#which gives me a chance to say that this askbox has been open since the very begginning and it will probably remain like that until the end

[sintreaties]

Uh wtf was that other anon. Anyway yeah it’s from honkai lol and that’s like their goodbye after beating the shit out of each other. Funny that when my bro was showing it to me he was like they’re best friends but they had to fight bla bla and when i started seeing things on twitter I’m like “smh some hets really can’t see that this two are more than just friends”

The fact that they beat the shit out of each other only makes it more romantic— wait what do you mean their goodbye?

Do they not get to be gay together afterwards?

[healersadjust]

Otp ask:

Anything ending in 3 or 7!

If that's too much, 3, 7, 13!

Okay! Third time’s the charm :3 this has been sitting in my askbox for a hot minute because I’m. a fool. I don’t back away from a challenge though, so here we go! Thank you so much for the ask, I’m sorry it took me so long!!! Going through this I’ve realized how much of a little shit my catgirl is. Oops.

Alcohol and food mentions under the cut

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Absolutely. It becomes a war eventually. Aki starts it by taking his scarf when she goes out for a bit and wants some reminder of him. She comes back home to find G’raha in one of her oversized sweatshirts. Aki has the upper hand, because she can fit into anything of his if she’s okay with drowning in them. Cons of having tiny gf: clothes too small to snipe. He has to get real creative, but he is nothing if not determined. 

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

Omg. They so would. Aki loves enclosed spaces, and if that space contains pillows and her partner? Shes over the moon. They would spend so much time in there before taking it down, they would definitely have little slumber parties in there.

Who’s the bigger tease?

Aki. She is such a little shit, she does it intentionally. Shes a MENACE. He gets her back, though.

Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

I think its a tie! Aki prefers to speak with her actions, but G’raha is just. Super passionate in general, so I can see them both doing it.

Who's more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Aki HATES mornings, so unless she is dragged out of bed, she is sleeping in as long as she can. And how is she supposed to sleep if her partner decides to be productive? G’raha learns to bring books and stuff to bed for when its one of their lighter days, since how could he say no when Aki asks him to stay so sweetly?

Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

G’raha! Aki holds her alcohol really well. She also doesn't drink much anymore, so they only one who even has a chance of going over the edge is G’raha. She knows all the tricks, so she takes really good care of him.

Who's the better cook?

G’raha once again. I feel like he would do SO well in the kitchen. Aki also likes to play with fire a bit too much, metaphorically and literally, so she always has a higher chance of screwing up the dish lmao. They like to cook together though, so when he’s there to keep the dumbass INSIDE of Aki, the stuff they make is amazing!

Which is more likely to swear?

Aki dosen’t know how to NOT swear. She swears a lot, any chance she gets. G’raha picks up on some of her more colorful vocabulary and its the funniest thing ever to the Scions. 

Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

They both would, if given the chance. And they both expect it from each other at this point, so they have a LOT of talks about it where they both promise to never do it… but if it were to come down to it, they both would prefer to die a liar than to watch their beloved die. 

Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

No, they’re really open with each other. Aki can’t keep a secret to save her life, but G’raha would be in endless trouble if he were to keep a big secret from her again. 

Would they ever go skinny dipping?

If the water was warm and they were in a secluded area, then yes! If those conditions were not met… absolutely not. 

Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

They’re both pretty serious about it, but how serious can you be when you have a catgirl sitting in the cart?

[kuroos-babie]

Sugawara x fem!Reader | Iwaizumi x fem!Reader | Kenma x fem!Reader

[ Headcanons ]

Request: hi i hope your askbox is open (i’m sorry for sending this if it isn’t!!) but i’m such a hoe for your single mum hcs and i was wondering if you could write a headcanon for sugawara, iwaizumi and kenma where they and y/n are now together, all happy and their child’s bio dad tries to come back into y/n’s life- i think it’d be so cute how they’d step up to protect y/n and their child!! thank you so much, hope you’re well and stay safe —anonymous

a/n: HI BABY THANK YOU FOR READING AND SENDING IN A REQUEST!! im glad you liked those and i hope u like these too!!! pls tell me what you think i love hearing from u guys 👉👈 

based from these headcanons and these too!!

❀ you'd told suga about your son's dad quite early in the relationship

❀ how he'd just disappeared even before your baby had turned one, saying he's not ready to be a dad

❀ suga didn't show it to you but he was Mad mad and he’s ready to break some ankles if it ever got down to it :)

❀ the three of you would be out on your regular park dates, he was playing with your son on the sandbox when he noticed you were taking too long getting drinks from the vending machine

❀ looking around he saw you, clearly uncomfortable and irritated, held by your ex by the bend of your elbow

❀ he walks up to the both of you after telling your child to stay put and that he’ll be right back and placed a hand on the small of your back, feeling you instantly relax at his touch

❀ gonna shoot that bastard boy a sweet suga smile and ask if he needed anything from his Wife as he removes your ex’s hand on you

❀ now y’all aren’t married still so you were kinda :O

❀ i know i said suga’s ready to break ankles but words can hurt and it’s definitely his best weapon

❀ gonna talk that bastard boy down until he sheds bastard tears

❀ would threaten your ex to stay away from His Family or else !!!

❀ or else he’s gonna call up his cop buddy 

❀ jk anywayz,, will hold you and make sure you’re fine after the whole ordeal and you would all get ice cream and pancakes with your son

“so your wife huh?” you hummed, cozied up against his chest on the sofa as the long forgotten disney movie plays, your child passed out on top of you.

sugawara chuckled as he played with your son’s hair, “i mean, only if you want to”

he placed a long loving kiss on your temple as you leaned in, closing your eyes, “koushi, i would love to”

“great because i’ve been wanting to marry you since this little boy dragged me towards you”, he chuckle again and pressed another kiss before he sighed, wrapping you and your son in his embrace

“god, i love you two so much”

“please, y/n, i was wrong. i would never leave you again i promise you” 

“y/n who’s that?” iwa peered through the hallway to the front door, your now 1 year old daughter in his arms

❀ you tried to wave him off and tell him it’s no one but he’s already caught sight of your ex

❀ would give you your daughter and tell you to go to your room

❀ i bet your ass he gave that bastard boy a good beating 

❀ ends up with bruised knuckles but it was worth it when he saw you close to breaking down in front of that shithead

❀ you would ice his knuckles and check his face for any bruises while your daughter takes a nap in her crib

iwaizumi was sat on the kitchen counter with you between his legs, ice pack in hand, tending to his bruises

“hajime you didn’t have to”, your voice was small —quiet, but he didn’t miss the slight tremble in it

he takes his hand from yours, brushing cold knuckles on your cheeks, “i wanted to”

“that bastard can’t waltz right in here and force his way through after leaving you alone to take care of your child, y/n”

“haji! language!” you hissed, glancing at the crib

you let out a sigh as he chuckled and pulled you closer between his legs, burying his face in your hair, “sorry”

the two of you stayed like that for a few moments before he spoke up again, “i won’t hesitate to beat him up again if he tries anything though”

❀ he had noticed you being restless and agitated a few months after moving in to the new house with him

❀ you avoided your phone which pinged at least 7 times in an hour

❀ now kenma’s not the type to force you to talk to him about it when you weren’t ready

❀ but when you tossed and turned at night failing to get a wink of sleep, barely touching your food and always looking out the window whenever someone passes by, he knew he had to do something 

“y/n what’s wrong?”

you gave him a hesitant look but quickly forced out a smile, “nothing’s wrong, kenma, why do you ask?”

“you’ve been acting weird lately, there is something wrong, what is it?”

kenma saw the tears welling up your eyes as you bit your lip and he quickly got up to wrap you up in a hug

“kenma i’m scared”

❀ you told him about how your ex, your daughter’s father, has been blowing up your phone for the last few weeks

❀ telling you he knows where you had moved to and that he’ll pay you three a visit soon enough to take back what was his

❀ you blocked his number multiple times but he jumped right into your socials with dummy accounts

❀ kenma knew about you ex’s abusive tendencies which was why you split up with him even before you knew you were pregnant

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“i was scared he might hurt you”

he held you even tighter and pressed kisses on the top of your head

“i won’t let him anywhere near us, you don’t have to be scared. i’m here, y/n, i won’t leave you.”

❀ rich boy kenma hired someone to take care of your ex 

❀ the bastard boy will not even get a chance to see you and your daughter, not on kenma’s watch >:(

[utilitycaster]

To me the relationship between Ted and Opal is the most important and consitent plot point in EXU. On the other hand everything with the Plateau and the Nameless Ones feels like it builds up something for C3. I think that Matt gave plot points about the state of the world (crater, sigil) and Aabria used it as a jumping off point and created the city as her contribution. So as long as things like the memory loss and the crown are dealt with, I feel pretty good about the story of EXU.

So I deleted another ask that was similarly purely speculative and I just want to say that like...I have open DMs/replies and obviously reblogs, and if you want to actually discuss your opinions that is always a better place; the askbox is for questions and suggestions and, well, things that explicitly invite my input, which I'm going to give anyway but it feels like this could have been a reply. Because I wholly disagree with much of this:

The crater is certainly a pre-existing concept because Thordak's presence in Emon happened, but including the sigil seems very odd given that he is a player in the world and it appearing was a surprise plot point in the second episode; I think the general worldbuilding was "Thordak's crater is here and there's weird magic possibly tied to the fire plane should you wish to use that" (emphasis speculative, and mine).

I am probably least interested in Opal and Ted, or at least, I was, but more so now that at least that pulls in whatever the fuck is happening with Syngorn. I think you might be correct that this will be treated as the main plot in terms of resolution; but the reason I think this is that Opal being central came up in the interviews and because of how the last episode ended. If you don't think the plot is the main plot until episode 7 and external press...that's not good.

I like Opal and Ted's relationship! I think it's fun for the character, in the same way I don't necessarily really think we'll get all the details of who Dorian really is - and that is truly tangential to the plot, despite any curiosity we as an audience may have. But compared to the fact that they open the entire story with memory loss at the crater, being approached by someone high-up in the Nameless Ones, a vestige of divergence, and sigil mysteriously appearing? The fact that the details of Ted no longer being in Byroden appear at the halfway point of the series and the Ted and Syngorn plot is primarily in stingers?

Again, at this point, yeah, that might end being the main plot...but just thinking about this, after episode 1 it seemed the main plot would be "okay we're missing a week and a person, we're in deep with the Nameless Ones, and we have a vestige of such profound power that it makes two people ill." After episode 2 it seemed the main plot was "well we can escape those problems and maybe find out more about this sigil that's possibly tied to the crater/memory loss by talking to Gilmore." After episodes 3 and even 4 it seemed it was "okay, we go to these ruins, come back, resolve the rest." But we keep getting balls thrown in the air - further mysteries about Ted, the people from Syngorn, Niirdal-Poc still existing, the journey to the Iron Authority instead of returning home - and none of it has been resolved, and again, I'm enjoying myself, but that is because everything other than the plot is great so I'm treating this like those big-budget artistic sci fi movies where you're like "the aesthetic and worldbuilding and acting and dialogue is all incredible and the plot falls apart if you breathe on it a little too heavily."

I was talking to someone about this recently who made the point that the party seems to have missed a lot of checks early on that might have introduced the Ted and Myr'atta plot back in Emon and honestly? forcing one of those checks or giving it for free would have made a world of difference; I think the party would have made far different choices that in turn would have significantly tightened up the plot. And you don't need to do that, in a long-running campaign, but you really, really do in an 8-episode series.

I do want to speak to people talking about this setting things up for C3 because that was in the anon ask I deleted: I'm not saying it doesn't, necessarily, but I think there is a big difference between "C3 may, understandably, deal with some of the consequences of things that happen in EXU. much as it will deal with consequences of C1 and C2, because it's the same world" and "EXU is explicitly leaving threads for C3".

The former I absolutely agree with; that's how shared worldbuilding works and it was the case with C1 for C2. The latter is, I think, a wildly unfair expectation to place Aabria and a terrible marketing choice for the series and bodes ill for future seasons of EXU.

EXU was very much put forth as having appeal for people who, understandably, don't have the time or inclination to watch a 100+ episode series. I have already seen reviews criticizing it for relying on past information; while I don't agree with this completely, given the difficulties with the plot this does, for example, feel like it may ring true for people who have no emotional connection to Gilmore. A tighter, more Emon-focused plot that happened to include Gilmore to the same extent (or even greater) would probably not have the same criticism, but as is, I think viewers unfamiliar with C1 may legitimately be saying "why did we spend time on this."

EXU can have threads that can be picked up with in C3 - it does not need to, for example, resolve every detail of the Nameless Ones, only the status of this party with regards to Poska - but to say "and to know what happens about the major event, in Emon, which is tied to Thordak, ie, how the series was marketed, which was introduced to the audience long before Myr'atta, you need to watch C3" is something I'd consider a serious misstep. The story in EXU should be somewhat self-contained, with the consequences of that self-contained story fueling the plot; it should not be a collection of plot points for a later day. That's not just going to alienate potential viewers of future seasons who don't intend to watch full CR campaigns; it's kind of a shitty thing to do to your guest DM, to say "oh throw to me, you can DM in my world but you need to set up for my show even if it makes your plot seem more unfocused". EXU can and should be thought of as its own show in the same world, not a mere appendage to the flagship.

