Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight
Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.
In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.
There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.
Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.
So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.
A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.
[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]
Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.
Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.
[Sure]
[File attached]
Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.
[Thank you so much!]
[I owe you]
[If you ever need anything feel free to write]
Whatever.
It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.
Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.
Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?
As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.
If you ever need anything feel free to write.
Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.
[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]
He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.
In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.
Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.
That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.
“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.
“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”
“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”
“Exactly.”
He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.
You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon.
“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).
“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.
You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.
Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.
“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”
“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.
Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.
“I’m gonna get you out of here.”
There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.
You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.
“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.
“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”
You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.
A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.
For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.
The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.
“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.
When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.
“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”
“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.
“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.
“Is it really that fucking funny?”
“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.
People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.
Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.
The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.
Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.
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On a seemingly random Tuesday night, a few members of the Bat Family are free to spend dinner at the manner.
Jason was benched by his fellow Outlaws for a nasty hit to his chest and got tired of Biz’s worrying even if it was appreciated at first.
Dick had been taking a small break after a particularly bad case with work that involved some hurt children and wanted to be back home.
Damian had only ever made threats to move about but the newley eighteen year old was still at home.
Tim had been using his free time while Kon and Cassie visited their families to visit his own while Bart and Barry dragged Wally on a bonding trip. The poor West boy had to miss out a concert of some sort.
Stephanie, Duke and Cass were all busy with a case and had pleaded with Bruce to take some time off because he was, quote, “Broodier than Hamlet”. He eventually relented when Barbie and Kate promised to keep an eye on them.
The group had decided to watch a movie instead of playing games, mainly because not games were banned, and settled on something that Tim paid no mind to.
The problem came that it was cold out and everyone insisted on having the fire as hot as it could go, but Tim naturally ran hot. Jason and Damian tended to get the coldest and while only Jason would complain, Damian could and would set anything he wanted on fire to get warm.
So, Tim didn’t complain and just said he was going to get changed.
He spent at least half an hour on one of the arm chairs by himself with his tablet playing RuneScape, when Dick inhaled so quickly everyone heard it.
Tim assumed it was something to do with the movie and didn’t turn, tapping away at his screen, completely ignorant to Dick’s quickly forming tears.
It was when Bruce also made a noise, this time a poorly pronounced ‘oh’ that he turned around, assuming it had to be a truely grand thing for Bruce to react so openly in the movie.
Instead he finds his foster father and brothers staring at him.
More specifically, his thighs.
Tim hadn’t realised his shorts would ride up and stop covering him to just above his knee and show the hundreds of scars littered over the outside and inside of his pale skin. They were mostly faded, but with the width of some of them they were always going to be visible, especially with the sheer amount.
Pulling his pant leg down, Tim doesn’t bother to hide a sympathetic wince and says, “Sorry, didn’t meant to show them. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
He looks away again, assuming that was that and trying to remind himself that it wasn’t his fault that people were upset by his scars, just like Black Canary told him.
Instead he hears a sob and turns back to find Bruce holding Dicks hand as his oldest brother sobs into his hand. He sees that Jason is seemingly fighting to not match him even with his wide eyes and Damian is staring at him with confusion.
Realisation finds Tim quickly, which makes sense considering he’s supposed to be the ‘smart Robin’.
“You didn’t know…”
Dick stands up, dropping Bruce’s hand and comes to kneel before Tim, holding onto his own hands like some kind of follower to a god, “Why? I- I don’t- why?”
The desperation in his voice makes Tim feel sick, and he looks around at the others for help because surely he had talked to at least one of them about it? He had been open with his friends, and he hadn’t exactly kept it a secret, but he did avoid showing them…
Tim moves to hold onto Dick in return, “I’m sorry, I thought you guys knew-… okay, look, I’ve got a two year clean streak and I’m in therapy, okay? I’m so sorry Dick, I just assumed you knew cause I use the shower in the cave with you guys and… I’m so sorry.”
There’s a silence for a moment as Dick drags him into his arms and squeezes him as tightly as he can, not even being careful like he usually would.
“I don’t understand.”
Damian’s voice sounds uncharacteristic in how small it is. He’s staring at Tim’s legs like he might be able to catch a glimpse of the scars in genuine confusion.
