐙 Jovie sucks at giving gifts (and often doesn't have the money for them) so instead she asks Azul what they wanna do for the day. Whatever he says, it happens, just a special day where they can do whatever he wants.
🎀 Similar, for Jovie words often feel empty. So Azul makes sure he shows how much he cares about them through various actions (taking food for them at the cafeteria, remembering the things she tells him, offering to carry her books etc). It's the small things that get her.
🐙 If Azul wants to convince Jovie to do something all he has to do is smooth talk/flirt with her and she gives in HDKABSKS
🎀 Jovie is not the best when it comes to words, but Azul finds the biggest comfort whenever they hold him and just tell him he's doing great.
🐙 Jovie's main love languages are physical affection and quality time, Azul's being physical affection (tho he had to ease up on it in the start.) and acts of service.
🎀 They're in the same class!! This usually means Azul playfully scolding Jovie for not paying attention in class. Jovie can get help from him with homework (for a price ofc) (the price being a date).
🐙 Azul did an excessive amount of research on Jovie's culture so he's prepared for the day they'll tell him "my family wants to meet you". He thinks it'll prepare him to make a good first impression if he's knowledgeable about their culture (It, in fact, does not help him regarding his stress over actually meeting them tho lmao).
🎀 Jovie would love to meet his family, and wants to ask when she could, but is embarrassed to tell him "I'm afraid of small fishes nibbling me because they remind me of bugs." (she has entomophobia like me lol💔)
🐙 The first time they publicly held hands was during the SDC and he was the one to initiate it, causing Jovie to freeze in place for a moment as they tried to process what he had just done (they're very private about the relationship so it was a surprise).
🎀 They don't properly kiss until the end of the school year. They were only giving kisses on the cheek/close to the mouth but never actually KISSING...they were nervous but got through it.
🐙 She's the only one allowed inside the bathroom in cases where his potion has worn off and he needs to wait for the next refill inside the bathtub.
I'll stop here because this will get long if I continue LMAOOO
tagging: @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk @cyanide-latte (lmk if you wanna be added)
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst oc#twst yuu#twst yume#azul ashnegrotto#azul ashengrotto x oc#jovie's writing#twst x oc#azul x yuu#azul ashengrotto x yuu#moot ask#ask me anything#inky ribbons#🐙🎀
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remember (remember) annotations because why the hell not
I've always wanted to make annotations for something I've written and I figured this would be a good opportunity, since this is a short and yet somewhat complex fic with a lot of parallelism/references. I'm writing this for the hell of it and because I think it'll be fun, I'm guessing it'll be pretty long and so for that reason I'm putting the rest under the cut. Without further ado, here are annotations for my recent 2k word one shot persona 5 fic remember that you can't save everyone (remember that you have to try).
part one: the writing process
My writing process varies for each project. I definitely tend more towards outlining, but this fic was somewhat of an exception for me. Since I knew it was going to be so short and very dialogue-heavy, I basically just had the rough idea planned out when I started drafting. Normally I might outline the whole thing, if not on paper then in a note or at least in my head, all in great detail. For this fic, I decided to write it on a whim, so there wasn't much time for the outlining stage.
I wrote the first draft in chunks of 500-ish words at a time over the course of a single night, pausing whenever I hit a roadblock or a good temporary endnote and returning to it a bit later. My drafting process is pretty basic. I tend to hyperfixate on whatever I'm writing and get into a flow state--and if I can't reach that flow state, I struggle to write anything at all. The words just kind of come to me, usually even a bit faster than I can write them (though I've started to catch up with my typing more recently--it helps that I write on my phone more often than not these days and I'm a lot faster that way).
Once the first draft was finished, I let it sit overnight, and since I was hyperfixating on it, I started work on the second draft basically right away once I woke up and kept working on it until it was done. Normally I don't work nearly this fast, but it helped that this was a hyperfixation-driven fic and that it was so short and simple.
My editing process is basically just a lot of rereading, tweaking/reordering/deleting/rewriting until I have something I'm happy with. In this case, I added about 200 words worth and deleted a lot of dialogue that I didn't think worked or didn't sound therapist-y enough. It's extremely hard writing Maruki's dialogue--just in general, but especially when he's in therapist mode.
The following is an example of the changes passages go through from the first draft to once its completed. The first draft is in italics, anything I cut is struck through, and anything I added is in bold.
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Kurusu sniffles, and there's another long silence. Takuto gets up to refill his water glass in the meantime. While digging in the fridge, he ends up grabbing a beer too. Takuto tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder to pick up his water glass and carry both back to his room.
He hates knowing Kurusu is suffering while so utterly helpless. He wishes more than anything he could do to something other than offer what must sound like empty platitudes.
After a long while Kurusu takes a deep breath and sighs. "Thank you, Doctor Maruki. I think I feel a little better now."
"I'm glad to hear it. If you ever need me, please, call me, at any time of day. Don't ever feel like you're bothering me."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Takuto runs his hands through his hair, a tiny bit of tension dissipating–but most of it remains.
Takuto sets the drinks down on his bedside table. He grabs his phone with one hand and runs the other through his hair. "Would you like to talk about anything else?"
"No. I'm good now. Promise."
"I'm glad to hear that. If you ever need me, please, call me, at any time of day. Don't ever feel like you're bothering me."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"All right. Don't forget what I said, Kurusu-kun. It's natural to be feeling a lot of conflicting emotions right now. If you ever need to talk it out more I'm here. It's okay to need help navigating the this grieving process."
"Yeah. Thanks." A door opens, and Takuto assumes Kurusu is headed back up to the attic for the night. "Goodnight, Doctor Maruki."
"Goodnight, Kurusu-kun."
Kurusu hangs up. Takuto sighs, allowing himself to slump forward and hold his head in his hands. He's so helpless. Not only with Kurusu, but also with his Kurusu's friends, and everyone else. At least with those like Rumi and Sumire Yoshizawa he'd been able to help, but the rest of them…there's nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing. Takuto opens the beer bottle and takes a swig.
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I reordered the dialogue in one instance because I realized it sounded like Maruki was ending the call before Akira gave any indication that he was better/done talking, and it surprisingly still worked without having to change much. As you can see, there's a lot more added than subtracted. I'm an underwriter, and I wanted to break up the dialogue and indicate Maruki's what reaction was to what Akira told him through his actions. The rest of the changes are pretty small and were tweaked during the final few proofreads before I posted the fic on ao3.
Fun fact, I was debating for a long time whether he should refer to Sumi as Sumire or Kasumi in his head (on one hand, she believes she's Kasumi because of him and maybe he wants to respect that, on the other hand he's well aware she's not Kasumi and only believes that because he made her do so), before I remembered he pretty much exclusively refers to her as Yoshizawa out loud in the game and that that worked as a good compromise.
part two: commentary
Now we get to the fun part! This part is going to be pretty much nonsense unless you've read the fic already, so I recommend you go do that first, and then you can come back here. I'm going to take out passages and explain my thought process behind them/any parallels/deeper meaning behind them. This might take some of the magic out of it in the same way explaining a joke takes away its humor, so if you'd rather not see this peek behind the curtain, I understand.
Her back is to him, but she's closer than she's ever been. If only he could get her attention–Takuto reaches out, and he could swear, the tips of his fingers graze the back of her head, just barely tousling her hair. She's so close.
Bzzt.
Takuto is ripped away from her.
The fic opens with a dream Maruki is having of attempting to reach Rumi. This is pretty straightforward--he misses her and wants her back in his life, but he knows that's impossible, so he can't reach her no matter how hard he tries. I started here because I wanted to remind the reader where his mindset is at and the trauma that's led him to this place as context for the rest of the fic.
He fumbles with the phone, nearly accidentally rejecting the call as he struggles not to drop it. He manages to press accept and presses the phone to his ear.
I love how awkward and clumsy Maruki is. I headcanon him as ADHD and I tried to reflect that in this fic by describing how restless he is later on, constantly pacing around his room as he and Akira talk. But anyway, as for this little section I wanted to include his clumsiness without breaking the tone of the fic, so this happens early on before the more serious stuff happens and it'd be jarring to hear about Maruki stumbling around.
"Kurusu-kun?" he tries.
Silence. Then, a very soft and quiet, "...Yeah."
"Is everything alright?"
More silence. An even softer, "No."
Takuto switches on his lamp. Kurusu has never called him before, let alone in the middle of the night. Whatever this is about, it's serious, and he's trusted Takuto with it above anyone else. "Do you want to talk about it?" Kurusu mumbles something inaudible. "I'm afraid I couldn't make out–"
"I'm sorry," Kurusu says. "I didn't realize it was this late. It's nothing. Forget I even–"
While Akira is the one who called, I wanted to make it clear that he was hesitant about talking to Maruki, since I think it's in character for him to be afraid of making himself a burden. He called because he was so overwhelmed with emotion and immediately regretted it, and he continues to be hesitant to share his feelings for the rest of the fic. He just isn't used to talking about them out loud with anyone, not even his own counselor.
"We don't have to talk about anything if you prefer. I'll sit on the line with you until it's safe to hang up."
"It's not like that." Kurusu's words come out rushed, almost panicked, like he's desperate to clear up a misunderstanding.
"Like what?"
"I don't want to hurt myself. Or…whatever."
Oh, Akira. He called Maruki in the middle of the night and yet he's still worried about making Maruki worry about him. He doesn't want Maruki to think he's weak, either. My sweet, sweet child and his debilitating hero complex and aversion to vulnerability...
There's more quiet sniffling from the other side. "I'm sorry," repeats Kurusu. "I'm so sorry…"
Somehow, Takuto doesn't think Kurusu is talking to him anymore.
This is probably my favorite moment in the fic. Akira has already been apologizing, but this is the moment he breaks and starts talking about Akechi, even if he doesn't fully realize it himself yet. My baby boy and his overwhelming crushing guilt. ;-;
Kurusu's apologies deteriorate into sobbing. Takuto listens silently, his heart aching for the kid who helped him so much with his research. He swears to himself, right then and there, that he'll do whatever is in his power to end Kurusu's suffering, no matter what.
Here's the first obvious parallel between Maruki and Akira--they both want to save everyone else. In fact, they believe its their duty to do so, to their own detriment. There's another parallel in here too, with Maruki feeling like he owes Akira for how much he's helped him in his research. I think Akira feels the same way about owing people, since his confidants are all structured as give-and-take deals.
More creaking steps. A squeaky door opens and shuts. Kurusu sighs softly. "I took us back down to the bathroom. I don't want to wake Mona and…the café isn't exactly…um. Forget it. It doesn't matter."
Takuto sets that aside. It's not important right now that he understand Kurusu's situation, so long as he's comfortable where he's at. "Are you feeling any better, Kurusu-kun?"
"Um. I guess?" A pause. He sighs. "No, not really. I'm not." He sniffs again. His next words are muffled, almost unintelligible. "Ugh, fuck."
Obvious reference to Futaba's bugs is obvious.
Since I'm not sure how clear Akira's side of things is from Maruki's perspective, I'll just explain it here. Akira left to "clean himself up" in the bathroom after crying. In reality, the moment he tried to calm down, he just ended up breaking down all over again and cried for almost five minutes. Eventually he forcibly gathered himself so he could be coherent for Maruki and prevent him from worrying about him too much. Akira is assuming when he goes back upstairs to retrieve his phone that he'll be able to have better control of his emotions now that he's let himself cry for a bit. Him saying "fuck" is when he realizes that's not the case, and he hasn't regained his composure the way he thought he did. He's already on the verge of crying all over again.
"No, it's not–I just. I don't…really…talk to people. Anyone. About this stuff. Or…anything." He pauses. "I just…I mean, last month, I went through hell, and even then, I didn't–I didn't talk to anyone. Because I was fine! It was okay. I was okay. But now I'm just–I'm falling apart, and–" He breaks down again, starts to cry. "Goddammit. I shouldn't be–I'm sorry, I never should have called you."
Akira's partially convincing himself he was fine, of course. Akechi's death was just the straw that broke the camel's back (though it was a really huge straw). In a way, though, he's not lying either, because Akira just. cares more about others than he does himself. He can deal with his own suffering and trauma--its the suffering and death of his friend that breaks him.
Takuto wants something to chew on–something to distract himself from this listlessness he feels just listening to Kurusu, unable to help him in any meaningful, measurable way. He settles for the inside of his cheek.
"ADHD Maruki loves his snacks" but angst.
"He was right there," Kurusu continues, "but I couldn't do anything. And then it was too late, and…it's all my fault. I should have done something. I should have reached out sooner, but I didn't know what to do. Maybe if I wasn't so helpless and stupid I could have stopped him but now he's gone and it's all my fault."
Takuto waits until he's sure Kurusu's finished. "Forgive me if my assumption is incorrect, but this friend…did he take his own life?"
Kurusu laughs, and he hasn't sounded more miserable all night than he does now. "Yeah. Something like that."
Yeah. I mean, that's really the only way for Maruki to understand Akechi's death at this point. Once again, Akira blames himself and unrightfully puts all the responsibility on his own shoulders when the circumstances were out of his control. Remind you of anyone else?
"You don't need to apologize," Takuto repeats. He takes a breath and sits back down on his bed. "I'm terribly sorry for what happened to your friend. It's a horrible thing to lose someone that way. But it's important to accept that sometimes circumstances are out of our control and there's nothing we could have done to save them."
Maruki take your own advice challenge (IMPOSSIBLE!)
Seriously, though, Maruki having a double standard for himself and everyone else, where he breaks every rule he sets for his ideal reality because he is the exception, he is the one who must suffer for the sake of everyone else, is so incredibly interesting and tragic to me and I wanted to explore that here. How it doesn't even occur to him to take his own advice because of course it doesn't apply to him. He's the one who must save everyone, because he's the only one who can.
Of course, that complex of his gets a whole lot worse once he's offered the power of a god.
"What do you think he'd say to you now, if he were here?"
"Um…well." Kurusu sighs. "He'd…tell me to move on. That it's stupid to blame myself and that he made his choice."
"He'd want you to forgive yourself and live on for him, then?"
"Yeah. Yeah, he would."
Maruki, that's an incredibly generous way to put what Akechi would have to say if he saw Akira crying over him. (He's not wrong, though. That is what Akechi would want, even if that's far from how he'd put it himself.)
"You're a very strong young man, Kurusu-kun. You've endured so much this past year, trials you didn't deserve to face. And yet you've triumphed over them every time. That deserves recognition. It's okay to need help. Losing a friend to suicide is not an easy thing to deal with."
