#had to repost because of a very silly typo

[onewomancitadel]

I know that this is very unusual to the average moron who advances their own thesis based on determination and entitlement, but I want to make it very clear that I have never been definitive about Knightfall and most of my analysis. I currently think it's a gamble on whether it does or doesn't eventuate (and even so, I still don't like the Jaune/Weiss 'shipbaiting' if it is that) even if at this point I think Cinder's redemption is very likely. Arguably the lattermost of these is more concrete, which of course makes me scratch my head because of the limitations put on getting her there.

As much as I don't think being a shipper or a fangirl should come with weighted assumptions, I equally don't enjoy the assumption that I am saying Knightfall will definitely be a thing because I want it to be a thing. I'm not reading into friendly hugs (Jaune/Ruby, Ruby/Penny) or characters fucking looking at each other or going to the movies with Oscar.

But I suppose I am once again reminded that in the R/WBY fandom and fandoms at large, shipping is a) largely casual, b) largely independent of the text and/or based off of facile interpretation of superficiality, and c) mostly about what assumptions you come to the text with. Romance predicated upon extreme seriousness, textual dependency, and trying to meet a story halfway is actually pretty unusual. I have to keep reminding myself of this because I keep forgetting, and because the norm is so far from my own experience. (Even with the obsession regarding canonicity amongst casual shippers... which is a whole other thing. Just let your fanon be fanon).

I get that people want certainty, whether they ship Knightfall or whether they don't ship Knightfall or whether - as some anons have remarked to me - they're afraid of Knightfall and they don't like its possibility - or whether you, Reader, are reading into the meaning of my posts. I like writing and I like testing my own interpretation. I usually say what I mean to say. I think the beauty of Knightfall is partly how unlikely it is and I think it is very weird that it's something that keeps making me question my interpretation. I'm not sitting here saying that it's deffo going to be canon u guise because of a super secret sexual metaphor or because they looked at each other. The Juane/Weiss developments of Volume 9 have made me question a more superficial interpretation, which is less interesting to me, but I am willing to accept when I'm wrong.

It's annoying that engaging in a communicative exercise (this is partly why I think the 'author is dead' bullshit is bullshit) is characterised as ~reading into shit~. I actually think it's embarrassing not to take something seriously and sincerely and try to see what it's saying. I actually think it's embarrassing to genuinely read into shit of the most superficial, countertextual bullshit and act like your own self-insert is the most objective reading. I want to believe that it's projection, because ultimately other peoples' failure to engage with a text isn't my problem, but they seem to want to make it my problem.

If you ship Jaune/Cinder in a serious canon way, I can't tell you what to do and I hope you don't feel like I'm letting you down. I've never made false promises about my own interpretation and I've always considered it to be a pretty rocky (even if fun) position. I do enjoy the position of advancing a polemic and I do enjoy stress-testing my own interpretation on my own terms but not everybody does. A lot of people want a relaxing shipping experience and I imagine my position conflicts with a lot of other peoples' positions (especially casual Jaune team bicycle ships).

I'm not 'quitting Knightfall' in case someone gets that idea. I am reiterating the same position I've always held and I'll probably need to do so, over and over, and when someone wilfully ignores this and accuses me of being a biased shipper - I'll simply emphasise it again. I don't need to send anonymous asks to people because I'm insecure about my interpretation.

Nothing I say is threatening if you can so outright dismiss it. Right?

[delicate-moon-princess]

Warm Enough

Warm Enough

Summary: You’re having trouble staying warm during a winter storm. Walter is there to warm you up, but will he be able to keep the touches innocent? Will you? (Based on “A Word Like That”)

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smutty content, dry humping, climaxing with clothes on (both parties, as Walter is all for solidarity), dirty thoughts, embarrassed reader, fear of the dark, talk of bad weather- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 3.5k

Any typos are my own!

A/N: I’m reposting because Dumblr strikes again. This was an anon prompt, involving Walter, an innocent reader, and some sensual grinding 🥵 I forgot to take a screenshot of the original request. Enjoy!

*****

“We are expecting record breaking snowfall here in the next few hours. Stay inside, folks, because a blizzard is coming.”

You heard the chipper voice of the weatherman coming from the television in the living room. You rolled your eyes as you sat in the kitchen. Who can be so bright and cheery when there’s a snowstorm on the way?

No doubt the roads would be closed. Which means you were snowed in at Walter’s place. Initially, you came over to hog his wi-fi. You had a project due and your own internet was incredibly slow. Now it looked like you were going to be spending the night.

Trying to focus on your work, you continued to type on your laptop. You froze when the wind blew harshly. The windows rattled, which was eerie enough to put you on edge. You shivered.

It didn’t help that it was well below freezing outside, and it wasn’t much warmer in the house. You bundled up in a thick quilt, on top of your heavy sweatpants and hoodie. Still, you felt chilly. As you blew hot air into your cold hands, an anxious thought crossed your mind.

What if the power went out?

As if on cue, the lights flickered when another loud gust shook the house. You gasped, hugging yourself tighter as you looked up at the chandelier in the kitchen. If the power went out now, you would be caught with no heat in the worst snowstorm you had ever seen. And it would leave you in the dark.

It became impossible to concentrate on your work any longer. You didn’t want to be left alone when it went pitch black. The skin on your arms rose in tender goosebumps. You felt scared and cold. Thankfully, the warmest, safest person you knew was sitting in the other room.

Walter. He radiated comfort and warmth. You could cuddle up with him, and the big, bad blizzard stood no chance of harming you. He would be there to protect you.

You closed your laptop, standing up from the table. You migrated towards the sound of the television. The trim of the quilt dragged along the wooden floor as it rested on your shoulders. When you neared the corner going into the living room, your steps grew reluctant.

Were you honestly going to disturb him with your silly, childish fears? You knew you would have to explain your fear of the dark, and you didn’t want that. What if he laughed at you?

You stopped before coming out from around the corner. You decided you weren’t going to bother him with something so immature. If the power went out, you wouldn’t panic. You would handle the situation like an adult. Walter didn’t need to be burdened with his ditzy girlfriend’s troubles.

As you turned to head back, his smooth voice ran out.

“Darling? You can come in.” 

You were caught. It was impossible to hide from him. You held in a sigh, swallowing thickly. While biting your lip, you creeped into the living room. Walter held the novel he had been reading. He kept the television on for background noise.

“Hi.” You offered meekly, making your way into the room.

“Hello, love. How are you?” He tilted his head, observing your covered form. He set his book on the side table and rested his hands on his thighs.

“A little cold…” You told him, holding the quilt tightly around yourself. Your nervous thumbs played with the edge of it. “Some storm, huh?”

You chatted, doing your very best to seem casual. He smiled, humming with a nod. Walter watched as you stood in front of him, shifting from side to side on your feet. You trembled, letting your eyes do a once-over of his form. 

He was wearing a pair of gray joggers and your favorite black sweater. It was a little old, with a few holes in the cable knit pattern. But it was warm. So warm.

You wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms. To fight the cold and the dark away. And to be close to him… the thought made your heart stutter. Now, all you had to do was ask to be in his lap. Should be easy enough, right?

At that moment, you lost your ability to speak. All you could do was stare at him with a certain longing even Walter couldn’t place. He tried to wait for you to come out with it, but you didn’t budge.

“You look like you want to ask me something.” He pondered, masking his smirk when you blinked and snapped out of your trance. You started fidgeting again, biting your lower lip as you stammered.

“I-I was going to ask, um…. if I could sit in your lap.” You hesitated, feeling like you were asking for the moon from this man. He was silent.

It was an innocent request, but you knew there was a chance he could take it the wrong way. He had a little bit of a dirty mind. It must be contagious. Because you couldn’t shake the image of lustfully kissing him while perched on his legs.

You never had so many naughty daydreams until you met him. His pervertedness was rubbing off on you. And as much as you try to deny it, he made you want to shred up every last bit of your innocence and throw it away.

“Oh.” He finally reacted, flashing his teeth in a mischievous grin.

Just as you thought, he took it the wrong way. Ugh, dirty man! And dirty you for sharing the same dirty thoughts. You narrowed your eyes, poking a finger out of your blanket armor to point at him.

“Don’t get any funny ideas!” You scoffed, huffing when he pursed his lips to stop a laugh when he saw your finger sticking out at him. “This is purely for survival purposes.”

You yanked your finger back inside, that way he had nothing to laugh at. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and he could tell you did not want to be smiled at.

“Survival purposes, huh?” He humored you, nodding along as you started to babble.

“Yes, survival purposes. There is a blizzard coming!” You exclaimed, gesturing to the television. “I am already shivering over here, and there is a very big chance the power could go out. Which means no furnace, Walter.”

“That is correct.” He commented, arms crossed as he waited for you to continue. 

“And no lights, either.” You added quietly, your gaze casted to the floor.

Walter raised a brow, not surprised with the fact that you were afraid of the dark. He was surprised at the way you shamefully admitted it. Did you not think you could trust him? Deep down, it hurt him.

He pushed away his grief, reaching out for the blanket to pull you closer. You followed his tugging, hiccuping as you stood between his spread knees. You pouted as you looked into his blue eyes.

Your shoulders slumped, your bravery disappearing the more he stared at you. He always could make your brain go haywire with just a look. You wanted to get your point across before you lost yourself completely.

Walter rubbed the back of your covered legs. You bit your lip and looked away. Your thoughts jumbled from his calming touch.

“Go on, darling.” He prodded, his voice soft. You sighed and looked at him.

“I thought… We should share body heat. You’re obviously warmer than I am. And it looks like we’re going to be snowed in here for a while. I personally don’t wish to freeze to death by tomorrow.” You stated. 

“And that way, if the power does go out, we won’t be alone. In the dark.” You continued, your voice getting softer, to the point it was barely loud enough for him to hear.

“That's all you wanted to ask me?” He grinned after a moment of silence, wrapping his arms around your bundled hips.

You raised a brow, his question catching you off guard. What did he mean “that’s all”? It took every last ounce of your courage to ask him that. And why was he grinning at you? Was he laughing at you?

He leaned his head up to look at you, still smiling. You wore a hurt furrow in your brows. Walter clicked his tongue.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart. All I meant was you don’t need to ask to sit in my lap. You could have just told me you were cold and lonely. I would have welcomed you with open arms.” He hummed, grabbing the edge of the quilt that overlapped in front of you.

You sighed in relief, but got bashful the second you realized how you did blow this all out of proportion. He chuckled as his hands pulled the blanket apart, urging you to take it off.

“It’s alright, love. It was polite of you to ask.” He assured you, and it made you feel a tad better. You gave him a small smile, letting him take off the quilt. It fell to the floor behind you.

“There’s that beautiful smile. Now, come here.” Walter grunted, yanking you towards him as he leaned backwards.

