#This is something that is insanely important to me

[debussy42]

"straight or curly?"

Guys, I'm not gonna lie. This whole nonsense started with me just debating whether or not I should straighten or curl my hair today. Wow, I miss my man Levi. Maybe it's with Valentine's day coming up, but I needed some emotionally charged, dancing, jealousy, barely restrained Levi in my life. Hope y'all enjoy ◡̈

wc: 8k WHEWWWWWWW

"Sasha. Mikasa. Should I straighten my hair today, or curl it? It's the weekend, and I want to try something new."

Mikasa, already dressed and pulling on her boots, barely glances up before saying, “Straight.”

Sasha, who’s still lounging on her bed with no urgency whatsoever, tilts her head in thought. “Curl it. It looks cuter that way.”

You hum, turning back to the mirror, lightly running your fingers through your hair. “Hmm. Mikasa, why straight?”

She shrugs. “It’s easier.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s the weekend. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, do something fun with it?”

You smirk at their contrast and tap your fingers against the wooden vanity. “Jean’s going to say straight. Connie’s going to say whatever makes me look stupid.”

Mikasa ties her scarf, uninterested. “Jean will say whatever makes you look ‘mature.’”

Sasha snorts. “He’s been watching too many noblewomen walk through town.”

You shake your head, grinning at their banter, then turn back to the mirror. “Alright, decision made.”

Mikasa raises a brow. “Which one?”

You give a dramatic pause before flashing them a mischievous grin. “I’ll ask Levi.”

Sasha chokes on air. “Wha—are you insane?”

Mikasa actually looks up at that, blinking. “You’re going to ask the Captain?”

You shrug innocently, gathering your comb. “He’s got an eye for detail. Might as well make use of it.”

Sasha buries her face into her pillow, groaning. “Oh my god, you love testing death, don’t you?”

Mikasa, while less dramatic, still watches you carefully. “You’re comfortable with him, sure. But that’s still Levi. You really think he’s going to care about how you do your hair?”

You smirk. “I don’t know. But I do know that if I look ridiculous, he won’t hesitate to tell me.”

Sasha peeks out from her pillow, stifling laughter. “That’s... actually true.”

Mikasa just shakes her head. “I’m not stopping you. But don’t be surprised if he tells you you’re wasting his time.”

You flash them both a grin before heading for the door. “I’ll be back with verdict.”

—

The morning sun is just beginning to filter through the halls as you make your way toward the common area, boots clicking softly against the wooden floors. Most of the squad is still waking up, scattered across various spaces, engaged in quiet conversations or lazy weekend tasks.

And then, you spot Levi.

He’s near the windows, arms crossed, watching the drizzle outside with his usual unreadable expression. The early light casts a soft glow against his features, the sharp angles of his face somehow looking even sharper in the muted tones of the morning.

You take a breath, then casually stride up next to him, standing just close enough that he acknowledges your presence with a glance but doesn’t immediately turn away.

“Captain,” you say, tilting your head.

Levi’s gaze flickers to you, his brows drawing together slightly. “What?”

You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, smirking. “Should I straighten or curl my hair today?”

There’s a pause. A heavy, weighted pause.

Levi blinks once. Then twice. His expression is as blank as ever, but there’s a split second where you think—just maybe—you’ve stunned him into silence.

“…You woke up just to ask me that?”

You cross your arms, feigning seriousness. “This is an important decision, Captain. I need guidance. You have high standards, so I figured you’d have an opinion.”

Levi exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me.”

You bite back a grin. “That’s not an answer, though.”

He finally looks at you fully, scanning you with the same critical gaze he uses when inspecting gear, paperwork, or a particularly irritating recruit.

“Straight,” he says flatly. “Less maintenance.”

You huff. “That’s what Mikasa said.”

Levi shrugs. “Then she’s right.”

You tap your chin, pretending to contemplate. “Sasha said curls.”

“Tch. Of course she did.”

You fight the urge to laugh. “You really don’t like being pulled into nonsense, do you?”

Levi scoffs lightly, already turning back to the window. “And yet, somehow, you keep pulling me in.”

You grin. “It’s a talent.”

Levi exhales again, shaking his head. “Straighten it. But if you’re going to keep bothering me about it, just shave it all off and save everyone the trouble.”

You do laugh at that, shaking your head as you step back. “Alright, alright. Decision made. Thanks, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t reply, but as you turn to leave, you swear you catch something—the barest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

And somehow, that feels like more of a victory than anything else.

You straighten your posture before giving a firm nod, shifting away from the relaxed banter you nearly let slip. “Thank you, Captain.” Your voice is lighter now, but the respect is there—solid, unwavering, the way it should be when addressing him.

Levi doesn’t reply, but the flicker of acknowledgment in his expression tells you that he noticed the shift. He doesn’t need praise, doesn’t care for pleasantries, but he does expect discipline.

And you do respect him—his authority, his position, the sheer presence he carries that makes the rest of the squad tread carefully around him. That weight isn’t something you take lightly.

With your decision made, you turn on your heel and make your way back toward the barracks, catching the eyes of a few cadets as you pass. Some of them look at you like you’ve just done something insane, while others avoid making eye contact entirely, as if speaking to Levi so casually might have put you on a death sentence.

When you step back into the barracks, Sasha and Mikasa are still exactly where you left them, Sasha now halfway through a snack she definitely didn’t have before.

Mikasa eyes you first. “Straight?”

You smirk. “Straight.”

Sasha lets out a dramatic sigh. “Of course he’d say that.”

You shrug as you make your way to the small mirror on the vanity, pulling out your comb. “Well, you did say he has high standards. Might as well follow through.”

Mikasa finishes tying the last knot on her gear before grabbing her scarf. “I don’t understand why you’d ask him in the first place.”

You glance at her through the mirror, lips twitching. “Because he’d tell me the truth, not just what I want to hear.”

Sasha hums thoughtfully. “That is true… Still, brave of you to just walk up to him like that.”

You roll your eyes, running the comb through your hair. “He’s my Captain, not some untouchable ghost. You all act like he’s going to snap my neck for asking a question.”

Sasha gives you an incredulous look. “He would if you tested him enough.”

Mikasa, though less dramatic, simply says, “You’re more comfortable with him than the rest of us are.”

You pause at that, the weight of her words settling over you.

It’s true.

The others hold Levi at a distance—not just because of his rank, but because of who he is. Humanity’s Strongest. A leader, an authority, a presence that demands respect with the sheer force of his being. You’ve seen how they sit up straighter, how they quiet down when he enters a room, how the air around him shifts the atmosphere entirely.

And yet, with you, the distance is different. You still respect him, still heed his orders, but you don’t shrink away under his stare. You step forward, meet his gaze, hold your ground—not recklessly, not without care, but with something else. Something more solid.

You shake off the thought, focusing back on your reflection as you finish smoothing down the last strand of hair.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “it’s not my fault you all look like you’ve seen a ghost whenever he’s in the room.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue, simply picking up her gear and heading toward the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

Sasha gives you one last lingering look, then grins. “If you ever do cross a line, just give me your rations before you get executed.”

You snort. “Noted.”

As Sasha follows after Mikasa, you take one last glance at yourself before heading toward the door as well, rolling your shoulders back as you mentally prepare for the day ahead.

Even if you are more comfortable with the Captain, that doesn’t mean you’ll ever forget who he is.

Levi Ackerman.

Your Captain. Your superior.

The strongest soldier alive.

And somehow, someone you can’t seem to stop seeking out.

—

The morning air is crisp as you step outside, the lingering chill of the earlier rain still clinging to the air. The ground is damp beneath your boots, the scent of wet earth and wood mixing with the sharp freshness of the wind rolling over the fields beyond the walls. The sun is beginning to break through the thinning clouds, casting golden streaks across the headquarters, its light catching on the dew that clings to the edges of the grass.

You inhale deeply, letting the coolness of it wake you up fully. The barracks are already alive with movement—cadets milling about, some heading toward training fields, others finishing up morning duties. The sound of voices, of boots against gravel, of birds stirring in the trees beyond, all mix together into the low, steady hum of a world still in motion.

Sasha and Mikasa are waiting for you a few feet away, Mikasa adjusting the straps of her gear with practiced efficiency, Sasha idly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s trying to generate enough energy to get through the day. She notices you first, squinting at you with exaggerated focus before nodding in approval.

“Alright, I’ll admit it. The Captain was right. The straight hair suits you.”

You snort, walking up to them. “You sound so betrayed.”

“I am betrayed,” she huffs dramatically. “But only because I wanted to be right.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “It was a practical answer. Levi only ever gives practical answers.”

You hum, knowing that’s true, but there’s something about the way he’d looked at you when he said it—how he’d assessed you with that sharp gaze of his, how he’d told you without hesitation, straighten it—that lingers in your thoughts more than it should.

But before you can dwell on it too much, the sound of boots approaching pulls your attention.

Erwin and Levi are walking through the yard, their presence commanding without effort. There’s something about the way the air shifts when they’re together—Erwin with his calm, calculated confidence, and Levi, sharp-edged and observant, moving with quiet precision.

Cadets straighten as they pass, conversations dulling slightly out of instinct, as if the weight of leadership alone is enough to pull people to attention. Even Jean, who normally has some sort of wisecrack ready, keeps his mouth firmly shut as they approach.

You, on the other hand, watch them with interest. Erwin is speaking in low tones, his expression unreadable, while Levi listens, his eyes narrowed slightly, his arms crossed as he walks in measured steps beside him.

But then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Levi’s gaze flickers—to you.

It’s brief, but it lingers just long enough to be intentional. A silent acknowledgment. A glance that feels heavier than just casual observation.

Your heart stirs in a way you don’t fully understand.

You don’t break eye contact right away. You hold it, just for a second longer than necessary, before nodding in quiet greeting, maintaining the formality expected of you.

Levi doesn’t nod back, but there’s a shift in his expression, something so subtle that only someone looking for it would notice. And then he looks away, back to Erwin, as if nothing had happened at all.

The moment passes, but it leaves something behind.

Mikasa notices. She doesn’t say anything, but she notices. The slight tilt of her head, the way her gaze flickers between you and Levi before she simply adjusts her gear again, tells you that much.

Sasha, however, being Sasha, definitely notices.

She leans in slightly, voice hushed but teasing. “That was a look.”

You keep your expression carefully neutral. “That was nothing.”

Sasha smirks. “Sure it was.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth spreading beneath your ribs is undeniable.

—

The morning drifts into training, the sky fully clearing as the sun rises higher, warming the damp earth below. The air is filled with the rhythmic whoosh of ODM gear, the sharp snap of cables latching onto wooden poles, the occasional grunt of effort as cadets push themselves through the drills.

You move through the routine with practiced ease, the familiar weight of your gear settling into your movements, your muscles burning in that satisfying way that comes with hard work. The wind rushes past your ears as you propel yourself forward, the world blurring for a moment before you land solidly on the next platform, inhaling sharply before launching off again.

Training days like this—ones where you can feel your strength, your skill, the sheer power of your body moving through the air—are the ones that remind you why you fight. Why you push.

You fall into rhythm with the others, weaving between them, keeping pace as you scan for your next maneuver. Jean and Eren are bickering between swings, Sasha is somehow eating mid-air, and Mikasa—unsurprisingly—is moving effortlessly, her form almost unnatural in its efficiency.

And then there’s Levi.

His presence alone changes the air.

He’s not just watching—he’s analyzing, assessing the squad with sharp, unwavering focus. His movements are controlled, effortless, the way he balances his weight even as he stands observing more a testament to his skill than anything else.

Every once in a while, he calls out adjustments. A sharp, no-nonsense command. A correction before anyone even has a chance to mess up.

And when his voice cuts through the field—low, firm, carrying more authority in a single word than most could in an entire speech—people listen.

You land solidly on a nearby platform, catching your breath for just a second before you hear it.

“Your form’s getting sloppy.”

You turn sharply.

Levi is watching you, arms crossed, gaze heavy.

You blink, surprised at first, before narrowing your eyes slightly. “It’s not sloppy.”

Levi raises a brow. “You hesitated before your last swing.”

You huff, rolling your shoulders back, feeling the weight of your gear settle evenly again. “Only because Jean was in my way.”

Jean, from several feet away, throws up his hands. “Why is my name always being thrown around?”

Levi doesn’t even acknowledge him. His attention stays on you.

“You’re letting yourself get distracted,” he says evenly, gaze unwavering. “Fix it.”

Your jaw tightens slightly.

You could argue, you want to argue, but you know better. Levi doesn’t say things for the sake of it. If he’s calling you out, it’s because he knows you can do better.

And that bothers you more than anything.

You nod once, sharp. “Understood, Captain.”

Levi watches you for a second longer before giving the smallest nod of approval. And then, just like that, his attention shifts—back to the squad, back to the broader picture, back to everything else that needs his attention.

You take a slow breath before launching yourself forward again, this time sharper, faster.

And though he doesn’t look at you again, you know he’s still watching.

And that’s enough to push you harder.

—

It was the end of the short lesson as you were released for the weekend.

“Guys,” You fall back into step with the girls, absentmindedly stroking a piece of your hair, “what if he only chose straight hair because it’s more convenient, not because it necessarily looked better on me? How can I know?”

Sasha groans dramatically, throwing her arms in the air. “Oh my god, you’re still thinking about this?”

Mikasa, walking beside you with her gear slung over her shoulder, gives you a sidelong glance. “Levi doesn’t say things just to say them. If he said straight, he meant it.”

You let out a thoughtful hum, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. “But what if he only said it because it’s easier, not because it actually looked better?”

Sasha snorts. “Then I guess you’ll just have to change it up and see if he reacts.”

You blink at her. “What, like curl my hair next time and test his response?”

Mikasa shakes her head as if she can already see where this is going. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sasha grins mischievously. “I do.”

You narrow your eyes in thought, considering.

Mikasa sighs. “He’s our Captain, not some noble at a ballroom.”

“Exactly,” you quip, smirking. “Which means if he does notice, it’ll mean something.”

Mikasa doesn’t respond, just presses her lips into a thin line as if choosing to disengage entirely.

Sasha, however, nudges you with her elbow. “Alright, next mission: Operation Look Pretty and See if Captain Notices.”

You huff a laugh. “That is not what we’re calling it.”

Sasha grins. “Too late. It’s already official.”

Mikasa sighs again, rubbing her temple. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

You smirk but don’t push further, letting the subject drop—for now. But deep down, curiosity lingers.

Because, honestly?

You kind of do want to see if he notices.

—

“I mean, we are going out tonight to celebrate Jean’s birthday. I can accidentally slip by him with my curled hair to see his reaction…” You muse thoughtfully as you get change out of uniform and into more casual clothing, appreciating the cool breeze that hits your legs as you twirl in a skirt.

Mikasa groans, rubbing her temple like she’s already regretting being part of this conversation. “That’s ridiculous.”

Sasha, on the other hand, lights up. “No, that’s genius.”

You grin, brushing through your hair as you sit on the edge of your bed. “Is it though?”

“Yes,” Sasha says immediately. “Because listen, if Levi doesn’t care, he won’t react. But if he notices—even a little—that means he actually has an opinion on how you look.” She gestures dramatically. “And that would mean something.”

Mikasa exhales through her nose. “Or it just means he’s observant and has an opinion on everything.”

You hum thoughtfully, tying your hair into a loose ponytail for now. “That’s why it’s a test, Mikasa. For science.”

Mikasa stares at you blankly. “That is not how science works.”

Sasha claps her hands together. “Alright, so plan’s simple—tonight, you curl your hair, we go out for Jean’s birthday, and at some point, you just... happen to slip by the Captain.”

You nod, amused at how invested Sasha has become. “Exactly. Totally casual. No effort at all.”

Mikasa shakes her head, standing up and adjusting the straps on her uniform. “I’m not encouraging this. If you want to waste your time overanalyzing Levi’s non-reaction, that’s on you.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “It’s called gathering data, Mikasa.”

You laugh, standing as well. “Exactly. And besides, it’s just for fun.”

Mikasa gives you a look that says you are all insufferable, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she merely slings her gear over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both outside.”

As she leaves, Sasha leans in conspiratorially. “She’s totally curious too, she just won’t admit it.”

You smirk. “Oh, definitely.”

Sasha grins. “Alright, then. Let’s make Jean’s birthday party very interesting.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of training, chores, and preparation for the evening. By the time the sun dips low over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft orange and violet, the atmosphere around headquarters shifts into something lighter, more relaxed. It’s rare to have a night like this—where everyone can unwind, even just for a few hours, without the weight of duty pressing down on them.

You stand in front of the small mirror in the barracks, fingers deftly working through your hair as you curl it, piece by piece. The heat from the iron brushes against your fingertips, and you carefully shape each strand, letting the soft waves fall naturally over your shoulders.

Mikasa, seated on her bunk, pretends not to watch but definitely watches. She says nothing, but the occasional glance in the mirror’s reflection gives her away.