"Yeah. I just…" His voice lowers again. "I wish he were still here. I miss him so much."
"I know."
Okay, there's a lot going on here.
First of all--Akira is definitely misinterpreting Maruki's words right here. Maruki means to be saying that Akira's already dealt with so much that its okay to need help, but he's unintentionally supporting the narrative that Akira's been told by so many other adults. "You're so strong and capable and mature, it's incredibly impressive"--and Akira is internalizing this as they have high expectations for me, I can't fail them. He's seen as strong and capable so he's not ever allowed to be anything less. Its another way that the one adult Akira thought he could rely on ends up failing him by putting far, far too much on his shoulders.
This is something Maruki consistently does throughout the confidant by turning the person he should be counseling into his therapist, and later by placing the fate of the world on Akira's shoulders by forcing him to make the decision of which reality to subject the whole world to all by himself. This isn't a choice Akira should be forced to make, and yet Maruki is making him do it anyway, because he sees Akira as the ultimate arbiter of true justice. Akira is seen as incredibly mature and capable for his age by every adult he befriends and they each tell him so, which absolutely cannot be healthy for a sixteen year old kid to hear.
Second of all--"I wish he were still here." There it is. Akira's wish, everyone. The phrasing was entirely intentional. This is how Maruki finds out about Akechi's death. Once he gains access to Mementos and learns what happened in Shido's Palace (likely through Shido's Shadow), he puts two and two together and realizes the "friend" Akira must have been talking about was Akechi. This is how Maruki knew.
And here's the thing. Akira hates being vulnerable already. This phone call was incredibly difficult for him to make as it was. And now, because he talked to his therapist and told him something so deeply personal--that's why Akechi's brought back. That's why he's forced to go through the trauma of 2/2 and let Akechi die all over again. This is Maruki's ultimate betrayal, to use Akira's vulnerability as a weapon against him and hold Akechi hostage.
I believe Maruki when he says he doesn't want to do this to Akira. But that didn't stop him from doing it anyway. Because he believed his reality was worth putting that huge of a burden on Akira's shoulders, one he'll have to live with for the rest of his life. Imagine the toll that's going to put on Akira now. Imagine how much more difficult it'll be for him to talk to anyone about his problems ever again, for fear it'll be used against him like Akechi was. For fear he might put his friends in danger simply for the sin of opening his mouth and daring to be vulnerable.
Takuto gets up to refill his water glass in the meantime. While digging in the fridge, he ends up grabbing a beer too.
This is a reference to that one cut scene that implies Maruki may be something of an alcoholic. "Ends up" was intentional phrasing--Maruki doesn't see it so much as an active choice. He needs it to cope.
Takuto wishes he could do something, anything, to help him. But even with his powers, not even he can bring back the dead.
✨ Foreshadowing ✨
He finds himself in his office. His research paper is sitting here on the desk, already printed out. This is all he has–that, and his powers, which are currently limited and mysterious, but with the proper research might be able to grow into something that could help so many more than the very few he's helped so far. If only he had the resources to actualize it.
He has to find a way to help people like Kurusu and his lost friend. What he has now isn't much, but it's something, and he's determined to turn it into something more. Something that can save everyone from their suffering for good.
Takuto finishes off a third beer bottle. "I swear it, Kurusu-kun, on my own life," Takuto whispers. "I'll save you and all your friends."
Obvious foreshadowing is obvious. Once again, this is Maruki doing the exact thing he told Akira he shouldn't do--place responsibility on his own shoulders for other people's suffering.
"All your friends" is very intentional phrasing as well. He's including Akechi in that. He doesn't know how yet, just that he has to...well...try to save everyone.
Speaking of the title, its referring to both Akira and Maruki. Akira feels he should have been able to save Akechi, while Maruki feels he must save Akira and everyone else. The title was really what tied the whole one shot together. I realized what the title had to be while thinking about the one shot in the shower, and that's when I discovered what thematic throughline was. It retroactively justified my arbitrary decision to have the one shot be from Maruki's perspective (I initially thought it would just be an interesting experiment since I've never written anything from his perspective before). This one shot is about how Maruki does the exact thing Akira feels he should do. Its about how they're thematic foils, and yet similar in so many fundamental ways. It foreshadows their ideological struggle in the third semester and how they're driven by such similar motivations. And how easily Akira could have become like Maruki if he'd been alone.
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Ok I haven't made a post here in a very long time because I haven't wrote anything in a very long time.
So since I'm posting again that means I've written something, write? No of course not.
Instead I took a retrospective look at one of my oldest writings called "Tellings of the Sky." And OH BOY I don't know wtf I was on.
Lemme get an image for you. So the base setting is kinda like one of them liminal spaces. I've got two characters, each in separate worlds that are similar except for one thing, the sky.
First there's a boy in an empty world with no other conscious life. The earth itself didn't even have color, it was in black and white. The sky itself behaved erratically, it would change shape, the sky itself would form different patterns and complex structures for inexplicable reasons. Think of like a 4 dimensional space somehow being observed, it's just weird as fuck.
The sky at night for him was different, it was pitch black with a bright white stripe cutting across it, and a small black dot traveling across it, from one point of the horizon to the other. White cracks would branch out from the stripe, and they varied from night to night
In the other world it was also empty of conscious life and devoid of color. However there was a single girl inhabiting the world, and her day was the exact same as the first world's night, however without the cracks. However her night was instead a blank white sky with cracks running across it, an amount and intensity of cracks that would change each night.
So the parallels here are the night of the first and day of the second, cracks during the night specifically, and that the worlds they inhabit are the exact same except for the presentation of the sky.
The story follows these two and how they interact with the world around them, mainly focusing on how they feel internally.
The boy is very focused on exploring the world around him. He never says it outright, but he's scared of his lack of awareness about the situation he's in, how he woke up to this world with no knowledge of a different existence. He has a strange connection to the day time sky in which, based on the form of the sky, he understands that he can sense what it is feeling. As for his relationship with the nighttime sky, there's a pattern that whenever it turns night he kind of shuts down, unable and unwilling to do anything or move. He entered a state of lethargy and a lack of motivation that he could not break out of, but at the same time he couldn't sleep, and rather has a light sense a paranoia throughout the night. Another thing is that he believes the sky is telling him to go somewhere, so as he explores the world around him he's always heading in the direction it's telling him.
The girl on the other hand hates her day time sky. She hates how blank it is, she describes it as a feeling like it's always watching her. She also decides to explore her world, however she doesn't have the same insecurity about a lack of understanding. Instead she's driven by the a sensation that there's something or someone she needs to find/catch up to. She finds herself constantly distracted by the details of the world and gets frustrated by the fact she feels she'll never reach her goal, not because of the impossibility of it but rather that she thinks she keeps getting in her own way. She finds a lot of comfort in the night sky, she interacts with it similar to how the boy in world one interacts with his daytime sky, she made a friend out of it. Her ability to understand the sky's feelings comes out of how many, how intense, and how bright the cracks in the sky are.
Another tidbit is that the girl finds herself often hyperfixated on screens. Throughout the world there's almost no movement besides the wind and tides, however every screen she comes across is covered with static, and emits a light hum. For a reason she can't explain, she finds solace in these screens, they take away her paranoia during the day and make her feel secure until the nighttime.
The extra bit for the boy is that he has no agency or control when it comes to the world around him. At some point he accidentally cuts himself, but the wound disappears almost immediately. Not in a sense of healing, but in resetting. After discovering this he decides to indulge in this phenomenon, coming to understand that anything he breaks, changes, or fixes, will only reset to the way it was moments later, including himself.
In his world, the screens are blank. In her world, changes are permanent.
These two characters have a little narration in the third person at the beginning and end of their chapters, but everything else is written in a journal like style, as a journal with seemingly endless pages and a pen with seemingly endless ink is all they had when they woke up, the only things that had color besides themselves and the clothes on their back.
The idea is the chapters would alternate between the two perspectives, until eventually the journals start relaying their writings to eachother. As in when one writes in their journal, it would appear in the other person's journal as well. The two would come to understand more about their worlds when talking to eachother, and slowly as they interacted with eachother more they lose their ability to sense the emotions of the sky. The ending is the apocalyptic merging of the two worlds, as their idea of what the world is starts to neutralize, effectively ending the two worlds and leaving both of them, finally meeting face to face, in a single world.
This final world of theirs has the daytime sky of the first world, the nighttime sky of the second, and now the sky has color. The tv screens have all shut off, and changes are now permanent, essentially neutralizing the differences between the two prior worlds.
Ok, so clearly, when I was writing this, I had a whole shit load of symbolic rubbish and themes going on. And now the current me is going to try to make sense of all of it.
The easiest things to note are the themes of mental health, as that's a theme I had jotted down in the skeleton for the story. The boy represents insomnia, depression, and schizophrenia. The girl represents ADHD, anxiety, and bi-polar disorder. The reason these disorders are represented aren't actually some moral theme or lesson, I wasn't trying to make some symbolic bridge to tell how people with these disorders interact with the world and humanize them. Rather it's all about coping, everything that happens internally. The story wasn't a tool for readers, rather a tool for me to better interpret how these disorders work and how to cope with them. I didn't have the direct thoughts or words to make sense of what I was feeling at the time, so I used these highly symbolic stories to capture those thoughts so I could make sense of them at a later date. In order to learn how to cope, I wrote a story about other people learning how to cope, weird right?
Either way, that's the only concrete theme I had written down. Everything else is just tied to speculation. At some point I thought I might've been making some gender commentary, as it's both a boy and a girl in these worlds and the interact with that world differently, but nope! The reason I know that's not the case is because of what character I used in these worlds, that's right, singular character.
I have an OC named Miso. This character has no concrete design, just varying designs that look kinda similar. This character also switches from being masculine presenting to feminine presenting and back all the fucking time. What is their actual sex or gender? Hell if I know, I just change it to whatever I feel like when I want to. Miso is a character that embodies what my idea of humanity is in its purest form, and a high factor in that is nuance and chaos (without the negative connotation). Meaning the two characters I wrote are actually the same character, even though they act differently. Their gender is irrelevant, and their 'universal humanity' symbology is supposed to come to light the moment the worlds merge.
And I actually have several cases of other stories I've written of Miso being split into two characters, like the main one I've shared in which you have Mi, the older sister, and So, a younger brother, in 'Dear You'. Miso isn't really a character per say, it's the embodiment of a hugely broad and nuanced theme in a character. The reason Miso is also often split is because interpersonal interactions are a huge proponent of that theme, and so in a story where Miso is the only character that split is necessary. Then in a story where Miso is a character that's supposed to represent the future and the upbringing of the next generation, that split is again necessary.
So no, I didn't have any themes about gender, but I did have a theme about universal humanity, which is why I used Miso. Now what is the theme about universal humanity actually telling? Well the only thing I could discern is that it's about the importance of emotion, mainly empathy, and balance. The boy finds comfort and companionship in the emotions of the day time sky as the girl does of the nighttime sky. The boy finds paranoia and fear of the nighttime sky, as the girl does of the daytime sky.
What the two are so afraid of when it comes to the sky is apathy. The boy exists in a world where nothing he does changes, he can't fix or break anything, but the only thing that is and has always been broken to him is the nighttime sky. The sky represents apathy, because in his subconscious he knows what would happen if things didn't reset. He feels he would break everything around him, and eventually himself, becoming unconcerned with the world around him and leaving it in the same way the sky looks. The nighttime sky is his fear of breaking the world around him, and his fear of being complacent with a broken world.
The girl on the other hand is paranoid with the day time sky, pointing out particularly how it was blank, had no emotion, and felt like it was always watching her. Her sky represents the potential of her apathy in a feeling of reduction. The sky watches her emotionlessly, as if she's nothing. She fears that, with how blank the world around her is, that one day she may lose her place in the world. She'd become just as colorless as it is, and eventually stop moving. She often describes the little details of things, how certain details have been seemingly forcefully ripped out. She fears her emotions being ripped out of her on account of her own inability to recognize her own worth in the world around her.
Essentially, he doesn't want to become a monster that defines everything, and she doesn't want to be reduced to nothing, equating herself to the world around her. So the parallel is that he doesn't want to be everything and she doesn't want to be nothing.
So what they find solace in is the opposing factors of the world, and what they heal from is eachother. The boy finds comfort and companionship in the daytime sky, in the fact that it is something that has form, something beyond himself, and he finds direction and purpose within it. The girl finds comfort in the nighttime sky, to her it's evidence that there's something more out there, that the world around her is worth more and is more complex than the nothing it's presented otherwise, that one day the cracks would break the sky completely and she could see the more that's beyond it.
The boy finds comfort in the fact that he can't break anything. Even though he's not presented as a violent or aggressive person, he's still just that afraid of doing harm. The solace is in the fact that he knows that things are going to be ok. He's still a careful and considerate person, but he has an understanding of that assurance because of the rules of the world around him. The girl finds comfort in the static, knowing that there's something beyond it. Even though she doesn't believe herself to be nothing, she's afraid of the world being nothing and becoming that herself. In the static of the screen, in the little details of the world that have been ripped out, she can tell that at some point there was something more. Her solace is in the fact that there's more she doesn't know, more she wants to learn, and more she wants to replicate, that she can make something of the world around her and therefore herself as well.
It's these things that keep them going, keep them sane. It's the universal laws that everything is going to be ok and that everything has meaning. That doesn't actually solve their insecurities however. Despite the opaque evidence that should quell their fear of apathy, it doesn't. He's still a careful person, she still gets frustrated with herself. Just because the truth is there, right in front of their face, it doesn't mean they can actually and fully understand it, that doesn't mean they can trust it.
That's the point of the two eventually connecting through the journal. It requires another perspective, another person's understanding, and another person's influence and support in order for these insecurities to actually heal. There's a lot of talk in relationships about how you can't fix someone, and this is true. However, no one can heal on their own. The interpersonal aspect of this story is supposed to emphasize that. The two can't heal with just themselves and the world around them, it requires them to actually meet eachother and support eachother. For humanity to heal and be better, we need eachother. When people say, "You can't fix someone," they mean you can't fix them on your own. It requires work from you, the other person, and more often than not everyone else in their life. The idea is that everyone needs to put in the work, not that since you can't do it on your own you should just up and leave. Healing is about worlds coming together, completing eachother, and being better for it, inheriting everything that scares and comforts us, and yet finding solace in both.