I'm still withholding final judgement until it can, you know, be final. I think there's a still a chance I am very pleasantly surprised! As mentioned I and much of the fandom had doubts about the campaign 2 finale to the point that some people were writing, as I referred to it at the time, vivisections and calling them post-mortems. I disliked it then and I disliked it now and I will reserve judgement on EXU's plot structure on the whole until after the finale; I am just saying that while it may end up standing quite well as a complete story in the end, the pacing has felt increasingly off to me since the midway point and if this is just setup for C3 I think that makes it worse, not better.

[engekihaikyuu]

View from the Top 2 - Review

Check out the Read More if you’d like to hear about this show!  Askbox is open as well if you’d like me to elaborate on anything out of this.

Before I begin my review of the final show, I do want to start with some caveats:

So as I mentioned previously, the production once again went with PIA for their live streaming platform, which means that live streaming this show is very inaccessible for anyone living outside of Japan.

PIA is a ticketing platform that requires a working Japanese phone number in order to finish activating/registering a new account because you must call the number provided to finish account verification. So without a Japanese contact or a Japanese phone number, this platform is basically impossible.

I have a generous friend in Japan who was willing to share her account information with me, which is how I was able to pay for a show and use her log-in to watch the stream. I did not see this show in-person; I do not live in Japan and obviously travel is off-limits. Even if I did live in Japan, I would have qualms about going to the theater.

There are some logistical issues with this show because of the current pandemic, with the most visually obvious one being the small face shields the actors wear on-stage. They basically serve as protection against direct spittle, but obviously they do nothing to guard against aerosol spread; putting on the play is still an incredible risk to the performers and staff. Another difficulty they face is the fact that Tokyo is still continuing to maintain a nightly curfew. Every evening Tokyo performance needed to be bumped earlier so that spectators can leave the theater in time to make it home for that curfew. Keeping that in mind, the show is a surprisingly condensed 2.5 hours long, where I would have expected 3 hours given the amount of content it covered. This does affect the pacing in Act 2 noticeably, and I get the feeling that were it not for covid and the current curfew restrictions, it would feel a little less rushed at the end.

So, with all that said, here are my thoughts on Engeki Haikyuu’s final play, The View from the Top 2!!!  This is absolutely not spoiler-free, for both the play’s content and everything that happened in the manga finale, so if you have not finished the series, this is your last chance to turn back.

Now that I think about it, I haven’t written a full review on a show since Fly High, so I’m a bit rusty at this, and I’ll probably leave out a lot so as always, my askbox is open for people’s additional questions!

The absolute main theme of this play (and really of the entire Haikyuu story) is the friendship and rivalry between Hinata and Kageyama, and the theme: I’m not alone. Engeki really did right by our dual protagonists by framing the final show as showing both of their journeys from beginning to end. Act 1 begins with that familiar sequence from the very first show: Hinata seeing the little giant on TV, being inspired to start playing volleyball, his struggle to find a team in middle school, losing to Kageyama in his one and only middle school tournament, and finding him again at Karasuno. They repeated the scene almost exactly as it was in the first show, and I think it was very smart of them to show us Daigo’s version of it, so to speak. That way we have a more cohesive vision of Hinata from the beginning of his journey to the end. Then they absolutely FLOOD the stage with a montage of projections with footage from all of the shows from the past five-and-a-half years. So already it’s pretty emotional for me, seeing how far the play had come as well as how far Hinata had come in the story.

To parallel this, the beginning of Act 2 actually begins with baby Kageyama. Yes, the baby Kageyama flashback with his sister and grandfather and how he started volleyball. We see Kageyama’s volleyball journey from childhood (for this they used a small doll similar to the dolls they used for young Kuroo and Kenma from Revival) to playing at Kitagawa Daiichi, to losing his grandfather, to being labeled the King of the Court, to defeating Hinata, and then having Hinata find him at Karasuno. And then they once again, they flood the stage with projections with past show footage, but this time they are more Kageyama-centric in the way that the previous ones were often Hinata-centric. And it just really highlights how much these two are meant to share the stage as the two main characters.

To see this framework and to know what’s going to come at the end, with the two of them reuniting in the pro-volleyball arena… just the beginning of Act 2 alone had me in tears. Another way they paralleled their respective journeys was to show us who have influenced them. In Act 1, there’s a dance with Hinata, Hoshiumi, and Udai (all little giants… well, Tsukishima’s in there too because he’s feeling a particular competitiveness with Hinata in this part of the match). In Act 2, there’s a dance with Kageyama, Atsumu, and Oikawa, because Atsumu and Oikawa are the setters who have had the most influence on Kageyama, and he’s drawing on what he’s learned from them for this match. They are not alone in their journeys, they have had people inspire them and be inspired by them in addition to having the support of their teammates.

The Karasuno vs Kamomedai match is interspersed with bits of action from the Fukurodani vs Mujinazaka match, so the stage was pretty busy for basically the entire time. The wires are back for some sequences so that both Hinata and Hoshiumi have a chance to fly, and there are plenty of acrobatics and lifts, and the same incredible soundtrack we love. Ryuu’s Hoshiumi is the obvious standout on Kamomedai for how many lifts he had, and they definitely tried to have him running around on the stage about as much as Hinata. It was notable how much they drew on past techniques and music for various parts of this match, since this is meant to be Karasuno at their peak. When Asahi was feeling particularly stuck/trapped against Kamomedai’s defense, they incorporated the tying-up visual they had previously used in Winners and Losers, with Kamomedai basically tying up and holding Asahi in place with ribbon. There was Summer of Evolution music when Karasuno does a great synchro attack, and the extras-wearing-Hinata-masks reappeared to show us Hinata’s “afterimage” as he flashes around the stage. If you’ve seen all the plays, you can’t miss these call-backs.

The flow of the match was fast. They hit the highlight plays and the highlight emotional moments, but we are clearly past the point where they need to narrate the actual volleyball to us. There was more dancing/acrobatics than attempting to place the two teams on either sides of a physical net with more overt volleyball moves. Everything was more intertwined and fluid than that. And actually now that I think about it, they have been sparse with their usage of a physical net in the past few shows, because everything has been a little more fast-paced overall.

They definitely wanted to highlight Karasuno’s rise throughout the game, to show that they were absolutely a formidable team, that they deserved to be at Nationals, and to show us all the ways that Hinata and Kageyama had grown. For most of Act 2 leading up to Hinata’s collapse, it really feels like they could win this. And I think it makes it that much harder for Hinata to accept being benched, because the team is riding this high and doing so well, and even Kageyama’s more visibly having fun. I think Takeda-sensei easily has a third of the best lines in the series. His speech to Hinata during the Kamomedai match is one that was really gut-wrenching to read when those chapters came out, and it was great to hear it said aloud.

And here is something I’ve never been able to point out because I didn’t do reviews for the past two tours, but I think Daigo’s voice is one of the strongest aspects of his Hinata. I’m sure a lot of that has to do with the work he’s done as a voice actor, but when he cries or whimpers, it is genuinely the most pitiful noise. A lot of Kenta’s portrayal of Hinata’s frustrations throughout the story had an undercurrent of anger and frustration. He’s upset, but there’s always something behind it that says, “well next time, it’ll be different.” And I think Daigo replaces most of that with pure sadness, especially for this scene. After Takeda-sensei lectures him good and proper, and he accepts that he needs to leave, he just sounds so broken. It doesn’t have that anger and drive underneath, he’s just in despair. And why wouldn’t he be? A part of him understands this is the last match he’ll ever play with this team, his first real team.

We then see Hinata bundled up in a coat and scarf, watching the rest of the match from the tablet that Kenma gives him. Snow begins to fall on the stage as he slowly wanders through it, with Karasuno and Kamomedai finishing out the rest of the match around him. Engeki Haikyuu has always allowed for the losing team in a match to line up at the edge of the stage, say thank you to the audience, bow, and take their leave. It’s so symbolic, and it’s so emotional for the actors and for the audience who are in the theater. It’s a moment that just barely breaks the fourth wall, when they turn to us, the spectators, to say, “Thank you for your support.” And they mean it both in and out of character. And I was so so so sad when I realized that Karasuno would take their final bow as a team without Hinata in the lineup. He’s in the back of the stage, separated from his team, and he does take a bow, but it’s very lonely.

Now, I’m sure people are very curious about the timeskip material, and mostly I just have to preface with: it’s fast. It does not take up as much of Act 2 as you might think. It’s boom, boom, boom, cameo here, pre-recorded projections there, patissier Tendou interview, Kuroo in a suit doing a promotional commercial for the V-League, Kageyama’s curry commercial, a projected Osamu selling his rice balls, get the old team together, fateful encounters in front of the bathroom, GO! The only thing we see of the Brazil arc is Hinata having a brief flashback to tell Kageyama that he met Oikawa while he was in Brazil. It’s very short, and that’s all we get for his time in Brazil. Basically, the play is not the place to see Hinata’s journey and growth from those chapters because he goes through so much of it alone, and there’s just no time. The Brazil arc also brings back a lot of technical details about volleyball itself, especially as Hinata is learning the beach version, and that’s an area where the manga is the best medium to examine the finer details of the sport. I can see why a play version would gloss over the technical details to focus on the emotional arc, which is in this case, Hinata and Kageyama.

Because of how fast the ending is, it definitely feels made for the people who already read the manga; Previous Engeki Haikyuu shows have always presented the story in a way that was very friendly to those who may not have read the manga or watched the anime. You could watch just Engeki Haikyuu and not feel like you were missing out on references/jokes for the most part, but this ending would be way harder to follow for those not familiar with what’s already happened.  

It’s difficult because I do feel like Act 2 was overly condensed to wrap up this story, but I also don’t think the timeskip material is enough for a whole play on its own. If we had stopped at the end of the Kamomedai match, and had a whole separate play to cover Brazil and the Jackals vs Adlers match… the pacing would’ve been slow and low energy especially in the first half, and it would be an odd choice for the final show of a series like this. My preference would have been for this play to have been three acts, three hours, so that we could linger on some of those timeskip moments a little more, slow it down, and let them land emotionally. But clearly the covid situation prevents that in this case. That being said, I don’t think any of those timeskip moments could really hit as hard as when I first read them in the manga. Narratively, that Haikyuu timeskip was so unexpected and so outside the normal sports anime formula, that the initial shock is extremely hard to top. It was fun to see how they presented everyone in the future (seeing Noya on that boat catching a giant swordfish, or seeing Ennoshita almost break a patient’s back) in stage form, but it’s unreasonable to expect them to give us the same feeling of ?!?!?!? when we first read that Noya was in Italy of all places after waiting weeks and weeks for him to show up.

I still cried in several places, it’s still a great ending to one of the best 2.5D franchises in existence, and it still feels like the culmination of their legacy. I don’t know how it would be possible for anyone to watch that ending sequence with all of the team flags and the chanting of their names, and NOT cry.

There are no more live streams until they complete the rest of their tour and then there will be a live-stream of the very last show, which I will be watching with a towel in hand for my tears. Feel free to send in any questions if you’d like, and if you would like some Strongest Challengers or Trash Heap merch, I have a sales post that I recently made.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hello! ^^ Can you write a scenario in which Hange & the reader save Levi from the Jaegerists and dive into the river all together just as it went in the manga; however, when they arrive to somewhere safe the reader has already been shot protecting Levi's body in her arms and she begs Levi to wake up after implementing CPR. I would be grateful if you could add some fluff when Levi eventually regains consciousness laying on bed and finds the reader asleep while she's holding his hand.

Warnings: mentions of blood, being shot and vomiting, contains spoilers for chapter 115 of the manga

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/fluff

A/N: soo I took some teeny tiny creative liberties and I'm also crying at this. I hope you guys cry with me..

__

A simple question flashes through your mind like flood that furiously annihilates a barrage ever since you lay eyes on Levi's unconscious body.

"what happened?"

You move maniacally, helping Hange retreat him from the blood stained river side as water splashes everywhere; on your clothes, on your hair, on Hange's glasses. With shaking hands you pay on Levi's cloacked form, searching for anything that indicates a sort of movement, or another wound as Hange reaches for his pulse.

"I don't know what happened here, but we got lucky, out biggest thread covered in his own blood" Flotch speaks, managing to earn a growl from you.

"He's dead." It's only for a faint moment a fragile spasm his chest muscle make that lame you and Hange stare at eachother in despair. You drop your head at her words in hopes it looks believable enough for anyone around. The extraterrestrial contrast of your inner relief and outer grief sends Hange in awe for a brief fragment of a second as it's Flotch again who utters another growl earning statement.

"I'll send a shot through his head-"

"I know how to take a pulse, let me see him."

Panic rushes through you as he closes his mouth and you miss out on Hange's response. It's probably a good cover up, but not enough to stop you from spitting him of a response.

"Don't you dare! This is an order Floch!"

"I don't take orders from a snarky bitch-"

The clicking of his loaded gun, the bark in his tone, it's all in vain at the sight of Zeke emerging from that titan's stomach. In haze his blue eyes meet yours, spotting you over Levi's body along with Hange.

Everything happens too fast for your own liking and your vertigo infused mind. Hange throws Levi over her shoulder while desperately pleass for you to cut through the straps of his 3DMG gear and commands you to follow her. After taking a look back at Zeke's unresponsive figure you ran behind Hange with all your might.

