#never too late to add reblogging to your reading experience!!!!

[hannie-dul-set]

i personally don’t agree with your statement what you’re expected to reblog. i thought i could just use this app for fun and to read about my fav artists without being expected to do anything, and never really planned on being active and making reblogging a routine parr of my reading experience

then i guess you're not really aware with how this app works. tumblr is a reblogging site. that's the only way posts, or in this case fics, can get around and reach new audiences. the algorithm doesn't care aboit likes. tumblr doesn't care about comments (but i appreciate those as well!!)

if you enjoy and have fun reading the works of authors who spend hours of their days making content for you to consume, don't you think the bare minimum you can do is click that tiny button at the bottom of the post to show your appreciation, no?

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics that feature badass Louis. If you enjoy our rec lists and want them to continue, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Bite | Mature | 10,980 words

Louis is a vampire hunter, and Harry is too happy being his prey.

2) Don't Call Me Angel | Mature | 16,648 words

Manhattan is a dangerous playground for the rich and entitled Alphas of New York. Those same wealthy Alphas are robbed after spending one night in the presence of a blue-eyed Omega and Officer Styles is assigned to the case.

3) Friendly Neighborhood Spideypool | Explicit | 18,705 words

“Don’t fuck with me, I’m not in the mood.” Louis’ got the urge to punch him in the face, but he knows deep down that if anything it’ll just add fuel to Harry's innuendo fire. “You know I only fuck you, not with you. There’s a difference. It’s slight but still there.” He’s joking, but it’s sincere in a way that only Deadpool could make it. It gives Louis a strange mix of emotions, his body doesn’t know whether to fill with butterflies or to knee Deadpool in the balls again for insinuating them fucking.

4) Death Wish | Explicit | 22,067 words

Louis hates vampires, he lives his life trying to kill as many as he can, night after night, year after year. He hates them. Then why the fuck is he kissing one? Again. “I mean it, Harry.” Louis says, into his mouth this time. “You need to get the fuck away from me.”

5) The Games We Play | Explicit | 23,488 words

Louis is a political lobbyist who chose his career over his personal life a long time ago and has never regretted it. Then he met Harry.

6) The Voice Of Range And Ruin | Explicit | 25,470 words

It seemed as if the freshly formed Omega Uprising had always been a step or two ahead of the Commandant and the rest of the reigning Alphanian officials. The idea had been floated that there must be someone working with them from the inside, reporting back to them on the government’s plans so that they could be prepared. That person had yet to be discovered, and the Commandant and his surrounding forces had finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse. Harry understood. He agreed. It needed to come to an end, one way or another.  “Your job is to navigate their landscape and gain entry into their forces. You will pretend to be one of them and gain reliable intel for us. It’s clear that no one else has been capable of doing it, and you at least have some semblance of experience in this field. This has gone on for too long, Harry. Enough is enough.” He made direct eye contact with his son, holding it. “I’m counting on you.” 

7) Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent | Explicit | 28,832 words

Where Harry is leading an army to overthrow the king of Cheshire and Louis is one of the volunteers who joins them along the way.

8) You Fill My Lungs With Sweetness (Can I Be Close to You?) | Explicit | 29,884 words

Busy picturing Harry’s stupid face on the stupid dummy, Louis goes through a series of kicks before returning to a low guard and cycling through punches. Harry’s still talking, gesturing with his hands as he rounds Louis, standing to his back. “You do a few butt-shaping exercises, tighten this up a little bit,” he smacks Louis’ arse and the omega freezes while Harry cheerfully continues, “you could pull this off.” “You know what?” Louis snaps, lifting on his tiptoes to get the leverage so he can wrap his arm around the alpha’s neck, forcing him to bend in half while Louis locks him in a chokehold. “Pull this off,” he snarls. They stagger over a few steps, Louis gritting his teeth as Harry tries to break free. “Is it because Payne hates me?” he complains, voice edging on an annoyed whine, “Or is it, like, an omega thing?” Too late, Louis realizes that Harry has got a grip on his leg and this time as he pulls against Louis’ hold, it loosens, the alpha lifting him in the air before slamming his back into the mat, breaking Louis’ grip completely. Harry kneels on the mat, hovering over him with a sneer, “Don’t kid yourself. Nobody thinks of you that way.”

9) Just Let Me Adore You | Not Rated | 34,913 words

The one where Louis and Harry shouldn't make sense. Where Louis' past and Harry's present intermingle and no one is thinking straight.

10) Not Everything is So Primitive (Oh, but I’m Giving In) | Explicit | 35,809 words

“Okay, hold your bloody horses, I’m coming,” Niall rips open the door, freezing at the sight of Harry, bloody and disgruntled, standing on his doorstep, “What the hell happened to you?” “My husband,” Harry grumbles, pushing past Niall and walking into his entryway, “He tried to kill me,” Harry pauses, turning to Niall and grabbing his shoulders, “He tried to kill me with his fucking car.”

11) Burning Soul | Explicit | 39,513 words

Louis is a rogue Omega wolf, all he wants is a new start. Will he allow himself to fully embrace what awaits him, or will he run again, too damaged by past hurt?

12) Soaked In The Blood Of Angels | Explicit | 40,867 words

The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape. Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago. This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape.

13) No Easy Choice, But You're Mine | Explicit | 45,603 words

Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.

14) Falling Without Caution | Explicit | 50,350 words

Louis Tomlinson, a wanted criminal, was captured by the FBI after years of chasing. Instead of being locked up in a high-security prison, he was offered a deal. What was supposed to be the end of a decade long chase turned into a morally grey circumstance for Agent Styles.

15) Let Your Damage, Damage Me | Explicit | 57077 words

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared. Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand. “Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

16) Men of Steel, Men of Power | Explicit | 58,849 words

“You’ve been watching me,” Styles said. Louis swallowed around nothing. He tried for light. “You’re the newest addition, people are bound to be curious,” he said. “Sure,” said Styles, in a somewhat condescending tone. “I’m not that daft, I do notice the curiosity regarding my clothes. That’s not what you’re doing though, hm?” Styles’ gaze was intense, and Louis could feel it burn on the side of his face, but kept his eyes stubbornly on the coffee cup. “I,” he said, licked his lips. Took a deep breath, tried to look open, confident, dominant. Alpha.

17) Somethin' Bout You | Explicit | 59,855 words

Of all the government agents in the world, Louis had to go and land the most charming one.

18) The Face Of Love's Rage | Explicit | 67,421 words

“What if I tell you,” the princess said slowly, “I can get you five kingdoms and a lover?” Harry’s brows rose. “Only five?” he said mockingly. “And a lover. Don’t forget the lover.” “I have a lover.” “Do you?” the omega tilted her head, smiling, “I think right now, you have a consort, two friends, and a hostage. If you marry Julien, you will lose a friend and gain another hostage. Do you want him as a hostage or as a friend?” Harry’s temper was about to snap and break all hell loose. His hands itched to do something with the wild creature in front of him, with her untamed spirit that seemed to mock his authority and challenge his very presence. Abigail Tomlinson, with all her secrets and sins, defied not only his status, but everyone who dared to get in her way. Always making everyone aware that the only reason she was still there wasn’t because Harry let her, but because she wanted to be. Seven kingdoms, two sinners and one big secret.

19) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80,582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

20) The Rose Of Whitechapel | Mature | 100,182 words

Jack the Ripper au - Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. When their paths cross, truths are revealed, and perhaps hearts are mended... A darkness is brewing, and it's finally come to collect on the promise it was made.

21) Gloria Regali | Not Rated | 100,985 words

"I am very proud of you," Louis admitted, his eyes displaying his conviction, "you are very brave and ridiculously determined." Harry looked at him, as he shook his head, reaching out to his hand, he held it, "Trust me, it is not enough." "What makes you say that?" "Because if it was, you would have been married to me."

22) The Galaxy's Edge | Explicit | 113,921 words

In which Louis is a bounty hunter with a messed up past. Harry is a prince who just wants to prove himself. Niall and Zayn have too many things to figure out together. And Liam just wants to take care of his family. Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

23) Run Like the Devil | Explicit | 139,152 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry stops pouting, but his frown is still fixed in place. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You know it’s your soul you’re signing away.” He sounds…sad? No, that’s not right, but there’s something. Christ. This is the most incompetent demon Louis’ ever met. If he hadn’t seen the red of his eyes he wouldn’t believe he was a demon at all. How’d he get this job if he isn’t trying to convince Louis to deal? Or is it just another trick? A ploy for sympathy? “I’m sure,” Louis says. “Come over here and kiss me.”

24) Only You Can Be My Alpha | Mature | 212,387 words

In a world where one was either an Alpha or an Omega wolf, Louis found himself in a body that could be neither. Born an Omega without the expected characteristics of one, he felt broken, choosing to live as Alpha a lifestyle as he could. Harboring a serious lack of respect for Alphas and their authority complexes, Louis managed to get himself banished from his home, forced to wander the unforgiving woods for years, facing the elements and fighting enemy rogues each time they arose. Unbeknownst to Louis, in a tribe to the southwest of his home, there lived a dysfunctional Alpha, the orphaned pack leader Harry, who had never felt satisfied enough with anyone to settle down and continue his royal line. Living their lives apart thus far, the both of them assumed that they might be alone forever, making the best of things despite this even though it hurt. Chance, luck, or maybe fate brings Louis to this tribe when he’d least expected to receive kindness and shelter from a stranger, and when he arrives, something in his soul pulls him to Harry like a raging river current. The two don’t get off to a good start, but everyone around them can sense the chemistry—and in time they do too.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[megumimania]

AOT LONDON BOY HCS PT 2

featuring: reiner, onyankopon, armin

a/n: this is part two of these hcs, part one is here! thanks for tuning in its kinda rushed my bad 😪, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

ARMIN

-armin would be from islington or finchley maybe even south, but I don’t see him living in like bougie areas such as kensington or chelsea or like richmond

- him and eren went to the same primary and secondary together

-armin was literally his get out of jail free card because of his stellar reputation in academics

-he always gets free stuff from the corner shop or the chicken and chip shop

-doesn’t own a car, he either bikes or takes the tube because he cares about the environment and doesn’t want to add onto the extra pollution in london

-his dress sense is very casual like a t shirt, a pair of loose fitted trousers and some trainers but when he cant be bothered he’ll wear a tech fleece

-he has a very good sense of direction, like he knows the fastest routes for anything, like when eren and connie dragged him to carni (if you went this year im saur jealous 😩 but anyways) and it was time to get home armin found a quicker route that got them back pretty fast

-knows all the best secret spots in london for anything! which makes hanging out with him more fun because you experience a new part of london when you’re together

-he isnt a fan of eren’s scamming ways but when eren asks for help he always answers as long as he’s not a part of it

-london men i feel like are terrible with their feelings but armin is the exception, he would be very open with you about his feelings and such

-reads so much, you’ll catch him at hyde park or greenwich park reading till the sun sets

-he smokes cigarettes but he’s trying to cut it out for you

-his playlist would be very diverse since he’s been brought up in a multicultural area, like it would go from bashment, to rnb, drill to pop

-unlike his unserious counterparts *cough cough* eren and connie, he’s very loyal!

ONYANKOPON

-my ghanaian king, shoutout to my ghanaians!!

-he speaks twi so well that people forget he was brought up in the uk

-he would be from peckham or lewisham for suree, he’s deffo been dragged around by his mum round rye lane market on a saturday morning carrying that trolley with him

-he goes to a pentecostal church, he’s always leading youth service and helping out at church events.

-the aunties love him for this because he’s the perfect son that they don’t have and they just love him in general

-ony can cook and im being for real, so you guys never eat out unless ony wants to show you to a new niche restaurant somewhere

-he has snap but doesn’t have a bitmoji because he thinks it’s immature 😕 but eventually he caves and makes one because you ask him too

-hes always promoting his boys stuff whether that be music,

-he deffo went to an all boys secondary and then he went to a mixed sixth form after, he gives me those vibes

-he used to go to the library to link girls after school 😭 he had a big playboy phase but hes calmed down

-he used to be one of those people at stratford westfield trying to sell you magazines before you enter

-hes not stingy with his money, hes always spoiling the people he loves

-he has a bunch of caps and grills that he likes to rotate out weekly, he has great style

-he works in corporate london so its rare that you dont see him outside of a suit and tie but he always makes time for you

-ony is always holding your bag for dear life when you go to bait areas like oxford street or westfields or like the tourist spots because people be getting their shit stolen loool

-he loves late night tesco trips anything that he can do at night i.e late night walks, drives etc

-bossman is always giving him discounts on stuff because ony is loyal customer.