Sasha, on the other hand, is fully invested, sitting cross-legged on her bed and leaning forward. “Oh, yeah. This was definitely the right call.”

You smirk. “Told you.”

She grins. “You’re about to ruin a man’s whole perception of himself.”

You snort, shaking your head as you adjust the last curl. “You’re making it sound like a battle strategy.”

Sasha shrugs. “If you win, I say it counts.”

Mikasa finally sighs. “It’s ridiculous to think Levi would even care about something like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at her through the mirror. “Then there’s no harm in testing it, right?”

She presses her lips into a thin line, but doesn’t argue.

Satisfied, you stand up, smoothing your hands over your outfit—something casual but presentable, enough to blend in while still feeling put-together. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, but you shake it off, reminding yourself that this is not some grand event.

It’s just Jean’s birthday.

And Levi noticing or not noticing your hair is just... extra data.

—

The town is alive with warmth and movement, the faint glow of lanterns casting golden light against cobblestone streets. It’s a stark contrast to headquarters—where the air is always tense, where everything is lined with purpose and duty. Here, laughter spills from tavern doors, the clinking of glasses and distant music drifting through the air.

The squad gathers outside one of the better-kept taverns, waiting for stragglers before heading in. Jean stands at the center of it all, basking in the attention of his birthday, grinning as Connie pretends to give a heartfelt speech about his immense wisdom and contributions to humanity.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you adjust your jacket. “You’re laying it on thick, Connie.”

Connie throws up his hands. “It’s his birthday, let me lie to the guy.”

Jean scoffs, shoving him lightly. “At least someone is recognizing my greatness.”

Mikasa stands beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. Sasha is already trying to drag Reiner and Bertholdt into a bet over who can drink the most before passing out. The atmosphere is light, easy—exactly the kind of night you all need.

And then, just as you’re about to head inside, you feel it.

A shift.

The kind of awareness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough—Levi is approaching from the other end of the street. He’s walking with Erwin and Hange, both of whom are engaged in quiet conversation. But Levi—Levi is quiet as always, sharp eyes scanning the gathered squad as he moves.

Your heart does a stupid little lurch in your chest.

It’s not a big deal. You know that. But suddenly, every single curl feels too obvious, every strand of hair placed too deliberately.

Sasha subtly elbows you, voice low. “Showtime.”

You swallow, ignoring the ridiculousness of it all as you casually—very casually—turn your head and pretend to adjust your sleeve, making it look like you just so happen to be standing directly in Levi’s line of sight.

He slows slightly as he approaches, his eyes flickering over the group in his usual assessing way. You watch carefully, scanning for any sign of reaction—anything at all—but his face remains unreadable.

And then—his gaze lands on you.

It’s brief. Just a flicker. But something shifts.

His sharp eyes drag over your hair—not just in passing, but with intent. The tiniest hesitation, the kind that would be imperceptible to anyone not looking for it.

You hold your breath.

And then, just as quickly as it happened, it’s gone.

His expression smooths back into neutrality, his attention snapping forward again as he brushes past you with no comment, following Erwin and Hange into the tavern.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of Sasha’s expectant stare burning into the side of your face.

“Well?” she whispers, practically vibrating. “Did he notice?”

You press your lips together, considering.

“…He paused.”

Sasha grabs your arm. “OH, MY GOD.”

Mikasa groans, already walking ahead. “I refuse to be part of this.”

Jean, oblivious to everything, is already inside, basking in the attention of his own celebration.

You, however, linger for just a second longer, glancing at the door Levi disappeared into.

Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe it was everything.

But either way—he paused.

And that was more than enough.

—

The warmth of the tavern hits you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. The scent of old wood, spiced ale, and freshly baked bread lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter and the occasional burst of laughter from a drunken patron. The flickering candlelight casts everything in a dim, golden glow, the kind that makes the edges of reality feel softer, less urgent.

Jean, reveling in the rare occasion of being the center of attention, immediately heads toward an empty table near the back, where the rest of your squad is already gathering. Connie slings an arm around his shoulders, teasing him about how old he’s getting, while Sasha is already scanning the menu, clearly prioritizing food over conversation.

You settle into a seat across from Mikasa, who looks less interested in the celebration and more like she’s simply here to make sure Eren doesn’t do anything stupid. You smirk, leaning on your elbow. “I bet you five rations Eren ends up in a bar fight before the night is over.”

Mikasa doesn’t even blink. “I’m not betting against something that’s guaranteed to happen.”

You laugh, but before you can respond, the door swings open again, and your attention flickers instinctively to the entrance.

Levi steps inside, following Erwin and Hange as they make their way toward a separate table reserved for officers. Unlike the rest of you—who have already started loosening up, the casual energy of the tavern slipping into your movements—Levi remains the same. Composed. Straight-backed. Completely unfazed by the shift in atmosphere.

But you don’t miss the way his sharp gaze subtly sweeps over the room, assessing the layout, cataloging who’s here, where the exits are. It’s instinctual, second nature. Even in a space meant for relaxation, he’s still a soldier first.

He moves toward his seat, and for a second, just a brief second, his gaze flickers in your direction.

You feel the weight of it, even from across the room.

It’s unreadable, just like before. But you know he saw.

Your heart does that stupid little skip again, and you force yourself to look away, suppressing the smug smile threatening to form on your lips.

Sasha, however, does not suppress hers. She leans in close, voice hushed but practically vibrating with excitement. “He paused again.”

You shake your head. “It could have been anything.”

“It wasn’t anything.”

Mikasa sighs, already regretting sitting next to you two. “If you two spent half this energy on training, you’d both be Captain-level by now.”

Sasha grins. “Okay, but watching this unfold is so much more entertaining.”

You roll your eyes, picking up a glass of water and taking a slow sip, hoping to calm down the unnecessary giddiness that’s settled in your chest. It’s stupid—you know it’s stupid—but something about Levi’s pause feels like a tiny, unspoken victory.

Still, you shake it off. The night isn’t about that. It’s about Jean, about unwinding, about letting yourself be a person instead of just a soldier for once.

And so, you let the conversation around you pull you in. You tease Jean about his dramatic speeches, you steal a bite of Sasha’s food when she isn’t looking, you let yourself sink into the warmth of camaraderie, the normalcy of it all.

Time moves easily, drinks are passed around, and the sound of laughter grows louder as the night wears on.

Until—

“You’re drinking too fast.”

The voice is low, firm, unmistakable.

Your muscles stiffen slightly before you even see him, but when you glance up, sure enough, Levi is standing beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

Your glass, half-full with whatever cheap ale Sasha had convinced you to try, is still in your hand. You raise an eyebrow, tilting it slightly. “I’ve had one drink, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t budge. “And I’ve seen what happens when you lot get carried away.”

Around you, the others fall quiet, the easygoing atmosphere from moments ago shifting under Levi’s presence. Even Jean—who, on his own birthday, should technically be allowed to act out a little—sits up straighter, eyes flickering toward you with mild concern.

You swallow, knowing that Levi is right, that the last thing you need is to be unfocused, careless.

Still, you offer a small, placating smile. “I hear you, Captain. Don’t worry—I know my limits.”

Levi watches you for a moment longer, gaze lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. But then he exhales sharply through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet acknowledgment, before stepping back. “Tch. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

You nod, and with that, Levi finally retreats, making his way back toward his own table.

The second he’s out of earshot, Sasha lets out a long breath. “Wow. He really keeps an eye on you, huh?”

Jean shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or be impressed you can get away with talking back.”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t talking back. I was just… clarifying.”

Mikasa hums. “He didn’t call anyone else out. Just you.”

That gives you pause.

You glance back toward Levi’s table, where he’s now sitting with Erwin and Hange, sipping from a teacup instead of anything stronger. His posture remains the same—composed, indifferent—but his awareness of the room is ever-present.

And maybe, just maybe, his awareness of you is a little sharper than the rest.

You turn back to your friends, shaking your head. “You’re all reading too much into it.”

Sasha smirks. “Are we?”

You don’t answer.

You just take another sip of water, ignoring the way your heart betrays you with a quiet, persistent rhythm.

—

The world feels a little softer around the edges, the golden glow of lanterns casting everything in a dreamlike haze. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin, not overwhelming, but just enough—enough to dull the weight of the past week, enough to make the music sound richer, enough to let yourself exist in the moment without overthinking it.

The tavern is alive now, laughter spilling over the strum of instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor in time with the lively rhythm. Around you, your friends are caught up in the revelry—Connie and Sasha are engaged in some ridiculous footwork competition, Jean is attempting to twirl Historia around and failing miserably, and even Mikasa, ever composed, allows herself a small smile as she watches the chaos unfold.

And then—your hands are caught in someone else’s.

You blink, surprised, as a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin—takes your hand and pulls you into the movement of the dance floor. His grip is firm, his confidence easy, and before you can even register it, you’re being spun into the rhythm of the music.

You offer a polite smile, adjusting to the steps as he twirls you once, twice. He seems friendly enough, his expression open and relaxed, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, let yourself be just another person in a tavern, caught in the joy of the night.

But then—

His hold tightens.

Subtly, but noticeably.

His hand lingers just a little too long on your waist, his grip just a bit firmer than necessary.

Your instincts, dulled by the pleasant haze in your mind, take a moment to catch up. You keep your smile in place, but a quiet unease settles in your stomach. You try to subtly shift your weight, to create some distance between you, but he moves with you, maintaining the closeness.

A polite exit. You just need a polite exit.

You clear your throat lightly, offering a small laugh. “Alright, I think I need a break—”

The man chuckles, still holding you in place. “Come on, one more dance.”

Something in his tone makes your skin prickle—not outright threatening, but entitled, as if your willingness to dance once meant you owed him more.

Your smile tightens. “I should really—”

And then, before you have the chance to finish your sentence, the air changes.

A presence—sharp, heavy, unmistakable—settles behind you.

The man stiffens slightly, his grip loosening just enough for you to slip a step back, as a new voice cuts through the space between you, low and edged with quiet authority.

“Let her go.”

Your breath catches.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Levi stands there, expression unreadable, eyes dark and steady. His posture is relaxed—but in that way, the way that suggests he is anything but. His arms are crossed, but the tension in his shoulders is subtle, the kind you’d only notice if you knew him.

And you do.

The man—who had been all confidence and charm just moments ago—hesitates, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He sizes Levi up, as if debating whether or not to push his luck.

He makes the wrong choice.

“She was dancing with me,” the man says, lifting his hands slightly in false innocence, though his tone holds a thread of defiance. “Didn’t seem to mind.”

A sharp, quiet pause.

Levi tilts his head ever so slightly, eyes flickering between you and the man with chilling precision. His voice, when he speaks again, is calm.

“I wasn’t asking.”

The weight of those words settles between them, heavy, immovable.

Something flickers in the man’s face—hesitation, irritation, then a quiet understanding that this is not a fight he wants to pick.

With a huff, he raises his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she had a guard dog.”

You feel Levi tense, just for a split second.

Before anything can escalate, you step forward, offering the man a sharp, polite smile. “Thank you for the dance,” you say evenly, voice firm. “But I’m done now.”

The man’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, then finally, he scoffs and turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

The tension lingers, like a blade just barely sheathed.

You exhale slowly, turning fully toward Levi.

His gaze sweeps over you—quick, assessing, making sure you’re unharmed. When he’s satisfied, he clicks his tongue. “You need to be more careful.”

You cross your arms. “I was being careful.”

Levi raises a brow. “Didn’t look like it.”

You huff, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was handling it, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes flicker over your face again, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally—

“I know.”

It’s not an admission of fault, not quite. But it is an acknowledgment.

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet weight behind those words.

Before you can say anything, he exhales sharply and steps back. “Oi. You’re reckless.”

You smirk. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Levi doesn’t dignify that with a response, just shakes his head. But there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something lingering beneath the usual exasperation.

Something like relief.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one who noticed the way he paused tonight.

—

“Well Captain?” You smile, laughing as you sidestep to avoid Sasha twirling with a recently hired chef that you had seen around a lot more recently. “Isn’t the gentleman supposed to offer the lady a dance? Awfully rude to step in without an intention of following through, don’t you think?”

Levi exhales sharply through his nose, unimpressed, arms still crossed as he watches you with that unreadable expression. The tavern is alive around you—figures moving in vibrant swirls of laughter and motion, the wooden floor shaking beneath the weight of stomping boots, the rich hum of music weaving through the air.

But here, in this moment, it’s just you and him.

You smirk, tilting your head. “Come on, Captain. You can’t step in all dramatic like that and not at least pretend to play along.”

Levi doesn’t move, but there’s something assessing in his gaze, something like quiet calculation behind those steel-gray eyes. You wonder if he’s thinking of an escape, a way to dismiss you with one of his usual deadpan remarks.

But then—

A hand.

Not grabbing, not demanding—just a simple extension. A silent answer.

Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s brief, just a flicker of hesitation before his fingers brush yours, just enough to take your hand without giving anything away. His grip is firm, but there’s a carefulness to it, as if he’s aware of the weight behind the action, of the unspoken shift in the space between you.

And then—he moves.

Not in the showy, exaggerated way the others are throwing themselves into the music, but in a way that’s purely Levi—sharp, controlled, precise. His grip on your hand remains steady as he guides you through the steps, his other hand finding the small of your back, light but firm.

For a second, you forget everything else.

The alcohol, the laughter, the blurred movement of the world around you—it all fades into something distant, something inconsequential compared to the quiet gravity of him.

His touch is careful but certain, his movements seamless despite the clear reluctance in his expression. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable—it’s just that Levi Ackerman is not a man who does things without purpose.

And yet, here he is, following through.

You smile, leaning in just slightly, voice barely above the hum of the music. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

Levi scoffs lightly. "You’re lucky I haven’t stepped on your feet.”

You laugh—really laugh, the warmth of it bubbling up in your chest, light and unrestrained. The sound earns you the barest flicker of something in his eyes—not quite amusement, but something close.

The moment stretches, neither of you breaking the rhythm, neither of you pulling away.

And for the first time that night, you’re certain of one thing:

Levi definitely noticed your hair.

The music swells around you, a lively, unrelenting current of sound and motion, but you barely register it. The tavern, the laughter, the blur of bodies dancing past—it all becomes background noise, a distant hum compared to the quiet weight of the moment unfolding between you and Levi.

His hand is steady against yours, his grip firm but never forceful. His other hand, resting lightly at the small of your back, holds no urgency, no demand—just quiet control, a careful presence. He moves with you in that same effortless way he fights—with intention, with precision, with the kind of quiet mastery that makes even the smallest of gestures feel deliberate.

And yet, for all his competence, you can feel the reluctance in him.

Not reluctance toward you, necessarily. But toward the situation. Toward the ease with which he’s letting this happen.

Toward the fact that he is here, dancing with you, indulging this moment when he so rarely indulges anything.

You can see it in the tension just barely visible in his shoulders, in the way his jaw ticks subtly, as if his own body is surprised by the fact that he’s still holding onto you.

You press your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You’re concentrating too much.”

Levi exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “I don’t dance.”

“You’re dancing right now.”

“Tch. You call this dancing?”

You grin, leaning in just enough that your words are meant only for him. “Well, you are holding me awfully close for someone who doesn’t dance, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t react immediately, doesn’t pull away or push you off with a sharp remark like you half-expect him to. Instead, his grip subtly adjusts—not tightening, not loosening, but shifting in a way that tells you he’s aware.

Aware of the closeness. Aware of the way your breath brushes faintly against his collar. Aware of the warmth of your body so near to his own.

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you feel it—that minuscule shift in his fingers against yours, in the way his hand remains steady at your back, holding you just at the edge of something uncertain.

He doesn’t break the eye contact you didn’t even realize you had been holding.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, voice low, almost lost beneath the sound of music and laughter around you.

You smile. “And yet, here you are.”

Levi exhales, his thumb grazing the back of your hand as he adjusts his grip—so small a movement, so imperceptible, that you wonder if he even realizes he did it.

Or if he does, and just isn’t stopping himself.

The room spins slightly—not from the alcohol, not from the movement, but from the sheer weight of the moment, from the impossible tenderness that exists in the spaces between words, in the breaths you don’t take, in the lingering warmth of a touch that neither of you are pulling away from.

And for the first time since you pulled him into this, you realize something.

You’re testing him.

Not just to see if he noticed your hair, not just to push his limits, but to see if he will choose to let this moment exist.

If he will choose to let himself stay.

Your heart pounds as you take a breath. “Levi—”

A crash from the other side of the room interrupts you, followed by loud, drunken shouting.

Levi’s body tenses immediately, his hand at your back twitching as his head whips toward the commotion. The moment between you shatters instantly, replaced by sharp awareness, by the cold snap of duty.

He doesn’t say a word. He just lets go.

The loss of his touch is instant, like stepping into cold air after being wrapped in warmth. The shift is so sharp, so complete, that it almost makes you doubt whether the moment you just shared was real at all.