"Get them!"

"Don't you run!"

In a series of events and screams from Flotch and his men you hear gunfires. They're louder than you expect them to be, judging by your pulse's need to muffle your hearing and each one sends a rush of cold sweat through your body. If you don't rush then you won't make it.

The bullet that pierces your thigh commands you to halt but your erratical heartbeat and the amount of adrenaline in your system assist you in pushing through the pain. You slip on the muddy ground and you refuse to fall; if you fall now there's not a chance you're getting back up. It's when you decide on accepting your fate as a future dead body laying on the muddy soil because the men after you have horses that you see Hange disappearing in the woods. You run, faster that you think you can as there's no chance that Flotch won't hesitate to double kill even if you play dead.

Finally upon arriving at a safe point in the woods you're met with Hange and Levi's body sprawled across the dirt. Hange's eyes soften as she looks at you arriving. Even though you're out of breath and wet from rain and sweat she fails to notice anything alarming.

That's until you set your hands and forehead on a nearby tree and proceed to choke on your own breath. Not long passes before you empty your stomach fluids before your feet. And Hange understands, adrenaline rushes and stressful situations lead to that occurance so she's not going to pressure you for an answer as to if you're alright. Until she sets her eyes at the profound hole in the back of your thigh. The black clothing around the wound is drenched in dark soggy blood that continuously oozes down your leg and into your boot.

Without giving her a chance to utter a word you announce, while clutching your stomach that Levi is top priority.

Needless to say that if he was awake or not even half alive he would have kicked you in the face for implementing cpr on him after having just thrown up; Hange urges you to though, seeing that his breaths are descreasing.

Please don't die. Please don't leave me like that.

Once again the familiar vertigo state engulfs your drained state of mind and you fall head first on the grass. You're unable of moving past that point. You've done your part and there's nothing you can do on that state.

"I need to remove that bullet, be patient with me (y/n). I'm almost done with Levi."

With vertigo furiously hitting your whole form it's hard to keep your eyes open for the whole of her response. In the end, sleep wins, with it's warm tendencies and calming effects to your brain.

_____

When he wakes up he sees your devasted form laying beside him, holding his unbandaged arm in peace. Your face fails to flinch or move, and no movement of breathing is detectable.

"Levi-"

"Is she dead?" He asks through grunts of pain.

"No, but she might not have enough energy to get up. She run after us while being shot. If it wasn't for her delaying them, we would have never made it."

Levi clicks his tongue in response. His eyes travel up and down your body as it lays face down beside him. There's no doubt that your eyes are half lid open, whether or not they blink he notices. There are small cuts across your face and droplets of blood running from your nostril and in a moment, he wonders if you're truly dead.

His thumb soothingly rubs on your hand on top of his, even searching for a pulse, as he recalls that drama play he read when he was first given an office with a full library, Romeo and Juliet. This all plays out too well according to it to be the real life. You find him pressumingly dead and he wakes up from his comatose state to your dead body, even for a role switch it's still accurate to a creepy extend.

As if you read his melancholic thoughts, you completely open your eyes and shoot him a warm, exhausted smile.

"Don't you dare leave me."

"I won't."

And he promises, by pressing your bloody palm against naked chest, to stay true to his words. You're going to win this war. You won't fall casualties of cruelty because the two of you deserve it. Once it's all over you'll help him build that teashop he always wanted. What you need is to hung on a little more.

My requests are open so if you want to leave one in my askbox, I'll be more than happy to see you guys interacting with me.

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Forged of Love

You were most certainly not too late! In fact, just in time because I’m pretty sure you were the last request before I closed my askbox...so good timing??? And as for this request? *Chefs kiss* I have so much love for this?? How dare you present me with such a fun ask??? I rarely write for Eijiro but he’s actually super fun to write for??? He can either be so soft and fluffy and just...yes?? Or he can be that hot, frustratingly sexy pro you wanna bang.

Either way, I hope you enjoy this scenario! I was gonna write headcanons but the request caught me in a scenario-writing mood. So, yeah.

Let me know what you think!

I would also like to note that I was gonna schedule this for the 27th since I’ve got posts ready to go for the 25th and 26th...but fuck it, I put four sleep-deprived hours into this and I wanna post it now.

🥃 AO3 🥃 || ✉️My Askbox✉️ || 💬Discord💬

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

.

 “Thank you again, Mr. Kirishima”

 .

 Eijiro smiled warmly at you as you curtsied in front of him, holding the package that he had taken great care to wrap for you earlier that morning, containing the latest request you had made of him; small enough for him to allow you to take it back to your home without him accompanying you, but large enough to fill your arms.

 Any bigger and Eijiro would have insisted on carrying the heavy iron item back on your behalf, it wouldn’t be proper to allow someone such as yourself, a well-known aristocrats daughter, to carry such a thing home.

 “No problem! And hey, I thought we agreed that you’d start calling me Eijiro? You’re here often enough for it to be normal, Miss. (Name)” You tilted your head at his cheery words, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you glanced back towards the carriage that awaited your presence. Not nearly enough time for a casual chat, but maybe for a cheeky remark here and there; at least, until your next visit.

 Which, judging by the condition of your horses’ shoes, would be considerably close. Not that you would complain about such an opportunity, you had been using every chance you had to come see the charming, young blacksmith that had surfaced in the town. Errands or requests that you made simply to see him, it didn’t matter.

 Anything was enough.

 .

 “Well in that case, you should be calling me (Name) and not Miss (Name)…right?”

 .

 The corners of Eijiro’s mouth stretched out into a large grin as he laughed at your statement, giving a nod of his head before rubbing at his neck sheepishly; the action causing the muscles in his arm to flex impressively, drawing your thoughts to an inappropriate place.

 “Yeah, sorry about that. You’re right! I guess I’ll see you another time (Name), make sure you take care. Alright?” You gave a simple nod in response to his words of care, turning to make your way towards the carriage despite how much you wished that you could stay and chat with Eijiro a little while longer; however, there was only so long you could stay outside of the house. Any longer and your father would grow concerned, perhaps even look into what had caught your attention as of late and that, was the last thing you wanted.

 “Goodbye, Eijiro.”

 .

 ~  ~  ~

 .

 “So, I saw you with that cute little lady earlier”

 .

 Eijiro frowned as he shoved his latest work in progress into the burning hot forge, making sure to bury it beneath a healthy layer of coals before lifting his gaze to look over at his best friend and greatest rival; Tetsutetsu.

 More than a little surprised to see him in his Smithy at such an hour when usually, his rival’s own business should be booming.

 “Tetsutetsu? Uh, yeah, (Name) had some stuff to pick up this morning.” Eijiro shrugged off Tetsutetsu’s remark, looking back towards the flames before removing the sword and moving to rest it on his largest Anvil, reaching towards his sledgehammer so that he could make the necessary adjustments. He wasn’t sure why Tetsutetsu was bringing you up, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity; he only hoped it wasn’t because he had feelings for you.

 “Strange, don’t you reckon? For a young aristocrat’s daughter, of a marriageable age, to spend all her time in your shop?” Eijiro frowned at Tetsutetsu’s question before hammering the sword in front of him as he needed, using the noise-filled time to think on why his friend was chatting about such a topic; it made no sense to him. None at all.

 “Not really? If you need something, you go get it. Right?” Eijiro grunted with effort, setting the sledgehammer down before moving to dunk the sword in the bucket of cold water nearby, closing his eyes tightly to stop the steam from making his eyes sting; that had been one of the first things he had learnt early on during his apprenticeship days.

 “Really? So, you don’t think it’s odd that she comes in every second day? With a new request, or to pick something up? That she doesn’t just send a butler or a maid to run the errand instead of herself?” Eijiro sighed loudly, lifting the sword from the bucket before putting it down on a nearby bench, turning to face the curious looking Tetsutetsu; unable to focus on his work when you were the topic of conversation.

 “What are you trying to say Tetsutetsu?” His friend scoffed at his question, laughing at the confused expression that Eijiro wore, apparently finding what he had said to be amusing in some way, shape or form; though how, Eijiro wasn’t sure.

 “Tetsutetsu!” The man standing across from him slowly stopped laughing, letting out a sigh as he crossed his arms, observing Eijiro for a moment longer before giving a shake of his head; almost in disapproval.

 “I can’t believe you don’t see it Eijiro…the girl is head over heels for you!” Tetsutetsu’s words had his mouth dropping open in shock, about to protest the idea of such a claim before a frown began to form on his features, his thoughts running over all of his encounters with you; the pieces slowly clicking into place.

 “Well look at that…penny finally drop, did it?” Tetsutetsu grinned, watching Eijiro before chuckling and moving closer, patting the red-head’s shoulder firmly; almost managing to make the strong man stumble. Almost.

 “You should see the look on your face man, it’s priceless!” Eijiro blinked quickly at Tetsutetsu’s words, shrugging off his hand before reaching for the sword he had been working on moments ago, wanting to get the commission finished and now having a good reason to get it done early; he had an interesting conversation to have and little patience to wait for it.

 “Shouldn’t you be at your own shop? Or you gonna give up on your store, come be my apprentice?” Eijiro laughed when he felt Tetsutetsu’s fist against his shoulder, the hit not enough to hurt but enough to make the point that his rival wanted to make; there would be no apprenticeship.

 “Laugh it up, at least I can tell when a woman is interested in me!”

 .

 ~  ~  ~

 .

“Oh, good morning (Name)! Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”

 .

 You jolted in surprise as you stepped into Eijiro’s Blacksmith shop, offering a small smile in greeting to the grinning young man that seemed to be putting the finishing touches on something that you couldn’t quite make out.

 “Good morning, Eijiro…I suppose it might be, but you see, my horses need new shoes and who else could I trust to do such a thing but you?” You tilted your head curiously as he chuckled to himself, looking over at you with a mischievous grin decorating his face; his smile easily reaching his eyes as you so loved to see.

 “New shoes? I can have them done today, my day clears up in a few minutes” Eijiro chuckled at the confused look that formed on your features, finding it to be more than a little adorable; he was still surprised that Tetsutetsu had been right the other week, but now that he was aware of your feelings, it was easy to see.

 “A few minutes? Am I interrupting you then?” He shook his head in response to your question, setting down whatever it was that he had been working on before making his way over to you, his grin still present on his lips.

 “Not at all, I just had something I wanted to ask you” You nodded your head in response to his explanation, a sign for him to go ahead with whatever question the cheerful man had for you; you had no idea what that question might be, but your curiosity was beginning to get the better of you.

 “(Name), would you allow me to court you?” His question immediately threw you off-guard, causing your mouth to drop open in a mild form of surprise before you quickly closed it, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the reaction from him; though it was easy to see that it was too late for that.

 “(Name)? If it’s about your father, I already went and asked him for permission to ask you…apparently being the best Blacksmith in town has its perks” Eijiro chuckled nervously as he rubbed at the back of his neck, anxiously awaiting your response; your silence filling him with unease, fearing your rejection.

 “You…you went to my father? And he didn’t kick you out?” You stared at him incredulously before shaking your head, a soft giggle spilling past your lips. Even though you hadn’t expected Eijiro to go to your father, it was something that shouldn’t have actually surprised you; Eijiro was a hard-working man, an honest and up-front man.

 Visiting your father for permission to request such a thing would be nothing to a man like Eijiro, it was one of the things you loved about him most.

 “No…? I thought he might, but we had a drink together and he asked me some things…in the end, he gave his permission. Ah, but he was very clear that if you rejected me, that would be the end of it” Eijiro shuddered at the memory of his visit to your father, intimidated by the threat that he had been given should he disrespect you in any way, shape or form; however, Eijiro had no plans to do such a thing.

 “How unusual…you’re not the first man to ask him something like that…” You trailed off into a curious whisper before shaking your head to clear your thoughts and stepping closer to the man that held your affections, reaching out to take hold of his warm hands; a soft smile decorating your lips, easing his nerves more than he thought possible.

 “I would love it, if you would court me Eijiro…” Your soft murmur of agreement made his grin return ten-fold before his arms wrapped around your waist gently, a chaste kiss placed to your cheek; thankfully leaving you free of soot as he hadn’t fired up any of his equipment just yet. Unusual for his line of work, but then again, perhaps he had other plans.

 “I promise you (Name), I might not be as wealthy as your family, but I will treat you like a princess!”

 .

 “Silly man, I care for you just as you are…you don’t need to spoil me for my affections, you already have them.”

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries

On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)

There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.

It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.

[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex

p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)

[plumrabbit]

DA Fandom and moving forward - Calling In vs. Calling Out

Hi everyone,

As a PoC member of the DA fandom, I felt I have been quiet for long enough on the issues that have been presented recently. I am not here to argue against or on behalf of any individual or group, I am only here to present some information that I hope will be helpful moving forward. This is a long post, but it’s my hope that if you read it and want to help contribute to making this place better for everyone, then you will be willing to try to put what is said here into practice.

