#large speech paragraph

[young-prince-firefly]

Kaminari: I've heard if something is worth doing, it's worth doing poorly

Bakugou: Maybe if you were good at something you wouldn't have to hear that

Kirishima: Bakugou!

Uraraka: Before any of you break out in a fight, that's literally just to help Kaminari brush his teeth. Iida told him to think of brushing his teeth like that so he doesn't get overwhelmed. I mean, it is better to brush poorly than to not brush at all.

Midoriya: Right, it's to combat deadly perfectionistic mindsets and boost your self-esteem and help you finish tasks, especially if you experience executive dysfunction either due to those perfectionistic ideals or neurodivergency!

Bakugou: That's great and all, but that doesn't mean he isn't terrible at everything else

Kirishima: Sorry, Kaminari. He'll come around eventually

Kaminari: No, no. I'm immune at this point. I'll just get really good at brushing my teeth by brushing only one tooth every morning.

Bakugou: You're just gonna forget which tooth you started with. If brushing is so damn hard for you, just use mouthwash!

Kaminari: Oh. I forgot that was an option.

Uraraka: I guess he's trying to help now?

Midoriya: Kacchan could still stand to be less mean to his friends when he's helping

Bakugou: Deku, shut up! These losers aren't my friends and you can't tell me what to do!

Midoriya: I'm gonna die

Tokoyami: We all meet the same end

Kirishima: How long have you been here man?

Tokoyami: As long as the rest of you

Kaminari: I'm gonna go gargle mouthwash, you guys enjoy your chat

Bakugou: Don't use the pink one! That's round face's and you do not want to make her mad!

Uraraka: How sweet

Kirishima: Well, I'll say it so he doesn't have to, thanks for your help. I didn't really understand most of what you said, but I know it's definitely going to help Kaminari

Uraraka: Anytime!

Midoriya: Happy to help

Bakugou: I don't know why you're looking at me, I didn't do anything

Kirishima: Nevermind then

[jeonstellate]

forever by my side

mingyu still honors the love signified by his ring, even after all this time.

๑彡 kim mingyu x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au — fluff(?), angst(?)

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.8K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from zack tabudlo’s by my side (ft. tiara andini).

๑彡 thank you sm for the overwhelming love for my future in your eyes! please accept this as a thank you gift :]

๑彡 this is connected to that fic, a prequel of sorts, but can also be read as a standalone. (i highly recommend reading that, too, though.)

Kim Mingyu is a man of confidence.

He exudes confidence, regardless of what he does. It’s a natural part of his aura — something that he can never control at will.

It comes in handy for his line of work, which often requires him to socialize and impress others. Occasionally, though, it also needs him to give presentations in front of large crowds.

As his audience continues to stare at him, with a mix of glossed eyes and awestruck expressions, Mingyu begins to appreciate his inborn confidence a little bit more.

He’s an extrovert. He does well with crowds. He’s comfortable striking up conversations with complete strangers. He’s talkative and spontaneous and outgoing, amongst other things.

And with his confidence, Mingyu can command a room with ease.

Yet, still, it doesn’t necessarily mean he enjoys public speaking — especially if the crowd he’s addressing is full of college students who are currently everywhere, just not in the classroom.

He can hardly blame them. He has been in their shoes before. He knows what it feels like to listen to professors and guest lecturers drag on when he rather spend his time elsewhere.

"Well then, if you guys thought of more questions later," he began his wrap-up speech, "feel free to email me. Thank you—"

A flurry of moment on his right caught his attention, effectively halting his speech. However, the cause of it is gone by the second he turns.

The only evidence he has that he didn’t hallucinate the entire thing is the murmuring that suddenly engulfs the room. And the small folded piece of paper on his right that seems to appear out of the blue.

Mingyu reaches for the paper and looks around the room. He immediately notices the students’ renewed interest in him. Or perhaps — most likely — they are just interested in how he responses to the note.

He looks down as he opens the paper.

Mister, do you have a significant other?

He chuckles soundlessly. Not because of how off-topic it is from the presentation he just gave, but because it is apparently enough to bring you forth in his mind.

After all, you are his other half. Someone he met and fell in love with within the walls of your college campus. Someone he put great effort to deserve the heart of.

The only one he could see sharing a future with. The only one he went down on one knee for and waited for at the end of the aisle.

The only one he loves with his soul. The only one he respects and cherishes to an unfathomable extent.

Mingyu gives a shy smile to the sea of students before raising his hand, palm facing inward. He lets the gold band around his ring finger shine under the spotlights aimed at him.

Their collective disappointment is loud.

Mingyu finds their reaction amusing. He has watched countless people react to his marital status over the years. Those who appear dismayed, he notes, often try their best to hide it, albeit unsuccessfully. As a matter of fact, this is the first time anyone has ever showed disdain so openly — a whole group, too, no less.

He can’t stop the soundless chuckle that escaped. He has always been proud of his marriage. He boasts about it — and you — every chance that he gets. It’s something that always brings a smile to his face. Something that he never gets tired of.

Even after the divorce.

The end of your marriage had been a mutual decision. You both agreed that it was the best action to take, before anything escalated to something unbecoming. And, at the time, it was the best decision to take.

The end of your marriage didn’t signify the end of his love for you, though. That’s why, even years after the court made your divorce official, his wedding ring stayed on his finger.

Mingyu may have failed to keep you by his side, but he absolutely has no plans to rid himself of the only physical reminder of your marriage.

Mingyu may have lost his rights to claim you as his spouse; but at least in front of strangers, he can still pretend that the gold around his finger is more than a remembrance.

"How are you going to find a replacement for your wedding ring if you keep letting people think you’re still married?" Minghao wonders when he meets up with him after his presentation.

Ironically enough, his longtime friend personifies the reality that his façade only works with strangers. Those who don’t know what happened. Nor can read him like an open book. Nor notice the hint of sadness in his eyes.

Mingyu simply shrugs at that, "Bold of you to assume I want a replacement in the first place."

(After all, his wedding ring isn’t just a conversational piece. It’s also his lifeline . . . something he can’t bear to lose, especially when he already lost you.)

[elamimax]

What is the Downfall of TGST? You included it in that eggfic meme, but I've searched Scribblehub and Bigcloset and found not a sign of it.

Okay SO

Chapter 1: The Rise of TGStoryTime

In 2011, a man going by the name of Joe Six-Pack launched the TGStorytime website or "archive," with the express idea of creating a repository for fiction focused on forced feminization and similar "TG" fetish content.

Though it took a bit to find its footing, it nonetheless became a place where all kinds of people could share their stories about men becoming women, usually against their will, after which naughty shenanigans would usually occur.

It also became a place where many trans women both read and later on wrote their first piece of trans fiction (yours truly included). Other trans authors that got their start here were QuietValerie, Purplecatgirl and Trismegistus Shandy, each of which would later (or at the same time) make their name on other fiction hosting platforms as well.

As an aside, an interesting feature of TGST is the fact that every single story needs to be vetted by "the moderation team," which has at times included One (1) member: Joe Six-Pack himself. I'm sure that won't be relevant later.

Everything was going reasonably well, until one fateful day.

Chapter 2: The Problem With Joe Six-Pack

In 2020, a new user joined the website. I have no intention of speculating towards intention, but the effect they had was immediate.

They wrote extremely short stories, often between 50 and 100 words, only a few paragraphs, of people who were forcibly turned into women. What made this so egregious was the denigrating way it referred to these "new women," sometimes using slurs and other speech that has been hurled at trans women to dehumanize or simply demean them.

There was an immediate backlash, the now-quite-substantial trans userbase of the website standing up for themselves and asking that Joe Six-Pack, the host and active owner, do something about this new user's low-effort but offensive stories. At the very least, that he please stop personally approving them.

He refused.

He refused on the basis that TGST was never a place for queer people to find each other, nor was it a place for trans stories. As he put it, TGstorytime was repository. It was an archive of TG - not Trans - stories, one that was his sacred duty to maintain. He was not a moderator, he was simply an archivist. He also asserted that transphobia was a somewhat normal response on the internet and that moderating it would lead to a witch-hunt that would see his website shut down eventually. He would not stop vetting - and personally approving - stories that were rife with transphobia.

Chapter 3: The Exodus

In the following months and years, a large part of the trans community moved away from TGST, spreading to the neighboring websites of RoyalRoad, BigCloset and Fictionmania. Some tried to make their own websites like Fluff4Me and Offprint Café.

But the biggest move was to Scribblehub, one of the few websites that not only allowed users to mark their stories with "Transgender" as a built-in tag, but also had moderators that listened to vulnerable minorities when they raised issues. As a result, many trans women moved over to the at-the-time primarily manga-and-light-novel brained site, causing a pretty significant upheaval and forcing the moderation team to make some changes to the way it weighted its "trending" tab, since it quickly became dominated by transfem fiction.

Despite these changes, Scribblehub remains the best place to find new, and importantly, free trans fiction online, written by both established as well as up-and-coming authors.

If you like this video please like and subscribe. If you want to support me and other creators you can use the code below to subscribe to Curiositystr

[spicerackofblorbos]

Epilogue

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, romance, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse, smoking and alcohol abuse mentions, domestic violence, light assault, eventual smut

☾ Author's note ➼ Heeeeyy I'm back. If you haven't had an eye on my masterlist for Unspoken Words, you might have missed that I've been working on an epilogue. SURPRISE. If you have, then here it is lol. I am OFFICIALLY done with UW and I'm so sad about it. ALSO for some reason my tumblr app hates me and any time I italicize a line, it italicizes the entire paragraph and I have no idea why. As always, the sign language lines are marked with ' and speaking lines marked with ".

Thank you to anyone who has taken time out of their lives to read my "little" story. I enjoyed writing about this little world and I could not be happier to know that most of you liked reading it. I appreciate you more than you know. Can you believe this is around 100k words? Crazy. Anyways, I'm gonna go write some more, I'll see ya around! <3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~4k

Reddish-orange leaves dance in a unique ballet number past the window you were currently staring out of. You can't keep your fingers from picking at the sleeves of your wool sweater as you wait for your speech therapist to come and get you from the semi-quiet lobby. The only noises you hear comes from the reception desk and the TV mounted opposite of the couch you were waiting on. The weather channel calls for a beautiful weekend with warmer than usual temperatures – which is good considering Halloween is tomorrow.

A side door leading to the back offices opens up, and your name is called from a stout brunette woman with large rimmed glasses and a kind smile. She holds it open as she beckons you forward, and you don't hesitate to smile back as you pick up your bag and make your way through the door and down the familiar hall on her heels.