Levi steps back, his expression neutral again, unreadable as he scans the room, already assessing.

You swallow, forcing yourself to do the same—to shake it off, to pretend like your pulse isn’t still pounding in your ears, like the ghost of his hands on you isn’t still lingering on your skin.

He glances back at you, his gaze flickering over you once, checking—like he’s making sure you’re still steady, still standing, before he turns his attention back to the rest of the room.

“Stay here,” he mutters. And then, just like that, he’s gone, moving toward the source of the disturbance with the same effortless sharpness that makes him humanity’s strongest.

You watch him go, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

The music carries on, the tavern keeps spinning, but you remain rooted in place, heart still racing, the memory of his warmth still imprinted on your skin.

And for the first time tonight, you realize—

You don’t need Levi to say that he noticed you.

Because in the way he held onto you, even for just a moment—he already did.

—

You scan the room to see if any of your friends are in danger. After seeing them slowly making their way back to the corner table, you bunch up your skirt before striding across the room to Erwin. "Commander, what is it? Where's Captain? Squad Leader Hange? What are my orders, sir?"

You stand unflinching before him, but your heart beats thunderously, unsure of where the Captain went and if he'll be okay.

Erwin’s sharp blue eyes flicker down to you as you approach, his expression unreadable but steady, as always. The weight of command rests on his shoulders like a mantle, effortless in the way only a man like him can carry. He does not startle, does not seem surprised that you’ve come to him first, as if he expected you would.

His gaze scans over the tavern, over the shifting figures of soldiers and civilians alike, before settling back on you. “It was just a minor scuffle,” he says, voice calm, deliberate. “A few drunk patrons getting too comfortable around our cadets. Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange are handling it.”

Your fingers tighten slightly against the fabric of your skirt, heart still hammering in your chest. “Should I assist?”

Erwin studies you for a fraction longer than necessary before speaking. “No. The situation is under control.” A pause. “But it’s good that you came to me first.”

Your lips press together, trying to steady yourself. “It’s my duty.”

Erwin gives the smallest nod, an unspoken acknowledgment that you understand what it means to be a soldier, even in moments like this. Even with your pulse still thrumming from something that has nothing to do with a threat.

You inhale sharply, eyes flickering toward the direction Levi disappeared. “Where did Captain Levi go?”

“He’s outside.” Erwin’s voice remains as even as ever, but something in the way he watches you is too perceptive, too knowing. “Ensuring the situation is fully resolved.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your stance firm. “Permission to check on him, sir?”

A pause.

Not hesitation, not refusal—just assessment.

Then, Erwin gives the faintest tilt of his chin. “Go.”

You don’t waste a second.

—

The cold air hits you as soon as you step outside. The tavern’s warmth is instantly swallowed by the crisp night breeze, the scent of rain still lingering from the earlier drizzle. Lanterns flicker dimly against the darkness, casting long, stretching shadows over the cobblestone streets.

And then—you see him.

Levi stands a few paces ahead, his back to you, his posture rigid but controlled. Even from here, you can see the way his fingers flex slightly at his sides, how his head tilts just barely, listening to something unseen.

There’s a man at his feet—conscious but slumped against the wall, groaning, as if the fight had been drained out of him in an instant.

Levi had taken care of it. Of course he had.

But you don’t care about the drunk.

You care about him.

You step forward, boots tapping against stone, and his head immediately shifts at the sound. He doesn’t fully turn—doesn’t have to. He already knows it’s you.

“Captain.” Your voice is steadier than your pulse. “Are you alright?”

For a moment, Levi doesn’t respond. He exhales slowly through his nose, a habit you recognize—one he does when he’s recalibrating, shifting from fight to stillness.

Then, at last, he turns.

The dim lantern light catches against the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the slight furrow between his brows, the tension still visible in the line of his jaw. His uniform is slightly rumpled from movement, but there’s no sign of injury—no blood, no bruising, just Levi, standing in the quiet aftermath of something already finished.

He studies you for a moment, eyes scanning—searching, checking—as if making sure you’re still in one piece.

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue, looking away. “You should be inside.”

You step closer, searching his face. “So should you.”

Levi exhales, the barest hint of exasperation beneath the breath. “Did Erwin send you?”

You shake your head. “I came on my own.”

At that, something flickers in his expression. Not surprise—more like quiet understanding.

Your fingers twitch slightly at your sides, unsure of what to say, unsure if there’s anything to say that he’ll actually listen to. So instead, you just—watch him.

The lines of his face, the way the dim glow of lanterns traces the edges of his expression, how his eyes—normally so impassive—seem darker under the weight of the night.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then—

“You’re shaking.”

It’s so quiet that you almost miss it.

You blink. “What?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to your hands, and you realize, belatedly, that he’s right—your fingers are trembling, ever so slightly, still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline from the evening.

You open your mouth to dismiss it, to say something lighthearted, to wave it off as nothing, but—

Levi moves first.

His hand—warm, calloused, steady—reaches out. He doesn’t take yours, doesn’t grip your wrist, but he touches. A brush of fingertips against your knuckles, a fleeting connection, just enough to ground you in place.

Your breath catches.

It lasts only a second.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls away, as if realizing what he did, as if catching himself before he lingers too long.

You swallow, staring at him.

“Go inside,” he murmurs, voice quieter than before.

Your heart is still hammering, but it’s not from the cold anymore.

“…You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask, softer this time.

Levi holds your gaze, something unreadable in his own.

Then, with the barest tilt of his chin—

“I’m fine.”

And this time, you believe him.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi, I hope this is an okay question to ask. I am s l o w l y exploring and learning what kinds of kinks I like. I’m drawn to taboo kinks and I’m really curious about ageplay, but I’m worried that if I open the door to letting that be hot, I’m going to start seeing actual kids as hot. Obviously that doesn’t mean I would do anything about it, but I’m still not sure I want that in my head. Is there any truth in this fear? Could that happen?

well much in the same way that the majority of pup players aren't trying to hump real labradors on the street, D&D players generally aren't running around pulling swords on random shopkeepers, and my years doing Warriors Cats rp online never made me want to live in the woods pissing in the dirt and eating mice, I suspect that what you're attracted to is the safety of fantasy and play rather than the actual, literal thing. pretty big line between those two things, actually, and most people are pretty clear on the difference between stuff that's made up and harmless and stuff that's really really bad. I use this example often, but I assure you that my abiding love of Batman using his billions of dollars to dick around doing lawless bullshit has not softened my feelings on Elon Musk in the slightest.

I assume that, like most well-adjusted adults, you aren't attracted to children. what you're into is, presumably, adults acting in ways that are characterized as immature, carefree, cutesy, helpless, bratty, etc, and the dynamic of those playacting adults might have with others who take the role of their caregivers. that is... so, so, so far removed from being attracted to an actual human child. I don't know if you've ever actually, like, hung out with kids, but they're pretty different than adults. I mean obviously they're little humans who have their own opinions and ideas and personalities and have a right to autonomy and making their own decisions as much as is safely possible, but they are REALLY different from age appropriate, sexually compatible adults. someone doing ageplay is, like, a million miles from an actual kid.

it's kind of like how when Riverdale was on I'd see gifs of that insane redheaded lesbian and go "yeah, she's hot." like, sure, the character's a teenager, but that actress is an adult woman who's only two years younger than me and we all know that. the idea of fucking an actual teenager is vile. even if I were to see someone and have an initial aesthetic appreciation, the second they open their mouth and start saying 17 year old things the attraction is gone because I've realized that's a child.

(no offense to the teens in the room! you're great and I'm sure your 17 year old stuff is really important to you! but adults should not want to fuck you, is the point.)

so what I'm saying is: seems unlikely!

also, okay. let's assume the absolute worst case scenario happens and you experience a twinge of sexual interest towards a child. that's understandably alarming; that's not an urge most people want to harbor within themselves. that may require some dialing back from ageplay, or a chat with a kink-friendly mental health professional, or seeking out some community and advice from others in your kink scene who may have struggled with something similar. but please, give yourself some credit: you have some shred of impulse control within your body, yes? you're not going to make the leap from having a thought to being an active child predator in one fell swoop. the choice to harm a child, or to seek out pornographic material of child sexual abuse, are still choices that you would have to actually make. and it's making those choices to do harm that actually make child abusers a danger, not just having thoughts. having a thought all by itself doesn't hurt anyone; it's the way you act on it that has the potential to cause harm.

but again, I want to emphasize, sexual behavior is by and large a pretty easy wire not to get crossed with other things. please note the brave billions of people who manage to get through every day without groping their colleagues and random strangers because they understand it's not the appropriate time, place, or partner!

[xoxorealitygalore]

Plan B 3

Jey Uso x Afro-Brazilian OC

Summary: In her thirties and single after a breakup, Hamisa decides she wants to become a mother, despite her friends' and family's objections. Unable to wait any longer, she chooses to have a baby on her own. However, she unknowingly ends up using her ex-boyfriend sperm after he drunkenly swapped her donor’s sample for his own. As Hamisa raises her child, she starts noticing striking similarities between her ex-boyfriend and her baby, leading to questions about the true origins of her child's conception.

Plan B Masterlist

Taglist: @xbriexx @christinabae @blackchickinthedesert @princess-saki1 @skyesthebomb @raya-hunter01 @theusotwinzcom @yana3sworld

Previous

Hamisa sat on the couch, her hands tightly clutching the sides of her mug of tea, the warm liquid barely registering against the coldness that had settled inside her. Her mind felt like a hurricane, everything swirling, crashing, and threatening to overwhelm her. She had barely spoken to anyone since her confrontation with Joshua. The raw emotions from that conversation still lingered, a constant reminder of the betrayal she had felt, the shock she had experienced, and the anger that kept bubbling to the surface.

But now, she had to talk to someone. She needed to tell Pamela, the one person who had always been her sounding board, her friend, her anchor. Pamela had always been there for her, even when things weren’t easy. Hamisa needed that now more than ever.

It wasn’t just about Joshua’s confession. It was everything from the confusion, the pain, the uncertainty of how to move forward. There was a part of Hamisa that felt violated by Joshua’s actions, and another part of her that was clinging to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to navigate this mess.

When Pamela arrived at her house, Hamisa was already waiting by the door. Pamela, sensing the gravity in the air, didn’t waste any time.

“Hamisa, what’s going on?” Pamela asked, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity. “You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Hamisa didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped aside, motioning for Pamela to enter. Once they were settled, Hamisa’s hands were trembling as she finally spoke.

“Pamela, I don’t even know where to begin,” Hamisa started, her voice strained. “I had to go see Joshua. I wanted him to take the DNA test… and I found out something I never expected.”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Hamisa took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside her. “I found out that Jhream... she’s his daughter. Not the donor’s. He swapped the sample, Pamela. He swapped it, and now I know that the little girl I’ve been raising for the last eight months is biologically his.”

Pamela’s eyes widened in shock. Her mouth parted slightly, but no words came out at first. She had known that things between Hamisa and Joshua had been complicated, but this—this was something entirely different.

“Wait, hold on a second,” Pamela finally said, shaking her head as if she needed to process what Hamisa had just told her. “You’re telling me that Joshua… took the sperm sample and replaced it with his own? That’s... that’s insane.”

“I know,” Hamisa replied, her voice trembling with the emotion she could barely contain. “I feel like I’ve been living a lie. How could he do that to me? How could he mess with something so important?”

Pamela sat back in her chair, her hands folded in her lap as she stared at her friend, deep in thought. For a long moment, she said nothing, her gaze distant, as if she was carefully weighing the situation. Hamisa was too exhausted to fill the silence, her eyes focused on the floor as she fought the urge to cry.

Then, finally, Pamela spoke, her voice thoughtful but surprisingly calm.

“You know, Hamisa, I can’t say that what Joshua did was okay. I can’t excuse what he did to you. But...” Pamela paused, her gaze softening as she looked at her friend. “But maybe it’s not all bad.”

Hamisa’s head snapped up, confusion washing over her. “What do you mean, not all bad? Pamela, he lied to me. He stole something that wasn’t his. How is that not bad?”

Pamela exhaled slowly, leaning forward with a quiet intensity. “Look, I’m not saying what Joshua did was right, but think about it, Hamisa. At least Jhream isn’t some stranger’s child. At least it’s someone you know, someone who loves you, even if it’s messy and complicated right now.”

Hamisa blinked, taken aback by Pamela’s perspective. “So, you’re saying... this is some kind of a blessing in disguise? That I should be grateful my daughter is his?”

Pamela nodded slowly, her expression serious but compassionate. “I’m not saying you should ignore the fact that he violated your trust. That’s unforgivable. But at least your daughter is biologically connected to someone you know, someone who’s already in both of your lives. That’s more than what most people can say about the children they raise with sperm donors. Think about it, Hamisa. If you’d used a stranger’s sperm, you wouldn’t even have this connection. You wouldn’t know who she was biologically. At least with Joshua, there’s a relationship. There’s a history there.”

Hamisa felt a flicker of something inside her. A thought, a question, something she hadn’t considered before. She had been so focused on the betrayal, the shock of finding out that Joshua had played a part in her daughter’s conception, that she hadn’t allowed herself to think about the other side of the equation.

“Are you saying... this is a good thing?” Hamisa asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to believe it. Could this truly be a blessing? Could Joshua’s actions, however wrong they were, have somehow led to a situation that was, in some twisted way, better than what she had feared?

Pamela smiled softly, though her eyes were filled with understanding. “I’m not saying it’s ideal. It’s not perfect, and I’m not saying you should forgive Joshua just because of it. But you don’t have to face the rest of your life wondering who Jhream’s real father is. You already know him. You already know that Joshua loves you and he’s growing attached to Jhream—he might have messed up, but he loves you, and you know who he is. That’s something.”

Hamisa felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over her—relief, confusion, anger, and even a hint of understanding. She had been so consumed with anger at Joshua, so focused on the betrayal, that she hadn’t given herself the space to see the potential good in the situation. It didn’t excuse his actions, it didn’t make it right, but... maybe it wasn’t all as bleak as it seemed.

“I just... I don’t know if I can ever forgive him,” Hamisa admitted, her voice small as she wiped away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “What he did feels like something I can never get past.”

Pamela reached across the table, placing a hand on her friend’s. “You don’t have to forgive him right now, or ever, if you don’t want to. That’s your choice. But don’t let the pain blind you to the good things in your life. You’ve got a beautiful daughter who loves you, and now you know that her father, whether he made a mistake or not, loves you and her too. That’s something worth holding on to, even if everything else feels broken.”

Hamisa’s heart ached as she absorbed Pamela’s words. There was so much hurt and so much confusion, but Pamela was right. There was a part of her that didn’t want to give up on the good things that still existed in her life, even in the face of everything that had happened.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Pam,” Hamisa whispered. “But I think you’re right. Maybe it’s not as bad as I thought.”

Pamela smiled, giving her friend’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ll figure it out, Hamisa. You always do. But remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you. Always.”

Hamisa nodded, grateful for Pamela’s unwavering support. As the two women sat together, Hamisa felt the first inkling of hope flicker in her chest. The road ahead was still uncertain, but maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all downhill.

Maybe there was a way through this, one step at a time, with the love of her daughter, the support of her family and friends, and the possibility of healing, however slow it might be.

Joshua sat at the kitchen table, the phone still pressed to his ear as the words he had just spoken hung in the air. The silence that followed was deafening, each second dragging on longer than the last. It was as though everything in his world had suddenly gone still, frozen by the weight of what he had just confessed.

He had just told his family about what had happened with Hamisa. It felt surreal even as the words left his mouth, and now, as he waited for their response, the gravity of the situation seemed to deepen.

His father, Solofa, was the first to break the silence. “Joshua,” Solofa said slowly, his voice thick with disbelief, “what were you thinking? How could you do something like that?”

Joshua swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves. His father’s voice, usually so reassuring, now felt distant and cold.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, Pops,” he replied, his words stumbling out. “I was drunk. I made a mistake. A huge mistake. I didn’t realize the consequences until it was too late.”

His father sighed deeply. “You’ve got to take responsibility for this. This is not just some minor mistake, Joshua. This is a life-altering decision.”

Joshua closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew his father was right, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt weighing on him, pulling him under.

“I know, Dad. I know. I just… I didn’t know what to do when I realized what had happened. I didn’t want to hurt Hamisa. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but now everything’s ruined.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and when his father spoke again, it was clear that the disappointment was real.

“We’ll talk more about this when you come over,” his father said, his voice stiff. “But for now, you need to think long and hard about your actions.”

Before Joshua could respond, his mother, Talisua, who had been quietly listening in the background, spoke up. Her voice was soft, almost maternal, but there was an underlying concern that Joshua couldn’t ignore.

“Joshua, this isn’t just about you and Hamisa,” Talisua said gently. “It’s about your daughter now. You’ve got to think about her future. What are you going to do for her? What kind of father are you going to be?”