You yelped as you fell into him, with him guiding your legs to rest on each side of his. As you straddled him, you tried not to think about how firm his muscular thighs felt between your own. So solid. It made you want to rub yourself all over him. How could you not?

Walter grabbed you, lifting you up so your lower halves touched. You felt the warmth of him through your thick layers. Your lips parted in a phantom gasp as he got situated under you. You cursed the growing dampness between your thighs.

“Are you warm enough now?” He breathed, raising a brow.

You nodded, your skin blazing. A thin layer of perspiration broke out on your brow. He was like a human furnace. Sweat started to gather at the base of your spine.

It wasn’t just the intense amount of heat he was radiating that was making you perspire. It was also the fact that despite how close you were, you didn’t feel like it was enough. You wanted more, too many layers between the two of you. You bit your lip to stifle a whimper when you shifted on top of him. 

Walter gulped, thankful his beard was thick enough to shield the sight of his Adam’s Apple bobbing. He felt a twitch between his legs, and he desperately willed his growing erection away. He rubbed your sides, seeing the way you panted. He pulled at the hem of your hoodie, concerned.

“I think you’re a little too warm, sweetheart. Let’s get this off of you.” He fretted, and you let him lift the heavy fabric off of you. 

You welcomed the feeling of cool air on your skin as you were left in a t-shirt. Taking in a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself. Before, you had been the one scolding him for his dirty mind. Here you were the one getting worked up over sitting in his lap.

“Is that better?” He tossed the hoodie behind you.

“Yes.” You murmured, resting your hands on his shoulders. You hoped he didn’t detect a hitch in your voice.

Of course, he did. Walter was picking on every little que of your arousal. He said nothing about it, treating your embrace as nothing but the perfect cuddle session. Even though you were inadvertently wiggling against his stirring cock. He wasn’t going to do anything to scare you away.

“Good. Why don’t you relax a little? Let me hold you.” He said, pulling you to lean forwards into his chest.

You were surrounded by his smell, your cheek pressed against his sweater. Your eyes fluttered shut, turning your head to press your nose to inhale more of his scent. A moan escaped you when he flooded your nostrils, muffled by his chest. Your hips involuntarily rolled. Walter let out a gentle grunt.

“Are you alright, darling? You’re moving quite a lot.” He smiled to himself, already knowing why you were squirming. You didn’t see his smirk, your face still in his chest.

Walter was not content with the whine you gave in response. He took your cheeks in his hands, making you look at him as you trembled in his lap. The bulge in his pants was becoming harder the more you moved, but you hadn’t noticed yet. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He urged you, his thumb easing your bottom lip out from between your teeth.

You hiccuped, embarrassed to admit what bothered you. It was dirty. Something you shouldn't be enjoying as much as you are.

“I…” You hesitated, your throat dry. You looked at him as he waited patiently, sighing before you admitted it. “It feels good. Being in your lap. Makes me feel all…warm. And tingly.”

Another jolt straight to his cock. Your honesty was making him excited. And the hint of curiosity in your tone gave him an ache in his loins that made the gruff detective want to whine. God, the things you did to him…

He licked his lips, and your gaze fell down to his mouth to watch. You licked your own lips, wondering what his mouth tasted like. Walter speaking snapped you out of your daydream.

“Don’t be so embarrassed, love. It’s supposed to feel that way. Your body is just responding to me, that’s all.” He assured you, stroking your hair.

You leaned into his hand, taking the comfort he was giving you. His words helped you relax a tad. The craving in your core made it difficult to relax completely. You shuddered, squirming once more. Anything to help ease the ache.

Walter inhaled sharply, then he closed his eyes. His grip fell from your face to your hips, dragging you harder onto him. Your hands shook when you felt how excited he was getting.

You bucked against the growing steel tucked between your legs. The pressure was light, given how many clothes you had on. But rutting in his beefy lap still helped ease the lewd appetite you developed.

Both of you moaned in unison. Walter huffed beside your ear, blowing your hair back a bit. One of his hands gripped your bum, leaning in to nibble on the shell of your earlobe.

Walter smirked when you let out a sharp mewl. He found your sweet spot. His facial hair tickled you as he suckled on your lobe. You gasped, seeking more of the delicious friction your body craved.

“It feels good for me too, sweetheart. Seeing you whining and squirming in my lap…” He groaned lowly, eyes closing as he inhaled through his nose. “It does things to me. Mmm fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

He bucked up with a moan, letting you feel what the sight of you on top of him was causing. His thick cock strained against the seam of his pants, begging to be let out. You squeezed your thighs around him with a whine, covering his mouth with yours.

The realization that he was so affected by your body caused your walls to flutter. Suddenly, the light pressure wasn’t enough. You intertwined your fingers in his curls, begging into the kiss.

“Please… I need- I- Mmm!” You whimpered, struggling to articulate yourself as you arched your back.

You needed him. You didn’t know how, but you needed him. A fire had grown in your core, the lapping flames of your arousal merely being teased by your actions. He would know how to take care of the blaze.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He soothed you, rubbing your sides. “Need to get these off too. I know you’ve got another layer under there.”

He tugged on your sweatpants, managing to get them off as you continued to straddle him. A bit shocked at his skill of undressing you, you didn’t have time to dwell on it as Walter lowered you back to his lap. The grip he had on you tightened.

You felt him closer now. His solid length nudged your clit through your pajama shorts. You hiccuped. Your underwear was already saturated in your juices. You worked on making a wet spot in the shorts as well.

“There. Doesn’t that feel even better? Move your hips like this, come on.” He huffed, guiding you with his hands as he watched your movements. 

You followed the rhythm of his deep grinding. Each time you swivel your hips, the tent in his pants dragged along your covered slit. It knocked against your swollen love button. You cried out, legs trembling as he grunted deeply.

Unbeknownst to you, the crotch of your shorts had shifted to the side. This gave Walter a perfect view of your wet panties. He moaned, forcing himself to look away as you rubbed your front all over him. He wanted to respect your closely held modesty. Despite also wanting to ogle at your beautiful body.

Instead, he chose to watch your face as you rocked with him. He could see you fighting the feeling, your body chasing its pleasure as your mind tried to gain control. But you were too far gone to care, drowning in the pleasure he was inflicting on you. He let you lead now, following your pace as you worked yourself on his lap.

“That’s it, good girl.” He purred, knowing how much you loved to be praised. 

You mewled, almost losing yourself completely when he said that. You squeezed his shoulders, bearing down on him as your hips gyrated. He grunted, 

Sparks flashed behind your closed eyelids. The bottom of your spine began tingling as a tense knot grew in your belly. Walter’s raspy voice barely reached your eardrums in your dazed state.

“Open your eyes, darling. Look at me.”

You struggled to obey, but you managed to pry your eyes open to gaze at him. Your body betrayed you, not stopping its movements as you rode his lap. Walter moaned, his attention fixated on you as you panted.

“Let it happen, sweetheart, it’s okay. I know you can feel it, let go, darling. Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum all over my lap.” He groaned, your soft mound rubbing on the aching tip of his dick.

You moved your hips wantonly, chasing the feeling of ecstasy. Pleasure washed over you as you finished. All feelings of modesty left your body. The only thing you could focus on was the toe-curling sensations echoing through you. If this was dirty, you didn’t want to be clean. Being society’s good girl meant nothing if you had to give this up.

You'd rather be his good girl.

Walter tugged you into his chest, pushing up as he kept you firmly pressed on his lap. The pressure on his cock head finally sent him over the edge as well. He cupped one of your cheeks, slamming his lips to yours as he spurted his load in his joggers.

He groaned passionately against your lips. His grip on you was tight as he lost himself in his own rapture. The sticky texture of his seed coated his skin, making a wet spot in the fabric. It matched the one you wore on the front of your underwear.

He continued to hold you as you both recovered. He pulled away from your mouth to pepper lazy kisses along your neck. When your heart rate finally decreased and you were able to catch your breath, you pulled back to look at him. He wore a lazy smirk on his lips.

“We’ve made quite a mess of ourselves, haven’t we?” He grinned, glancing at his lap.

Sluggishly, you casted your attention downwards to see what he meant. You instantly flushed at the sight of the wet spot in your panties, next to the damp spot in his sweats. The outline of his bellend could be seen, oozing with his creamy seed. Your mouth watered while your cheeks burned. Quite the mess indeed.

Your expression made his softening cock twitch and leak even more. You felt the stickiness sink into the material of your underwear. There it mingled with your own wetness. Walter watched as his lip twitched, proud to mark you in such a way. You peeked up at him sheepishly. He gave you a gentle grin, stroking your cheek.

“Relax, darling.” He cooed, and you did so. You matched his grin with a shy smile, falling into his chest to hide your warm cheeks.

“We’ll get cleaned up in a minute. I just want to hold you for a bit longer, okay?” He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations of his deep laugh as you nuzzled his clothed chest. 

“Okay, detective.” You hummed, squeezing your arms around him. 

The storm continued to brew outside.You didn’t care. Let the power go out. There was no need to worry. Because you were safe in his arms.

*****

A/N: Phew, it’s been a bit. Sorry I’ve been a bit mia for a while. I’ve been dealing with some lost inspiration 😭 I do hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading.

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke @identity2212 @rach2602 @fvckinghenrycavill

[appleasks]

–    G  U  I  D  E  L  I  N  E  S  .

     ⭑      BLOG  INFO.

this  is  an  independent  roleplay  ask  blog  (wow  that’s  a  mouthful) 

lucifer  usually  types  out  his  own  replies  and  ocassionally  as  an  editor  over  his  shoulder  (me).  lucifer  knows  he’s  speaking  with  the  living  world  but  doesn’t  know  he’s  in  the  show  called  ‘hazbin  hotel.’

       ⭑      CRITICISM.

i  answer  a  lot  of  asks  in  the  day  meaning  i’ll  likely  make  typos  so  do  be  kind  if  you  spot  them!  i  will  only  be  taking  constructive  criticism  into  consideration.  this  blog  is  only  my  second  shot  at  roleplaying  so  apologies  if  there  are  any  issues!

       ⭑      PORTRAYAL.

lucifer  will  be  portrayed  as  i  see  fit.  he  can  be  silly  and  kind  towards  lighthearted  asks.  inversely,  he  can  be  serious  towards  other  asks,  but  please  remember  to  separate  me  from  the  character. 

       ⭑      ASK  RULES.