Since I am a relatively small blog, I wanted to start with a little personal introduction that will segue into the topic at hand. My name is Liz (you can call me Jade too, that’s part of my middle name), and I am a mixed race, “ambiguously brown”, aspec person from Canada. I grew up around mostly other immigrant families, attended predominantly non-white schools that were run by mostly white admins, and completed my degrees at a very white university in a field that does not have much racial diversity. I have experienced racism first-hand many times including, but not limited to, name-calling/slurs, fetishization/exotification, being followed by staff, people second-guessing my name, jokes about hurting/killing people of my race, etc. as well as witnessing racism directed at my friends and peers. I know exactly what it’s like to be exhausted and feel unsafe or othered.  There is, however, one thing I need to point out about the multitude of instances of racism I’ve experienced - most of them were caused by ignorance, and not malice. Yes there are absolute assholes out there, but personally I can count those people I’ve encountered on one hand (I am not speaking for everyone, though). The vast majority of racism, bigotry and general harmful acts come from a place of ignorance, particularly on left-leaning tumblr (to clarify, this discussion is centered around well-meaning people and not the actual lost causes). When I say ignorance, I don’t mean a lack of education or intelligence, I mean not being able to see or understand an issue from another person’s perspective. It’s not quite the same as empathy either (where empathy means you are able to feel another person’s emotions), but fighting ignorance does require empathy. It also requires knowledge on the context of the specific situation, and that I believe is the crux of the problem.  I think the main reason why this is issue is particularly prevalent in the DA fandom is a result of the too-close-to-reality-to-ignore inspirations that have been confirmed by the devs. Yes, it’s fiction, but there are also a lot of people that see themselves (mis)represented in the themes and characters. And what one person sees as disrespectful, another person may not see at all. This can come full circle, too, for example: one person sees themselves and their trauma represented in a character, another person sees their race misrepresented in the same character. Person 1 uses the character as a comfort character or coping strategy. Person 2 thinks using that character in certain situations is disrespectful. Neither one sees the other’s perspective.  This is where intersectionality starts to come into play, and requires empathy and effort to address the intentions and emotions of the other person. Perhaps person 1 is LGBTQ+ and has been traumatized by being as such, and uses Dorian as a character to explore their trauma. Perhaps person 2 is Brown, and racism towards their people is their trigger, and thinks person 1 did not do Brown representation justice in their creative works.  Looking at this more specifically, person 1 may have put Dorian in sexual situations. Person 2 feels that the way it was conveyed was fetishist or exotified. Person 2 doesn’t know person 1′s intentions. Person 1 is not aware of certain descriptions that are racist (e.g. using food to describe a PoC’s skin tone). Perhaps person 1 was self-inserting and wanted to feel desirable on their own terms, but this gave person 2 that squick factor.  Now person 2 wants to address this issue, and I think this is where a call-in (not a call-out) would be appropriate. Here is a good infographic that compares the two: 

(Original source)

Note that there is quite a large difference in the language used. Going back to the above example, person 2 could privately message person 1 asking them why they chose to represent Dorian the way they did, with specific examples, and using call-in language (and I’m going to get back to this in a minute). 

The point of this post and infographic isn’t meant to tell marginalized groups how they should be bringing up issues (though it is a good guide if you are concerned about being polite, particularly to a first time offender), it’s intended to demonstrate to people unintentionally participating in harmful behaviour what a call-out vs. call-in looks like. For PoC and other marginalized groups, yes it does take emotional labour to use call-in language and to try to understand someone that wounded you (here is a good read that incorporates the concept of emotional labour for call-ins, and discusses asking yourself if you are ready to do so). For the people who have unintentionally hurt a marginalized individual or group, please understand that someone calling you in is not an attack, it’s a chance to explain why you expressed something the way you did. 

That being said, we may have reached another hurdle. What if you call someone in, and the person called in does not want to discuss the fact that they were inserting their personal trauma? I think this is where things start to get a bit messy, but I am of the opinion that if you’ve unintentionally triggered someone else’s trauma through ignorance present in your work, you owe it to them to at the very least mention that you were inserting your trauma, without having to bring up specifics (anyone is allowed to set boundaries). From there, the discussion can be hopefully be opened up to learning from each other, and reaching a consensus. Sometimes that consensus requires the creator to edit or remove their work. As an addendum, if you are a creator that unintentionally hurt someone with your work that didn’t have an ulterior personal motivation, it’s your responsibility to understand why what you did was wrong, apologize, remove the work and do better next time. I know some people cherish their OCs, but you are allowed to change your perspective and make adjustments to your character without erasing them entirely. Now we’ve reached another potential obstacle - what if an offender doesn’t respond to your call-in? First of all, ask yourself, did you actually call them in, or did you attack them? Here is a good opinion piece from a Black professor on this matter. I’d like to clarify that I am not trying to tone police, I am speaking as someone that used to go ham on ignorant people on Facebook and Reddit, and has since changed their tactics and has even gotten through to Trump supporters (some of this stems from my spiritual growth as well, but that is not the point here).  There is another issue to address here now as well - what if you have tried, repeatedly, to call someone in and they just don’t change their behaviour? Alright, then it’s probably time to call them out. But again, ask yourself, did you truly try to get through to them? If so, well, at the end of the day, some people are, unfortunately, lost causes. In summary, a call-in is meant to come from a place of wanting to help someone who has seemingly gone astray, because you are worried about their thoughts, feelings, and behaviours towards a marginalized group. You know that if they made a mistake it isn’t them, isn’t their heart, and you want them to be able to understand why what they did hurt others, and give them the chance to correct themselves. It comes from a place of love and acceptance, because you don’t want your friends to harbour negative beliefs.  Finally, I want to give a real example of this in action. My cousin is a photographic artist, and was recently called in to discuss the nature of one of her pieces. Her subjects are usually people, and they come from a wide variety of backgrounds. To help support BLM (she does a lot of work to help fight racism in general), she auctioned off one of her pieces. The subject of the piece happened to be a Black woman. She was called in by Black members of her art community to discuss how people bidding on an art piece that featured a person from a marginalized group perpetuated the ogling and monetization of Black people. She gave a response that acknowledged that her piece did perpetuate this issue, because she wanted to raise awareness of this historical harm, and recognized that her intention was ignorant of this perspective. The Black community also acknowledged that the piece itself was not harmful in any way, only that the surrounding issue that they were painfully aware of needed to be brought to light. The auction went ahead, and the piece sold for ~$1000, all of which was donated to BLM.  I think as a fandom we should be cognizant of when a work itself is harmful, or when the intention is harmful. Sometimes they overlap, sometimes they don’t. Both are talking points, and we should not be afraid to discuss them, but this requires respect from all parties. We also do need to be able to recognize what is strictly fiction, versus what has real-world impacts. My askbox is always open and my DMs are open to mutuals if you would like anything clarified or expanded upon. Or, if you’d just like to discuss a topic, vent, or have any questions about my own beliefs, you are welcome to reach out. I am happy to discuss anything, as long as there is mutual respect. 

[trashytoastboi]

Headcanons for how Ace and Nami would handle having a crush on someone who has a habit of unintentionally coming out with stuff that sounds flirty but mean it entirely platonically and seemingly not notice the connotations their actions/words give off. Please and thank you.

Heyya!~ Of course🍀 I hope you enjoy ^.^

Askbox: Currently open

(Gender Neutral)

Headcanons: Ace, Nami – Handling having a crush on someone with seemingly flirtatious nature but completely platonic meaning.

Portgas D. Ace

🔥 It had been a while since Ace became aware of his feelings towards {Name} and he seemed to just find even more reasons to like them. At first he wasn’t too sure of his exactly he was feeling until it became blatantly obvious that he was in fact, in love with {Name}

🔥 The real ‘issue’ came down to the fact that {Name} was naturally flirtatious or at least it appeared that way, {Name} didn’t truly understand the gravity of some of the double meanings in the things they said and the first instance; Ace nearly died of embarrassment(and choking since it happened whilst he was eating)

🔥 After learning that it was in {Name’s} nature to say these flirtatious things without the meaning and often just using it as a bridge for banter, he understood that while the nature of what they said may have appeared flirtatious the context was completely casual and platonic.

🔥 Ace knew this…but it still didn’t save him when they sometimes said something a bit too clever and it caused him to become flustered even if that was not their intention.

🔥 Ace and {Name} were sitting together, eating some sandwiches that Ace made when {Name} passed the comment that his sandwiches were so good they would marry him for them. Ace was secretly dying behind his hat, trying not to choke on his sandwich although afterwards Ace brushed it off thinking nothing more of it than one of {Names} usual statements.

🔥 {Name} looks at Ace, an uncharacteristic look of seriousness on their face.

“Ace…I’m being serious”

Ace dropped his sandwich….

Nami

🍊Nami could easily list off the reasons she had fallen for {Name} and she could probably find many more if given the opportunity – In retrospect some might say that Nami fell hard and fast for {Name} but how couldn’t she? Nami just found them so wonderful and easy to love.

🍊To that Nami near had a heart attack when saying {Name} ‘flirted’ with her would be an understatement, Nami oftentimes had to explain the connotations that were attached to half the things they would say.

🍊Nami had gotten somewhat use to the way that {Name} is with their flirtatious manner of speaking, but Nami also thought…if {Name} was truly flirting they were probably one of the most charming people Nami had ever met and she wouldn’t stand a chance against any of {Name’s} seductions.

🍊However along that line of thought Nami does sometimes fall victim to {Name’s} statements, misreading their casual context as the seductive one which has led to a few interestingly awkward situations that Nami managed to get out of somehow.

🍊Nami had decided for no reason to dress up a little on this particular day, just a little something extra. When {Name} saw her, they instantly mentioned how gorgeous she looked. “I would be the luckiest person alive if I could go out with you” {Name} said as Nami laughed, brushing off their statement as another one of their friendly comments.

🍊“Nami, I’m asking you to go out with me” – {Name} says, correcting Nami’s misunderstanding of the context.

[theladyofdeath]

The Cadre {18}

A Throne of Glass, 1920s Period AU.

Summary: Orynth became Aelin Galathynius’s kingdom the moment the Prohibition began. She sang every night, the voice of the city’s underground world, her cousin selling the liquor that was banned by the authorities. She was living the dream, young and free, until the Cadre, until Rowan Whitethorn, came into her life.

Since Rowan Whitethorn returned from war, everything had changed. His aunt wants to take his crown, old enemies have returned as business partners, and he can’t sleep without feeling as if he’ll be suffocated by the memories of war. Little did he know that when he came back home he would be leaving one battlefield and entering another.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

A/N: ……….Enjoy this short chapter, with only two chapters left....you know the next one is going to be serious. 

Links:

The Cadre Masterlist

Full Fanfic Masterlist

My Askbox

The sun was rising before Gavriel found the nerve to open the letter Lysandra had slid beneath his door the night before. He knew it was from Aedion, even though she hadn’t said a word. After staring at it for hours, though, Gavriel slowly undid the seal and pulled out the folded letter.

A photograph fell onto the floor.

Gavriel stilled, staring at it breathlessly before bending down and taking it into his shaky fingers. They were so young then, he and Saoirse. The sight of her, of him smiling broadly as she clung to him, broke his heart. Slowly falling back on his bed, Gavriel’s eyes didn’t leave the photograph. He brushed his fingers over her captured beauty, as if he could reach out and feel her, still, sitting right in front of her.

Aedion looked so much like her.

Especially those Ashryver eyes.

It pained Gavriel to look into those eyes, because when he did, all he saw was her.

His Saoirse. 

Refusing to put the photograph down, Gavriel picked up the letter. 

It was short.

Simple.

Powerful.

Gavriel,

I recently came across a handful of my mother’s belongings. I never knew much about her, as I never had the chance to know her. As you know, she died after having me, due to complications that I will never understand. And I think you know this, because, after reading my mother’s journals and finding this photograph, I’ve come to the conclusion that you loved my mother very much. I know that she loved you. She wrote a lot about you. How much she loved you, and how she couldn’t wait to have your baby, so that she would forever have a piece of you with her, even though your love was prohibited. 

Choosing to believe that you loved her just as much, I wanted to write to you, letting you know that I know that I’m your son.

I’m not sure how you feel about that, and I do not expect anything from you. I only wanted you to know, and to let you know that I know, too.

You can keep the photograph.

Aedion Ashryver

He read it over and over and over again, each time feeling more worthless than the last. How awful Aedion must think him, knowing that Gavriel’s his dad. Gavriel had never said a word to anyone, save for Darragh and Rowan, and now that Aedion knew…

Aedion must hate him.

But Gavriel did what he had to, did what he thought best, what Saoirse had thought best before her death: That Gavriel stayed away, that the bad blood between their two people would be too much for a child to bear.

But Aedion was no longer a child.

There was so much he wanted to say to his son, so much he should have said, but he wasn’t sure if he should, wouldn't be sure if Aedion cared to hear.

With the letter in one hand and the photograph in the other, Gavriel was bolting from his room and down the hall, where he pounded on Lysandra’s door.

She opened it, a moment later, dressed in her day clothes, preparing to go into the office. She blinked. “Good morning.”

Gavriel held up the letter, the photograph. “Do you know?”

Her eyes grew soft. “Yes, I do.”

“How long have you known?”

“A while,” she confessed. Before Gavriel could ask her why she kept it hidden from him, she stated, “It was not my secret to discuss.” 

The tension faded from Gavriel’s shoulders as he leaned into the door frame, eyes weary. “I’m sorry.” What he was apologizing for and who he was apologizing to, he didn’t know, but it sounded like the right words to say.