Bruce seemingly can’t speak and so Jason tries his best to explain to the youngest Wayne boy, “Look, bra-kid, some times when people aren’t doing to well they… they hurt themselves. Tim…”
Giving his brother a smile, Tim takes over as tears finally break away from Jason. Jason was always the most emotional and that’s evident in how he actually lets Bruce pull him into a side hug.
“Dami, you know how my parents kind of sucked?”
Damian makes a scoff noise, “I know they were incompetent, yes.”
Smiling, Tim continues as his eyes grow wet with the sound of his families cries, “Well, I really wanted to good for them but they had impossible standards. When I found I couldn’t reach them, I decided I needed punishment. So…” he takes a deep inhale and moves a hand to Dick’s head to comfort him as he finishes. “I started to cut myself.”
Damian doesn’t get wide eyes or anything, and Tim thinks it’s so much worse that there’s an image understanding in his little brothers eyes that show he sees that as completely logical.
But it is quickly overcome, his first thought always what he was raised with and quickly followed by the ideals he’s learnt and now values. He doesn’t cry either, but he does have a look of a pure heart break in his sweet little eyes.
Bruce finally comes over and pulls his two sons into a hug, adjusting to fit Jason in and saying nothing as Damian comes up behind Tim and leans his head against the others back.
Bruce asks other a few minutes of holding each other, “You said you haven’t for two years?”
Tim smiles once again and presses a kiss to his dad’s cheek. “Yeah. I learnt that family, real family like ours, would never want physical punishment, especially for something we can’t control. That’s not how loving people work.”
Damian moves to wrap his arms around Tim in their first ever hug and by all gods and mighty beings is Tim glad he stuck around.
Hugs from his family was well worth it.
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OUAGH the last one gave me the idea of a musician reader x slasher
If I were to suggest a specific genre maybe they’re into rock because. Yeah.
Could you do something with that?
Slashers x Musician Reader
Micheal Myers:
•Plays it off but thinks it cool as hell
•He did play the piano for a very short time in his childhood, but the ward made him very rusty
•Will happily watch any concerts you put on for him
•Will Secretly watch you if you don't
Billy loomis & Stu macher:
•They both immediately pitch in a song request
•They bring up the fact that you play an instrument to win arguments with people
•Will eventually find a way to break your instrument
•They will be very apologetic about it
•attempts to replace it
Thomas Hewitt:
•very interested
•He's curious by nature, he wants to know everything he can about it
•Your instrument is the most expensive thing in the house
•daydreams about being able to play a song for you, one day
•until then, he'll try to figure it out himself
Bubba Sawyer:
•Tries to sing along when you play
•he also dances but always ends up knocking stuff over
•Will sit in front of the door so her brothers can't get in while you're playing
•They constantly complain about the racket
•Chop-top will occasionally sit in while you play
Bo Sinclair:
•immediately shows you his acoustic
•brags about how he can out play you
•loses miserably because he only practiced for a couple months
•mad about it
•polishes its case whenever he comes around to it
Vincent Sinclair:
•romanticizes it by thinking about how you're two different types of artists
•Sketches you playing your instrument
•Sheepishly asks you to pose
•makes a mini wax sculpture of your instrument
•He get super giddy if you play a song for him
Lester Sinclair:
•extremely impressed
•He's always thought of being able to play an instrument as a high class/rich person activity
•Falls asleep while you play, Not because you're boring, But because he finds it soothing
•will find out how to care for your instrument so he can help repair any damages it might face
Billy Lenz:
•probably was the reason He zeroed in on you in the first place
•fines it incredibly alluring and wanted you to play all the time
•Will find a way to get his grubby hands on your instrument
•Will eventually break it but not feel sorry
•(Not So) patiently waits for you to get it fixed
Brahms Heelshire:
•He can play the piano and just uses it as another excuse to hang out with you
•looks up songs to properly make a duet with you
•whenever conversations died down or get a little stale, he whips out the instrument card
•whether you did or didn't know how to play an instrument he's going to romanticize it anyway
Hannibal Lecter:
•insists on making some kind of duet with you, and whether or not your instruments align with each other
•buy stuff to make for your instrument is a mint condition
•’humbly’ braggs about your talent at his dinner parties
•Will make you food associated with your instrument(s) (look that up, it's a real thing because of course it is)
Will Graham:
•Like to watch you play whatever it is you play
•He's never really had any interest in instruments, But he starts listening to videos featuring your instrument.