NSFW  is  okay  on  my  blog,  seeing  as  lucifer  is  also  quite  open  to  the  idea.  excessively  troll  /  low  effort  asks  (e.g.  i  have  had  TONS  of  asks  just  saying  ‘bald’)  will  be  ignored  as  it  does  take  time  and  energy  out  of  me  to  tap  into  the  character’s  voice  when  i  answer  these.

this  one’s  specific  and  it  is  actually  the  reason  i  had  to  do  a  heavy  update  on  my  guidelines,  but;  i  have  had  people  come  into  my  inbox  saying  they  take  pleasure  in  indulging  in  the  following  :  dr*gs,  m*rder,  ab*se,  s*icide,  sh,  and  more  along  these  lines.  asks  like  these  aren’t  allowed  unless  you’re  clearly  joking  or  using  it  as  an  expression.  however,  merely  mentioning  these  topics  IS  allowed.  i  understand  some  people  will  still  not  be  comfortable  seeing  it  being  used  as  such,  but  as  someone  who’s  had  experience  in  the  last  three  topics  listed,  i’m  not  easily  fazed  and  do  not  wish  to  censor  this  blog  too  much.  here  are  some  examples  of  what  i  do  not  allow  : 

the  rest  is  only  the  obvious  :  i  will  not  condone  homophobia  and  racism,  and  will  not  be  entertaining  asks  over  political  views. 

however,  if  you  are  suffering  from  s*icidal  thoughts  or  sh  and  you  cannot  refrain  from  sending  me  an  ask  about  it,  please  at  the  very  least  provide  me  a  way  to  contact  you  in  private  so  as  to  not  trouble  others  viewing  this  blog. 

       ⭑      RESPONSE  TIME.

to  those  who  have  been  here  since  the  beginning,  i  am  so  sorry  i  am  no  longer  able  to  get  through  asks  as  quickly.  i  have  a  real  life  as  well  as  my  main  blog  to  attend  to  so  you  ask  might  take  a  while  to  get  to!  i  should  not  take  more  than  a  week  to  get  to  your  ask,  but  apologies  if  i  still  do.

       ⭑      ART.

any  art  on  this  blog  (as  scarce  as  it  may  be)  is  drawn  by  the  editor,  me.  please  do  not  repost  without  my  permission! 

       ⭑      OOC.

some  of  my  personal  thoughts  or  comments  to  your  asks  will  be  in  the  tags  labelled  as  ‘ooc’.  sometimes  i  may  also  make  announcements  on  this  blog  without  using  lucifer’s  voice  so  do  take  not  of  that!

       ⭑      WARNINGS.

as  mentioned  above,  this  blog  may  contain  mentions  of  m*rder,  ab*se  (probably  because  of  val  asks)  nsfw,  manipulation,  gore,  body  horror,  immoral  views,  etc.

       ⭑      UPDATE  LOG.

03.04.24   —   more  clear  guidelines  hehe

[twinklelilstarkey]

congratulations on 200 angel! sending a request for dad!rafe cameron where he is taking care of his little girl for the first time on his own 💕

A/N: Thank you, my love. Hope you like this.

On His Own - Dad!Rafe Cameron

Words: 3k+

Type: Fluffy

Warnings: I don’t believe there’s any swearing. Female!Reader. Mentions of college, and assignments (I really don’t want to awake anyone’s anxiety at their mention). Possible typos, I’m horrible at proofreading. Gamer!Rafe, Gamer!Kelce and Gamer!Topper.

Y/D/N (your daughter’s name)

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

“Babe, please don’t leave me” Rafe whines, stretching his hand your way as you stand by the doorway of the bedroom, backpack over your shoulder.

“Rafe, I can’t skip any more classes and you know that. I really need you to stay with her” You tell him, looking down at your phone in a small panic since you need to start making your way to college in 2 minutes.

“Isn’t there anyone that you could call to help me?”

“I’ve tried every single friend I have, and everyone is doing something today” You say, letting out a sigh as Rafe starts sitting up on the bed with a scowl on his face. You walk over to his side of the bed and press a kiss on to his lips when leaning over, “She’ll be asleep for at least 2 more hours, you have all the time in the world to start making breakfast and take a shower”

You try stepping away from the bed but Rafe stops you.

“But what if she wakes up before the 2 hours?” He asks, grabbing your hand before you could walk away.

“She knows where she can find you. She won’t get lost,” You say with a small teasing smile, “And all her favorite cartoons play in the morning, so you’ll be fine”

Rafe gives you a tight-lipped smile and you give him one back while giving his hand a small squeeze of reassurance.  

“Love you” You whisper yell on your way out of the bedroom and Rafe falls back on the bed.

“Love you more” He answers, voice back in his usual sleepy tone and muffled by the covers, making a smile stretch over your lips.

(…)

An hour later, Rafe brings himself up from the bed and drags his heavy feet over to the bathroom to take his morning shower. But before he went to grab his clean clothes from his wardrobe, he quickly wrapped his towel around his hips and ran over to the room down the hall, checking on his sleeping baby.

He walks back to the bedroom once somewhat relieved and starts to put on his clothes, which took less time than he expected.

Y/D/N will sleep until she hears something from the kitchen, or even, smells something, and until then, Rafe knows he’s safe to watch or do anything.

He quickly serves himself a mug of coffee before turning on his laptop, and looks over at the closed cabinets, thinking about what he could make for breakfast.

He doesn’t feel as nervous as he felt when you left the house. He knows that his daughter is way too sleepy and calm in the mornings for him to need any help, but he knows, for sure, that he will need that kind of reassurance once lunch time starts.

You had to go to class today, since you’ve been skipping a lot, and also to work on a group project with some of your classmates. And that meant leaving Rafe all alone with your 8-month-old girl that can quickly become the whiniest, clingy, and hyperactive little girl in the world.

Y/D/N can go from the giggly cute girl to a screaming and crying baby in a matter of 10 minutes and Rafe absolutely hates whenever his little girl cries.

You’re always able to make her calm down, yet Rafe always has a hard time because he never knows what to do.

Rafe pulls out Y/D/N’s breakfast (some sort of paste that he even cringed at the sight of) from the fridge and puts it down on the counter, looking for something else for himself.

Notifications from his laptop start popping up with Discord’s sound and Rafe looks over his shoulder to see the notifications coming from Topper and Kelce. They are overly excited for this morning’s talk, as well as, the whole afternoon that they’ll be spending basically gaming away on their pcs.

“Already?” Rafe questions out loud and looks back at the fridge, pulling out the leftovers from brunch of 2 days ago, “This will do”

The sound of a Discord incoming call sounds through the empty kitchen and Rafe ignores its first tones as he grabs his mug and takes a sip of his warm coffee. He lowers the volume and accepts the call.

“Whadup boys?!” Topper shouts, overly excited, making both Kelce and Rafe cringe slightly at him.

“Why this excitement?” Kelce asks before taking a bite of his avocado toast.

“Do you know for how long I’ve been waiting for all of us to be free and just play for a whole day?”

Rafe chuckles and takes his breakfast over to the table, putting it right next to the laptop.

Topper is quick to start a conversation between the boys, asking Rafe about his test from yesterday, but as well about you and your daughter, in which he got simple and quick answers about your whereabouts.

“I’m going to check on her now”

Rafe, as he said those words, gets up on his feet, taking the last sip of his coffee, and walks over to his little girl’s room.

He opens the door widely, making the morning sunlight shine through the small room, giving Rafe a better field of view.

Once he starts taking a few steps closer to the small bed, he’s met by Y/D/N with closed eyes but with her lips forming a wide smile.

“Look who’s awake” He says with his usual playful tone while leaning closer over the small girl.

He presses a kiss on her chubby cheek, marked by the blankets, and her eyes snap open at the feeling.

“Ready to have breakfast?” He asks, knowing very well that she won’t answer this early in the morning unless it is a babble that makes absolutely no sense.

The little girl’s smile widens as Rafe stretches his arms and pulls her out of her bed, making her wiggle her way closer to the warmth of his chest.

Y/D/N snuggles her face between the crook of Rafe’s neck as he walks over to her small window, in hopes to let some more light and fresh air into the room.

The girl hides from the harsh lighting and Rafe is quick to take her to the bathroom.

Once the girl’s face was washed, diaper was changed and as well as clothes, Rafe takes her to the kitchen quickly, knowing very well how hungry she must be.

As soon as the girl hears Topper’s and Kelce’s voices coming from the kitchen, she lifts her head in hopes to see them at the table, but her eyes only meet a laptop and her dad’s dishes. Which was honestly quite disappointing.

Rafe sits her on her highchair, right at the end of the table he’s sitting and turns his laptop her away, seeing her droopy eyes light up at the sight of her “uncles”, who are mindlessly talking about Kelce’s avocado toast.

“Look who it is!” Topper screams again as his eyes laid upon the baby sitting in front of the computer.

Y/D/N slaps the table in excitement as she hears Topper and her toothless smile makes the boys’ awe at her cuteness.

Rafe smiles down at his baby while petting the top of her head, feeling her soft hair. The girl looks up at her dad once feeling his hand and continues giving out her sweet smile and adoring look.

Rafe walks away from the kid and over to the counter of the kitchen and lets the boys look after her (trusting them and their filters to not say anything inappropriate).

He starts heating up slightly his baby’s food and her giggles start to fill the kitchen as soon as Topper starts to make the silly faces he knows that Y/D/N loves.

Rafe scrapes the food off to Y/D/N’s bowl and grabs her favorite spoon from the drawer, before turning back around to the table. The baby girl’s eyes widen at the sight of the bowl and as soon as it is close enough to her reach, she snatched the spoon off it and started giggling loudly with excitement.

Thankfully both you and Rafe decided to spend some money on those bowls with the suction cups at the bottom off of Amazon, because breakfasts always seem to be way too exciting for your little girl.

Rafe turns his laptop a bit to his side so the guys can, now, see him as well and Topper continues their previous conversation, letting the small girl eat alone in peace.

“I don’t know, dude. That guy has been annoying ever since he and your sister started dating” Topper says out loud as Rafe looks at the mess next to him.

“Wait, we were talking about John B this whole time?” Kelce asks.

“Yeah! He thinks he’s a kook now. All dressed up to events and always on the Cameron’s boat”

As the two men talked, Rafe found a new sort of amusement: his daughter and how happily she’s eating. Since it surely is better than hearing Topper bitch about his sister’s new boyfriend. He doesn’t care what is going back on the island, he moved for a reason. And he does not want to have anything to do with the Outer Banks anymore.

“What about you, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Are you and Y/N going to this year’s Midsummers?” Kelce asks.

“Nah” Rafe says, laying his arm over the back of Y/D/N’s chair.

“Why not?”

“I prefer to stay at home with my girls than go to an event in that island, thank you very much”

As his sarcastic end of his sentence sounded past his lips, Topper was quick to change the theme of conversation, not wanting to go into serious mode this early in the morning.

(…)

“Baby, don’t touch that,” Rafe says while sitting at his desk, muting himself on discord for the possible hundredth time.

Y/D/N looks over her shoulder at her dad and pouts slightly at his warning. She just wants to feel what’s on top of mommy’s bedside table.