Sorry to Aedion, for being worthless.

Sorry for you, for barging into your room like a madman.

Sorry to Saoirse, for I’m the reason she’s dead.

“Do you wish to speak with him?” Lysandra asked.

Gavriel hesitated.

“If you do, he’ll listen,” Lysandra said, and she sounded certain. 

Gavriel said nothing. He had too many thoughts, too many emotions coursing through him. So he nodded, numbly. 

“Walk me to the office?” she asked, after watching him for a moment. “It’s a nice morning.”

Gavriel nodded, once more, clearing his throat. “I’ll...let me get dressed.”

“Okay,” she whispered, smiling brightly. “I’ll wait.”

And she did, as Gavriel wandered back into his bedroom and dressed. Before he left, he put the letter into his bedside stand and the photograph into the inside pocket of his jacket.

~~~~~

It was early afternoon when Rowan met the others and they walked toward the offices in the building above the Fireheart.

He’d woken up, once again, with his arm around Aelin; but, this time, his shoulder hurt like shit as he woke up with the realization that he’d been shot.

Rhoe fucking shot him.

And now it was time to make amends. 

Whatever the fuck that meant. Rowan could confidently say that he’d never been shot by woman’s father before, after said father realized that Rowan was fucking his daughter.

As he smoked a cigarette, all he could think about was the mess he’d gotten himself into.

And how he didn’t give a damn, because he wanted to wake up every morning with Aelin Galathynius in his arms.

Which is why he walked into Rhoe’s office with his head held high. Gavriel and Vaughan accompanied him inside, while the other three stood just outside, waiting.

Rhoe said nothing.

Neither did Rowan as he took a seat.

Gavriel and Vaughan waited patiently. 

“How’s the arm?” Rhoe asked, at last, nodding to Rowan’s shoulder.

Rowan cocked his head. “Feels like I’ve been shot.”

Rhoe nodded, slowly, with pursed lips. “I’ve been told I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Funny,” Rowan muttered. “I’ve been told I deserved it.” 

Rhoe snorted, and folded his hands on top of his desk. “There is no need to worry, boys. Our deal is secure.” 

Rowan stilled.

That was too easy.

“After talking to my daughter, I’ve come to realize that she should have never been a part of the deal to begin with, and so from this point forth, she will remain out of our dealings.”

Rowan still didn’t say a word.

His eyes narrowed.

“Then is this a good time to ask for your men to stand by my side come Saturday?” Rowan asked, steadily.

Rhoe sighed. “Against Arobynn Hammel, I assume?”

“Yes,” Rowan answered, without hesitation. 

“I’ve already lost a lot of men, Rowan,” Rhoe answered.

“I realize that,” Rowan said, “but Arobynn doesn’t want them dead, just me. It’s for appearances only, unless things get out of hand. In that case, they’ll be in the back.”

“I see,” Rhoe said, clicking his tongue. 

“I would not ask if it was not crucial,” Rowan continued.

It was a simple question, really, although not a simple request. Rowan didn’t know what else to say, though, aside from begging, but he would never become so desperate. He would rather die than beg.

“Nonetheless,” Rowan said, clearing his throat as he rose. “Send word with your answer. If I have your men, they will need to know the plan.”

The three men made their way toward the door, but Rhoe called out, “May I have a moment with you alone, Whitethorn?”

Vaughan tensed, but Rowan nodded, “Of course.”

After giving Rowan a look, Gavriel walked out, Vaughan close behind.

“Sit,” Rhoe said.

With a sigh, Rowan did so, resuming his seat. He waited.

“I have been very protective of my daughter,” Rhoe went on, rigidly. “After her mother’s passing, she has been all that remains. She is wild, yes, but she is a good woman, Rowan.”

Rowan looked at Rhoe for a long moment before saying, “I know you think you know me, Rhoe, and perhaps you do, to a certain extent. Only a certain type of man can do what we do, I realize that. But, I do not disrespect women, and I would have stayed away from Aelin forever if I did not intend to treat her with love and respect.” 

Something in Rhoe’s eyes softened as he said, “Good, because she loves you.”

Rowan must have looked surprised, because Rhoe grinned, weakly. “She told me as much when she was ripping my head off after you left the room last night.” 

Rowan chuckled as he nodded. “Sounds right.”

“Do not break her heart, Whitethorn,” Rhoe said, smile fading. “I mean it.”

“I don’t intend to,” Rowan said, honestly.

Rhoe nodded, once more, as he opened the top drawer of his desk. He slid a small velvet bag across the desk. “Take that, then. For when the moment is right. The way Aelin looked at you last night was the same way my wife used to look at me. And that,” he nodded toward the drawstring back, “was Evalin’s. Upon her death, she wished it to go to Aelin.” 

Fully aware that he was full of confusion, Rowan opened the bag and looked inside, where a ring, with a small sapphire surrounded by white diamonds sat.

Rowan was speechless. He looked back up to Rhoe. He opened his mouth to say something, but Rhoe cut him off. “Call it a truce.” He gestured, once more, to Rowan’s shoulder. “And don’t break her heart.”

Rowan nodded, lips snapping shut as he secured the ring in the bag and placed it in his jacket. When he got up and walked to the door, Rhoe said, “You have my men. And myself. We can meet tomorrow to discuss strategy before the club opens.”

Without turning back to face him, Rowan gave the man a curt nod and left the room.

~~~~~

“Will you miss me, my love?” 

Arobynn watched Maeve walked across their room, the firelight outlining her bare frame.

“Of course,” Arobynn murmured, still catching his breath.

Maeve was a brutal, ravenous woman - especially in bed. 

“Good,” she grinned, falling on her knees at the foot of the bed and crawling toward him. “I shouldn’t be gone long, though. You must send word, either way, after your encounter with Rowan and the boys. I’m eager to hear how it all turns out.”

Arobynn snorted, brushing Maeve’s hair out of her face. “I already know how it will turn out, and I’ll be just as eager to share the news and dwell in our victory. Rowan Whitethorn will die, the Cadre will crumble, and I will rise to the top of this city. Then, once you return, we will run this empire together. No more hiding. All three of us.” 

Maeve’s fingers swept across the small bump that had formed on her abdomen. “Now that young Cortland is out of the way.”

Arobynn still felt guilty for the encounter with Sam. He had truly loved him, but now he was having an actual child, a true heir to the kingdom he was building. He would not let Sam get in the way of it. 

May the kid rest in peace and forgive him in the next life. 

Arobynn’s hands covered hers atop her skin. “We are so close, Maeve. So close to accomplishing the dream.”