REINER

-look at that man and tell me he wouldnt be from essex tell me!! like thats pure dagenham material right there

-if you search up a typical person from essex, he would come up

-he probably owns those skintight chinos with those ugly polos with the church shoes

-he tries to downplay his accent a bit since sometimes its hard to understand him but when hes upset his accent comes through in full force

-always at spoons or at the club till early hours

-reiner gives me bricklayer vibes so thats what im gonna roll with

-when he comes home from work in summer hes like hot and sweaty but it makes his biceps glow so its kinda sexy idk

-has a bunch of tattoos, most of them are birthdays of family members and a picture of his grandma who passed away

-has a british bulldog called belle, the dog is fucking scary but reiner thinks the world of her and thinks she can do no wrong

-listens to mainly dnb, garage, techno

-downs pints at the pub like it’s nothing, he has a high alcohol tolerance

-proper geezer that’s all i have to say tbh!

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 04: lonely star

preview: ". . .He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first."

content warning: cursing, hanma owns a strip club, oral s.ex, unprotected s.ex, choking, hair pulling, no aftercare.

word count: 7k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Tokyo was a bustling city. People escape from the mundane using any source of entertainment allowed. From going shopping to partying, the city provides numerous remedies for any challenging moment a person might experience. There, in the depths and labyrinth streets of Tokyo and its lively nightlife, exists a world that only unravels to those who dare seek it. Hidden between tall buildings and colorful signs, paradise on earth stands proudly.

A black car pulls up in the alleyway, parking right outside the back entrance of a disheveled looking building. The door opens and cigarette hits the dirty floor. A foot crashes the bud, adorned in squeaky clean shoes that do not fit the vibe of the creepy alleyway. Golden Glow reads in bright neon light right above the back door. The man’s slender fingers push the wooden door open, stepping into a vibrating world of sensuality and allure where reality and fantasy blur for hours on end at night.

The air is thick with perfume and anticipation, a line of rich men of all backgrounds sitting on the deep red plush seating facing the focal point of the strip club. Murmurs of who will be performing next fill the room and the tall man makes his way towards the VIP table.

“You’re late.” Kisaki doesn’t pull his eyes away from the curtains waiting to unravel tonight’s star, more or less used to this kind of behavior from his right hand.

“I had to take care of something.” Announces Hanma as he pulls his seat back and grabs a cigarette. The relationship he had with smoking was more of a toxic affair—a continuous tag of war between depending on the small bud and desiring a whiff of the substance when things get a bit too hectic. With each inhale, he feels a momentary release from existing. He’s never enjoyed it, not fully at least. Existing meant he had to abide by rules, which he never did. Breakups were nasty, women lashing out insults towards the man they called a God only a few nights prior—they should’ve known better, is what he tells them every time. He never claimed to be a good person, just a good—no, an amazing fuck.

Hanma’s dick serves as a distraction from his violent nature, he momentarily hypnotizes those women with each sharp and angled thrust from his hips. Deliciously dragging out moans, whines and profanities, proclaims of how godly he feels and how they’ve never had better. He is good at using and not giving much in return, he shows it through prioritizing his orgasm, only speaking when the dirty talk tips him over the edge. Shuji doesn’t budge as a pillow is thrown his way, ‘asshole!’ sounds from behind the door he’s just closed and he swears he could feels his fingers twitch. He’ll spare the cleaning staff of the hotel a blood bath tonight.

“You took too long,” Nahoya adds his two cents as usual, and the tall man wonders what the orange haired even provides for him to remain alive and attending special nights like these.

“It’s your club, you’re supposed to get here first.” Kisaki presses and the lights dim as the curtains open, revealing tonight’s a woman clad in a gorgeous set of deep red lingerie. She commands attention with the way her body carries her across the stage, each step is like a soft whisper, beckoning more people to look at her—admire her. She embraces the power she holds over the spectators, feeling a surge of dopamine push her to do better.

“You’re not my fucking dad. I’ll get here when I want to.” His fingers tremble as he drags the cigarette away from his lips, resting his wrist on the table as his whole hand shakes. You would think that years of smoking would get the man used to the motion, familiarized with the aftermath of each whiff—somehow, it doesn’t. Through furrowed eyebrows and behind framed glasses, Kisaki notes the unusual behavior from the man. He is far too moody, perhaps more than usual. Hanma took pleasure into killing, coming back from missions was almost as euphoric as an orgasm after being denied for so long. As far as his report went, the mission was done and Toman’s men were able to discard of the dead body rather easily. So what was wrong?

The younger man doesn’t say anything, he waits until the show wraps up and for people’s attention to drift elsewhere to speak to the taller man. As Hanma, not so quietly, slips away from the table and onto one of the VIP rooms upstairs, Kisaki soon joins him.

“So, wanna talk about what’s up your ass lately?”

“What do you mean?” Hanma’s voice is devoid of any emotion, but he still looks unimpressed as he casts half a glare towards Kisaki.

“You know what I mean. Something’s up your ass, you need to fucking pull it out and do your job. I don’t need a moody bitch as my first in command.”

Hanma’s heard worse over the years, he knows what it meant to be involved with someone as nasty and as disgusting as Kisaki. However, he was having a bad week and Kisaki came to him at the wrong moment.

“This moody bitch will blow holes into your brain and make it seem like it was a pathetic attempt to kill yourself. Don’t fuck with me.” The tension rises between the two men, silence engulfs the room that’s hidden to the rest of the audience. They’ve had to fight before, the scars littering Hanma’s arms a reminder of Kisaki’s knife slashing the man’s skin. The shorter man’s own scarred hands a grim testament to what Shuji was capable of doing. The two of them don’t speak another word.

Kisaki sits on one of the soft chairs facing Hanma, placing his gun on the tiny glass table. The other man does the same, and it feels like a silent agreement that neither of them was going to harm the other.

“I went to her place.” There’s no question about who he is referring to. Kisaki knows all too well who you are. He’s seen you from afar when you were all young, unknowingly grasping the heart of a delinquent who’s never known what the feelings he had for you even meant. His face twitches as he remembers the conversation he had with the man a couple of weeks ago.

“You found her?”

“She’s back in Shinjuku.” Kisaki doesn’t miss the way Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. Like domino pieces lined up, the tattooed man blows on them and watches them tumble just for fun. He was after you just for fun, Chifuyu fears.

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki’s busy rummaging through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

Sensing his silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes became storm clouds, hiding their usual golden color and crackling with the threat of lightning. Hanma’s never cast him a look similar to this before, usually blessed with an emotionless face.

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Kisaki leans back against his seat. He’s seen Hanma get riled up over things like missions going wrong, people pissing him off, testing his patience—this was a different kind of negative emotion he was displaying. Dare Kisaki say that it was fun to witness? Perhaps even unexpected from the tall man? But he doesn’t say a thing, only gives a curt nod and proceeds to finish the task at hand.

“Why is that?” he asks, curious to know what lead the man to end up in your place.

He glances towards his fingers which had long ago healed, he could still feel your fingertips against his skin, warm breath fanning over his wrist as you tended to his wounds with so much care, as though you were stitching a tiny tear in a delicate fabric.

“She cleaned me up.” Kisaki has to blink a couple of times, but he notices how Shuji keeps his gaze fixated on his fingers. He chews on his bottom lip out of habit. The band aid wrapped around them is unfamiliar, the man’s never taken care of himself this way—oddly enough, Kisaki feels that Hanma had a strange attachment to the adhesive strip keeping his healed cuts safe. It has been days since that incident, he most definitely did not need to cover his hands that way.

“Cleaned you up?” Kisaki pours himself and the other man a glass of whisky, pushing one of the glasses towards Hanma.

“Saw my hands and thought that I was in pain.” The taller man mumbles as he brings the glass of whisky up to his swollen lips. Downing the liquid like rapid fire, he slams the glass on the table and leans in his chair, head thrown back as he grunts.

“I think I fucked up.” Hanma admits, his hand covering his eyes. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you or your touch since that night. So soft, offering him what he has deprived himself of for years—you were so gentle with his hands, treating him as though he was made of glass. Your beautiful eyes witnessed the harm he is capable of causing to others, yet your soul set that aside to make sure he was okay.

Only for him to mess it up.

He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first.

He was growing impatient with each passing second. He wasn’t an expert at solving this kind of problems, let alone when it involved him in the equation. However, one thing was for certain; his insatiable need to feel you again made every moment apart from you feel like he’s been cursed with damnation.

--

October comes to an end, you start to accept the atmosphere of loneliness that settles like a heavy cloak over the landscape. The days grow shorter and the nights longer, there are Halloween decorations displayed along the entrance of every apartment door. It’s adorable. Pumpkins, bats, and your most favorite—cats are all over the fronts of every store. You look up and find paper lanterns with spooky designs, themed displays in shopping malls, and themed merchandise in stores. You find yourself yearning for the celebration to linger a bit longer.

As the days turn into weeks, Hanma’s absence becomes palpable. You cannot ignore that the lack of his pestering feels strange and foreign, when you had only started speaking to the man again for a couple of days only. Like a shadow retreating to darkness, it feels like he never existed in your life. You’re back to living life the same way that you did before he suddenly reappeared in your life—you don’t know why you’re disappointed. After witnessing murder with your two eyes, you thought that Shuji would scare you. He should. Such an unpredictable man with a history of violence that remains unknown to you should instill a deep fear in you. Then why do you find yourself craving the presence of a man whose ruthlessness carves a path of destruction? A man whose words made it feel like walking through a field of thorns?

You pay your feelings no mind as you drown yourself in chores, making sure there was no speck of dust left on each furniture of your apartment. A shower soothes your nerves afterwards, the motion of scrubbing the dirt off of your skin a subliminal attempt at getting Hanma’s aura off of you. You make yourself a cup of hot chocolate, top it off with some marshmallows as you settle on the comfortable couch with a soft yet heavy blanket draped over your shoulders. The movie you picked for the night is nowhere near comforting, but you brush it off for the sake of Halloween vibes.

However, those feelings melt away as soon as ears pick up on the sound of footsteps near your door. It was pretty late for anyone to be visiting you, let alone on Halloween night. You set your hot chocolate down and walk towards the door in quiet footsteps, praying that you don’t make a noise by accidentally breathing too hard.

Behind the door, Hanma stands looking almost apologetic. His head hangs low not out of shame, but because he sees your shadow from under the door. He holds back a chuckle.

 “It’s me.”

When he hears no reply, he pushes himself off of the wall and walks away from the door. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at his chest, but he refuses to acknowledge any of it as his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He lets one dangle between his lips as he reaches for the lighter. Until he hears the creaking sound echoing in the hallway.

Glancing back, he sees that your door was no longer closed, but he couldn’t see you either. His feet slowly drag him towards your doorstep once again and the moment he attempts to peek inside, your face pops from behind the door. The both of you pull away at the same time, you almost close the door in his face but his foot stops it before you could close it shut.

“I had to hide my cat. He likes to escape when I open the door.” You announce with a tone that appears to be protective, very used to your fur companion’s habits. Hanma nods, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. It wasn’t until you break eye contact that he realizes he’s been staring at you without uttering a single word.

“Are you alone?” He can see inside your apartment, he towers over you with so much ease. You shift your weight from one foot to another, eyes avoiding his as you stare back at the TV screen and the obviously empty living room.

“Yeah,” you pause, glancing back towards him. “Why?”

“I was thinking you could—“ he wiggles his fingers. “See if they’re okay.” You stare down at the band aids wrapped sloppily around the skin and have to fight back the urge to smile. “I tried to do it myself but I don’t think I did as much of a good job as you did,” which was true and very apparent.