•Casually asks Hannibal facts about your instrument
•makes you a little charm related to your instrument to put on your keychain
•Has flashbacks to the guy with his throat turned into a Cello
The Lost Boys:
•They all at some point have picked up an instrument
•David can play the Piano, Organ, violin, and guitar
•Dwayne can play the Hand drums, flute, and Bass guitar
•Paul can play the clarinet, electric guitar, French horn, and marimba
•Marko can play the Drums, Harp, Cello, and viola
•They have all genuinely considered starting a band
•No matter what you play, you'll fit in
Thanks for reading <3
I went for a more neutral tone with this fic. Because I don't want to write 16 other fanfics about specific music genres ¯\_(ツ🎀)_/¯
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You know how Hange is sometimes called Hans? I feel like reader finds it attractive and uses Hans to call Hange instead of the usual coupley ones
Can i request scenarios with this idea? I find it so adorable
Darling, what did you just call me?
Come again?
Type: Scenarios, fluff, Hange being called Hans
WC: 1,696
Pairing: Hange (or dare I say Hans) x Reader
A/N: Hnggg this is so cute. Thank you so much for requesting this! Also, I wrote this down (like, pen and paper) during my vacant time in college, which I thought was really interesting because I didn't think I would actually make something I'm happy with considering how sleepy I am during those vacants! I'm kind of proud of myself for that. Only the part by the end is the one written on google docs, and of course I edited some of the sentences online, but still! Hope you enjoy!
hange masterlist
Hange being called Hans :)
It took you a while to realize that Hange tried their very best not to make it as obvious that most of your actions and words had such effects on them, driving them wild with desire and with love.
It always starts in the smallest of things. A slightly different style in clothing or even a different earring, but of course, Hange never fails to shower you with all the affection they can give you. They just keep it at a certain level as to not overwhelm you, because god knows you won't ever be able to leave the room if Hange was in the mood to show you just how much they love you, how much the slightest change in appearance is enough to make them swoon and be all overprotective.
But it doesn't end there. What you've noticed is that what seemingly affects them the most is when you call them. Whether it's verbal or by gesture, you name it. Once, you stood patiently by the doorway, calling Hange over once their meeting was done, and you swear, you could almost see them squirm as they went to you, the glint in their eyes betraying their nonchalant stride.
The moniker "Squad Leader" and simply their own name "Hange" would make them smile. Or even if their lips didn't feel like returning your smile, it would be their eyes doing it rather sweetly back at you. Hange swears that the way you say their name is a sedative of its own, by the way the moment your voice reaches their ears, their shoulders loose a bit of the tension in them, their eyes soften, their entire demeanor turning gentle. Hange endlessly loves the sound of their own name rolling from your tongue. They don't say it out loud, but Hange wishes there were more excuses just for you to say it.
"Hanji", you called them one time, a slip of the tongue, but Hange -- or should we say Hanji, loved it. You suppose it's just the cost of having such a unique name, and you tease them about having so many names, which they giggle at. Hange especially loves how the "ji" part sounded; it was a little fast and desperate, they said. It always caught them off guard whenever anyone but you said their name like that. It was a rare pronunciation to hear from you, but god did they love it, and they'll never ever complain.
"Hans" finally slipped out one day, and neither of you expected it. Your tongue had messed up between saying their name and saying something else entirely, hence the amalgamation of such a name. Though weirdly enough, you didn't dislike the sound, and neither did Hange. And just as odd was how Hange immediately knew you were calling for them. They really do have a lot of names, don't they?
"Sorry," You shake your head with a smile at your own mistake, but it’s almost like your mind scrambles just as quickly to find another excuse to say the rather attractive nickname once more. "I meant Hange. Can you get me the spice over there please?"
Hange tilts their head to the side cutely, taken aback by the slip-up.
"No, no" They chuckle, keeping the spice you were looking for in their hand, eyes squinting rather charmingly. "Say it again."
"What?" You return their playful and amused smile with one of your own. You definitely heard them loud and clear, but it was bewildering how Hange was offering you the chance to say the name again just like that.
"You know what." Hange runs their free hand by your cheek, gliding their thumb up and down before finally settling by your chin, "My name, how you just said it." Hange squeezes your chin gently twice, smiling down at you.