That's, what the current me, can deduce from past me's premise. Again, it's a story about coping, it's a story about healing, and it's a story about acceptance. The main message being that we need other people to heal, but we also need to put in the work ourselves. That we can't fix anyone on our own, but nothing will be fixed if we all just decide to walk away. It's a story about the importance of looking out for eachother, something I honestly think we're forgetting as the world gets more and more morally individualistic. I'm talking about actual individualism here, not the weird meta-term that I use all the time that confuses people.
The two characters need eachother to live in a world they both enjoy, they need eachother to live in a world that gives them purpose. Morality is about healing, betterment, and the aim is to show the importance of personal, interpersonal, and universal morality. What's right by you, what's right by the people around you, and what's right for the world around you.
I want to clarify that it isn't some peachy, "oh they're together now and everything is wonderful" or smthn. The story doesn't end on a tone like they could only find purpose and meaning in eachother. The world's merging is the last major event, but that's not where the story ends.
Now they have the opportunity to heal, but those insecurities don't just disappear once the two meet. In fact, if anything they're inflated for a while. The last few chapters are about learning how your morals affect other people, how things like defining yourself by the other person in your life can cause problems, how being too dependent or independent can cause issues, and how to rectify these things. In the story I had planned out fights and failures between the two and how they would need to work past it, what boundaries to set, understanding their own self worth but also dealing with the bit of apathy that had grown on them when they were separate.
So the progression goes like this; on our own we can cope, but we can't heal. It requires the work of ourselves and others to heal, and with others we get that opportunity. However, we need to understand sonder, we need to understand ourselves and eachother to actually succeed. It takes personal growth, and apathy can be a hinderance.
Empathy is what humanity needs, but empathy wont magically fix everything. We need to look out for eachother, but we also need to look out for ourselves. The story was meant to emphasize empathy, the importance of altruism, and then finding the right balance of it all as anything in extremes is unhealthy.
However, I never wrote past the third chapter, so what does it all matter eh? That's as fleshed out of a theme as I could get from my bare bones skeleton for the story, and I plan to try to write it again, but when has me planning anything ever actually worked?
Anyways, onto the actual important part, do they kiss? Answer, no. When writing the skeleton for the story, I didn't actually write it to be a romantic relationship between the two. The way I talked about it made it seem intimate yet platonic. Will it stay that way if I write it again? Should it stay that way? Yes it should, but no it won't, because I like writing cute comfy romance and I no longer care if that kinda takes away from the theme. Since they're technically the same character does that make it morally grey and kinda weird? Stop asking questions thank you.
#another interesting thing about this story#it was actually originally titled 'Dear You'#but I eventually abandoned the name#reusing it in what you know now as 'Dear You'#altho 'Dear You' has now been renamed to 'Time' because 'Time' was renamed to 'Self'#'Dear You' has also been retconed#again#so I might just change 'Tellings of the Sky' back to 'Dear You'#holy shit this is confusing
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#im doin dot posts tonight#the other one his the 30 tag limit hdkdbdj but anyway#i just wanted to add that im not one to Wish I Could Change The Past or whatever#bc u just sit there agonizing over what ifs and ive had a lifetime of anxiety experience with that. theres no need#im grateful that [popular thing] came into my view enough to introduce me to [comforting person/character] but then [fandom] got out#of control and angry all the time and its no longer fun to discuss [person/character] so i will sit here on my own and ponder them quietly#until the hyperfixation drops them or until my brain chills out enough to grab another interest n start liking [person/character] casually#its just of terrible to think about how predictable my life is at this point bc its just the same things over and over#and i cant even control most of it?? like.#on one hand without a hyperfixation i feel so Empty but whenever i have one i get so swept away despite KNOWING that will happen and trying#SO hard to stay normal and casual and calm about it so i dont get mad about it later when im thinking back#but i inevitably do get swept away. and then i try to be as quiet about it as possible so no one knows its my current fixation. but ofc#that Also never works so i try to limit it to people who Probably wont make fun of me/hold it over me way after im past it#(which is fun to bring back up sometimes like ace attorney and Terrible for other ones that just make me mad at my past self)#ANYWAY THE POINT OF THIS SECOND DOT POST WAS JUST TO SAY#im grateful that dsmp posts/art helped me to discover techno#(and art of him w his withers was actually what specifically caught my eye originally)#and i feel kinda bad bc im Part of the massive growth hes gotten through dsmp#but uh. now im like hey i found my new Comfort Media lets get out of this trainwreck server and fanbase#before it explodes and takes every cc down w it like. lets Not be involved in the drama#i just dont care about lore or other streamers anymore#i was a little interested for a bit. like two weeks or so#but uhhh thats my limit. none of them keep my attention like techno so if he leaves the server before its official end/unofficial implosion#ill follow him and probably block all the dsmp tags as soon as im out like thanks for the cc and the minecraft fixation but im out#(like how i blocked the tma tag bc once the fixation broke i was so sick of it i couldnt see it without getting annoyed)#(or how i watched polygon fr the mcelroys then learned my lesson w parasocial relationships bc of fucking u know who and then#came back to polygon for brian and then he said he felt locked in and i Totally agreed and now he left and i dont watch anymore bc i dont#rly care? like i took my cc im interested in and left bc i. am an individual person and dont owe them anything??)#anyway. chatting in tumblr tags my beloved i missed u
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Title: Can't Fix Everything
Rating: Teen and Up
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable (Future Fic)
Pairing(s): JotaHan
Summary: Jotaro frowns when he rings the doorbell and no one answers. It’s not as though he’s unexpected. He and Rohan had discussed this beforehand, but he knows that it’s entirely possible that Rohan got too caught up in his work. That he’s got his eyes glued to the pages with such a hyperfixation that he hadn’t even heard the doorbell going off.
Notes: When I went to write the ‘Flail Chest’ piece, I couldn’t make up my mind if I wanted it to be with Jotaro or Josuke, so here’s the Jotaro version (if it can be called that. Same injury, very different story.) Ngl, kind of frustrated with the end, but I've been sitting on this for a few weeks now.
[Copy and pasted from the Josuke version: Unimportant bit of trivia: the first rib fixation for adolescent flail chest wasn’t actually done until ~2006, but this is fic, so fuck it.
Flail chest: When a section of the chest wall becomes detached due to the ribs being broken in two or more places. The treatment for this can be a wait and see method (with pain management and physical therapy), but there’s also rib fixation, which is a surgical procedure that can help dramatically reduce short and long-term complications.
The rib injury is canon; the extent of it in this fic, not so much.]
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Jotaro frowns when he rings the doorbell and no one answers. It’s not as though he’s unexpected. He and Rohan had discussed this beforehand, but he knows that it’s entirely possible that Rohan got too caught up in his work. That he’s got his eyes glued to the pages with such a hyperfixation that he hadn’t even heard the doorbell going off. At least, that’s what Jotaro tells himself. How he tries to rationalize the lack of response.
Unfortunately, too many years on this earth-- facing some of the worst creatures to have ever disgraced her surface-- means that Jotaro has a good idea when he’s being pointlessly paranoid and when his ‘gut feeling’ is something to be taken seriously, and he’s feeling the latter right about now.
Star breaks the door’s lock with a particularly nasty twist of the knob. It’s nothing Jotaro can’t fix with a quick trip to the hardware store later, but that doesn’t matter right now.
“Rohan?” He calls into the seemingly empty house. The majority of the lights are off, and there’s no movement. No sound, and it’s far too early for Rohan to consider bed, which means he’s either closed in his studio or gone.
Jotaro makes a beeline for the familiar door that leads to Rohan’s sanctuary. It’s possible Rohan went out on a whim. Impulse control isn’t exactly his strong suit, especially when it might be something related to his manga, but it’s smarter to check the one place Rohan haunts most in life before bothering with anywhere else.
The door is unlocked, which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, though it doesn’t stop Jotaro’s heart from hammering away in his chest. There’s a flash of red across his vision, like a filter of blood, but he shakes it off in favor of taking in the room. He can’t let his past trauma affect him now.
Or maybe he can, because there Rohan is. On the floor, huddled partway beneath his desk. There’s a low whine that accompanies the screwed up features, and it’s all Jotaro needs to know that Rohan is in pain. A significant amount of it.
“Fuck,” Jotaro grinds out. He makes his way to Rohan quickly. Star Platinum itches to freeze time. A natural reaction to walking into an obviously bad situation with little information to work with, but Jotaro won’t waste the opportunity. They might only have one shot to work with, and he can’t waste it before he even knows what he’s walked into.
Carefully, he crouches in front of Rohan, His eyes don’t quite fixate on the mangaka. Instead, he’s too busy taking in their surroundings, searching for a threat.
Rohan startles and yelps. “What the fuck?” He grinds out after the initial shock washes over both of them.
“I could ask you the same thing. What happened?” Jotaro demands. His gaze shifts to Rohan. It’s a raking thing. Slow and deliberate as he searches for any sign of injury. There’s no blood that he can see. No limbs twisted horrifically out of place, and no holes punched where they don’t belong. Jotaro doesn’t allow himself to relax. There’s obviously something wrong; he just hasn’t figured it out yet.
“Ribs,” Rohan breathes out after a moment of hesitation. The mere effort of talking leaves him struggling for air.
Jotaro’s frown deepens, and he tunes out the rest of the world to focus on Rohan.
“Let me see.”
“No.”
“Rohan.”
“Go away.”
“Kishibe,” Jotaro grinds out. He doesn’t have time to put up with Rohan being a toddler when he could have a punctured lung.
“Fine,” Rohan concedes, though doesn’t move.
Jotaro sighs and carefully maneuvers Rohan onto his side. He uses Star’s hands as a cushion between Rohan’s body and the floor. A gentle effort to avoid making the situation worse, and, for once, Jotaro is incredibly thankful for Rohan’s penchant for crop tops. It’s a convenience-- rather than a nuisance and a distraction-- in a time like this.
Slowly, Jotaro pushes the fabric out of the way, and he sucks in a sharp breath out of sympathy the moment he gets an eyeful of the bruising that’s blossomed across Rohan’s side.
“That Stand got you right in that old wound of your’s, huh?” Jotaro asks. He barely resists the urge to reach out and touch the scars hidden underneath the black and blue mess. He’s known about their existence for a while, though Rohan rarely lets him lay eyes on them for more than a few seconds at a time.
There’s three scars in total, and each one runs the length of a rib, starting at Rohan’s sternum and wrapping around midway to his spine. A childhood injury from a freak accident that still causes unnecessary pain.
(”Why not just let Josuke heal you?” Jotaro remembers asking the first time he caught a glimpse of the scars.
“Josuke can’t fix everything,” Rohan had answered, short and irritable.)
Jotaro wonders if Rohan would allow Josuke to help now. If only to take the edge off, but Jotaro will worry about calling his nephew later. For now, he’s more concerned with getting Rohan off the floor and checked over properly. Jotaro hadn’t seen Rohan take a hit, which means that he has no idea how hard it had been or what kind of damage they might be dealing with. There could be internal bleeding, a collapsed lung, or god knows what else. The bruising is extensive enough, and Rohan’s breathing is ragged. Too shallow and a touch uneven.
“What gave you that idea?” Rohan snarls at him, breaking Jotaro out of his thoughts. He forgot how ill-tempered the mangaka is when he’s hurting.
“Good grief,” Jotaro mutters, though he takes it as a positive sign that Rohan’s got enough fight in him to make this as difficult as possible.
As carefully as possible, he scoops Rohan up into his arms. It isn’t easy, given the location of the wound, but he only makes Rohan whimper rather than scream. That has to count for something.
The path to the bedroom is blessedly short, considering the size of Rohan’s house. Jotaro gently deposits the mangaka on his oversized bed and heads for the en suite bathroom to retrieve the bottle of prescription painkillers that he knows Rohan underutilizes whenever possible (Rohan doesn’t like what they do to his head, and Jotaro can’t say that he blames him). It takes some rummaging, but he manages to find the pills and a cup to pour some water into.
“Here,” Jotaro says once he returns to the bedroom. To his surprise, Rohan takes both the cup and the proffered pills without complaint. He swallows the painkillers dry and chases them down with the water before falling back against the pillows with a quiet groan.
Jotaro takes that as his permission to resume his earlier inspection. Once again, he rolls the edge of the crop top up and tries not to grimace at the sight that greets him. It’s definitely no better than before, not that he had expected it to be. There’s more bruising than not on the scarred side, and some of it has branched across, spreading to the other side. Despite how horrific it looks, Rohan’s breathing is mostly even. It’s obvious that he’s in pain and holding back, but the lung seems to be inflating properly, which is… something. Far from great, but definitely better than the alternative.
Slowly, Jotaro palpates the area. All while ignoring the squirming and gasped breaths that he gets from Rohan. At some point, Rohan has enough, and he tries to swat Jotaro away, but he pulls back before Rohan can reach him.
“I don’t think you’re bleeding internally,” Jotaro announces with a barely level tone. Relief edges his words despite his attempt to keep his tone even. He tries not to think of what could have happened if Rohan had been left alone, bleeding internally, and without any way to call for help. Jotaro chastises himself for not noticing the hit or its aftermath. How could he have missed something so obvious? He can’t imagine that Rohan had been able to fully hide it.
“Fantastic,” Rohan grits out with a roll of his eyes. The way he relaxes into the mattress gives him away, though. He’d been scared.
“I’m going to go get some ice for that. Do you need anything else?”
“No,” Rohan says too quickly. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t speak up again. Jotaro takes that as his sign to go ahead, and he wanders downstairs and toward the kitchen.
The pantries are unsurprisingly bare, though Jotaro manages to find a baggie to put a decent amount of ice into. He grabs the hand towel off the counter to wrap the makeshift pack in and heads back upstairs, where he finds Rohan exactly where he left him. He hasn’t moved so much as an inch. It’s one more sign of the agony he must be in.
“Do you want me to call Josuke?” Jotaro asks, already knowing the answer. He passes Rohan the ice pack, figuring it will be better if Rohan places it himself. The cold is already going to make him tense up, and he doesn’t need the added pain.
“No.”
“He doesn’t have to see.”
“No.”
Jotaro gives a half shrug, “If you insist.”
“I do,” Rohan sniffs, snooty and irritated until he places the wrapped ice against his skin. He hisses and jolts away from it, but it only takes a moment before he relaxes and presses the pack that much closer. “Stop being a mother and lie down. ‘m not going anywhere anytime soon.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance, but Jotaro takes it that way anyways.
“I could call the Foundation.”
