#i will drink tea this day has been lacking tea so critically :

[kimmkitsuragi]

not my first reaction to this information as i learned it during the intermission of challengers (yes i finally went to see it) and i was having a lowkey breakdown through the intermission and the beginning of the second half a little bit but ummm: well of fucking course i literally dont deserve anything

[throwaway-yandere]

Of Dream A-Dreaming (Yandere Idol!Itto/Reader)

The real a/n: dang, restricting myself to 1-1.5k words for this event is fricking difficult when I usually upload fics around 3k lolol. The urge to make this unnecessarily long looms above my shoulders and the crack fic ideas are piling up instead of yandere ones i need therapy fr—

Unreliable synopsis: You're the self-proclaimed "Numero Uno" idol's producer! He has his screw loose that's for sure, but hey, what makes him think you're not eccentric as well amiright???

Alice's note, Mother of Klee: Strange... Could've sworn you and Ayato would end up partnered together considering your similar "personalities". Oh, well. Producer Lumine thought it would be hilarious to see you take Itto on. This should still be entertaining. Let's see who's going to be the bigger menace between you two, snailnon!

Yandere Idol 1k event masterlist

-------

"Itto, what do we say when we want to go to the restroom?"

"P–... Please, (Y/n)?"

"Perfect! Ehehehehe, good boyyy!!!" You ruffled his hair roughly, which made him voice out complaints about his hair gel. "Now go take a dook-dook."

Itto sighed, his relief heard throughout the whole cafe. "Thank God! Thanks, granny snai–"

"Call me granny again and I'll whoop your a– I mean, kindness isn't the absence of mean thoughts but evil actions! Now go, be free!"

Itto rushed to the restroom, leaving you with a playful grin on your face.

The scent of caffeine fills the air, fueling the chatter inside the humble cafe. It had never been this buzzing. The tender space not once had more than five customers. For all it's worth, its owner probably never would've imagined a day where eight drop-dead gorgeous men would play baristas for three days in his place. Pairs of the regulars' taciturn eyes carefully eyed the idols' movements, gazing at the men like exotic animals behind glass. Their existence as regular customers made their presence reasonable, these eight celebrities with you, however, not so much.

ADDICKTZ has an "Of Drink A-Dreaming" barista event today, which was primarily led by Diluc and his producer. The idols were dressed in typical European barista fashion, with the exception of Ayato, Thoma, and Itto wearing sets of Kazagoshi respectively. 

"(Y/n), where's Itto?"

You laughed. Unlike your colleagues, Diluc doesn't enjoy addressing you by your respected title. "I don't knooowww. Take a guess. Hehe."

Diluc's eyebrows knitted. 

"You're his producer. The filming's about to start in five minutes." He stressed out sternly.

"I guess you have to film him in the bathroom then." You smiled, completely unbothered. "Cause, you know, he's there."

Normally, people would recommend a straight jacket for the deeply disturbed, but the founder of TEYVAT Productions said "I got just the thing for you!" before Producer Lumine gave you a contract to be Arataki Itto's producer for the next 5 years.

Yes, THAT Arataki Itto. The most troublesome member of ADDICKTZ and its best rapper. The guy who's supposedly a next-in-line monarch from a ruling family in a small village until he had a disagreement with his parents– but no one knows about that tea except you and Alice. You were going to decline this job but he... lacks critical thinking so much that you decided you must protect this high school dropout. Or at least make his life challenging. You're winning on either option, anyways.

You continued sipping your coffee. As a fellow cheapskate like the person you're producing, you're savoring every last drop of this fine brew, ignoring the free cake-like brownies on your table. You're much more laid back than normal because you're going on vacation tomorrow. Doesn't mean you're unaware of your own tendencies; if you don't care, you often won't put in the effort. And right now you genuinely don't care about what Itto's up to.  Your succulents are genuinely the only thing you're determined to take good care of, and you already set an alarm as to when you're going to water them.

Diluc sighed. The poor idol slash Dawn Winery heir just couldn't put in the effort to scold you both anymore. "Fine. I'll give you ten minutes and that's final."

Eh, don't count on it. This is you and Itto, and together you're both a hindrance. 

"Hehe. Gracias, compadre!"

That mesomorph couldn't possibly untie his apron without your help and you'd probably take five minutes trying to untangle it. It was considerably difficult getting Itto to wear his uniform, especially with his muscular build (but that's just because you made sure it's extra tight for the hell of it.) It goes without saying that Itto will always be by your side. If he wants to escape this girl scout's knotting nightmare, he'll need your help. Aww geez, what would he do without you?

"They sure get along quite well." The CEO's assistant muttered, their eyes staring directly at you. For someone who's supposed to be observing in secret, they sure aren't doing a decent job worth that paycheck. Not like having them here affects you. You'd still violate a few rules even if someone with authority is around.

"(Y/n)," Thoma sheepishly limped towards you, apologizing to the few empty chairs he bumped into. "C-Can you please help me tie my apron?"

"Heh, yup! Sure thing!!!"

Childe looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow from the other side of the room. "You're really going to ask for THEIR help?" 

Thoma froze.

The Mondstadter had been hanging out with you a lot lately that he forgot you're not the most reliable person out there. Hard not to like him. Blondes are pretty cool. Men are cool, in general.

Your iconic grin is back in town.

"O-Oh, never mind! I'll just ask Ajax–"

"Naahhhh, you're here now!" You smiled, making grabby hand gestures. "C'mon, let me tie it for you~."

The poor blonde's smile was forced upward and twisted from too much pressure. He carefully handed you his apron with unfathomable reluctance– 

But before you could take it, another hand yanked Thoma's away, prompting him to yelp. That hand was slightly damp, clear that it just came from the restroom.

Itto's grip tightened.

"Tie it yourself, Thoma."

Thoma gulped.

You couldn't see from this angle, but whatever Thoma saw, you had an inkling that it wasn't anything other people ought to see.

Zhongli tensed up. "Itto, that's enough–"

"YOU!!!"

Before anyone got another word out about Itto's strange outburst, another voice called out. You barely looked away. 

You already know who it is.

"Why hello, Akira!" You greeted with clenched teeth.

One problem after another.

Most of Itto's fans are men. It's entertaining how they get hyped up whenever he's on stage. He's a role model when comes to exercise. You would know since you've once encountered an obsessed fan who gushed about how Itto's poster motivates him to do more push-ups and lunges and still insists he doesn't have a crush on Itto. His fans' muscles may be as strong as bricks but their heterosexuality weakens around him. As it damn should, honestly. You don't have any sports so listening to them talk was like watching a toddler show off their jumping skills. 

That fan was funny, but Akira? Not by a long shot.

He was supposedly Itto's first stan. And stalkers are not funny. 

"Why are you still his producer?!"

The CEO's assistant looked around, asking how the stalker got in under hushed whispers but to no avail. Your eyelids lowered. 

You're going to have a serious talk with security later.

You shrugged with a small, innocent smile. "Cuz I'm an amazing person...?"

"No! Hell no!!!" Akira grumbled. "You're a psychopath! You're not a real fan, you're just doing this for the money!!!"

No shit, Sherlock. Don't be delusional. No one works for free.

You huffed.

"Sure, maybe I have problems using empathy sometimes, but take one good look at your situation and you'd realize that you're the one who looks like a psychopath right now."

Akira shut his mouth up immediately.

You looked at Dainsleif, who understood your signal.

You're pissed and you want Akira out.

Dainsleif nodded, grabbing Akira's shoulder.

You closed your eyes, drowning out the sound of Akira's loud complaints with your louder slurping. Knowing Dainsleif's skills, he would've peacefully kicked the stalker out of the building.

"You okay, bro?"

You opened your eyes again.

The stalker's gone, and Itto is sitting right in front of your table.

"Yeah, of course, I am."

Itto smiled. Don't be fooled, he was wholly aware that you're angry– you have the tendency to repress your anger and he knows you're harboring some spite.

"You know what will get him to stop?" He grinned, snapping his fingers like he was the smartest person in the room (he's not.) 

"A good beating."

You chuckled, your voice mixed with concern and intrigue. "What? No. I'm a nice person. I ain't letting ya."

"Are you nice or are you just my producer? Anyways, yeah, but what if, I like, challenge him in a dance competition?"

You looked at him laconically.

That must be…

"The stupidest idea I have ever heard." You patted his back. Hard. Itto spat his drink, the brown liquid spilling to his chin like baby food. "I LOVE it. Go kick his ass."

Ain't no way you're passing up a chance to enable his family-friendly bullshit.

Ahh, you love life. It’s things like this that makes life worth living, because despite how empty you may feel at the end of the day, you at least know that you were a piece of something great.

A piece that caused Arataki “Numero Uno” Itto challenge a stalker fan into an impromptu dance competition.

Itto raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were gonna stop me."

"Well, you know how my mind works. If it is funny, then you should probably do it. Unless you, or someone else, get hurt. 'Cuz then it's a lot less funny…"

But then you remembered there was this one time you convinced Itto that "STFU" means "so thankful for you" and he sent that shit to his grandmother. Who then whooped his ass. With a wooden spoon. In front of CEO Alhaitham.

Oh, this poor summer country boy.

A strange chortle-like noise exited your lips.

"Wh-what is it?"

"Ohh, nothiiing." You patted his head, this time, you didn't ruffle his hair. "Hmm... I'll give you permission to challenge him in this dance competition thingy, but it better be AFTER the event, mkayyy?"

"Hmm! You got it, boss!"

-----

So, that was a fucking lie.

"YOU WANT TO GO, HUH?!"

"I DON'T CARE IF YOU BEAT ME UP– THEY'RE NOT WORTH IT, BOSS!!!"

You just got back from buying some pins at the convenience store to secure Itto's apron, and this is the thanks you'll get? You pinched your temple, sighing with an eerily large smile.

This doesn't look like a dance competition.

As Itto grabs Akira by the collar, the crowd that had formed around them just stood and stared. It's a good thing that phones are prohibited. Kaeya was close by, but he doesn't seem motivated to dissuade his unit mate either. Annoyingly, you got a glance from the man that said "find a way to stop him."

Hah! Like that's easy– Wait.

Out of the blue, you recalled a vital memory.

A week after you started working for Itto, you found him losing his shit over a deranged fan who insulted his best friend, Kuki. You'll never forget the way he bent his knees, ready to pounce until the show was abruptly interrupted by ADDICKTZ's Creative Director, who hurled a cup of soybeans in his way. You received some more beans from Sir Zandik, who advised you to take similar action should the need arise... but you already ate them months ago. 

How troublesome, but Arabic beans should work.

Ayato's eyes widened as your unsanitized hand reached for the bean bowl. "Stay still, Mx. (Y/n), don't do anything rash–"

With amazing precision, the beans reached their target.

Plunk.

The Kamisato heir shut their eyes, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

"Ow– what was that for?!" Itto frowned angrily. "Seriously, what the hell, (Y/..."

…

Arataki Itto stared at you blankly, his eyes slowly rolling upward.

"... Itto?"

"... (Y/n)..."

"Y-Yeah?"

"I… t-trust you, homie–" His eyes fluttered, closing gradually while his knees buckled.

"Catch me."

"Huh? H-Hey, wait–"

THUD!!!

Just like a snail's shell boldly crossing a busy pedestrian lane, your body was absolutely wrecked. Your upper back hit the floor first as you cradled Itto's weight between your arms.

Everyone was stunned. Kaeya's producer looked at you in confusion.

"Do you have any idea what you just did...?"

"I have no idea what I've done either, heh." You wheezed, unable to breathe properly as Itto crushed your lungs. "All I know is that Dottore told me to do that if he starts acting violently."

Dainsleif and Zhongli immediately rushed towards you and Itto, with the latter fruitlessly attempting to dial 911 with his lack of technological wisdom. Diluc came back, asking what the hell just happened before Childe and Dainsleif carried Itto off you. Meanwhile, Ayato stood by the corner, laughing to himself. You would too if you weren't so busy getting suffocated by Itto's comically heavy muscles.

Childe slapped the back of your head after you were safely untangled from the unconscious man's limbs. "You idiot! He's allergic to beans!!!"

"... Hehe, whoops?" You heard CEO Alhaitham's assistant sigh from behind you, but you still quipped up a joke. "Can I blame Master Dottore for this, pretty pleease?"

"Arataki Itto is your responsibility, Mx. (Y/n)" Someone spoke in a low, reverberating voice.

Everyone stopped to look at Zhongli, whose face expressed indifference yet his crossed arms exude something far more ineffably foreboding.

"As written in the contract, a TEYVAT PRODUCTIONS producer should be the one looking after their idols if they're admitted to the hospital, correct?"

You stiffened. 

Oh no. 

"... Hey, Ayato?"

"Hmm?" He answered with a hand covering his clearly smiling face.

"How long does allergy-induced comas last–"

Dainsleif chuckled, replying instead of the young politician. "Could be between 24 to 48 hours."

"Fuck."

Needless to say, you brought this to yourself.

... So long, 3-day vacation.

You want to turn into a snail. 

The remainder of the event came to an abrupt end. The CEO's assistant rescheduled everything while the remaining ADDICKTZ producers unwillingly cleaned up everything. Compared to Zhongli, who sat back down on an empty table with his osmanthus tea, Childe was the loudest complainer. Being wise beyond his years, the Liyue man drank in silence while ignoring the mayhem going on around him.

If everyone saw the way both Arataki "Numero Uno" Itto and his accomplice Akira smirked when you chucked a bean to his head, you might just catch on that he's keener than what most underestimated him for.

Your idol noticed that you've been busy hanging with Thoma lately and wanted to monopolize your attention for a while, so he staged himself up for a beating. Did Itto plan on getting completely knocked out by beans? No, probably not. You're quite unpredictable and this is merely a consequence of poor planning.

Still, unfortunately for you, Zhongli and Itto are unexpected kindred spirits. Knowing the reckless nature you both shared, Zhongli anticipated something like this might happen. It's a good thing the Liyuean helped him with revising their contract. 

This will be their little secret. Unconscious men tell no tales, right?

Zhongli laughed.

Ah, youth.

Ansytea: y-you absolutely scare me, please kindly accept this offering, my lord snail– anyways, thank you for joining the 1k event!!!