You take a moment to consider your options, chewing on your bottom lip as you fixate your stare on his hands. It was relatively late at night, you were wearing a light sleep dress—this could either go right or horribly wrong. For now, you don’t mind taking the risk.

Pushing the door wide, you see the way his eyes glimmer as they scan your entire body from head to toe. He doesn’t hide that he is checking you out, even as he steps inside your place, he chooses to stare at you instead of scanning his surroundings like last time. You refuse to crumble under his gaze nor change what you were wearing, you close the door and make your way to the kitchen without uttering a single word.

Hanma suddenly thinks of something and he bites back the urge to smirk as he makes his way towards the kitchen as well. This is the farthest he’s been in your place, your kitchen is rather small compared to the one he has in his apartment, but he appreciates how full it is. From the fruit sitting on the counter, the coffee machine, the magazines, the small board where you have what looks like a to-do list written there—it feels homey. It feels like you.

You glance behind you, noticing the pair of shoes in your kitchen and don’t bother to look back, but you feel a tad bit annoyed.

“No shoes in my house,” no response. Surely, he wasn’t going to ignore you when you were about to take care of him.

“I said—“ your stomach flutters and your breath catches when you feel something land on your shoulder, hot breath fanning the tiny bit of skin exposed from your sleep dress falling to the side. You hold your breath for what feels like an eternity, body frozen in place.

“No shoes in the house?” his deep voice sends chills down your spine, his hands resting against the fridge instead of gripping your hips.

His fingers twitch when the smell of sweet vanilla and coconut hits his nostrils, your scent is intoxicating and he struggles with himself. Every instinct urges him to break free and surrender to the intoxicating allure, yet the tether of restraint holds Hanma firmly and keeps his impulse in check. He doesn’t want to upset you again, but he thoroughly enjoys seeing you like this. So flustered.

As he pulls away from you, you turn to face him and use the first aid kit to put space between the two of you, like a shield. If you were trying to appear intimidating with the scowl on your face, Hanma’s smirk tells you that you were failing miserably.

“What the hell is your problem?” you don’t even sound mad, just completely and utterly embarrassed. You were fighting a war between your brain and your needs—the warmth of his body lingered on your skin for far too long, and although his breath reeked of cigarette and something minty, it made you feel dizzy.

“You’re red in the face, doll.” He purrs, making his way towards the couch. This time, you were certainly not going to get down to your knees and treat his cuts. Not after the stunt he pulled.

“Shut up.” You groan, sitting on the couch.

“You’re like, totally vermillion in the face—“

“I will kill you!”

He snorts and comfortably settles on the couch right beside you. One glance at his hands and you can tell that it really isn’t that serious. You bring his hands close to your face, inspecting them as soon as you take off the adhesive strips. There are a few faint scars, but they’re all healed and he only needs to apply ointment to them for extra measure. You put them back in his lap for a few seconds, leaning forward to grab the ointment you placed on the small coffee table in front of the both of you. You don’t realize that you had both gone awfully quiet after that moment, for a few seconds you almost forget what his touch felt like until you feel a pair of eyes burning holes in your face.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” you blurt out, never meeting his eyes. You want to appear unbothered by all of this, by his intense way of giving you attention. But god knows how loudly your heart was thumping in your chest.

“Would you let me do it?” oh my god.

You don’t respond, you want to focus on the task at hand and step away from him as quickly as you can. The longer you felt him near you, the harder it was to contain yourself from matching his energy, his flirtatious comments. You were supposed to be mad at him, why did you cave into his request of having his minor cuts treated once again when the man ruined your mood the other night?

“No, I wouldn’t.” You say firmly, although your touch against his skin is very soft. Hanma can tell that you’re fighting an inner battle, you’re not good at hiding it. Your furrowed eyebrows make his own skin burn, his thumb craves to smoothen the skin of your forehead, get you to relax that jaw and melt against him the same way he does when the tip of your finger grazes his skin. He snaps out of his thoughts when he sees that you were already putting everything back in the white box, golden eyes staring between your hands and face.

“We’re done?”

“Yeah, you should be fine now.” You get up and head back to the kitchen, leaving Hanma alone with his thoughts once again. He notices that the movie you were watching was paused only 20 minutes in and the hot chocolate sitting on your coffee table was starting to go cold. It seems as though your night was just getting started and him showing up put it on hold.

However, Hanma doesn’t want to leave just yet. He can’t put his finger on why he feels the need to stay, perhaps the idea of going back into his car, driving to his empty place made him feel a little bit sick to his stomach. It was an unspoken rule for Hanma to never visit his place unless he really needed something. Clothes, money—he always packed those in a bag and left it in his car. His place—located in the heart of the city's shadows, is nestled within a towering skyscraper, its imposing structure casting long, foreboding shadows over the streets below. Whenever Shuji inserts the key card, he is greeted by an atmosphere steeped in mystery and menace. Dark, rich tones dominate the décor. Nothing about the 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms apartment made it feel homey. So Hanma avoided it like the plague.

He thinks he can find an excuse to stay a little longer with you. Should he take you out? He can’t. You were far too comfortable in your sleep dress to change into something else. The movie seemed interesting, perhaps a few sweet words would convince you to let him stay a little longer before he has to depart—

“Have you had dinner yet?” You break his chain of thoughts so easily, Hanma is a little taken aback at first. Glancing back towards you, he sees you holding two white ceramic plates in one hand. The pot, which he assumed had warm, homemade food in it, is sitting on the stove with a ladle inside. Were you offering him a meal?

“Not yet,”

“I figured you skip meals,” you say with a frown. You forget the grudge you’re supposed to hold against him, it nestles itself somewhere in the back of your head the moment you see Hanma lost in his thoughts. You glance at his face—not as full as it was when the two of you were kids. He’s never had chubby cheeks, but you could tell when the man had a good meal and when he hadn’t eaten properly in a while. You naturally find yourself reheating the food you made for yourself, grateful you decided to cook more than a singular portion.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” he clarifies, as though he needs you to understand where he is coming from but then his lips are sealed shut. He’s never had to explain himself to anyone, it’s a little foreign for him to be doing it with you.

“You forget?” you guess, your back facing him as you serve him a good portion of the katsu curry you’ve made. You make sure to give him a bigger portion than yours, assuming that the man has probably skipped lunch as well.

“Mhm.” With the way he engulfed you in his arms previously, you shouldn’t trust him so blindly and have your back facing him again. But you don’t seem to care as much, maybe even wishing he does it again. Instead, you hear a chair creak from behind you and see that the man has made himself comfortable in your kitchen. You hand him his food before sitting across from him, then the two of you dig into the food.

Hanma hasn’t tasted something this good in—14 years. Ever since his mother stopped cooking him a decent meal. You made a dish that’s such a delightful harmony of textures and flavors, engulfing him with a warm velvety blanket he would never throw over his own shoulders. He glances towards you and you’re focused on your food—at least, you look like you’re trying to focus. He sees that some habits never really left you. You ate fast, way too fast, never truly savored your food. You still had a habit of bringing the food close to your nose and inhaling the scent (he never understood why you did it). He can remember the last time you tried to smell something he was about to eat—a sandwich he had bought that had a weird mixture of ingredients, you leaned down to inhale its scent and Shuji swears he hasn’t laughed as hard ever since. The face you made was of pure disgust, pushing the bread back into his hands and away from you. You’ve always had such an expressive face—either that, or Shuji stares at you a bit too much.

The present situation mirrors your date at the ramen shop in sad ways. It is obvious that the two of you have grown apart, no longer needing to be so close to one another at any given moment. The person who sits across of Shuji Hanma is someone he recognizes but doesn’t fully know—he recognizes certain habits that even time couldn’t tear away from you. But your touch, your body and soul feel different. On them lingers this love and care you still held for the man along the years, but never to a full extent. It seemed as though even whilst with him, you were thinking of something else—somebody else. He could be mistaken and you’re just trying to push him away, but Hanma’s gut feeling never betrayed him.

His stomach twists in knots when he sees you reach for the jewelry adorning your neck—a necklace with a golden heart pendent. You hold onto it with so much care, cautious not to break the fragile accessory.

He is reading too much into it.

He pulls his eyes away from you once he’s done with his curry, polite enough to put his plate in the sink and wash it off for you. You stare at his large back in silence, contemplating your next words.

“Tonight’s Halloween.”

Hanma turns to look at you, his raised eyebrow an indication that he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“Yeah? You got a costume you want to show me?” he teases, bracing himself against your kitchen counter. You have to pull your eyes away from his hands and arms, ignoring the way your pussy throbs at how large he looks in your tiny kitchen. You realize what he says and make an offended face, standing up with your own plate and utensils and walking towards the sink.

“Over my dead body.” You nudge his side with your elbow, he moves away from the sink but still stands next to you.

“Okay then?” he questions as you turn on the water.

“You could stay and watch the movie.” You offer without looking at him. You were scared that your face would betray you, you almost slipped and said ‘with me’ and that would give him the upper hand, another thing to tease you about.

“Like a date night?” you halt your movements, quickly turning off the faucet and turning to stare at him. Your breath hitches when you see his face so close to yours. He isn’t trying to intimidate you, the playful glint in his eyes give away his true intentions. However, you can’t deny that having him so close to you was starting to be challenging for your self-control.

“I… I don’t know.” your voice is barely above a whisper. You try to build a wall between the two of you, put some distance, but it’s useless. Hanma stares at you with golden orbs that mimic lanterns lit up in the night, evoking a sense of nostalgia that felt so strange to you—

Up until now, Hanma was a mere teenage crush you had parted ways with on less-than-great terms. There wasn’t a single time during those twelve years where your heart yearned for the man, remembered the way he would make your stomach leap and be like a light at the end of the tunnel—why let such silly feelings resurface so unexpectedly? You could blame it on your celibacy, not having been out on a proper date for a couple of months now—but even as you look at it, you haven’t been this interested in anyone for a while.

What was Hanma Shuji doing to you? What was so different about him? Could it be that the man’s touch messed you up?

He steps closer to you, tall figure looming over your smaller frame in an attempt at caging you between him and the sink. He’s got a million things to say and yet, his lips remain frozen. Yearning to feel the warmth of your own softer, plushier ones. As you confess shakily, although your hands far too comfortable holding onto his shirt for it to sound convincing, he chuckles and you smell his minty breath.

Everything about him looks…inviting. You cannot look away from his neck, or his jaw or his lips. You’re lost in a trance, on this terrifying journey where you wish to be able to hear something other than your own heartbeat. Deafening, muting the world around you for a split second as Hanma leans down and captures your lips in a fiery kiss.

It’s different than the one shared at the ramen shop—there was no waiting, no longing for your touch for twelve long years. You were at hand reach, so close to him like a dream. Hanma needed you like the moon needs the stars, promised himself to tattoo the feeling of your lips against his for years to come—they fit perfectly against his, like a mold made specifically for his body. It’s surreal. The initial kiss is short, gently easing you into the sea of his passionate and intense loving, because when his lips reattach to yours, you’re being pinned to the wall.

His hands grab your face, they hold you in place like he’s been craving to breathe again for an eternity. You can smell him, feel him on you everywhere even with layers of clothes stuck to your skin, set ablaze like a furnace. His electrifying touch leave goosebumps in their wake, trailing from your cheek down to the back of your neck. There, his hand grips your nape before his fingers dig into your scalp.

When you gasp at his touch, Hanma’s heart leaps. Like a ticking bomb, it was only a matter of time before he unleashed a side of him he wasn’t sure he wanted to offer so early on. You’re such a tease, he thinks. Why were you giving him those eyes as he pulls away from the kiss? Why are you biting your already swollen lips if you didn’t want him to bury himself so deep inside you?

“Ask me to leave.” He says, voice firm as he tries to catch his breath.

“Shuji—“ you go for his face but he grabs your wrist mid-air.

“Ask me to leave, doll.”

“No.”

“This is your chance,” he leans down, close to your face and brushes his lips against yours. “—won’t stop if I start.”

“If I touch this,” his hand gropes your boob over your dress. “If I kiss this,” he yanks your head back, brushing his lips against your throat. “I promise you. I won’t be able to stop.”