Joshua felt his heart constrict at the mention of his daughter. He had already betrayed Hamisa’s trust, but now, realizing the enormity of his actions, he understood the full weight of what he had done. His daughter was the one who would be affected the most. What kind of example had he set for her? What kind of family was he building for her?

“I’ll figure it out, Mom,” he said quietly. “I just need to make things right.”

The call ended shortly after, leaving Joshua alone in the kitchen, the weight of his family’s disappointment hanging in the air. But it wasn’t just his parents who needed to know. His twin brother, Jonathan, who had always been his closest confidant, was the one Joshua needed to speak to next.

Jonathan, who had always been there for him in both good times and bad, arrived at Joshua’s house an hour later. Joshua had already anticipated the storm that was about to hit, but he couldn’t avoid it. Jonathan was family, and Jonathan would want to hear the truth from him.

When Jonathan entered the house, his eyes immediately fell on his twin brother, sitting at the kitchen table, his face drawn with exhaustion. Jonathan didn’t waste any time.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” he said, his tone sharp, but there was concern there too, buried beneath the surface.

Joshua didn’t try to sugarcoat things. He told Jonathan everything, about the night he had visited Hamisa while drunk, about the sample cup, and about the impulsive decision that had changed everything. He told him about the guilt he had carried ever since, the revelation that Jhream was his biological daughter and the complicated mess that had ensued after.

Jonathan didn’t say a word at first, his face unreadable as he processed the information. Joshua waited for him to speak, feeling the tension build in the air.

“You’re kidding, right?” Jonathan finally muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “This can’t be real.”

Joshua’s stomach twisted as he met his brother’s gaze. “It’s real, Jonathan. I’m not joking. It’s my fault, and I don’t know what to do. I just… I just wanted things to be right again.”

Jonathan paced back and forth across the room, his mind working through everything Joshua had said. His footsteps were heavy, his frustration evident in the way he moved. Joshua could practically feel the anger radiating from him, but he also knew his brother was hurt, confused, and unsure of how to process the situation.

“You’re telling me you swapped the sperm?” Jonathan asked, his voice sharp. “You thought it was a good idea at the time? You didn’t think about the consequences?”

Joshua’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his brother’s words hitting him hard. “I didn’t think. I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking straight. It was a stupid mistake. But now that I know what’s happened, I can’t undo it. And Hamisa… she’s angry. She’s hurt, and I don’t blame her.”

Jonathan’s face hardened, his expression turning into something unreadable. “You’ve completely messed things up, man. You can’t just throw yourself back into Hamisa’s life like nothing happened. You broke up with her because you didn't want a serious relationship. You broke her heart. You pushed her to do this and now she has to raise your child. The one you didn't want to give her. That's not fair, Josh. You are wrong as hell for this.”

Joshua felt the sting of his brother’s words, but he knew Jonathan was right. He had been so caught up in his guilt and confusion that he hadn’t stopped to think about the reality of the situation. He couldn’t just expect things to magically go back to normal.

“I know. I know, Jonathan,” Joshua said quietly. “But I love her. I never stopped loving her. And now… now I’m a father to Jhream. I just don’t know how to make everything right.”

Jonathan stopped pacing and turned to face him, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “I get that you’re trying to make things right. But you’ve got to think about this more carefully. This isn’t just about you, it’s about Hamisa, it’s about Jhream. You don’t get to waltz in and think everything will fall into place because you’re the father of her child. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Joshua sighed deeply, the weight of his brother’s words settling heavily in his chest. “I know,” he whispered. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Jonathan’s expression softened slightly as he met his brother’s gaze. “I’m not saying you can’t fix it, Josh. But you’ve got to be prepared for how much this is going to hurt. Not just Hamisa, but everyone involved. This is a mess.”

Joshua nodded, knowing his brother was right. There was no quick fix for what had happened. No easy way out of the tangled web he had woven. But one thing was clear: he wasn’t going to give up. He owed it to Hamisa, to Jhream, and to himself to try. To make things right, even if it meant facing the hardest battle of his life.

The room fell silent again, and for a long moment, neither twin spoke. Finally, Jonathan broke the stillness.

“I’ll be here for you, man. But don’t expect me to stand by and watch you screw this up even further,” he said, his voice quieter now, more subdued.

Joshua looked at him, grateful for his brother’s support, even if it came with tough love. “I won’t screw it up again, I swear.”

With that, Jonathan turned and left, leaving Joshua alone in the kitchen, still processing the weight of the secrets that had just come to light. There was a long road ahead, one filled with apologies, explanations, and a lot of work. But Joshua knew that if he was going to fix this, he had to face the consequences head-on.

No more running.

hamisawoo 12h

Hamisa sat nervously on the edge of her parents's bed, her palms pressed against her lap as she felt her heart beat steadily but rapidly within her chest. The room felt smaller than it had in years as if the walls were closing in around her. Her parents's bedroom was familiar, filled with the soft scents of their shared life, the musk of her father's cologne lingering in the air, the faint trace of lavender from her mother's favorite candles. The once comforting space now seemed to hold the weight of all the unspoken truths and unsaid words that hung between them.

She had come here seeking comfort, guidance, and perhaps some reassurance, but now, at this moment, Hamisa felt the delicate thread of her resolve beginning to fray. She had spent time wrestling with the truth about her daughter, Jhream, and now that it had finally slipped from her lips, she could scarcely believe it was real. Joshua, the man she had once dreamed of building a life with—was Jhream's father. It was a truth she hadn't expected to face again, but it was here now, sitting in the air between them like an uninvited guest.

Her parents, however, did not react the way she had expected. There was no outburst, no dramatic exchange of words or reproach. No angry confrontations. Instead, her father, Atonio, continued flipping through the pages of his morning newspaper, his gaze flicking over the words absentmindedly as if they were discussing the weather. Her mother, Daiane, sat beside her, her posture composed, her face serene and thoughtful, as though this revelation had already been anticipated.

"We knew," her father said after a moment, his voice low and matter-of-fact as if the answer had always been evident. He finally set the paper down, glancing at her briefly before his eyes flickered away, back to the familiar black and white print.

"You knew?" Hamisa asked, the words coming out almost in disbelief. "How?"

Daiane's gentle voice answered her before her father could. "We had a feeling. The moment Jhream was born, something about her... her eyes, her smile, it reminded us of Joshua. But we didn’t want to interfere, not after everything you’d been through. You were so set on using a sperm donor, and we didn't want you to think we were trying to control your choices, especially after we told you so many times that we didn’t agree with it." She sighed softly, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the room. "We just wanted you to be happy."

Hamisa stared at her parents in shock, a deep pang of hurt and confusion clawing at her chest. "You could have told me. You could have warned me."

Atonio gave a small shrug, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the paper. "Yeah, like you would have believed us," he said, his voice tinged with a faint trace of humor, though there was a quiet sadness underneath. "You were so determined to do things your way. We didn't think you'd listen, not then."

Daiane nodded, her eyes softening with understanding. "We knew you had your reasons. We wanted you to make your own decisions, even if we didn’t agree with them. It was your life, Hamisa."

The words hit her harder than she had anticipated. They had known. They had seen what she hadn’t been able to see, but they had chosen to let her walk this difficult path on her own. It wasn’t that they had been unsupportive, they had just been quiet observers, trusting that she would find her way. And maybe, in their eyes, she had. But now, with the truth revealed, it felt like a long, complicated road had just stretched before her, one she hadn’t prepared herself for.

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to make sense of it all. "So, what do I do now?" she asked, her voice small, unsure. "Should I let him be in her life? I mean, I’m so angry with him, but... if he’s her father, I don’t have to raise her alone anymore."

Daiane exchanged a long glance with Atonio, a wordless conversation passing between them. For a moment, Hamisa almost felt like an outsider watching two people communicate in a language only they could understand. It was strange, but comforting at the same time.

"Do what’s best for Jhream," her mother finally said, her voice soft yet resolute. "This isn’t about you or Joshua. It’s about what’s best for her."

Hamisa's chest tightened as she absorbed the weight of her mother’s words. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that kind of responsibility to make a decision that would shape not only her life but also her daughter’s future. How could she possibly know what was best for Jhream when she couldn’t even figure out what was best for herself?

Atonio didn’t offer further advice but sat back, folding his arms, his gaze heavy but patient. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was just that Hamisa had grown up in a home where choices were hers to make, even if those choices were difficult and filled with uncertainties. His calmness was a reflection of the trust he had in her, something that made Hamisa feel even more alone in that moment. But she knew, deep down, that he was right. It was her decision, and it was about her daughter now.

She sighed a deep, exhausted sound that seemed to echo throughout the room. She had wanted so much for her life, for her daughter’s life. Growing up in a family where love had seemed so steadfast, so unshakable, had made Hamisa believe that she, too, would find that perfect kind of love. It wasn’t that she expected perfection, no one could have that but she had thought she would have a partner. Someone who would walk beside her, helping her navigate the challenges that life threw at them. Someone who would be there for their daughter.

But that wasn’t Joshua. Not anymore.

Hamisa closed her eyes for a brief moment, the memory of her parents’ love flashing before her. Forty-two years together. Forty-two years of companionship, loyalty, and a love that had withstood the test of time. Her mother, Daiane, had been Rainha da Bateria at Carnaval do Brasil the year she met her father, Atonio, he was a professional footballer for Brazil at the time. It had been a whirlwind romance, five days together, and they had known. From that moment on, they had been inseparable. Their love was a story that Hamisa had always admired, a love that seemed to defy the odds.

Atonio had supported Daiane through everything, even as her fame grew, as she became a household name in Brazil. And Daiane had supported Atonio through his career, their bond only strengthening when they decided to move to Miami, Florida, where they would raise their seven children. The way her parents had made it look so effortless, so simple, made Hamisa believe that one day she would have the same.

But now, sitting on the edge of their bed, she realized that love wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t always as magical as it had seemed from the outside. Sometimes, love was messy. Sometimes, it meant walking away. Sometimes, it meant dealing with the consequences of decisions that had been made without fully understanding their weight.

She thought of Joshua, of how everything had seemed perfect at the start. They had shared a dream, a vision of what their future together would look like. He had been everything she had ever wanted, a kind, attentive partner who made her feel cherished. But when the reality of their differing desires came to light, his unwillingness to settle down, his refusal to commit to marriage and children, shattered the dream she had built around him.

Joshua had been married before, and he had two sons from that marriage. His previous life had shaped his reluctance to settle into another serious commitment. He wanted an easygoing relationship, one without the pressures of marriage or the responsibilities of raising a child. When Hamisa’s vision for their future clashed with his, they broke up. It had been painful, and Hamisa had spent months healing, telling herself that she would move on.

But now, sitting in front of her parents, Hamisa realized that the reality she had created, the life she had chosen for herself was no longer something she could ignore. Her daughter’s future was now tied to Joshua in a way she hadn’t anticipated. And it left her with a choice: to let him into Jhream’s life, to allow him to be the father, or to keep him at arm’s length, leaving her to continue this journey on her own.

Hamisa sighed again, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. There was no easy answer, no quick solution. And yet, as her parents sat quietly beside her, watching with patience and understanding, Hamisa felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers, but she was learning to trust herself, just as her parents had trusted her all along.

Meanwhile, Joshua sat in the dimly lit living room of his cousin Joe’s house, the atmosphere heavy with tension. The conversation that had brought him here, to this moment, was one he’d never thought he’d be having. His mind replayed the events over and over, but every time he tried to make sense of it, he only felt more lost. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, and the faces of his relatives stared at him, awaiting answers. His internal turmoil was mirrored in the eyes of those around him, as they tried to understand how he had ended up here.

Joe sat across from him, his brow furrowed in concern, while Zilla leaned back on the sofa with his arms crossed, his eyes sharp, observing the scene like a hawk. Almia, Sefa's wife, stood by the kitchen counter, shaking her head in disbelief. Her shock was evident, her body language rigid with the weight of the revelation Joshua had just shared.

Galina, Joe’s wife, stood in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her, her expression one of incredulity. "You’re telling me," she began, her voice tinged with disbelief, "that you—Joshua, of all people—were upset when you found out Hamisa planned to use a sperm donor?" She shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowing. "You didn’t want her to do it. You tried to talk her out of it, but instead of respecting her decision, you decided to play a ridiculous game. And now... now you’re telling us that the child she had—might be yours?"

Joshua winced. His cousin’s words stung, but they were not without merit. He had been upset, angry even, when he found out that Hamisa had decided to go through with the sperm donor procedure. The truth was, he had spent so many sleepless nights trying to convince her not to. But she had made her choice. And now, looking at the reality of the situation, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of guilt, a pang of regret. His life was spiraling, and this mess was one he had created.

"Yeah," Joshua muttered, his voice low, "I tried. I did everything I could to talk her out of it. But Hamisa had already made up her mind." His hands rested in his lap, his fingers tapping an erratic rhythm on his jeans. "I was drunk that night. I showed up at her place hoping to tell her how I still felt, hoping we could try again. But... she wasn’t there."

Joe sat forward, his expression serious. "So, you just let yourself in?" He shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. "You were out of your mind, Joshua."

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, his eyes momentarily distant. "I wasn’t thinking clearly. I thought... maybe if I could just tell her how I felt, things would be different. But when I went in to use the bathroom, I saw the cup. The sperm sample." He paused, biting his lip as he recollected the details of that night, his fingers curling into tight fists. "I was drunk. Stupid. I didn’t know what I was doing. I started messing around with it, and... well, I spilled it. I panicked, thinking that if I didn’t replace it, she’d find out and she’d never forgive me. So I did the dumbest thing possible." He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his own words as he confessed, "I replaced it with my own."

Zilla let out a low whistle from across the room, his face a mixture of disbelief and judgment. "Are you serious? You—" he began, but her words trailed off as he shook his head, incredulous. "You did that? Joshua, that’s insane. That’s not just an accident. You consciously made that choice."

"I didn’t remember any of it the next day," Joshua said, his voice strained. "I woke up hungover, confused, with no recollection of what had happened the night before. It wasn’t until I saw Jhream for the first time that I realized... something was off. She looked so much like me. I couldn’t ignore it. It was like looking in a mirror."

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed what Joshua had said. His cousins exchanged glances and seemed at a loss for words. His mind raced as he tried to piece together the events. The insemination had been successful. Hamisa had gotten pregnant. And now, fifteen months later, he was faced with the reality of his actions.

Trinity, still standing by the counter, shook her head in disbelief. "Joshua, do you realize what you’ve done? You’re talking about a child, a person’s life! You didn’t just mess up your relationship with Hamisa, you messed with her future, with Jhream’s future." She turned toward her husband, Jonathan, who had been listening in silence. "When Jonathan told me what had happened, I thought he was joking, but now I can’t even—" She stopped herself, her eyes wide, trying to grasp the full scope of her brother-in-law’s actions.

Joshua let out a breath, the weight of her words landing on him. "I know. I know it was a mistake, but I thought... I thought I was just making things right. I didn’t think about the consequences. I didn’t think it would go this far."

His ex-wife who had been quiet until now, raised an eyebrow. "You thought you were making things right? By tampering with her fertility? That’s not ‘making things right.’ That’s manipulation, plain and simple." She sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead. "And now you’re telling me that you didn’t even think about telling Hamisa until she found out on her own?"

Joshua’s stomach twisted with guilt. "I... I didn’t know how to tell her. I thought she’d hate me, and maybe she would have. But I didn’t think it would come to this. I didn’t think it would be so complicated."

"Let me ask you something," Trinity said, her voice cool but sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. "If she had never figured out that there was a chance you were the father, would you have ever told her the truth?"

Joshua flinched at the question, his gaze dropping to the floor. He didn’t answer immediately. Would he have told her the truth? The answer wasn’t clear, even to him. It was a question he had been avoiding, a question that gnawed at him every time he thought about it. The guilt pressed in on him from all sides. "I... I don’t know," he muttered.

Trinity’s expression hardened. "You don’t know?" she repeated, her voice tight with frustration. "You’ve spent all this time thinking about yourself, about what you wanted, about what you didn’t want and now you’re telling me you don’t know if you’d ever have told her the truth? That’s not just selfish, Joshua. It’s cowardly."

His ex-wife chimed in, her voice more measured but no less sharp. "I still think you should take the damn DNA test, just like Hamisa wants you to do. It’s the right thing to do. You owe it to her, and you owe it to yourself, to know for sure."

Joshua’s stomach churned again, and he felt a knot in his throat. "I know it’s my child," he said firmly, though there was a slight quiver in his voice. "I don’t need a DNA test to tell me that."

"Just do it," Joe said from his seat across the room, his voice calm but insistent. "You don’t get to dictate what happens next without knowing the facts. You owe it to her, you owe it to yourself, and you owe it to that child."

Joshua sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as the weight of their words settled on him. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that he had made a colossal mistake, that the consequences of his actions were more than he had bargained for. But deep down, he knew they were right. He had to face the truth, even if it meant confronting the mess he had created. He had to make things right, even if it meant admitting just how far he had gone to avoid responsibility.