[irradiate-space]

Builders' Tea

for reasons, I occasionally receive updates from an Englishman who is restoring a Scottish castle:

Admonition the Fifty-first: A Cup of Tea is Essential to Keep the Team Happy

If you have self-built or self-restored or even commissioned any significant building work here in the UK, you will know the importance of builders’ tea (BT). Not only that everyone on site drinks at least a dozen cups a day, but that you have to make a good mug to ensure workforce morale.

It helps too if you smoke.

Or did.

Or at least can provide matches.

Smoking or possibly vaping (though I have no experience of the latter) has been an integral part of the tea taste experience for years and shouldn’t be discounted lightly in the building site experience of tea drinking. The cloying sweetness of a good BT can be cut through by a drag of Golden Virginia or similar. Prefabs are, in my view, too polluted with additives – like salt petre – oh – and filter. This is not to say a fag is necessary, or even desirable, its just that for historical purposes, one needs to see that a cigarette until recently has been a virtually compulsory condiment.

A big Newfoundland is helpful too – not as a condiment obviously, but to finish discarded mugs left on the floor, ensuring that next tea-break is presented with a “sparkling” set of crockery.

The builders’ tea which would achieve the equivalent of three Michelin stars for the maker takes practice and an ability to distinguish in microseconds between multiple tea shaded pantones as well as the respective mash- and sledge- hammers of sweetness.

Critical BT elements are:

One: a big mug. Preferably with a sweary joke on the outside, or for a fuller flavour, inside on the bottom as well. It needs to be a big receptacle for the purposes of ensuring adequate hydration in the squad member, but also to retain tea-heat to the bottom of the vessel – this is especially important for the self-styled raconteur of the group, who will, it is true, spend more time gassing than drinking, smoking, laughing or farting, but will still insist on a properly hot cup of char to the end of the mug and / or break. Two: boiling water. Not for the purposes of flavour as refined tea-baggers would have it, but so the tea remains hot for as long as possible, particularly after the violent pressing – (3) below – and multiple silver spoons – (4) below. Three: Violent pressing (VP). For a deep mahogany colour, despite full-fat milk and below-mentioned epic quantities of refined Tate&Lyle. VP is achieved with plenty of greased elbow and an over-large teaspoon (otherwise the already heroic number of four teaspoons of sugar becomes a teeth-crackingly legendary seven). The deep colour of a good builders’ tea will visually presage the hot, sweet assault when you drink it. Four: 1 bag of Tate&Lyle Silver Spoon a day. To sweeten and render the correct stiff tea-texture, in which teaspoon stands momentarily. The legend of the permanently upright utensil is an overstatement. What you need to see as you lift your hand from the spoon is a momentary hesitation, and then a smooth fall in an arc centred on the tip of the spoon sitting on the bottom of the mug. If either the spoon tip slips to the side of the mug or, the fall is as sudden as you’d expect in water or, if the jangle of the spoon hitting the side of the mug speaks to a jostling, and a multiple impact, and therefore a lack of meniscal tension in the liquid – well, then, I am afraid you will have failed.

Now you might ask, what of the actual ingredients? Well, bags are essential. You will not have time to muck about with loose tea, no matter how flavourful and subtle. As you will have gathered, subtlety will be entirely wasted. The jury is still out on round, square or triangles, and I think, is influenced by the fact that various brands have different technologies. For me its about the blend … And a good blend is essential. Yorkshire. Scottish. Cheap is ideal of course because the more dusting included with leaves the thicker the texture. Milk is important. Just on the turn can invoke disgust or, depending on the audience, reminiscence about growing up. Full fat is better – again thicker. Skimmed works, but its thinness mitigates against the overall effect. No, the lactal fizz behind your back teeth of a full fat or even, gold top, as lactose and sucrose interact is an essential part of the experience – although the richness of the gold top might just be too luxurious. Biscuits are the compulsory condiment. We began with variety boxes, roadtested all-comers then settled on Rich Tea, Gingernuts and Bourbons. The deciding factor was the performance of each having been dipped. All other things being equal, you are now ready to recruit your team and begin the restoration – in our case, the house, rather than the castle.

Isn't he wonderful?

[kitkatopinions]

Watched the rwby season 9 finale and I gotta say

Rwby criticism and spoilers beneath the keep reading as well as discussions of attempted suicide

First let's talk about Ruby's 'ascension.' We see Ruby see a memory of Summer sneaking off on her last mission with Raven, a mission that she lied to Tai about saying it was just a run of the mill Ozpin mission. Ruby is distraught by this, taking issue with her lying and sneaking around with Raven, and expresses anger and then when the blacksmith is like "maybe she had a lot of weight on her shoulders" Ruby is like "so does that mean I should just give up" and then she remembers the words of the mom she seems to barely remember saying "I love you just the way you are" And that drives her to pick herself and she comes back as herself, with her memories somehow completely intact and taking on no physical change at all. Is it explained why she's the only person who ascends who doesn't lose her memories or take on a physical change? No, not really. When she appears as herself again, Jaune says "she knew what she needed to be all along" which isn't true because she actually just spent an entire wanting to not be her, which just makes it seem like Jaune is ignoring all of the problems Ruby had in favor of pretending she's perfect. Then the Cat calls Ruby incomplete, broken, weak, and confused, and Weiss is like "You're wrong," but doesn't elaborate so it feels kind of empty tbh, then Yang says "she's never been any of those things," and I've just gotta say that after Ruby spent the entire volume in a depressed spiral being confused it feels really hero-worshippy putting Ruby on a pedestal of unhealthy standards and not noticing her feelings or turmoil or struggles for Yang to just be just be like 'my sister has never experienced confusion a day in her life.' And Blake says that Ruby's lack of weakness, confusion, brokenness, and incompleteness is the reason why they follow her, and call me crazy but that also seems to put crazy high expectations of perfection on Ruby that her team refuses to believe she's ever weak or confused and therefore rely on her as a leader when she just went off about not wanting to be a leader and not being able to meet their expectations.

Like, did they learn absolutely nothing? Also everyone and their brother was talking about how Ruby was going to shed the markers of Summer Rose and come into her own, but actually, no, if the close up on Ruby's emblem is any indication, they're just leaning into her having seemingly built herself on the example of Summer. Which... I feel like it's bad, I feel like if this arc was supposed to be about Ruby's growth and we're meant to think that she took a lot of inspiration from Summer in her life, that she should've grown more into her own person. Also I'm just gonna say that I think it was such a big mistake to make 'Ascension' so reliant on themes of death and suicide. I get that they were trying to do a heart-warming message about how you should choose yourself because you're enough, but first off, the messaging is so messed up when you consider how it frames 'trying to destroy yourself' as something that is either a generally good thing in the end or not permanent and something that you can come back from. Either the writers should have gone out of their way to make the purpose of Ascension clear prior to seeing anyone we know ascend and have it be something Ruby (and Little, Neo, etc) choose on their own fully aware of what it means and not through means outside of things like getting murdered, being manipulated into drinking poison, or jumping off a high thing Javert style.... Or they should've had it be something that nobody really knew about and still have Ruby and Neo not essentially try to kill themselves to get there. I literally do not care that we're 'meant to see the tree/tea like therapy uwu' because it was so badly done that the actual result is that if I'd seen this when I was fourteen or fifteen it would've hurt me pretty badly.

Next complaint! Ohhh my girl Neo. I am so so sorry. In case anyone's playing catch-up, Neo has existed since volume 2 and ever since, people have been clamoring for more from her and have wanted to see some focus put on her, especially after her return in volume 6 where fans (like me) were disappointed to see her playing sidekick to Cinder (especially since the only reason she wasn't targeting Cinder anymore was because the writers were making her act stupid for their plot) and kept talking about how much the writers could do with her. She kept playing second fiddle to Cinder with no focus from her return to all through V8, but then she was dropped into the ninth season which was supposedly character-growth focused! Although dropping anyone away from the main plot was a bad idea imo, I was still excited because I was sure it meant that Neo would get focus and be the main threat for the volume and we could see her come into her own and get fleshed out outside of 'wanting revenge' and 'Roman.' Aaaaaaand what did MKEK do??? They benched her for the better part of the season, had her the central focus of one scene that was written to highlight other characters being dead - proven by the fact that the characters said things Neo could have no idea about which meant the writers weren't focused on Neo and were instead focused on what would get emotional responses from Ruby/the audience. And then they had her get taken over by the Cat! And the Cat became the main antagonist for the season! Using Neo's body and speaking through her mouth (Neo is one of many disabled villains and the only mute character,) but leaving Neo completely absent again! And then Neo basically Javerts herself into tree-land with a vague idea that possibly she could eventually come back (if the authors were desperate for views) but is essentially dead to the plot now. As a fan of Neo, that's literally the dumbest most useless bad thing they could've done!

As for the Cat, the existence of it was gone into in the last second lore dump, and bro. They kind of imply that the Cat had no choice but to be evil, after Alyx's betrayal, and that it was not only good before then, but had spent like ages lovingly taking care of everyone in the Ever After, and so..... Am I supposed to feel happy that the Cat died? Am I supposed to dislike the Cat? Frankly, that's yet another life that just got fucked up by the Brother gods, and still no one in the cast of main rwby characters has talked about how horrible they are, and even the show itself seems to not fully acknowledge that they're responsible for so many problems. Anyway, despite their desire to make the Cat the big villain of the volume, I just wound up being upset that it got killed off just like that and nobody even questioned the morality of the situation.

Also just as a side note, who the fuck decided that what Rwby really needed was a backstory for the backstory for Remnant's existence? Who wanted that? What are they gonna do now, find out that the Tree was actually created by an even older god who came from an even weirder place?

Also about Jaune, I hate it. What was the point of making Jaune an old man? What was done that couldn't have been done through other better means that didn't put him in central focus? He's just back to how he was, just with Extra Special angst and as an Extra Special person who now has more experience than the rest of Team RWBY somehow and got to experience Weiss lusting after him. He is such an author's pet, I honestly wish he was dead. I'm gonna have to see him for several more volumes, aren't I?

My last complaint for this post (I have more to say, I just know this post is getting long so I'm saving two big complaints for later,) is that Little (now known as Somewhat or something) is someone I did not care about AT ALL and in fact I hated them, so the very forced Ascended Little running in and talking to Ruby and now being a giant rat that calls Ruby a Huntress for some reason (because she needs her position as a badge-carrying law enforcement officer to be affirmed and who better than the thing that has no clue what the fuck they're talking about)... It just served to make me annoyed. The entire volume would be improved by Little not being there at all.

Anyway, that volume was a fantastic waste of my time and the only good things that came out of it were ruined. We've now left the Land of the Hand of the Author and forced 'growth' that doesn't actually get the characters anywhere, and we've now entered the Hiatus heading to the next volume in a potential time skip.

[practicalmagicintuitions]

I love the new narrative and blame from the fan accounts for HC and his brilliant love who has a really important job title, but still has the time to travel the world following him like a puppy, and not being close to her important job. And yet, he would never do the same for her. LITERALLY, he would not do that.

They basically say that the reason Henry is not posting anything is because his fans, who they keep referring to as desperate women, keep harassing them on SM.

Who in their right mind would blame his lack of posting on something like this? Have they been paying attention to the downfall in December. He lost his most important job, that made him known in Hollywood. Walked away from a project that he clearly was very passionate about, I do believe he walked away on his own. But because of the Superman news in October, he felt he was still on the safe side and winning, he still gets to play the role he has been chasing for almost 10 years. And it was on EVERY entertainment news media out there, so a lot of people knew about his return.

If this does not make anyone want to hide and never show their faces again, especially for actors, I do not know what will.

He made a fool of himself and it reflected on his posts, he knows he's in the wrong, and simply chose to walk away rather that owning up for his mistakes. I am referring to his relationship, and a little bit to the Superman mess.

Honestly, I was not bothered by this fiasco for a really long time, I decided to walk away after his FO post. I was following his projects and not his personal and "really private" life. But these accounts keep popping up, and they are so freaking annoying, cringy, and immature. I really hope this will end soon, such terrible situation. And if this continues into a bigger commitment, I hope it will blow up in their faces, both of them. I know I sound harsh, but the way celebrities act like they are not required to have common decency and just do what they want, it is not fair. They are privileged and they are taking advantage of it all the time.

And I am a strong believer of gut feeling. Since day one, I knew this is not real and shady. If a relationship was genuine, no one would be acting like a clown to prove their private life is still going "strong".

I am waiting for the day when they will announce the break up, and these accounts can go private at least, that would be the dream.

Sorry for the long message, but I do not believe that supporting terrible women is required for women empowerment. And people do not entirely change just because they got older, they will still act the same, but in a more adult way. Some traits are just core traits, and they are very hard to change.

Women empowerment also includes stopping women when they are in the wrong, but if they decide to still act like total clowns, then you should not complain about the backlash and criticism.

Now I will drink my tea and wait, hopefully we will hear good news soon!

"Who in their right mind would blame his lack of posting on something like this? Have they been paying attention to the downfall in December."

Agree, this will hunt him for a very very long time. Every time a new Superman or Witcher stuff is announced and taken over the news, it will be salt in his wounds. I think he will be less and less active on SM.

I think this whole announcement misery is almost worth a lawsuit or at least seeking some compensation from the studio because they made a global laughing stock of him and maybe was even a breach of contract.

I unfollowed all of the HC fan accounts on IG especially because they are so immature and nasty. I mean most of them. The problem is not that they don't like NV or they are vocal about it. The problem is that they make her evil and him a scared, manipulated little boy who needs to be saved (preferably by a fangirl who "knows the real HC"). No. Like or love someone means we hold them accountable if they need to. Even is that is a celeb crush.

"And I am a strong believer of gut feeling. Since day one, I knew this is not real and shady."

Theri first papwalk was so strange. Seemed forced on her. IDK, her eyes were so scared. I felt sorry for her that day.

"Sorry for the long message, but I do not believe that supporting terrible women is required for women empowerment."

THIS! This whole believe all women is so messed up. I would say "don't think immediately they are lying but you can have doubts, and questions while they are collecting facts to make up your mind." But this is too long for a catchphrase. :D

A different story that can highlight the complexity of this: When the whole Armie Hammer is cannibal stuff was revealed, based on the pictures, and the many women who had come out with their stories, I fully believed he is a sadistic a-hole. I still think that. I still think his mind is sick and did horrible things and he enjoyed it. And I felt sorry for the girl, named Effie, who was the most vocal and dropped the bomb about this. Then I saw her IG story where she wished r*pe on Robert Downey Jr's little girl just because RDJr supported AH. I won't lie I was disappointed in RDJr but boy... nothing, NOTHING can justify what Effie said. So should I support Effie? No. Is that mean I support AH? Hell no. Things are not black and white, right or wrong. Life is complex. Women are complex. Complex subjects need time and critical thinking to analyze and understand.