“Don’t you dare,” Rohan shoots back like Jotaro’s words had been a threat. They hadn’t. It’s an offer to have a specialist come to Rohan rather than to force Rohan to the hospital, but it doesn’t surprise Jotaro that he took it to be something else entirely.
“You’re wheezing,” Jotaro points out with the same frown he’s been wearing since he found Rohan on the floor.
“I’m fine. Get in this bed or get out.”
Jotaro can’t help thinking the words might hold more weight if Rohan weren’t practically wheezing them, but he decides to let the subject drop for now. There’s no apparent sign of an emergency. Yet. He’s not sure he can relax enough to get comfortable, but he does toe off his shoes. He rolls onto his side after another moment of contemplation. At least this position allows for him to keep an eye on Rohan without jostling him too much.
Rohan rolls his eyes, but he settles against the mattress with a half-shrug. A ‘suit yourself’ sort of gesture that’s far milder than the rest of his responses have been. His eyes slide shut and he keeps his hand firmly pressed to the ice he’s still holding to his side. His hold is still too tight, and his posture is too stiff. Jotaro wishes he could do more, but he knows how chronic pain goes. There’s really nothing more either of them can do now other than sit and wait for the medication to kick in. Rohan won’t see Josuke, and he’d probably bite Jotaro if the older man tried to take him to the hospital. Waiting is their only option, and time moves at an impossibly slow pace.
Nearly thirty minutes go by in complete silence. Rohan keeps his eyes stubbornly screwed shut, and Jotaro watches him unashamedly. The moment he thinks Rohan is getting worse, he’s dragging both of them to the nearest hospital, repercussions be damned.
Likewise, he keeps having to remind himself to take a breath. Rohan is alive and-- well, mostly-- breathing, granted it looks strained and painful, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than the rattle that Jotaro’s heard too many times before, and there’s no needless gasping. Only the occasional, low whine that manages to slip its way past Rohan’s thin-pressed lips.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Rohan’s body begins to relax. His limbs go slack against the mattress, and his core sinks downwards. He’s no longer holding stiff as a board, and the difference is nearly palpable. Jotaro can see the moment exhaustion takes its hold over pain, and Rohan begins to slip under the blanket that is sleep.
Jotaro takes the risk of removing Rohan’s headband then. His fingers card through the mess of hair left behind. Rohan leans into the touch like it’s the best thing he’s felt in awhile, and it probably is, given what his body’s just gone through. Jotaro won’t deny him that bit of relief, so he continues to pet through Rohan’s hair until there are soft snores escaping the mangaka. Even then, he doesn’t stop. The last thing he wants is to accidentally wake Rohan up.
Eventually being curled on his side and having nowhere to go takes its toll. Jotaro’s eyelids grow heavier the longer he stays put, and he doesn’t bother to fight the sleep that settles in his limbs first and comes for his mind second.
#jotahan#kujo jotaro#jotaro kujo#rohan kishibe#kishibe rohan#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#jjba part 4#part 4#blitzwrites#blitz
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skin starving
tony stark x f!reader fluff. no warnings, just a few f-bombs. touch starved tony’s third person pov. words: 2,5k. no beta because i just really needed to get this off my chest.
recommended music to go with the story: two feet - 'love is a bitch' & 'quick musical doodles'. Or any lo-fi hip-hop radio really.
It started as an itch. At first, a small but bothersome thing, that kept him up at night, steering the already unreasonable hours of wakefulness into dangerous territory. The cold of his bed was unappealing and more often than not, he’d started passing out on the flat surfaces nearest to him: workshop, lab, common room couch, the lazy boy in Bruce’s apartment.
The team noticed, of course, they weren’t blind. They all had been on edge the first few months after Pepper left him. They expected him to act out, lock himself up in his lab or go back to his old habits of boozing and bringing home a different girl every night. And he had tried that, once or twice, but airheaded twenty-somethings weren’t appealing anymore. Most of the time their ass kissing and blatantly flattery annoyed him further into self-loathing abyss. He simply couldn’t step up to be the kind of man they described him to be - it seemed as if every woman on planet Earth had a whole list of expectations he specifically could not meet.
With Thor off planet, not one remaining person on the team was particularly touchy-feely. And that was the thing with Tony Stark: as an engineer, as a mechanic, he made his way through the world hands-first, every approach he had was hands-on. During late nights and early mornings, he laid in bed, sleepless and dreamless, desperately refusing to admit his own touch starvation.
Whenever Rogers threw an arm around his shoulders during a particularly successful team bonding activity, it took every ounce of willpower Tony had to not lean into it and purr like a cat. He hadn’t truly forgiven Steve for his cold, cruel words of criticism shortly after Pepper’s departing. He wasn’t going to chummy up to a man who thought him selfish, opportunistic and self-absorbed.
Tony became irritable and withdrawn. He simultaneously craved and avoided even the casual, friendlier attention his teammates gave him on a daily basis. His usual snark became that much more biting, having caused several people to storm out of team meetings.
On a cold autumn morning, Tony had found his way at the tower’s Starbucks on the employee floor. He had squeezed a generous five hours of restless sleep and he was sick of the plain black coffee in his kitchen. A spontaneous desire for something sweet and creamy and caffeinated led him to the place in line at the cafeteria, only a few early birds ahead of him.
Tony’s brain was hazy as it had been past few weeks, dull from the lack of rest and the hyperfixation of his own skin feeling alien to him. For once, he wasn’t typing away on his StarkPhone as he usually did to avoid being bothered; Tony stared straight ahead, unseeing, nothing but white noise in his usually racing brain.
Two women stood in front of him and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation.
“… Are you really horny or just lonely or touch-starved, though? I mean, Tinder? It’s not really your style.”
“Eh, I dunno. Probably the second but it’s not like men go on Tinder to find a cuddle buddy.”
“Well, maybe? I’ve heard about arrangements like that.”
“No offense, babe, but it’s probably kids in their early twenties. Those gen-z’s, babe, are weird. I’m not really up to date on all of that.”
The topic of the conversation was what piqued Tony’s interest; the world liked rubbing salt into his wounds and hysterically laugh at his misfortune. Bleary-eyed, he briefly scanned the two women: both appeared to be interns or junior techs in his company, evident by the purple employee badges hanging from their bags.
“So what are you going to do?” One woman asked the other as their turn to order took Tony one step closer to obtaining his desired caffeine.
“Unless someone normal magically appears with an offer of no-strings-attached, good ole’ snuggle fest, I guess I’m getting dicked down on Saturday,” The other replied with a teasing tone. The lack of excitement in the last part of the sentence was obvious.
“Gross,” The first one shook her head and hurriedly rattled off her order to the barista who looked about as disgruntled as Tony felt.
Hours and three coffees later, Tony’s overactive brain was still stuck on that woman from the cafeteria. Her back, her purse stuffed full of colorful manila folders, her neatly gathered hair - Tony Stark had nearly perfect memory and he remembered every single detail despite his brain fog. Objectively, she was attractive, no more no less than a different dozen of women he’d seen at any point in his life before. So why was he hung up on her?
It didn’t take him a long time to find her file, faster than he’d liked to admit. Manually sorting through hundreds of interns, lab technicians and various second-tier employees wasn’t exactly considered productive but with Pepper and her nagging out of the picture, Tony could afford to slack off a little bit.
So he found her name and her e-mail address, skimmed over her performance report with satisfaction, finding her to be a busy bee in the 90-th percentile. Her superiors considered her trustworthy, hard-working and communicative, all good traits.
Pepper’s absence meant he’d have no one to cover his ass should he get slapped with a harassment suit; however, he was the Tony Stark after all. He had more money that he’d cared to count and an army of lawyers at his disposal 24/7.
Amidst the jumbled mess of wires, circuit boards, tablets, empty coffee cups and the occasional piece of paper, Tony typed up an e-mail to the woman sharing his… Condition.
“I heard you and your friend talking at Starbucks. I could use a cuddle buddy. Wine and Netflix at my place? What’s your takeout preference?”
No. That came off way too creepy, like he was some kind of a dirty eavesdropper.
He contemplated some more, typing up and erasing multiple e-mails with various proposals: his penthouse, her place, a three Michelin star restaurant, a walk in the park. Almost all of it screamed ‘date’, like he’d drag her off to bed the very moment an opportunity wouldn’t present itself. It wasn’t so: Tony Stark, the playboy genius, had his dick firmly tucked into his pants. The thought of fucking her crossed his mind only briefly, quickly being chased away by the thought of her fingers running through his hair. Her warm, soft body in his arms. Just laying on his couch, eyes closed, reveling in each other’s arms.
Tony hit send on the least obnoxious option. He baited his breath, clicking his fingers in anticipation as the message showed itself to having been delivered.
“Mary, is this you trying to be funny? Stark is going to fire you if he finds out you’re impersonating him to stop your friend from going on a questionable date. Grow up.” Came the very prompt reply, ending with a short string of angry emojis. Tony could totally trust a person who used emojis unironically and generously.
“For the record, I wouldn’t be mad if somebody pretended to be me for the sake of saving their cute friend from a creep. The problem would be making it look credible.” Tony typed up the answer without thinking, quickly snapping a picture of himself holding the Starbucks cup with his name written on it, throwing his usual sloppy peace sign. He attached it to the email and hit send.
“WTF” Came the reply not a minute afterwards. He let it sink in, giving the woman some time to gather her wits. She did not disappoint. “Okay, even if we pretend this is real - which I doubt - what’s in it for you? If you heard our conversation, you surely know my stance on the matter.”
“I’m always glad to prove you wrong. I’m a genius - comes with the territory.” Tony simply couldn’t resist adding a generous dose of snark. “You’re welcome to meet me after clocking out. Use the private elevator, my AI will beam you up.”
The reply took a considerably long amount of time, seeing as previously, she typed back rather quickly. “Please don’t be a creepy rapist, Scotty. Fingers crossed.” Tony managed to almost break his stylus twice. His hands shook, and he had to tell himself to breathe - still, he laughed at the clever way she replied.
Several more hours later, during which Tony had nearly paced a hole through various floors on the residential side of the tower, he took a quick shower, dressed in a flattering but comfortable designer sweatpants and polo combo and made himself at home on the obscenely large living room sofa on his own, private penthouse floor.
He was up and running towards the elevator when Friday’s voice notified him of the woman entering the elevator on the employee floor. Tony tousled his hair, adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the drawstring of his pants.
The woman was wearing casual office wear, pants and a loose blouse, a lab coat loosely draped over her arm and her purse hanging off the shoulder on a thin strap. Her hair was loose now, a little frizzy as if she continuously ran her hands through it. Tony quietly rejoiced at not being the only nervous one.
Clever eyes scanned the room with unhurried interest before finally landing on him. “Not too shabby, if I say so myself,” The corners of her mouth tilted in an attempt at a smile, it was obvious she was studying him.
“Thanks, I try my best,” Tony smirked. Humble he was not. “So, how do you want to do this?”
“I see a comfortable couch,” She looked to be grateful for being given the opportunity to lead this interaction. “Let’s park our behinds on it, bicker for ten minutes about a movie choice and settle on one none of us really like. Then we can tell each other our no-no zones and, well, yeah,” She started out confidently. Probably practiced in the elevator. But towards the end, her shyness took over.
For Tony, it was kind of cute. A nice change from suck-ups that flocked him at every social gathering in hopes of getting something out of him. The woman that had tossed her bag carelessly on the far end of the couch and untucked her blouse looked and felt like the exact opposite of those people. She looked willing to give.
Tony sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches of free space between them. “Food preferences? Food allergies?” He asked, tapping the food delivery application.
“Nope, and I will eat just about anything.” He felt more than saw her side-eyeing him. Both of them were jittery. So uncharacteristic for Tony, to be blushing and stammering like a high school boy. Sex was easy, but intimacy? Complex. It was addictive and eventually, painful.
Movie decisions were surprisingly easy and she said so. They settled on a Tarantino classic, an old flick neither of them had watched in a long time. As the discussion progressed, Tony used his wits to find out more about her without making it seem like an interrogation. He had run a background check on the woman and her family but those only went that far, besides, it was a great opportunity to practice the tips Natasha had shared with him at one point or another. Being friends with spies had it’s perks.
They ate their food until their bellies were full. A comfortable, relaxing stupor, being warm from the inside out.
Tony noticed when the woman spoke, she spoke with her hands. She had caught herself grasping his forearm multiple times when they’d got more passionate about their discussion. And what Tony loved the most was that she refused to apologize. He saw a kindred soul in the woman; quiet until something struck her fancy. Then, she became a whirlwind of ideas and opinions.
In no time, it became a natural action to extend his arm and wrap it around her shoulders, reclining backwards. There was little grace in laying belly-up like a dead fish but the woman didn’t seem to mind. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laid down sideways, throwing a leg over one of his own.
Her palm traced the outline of his arc reactor when something on the screen caught her in a moment of intense interest. Tony preferred to avoid the cursed thing - scars around it definitely did not do any favour to his aging, marked body - but he found himself exhaling the tension when it was obvious the woman really did not care. An occasional quiet hum of satisfaction was the only noise that came from her: he noticed the sound escaped her lips every time his thumb began fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed against her arm.
He was quite content. It was warm, he was surrounded by so much warmth.
The hug was mutual when she left home, both of them comfortable with the gesture for people who had met in a rather unconventional way.
She started coming over a couple of times a week, a quiet evening of the best takeout in NYC and (mostly) interesting movies. A solace, always a single e-mail away.
Tony saw her in the cafeteria once or twice; he appreciated the brief, tiny secretive grin she gave him out of her friend’s eyesight. She never approached him. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with all the drama and all the fuss surrounding incidents between him and his employees. It was nobody’s business what any of them did after clocking out - and him and his cuddle buddy, they weren’t even fucking, for Thor’s sake.
Maybe they would get there someday. Or maybe they won’t. It was only now for Tony. The rare free Saturday night he had, he truly took a vacation from all the bullshit and lured her in with promises of very expensive wine, her favourite New York style pizza and the willingness to entertain watching a few of those funny YouTube videos she liked.
They did watch them and Tony didn’t mind. He stepped over the irrational fear and the initial discomfort and curled up around her, hiding his face in the soft cotton of her worn hoodie, his own breath tickling his face in warm puffs. The hand running through his hair was tender like it never was with Pepper - his ex was far too preoccupied to baby her grown-up boyfriend. But the woman moulded to his body like an extension of himself was happy to do so. Tony’s hair was longer now and it glided perfectly along the woman’s palms.