“So close,” she repeated, and kissed him, softly. 

~~~~~~~

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[the-currian]

Finally emptied my askbox!

Well, to be more accurate, I finished all my requests. The askbox ate the original ask, so shoutout to the anon who wanted Hisoka angst!

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Hisoka x Reader

It was insidious.

At first your curiosity was small. Harmless. When you heard the up-and-coming Mankai Company was having an act-off against the famed God Troupe, you knew that you had to catch both their performances. God Troupe’s performance was flashy and impactful as always, and while the leads of Mankai had a subtle flair of their own, it was one of their supporting cast members that truly caught your eye. You were captivated by his unique stage presence. He appeared confident and secure in his acting but underneath it all you could sense a hint of sadness that drew you in further.

To your shock and utter delight, he plays one of the leads in his sub-troupe’s next play.

“Hisoka…” you whisper to yourself as you trace the actor’s name on the flyer you received.

His gaze pierced straight through your heart, leading you to make an impulsive decision. Quickly scrounging up what leftover funds you had for the month, you resolve to attend all of their performances.

Watching Hisoka act night after night onstage makes your heart bleed for this man that you hadn’t even officially met. Again, you resonate with the melancholic aura that he gives off. It’s silly, really – the most interaction you’ve had with him was at the end of each play when the actors went to the lobby to personally thank and see their patrons off, yet there was just something so hauntingly beautiful about the man, and before you knew it you were drawn in deep.

You wanted to know more.

Days pass after the play’s closing night and you feel as if you’re in a drought – deprived of your favorite muse.

‘Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I should just keep this admiration as a fan, after all.’

Trying to lift up your spirits, you visit a newly opened cat café. As you walk through the doors, a paw-shaped bell gently chimes and a smile blooms on your face. Immediately, you are comforted by the mellow atmosphere that the establishment exudes. While you take your time to observe the café, a white Japanese bobtail cat walks up to you and gently nuzzles your leg, trying to grab your attention. You slowly squat down to pet the feline and it purrs at your touch.

“Welcome.” a familiar voice greets you sleepily.

Looking up, you yelp in surprise and fall onto your bum at the realization that the worker in front of you is Hisoka. Unperturbed, the fluffy cat you were petting moves over to plop down into your lap.

“Marshmallow.” Hisoka chides lightly, picking up the fur ball and cradling it in his arms. “You’re not supposed to play with the customers until they’ve gotten a table.”

The cat mewls lowly in response, and your heartbeat quickens at the affectionate smile that spreads on Hisoka’s face.

“I’m surprised that Marshmallow has taken a liking to you so easily.” He mumbles, shooting you a curious glance. “Anyway, please follow me to sign a waiver for playing with the cats.”

You quickly read through the document and sign the paper without fuss. Hisoka looks over it and nods before leading you to a table low enough for you to interact with the cats but still kneel comfortably.

Somehow, amidst your internal freak-out, you manage to address Hisoka, “Do you have any recommendations?”

His eyes immediately light up and you find his giddiness to be infectious as he lists several suggestions. “The hot chocolate with marshmallow crème is good. So is the s’mores cupcake – they put a giant toasted marshmallow on top. Oh, but the chocolate marshmallow mousse is also one of our best-sellers…”

You stifle a laugh and scratch the ears of the fluffy white cat in your lap. “I take it that you’re the one that named Marshmallow, then?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I get carried away again? The manager says I need to work on that. Something about how not all people would want to eat marshmallows when they’re here, which is ridiculous.” Hisoka mutters the last sentence under his breath, but you still manage to catch what he says and find it quite endearing paired with the pout on his face.

“It’s fine. Those all sound amazing, and I’m going to be here awhile, so I’ll have those three that you mentioned.” You say with what you hope is a reassuring smile.

“Okay. I’ll be back with your marshmallows soon.” He quirks a shy smile before heading back to the kitchen with your order.

Once he’s out of sight you let out a huge sigh, grabbing at your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow down. As if sensing your distress, Marshmallow meows loudly and rubs his head against your hand.

“Alright, alright.” You murmur in a placating tone and obligingly scratch behind Marshmallow’s ears. He makes a satisfied chirping noise in response. Minutes pass by as you absentmindedly pet the cat while you take in the café’s ambience.

Hisoka returns with a serving tray full of marshmallow treats as promised, and your mouth waters as he sets them on the table. You turn your gaze away from the table to thank Hisoka but find that he is also transfixed on your food. A pout appears on his face and the gaze in his eyes as he regards the marshmallows is almost longing.

Mustering up your courage, you ask, “Um… would you like to join me? I kinda just realized that this is way too much for me to finish by myself…”

Hisoka’s gaze locks onto yours, his expression the liveliest you’ve ever seen off stage. “You sure?”

Brain short-circuiting over how adorable he looks, you only barely manage to nod back.

“Hold on.” Hisoka says, rushing off to the kitchen with an unnatural speed. Before you can really process the interaction, he’s already back at your table and kneeling opposite from you. “My manager said I can take a break for a short while since there’s not too many customers right now. Thanks for sharing your marshmallows…” he trails off. Realizing you forgot to introduce yourself, you immediately do so.

He softly smiles in return. “My name is Hisoka Mikage.”

“Ah, I have to confess that I already knew that.” You laugh nervously. His eyes narrow at you in suspicion, and you honestly don’t blame him. However, the dangerous aura he suddenly exudes has you recoiling a bit. “I, uh… I’ve seen you act before in the Mankai Company.”

His demeanor relaxes ever so slightly at your explanation, but you can tell he’s still on edge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that I’m a big fan of your acting and I can’t really believe that I’m seeing you outside of your show runs.”

Still, Hisoka remains silent, staring at you coolly from across the table. Wordlessly, you slide over the chocolate marshmallow mousse to his side as a sort of placating gesture. Hisoka’s eyes narrow even further, squinting at the dessert as if it had personally offended him.

“Is this a bribe?

“…Is it working?”

Hisoka puts a spoonful of the mousse into his mouth and hums thoughtfully as he takes his time to savor the flavor. Seconds pass agonizingly slow before he simply nods at you.

“Apology accepted.”

You feel as if a huge weight is lifted off of your shoulders.

From that day forward you get to know more about Hisoka Mikage, rather than Hisoka the Winter Troupe member of Mankai Company who you so ardently idolized.

And so what if you still idolized him for that? It’s not like it took away from the real affection you had for him as a friend.

‘Only as a friend.’ You think to yourself glumly.

You were thankful for his friendship, really. After that day you two officially met, you frequented the café quite often. In return, Hisoka would set aside his break time for whenever you stopped by. Your relationship had gotten close enough that he felt comfortable resting his head in your lap. You always teased him for this, calling him a “cuddle monster that can only be satiated by naps and marshmallows”. Hisoka has no qualms with this and completely accepts his role.

However, despite the progress you’ve made, you could sense that there’s a barrier he always had up. You could tell that he was trying but there were times that Hisoka would get a faraway look in his eyes as the two of you lazed about. It was during these moments that you felt so close but still so far from him.

One day, he decides that the two of you should hang out at a beach – which is frankly quite ridiculous given the season. Within the first few minutes of arriving, Hisoka remains silent, so you decide to tell him as such.

“So… what’s the reason for taking to me to the beach on this cold winter day?” you joke, trying to lighten the heavy aura Hisoka exudes.

His eyes suddenly snap over to yours as if broken out of a reverie. Just as you’re about to let it be – Hisoka gets into these moods at times, after all – he replies.

“This beach is a place I’ve only shared with my troupe members; it’s a significant place to who I was – to who I am. You’ve become an…” he pauses, mulling over his words carefully. “…important person to me. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel safe. But–“

Filled with a surge of affection at his words, you blurt out, “Would you like to maybe make this official?”

Hisoka stares at you incomprehensively.

‘Hell, I’ve gotten this far already.’ You think to yourself, thoroughly embarrassed, but determined. ‘I may as well let it all out.’

“I’m sorry if I’m coming on too strong, but this has been on my mind for a long while. Ever since we met at the café – maybe even long before that, when I first saw your acting,” You give him a watery smile. “I was so intrigued by you. I always felt like there was something that just drew me to you. You can’t believe how ecstatic I was that we were able to become friends. But lately, it just hasn’t been enough for me. I’m sorry. I’ve fallen for you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, scared to see his reaction.

“I love you, Hisoka. If you’ll have me, I’d like the chance to make you happy as your friend, but even more so as your partner.”

Seconds tick by, your anxiety skyrocketing in the silence, when Hisoka’s words strike straight through your heart.

“I can’t.”

“…Oh.” Your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes at his rejection. “I see. I totally get it. Don’t worry, you don’t have to be obligated or anything because of my feelings. I’m sorry – “

“Wait.” Hisoka cuts you off then makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not you, I promise.” He grabs your arm causing you to freeze in place, preventing you from making your escape. “It’s not fair to you. I know it isn’t, but…”

“But?” you prompt.

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” Hisoka mumbles, head bowed low, unable to look you in the eye. “…and it kills me.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“There are things that I’m still trying to figure out for myself – things I’m still trying to figure about myself. To drag you into it would be selfish of me. You don’t deserve that.”

“And if I said I didn’t care?” you sob. “What if I told you that I want to help you through it?”

Hisoka makes a pained expression at your words, letting go of your arm as if he was burned. He returns back to his shell that you so desperately tried to pull him out of. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. This is my burden to bear… I’m sorry.”

And just like that, he walks away.

The next day you go to the café where you first met. You pet Marshmallow when he comes over to you as you take a seat at your usual spot, but Hisoka never shows up.

[itswhumpday]

Hey! Whumper was torturing Whumpee. It got a bit out of hand, and now Whumpee is about to die? What they gonna do? Whumpee turned caretaker pls!? ❤❤❤

Last night I was having a hard time going to sleep after getting this. So many possibilities! I’m normally not one for Whumper turned Caretaker, so I had to wreck my brain around it, but I think I got a nice one! It got super long too, so I put in a read more. Enjoy! 

Looking through the bars of the door’s window, it was hard to believe Whumper was looking at Whumpee.

They have history, the two of them. Started as apprentices to the same master, until Whumper was tired of being a pet, ready to take on real power wherever they could take it. Whumpee never understood, never cared. Such high morals and for what? For starving in a dark cell. 

Whumper comes inside, hardly fighting a smile.  

“Well, well, how the winds changed. If it isn’t the Whumpee.” Whumper laughs in delight. But there is no witty remark in return. Whumpee only looks up at them, thin and shivering. Whumper looks down at the abandoned piece of bread next to them. “Ah, they told you it was poisoned… Or maybe they didn’t? I can’t remember if it was or not… Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

Whumper laughs again, but Whumpee is really not making this any more fun. Whumper clicks their tongue. 

“Come now! Where’s the witty banter? Cat’s got your tongue?” 

Whumpee’s eyes have anger on them, but they don’t say anything. Whumper growls and grabs them by the grubby shirt, pulling them up, pushing them against the cold wall. 

“Say something!” 

Whumpee’s eyes are scared now, which is not what Whumper wants. They want a fight. They want to earn that fear. 

“Did you kill them? Our master… Did you… How could you?” 

“Them? You’re worried about them?” Whumper laughed, slapping across the face. “I’m trying to have my triumphant moment and you’re worried about the person who ruined us?!”

“They taught us everything we know!” 

“They lied! They limited our potential!” Whumper pulls their collar until their faces are almost touching. “You stayed with them and look at where you are. The prized student. Why don’t we see who’s better?” 

Whumper lets them go, takes the keys in their pocket and throw open the chains on Whumpee’s wrists. They immediately rub their wrists, raising their confused doe eyes at Whumper. 

“Fight me.” Whumper says with a diabolical smile. “Want to know what happened to them? Get it out of me.” 

Whumpee stood there, trembling, looking from them to the door, as if they’re calculating if they’ll make it. They wouldn’t, but Whumper is glad to see the spark of a fighter. They go for is, but Whumper’s fist finds their face before they can take a step, sending them back against the wall. 

“Come on! Show me what they taught you all those years!” 

Whumpee’s mad now. Whumper can see. They raise their shaking fists, a feeble imitation of a fighting stance. Whumper pulls them with one movement, shoving their knee up their stomach. Whumpee falls back, wheezing, reaching for the walls, trying to stay upright. They’re bent in half. Pathetic. Weak. 

“This is what you abandoned me for?!” Whumpee seems about to say something, but Whumper punches them again. They’re tripping over themselves now. “This is the golden pupil?!” 

They shove Whumpee with all they have. Whumpee loses balance. Their head bangs audibly against the wall and then the floor. 

This fills Whumper with rage. Was that it? The big confrontation they waited years for?! The very culmination of all of their work?! They kick the Whumpee, once, twice. Their body falls to the side, revealing the blood coming out of a gash on the side of Whumpee’s forehead. Their eyes are closed. They’re out cold. 

“Haha! Yeah. The oldest trick in the book. How stupid do you think I am?” They walk to the chains, next to which is the untouched water and bread. They don’t think - honestly don’t remember - if the water is poisoned, but will serve its purpose. They walk back to the Whumpee and dumps the liquid on their head. They don’t move, the water lazily dripping into Whumpee’s mouth. Whumper rolls their eyes. “Fine! If you’re going to be like that, I’m leaving. I’ll come back when you’re ready for a real fight.” 

Whumper waits. They clean up the mess from their clothes. They have to hand over to their old friend: they’re committed to their role. Whumper is walking to the door when they hear a sound: a gasp. They turn around, thinking they got the Whumpee, but they’re still in the same position. The sound grows louder, like skin rubbing against glass. Finally, Whumpee moves, but it’s just their chest moving in spasms. 

“You’re kidding.” Whumper kneels down next to them, grabbing their face and turning it to the side. The water that dripped into their mouth comes out of it, mixing with the blood that’s forming a small puddle. But that doesn’t solve the problem. The sound coming from their throat grows rougher and huskier. “You have got to be kidding me!” 

They begrudgingly grab the Whumpee’s hand, looking for a pulse. But they can’t concentrate, because the sound is dimming now. When Whumper puts their hand to their nose, they don’t feel a thing. Whumpee’s chest has gone still. 

“No, you idiot! You absolute idiot! They still haven’t come for you! I still don’t have them!” They stop just short of saying they need them. It’s not true. They’re leverage - good, but not essential. And yet… Going through all this trouble would be a waste. “Help! I need a med team!”

It’d be useless. The dungeon was notorious for being deserted - so no prisoners could have contact. They’d have to take them to the med bay. 

What are they even thinking?! If this is a trick, their new master would end them. They stand up waiting. They’ll have to breathe eventually.  But as seconds pass, all that changes is their blues getting a bluish tint. 

“Shit.”

They grab Whumpee and raise them in their arms. There is no resistance. Whumpee’s head falls back, their mouth agape, but no air coming in or out. They’re light, much lighter than they used to be. Whumper feels the poke of several pointy bones that didn’t used to be there. There is a pang of guilt that they shove away. 

Whumper gets out of the cell, running up the corridor and up the stairs. They find the med bay soon enough, glad it’s empty. They drop Whumpee on it. Their limbs spread in awkward angles. Their head is tilted back, almost falling form the table, unveiling a sliver of the sclera. 

They find the ambu bag and hold it over their mouth, pushing on it twice. They put their hand to their neck again, looking for a pulse. It’s sporadic and weird, as an interference rather than a rhythm. While they push the bag again, they hook up the heart monitor, that shows exactly what they thought. 