You’ve been seeing Dr. Boreal for about almost two years now. You started speech therapy shortly after starting trauma therapy – something they had recommended. You weren't quick to decline the suggestion, but you'd be lying if you said you had ever thought about taking back your speech. Some time in your youth, you just assumed it was gone forever. That it was something that couldn't be fixed.

According to Dr. Foust, your trauma therapist, the speech block was mental. Therefore, it was something that could be explored and possibly broken through.

When he had said that, you had newfound hope and suddenly a silent goal to work towards.

It's like clockwork the way you stepped into Dr. Boreal's navy blue office, stepping over to the right and onto the plush cream colored couch meant just for patients. On the walls of her office sits multiple picture frames and motivational posters, all with smiles and bright colors. Her dark curtains sit parted, letting in the afternoon autumn sun that hits the wall next to you. You watch as she grabs the folder with your name on it before sitting in her large red chair and smiling over to you.

“So, how have you been? How was your trip with Levi?”

‘I’m doing well. And It was lovely! You were right, too. The road to Trost is gorgeous this time of year and the trees! So pretty.’ You think back at the little vacation Levi took you on just a week ago. He had taken the scenic route to the little town that you and he had rented a cabin in.

The leaves were at the end of their life and littered the ground wherever you went, crunching underneath your boots. Between the intimate moments and crisp atmosphere, it really was a magical time. Levi practically had to drag you back home.

On the way out, Levi found this adorable tea shop. It's not easy finding a place that made tea as well as he did, and of course he didn't say anything, but you could tell how much he enjoyed it. You won't soon forget the content on his normally stoic face. That reminds you of the little package snuggled in your purse so you reach down into it to pull out a small, rectangular tin.

‘I got this for you.’ You beam at her as you hand it over gently.

“Cranberry autumn tea?” She inspects the wording on the metal, hazel eyes glittering gold in the sunlight that reflects off the container. Her eyes shift to you as a grateful smile lights up her weathered face. “Oh you sweet thing, thank you so much. But you shouldn't have.”

‘As thanks for dealing with me.’ You laugh softly, leaning back into the plush couch.

“You know it's no problem. Even if I wasn't paid, I'd still enjoy your company.” She waves dismissively after setting her gift down on the table in front of her. “So, let's see where we left off last time.”

You pick at the edges of your sleeves once again as you watch her find the right place in her notes. Dr. Boreal is one of the kindest people you've had the pleasure of being around. Though she was being paid to help you, she always did so much more. She was patient with you when you struggled to get past certain goals, and when your voice hurt after a grueling session she would bring you herbal tea with honey to smooth the pain. Levi joked that you liked her tea more than his to which you always rolled your eyes at.

“Well you have made outstanding progress. Of course, there is still plenty we still need to work on. But you're doing well.” She looks down at her papers as she talks, the scratch of her pen fills the silence after she finishes. She looks back up to you. “Have you shown anyone your progress yet?”

Those around you are aware of your long journey through therapy. They even celebrated with you after one year - Hange's idea of course. Your sister couldn't hold it in when you had told them of the progress you've made and the goals you were looking forward to completing in the oncoming sessions.  

What they didn't know was that you were even in speech therapy, and how far in your speech recovery you were. Keeping it secret from Levi was getting harder with every passing week.

‘No, but I plan to soon, I promise.’ You pinch your lips together in a grimace. This has been a threat for the last 6 months but truthfully, you've been too scared to tell anyone. No, not scared. Nervous.

“Well, you know my stance on that. I’m sure they're going to be ecstatic, when you're ready to do so.” Dr. Boreal sets out a recorder to let you hear your voice the way she does, a tool you both found the most helpful when it came to fixing the areas that needed the most work. “Enough of that though, are you ready to start?”

With a confident smile, you open your mouth to speak.

.

A few hours later, you find yourself home and in the kitchen with your mind in another dimension. You’re currently plating up a vegetable tray on a tupperware platter as autumnal lofi weaves through the room from the speakers behind you. You’re so focused on arranging your sliced up miscellaneous veggies that you don't hear the metal key in the front door and the light footsteps of your boyfriend coming home for the evening.

“Hey.” Levi mutters from behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder to look at what you're doing – not without difficulty, of course. You jump at his sudden proximity causing you to drop the chosen dipping sauces in the middle of the platter, disturbing the once perfect arrangement.

There's a soft sigh from you, but you feel the giddiness at the expected company fluttering in your stomach. Even after a few years, he still gives you that effect. You twist in his arms to face him, and his gray eyes are downturned in concern.  

“Are you okay? Was therapy too much today?” He lessens his grip on you so you can pull your hands up to sign.

Levi Ackerman’s raven hair is slicked back from him running his fingers through it, and the way that it stayed put and the sheen on the strands, you can tell it must be raining. You've been so fixated on making sure it looked good that you hadn't even noticed. His gaze stares into yours as he searches for what might be bothering you, so you give him a reassuring smile.

‘No, it was actually really good. She said I've made a lot of progress.’

“That's good. Did you come home late, or have you been working on this tray the whole time?” He glances over your shoulder at the vegetables now thrown about on the counter.

‘Yes and no. I decided to run by the farmers market for more options. But they didn't have anything we didn't already have.’ You explain, shrugging your shoulders.

The afternoon sun was so nice on your face that you would have been a fool to not take advantage of it - and it's a good thing you did. Your eyes slide to the water droplets that drip down on the outside of the living room windows.

“Hm. Well we need to leave for Hange's party soon and you're not dressed. Let me finish this for you and you go get ready.” He leans in to kiss your forehead before unraveling his arms and pushing you in the direction of the bedroom. You only roll your eyes but make your way to the back as he asked.

Hange's Halloween Bash is something they have been planning for about a year. The moment the decorations went on sale last winter, she snatched up what she could. She said something about starting a new tradition for her friends turned family. Levi wasn't as excited about the prospect of such a social gathering but you were, and that was enough to get him to go.

Not only were you able to get him to go, you were also able to talk him into dressing up with you.  

In front of the mirror, you finish tying up a black corset that wraps around your waist. It helps form-fit the blue long sleeve dress that drops down to your bare ankles with your pair of flats completing the look. You were almost ready – all that was left was the big blue bow that you pinned to the back of your head as best you could. You suppose for a makeshift Ariel, this would do just fine. You almost chuckle at the irony of the characters you suggested to Levi a month ago.

A girl who can't talk and a prince that loved her despite it.

You do a small twirl in the mirror to make sure everything looks right. You almost jump out of your skin at the sudden sight of the person standing in the doorway. Levi leans against the door frame, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. His hands are in the pockets of his work clothes as he watches you intently, taking in the sight of you. With a hand over your heart, you give him a small frown.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” He doesn't sound sorry at all.

‘You are too quiet for your own good. One day you're going to scare me so bad that I'm going to punch you.’ You shake your head but smile anyways. You make your way to the closet to pull out Levi's costume for the night, making sure to grab the red waist sash that threatens to fall to the floor.

“You keep saying that.” He takes the hanger from you but not before leaning in to give you a chaste kiss. With a small laugh, you head out of the bedroom and down the hall back to the kitchen.

On your way there, you take a moment to glance at the framed photographs on the walls. Levi made sure to hang up the pictures he took from his apartment that he shared with Erwin as soon as you both moved in.

There was the one of him, Furlan, and Isabel as well as the one of him and Erwin on graduation day though Levi had persisted with Erwin to keep the latter. His blonde and blue eyed friend told him to take it as he had plenty more photos of the two he could hang up. That didn’t make Levi feel any better and it makes you wonder what photos Levi might be hiding from you.

Dispersed in between those are ones of you and Hange, and some with your shared circle of friends. The last one frames three photo strips next to each other. The first one is from your first Sakura Festival a few years ago where you sat on Levi's lap – both red faced and unaware of the extent of your affections for each other.

The other two are from the same photo booth, taken from the previous and current year. With each year, the smiles and looks of adoration grew. Both, luckily, were without the presence of your sister and Erwin. Surprisingly, it wasn't your idea to go back. As much as Levi did his best to hide his sentimental side, it was always present.  

When you get to the kitchen counter, you see the platter rearranged and closed up with the matching plastic lid. It looks perfect, even better than when you took a crack at it. You also see two cups of tea on the counter, both with steam rising up and dancing in the kitchen lights before dissipating into the air.

With a grin, you reach over to grab what you can only assume is yours based on the light color of your tea then walk around the island to sit on the bar stool, leaning on the counter with the mug in both hands. After your first sip, you sigh happily. It was one of the new teas Levi had brought back from the trip because he couldn't get enough of it. Earthy with hints of floral notes, topped with a citrusy zing.

When you start to wonder if Levi was okay, your eyes catch movement in the hallway. You watch Levi struggle with his sash, the soft grumbling of his irritation coming from under his breath as he tugs on it. Sometimes you never realize how hard it is to do something with less than the normal amount of fingers until it's forced upon you. Of course, Levi was never one to ask for help even after all these years.

Without a second thought, you stand up and make your way over to him. He doesn't fight as you take the fabric from his fingers and tighten it from the back. Tucked into the sash is a white blouse, loose enough to billow in the evening breeze. Black pants and matching boots fit snug against his lower half. When you're done, you turn him to face you to inspect the whole ensemble. With his hair properly slicked back, he was the perfect Prince Eric.

‘You look rather dashing, you know that?’

“Tch.” He rolls his eyes at you, but there's not a trace of annoyance radiating off of him. As much as he hates it, he loves you and would do anything you asked – within reason.

‘Are you almost ready to go?’

“In a few, I didn't just brew this for nothing.” He makes his way to the counter to grab his mug and instead of sitting, he stands propped up against the counter like you were but with his phone in hand.

“Your sister wants to know if you want apple juice or apple cider.” He mutters, his gray eyes flicking up over to you as you make your way over to the seat you were just at to finish your own cup. “Both, right?”

‘How did you know?’ You laugh, but nod in agreement. You watch as his fingers type away, the clicking of the keys filling back empty space. There's barely any sunlight coming through the closed blinds signifying that nightfall was almost here. You just now noticed Levi had gone ahead and turned off everything for you while you were getting ready.

The gut feeling you felt last week is back. There was a moment when Levi drove through the rolling hills, the golden rays of sunset lighting up his face. A moment of peace that washed over you as his soft gaze flitted over to you in the passenger seat for only a second, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.

With a nervous sigh, you reach over and pull down his phone with one finger to get his attention. Instantly he looks at you with worry, his mouth downturned.

“Are you okay?”

‘I bet you love me.’

His eyebrows raise, a little surprised at your random question – at something so obvious that he worries even more that something is wrong.

“What’s this about?”