Don't apologise for the long ask, I enjoyed it very much. Sorry that the answer took so long, but I like to give long answers to long asks.

Enjoy your tea! ;)

[andswarwrites]

Day 5

Random subject today, but I hate having to choose between two categories, like you're either a tea drinker or a coffee drinker.  I drink coffee in the morning, or when I feel like drinking it, and I drink tea in the afternoon, or, get this, when I feel like drinking it.  What about the cat person, dog person debacle?  I love dogs, and I love cats.  I guess that opens up a whole other subject: is there anything I dislike?  Of course there is, there are.  Can I be more specific?  I don't know.  They don't lurk near the surface of my brain.  Off the top of my head, I can't think of anything.  Most people hate Brussels sprouts and blue cheese.  Not me.

If there's one thing I can criticize, it is the actual action of being critical.  You'd think since I dislike snide, rude, or even forceful statements, that I'd be a proponent of optimistic, sunny positivity.  And there are the two categories again: you're either negative or positive.  You know what I want?  I want to be real.  Negativity can creep into speech and demeanor because someone is going through a difficult period of their life, they're having trouble adjusting, they don't have enough support, so they have to actively seek it, by telling their troubles over and over.  They just don't see the bright side.  What will help such ones?  A listening ear.

Now, before I criticize positivity, after saying I don't like being critical, I want to explain my point of view.  If you naturally see the cup as half full, if you can always find the silver lining, that is awesome.  I flatter myself that I'm a little like that too.  But I worry that the urge to be positive can result in a lack of trueness to ourselves.  We all have rough days.  We all have low times.  Acknowledging such days and times is much healthier than trying to gloss over them.  And if honestly opening up about what you are going through is met with almost hostile "feel-goodness", that's almost worse than apathy.

There are many different forms of grief, though everyone understands grief when you lose someone in death.  But think of all the other ways we experience loss.  As amazing as parenthood is, there are so many stages: babyhood, toddlerhood, small child, not so small child, pre-teen, teen, and all of a sudden (I'm not there yet with N-, but it's close) they're out of your home, making a home of their own, living their own life.  I wouldn't have it any other way, of course, I wouldn't want to stunt my kid's growth to keep her with me indefinitely, but sometimes, you have to deal with the loss of one stage, and accept and at length appreciate the new one.

We experience loss in relationships.  Someone we were extremely close to at one point, now lives across the country or even the planet, or neither of us can any longer make the time to communicate with each other.  Maybe the dynamic that brought us close together has faded.  Sometimes there is a difference of opinion, and you need to give the person some time and space, in order to hopefully make peace at some point.  And in a marriage, you have to deal with change over and over again.  Every few years, both partners change just enough that you have to get to know each other again.  And that can be fun, but also difficult.

There are more examples with which I am less familiar, such as the loss of a job, the loss of health, or the loss of youth.  I've heard about these trials from friends and family.  I realize that you need to process the loss until you accept it, and one of the best ways to process and eventually accept new situations is to talk about what you are going through with others, if you have a circle of supportive and rational friends.  Now imagine if a "negative" person is talking to a "positive" person, how is that going to go?  Will our "negative" person be interrupted, corrected, or even exhorted?

I cringe because, I've been the "positive" person in that scenario.  I didn't understand that someone you know might talk about what they are going through every time they see you, and that's not because they are being "negative".  What they are going through hurts.  If you see someone in physical pain, do you expect them to just stop suddenly because their pain is inconvenient to you?  The pain killer is a listening ear.  And after listening to the pain being expressed, you might need a listening ear yourself.

I know it seems like I'm knocking positivity, and I'm not.  Having a positive outlook in life is healthy and will get you far.  But in my case, I keep that outlook as something personal, not something I have to shower on everybody I meet.  I don't feel the need to adjust everyone else's perspective, that's not my place.  Like I said, I used to try to force feed others positivity when I was younger, and I am so over that.  If you come to me with a problem, I will first let you get it all off of your chest, and then I will ask if there's something you need that I can help with.  That's where I'm at right now.

Imagine that your brain and what you communicate are a refrigerator and its contents.  How many of us leave leftovers and condiments, or even fresh fruit and vegetables at the back, and we have all this crowded, cluttered mess in front.  Now something makes you reach into the rear of the fridge, and you pull out something rotten, mouldy and downright nasty.  That's a thought that has been festering, unattended.  The best place for such a thought is in the garbage.

The point of that fridge illustration is that anyone can have toxic traits, right?  It doesn't make you a fundamentally bad person, you just neglected to clean out the fridge for a while, and when you got around to it, it was unpleasant and a little loathsome.  Now imagine you're cleaning out the fridge with a friend, and they make you feel like they've never left a jar of olives until it was coated in nastiness.  A friend should roll up their sleeves and help out, not sit in judgement.  It may be hard to listen when you don't agree, or you're struggling to understand, but remember, if that thought doesn't get expressed, it's going to just get worse.  Listen.  Without judgement.  Not always easy, especially if it's directed at you.  That's where I've got some work to do.

[crazycookiecrumbles]

Scream For Me (5)

A/N: 5th part after Scream For Me (4)

Would totally appreciate some feedback and comments on this series, that way I know to continue it if people actually like it, lol.

Masterlist

Pairings/ Characters: Shang-Chi x Avenger!Reader (Shaun x Reader, takes place before events of Shang-Chi movie), Katy Chen, Xu Xialing, Wenwu

Warnings: fighting, angst, spoilers from the movie

Summary:  Wenwu has pulled you away from Shangqi for a private conversation, and Shangqi fears what his father has in store for you.

WC: 3,357

As you walked into Wenwu’s study, you figured this was going to end with only one of you walking out of there. He gestured for you to sit in the chair in front of his desk as he took the other side of it. Sitting across from you, he nodded as one of his men brought over a tray of tea. He gestured for you to take a cup, and you wondered what the fuck kind of power play was this? Hospitality before murder? Or was this just poisoned?

“No, thank you.” You responded.

“I insist,” he gestured to your cup. “It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t want to kill you just yet, but I will feel insulted if you don’t drink.”

Reluctantly, you sat up and took the tea from him. He nodded his head to you, watching you take a sip before setting your cup down.

“Thank you, (Y/N). You know, it is not every day that I find someone still breathing after crossing paths with Death Dealer. He is my finest of men, and he has never failed me.”

You cleared your throat, “What can I say? I’m sorry you underestimated me, I suppose.”

He smiled this time. He watched as you cleared your throat again, brows furrowing as you realized that your throat felt funny. You glanced up at him and watched him sip his tea again in amusement.

“You numbed my throat,” you accused. “Well played, sir.”

“I imagine it’s much harder to control your powers when you can’t feel your throat. You wouldn’t want to risk a critical mistake like that, now would you?  You wouldn’t want to kill the father of your boyfriend.” He smirked devilishly. “I’m just leveling the playing field.”

“Well, maybe you should take those rings off so it’s a fair fight. Or are you afraid?” You countered, arms crossing over your chest. “I may lack control, but I won’t lack power. I can just as easily scream and render you deaf or dead, whatever happens first. You can just as easily have poisoned me, or even have your failure of an assassin standing behind me ready to slit my throat again. Why am I here when you very clearly wanted me dead?”

Wenwu smiled at you again before standing up from his seat. He paced around the room, hands folded behind his back as he studied you, watched as your shoulders tensed when he stood behind you. He had to admit it. He loved this game. He loved knowing the power he had over people. He loved knowing that even you, an Avenger, could become fearful in his presence. That’s why he purposely set his hand on your shoulder, alarmingly close to the scar from where your throat had been slashed.

“You make a mistake. I didn’t want you dead. You were just a job. I did not care about you,” he said. “That is, of course, until I found out about your relationship with my son. I found it so interesting to see how you had him wrapped around your finger for so many years — and you hadn’t even met him in person yet.”

“I guess I’m just an utter delight,” you confessed, crossing one leg over the other and relaxing your arms. You didn’t want him to think he was getting to you, even if you knew that you had the potential to die in this position at any second. “So, what, you were jealous your son liked someone more than you? That’s questionable, you know. Could even be codependency. And I’m confident at this point he likes everyone more than you.”

His hand moved up and grabbed the back of your neck. You sat up straighter as Wenwu stood behind you with a tight grasp on your neck. It wasn’t enough to hurt you, but he purposely placed enough pressure on your scar to make it sting, “You’re a distraction to my son, and I was happy to have you die. You’re a liability. His rightful place is by my side, and he can’t do that with you around.”

You couldn’t shake your head, so you simply hummed in agreement, “You’re right. He won’t take your side when I’m around, but that’s not because of me. That’s because of you, a father who chose revenge over his children.”

His grip tightened on your neck and you felt your eyes bulge slightly, “You speak too much for someone who is going to die.”

Now, hopefully all of your years with some of the greatest at SHIELD was going to help you at this moment, “You won’t kill me.”

“Why is that?”

“If you kill me, do you think that’s going to force your son’s hand, or is that going to just make him hate you a little more?” You challenged. You only continued to speak after he loosened his grip on your neck and it became more comfortable for you to, “Besides, I can’t imagine he’ll be very happy when he knows you’re the reason why I almost died. You will never get a leader out of your son, unless he’s leading an army against you.”

You were right, and Wenwu hated it. He hated that you had him in a horrible position. Whether he let you live, you’d tell Shangqi.  If he killed you, he risked Shangqi revolting against him. And what if Shangqi was as much like him as he knew he was? If he killed you here and now, Shangqi would, much like his father, snap.

“Suppose I don’t kill you,” Wenwu began. “What would be the purpose of allowing you to live?”

You turned around to smile innocently up at him, “Well, then I won’t have to kill you.”

He laughed, “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“You want to take that bet? All I need is one second.”

He leaned down so his face was inches from yours, glaring at you with so much hatred you thought his look alone would hurt you. “All I’d have to do is slice your throat, little girl. If I put my hand over your mouth, you have no power. You’re weak. ”

“I’m weak?” You stood from your chair to meet his aggressive energy, “Take off the rings. Let’s really have a fight, Mandarin. I don’t care how afraid of you everyone is. I’ve fought gods. I’m not afraid to fight a yet another pretender.”

You did not think that was going to get him as angry as it did. You knew that ‘The Mandarin’ had been the name associated with the symbol of the Ten Rings that had been used to terrorize Tony and the rest of America. It was clear now, and after those last events, that Wenwu wasn’t actually The Mandarin. But, oh, how you couldn’t resist a quick round of mind games.

His rings were charged and glowing bright blue, and you knew you were about to take a hit. Yet, when you blinked, you were thrown backwards, your back slamming into the wrought iron frame of his glass windows. The glass splintered beneath you as Wenwu charged at you, “You disrespectful little brat,” he spat.

You opened your mouth to scream at him. You were ready for whatever came out of you, whether that was simply knocking him back, deafening him, or killing him. You didn’t know what you were going to be able to muster but you were going to make sure you lived. The only thing that stopped the both of you attacking the other in that instant was Razor Fist.

“Boss,” he interrupted, making you both freeze, each of you only sparing one eye to glance to the side and stare at him. “That thing you asked for? It’s ready.”

Wenwu glared at you. Reluctantly, he poised himself once more and adjusted his shirt as he addressed Razor Fist, “Good. Get her out of here. I’m sick of looking at her.”

You rolled your eyes. Razor Fist grabbed your arm and forcefully yanked you out from in front of Wenwu. As he was dragging you out of there, you stopped and pulled against him to address Shangqi’s father one last time, “I won’t tell him it was your organization that tried to kill me,” you said quickly. “If you tell me who ordered the hit on me.”

Wenwu smirked. Of course you’d want to know. Knowing who did it would give you safety. It would tell you who to go after. It would help you to rest easy at night, to not live in constant fear of another attack. You would have answers, and for someone whose background was nothing but questions, this would mean so much to you.

“No.”

Razor Fist snorted and dragged you again, and at that moment you wished you had just tried to kill Wenwu anyway. Razor Fist dragged you down the hallway until he came across an open doorway. He shoved you in, and you stumbled forward, nearly slipping as a sharp pain ran through your back and made you momentarily lose your balance.

Luckily for you, a pair of arms reached out and caught your own to help steady you. You glanced up and found Shangqi staring at you with that same look you recognized from the hospital. You cringed as another pang hit you. Having your back thrown into concrete and then into metal was doing you no favors at all today, and you were starting to finally feel the pain.

“Hey,” you said quietly, offering an awkward smile. “Nice catch?”

He scoffed. He glared at Razor Fist who was standing in the doorway watching the two of you. Shangqi’s glare never wavered as Razor Fist stood there. The man eventually rolled his eyes and walked away from the room. Shangqi shook his head and coaxed you to the foot of his bed to sit down.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked quickly. “What happened in there?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head. “I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t care if you’ve had worse,” he said quickly. “I care that he hurt you.” Shangqi looked you over. You were struggling to sit up without support, which told him that something happened between the two of you. Shangqi huffed like an angry little Rottweiler as his gaze darkened, “I’ll kill him.”

“Stop,” you said as you grabbed his hand, “Just forget it. I —“

“No,” he said forcefully. “No. I won’t forget it. I’m not going to ignore or let anything go. I’m done with this. I’m done and I’m tired of, of lying and keeping secrets. You are the one person I should never have lied to, and not because I found out who you are, but because of how much I love you.”

Shangqi was on his knees in front of you, his backside resting on the heels of his feet as he held your hands in his. “I don’t want this to be our relationship, hiding things from one another because we think it’s safe. I don’t want that. I want you. I want us. I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m sorry that I lied to you, that I’m, I’m a total idiot and was too afraid to tell you the truth. But this is me, this is my life, this is who I am, a trained assassin, and I can’t change that, and I can’t change not telling you the truth, but, but I’m here now and I,” he paused for a moment as he thought about the day you came clean to him about your love for him, the day you two first met in-person. “So I’m kneeling here basically risking our entire relationship because I —“

As soon as he said that last line, you recognized what he was doing. With a grin, you reached up and grabbed the back of his head to pull him in for a kiss. Shangqi felt relief wash over him as you kissed him, his hands rising up to weave through your hair and deepen the kiss.