You chuckle, turning soft at the gentle gesture before complying with their request, "Hans. The spice, please?" It's only been the second time, but the way it feels coming out of your mouth feels so natural and familiar already. Hange finally sets the spice by the counter beside you.
"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" You grow disappointed by the way Hange lets go of your chin as they reply, but your smile doesn't waver.
"Hans." You say it again quietly. You find yourself growing fond of the new name, and so was Hange. Or should we say, Hans? "Do people call you that often?"
Hange ponders your question for a moment, "Hmmm. Maybe once or twice, but it's the first time I've heard it again. And I have to say, it was definitely better to hear it from you, even if it was accidental."
You lick your lips, considering the option of making it a new pet name for Hange. You certainly liked the sound of it, and if Hange's not averse to being called this name, then why not?
"Looks like your tongue has a mind of its own, making that name without even knowing people called me that before," Leaning against the counter, Hange's eyes glint as they look at you, "It's quite unique, isn't it?"
"It is,” You say to yourself more than to Hange, and you can see them perk up at the mention of their name again, “Hans, huh…"
You were certainly going to use this as Hange's new nickname.
One night, Hange was being particularly stubborn and refusing to leave their work, using your very own desk and spending more time with their work and research than with you, the very opposite from what you two intended to do in the few days that they had a break. Hange's brows furrowed, eyes glued to the pages in front of them, a hand up their messy hair as they try to make sense of whatever's on the pages. Your patience was thinning, and yet all you could do was watch and call for them at random intervals.
"Hange." You called out, leaning against the doorway of your own place and watching as your own partner worked themselves away in the night.
"Just a few more pages, darling."
"You said the same thing like 3 pages ago."
"Give me some more time, alright?" Hange's tone remains stern, their eyes never leave the paper in front of them, and that's all it takes for you to walk over and press your hands firmly on the desk. Yet even with your presence in front of them, Hange's eyes are infuriatingly glued to their work.
"Hans." You called out at last, and to hear Hange's pen drop felt like a victory on its own. That, and the fact that they finally looked you in the eyes after what seemed like hours was enough for you to claim your silent success.
You smirk at their reaction, knowing very well how much of a hold that nickname has on both of you. Hange leans back on the chair after noticing your smug expression.
"You're unfair, you know that?"
"Not as unfair as you, working away like that and ignoring me completely." You walk over behind them, arms wrapped around and face snuggled deep in the crook of their neck, "Come on, snuggle with me in bed, Hans."
"You know, I don't know why, but..." Hange sighs deeply, lost in thought, yet a hand caresses your arm regardless, "That name has such an effect on me. I hate it."
"What name, Hans?" You start kissing the soft skin of their neck, to which Hange shivers at.
"That. Exactly that." Hange sighs yet again before finally standing up, twisting their body to face yours, hand lingering by your arm, "You're having way too much fun with that nickname of mine, aren't you darling?"
"Well, I mean," You let go of them, shoulders gesturing a shrug, "It's kind of attractive."
"You know," Hange says again, grabbing your hand and leading you slowly to your bedroom, "One of these days, I'm going to make you say that in bed–"
"Hange!"
"Oh?" A chuckle escapes Hange’s lips, noticing the switch up, "Why the sudden change of names, hm?"
"You’re so mean to me."
"Maybe. But you make it so fun to tease you."
Soon you settle down in your bed, but not quite done in saying the name once more, almost like a mantra in itself.
"Hans," You whine, reaching out to Hange who was still looking down at you with amusement in their eyes as you lay comfortably on the bed. Hange soon joins you in bed chuckling at your sleepy demeanor.
"Better be careful and not say that too much in public." A kiss was pressed down your forehead, "It'll ruin the magic, hm?"
“I know, I know,” You snuggle closer to Hange, “It’s a… hot nickname, okay? Get used to it.”
And Hange does, as the days drag on. You’ve both taken a liking to the nickname, and Hange couldn’t be more happy to hear it being said almost every single day. They don’t tire of hearing it even after being used as a last resort when they’re feeling particularly stubborn and impossible to deal with. In fact, they find it endearing. Endearing for the reason that you’ve got them wrapped around your little finger and they can’t quite bring themselves to let go.
They don't dislike the fact that ‘Hans’ is what you usually call them instead of the usual, couple pet names either. They even think it’s more special that way, because you both know it’s just for them. You use it sparsely
You use it when you’re feeling needy, to which Hange will always melt at.