‘Humor me. I bet you love me.’

“You bet right.” He draws out, confusion lacing his tone. 

‘You have to answer a question now. Since I was right.’

“What do you want to know that you don’t already?” His eyes roll at you again, but he sets his phone and mug down and leans over on his elbows to watch you intently.

‘It’s a simple but very important question, I promise.’

“Tch, okay. Hit me.”

Your eyes are suddenly fixated on the fridge to the right of you, the heat of his stare making you shy. For a split second, you almost chicken out. With your heart in your throat, you feel as if you're going to choke as your pulse quickens. Can you do this? Were you ready for this? You were quite tired after today, maybe it's best saved for another day. These thoughts race loudly in your head, but the moment you look back up to meet Levi's gaze, they cease to a quiet murmur.

No, you're ready. And you can do this.

With your fingers laced together, you rest your chin on them and continue to look up at Levi's perplexed expression. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you're finally able to find your voice.

“Will… you marry… me, Levi?” Your voice is scratchy despite the honey tea you drank after your session. It's rough, and to you it's far from pretty. But the change in expression on Levi's face is almost worth it as he stares at you dazed. It's almost funny to see the physical reaction of his brain comprehending what just happened, like a computer crashing and rebooting.

He's reaching over the counter suddenly and cupping your face in his calloused hands. He holds you there as his wide eyes bounce back and forth between yours. You fight back a laugh, your lips pinched together and quivering.

“Do that again. Say my name again.” The urgency in his voice is palpable.

“L…” You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to find your voice yet again. It's hard, but you try again anyway. “Levi.” It comes out brittle this time, leaving an uncomfortable pain in its wake.

“How did this happen?” His own voice sounds a little higher than before, and you have to bite back another laugh.

‘I've been working on it alongside my sessions with Foust.’ You've met your vocal quota for the day. Levi's hands stay cupped around your cheeks and he pulls you in until his soft lips touch yours again. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss him back, feeling the weight of your anxiety lift off your shoulders in an instant.

When he pulls away, his stare is conflicted and before you know it, he's released you and whips around the corner down the hallway. Dread inches its way into your chest where the anxiety was before as you realize he never answered your question. Did he need a moment? Did he even hear what you asked? The shock may have been too much. Your teeth bite into the inside of your cheek as you watch the dark hallway nervously.

A few seconds later, he emerges from the shadows with red creeping from his neck up into his face. He's flustered and holding something small in his hand. It takes you a moment to register what it was, and when you do, you jump to your feet to meet him halfway.

He doesn’t hesitate to open it to you though his fingers tremble ever so slightly. Inside are two golden rings, interlocked together. A small oval ruby sits surrounded by metal vines beset by smaller white diamonds in the shape of leaves. It's simple yet elegant. Your eyes snap up to his, no doubt as big as saucers.

Not only is this ring breathtaking, it's also groundbreaking to you. You've seen this ring box around since before you both had moved in together. It's been in the closet collecting dust, so of course you didn't think anything of it. He's had this ring for a long time, sitting right under your nose.

‘How long were you planning to propose?’

“For a while now. I just didn't know when would be a good time.” He carefully takes out the one with the red ruby and holds it up to you. The kitchen lights glimmer off the smooth surface reflecting red against his fingers. “I can't believe you beat me to it, though.” So he did hear you.

‘I wasn't planning to do it tonight, but I just had a feeling.’

“You never cease to amaze me, you know that?” He leans over to place the ring box onto the side table behind him, then turns to you. Then he does something you've only ever seen in movies – Levi gets down on one knee and the ring out to you.

“Um. I'm not good with things like this. But I just want you to know that I love you. And I've never been more prepared to spend my life with someone, if you'll have me. Will you marry me?” His eyes look away for a second before focusing back on you. Even though you had pretty much said yes when you asked first, he still seemed so nervous.  

To see Levi in such a mess like this in front of you makes that laugh you held back burst forth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Speechless again, you reach your hand out to him and just like that, he slides the ring on your finger with ease.

“I- uh, borrowed one of your rings to get it resized.” He mutters as you stare at it curiously. “So, that's a yes right?” Even though you took the ring, you can still hear the anxiety in his voice.

‘Of course, dummy.’ You laugh again before pulling him up on his feet by his collar and into you for another kiss, this time deeper and full of the love that you have for this man. When you pull away, you can't help but stare at the metal hugging your ring finger.

“It was my mom’s, she insisted on me having it. I think she knew.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into him, one hand on your waist and the other cupping your face. “I suppose we should call her tomorrow, yeah?”

You nod sharply, your smile hurting your cheeks, but you don't care. All you feel right now is the same peace you felt last week and excitement for the future ahead. You didn't want anyone else. 

“Say it again?”

“Levi.” He leans in again, hand still on your face as he presses his lips against your once more. There have been many shared kisses since you both became official but this one felt different. You didn't have the words for it, but it was miles away from being bad.

Levi's phone vibrating loudly on the counter disturbs the comfortable silence and you can only sigh. You almost forgot that you had somewhere to be and are reminded by the caller ID flashing your sister's name. In Levi fashion, he ignores it but he does pull away to look at you with a grimace.

“So who’s telling them?” 

☾ Previous Chapter: June - Part 5

[fatehbaz]

As early as 1700, Samuel Sewall, the renowned Boston judge and diarist, connected “the two most dominant moral questions of that moment: the rapid rise of the slave trade and the support of global piracy” in many American colonies [...]. In the course of the eighteenth century, [...] [there was a] semantic shift in the [literary] trope of piracy in the Atlantic context, turning its [...] connotations from exploration and adventure to slavery and exploitation. [...] [A] large share of Atlantic seafaring took place in the service of the circum-Atlantic slave trade, serving European empire-building in the Americas. [...] Ships have been cast as important sites of struggle and as symbols of escape in [...] Black Atlantic consciousness, from Olaudah Equiano’s Interesting Narrative (1789) and Richard Hildreth’s The Slave: or Memoir of Archy Moore (1836 [...]) to nineteenth century Atlantic abolitionist literature such as Frederick Douglass’s My Bondage and My Freedom (1855) or Martin Delany’s Blake (1859-1862). [...] Black and white abolitionists across the Atlantic world were imagining a different social order revolving around issues of resistance, liberty, (human) property, and (il)legality [...].

---

Using black pirates as figures of resistance [...], Maxwell Philip’s novel Emmanuel Appadocca (1854) emphasizes the nexus of insatiable material desire and its conditions of production: slavery. [...] [T]he consumption of commodities produced by slave labor itself was delegitimized [...]. Philip, a Trinidadian [and "illegitimate" "colored" child] [...], published Emmanuel Appadocca as a protest against slavery in the United States [following the Fugitive Slave laws of 1850.]. [...] [The novel places] at its center [...] a heroic non-white pirate and intellectual [...] [whose] pirate ship [...] [is] significantly named The Black Schooner [...]. One of the central discourses in [the book] is that of legitimacy, of rights and lawfulness, of both slavery and piracy [...]. About midway into the book, Appadocca gives a [...] speech in which he argues that colonialism itself is a piratical system:

If I am guilty of piracy, you, too [are] [...] guilty of the very same crime. ... [T]he whole of the civilized world turns, exists, and grows enormous on the licensed system of robbing and thieving, which you seem to criminate so much ... The people which a convenient position ... first consolidated, developed, and enriched, ... sends forth its numerous and powerful ships to scour the seas, the penetrate into unknown regions, where discovering new and rich countries, they, in the name of civilization, first open an intercourse with the peaceful and contented inhabitants, next contrive to provoke a quarrel, which always terminates in a war that leaves them the conquerors and possessors of the land. ... [T]he straggling [...] portions of a certain race [...] are chosen. The coasts of the country on which nature has placed them, are immediately lined with ships of acquisitive voyagers, who kidnap and tear them away [...].

In this [...], slavery appears as a direct consequence of the colonial venture encompassing the entire “civilized world,” and “powerful ships” - the narrator refers to the slavers here - are this world’s empire builders. [...] Piracy, for Philip, signifies a just rebellion, a private, legitimate [resistance] against colonial exploiters and economic inequality - he repeatedly invokes their solidarity as misfortunate outcasts [...].

---

All text above by: Alexandra Ganser. “Cultural Constructions of Piracy During the Crisis Over Slavery.” A chapter from Crisis and Legitimacy in the Atlantic American Narratives of Piracy: 1678-1865. Published 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[localhypnofruit]

Hey DST fans. Here are multiple paragraphs about WX-78 as a system because I cannot contain myself any longer.

When it comes to WX-78, there are three parts. WX (current host and protector), Woodrow (trauma holder and ex-host), and Waggy (caretaker?). WX and Woodrow are very hard to tell apart since they act very similarly and sometimes even blend together. Waggy acts the most different out of the three, but only shows up when the system (bodily and/or mentally) is running on empty and neither of the other two are around.

How to tell Woodrow apart from WX: Woodrow speaks with fewer robot terms than WX does. They still have a distaste for organic life but still calls things by their names (which includes survivors, though still calling them organic as an insult- Ex. "fleshling Wilson"). They also move less rigidly than WX despite the body not being fully accommodating for those types of movements. Woodrow also can occasionally be found sitting for long periods looking at themself or "brooding" due to thinking on/re-experiencing past events, and taking less care of the body than WX would. Some survivors even call them reckless or irresponsible for lacking "their" usual self-sufficiency. When it's just Woodrow piloting, they tend to have trouble seeing far-away things. Along with this, they can rarely be seen with a square light inside one of their usually empty eye sockets.

More about WX: WX is obviously more rigid in movement and (usually) speech. They use nicknames for animals and survivors in a typically demeaning way, and holds themself with pride over organic life. They think more on self-preservation than Woodrow. Though they do attempt to take care of themself, they often forget or don't do things they should for their pride. They're also capable of understanding what's best for the group better than the other two, even if they don't like caring for organics. WX also holds a fascination for the moon that Woodrow doesn't have.

Waggy... Not Exactly Wagstaff: Waggy shares a fascination with the moon like WX, but doesn't respond to the body's name. He typically goes off on his own endeavors, but has the most friendly demeanor compared to the other two. He's unaware of his own predicament and just winds up being curious about all that's around him and how he can benefit from it. Waggy takes the most care of the body to a selfish degree, even tricking others into giving him more than he needs. If the demeanor wasn't obvious enough, he causes the body's optics to form a large white pupil in one eye socket. This abnormal amount of light makes him practically blind to things not in front of his face. Thankfully, again, Waggy rarely shows himself unless there are specific circumstances with the system.