His heart was steady, thumping in his ears, overshadowing the noises coming from the TV. He exhaled and felt her other hand begin tracing circles on his back, as if she saw the stress and the bitterness leave his body with every caress, every brush of their bodies. Maybe she did?
He held onto her, held her back like she’d held him. Safekeeping the warmth inside of him. Guarding his peace.
#tony stark x reader#tony stark x y/n#tony stark fluff#tony stark feels#bun writes#bun writes: drabbles
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balthazar hcs because he’s my bestie cannon confirmed <3
he has adhd because I say so and I’m right.
despite being perfectly fine in loud crowded areas he gets easily overstimulated in high stress (mental) situations.
balthazar was originally training to work in intelligence and despite being very good at it, he was far too rambunctious for the other angels to keep up with. he always needed to be moving/ part of the action so they switched him over to the garrisons last minute.
he was very misplaced in his first garrison and didn’t end up connecting with any of them. unlike cas he never kept in contact. he doubts if they even remember him because they normally ignore him whenever their paths cross.
he has a very loose grip on his autonomy. honestly, he barely understands it at all. sometimes his eyes will glow and wings will be shown in shadows without his knowledge despite not being able to do it at will. It’s probably an effect of how many times he’s been brainwashed by naomi. what he does pertain in the ability to fly, which he’s skilled himself in.
he’s very musically inclined <3 was always a fan of the heavenly choir. he actually knew hannah just because he hung around the choir areas so much, they’d been friends.
when he first escaped down to earth he was extremely confused with the concept of gender. apparently he was a man just because that’s what his vessel was?? his whole life he’d just been himself, being shoved into this box confused him to no ends.
him and hester were extremely close but were never given the chance to rebuild their relationship after he ran away. hester avoided him at all costs during s6 because of how pissed she was.
he discarded his angel blade in heaven before ditching. when cas tried to give it back to him, having been using it instead of his own, his excuse was to make his death more believable. really, he couldn’t tolerate the sight of it, let alone how it felt in his hands. he insisted cas keep it because he had other weapons, but it was left for him anyways. when everyone was gone he tried to break it.
despite being slightly off-put by bartholomew he was always the one to make double the effort to make him feel included because he wished his first garrison had given him that decency.
he hyperfixated on movies after being exposed to them on earth. it’s how he learned about modern human culture and finds it the easiest way to relate/ communicate with them.
his vessel was big in the party scene which was the whole reason he learned about things to that capacity.
he’s the most sociable out of the garrison but somehow had the least friends. to him it never mattered much because at least his garrison loved him.
he doesn’t like dogs to any capacity, he can enjoy cats though.
he’s frog person. the african bullfrog on the banister is 6x03? his <3 she is his lady your honor.
balthazar and uriel actually got along great that’s why uriel waited to ask him to join the rebellion like he did cas, killing each other wasn’t fathomable.
he’s normally all talk to avoid killing other angels which they see as highly annoying.
he spends just as much time alone as he does out with humans. he seems more solitary in the way that he’d be happy just laying down in a big empty house.
he does so well on earth because he’s been there far more times than naomi has let him remember.
back in heaven he was close to joshua and always helped him around the garden, ie why he knows so much about plants and flowers. though he was always mainly in the garden because he loved to care for the frogs.
he has spotted pigeon wings and no do not try and correct me.
he likes wine or straight alcohol, never beer. definitely judges sam and dean for liking it too.
he doesn’t understand other people’s emotions at all. he can’t tell how people feel about him in anyway. sam and dean hate him but they still call him for help. he thinks he’s cas’ best friend but cas has never chose him once. he tries to act like it doesn’t bother him and pretends to be self centered to avoid having to ask the question. anna used to be the one to help him with things like this since she always had a good grasp on communication, but obviously she isn’t around anymore.
his tendency to always be standing on top of higher objects comes from the discomfort he feels while in a vessel. it isn’t him, it’s far too small to be him that’s why he feels the need to appear larger so people know he’s still a himself/ a threat.
he’s a perfectionist, to him all things are about presentation. I’m using his introduction and the raphael confrontation scene as my proof.
he absolutely sucks at healing in general. it takes an extended amount of time to heal himself and longer than average to heal others. it takes a focus he can never seem to achieve.
he has a weird niche for sleeping despite not needed to which gets more severe post-empty. his bed is essentially just a nest of blankets and pillows.
he’s extremely neat with him wings, but cannot for the life of him figure out how to properly care for his vessel. cas finds it amusing because balthazar has never not been on his case for having unkept wings. he makes sparse comments about it that balthazar acts mock offended too.
he went through at least 3-4 garrisons before finally landing in annas because he never found a place. the higher ups took notice that he preformed better while around her garrison since he normally snuck off to be with them during a battle. they figured if they couldn’t stop him (and they’ve tried), having him be a better solider wouldn’t be a bad trade.
as much as he loves earth and the ocean his favorite place in the universe is the lagoon nebula. he’s spent so much time there he permanently smells of stardust and ash.
even after leaving heaven he never fully turned off his angel radio. he was never able to cut off heaven in general.
he’s never felt complete before in his life, somethings always been missing. he tried to surround himself with his friends and noise as much as he could but nothing ever seemed to work.
he bounced around for the majority of his life, yet attached himself to people like cas and rachel quicker than he did everyone else. he took this as his sign that he belonged.
he and uriel talked about running away often. balthazar ended living up to the plan they were supposed to never go through with.
he’s got a good moral compass in most all situations, it just takes time for him to think things over and fully decide what he wants to do.
he gives himself wholey to others out of love canon confirmed.
despite being selfless he knows when to make a choice for himself. as much as he loved his garrison he knew the right move for himself would be leaving. he desperately tries to remind himself of that after seeing them again because ‘oh god how could I leave them’.
he and rachel were very close despite contrasting. they both know exactly how to deal with each other when one of them is overwhelmed.
he adds an ‘ie’ to the end of peoples name as an affection thing (cassie, uri(e), samie).
nobody knows exactly where or how he got his humor. his jokes are never funny but his garrison always rolled their eyes and smiled despite it because that was just balthazar. he actively knows people don’t find him funny, but he’s always only playing for a reaction.
despite all the things he’s done he’s never once felt good in anyway. angels are supposed to be pure, yet he holds an overwhelming feeling of being unclean. he tried to embrace it on earth and become more of what he thinks himself to be, but all the sex and blood never sat right.
he only liked gabriel half the time, the other half he found him overly irritating and intolerable.
he enjoys the ocean, definitely one of his favorite things earth has to offer.
snow is his preferred weather. It snowed in heaven a lot, some of his fondest memories involve the cold. he just likes how snow flakes feel on his wings.
he regularly did hesters hair when she was young. he loved to add ribbons and small pieces jewelry. this was their down time after training with one another.
balthazars always either humming or singing under his breath which everyone but his garrison finds annoying. they used to, but they’ve just become well adapted to his quirks.
in cannon it seems like angels can taste sugar, so I don’t particularly think balthazar would like things that are straight up sugar like candy, but overly complicated and fancy deserts are something he definitely enjoys.
his favorite flowers are canterbury bells <3
his preferred music is old love songs which are constantly playing throughout his house.
6x03 confirmed he liked to dance I don’t need to elaborate on this hc.
he has swirly handwriting :^)
he’s repressed his personality a lot. being loud and excitable in heaven was highly frowned upon, so in order to survive he tries to mask as much as possible.
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I've been in such a weird stop about my content lately?? like I want to make art, will have ideas, motivation, and see the thing in my head but I can't put it onto to paper. I'm doing the exact opposite of what I want to do; I'm putting numbers and clout above enjoyment. I see my viewer count drop while streaming? I'm so ready to shut down... I almost did on stream the other day. I post art on twitter, Instagram, here??? well I have to get a certain amount of likes or it wasn't good. For the past year I've been making dsmp fanart, most of the time it was bc I genuinely enjoyed it. I had an idea. Something inspired me. But I've realized I haven't done that much anymore. And for the past month I just haven't wanted to make fanart for these creators. Am I still hyperfixationed on them? oh yeah for sure. But I just don't know if I want to make content for them. The thing that kinda sucks about that is... I haven't made art for myself in a while. This kinda start a little while before dsmp, probably when I was into jrwi, smplive or something. But even with those other fandoms I would draw my ocs all the time, I would make new dnd characters, I would work on my stories, work on dnd campaigns or even make fanart for other things. and I just haven't done that. My sketchbooks have no life anymore. It's only dsmp/mcyt. That's okay... but it's back to the way I would draw when I was younger. One sketch per page, ones I would erase and not redraw, and things where you could just see I got frustrated and quit. It's so empty and I just don't draw anymore. I know I need to practice and i need to try other things to help me get out of this block but that's been so difficult to do. I've been trying photography again and I try it till I just feel worn out. I've been trying to make music and get into the grove of it but I just get so mad when my fingers aren't in the right place. It feels so artificial. I wanna make poetry again but I haven't done that in years. I wanna write something but nothing sounds right and I just don't feel like I have the patience like I used to. I know creation doesn't have to be perfect, original or unique. It can be bad, messy, the same thing over and over but I've been this unnecessary pressure on myself for so long it's overbearing. I have a perfectionism I've wanted to achieve that's so out of reach that I can no longer create something without it feel like it's all going to collapse in on me if I don't hold onto something that isnt there, I wont be saved. I no longer am that child creating folders and folders of art. Messing ever journal I get. Making and trying new mediums, not caring if I fail. Just wanting to create. To do something with my hands. The side of me that was so creative, the thing I used whenever I've been feeling at my worse, is now stuff in this rut I've been stuck in for a every long time. It just hurts to not create, y'know?
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I was tagged by @ritchieblackless Thank you!
1. Why did you choose your url?
The “Northwest” comes from “Northwestern”. As far as that part goes, it’s a long, complicated story, involving a character from some original stories I used to write for my younger cousins when they were kids, and my favorite vessel on Deadliest Catch (it used to be a good show). “Insanity” comes from exactly what it sounds like. I’m never fully sane... but majority of the time, I’m not entirely insane, so I played a pun on what became my online name to suggest I’m just a little up the road to the north and west of true insanity.
2. Any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.
None so far.
3. How long have you been on tumblr?
February 2017... so that’s a little over 4 years as of now.
4. Do you have a queue tag?
No, and I don’t really use the queue. I’m not active enough on Tumblr to have much use for it, and I pretty much just post whenever the mood strikes me, and when I have time to search and focus on what my hyperfixation du jour is.
5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?
The community I was in on DeviantArt (not band-related) was melting down in a really nasty way, and one of my closer friends there became abusive, so once I got everything I was in charge of there handed over, I abandoned my account. I was in some *intense* emotional pain, and I needed distraction, and distance from the fandom. I basically came to Tumblr to hyperfixate on my favorite bands more -it was something I’d considered, but didn’t have the time before that to commit to it.
6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?
My icon is Jeff Pilson and George Lynch. Dokken was one of the bands I was most hyperfixated on in 2017, and they, along with a friend who is also a fan of them, really were helping me get through that hard time when I made this account. Besides that, Jeff and George have a really wholesome friendship despite the turbulent history of Dokken. As for my pfp, I just chose generic guitars I found on Google Images to create a minimalist background. I have a tight data limit, and I tend to force every ounce of life out of my devices, so I make my own stuff as easy to load as possible, and most likely to function even if an outdated, semi-incompatible browser doesn’t format things quite right.
7. Why did you choose your header?
“Classic Rockhaven” (I assume that’s the header?) comes from my love for classic rock, and the idea of rock and roll being a safe-haven for me at the time. “Rockhaven” also closely resembles the name of a neighborhood a few miles away from my own in my hometown, so I knew it would flow right.
9. How many mutuals do you have?
I have 14 as of now. I’ve lost a few due to some people leaving, or switching accounts
10. How many followers do you have?
429. Some are unfortunately fomer-porn accounts I haven’t had a chance to weed out and block. A good number are just empty, lurker accounts as well, but as long as those followers are enjoying classic rock content, that’s fine by me. I’m grateful for the followers I have who do enjoy and interact with my posts.
11. How many people do you follow?
Officially, 38, but there are a good number of accounts I “unofficially” follow, by visiting blogs every night I have the chance. I’d love to follow more, and am looking to officially follow a few of those, since a few of the people I already follow have gone inactive or left. With my lifestyle, and data limits, I just have a hard time keeping up with my dashboard even with the tiny amount of people I follow, so I like to really get to know blogs first, and then slowly add them to my follow list so I don’t get overwhelmed.
12. Have you ever made a shitpost?
I believe so, depending on where you draw the line on that. (at least in my definition, I have). Do snarky posts about Tumblr’s glitches and that time I drowned my phone at work count? Or the crazy, crack-fic cartoons I drew in quarantine?
13. How often do you use tumblr each day?
On my weekends/off-days, whenever I want and can. On my 12-hour workdays, I check my dash before I leave home, once over data while I’m on my lunch break, and then at least once when I get home. If I’m getting home on time, and not late because the evening ran long, I’ll check on blogs I watch without following yet.
14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?
Not that I’m aware of... I’ve made neutral posts discouraging other blogs from fighting though, because I’ve seen plenty of traumatic things internet fights can lead to in the events leading to me joining here, and I don’t want to see anyone go through that when usually, nobody wins. At best, I think I had someone misunderstand what I said on a post where there was affectionate teasing of a certain 80s guitarist, and I meant to play along with the joke to say “don’t tease him, he’s a nervous wreck” -and added some band history for any watchers who didn’t know the story behind why said guitarist is so nervous... but it didn’t come to anything.
15. How do you feel about "you need to reblog this" posts?
9 times out of 10, I agree with what they’re saying, but I don’t like reblogging these things, because it feels like it’s being crammed down everyone’s throat -I’m much more receptive to things that don’t feel forced, along with plenty others. To begin with, they’re not really what I’m here for. Tumblr is a place I joined for a mental escape from the world’s problems -not a place to ruminate on them. And when I’m seeing them when I’m half-mentally numb in the middle of a 12-hour shift with only 1 gigabyte per month of data to work with, or when I’m home after that day and dead on my feet, it just turns me off.
16. Do you like tag games?
I like doing them when I have the time at home to sit down and do them over Wi-fi. The only thing I’m iffy with is tagging others, because I don’t want to make someone feel pressured into doing it.