The girl sloppily walks away from the table and goes sit back down close to her dad, where her toys are. Rafe’s eyes stay on the little girl as she holds a pout on her lips, visibly upset over being rejected such an exciting experience (feeling and, eventually, letting your alarm clock fall off the table).

“Don’t be sad, princess. I just don’t want you to get hurt” Rafe emphasizes but doesn’t even get a look from the girl.

He looks back at the screen of his gaming computer, still waiting for Topper or Kelce to revive him in-game, and sighs out loud as the two of them hysterically scream, “THERE’S ANOTHER TEAM! ANOTHER TEAM! PUSH BACK! PUSH BAAAAACK”.

“We’ll get you back, Rafe, give us one second,” Kelce says.

“Alright,” He says, unmuting for just that second.

Rafe leans back on his chair, eyes moving from his screen to Y/D/N and he almost freaks out when he notices the trembling of her chin.

“No, no, no, no” He says, taking his headphones off in a quick movement and throwing them to the desk before getting up. Y/D/N lifts her teary eyes over at her dad and stretches her arms up right away.

He picks up the girl from the floor and as soon as she was close enough, she hid her face on his chest as she let out some whiny sounds, close to actual tears and loud sobs.

Rafe takes back his seat at the desk and holds his emotional daughter with one arm as he puts his headphones back on, hearing both Topper and Kelce keep screaming right away.

“Why you crying, baby?” Rafe asks, moving his hand up and down the small girl’s back to comfort her, “There’s no reason to cry”

Those words were enough to worsen the situation. Y/D/N in that same second, stood up on her feet in her dad’s lap, little fists grabbing his shirt tightly and eyes filled with tears.

Probably as her way to show true frustration but failing as she keeps losing her balance.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, helplessly looking at the girl expecting some kind of sign that would show him her reasoning. “Do you really want mamma’s alarm clock?”

The little girl shakes her head violently and falls back onto her dad’s chest, letting a small sob escape her lips.

“Food? Do you want food? Are you hungry?” He asks before starting to move his hand on her back.

No answer, just a louder whine, sounding as she’s getting more frustrated.

“Sleep? Do you want to go to bed?”

Yet another no.

“Rafe, you there?” Topper asks, noticing the silence coming from his (possible) close-to-tilting friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here, just talking to Y/D/N” Rafe answers before muting himself back up.

Rafe looks down at his baby girl once more and she looks absolutely heartbroken.

Over what? He has no idea.

He presses a kiss onto the side of her head and the girl leans in closer once feeling it.

“Do you want me to call mommy?” He asks in a whisper.

Y/D/N lifts her head off Rafe’s shoulder right on that second and she quickly nods, with her pouty lips and red chubby cheeks, wet by her tears.

Rafe takes his phone out of his pocket in a quick movement and unlocks it in record time.

And even though he is being the quickest he could, for the little girl on his lap, it felt like it was taking the whole eternity.

As soon as Rafe starts calling you on facetime, he just starts praying that you’re not in class or occupied with something too important.

He turns the phone to his side on his hands so that only Y/D/N’s face was on the screen and the little girl seems paralyzed with her reflection for a quick second.

Once Rafe hears the sound of you answering the call, he almost gasps and sighs in relief at the same time.

“Oh, hi princess!” You say over the phone as you noticed the sad looking girl on your screen, “What’s wrong? Did daddy do anything bad?”

Rafe stares at the girl silently, watching her eyes lift up with happiness at the sound of your voice and the use of the teasing tone. A babble comes off her mouth, something you’re sure neither you nor Rafe understood, and her eyes start filling up with tears again.

“Oh, baby don’t cry” You say once noticing her small chin quivering.

Rafe decides to change positioning as soon as he notices the girl slightly sliding down his lap, and he positions his phone on the desk, making it stand up by some of your books, and making sure only the small girl and his chest appeared.

The girl turns to follow her mom’s face on Rafe’s phone and sits on his thigh while leaning back onto his chest.

“She said she isn’t hungry or tired” Rafe explains as you continue to look at the screen with a worried expression.

He notices that you must be sitting in a random bench somewhere as you look around you and the phone’s camera tilts a bit to the sky.

“Rafe, MOVE! You can’t be AFK the whole round!” Kelce says loudly, making Rafe take off his headset and setting it down on the desk.

“And I also told her to not touch your bedside table” Rafe continues the explanation while setting a hand at his baby’s stomach so she stops sliding down his thigh, again.

You start to think silently of what would’ve made your baby so upset but you just can’t think of anything.

She isn’t hungry nor tired, she’s getting her dad’s attention and has all her toys.

“Maybe she just misses you” Rafe says, making you snap back to reality.

“But she never is like this when we’re both out and she’s with the babysitter”

Rafe sighs once feeling his small baby grab onto his hand tightly, just like she does with her toys.

“What should I do?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” You start but stop for a few seconds to think, “Honestly, just try to make her watch some videos or one of her favorite shows. Maybe she’s just bored”

You two talk for a bit more before you had to finish the call and run to class, and Y/D/N sat through the whole conversation just watching you and Rafe.

Rafe decided to do as told and go grab your iPad (where every single cartoon episode is saved in) to try and entertain Y/D/N.

And thankfully, as soon as Rafe positioned the iPad on the desk next to his screen with his daughter’s favorite cartoon already playing, a smile spread over the girl’s cheeks and her eyes are no longer holding the sad stare.

Rafe readjusts the kid on his leg so that she can sit more comfortably, and puts his headphones back on, letting one of his ears out so that he can hear anything that Y/D/N says.

“I’m back” Rafe says, unmuting himself, and starts moving in the game again.

(…)

“What about this one?” Rafe asks his daughter and she shakes her head violently, almost choking in her own sob. “Okay…”

Rafe puts the snack back in the cabinet and stretches his hand in to try and look for something else that would satisfy the small girl.

“And this?” He asks, “Do you want waffles?”

The girl stares at him for a second and then nods, a smile growing out of nowhere.

“Can you even eat waffles?”

The girl doesn’t answer back as she grabs her toy from beside her and playfully slams it on the small table attached to the highchair.

Rafe drops the waffles in the toaster and pushes the button down before turning back to the girl.

She looks so carefree that it doesn’t even seem like she was just screaming her lungs out. Her cheeks are still wet with previous tears but the mention of food (and the sight of it) was enough to make her forget about everything.

Both of them patiently wait for the waffles to pop back up from the toaster and as they do, both Rafe and Y/D/N look over at the hallway at the sound of the front door of the apartment open.

That only means one thing…

Their savior (mommy) is home.

[crushzone]

Hi can I request some reader x Lev if that’s ok and if your comfortable, where whenever they are making out the reader keeps on giggling because of how ticklish they are 🤗

My Muse - Haikyuu!!

Character: Reader x Lev Haiba

Summary: An aspiring photographer in search of their muse, runs into Lev on one of their early morning photography escapades.

Word Count: 8,091

Warning: Fluff, none really, Lev the tickle monster? A little suggestive at one point, but he’s just being a tease lol.

Additional Notes:

Dear anon, I hope you enjoy this! Since your request allowed me a lot of room for exploration, I kind of took it for a spin, but I still hope you find the little ticklish kiss part fun!

As a camera nerd, I hope I was not too technical with this. If I had been, please let me know and I will make revisions haha. I figured it might be fine because if you’re not familiar with cameras, you will be just as confused as Lev was in this!

But if you are a fellow camera nerd, come talk to me because I would love to talk about film photography lol.

ALSO, a bonus quick doodle of model Lev I did to supplement my story. ;)

Please do not repost my work (and artwork), thank you!! 💕

—————————

Crank. Snap. Crank. Click.

You sigh in frustration as you come to the end of your film roll, slowly moving across from the beautiful alley cat in front of you to sit down on the side walk, being careful not to scare it away from its glorious pose.

It turns to look at you calmly with its blue eyes, subtly channeling the sassiest impatient expression you have ever seen on a feline, its white fur only surrounds its face like a mask, while the rest of its body is black. If this was your cat, you’d totally name it Erik, or Phantom, like the characters from Phantom of the Opera.

You pull out an empty canister, a pen and a roll of paper tape from your book bag and sets it next to you as you calmly wind your film, bringing it close to your ears so you can hear it click when it’s done. Then you pull the back cover open with confidence, loading your winded film into the empty canister, taping the top off, and uncapping your pen to label the date.

Looking up to make sure the cat is still there, then to the sky to sigh in relief that dawn is still awaiting your perfect shot. You look back down to your 35mm camera on your lap, re-loading it with a fresh new roll of film.

You close the back with a snap, as you pick the camera up from your lap, running your fingers up and down the side as you try to familiarize yourself with every dips and textures of the device.

Photography may be a hobby for some, but to you, it’s your dream. There’s just so much beauty in the world, so many people to capture, and so many quiet moments like this to remember. You love waking up very early in the morning to have a head start on readying for school, so you can take your sweet time, photographing quiet moments that only happens during the magic hour of dawn, on your way to class.

You bring your camera to frame up the cat, perfectly composing the shots with no spare inch to even bother cropping, because it was just complete.

Crank. You wind the lever of your camera, tongue licking your lower lip in anticipation. The cat perks its ears and its eyes widen, looking so lively and in its element, as if though it was posing for your camera.

“There you are!” A loud laughter sounds and from your peripheral, a VERY tall figure jumps at the cat.

Snap

Incredulous, you slowly pull your camera away from your face, no longer sure what you ended up capturing, and you will never know until you’ve develop your film at a later time.

If only you had applied a little more pressure to the shutter, a few seconds earlier, you would have been more sure.

“Oww!!” You finally look up from your camera to see a tall male with silver hair, gripping his hand with a wince, the cat no longer there.

With widened eyes, you take a few steps back. Your parent’s warning about dawn being the prime time for crimes, echos in your mind. But then he turns around with a pout and you can’t help but relax. There’s no way this guy can commit crimes.

“Y/n-san, and don’t judge anyone off their appearance, you never know who the criminal may be.” You mentally recall your mother’s voice, as you stiffen back up.

His eyes trained to his hand, brows furrowed, as he’s watching some blood drip to his wrist, still unaware of your presence.

“Are…are you ok?” You ask quietly, still debating if he’s going to kidnap or befriend you.

Like an eagle, his emerald orbs lock on to yours and you take another step back. He’s so intense. 

But then just as quickly as his eyes had shifted to yours, a wide enthusiastic grin takes over his features, and you could have sworn that if he was a puppy, and a tall one indeed, his tail would be wagging rapidly.

“I didn’t see you there, I’m Lev!” He offers his injured hand for you to shake, but you just grab the tip of his long pointer and shakes it daintily; not wanting any of his blood on you.

You let go of his finger then digs through your book bag to pull out a water-bottle and some bandaid. “Here, it’s not much but it should be enough to get you to the nurse without scaring anyone.”