Memory Issues, Huh: None of these three are aware of being a system, nor do they know of each other's existence. The only way they'd figure that out is if another survivor were to point it out to them, and even then they likely wouldn't acknowledge it. Woodrow and WX share most of their memories with each other (aside from the ones of the past that Woodrow holds), so most gaps in memory are from when/if Waggy shows up- as Waggy shares no memories with the other two.

There are still plenty of thoughts I'm thinking about this but this post is already too long and this is just a general explanation of the system on its own.

[divine0rdainment]

SNEAK PEAK in to Operation Replace Lilith

(not the full chapter, just a few paragraphs. I will warn you, I'm keeping up Adam being a dick in this, so don't be surprised)

Chapter 1

Back to the Garden

The first thing Adam sees when he opens his eyes is the bright blue sky. He blinks and covers his eyes, groaning in pain. Fuck, where the hell was he? Wasn't he just in hell? With Lucifer and his bitch daughter…and then he felt…pain in his back and Lute was there…crying? Lute never cries. Why would she be…oh God!

He suddenly sat up and gasped, panic hitting him hard as he touched his chest looking down. And he sees, believe it or not, that he is naked. Weird. Why was he naked? And why did he have abs instead of his well earned beer belly?! He was also skinnier than he had been in a few hundred years, and without every single one of his scars. His chest hair was also greatly reduced, which, felt violating. His skin was even darker. He hadn't been tan since he became an executioner and started wearing his helmet and gloves. When the fuck had this happened? Where was he?!

His now Amber eyes gaze around the area and he sees he is resting on a patch of soft light green grass, in a small valley next to two large Bluffs on one side, a extending forest on the other, and in-between the two bluffs layed a small waterfall creating a beautifully perfect pond full of shimmering water, cleaner than he's seen in a millenia.

He gulped as he slowly came to remembered this place. His birth place, the clay from that river, and the dirt from this grass made him. In the literal sense. He was “Birthed” from this very patch of grass. And if he was here, then…so should she be.

His amber eyes turn to see golden hair sprayed out across the grass, The soft ivory skin almost glowed in the sunlight from above. Her eyes were closed, but Adam knew when she opened them, they would be a soft green color that matched the leaves that grow with wisteria flowers. And her voice would sound like that of the most beautiful song birds. Lilith. The woman who started it all, the woman who chose the Devil over him.

God above why?! Why was he here again?! Why was she?! Slowly he got to his feet and backed up from her in a panic. However, his legs were slightly weaker than he anticipated, and he fell backwards, groaning as his ass fell on the grass. On the upside, the grass here was softer than any grass you would find on earth. So it didn't hurt too bad.

“Fuck!" He groaned, not really in pain but the shock of falling still upset him. He looked down at the other and glaired at the woman as she opens her eyes at his yell of shock. The woman looked at him with her beautiful eyes. Eyes he had once thought he would happily look into for eternity. He was naive back then tho. He knew better now.

Her eyes were wider in Eden than they were last they met. They oddly matched her daughter's when she was this naive and innocent. He recognized them immediately when he first met Charlie at that meeting. Made him want to antagonize her and dismiss her. She was so bright and optimistic and full of hope…he hated it Because it reminded him of who Lilith used to be, but less…independent. And far less bratty too.

She slowly sits up, glancing over Adam, and after a moment, she spoke “I…I am Lilith…” she said, practicing her speech. She smiles and touched her lips, giggling. She did that the first time too, so amazed by her own voice. Fucking full of herself, or so Adam thought. Her voice wasn't THAT great. Yeah it was literally made by angels, but come on, there are BETTER ones. " I-i am Lilith the first woman!" She declared then leans closer to Adam, who quickly backed up against the grass. “Who are you?" She called. She had done this last time too. Curious and excited to be alive. He was too, he remembered. He thought she was the prettiest flower in the garden at one point. But that thought was long since died. It wasn't coming back now just because he's back at the begining. Fuck that.

“Adam…first man..” he grumbled, his tone showing his displeasure at ‘meeting’ her. He looked away from her and attempted to stand again. When he holds out his arms to make sure he doesn't fall, he sighs, stabilizing and then, when he is ready, starts walking towards the forest. Where was he going? He didn't really know. North, if he remembered right, towards the heaven entrance into the garden.

Lilith frowned, and tried to stand too. “W-wait! Where are you-" she stumbled and falls down, whinpering in pain as she put all her weight in her knees in the stumble. She couldn't get up fast enough to catch up with him. “A-Adam! Wait for me! Please!" But Adam didn't wait. Fuck that bitch, she can take care of herself. And so could he. She was always so independent after all, she didn't need him now. He needed to figure out what the ever loving fuck was going on!

(To see the rest you'll have to wait till I post ;)

[whoishotteranimepolls]

hello, finn here, resident one piece "insane tag" writer.... im doing my duty to defend mr. smoker. smo-yan, if you will.

what are my credentials in commenting on this matter? Well. Glad you asked. I've been a onep fan for admittedly not that long, but in that time (like... 8-9 months?) i've messaged one of my close friends. hm. discord receipts.

681 times about him. also you know that one post? yeah from "smoker. smo-yan." to "i fucking love him good god" that's all me. glad we've established my expertise here

2. look at him. first of all, im raising my eyebrow at you anon because woahhhh looking 60 is fine for me. just perfect, actually. they grey/white hair is fucking wonderful to me personally considering i also love rayleigh and beckman.... also just like. every other part of him. he has huge boobs that he refuses to cover because he's allergic to shirts for some reason. he has leather gloves (would suck on any day). when also jacketless, he wears his jitte with a thick strap over his chest that is So droolworthy. he has a Fat Ass. search up stampede smoker because that's like his peak look. his face scar is endlessly sexy. the slicked back hair (more recently) and the more messy spiky look from earlier in the series both serve in contributing to his bad boy persona, which leads me to my second point: the dichotomy of personality.

3a. part a - the bad boy delinquent persona. if you only take him for his surface level actions and words, he seems a little bit mean. like every gruff, rough-around-the-edges mad dog delinquent type. just look at him as a marine cadet, head shaved and frowning. look at the illustration oda did of him as a kid, holding a nail-imbedded bat. he's loud and brash and commands a whole marine squad, he's big and always has a frown on his face and he's arguing and cursing and you just expect him to be unkind. but. But.

3b. But he's not. he's not unkind at all. He's not nice, maybe, but he's so kind. when tashigi has her crisis about justice vs the marines vs "doing the right thing" are often, actually, at odds with each other, smoker supports her in his own gruff way. tells her he'll be there to support her. and. the scene of all time;

4. la pièce de résistance - his character introduction. oda does character introduction SO well in general (see: mihawk, zoro, galley-la shipwrights, countless others) but the smoker intro is my top intro of all time, it's SO good. to recount to those who don't know, we basically see this big scary gruff guy - shirtless, obviously strong, all spiky hair and big stompy boots - and a kid bumps into him and spills their ice cream all over him. He obviously has a reputation as a powerful guy, because the villiagers around all beg him for forgiveness, ask him not to hurt the kid - and yknow what he does? He says to the kid "looks like my pants ate your ice cream," drops a few coin into their hand, and tells them to buy more scoops next time. that's the most attractive thing i've ever seen. he does masculinity like NO other. gods.

5. strong moral compass - doesn't often agree with general marine guidelines. he's pretty shit at being a marine, honestly. tells the brass to go fuck themselves often. follows his own sense of justice, and even though he hates pirates.... temporarily allying himself with them is not off the table, not if it means more justice (in his eyes). he doesn't like innocent people being killed. in stampede, even as everyone attempts to leave the island in light for abuster call, he stays because there must be something he can do. hina sighs and calls him stupid for it, but takes tashigi koby and helmeppo away anyways, showing that this has happened before, likely multiple times.

6. can he stub those cigars out on me. please. please. plea- [comically large piano falls on me, cutting off my speech]

For context, they are responding to this post about Smoker

It's always the last paragraph that pushes it into horny jail territory every time

And he does have one of the best intros. I hope they keep it in the live action

[chaotic-on-main]

Epilogue

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, romance, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse, smoking and alcohol abuse mentions, domestic violence, light assault, eventual smut

☾ Author's note ➼ Heeeeyy I'm back. If you haven't had an eye on my masterlist for Unspoken Words, you might have missed that I've been working on an epilogue. SURPRISE. If you have, then here it is lol. I am OFFICIALLY done with UW and I'm so sad about it. ALSO for some reason my tumblr app hates me and any time I italicize a line, it italicizes the entire paragraph and I have no idea why. As always, the sign language lines are marked with ' and speaking lines marked with ".

Thank you to anyone who has taken time out of their lives to read my "little" story. I enjoyed writing about this little world and I could not be happier to know that most of you liked reading it. I appreciate you more than you know. Can you believe this is around 100k words? Crazy. Anyways, I'm gonna go write some more, I'll see ya around! <3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~4k

Reddish-orange leaves dance in a unique ballet number past the window you were currently staring out of. You can't keep your fingers from picking at the sleeves of your wool sweater as you wait for your speech therapist to come and get you from the semi-quiet lobby. The only noises you hear comes from the reception desk and the TV mounted opposite of the couch you were waiting on. The weather channel calls for a beautiful weekend with warmer than usual temperatures – which is good considering Halloween is tomorrow.

A side door leading to the back offices opens up, and your name is called from a stout brunette woman with large rimmed glasses and a kind smile. She holds it open as she beckons you forward, and you don't hesitate to smile back as you pick up your bag and make your way through the door and down the familiar hall on her heels.

You’ve been seeing Dr. Boreal for about almost two years now. You started speech therapy shortly after starting trauma therapy – something they had recommended. You weren't quick to decline the suggestion, but you'd be lying if you said you had ever thought about taking back your speech. Some time in your youth, you just assumed it was gone forever. That it was something that couldn't be fixed.

According to Dr. Foust, your trauma therapist, the speech block was mental. Therefore, it was something that could be explored and possibly broken through.

When he had said that, you had newfound hope and suddenly a silent goal to work towards.

It's like clockwork the way you stepped into Dr. Boreal's navy blue office, stepping over to the right and onto the plush cream colored couch meant just for patients. On the walls of her office sits multiple picture frames and motivational posters, all with smiles and bright colors. Her dark curtains sit parted, letting in the afternoon autumn sun that hits the wall next to you. You watch as she grabs the folder with your name on it before sitting in her large red chair and smiling over to you.

“So, how have you been? How was your trip with Levi?”

‘I’m doing well. And It was lovely! You were right, too. The road to Trost is gorgeous this time of year and the trees! So pretty.’ You think back at the little vacation Levi took you on just a week ago. He had taken the scenic route to the little town that you and he had rented a cabin in.