“My songbird,” he breathed as he pulled away, forehead resting against yours, “I’ve missed that.

You giggled, “It’s only been, what, three days?”

“And that’s three days too many,” he replied before stealing another kiss from you. He pulled away from you and rested his hands on your thighs. “Now, please, tell me what happened. Where are you hurt?”

You shut your eyes and sighed. You didn’t want him worrying about again, but this was Shangqi. He worried. He was sweet. He cared.

“My back,” you confessed. “He kind of slammed me into concrete at the club. And now it was that metal frame shit of his office.”

He frowned, “I knew I heard something. Why didn’t you — “

“He’s your dad,” you said. “You guys lost your mom. I wasn’t going to be the one to take your dad, too.”

“There’s that superhero heart, huh?”

You snorted, “Shut up.”

He squeezed your thigh, “Okay. I know it hurts, but sit up straight. I’ll check your back.”

You started to slip off your jacket while Shangqi left to another part of his room. He returned with a small jar in his hand and climbed onto the bed behind you. He helped you take your jacket off the rest of the way and lifted the back of your shirt. Immediately he cringed, and he was thankful that you couldn’t see his face. Your back was a splattering of angry red and dark purple bruises. He could see the imprint of the window frame, the brighter red bruise of it forming over what was there and it was a complete, total mess.

“How bad?” You asked with a sigh.

His lips curled inward under his teeth as he tried to figure out how to answer that question, “Well, I hope you like the color red.”

You chuckled, “Great.”

“I’m sorry about him,” Shangqi said as he opened the jar by his side.

“It’s okay. Parents, am I right?” You teased. “What’s that jar?”

“It’s something my mom used to put on me when I’d get hurt playing. It helps — if it’s still good. I think it is.”

You shrugged, “Lay it on me, babe.”

“Speaking of parents,” he began as he rubbed your back. “What happened? Why did he want to talk to you? Why, why was he touching your scar?”

You exhaled slowly, “You know how, at the club, how I kind of froze before we left?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“That guy, with the mask,” you explained. “I—I remembered who tried to kill me. It was him. Your father saw me, I guess, then saw my scar and put two and two together. Apparently, I’m the first person mister mask guy has failed to kill.”

“Death Dealer,” Shangqi muttered under his breath.

That was a tone you weren’t used to. You looked over your shoulder when you realized he had stopped rubbing the balm on your back. Shangqi was glaring into the distance. His nostrils flared, his mouth set in a thin line, his jaw tense like never before. 

In a flash he was off the bed. Shangqi was racing for the doorway and you were yanking down your shirt and chasing after him. You caught his arm and yanked back with all your might to get him to spin around. You grabbed his wrists and held them at his sides as he tried to pull away from you.

“I’ll kill him. Let me go,” He growled. “I’m going to kill him like I should’ve done earlier.”

“Shangqi—“

“He deserves to die, (Y/N),” he said. “He tried to kill you. He was going to take you away from me, and for what reason?”

“Money,” you nodded. “And partly because your dad thinks I’m a poor distraction for you.”

Shangqi bitterly laughed, “Yeah? Is that so? So he’s the only person that can experience love? No. I’m going to kill Death Dealer for what he’s done, and then I’ll deal with my father.”

“Stop,” you pulled against him when he tried to pull away from you. You pulled his arms up in the air and managed to get him to drape them around your shoulders. “Stop it.”

“No! It’s not right. I have to protect you. I have to —“

“Your dad won’t kill me. Look how you just reacted,” you explained. “He can’t risk you losing your mind on him if he kills me. For now, Shangqi. I’m safe. You don’t have to worry about me. We just have to worry about surviving whatever your dad is planning, together.”

He shut his eyes tightly. You made sense. Logically, this was perfectly understandable. But, emotionally, he wanted to wreak absolute havoc on this entire compound, starting with Death Dealer and ending with his father. But there was a voice in his head saying that if he truly wanted to protect you, he needed to mind his temper. He needed to be patient, and not lash out like his father would have done had the roles been reversed.

“Fine,” he mumbled, and the fact that he sounded like such an angry child made you smile to yourself. “But if Death Dealer, or, hell, my father, anyone lays a single finger on you, you do what you have to. Okay? Don’t worry about me or Xialing. You fight to stay alive. Promise me.”

Your smile vanished instantly as you understood what that meant, “Shangqi, I can’t do that to you both —“

“Babe. You don’t have to kill them. You just have to make sure you stay alive.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“And whatever that takes, I’ll understand,” he said as his arms slid down from your shoulders so he could grasp your elbows and pull you in closer. “I love you, my gorgeous little songbird. No matter what happens, I’m going to protect you. Okay? I will protect you from my father, no matter what.”

You sighed and rested your cheek against his chest as he wrapped his arms around your back for a soft, gentle hug, “and I’ll protect you as well.”

After a few moments, Shangqi sighed, “So, did you get a good hit on my dad, at least?”

“I was playing nice,” you sighed. “I did call him The Mandarin, though.”

Shangqi whistled lowly, “He definitely hates you, now.”

“Honestly? Worth it. You cannot authorize an assassination attempt on me and abuse my boyfriend and his sister and not expect me to do something mean.”

Shangqi chuckled, “God, I love you,” he confessed. “My mom would’ve loved you, too.”

“Really?” You asked, your heart fluttering, a warm feeling blooming in the middle of your chest that ran through the rest of your body like a rollercoaster.

He nodded, “Really. I think she would’ve thought you were a strong woman for how you looked at the face of your attacker and the man who planned it, and still didn’t kill him to spare the feelings of her children. And how you didn’t back down from my father, even if it meant you might die.”

You smiled softly to yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him against you even more than before. It was a high compliment for him to say that he felt his mother would like you, and it meant the world to you.

That same compliment was resonating with Wenwu as well.  After Razor Fist had dragged you here, Wenwu had gone to Shangqi’s room to listen in, to see what he could find to try to understand this relationship his son had with this Avenger. He felt you were a distraction, that you were no good for him, but he saw how you tempered his son, and how his son cared for and highly regarded you. For only a moment, it made Wenwu reflect on the relationship he had with Ying Li. 

But that moment passed as Wenwu thought about why he was doing all of this, for her. Much like the determination Shangqi expressed for you, Wenwu was determined to do everything in his power for his wife, as his children would soon learn. 

[catwithangerissues]

𝐇𝐪 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞.

🌿 Hello! First post since the break baby! V glad to be back. Let’s start it off well, shall we?

-We all are brutally aware of the lack of representation in different fandoms and their writings- and while the Haikyuu fandom has been nothing but good to me personally, I thought making a mini series out of this could be a neat idea. The basic idea is take a hq character and write about the things they would do to help out/cheer up a significant other with a certain condition or disability.

- I marked each of the ones that personally affect me in my day to day life in case you’re interested.

- These are ways the hq characters HELP THEIR SO. This does not mean they treat them differently or lesser than others. Keep that in mind- scrubs.

- This by no means whatsoever fully encompasses what it’s like for any party involved to be in these romantic relationships- however, I do experience some of these conditions in my personal day to day and thought I did pretty well at writing those specifically. This does not mean I didn’t make mistakes in the rest, however. Please leave CONSTRUCTIVE AND NOT BLATANTLY RUDE CRITICISM if that’s the case. I did not intend to offend anybody, so keep that in mind.

Characters: Tendou Satori, Kita Shinsuke, Iwaizumi Hajime, Osamu Miya, Bokuto Koutaro, Hinata Shoyo, Tsukishima Kei, Sugawara Koushi, Suna Rintaro, Kuroo Tetsuro

Genre: Fluff/comfort

Warnings: mentions of blindness, deafness, eating issues, depression, anxiety, chronic migraines, wheelchair use, dyslexia, ADHD, and Insomnia. Established relationships.

- Tendou Satori with a blind significant other consists of his constant singing/humming around the house, or turning random household objects into makeshift instruments to both entertain you, and so you always know where he’s at and therefore doesn’t frighten you with his sudden presence. He reads things to you, usually describing various things you come in contact with in your day to day life that may not be so friendly to the blind. Letting you touch his face or body in order to get a mental image of his features, doing your hair or makeup and even picking an outfit if you ever ask, holding your hand and guiding you when you’re out or if you request it. He tries his best to continue learning new things to help out where he can, and the thought goes a long way. Bb Tendou ily

- *Kita Shinsuke being more than happy to spend quiet time with his deaf significant other, enjoying the process of learning sign language in order to surprise you, and communicate with you. He’s very thankful his grandmother taught him some growing up. He adores leaving love letters on your nightstand to find at random, and his gentle loving touches in the morning bring you to the day unlike an alarm. He enjoys laying you on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat, and always ensures he approaches you from the front, leaving soft touches on your skin as he twirls you around in the kitchen in the late evenings of your days spent together, smiling wide at the happy grin plastered on your face. This man is incredibly smart, and he continues to surprise you with new sweet gestures every single day.

(This one hits extremely close to home, so I apologize if it’s longer than the rest.)

- *Iwaizumi Hajime with a wheelchair bound significant other consists of many things. Like him happily pushing around your chair for as long as you’d like if you use a manual, or holding your hand as you drive around in your electric chair, always remembering to plug it in at night to charge too. He regularly finds extremely wheelchair friendly places to explore or visit, restaurants without stairs and large enough bathrooms and tables to make you comfortable, or parks and entertainment spaces where you can enjoy yourself without needing to worry about different terrain or judgmental strangers. Him always pressing the handicap door button for you, since he agrees that it’s incredibly disrespectful when more able people kick the button with their dirty shoe for seemingly no reason. It’s his willingness to carry you around bridal style all day if you get uncomfortable sitting for so long, or to give you a massage when you’re sore. Him giving you alone time when you request it, (because for some reason people think it’s okay to crowd wheelchair users all the time?), and chewing people out when they think it’s alright to touch your chair without permission. He does so much more, but unfortunately this drabble is getting a bit long. Though I’ll definitely be writing about this more in the future..

- *Osamu Miya is always mindful of his significant others eating issues, offering up healthy meals with portion sizes that your body both needs and enjoys each day. Making sure to text you a reminder to drink enough water when he’s away or working, or bringing you a glass randomly throughout the day while you were busy with your studies or career. He seems to always keep snacks he knows you enjoy in his car and office at work, and he always offers encouraging, honest advice about your progress and just how proud he is of you. 10/10 bb Osamu

- *Bokuto Kotaro with a significant other who struggles with anxiety, and his constant never ending support and reassurance. His strong arms wrapping around you in a big hug when you ask for them, his uncharacteristic whispers, usually of encouragement or funny stories to make you laugh and bring forward that beautiful smile of yours. It’s how he took the time in the beginning of your relationship to really ingrain the signs of your oncoming anxiety attacks into his brain in order to remove you from those situations as seamlessly as possible in the future. It’s his seemingly endless “I found a new thing that could help, baby! Wanna try?” phrases. How he bought weighted blankets and bubble bath in your favorite scent, and tea in your favorite flavor- always keeping them stocked in the house. It’s how he calls Akaashi at times to ask about what he does to help his own anxiety, and how learning about yours transforms his treatment towards his family, friends, and even shy fans who admire the loud boisterous man, but are too scared to approach him for the same reasons. It’s when he crouches down next to a small child and gently holds their hand, quietly telling them that it’s okay to be anxious sometimes and not to worry. (I went off here- oops)

- *Hinata Shoyo always being helpful and loving when it comes to your depression. Encouraging you every day and reassuring you that you’re doing so well. It’s him bringing you glasses of water or snacks throughout the day to ensure you eat and drink enough, and offering to take bubble baths with you and wash your hair if you’d like, since it can be hard for some to motivate themselves to do that with depression. Him helping you with work or studies in order to take some of the load off of you, even with his busy schedule. It’s how he cuddles you at night, if you’re okay with it, and tells you how proud and happy he is to have you in his life. Him being a ball of sunshine that makes you smile everyday, and taking you on dates he knows will bring happiness to your day. (I will be writing more about this soon too!)

- Tsukishima Kei is always helpful when it comes to his significant others dyslexia. Offering to read things for you, or helping to keep track of small details when you request those of him. He’s always there to comfort you when you’re feeling insecure, and he not-so-secretly really enjoys when you ask him to help with your work or studies, even when they have to do strongly with numbers or extensive reading, he enjoys spending the time with you, it feels intimate to him. Similarly, calming you down or comforting you whenever/if ever you become overwhelmed, or reading a book you seemed really interested in to you at night before snuggling up in bed.

- *Sugawara Koushi and his mix of calm and chaotic nature that pairs well with his significant others ADHD. How he’s always helping keep track of ideas and such, or just generally being a good listener. He knows how frustrating it can be to forget something important. He’s always so down for spontaneous shit too. Wanna paint a room at 4am? Let’s go get the paint. Want to bake cookies and learn the basics of guitar while you wait for them to bake? He’s got one around here somewhere. It’s how he’s thankful he chose being a school teacher as a career path, because keeping you on track for work and school/leaving little reminders to do those things becomes second nature for him. As chaotic as he himself is, he’s always there to comfort you when you’re feeling insecure, and reminding you to take your medication if you take any. He enjoys taking you on walks to clear you mind, and often goes out to buy you notebooks and sticky note to write things down for whenever he isn’t there to help you out. Suga bb ily you’re doing great sweetie

- *Suna Rintaro and his significant other with insomnia, finding himself thanking his professional athlete training schedule that keeps his own sleep on track unlike in high school, so he can drag you to bed and hold you close to him whenever you’re struggling to sleep. It’s him learning of all the different things around the house he can do to help, like making sure all the screens in your home have a blue light filter, and ensuring any caffeine or sugar are tucked away into the kitchen cabinets to avoid temptation. It’s him running you a hot bath with lavender or vanilla, and giving you massages when you ask for them, buying fluffy blankets and comfy socks for you occasionally when he’s out. Him being willing to stay awake all night with you until you fall asleep, or taking you out for a late night/early morning walk to the park, and his gentle morning touches that first wake you everyday.