He blinks, a little surprised someone he had just met is so thoughtful to him before reaching his hand back out with a smile. You put your camera strap over you and swings it to the side, before washing away his blood with your water, allowing it to drip down his wrist and on to the ground.

He winces at the sensation of your cool water burning his wound; a strange juxtaposition. However, what’s stranger is that he can’t seem to will his eyes away from your concentrated face.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You respond, one worded, still too focused on cleaning his wound to carry out a decent conversation. However, Lev did not pick up on the clue as he continues to converse.

“I don’t usually see a lot of people going to school this early. Is this your regular route?” He asks.

You bring your eyes to scan his uniform; White button up, red tie, black vest, and grey trousers that matches his hair color perfectly. A fellow Nekoma peer.

Meanwhile he brings his hand to the side to shake off the access water, swinging his palm up and down to air dry.

“Yea, I like to get up early so I can take some morning photos.”

You unwrap the bandaid packaging as you patiently wait for his hand to dry. Then when it is, you carefully position it so that the scratch only touches the non-adhesive cushion, throwing the crumpled wrapper back into your bag. It’s a tomorrow problem.

“I like getting up early too! There’s just something so magical about dawn, it paints the sky so pink, it almost looks like cotton candy.” He looks up to the sky, reaching his bandaged hand upwards in a grabby motion, as if he’s trying to pick a piece of cloud for himself.

You look up to him, his fair skin kissed by the warmth of the sky as his vibrant green eyes reflect the ball of sun that is shyly rising. your hand that’s been on the camera twitches as the urge to photograph the moment tempts you, but you decide against it, since you’ve only just met him.

Re-adjusting the strap of your book back out of habit, you begin to walk away from him.

“I should get going, nice to meet you.”

He blinks, confused as to why you’re leaving all of a sudden. “Hey, let’s head to school together!” He says, as he bounces up to you.

You turn to him with a sigh. If only he didn’t scare that cat away, you may have started off on a better foot.

“Sure.”

He beams at your response. The two of you continue your journey to school in an awkward silence; you’re generally not the most talkative person, and he’s suddenly feeling a little shy to say something because he senses the air being a little off.

“Your camera looks really cool. Where’d you get it?”

You pick your camera up in your hands and smiles fondly at it.

“My parents work at a vintage camera shop close to 8-Eleven. (nope, not a typo, it’s the store near Nekoma in their OVA) This Pentax K1000 is a new camera someone had just sold to us, it’s the one I’ve always wanted, so the moment it came in, my father gifted it to me.”

I actually own this camera, and it is my baby 💕 

He finds himself smiling with you as he watches you run your hand over the material of the camera tenderly.

“Isn’t it a little scary when you can’t see what you’ve just shot?”

“I think that’s the charm of it. Sometimes I’ll take a photo, forget about it, and when I go to develop my film, I get to relive the moment again.” Your smile widens as you think back to all the silly photos you developed. “It also makes me very picky about my shots, so that all the photos I end up with are all very good ones.”

“That’s so cool! I wish I know how to develop a film!”

You chuckle, slowly warming yourself up to him. “Well, get me a completed roll of film and maybe I can teach you. I’ve done it so many times, I know the procedure like the back of my hand”

In a way, his enthusiasm reminds you of how you were when you were younger; always so excited to learn all the ropes your parents have to offer about film photography.

Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

He bounces energetically again. “I WILL get you a roll of shot film!” And then he stops with a pout. “But I don’t have a camera…”

You laugh, already predicting his dilemma even before he made his promise.

“I would lend you my Leica M2, but I don’t know you very well. You could be an irresponsible camera parent for all I know.”

He doesn’t even know any of the names you are saying, assuming that they are all just camera models, but it doesn’t matter. “I will prove to you that I am a very responsible camera parent, y/n-san.”

“Well, win my trust then, Lev.” You say with a small smile, continuing to walk ahead.

A determined smile slowly make its way to his lips as he brings his fist to punch the air. “I will, y/n-san, I’ll win your trust!"

———————

It is now lunch break, and you’re using your 30 minutes to head back to your parent’s camera shop, and grab some food along the way from 8-Eleven. Humming quietly to yourself, you bounce down the streets, wondering what new cameras might come in today.

Speaking of cameras, you wonder what you should photograph next. The film you’ve just loaded is a rather expensive one, best suited for portraits due to its outstanding ability to render skin tone.

Hmm, portraits. You mentally browse through a list of people that may be suitable for your next project, but you can’t seem to decide on one. No one had really caught your eyes recently…

“Y/n-san!!” You turn to the sound source, instantly feel your cheeks warm when you see a group of very attractive, mostly tall, men sitting at the bench in front of 8-Eleven.

Too many cuties in one photo lol.

They all look so good in their own kind of way…

Suddenly feeling very awkward, you look down to your feet after you’ve accidentally made eye contact with the bed head haired male who gave you a grin. When you look back up, all you could see is half a red bean bun being offered to you.

“Y/n-san! It’s so nice to see you again.” He says, chewing happily with a bright smile, mouth full with his half of the bun, and his long arm still outstretch to offer you his other half.

Look at him and Inuoka eating omg. 🥺

You suddenly have a difficult time gulping, and with widened eyes, you slowly force yourself to exhale. There’s a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach, a warm feeling that slowly crawls its way up your heart, then to the front of your forehead, as you feel the urge to explode, in tears? In laughter? In a whimper? You don’t know what is going on, and you’re just not going to think too hard about it as you look up at Lev chomping away at his food, oblivious of his effect on you.

How could he be so cheery all the time? It’s like his lips are made to smile and his eyes are made to glisten.

Like a robot, you stiffly bring both your hands up to accept half of his bun between your delicate fingers. You could have sworn the bread looked a lot smaller when it was in his hand.

“Thank you.”

He nods enthusiastically in return. “I was worried because we never really exchanged contact. So I spent a good couple of minutes trying to figure out how to see you again.”

You feel a rush of warmth to your cheeks as you slowly nibble at the soft bread, barely making it anywhere near the filling. “Did that work out for you?”

“Yea! You said your store was near 8-Eleven, so I asked my friends to come get lunch here with me!” He turns back to wave at his friends, though no one returned his gesture except for the tall male with spiky brown hair, waving back with matching enthusiasm. (Inuoka 🥺)

He asked his friends to get lunch here just so he can maybe run into you again?

Looking off to the side, you continue to nibble at your bun, thankful that he’s offered it to you because you’re suddenly too shy to enter 8-Eleven with all those attractive guys sitting in front of it.

“So where are you headed to?” He looks at you with a soft smile, finding the fact that you’re holding your food with two hands very endearing, like a little chipmunk.

“I’m just heading to the shop, I wanted to see if there’s going to be any new cameras that might come in today.”

“Oooh, can I come with?” He leans down to look at you and you can’t resist his eager eyes.

“Sure.” Then you walk off with him happily trailing next to you, readjusting his steps to match your speed.

At the bench, Yaku is holding a melted ice cream, the dessert no longer holding its integrity as the liquid drips down his wrists and on to his grey trousers. He puts it in front of him so it drips to the ground instead, teeth gritting in frustration.

“Freaking Lev! Why would he ask me to hold his ice cream if he’s not planning on getting it back.” He frowns as he watches his tall friend leave with you.

“He forgot his bag too!” Inuoka says when he notices that all their bags are still perfectly lined up next to each other’s.

Kuroo finishes his box of milk with a few airy sips, and tosses it into the garbage bin. “This guy…whoever they were just got him hooked.”

Kenma looks up from his game momentarily to glance at the two of you before looking back down without a word.

—————

The bell to your parent’s store jingles when you open the front door, allowing it to slowly recline back to close.

Your father’s eyes light up when he sees you bounce towards the counter with an enthusiastic grin, while your mother waves at you from the cashier. “I’m here to bother you during my lunch break again!”

Your parents laugh, clearly not bothered by your visits at all, they almost expected you to. Your father looks to the tall boy next to you with a warm smile. “Welcome to our shop!”

Lev smiles back, bowing politely to him then to your mother before leaning back up to look at you. “This is my friend Lev, he just wants to swing by and check out our store.”

“Glad to hear that!” Your father laughs as he sets down a big cardboard box filled with new cameras that arrived today on the glass counter. “Check out our new arrivals!”

You gasp when you spot a model you love, reaching in to pick it up delicately, as if it’s a newborn baby. “N-No way!! A Fujifilm point and shoot in collaboration with Disney?!”

“Yea! You should have seen the guy who came over to sell it!” Your dad begins.

Your mother turns around in her seat and laughs. “He was all dressed up in a Donald Duck t-shirt and Mickey jeans.”

Why are you so excited over a Mickey Mouse on a camera? Lev tilts his head, a little confused but he’s happy you’re happy.

You turn to him with your sparkles in your eyes and his brightens right back. “I can’t believe a collector in this town decided to sell it to us. This is a very rare collection, and in such pristine condition too.”

I guess, who wouldn’t be happy to see Mickey Mouse on a camera. He’s happy for you.

“Whoa!” He says, unsure what else he could add on to keep your smiles going for longer. “Y/n-san, what kind of photos do you take?”

You set the camera back into the box and picks up another to inspect its condition. “All sorts! I do a lot of street photographies, but I’ll have occasional cravings to do fashion portraits too.”

Your father was about to discuss more exciting facts about the camera in your hand, but your mother places her hand on his bicep to silence him with a smile, nodding towards you and Lev who are conversing happily. The two of you are in your own little bubble.

“That’s so cool! I’d love to have a look at your photos sometime!”

“I would love for you to see it! I have it in my room if you’d like to!”

Nodding his head quickly, he responds. “Yes please!!”

You set the camera back down again and walks over to the employees only door that leads up to your home above the shop. “Thanks for sharing these with me dad! I’ll come look into it some more after school!”

“Of course, honey, There might even be more later!”

With an excited nod, you turn to walk up the stairs with Lev behind you.

——————

“Whoa, Y/n-san!!!” He dashes to the collage of photographs next to your bed, eyeing every single one of them with his eyes sparkling. “Are you sure you don’t work for an editorial or something?!”

You laugh timidly as you sit on the bed, bringing your hand to rub the back of your neck shyly, you’ve never been good at taking compliments. “That makes me happy to hear, Lev, I’ve always wanted to work as an editorial photographer.”

“You should! I know you will.” He says with so much confidence, it almost felt like you’ve known him for much longer than just this morning.

He notices you have one particular male model reoccur in a few of your photoshoots. “Are these your friends, y/n-san?”

“Not really, I’m not really too close to anyone here. But I’m not afraid to ask random people who’s caught my eye to model for me.” Then you look up to see that he’s pointing to a specific model, causing you to look down with your cheeks warm. “Oh, him. We used to be neighbors, but he doesn’t go to Nekoma anymore.” He was your first real crush.