The leaves were at the end of their life and littered the ground wherever you went, crunching underneath your boots. Between the intimate moments and crisp atmosphere, it really was a magical time. Levi practically had to drag you back home.

On the way out, Levi found this adorable tea shop. It's not easy finding a place that made tea as well as he did, and of course he didn't say anything, but you could tell how much he enjoyed it. You won't soon forget the content on his normally stoic face. That reminds you of the little package snuggled in your purse so you reach down into it to pull out a small, rectangular tin.

‘I got this for you.’ You beam at her as you hand it over gently.

“Cranberry autumn tea?” She inspects the wording on the metal, hazel eyes glittering gold in the sunlight that reflects off the container. Her eyes shift to you as a grateful smile lights up her weathered face. “Oh you sweet thing, thank you so much. But you shouldn't have.”

‘As thanks for dealing with me.’ You laugh softly, leaning back into the plush couch.

“You know it's no problem. Even if I wasn't paid, I'd still enjoy your company.” She waves dismissively after setting her gift down on the table in front of her. “So, let's see where we left off last time.”

You pick at the edges of your sleeves once again as you watch her find the right place in her notes. Dr. Boreal is one of the kindest people you've had the pleasure of being around. Though she was being paid to help you, she always did so much more. She was patient with you when you struggled to get past certain goals, and when your voice hurt after a grueling session she would bring you herbal tea with honey to smooth the pain. Levi joked that you liked her tea more than his to which you always rolled your eyes at.

“Well you have made outstanding progress. Of course, there is still plenty we still need to work on. But you're doing well.” She looks down at her papers as she talks, the scratch of her pen fills the silence after she finishes. She looks back up to you. “Have you shown anyone your progress yet?”

Those around you are aware of your long journey through therapy. They even celebrated with you after one year - Hange's idea of course. Your sister couldn't hold it in when you had told them of the progress you've made and the goals you were looking forward to completing in the oncoming sessions.  

What they didn't know was that you were even in speech therapy, and how far in your speech recovery you were. Keeping it secret from Levi was getting harder with every passing week.

‘No, but I plan to soon, I promise.’ You pinch your lips together in a grimace. This has been a threat for the last 6 months but truthfully, you've been too scared to tell anyone. No, not scared. Nervous.

“Well, you know my stance on that. I’m sure they're going to be ecstatic, when you're ready to do so.” Dr. Boreal sets out a recorder to let you hear your voice the way she does, a tool you both found the most helpful when it came to fixing the areas that needed the most work. “Enough of that though, are you ready to start?”

With a confident smile, you open your mouth to speak.

.

A few hours later, you find yourself home and in the kitchen with your mind in another dimension. You’re currently plating up a vegetable tray on a tupperware platter as autumnal lofi weaves through the room from the speakers behind you. You’re so focused on arranging your sliced up miscellaneous veggies that you don't hear the metal key in the front door and the light footsteps of your boyfriend coming home for the evening.

“Hey.” Levi mutters from behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder to look at what you're doing – not without difficulty, of course. You jump at his sudden proximity causing you to drop the chosen dipping sauces in the middle of the platter, disturbing the once perfect arrangement.

There's a soft sigh from you, but you feel the giddiness at the expected company fluttering in your stomach. Even after a few years, he still gives you that effect. You twist in his arms to face him, and his gray eyes are downturned in concern.  

“Are you okay? Was therapy too much today?” He lessens his grip on you so you can pull your hands up to sign.

Levi Ackerman’s raven hair is slicked back from him running his fingers through it, and the way that it stayed put and the sheen on the strands, you can tell it must be raining. You've been so fixated on making sure it looked good that you hadn't even noticed. His gaze stares into yours as he searches for what might be bothering you, so you give him a reassuring smile.

‘No, it was actually really good. She said I've made a lot of progress.’

“That's good. Did you come home late, or have you been working on this tray the whole time?” He glances over your shoulder at the vegetables now thrown about on the counter.

‘Yes and no. I decided to run by the farmers market for more options. But they didn't have anything we didn't already have.’ You explain, shrugging your shoulders.

The afternoon sun was so nice on your face that you would have been a fool to not take advantage of it - and it's a good thing you did. Your eyes slide to the water droplets that drip down on the outside of the living room windows.

“Hm. Well we need to leave for Hange's party soon and you're not dressed. Let me finish this for you and you go get ready.” He leans in to kiss your forehead before unraveling his arms and pushing you in the direction of the bedroom. You only roll your eyes but make your way to the back as he asked.

Hange's Halloween Bash is something they have been planning for about a year. The moment the decorations went on sale last winter, she snatched up what she could. She said something about starting a new tradition for her friends turned family. Levi wasn't as excited about the prospect of such a social gathering but you were, and that was enough to get him to go.

Not only were you able to get him to go, you were also able to talk him into dressing up with you.  

In front of the mirror, you finish tying up a black corset that wraps around your waist. It helps form-fit the blue long sleeve dress that drops down to your bare ankles with your pair of flats completing the look. You were almost ready – all that was left was the big blue bow that you pinned to the back of your head as best you could. You suppose for a makeshift Ariel, this would do just fine. You almost chuckle at the irony of the characters you suggested to Levi a month ago.

A girl who can't talk and a prince that loved her despite it.

You do a small twirl in the mirror to make sure everything looks right. You almost jump out of your skin at the sudden sight of the person standing in the doorway. Levi leans against the door frame, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. His hands are in the pockets of his work clothes as he watches you intently, taking in the sight of you. With a hand over your heart, you give him a small frown.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” He doesn't sound sorry at all.

‘You are too quiet for your own good. One day you're going to scare me so bad that I'm going to punch you.’ You shake your head but smile anyways. You make your way to the closet to pull out Levi's costume for the night, making sure to grab the red waist sash that threatens to fall to the floor.

“You keep saying that.” He takes the hanger from you but not before leaning in to give you a chaste kiss. With a small laugh, you head out of the bedroom and down the hall back to the kitchen.

On your way there, you take a moment to glance at the framed photographs on the walls. Levi made sure to hang up the pictures he took from his apartment that he shared with Erwin as soon as you both moved in.

There was the one of him, Furlan, and Isabel as well as the one of him and Erwin on graduation day though Levi had persisted with Erwin to keep the latter. His blonde and blue eyed friend told him to take it as he had plenty more photos of the two he could hang up. That didn’t make Levi feel any better and it makes you wonder what photos Levi might be hiding from you.

Dispersed in between those are ones of you and Hange, and some with your shared circle of friends. The last one frames three photo strips next to each other. The first one is from your first Sakura Festival a few years ago where you sat on Levi's lap – both red faced and unaware of the extent of your affections for each other.

The other two are from the same photo booth, taken from the previous and current year. With each year, the smiles and looks of adoration grew. Both, luckily, were without the presence of your sister and Erwin. Surprisingly, it wasn't your idea to go back. As much as Levi did his best to hide his sentimental side, it was always present.  

When you get to the kitchen counter, you see the platter rearranged and closed up with the matching plastic lid. It looks perfect, even better than when you took a crack at it. You also see two cups of tea on the counter, both with steam rising up and dancing in the kitchen lights before dissipating into the air.

With a grin, you reach over to grab what you can only assume is yours based on the light color of your tea then walk around the island to sit on the bar stool, leaning on the counter with the mug in both hands. After your first sip, you sigh happily. It was one of the new teas Levi had brought back from the trip because he couldn't get enough of it. Earthy with hints of floral notes, topped with a citrusy zing.

When you start to wonder if Levi was okay, your eyes catch movement in the hallway. You watch Levi struggle with his sash, the soft grumbling of his irritation coming from under his breath as he tugs on it. Sometimes you never realize how hard it is to do something with less than the normal amount of fingers until it's forced upon you. Of course, Levi was never one to ask for help even after all these years.

Without a second thought, you stand up and make your way over to him. He doesn't fight as you take the fabric from his fingers and tighten it from the back. Tucked into the sash is a white blouse, loose enough to billow in the evening breeze. Black pants and matching boots fit snug against his lower half. When you're done, you turn him to face you to inspect the whole ensemble. With his hair properly slicked back, he was the perfect Prince Eric.

‘You look rather dashing, you know that?’

“Tch.” He rolls his eyes at you, but there's not a trace of annoyance radiating off of him. As much as he hates it, he loves you and would do anything you asked – within reason.

‘Are you almost ready to go?’

“In a few, I didn't just brew this for nothing.” He makes his way to the counter to grab his mug and instead of sitting, he stands propped up against the counter like you were but with his phone in hand.

“Your sister wants to know if you want apple juice or apple cider.” He mutters, his gray eyes flicking up over to you as you make your way over to the seat you were just at to finish your own cup. “Both, right?”

‘How did you know?’ You laugh, but nod in agreement. You watch as his fingers type away, the clicking of the keys filling back empty space. There's barely any sunlight coming through the closed blinds signifying that nightfall was almost here. You just now noticed Levi had gone ahead and turned off everything for you while you were getting ready.

The gut feeling you felt last week is back. There was a moment when Levi drove through the rolling hills, the golden rays of sunset lighting up his face. A moment of peace that washed over you as his soft gaze flitted over to you in the passenger seat for only a second, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.

With a nervous sigh, you reach over and pull down his phone with one finger to get his attention. Instantly he looks at you with worry, his mouth downturned.

“Are you okay?”

‘I bet you love me.’

His eyebrows raise, a little surprised at your random question – at something so obvious that he worries even more that something is wrong.

“What’s this about?”

‘Humor me. I bet you love me.’

“You bet right.” He draws out, confusion lacing his tone. 

‘You have to answer a question now. Since I was right.’

“What do you want to know that you don’t already?” His eyes roll at you again, but he sets his phone and mug down and leans over on his elbows to watch you intently.

‘It’s a simple but very important question, I promise.’

“Tch, okay. Hit me.”

Your eyes are suddenly fixated on the fridge to the right of you, the heat of his stare making you shy. For a split second, you almost chicken out. With your heart in your throat, you feel as if you're going to choke as your pulse quickens. Can you do this? Were you ready for this? You were quite tired after today, maybe it's best saved for another day. These thoughts race loudly in your head, but the moment you look back up to meet Levi's gaze, they cease to a quiet murmur.

No, you're ready. And you can do this.

With your fingers laced together, you rest your chin on them and continue to look up at Levi's perplexed expression. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you're finally able to find your voice.

“Will… you marry… me, Levi?” Your voice is scratchy despite the honey tea you drank after your session. It's rough, and to you it's far from pretty. But the change in expression on Levi's face is almost worth it as he stares at you dazed. It's almost funny to see the physical reaction of his brain comprehending what just happened, like a computer crashing and rebooting.