- *Kuroo Tetsuro always being mindful of his significant other with chronic migraines. It’s him turning off all the lights whenever he starts to notice your signs of one coming on, and making as little noise as he possibly can when maneuvering around the house while you’re attempting to sleep one away. It’s how when you wake up he’s giving you massages and bringing you medication with a glass of water, if you take any. How he’s always ready to run you hot baths, or showers if you’d prefer, and making sure to keep the house stocked up on scented/unscented products that won’t aggravate your headache more. It’s him ensuring you eat and drink enough, and bringing you caffeine in the early morning hours to help keep the pain away. Him quietly bringing you hot rags to place over your forehead, and putting blue light filters on all the devices in the house. If they get too bad, he’s driving you to the doctors when needed, or just generally comforting you. His own busy schedule helps in dragging you to bed to get enough rest, and he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy helping you with your work and/or studies- the nerd in him just can’t help it.

🌿 If you guys enjoy this content, I will gladly write more! Please let me know what you think cause this has been racking my brain for a while🥴 I’ll be back to posting regular content soon if you haven’t seen my apology post for my absence/impromptu break for my mental health!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @sunalma @toworuu @livy384

Check out my other works!

© catwithangerissues 2021 - do not repost, edit/alter, plagiarize or claim any works as your own.

[purringbookworm97]

What did you say about science?

Hey. I know you don’t like taking medicine. Like pills. You don’t like the idea of vaccination. You don’t like meds. Because you don’t like the big farma stuff, and it’s okay not to like the big farma stuff. I mean, you don’t like capitalism, you don’t like when your health is used as fuel for some rich person’s money-making car. Okay. That’s valid.

It’s just. Understand me there. Medicine isn’t made from a formula someone pulled out of their ass. It’s not unnatural and bad because it was synthesised. The ingredients in the medicine you choose not to take are synthesised from things that exist in nature. Your herbal tea there? It’s aspirin, just less effective. Your immune system? The stuff that stops you from dying of the flu? It grows stronger after you’ve caught a disease, right? That’s what a vaccine does. It’s litterally what it does. It gives you an innocent baby version of a virus, and teaches your immune system to kick its ass, so it will know how to kick adult version’s ass later. That’s all.

Of course, it’s alright not to trust what people sell you, you don’t trust what’s inside the vaccine, it’s alright. Just. Are you absolutely certain you’re applying this criticism to that tea you bought on etsy? Or that potion your mutual on internet told you to drink? Or that piece of incense you’re supposed to sniff to “push your disease away”, or something? Are you sure you can trust that essential oil to “rearrange your shakras”, and not poison you on the spot ‘cause it’s not supposed to be ingested????

This criticism, are you also applying it to the effectiveness of what you’re taking? You don’t like to take aspirin but you love drinking that safe herbal tea, which has the same effect after you drink a whole teapot? Okay. It’s alright. You’ll pee a lot, but in the end of the day, no harm done.

On the other hand, when you’re telling someone with cancer that plants will heal them better than chemo???? Stop. Nah bro, it won’t. Some plants might help. Some plants might make things a little better, yes. But. Science. Works. Science is there to help you. Science is one of the reasons humanity is still there to this day, ‘cause with the sum of bullshit a single human does in one life, we wouldn’t be half as many as we are today if we didn’t have science.

Please, consider the reason why people came up with vaccines. Consider why  decades old remedies are still used for aspirin, paracetamol and all that. consider why science exists. Look at what you’re being suspicious about, then apply your suspicions to the alternatives you found to science. If the result is the same, I guess it’s alright. If it’s not? If it’s harmful? Perhaps reconsider using it, alright?

Anyway, this has been a PSA on the common sense that’s still lacking in too many people to this day. Witchcraft doesn’t discard science, ‘cause it was all that people had before science came along and saved thousands. Religion doesn’t make science bullshit either, they can coexist just fine! Please, apply commmon sense and critical thinking to your actions towards others or yourself.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, folks, and remember: safety first, safety second, witchy times third!

[sammininoofthelord]

Last chapter of the 5+1 "5 times Aziraphale shielded Crowley from the rain, and one time he didn't."!

Can't believe is over!

Collab with @zeckarin-blaise

It is Crowley's last day as Nanny Ashtoreth, and she needs to break the news to Aziraphale.

You can read it on Ao3 by Zeckarin or bellow

**

Until a few minutes ago, the garden had been a true haven of peace. Crowley sighed in her coffee cup, wondering for the third time if she should close the kitchen’s window or not.

Eavesdropping was important, but she liked to drink her coffee in peace.

The Antichrist’s furious yelling started again, so loud Crowley wondered if he was unknowingly using some part of his powers to reach such volume.

“ I don’t want to go to Scotland!” screamed Warlock at the top of his lungs.

“ This is an important occasion for your father, and you will come with us,” answered his mother, only slightly lower.

“ Scotland sucks !” yelled the boy, stomping his feet on the ground and effectively squashing two tulips in the process.

From her vantage point, Crowley scowled. She did teach the boy to ground the world under his heels, but the poor flowers had been doing their best and were, as the rest of the garden, flawless. She would have to have a word with her charge when he came back.

With a pang, she remembered there would be no word to be had upon Warlock’s return.

Blessed social conventions, decreeing that a boy of nine wasn’t in need of a nanny anymore. The next two years would be critical in shaping Warlock’s mind, and the role would befall another demon.

What kind of stupid fake name was ‘Harrison’ anyway?

With a low growl, she finished her cup, looking at the coffee machine. She needed more, but it would have to wait. There was a much more pressing matter to take care of.

Where was that stupid angel when she needed to see him? He usually spent half of his mornings here in the kitchen, chatting and drinking tea with the cook, who had a soft spot for ‘ that nice Mr Francis’ , and always used him as her personal taster*.

*Not that the angel complained. Mrs. Griffiths was a wonderful cook, and had been the recipient of many small blessings in the last four years.

 

A movement in the gardens caught her eyes, and she blinked in surprise.

What was Aziraphale doing trimming the edge? In all his time as a gardener, he had always miracled them neat every few weeks.

Tilting her head, she focused on her old nemesis. Was that… sweat on his forehead?

“ What in Manchester is going on?” she mumbled, putting her empty cup down and heading to the door.

“ Hiya, angel.”

Aziraphale started, the movement making him snap his clippers. He watched in fascinated horror as the top of the bush fell to the ground.

“ Trying a new style?” asked Crowley with a chuckle. “I’m not sure Harriet is very keen on modern art, you know.”

“ Crowley!” chided Aziraphale in a hushed voice, “How many times will I have to ask you not to sneak up on me!”

“ I’m a demon and a snake, sneaking is my thing , angel. The question is why are you here, working your arse off like a real gardener?”

Aziraphale straightened himself haughtily. “I am a real gardener! And I am taking my work seriously!”

“ Ha!” scoffed Crowley, summoning all of Nanny Ashtoreth’s poise and sense of decorum to stop herself from laughing out loud, “You haven’t cut a single leaf of grass in four years, you lazy bastard! If you want to lie to me, make it at least a little more plausible.”

For a moment, the angel seemed like he was about to answer with outrage, but something shifted in his look and he deflated visibly.

Crowley squinted. “ What ?” she snapped.

Aziraphale shrugged, picking up his clippers. “Nothing. I… may have had a visit from Gabriel this morning.”

Crowley hissed through her teeth. “What did that wanker say this time? Let me guess: too many frivolous miracles? Is that why you’re butchering those poor boxwoods?”

She unfolded her black umbrella in angry motions and held it over her friend with pursed lips. Stupid wanker Gabriel, forcing her angel to work in the blazing sun like this. Typical.

The angel mumbled something unintelligible.

“ I am afraid I didn’t quite catch your meaning, Brother Francis,” said Crowley dryly.

“ I said he ordered me to quit!” cried the angel in anguish.

“ He WHOT?”

“ Not so loud!” pleaded Aziraphale, looking up at the sky. “He asked me to quit my position here. Apparently there is a lack of angelic intervention in Soho, and I am needed there.”

“ That… doesn’t make sense,” said Crowley, frowning. “Do you reckon they’re afraid you’ll succeed?”

Aziraphale blinked, and another perfectly trimmed bush lost its head. “Why would they want that? I am trying to avoid the end of the world, of course they approve of it!”

“ Why else would they want you out, angel?” Crowley gasped in realisation. “Oh! Are they replacing you too?”

Aziraphale suddenly got very still. “Replacing?” he asked cautiously. “What do you mean? Is Hell replacing you?”

Crowley shrugged, her perfectly coiffed hair not moving one millimetre. “Yeah, they’re sending another demon tomorrow to take over.”

“WHAT?” yelled Aziraphale, throwing the clippers away so hard they sank into the ground to the handle. “How DARE they? I will not let this happen, Crowley, I swear to you! I will smite them the instant they put a foot on Earth, and every other after them if I need to!”

Crowley reached out in a hurry, grabbed her friend’s shoulders and shook furiously until the Heavenly light dimmed around him.

“ Not replacing me on Earth ! Here! With Warlock! They’re sending someone to take my place here !” she said urgently, waving around.

“ Oh,” said Aziraphale. “Maybe you should have started with that.”

“ Honestly, angel, don’t you think I would have looked a little more stressed if they’d called me back to Hell ?”

Aziraphale pouted, looking away. “Well… possibly,” he admitted.

“ Possibly,” mimicked Crowley, rolling her eyes. “Really, you’re unbelievable. Here you are, keeping a low profile and not using miracles so Heaven doesn't know you stayed and disobeyed them, and you go and try to summon Heavenly Grace directly from the source!”

“ Ah, yes. Thank you for stopping me, dear girl. It was not the most discreet endeavour.”

“ Tell you what? Let’s go back to London together tomorrow. I’ll give you a ride. We did our best here anyway.”

“ But… what about Warlock? He needs positive influences in his life!”

“ Angel… there’s a new demon arriving here tomorrow. They’ll spot you, it’s way too dangerous. We will find a way to keep an eye on Warlock,” she added, seeing the angel’s resolution weakening.

“ All right, then. If you are sure it is the right thing to do,” conceded Aziraphale.

“ You won’t be able to stop the Apocalypse if you’re dead, angel,” grumbled Crowley.

“ Quite right.”

Aziraphale looked around, made a face at the massacred edges, and sighed. “Well. Better start packing!” he said, clapping his hands to get rid of the dirt.

“ You’re going to leave it that way, right?” asked Crowley with a knowing smirk.

“ I am sure the next gardener will have no trouble taking care of it,” lied her friend, walking towards the house.

Crowley followed him, feeling both proud and impressed.

[voidwerks]

Legiones Astartes: Rome 30,0000 - Electric Boogaloo - Part 1

It’s been several years since I did my informational posts on warp travel and threats to humanity in the 40k universe, and I was feeling particularly motivated so here’s a quick, dirty guide to where it all started. The bois that everyone in 40k loves (or loves to hate), the Astartes!

In the far off future of the 31st millennium, humanity has just recovered from nearly beating itself into extinction yet again, and the after effects of space elves blowing a permanent hole in reality after the biggest party the galaxy has ever seen. After thousands of years of plotting and planning, the Emperor of Mankind decided the time was right, sorted everyone’s shit out on Earth, and set out to make the galaxy a safer place for humanity. Whether anyone wanted it or not. To do this, he mustered tens of thousands of super soldiers, lead by men who were basically demi-gods, and sent them forth across the stars in what was known as the Great Crusade. This is the story of the sons of the sons, the Primarchs can have their own post another day.

Numero Uno, the the First Legion, the Dark Angels. Clad in black and silver armor, the Dark Angels were the first marines to be created. Between that and their assistance with retaking the Earth prior to the Great Crusade, they were allowed special permissions later Legions did not have. In particular, they had access to some of the oldest, strangest, and sometimes horrifying bits of technology that the Emperor had stashed away for a rainy day. Even 10k years later in 40k, the Angels still uphold that privilege, and if things ever get completely and truly fucked, they’ve got a few aces up their sleeves just in case. Owing to the culture of their adoptive homeworld, Caliban, the Dark Angels have a strong knightly aesthetic, as well as plenty of ranks, titles, and associated iconography so everyone can know what kind of badass you are. 

Second ISN’T the Second Legion. Something bad happened to them and no one is allowed to talk about it. It’s actually the THIRD LEGION, the Emperor’s Children! Among the Legions, the Emperor’s Children had the unique distinction of being allowed to wear his personal emblem on their armor and carry his name. This was the Emperor’s gift to them after a company of them serving as honor guards during a victory parade, where they protected the Emperor from an assassination attempt involving a black hole bomb. The Emperor’s Children were perfectionists: anything that can be done can be done better, and they could get a bit salty when their brother Legions out-did them. Beyond that, they were renowned for their artistic skills, as well as their interpersonal skills with ‘mortal’ humans. While many marines either didn’t care for regular humans, or straight up disliked them, the Third Legion got along quite well with people, to the point they were often sent as diplomats to introduce long-lost planets of humans into the Imperium peacefully.

The Fourth Legion, completely unrelated to Marvel, were the Iron Warriors. To the Fourth Legion, war is entirely a matter of numbers. While other Legions fight with spirit, ferocity, nobility, the Iron Warriors fight with a machine-like efficiency and calculated planning. Rivals of the Seventh Legion, the Iron Warriors were particularly fond of siege-tactics. They’d bombard their foes with massed artillery, push in with columns of tanks, and hit critical points with forces of marines, changing tactics along the way as the variables shifted. While they took pride in their accomplishments, cold personalities and a ruthless fighting style didn’t make them many friends. Combined with feeling like they didn’t get much recognition for their efforts, often being stuck with some of the worst fights, the Iron Warriors tended to resent most of the other Legions. But no matter how tough, no matter how ugly, they would not bend, for the Iron Warriors always completed a task given to them.

Next in line, we have the Fifth Legion, the White Scars. Possessed of free spirits and a healthy dose of superstition, the White Scars preferred style of combat was: as quickly as physically possible. Whenever possible, they would ride to battle on anti-grav jet-bikes or speeders. Lacking that, on traditional motor bikes. Reminiscent of Mongolian horse riders, the White Scars fought from their mounts as often as they could, enjoying every moment of it, even if death might come at them at a few hundred miles per hour. Considered odd by most of their brother Legions, the Scars’ aloof personalities and plans divined by seers often saw them tearing about the galaxy in smaller warbands. Never staying in one place for long, they roamed wherever the winds of fate would take them.