17. Do you like ask games?
As long as the questions aren’t about a certain few things I will not share about, I have fun with those. I just have to find one to reblog from someone I follow that comes up at a time I know I’ll have time at home to answer.
18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?
I don’t know if anyone truly is, but @mccoys-killer-queen ’s sideblog is pretty well known.
19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?
No, but I do care for a number of my mutuals (including a couple I haven’t officially followed yet) a great deal, and can say I wish nothing but happiness for them, and if they were to leave, I would truly miss them (but also support it if they deemed it best -as I have with a few past mutuals).
20. Tags
Anybody who wants to!
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A Teeny Tiny Tad Bit of a Re-Write of the Bad-Boy AU I Wrote for Park Jisung About a Year Ago or Something
Oh boi—
A bad-boy AU with Jisung??
Let’s set this boi somewhere in highschool then
Because why not though lmao
Mayhaps a sophomore or junior, per say
Honestly, bad isn’t the proper word for it
I guess it’s more like… He’s a tad bit rough around the edges??
Like I dunno bro but he’s just not that bad
Mainly keeps to himself and stays really quiet
Just skips classes a lot
And sometimes skips school altogether
But like...
He just usually spends time on the rooftop or something like that instead
Somewhere peaceful to have his earbuds in and be alone to just like, vibe
Y’know??
Because nothing really beats listening to things like i prevail, starset, hollywood undead, and even black veil brides or all time low--unless maybe you wanna listen to things like chillstep, melodic dubstep, and electronic which is valid too
And despite listening to both, he also has spare room in his music taste for things like a fair amount of neffex and random songs from either troye sivan or older get scared songs
You might find him roaming the halls too, if he for some odd reason isn’t tucked away on the rooftop or something
Nonetheless, always has headphones in, with his music playing quietly
Never really pays attention to the school uniform dress code, so you’ll find him in something like…
Either hella casual or a bit more on the edgy side
Maybe something like a dark but faded baggy blood red zip-up hoodie or red and black flannel over some sort of band or general fandom t-shirt or something paired with plain black skinny jeans and converse
Or maybe you’ll find him in something along the lines of...
Maybe something like a slightly oversized seemingly almost pastel galaxy-colored sort of hoodie with a strip of simple black and white checkering down the sides of the sleeves paired with ripped light or dark grey skinny jeans and heeled gothic boots
No matter what though--he’s typically wearing something with long sleeves just to wear one as a sweaterpaw and roll the other one up to his elbow
Almost always has accessories of some sort like a simple and delicate choker or super pretty but dangling celestial earrings or even a bit of chaining for his jeans
Sometimes he puts on a teeny tiny bit of eye-liner on because why not
There are times where the teachers try to say something about his apparel but he just can never find it in him to care and listen
But since it’s not too big of a deal in general, he hardly ever gets in actual trouble over it
Has gotten into a few fights before due to things like standing up for the few people he associates with when they’re being picked on and whatnot
But this is where you come in
He’s had his eye on you for a while
You’re not really someone who entirely fits what’s expected of you--at school at least
If that makes sense??
Like, you’re kinda just the artsy-fartsy day-dreamy wallflower that not many people really pay attention to and you’re always doodling/sketching or writing in your extra notebook that you take everywhere
And you can be found most of the time listening to music through one earbud while attending class and things like that
What’s cool though is that you actually share almost the exact same music tastes as precious mochi boii
The teacher’s aren’t thrilled at your lack of undivided attention in class but like
It’s whatever since you still make insanely good grades in most of your courses
Overall though, you’re quiet too--at least when you’re in school unless you’re chilling with you friends at lunch or after school
You’re pretty smart, and generally sweet—when you aren’t riled up
Someone was picking on your friend, and you stepped in to try and get them to leave your friend alone
But as soon as the person went to lay a hand on you for intervening, Jisung was already there to take care of it
Literally came out of nowhere, but you didn’t question it
To be fair though he happened to be roaming the halls for once and saw what was going on
Anyways—from then on out
He’s just tagged alongside you and your friend through the halls in between classes
And again, you don’t question it
You just sometimes make small talk with him
Like saying how the day went for both of you
Or maybe if something new happened at home
You learn some of the little things
Like how he doesn’t like cockroaches and how his favorite colors are green and black
Your friend gets along with him just fine too
Every few days actually, you all hang out after school for a few hours or so
Y’all just kinda vibe and walk around town or something and maybe talk either a little or a lot there’s just no in between
At some point, he even starts showing up to class more often
You actually share all of your core classes
Granted, even though he shows up, he falls asleep most of the time
He just somehow still manages to keep pretty good grades though
But he particularly struggles a little bit with science
His sleeping through class doesn’t help with this
But the notes you take for him do
It would be a few months before you turn out to really develop feelings for him
His feelings were there from the start of the year before and one-sided since he just kept to himself
It’s just one day that you’re running late to school for the first time in a while
Late enough to where you’ve missed first period and only have a little over half of second period left
But to be fair you just didn’t go to bed until like 4 or 5 in the morning because you were hyperfixated on sketching a few things and actually inking and coloring them in
And thus you slept through your alarms and then had to rush with chugging your coffee and slipping into your uniform and just haul ass to school
You find yourself pacing the halls, but mainly keeping to the wing that your third period is in
But passing an empty room, you see through the cracked door that Jisung’s there
He’s there and dancing
To what?? You dunno
But you’re gonna guess it’s to something along the lines of general electronic because even though there’s no music audible to you, you see that he’s got earbuds in as per usual
You’re surprised since you’ve never seen him dance but like
Here it is now and you watch him, thinking that despite not knowing what he’s listening to, he’s really good at it nonetheless
After a solid few minutes, he stops and pulls out his earbuds, turning to the door
And he sees you
He kinda just stands there for a sec
Just kinda shocked since no one’s really like, crept up on him and was able to do so without him knowing before
But then he greets you with a small smile and a wave, moving to exit the room and walk with you to find your friend and talk as you walk in between classes
Before you make it to third period though, you casually compliment his dancing from earlier and miss how his cheeks flare red
Like, how does one handle one of their favorite people taking the time to compliment them on one of their favorite things to do?????
With a simple thanks and a blushy smile
That’s the way he does
But with turning his head to make sure you miss his blush, of course
The day continues as per usual
And so does a few months more into the school year, actually
Yes, you consider the days that he shows up to school with messy and vibrant blue hues in his hair as usual when it happens
You actually love the sight of the color on him
Because it just makes him look even cuter somehow--if that’s possible??
It’s how the habit of ruffling his hair suddenly pops up
Like, it was kind of a thing beforehand since his hair is fluffy
But now it’s even more of a thing since his hair is blue
Y’know?? lmao
It’s only towards the end of the school year that he decides to try to ask you out
Spending so much time with you, he finally had the opportunity to get to know you and like, feel as if he had great reasons to list on why he liked you so much
How you always smile whenever you see him and how it always lights up his day and makes his heart do all kinds of flips in his ribcage
How nice your voice sounds to him and how cute he thinks your laugh is
How he finds you to be both pretty and cute
Heheh--he thinks you’re “pretty cute”!! *ba-dum-tss!!*
Sorry, just had to say it like that lmao
He also thinks that you’re pretty funny at times
And that it’s super duper cool that you’re so smart and know random fun facts and have the ability to do crafts so well
All that good stuff
The list goes on though, just know that, okay?? lmao
Anyways—onwards to how this bean asks you out
It’s honestly super casual and simple
Just during a hangout after school
Walking around a nearby park
The stereotypical, “Will you go out with me??”
But what makes it so cute is that he’s struggling to even start to say it
And he stutters a bit
Literally takes him a solid minute to ask
Your friend who’s with you both is now slinking off to give you two some time alone
You’re pretty grateful for that but at the same time ready to thwack them upside the head for how they’re barely containing their laughter at Jisung’s struggle to speak
But it’s all aight when they make their way to elsewhere
As soon as the words have fell from his tongue though
You’re smiling to yourself for a few moments to just bask in the joy that sparked through your system at this, your heart just screaming for you to say yes
So you do
And you don’t think his smile’s ever been so bright
You’re shocked when he suddenly picks you up in a hug and twirls you around with an ecstatic laugh
But anyways
Dates with him are very simplistic
Random as well
Like, he’ll show up in the middle of the night and climb through your window to just chill
Just clad in something like a plain hoodie and sweatpants
Sometimes you’ll go out to eat fast food
Or maybe a small corner café to just simply vibe and chug caffeine
You sometimes watch him play games or vice-versa
Maybe you guys even chill on a rooftop and share earbuds to vibe while staring up at the sky in a verbal silence
Y’know
Sweet little clichés
But you love it all
When dates end, it’s always him walking you home if you’re not already chillin’ there in your room
Always gives you a forehead kiss or something before he leaves
Honestly, even your parents have come to know him as a regular visit at your house
But they don’t mind
At least, not too much since he’s made a very good impression on them
As the relationship progresses, he’s bold enough to give you fleeting pecks in public alongside holding your hand or something along those lines
But staying in to just cuddle and look at memes has become a big thing now as well
You two take turns being big spoon lmao
He loves laying his head in his lap and how you always comb your fingers through his hair during those times
And
There’s also sometimes munching on mochi together, actually
Melon mochi, specifically
But also
Since he’s babie
You like to boop his nose
And sometimes bro
He just scrunches in response with a shy little smile and giggle
And it’s so precious that you almost cry lmao
Plus
He swears up and down at some point that he loves you
But to himself of course
Until one day the words spill a year later
And you return them, making him the happiest boi on the face of the planet
Oh god, he’s such a soft bean for you
Or in general, but specifically for you
Just please love and protect this baby lmao
#park jisung#nct dream#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#jisung imagines#jisung scenarios#park jisung imagines#park jisung scenarios#but anyways yeah i just really wanted to add some things and so here we have this lmao
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TDP Actor AU
I miss writing these, so of course I do one for my next favorite hyperfixated show
General
Callum and Ezran’s actors are actually brothers. Since they worked incredibly well together in their auditions they were both chosen to play the roles of the princes’.
This is Ezran’s actors first major acting role
Funnily enough, Claudia and Soren’s actors aren’t related, but many have mistaken them to be actual siblings. Claudia’s actress has called Soren’s actor her “brother from another mother” on her social media plenty of times.
They actually worked together on other shows/movies where they played siblings, so of course it comes naturally to them
Ezran actually acts with a Bait plushie that he now doesn’t go anywhere on set without.
Claudia actually dyed that section of her hair purple, and let Ezran’s actor paint her nails. Although she wears a wig, Rayla’s actress really wants to dye her hair white, and Claudia gives her tips.
A lot of the humor coming from Soren is usually ad-libbed by his actor. Since he sometimes comes up with something funnier than what the writers intended, they sometimes just write “Soren does/says something” and let his actor go wild
Rayla’s actress was a gymnast, which is how she moves so agilely and begged the crew to let her do her own stunts. She was allowed this freedom, but in certain fight scenes they have a stunt double doing the work.
Callum’s actor thought Rayla was just really good at mimicking accents, but she really does have a Scottish accent.
Rayla, Callum, Ezran, Soren, and Claudia’s actors when not on set like to joke around, especially “casting” magic. But instead of saying the spell, they often say, “You’re watching the Disney Channel!”
Claudia and Viren find that the dark spells are just sentences played backwards is both really cool but also creepy
One problem some of the elven actors face is when their horns would fall off during scenes, sometimes for no reason. There are lots of blooper takes so far when this happens, to the point where the actors yell “point!” every time it happens, since they made a bet to the staff that if they would get at least a total of five horn drops in a season, then they would have to treat the actors to a restaurant.
All the elf actors have to wear what they call a “finger glove” over their pinky, so their finger can be CG’d out to show that they only have four fingers. In far away scenes, they don’t worry about it so much, but on close ups, they have to wear the finger glove.
Season 1
Echoes of Thunder
Callum’s actor integrated his photographic memory and love for art into his character, and the writers went with it
The baker that Ezran steals jelly tarts from is actually one of the directors for the show
Claudia’s actress says that when playing Claudia, she’s literally just being herself.
She says that one time in the past, she did end up running into a tree when reading a book. Her father videotaped it and forever has proof.
Runaan’s hair has gotten caught and tangled with his surroundings on more than one occasion. His horns also sometimes gets tangled in his hair
Harrow and Viren’s actors are old friends, and were surprised to see each other on set when shooting their first scene together. That scene happened to be when Viren goes to offer to switch his soul with Harrow’s
Harrow’s actor begged to be able to throw in the “winter is coming” line, since he’s a huge GoT fan.
However after he’s killed off, he asks the writers if they intentionally made him the Ned Stark of this show because of it.
Pip is actually all CGI, since Harrow’s actor is allergic to birds. But he does have a cat that he calls Pip.
Callum’s actor had a hard time not tearing up when he had to say goodbye to Harrow.
Rayla’s actor tends drops her weapons more often than the other actors do
What Is Done
The two guards who are talking with each other about breakfast are actually some of the writers.
Ezran just made up the combination for the “stone rock”
Claudia was just told to act like she hated the jelly, and while it tasted a bit like oranges, she called it persimmons, because she doesn’t like those fruits
Claudia has a bit of a hard time moving in her dress down the stairs and nearly tripped a few times. So she was glad that later on her outfit gets changed
But she always liked filming the part where she treats her hand like a flashlight.
Moonrise
The egg is actually lighter than it looks, made out of thin 3D printed plastic and carefully painted
Viren and Harrow’s actors could barely keep a straight face when Harrow orders Viren “on his knees”, which is why the cameras use more close ups of their faces, since one of the other was trying hard not to crack up
In order to get the “dark” moonshadow elf look, Runaan and Rayla’s actors actually have to get more makeup applied on them, and then get layered on with CGI. They’re both less than pleased about having to spend more time in the makeup chair, but they put up with it.
Callum actually has a hard time saying the spells, because he would sometime stumble on the words. A majority of the blooper reels are of him messing up.
Everyone off set made jokes about Callum being Ariel while Viren was Ursula after Viren takes his voice
Bloodthirsty
Amaya’s actress is actually deaf, and was the first choice to play her character which she happily accepted. She has a brother in the army, and bases some of Amaya’s characteristics off of him.
She’s grown close to Ezran and Callum’s actors, teaching them ASL and starting to treat them like they’re her actual nephews
Gren’s actor is a close friend with Amaya’s actress, and is usually the one who translates for her outside and during work
The loaf of bread Amaya describes as “weapons grade” is actually a loaf of bread one of the staff members baked, but left it out for too long, so it hardened. They decided to throw that into the script.