Not quite getting the answer he was looking for, he decides to brush it off and continue to look at your other photos, comically leaning his lanky limbs down just so he can have a closer look.

Meanwhile, you can’t help but draw your eyes back to Lev, unintentionally studying his features: eyes very feline-like, as he studies your photographs like a snow leopard with his big hands on his long long legs. He would look so great with olive on his smooth skin, one that would accentuate the definition of his long neck that leads up to his defined jaws. Perhaps a button up with some free flowing trousers?

Gosh…he is beautiful, how have you not realized it this morning.

Sensing the silence in the room, he glances over to see your eyes immediately snap away from him as you look down to your lap while fiddling with the material of your comforter.

But that doesn’t bother him, he likes that you notice him.

“How come I don’t see you in any of these photos?” He asks, standing up tall.

“Because I’m the one taking the photos? Also, I don’t think I’m too photogenic.”

“Nonsense!” You look up to see him smile cheekily at you, and you almost just want to raise your camera to photograph him again. “You have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen!”

You feel immense heat rise up your cheeks and that warm feeling in your gut returns, but before you could burst, he adds.

“But that’s ok! I guess I’ll just have to earn your trust so I can photograph you with the Leila 2.”

You blink before you begin to laugh, finding his failed attempt to remember the names of your camera incredibly endearing. “My Leica M2?”

“I was so close! Yes, that one!” He laughs.

Your laugh slowly settles when you look at his face for the 100th time today, the after smile still apparent on your lips, but your eyes are enchanted by his boyish charm.

You want to photograph him so bad…

“Lev…” You breath, he stops laughing and looks at you, a glint of expectation in his eyes.

“Hmm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized you actually attempted to speak your mind. “Uhh, um. Nothing…we should probably head back to school.”

His expectation dissipates, replaced by a nod and an unintentional flirty smile. “Yea, but after I get your number?” (Smooth. Lev totally gives me that unintentional flirty boy vibe, where everyone thinks he’s flirting with them, until you realize that he’s just generally friendly lol.)

He doesn’t even know what he was expecting, but he can’t seem to stop himself from trying to learn more about what else might make you smile.

—————

It had been over a month since you’ve met him, and the two of you had been texting frequently. Some days when he’s extra busy with volleyball, you find yourself constantly glancing at your phone in anticipation for his response to just about anything you sent him. When you do get a notification from him, you can’t help but smile widely as you finger rushes to see what he’s said.

You would wake up and fall asleep to his texts, and though you’ve denied your expectations of receiving his daily greetings, he never seems to let you down. It makes you feel special, like he’s always here with you, thinking of you.

Some days, he’ll show up to your shop after practice when you are close to the end of your night shift, just to say hi, and eat some quick dinner together before he has to run home.

Your parents keep asking you about Lev, but you would always tell them that he’s just your friend, and they would exchange knowing looks to one another.

“Oh sweetie, Lev came by last night and he wanted us to give this to you, first thing in the morning.”

Your mother pulls out a neatly wrapped present with Mickey Mouse printed all over it. Your heart flutters with joy as you feel heat rush to your cheeks and the corners of your lips automatically rise. You reach your arms out to bring it to your chest, before excusing yourself back up stairs.

“I like this one.” Your mother says to your father, who nods happily.

“Yea, I like him a lot too.”

——————

Shutting the door lightly behind you, you flop down on your bed with the present in front of you on the pillow. This is the first time someone aside from your parents had ever gifted you on your birthday.

Reaching for your phone, you move the present on to your prettier blanket before snapping a quick photo of it to send to Lev. He responds almost instantly.

y/n [6:10 AM]

-photo-

Lev!!! Thank you so much for your present!

Lev [6:10 AM]

Yayy, I’m so glad! Have you opened it?! :D

y/n [6:11 AM]

Not yet! I’m just excited.

Lev [6:11AM]

Well, open it, y/n-san. I hope you’ll like it.

You set your phone down to unwrap your present, until you hear another ping.

Lev [6:13 AM]

WAITTT!!!

Y/n!!

Let’s video call! I want to see your reaction. :)

Suddenly you’ve become very nervous, you’ve never video called him before and you weren’t properly dressed yet. You look down to inspect the current state of your appearance: oversized hoodie and boxer shorts, your hair is a mess and your teeth had not been brushed.

You could hold off on unwrapping your present, but you recall your parents specifically say that he wanted it to be given to you, first thing in the morning. But the lingering drowsiness from waking up so early, still weighs your lids and the thought of peeling off your comfortable hoodie and clothing your bare legs feel unbearably troublesome.

Lev [6:17 AM]

Y/n san??

Screw it.

You force yourself not to think too much as you hit a video icon under his name, and he picks up almost right away.

“Y/n-san, happy birthday!” He says, voice still a little husky from sleep, and you instantly feel your heart beat just a little faster as you eye his appearance through your small screen. His silver hair is still messy, unlike his usual neat side sweep, and he’s still bundled up in his purple blanket, allowing his toned arms to come in full display when he hugs a pillow that’s under his chest. Something about his undone appearance makes you want to be right there with him.

“Lev-san!” You gulp as you try to divert your eyes back to his sleepy smile as he lazily rests his chin on a pillow. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nope! I had to be up anyway. Now, open open!” He gestures with a nod.

You set your phone down on your pillow as you sit cross legged in the center of your bed with the present on your lap. He pulls his phone closer to subtly check you out; secretly imagining you in his hoodie instead, then blushes when he notices your bare legs, the hem of your plaid boxers only peaking shyly.

If only his phone would not make a snapping sound, he would have screen grabbed this image of you, looking so temptingly undone. (<- What would he do with the photo tho 👀😉 )

You read the tag and begins to smile, moving your fingers to carefully unwrap the golden ribbons and the dotted paper, making sure to not to rip anything by accident.

Lev sets his phone against his pillow, then leans onto the back of his hands as he watches you with a smile. Your happiness is just so infectious, and he can’t stop himself from craving it.

You squeal and giggle happily when you pull out the camera strap and 3 rolls of film you’ve always had your eyes on. His eyes sparkles and his smile widens at your reaction, as he laughs with you.

He wants this moment to last. He wants to keep seeing you smile.

—————

You did it, you finally asked Lev to model for you.

It had been 2 months since you’ve done any photoshoots, and you can’t seem to figure out why you found it so difficult to ask him to model for you…

You think back to your other failed attempts and face palms yourself when you try to recount all the times you would watch him in his moment in awe, then his name would slip from your lips without your mind’s consent. When he responds and urges you to continue, you would always look away and change the subject.

He steps out of your restroom in the clothes you’ve handed him, and you can’t help but stare.

“Is this ok?” He asks innocently.

And he is more than okay.

He looks even better than how you’ve always imagined him to: standing so tall in his olive button up and brown trousers, his top unbuttoned down by two. His shoulders are a lot broader and his waist more snatched than how you’ve imagined him under Nekoma’s ill-fitting uniform.

Here’s my quick doodle of Lev for this fic haha.

You run your eyes up and down his figure, trying to come off like you’re looking over his outfit, but really, you’re trying to brush off the tingly feeling at the tip of your ears.

“If you’re comfortable…” You hesitate, as you realize your request may be too much to ask for. “umm…if you could unbutton one more?…ah, only if you’re comfortable, you don’t have t-“ You continue to ramble but he just nods and unbuttons his third one, revealing his toned chest.

You eyes widen because you were not expecting him to be so chiseled, but that actually makes a lot of sense since he’s a volleyball player after all. Then you look away with your cheeks flushed when he grins at you with a wink. (Ah 😳)

Damn him and his pecks.

You mentally shake your head to snap yourself out of his allure, rummaging through your bag on your lap. “Oh…I almost forgot.” Pulling out your black camera, you offer it to him with a smile. “Here’s my Leica M2!”

He beams and carefully holds it in his large hands, the way he’s observe you when you inspect the store’s new arrival; like a newborn.

“Yes!!! Thank you so much, I almost thought you forgot about it.” Without hesitance, he walks over to his bag that’s next to you on the bed, then pulls out a roll of film. You look at him a little surprised.

“When did you get that roll?”

“Oh, your parents gave it to me on one of the times when I came to visit, but you weren’t here.” He gets on his knees beside you, putting the camera on your bed to perform his first loading operation. You blink when he does it so calmly and so perfectly, snapping the back shut before cranking the lever until the notch reads 0: ready for its first real shot.

“H-How? What? When did you know how to do that?” He looks at you with an excited smile.

“Your father taught me this! Haha.”

Your confusion fades as you begin to feel a little down; you wanted to teach Lev how to shoot on film…”Did he teach you how to develop film too?” You say quietly as you get up with your bag strapped across your shoulder.

His eyes widen, suddenly realizing why you’ve stopped smiling. “No, I asked him not to because I want you to be the one to teach me.” He gets up from his knees to take a step towards you. “Will you help me with that, Y/n-san?”

“Yea.” You take a moment before responding, turning to walk away, but he brings your wrist into both his palms.

“Y/n-san…I’m sorry if I made you sad.”

He sits on the edge of your bed, then gently tugs you into his arms, resting his head against your right shoulder, with one of his large hands comfortably on the small of your back while the other’s on your nape.

You immediately stiffen up before slowly allowing yourself to relax in his warmth, bringing your arms to shyly wrap around his waists and leaning your head on top of his, inhaling slowly to bask in the fresh scent of his silver strands. The two of you stay that way a while, maybe a little longer than you should, before he shifts to look at you. A strange feeling in your stomach at the unusual sight of his face so close to yours at eye level.

You look right back into his captivating orbs, the charm of his feline-like eyes hold your gaze captive, and like a magnet, you find yourself leaning closer to him as he does the same. Before your mind could register the situation, your soft lips meets his plush ones, and like a feather, he starts with a gentle pucker; a kiss to show that he is grateful to be here with you.

Then another, this time pulling his lower lip to brush against yours before firmly lining it up, his eyes half lidded, drunken on the sweetness of your taste: he’s kindly begging to see happiness return to your oculus.

His arms around your body tightens, as an intense craving for your warmth flushed against his body becomes unbearable. Any skin to skin he can feel, he’ll gladly cherish.

You two pull back to look into each other’s eyes, and like a competition to see who has the better attention to detail, your gaze dances up and down his features, as you ingrain every dust of subtle freckles on his nose and every strand of his fluttery lashes in your mind. Then you bring both your hands to his soft cheeks to pull him back in for a firmer kiss.

This time, he runs the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance as you gladly grant him access. Your tongue dances with his in new found harmony, before switching back to your firmer kisses, falling into a natural rhythm.

He squeezes his hand on your lower back to deepen the kiss and he can’t help but smile to your warm lips when he hears a small giggle vibrate from your throat.