“Damn it.” 

The numbers on the monitor are dropping. Whumper puts the bag to the side and start compressing, keeping count silently. Their anger helps them push and Whumpee’s body is shaken with every compression. They take the bag again, pushing air into the body. 

Whumper doesn’t know how long they’ve been doing this when the machine beeps, letting them know there’s a shockable rhythm. Whumper lets out a smile, even though they feel like passing out. 

“Maybe this situation isn’t so bad.” 

Whumper pulls open Whumpee’s shirt. The bruises of their kick are starting to show very slightly. Whumper takes the defibrillator, charging the paddles. Since there’s no one to clear, they just shock Whumpee’s chest. It hikes up, and then falls again. When Whumper pulls away, they notice the burns. They forgot the gel. Oh, well. 

The monitor tells them it wasn’t enough. 

They compress, they press the bag, they shock again. This time, Whumpee gasps. But the sound is much like the ones they made in the cell. Not enough. Their lids are fluttering, as if they’re having a terrible dream. Whumper keeps compressing and pushing air into their lungs. Their arms are getting tired, they’re tired of all of this. 

“Last chance, golden pupil. I’m going to leave you here like I did that day.” They set the machine as far as it can go. A shock this hard could end them for good - and Whumper is wondering if this isn’t what they want after all. They charge, they clear, the pads meet the bare skin. 

Whumpee’s body raises higher than before, shaking madly. Whumper is supposed to take it off, but they keep it there, the strength of their anger keeping them there. For a second, they’re Frankenstein and it’s monster. Until reason made them pull away. Whumper throws the defibrillator to the side, letting out a frustrated scream. 

But as they stop to listen, they hear the heart monitor climbing up to a normal rhythm. When they look back, Whumpee is gasping again, but this time, their chest is raising and falling. 

“Motherfucker… They always come through.” Whumper wonders if they should have taken the opportunity. It was too good. Their hand even wraps around Whumpee’s neck ever so slightly. But when Whumpee blindly touches their hand, trying to fight them, they know it’s no use. They never had this instinct to fight and this is why Master had chosen them. 

Whumper puts an oxygen mask around their face to help them breathe. They’ll have to go back to their cell, of course, while they wait for their old master to strike. But just for now, Whumper can secretly look after their old friend. That was it! I loved writing this!  As always, if you have a request, my askbox is always open.  If you enjoy the stuff here on my blog, consider giving me a tip on Ko-fi!

[lucy-ghoul]

Mikasa Ackermann, Levi Ackermann, Amane Misa, Aeron Greyjoy for the charactet ask :3

SOMEONE HEARD MY PRAYERS AND NOW MY TIME HAS COME, tysm!!!!! <3

okay, let's start with levi (my beloved):

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life (THEE little feral anime man after my heart)

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang (Dark, Tall and Snarky + piercing grey-blue eyes and chronic insomnia? clearly my type ❤)

hogwarts house: gryffindor (maybe....?) | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

ugh, the hp sorting house system is way too reductive. he has qualities of gryffindor, slytherin, and hufflepuff - brave, astute, loyal to a fault, etc. so it's a hard choice. but if i really have to choose, i'd go for gryffindor. i know that his Bad Boy facade shouts slytherin, but while he has larger goals (killing all the titans, then saving the world etc.), he's got no actual ambition for himself. hufflepuff would also be a good option.

daemon (from the his dark materials series): (because i've just decided that's just way more accurate than the hp method) some kind of big feline. maybe a panther - a black panther would be the ideal - aloof, predatory, dangerous, fiercely independent.

best quality: besides his obvious strenghts as a leader and warrior, the way he cares for his comrades-in-arms. it's very hard to gain his trust and respect, but once you have it, it's forever. he's pragmatic and ruthless, yes, but he also has a huge capacity for compassion and friendship. not that he would be effusive about his affections, of course.

worst quality: none, he's absolutely perfect ❤ jklsdfhjk jokes aside, he really struggles to open up (a serious understatement), idt he ever talked about his traumatic past with anyone. i mean, maybe he mentioned it to hange and erwin (erwin knew him when he was still an undergound thug, so...), but... he's not great with feelings. despite his apathetic, intimidating mask, he feels and cares deeply, but he has a long history with losing the people he loves, so he tries to not personally care about his squadmates, which can be both a strenght and a weakness. of course, he spectacularly fails at this.

ship them with: well, it's not a secret that i'm a huge rivamika fan, this ship is almost literally consuming my waking thoughts lmao. imo they're perfectly compatible: very similar personalities (stoic, the strongest warriors, absolutely terrifying on the battlefield but with a soft underbelly), very similar pasts/experiences, so many parallels that it's actually ridiculous, etc. i love how they're both each other's equals and likeness (yes, i took it from jane eyre. no, i don't regret anything lmao). a lot of tropes i love, too: Terrible First Impression (the Pride and Prejudice vibes are so strong with these two, you have no idea), Kindred Spirits/Mirror Images, Veteran/Young Prodigy, The Last of Their Kind, even Height Difference lmao. i could write a whole rivamika manifesto, but this is already too long. (maybe for some other time 👀) i would've loved for their dynamic to be more explored in canon but alas, isayama clearly didn't give a shit about the ackerman legacy, he just used it as a plot shortcut to give them conveniently unique powers, since they never really talked about it 🙄 (and before some troll comes into my askbox shouting "you iNcEsT fReAk!!!!1!!", they're only very distantly related. we know shit about the ackermans but we know for sure that they've got at least several generations between them. biologically their shared DNA is 0%, obviously they don't see each other as family, all the eldians have a dead ass common ancestor from 2000 years ago so they're all basically ⁓related anyway. if you really wanna scream about i.ncest, go watch got/dark/the borgias and shut the fuck up please. or alternatively go outside and touch some grass) sorry for the rant, uh. anyway, i can also see levi/erwin. idk if i'd ever care enough to read a fic about them (i'm usually a huge multishipper, but for some weird reason not when it comes to rivamika? same with braime and kastle tbh), but still, i can see it.

brotp them with: hange and erwin, obv. veteran trio >>> ema trio, sorry not sorry (at least h. and e. died before yams had the chance to ruin their character arcs)

needs to stay away from: ...uh, filth, i guess? lmao

misc. thoughts: besides the stupid teenage fangirl crush i have on him, i'm genuinely fascinated by the man himself. he's a huge mess of a contradictions, and yet somehow it works: he's violent and brash and kind of an asshole, but also has a strong moral code and integrity; he's obv very skilled at all the killing/torturing stuff and yet he has a huge respect for life; he's got a potty mouth to say the least, and yet some very aristocratic manners/tastes (the way he sits, his preference for tea and usually refined clothes); he comes from what's supposed to be an illustrous bloodline, he's methodical and very precise, and yet he was born and raised in the underground, he's been used to filth and blood and poverty since he was a child, kenny of all people was his father figure, and probably has known no other life than a perennial survival mode existence. he's "humanity's strongest soldier", but while well-built he's also small, the david to the titans' goliah, and probably not what people would assume a born warrior looks like. he's also one of the few characters who stayed true to himself and his original characterization until the end, bless you smol king ❤

(okay, this is getting long!)

mikasa:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them (so much. she deserved better ❤️) | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! (stunning lady ❤) | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

this is actually easy: mikasa belongs to hufflepuff and no, i won't take criticism (just joking lol). enough with this "hufflepuffs are fluffy puppies/Cinnamon Rolls <3" thing: mikasa values loyalty and duty more than anything else. she's also hardworking... and fierce, strong, lethal. yes, hufflepuff and lethal are not mutually exclusive concepts.

daemon: (finally the better option) a she-wolf, fiercely protective of her pack.

best quality: loyal, brave, incredibly strong (alongside her more fragile qualities). practical and level-headed on the battlefield, at least when eren is not included in the picture.

worst quality: struggles to let go of the past (understandable, considering her trauma). tunnel-vision when it comes to eren, obv. extreme levels of delusions ("if only i spoke openly about my romantic feelings for him - as if i didn't made them abundantly clear in ⁓6 years - he wouldn't kill 80% of humanity :(((" lmao okay. just. okay), but that's more on the writing. she's sadly more static than any other main character throughtout the whole series.

ship them with: see above :) but recently i've also started to be intrigued by mikasa/annie and mikasa/sasha. also, i'm sympathetic to jeankasa fans, though i don't actually care for the ship.

brotp them with: EMA trio, especially armin+mikasa. their friendship is so beautiful and special. also sasha.

needs to stay away from: ...... eren, at least romantically. again, that's more on the writing than anything else, but e.remika unfortunately encompasses many tropes i loathe with all the strength of my old shriveled heart: childhood friends-to lovers where the (male) childhood friend doesn't acknolewdge/is completely indifferent to the other (female) friend's romantic feelings, she hopelessly pines for him for years without anything more than a cold shoulder... until in the last chapter it's revealed that he loved her all along and doesn't "want other men to have her!!! :((" (then why did you have no reaction whatsoever to jean's years-long crush on her while she was jealous of any vaguely female-shaped human being you were friendly to, including hange? are you that dumb, man?); the female character's development and entire arc 100% revolves around the male protagonist - she has no goals, no dreams of her own except staying with him forever and ever; the romance is based on an idealized childhood dream, therefore reaffirming those childish illusions would make the character regress, not actually grow up (and nope, epilogue!jk doesn’t count; that also lacks build-up - i would’ve said the same about rm as well, so it’s not about shipping, guys, it really isn’t - and mikasa needed an inner change; getting married to another man but still praying to eren’s shrine is not substitute to actual development lol). post-time skip she's never really frustrated/angry with him, they never get a confrontation about him becoming a, y'know, mass-murderer of gigantic (pun intended) proportions; she puts him on a pedestal, and never stops idealizing him/never sees him for what he actually is (the narrative framing him as some kind of tragic martyr/saint eren from paradis with zero agency and basically... no clear motivation for the abovementioned mass murder, and not the actual complex tragic anti-hero/villain motivated by revenge and righteous fury he deserved to be, does not help). it lacks a good or even decent build-up - it's basically all tell and not show. now, if they'd actually been childhood friends to enemies to lovers/mutually co-dependent... it could have been interesting. sadly, it's not my cup of tea. of course this is just my personal preference, no hard feelings to the shippers.

misc. thoughts: enormous potential. she's been my fav female character since s1 - and ah, i miss s1!mikasa, when she had actually other stuff to do besides mothering eren. i love that she's the strongest warrior (second only to levi, obv), that her skills are never called into questions despite her gender, i love how she stands up for herself and the people she loves, that she may seem cold and stoic and yet has a such a huge heart, that she's not perfect but also sometimes awe-inspiring. sadly, she never really gets out of eren's shadow; what she lacks is an arc focused on herself. that's why imo getting deeper into the ackerman lore would've helped (also, you cannot make the main female character and the most popular male character descend from the same Unique Bloodline or whatever, and never really make them acknowledge it out loud; as a writer, you just can't lol). my spite is so strong that i'm currently writing a ridiculously pretentious fic that's 70% development for her character, to give her a voice, and 30% ackerthirsting. (yes, that's the fic i'm always vagueblogging about lmao, rip @ my brain). if any other rivamika fan is interested… mind you, it’s in italian tho, and idt i have the skills to translate into english.

misa:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

daemon: mmh, maybe some kind of butterfly? beautiful, colorful, and short-lived.

best quality: glorious fashion sense, more inventive and ingenious than fans actually give her credit for.

worst quality: shallow, impulsive, and obv her dependence on/obsession with light (which stems from trauma btw, but still… the very opposite of a relationship between equals).

ship them with: rem, kinda (monster/human ftw!). also weirdly enough mogi, a little bit? she deserves someone who actually respects her… though she’s far from being a perfect angel. she may actually be crazier than light on some aspects. but in this house we stan evil ladies anyway, so i have no problem with that <3

brotp them with: uh, idk, maybe matsuda?

needs to stay away from: obv light. also takada.

misc. thoughts: a tragic victim of sexist writing. she may be… unhinged to say the least, but she didn’t deserve the abuse she got from light (and from the fans). the female characters’ writing in dn is so bad that idk if it’s on purpose, to kinda mirror the reality of women in a patriarchal society (dependent on men, housewives whose life entirely revolves around their husband/boyfriend etc.), or just casual misogyny lol. it’s even more baffling since we don’t know the author’s gender (they may be a man, a woman, nb, anything really). i tend for the latter option tho.

aegon greyjoy (now, i wasn’t expecting him lol):

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

i’m so sorry, i haven’t the slightest idea lmao. maybe gryffindor? mind you, it’s been a long time since i’ve re-read the books, so i don’t have many thoughts about him.

daemon: maybe it’s cliché, but some kind of fish/squid lmao

best quality: ugh, i really can’t remember much from his chapters :(( he’s not a coward, i guess? (lame answer, sorry!)

worst quality: definitely his religious fanaticism.

ship them with: no one.

brotp them with: uh… his family, ig? except euron.

needs to stay away from: obv euron. brr ://

misc. thoughts: i genuinely like the greyjoys chapters, though i vastly prefer the martells (with the exception of theon and asha, bcs i love them). yes, they’re deranged. yes, victarion is… well, victarion lol. but the drowned god religion is actually interesting, grrm knows how to write trauma - every time aeron mentions euron and that freaking door i’m like… :// - and the tragedy of it all… just great writing all around.

okay, that’s the end lmao. thank you so much, love!!! ❤❤

[ettawritesnstudies]

Religion is a joke, because god isn’t real lol

Hi anon, I assume this is in response to the post about the Catholic feast days coming up that I reblogged and offered to answer questions, so I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you're sending this because you don't understand why we believe in a God. I mean this with complete sincerity, I'd love to hear your reasoning and your evidence for why you think God isn't real. In what I'm about to say, I'm not trying to convert you or anything, and I respect that you can disagree with me and that's fine, I'm just trying to offer another perspective and some explanation. I believe that a God exists because science can't prove it doesn't.

Physics has found that the universe operates on 4 fundamental constants which have very specific laws governing them that physicists are still working on figuring out because the deeper into quantum theory you go the weirder it gets. Bottom line - If any one of these four forces were configured even slightly differently at the moment of the big bang (the theory for that was developed by a priest named Fr. Georges Lemaître btw) our universe wouldn't exist. The chances of life developing are even smaller. IIRC, the specific number is 1 in 10^10^123. So really, the only two explanations we have for beating this almost impossible odds are the multiverse theory, which doesn't have that much hard evidence either, or an uncreated intelligent creator who set it up aka God.

Ok, so say you want to go with the multiverse theory and say this is all a very very lucky cosmic accident. We still can't explain consciousness. Neuroscience can do as much research as they can about how our brains break down environmental stimulus and how hormones work to make feelings and what brain functions light up under an MRI when you do math, but they can't explain or quantify experiences. Science hasn't been able to explain how we can think about our own existence, or how we've developed sophisticated concepts like justice, or how conscious other animals are. We haven't Dr. Frankenstein-ed the secret of life.

Maybe we will someday. "science" as a field of serious study is still rather young in the overall existence of our species, and we're just starting to poke at all of this, but the more I've read up on this from various religious and atheistic and agnostic perspectives the more I've personally come to the conclusion that it's most likely something we will never figure out, at least not in my lifetime, and it would be pretty arrogant and foolish to assume that objectively, we've ruled out every possibility in the entire universe, and know, for a fact, that there is no God.