At this point, you’re more than fed up with his teasing and crash your lips against his. You push yourself off the wall as get on your tiptoes to reach for his lips, and he decides to end your struggle and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You kiss him harder, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he marches towards your room.

“Didn’t take you for a biter,” his words are muffled against the skin of your neck as he kisses there. You throw your head back, allowing him more room to work with and you feel your back hitting the familiar soft mattress. The bed was made, but the blankets are quickly discarded to the floor as Hanma’s mess of limbs loom over your figure and plant hungry kisses on the skin that’s showing.

Thanks to your choice in outfit, Hanma finds it easy to strip you naked. Skilled fingers undo your bra to reveal your breasts in full display, but his hands are busy groping at your mound. You gasp at how rough he is handling your body, but the wet patch forming in your underwear indicated just how much you’ve been craving this kind of attention. His lips attach to your hardened nipple, whilst his left hand twists and fiddles with the other one. It feels like he is attempting to nurse on you with how hard he sucks, golden eyes staring deeply at your fucked out face. Messy hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, and your eyes barely able to stay open as he gives your erogenous zones the right amount of attention.

“Mmm you’re so soft,” he teases the nipple with his teeth and chuckles when he feels you try to squeeze your thighs together from under him.

“Shuji,” you breathe out, as soft as a silken thread.

Pulling away from your breasts, he admires the hickeys he’s painted across your skin—branding you as his on your very first night together. Sure, he’s done this before but never this passionately. He wants those bruises to never go away, glued to your skin like a tattoo and a constant reminder that this is what being his meant. He attaches his lips to your skin again, this time on your torso—he travels down to your stomach, passes your belly button before kissing right above your panties. He notices how drenched they are and hisses.

“Fuck, you’re fucking dripping.” He says as he moves them to the side and his mouth falls open, drool threatening to spill. “All for me, doll?” his thumb teases at your engorged clit and you whimper.

“Don’t tease, fuck—!”

You react almost immediately as he attaches his lips to your clit. Your legs try to close around his head but he is having none of it as he grips your thighs and forces them open, continuing his assault on your pussy.

“Shit, shit!” you gasp as he lays his tongue flat against the bud before moving his head from side to side while watching intently as you writhed and twitched under his touch. There was no way you could escape his mouth, tongue moving down to lap at your folds while his fingers pinched your clit. Hanma craves to exist between your thighs for the rest of eternity, a place so warm and so wet, offering him the best of both worlds.

He pushes two fingers past your folds, grinning from ear to ear when he sees the way your body tenses up. Curling them upwards, the combination of his rough finger fucking and his mouth’s continuous assault on your clit makes you cum hard. You’re writhing, crying desperately for the man’s head to leave your thighs. Soft “I can’t—I can’t!” resonate through the room, but soon die down when he spares your pussy and instead, litters soft kisses over the inner of your thighs.

“You did so well, took me like a champ,” it seems as though the only time Hanma shows any emotion beside boredom, is when he has you under his mercy like this. It’s when he makes you blush, flustered, angry or in this case, cum so hard that you have to take a moment to remember your name—that’s when he feels alive, as though life is worth living again.

Your heart thumps loudly when you hear him fumble with his belt. A sound that makes your ears perk up, eager with anticipation. You push yourself up with your elbows, licking your lips when you see the obvious bulge in his pants. It makes your mouth water, and your hand reaches down to palm him through his pants. A rough hand grabs your wrist, you look up at the man hovering over you with lustful eyes. You stare at him through your lashes, neither of you uttering a single word—he is telling you not to touch, not right now, and you are craving his body like earth needs the sun.

You squeeze the bulge, lips parting when he closes his eyes and leans down towards you. You hear a soft groan emitting from the back of his throat, and it’s your sign to do it again and even go further. Hanma puts a halt to your attempt with a rough kiss against your lips, pushing you back against the soft mattress until you are whining against his lips.

“Oh what is it?” he says, almost mocking your sounds. “Do you need something?”

“Shuji—“ you are way too embarrassed by how he is speaking to you, staring to the side. But he doesn’t seem to mind your bashfulness, rather indulging it by kissing your cheek and then your pulse. The kiss on the cheek is a stark contrast to how roughly he finger fucked you, and when he finally releases his cock and you see the way it jumps—your stomach twists in knots.

That thing will reach spots your own fingers haven’t been able to.

You panic when he starts to tease your folds, hands pushing at his shoulders to remind him to use protection. You did not want to have a kid running around anytime soon.

“I’m clean,” he says and a part of you can’t help but not fully trust him. He sees the expression on your face and chuckles, leaning down to kiss your neck as you melt back on the mattress.

“I get tested frequently.”

“I’m not on the pill—“

“Don’t worry, I can’t get you pregnant.”

You don’t have time to question what that could possibly mean, lips forming an ‘O’. You are forced to lay back and take it as Hanma’s cock keeps going deeper and deeper—you feel full of him. A sob erupts from your chest as you feel him pull his hips back and then—thrust.

He repeats the motion a few times, piercing eyes scanning your face like a hawk. He wants to memorize your body like the back of his hand, wants to tattoo the feeling of your warm and soft cunt at the forefront of his mind—you are so soft and pliable, making sweet noises that he easily swallows by kissing you deeply.

“Fuck you’re so sweet,”

You moan into his mouth when he angles his hips a certain way, Hanma grins victoriously against your lips and uses his hands to grab the back of your knees. Pushing them to your chest, he enjoys the sight of you taking his cock like a sweet girl. You’re so cock hungry, practically begging him to fuck you silly with those glossy eyes staring deeply into his.

“Yeah? You like that?” he purrs, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. He removes one of his hands from the back of your knee and wraps it around your neck in a possessive grip, watching as the early signs of your orgasm start to creep in on you like a shadow in the dusk.

“Such a nasty fucking girl—“ filth continues to spew out of his mouth at the same rate as your loud whines. Your eyes can barely stay open as he quickens his pace, jaw going slack when his thumb brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves. He shamelessly leans back to stare at your pussy as he continues to fuck it, watching as his cock slides in and out of you. The room is filled with wet noises, the sound of skin slapping against each other reaching Hanma’s ears as he takes in the sight before him.

You were so pliant beneath him, no longer putting up walls in his presence. He loved it. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock keeps nudging at that one spot that makes you dizzy. Your hand wraps around his wrist as he continues to pin you to the mattress by the neck, you stare up at him with glossy eyes, thighs twitching and your back arching off as you finally cum.

Hanma swears he has never seen something as magical. You feel like a magnetic force, pulling him closer with an irresistible allure that ignites a fire in his stomach and sets his senses ablaze. It tips him over the edge, he empties himself inside you with a loud groan as he lets go of your neck and holds onto your boobs as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Now what? It’s not like he’s never had sex before, he was in fact very good at it—but usually, he gets up and leaves the moment he empties his balls inside. Now, he worries that you would get the wrong idea, that you’d think he’s using you—does he want to use you?

Isn’t this what he wanted all along? To fuck you senseless the moment he saw you run towards the metro station in your tight skirt. His mind was reeling with all the possibilities of what could be underneath the fabric—perhaps a matching set, or if you wanted to be a tease, nothing.

He starts to wonder what his intentions were with you—he wanted to be your friend without getting too close to you. He couldn’t afford having you near him at all times, that came with a cost he wasn’t sure you could afford. In your arms, he didn’t feel as though he needed to prove anything to you—not his existence, nor his power. And for a man who lives his life in pure chaos, a house that didn’t have a mess isn’t one where he belongs.

His hands pull away from your body, his eyes scanning your face only to find that you were fast asleep. He could wake you up and tell you to go pee, but like a puppet, his own fears pulled on the strings as they desired—his feet carry him towards your door in speed record. Glancing one last time at the pot you left outside, he closes the door.

Even as he drives back to his place, Hanma can’t brush off the burning sensation sitting heavy on his chest.

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Hey, just wanted to say I love reading your analysis and thank you for being a ‘pioneer’ in TOTK critique on tumblr haha. Lately I started seeing more criticism videos popping up on youtube that are solid, but your analysis is still much more detailed and presents original and valid points. You really helped me to define and put down into words some subconscious feelings that I had about the game. I feel really bad for you (but not in a pitying way) when I see blogs like ‘zeldadeservesabreak’ who come at your analysis skills and are just so unreasonably rude unprovoked (aside from being just factually incorrect at times).

My theory is that it’s their maturity. My theory is that this happens because there are younger fans of the series who seek to have a deeper analysis and discussion about the narrative and aim to sound like a worthy debate opponent who is certain about their position and due to beginners confidence and inexperience in debate come off way too strong. Another small point to add, it peaks my curiosity seeing such devotion to a corporation (Nintendo). I ‘technically’ know why and how it happens, but I’m still always surprised to see someone being so devoted to defending and speaking for Nintendo.

Just wanted to assure you that there are us who greatly appreciate you sharing your thoughts and STILL engaging with questionable Asks after this. I wait for each post or reblog with anticipation and will share your blog with my friends as soon as they finish TOTK as they were really intrigued by the imperialist Rauru depiction. On the other hand, please don’t feel pressured to continue posting if it all gets too much at any point! Thank you for reading all of this if you did! Sorry for any mistakes and poor vocabulary, English is not my native language.

Hello!

Thank you so, so very much for this very kind ask. <3 And I'm sorry it took me a little long to get around to it, I am sick and my brain is not very cooperative. :(

I am really glad to know that there are more conversations happening outside of this little sphere. I scoured for these criticisms on Youtube in the first month and then pretty much gave up when they weren't coming up. I'm glad the conversation is widening, and I hope it keeps on happening over the years --not to hurt the game or its community, but just to encourage critical thought for one, and also just so Nintendo does a little better next time.

It might be maturity, but I am not... How do I put it. I don't think it is so much a question of age or even life experience than it being a question of, well, willingness to see yourself get destabilized a little bit. To me, a lot of the hostility that I've seen directed at these kind of theories are often extremely dismissive of the place they come from; they assume either overzealousness ( = you are seeing problems where there are none for ??? profit??? or just to pretend that you are morally purer than everybody else, which is a statement that never once looked like projection), confusion ( = don't you see the game tells you that this is good and this is bad ?), or bad faith ( = you are here to stir trouble for no reason, you are a troll). Very rarely do they actually engage with the arguments, but rather with the aesthetic quality of it; the way it rings to their ear, the way it is presented, and the intent they assume that led to these arguments being made in the first place. The best counter-arguments I have heard thus far who actually take what is being said into account can either be boiled down to: "I see your point, but it just doesn't bother me that much because of X, Y and Z who really touched me emotionally and I got invested in that (which is great and super valid in my opinion)", or: "I think Nintendo just didn't think about the effect of this decision and the way it weakened what they wanted to do, but I think the overall story of what they wanted to say overrules the way they achieved it, and I prefer focusing on the first rather than the latter (which is also completely legitimate)". I have not, so far, seen a better rebuttal than: it does not bother me personally for X or Y reason, but I am not denying that these might be problems to somebody else.

But yeah. It is the childhood, it is the safe space, it is good and uncomplicated, and so anything that hurts that wonderful piece of innocence that remains must be there with bad intentions. I assume this plays a huge role in the Nintendo Protection Squad, even when the criticism is honestly pretty mild all things considered.

(Also, if I may and as I close this subject: I think this is pretty interesting how it's only unreasonable to ask for a stronger narrative. If the combat had been subpar in TotK, I would not have cared that much personally honestly, but I'm pretty sure a *lot* of people would have complained and been extremely pissed at that, and this would have been an acceptable complaint to have --like the lack of dungeons was an acceptable complaint to wage against BotW. I don't think a great combat system with a lot of variation in approach is particularly more "the spirit of Zelda" than a simple, solid and well constructed story, but a lot of BotW players would probably disagree. Which is fine, the series is evolving, new standards are introduced! But why is this one the only standard that seems to be a reach too far, an unrealistic demand, something that *should* stay a non-priority even though it once clearly was one? Gamers and their approach to storytelling will forever perplex me honestly, which sucks given it's my job but whatever, you make your own hell etc)

But yeah. To be honest, I think a lot of people who don't really understand the "imperialist argument" do not lack for media literacy or analysis or maturity (I kind of am super tired of people throwing the "you have no media literacy!" at each other while never defining what they mean by that or never actually discussing what they actually disagree about), but maybe they do lack a little bit of political culture; especially culture about political communication. Which makes sense not to have or focus on a lot when you play a Zelda game, so. It's fine. vOv

It also does not escape my notice how a lot of the reticence to accept criticism gets the most virulent around the portrayal of power dynamics and race; even though I don't think any progressive fandom faced with a story that could be boiled down to "the good kingdom of the blonde, petite, blue-eyed heroes is invaded by a huge evil man from the desert with very racialized features who forcefully rules his all-women warriors in harem garbs" should bat an eye when some people say this sort of premice makes them uncomfortable and so should be handled very carefully, especially given the global rise of fascism, anti-immigration, and deadly islamophobia everywhere right now. It boggles my mind that this is even considered a controversial statement.

