Online Communities Are So Strange Because People Slip Away So Easily. You Can Be On Here For Years, Folding

online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't think anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

Everyone has those childhood stories of lavish summer vacations consisting of beaches, foreign countries, cruises, and fancy resorts, but not you. Your summers were filled with open fields, sweet tea, climbing trees, and Touya Todoroki. 

Long days were spent ripping and running through the fields of your family's acres. Scraping your knees and bruising your elbows. Touya always had more scars than you, most from events you hadn't witnessed. He was always sent home with extra ointment and bandages from your mother, who never asked questions but instead gave long hugs and lots of fruit. You always felt like your parents knew something you didn't.

Hanging upside down from the swing your dad made out of an old tire and rope, the grass looks like it's growing from the sky. "Do you think when we're older we'll go to cool places for the summer? Like India, or something." You ask casually, your head turning to face an upside-down Touya.

Half preoccupied with picking at his bandage, Touya hums and thinks for a bit before focusing his attention on you. "Only if it's just the two of us; family vacations are overrated."

That's right, it's easy to forget Touya comes from money when you two are out in the grassy fields with dirt underneath your fingernails and grass-stained shirts. He's been coming out to the country for three summers now; apparently, his dad's idea is that he needs to focus on other things and be a normal kid. You think it means he's becoming too materialistic; your grandmother says it's because Touya has a troubled home life, never getting too many details out before your mother speaks in a strained tone to not discuss those things around you.

Your smile is soft, as is your voice when you speak mostly to yourself, “Yeah, the two of us is just fine.”

—

Traditionally, Touya always ate dinner with your family on the last day of summer. The long table would be decorated with all the harvests of the season, plus enough yeast rolls to feed the masses and milk from the best cow on the farm. His leaving for the school year always left you devastated, but these dinners filled with laughter, full bellies, and his promises to see you next summer always lightened the mood.

“My doctor says milk makes your bones stronger,” Touya declares after chugging his third glass, a milk mustache to match his fluffy white hair. You can’t help but giggle at the sight of it, telling him to wipe his face. “Hey, one day this mustache will be real!”

But that day never came. Touya left that night, and he never returned. Not the next summer, or the following, or the one after that—and eventually you grew up and stopped waiting. You never saw his white mustache or congratulated him for taking his father’s position, like he always rambled passionately about. You don't know if those things ever happened for him, but whenever he crosses your mind, you wish him well, wherever he may be.

if i think about this too much i will sob my heart out

10 mile bike ride and the 993 song playlist of every song I’ve ever loved 💪 feeling fit and nostalgic

seeing ur olivia pfp made me realize i need to use her lyrics as well in fics. FAVOURITE CRIME FOR TOUYA‼️‼️

Yes!! I feel like favorite crime and seven (esp the second verse) are so so Touya coded! I also headcanon teenage Touya loving the guts album and not being embarrassed about it at all 😭

touya always has your baby in his arms, or strapped to him in a carrier, or balanced on his hip when baby gets big enough to hold onto papa too. he wears that baby like his favourite accessory. like one of the essential items he can't leave the house without; phone, wallet, keys, baby.

you notice it after a while: if they're both conscious (or at least touya is,) that baby is in his arms. you think it's sweet, how could you not? he can barely stand being away for a couple of hours, even if he knows the baby is in the best possible care—shouto has proven himself to be a surprisingly proficient babysitter, at least under fuyumi and natsuo's tutelage.

and then one night you find touya asleep in the arm chair in baby's room, pulled up alongside the cot that recently had its bars removed, since baby really isn't much of a baby anymore—though that's still hard to believe most days. he's sprawled out sideways in the chair, his wiry arms and legs dangling, and in his sleep, touya's hand is resting overtop of baby's chest as it rises and falls with steady, easy breaths.

and, for the first time, you realize that maybe the reason touya feels so attached to your child—the reason he can't bear to be apart—is because he knows what it's like to be a child that wasn't held when he needed it. to be a child without a pair of open arms to offer comfort, or a hand on his chest to ease his dreams. and though there are many things that touya may never be able to do, and many ways that he'll inevitably stumble as he learns what it takes to be a father, he knows he never wants his child to know what that feels like.