He pulls back, keeping his face very close to yours as he looks down at you, half lidded, with a growing smirk. “I see someone’s a little ticklish.”

“No, I’m not.” As you’re trying to push him away with both your hands, he pulls you in closer with a laugh, reconnecting his lips to yours while his hands ladders up your sides, down your back then to the back of your neck, gently squeezing as he go.

You squirm in his arms, trying to contain your laughter as you try to focus on kissing him, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. He pulls back to study your adorable expressions before nuzzling his face to your neck, making sure to breath heavily so you can giggle some more for him.

He is hooked, this is his new addiction.

“Lev, I’m going to kill you!” You giggle as you try to weakly push his head away, but he only nuzzles you harder, wiggling both his hands up and down your sides. “Hahahah!”

The fact that he has you pinned so tightly, heightens your sensitivity as you are tempted to give in to your hysteria.

Then an idea pops up in his mind.

“Y/n-san, wait here.” He says as he sets you free, allowing you to catch your breath as you clutch your sides in an attempt to rid your goosebumps of its phantom. He grabs your camera from the bed, then walks over to set it up on your dresser, opposite to you.

“How do you set a timer on this?”

“There should be a notch to the side.” You respond out of instinct, though you are a little confused as to what he’s trying to capture. Your room is messy from all the clothes you have laid out for Lev to try, and the sun is way too direct to be flattering.

Crank. Tik, tik, tik.

He hovers his hands over the camera for a moment, making sure that it will not fall, then sits back down on his previous spot on the bed. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pulls you to his lap then leans down to kiss you with one hand to support the back of your head, simultaneously fluttering his long fingers on the small strip of exposed skin above your waistband. You squirm ticklishly, no longer able to hold back your sweet giggles as he laughs at your reaction, leaning down to trail ghost-like kisses down your chin. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself. Snap.

“Yay, my first shot!” He exclaims excitedly, still tickling and easily holding down your thrashing body with his big hands.

“Haha, you…evil!” You manage mid giggle as you weakly reach your arms out to wiggle at his waist with your long nails, causing him to double over, laughing, before swinging you on to the bed so that he doesn’t drop you by accident.

With his long legs straddling your waist, he pounces at you with both hands, tickling you mercilessly all over, shifting between spots so swiftly that you are not allowed any chance to grab his wrists. When you’ve given up on your defense, you diverted to the offensive, feathering your nails up his exposed neck then to the back of his ears. He laughs obnoxiously, then in an attempt to worsen your predicament, he nuzzles his nose against your neck, using his laugh as a weapon to tickle you with his erratic breaths.

“Ok, ok, I surrender haha.” He giggles, as he tries to stop you by easily grasping both your wrists into one of his large hands and pinning it above your head. Oddly enough, it almost did not seem like you’re the winner here. 😳

Realizing the suggestive position you are both in, he lets go of your wrist to bring one of his calloused hands to tenderly caress your warm cheek, his eyes look to yours with adoration. He didn’t want this moment to be lewd, he just wants it to be soft and genuine.

“I like you a lot, y/n-san.”

You cup his face with your hands before pulling him down to place a kiss to his forehead. “I like you too.”

Then your eyes catch a glimpse of his torso to see that his outfit is now wrinkly again, and from his position above you, gravity had tugged his half unbuttoned shirt revealingly, allowing you to see all the way down his chiseled abs.

You gulp. Oh boy, and here you thought he’s all fluff.

He notices you checking him out, then gives you the biggest, cheekiest grin as he leans down to nibble your ear.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up.” Smacking his flexed bicep in embarrassment, only to feel heat rising to your head as you felt how rock solid it was.

“I’m going to say it!”

“Stop”

“Why don’t you take a photo of it then.” He says with a wink, earning a laugh and a facepalm from you.

“Goof, I will.”

—————

After getting Lev re-dressed, you take him to all the different places you thought were interesting, mostly away from public eyes. To your surprise, he poses very naturally, you barely have to give him any direction as he just automatically find ways to work his body in harmony with the settings.

Anywhere you go, and everyone you pass, people always seem to turn their heads back around to look at him; some were gazes of infatuated while some were of jealousy. But the amusing part of it all is how oblivious he had been about the looks he’s gotten, instead, his attention is all on you, and that really made you feel a stronger connection to him; both as his significant other and his photographer.

With any moment you were with him that day, you can’t help but raise your camera up to capture all the small things Lev would do; randomly reaching out to touch a small branch as he walks, leaning all the way down to talk to a cat by the side of the streets, and smiling widely every time you call his name, as if he’s meeting you for the first time after a very long time.

You want to capture it all with your camera; a physical manifestation of your memory. And you’re not the only one, sometimes you’ll catch him pull out his camera when you are fiddling with yours, or when the sun would kiss your radiant skin while you look up to the bright blue sky with your fist above you, something you would always do to discern the direction of your shadows. When you turn to him after hearing a snap, he would give you the cheekiest grin, before running up to you like nothing had happened.

Lev is as fascinated of you as you are of him.

You’ve read that a good photographer is able to draw a relationship with any of their models, but there is something really special about a session with someone you share personal interests with outside of the studio.

You never knew how it felt like to have someone like that to photograph, but today is the first time in a long time where every shutter feels like a blink, and the lens you look through feels like the extension of your pupils.

—————

You could have developed the film you’ve shot with Lev that same day, but you decided to be nice and wait until he’s done with his before doing so, since your tank could hold two rolls each time.

It had been a week since that shoot, and you’re surprised when Lev barges into your camera shop after his practice with the cat you’ve attempted to photograph months ago, dangling pathetically in his hands. He raises it up with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“I think I finished my roll!”

Leaning on the glass counter at the shop, a big smile slowly creeps to your lips. His enthusiasm is so contagious, and seeing him definitely brights up your day every time.

“Congrats! Come here, let’s wind it up”

He sets the cat down, outside of your shop, petting it goodbye, before bouncing up to you and setting the camera down gently on the glass.

“Ok, so you’re going to want to pull this lever up half way, then with the other hand, press down on this little button.” You go to explain the steps, pointing to the different parts of the camera and miming your motion before handing it back to him. “Try it!”

He tries to follow your instructions, nervously pulling the lever up halfway, pressing the button underneath the camera, then begins to unwind. You bring your ear close to the camera to listen for a click, and he does the same.

Click.

Both your eyes light up, as he looks to you for approval before opening up the back. The film roll looks hilariously tiny in his large hands as he holds it out to you happily. “I did it!”

“Good job, Lev! Now you can put that in your empty canister!”

But he’s already at it, nodding happily as he rummages through his gym bag for one. Once it’s in, you hand him a tape and he concentrates on labelling it before handing the tape and pen back to you with a smile.

“I really can’t wait!” He hands your camera back to you, but instead, you shake your head.

“It’s yours. I’ve had it for a long time now.” His eyes widen as he reaches across the counter to pull you into a hug, placing a small kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you so much, I will be a very good camera parent!” You laugh.

“You had been! That’s why I trust you” And he smiles back so widely, you never want to feel his arms unwrap itself from your torso.

—————

When your shift is over that night, you bring Lev to your room to demonstrate the procedure with your roll of exposed film, so he can see it with the lights on. You had him reattempt it a few times with his eyes closed, occasionally reaching your hands out to guide him.

Once he feels confident enough, which was very quickly, you lay out everything you need on your bed, tells Lev to sit on the mattress, crosslegged, before throwing a blanket over him and all the tools.

You take a step back to laugh when you notice how silly this looks; Lev looks like a giant on your bed, and now that there’s a blanket over him, he can’t seem to stop giggling.

“Alright, I’m turning off the lights. Hold tight, you blanket monster."

Then you draw your blackout curtains, turns off all the lights and makes sure that your room is completely dark before climbing under the blanket, opposite to him. You didn’t tumble or walk into anything at all since you’ve done this so many times.

“Ok, so treat this just like your practice run! I find it easier to keep your eyes closed.”

He nods, but then he quickly realizes that you could not see him. “Ok!”

Reaching for his film, he begins working on his operation, surprisingly calmly, though he did fumble and struggle to load his strip on to his roll, he kept persisting. Meanwhile, you work on yours in silence and with very precise movements.

Soon after, you load both your films into your tub and closes the lid, before pulling the blanket off.

“Oof, it was hot in there!” He says, stretching his arms up in the dark while you set the tub on your desk before turning the lights back on.

“You’re like a human furnace, it’s never been that warm under the blankets before. how was it?”

He does the grabby hands and pulls you back on to his lap, placing a small kiss to your nose before responding.

“It was really comforting.” Then he gently squeezes his hand on your waist, causing you to wiggle out of his gasp with a squeal.

“I’m not falling for that again!” You exclaim, sitting on the the ground with your arms around your torso to protect yourself from the tickle monster.

He laughs loudly. “But you’re so adorable!”

————

Lev eventually left to go home after the film was developed.

Excited to see the results of your photoshoot, you stayed up late to scan all the shots. Once it’s done, you disconnect your laptop so you can sit on your bed with your back against the wall, happily flipping through the shots while snacking on some dates.

As expected, all your shots of Lev turned out very well, and you can’t help but linger on some of the photos, obsessing over just how effortlessly captivating he look; he’ll look so seductive in one, looking down at the camera, half lidded with the slightest hint of a playful smirk, while in the next, he’ll look so innocent, with his face tilted slightly downwards, and his almond eyes subtly widened, allowing the sun to bounce off the vibrancy of his gem colored orbs.

You can’t believe that his only modeling experience was of him with his sister, on an ice cream commercial when he was 5. You laugh at the thought of him smothering his face with ice cream.

But what surprises you most is Lev’s album; with photos of you taking up more than half of his roll, and they were all very well shot too. Do I really look like this?

You hate being photographed, but upon looking through his shots of you, you can’t help but feel the warmth of happiness radiate from within your heart.

Through his lens, you looked so authentic and genuinely happy. He captured you at moments you never knew was worth capturing, and you begin to wonder if he had the same urge to photograph you as badly as you did for him, when you first met in the alley at dawn.

Recounting back to all the times you felt his eyes watch you appreciatively, with a warm smile. He makes you feel loved, and special.

You come to realize why you hate to be photographed; you never felt worthy enough to spend a roll of film on. But he’s proving you wrong, as you now understand the way he sees you.

He sees you for you. It’s as simple as that.

Then at the end of the album, you see a photo that brings the happiest smile to your lips: it was his first shot where he’s tickling you. The light that you thought was too direct, turned out to be perfectly exposed, rimming the two of you beautifully, while the mess on your bed provided authenticity to the photo. You can’t help but smile wider as you remember the exact moment when you two kissed for the first time.

You’ve finally found your muse.