The snail armor line was actually an argument Ezran and Callum had when they were younger
Rayla’s actress was sad when the writers forced her character to cut her braid, since she would spend some time off set to braid it herself
Rayla almost teared up when her character calls Callum out on saying she’s a monster
The cube is made out of thin metal, and there are lights inside that glow when someone off set hits a switch
An Empty Throne
Rayla’s actress does get a bit motion sick, but not to the extent that her character does
The boat ride the three ride on is shot on something like Roaring Rapids
However, the drop from the small waterfall and the close ups on the actors faces were done on green screens
Amaya’s actress enjoys how much her character calls out Viren on his bullshit.
Sarai’s actress and Amaya are actually related to each other, and Amaya’s signing to her statue are how she feels about her sister. It’s also thanks to her sister that she even got into the acting industry.
Through the Ice
Ezran’s actor has an idea of what the talk about “sandwiches” indicates, although when he asks his brother to clarify, he changes the subject
Callum’s actor had to sit down a few times because he lost his breath when performing the Aspiro spell
Rayla’s actress doesn’t like looking at her hand, because she doesn’t like the bruising color it leaves behind.
Running up the stairs and stretching is how Soren’s actor usually prepares to play Soren
His history is like a see-saw line is ad-libbed which threw of Viren’s actor and he had to adjust to that line
Offset, Claudia occasionally does call Soren “Sor-bear”
The Dagger and the Wolf
Ezran’s actor loves animals, and hopes to either be a veterinarian or an animal caretaker if he ever stops acting
The huge swordsman used to be a wrestler, and agreed to play this part as a favor to one of the writer’s who’s their acquaintance.
Rayla’s actress had a blast playing “human Rayla”, and the lines that made it in were improvised.
When getting an idea for Ava and Ellis, the girl who gave the writers some pointers ended up getting the role of Ellis, while her companion wolf got Ava
Cursed Caldera
Callum’s actor claims he had the best pun about the Cursed Caldera and everyone else was just jealous at how good it was
Rayla’s actress hates slugs and was not fond of seeing the CGI monster she’d have to fight off
Runaan’s actor admits that he didn’t like filming his scenes when he’s imprisoned, mainly because he was always cold without a top on. He thinks that the writers purposefully had him without a shirt for many different reasons
It takes roughly three hours in the makeup chair for Viren to get his “corrupted” form done
Wonderstorm
Claudia genuinely thought the “Ka-tallest mountain” line was hilarious which made it easier for her to really laugh on set
Rayla’s actress literally booked it off the set when the mummified person hisses at her
For the effect of the spider-roar, Ezran had to stand in front of a large leaf blower and he actually enjoyed that part, thinking it was funny
While the actors thought that the spiders looked cool, they admitted that they would never want to see them ever get that big
Callum’s “jerkface dance” is actually something one of the writers did for their siblings whenever they had to apologize. Callum is particularly proud of how he got down the movements in three tries.
The actors all cooed when they got to see what Zym looked like and all demanded that stuffed versions of him would be made available and they’d get theirs first
Lujanne’s actress claims she likes wearing the elven horns more than the ears
She likes to think Phoe-Phoe is based off of her own pet bird that she allowed the team to use as a reference
#tdp actor au#the dragon prince#tdp#tdp shitpost#callum#rayla#ezran#soren#claudia#viren#harrow#amaya
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AUG DONE YAY!!! I’ll Post Tuesday Probably
“Don’t worry about it kid. Just ignore him. He’ll get over you and we can all get back to normal.”
War Machine’s advice was not in the least bit helpful for the youngest Avenger on the compound who had become, and rightly so, more than a little alarmed by Mr. Stark’s behavior.
It seemed like ever since the Avengers had encountered real aliens from space, the so-called Guardians of the Galaxy, and learned about various planets, each with their own threats, and the threat of some Over-Alien that was setting out on a mission to massacre half of the universe, well, Tony had gotten weird.
(Or maybe Tony had always been weird and Peter had never noticed before?)
No, actually, many Avengers had noticed it too. Tony’s inappropriate humor had always been a feature, not a bug, but recently it had been dialed up to 11. 11? Try 69. It wasn’t just that he was calling Peter “Underoos” again. It was more. Innuendos when people asked for facts. Dirty jokes when people asked for opinions. Double-entendres about the must mundane topics, to the point where no one could even ask ‘where are we going for dinner?’
And all of them, every single one of them, seemed to be of the homosexual variety.
To the point that Peter was beginning to fear that his hero, his idol and his fantasy-mentor (and his real life mentor for years now) was actually a homophobe.
“A homophobe? THE Tony Stark?? Nah kid, Tony is an unabashed Trisexual. He’ll try anything….and he never made any bones about it….”
Both of them winced, both of them turned to look even though they knew Tony wasn’t in the room. You couldn’t say the word ‘bones’ around Tony anymore, or any vaguely sexual word, including the word ‘it.’ That’s how bad it had gotten.
“Wait…..wait……are you saying….Tony is Bi?” Peter asked, trying to look surprised. Trying not to look overeager. Trying not to look like a kid who had actually recently gotten some information and was desperate to confirm it. Trying not to look like he had cornered Rhodey in an empty conference room just to ask this question.
“No,” said Rhodey.
Peter’s shoulders sagged.
“He’s a hedonist. Don’t worry about it kid. Just ignore him. He’ll get over you and we can all get back to normal,” Rhodey said dismissively, walking away, leaving Peter red-faced and gaping.
“Over me?”
“Over me??”
“When was I under him?”
* * * *
There were many theories about Tony’s new behavior, but Peter couldn’t find any that agreed with Rhodey….that it had something to do with him.
Fury blamed the Avengers state-of-readiness for over a year that resulted in absolutely nothing, no visit from the Ultimate Badguy bent on destroying half of Earth. Stress made people cranky, seemed to be his theory, and Tony’s new tourette syndrome was just a symptom of that stress.
Bruce (not a common feature around the compound for the last year but very good for information when he was around) pointed out that Tony didn’t like crowds unless they were cheering for him. “He doesn’t actually work well with others, he forces himself to work with others, thus all the grants and outsourcing, but it’s a lot of effort. If he can’t got for 3 minutes without making a dirty joke, maybe he just needs to go back into hiding for a while. We’re all hermits, after a fashion.” Peter hoped desperately that wasn’t true (he didn’t WANT Tony to go into hiding) but he certainly took Bruce’s perspective seriously. He knew a lot about Tony. And a lot about hermits.
Black Widow would probably have the best explanation for Tony’s odd behavior. Analyzing human behavior was her job. But Nat wasn’t talking.
So Peter soldiered on. He was the only Avenger who went to training and attended meetings in full costume, mask on at all times. The story was it was to protect his secret identity. The truth was, the mask covered all facial expressions. Tony’s obscenities, no matter how constant, still took him by surprise. Under the mask, no one could see him blush.
Because truth be told, so many of those inappropriate jokes seemed to be aimed at him.
Most Avengers seemed to agree that the new Rated R version of Tony Stark corresponded with the visit from the storied Guardians of the Galaxy.
But in Peter’s mind, it also seemed to start the same day he turned 20 years old, and bragged, in Tony’s hearing, that he had celebrated with a special party in Boystown.
He had done it very much on purpose – it had been part of his plan.
Only the results were not….good. Almost overnight Tony was x y and z. [every bad guy needed a good fucking, every x ato to they y, every complaint from Peter indicated he needed to get laid. Tony had always joked about everything, but now the jokes were not only gay-related, they were downright hostile. Peter had never heard the word ‘faggot’ on the Avenger’s compound before (the entire compound, Avengers and military alike, knew Caps’ “Language” rule) and he heard it out of Tony’s mouth that very night. It was Peter’s birthday dinner in one of the compound’s dining rooms where Tony had asked for a ‘real drink for me, not some faggoty ass waterdawon drink. We’ll save that for Pete.”
(That was the day Peter realized his life would be better if he just kept the mask on at all times.)
Finally, after a great deal of soul-searching about his Get Tony Stark Into Bed plan and weather or not he even to be in the same room with that man, he cornered Nat and Rhodey (the two people he considered the best informed) and demanded answers.
“Kid…you’re smart. Don’t let him rile you up.” That was Rhodey, who seemed a little hostile himself. He clearly did not want to be having this conversation.
“But that’s what I don’t get….why is this about me?”
Rhodey and Nat exchanged a look.
Then Nat looked at him, and seemed to make a decision.
“Parker, you announced you were gay, sexually active and legally of age all in the same sentence.”
Peter wished, for a moment, he still had his mask on. Apparently he hadn’t been as subtle that night as he had thought.
“So….wait…..are you saying this is him….flirting with …..me?”
Nat shrugged. “Little girls get their ponytails pulled by boys who have crushes on them every day. They learned to live with it.”
“No they don’t” Peter countered. “My friend MJ had her hair pulled by a boy in 3rd grade who said he like liked her and he got sent to counseling.”
Rhodey rolled his eyes and said murmured something about Millennials.
“Gen Z,” Peter pointed out, raising a hand.
“Exactly – Gen X jokes are going to sound wrong to Gen Z ears…..”
“Wrong? Half of what comes out of his mouth could be considered sexual harassment in 50 states!”
“Parker!” That was Rhodey again. “I’ve seen these hyperfixations before. They go away. Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent? Be intelligent. DON’T fall for him, DON’T let him talk you into bed. Just wait for it to pass over.”
“Let him….talk me into……”
“Kid, don’t do it.” That was Nat. “If Pepper Potts couldn’t tame that mess no one can.”
Nat gave a nod to Rhodey, who took it as a cue to exit, leaving the two of them alone together.
“Look,” she said gently. “No one will tell you to your face, but we’re all looking forward to when you leave for school again. Tony will tone it down after you leave. And if you stay away long enough, he’ll just get over you.
“I can see what you’re thinking, Peter, and you don’t want to do this. Tony has always been a comedian. This is just a new routine. You think if you let him talk you into bed, this will get any easier for you? You’re Gen Z, you talk about your feelings. Tony just talks in one-liners.
“It’s hard work dating a comedian, kid.
“It can’t end well.”
* * * *
Tired of walking around with a mask on daily, and lonely for his friends (who knew the difference between flirting and Hostile Work Environment) Peter took Nat’s advice and left early. Back in New York he spent his weeks before the semester began researching the psychology of humor, and the sociological limitations of being gay in the 80’s. It was eye-opening. Also appalling.
But the psychology of humor was very interesting – Peter read that when a group, any group, laughed together, the individuals would indistinctly glance at the person they felt connected with. The article suggested reading room to ‘learn who is secretly sleeping together’ but in general the article dealt with office culture and social hierarchies. Still, the tidbit was confusing.
Every time the group laughed together, Tony always seemed to be glancing at him.
But the longer he spent away from Tony the more the offensive jokes faded in his memory and the more he remembered just how bad his crush on the man had become (and exactly how far he was into his detailed plan to get into Tony’s pants.)
He wasn’t expecting to actually run into the actual man in New York any time soon, but within a week he did. The Avenger Parties at Stark Tower seemed to becoming more frequent, it seemed to Peter. At least this was the 2nd one in 2 months. Peter wondered vaguely if it was a ploy to make him hang with the Avengers with his face showing – he was invited to attended these things in suit as “Mr. Stark’s intern.”
Walking into the party he felt, very suddenly, unarmed (more specifically, unarmored.) He had relied so much on his mask to hide his face whenever Tony was inappropriate.
That’s why he silently determined to just avoid Tony altogether.
Chapter 2
Tony stiffed at the sight of Peter holding a glass of wine. It didn’t matter how many times he reminded himself (or Peter) that Peter was now of age. It still struck him as wrong.
But not as wrong as Bruce’s arm around Peter’s shoulders.
He had already passed them once, talking a mile-a-minute with Bruce and Dr. Cho about the tech behind the cradle. He couldn’t begrudge Bruce and Peter their shop talk (although the double twinges of jealousy took him by complete surprise. He and Bruce had been so long ago, it seems.)
Mostly, he was just irritated that the kid seemed to be avoiding him.
But now – oh this definitely was not right.
He couldn’t be caught staring, so he made his rounds, taking in furtive glances at the two across the room. He must have been mistaken about the arm, Peter and Bruce and some other tech guys were just talking now, and it looked perfectly normal.
Then he lost sight of them.
Then he caught them again, standing by the window alone.
They weren’t talking shop, that was certain. Bruce had his arm on Peter’s back, was leaning over, was speaking directly into his ear. Acceptable in a crowded room, but they were far away enough from the crowd to make Tony see red.
Especially when Peter grinned, ducked his head, then turned and said something into Bruce’s ear.
What Bruce said next made Peter laugh and cover his face, and that’s when Nat appeared in front of him and said “Don’t be jealous.
“They’re talking about you.”
She turned her head to ignore his gape. She pretended to scan the room as she spoke. “Not that I care, Tony, but if you really want to hook up with a Gen Z you are going to have to clean up your act. Reinstate Steve’s “language” rule. Poor kid thinks you’re a homophobe.
“What…..me?”
He respected Nat’s intelligence, so when she looked at him that way, he took it seriously.
“New generation, Tony. They don’t care what you DID 20 years ago, all they care about is what you’re doing now, and what you’re doing now is recycling gay jokes from the 80’s. He honestly thought you were mad at him.
“Just…go…flirt with him like a normal person. Take him on date. He’s into you – he’s quizzed everyone who knows you about your sex life.”
* * * * *
Peter left the party grinning from ear to ear.
Even though he never actually spoke to Tony that night. The man disappeared from his own party, but no one thought that was particularly unusual. Nat, at least, seemed to think that way. She gave him a warning look when he asked after the man, but when she spoke, she was gentle.
“Consider the perils of dating a comedian, Peter.”
“Yeah you told me that.”
“The Millennials way is to exchange facts about emotions. Comedians just exchange one-liners.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Peter said, but he couldn’t help but smile.
He went downstairs to the car Tony had waiting for him, smiling all the way.
He had found out a LOT from Bruce that night, information he needed, information he intended to use.
But that wasn’t the best part.
“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he said to himself as he raced down the stairwell to the garage.
The litany of inappropriate humor wasn’t an attack or a slight, it was a sign of interest. He could identify the intent, while simply ignoring the actual language. He didn’t have to speak Tony’s language, he just had to understand it.
“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he whispered to himself when Tony’s driver took him home.