Continuing on, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: SKYRIM STILL EXISTS. But really, the Sixth Legion, the Space Wolves. It doesn’t take much to explain these boys, the Space Wolves were vikings in space. They could be a bit dense, were prone to showing off, loved getting into fights, and even invented a kind of alcohol that could get marines drunk. In peace, they could be a bit rough around the edges but were jovial types. Beyond that however, the Wolves had a much more notorious side. While their brothers would mock them at times for being a bit ‘simple’, they were also feared as the Emperor’s hounds. If someone fucked up somewhere in the galaxy, the Wolves were the sent to deal the punishment. Typically, this involved plenty of axes and other people’s heads. While unconfirmed even 10k years later, it is rumored that the Space Wolves were responsible for reaving both the Second and Eleventh Legions at the Emperor’s command. Whatever they did must have been horrible, for it resulted in the culling of tens of thousands of marines and two demi-god primarchs. So remember kids, tug on the wolf’s tail at your own peril.

Eternal rivals to the Fourth Legion, here comes the Seventh Legion, the Imperial Fists. While not as bitter as their brothers in the Fourth, the Fists shared a lot of similarities with them. Blunt, no-nonsense, analytical, monumentally stubborn, fond of hitting their foes as hard as possible, on the surface the two seemed quite alike. But while the Iron Warriors were frequently unconcerned with what happened after their battles, grinding entire cities into dust, the Imperial Fists would always build and fortify. Wherever they passed, they would leave their mark in the form of walls, repaired cities, and forts to ensure their hold. This earned them the distinction of being recalled late in the Crusade to oversee the fortification of the entire Solar System. The reclamation of the galaxy was nearly complete, and it was their task to ensure that Terra would be able to withstand anything the universe could throw at it from that point forward. At least, that was the idea...

What stalks the night, strikes fear into the hearts of the unjust, and has bat wings? Move over Bruce Wayne, it’s the Eighth Legion, the Night Lords. Among the Legions, the Night Lords were unique in the fact that they did not operate like a traditional army. Unlike other Legions, the Night Lords’ favorite method of fighting was to strike fear and terror into their enemies. Considered brutal and sadistic even in the early days, the Night Lords would ‘pacify’ star systems by cutting off supply lines, destroying infrastructure, terrorizing civilians, and savagely breaking their enemy’s will before finishing the job. Known for taking bone trophies, using blood as paint, painting their armor with skulls, and even fashioning people’s faces into tea cozies, there were very few in the Imperium that genuinely liked the Night Lords. In fact, late into the Crusade they were even risking censure or a visit from the Space Wolves. But as they maintained from their inception: they were a necessary evil. Not everyone in the galaxy was reasonable. Some didn’t even respect the immense might of the Astartes. There were some that would only listen to fear. And the poor buggers that wouldn’t even listen to that? They would be made into examples, slowly, painfully, and without any remorse. 

A breath of fresh air from the Night Lords, the Ninth Legion, the Blood Angels. Where the Night Lords were immensely cruel, showcasing some of the worst humanity had to offer, the Blood Angels showed some of the best. Kindness, nobility, flowing golden locks of hair with slight curls, using their strength to protect the weak, seeing the goodness in others, the Blood Angels were quite human for heavily augmented super-soldiers. Well, they did have one teensy little problem. Just a bit of casual bloodlust that could leave them going into a frenzy now and then (sometimes even drinking blood) if they didn’t keep their tempers in check. However, largely due to their own self-discipline they were able to keep this fact a secret for the most part. 

Last (for now, don’t want this to be the next Color of the Sky post), but definitely not the least, the Tenth Legion, the Iron Hands. While the Iron Warriors have a very mechanical way of thinking, and a strong affinity for tech, the Iron Hands take this to a completely new level. To them, anything could be improved by mechanizing it, up to and frequently including themselves. The Hands were notorious for heavily modifying themselves, and had more tanks than any other Legion, tied only with the Iron Warriors. Ironically for a Legion obsessed with machinery, the Iron Hands are also possessed of a volatility only shared by their brothers in the Sixth and the Twelfth Legions. In contrast to the cool, collected rationality of machines, Astartes of the Iron Hands were notoriously hot-headed and liable to making rash decisions if they lost their tempers. This alternating clash frequently manifested as contempt for their own ‘weakness’, but also as contempt for others, resulting in the Iron Hands keeping very few friends, even amongst themselves.

[thebiscuiteternal]

“A Safe Place To Die” Madwoman In The Attic, Forced Seclusion, Slow Death By Misplaced Kindness, Nie Huaisang tried to tell Lan Xichen his suspicions about his brother’s death and it Did Not Go Well, Not-Quite-Sangcheng.

__________

Three times, Jiang Cheng has informed the servants that he only wants a pot and some cups, and yet when he arrives at the door of the tiny house at the edge of the Cloud Recesses, there is a maid waiting with a fully-made tea tray. Well aware that he is already treading on thin ice with having demanded this visit, he bites back the acrid comment that threatens to bubble up behind his teeth and focuses his ire on the wards of the door instead.

Inside, Nie Huaisang sits on a cushion on an otherwise empty floor and doesn't so much as turn his head away from the window at the intrusion.

Jiang Cheng waves the maid over to put the tray down, then scowls thunderously when she putters at it for too long.

Point taken, she flees.

Once he's well and sure she's gone, he picks up the teapot, walks over to the window, and unceremoniously dumps the contents onto the bushes outside. Nie Huaisang hasn't moved, but Jiang Cheng is well aware that he's being watched as he takes a cloth from what he assumes is the bathing area and thoroughly wipes out the pot. He refills it with new water and presses a heating talisman to the ceramic, then sets it down and fetches another cloth. Settling himself onto the floor across from the other man, he begins wiping down the cups as well.

"I brought some of that spice tea from the southwest that you like," he says a little too roughly to be purely conversational. The cups now clean and clearly safe, he pulls a pouch from his sleeve and begins producing small, tightly wrapped packages to lay between them. "Nie Hengbai insisted I bring you these as well."

That finally makes Nie Huaisang turn his head a little, rather than observing him from the corner of his eye or through his eyelashes.

Good.

That's good.

He takes out the box of loose tea and opens the lid so that the other man can observe it for himself, setting it close enough that he won't have to lean too far to peer in.

"I actually had to explain all this to Sect Leader Lan, you know." Nie Huaisang blinks up at him, expression still unreadable. "Apparently the concept that you would fear being poisoned by the same people who locked you up for insisting your brother had been murdered never once occurred to him."

That earns him a snort, followed by a weak and rasping huff of not-quite-laughter that is both encouraging and a little unnerving. Apparently satisfied by his efforts, Nie Huaisang reaches out of the blanket he has cocooned himself in and gently pushes the box back.

Jiang Cheng focuses on the prep work of measuring and brewing the tea and adding the honey he has also brought. Focusing on that keeps his mind from dwelling on the thought that he could count the bones in his friend's wrist, or that the hollows of the other man's cheeks remind him uncomfortably of-

"How are they?"

The faded crackle of the other man's voice brings him out of his focus. "Who... the disciples?" he asks hesitantly. At the small nod he gets in return, some of the tension in his back eases. "They're... pretty pissed about all this. Nie Hengbai only took the leadership position three days ago after literally no one else would accept, and he's insisting he's only an interim leader."

Nie Huaisang blinks at him, confusion written all over his face. "Why?"

"Well, they're not happy with the elders rolling over for Lanling Jin and Gusu Lan, that's for sure, but mostly they want you back."

"Why?"

Jiang Cheng offers a teacup, keeping his hands around Nie Huaisang's when the other man's fingers tremble trying to hold it. "Is it so hard to believe?" he asks as he carefully helps his friend drink. "They know you. They know you'd watch over them no matter how much you complained about it."

Nie Huaisang swallows the last mouthful, then hesitates for a moment before letting him have the cup back. "And you?" he asks, so very softly and cautiously. "What do you know?"

"That you lie about things like hiding junk food from Grandmaster Lan, not about another sect scheming for your brother's life." He takes a deep breath, then picks up the pot and refills the cup. "I voted against the seclusion," he says quietly. "Even if you were losing your mind the way the others believed, and I don't think you were, being locked up alone wasn't going to do a damn thing to help."

"Oh, I have regular visitors," Nie Huaisang murmurs, and gods above, Jiang Cheng is glad to hear the sarcasm in it. He bites back the briefest smile before he picks up the cup and holds it to the other man's mouth again.

"When the vote passed, I offered..." He swallows hard. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not angry. Not at you, at any rate."

"You should be," he argues, but Nie Huaisang gently pushes back the cup so he can shake his head.

"It's not your fault. Not when you have to share Ling-er."

They fall into silence then, not quite companionable but not uncomfortable either, until the second cup is empty. Then Jiang Cheng opens the first of the little bundles sent from Qinghe. The sight of several rice flour balls, clearly made by an expert and caring hand, draws a broken little sob from his friend that makes his own chest tighten. Partially to give Nie Huaisang what laughably little privacy is available and partially to keep from breaking down himself, he turns away to examine their surroundings with a more critical eye.

The first thing he notices is that there is no bed frame. Several extra pallet mattresses have been added to make up for some of the lost height, but that's all the bed is. Pallets and a few pillows.

In fact, there isn't anything sturdy in the room. He'd picked up on the lack of a table, but now he sees that there are no shelves or a wardrobe; he sees a few boxes made of layered paper that might contain books and robes, but that's all. There's no tub, nor a privacy screen to go with it. The cloths are cut so small that they'd be useless for tying together. There is nothing remotely sharp to be seen anywhere.

This is, he realizes, a room entirely designed to keep the occupant from having anything they could use for a suicide attempt.

He inhales, keeping his breathing deep and slow, in order to swallow back the sudden and intense urge to vomit. He's not entirely surprised; Nie Huaisang has been painted as having gone mad and Sect Leader Lan genuinely seems to believe it. Of course he would want to keep his dearest friend's little brother safe after losing said friend to a violent madness of his own.

But this place is a nightmare cloaked in kindness.

Hell, if they'd locked him in here by himself, he probably would have been trying to tear down the walls after the first few days.

"Jiang-xiong?"

Another deep breath, then he turns back to find that Huaisang has finished the first of his gifts, his eyes red but the tears dried.

"I'm sorry, but I can't get the knots open," he says, looking somewhere between dejected and deeply embarrassed as he indicates another of the bundles. Trembling fingertips are red from his attempts to do just that.  Just a few months ago, Jiang Cheng would have rolled his eyes and called him lazy. Here and now, he simply nods and picks it up, and the irony is thick enough to choke on.

"I'm going to meet with Nie Hengbai as soon as I leave," he mutters as he pulls apart the strings. At the questioning head tilt, he continues. "We're going to get you a cook from Qinghe or Yunmeng. Someone we'll both vet. They'll handle all your meals and the delivery of them. And the Lans are going to accept them whether they like it or not."

"Are you sure that's-"

"I'm going to visit more often. I should have been visiting already."

"I told you, I don't blame-"

He takes a piece out of the pile of spiced and dried lamb in the package and pops it into Nie Huaisang's mouth, then grins when the other man sulks at him while chewing. "There you are. I was worried you wouldn't come back."

Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes and swallows, then sinks in to rest his head against Jiang Cheng's shoulder. "You're going to be stubborn about this, aren't you?"

"I am."

"You might get in trouble, too."

"Might not be so bad if they throw us in together."

It's a joke of incredibly poor taste, considering their situations, but at least it gets Nie Huaisang to actually laugh.

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Nine: Intimate)

← Chapter Eight

“You’ve improved since I left. Who did you practice with?” He sat on the couch as I showed him the techniques he had taught me a few weeks ago. I wasn’t going to tell him that I wanted it to be perfect for him so I practiced it whenever I could, but I just wanted to be approved by Humanity’s Strongest. He wasn’t the type to baby me and tell me I was good when it wasn’t. On the first few days, he would push me on the couch easily, making sure to mind my ribs. 

“You just need to touch me with the knife. Is it that hard?” 

I probably gained more bruises from the couch than I did from my attackers. If it was anyone normal, I’d probably be able to fend them off, but I guess that wasn’t enough for Levi as he wanted to make sure I could hold my own against someone actually trained to fight. I’d tell him that it wasn’t fair. He had years of experience on any soldier, but he didn’t take my complaint at all. He’d just use that to play with me. I discovered that his version of my teasing was getting me riled up with his insults. 

“I just did it in my kitchen when I took breaks and came back from giving the refugee’s bread. Why? How good am I?” I smiled at him and he smirked, head in the resting on his knee. I knew an insult was going to come in a few seconds. 

“You could probably knock a few first year cadets on the ground. Mostly teenagers half your age.” I glared down at him and put the knife down on my coffee table. 

“Well, I don’t think anyone who’s attacking me in the streets of Trost is going to have the skills of a cadet.” He shrugged and sat back on the couch, his face contracting back to normal. He looked up at the wall and I stood there waiting for him to say something back. I knew there was something wrong when he didn’t give any form of witty reply. It had to be about the meetings in the capital. 

I sat down on my chair, taking the fresh cup of tea I had made. Another reason I knew something was up with Levi is because he hadn’t drank his tea yet. It had been an hour, too. He was even the one to bring back the tea from the capital and I assumed he was excited to drink it, but there sat the cup, untouched. I decided to slide into the topic lightly. 

“How was the capital?” He looked back down at me and switched the leg he had crossed. 

“Boring. We were stuck in long meetings where they didn’t even ask our opinions on the matter. However, that’s usually how it goes.” I nodded and almost frowned at the lack of information he had given me. I’d have to pry it out of him if that was even possible.

“Does Erwin not speak up? He seems to be the type to advocate.” Levi huffed once in laughter and I knew I was wrong. 

“It’s Erwin’s strategy to play diligently to the Royal Government. One day when he needs something, it will be easy to pry it out of their hands if they only have a light grip on him. People generally like him because he is so agreeable.” I set my tea down and lifted my legs to sit criss-crossed in my chair. 

“I’ve never met Erwin, but from what you say about him, I think I know his personality well.” He shook his head and looked back up at the ceiling. 

“You’ll never know Erwin. He’s one of the best strategists I’ve met, but you have no idea what he’s thinking until he says it. It doesn’t help he speaks so cryptically either… when he speaks up.” I rested my head in my hand and knew that this subtle look into Erwin’s personality was mostly from Levi’s frustration. Something happened in the capital that made Levi want to slightly criticize him. I decided I would stop beating around the bush because if I played this way, Levi could easily keep deflecting for hours. It was also no good to just have him sit here for hours and let his frustrations take root in his mind. 