"Fine," he said, his voice low, a resignation in his tone. "I’ll do it."

The room remained still, the silence heavy with the weight of the decision. Joshua wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified. But at that moment, he knew one thing for certain: whatever happened next, he had to face it, head-on.

Joshua had never been one to doubt himself, but as he stood outside the DNA Diagnostics Center (DDC), a quiet unease settled in his chest. His palms were slightly damp as he paced the parking lot, eyes flicking toward the entrance every few seconds. He had no reason to doubt that Jhream was his daughter.

In his heart, in that unexplainable space between a man’s soul and the child he’s bound to, he knew. From the first moment he laid eyes on her, his heart had screamed that she was his, that their bond ran deeper than blood.

But that wasn’t the problem. The problem lay in the questions that surrounded him, in the things Hamisa needed to feel secure in. His own family needed confirmation too, and even though it pained him to have to jump through these hoops, he couldn’t deny that this test, this formality, was necessary to give everyone peace of mind. He couldn’t just walk away from it, not when it meant everything to Hamisa and his own family.

Still, pacing the lot didn’t make the minutes move faster. The appointment was in five minutes, yet there was no sign of Hamisa or the baby. Joshua glanced at his watch for the third time in the last minute, a sigh escaping his lips. He had promised Hamisa he’d be there, but the tension between them had made the promise harder to keep than he would have liked to admit.

Just when he thought he might go mad with worry, the sleek rumble of an engine interrupted his thoughts. The unmistakable sound of a Mercedes-Benz G63 AMG approached, pulling in next to Joshua’s parked Cadillac Escalade.

Hamisa’s face appeared in the window, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

“Why are you pacing the parking lot?” she asked, an eyebrow raised as she examined him.

Joshua let out another sigh, his frustration finally breaking through. “I thought you weren’t going to show up or something,” he replied, his voice tinged with both relief and annoyance.

“Why would I not show up?” Hamisa answered with a roll of her eyes, her voice sharp with a hint of sarcasm. “I need this done more than you do.”

Joshua gave her a dry look, not knowing whether to laugh or groan. Instead, he simply opened the back door of the car and carefully lifted little Jhream from her car seat. The baby’s large, dark brown eyes locked onto his, and she let out a string of happy babbles. As Joshua carried her, her small arms reached out, instinctively wrapping around his neck. It was moments like this that made Joshua’s resolve solidify. It didn’t matter what the test said. He was her father. His soul already knew.

Hamisa followed behind, adjusting the weight of the baby bag slung over her shoulder, and after locking her car, they made their way into the center. Joshua held the door open for Hamisa, something that still felt right even though their relationship had become so complicated. Inside, the sterile atmosphere of the DNA Diagnostics Center felt like a world apart from the warmth of the life they had started together, a world he was no longer sure how to navigate.

At the reception desk, they checked in for their appointment. Joshua felt the uncomfortable weight of waiting press down on him as they took their seats in the sterile waiting area. The silence between him and Hamisa was thick, a layer of unresolved tension hanging between them. It wasn’t the kind of silence that felt comfortable or familiar; it was the kind that spoke volumes of the complicated history they shared.

“What do you want the outcome to be?” Joshua asked, breaking the quiet. The question wasn’t meant to be confrontational, but it felt heavy all the same. He was genuinely curious, though he already had a suspicion about the answer.

Hamisa’s expression shifted, her eyes darkening as she looked at him. “I would like it to be that you’re not the father,” she replied, her voice a little quieter than usual. “But we both know she’s yours.”

Joshua nodded solemnly. That answer was expected. He understood it, even though it stung. He had broken up with Hamisa because he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. But that hadn’t stopped him from turning her life upside down when he did what he did.

And now, here they were. She had every right to want to push him away, to hope that the DNA test would give her the space to breathe again, to co-parent without the complications of a past that was far from easy.

Before Joshua could say anything further, their names were called.

Little Jhream squirmed in Joshua’s arms as the technician, a woman dressed in a white lab coat, beckoned them toward the back. Joshua’s heart tightened at the sight of the woman in the lab coat. He didn’t want her to take his daughter away, to treat her like just another test subject. He was already feeling the weight of this sterile process, and he was fighting to stay grounded, to remember that this was just a formality. He was her father. This would only confirm what he already knew.

As they approached, Jhream’s little face contorted with uncertainty. Her tiny hands gripped Joshua’s shirt tighter, and she looked up at him with wide eyes filled with unease. She didn’t like strangers, didn’t like the unfamiliar. As if sensing her fear, Joshua pulled her closer, murmuring gentle words of comfort. But when the technician leaned forward to speak to her, the baby’s lip quivered, and she buried her face into Joshua’s chest.

“Dada,” Jhream murmured, her voice small but clear, as if she needed to reaffirm to herself, and to Joshua, who she trusted.

Hamisa and Joshua both froze at the sound. For a moment, there was no noise except for the soft rhythm of their breathing. The word hung in the air, suspended between them like a secret that only the two of them understood. Hamisa’s heart gave a little lurch, and Joshua felt something warm rush through him. His eyes met Hamisa’s, a mixture of surprise and tenderness passing between them.

Joshua didn’t need the test to know. He already knew.

But the tension in the air wasn’t gone yet. Hamisa’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and Joshua could sense that she was thinking, weighing the moments before them. With a deep breath, she gave him a gentle push, urging him toward the technician.

They reached one of the private areas, where the DNA analyst explained the procedure. It would take up to three to five business days for the results to come back, but sometimes they were able to provide results sooner. As Hamisa filled out the paperwork, Joshua stood by, the weight of his daughter’s small form in his arms. He could feel her warmth, her trusting little body relaxing against his chest.

The technician took the samples. Simple cheek swabs, a process Joshua had gone through himself in the past, but never under these circumstances. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to experience his daughter’s resistance to the unknown, but it was part of the process. She squirmed, not understanding what was happening, but Joshua whispered soothing words to her, holding her close, letting her know she was safe. As the technician finished, Jhream calmed down a little, her face still scrunched with confusion, but she was settling.

“Dada,” Jhream said again, her voice clear as she pulled herself up, trying to stand on his lap.

Joshua’s heart melted. He held her up carefully, her tiny hands gripping his fingers as she tried to balance. Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, the entire room faded away. His bond with her was already formed. It was unbreakable. He was her father.

Hamisa stood by, watching them. She couldn’t deny it, either. She had to admit that no matter the outcome of the test, this little girl needed both of them. And as much as she had tried to push Joshua away, to protect herself, she knew deep down that the bond between him and Jhream was real. It was something that couldn’t be ignored.

When the results came, Hamisa would know what she had to do. She would find a way to accept Joshua back into her life for Jhream’s sake, and maybe they could figure out how to raise their daughter together, even if it wasn’t the picture-perfect family she had once imagined.

Next

[moodymelanist]

too good to deny it

happy @sjmromanceweek 2025 everyone! I'm so excited for this event to be back and we're kicking things off with some Nemerie 🫶🏽

Summary: Nesta has never kissed anyone before, and when she gets asked on her first date, Emerie takes matters into her own hands.

Word Count:

Read on AO3 here!

♡♡♡♡♡ Emerie

Emerie was suffering through her statistics reading when her roommate barged through the door in what looked like a state of panic. “Emerie. Em.”

“Yeah?” Emerie asked, looking up from her textbook at the sound of Nesta’s voice. She hadn’t known Nesta very long — they’d only been living together since the start of the semester, and this weekend was her last chance to get some decent studying in before midterms started in earnest — but judging by the look on her roommate’s face, this was something serious. “What happened?”

Nesta shrugged out of her backpack and sat down hard on the edge of her  bed. “I think I have a date this weekend?”

“What?” Emerie asked, fully sitting up at her desk now. “What do you mean you think?”

“Well…” Nesta trailed off with a sigh. She kicked off her white sneakers before shifting back onto her bed in an attempt to make herself more comfortable, and Emerie turned around fully in her desk chair, statistics studying be damned. This was way more important. “You know that guy who’s been driving me crazy?”

“Which one?” Emerie questioned. She’d heard Nesta complaining about a guy in her bio lecture, but there was also the guy in her political science lecture that drove her nuts, too. “Bio lecture or poli sci?”

“Bio lecture,” Nesta confirmed. Emerie wracked her brain for the guy’s name — it was something that reminded her of Narnia. Caspian? Casper? Something like that. “Apparently he was flirting with me the entire time.”

“What an effective method,” Emerie replied dryly, pulling a soft laugh out of Nesta. It made something go a little warm and fuzzy in her chest, but she pushed it aside the same way she’d been doing these last few weeks. “So he’s been pulling your pigtails all semester and now he wants to get serious?”

“I guess so?” Nesta answered hesitantly. She seemed uncertain, which was rare for her; in the short time Emerie had known Nesta, she didn’t tend to show anything other than a very healthy dose of self-confidence. “I mean, I don’t know. He asked me to go to dinner with him on Saturday and I said yes and now I’m kind of… panicking.”

“You? Panicking?” Emerie responded, raising both of her eyebrows. Nesta didn’t do panic, which was generally pretty helpful, but now that she was actually showing something like human weakness, Emerie didn’t totally know what to do with it. “Why? He’s just some guy.”

“Okay, but I don’t do just some guy,” Nesta said. She curled into herself a little bit and Emerie frowned, not sure what to do with that, either. “I haven’t done… any guys, actually.”

Emerie just blinked; she actually had no idea what Nesta was going with this. “What do you mean? Guys must ask you out all the time.”

“Not really,” Nesta told her, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

Okay, now Emerie was really intrigued. She closed her textbook and got up to come sit on the bed next to Nesta, their thighs nearly pressed together because of how little room existed on their twin XL mattresses. “Nesta. What are you talking about?”

“You’ve met my mom,” Nesta said, and boy, had Emerie ever. She’d thought her family was bad, but watching the way Mrs. Archeron bossed every member of Nesta’s family around had managed to put even her uncle to shame. Emerie had been a little worried that Nesta would be just as bitchy as her mom, but thankfully that hadn’t been the case, and they’d turned into fast friends instead. “Everyone back home already knows how insane she is. Even if I’d been allowed to date, nobody wanted to deal with her.”

“Oh my God,” Emerie said back. She privately thought it was dumb to pass up on the chance to call Nesta Archeron your girlfriend just because her mom sucked, but maybe she had more brain cells than the guys in Nesta’s hometown. “So you’ve never—?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, no.” Nesta looked away, her cheeks going even pinker. “I’ve never even touched a guy other than dance classes, and that definitely doesn’t count.”

Emerie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could someone as gorgeous as Nesta be freaking out about something as simple as this? Emerie didn’t have that much experience with guys — she’d figured out what that strange swooping feeling in her stomach when Jade from Victorious came on her television screen meant early, thank you very much — but from the little she did know, it wasn’t really that hard dealing with them. She imagined it would be even easier when you looked like Nesta, with her icy eyes, bronze hair, and general air like she knew exactly what she was doing and you’d be dumb not to go along with it. 

“It’s not that hard, really,” Emerie replied after a second, still reeling. Her first date with a guy on the lacrosse team had been pretty mediocre, but she hadn’t realized the reason she’d been so bored was because she’d wanted to catch the captain of the girls volleyball team’s attention instead. “You just have to laugh at their jokes and put your hand on their arm a little.”

At Nesta’s dubious look, Emerie added, “I’ve seen your Story Graph, Nesta. I know you know how to at least do that.”

“Okay, okay,” Nesta responded with a sheepish smile. “But what if he wants to kiss me?”

“It’s not as hard as it seems,” Emerie answered. “I mean, you’ve seen movies.”

“Of course I’ve seen movies, Em.” Nesta rolled her eyes and Emerie laughed. “But it’s not like I’ve actually done it myself.”

Emerie scrambled to find a response that seemed normal enough. “You can just practice on the back of your hand. Or maybe your arm?”

“Wouldn’t he be able to tell?” Nesta asked, biting her lip. Emerie tried her hardest not to notice how pink they were. “I don’t want to look like I don’t know what I’m doing. Or worse, kiss like a golden retriever. My sister says her boyfriend does that and she hates it.”

“Okay,” Emerie said slowly. She wasn’t completely sure how to respond to that, but she’d do her best. “We don’t have time to unpack the golden retriever thing, but I promise you won’t kiss like that.”

“Okay, but how do you know?” Nesta said back. “You can’t promise that.”

“Just kiss me and I’ll tell you,” Emerie blurted out before she could stop herself. She had to physically shove her hands under her thighs to stop herself from clapping her hand over her own mouth and make the situation even more embarrassing; she’d already done the worst, so now she just had to shut up until Nesta laughed it off.

Nesta didn’t laugh it off, though. She just narrowed her eyes like she was actually considering it, and Emerie nearly bit off her own tongue when Nesta said, “Are you sure?”

“I mean, only if you want,” Emerie replied, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as she thought it did. Her heart was pounding so loud in her chest it was a miracle Nesta couldn’t hear it with how close they were sitting. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Nesta responded. She looked at Emerie expectantly and added, “Well?”

Emerie quickly shifted so she was facing Nesta properly, leaning on their cinder block wall for some more support while Nesta did the same. This close to her, Emerie could see Nesta had the faintest dusting of freckles across her skin that looked like they trailed down under her shirt, and Emerie hoped Nesta didn’t hear how thickly she swallowed.

“Okay, so…” Emerie trailed off before summoning her courage. She wasn’t going to squander this opportunity, and if Nesta decided to use this knowledge to her date’s advantage, at least Emerie would have the memory. “Pick a side to tilt your head so you don’t bump your nose.”

“Like this?” Nesta asked, tilting her head to the right so far it was a miracle she didn’t strain her neck.

“No, no,” Emerie answered with a little laugh. She reached out to touch Nesta’s face without thinking about it, her cheeks going warm as she tilted Nesta to a better angle. “Like this.”

“Okay,” Nesta breathed. Her eyes looked incredibly blue this close up. “Now what?”

“Just lean in,” Emerie told her. She thanked whatever god was listening that she’d happened to brush her teeth when she’d come back from her discussion section earlier this afternoon. “And close your eyes.”

Nesta didn’t so much as lean in as she aggressively pushed her mouth in Emerie’s direction, but Emerie certainly wasn’t complaining. Nesta’s lips were soft and full against hers, and she could faintly taste the spearmint lip balm that Nesta liked to use. Emerie was fully expecting this to just be a peck, but to her surprise, Nesta’s lips parted and suddenly her tongue was licking at Emerie’s lips.

Emerie gasped a little, surprised, and that was all it took for Nesta’s tongue to slip inside her mouth. She tried to show Nesta how good it felt to slide their tongues together, how to move their lips to form a semblance of a good rhythm, but who was Emerie kidding. Nesta was clearly a natural, and Emerie was one hundred percent benefitting from that right now.

“Um,” Emerie said once she realized just how long they’d been kissing and pulled away. She didn’t know what to say but she didn’t totally know what to do with the strange silence between them. “So. Um. That’s how you kiss.”

Nesta studied her for a few moments before her look turned knowing. Emerie wasn’t sure whether she should be afraid of that look or not, but wow, was it doing things for her. “Right.”

“Right,” Emerie repeated, still at a loss for words. Her lips were still tingling from where Nesta’s had been pressed against them a minute ago, and she had to fight the urge to bring her hand up to touch them. “So. Yeah.”

“I’m canceling my date,” Nesta announced suddenly. Her lips were an even darker shade of pink now from all the kissing, and it was really distracting. “We’re doing more of that.”

Emerie had to mentally rewind the last few seconds to make sure she hadn’t misheard. “What?”

“I said we’re doing more of that,” Nesta repeated firmly. She leaned forward so their lips were just barely touching, and even that was enough to make Emerie a little crazy. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No,” Emerie said quickly, and then immediately realized how Nesta might interpret that. “I mean, yes. I want to.” 

“Good,” Nesta said back, leaning in to press her lips firmly to Emerie’s.

This time when they kissed, they were both smiling too hard for it to really count, but Emerie didn’t mind.

tag list: @c-e-d-dreamer | @jsmelodies | @queercontrarian | @nativeswfl | @that-little-red-head | @dustjacketmusings | @fieldofdaisiies | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @kale-theteaqueen | @goddess-aelin | @livinforthetea | @valkyrie-archeron | @agents-assemble | @sweet-pea1 | @lilah-asteria | @brieq | @mydnights | @jmoonjones | @readskk | @fwiggle | @bookstantrash | @climbthemountain2020 | @underneath-the-sidras | @illyrianshadowhunter | @sublimecoffeefestival | @superspiritfestival | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @burningsnowleopard | @bri-loves-sunflowers | @itsinherited

[bubbleddisasters]

Guess whos back on their Che’nya theory shit again. Me.

Also some of this is just me going on about random and absolute far stretched shit, but hopefully the majority makes sense to y’all.