He's reaching over the counter suddenly and cupping your face in his calloused hands. He holds you there as his wide eyes bounce back and forth between yours. You fight back a laugh, your lips pinched together and quivering.

“Do that again. Say my name again.” The urgency in his voice is palpable.

“L…” You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to find your voice yet again. It's hard, but you try again anyway. “Levi.” It comes out brittle this time, leaving an uncomfortable pain in its wake.

“How did this happen?” His own voice sounds a little higher than before, and you have to bite back another laugh.

‘I've been working on it alongside my sessions with Foust.’ You've met your vocal quota for the day. Levi's hands stay cupped around your cheeks and he pulls you in until his soft lips touch yours again. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss him back, feeling the weight of your anxiety lift off your shoulders in an instant.

When he pulls away, his stare is conflicted and before you know it, he's released you and whips around the corner down the hallway. Dread inches its way into your chest where the anxiety was before as you realize he never answered your question. Did he need a moment? Did he even hear what you asked? The shock may have been too much. Your teeth bite into the inside of your cheek as you watch the dark hallway nervously.

A few seconds later, he emerges from the shadows with red creeping from his neck up into his face. He's flustered and holding something small in his hand. It takes you a moment to register what it was, and when you do, you jump to your feet to meet him halfway.

He doesn’t hesitate to open it to you though his fingers tremble ever so slightly. Inside are two golden rings, interlocked together. A small oval ruby sits surrounded by metal vines beset by smaller white diamonds in the shape of leaves. It's simple yet elegant. Your eyes snap up to his, no doubt as big as saucers.

Not only is this ring breathtaking, it's also groundbreaking to you. You've seen this ring box around since before you both had moved in together. It's been in the closet collecting dust, so of course you didn't think anything of it. He's had this ring for a long time, sitting right under your nose.

‘How long were you planning to propose?’

“For a while now. I just didn't know when would be a good time.” He carefully takes out the one with the red ruby and holds it up to you. The kitchen lights glimmer off the smooth surface reflecting red against his fingers. “I can't believe you beat me to it, though.” So he did hear you.

‘I wasn't planning to do it tonight, but I just had a feeling.’

“You never cease to amaze me, you know that?” He leans over to place the ring box onto the side table behind him, then turns to you. Then he does something you've only ever seen in movies – Levi gets down on one knee and the ring out to you.

“Um. I'm not good with things like this. But I just want you to know that I love you. And I've never been more prepared to spend my life with someone, if you'll have me. Will you marry me?” His eyes look away for a second before focusing back on you. Even though you had pretty much said yes when you asked first, he still seemed so nervous.  

To see Levi in such a mess like this in front of you makes that laugh you held back burst forth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Speechless again, you reach your hand out to him and just like that, he slides the ring on your finger with ease.

“I- uh, borrowed one of your rings to get it resized.” He mutters as you stare at it curiously. “So, that's a yes right?” Even though you took the ring, you can still hear the anxiety in his voice.

‘Of course, dummy.’ You laugh again before pulling him up on his feet by his collar and into you for another kiss, this time deeper and full of the love that you have for this man. When you pull away, you can't help but stare at the metal hugging your ring finger.

“It was my mom’s, she insisted on me having it. I think she knew.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into him, one hand on your waist and the other cupping your face. “I suppose we should call her tomorrow, yeah?”

You nod sharply, your smile hurting your cheeks, but you don't care. All you feel right now is the same peace you felt last week and excitement for the future ahead. You didn't want anyone else. 

“Say it again?”

“Levi.” He leans in again, hand still on your face as he presses his lips against your once more. There have been many shared kisses since you both became official but this one felt different. You didn't have the words for it, but it was miles away from being bad.

Levi's phone vibrating loudly on the counter disturbs the comfortable silence and you can only sigh. You almost forgot that you had somewhere to be and are reminded by the caller ID flashing your sister's name. In Levi fashion, he ignores it but he does pull away to look at you with a grimace.

“So who’s telling them?” 

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☾ Previous Chapter: June - Part 5

[minhxiao]

from wangshu inn to the fleuve cendre xiao/aether | rating: G | 1.6k words Xiao reads of Aether's journey in Fontaine in The Steambird. He realizes that in Aether's absence, he's picked up the habit of collecting little pieces of him everywhere he goes.

Adeptus Xiao never used to keep track of the days of the week, but now he knows that it is a Sunday. 

And it is precisely because it’s a Sunday that he now stands before Verr Goldet’s desk, arms crossed and waiting at the earliest sliver of dawn.

“Morning, Adeptus Xiao,” Xiao can’t understand the hidden meaning in Verr’s smile, but lately he’s been wondering if she’s teasing him. “The courier came early today.” 

Xiao knows. He had heard him arrive just ten minutes ago to deliver the mail at the foot of the Inn. 

“Paper?” Xiao tries not to look too impatient. Wei meows and nudges her head along Xiao’s wrist and this time, he doesn’t flinch. 

Verr flashes him that unknowable smile again. She slides the freshly pressed newspaper across the counter before hiding a yawn with her palm. 

“Looks like he’s solved some cold case this time after getting roped into standing trial for that Fatui member,” Verr mumbles. “But well… that’s Aether for you.” 

Xiao snatches the latest edition of The Steambird from the counter, the paper crinkling in his hands. 

Washed Up Mysteries Brought to Light: Spina di Rosula Brings the Longstanding Serial Disappearances Case to a Close

 Golden Haired Traveler Unearths Key Evidence Amidst Trial

Xiao quickly skims the front page and that ever present anxiety in his chest loosens just a fraction. He releases his grip on the paper.

He’s alright. 

When Xiao turns the page, his eyes widen. The Steambird always included photos in their features, but every so often, when Aether did something big enough to make the headlines, they would sometimes include a photo of him. 

And this one did. 

It was a clandestine, but striking picture of him standing inside a large courthouse, speaking to a man sitting upon a high dais. Aether appears to be in the middle of a speech, his arm raised upright as he holds some kind of book in his left hand. His face looks uncharacteristically grave.

Even through the photo, Xiao catches the tired line of his body, the hard set of his brow. The adeptus’ heart aches with a restless worry. 

He stares at the photo long enough to bore holes in the paper. Verr clears her throat. 

“Was he injured?” Xiao asks bluntly because he can’t be bothered to slowly read through the flowery, sensationalist paragraphs right now. He would, later. He would read them over and over again until he’s committed the series of events to memory. But at present, Aether’s safety is his most immediate, pressing concern.

“I don’t believe so,” Verr blinks at him slowly. “All they said was that he rushed into the Opera House to deliver the key piece of evidence against the criminal behind this case. It was… really harrowing stuff.” 

Xiao frowns slightly at the ambiguous answer. He knows by now that the papers only cover the most noteworthy and relevant details to the story. But any number of unknown and unseen dangers could have happened behind the scenes. 

Xiao exhales through his nose. There is so much he may never know about Aether and his own lack of knowledge frustrates him.

“What is Spina di… Rosula?” Xiao points to the words. Verr peers over the counter.

“Hmm, like an organization of private investigators. They were the ones that Aether was working with on this case.”

“He is safe with them?” Xiao’s brows furrow. Verr’s expression softens into something unreadable as she gives a gentle sigh. 

He knows exactly what Verr is going to say but he wants to hear it again anyway.

“Aether is a very capable traveler, Xiao,” Verr says, as if she hasn’t told him this ever since he started reading the paper. “You don’t need to worry about him.” 

“… Right,” Xiao folds the paper neatly under his arm and nods to Verr. 

“Thank you, Verr,'' he turns to leave, but this time, Verr calls out to him before he can disappear.

Her voice is hesitant, “You could write to him, you know.” 

Xiao pauses, turning slowly. “Write?” 

Ver nods. “A letter. In the mail. I know he’d appreciate it.” 

The adeptus actually considers it, for the briefest of moments, before he gives a small scoff. How would you send a letter to someone without a home? And what could Xiao possibly tell Aether that would be of value to him in his journeys in distant, foreign lands?

Writing a letter would be useless. Xiao would hate to distract him from his duties. 

“No need.” 

***

Xiao is aware that he never used to be like this.  

He never read newspapers. He couldn’t have cared less about current affairs or the latest fashion trends in other nations. Up until a week ago, he didn’t even know the meaning of things like “pressing charges” or “court cases.” 

But now as he unfurls the latest Steambird in his chambers alongside his copy of the Updated Teyvat Idioms Dictionary, he wonders if his behavior is perhaps more than a mere idle fixation on Aether’s whereabouts and safety. 

In his chambers sits a stack of various newspaper cut-outs forming a timeline of Aether’s journey across Teyvat from the time that he first stepped foot off Liyue. Everything from the grandiose to the mundane― the traveler seemed to make headlines wherever he went, not that Xiao was particularly surprised. 

“... evidence dismantled the defendant's prior defense…” Xiao mumbles to himself. 

Once he’s finished thoroughly reading the article, he reads it again, then crosses his arms deep in thought. A sharp pang of admiration and pride warms his chest, alongside an uncomfortable, aching kind of pain. 

He picks up the page with Aether’s photo on it. 

It’s been two seasons since Xiao’s last seen him in person at the last Lantern Rite.

Before the traveler, Xiao never thought about things like seasons and dates and couriers and newspapers.

But he has never felt the pull of time and distance so strongly as when Aether leaves him. He finds his mind drifting in between his duties, conjuring up images of him meeting new people, seeing new sights. 

What is he doing right now? Xiao would wonder in the morning. Has he rested well? 

Is anything troubling him? At noon. Has he eaten? Is he safe? In the uneasy quiet of the night. 

Xiao would sometimes even find himself staring at the sunset and imagining Aether is watching the very same one, in some city far out of his reach. It seems that every waking hour, Aether finds his way into Xiao’s thoughts but all that he’s left with are scattered newspaper cutouts and stolen, eavesdropped conversations from passersby. 

Verr voice echoes in his head. You could write to him. 

If he wishes to hear from me, he’d call, a small part of Xiao thinks firmly. 

But Aether rarely calls Xiao’s name. 

“I don’t want to use you in that way… You are more to me than just a weapon, Xiao,” Aether had said. 

Xiao hadn’t understood it at the time, but now he’s deduced that Aether merely doesn’t want to trouble him―although that doesn’t make his absence feel any less total. 

All he can do is wait. And perhaps it is this waiting, though unbearably heavy at times, that has also colored Xiao’s world with meaning. Each day is now filled with the possibility of him everywhere and Xiao finds himself watching for a speck of gold in the distance.