You use it when you’re reunited after losing them in the aisles of the grocery store, to which you’re unaware that Hange strays away from you intentionally just to hear you say that name again.
You use it when you’re sleepy and dazed and can’t be bothered to say their whole name (even if it’s just two syllables). Hange doesn’t mind.
But sleep in peace with the knowledge that whatever name you call them, just know Hans will be running straight into your arms at the end of every day.
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The most annoying phenomena on this website is grown adults refusing to educate themselves, despite the abundant recourses at their disposal, because their heads are still stuck in highschool.
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i lost the post but i saw someone talking about how some of y’all act like being weird is a choice and like. YEAHHHHHHH.
that’s fine, it might be for you. but i just live like this and don’t know any other way. like yeah i’ve worked customer service, i can do innocuous small talk, but anything beyond that, i don’t understand what i’m missing. and it’s frustrating to see the tonal disconnect especially from people who are like “uwu embrace weirdness!!” where they’re like. dressing quirky and talking about bugs and listening to obscure music and eschewing small talk to ask Deep Questions on the first date and unlearning their tendency to not infodump. and generally have an idea of what Weirdness is supposed to look like. idk man some of us wake up and get out of bed and can’t figure out why the rest of their coworkers chitchat with each other but when they join the conversation it dies.
weirdness is value neutral. let’s stop trying to turn it into a badge because quite frankly, it’s not a choice for everyone. it’s fucking exhausting to never be on the same wavelength as other people and they’re going to react the way they do and label you the way they will without any conscious actions on your end. it’s difficult to talk about this without feeling like you’ll be dismissed as immature, a teenager whining “no one understands me” but the thing is. sometimes you don’t grow out of feeling alone and different, and there’s no good way to talk about it without feeling like people will think you’re just fishing for pity.
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saw a post where someone was super upset about people posting early morning routine vids and complaining that it's promoting hustle culture or whatever and, like, yeah probably some influencers are trying to do that, but also. sometimes. people are just morning people. and are more productive at 3 or 4 or 5am than they would be at 8 or 9 or 10pm. and if that doesn't apply to you, they are not evil, you are simply not their audience.
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Every now and then I remember the times I would mention to my flatmate that I was thinking of buying myself something reasonably expensive (that I had been eyeing up for months and had budgeted for) and she'd tell me that I shouldn't spend that much money on something I didn't need and it would be stupid etc etc while she regularly impulse bought things that cost at least as much and she would use once (while complaining that she was under a lot of financial stress and couldn't afford <$3/week for 2 months for a rental washing machine when ours broke). She is... perhaps not my first call for financial advice
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for the writer ask
💭🚦💛 💌
💭 What inspires you and your writing?
this is a real marketing major-ass answer (from your local marketing major), but i love sharing knowledge and telling stories. writing’s one of those things that’s a bit of a compulsion for me—i’m always writing something. i took a five-year break from fiction writing before i stumbled ass-first into fanfic last year, but even in those years when i was focusing on my career, i was writing guides and trainings and a ton of other stuff—just not anything fun, lol.
writing is also so cathartic. sometimes i set out to tell a specific story, but at other times, a particular emotion gets me in a vice grip and i have to put it to words before it’ll go away. my stories tend to wind up as emotional dumping grounds as a result.
i don’t write things pulled directly from my own life, but there are bits and pieces of myself and things that have happened to me scattered throughout stuff i’ve written, and usually when i’m about 75% of the way through a piece, i’ll realize it’s absolutely related to something i’m currently going through. funny how art works that way, even when you don’t intend for it to.
and occasionally i just have a fire lit under my ass about an issue and i get so hot about it that i gotta compile my thoughts. looking at you, silver snow
🚦 What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?
look, i would love nothing more for them girls (pick whichever girls you please) to have a happy ending where they kiss and are stupid in love for the rest of forever. i love reading those kinds of stories. but in my heart of hearts, i love an ambiguous ending. i like when there are still questions after the story ends. i like thinking about where things could go or how the characters will go on after the events of the story. like, shared space could be read as having a happy ending, but i don’t really think it is. and with the victors; the vestiges, well. you’ll see :0)
come to think of it, i’m not sure i’ve ever written a happily-ever-after, but i don’t think i’ve ever written a 100% bad ending, either. i read too many bury-your-gays stories and watched too many sad european queer coming-of-age films in my youth to ever be happy putting that kinda thing out into the world. i want to write about love with all its ugliness, but not despair or hopelessness. i think what most appeals to me about an ambiguous ending is that lingering feeling of hope. it’s not the same as the kind you get from a happily-ever-after, and something about it speaks to me.
💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?
honestly? how to take criticism. i took a creative writing class in high school where we had to read our work out loud and then receive feedback on it from the other writers in the class, and that did a lot for me. going into that class, i’d already been writing for forever and had won some little local writing contests and such, so i was a wee bit of a pretentious douche. but i’d never gotten real critique before beyond, essentially, spelling and grammar checks. it humbled me lol. it made me grow so much as a writer, and i could see where i needed to improve or where my head was wedged way too far up my own ass for others to follow. it also helped me recognize strengths i didn’t know i had, and that was huge. it’s easy to get into a self-doubt spiral when making creative work, and good, constructive criticism can do so much to help avoid that.
to this day i love critique. i like knowing what worked or didn’t work so that i can continue to improve as a writer and do better next time. did my themes land? did something really work, but another part fall flat? i’d love to know!! i try to treat everything i write as practice for the next thing, and frankly that’s helped take some of the pressure off so i don’t go into total Perfectionist Mode.
i know critique is kind of a sensitive topic in fan spaces, but i think that’s because a lot of people have gotten unsolicited criticism that is purely critical and isn’t constructive. but getting good, constructive criticism will do so much to help a person grow as a writer. it’s scary, and sometimes it hurts! writing is very personal for most people, and it stings when things aren’t received the way you think they will be. but i know i’ve grown more from having my failures pointed out (and, very importantly, having the good things about those efforts acknowledged) than anything else.
💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?
actually Just answered this in another ask!
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we haven't spoken in a very long time, but i dreamt of you last night, so I couldn't help but think of you. I'm not sure you remember me, but i hope life is treating you well these days. take care.
I'm not sure what to say, but I can promise you I have not forgotten you. My time on Tumblr has been a mess full of hiatuses, I admit, but it will always be a place where I met some very wonderful friends, including you. With 100% honesty, I can say the friends I made here are some of the best friends I have ever had, even though most of us don't talk anymore.
It doesn't matter how often I speak with people, or if we never speak again. I'll always remember you, and I'll always think fondly of you and hope that life is treating you gently and kindly.
I hope you had a nice (or at the very least an okay) dream, and I'm glad to know you still remember me, too, regardless of all else.
Take care, love <3
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Trans kiryu is a genuinely funny hc because like trans majima is like oohh angst ohh she has to fight to be accepted she has to deal with people making fun of her for being a man in a dress she has to take into account her position and social standing and kiryu is literally just kiryu forever because the universe loves him too much to ever force him into a situation unless its to go to prison in which case hes like yayyy i love jail yayy yayyy
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I don't want to sound dismissive because you're right and stories about adults are good, but that post about not relating to coming of age stories is so funny you just "came of age" like 6 years ago.
i definitely get where ur comin from anon but I didn't relate to coming age stories when i was """"coming of age""" either. I haven't even had a first love and i didn't start to understand my gender more until i was 23 skdfjkdflk which is why it's hilarious but also a little frustrating that ages like. 15-19 are supposed to be prime Discovering Yourself and Becoming Who You Are ages. most people are in a constant state of self discovery and becoming and i just find most coming of age stories uhhhh...kind of horseshit lol. I'm dunking on anyone that did find them relatable or did see themselves in them or value them but they r just. Not for me and never really have been even when I was the target age you know?
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why did i ever even start university!!!!!!!
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listen i dont like fëanor but i can't deny that getting so mad you literally burst into flames and crumble away into ash is kinda fucking relatable
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Hi! Have you seen that nct jaehyun, dooyoung and jungwoo made a sub-unit? Their song is called perfume and it is just SO FUN! The song itself reminds me of some of the old suju songs because the beat is so fun and makes you wanna dance, but the choreography is also ridiculously fun! You should check it out) I was reading your posts about the lack of fun in kpop, and this was honestly very refreshing to see. The mini-album is also quite good, and they even did a live-band cover of their songs. As always, nct guys are incredibly talented musically, good job
i actually really did not like their release....or their subunit.....or the album............
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