I’m about to sound batshit insane and this is going to be some MatPat sounding shit but here we go anyway.

WARNING‼️⚠️ MAJOR BOOK 7 SPOILERS AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

———————

I just made the realization that Che’nyas UM and already natural abilities we’ve seen puts him in a position to be deadass playing the Floor is Lava with Malleus as the lava rn.

They wouldn’t have told us his UM in the main story if it didn’t matter somehow. They had the opportunity to show us Neiges in Rooks dream, yet didn’t, so it isn’t a heres RSA UMs for for shits and giggles thing, and we don’t know ANY of the teachers UMs, so it isn’t a “filling npc” thing either.

In EVENTS, we learn the UMs of only the very important and/or dangerous characters. Rollo, Skully, and Fellow. (Geez, Halloween trio now that I think of it).

Do we know Dylia Spades? No. Do we know Eric Schronheits? No. Do we know Ambrose the 3rds? No. Do we know Elizas? No, we get slapped. Do we know Najima Vipers? No. (She might not have one yet tho but still).

These characters are all confirmed as mages, or not directly said to be magicless, so it’s fair to assume they are mages.

So they told us Che’nyas UM for a reason. Why?

Like if his UM makes him invulnerable to magic/attack and invisible, and straight up on ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE, then if he’s not technically “all there”, Malleus wouldn’t be able to sense him.

Plus, this would explain how Orthos body was floating on the water when STYX found it, as when we know Orthos HEAVY AF, and would more than likely sink, since I doubt they had the time to build in something inflatable enough to balance that weight.

To boot, Ortho was at the docks, which from the map, is super close to RSA.

For reference:

(Both normally and under Mals spell)

The Cheshire Cat is the one who gets Alice out of Wonderland (In the movie, the tunnel Alice runs through matches the Cheshire cats color and stripes + He’s the only one not chasing her+ in the OG book, the Cheshire Cat is more of a Guide and the only one who really sticks with and helps Alice for the whole shabang), and if he’s in RSA, then I think the writers know that.

Aswell as the fact Che’nya appears in both Books with “Tyrant” in the name, and the Cheshire Cat is the only person completely immune to the Queen of Hearts control, as the second most powerful being in wonderland next to LITERALLY TIME ITSELF.

Look in most Disney Villain Line-Ups, and you’ll find the Cheshire Cat. Why? Marketing, the Cheshire Cats a popular character that isn’t directly portrayed as a hero, and more as a mysterious reoccurring character that isn’t necessarily seen as a helper unless you squint.

Additionally, we’ve seen Che’nya use flight, self gravity control, teleportation(unconfirmed but implied on that one) and use his UM for extremely long periods of time, and now that I think of it, we’ve never seen it wear him down, even without the lack of a magestone on his design.

And anyway, in the manga, he’s been doing such things since before we meet him for the first time at age 8-9 from Rids perspective.

Which means long enough that he basically has full control over it at that age, so probably either since birth or very, very young.

Which gives us the know that unlocked his UM way before meeting Riddle and mastered it, which means likely as a literal toddler woke up one day and went “Hey what if I just fucked off to another plane of existence and became both invisible and invulnerable, while capable of movement and communication on this plane the whole time.”

Now back to Book 7.

So heres what caught my attention, Silver mentions the only people he can pop into the dreams of are people he has connections with.

Seeing as we get Sebek first crack out of the box, and then Lilia, this makes sense.

However, it falls off when the next people start to be people Silver either doesn’t know, or very loosely knows.

Yes, I understand the commercial and writing point is meant to be a dorm countdown, but it would make far more sense to be a Russian Roulette, kind of upping the anticipation of whos next.

But to me, with what we know of Silvers connections, it would make far more sense to have the second years be first after Dia, then maybe the third years that he knows because of Lilia, and finally the first years, still leaving room for Ace to get his UM towards the very end.

Now if we drive this back to my Che’nya playing Yuu’s guardian angel theory, it would make more sense to start with Pomfieore after Igi, because not only is it recent connections, so probably easier to bring to the forefront of Silvers UM, it gives him time to get up to NRC right after pushing Ortho or simply getting him out safely.

Before you mention malleus’s barrier, Che’nya gets past NRCs barrier that took STYX heavy power shots to break like its every other tuesday, without Crowleys notice aswell, he stands a viable chance of slipping past Malleus’s.

If he can jump to another plane of existence in which he is invulnerable to magic, theres nothing stopping him from sliding past to get Ortho out and slipping back in under Malleus’s nose.

It also gives him a good “oh shit” moment and an idea of the root of whats happening.

And if I’m wrong and he can’t teleport, he can latch on to Malleus (possibly referencing the Cheshire Cat latching onto the Queens back after she gets a card solider executed I think) to teleport with him back to NRC.

With that, he could be preventing Silver OBing by basically shattering the shade/phantom before it can even do anything, while also hiding Idia being awake. That, or basically lending Silver magic enough to keep going while praying to god Mal doesn’t notice.

Lilia playing the worlds most dangerous game of tag with Mal in dreamland gives him the distraction he needs for this aswell, and it could be that everything went to shit around Trey-Riddles Dreams, and Che’nya popped in to speed up the process and or Dream Che’nyas revealing his UM kinda got his ass caught by Mal, or caused Mal to finally detect a disturbance in the force.

So if I’m right with the previously theorized Guardian Angel thing, Che’nya could be hotwiring Silvers UM to send Silver and co to the people he remembers helped Yuu and the rest recently without risking Malleus putting two and two together on who could be fucking with the dreams other than Silver, depending on how he was portrayed in Trey and Rids Dreams.

Though it would be hilarious if with the Floor is Lavaing it he was also Night at the Musueming it and just repeatedly moved each dreamer closer to Silver physically so they’d have a physical connection (like pinky to pinky or head to head) and basically had Malleus doing a eyebrow raise everytime he turned around trying to figure out if that person had been moved or he was seeing things until he realized there was an exponentially large group around Silver that definitely wasn’t there before.

Another thing: We know the Three Good Fairies weren’t affected by Maleficent’s curse and are the ones to untie Philip when he’s caught and give him the Sword and Shield, which his has, and loses all but the sword in the fight against Maleficent, the Sword and Shield which in the Og twst Trailer that scene is likely referenced by Silver as the Sword (duh) and Sebek as the Shield, with Lilia where Philip would be, although his arm is raised higher.

You kinda have to flip Sebek and Silvers positions but yea.

Sebek being Virtue is self explanatory. He strives to have the virtue of a knight worth of Malleus, and shows this in many ways, but his faults are his rudeness, arrogance, biased or generally rude assumptions, and overexaggertion, stemming from his own internilzed racism (or speciesism? I guess?) , which lead many others to not want to be around him, deflecting the truth of his heritage as to not focus on his own insecurities like a shield to an attack, no matter who its from, in a way.

Now that he has begun to bond and not be as rude to the rest of the non fae cast however, he ends up passing out? Like how a shield seemingly has no use if its not defending, unless you get real creative with it (Its Reyn time I mean who said that)

Silver balances this out as truth, as he is someone we see is honest to almost no fault. His UM also shows truth, in its own way, by showing the truth of the desires of those around him. However, a truth has also been held directly from him, aka the truth of his birth, and the undeniable truth that to break the curse upon him, Lilia did have to truly love him, even as the child of his friends killer.

So he is both benefited and harmed by truth, just like how the same sword can both protect and kill, it just depends on who wields it.

Anyway, back to the point at hand, Now that Malleus seemingly has the time to go and pull a FNAF 4 at Idias door, the odds are Lilia may have somehow gotten caught or restrained (like Phillip is) for enough time to have Malleus notice the Shrouds are pulling shenanigans on his private dream servers and feel the need to go confirm this.

The way in the movie the Three Good Fairies are caught hiding Aurora by Maleficent in the first place is by getting too cocky on the day before Aurora’s B-day and using magic like crazy, fixing up and making their “gifts” much better, as they didn’t know how to create them without magic.

These gifts? A Cake by the GREEN fairy, the calmest and most mature of the three: Fauna, and a Dress, which the RED AND BLUE FAIRIES Merryweather (the most rebellious yet sensical) and Flora (the leader, most work focused and overconfident) keep fighting over which color it should be, Pink or Blue.

(I rewatched their scenes and I forgot how much of a fucking MVP Merryweather was, everyone else turning things into rainbows, bubbles and flowers while my girl was out here burning chains, hunting down snitches, turning her mfking ops to stone and had to be physically held back from throwing hands with Maleficent by herself, god bless this tiny blue diva)

Fauna can obviously be placed as Trey here. Calmest, a Cake, Green. Done.

You can combine Flora and Merryweather into the two sides of Riddles Dream, the first being very punk yet sensical lifestyle, the blue, bringing in the sadness of what he desired yet cannot have, and the second half being Flora, the extremes of overconfident and tyrannical leadership, the red of rage, to say.

Red and Blue obv equal Purple, Che’nyas signature color, probably because purple isn’t actually a fucking color. I’m not going to explain the history of purple, but there is not such thing as purple in science, only shades of violet.

Speaking of Pomfieore, the first non dia dreamer group we see, is VIOLET. I said it. (Octavielle is Lavender, so no, not directly purple) Bright Red is Heartstabyl. (Scarabia is Maroon, which is a shade of red, but again, not directly bright red)

Now what I’m going on about here is this: If In the dreams, each dreamers NPC versions of their friends strictly abides by what the dreamer desires them to, how did dream Che’nya not only transfer to both parts of Riddles dream, but also go directly AGAINST the dream and the dreamer?

The dream versions of the others cannot, under any circumstances, break the character the dreamer creates without breaking the dream itself.

We see this in Lilias dream, in Treys, and Deuces. The Senate, Cater and Ace respectively breach the line of what is and isn’t in character for them in the dreamers memory to hold the dreamer within the dream, causing their respective dreamer to wake up sheerly due to the stark contrast.

These characters will go to lengths to keep the dreamer asleep, so how is it that this dream version of Che’nya can do the exact opposite?

And in Treys dream, Che’nya is the only one not practically turned into Eric Cartman variants, which given the fact Cater, certified sweets hater, has too, means that Che’nya, certified sweets stealer, somehow dodged that bullet in Treys subconscious, which breaks the rules set by the dream.

These rules are delicate, seemingly. It takes one too out of character word, one too out of character action to knock the dreamer awake.

So either Trey sees Che’nya as having the self control of a monk (a small scene in manga implies Che’nya steals from the Clovers fridge so often Treys own damn siblings hear the fridge open and assume its him and not their own damn brother, so I doubt that he’d think that) or Che’nya can bypass these rules.

Many of the dreams would have been so much easier if they could conveniently convince the dreamers friends to go up against them for their sake or just to simply help wake them up.

Of all people, the dream version of Ace fucking Trappola actually listening to and abiding by Riddles tyranny and not jumping at the opportunity to S.O.S to Leona, Yuu and co says enough about this as is.

Anyway, what I’m saying here is that Che’nya either got his ass caught, or finally managed to hotwire himself into Silvers UM conga line, which unfortunately left Idia now in Mals notice and Silver becoming more weary from excess UM use.

Just like how the good fairies thought they’d succeeded and jumped the gun with using magic a day early, Chen could have thought that since they made it this far, their clean until further notice, and is gonna feel the hit of it later.

As my phone is dying and I want a fucking nap, this has been Blues randomass rant about Che’nya again.

More at ???? Folks.

[yunazxxx]

BUT I’M SO OBSESSED WITH YOU — L.R

plot is kind of based off of fear street 78’

genre? : smut, with a murder and obsession plot

now playing : I’m so crazy for youuu </3 by rebzyyx

this content contains the following : obsessive, possessive, psychotic!lara (obviously), killing mention, kind of cheating but not so much?, kinda angst, smut warning, blood mention, g!p lara, heavy etc warning.

author chats?: okay don’t look at me like that.. i have other fics to finish but!! i lit rewatched this movie a while ago and wanted to make this so badly like <///3 so here we are. — certain parts of this is corny as SHITTTTTTT. but i’m not rewriting this for a while. — daniela is cindy… (im sorry but nor sorry…)

word count? : 4.0k

—

the day began as normal as you'd expect a day at camp to go, you decided to go on a walk along the campsite, talking with your friends.

while they walked along the trail, lara and daniela (in place of cindy) came from the dining hall and were talking about god knows what.

you didn't bother to pay them any mind, or well “them" as a whole, but you would sometimes pay lara a little mind.

but of course, it wouldn't be anything more than just the basic student and counselor relationship. they got along fairly well, like she did with all of the campers.

today just, felt, different though. it was like the atmosphere was off, in all honesty it felt like something was bound to happen.

you continued on walking though, and your friends disbursed into their own cabins while you walked to yours.

you heaved a heavy sigh before sitting on your bed, and lying back first. you would run your fingers through your hair, and and close your eyes.

you couldn't really change where your mind was going, in fact, you were only thinking about, lara? it felt weird, to say the complete least. you weren’t so cool with daniela, but you two also weren't on the worst terms.

you could really only sigh, if it wasn't the issue that they had with being camper and counselor, then it was definitely the relationship.

you always tried your best to just hide it but almost always having to be around her made you fall in love with her more, but were you to blame?

i mean, she was innocent, caring, really loving and kind. if you were to be honest with everyone, including yourself, you would get jealous seeing daniela and her hold hands as often as they did.

yeah, she wasn't yours, not yet at least, but to see her with another girl, fuck you hated it so much. you would sometimes would end up stumbling across her and dani while they kissed, but you would walk off and pretend like nothing happened.

they never knew though, they didn't ever mention it. you would always end up punching a wall though, never being able to come up to lara and tell her how you really felt.

you was easily caught up in your thoughts of lara, not hearing the door being knocked on. the quiet knocking quickly became louder and snapped the girl out of it.

you got off of your bed and opened the door, and speak of the fucking devil, "heyy! we missed you today in the dining hall, what happened?" lara asked you.

you had an insane impulse to just pull her into a kiss, but she was also holding direct eye contact which would've made it much more enjoyable —

but to say what didn't need to be said was that you didn't go through with kissing her but instead came up with some random excuse as to why.

and she, of course, bought it because, why would she not? you mentioned having an upset stomach, so she offered to go and get you some medicine and you gladly accepted.

something that was an important mention was that you loved seeing her run, but it was more than just loving her form but you genuinely enjoyed watching her run, you found it attractive, for some reason.

not long later she did return with the medicine, also with a few other items for you. she took some of the medicine while she demonstrated how to use it, and would also give you some water.

you would, of course, thank lara and she would get up to leave, and you let her go but it seemed once the door closed you were completely losing your mind.

you wanted, no, needed lara as yours. you swore to do everything in your power to make that possible and finally have what you deserved, or felt you did.

but it wasn't like a normal crush, one you’ve already gone through the getting to know them, already gone through the getting closer phase, basically every single phase that was required, you and lara had already done it.

but it wasn't like she could be alone with you for more than two minutes because why would a counselor need more than that much time with a student alone, so you really never had the chance to ever catch her because if she wasn't attending to her duties around the capmus, then her bitch of a girlfriend daniela had her and her attention.

you never could wrap your head around what lara saw in the latina, she was so, prissy, it was annoying. they weren't really anything alike, so how they made thngs work was beyond you, but you also didn't really give a flying fuck bevause you were going to make lara yours however you really had to.

it was't like the signs weren't there, it was obvious she felt the same, the way she would smile at you, the way she would talk to you, the way she would teat you and help you, how gentle she was with you.

she was as gentle as one would be with a fresh wet painting, it made you feel special but you always knew that she was just like that. as previously stated, she was a soft kind girl.

she was the innocent, "lara raj" after all. she was the heartthrob amongst the camp. and daniela fucking avanzini was the girl to get her first.

if we were to be honest, and let the reader be honest with herself for once, she didn't really care as heavily at first because she was a taken woman after all and she respected daniela at the time, and same for lara, so she wouldnt even graze the thought of doing such a thing.

but it just seemed one day, things weren't really the same, she would watch daniela and the same feeling of respect for her superior and admiration turned to straight jealousy and envy. she hated daniela, wanted her gone to be honest. but, "gone" is the nicest thing we could say she wanted to happen to the blonde.

but in somewhat of a cliche fashion, you found yourself alone with lara. something that was decently normal between the two was that they may run into each other randomly during the day and you would come up with any excuse in the book why you might need lara to stay there for a small while longer but somene would either walk in or you would freeze up so badly that you was unable to speak or even form words together to let lara know you liked her.

the second you would get close to her, your heartbeat and breathing would pick up, something you can always recall was when she helped wake you back up with cpr after you passed out.

the world felt like it was slowing down when you opened your eyes, seeing her looking at you with that same worried expression that she has now.