“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he murmured to himself as he lay on his bed in his dormroom that night.
He went to bed with a smile on his face.
Because all he could think was…
………… “I’ve got a chance to date Tony Stark.”
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Hitting the nail right on the head (or the head on the nail)
Read on AO3
Fandom: Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony
Rating: Teen/Mature? Yeah
Pairing: None
Word Count: 2366
Summary: In a re-write of a scene from the chapter 3 investigation, Kurochi Ouma finds his brother in the hall lying face-down in his own blood.
Some things to note for this:
I guess this was inspired by the Kokichi-has-a-twin theory, but not actually really related to it (I haven’t even done any research into it actually! And as of right now I’m not interested in jumping into theories and stuff).
Mostly written as I was watching someone play through Chapter 4. As of posting this, I just finished the Chapter 5 trial.
Kurochi is the Ultimate Cryptographer in this. Not relevant in this drabble, though.
Written for Ry! @tricky-leader, who dragged me into hyperfixation hell with this amazing boi.
“I’m going to go back to Angie’s lab,” Kurochi announced, not expecting any response as he turned back to the door. Perhaps he could check the scene again once more—there had to be some clue that pointed towards a victim that wasn’t a vengeful spirit risen from the dead.
“Ah, I’ll come with you—I think I’m done checking on everything in here,” Shuichi said, to his surprise.
“Yes, Angie’s death is the one we should be investigating, it’d be wise to do another look around.” And Maki as well, to his dismay.
Not that he could do anything about it. He shrugged, nudging open the door with an air of nonchalance so as not to betray the tension that he felt. Whenever he looked at Maki, all he could see was her hand around his brother’s throat. Unfortunately, she and Shuichi were investigating together, and Kurochi didn’t think he’d get anywhere if he snapped that no, she could not continue her investigation that would undoubtedly benefit them all during the class trial. So he kept his sighs to himself, and stepped into the hall—
—to find a body on the floor.
His breath tore from his throat in a ragged exhale, the air stolen from his lungs and the heat from his veins. For a good minute, he didn’t understand the scene before him, because it just couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. First Angie… then Tenko… then… but… it couldn’t be—.
A gasp behind him as Shuichi and Maki exited the room startled him, scattered thoughts crashing together like on stretched elastic bands, leaving his mind more tangled than before. His head spun, eyes fixed on the body, the rhythm of his heart in his chest a rapid staccato against his rib cage.
“Kokichi!” He heard his own voice call out his brother’s name, not conscious of saying it himself. The scene looked unreal; the room spun around him. Blood. Kokichi. Kokichi’s blood. On the floor. He gaped, mouth working open and closed without another sound escaping it. Dead, his brother was—.
The bloody face rose from the floor. Kokichi’s trademark grin beamed up at them, like blood didn’t drip down the sides of his face, like a small pool of crimson hadn’t gathered where his head had been resting, and Kurochi didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or shake his brother silly for scaring him like that.
Worse still, Kokichi sprang up from the floor, graceful as ever. His laughter rang out as if he’d told some hilarious joke, but none of them mirrored his actions. Kurochi couldn’t move, feet rooted to the ground. Part of him thought that it had to be a hallucination, his shock forcing his imagination to deny the truth and conjure the image of his newly deceased brother up and on his feet. His eyes fell to the floor, to the blood staining the wood. He felt sick.
“Did I surprise you? Were you going to scream and cry in terror?” Kokichi laughed, carrying on like nothing happened.
Yes you did, you bloody jerk, Kurochi wanted to say, but the unintentional pun stirred a queasy feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t find his voice past the lump in his throat. All he managed was a hard swallow and wide-eyed stare while he waited for the tilted room to right itself. Was the room even askew? Everything in the damn world was screwed up, culminated in his own brother’s death during this hellish game they’d been thrust into. In that moment, nothing felt real to him. Kurochi could vanish from the face of the earth, and it’d still go on indifferent to his plight.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
Kurochi jumped at Shuichi’s voice, head whipping in the direction of the two others in the room. In his surprise, he’d forgotten that Shuichi and Maki had accompanied him out into the hall. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the static building up inside and finding it impossible to do. Only one thought managed to surface in the hopeless mess of thoughts and anxiety in his mind; if Shuichi saw Kokichi move and grin then Kurochi wasn’t seeing ghosts. Kokichi really was alright.
His gaze drifted back to the blood spattered against the floorboard. Not alright, actually. That didn’t seem any level of ‘alright’ to him, but Kokichi was alive for certain, and perhaps that was blessing enough in the middle of a killing game.
When Kokichi didn’t immediately respond, Kurochi’s eyes snapped back to his brother’s face. He looked faint, swaying side to side. A tight ball formed in his chest as he rushed to Kokichi’s side with quick shaky steps, placing a steadying hand on his brother’s shoulder. He could feel Kokichi trembling under his touch with a motion so slight that he wouldn’t have noticed if not for the physical contact.
“Kokichi?”
His brother started. He dipped his shoulder, stepping to the side to subtly pull away from Kurochi’s touch. The grin returned to his face with greater force than before, as if to hold his dazed expression at bay. “Oh, sorry… I’m just a little light-headed from the blood loss. Yeah this is real blood…”
Silence punctuated his admission. Kurochi felt his heart twist in his chest, letting his hand fall to his side, but he didn’t say anything. Shuichi spoke up first, hesitance coloring his tone. “…Okay, so what are you doing?”
An innocent question, and yet a hot flame of anger ran through him. Just like that, Kokichi’s injury no longer mattered, even while the blood remained shiny and wet on his face. Kurochi whirled on Shuoichi, face twisted. For the first time since they woke up in that godforsaken place did he raise his voice at the other, shoving his words at him with a sharp bite to them. “Oh you know, he’s only bleeding from a head wound, what else!”
That seemed to shame him. Shuichi shifted in obvious discomfort, not daring to meet Kurochi’s glare, gaze fixed on Kokichi instead. Good.
“It’s fine, Kurochi!” Kokichi waved him off with a giggle. “I just got curious about something, so I decided to search the empty room next door. Th-then suddenly…”
Once again the grin dropped from his face, his mouth a stiff line as a queer look shadowed it. Kurochi stepped closer on instinct, hand once again on Kokichi’s shoulder with a firm grip on it. Not giving his brother a chance to back out, he reached out with his free hand to push his hair back to check on the wound. Right there on his forehead, no longer bleeding but still fresh. It took a beat longer than last for Kokichi to try and move away again, a hand at his wrist peeling Kurochi’s from his forehead. His hand came away red and sticky.
It took a moment for Kokichi to find his train of thought again to continue. “I-I stepped through the floorboard.”
“You stepped through the floorboard?” This time Shuichi had the witherall to sound concerned, although Kurochi didn’t know whether from worry for Kokichi or for the problematic floorboards themselves. As angry as the thought made him, he at least understood that much. The floorboards fit so well together that stepping through any of them shouldn’t be possible. It made for a dangerous place to walk.
“Geez, that got me good.” If Kokichi couldn’t find it in him to pretend, the pain must be terrible. With the shudders that ran through him, Kurochi feared that Kokichi really would collapse under just the weight of his hand. He clenched his hands into fists, resisting the urge to grab his shoulder again, lest he’d be rebuffed for a third time. “Cuz of this, I-I tripped and fell pretty hard.”
When Kokichi drifted back into a dazed silence, Maki’s cold tone echoed in the quiet hall. “If you’re going to lose consciousness, do it after you tell us everything.”
Kurochi never felt the urge to strike someone as much as he did in that moment. He wanted to punch that condescending expression right off that girl’s face, especially when Kokichi immediately forced a smile back onto his face and apologized for his own faintness. A head injury, he has a concussion, Kurochi wanted to snap at her. Even if she hates his brother’s guts, she could at least show some basic human empathy for a guy that looked like he was about to pass out.
He forced back the desire. Punching the Ultimate Assassin could only end poorly for a tiny, thin-armed boy who literally couldn’t throw a punch to save his life. He swallowed back the sensation of his own uselessness rising in his throat like bile, remembering how easily Maki had wrapped her hand around his brother’s throat. In the end he couldn’t do anything, just like he couldn’t now.
All unaware of how dearly Kurochi wanted to hit Maki, Kokichi told them what had happened, that a crosspiece under the floorboard was missing and caused his foot to fall through when he put his weight on it. Before he could tell them anything more than that, however, the school bell rang out, signaling the end of the investigation.
Maki looked more disappointed than she had any right to at that. “I guess… time is up.”
“Aw maaaan, it’s cuz of you guys, I didn’t have enough time to check on something…”
Kurochi sent his brother an incredulous look. When they’d come out into the hall, they’d found Kokichi face down on the ground. Although he’d played it off like a trick, Kurochi couldn’t help but think that he hadn’t intentionally laid down there waiting for someone to pass him by and think that a third person had died. Especially if he’d wanted to check on something. Kurochi didn’t think that he could’ve gotten to it regardless of their interference.
“What were you trying to check?” Shuichi asked at the same time as Kurochi said, “Maybe you should’ve been getting your head checked.”
“Aww Kurochi, that’s mean! I actually wanted to re-research the seance again, so I brought this document with me.” Kokichi held up The Caged Child, waving it before he flipped open to the page with the seance instructions on it. The three of them shuffled closer to look down at the book with him. “But unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything new that could be used as a clue. Kiyo perfectly reenacted the seance as what was written in the document. He drew his magic circle the same exact way as in this picture.”
Kokichi tilted his head, either thinking about something or fighting back the effects of his head wound. Kurochi wished that he’d been present during the seance, just so he knew firsthand what had happened during it. For the most part however, he was glad that he hadn’t been. Not that he thought that ghosts were real, but maybe it was better not to test out his theories with the supernatural like that.
And Kurochi wasn’t keen on being there when Tenko died.
A beat passed, and Kokichi continued, “Not only that, he used the same exact tools too. Nothing suspicious about this whole thing. Well, I wanted to check the finer details but…” Kokichi grimaced. “I-I’ll tell you about it later… a-at the… class trial so… see ya there…”
With unsteady balance, Kokichi turned and began to make his way down the hall. His footing seemed off, the effects of the blood loss obvious in each shaky step. Kurochi lurched forward, making it to his brother’s side before he could get too far on his own. No way was he going to let him collapse on the way without anyone around to help him back up or to give two shits about him in the slightest. Neither Shuichi nor Maki seemed inclined to care in any case, so Kurochi would have to do that all himself.
Yet they only made it a few steps more before Shuichi cleared his throat, calling out, “Ah… Kokichi?”
Kurochi glanced back over his shoulder while Kokichi slowly turned about to face him. Shuichi wore a sheepish expression, one which Kokichi returned with another forced grin. He wanted to be away before his entire facade broke, Kurochi knew, and Shuichi was making that difficult here. “Yes, Shuichi?”
“Are you… going to be ok?”
A brief silence followed the question. Kurochi looked to his brother to see that a contemplative expression had overtaken his face, mouth pressed into an oddly serious line. Or perhaps that was because of the concussion as well. But after the moment passed, a mischievous smile lit up his eyes. Kokichi shrugged and tucked his hands behind his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll die before I even get to the class trial. Nee-heehee, then you’re going to have to figure out who killed Angie without my adorable face there. I hope you cry for me, Shuichi—except no, that’s a lie. An evil overlord like me doesn’t need tears from those on the opposite side of the law, but thank you for your concern Mr. Detective. I’ll see ya soon!”
Kokichi’s grin turned sly just before he spun back around. The movement had him teetering on his feet, losing some of the effect of his little speech. Kurochi reached out to steady him, and Kokichi managed not to topple over. Once he righted himself, he continued down the hall with greater purpose, steps heavy and echoing in the empty hall. “Either in the class trial, or together in Hell!”
As the brothers made their retreat, Kurochi heard Maki speaking to Shuichi, telling him to just ignore Kokichi. She wouldn’t care whether he died or not, even if he was completely innocent. At least Shuichi had proved him wrong just now, even if he had to be properly scolded before he voiced his concern. There was hope for him yet.
Kurochi steered his brother into the bathroom on their way out. Time to get him cleaned up and to check on his injuring before Kokichi went and hurt himself even more.
#danganronpa v3#ndrv3#kokichi ouma#new danganronpa v3#drabble#my first fic in the dr fandom at all at it involves an oc insert into a canon scene haha#but ya know#i like these boys#one shot
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sss long and venty and dont read maybe
i cant ask for love cuz i know what will happen, so its better not to ask and spare myself the pain and embarrassment but god i need. i. i cant ask so i hide into myself and from cold boring meaningless interactions because its better to be by myself and keeps me occupied and i know how to be alone and sometimes i actually like being alone and im so tired. all these 2d interactions drain me even if its only five minutes and god god goddd i wish? if i had just one person i could hug and talk to to and be close to irl i could be better. id run tot hem when things got too exhausting or scary. but im by myself, like ive always been and i kinda dont trust real journals anymore so im putting my thoughts on the internet where strangers can see
why couldnt my family be loving? was it different when i was a baby? now i need to look for love outside of you and i cant even get the courage to leave
im not crying, im not manic, but my chest feels hot like it does when i drink, and my knee hurts. it aches. my skin burns. im touchstarved and life here feels endless and endlessness means meaninglessness i need to escape man
being alone, all i have is my own self and lately whenever i try to engage with my interests, when i try to hyperfixate, i end up drowning in myself and coming out the other side feeling empty. i dont feel real. i know people say to rely on yourself and think your own thoughts, but without other people life feels meaningless. its just you and thats it and if i lived alone in this house id probably lose it for real
these nights make me feel like ill stay here in this tiny room by myself until i die, ive never done half of those soft cuddly things people write about and i wish i could. im sorry that i seem to be talking rougher and rougher and getting more irritable, im trying to stop it but i cant
i cant even go outside because theres just city out there, and im terrified of exploring cities, i miss the country. i wish it was just me and someone else, running around in the country holding hands. i wish theyd tell me exactly what they thought of me, and tell me everything that they love and hate about me, ask me to do the same, then hug me afterwards. i fucking hate this tiny house
i should probably wash my hair before i tear it out
i wish the people in my life listened to me when i talk, im THIS close to telling strangers all my worries. why the fuck am i posting this? i hope you ignore me
god fuck i need therapy. its 2 am.
#dirktalk#ventish#sorry im sorry i wish i could shave my head#i miss my journal and making streams of pained conciousness#ill probably delete this later out of embarassment#me? being visibly weak? nah
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