Which brings us to the topic of religion - a concept which every civilization since the first ones we can find have used. IIRC, Atheism is a really recent belief system - growing out of “deism” in the enlightenment which is the belief that God exists and made the universe and then just set it to run like a wind up clock without interfering in it, and then taken to its modern form with the likes of nihilism, Nietzsche’s “God is dead and we killed him” shtick, and recent astrophysicists like Steven Hawkins and co. who popularized the “science can explain everything and religion is a joke” line. Sure, atheism existed before these developments, but it wasn’t as widespread, and I find it hard to discount the past 42,000 to 11,000 years of human worship as a joke. (dates depending on where anthropologists pin the development of religion with the records that we have.)

I’m not going to get into differences in religion and spirituality here because I’ve rambled too much as it is answering a troll anon, but if you’d like to discuss further, the askbox is open. From the sound of your ask, it seems like you’re just trying to get a rise out of me and aren’t all that interested in discussion, but I’m going to publish this anyhow for the benefit of anyone else who might read it, and find it somewhat insightful or interesting. 

[parkeraul]

So the other day I was watching some of Shawn's old covers and in a few of them he's in his old bedroom in which, as you can clearly see, there's a mirror right in front of his bed. Just imagine him touching you on that bed and letting you watch your reflection on the mirror while he fingers you with his tattooed hand, the other hand on your mouth just to keep you quiet so you won't wake his parents and his sister

under control — s.m.

author’s note — hey everyone. so, my blog is going through some changes: from now on, i’m gonna write for shawn & for tom holland too. if you wanna request for tom, my askbox is open and some series are going to come up soon. i used to be @shawmndes​ but now i’m sticking to the username parkeraul. my writings for shawn r still going to be posted, nothing’s gonna change about that. anyways, i hope you like it.

warnings — smut (dom!shawn), cursing & kinky stuff.

words — 2,962.

“Guess I got a little sunburned,” She stops in front of the mirror, analysing her shoulders and spinning in place to switch angles. “By the way, why haveyou moved your keyboards?” 

Shawn stares sitting in bed behind her, taken by the way the towel wrapped around her body threatens to fall. His legs are slightly parted and all he’s wearing is his Nike shorts, hair damp and bare chest flushy from the warm shower. He drags his frame to the edge of the bed, so this way his knees are nearlytouching the back of her thighs and looks closely at her skin. 

“It was taking a lot of space in here, took it to the basement,” Shawn answers nonchalantly, remembering how it used to be in front of his mirror and taking her arm in his hand as he rubs it with his thumb. “Does it hurt?” 

Y/N notices how he switches look from the back of her arm to her covered body, the fabric of her towel sliding down and exposing her back to him. So, she starts inching her bum up as her spine and hips make those curves Shawn misses so much getting lost onto. He presses his lips together, moving his hand down and bringing his other hand to cup her waist to pull hercloser. Y/N smiles to herself, seeing in front of her the reflection of his face being covered by her silhouette — Shawn, behind her, couldn’t feel moretortured by having her gorgeous body almost glued on him. He knows she’s being a tease on purpose, but little does she know he’s got plans for tonight, so he gives the first hint by kissing the area his thumb was caressing before.

“You’ve never answered my question,” Shawn points out, looking up at her with hungry eyes that she can catch sight by the mirror. Y/N knows this look. She knows she’s starting to get cornered and it spurs atiny bit of ache in between her legs. Just to make sure, she only nods indenial and Shawn smirks at this, understanding that she’s giving into his game. “See, it’s fun to me how you walked around in that tight swimsuit yoursall day,” His hands wander lower, holding the sides of her thighs. “Knowing how bad it messes with me,” Falling an octave, his voicebecomes raspy and Y/N breathes deeply. “And you still try to trap meby playing the fool, eh?” 

Y/N feels her heart racing, recognising that she had started the cheap talk of sunburn just to get his attention on her. It’s been almost two months since he left for tour, which means two months of only having her in his unholy thoughts. The knot in front of her chest gets undone and, before she can hold it together, Shawn grabs her arms and gently sets them behind her back. The towel simply falls, pooling around her feet as it gives him her entire body for him to finally remember her about her manners.

“You had to be a brat, didn’t you?” Shawn whispers and the silence in his bedroom is so heavy she thinks he can hear her gulping. Holding her wrists, Shawn makes his way back to where he was standing before and helps her sit down on the mattress with him, pulling her body closer and closer until his back is against the wall and hers against his front. “Just a couple of months away from me, you already forget how to behave?” 

She only tilts her head against his shoulder and searches for his eyes, staring at him with her most angelic face. 

“I asked you a question,” With his free hand, he holds her jawline towards his face. Their noses are weakly brushing together as his hazel eyes glance deep into hers. “And, this time, I’d like an answer.” 

Y/N sighs, taking a moment to notice how red and tempting his lips look and then how dark his eyes are. Holding her breath a little and faking her most innocent look, she parts her mouth and let her words slip out in a sob, “No, daddy. Sorry.”

At this, Shawn smiles proudly and releases her wrists to hold her middle. He presses her body against his, with her arms trapped in between their frames, and firms his graze on her face. 

“Sorry’s not enough, is it?” He mumbles with lips faintly scratching hers, never giving her a chance to move away. Y/N tries to steal a peck, but Shawn moves his hand ever–so–lightly to place his calloused finger on top of her mouth. The hand that was previously locking her arms together, now around her waist, toys with the valley of her breasts in a touch that tickles her senses. “Spread your legs open for me.”

Shawn doesn’t care to look at her shaky thighs parting unhurriedly, his eyes are still focused on hers and she reciprocates. He notices a smirk slowly drawing the corner of her mouth, which makes his bottom lip get stuck in between his teeth. God, she knows exactly how to push him over the edge and he’s not sure how much of it he wants to shut down, but he knows he better step up soon. 

“‘M gonna give you the rules,” Shawn murmurs, moving his hand to circle the skin around her nipple and Y/N’s back arches a little. “What happens if you disobey me?” 

“I,” Y/N lets out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as the tips of his fingers come to graze her nipple in a flimsy touch. “I don’t get to cum.” 

“Good girl,” He praises. “First thing for tonight is to keep quiet, ‘cause we don’t want anyone to find out who’s touching this pussy so good, hm?” His touch gets assertive, cupping her left breast as she tries hard to keep her breathing pattern.

This time, Shawn is the one smirking as her teasing expression flies away when his fingers pinch her bud. 

“Second,” Shawn licks his lips, watching her face softening and sweet sighs escaping her lips. “Open those pretty eyes for me,” As soon as he demands, Y/N opens her eyes and waits for another instruction. Shawn moves her face delicately to the front, where her sight meets the mirror. “Today you’ll watch your pretty little cunt wet under my control, no eyes closing, no looking away,” He says close to her ear.

The hand on her chin drags its way down her neck, where his lips attack as soon as his palm goes to her shoulder, right breast — where he gives a squeeze that gets her legs clenching — waist, hipbone and the inner part of her thigh. 

“Lastly, these stay open too,” With a forceful pressure, he separates her right leg from the left one. From the mirror, Shawn can see the glisten of her wanting heat and Y/N gasps whenever his fingers slide up and down repeatedly, yet leisurely. She can feel her clit throbbing and entrance begging to be grazed, her hips bucking up timidly as she hopes to find his hand with this. “The more you move, the less you get. Weren’t you my good babygirl?” He mouths against her neck, still teasing her nipples and everytime his hand goes down, he purposely touches closer to where she wants, but never there. Y/N is holding back her own respiration, fearing it would come out way too heavily. So she only shakes her head. “Then what do good girls do to get what they want?” 

“Stick to daddy’s rules,” She whispers desperately, catching Shawn’s face by the mirror with puppy eyes supplicating for a touch. 

Shawn smiles proudly, holding her boob and pressing her body to his as he’s back peppering kisses along her neck, eventually sucking the most sensitive spots. When he feels she’s getting used to his caresses, relaxing against him, he removes his hand from her leg to map the outline of her lips with his forefinger. Y/N doesn’t hesitate, parting her mouth and poking her tongue out. This makes Shawn twitch in his shorts, length pulsating every now and then against her back and hands close to his bulge. Gracefully, Shawn inserts his finger inside her lips and Y/N welcomes it with a lick first, wetting it with her circling tongue. Soon after, she keeps his finger in her mouth and sucks just as she would do with his aching member stuck on his cloth. Ever so often, Shawn thrusts his finger to meet her head bobbing back and forth, admiring the good job of his girlfriend doing whatever she can to earn his touch. When he takes his finger out, she releases with a pop and he travels his hand to her breast again, circulating her nipple with his finger and leaving behind a cold and wet stripe until it reaches her pussy. He uses to fingers to spread her folds and Y/N whimpers, moving her hips up once again. 

“Shhhh,” Shawn promptly quiets Y/N, his breath fanning the damp spots he had sucked before on her neck. His fingers massage her swollen clit, spurring the coil on her lower stomach and sparkling electric waves through her nerves. She can’t help but search for his cock, trying to palm it with her hands still stuck behind her back. A sob erupts from her lips when he traps her clit in between the length of his fingers, the pressure going up and down as he holds it carefully, moving his hand skillfully. “Daddy missed this sweet cunt so much,” He mumbles lowly, seeing her skin getting goosebumps. 

Shawn often switches from rubbing her clit to teasing her soaked entrance, threatening to insert his fingers but then moving back to her little nub. Y/N bites her lip strongly, finding hard not to moan or close her eyes. He, on the other hand, has no intentions to help her with it — the more she squirms against him, the more his touch gets intense, her pussy going wetter and wetter as his fingers glide along the extension of her heat. Almost unconsciously, Y/N tilts her head up to lie above his shoulder and her eyes fall shut, a little hum echoing just loud enough for him to hear it. Huffing, he taps her pussy to get her attention — just softly, qucikly coming back to rub her clit faster. His hand leaves her breast and hold her neck, choking her lightly. 

“I said to look at the mirror, honey,” Shawn speaks through gritted teeth. His fingers suddenly thrust inside her pussy and Y/N cries, body giving up. “And shut up.” 

Some footsteps can be heard along the corridor, and Shawn tests Y/N by grazing her g–spot precisely, with fingers gradually pressing onto it with a cocky force. Her jaw falls open, staring at him through the mirror where she can see his devilish smirk growing along with her desire to cum. Y/N manages to take her hands from behind her back to go up and find his neck, scratching her nails on the nape of it and tugging his curls. Shawn quickens his pace only to slow it down again whenever her pussy starts squelching from the wetness, avoiding to relief the knot on her stomach ready to snap at anytime. Tired of being tortured, Y/N inches her head close to him again and turns her face to whisper on his ear. 

“Please, daddy,” She takes a handful of his locks, using that irresistible tone Shawn’s a fool for. “Wanna cum on your cock so bad,” 

This time, he’s the one to drop his head back and smile to the ceiling. He drives his fingers into her in intervals, every push ends up with his palm colliding with her pulsating clit and fingers sliding into her tight core. Shawn moves his head back and sees that his hand is all soaked, her frame long given up against him barely sane to respond for itself. The footsteps trail the way back to a room and Shawn tucks his fingers deep inside of her, hand pumping in place to please get spot and clit at the same time and Y/N’s head starts to spin. It’s all too much, the sensation of the double stimulation making her mind go insane, hands grabbing everywhere. When Shawn sees that her legs are starting to tremble and her feels her throat under his palm ready to let a moan escape, he takes his hand away and leaves her hips jerking in the air. 

“Up on your feet, hands on the mirror,” He demands. 

As Y/N recovers her senses with difficulty, getting up and bending, Shawn gets up too and undoes the front strap of his shorts, unzipping it as well. His member stands proud, bouncing up when the cloth falls down and Y/N can feel her mouth watering, pussy clenching around nothing and thirsty for him. There’s pre–cum on the rosy tip, veins coming closer to the surface and he starts to pump his length while he kicks the shorts aside, walking to her. 

“I’m glad you’ve remembered most of your manners,” Shawn lines himself up, grabbing her ass vigorously. “But I thought I told you not to move,” Y/N looks at him from the mirror, then turning her head to stare at him standing behind her. He spreads her pussy lips apart, setting himself on her entrance and inserting just the beginning of the tip, trying not to slide all the way in so soon. “Since you like doing it so much,” Running his hand through his curls, he doesn’t wait to hold her waist with one palm and keep the other on her ass, watching the skin being squeezed hardly by his fingers. “You can start bouncing.”

Y/N grins at him, looking in his eyes from above her shoulder. Shawn maps every single inch and curve of her body, admiring every freckle, every mark lovingly. When she moves against him, they both let a sigh slip out from the tightness of her core embracing his member so damn well. He guides her in until he bottoms out, briefly reaching her sweet spots here and there and she clenches. 

After the first movements, Shawn gives her ass a last grip with both hands before they go behind his back, offering her his hard cock and nothing else, since she shivered way too much previously. But the lack of touch doesn’t change her desire to give them both the best orgasms of their lives, turning her face back to the mirror where her hands are pressing onto for dear life. 

Gradually, Shawn takes steps closer, so she’ll only bounce shortly — with less space, his cock stays buried deep inside of her most of the time. He bites on his lip when he looks in the mirror, her face contorting in pleasure as she dares to tease his dick with round movements, practically slow dancing with him deliciously thrusting inside of her. The smoothness of their heats is too much too handle. Shawn’s abs contract everytime Y/N goes all the way back, to a point there’s not a single millimeter of his length left out — and when she moves forward, his dick is soaked with her wetness. In a swift motion, he pulls her by the hair very delicately and glues her body on his again. She shudders, feeling now his delightful cock stuffing her so wonderfully as the tip rubs a new spot she didn’t know she had, jaw falling along with his when he also feels his sensitive head leaking more pre–cum inside her walls. 

“Look at you, baby,” He says, tattooed arms embracing her waist as he meets her hips with delicious pounds. “See how pretty you look taking my cock so good, eh? My pretty babygirl, doing daddy so well,” Y/N accidentally lets a groan leave her lips, making Shawn shut her up with his own mouth this time. Her eyes are watering from how good he’s caressing her spot, core so constricted around his thick member filling her up. 

“Be quiet, pretty girl,” He says close to her ear, raspy tone hitting her dirty intentions right in point. “As much as I’d love everyone to hear who’s making you feel this good, you’ll have to keep it for when we’re home.” 

Shawn drives his hips against Y/N twice very forcefully, getting her weak in the knees as he picks up the fastest pace he can without slamming his skin with hers, avoiding to wake someone up right now that the coil in his stomach is ready to explode just as hers. The way he glides in and out along with his two fingers coming to rub her clit drives her to a whole another world, making her vision go blurry. She sighs against his palm repetitively, her walls pulsating harder and heavier with him tucked inside of her until it becomes impossible to hold back their highs. Her orgasm washes over her body suddenly, her limbs trembling and moans silenced by his hand as Shawn empties himself inside her dripping heat.

When Y/N’s body softens, Shawn holds her tight and kisses her temple and cheek, praising lowly how good she’s been.

“I’m glad the mirror didn’t get broken,” He chuckles and she follows, arms on top of his as her eyes close. 

“Me too,” She confesses. “Didn’t know you were into this kind of stuff.” 

“Neither did I,” Shawn responds. “Was I too rough? You good?” 

“No, I’m alright. More than alright, actually,” Y/N answers and Shawn removes himself slowly, still holding her. “I think we need another shower.” 

Shawn watches Y/N pick her towel from the floor and offer him her hand, inviting him with a tired smile.

“Can we take your swimsuit too?”