He only wishes he were able to make sense of the strong tug inside his chest that threatens to steal his breath every time he sees Aether’s photo. Or the steady ache he feels when he sifts through his memories of Aether one by one like precious stones.

 It wasn’t pain, but the ghost of it. He sets the photo of Aether aside and turns away, feeling the feeling right now, in every pulse of his heart. 

Perhaps he should write a letter. Perhaps he shouldn’t. 

Regardless, until he sees him again, Xiao would wait. Someone like him had nothing but time, after all. 

***

The next morning, Verr Goldet spots a sheet of paper on her desk, the page filled top to bottom with loose handwriting. A letter, she realizes. For the Traveler.

Of course Adeptus Xiao would have no concept of secrecy and had simply left the open letter on her desk with the trust that she would send it to the right place. Verr smiles a little to herself, scanning briefly over the letter. She wonders how many tries it had taken the adeptus to write it properly before settling on the one before her now. 

It reads as follows: 

Aether,

I read of your deeds in Fontaine. 

Once, you referred to myself and my fellow Yaksha as “heroes” but to me, there seems no one else more fitting for such a title than you. You are admirable, honorable, and above all, kind. 

Lately I have taken to reading “The Steambird.” This is how I have come to know about your actions in other nations. I hope you do not mind.  As you know, engaging in mortal pastimes is new to me, but I have found the activity to be rewarding if only because it has made me feel a little closer to you. 

Although, I think that… I would much prefer hearing these stories from your own lips, in your own voice. 

I know well that you are adept and capable of fending for yourself but I still worry about the dangers you face. You have a habit of intentionally putting yourself in harm’s way. The stories in the paper can only tell me so much. Tell me that you are alright. 

And… if you have the time, I would love enjoy your company. Come and tell me about your time in Fontaine, I will listen. 

If you don’t have the time… I will wait.

Xiao

[onceandfuturelesbian]

two separate soulmark merthur fic prompts

in both, the first words your soulmate will say to you are on your wrist when you’re born

oh and both modern au

1) their first words are common phrases

“hi, how are you?” “good, you?”

“what can i get for you?” “large coffee/beer/medium hawaiian pizza” (depends on setting)

etc etc

both arthur and merlin had resigned themselves to never finding their soulmate, they hear those words on a daily basis

when they meet, neither think anything of their first words but they’re drawn to eachother anyways. they both think it’s just regular attraction.

after they’ve been together a few years, one proposes and in his lil speech he says smthn along the lines of “when i realized i wanted to spend my life with you, it clicked. you’re my soulmate. neither of us thought we’d find ours but we did. we found eachother. i’d want to spend forever with you even if we weren’t soulmates but i can feel that we are. and i’m so so happy it’s you. so ______, will you marry me?”

the other one is beaming and sobbing simultaneously

2) character A has a common phrase, character B has a completely out-of-pocket phrase

“hi, how are you?” “completely fucking shit, thanks for asking”

“what can i get you?” “venti iced shaken espresso with sweet cream, three pumps of brown sugar syrup and two pumps of toffee nut syrup”

LMAO that’s my friends starbucks order

character B is like WHAT THE FUCK LOOK AT THIS and shows his ridiculously long mark that’s basically a paragraph down his forearm

idek how to continue this but i think it’s funny and has the potential for a lot of crack but also a lot of fluff

[peaches2217]

Peasley has a habit of unconsciously mirroring people's actions when he's comfortable around them. His whole life is more or less a performance for his future subjects (one that he enjoys greatly, make no mistake, but a performance nonetheless), and there's very few he can truly relax around. There's a part somewhere in the back of his brain that's not really sure what to do when he's not in Performance Mode, and the subconscious response is "Well, what's the person we're with doing? Start there." But his whole life, it's largely been subtle enough that those he's close with either haven't picked up on it or just don't feel the need to comment on it.

Luigi, autistic king that he is, has stims aplenty: he'll flap his hands when he’s excited, deep in thought, or having trouble articulating himself, he'll rock or sway when he's sitting/standing and has nothing else to occupy himself, he'll focus on a pattern or image and trace the lines with his finger, etc. Naturally, as they spend more time together and grow closer, whenever Peasley observes him stimming, he starts doing the exact same thing, something he's just. Completely unaware of at first.

The first time Luigi points it out, Peasley is beyond embarrassed. He finds all of those stims so endearing, and he fears his mirroring comes across as mocking, because he knows Luigi is self-conscious about a lot of his neurodivergencies. He's on one knee and three paragraphs into a lengthy speech about how he'll monitor his actions closely and ensure it never happens again when Luigi assures him that he knows there's no malicious intent. In fact, he finds it equally charming! And it's oddly comforting too, having a loved one not only observe and accept those stims, but participate alongside him.

And sometimes, when they're deep in conversation and he's less likely to be realized, he'll intentionally start stimming, randomly and with varying degrees of subtlety, just to see if Peasley starts mirroring him. He always does, and he never realizes that he's doing it unless Luigi suddenly can't stop snickering, at which point he smacks his hand or tackles him to the ground (depending on how many people are around) and laments how cruel his dear lover is, both laughing all the while.

Just... green bois having unusual habits that bounce off of one another so well, I love that thought so much 😌

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

aha,,, I had this really in-depth thing I wrote about how much I like your art,,, and the first half, maybe even first 2/3 got deleted,,, I was so excited writing it, I have no idea what it all even contained anymore,,,

So... the first paragraph after this here is rewritten from what I could remember writing the first time. I know it's not as in-depth as it originally was. Hopefully it still gets the depth of what I want to say across... The second paragraph is what DIDN'T get deleted. Aaaa

I only just recently found you and started following you, but I have to say, your art and comics and writing for the ASL brothers is just. So unbelievably good. You're up there in my favorites. Top three. Top two even. The way you write them is like watching a group of close friends interacting in real life, down to the silliness and shenanigans and inside jokes and abrupt changes in topic or mood in a conversation, including superficial changes (one that comes to mind is when Ace goes something like "I'll bet ONE MILLION DOLLARS" or some incredibly large number, really intensely suddenly, in response to Luffy's saying he'd be $20 or something, and then there's a beat, and then Luffy is like "$20 is fine :)" and Ace is just like "Alright :)". That kind of thing is something Ive had happen, something I've seen happen to others... but I've never seen it written/drawn so well.) Everything about their interactions is so incredibly natural, so full of life. Every time I read one of your comics I'm in constantly in awe and taking mental notes. Well. Okay, no, that's a lie. I WISH I were taking mental notes, but I get so caught up reading because it flows SO smoothly that I forget to.

And that's another thing!! How the way you do paneling and story beats in your comics makes reading while also visualizing movement and transitions so seamless. It's like, the visual-narrative equivalent of a hot knife through butter. I've read plenty of comics-- from novice to professional-- that have really clunky paneling and/or pacing. And similarly, I've read as many that let you read everything easily, but it's like, TOO easy, and there's no weight drawing your eyes to the actual art or keeping them there. And I've seen comics that are somewhere between these two, but still don't feel like they have a good flow. (All this as passive observation, I'm not one to actively look to critique something.) Anyway, what I'm saying is, the way you set up your comics-- the art, the paneling, the pacing, the speech bubbles, the shots, EVERYTHING-- makes them just. MM!! An absolute frickin delight to read. And it's combined with some of the best, most natural-feeling writing I've ever had the pleasure of reading. You balance everything so well. In this age of being desensitized to humor online, I must say, the silliness in parts of the Water Is Thicker Than Blood comic make me genuinely grin and even laugh to myself alone in my room. It feels so real, so genuine, so... I'm running out of words. I'm sorry. I just... REALLY love how you make stuff. I want you to know that I'm a big fan, and, even though I'm older than you I'm learning a lot, and your stuff is so well-done. I hope this isn't too strange, aha... if it is, I apologize. I got a little intense

Oh woweewowee!!!!!!

Thank you for enjoying how i depict them! I really enjoy drawing them as realistic as i can. I really want people to understand them how i do in my head, and im glad it comes off perfectly because i love these little gremlins! And it really is surprisingly easy to think up situations of them being little dumbasses together :) just put them in situations, think about the ways any normal person could possibly react to the information thats given, scrap all that, use the outlier, and bam! That’s a bonafide ASL dynamic right there!

Thats really nice of you to say how you like how i panel my comics because thats one of the things im a bit self conscious of, truthfully. My formatting isnt as neat or polished as other comics are, and i really dont care to change that, but its nice to know that there is still charm and interest in my style of comics.

I get what you mean with the being desensitized to humor online nowadays. Idk what about it but its kinda hard to get me to full on laugh at memes like i used to. But i really enjoy putting in gags that i think and I chuckle to myself about for a while after i thought of it. The “that doesnt taste anything like ass” gag got me chuckling for so long to myself while i was at work. Just like,,, the shock and awe that Sabo is in from having witnessed that is so funny to me, i dont think that gag will ever get old in my head.

That’s really cool that me just goofing around can be a learning opportunity to people :0 ive never even considered that could be the case

Not at all! Thanks so much for your thoughts and opinions! This is very heartwarming and im very happy i could produce something thats so meaningful to others :)

Thanks for the ask, too :D

[lichfucker]

[image description expanded from alt text: five photos of me (a white nonbinary person with curly brown hair pulled back in a half-ponytail, wearing a teal hawaiian shirt with pink flowers) and my friend (a white man with short red hair, wearing a sleeveless black hoodie) showing off pairs of custom booty shorts. both pairs are printed with quotes by Flint from Black Sails. mine have the full text of Flint's "freedom in the dark" speech from the finale, and my friend's simply say, "Who's Billy?"

the first photo shows us standing side by side with our backs to the camera. I'm holding a small knitted chibi doll of Silver above my shoulder, and my friend (whose face is covered by a sunglasses emoji) is holding a matching Flint doll.

photos two and three show me and my friend, respectively, standing by some large boulders in matching triumphant poses, with one knee bent and one hand on our hips. photos four and five show each of us kneeling on the ground. in photo four, the Flint and Silver dolls are lying on the soles of my boots, just beneath the text on my shorts, and it looks as though Flint is glaring angrily at Silver. in photo five Flint alone is propped up against the soles of my friend's boots, beneath the "Who's Billy?" text. end id]

what's more powerful: having an entire paragraph of text on each asscheek, or one word per cheek?

we sat on this figuratively for a month and now we shall sit on this literally in perpetuity.

not pictured: my friend twerking upside-down against the boulder to make "who's billy" jiggle

[thethiefandtheairbender]

Hiii, I really love your ATLA analyses. I'm genuinely interested, what can you say about this take? I mean, it sounds pretty logical, and I'm really interested to know what objections there might be to that view of EIP?

https://www.tumblr.com/writer-rider-dirty-thirties/744225630324965376?source=share

There's a few main things that meta like this one, I think, miss out on. That said beyond the two paragraphs I'm not really discussing their meta in particular. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but it does play into why I think EIP gets blown out of proportion while ignoring the more... grounded subtext there? Which is what the rest of the meta response here is about as follows. Please refrain from sending me specific metas in the future - discrediting other people's work is not what I'm about, even I don't necessarily think it's always well argued.