“What happened in the capital?” His eyes snapped to me again, quick to deny anything.

“Nothing. Just meetings. I told you that.” He was lying and the shortness of his answers gave it away.

“I don’t believe that.” He let out a sigh and rested his head in both his hands.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he sighed in frustration. That was the true emotion he was hiding. We were finally getting somewhere.

“If you talk it out with a third party, you might feel better. I know nothing about how the military functions, but-” 

“I can’t tell you. It’s classified.” Oh. I never thought about that possibility until now. I might have made him more frustrated by trying to get him to talk about it when he strictly couldn’t. Levi wasn’t going to break the rules that easily.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said softly. He didn’t look up, just rolled his head a bit more in his hands, back and forth. It was swallowing him up inside and I just made it worse. Now, I felt awful for doubling the emotion he had to deal with. 

“It’s okay. You didn’t know, Eva.” No, it wasn’t okay. I was scrambling, trying to think of something to make him feel better. If tea wasn’t going to work, then what was? 

I shot up from my chair, looking down at him. His head was still in his hands like he was thinking over and over about the thing I made him think about. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking this hard about work when he was with me. 

When I sat down next to him, he just glanced over to me for a few seconds trying to guess what I was doing. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing or if it would work on him, but I knew what I liked when I got frustrated like this. It was a gamble, but he’d probably go along with it.

“You don’t have to talk about specifically what’s making you frustrated, but I think it’s good to let it out before it eats you up inside. It’ll make you sick if you keep thinking about it.” He didn’t move. 

“It’ll make me sick regardless of if I talk or not.” I decided to put my plan in action and I grabbed his wrists, pulling them towards his right where I sat. He let me move them, but his whole body stayed put. 

“W-what are you d-doing?” I didn’t let go of his wrists. 

“Something I like people to do when I’m frustrated. Will you let me?” He took a deep breath thinking it over, probably having no idea what I was going to do, and took one sharp nod. I smiled and pulled him softly so his head was on my lap and he was looking up at me on his back. He seemed confused. 

“I thought you only did this in your sleep?” 

“I do it whenever I want to. Especially when I’m anxious or frustrated. Have you done this with anyone before?” He didn’t answer, but he did close his eyes probably trying to get comfortable. I laid back against the couch cushion more and admired his face. It was still stiff with frustration, but it made me happy he stayed laying there. I was going to take another risk since this one paid off so well. 

When I put my hand in his hair, his eyes shot open. That was something someone had definitely not done before. I tried to softly massage his scalp with each pass of my hand, getting him to relax further. We stayed like that for a while, just looking at each other, my hand running through his hair nonchalantly. I think he was still trying to decide if he liked it or not. Sometimes I would twist his hair between my fingers, looking for a reaction, but there was none. He just stared at me with those ever intense eyes. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m just trying to comfort you and make you feel better.” He nodded and that might have been my indication that he was fine with what I was doing. He closed his eyes, letting his guard down, finally, and that’s when it was confirmed he was okay with this. My heart did a little flip and rejoiced in the fact that this mission was a success. He did, in fact, like other humans touch… maybe only mine, but I could easily deal with that. What could I do next? 

“Erwin accepted something that’s incredibly wrong. He stood there like the dutiful servant to the government he is and accepted something awful they pushed on the Scouts. I refused, but was overridden by him and the other sectors of the military. The fact that we’re going to do something like that and be held accountable… I hate it, but I can’t change it.” I couldn’t lie, I wanted to know what it was so I could give my opinion, and maybe make Levi feel better if someone agreed with him. However, I couldn’t be selfish like that in this situation.

“If you don’t do it, will the outcome be worse?” He shrugged.

“Can’t say. Probably. But, it’s not morally sound what we’re going to do.” I could tell he was holding back, probably wanting to lash out at his superiors. He had to hold it in this long, so what else was he holding inside that brain of his? 

“You know you can say what you want here. I’m not going to tell anyone and there’s no one else here. Just us.” I reached down and held his cheek in my hand. He kept his eyes closed, turning his head towards it, almost nuzzling into my touch. I was surprised at his reaction to my touch. 

“I don’t want to fucking do it, but I have to. I have to lead these people to their deaths.” The last sentence was quiet and he let out a long, painful breath after he ended. I wondered if they were going to make the Scouts take back Wall Maria. Whatever they were going to do, it was going to lay heavy on Levi’s conscious and add to the heavy load he was already carrying. 

He grabbed the hand that was on his cheek, just holding it there. He had opened his eyes too. 

“I can tell you what it is, but I don’t want you to be burdened with the truth. I can’t let you feel the way I feel right now. It’ll be too much for you to handle.” I just nodded in understanding and he turned his head back to look up at me. 

“I like this. Cuddling or whatever. It has it’s calming effects.” I beamed down at him, happy that my plan worked. I may not have actually helped him in the long run, but it made him feel better in the present. If only I could find out how to lighten the load more. 

“I’m glad you like it. There’s many more ways to do it if you’d like to try those.” He laughed a bit.

“I’m not that dumb. I know how to do it, I’m just not inclined to seek out human touch.” He sat up and stared at me for a second, “I want to do something though.” He sat there waiting for me to answer. 

“O-oh, uh, okay, yes. You can. You don’t always have to ask.” He lifted his arm closest to me, holding it there. It seemed to take him a few more moments to gather the confidence before grabbing my head and almost shoving it into his chest. His other arm went behind me to support the position. I was basically just leaning on his body sideways. I don’t know why I blushed so hard because of it. I’ve been in this position with Jonas and a lot of other people too. Maybe it was because Levi initiated it and I could hear his heart running a million meters a minute. He put his other hand on my hair, petting it. 

“I-Is this o-okay?” He was stuttering again, looking down at me. I knew he was blushing again too. It was funny. Two grown adults were getting heart attacks from holding each other. For Levi, it was excusable. This was his first time holding someone like this. This was probably his first time acting on his feelings for someone too. For me, I’ve had a relationship before and am a naturally touchy person. There was no reason to be this… giddy when Levi held me than it being Levi. That could be why. He was never like this with anyone but me. That makes it more special. 

“In a few minutes, it might not be, but I’m fine now.” He nodded and was just looking down at me. In this position, I couldn’t look anywhere by to my left outside the window. I felt his eyes on me still.

“It’s your turn to have your brain picked,” he stated and I noted how his chest vibrated with his deep voice. I pressed my ear in closer.

“About?” He took his hand off my head and lifted my hand up to his face. I had ran out of the lotion he had given me, but he made sure to buy two as he just returned from Mitras. This hiatus had made them dry again. 

“The Underground girl with burned hands and the old man that had faith in her.” I laughed once and he place my hand back on my lap. 

“How long have you been wanting to ask me about that?” 

“Since you said it, but I assumed it would be off limits. Now that you told me I could say anything, I’d extend the same to you.” I smiled. Such restraint he had. 

“Only if you promise to tell me about your life in the Underground soon.” He didn’t even take time to think before nodding. He really wanted to know about me… that was nice and different. Most people wanted me to hide the fact I was from the Underground. It makes sense that he would want to know. I wonder if he wanted to compare our experiences about the same world we grew up in.

“I was born in the Underground to some woman I don’t know. My father, I’ve only seen once, but he gave me up to my Aunt. I have no idea what he does or where he is now, and I don’t really care about it either. My Aunt didn’t really like me either, I was an inconvenience, so she sent me to an orphanage a few years after she got me. That’s the closest I had to a family in the Underground. You know no one adopts orphans there, so we all knew we’d be there for the long run, and formed a little pack.” He shifted so he could look me in the eyes as I told my story. 

“What orphanage?” I shrugged my shoulders. My time in the Underground was still filled with holes or trauma that my child brain couldn’t understand. Slowly, I would gain back my memory through dreams or sensations, but there were still a lot of pieces missing.

“It was attached to a church, but I couldn’t tell you the name. If we ever went back, I could point it out to you.” He nodded and looked up like he was thinking of the vague place I told him. We would never be going back.

“I got into a group with the older girls and we would sneak out at night. Little did I know they were in an actual street gang, but I guess most everyone there was. One night these girls didn’t come back. I was sick, so I was in the infirmary when they left, but when I went back to the normal room, they weren’t there anymore. I stayed up night after night, hoping they would sneak back in, but they never did. I was probably ten at this point and I snuck out to go find them since that was my family. I knew where the gang was located so I stupidly went to ask them. That’s the first time I was beaten up. They were probably fourteen or fifteen. After that, I felt lost I guess. No one guides you in the orphanage, the people who were like family to me disappeared, my real family was gone, and so I would just keep going out at night alone, just trying to find some sensation.” He shook his head. 

“You kept getting beaten up at night and you never thought to learn how to protect yourself?” It wasn’t like he was judging me, but it was more of a slight insult. He knew how it was in the Underground and he knew how stupid I was. He was also probably surprised at my decision to the problem everyone in the Underground faces: Eat or be eaten. I chose the latter.

“Maybe I wanted to get beat up for something to do. To feel something. You know how they talk about Underground teens. Once they get older, they start to realize the actual trauma that happened in their lives. I was definitely abused by my Aunt and her kids, but I was so young it took me too long to realize it to be able to process it correctly. Then, about that time you also try to go up to the surface for the first time and get beat up by the MPs guarding the openings. You think, well if no one in the Underground wants me because I’m an orphan, and no one wants to let me up above, then what am I even doing here in this world? Why did I get dropped in this shitty place? I wasn’t gang material either, as you can clearly tell, so I just wandered like the rest with no goal. I was even called the orphanage’s problem child. They’d kick me out once I got of age if I didn’t change, that was their warning to me sneaking out and coming back with cuts and bruises.” He snorted at that, probably finding it hilarious that that’s how I used to be. Compared to my attitude now, no one would have believed that I’d lost hope in life at such a young age.

 “One day, I wandered into the wrong place and some gangster thought it would be fun to dip my hands into an oil can fire. I probably laid in that alleyway for a good few days, just withering in pain and watching my skin fall off. With no sun or moon to indicate the time, the says just blurred together. I realized that this is probably what happened to the other girls at the orphanage and so I accepted that as my fate too. It’s not like I had anyone who would miss me. That’s when this old man came up to me and gave me some water. He wrapped my hands up in his jacket and without a word, he took me up to the surface. Of course I followed. He was the first person to show me any type of regard and he fed me and gave me a dress. I never had clothes of my own, just hand-me-downs. That person was Mr. Flynn and he seemed to have a reputation of saving kids from the Underground. I can’t tell you why he chose me or why he did what he did, but I never left his side after that. You find someone who finally cares about you and you want to stay next to them forever. You’re afraid of what will happen if they ever abandon you like the others did.” He nodded, probably knowing exactly what I was talking about. I wondered if he had any friends or people in the Underground he was attached to in that way.

“Where are the other children he saved?” I stood up and went over to the bookshelf where I kept all the portraits. I handed him the drawing of all five of us and pointed out the people while sitting back down. This was the last year-end we had together, and we knew that Mr. Flynn would soon pass away, so we decided to pay for a proper portrait for all of us to have. It was our gift to Mr. Flynn. 

“I was the last and the youngest. He was getting way too old to go up and down and take care of the café all at once. This is Mr. Flynn and I. This man here is the first person Mr. Flynn saved. It’s Jonas’s father, Benjamin. I never lived with him, but he’s the nicest and still treats me like his little sister. Jonas thinks it’s kind of weird,” I moved my finger over to the tall, blonde woman with thinner eyes, “This woman is Catrin and she left a year-and-a-half after I came. She was nice and the only other girl, so we bonded as much as we could. She lives in Stohess now with her husband. You can see, she’s pregnant in this picture. They have a daughter named Kati,” I pointed, lastly, to the person who was sitting next to me in the picture, “Next is Duran. He joined the MPs a while back, but I haven’t seen him since this picture. He’s only a year older than me, but the least liked by all of us. He’s kind of stuck up and was a tattletale… probably why he joined the MPs. He tried to follow me around and get me in trouble with Mr. Flynn.” Levi surveyed the drawing, laughing lightly, probably seeing if he recognized anyone in it. I’m sure he’d probably met Duran at least once in his time at the capital. If Levi went to cadet training, he would have been in the same class. 

“Did Mr. Flynn’s name start with an A?” I smiled and nodded. He was a nice old man, but a very, very plain one.

“He wasn’t a very creative man. When he gave us a new name, he’d only think about it for a few minutes. Catrin helped name me.” He quickly looked back up to me, a bit of mystery filling his eyes. 

“Then what’s your real name?” He smirked down at him in response. This could be a fun game to play.

“You’ll never know.” He let out a groan of protest. 

“You can’t just hid-” I cut him off as I sat back down and put my head back on his chest. I placed the picture in his lap as I was still talking about everyone.

“Anyways, this was the last time we ever got together as a big group. We use to do it for year end to exchange gifts, but after Mr. Flynn died, I said I’d take over the café and none of them came back. It wasn’t there favorite thing growing up, forced to work at the café, but I loved it. This was about three years ago now. I’ve visited Catrin twice to see my niece and I see Ben a lot. I don’t care for Duran, especially with that stick shoved up his ass. Sinc us two came from the roughest situations, we used to fight and get kicked out of the bakery for a day because Mr. Flynn couldn’t handle us and our pent up trauma.” He put the drawing down and leaned back on the couch again, giving me more room to lean against him. 

“You seem to be to carry on Mr. Flynn’s legacy. Taking in little kids with desperate or bad situations. Elias, June, whoever that refugee boy is...” 

“That’s nice of you to say. I was the one who was attached to Mr. Flynn the most, so it makes sense for me to want to do things like that. Take on the bakery, help the kids... He taught me how nice the world can be, too, not just cruel and lonely. I just want to show that to others I guess.” He put his arm around me again, this time without hesitation. We were back to our original position. 

“Did you ever learn why he saved all of you?” I shook my head and closed my eyes. This scene was practically the perfect domestic dream. Here I was on my couch, cuddling up to Captain Levi, talking of random things about my family. It was actually better than I dreamed it up to be. If only I had a drawing of this moment. 

“It probably had to do with his wife dying before they could have kids. He found Ben wandering the streets alone a few months after Mrs. Flynn died. I guess maybe he just made a habit of it. Catlin was found in a brothel and Duran on the streets in the Underground like I was. I was the only one permanently injured apparently.” He took my hand in his, flipping it over to look at the front and back. I never thought he could be so… intimate like this. 