"y/n?" she said, throwing you out of your daze, "what's going on? why are you in here?" the indian woman asked, her eyebrow raising. your eyes quickly scanned over her, her outift and her entire demeanor, feeling your brain cloud while you felt weaker in your knees by the second. "oh, nothing jus uhh.." your eyes began to dart across the room, trying to find something to say to evade the conversation but once you finally looked back at lara, her brown orbs were looking back into yours.

but no words were spoken, the room fell completely silent. you silently hoped that someone would walk in and ruin this slightly awkward vibe but no one came to your rescue. lara looked away from you for a second, but looked back at you. she broke the silence, once gain asking why you were here and you told the truth. you didn't really have a reason to be inside of that room with her but they always had the most privacy there compared to anywhere else.

something in your head kept yelling, telling you to tell him now before it was "too late" whatever that meant. "lara?" you called for her, and she looked at you, "yea?" she asked, and you took a slow breath. she looked at you , and she placed her hand on yours.

you looked down at your hands, then back up at her, and her eyes were softy looking into yours and she nodded to you, reassuring you that it was okay to speak, and that you did. "i don't know how i can say this, it's hard." you said, your eyes quickly looking away from the black haired woman in front of you.

"take a breath, take your time", she smiled to you, “we have all the time in world" she said, her voice finishing off so gently. you could feel yourself melting to her touch and voice, but you knew you had to say something. "uhm. okay, see, i like you" you said, but as you finished your sentence your voice got lower to the point lara couldn't hear you.

"what was that?" she softly asked, her head tilting down with hers. she used her free hand to lift your head up to look at her.

“you can say it" she smled, god she looks so stupid. you looked into her eyes, "i like you, like i'm in love with you" you said, but quickly your speech picked up, "but i know it's wrong, you're already in a relationship and you're a consoler while i’m a camper, and you have-" she cut you off, kissing you.

her hand cupped your cheek, as their eyes closed at the same time, their lips slowly moving in sync. after a small while, they broke apart, "lara..” you exhaled against her lips after the kiss broke, and she smiled, "yes?" she answered. you were in pure shock, not being able to process what happened.

"i like you too, you know?" she said it, but so casually. "what?" you couldn't register anyhting that was happening. "wait, you like me?" she was just, surprised.

“yes! god, i could never tell you because of the slight worry you didn't feel the same" she said, keeping that same stupid smile on her face. they decided to say the magic words, "lara will you be my girlfriend?", "as long as you'll be my girlfriend" you just smiled, basking in this moment with lara.

it wasn't like something was off either, not like this was a dare or a prank to be played on you, she was being genuine. you sighed, finally feeling at peace to get that off of your chest. lara saw how late it was, knowing you should've been asleep a long time ago, so after they bided their goodbyes she went to hers and daniela’s shared dorm/cabin.

she locked the door, seeing the she was sleeping peacefully, something in her kept saying “don't have to do it, you shouldnt do it. it isn't worth it.” but it is. she walked her way to her bags, grabbing something sharp, specifically a knife with a blade of 12 inches.

the more closer she got to actally doing it, her brain screamed louder not to, but she didn't care. you see, somethig about lara is that she was definetly a character. she never really was what everyone would describe her as. of course, that was the facade she began to go by but the real lara raj wasn't all much of a saint, she didn't have good history with certain things, daniela being one of them but due to them having that dumbass "perfect couple" title, she ws forced to keep up the soft girl look, or “girl next door”.

the more she thought about how she had to hide the way he actual was and felt ever since they gaind that title, she would get more and more mad now standing over daniela, gripping the handle tighter than before. she raied the blade over her head, planning how she’s gonna through with this but deciding that this would be too messy.

so she carefull draged the sleeping girl into the bathroom, placing her in the bathtub, "damn, heavy sleeper huh?" she said, and chuckle to herself. this wasn't such a lara thing though, for one she would barely ever swear, two cause harm to someone, again she was known as someone who couldn't even harm a fly.

she held the knife again, this time pulling daniela’s face back and lining the blade with her throat. she had the knives pre sharpened before any of this, she didn't care how she had to do it, she was getting with y/n (you).

the girl didn't need any prep, and lined the blade back up, pressing her hand against her mouth as tightly as she physically could as she sliced the blade across her throat. the blood began to slowly fall down, but she did it again to ensure she was dead.

she then stabbed the blade into daniela’s throat before dragging it down through her chest, watching as the blonde woman’s blood began to stain the pajamas and their bathtub.

the redhead only continued, practically mutilating the sleeping woman’s body before coming to her senses and moved her hand off of her, looking at her handy work and smiling to herself, loving how she looked all bloodied up. she smiled watching the blood spill from her neck and the huge gash in her body, but would soon get bored of it, she would stab the knife directly into the other side of her chest, and went to wash her hands.

she changed her clothes, and went to sleep that night like nothing ever happened, which would be the case for so many days. she would live her life like nothing, ever happened, anytime someone would ask about daniela and/or her where abouts she’d would lie and say she went home early or whatever.

and what makes it better is that she got away with it for so long, she was successful until the smell began to stink up her room, she couldnt even be in there, she went to the bathroom and noticed that her body began decaying in the bathtub.

and so she decided that same night she would hide her body, she went and grabbed some bags along with rope and a shovel. it was dark out, meaning she'd need a flashlight, which always, never works out for anyone trying to get rid of a body this late.

she would contiue her stroll to the storage room, and walked inside in seach for a flashlight, which she'd find along with getting a heart attack from you randomly appearing behind her. she slightly jumped but didn't scream, "why are you in here?" she first asked, "how are you in here?" she asked another question to follow and you answered her.

"door was slightly cracked and when i walked past your room, it had a really bad scent to it" you said, hinting at the obvious stench of rotting flesh that filled her place of residence. you would just look at her, while she just looked back at you.

she sighed, "let's just say something got into my room and rotted before i was able to realize" she said, but you already knew what that something might be. it had been days since anyone had last seen daniela, and you, yourself hasn't done ayting to her so she knew it was lara’s doing but instead of it scaring you, or running you away, you instead wanted her so much more now.

"let me help get rid of it" you said, but lara shook her head, "no i don't think you should get involved" she said, grabbing the things that were needed before making her way to the door. and doing everything but listening to lara, you followed behind her and began to rapidly ask to be with her while she gets rid of the body.

it didn't take much longer before she gave in and allowed you to go along with her. she laid the body on the gound, slaminng it down due to how heavy it was and began removing the teeth fom the body. "why do you have to take her teeth out, eugh" you asked while turning away, gagging at the sight. “dental records, baby" she replied and then began to dig a shallow grave for her.

"how did you, do it?" you asked while they walked off, did you really care though? to say the least, no. but there was something about seeing her a sweaty mess while carrying the shovel while you two walked back that just made you feel insane.

"a simple slice to the throat, nothing too extravagant." she said casually, but was lying. your mouth was agape, “you slit her throat?" you asked, and she nodded.

you couldn't believe that lara, the camp’s virgin innocent princess, would murder someone, especially so off rip.

her modus operandi? love, what else would it had been? you were genuinely unable to wrap you head around the fact that she chose such an executon style, it was, attractive to you, for some reason. you loved that she killed for you, that she got rid of the bitch that you hated so much.

they didn't stop at the storage cloet to put away the stuff, instead they just took it wih them inside of lara’s place. she left all of her windows open to hopefully be rid of the stench that has now taken over her entier home.

she walked inside first, alerting you of the smell before opening the door and she went straight to the bathrom and began cleaning it.

she didn't use a lot of bleach, the smell was really obvious and intoxicationg so lara decided to use other other things to ensure evey last blood stain was cleaned.

it went as well as you'd expect any cleain proces to go, she even drained her of majority of her blood before she began to decay just incase the blood became an issue.

after she finshed cleaning the blood, she when and grabbed her a pair of clean clothes to wear and anything she’s worn in between the day daniela died until now were all getting burned.

while she was getting cleaned up, you was feeling a little silly and decided to go inside of the shower with her. she didn't hear your footsteps but felt when you got inside of the shower with her.

you didn’t move or do anything but instead stood there, partially hoping she didn't notice you but secretly hoping she did. she continued to shower like it was nothing though, but when she turned around to face you, she didn't see your face automatically and instead saw your head.

"darlin, look, my eyes are up here" she said and your eyes followed along her body, noticing her defined abs and just how hot she looked with wet hair. she held the back of your head and pulled you into a kiss, really there was no need for words, the tension was so thick it made it all so obvious.

you couldnt help but get so turned on during this kiss, you were already in love with the way her lips would move against hers, how soft but passionate she was with it, god it all drove you so crazy. you would moan into the kiss, and start pressing your wet naked body against hers, feeling her semi-hard cock against your clit.

lara broke apart from the kiss, you whining at the loss of contact but was quickly met with something better. she asked you to open your legs a bit, sliding her cock between your thighs. she held your hips and slowly thrusted her hips, you moaned lowly, you both held eye contact while she sped her hips up.

the sound of your skin slapping against each other filled the room, the water spilled down your bodies. her grip on your waist got stronger while she sped up, causing her to whimper a little while your moans quickly picked up.

the need for each other grew more and more by the second, so you both agreed fuck the shower and she brought you to her bed.

she laid you down on the bed, and began attacking and kissing at your neck. she left nice hickeys on you, your hands traveled down her body and you reached for her cock, lining her up with your entrance. she slowly pushed herself inside of you, she filled you up so slowly but fuck she had length on her.

she dragged her cock out of your cunt, before slamming back inside, she held your hips down and proceeded to slam down inside of you.

she fixed herself, sitting up completly and held your hips and began fucking into you. your moans picked back up, you were much louder than before. she kept with this pace, not speeding up but not slowing down either. she moved her hands along your body and contied thrusting inside of you, her hand stopped at your neck while she gently choked you.

the indian use used her free hand to began rubbing your clit while she thrusted. she changed their positions, now she was under you and lowering you down on her cock.

she slid back inside with ease, and grounded her feet on the bed before thrusting into your cunt. her hands began grabbing at your breast and playing with them, taking the other into her mouth.

"mmth fuck~ cumming" you moaned and unravels on her shaft, your cum coating her cock completely causing making it easier for her to slide in and out.

her cock began to twitch inside your warm cunt, the sound of your moans echoing throughout, along with her own and your wet skin hitting each other. due to the grip you had on her cock, she didn't care for anything.

she threw you back under her and forced all of herself inside of her, she put both of her hands on your neck and continued with a brutal pace, the need for each other continued to grow more by the second.

she watched as you slowly began to gasp for air, then she let go, focusing her hands elsewhere while you came once again.

she chuckled at the scene under her, seeing how much of mess you were but loving how pretty you looked while cumming on her cock.

she changed their positions again, this time making the girl sit on her cock, she held her hips and slowly guided her while rocking them.

you didn't know what to do with your hands, you loved being used by lara as a fuck toy but god you were mindless about where to place your hands.

she would hold your waist harder and proceed to slam you down in such an uneven rhythm it told you that she was close. she began thrusting up inside of you and you could feel how deep her cock was now, the bulge being seen through your abdomen was genuinely mind boggling to you.

once agains you came undone on her cock, but directly after your orgasm it followed lara’s and she slammed down for the final time before the grasp on your hips became tighter as she filled you up.

"god you sound so so pretty when you cum" lara panted out, still slowly rocking her hips inside of your tired body. you nodded weakly, not really being able to speak by this point, lara basically fucked your brains out.

she gently pulled herself out, and reached to get you a shirt. she slid on her boxers and quickly cuddled you, and kissed your forehead. they pressed their foreheads together while they attempted to catch their breath.

lara would slightly move her head to kiss you cheeks, her arms wrapping around your body, which prompted you to turn around and lay down to face the opposite on her but being directly against her chest.

she pulled you as close as your bodies would go, her arms wrapped around you gently. she pulled the covers over you, kissing your shoulder and neck gently. "i love you" she softly whispered against your sleeping figure, and a smile crept on her face.

[erinwantstowrite]

I want your opinion, so I have a tiktok account where I frequently make videos about LoF and other marvel/dc related content (@tonystarkstwin) and I recently made a video saying jaytim was weird, basically it was a parody of the sound from frozen “i mean it’s crazy, what! we finish each others… sandwiches! …the fuck” and i made it like “i mean it’s crazy we both ship tim with a noncannon ship, yeah! jason, the fuck?” watch the video idk if that makes sense 😭

anyway i have gotten a few comments saying that i “need to respect fandom spaces” and if don’t like something, i shouldn’t make post about it

which i would agree with if i was hating on an individual creator, or a specific fic, or a ship that ya know, wasn’t insect?? but i wasn’t doing that

but also i wanted your opinion because you have talked about batcest and fandom spaces before and i want to know if i was in the wrong for just making a silly video…

i saw that post!! i completely agree with you. and those comments can go to hell <3

in all seriousness, you did nothing wrong. you have every right to talk about your opinion on something. you didn't call out anyone specific, you just said your opinion. you weren't calling for censorship, you were calling out how insane that is. you can go and say over and over again how disgusting, vile, disturbing, nasty, and downright horrific shipping an incest ship is, and how people who do ship it are unwelcome on your page because they are illiterate fucks with no prospects in life that will never know the love of another human being without perverting that relationship, and who will die lonely deaths, rotting in their casket and stinking that up as much as they stink up their everyday lives.

they have the right to block you and continue being delusional shit stains (and i'm talking the kind of people who, if they were rats, would carry the plague). and YOU have every right to make them uncomfortable with being in YOUR space. they obviously have no concept of boundaries or human interaction, so don't worry if they miss the message as much as they miss the meaning of a platonic or familial bond, they'll probably be so incensed that you dared to have a brain in your skull that wasn't made of styrofoam that they'll comment on your page. they'll show you who they are and you can block them.

remember folks: you have every right to speak your opinion as long as you are not harassing anyone individually or asking for censorship of a platform (because censorship will eventually lead to harming us, too). and if they're so mad about that, they can block you, just like they seem to block out the little voice in their heads that tells them they know what they're doing is weird, which causes them to lash out at other people instead of taking accountability and going to therapy.

no, you do not have to make space for pedophiles or incestuous, nauseating freaks.

we are representing ourselves and our fandom spaces every time we make a post, comment, etc. which is why it's important that we make it known that THIS is not their space, and they do not represent us.

if we made way every time people like this told us to, so that WE didn't make THEM uncomfortable, then we wouldn't be here at all. personally, i don't give a flying fuck if i make them uncomfortable or sad or angry. the argument "it's just fictional characters" doesn't work for me, because the media we consume reflects our reality

[mefreakio]

I'll just do all of them at once because my blog is small, I'm bored, and it's fun :)

General kin asks:

Who are your main kins? Is there a reason they're your main kins?

I have one main kintype, Mercutio. Everything just feels very very me.

How many kins are you aware of? If you don't want to list them all that's fine, just do your top ones.

Just one kintype :)

Who is the most recent kin you have discovered? Do you have any information on them (ie kin type, what happened in your canon, ect)?

Do you have a kin you didn't expect to kin but did?

Yup. I did not go into my English class's Romeo and Juliet unit expecting to be or even like Mercutio but uhhhhh that happened.

Do you have a 'kin type' (Ie do you always kin characters with black hair, do you kin characters with a temper, ect)? Can you relate this 'type' to yourself currently?

Uhhhh not that I know of, since I only have one kintype

Is there a character from media that you haven't engaged with that you're kinsidering?

Nope

Do you have any kins that take place in an AU? Or any kin you'd like to see in an AU?

Nope

Do you have a favorite kin? Why are they your favorite?

My only kintype lol

Is there a kin source you have that no one else seems to kin from?

YES OH MY GOD I've only met ONE other Romeo and Juliet kin WHYYYY

Do you have a specific kin type (ie otherkin, fictionkin, objectkin, ect) that you lean towards?

I use the term fictionkin mainly.

If you could live in any of the worlds your kin is from, which one would you like to live in?

I would absolutely want to live in Verone but not in modern times, I just want to go back and see my friends again really

Have you met any canonmates before? If so which canons/kins?

Nope and I'm not looking for any because I'm nervous af.

Do you have any kins that are no longer main kins for you? Who are they?

Yes, I used to identify as Applejack (MLP G4) but it turns out that was just a flickertype.

How did you discover being kin? If you don't want to share for any reason, what age did you learn about kin?

I wasn't even expecting to like studying Shakespeare at all but then I started looking at Romeo and Juliet fanart and became inexplicably drawn to Mercutio in the Romeo et Juliette french musical, and then in class we had to perform three scenes of our choice from the play in groups, and one of my friends was cast as our Mercutio and I started to get like this insanely strong feeling that everything was wrong and everything felt off and I should be Mercutio, not her (no shade to my friend though). So then eventually I asked her if she was willing to swap roles and she agreed (she was not interested in performing in general and was happy with a minor role) and the moment she said yes it was like the stars aligned or something. Then I got increasingly obsessed with the musical and started kinsidering if I'm Mercutio and I kinfirmed it pretty fast due to the whole 'everything feels wrong if I'm not Mercutio' thing.