Like, discussing the shade and depth of Rauru's goatman *fur* as a way to counter the criticism that what birthed the character of Ganondorf is 5 racist tropes in a trenchcoat and should be navigated with more care than this is 2023 is so... deeply unserious to me. You know, sometimes things are a little iffy and can be acknowledged as such and then you can still like the Thing and it's fine, you don't even have to engage with the parts that make you uncomfortable, it's fine it's fineee.

But no need to worry about the effect of these kind of interactions on me, though it is very sweet to do so! <3 Let's say I'm not going to bed every night worrying about my critical thinking skills, my media literacy, or wondering whether or not I understand interactive narration haha

I am a little tired of talking about TotK in general tho, to be fully honest. I feel like I've kind of scraped the bottom of my takes, and I don't have a lot more to add --so the asks will probably slow down just by virtue of not repeating myself eternally, and wanting to extract myself from some of the discourse happening (also I just don't care enough about the game to put this much energy into it, it was never really meant to happen I just started receiving tons asks for some reason??? (thank you all!! it was really an Experience!!!! but thank you!!!) and then I replied to them, and then that got me more asks, etc etc, but yeah I never planned to talk about TotK that much haha)

But thank you so very very much again!

[mmollymercury]

I'm coming here to bother😇😇

How are you?

Do you have any artwork you think is underrated?

(So we can reblog)

AHHHGGG THATS SO SWEET😭‼️‼️‼️💖💖💖

Sorry it took me long to answer this! Life has been kinda busy lately. I've been preparing for uni and I'm in the process of applying to some now.

I'm doing pretty good today💕 one thing I'm glad to be relieved of is worrying abt getting encanto big bang stuff done. Thankfully the date was extended, yay!!! I'm really grateful because I want my work to be the best it can be x I'm so excited to see everyone else's finished pieces💗

The artwork question is such good idea!! So cute!!😭😭😭

Here's some art accounts I think all of you should check out! They're are primarily encanto fanart lolll... but check out the og blogs and look at their other stuff too x

With this list I'm trying to add ppl that I don't see talked abt that much, but really deserve the opposite💖

Let's get self promo out of the way first: here's some of my original character work, if you're interested: 💗 💕 💖 (I'm gonna be making a new pinned post soon, thats gonna catologe all my original work and fanart stuff, because I know original stuff gets lost in all the fan work.)

✨My OCs~~The Yvette-Verse✨

Yvette-Verse character lineup🌤

Yvette comic💫

~

My bestie isn't really active on tumblr, but you should all definitely check her out. She's got more stuff on her insta too:

Her tumblr▪︎@valentineee

Her insta▪︎Main- TrappedintheMorgue

Side- LazySlug

AS OF RN ALL THE ART HERE HAS UNDER 100 NOTES. PLS SHOW THEM LOVE, THEY DESERVE IT💗💗💗

~

YOU @lilrobinbird

Post link💕

It is insane that you don't have more eyes on you IT IS ACTUALLY CRIMINAL😤😤😤. your style is so intricate and painterly, it reminds me of old master's paintings. The way you draw features is so unique and cute, its so cool💕💖

@emi-g

Post link🐀

Look at this. The story, the detail, THE RATTIES

Their art is legitimately so gorgeous, sometimes, I can't believe it's traditional!

@azucareraart

Post link💫

Just... look at this art style, it literally always takes my breath away ITS BEAUTIFUL. So expressive and unique, I love it sm. They also have an encanto fanfiction too, it's set a few years in the future and is Mirabel x oc, I would never usually look for those stories on my own, since I'm not really into non canonical ships, but the art they made for it intrigued me and although I haven't read it in a while, from what I did read it was amazing. Really well written and descriptive!

@tortillafish

Post link🐁

Gender bent Bruno has my whole heart!! SHES SO KIN WORTHYYY😭 plus their style is so expressive and BEAUTIFUL💞💞💞

@kafeino (they don't want their art to be reposted, so I decided to just add the links x)

Antonio and his birdie😇 ▪︎ Camilo looking like a menace😈

They have a few encanto fanarts, all of them are so good and colourful! Like, look at the way they draw hands.... omg. But these ones are SEVERELY UNDERRATED. As of rn I think the Camilo one has 72 notes and the Antonio one has 47?? THATS AN INJUSTICE WTFFF????

@rats0ut

Post link🕯🕯

Post link🐉 this has 19 notes are you HAVING ME ON!!???

ALMA LORE!!! PLUS ANTONIO WITH ELDRITCH HORROR BEAST AND HES SO NONCHALANT ABT IT??? YESSSSSSSS. I really love their simple yet effective art style, it really inspires me to experiment with my style a bit 🥰🥰🥰

@fruit-goose (they don't want their art to be reposted, so I decided to just add the links x)

Queen Isabela🌸

This style... the colouring... the lines... no words, how does this only have 70 notes?!??😤😤😤😤😤😤😤

@camilleisdrawing

Post link💋👂

HOW THE HELL DOES THIS ONLY HAVE 20 NOTES???!!! WTFFF

The colours, the proportions, the expression, HER, I literally love it so much it makes my eyes happy. Op's style is so cool, I literally love it so much, so inspiring, makes me want to paint and experiment 🤩🤩💗💗💗

@summersofsalt (they don't want their art to be reposted, so I decided to just add the links x)

Pepa being badass🌩⛈

This style is just so cute, yet it can convey such strong, angry emotion. The colours and movement, PEPA’S EYES, it reminds me for some reason of lino printing. It's so cool!!

~

I really wish I could add more! This community is so talented and amazing💞 so feel free to add onto this post and @ some of your severely underrated faves💕💕

[palant1r]

Could I have some of your matsulight headcanons please?

absolutely you can. i am shoving them into your hands as if pouring barbecue sauce into them

so. i have two general Matsulight Flavors. the first is the tragic canon one-sided matsulight. the second is matsulight in an au where yotsuba light never gets the notebook back and everything is Fine

also theres a lot of stuff based off of canon that i'm gonna leave out here because a lot of it isn't headcanons, it's a reading of canon.

one universal constant i love is matsuda teaching light how to fire a handgun. im a sucker for people seeing matsuda's Hidden Competence, and i think firearms would be something light has no experience in. so i really like the idea of matsuda being the authority on something for once and helping light get a firearm certification so he can be a full NPA agent. its about the intimacy of showing someone how to kill in hopes that it'll save their life one day. will NOT get into how guns play into death note here but its A Lot i think

in canon, i think matsuda falls for light offscreen, somewhere in the time skip. i think he spends a lot of time at the apartment, sleeping on light's couch. and misa strikes me as a late riser, while light totally gets up at the crack of dawn. i hc they spent a lot of quiet mornings together — at first awkwardly, then later in comfortable silence. maybe talking about kira before the rest of the task force arrived, matsuda voicing the doubts he wouldn't say in front of anyone else and light helping them along. in the process of trying to manipulate him, light finds himself being more honest with matsuda than he is with anyone else. more honest than he's ever been since getting that notebook. (also theres humor in these mornings i think. because light absolutely has a 12 step skincare routine and spends a lot of time on his appearance and then matsuda just rolls out of bed clear-skinned and puts on contacts. thats it. and hes STILL hot.) (oh yeah i think matsuda wears contacts, but in the evenings he wears thick-framed glasses and light thinks they're cute)

light doesn't even like coffee but he still takes it every time matsuda gives it to him. not kira light is averse to breaking Any social cue that could make him seem anything but perfect and kira light thinks it makes him more focused. he tries to enjoy bitter things out of spite for L. he fails. he'd rather have a frappe than espresso, but he'll admit that on his deathbed

i think after soichirou's death matsuda tried to lend light emotional support and light pretended to need it. if i think about this too much i'll get sad

also i think matsuda doesn't realize he's in love with light for a while because he thinks his feelings are jealousy/envy. like "wow light is always so put together and cool and hot and i get all jealous when he goes on dates...it must be because i want to be like him and im jealous of those women ahaha"

light ALSO wouldn't realize his own feelings for a while but that's because even no memories light would repress the hell out of them. he's neurotic <3

in a universe where they actually get together, matsuda absolutely makes the first move at the most random and unexpected time. dude's a wildcard. no one knows what matsuda is going to do next least of all matsuda. light THINKS he's able to predict him but he was quite definitively proven wrong. matsuda's the type of mf to confess his undying love at a Wendys.

so that's a start! hehe if anyone else has matsulight hcs please add them in a reblog, i wanna meet my fellow rowboat captains in the Matsulight Fleet

[percreates]

Here's my intro post thingy-

My name is Percival, but I'm cool with Percy or whatever nickname, they/he, 20 (yeah that's almost all in my bio too but shh)

Fandoms and things I draw/plan to draw

Minecraft (funny/neat moments and adventures of my oc and others on an smp I'm part of)

Spider-Man and Spiderverse, I'm gonna have a spidersona very soon that I'll be drawing a ton >:)

X-Files (new hyperfixation, I've taken a truly unhinged number of reference screenshots)

Star Trek TNG (another new hyperfixation, I'm obsessed with Data and Geordi, RIP my love Lieutenant Yar, she was my other fave but died in the last episode I watched)

Original Leverage (I only watched a lil redemption and didn't care for it all that much, but og Leverage has been my favorite show for over half my life now, expect ot3 art)

X-Men (once I've read more of the comics)

Potentially other marvel superheroes (but again, not until I've read more of their comics, it's a Thing with me, but I did love the goofy found family avengers tower fandom stuff before the mcu got so dark and depressing)

Star Wars (I like the prequels/clone wars era best)

MCR

Doctor Who (I'm not caught up on the latest few seasons and it's been a long time since I watched past the 10th doctor cause he and 9 are my faves, but expect some Doctor/Rose/Jack ship art at some point)

Jackass

Apothecaria

Potentially other fandoms I'm forgetting I'm in, or didn't add to the list, just whatever I'm into lately

Random non-fandom related references, the majority of what I've drawn so far is just random pictures of people on pinterest

(my references and tips board has 27 nicely organized sections and a total of over 1600 pins, feel free to dm me if you want the link!)

Pretty much any scene/shot from a movie or show I watch that makes me go "ooh I wanna draw that" and take a screenshot

I'm learning to draw cause I want to start creating comics! I drew a lot in middle school and am finally getting back into it. I was never that good back then, but I'm super happy with the progress I'm making since coming back to it >:D

I think entirely in words rather than pictures (I believe that's called aphantasia?), so until I've got A Lot more experience and have built up a better mental library and muscle memory, most things I draw will be with reference, but I'm slowly getting better at drawing from imagination!!