“How did he die?” 

“Old age. It was his time to go when he did. He was almost ninety-five. I was a wreck when he died. I think I cried for three days straight and had to stay with Ben because he’s the most like Mr. Flynn. No one but Ben could calm me down. It was nice though, the weeks after random people would just come into the café and share stories about him. He was a troublemaker when he was young. Perhaps that’s what drew him to Duran and I.” He squeezed my hand when he saw my sad look at the frame. I guess he was a fast learner on comforting people.

“To think you were a troublemaker… I guess it fits your personality.” I turned to look at him. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You don’t think I heard the countless comments about my height you made to Jonas the first time I met you? That table isn’t far away from your counter. Insulting a military captain can get you in trouble.” I put a hand over my mouth and started to laugh. 

“Why didn’t you report me then? Too shocked someone would say things like that so close to you?”

“I guess I should’ve known then that you like to run your mouth. If you were one of my cadets, I’d have you running laps everyday for disrespecting your officers.” I pulled a disgusted face and shook my head. 

“Absolutely not. Even practicing this knife stuff has me winded. Don’t get me wrong, I’m kinda strong. I can lift those big bags of flour and…” I paused, thinking of what else I could do. 

“And?” He pressed. 

“There’s just too many things I can do. I can’t list all of them.” He rolled his eyes and shifted again, this time pulling my legs over his so our bodies were perpendicular. My back leaned on the arm of the couch, but his arm was also there to support me. 

“Starting tomorrow morning, I’m going to be gone for a while,” he looked down at me, suddenly more serious than before. I frowned, noting he had just gotten back from the capital this morning, but I knew I couldn’t be that selfish with our time. 

“How long?” He shrugged and lifted his hand to play with my hair just like I did to him. He was back to comfort mode once he had dropped this news to me.  

“I’m training the cadets for the maneuver we’re doing at the start of the year and there are more meetings here and in the capital. I also have some things I have to do for Erwin. It’s hard to say but three months minimum is my estimate.” My frown didn’t leave by face, but I sighed and nodded. No one had predicted that Wall Maria would fall, so there’s no way to control the volume of work the Scouts have. Especially Captain of the Scouts. 

“Can you at least wake me up when you leave tomorrow? I’ll say goodbye to you.” He nodded and I rested my head on his shoulder.  

“I’m sorry, I should have told you about it when I got here. Then I might have spared you the feelings you’re having right now.” My face went into a confused look and I didn’t look up at him. I was trying to think through what he meant by that. Was he referring to the sadness I was feeling about him being gone for so long? 

“Feeling what?”

“You know, whatever this is. Sitting here, holding each other; the feeling of being close. Now, you’ll have to wait months to feel it again because I’ll be gone.” I sensed that he was voicing his own feelings now, but I didn’t press him about it. 

“It’s called intimacy. The feeling of being close and wanting to be close to another person. And yes, I’ll miss it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t savor it now. It will make me want it more when you come back, too.” 

“I… I have that feeling as well.” I reached up and put a hand on his cheek, pulling him to look at me. 

“I’m glad you’re sharing your feelings with me now. I don’t have to guess anymore.” He glanced down at my lips once and on the inside I almost screamed. Was he going to do it? 

I had concluded that he had never been kissed in that manner before, if ever, and that’s why he was so confused and shocked the first time I did it. He didn’t know what to say or think and it short circuited his brain. Sleeping in the same bed together probably would end in the same result if I forced it on him. So, I silently vowed to myself that anything that intimate, I’d let him initiate it. That would let me know right away if he was comfortable or not, at least this early on. Once I knew what he was comfortable and uncomfortable with emotion and feeling wise, then it would be easier to read what he wants or needs in a situation. This cuddling was a huge gamble, but it seemed to pay off. 

He looked back up at me and closed his eyes. He didn’t move forward any and I just sat there in wait. 

“I want to do it, but I think if I did it now, it would be harder to leave. I can’t be thinking things like that when I’m training Scouts to fight titans.” Understandable, but, ugh, if I hadn’t taken that vow I would have leaned in by now. Longing for something you’ve already experienced is better than not having it at all. That was my conclusion. 

“I don’t agree, but I guess I understand you.” He pulled my head in and rested my chin on his shoulder. His arms slowly went around me and I realized he was hugging me, one arm on my waist, the other holding my head. I wrapped my hands around his torso a few seconds after, closing my eyes and taking in his scent so I wouldn’t forget it. 

“You should give me this shirt so I have something to remember you by. If you’re going to be gone for so long, I might just forget you.” He snorted and pulled me back so he could look at me in annoyance. 

“Why would I give you my shirt? I don’t have another one. And, you didn’t forget me the last three… where are you going?” I hopped up and went into my room, digging around the the only set of drawers I had. I recently washed it so it had to be folded in here somewhere.

“Ah, ha!” I yelled and walked out of my room with the shirt in my hands. I threw it at him and he caught it, unfolding it. His face looked even more annoyed once he realized what he was holding. 

“You can have that one back. Now give me,” I said holding out my hands to him. He sighed and stood up, turning his back to me, before unbuttoning and taking off his shirt. Well… he didn’t have to turn around. Annoying. 

“You can see that when I get back since you look so sad.” My eyes went wide and I didn’t know he was looking at me. Damnit, he got a blush point. When did he get so confident? I’d have to think of something to say back. I couldn’t let him win. Before I could, he tossed the button up over my head. I pulled it off, glaring at him playfully. 

“Hm, it’s not big enough to sleep in, so I guess I’ll just have to wear in to work. Hopefully, it doesn't get dirty.” He clenched his jaw. 

“Where’s my gift? I’ve been so generous with you, giving you the clothes off my back... That portrait,” he pointed to a portrait that Mr. Flynn had drawn of me by a street vendor, “I want it.” The drawing was me, at the age of twelve, fresh out of the Underground. I looked annoyed and my hair was a mess, and I remember it was around the time Mr. Flynn was trying to teach me to like being above ground. Obviously, by the annoyed look on my face, I wasn’t enjoying standing there waiting for someone to draw me. It was an ugly drawing and he had no business wanting it. 

“Absolutely not. Pick something else.”

“No, I want that. It’s not a big request. I want you with me.” I rolled my eyes at him and I knew the only reason he wanted it now was to annoy me. I couldn’t let it happen. 

“You said you couldn’t even carry money with you. How are you supposed to fold that up and take it with?” He shrugged and advanced towards it. I put myself in between him and the drawing. 

“I’ll manage. Maybe, I’ll put it on my desk so I can look at it every day.” I glared at him again and even he couldn’t hide that evil laugh of his. I had to think of some way to redirect him. I looked around and saw his cape hanging by the door. Perfect. 

“Well, if you want me to be with you all the time, then here,” I walked over and grabbed his cape, and now it was his turn to be cautious of what I was doing. 

“What are you doing with my cape?” I walked to the kitchen and pulled out the thread from the junk drawer, going to work. The thread was black, so it wouldn’t be very noticeable on the dark green of the cape. It was a quick four stitches before he could walk over and try to grab it from me. I tied off the knot and handed it back to him. 

“It’s what we used to do to our clothes to make sure no one stole them. We claimed them as ours.” He picked up the bottom edge of the cape and looked at the letter. 

“This isn’t your cape.” I leaned over the edge of the kitchen island and smirked up at him. 

“No, but you’re mine. So I’m just marking that.” He scoffed, but kept looking at the tiny letter. It wasn’t noticeable at all unless you knew what you were looking for it, “Now you can’t get rid of that cape. You have to keep it forever.”

“M?” My smirk got wider and I had just given him a tiny in on my biggest secret. 

“The first letter of my real name.” 

Chapter Ten →

Chapter Masterlist

xx Just a little fluff and plot devices

[sugas-sweetheart]

Are you tired, baby? || Kuroo Tetsurō

(UGh I’m so in love with Kuroo Tetsurō and Im so tired so I thought this would be cute bc he puts up with kenma so imagine him looking after his s/o when they’re sleepy or like sleep deprived. But like lOOK AT HIM IN THIS GIF I LOVE HIM SO MUCH - I really just wrote this for myself and my sleeping habits but enjoy as I don’t have any requests left)

I’m running on only a few hours of sleep but I love him so it’s okay

As someone who is constantly tired, especially during school days, I need this, just want someone to watch after me and call me a dumbass for staying up till early morning 😌

We all sEe him as a flirt, but really he’s just a caring, dumbass & science nerd

Kenma has been there for most of his life so he knows how to look after you in your sleepy state™️

Mans gets his beauty sleep and no I don’t take criticism, just look at him.

n e ways, in the mornings when you meet to go to school together you’d just walk over to him and plant you face on his chest, closing your eyes as you wrap your arms around him and he’d just kiss your head and be like “aw are you tired, baby?”

Yessir please let your S/O just sleep on your chest

If you deny you’re tired though, he’d just laugh at you and go “yeah, sure, babe” because totally believes you

He’d tease you sO much about it, but only because he cares about your lack of sleep schedule.

“How much sleep did you get last night? Six hours? That’s a record, babe”

He’d actually be so sweet though, he’d probably carry little snacks to try and keep you awake and bring you drinks.

If he sees you aren’t paying attention in a class and your eyes are dropping and you’re constantly yawning, he’ll let you borrow his notes because that dork would be cute and helpful like that.

If he’s staying round yours or if you stay round his for the night, he will make you sleep e a r l y

He’d talk to you and hold you close and cuddle and snuggle you until you get so sleepy you’re only responding in small head movements and ‘mhm’s

He’d probably tell you about some chemistry video he watched to get you to fall asleep and he’d just smile softly at you when he sees his plan worked. (Although he doesn’t realise that you may stay awake listening to him because he sounds so cute when enthusiastic and happy about science, so sometimes it backfires)

“Sleep well, love you” his little smile and a Forehead kiss before he also falls asleep🥺🥺 I love this man sm someone give me forehead kithes

He’d definitely let you sleep or rest on his shoulder on the train to/from school.

he probably has or at least has offered to carry you home, and people say chivalry is dead smh 😔 well it still kinda is if I have to hc a fictional character to do these things but we ignore that

He would also keep an arm around you most of the time so that you can lean against his shoulder, arm or chest and he’ll do the soft & soothing arm rubbing or run his hand up and down your back to keep you calm and comfortable in your tired state - he also doesn’t want you stumbling all over the place

Constant forehead kisses and big bear hugs because he is very tall and he has m u s c l e s

He thinks you’re really cute when you’re walking round and clinging to him because you’re all tired, but he does want you to look after yourself and your sleep schedule a little more.

When waiting for him and Kenma to finish vbc he’d give you his jacket to wear or use as a blanket if you wanna rest while they’re practising 🥺

Following on from that and the point of him carrying you - he has definitely found you asleep in the corner of the gym and carried you to the station because you looked cute and he didn’t want to wake you up

He’d probably run you a bath and be like “get in, I’ll have tea ready and some food ready, then we’ll cuddle until you sleep, okay?”

This man has a large portion of my heart

[marryat92]

I'm thinking again about Frederick Marryat's amateur artwork, and how much I enjoy this detail from 'Lieutenant Blockhead keeping the Morning Watch'—evidently Blockhead himself, with his spyglass tucked under one arm and a cup of coffee or tea beside him on the capstan. (Drinking coffee on the morning watch is mentioned in The King's Own.) I don't know why there are Roman numerals on the capstan, but I assume this is an authentic touch.

As a visual artist Marryat is crude and lacking in technical skill, but like his writing, his artwork is a fascinating window on his world, and it's obvious that he cares about the small details.

This picture and related drawings date from 1820, when Marryat was still in the service and had yet to fight in the First Anglo-Burmese War. He wouldn't publish his first novel until 1829, so this is an early foray into self-expression: a comic series of prints that George Cruikshank would engrave (taking many liberties to improve on Marryat's rough drawings).

I suspect that there's a lot of Marryat in his character of William Blockhead, from the naughty boy with curly hair to the very well-built officer appreciating his assets in a mirror in Cruikshank's rendering. Florence Marryat threw her support behind this idea in the Life and Letters of her father, writing that "the draughtsman's own caricature figured in another publication called 'The Adventures of Master Blockhead'".

One thing that has always impressed me about Marryat's drawings is the sheer confidence expressed in them. He had to be aware that he wasn't the greatest artist, but he doesn't seem discouraged by it or defensive, in contrast to his salty and clearly hurt reactions to literary critics. Marryat is like the opposite of the cliche amateur artist who poses characters with their hands in their pockets or behind their backs to avoid drawing hands; he's not afraid to tackle any pose for some truly dynamic scenes.

Marryat's son Frank and daughter Augusta were better artists than their father, and both of them illustrated published books. Sometimes I imagine Captain Marryat drawing and painting with his children and encouraging them, since he was known as an affectionate parent who was much more involved with his children than typical upper-class parents of his day. Florence Marryat doesn't mention this scenario with art supplies so it's pure speculation on my part, but it seems likely.

I can't believe that Marryat stopped drawing after his print-making collaboration with George Cruikshank ended, and there's substantial evidence that he did not. My two-volume edition of Peter Simple with Robert W. Buss's engravings and an introductory essay by Michael Sadleir suggests that Marryat may have made sketches that Buss used as a guide for his professional illustrations. There's also an 1841 letter from Marryat reproduced in Life and Letters where he writes of an upcoming book, "I have been amusing myself with drawing all the illustrations myself and they will do very well."

Marryat's artwork documents details that sometimes are not apparent in his novels, like the appearance of convicts' uniforms (contrast with the scene from Peter Simple), or they are too minor to merit a written description but pique my interest—belaying pin racks, baskets and containers on deck for ropes and ammunition, the overcoats worn by sailors in foul weather. For all of their shortcomings, they can be treated like primary sources. Marryat didn't research his compositions, he didn't pore through reference books on sailing ships, he drew and painted from life. From his own memories and experiences.

Marryat is from an era of empire and discovery that encouraged Royal Navy officers to cultivate their skills as artists. Before portable and reliable cameras, it might be an officer sketching a newly catalogued species, a foreign landscape, or an important battle. Marryat produced both humorous nautical scenes and more sober depictions of warfare. Famously, he sketched Napoleon on his deathbed. But my personal favourites are his rough studies full of character and personality, unimproved by a professional artist and engraver.