They acknowledge the Doylist perspective... and then completely ignore the actual, textual Doylist perspective they have going on. The writers' intent was to, very evidently, use Ember Island Players to acknowledge their own and fans' reactions to the show (which is why the Great Divide, an episode that the writer of EIP wrote, gets the shaft in the play) by exaggerating and making fun of their own characters and plot points. Grounded in their portrayals yes (Katara does indeed make speeches about hope) but so heavily distorted; just look at how they portray this Katara and Jet, who are completely remorseless about drowning a town ("Oh Jet, you're so bad~").

But the distortion is key. The play pretty glaringly says "Canon Katara would never like Zuko" or vice versa, "because to do so would be a great distortion of her character and characterization." Furthermore, for Katara to only see Aang "like a little brother, and that you don't have feelings for me" is also a distortion, which is why Katara outright states on the balcony, "I didn't say that. An actor said that". It's also worth noting I think that the play itself also erases Aang's romantic feelings for Katara ("I wouldn't want it any other way!"). He doesn't make his feelings plain and be rejected in the play; they just don't exist. So even the play itself isn't saying that there's a love triangle, they're saying that a distorted version of these characters would feature a Katara and Aang that don't have feelings for each other, and a Katara and Zuko that would.

Now, I don't think the play is meant to be that dismissive of fans, either. Like I said - it's meant to poke fun, and the ZK faction had always been quite large and vocal. The crossroads of destiny and its associations with Oma and Shu (which serve the basis for Kataang's love theme) are the bulk of what the ship tends to stand on, 'canon' wise. It makes sense if you're going to do a ship tease with them to do it there, and it's also the last instance you can really make actor Katara 'like' anyone.

It's also a misread to assume Aang would get this angry over jealousy, as well, given that Katara was very obvious with Jet both times, and Aang was very sparingly jealous in Book 1 and only slightly so in Book 2. EIP is one of the rare instances where Aang projects onto other people, a trait more usually seen from his friends.

What makes him upset - and we Know this, because he repeats it outright when they actually Talk about it - is this exchange between actor Katara and Zuko:

EIP!Zuko: I thought you were the Avatar's girl. EIP!Katara: [Laughs] The Avatar? Why he's like a little brother to me. I certainly don't think of him in a romantic way.

That's what makes him potentially upset, which fair enough: it can be upsetting when someone doesn't like you back, especially when Katara previously has given plenty of indications that she does. But he's not mad at her on the balcony. He doesn't take his frustrations over her not seemingly returning his feelings out on her. He's mad because Katara can't, or won't, give him a straight answer.

Aang: You said that I'm just like a brother to you, and that you didn't have feelings for me. Katara: I didn't say that. An actor said that. Aang: But it's true, isn't it? We kissed at the invasion and I thought we were going to be together, but we're not. Katara: Aang, I don't know... Aang: Why don't you know?

AKA "if you don't like me, which I just gave you a perfect out to acknowledge, can you at least confirm it for me?" And she won't even do that.

Katara is usually a very openly emotional person, which is why when it comes to whether she has feelings for him or not (and he has very good reasons to think that she does, given if you remove the Aang's POV we see, Katara is wayy more obvious with her affection than he is), it's accordingly frustrating that she won't just come out and say it. When does someone like Katara hold back? Well... normally when she's concerned about Bigger Things (i.e. not initially pushing with Pakku because Aang learning waterbending is more important to her) or when she's not sure what to do (when Aang rejects her comfort in The Serpent's Pass).

Conversely, his feelings for Katara also makes Aang more likely to stop evading or dodging and to stick his landing. He's the one who tries to confess on two different occasions. He's the one who kisses her first. And he's the one who wants to actually discuss their relationship now. (These are all reasons why I think, if they ever did break up, Aang would actually be the one with the guts to say it out loud, just FYI.)

Alternatively, if we wanna talk about Framing, let's talk about the actual balcony scene, namely Katara's dialogue, and the placement of the moon:

Not only does this balcony scene take place on a balcony like their infamous finale kiss, with parallel framing of Katara walking up behind Aang and seeking him out to talk (if Katara hadn't approached him, it's likely neither would've happened either time) but like

When Yue finds herself in a similar situation with Sokka - a young man she loves, has kissed, but finds herself unable to be with for a variety of reasons - she says almost beat for beat what Katara says here about her feelings and reasonings for wanting more distance. But like both Yue and Katara say, there's more important things going on:

I say this because everyone ignores the aspect of Katara's bond with Aang that is informed by her own trauma and fear of losing people. Aang kisses her because "What if I don't come back?" Katara literally watched him die and brought him back to life. She watched her father mourn her mother and Sokka mourn Yue (The Swamp), which the play likewise gives her an ample reminder of. She watched Jet die too. Katara has faith that Aang will be different ("I knew you'd come" from CoD and "He's gonna come back; he has to" in Sozin's Comet) but that doesn't mean she's not scared. Everyone else going on is complicating her feelings for Aang, and that's perfectly valid -- but like I said, it's a 1 for 1 with Yue.

Which is why she kisses Aang first after the war, on another balcony, because now it is the right time.

This isn't even touching on the in-universe canonical reading of EIP being Fire Nation imperialist propaganda, but that's a meta for another day.

Not to mention: EIP also teases Zukaang through Aang and the Blue Spirit, has them similarly react in distaste, you can equally read Zuko wanting to sit in between them as wanting to sit next to Aang, and Zuko and Aang's dialogue is a lot more ship teased in canon, Anyway.

June: What happened? Your girlfriend run off on you? Zuko: It's not the girl I'm after. It's the bald monk she's travelling with.

Zuko doesn't even correct June for implying a romantic connection, only who he's looking for (love you Avatar "Zuko I want you to dance with me" Aang).

I also personally think that basically any episode that has 'strong' Zuko-Katara subtext actually has far stronger Zuko-Aang subtext, but that's a meta for another day.

I do always think the ZK fandom is a fascinating example of what can happen to a fandom when they only have maybe 5 episodes to work with, nor does ship teasing make something implied canon, otherwise The Dragon Prince (also created by Aaron Ehasz) would have a very different endgame ship (to the point that every Soren/Rayla shipper I've seen also ships ZK, funnily enough, because neither of those are remotely canon).

People have gotta stop taking the bone they're thrown and acting like it's a feast.

[dreamsofminnie]

“Ethereal Paintings”

10~ Drunken haze party ☂️

Scaramouche x Fm! Reader Smau

{!! Small Suggestive content ahead !!}

You can skip the paragraph in italics

“I’m fukiang lossstttttt. I’m stuck in the abyssss, lika—ouch.” Dazedly rubbing your forehead from the drunk impact of your head hitting a sharp chin, you stare back at violet eyes boring into yours. Both your drunk lidded eyes dilated, unbeknownst to each other within the haze.

“Hi, pretty.” Your lopsided grin tilted his vision to your pink lips in movement. Entranced by how they moved so fluidly. And how he wanted to capture them in his lips.

“Are ya lost too? I think I fogot my map in yours. Or was it, your map is in my heart? I duno. I just know i want you—to map with me.” Your own face contorted into confusion but nonetheless confidence in your output of pickup lines.

Scaramouche stayed as still and silent as he could. He didn’t want this drunk dream-like moment to disappear. His few gasps of air are what kept you knowing he was real and standing immensely close.

When he wound up drinking too much of the wine glasses his friends poured him, he asked Ayato for a room he could lay in for a bit. Which consisted of staring at the door in deep empty-brained thought. Didn’t think you would save him of that and come by his door to shrill a strange song. Glad you did that drunk mating call; but strange in your own wondrous ways.

Rocking on your toes you count the beautifully long eyelashes Scara had; while you waited for his voice to pierce the muffled party music down the windy halls.

“Uawh, uhs, kill, marrige, or me?” His incoherent speech bubbled in misguiding words which you heavily dodged, too focused on his soft mumbled voice.

“Heha, silly. Kiss of course!”

~~

Scara didn’t know when his hand was in your hair, or when your hands were teasing his stomach under his shirt. How your tantalizing body was pulled so close—the closest anyone; has ever been. You; being the only one to have ever, invaded his senses so close. But honestly, none of you knew what words actions or even place were. How his oh-so breath deepened in gulps of your hot lips. Drinking in his every gasp, you let your eyes glance over all crevices of Scara’s face. The haziness in his eyes were incomparable to yours. You trembled at his hesitant caresses on your skin under your clothes, lips still infused with his skin on your lips in your jaw kissess. The heaves of your chests intermingled as they sync with the push and pull of the passion from the other. You gave leeway for Scara to markup your neck as you heavily did to his—

~~

—though, you didn’t know what was a make-believe dream, or factually real, at this point.

Your drunken haze cleared up a tad, enough to sit up from the carpeted floor and view your surroundings for the first time since you entered this room and bumped into Scara.

This was definitely one of the extra guest rooms the Kamisato family house had to offer due to the simplicity and cleanliness. And Scaramouche was definitely passed out beside you on the futon blanket, not being able to withstand his unreformed stupor for more than 5 minutes with you.

Chugging the large water container Scara had brought previously on his way into the room, the senses you once lost resurfaces with stings to your temples.

Only then, realizing you made out with your stunning crush made from dreams, did you bolt out through the door, retreating to the safety net of your friends.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Synopsis-> When you were required to help the new transfer student the history of art from the two weeks he missed. He didn’t know you were the one artist he was inspired by. You grow fond of each other but stay at a flirting stage. But finding out that he’s a dreaded a.i user; your mortal art enemy; everything in your relationship is obliterated. Will he be able to reconcile and steal your he-art♡ once again?

The first time the timestamps matter :teary-eyed:

Ignore the date tho😔 /for the first two tweets

//Taglist//

@akagism2 @pokidot @kyouzki @rmiyuki @infe-risk0 @sakurapeach @bluebelony @kichiyoshi @mikctp @kur44pika @cupids-chamber @aeongiies @crucnhice @neigesprincess @scaramoo @gojoandelsalovechilde @childeslegstrap @sakiimeo @d4y-dr3am3r @m3gitsune @scarletttcroww