Tagging system-

#my art (self explanatory, I'll also have #my comics sometime down the line), #perc rambles (anything I post that's not art), #cool art (any art I reblog that's not mine), #comics (as in comics people have made, not like, comics fandom stuff), #spidersona (other people's sonas, I'll be tagging my own separately, probably as #spiderskate but I haven't decided), #tips and tricks, #pose reference, and if I draw for a fandom I'll tag said fandom. I'll have tags for various ocs I create, currently my only one is #benni enderman

I think that's everything! Thanks for checking out my blog, enjoy your time here :D

[muckmage]

6 11 25

do you use a watch?

not until very recently! just over a week ago i bought a heath tracker under the instruction of my cardiologist who wanted me to have something i could use to check my heart rate easily and often just in case, y'know? and well naturally this fancy gizmo also tells the time ^^ so i guess i wear a watch now even if it's primary purpose is to tell me my heart rate and how well i've slept lmao

anything from your childhood you've held onto?

a big fart. sorry, i'm- it's- i've answered this question in two previous asks if you wanna look ffjdjsjs😭 no but if i hadn't gone to bed already i would go take photos of my cool rock collection that i've had for ages and if i remember in the morning i'll reblog this and add them on 👍

would you say you have good taste in music?

i like the music i listen to it's nice :)

honestly everyone else seems to know what they're doing when they listen to music but istg i started like 10 years late. like as in. for almost half my life i just didn't listen to music at all. i mean obviously i heard music but i don't remember ever having any real opinions on the stuff i heard or any desire to go out of my way to listen to anything, at least not until way later than all of my peers seemed to.

yeah it's the autism i know, but i still don't think i've met someone who's had the same experience with music that i've had, or keep having.

ok i'm rambling now but honestly i don't often listen to music in general. it's a very present thing to me, like i can't listen to something if i can't sing along to the lyrics and jive with it y'know? which means at lot of the time i'm more comfortable in silence.

like, music is something i put on to Listen to and not to just like have in the background. idk sometimes when my brothers cooking breakfast he puts some music on, and it's nice and i enjoy it too but that's just something i'd never think to do if i were in the same position. and like a friend of mine loves to drive around and listen to music and i could never do that, like the music would just be distracting me from driving, it'd be downright unsafe lmao. when i listen to stuff at my computer i actually tend to just end up on an open tab with the lyrics there to just sing along even if i already know the song.

one of the only situations i can think of where i choose to listen to music and do something else at the same time is when i'm playing a specific type of videogame, where the music helps me get into that sort of flow state. and i think that's just cause it helps relax/distract the parts of my brain that aren't engaged with the videogame in a way that actually helps me stay focused on the game. like if i'm playing tetris a part of me is gonna get bored and look for something else to do, but if i listen to music and distract that part of me with a song to sing along to, then the tetris playing bits can focus even deeper on playing tetris. media symbiosis. i no idea. ok now i'm stopping myself here and putting all this shit behind a read more fjdhjskskks😭 oH but here's my tetris highscore btw #humblebrag

also you can just. play tetris, btw. for free. it's just on tetris.com like that's literally the link too and it's all there it's great. i was double checking it just now and it even works on mobile browsers it's fantastic. i love tetris

[katyspersonal]

Hey guys

I just... idk, I want to thank everyone who leaves me very nice comments - direct or ones in reblog tags - but I also feel kinda sorry for not being responsive enough.

I have - always have had - incredible trust issues, that only kept growing with years, and with more negative experience. :s It is not that I am taking all this encouragement and positivity for granted, I cherish every single good vibe shown my way, trust me I do. But, it is even deeper than simple shyness, what makes me unable to react ‘enough’.

I kinda just... got used to the internet as this space where people take “friendships” for granted and are being parasocial. Where they can be worried sick for you when you merely feel sad, where they wish you good morning and good night every time, where they send you memes catering to your specific tastes and tell you how much they value you and how much they are excited to see you grow and thrive - only to one day throw you away like the trash that you are, in one instant, for the reason they never even communicated.

It never had to take a deep emotional drama. I’ve had a few big ones, I know it. You know it. But more often than not it had to be some dumb shit I never could have predicted. Them having been uncomfortable with me all along and never telling me to fix my habits until the boiling point made them just block without a word. Them having a bad word about me from years ago and not wanting a “trouble”. Them fandom shifting, ffs. I mean... fair, I guess? “This is just the internet, connections here are not real :/”, I guess. I just struggle with this stuff. Because of how my brain works and how I see communication that truly matters, for me internet friendships and irl ones are blurred very much. So it hurts, a lot. It hurts to feel so “loved” only to be tossed aside as if I’ve never been there, and realise that people can throw very warm and significant words around.

To add to it, every time I decide to open up, every time I decide that this time things will be different - things go WRONG. Either I ruin everything, or another person happens to stab me in the back. And now I feel as though I’ve gone past the point of no return. That now, no amount of warmth and love and support can convince me of genuine sympathy. It still feels like just a prank that is going on for too long - despite the crisis some of you stuck with me through (if you know then you know).

I just... sometimes I wonder, how much more time should pass, before ‘better safe than sorry’ becomes ‘I am sorry I have been too safe’. It just hurts me if things feel very one-sided with me. Because I just know even if it is too late for me, there are genuine and good people around me, and I value you guys. I mean- Remember I also made a post like, ‘send me art requests’? I still only finished one of those - because I am SOOOOO used to only getting one or maybe two, but I got so many that I just... I still can’t believe it was real :s It is not that I am lazy or not thankful, I just... I am not used to it.

But I still read what you leave in the tags or sometimes comments, and it still feels very nice. Thank you. I just wish it was a better life period.

[lunaverseimagine]

Whole

Summary: Y/n comes out to their best friend Fred as aroace.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.3k

The frosted grass crunched under your boots with every step you took towards the lake. You rubbed your gloved hands together and suppressed a shiver. You’d normally be sat by the warmth of the fire in this weather, but lately things had been weighing on your mind and you needed a walk to clear your head. You spotted Fred and Angelina leaning against a tree and holding hands. As you approached, the sound of their laughter reached your ears. You smiled at your best friend’s happiness. Fred had never looked more content than when he was with her, and you loved Angelina for giving him that.

Fred’s eyes caught yours across the courtyard and he waved at you with a grin.

“Y/n! Out in this weather? I suppose there are flying merpeople now too.” Angelina gave him a light-hearted shove and called you over. You trod carefully, not wanting to slip down the bank, and said to Fred, “watch your mouth or I might just set you on fire to warm me up.” 

“Is that so?” he jested, and summoned a gust of wind which knocked your feet from under you, causing you to land on your backside and slide the rest of the way down the grassy slope. The three of you were laughing as you pushed yourself to your feet, only to tackle Fred onto the grass. When he looked up at you with a pout from his position on the ground, you simply said,

“I don’t want to be the only one with a wet butt,” before starting up a conversation with Angelina about her potions homework. While you were chatting about the best way to crush bat fangs, you noticed Fred giving you a quizzical glance. He was more perceptive than most people gave him credit for, especially his professors, and he knew that if you were out for a walk at this time of year then something was bothering you. He also seemed to realise that you didn’t want to discuss it at the moment, so instead he chipped in to your discussion with the helpful suggestion of chewing the bat fangs and spitting them into the cauldron.

~*~

In the Great Hall that evening, as you were eating your second helping of cottage pie, a handsome Ravenclaw boy shuffled up to the seat opposite you. He was in some of your classes but however hard you tried, you couldn’t recall his name. He was glancing around and hopping from foot to foot, as though he wanted to sit down but didn’t know if he should. You gave him an encouraging smile, wondering why he was so jittery. He tentatively sat on the seat, as though it might grow fangs and bite him. Fred looked at him and said “alright mate?”. The boy nodded while staring at the table in front of him. Fred’s eyes flicked from him to you, then shared a knowing look with Angelina before they both moved to a different spot on the table. You stared at them in confusion, wondering why they’d purposely left you alone with a boy you only vaguely knew. 

The Ravenclaw gently cleared his throat, and mumbled more to the table than to you, “would you like to go on a date with me y/n?”

You felt your heart race, but not at excitement of being asked out. You played with a loose tag of skin on your thumb, trying to figure out a suitable response. Eventually, after so long the boy looked ready to leave without an answer, you said “I’m really flattered but no, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok.” He replied, standing up from his seat with downcast eyes and a slump to his shoulders that made you think it wasn’t ok at all. You weren’t sure why, but you felt the need to hastily add, “it’s not you. I’m just… I have feelings for someone else.”

He nodded, accepting your excuse, and slouched back to his table.

~*~

That night, you and Fred were sitting on the sofa in the common room, your legs on his lap as you read a book and he studied one of his new inventions. You loved these moments, when most students had gone to bed, and you could just exist in each other’s company. Things had gotten easier since Fred started seeing Angelina. You no longer felt that there was an expectation for you and Fred to start dating just because you were close. You loved him as a friend, and that was it.

You started to feel Fred’s eyes on you so you turned your focus from your book to him.

“What is it?”

He started wiggling his eyebrows. “So…?” You weren’t sure what he was referring to, and your expression obviously conveyed this because he clarified, “you and Peter?” You recognised Peter as the Ravenclaw’s name from dinner. You shrugged at Fred.

“He asked me out, I wasn’t interested, and I told him so.” You suddenly felt yourself being defensive, even though Fred had done nothing wrong.

“He was cute though, why didn’t you give him a chance?” You thought about how to answer the question but before you could, Fred added “Is there someone else? There is isn’t there. I bet they’re on the Quidditch team. People can’t resist us athletes.” To emphasise his point, he flexed his bicep, and you rolled your eyes.

“Well, that’s what I told him.” You started fiddling with the pages of your book.

“But..?” Fred prompted.

“But there’s not.”

Fred looked a bit surprised, but he regained his composure as he said, “so, why did you say no?” His eyes widened. “Are you into girls? Because it’s totally awesome if you are.”

You let out a breathy chuckle but shook your head, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, what is it then?” When you stayed silent, he added, “is this why you went on a walk this morning? Is this what was weighing on that pretty mind of yours?” You gave him a brief smile and nodded, moving your legs from his lap so you could sit facing him. 

You met his eyes as you said, “Fred, I’m not attracted to anyone. I never have been. Romantically or… physically.” You cleared your throat, but Fred just sat looking intently at you. “And… I  don’t think I ever will be.”

Fred nodded slowly, absorbing this information. “How do you- how do you know? That you’ll never experience the attraction, I mean.”

This was a question you’d expected, and had asked yourself many times while you figured out this part of your identity. 

“Are you attracted to men, Fred?”

He shook his head.

“And do you think you’ll ever be attracted to a man?” Realisation dawned in his features as he got what you were alluding to. You can be certain about a lack of attraction in the same way that you can be certain about its presence, although you’ll admit the former normally takes a while longer to figure out.

“Point well made, y/n. So this means you’re not straight, or gay, or anything else?”

You let out a small chuckle.

“Nope. There is a word for it- well, there’s two actually. Aromantic and asexual. Or aroace for short.”

Fred put a hand on your knee and grinned at you.

“Well y/n, aroace sounds awesome, and I love you. Exactly as you are.” You leaned to forward to grip him in a tight embrace as you felt your eyes welling with tears. You hadn’t realised how worried you were about his reaction until he responded and your gut flooded with relief. He didn’t think you were broken. He didn’t think you weren’t whole. 

You are whole and you are loved, exactly as you are.

End

Thank you so much for reading. These past few months I’ve been figuring out that I’m aroace, and I feel like there’s such a lack of representation. That being said, I highly recommend Loveless by Alice Osman for an awesome aroace main character figuring out her sexuality. Remember, you are valid and you are whole <3 If you liked this fic please like/comment/reblog, it’s super encouraging.

For more of my work, check out my masterlist :3

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Hello! I was wondering if you have any tips or advice on starting to write fanfiction on Tumblr? I have written a story a long time ago and I want to post it as well as start writing again since I stopped because of my mental health(long story) I have always loved writing but I have been put down a lot because of my learning disability so I stopped because of my self-confidence...I want to put out my writing again but have no clue where to start...

By the way, I LOVE your Rose Among the Briars ( Love me some Vergil lol) it actually inspired me to write again! Thank you and I hope I'm not being a bother.

Why hello there! So sorry if I'm answering this way late...tumblr never likes to notify me whenever I get asks 🙄

But anyway! Congrats on wanting to write again! You're not a bother at all. I'm not the most experienced writer but I'm more than happy to share what I've learned from my own experience from posting my fics on tumblr 🌹🥰🌹

It can be a little scary to put yourself out there after so long. I was in the exact same position when I posted my fic here. And the best advice I have is...be passionate about what you write about. That passion will catch readers that have the same exact interests as you and make the fandom very enjoyable as well as bouncing ideas and inspiration. And it may give way to some joyous friendships as well.