-

Specific kin asks:

What is the most important relationship(s) you had as [kin]? Or do you have a comfort character that links to [kin]?

I was closest to Benvolio, and now he's my comfort character too

Give a brief summary of your kin timeline! Or write about why you kin [character].

(I dont understand the question so im gonna skip this. I'll figure out what a kin timeline is later)

Do you have any music you associate with [kin]? If you want to list multiple songs!

Pretty much all the songs from source that I sing in.

Does your kin (or anyone else) have a queer identity in your memories? If you don't have any memories, do you have a headcanon for [kin] or anyone else?

Yes! I was pansexual and homoromantic, pretty sure Benvolio was bisexual, and I have a strong suspicion Romeo was aromantic (ironic, I know) because he did NOT know what romance actually is and I doubt he wouldve figured it out.

What are your most comforting memories? If you don't have any memories, do you have any scenes from source that bring you comfort?

I do have a few memories of waking up with Benvolio in the morning and just lying there together for a while. No details though, they're pretty vague. I remember things that were shown in source a lot better that things that happened outside of source canon.

What hobbies did you have as [kin]? Or are there any you do to feel connected with [kin]?

I think I remember I liked to dance, but I literally cannot dance in this life (well I cant do modern dances at least) and it makes me sad 😔

As [kin] were there any fashion types you enjoyed and/or wore? Is there any fashion types you'd like to see [kin] wearing?

I'm... pretty sure my entire closet was purple.

Were there any differences in your kins canon appearance to your kin timeline? If not is there any differences would make to your canon apperance?

Nope I was pretty much identical to source.

Do you have any food that you link to [kin]? Did you enjoy eating this food or is there another reason?

GELATO I remember loving that stuff and I still do!

Did you listen to any music as [kin]? Or what music do you associate with [kin]?

I didn't listen to music, I WAS the music (being from a musical be like)

What does your fandom get right about [kin]? Why do they get wrong?

Someone headcanoned my last name is Bellerose instead of Escalus and I have absolutely noooooo clue where they got that from but I'm 99% sure that actually was my last name in my canon.

Also I did flirt with Tybalt, but only to get him angry WHICH HE DID, EVERY SINGLE TIME and it was HILARIOUS. BUT I definitely did not like him and he did not like me either. Fandom ships us 9 times out of 10 and I'll never escape the fanart so I've accepted my fate. I'm also a fan of my source so from a fan perspective I actually kinda ship it myself but not in a serious way. I just think it's funny lmao

Are there any similarities between canon [kin] and you? Is there anything canon got wrong?

Hmmm everything was accurate I think

Do you have any regrets as [kin]? What would you have done differently?

Perhaps picking a fight with Tybalt was not such a good idea after all. Actually forget perhaps that was definitely not a good idea and if I ever meet canonmates (unlikely) or sourcemates (also unlikely) I'm pretty sure they'll say the same

What was your universe/world like as [kin]? Or what would it be like living in the world of [kin]?

Everyone hated everyone else basically

Favourite part about being [kin]? Why?

Hmmm... everything?

Least favourite part about being [kin]? Why?

THE OBSCURITY OF MY SOURCE I JUST WANT SOME SOURCEMATES PLEASE

Do you have a favourite picture of your kin? If not is there any of a comfort character?

EVEN BETTER I HAVE MULTIPLE :D

And this is me and Benvolio while my uncle sings the first song in the musical and absolutely killed it ✨

Large kin ask game

Notes: I tried to make these friendly to both kin with memories and folk who kin with no memories! Also the second set of questions are heavily linked to fictionkin, but feel free to use for any kin type!

-

General kin asks:

🏆. Who are your main kins? Is there a reason they're your main kins?

🤯. How many kins are you aware of? If you don't want to list them all that's fine, just do your top ones.

👤. Who is the most recent kin you have discovered? Do you have any information on them (ie kin type, what happened in your canon, ect)?

🦧. Do you have a kin you didn't expect to kin but did?

🍿. Do you have a 'kin type' (Ie do you always kin characters with black hair, do you kin characters with a temper, ect)? Can you relate this 'type' to yourself currently?

🦄. Is there a character from media that you haven't engaged with that you're kinsidering?

🌐. Do you have any kins that take place in an AU? Or any kin you'd like to see in an AU?

🌟. Do you have a favorite kin? Why are they your favorite?

📚. Is there a kin source you have that no one else seems to kin from?

🪶. Do you have a specific kin type (ie otherkin, fictionkin, objectkin, ect) that you lean towards?

🌱. If you could live in any of the worlds your kin is from, which one would you like to live in?

🪀. Have you met any canonmates before? If so which canons/kins?

🎆. Do you have any kins that are no longer main kins for you? Who are they?

🪄. How did you discover being kin? If you don't want to share for any reason, what age did you learn about kin?

-

Specific kin asks:

💕. What is the most important relationship(s) you had as [kin]? Or do you have a comfort character that links to [kin]?

🖋. Give a brief summary of your kin timeline! Or write about why you kin [character].

🎶. Do you have any music you associate with [kin]? If you want to list multiple songs!

🌈. Does your kin (or anyone else) have a queer identity in your memories? If you don't have any memories, do you have a headcanon for [kin] or anyone else?

🍃. What are your most comforting memories? If you don't have any memories, do you have any scenes from source that bring you comfort?

🥁. What hobbies did you have as [kin]? Or are there any you do to feel connected with [kin]?

👗. As [kin] were there any fashion types you enjoyed and/or wore? Is there any fashion types you'd like to see [kin] wearing?

🪞. Were there any differences in your kins canon appearance to your kin timeline? If not is there any differences would make to your canon apperance?

🍔. Do you have any food that you link to [kin]? Did you enjoy eating this food or is there another reason?

🎧. Did you listen to any music as [kin]? Or what music do you associate with [kin]?

🐣. What does your fandom get right about [kin]? Why do they get wrong?

🐦. Are there any similarities between canon [kin] and you? Is there anything canon got wrong?

💧. Do you have any regrets as [kin]? What would you have done differently?

🗺. What was your universe/world like as [kin]? Or what would it be like living in the world of [kin]?

💖. Favourite part about being [kin]? Why?

💔. Least favourite part about being [kin]? Why?

🖼. Do you have a favourite picture of your kin? If not is there any of a comfort character?

🎲. Send a question I haven't thought of!

[crimson-pirate]

I noticed the other day, for whatever reason, it seems like Arthur is normally on the right side of the screen.

I can not stop thinking about this, so beware, this is gonna be a bit of a yapping moment.

RDR2 SPOILERS

(If you saw my message in a certain discord server... no you didn't /j)

Maybe I'm crazy, and reaching. But... I'll show images before I get to the point.

For example, the mission before you shoot up Valentine, he's on the right in that scene.

When Dutch shows up behind Arthur infront of that saloon in Saint Denis.

Now these examples with Dutch probably aren't as important, but these next ones absolutely are.

When Arthur and Mary Linton meet in Saint Denis, and after going to the theater.

And finally, the very last mission in chapter 6, Red Dead Redemption.

Arthur is on the right a lot, at least in cutscenes especially.

We read from left to right, meaning, we move forward, like when we read a book, we are moving forward in a story. Arthur being on the right side could mean he's moving forward, he's moving on, and reaching the end of his story, but also reaching forwards, toward being a good man, and lmfao, his redemption.

He's also moving on without Mary, and John. He never gets to see them again after those scenes. He's on the right side again in the credits, when Mary visits Arthur's grave.

He is finally at the end of his story, and moved on.

Feel free to call me insane ❤

I apologize if some of what I said makes no sense, when I first started writing it I just needed it out of my brain and actually written out.

I'd like to hear what anyone else thinks as well, or if I missed something! 😋

[charmwasjess]

AHEM. Dooku for 2/3 and 18, 25? Or dealer's choice? Anything you like 👀👀👀👀👀

OH HEY FRIEND :D Thank you so much!!! I answered the first two here <3 <3 but I kind of went wide with 25 so I pulled in some dealer's choice. :D Couldn't resist.

18 How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

It was so tempting to write you a Sifo-Dyas essay here. Please accept this coupon for one unhinged Sifo-Dyas manifesto, to be redeemed at a time of your choosing. <3

But today, I’m thinking about Mace and Dooku. God, there’s a part in that Shatterpoint novel where Mace obsesses over the fact that he could have killed Dooku on Geonosis - he could have gone for Dooku’s head instead of Jango’s, and how much death and suffering would he have saved? And the fact that he didn’t, he went after Jango, not because he didn’t realize the importance of that decision, but for the plain fact that he didn’t want to kill Dooku.

I think two things are so interesting here - of course, I love the way that Mace vouches so hard for Dooku in AotC, and I love all that implies about the personal relationship and respect as colleagues between them. All that it hints about Dooku's post-exit relationship with the Jedi Order.

I also think it’s interesting that the questions doesn't seem to be if Mace could kill Dooku. 

Here’s the part where I just pornographically imagine the duel between Mace’s Vaapad and Dooku’s Makashi and make uncomfortable noises. Arguably the two most aggressive forms, I think that fight would be insane. Mace is 6’2/1.88m, while Dooku has a few inches on him, Mace is younger and very powerfully built, so Dooku isn’t going to get his usual default “I can just reach further than you” advantages. Also, the way Mace dominates the terrain - I’m thinking of his duel in Sidious’s office - is going to be a big problem for our Count, who thrives on space in a fight and carefully balancing Makashi’s more delicate aspects with his ability to control the environment via the Force - ie, drop pieces of the architecture on his opponents heads. Cool fucking fight, cooler what-if. 

What does the Separatist movement he just started look like if Dooku is captive or martyred?

 25? What was your first impression of [Dooku]? How about now?

Well, my VERY first impression of this character was quite negative. Like many fans, I was enraged to find that we were getting this character and not Sith lady concept art (who would turn out to be future Asajj). Old man Sith?! Who used to be a Jedi? NO WE HAVE OLD MAN SITH WHO USED TO BE A JEDI AT HOME. 

But when I first became a Dooku maniac, I spent a lot of time working backwards trying to find the actual good person the monster used to be. What was the dramatic tipping point, how much was Qui-Gon’s death a factor, how could Dooku’s fall have been stopped or redeemed? 

Now the more fascinating part to me is how an actually good person becomes a monster. To me, that’s actually started to be more interesting than my old fascination with finding some big reason. I love the almost ordinary factors in his slide toward darkness - loneliness, depression, helplessness, the unwanted child compulsive urge to impress the wrong people, plain old sunk cost fallacy. He can be a surprisingly uncommitted Sith. He chains himself to Sidious. 

Someone once summed up my one true fix-it fic, “Five Days to Murder Sifo-Dyas,” as “Sifo-Dyas saves Dooku using only the power of his dick,” and while that's funny, they’re right. I really think any very simple change in Dooku’s story could have got him back on track. The fascinating fact is, it didn’t. Dooku's missed connection with his own humanity and goodness.  

Talking further about impressions of the character, although maybe this gets into 6. What's something you have in common with this character? territory, is that I’ve grown up with Dooku. Getting into Dooku when I was a kid and now liking the character as an adult, I realize I relate to him fundamentally differently now vs then.

Dooku and I don’t share a lot of personality traits, and I’m nowhere near his age in the films, but now I’ve been a teacher, I know how that rewires your brain. I know what it’s like to be a whole ass adult, but still meaningfully reckoning with your own ugly origin story. And god, am I fucking worried about the end of the world. His problems feel so much more real to me now.

I think both he and Sifo-Dyas have a core trait of “oh my god, what’s happening, why doesn’t everyone else SEE this, I have to do SOMETHING” driving their characters’ actions. And while I obviously don’t agree with either of their actions, I think that’s never been more relatable to me than now in 2025.

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!

[pitchburgh]

That "nobody knows why the US invaded Iraq" post is driving me insane. Am I missing some critical phrasing or something? Are they truly saying "it's a complete unknown??"

I was not even a teenager at the time. And yet I understood both the propaganda (liberating people from an oppressive regime affiliated with terrorists) and at least the basics of the more sinister truths (feeding the US military industrial complex, acquiring cheap oil, punishing whatever brown people we could get our hands on as revenge for 9/11).

Much of my comprehension of the latter came from my parents, who are not particularly extraordinary (except to me). At the time, they were Clinton Democrats. They were staunchly antiwar but hoped that there could be a silver lining for marginalized Iraqis.

As I've gotten older I've come to more fully understand that the Iraq War was essentially colonialism as a tool for political advancement. 9/11 had been an act of war, and the American people had blue balls to bomb someone back. The particulars were not important; and Iraq was a tempting target thanks to its status as a middle eastern country and wealth of mineral resources.

I do not mean to sound judgmental, but all of this seems extremely obvious.

So that takes me back to the "no one can explain the Iraq War" post. Once again, did I miss something? Do they mean "we've never gotten an official explanation?" I'm so lost. I have to be missing something, because I cannot imagine anyone sincerely posting that at face value.

[marzipanilla]

lol I was gunna ask if you'd seen the new eps yet. The answer is apparently yes

If you think how Mark and Eve get together in the show is bad !! Wait until you hear about how in the comic she dated William first (he doesn't come out as gay until later) and straight up tells Mark that she did it to be close to him. The stupid future her speech does get brought up between them and she is upset about it but like... I don't remember her having such meta commentary about the future her not being her and how weird it all was. Like. If you writers were aware how stupid it was WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LEAVE IT IN. it gives nothing. truly. nothing to the narrative. Instead of inventing stupid shit to put in, why not just naturally let the two of them bond over their fucked up family situations? Eve could be all hey, I was made as a government weapon, and Mark could be all my dad wanted to use me as one !! and they could party. But no. A sad middle aged woman cries at you after an insanely traumatizing moment in your life so now you gotta date her proxy.

To keep adding on to the lack of platonic relationships... fucking Samson once again desperate to call them all family when he's still barely spoken to any of them. Did something happen to you man ??? you an orphan??? you having flashbacks to the OG GoG getting rid of you??? why are you so determined to use that word ?? did someone just say it once to you and you thought it sounded cool ??

Also Imma laugh my ass off if they force me to watch Immortal and Kate get married and that girl still doesn't get another outfit. fr I think she has had the same wardrobe for all eps now.

What if the team had actual team dynamics : \ what if they gave us that. instead of one liners. what if there was an indication these ppl actually liked working together. what if there was an indication of who didnt like working together! what if they... had to... communicate with each other !! tbh, I was amused by this sort of happening in the recent ep batch, but then I remembered it was so intermittent in the narrative that it feels jarring when it does happen. pls I need more than two scenes a season if you are going to keep telling me these characters are important as a group.

Art having immunity bc he knows everybody. lol don't try and shake down the tailor, its mutually assured destruction AND you'll have heroes and villains on your ass who just dont want to have to find a new guy. Is having a Rosenbaum costume like having a Gucci bag?? is he considered lower end to others?? does he try and keep a very strict schedule to keep things separate or do nemesis run into each other sometimes at his place picking up stuff?? How did he become friends w Nolan ?? the man tipped him w books ! books he never read ! did he just find Nolan's alieness charming? did Debbie make them hang out? did he just figure a guy who came here from another planet might be lonely so offered to hang?? is he so used to seeing villains that Nolan's offness just didn't bother him? like he didn't even realize he was picking up unsettling vibes ?? also it seemed like he didnt get the Omni-Man suit until around when Mark was born, so what was he tailoring for him then? copies of his Viltrumite kit?

Its funny how little time Mark actually spends around other heroes. On one hand it would make sense that a fair number would want to avoid him, but thats really only reflected in Immortal. Literally nobody else seems to give a fuck. He really is the special nepo baby of the GDA. Monopolizing all that Cecil time.

Yeah normal until not only works if the ppl involved were normal at some point, and space alien hiding the fact he's here to do a lot of murder, and woman who is apparently fine w marrying a god creature ARE NOT NORMAL. How did they produce such an average child. Why is the scope and depth of this universe only relative to Mark's existence. whyyy. it squishes so many compelling things down into nonsense.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[lilu-the-horse]

working with horses is about trust.

[mourn-and-watch]

just want to remind y'all of some kirkwall-related details that are not at all relevant for the possible events of datv:

meredith stannard is alive and kicking and is also planning a war against tevinter

red templars are in control of the gallows; it's hard to tell what's going on in the city itself, but with varric absent it might be left with no viscount again

there's an elven graveyard on sundermount where ancient elves entered uthenera; it is also possibly dedicated/related to mythal

there was also a demon contained in an idol on top of sundermount who supposedly possessed a great knowledge about arlathan and eluvians

the veil in kirkwall has always been remarkably thin and tevinter magisters were weakening it on purpose during their reign; the whole city was built as an enormous blood magic ritual site

if the veilguard squad is going to travel through the eluvians there's still one in kirkwall. the one that has been plot-relevant since dao

[kantpattanawat]

Bison? First Kanaphan as Kant (The Heart Killers, 2024-2025)