Now, there will be a few assholes that may try to tear you down with anon hate. I had a few of those and I best advice I have for that is just delete their ask/comment, completely ignore them, and block them. Attention is all they want and they hope to get that by getting a rise out of you...don't give them the satisfaction. Block 'em and let them stew in their hatred.

Posting on tumblr has its technical challenges as well. For instance, putting links on your post will sometimes not have it show up in the tags. And putting any tags that tumblr deems nsfw on the post does the same thing too. I stopped linking my AO3 and tagging my posts "nsfw" because of this. Instead, I just put a rating and any relevant warnings if my fic is nsfw at the top of the post. That way people know what they're getting into as well as showing up in the tags.

Oh! And don't be afraid to reblog your own writing! People live in different time zones and may not see your post if they're following you. The tagging system is pretty much "ehhhh" at best, so a couple reblogs helps your fic get seen a lil better if it shows up sooner on the dashboard.

That's all I can think of at the moment. If any of my fellow writers see this, please feel free add some advice of your own! Everyone's experience is different and its always good to hear different advice based on those experiences.

And thank you so much for your kind words! A Rose Among the Briars is very close my heart. It always makes so giddy and gleeful to hear others enjoying my flowery fic. I literally teared up a little when I read that it inspired you to write again. I don't know how to describe it, but it's just...one of the best feelings in the world 💖

[bakubub]

Best friend rigs the Secret Santa for Bakugo and yourself to get one another...

A/N: Hullo everybody!! This is part 2 (find part one HERE) of this Pinterest Prompt and part 3 will (hopefully) be the final part. I honestly thought this would be a 800 word fic but now we're barreling towards almost 5k all together whoops lol-

Warnings: Just a few swears here and there, SFW, its literally all Bakusquad shenanigans.

Word count: abt 1.5k, ENJOY <3

"Soooooo~ Who d'ya get for the cringle?" Kaminari asks, leaning back on his chair dangerously to look back at me, sitting on the desk behind him. I raise my eyebrows, since I can't just raise the one, and flick my pen expertly in my hand.

"Mr. Aizawa," I answered seriously. "I'm thinking of getting him another sleeping bag. The musty yellow one isn't really his colour."

Looking genuinely confused, Kaminari looks around to see if anyone else overheard our conversation.

I laugh at him, and kick his chair forward, causing him to shriek as he sits squarely on his butt. I look down to see a folded note on my desk, opening to read it as Mr Aizawa tells us to settle down;

Lover boy was TOTALLY just greasing off Kaminari for making you laugh. I think someone's still jealous from the whole sleeping incident...

Catching Mina's eye, I give her an I don't think so look, which she promptly rolls her eyes at. Its been a whole weekend since the 'sleeping incident', where I had woken up with Kaminari's arms wrapped around my waist and his head nestled on my stomach. Accidentally of course. We, along with Bakugo and Kirishima, had fallen asleep on the couch in the common room, talking late last Friday night.

It really wasn't a big deal... Kaminari apologised several times. I got over it, he got over it, and I don't see why Bakugo, whom Mina just loves to call 'lover boy', would even care.

Plus, I have bigger problems. Like what to get said lover boy for the Christmas Cringle we were supposed to be exchanging this Saturday. He's literally impossible to buy for. Well, I could always just buy him a new pair of shorts or something, but since I've had a crush on him since literally the first day of school, it needs to be perfect.

So far I've thought of a cookbook, an apron, a scarf since he's always wearing the brown one, or maybe even a matching beanie; then again his hair has such personality I don't even know if he CAN put a beanie over those suspiciously natural spikes...

"Hellooooo, come on, Aizawa dismissed us," Mina says, nudging my shoulder.

I snap out of my daze and gather my things, following out of the nearly empty classroom.

"Decided on what to get monsieur Hothead yet?" I sigh, already having predicted this question.

"Nope," I say, popping the p as we walk to the dorm rooms. "I'm thinking of maybe getting-"

"Hey girls, wanna meet at the common room at 6 for a rematch of UNO?" Kaminari asks, coming up from behind us and slinging an arm over my and Mina's shoulders like he always does.

"Yeah sure, we're down." Mina answers, pinching him in the side so he lets us out of his grasp. We duck away, laughing and continuing our banter, before I catch Bakugo's gaze.

"You coming too, Bakugo?" I ask, walking up next to him, ignoring my heart trying to escape its cage.

"Coming where?" He grumbles, still looking disgruntled and angry.

"We're playing UNO around 6 today in the common room. Come on, it'll be fun," I say, trying to persuade him into coming, since he never usually participates.

"HELL NO! I don't have time to waste, especially with you extras," He yells at me. I huff, rolling my eyes and continuing to ignore the feeling of my heart beating in my eyeballs, as I grumble, "you never do," and walk back next to Mina, who was now somehow in a water fight with Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero.

Overall certain that I didn't let my nerves peek through while talking to him, I don't register what's happening as Sero grabs Oijiro's water bottle out of his bag, unscrews the lid, then promptly dumps it over my head.

With Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari and even Bakugo gasping in the background, I wiped the water off my face, before realising my mascara had probably smudged all over my cheeks and glared at Sero, who was slowly backing away.

I practically growl before chasing him, blindly grabbing my own water bottle out of my bag and drenching him, messing up his styled hair which has him shrieking "sorry, I'm so sorry!" and has me cackling in sweet, sweet revenge.

---

"PLUS FOUR?! AGAIN KIRISHIMA! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Mina screeches as she pounds Kirishima's arm from next to him, who is laughing and judging from his reaction, barely feeling her punches. I know from experience, that Mina punches hard. He has to be really tough not to show an inkling of pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just really have to win this one!" He says, shooting a guilty smile Mina's way. Maybe he just doesn't feel pain in general...? I stare at him with suspicion as Mina huffs and she rolls her eyes at him, promptly dropping a four plus for the next person in our circle, who just happened to be me.

"Hey! Not cool, hypocrite." I mutter.

"I had to get my anger out somehow. I'm pretending you're Kirishima. Go on, pick up those cards, you slimy rat," Mina says smugly.

Giving her a confused look at her weird logic, I continued the game, Shoji and Hagakure also having joined in half way.

Just as I'm about to announce UNO, Bakugo stomps through the common room and sits right in between myself and Mina, crossing his legs on the floor and leaning back on his two hands.

"BAKUBRO! YOU CAME!" Kirishima yells excitedly, Kaminari and Sero also whooping and cheering.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. I finished my work and came to see what you idiots were doing." He says, voice gruff but not screaming for once.

I raise my brows at him, and he scowls and looks the other way, not being able to face me after he so rudely rejected my invitation a few hours ago.

"Oh please, you just couldn't handle the FOMO." I say teasingly, smirking at him without fully turning my face so the others can hear.

Sero stifles a laugh and Kaminari looks confused before the dots connect and he also has his hand clamped around his mouth.

"She has a green 7," is all he says, a sadistic look of satisfaction overtaking his features. It takes a moment for all of us to realise what he just said.

Mina cackles as she changes the colour to red, effectively stopping me from winning the game.

Shooting him a dirty look, I lean over to grab another card, simultaneously elbowing him hard in the shin, which he doesn't even react to.

What is it with these guys and their weirdly high pain tolerance?

Ignoring him now, we continue the game, Kirishima practically slamming his last card on top of the deck. "I WON, I WON, man that was so MANLY," He celebrates as I see Mina rolling her eyes and silently fuming. I begin to shuffle and hand out the cards deliberately skipping Bakugo, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"Oi, where are my cards?" He asks, annoyance evident in his tone as Kirishima continues to gloat in the background about how manly his win was and Kaminari complaining about how he never "gets the good cards." When I don't respond, Bakugo steals my cards from in front of me, leaning forward to play with the others.

Snarling, I grab my cards out of his hand, causing him to snarl back, until we're fighting for the 7 cards.

"What are you guys doing, there's a whole ass deck here, you know," Sero says, eyebrows raised and nudging Kirishima.

"These. Ones. Are. MINE." I gasp out, my knee coming around to jab him in his side as his hand pushes me down from my sternum. Oxygen knocked out of my lungs, I gasped for air as I tried to hold the cards out of his reach, my hero training kicking in as I snake my other arm around the back of his neck to hold him in an upside down headlock. Trying to push his forehead onto the ground, I give the cards to Mina, who laughs and takes them, after taking a photo of us.

Having apparently heard the camera click, Bakugo (after struggling a great deal might I smugly add) gets out of my head lock and zones in on Mina. "Delete that photo, Racoon Eyes," He snarls.

"Not in a million years. Awww, look Bakugo are you blushing?" She says, pointing at her phone.

Eyes widening and red creeping up his neck, Bakugo snatches the phone out of her hand and deletes the photo, before getting up and leaving.

"C'mon Bakubro, she's just joking," Kirishima says, following him out.

"Yeah man, you didn't even play a game yet," Sero adds.

"I HAVE STUFF TO DO!" He screams, seemingly going back to his old self.

"Didn't you just say that you finished your homework?" Kaminari asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"SHUT IT, CHARGEBOLT! I DON'T NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF TO YOU," he says a tad too harshly, turning slightly to glare at him with bulging eyeballs. Kaminari closes his mouth and shuffles his cards, trying not to set him off again.

"Bakugo-" I start, but when he doesn't turn, I find myself letting him leave.

Staring dejectedly at Mina, she gives me a giddy smile and grabs my phone, going onto her messages and smirking as she shows me the photo he just deleted.

"I sent it to you as soon as I took it. Thank me later," she says, winking, as she gets up to leave, dragging Sero and Kaminari with her.

I look down at the slightly blurry photo, seeing me handing Mina the UNO cards under Bakugo with a desperate expression. He has his hand pressed down on my sternum, straddling my waist and looking down at me, with an unmistakable smile gracing his features. Unless that's just a new way of scowling.

The phone dims and all of a sudden I'm confronted with my own expression on the darkened screen.

A lovesick fool.

That's all I can see.

A/N: Ngl pretty proud of that ending. JUst in case I'm not as slick as I think I am, she meant herself and Bakugo, hehe <3

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

Find part 3 HERE

[eternally-writing]

chain reaction | jjk

genre: fluff and angst

rating: PG

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: college!au , enemies to lovers, series

word count: 1.3k

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: A semester with your mortal enemy, Jeon Jungkook, as your lab partner was bound to be an experience to remember.

banner by me!

A/N: hey everyone! This is my first series that I’m writing and I’m so excited to share it with all of you! If you want to be tagged in future parts, reblog and mention that you want to be tagged in the caption, or you can send me an ask!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

“You’re late”

Swinging your backpack onto the lab bench beside you, you glare at your lab partner.

“Shut up Jeon, it’s only 8:04am and our TA hasn’t even finished introducing the lab yet”.

Introduction to Organic Chemistry was all set up to be your favorite class. You were a chemistry genius in high school, your professor had amazing “rate my professor” reviews, and the class fit perfectly into your schedule, finishing right at 2:00pm so you could walk back to your dorm under the radiance of the afternoon sun.

It was all going well until you walked into your 8:00AM lab and found that due to budget cuts, all labs would now be done in pairs. And you had been paired with none other than the bane of your existence, Jeon Jungkook. As if doing an amide reduction wasn’t hard enough on its own, you had to do it alongside the biggest thorn in your side.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what it was about him that irked you so much. Maybe it was the way the girls tried to flirt with his constantly over the open flame of a Bunsen burner, or the way that he sucks up to your extremely old TA in order to get full marks on his procedural skills, or maybe it’s the fact that he somehow managed to look effortlessly put together at 8am on a Tuesday morning, while you looked (and felt) like absolute crap.

Either way, you were counting down the seconds until this semester would be over and you wouldn’t have to look at Jeon Jungkook again, but time seemed to be moving extra slow today.

“Late and spacing out today? Wow, lucky me to have you as a lab partner.”

Scoffing at him, you adjusted your protective glasses and readied your labware for today.

“180 minutes until I’m free. That’s it,” you thought to yourself.

“Technically it’s 170 minutes now, but if we don’t get started someone soon so we can hand in our product by 11am, we’re going to be here for a lot longer than that.”, snapped Jungkook next to you, already starting to mix chemicals together in a beaker.

Well, looks like your habit of accidentally saying things out loud gets worse when you’re tired.

“Let’s just try and get through this lab today without stepping on each other’s toes Jeon, okay?” you said, trying to catch up to Jungkook in the lab.

There was one part of chemistry labs you disliked the most. The waiting time. In some labs it was only 30 minutes, while in other labs it had taken almost an hour, but the constant in all of the situations was that waiting made it feel like time was passing at an infinitely slower rate. Taking out your laptop would violate lab safety protocol, and you couldn’t do any further steps in your lab until your reaction in your solution was done progressing under the fume hood. Since there were no other options, the only other thing left to do in moments like this was talk to Jeon Jungkook.

“So I was -”

“What did you -”

Yikes, add the awkwardness of starting conversation with Jeon Jungkook to the reasons you never talk to him.  You decided to pause and let him carry on with whatever he was saying, giving him a semi-pleasant smile to hopefully help distract from the embarrassment you were feeling.

“I was going to ask what you wanted to do our lab presentation on,” said Jungkook.

Your eyes widened at his statement. Looking at the whiteboard situated at the side of the room, you saw that in the 4 minutes you were late to your lab you may not have missed your TA explaining the procedure, but you did the big words on the board that said:

“FINAL LAB PRESENTATION: 3 weeks from now, worth 20% of your grade, done with your lab. 5-10 page paper and 10-15 minute oral presentation”.

Unable to contain your discontentment with the situation, you let out a groan and leaned back in your chair in frustration, almost falling off your lab stool in the process.

“Well aren’t you just little Miss Sunshine today? I’m not thrilled about this either, but I’d rather pull out my eyelashes than have to repeat this course again next semester,” scoffed Jungkook.

No morning ice coffee + Jeon Jungkook being annoying + a looming group project was more enough to make your head hurt.

“Can we just talk about this later Jeon? My brain can’t process this right now,” you pleaded as you put your head in your hands.

Leaning closer to you, Jungkook spoke at a whisper-level near your ear so nobody else would hear.

“Is your brain too busy processing my charm, sunshine? Don’t worry, I’ll try and tone down the charisma for you,” he joked with a smirk.

Your head went from being in your hands to plopping flat onto your (no longer sterile) lab counter at Jungkook’s comment.

First of all, ew. You don’t know how Jungkook was possibly picking up girls by talking like that. Second of all, charm and charisma were probably two words that you would NEVER associate with Jungkook, so his statement was definitely wrong.

A project with Jungkook meant that you would be spending a LOT more time with him, and the prospect of that happening made you wince internally. Group projects meant libraries, evenings, and , ugh, probably weekends with Jeon Jungkook.

You were snapped out of your internal despair by the sound of Jungkook’s voice.

“Hand me your phone.”

You froze. “Hm?”

“Well I don’t know what you think of me Y/N, but unless you think I can read your mind we’re  going to need to text to figure out when to meet.”

Giving in, you quickly tossed your phone into his open palm while grabbing his phone which was sitting on top of his backpack.

Glancing over his shoulder, you took a peek at your contact name.

“little miss sunshine? really Jeon?”

“Of course sunshine, i had to pick a name that encapsulated your positive and radiant energy,” he retorted, sarcasm practically dripping off of his words.

You definitely were picking your battles today, and one over a silly contact name didn’t seem to be worth it.

“You can do whatever, Jeon, but you’re sticking in my phone as “Jeon Boy” and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“We’ll see about that Y/N,” remarked Jungkook as he opened up his lab manual to read the next steps in the procedure.

Your mom had always taught you that the word “hate” was a very strong word and was only to be used in extreme situations. To this day, there were only 3 people in your life that you truly hated in every sense of the word: your ex-boyfriend, Jimin, your ENGL 101 Professor, Dr.Lee, and your neighbor’s cat, Mr. Whiskers, who chewed up your grade 8 science project the day before it was due.

You wouldn’t say that you hate Jungkook, but you were definitely getting close.

“Yknow, I don’t like you Jeon. Actually, scratch that, I really don’t like you.”

Glancing over at the timer on your lab bench finally reaching 0:00, Jungkook began walking over to the fume hood. Turning back to you, he smirked and started to speak.

“Well, the feeling’s mutual sunshine.”

Boy, this was definitely going to be a long semester.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

If you want to be tagged in future parts, reblog and mention that you want to be tagged in the caption (or you can send me an ask)!

If you liked what you read, please write/follow! Thank you for reading♡

- Emily

[imagine-that-100]

Glass in the Studio

Description: Alex Turner x Reader (Female) | Alex injures himself before your date which means that it’s a trip to A&E instead of a restaurant. 

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood & injuries?

A/N: This was requested by @supersonic-scientist​ I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think. This is the first of a few drabbles coming over the next few days so enjoy. Likes and reblog are appreciated and as always, thank you to everyone who reads x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Miles you really are a fucking idiot.” Alex rolls his eyes as he crouches down on the floor to pick up the now smashed Coke bottle.

“I think you’re the idiot mate. You couldn’t catch a bottle from four foot away.” Miles shakes his head.

Alex looks up at his best mate as if he’s stupid, and also chuckles a little in disbelief, “Why would you throw a half empty bottle at me from four foot away when you could have just passed it me?”

Miles mumbles something under his breath that Alex didn’t quite hear as he starts picking up the glass. There were quite a few large shards that acted as bowls for the smaller shards to sit on as Alex continued to collect the glass from the studio’s wooden floor.

The fluorescent lights that were lighting up the room were making it pretty hard for Alex to actually see the smaller pieces of glass because they blended in with the glossy floor beneath him. However, Alex thought he did quite well with what glass he’d already collected so he asked his best mate to pass the bin over.

This is something Miles does for his friend, but he’s still in a weird mood that the both of them get into when they are in the studio together. So Miles extends the small bin in his hand towards his best mate, but when Alex goes to put the glass in, Miles pulls it away.

No glass goes on the floor again because Miles never actually let Alex get that far, but it was amusing to Miles to see his best friend getting annoyed at him. So he just decided to do it one more time.

This is when tragedy struck. Alex preempted his idiot of a mate to pull his trick again so Alex lunged himself forward ensuring that the glass went in the bin this time, but as he did he threw himself off balance.

His free hand landed right on a decent sized shard of glass, cutting the small muscle on his palm that protected his thumb. And he could feel it stuck in there pretty deep.

“Fuck.” Alex seethed, picking himself up off the floor as he started seeing the blood oozing around the glass that was stuck in his hand.

~*~*~*~

You’d just finished work and you were really excited for your night ahead. You were seeing Alex later and he was taking you out on your 7th date.

You’d been friends for well over 5 years so you knew each other like the back of your hands. But only 6 months ago did you both question if you could be more than the friends you've been for ages.

And as it turns out you could.

You’d loved each and every second of seeing Alex in a romantic sense. He was a real gentleman and you were loving that he treated you like ‘his queen’.

That was a little joke of his because since he’d grown his hair out over the past 2 years after the AM tour, you'd told him that he looked like prince charming but with brown hair. And he was honestly living up to that title because he never stopped looking after you.

Your job stressed you out a lot and with Alex being back and mostly being bored before his tour came back around he was always with you. He gave you a lovely distraction from what your life normally was and he lit you back up again.

You’d really fallen hard for him. And he for you.

That’s why your heart stopped in your chest when you got in the car and found out what had happened. Alex had FaceTimed you saying, “Hey love, sorry to bother you when you're not even home yet but I’m gunna probably be really late tonight.”

“Are you okay?” You ask him as he looks white as a sheet on the screen on your phone. His floppy hair was a mess too.

You didn’t even mind about the date, you’re just worried about him as he looked really unwell. Like more unwell than you’d ever seen him before.

And you’d seen him in some states over the years.

“Erm, yeah and no.” Alex says and panic sets in your stomach, but thankfully he carries on explaining, “I cut my hand on broken glass and Miles is dragging me to A&E.”

“Not dragging you Alex, you’re hand’s cut open.” You can hear Miles say in a scorning voice.

You could see from the screen that he was sitting in a car but he didn't let you ask about his health. He just shushed his mate and apologised, “That doesn’t matter. Y/N I’m really sorry I’m gunna more than likely miss the reservation but I swear I’m gunna make it u-”

You interrupt and ask your boyfriend, “Al, Are you okay?” as he looks very light headed now.

“I’m fine” Alex says before lifting his hand so you could see it in the camera.

You could see that he’d tied a pot towel around it but what scared you was that the bit around the back of his hand was white and the bit on his parm was completely soaked red.

Your heart drops knowing what it was but for some reason you ask, “Is that blood?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” Alex tries to carry on but you don’t let him.

You shake your head and widen your eyes to scorn him for trying to continue on about the date, “You are literally bleeding… There’s more important things Alex.”

“But I just wanted to take you out.” Alex pouts and he leans his head against the window of the car Miles is obviously taking him to hospital in.

He was so adorable but at the same time so stupid.

After you ask Miles which A&E he’s taking him to, you race there yourself. You knew Alex and you knew how he was around doctors, especially when the trip was an unwanted one.

One too many bad experiences left him nervous of waiting rooms and seeing men and women in white coats. He didn’t like it all that much so there was no way you weren’t going.

Whether that be for moral support or to help ease his nerves you didn’t know. You just knew you couldn’t sit at home wondering if the man you love was okay after seeing how much blood was on that thick pot towel.

“Are you okay?” You say as your arms wrap around his waist.

“I’m fine.” Alex says, hugging you while simultaneously keeping his hand raised. “Better now you’re here.”

He kissed the side of your head before he let you go and you sat yourself down beside him. Miles left after you’d all been waiting together for 20 minutes but you assured him that your (but also practically his) boyfriend would be alright with you.

You were waiting an hour in total before you were sat in a chair next to the bed that the nurse had made Alex lie down on the bed and was preparing his hand to be stitched up. The cut was fairly deep and the nurse really wasn’t surprised at how much blood he’d lost considering the size of the wound.

It was lucky the glass hadn’t gone any deeper into his muscle or he could have been in a lot worse situation.

“I’m sorry.” Alex says when he looks away from the nurse to you sitting just beside him.

You frown a little then and look into his soft brown eyes, “What for?”

“This isn’t the date I wanted to take you on...” Alex tells you, pouting his bottom lip a little. “A&E isn’t really what I had in mind for tonight.”

You softly smile at him then and gently rub his shoulder as you say, “We could be here or at a dingy pub or a fancy restaurant and I’d be just as happy because you’re with me.”

Alex just grins at you like an idiot then, even more so when you say, “I’m happy anywhere as long as you’re with me.”

Alex’s heart melts.

“Please give me a kiss.” His Sheffield accent comes through thick when he asks you that.

You grin like the idiot in love that you are before you get up off the chair you’re sat on and kiss your boyfriend. His lips are warm and inviting as they always were and you smile into the sweet kiss as he tries to keep you there a little longer to distract him.

When you pull away, Alex softly smiles, “I love you.”

“I love you more...” You grin and add, “My little damsel in distress.” You run your fingers through his floppy hair and smile when he leans into your touch a bit more.

Alex laughs at that as you sit back down beside his bed and he chuckles, “This make you my prince charming now?”

“Well I’m not the one about to get stitches so I think so.” You giggle, looking over to the nurse who looked just about ready to start.

She moved her wheely table that now held her equipment to start treating Alex and she looks to him and asks, “You ready?”

Alex then grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers and after giving it a kiss and a squeeze he smiles and nods, “I am now”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive​ @summersong69​ @titty-teetee​ @bloodyinspiredfuck​ @agniavateira@oddsnendsfanfics​ @omgkatinka​ @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0​ @tumblnewby  @suavechops​ @radkesgirl83​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea​ @heartfelt-pen​ @auds24  @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight​ @wilma-g  @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway​  @sugarpenchant​ @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog @shesakillerkween @madbadidc7ed @foodieforthoughts @toomanyfandomsshreya @oqueequesentes-borboletas @kebabgirl67 @indigosaurus (some of you new readers didn’t ask, but I took the liberty. If you want me to remove you, I totally will without hard feelings.)

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself  wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education