——————

Taglist: @shhhlikeme

[holdthosebees]

Memento Mori

A/N: Here we are again! Reposted w/out the horrifically embarrassing typo, which I’m sure y’all would have forgotten about if I hadn’t just mentioned it. Shoutout to @screechfoxes for reminding me! Anyway I’m still thinking about Mike Crew/Oliver Banks, and I will be until I die. Fic is rated M for mild, nonexplicit sexual content and canonical character death. 

It’s storming on the day that Oliver meets Michael Crew, which feels appropriate enough. Later, Oliver jokes that, if Mike were more of a drama queen, he’d think he’d done it on purpose: the lashing rain, the heavy wind, the crack and roll of thunder shivering through the air. A summer storm, out of season. It’s driven away most of Oliver’s usual customers, the alternative kids and the middle aged hippies; he’s rearranging a display of cat-themed tarot cards for the fifth time for want of something better to do when the bell above the door rings.

The vertigo is immediate. Oliver raises his eyebrows as his stomach lurches; it had been a while since something impacted him like this. Ever since point Nemo, physical sensation has been... not numb, but dulled, certainly. Even the anxiety, once a constant companion, doesn’t leave him nauseous the way it used to. Then he registers the smell of ozone, and he sighs.

The man in the doorway is short and narrow, with a friendly, square face and sandy brown hair dripping rainwater onto his forehead. He’s dressed down for the weather, no raincoat or umbrella, and above the collar of his plain blue button-down Oliver can see a branching white scar.

“Good afternoon,” Oliver says, to be polite. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, I’m just browsing,” the man says. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, as if to indicate how uninterested he is in touching anything. “I’ll try not to drip on your stuff.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Oliver says. Then, because he feels a little silly, playing retail associate with a fellow monster, “Sorry--you’re Michael Crew, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael says, with a quirk of a smile. “But please, call me Mike. Who was it that told you about me? Simon? Jude?” He looks at Oliver’s expression, and laughs. “Figures it would be Jude. She’s such a gossip, that one.”

“I suppose,” Oliver says. His conversation with Jude hadn’t been long, but it had left an impression. He’d felt rather like she was trying to recruit him into some sort of alliance, and when he hadn’t been receptive, her demeanor had been... unpleasant. She’d mentioned Michael--Mike--as something of a casual acquaintance, and so he’d expected him to be somewhat like her: so full of gleeful malice that it oozed out the edges.

“Anyway. I figured I’d drop by, see the man who hijacked Harriet’s plans for Point Nemo.” Mike punctuates this with by giving Oliver a slow once-over, up and down. Oliver smiles reflexively. It’s hard to tell whether he’s being threatened or checked out; neither option is as daunting as it might have been, once, but if Mike is planning on starting something he’d rather they not do it in his shop.

“Oh,” Oliver says, “sorry about that. I wasn’t exactly thinking much, at the time.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sea water under the bridge.” Mike says, and smiles, taking a hand out of his pocket to wave the matter away. He has a nice smile, Oliver thinks. Not too wide, not the tooth-baring threat that most of the avatars he’d met seemed fond of. Nice. “To be honest, I don’t have much to do with what the Fairchild’s are up to, these days. I don’t really bother with the macro. Yes, I know, ironic.”

“Seems very reasonable,” Oliver says.

“I thought you’d approve. Your lot doesn’t bother with that sort of thing, right?  Everyone dies, after all.” His smile quirks up at the corner; a shared joke between two dead men.

“Memento mori,” Oliver says. He’s beginning to suspect that he actually is being chatted up, a suspicion confirmed when Mike asks him out for a pint a few minutes later. He considers saying no, citing the shop: it’s too early in the day to close up, after all. But there aren’t any customers coming, and Mike’s cute enough, and it’s not like he has many options. And it’s been a very, very long time.

They talk shop a bit over drinks--”Most people just don’t understand how big eternity actually is,” Mike says, all quiet intensity, and Oliver finds himself nodding along--and then, tentative, like he’s actually nervous, Mike asks Oliver over to his flat.

Oliver hesitates. He hasn’t gotten mixed up in any of the inter-avatar politics; he’s had no need to, and an entanglement just seemed like a pointless bit of risk. Besides, he’s always found the delight in death and pain paradoxically distasteful. He loves it, worships it, recognizes it as the truth that underwrites the universe; that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it.  

But Mike seems reasonable enough, and he’s handsome in an anemic sort of way. And there’s--something, in his eyes, the tilt of his jaw, an echo of defiant exhaustion, a coldness that Oliver recognizes. He is fairly cold himself, after all.

Going to bed with Michael Crew is--well, it would be overwhelming, if Oliver were capable of being overwhelmed. Touching his skin is vertigo, is free fall, the first crack of thunder when a storm breaks. Oliver licks the scar on his chest and tastes ozone. He can only imagine what Mike feels, touching him. They aren’t human, anymore; their bodies are vessels for something monstrous and huge, beautiful in their horror; but they can still sweat, and bite, and gasp so gently at the shock of sudden pleasure. Afterwards, Oliver lays his head on Mike’s chest and is relieved when he doesn’t feel a heartbeat.

It becomes almost a regular thing. They don’t date. They don’t have a relationship. The part of themselves that could be given to another person was already dedicated to something else; Mike will never look at anyone the way he looks up at the night sky, and Oliver will never feel as sadly tender about anything as he does when he sees the soon-to-be-dead walk past. The secret that Mike keeps is that the world is very big; the secret Oliver keeps is that your experience of it will be small. The space they make fits somewhere in-between.

The truce that they keep between them is simple. Mike comes by the store every few months or so. They make smalltalk, discuss the state of the powers, have sex sometimes. It’s nice. Mike, it turns out, is just as much of a homebody as Oliver; he lets the silences between them stretch on, doesn’t both texting ahead, doesn’t make demands of Oliver’s time. This is, of course, ideal. It is hard to care about investing in another person when you keep in the center of your heart and in your bones the knowledge that they, too, will die.

But still. It’s nice. One evening Mike swings by the store just before closing, and Oliver looks at his grey eyes and narrow shoulders and feels--something. It isn’t joy, and it isn’t exactly lust, and it’s certainly not love--Oliver does remember what it was like to be in love, although the memory feels like a reflection in water, murky and warped and far away. But something unclenches, somewhere in his chest, and he smiles without thinking when he says hello.

“Hey,” Mike says. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all kinds of windblown directions. It suits him. “I brought you something.”

“Oh?” Oliver says. Mike isn’t the gift-giving type; they aren’t exactly in a gift-giving business. Mike nods, rooting through the pockets of his faded grey trousers. What he pulls out looks at first like a lump of pale rock, but Oliver can feel the cold emanating from it, familiar and soft. He holds out his hand, and Mike presses the lump into it.

A chunk of bone, worn smooth, the pockmarks of its structure exposed all along one side. A piece from the spine of a sea creature long extinct. Oliver can feel the layers of dead things condensed on the ocean floor, the sediment of thousands of years of endings. It was, not the last of its species, but second to last. With it died the last chance they had.

When he closes his eyes, he sees the dark ocean stretching out forever.

“Thank you,” he says. He rolls the bone back and forth, savoring it. “It’s--very nice.”  

“You’re welcome,” Mike says. He sounds uneasy. He puts his hands back in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t seem self conscious, not exactly, but--this isn’t something that they do, and they both know it. Still, Oliver smiles as he tucks the bone into the pocket of his work slacks, and after a moment, Michael relaxes again.

“Drop by my place, yeah?” he says. “When you’re done closing?”

Oliver doesn’t ask why he doesn’t want to linger. When Mike opens the shop door the is a rush of wind strong enough to tug at the covers of the paperbacks on display. Then the door shuts and the bell rings, and Oliver is left in stillness.

He rings up his last customer, a middle-aged woman buying a crystal pyramid and a book on chakra manipulation. There is a black tendril wrapped around her middle, and Oliver allows himself a moment to feel the soft, cold whisper of his god. It feels good. He knows, intellectually, that he might have felt guilty about that, once.

He closes up, and goes to Mike’s flat. Mike has a cup of tea and some takeaway already waiting for him. While they eat Mike tells him, in dreamy snippets, about his trip to the ocean. The sea, he said, that was big, but the sky--the perfect black, stretching on forever, unmarred by light pollution, the incredible, indifferent distance of the stars--that was something else. He closes his eyes while he speaks, savoring the memory. Oliver doesn’t ask what happened to the sailors he was with. He doesn’t have to. All the avatars serve the End, in their own ways.

They go to bed. When Mike removes his shirt Oliver sees a new scar, a patch of raw red skin in the shape of a handprint on his shoulder. Mike’s mouth twists when he notices Oliver looking.

“Had a bit of a disagreement with Jude Perry,” he says, wry. Then he frames Oliver’s face in his hands and kisses him, all sudden intent, and Oliver feels the vertigo again, twisting with arousal in the pit of his stomach. He smiles.

Afterwards, they lie together, Mike’s head on Oliver’s chest, Oliver’s fingers tangled in Mike’s hair. This is another thing they don’t usually do, the cuddling. Mike’s not a cuddly person, just like he’s not a clingy person, or a gift giving person, or--arguably--a person at all. Oliver finds himself remember the last time he did this. Years and years ago. In bed with Graham, who he didn’t let himself think about for so long that it became an unconscious habit to repress.

But his memories are hazy and confused, another life, full of feelings that no longer fit in his body. And there are details that he can’t line up: what color was Graham’s hair? His eyes? It’s all fading away, now, tangling and strange, like an old movie in a foreign language. Oliver gives up. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift, listening to the quiet rush of Mike’s breathing.

He dreams. In his dreams he is in the middle of the ocean, water like black glass stretching out in all directions. Forever. And above it the sky, the black and endless sky, full of cold and distant stars.

The water rolls. A huge wave, a wall: the back of some great creature, larger than a ship, than a whale, its bulk enough to change the entire landscape without breaking the surface. Oliver sees miles of barnacle-ridden skin, a single sunken eye. And around it, familiar as breathing: the tendrils of death, black and fleshy, like the arms of a kraken drawing it down. The behemoth groans, and the world shakes.

Oliver wakes up. At first he thinks he is still sleeping: he smells salt, and can feel the press of one of the death-tendrils against his hand, fleshy and cold. But no. He is awake, in Mike Crew’s flat. The smell is Mike’s hair; he hasn’t been able to wash the sea off of him, yet. And the touch--

There is a tendril around Mike’s neck.

There is nothing else to do. Oliver presses his mouth to the top of Mike’s head, closes his eyes. Then he slides carefully out of bed and begins to dress. Mike won’t wonder why he left. He won’t notice anything amiss, not until tomorrow, maybe, or the day after that. However many days it takes. Oliver pulls on his trousers and feels the lump of bone press against his hip. He does up the buttons on his shirt, pulls on his coat. It is raining. A soft, light rain, streaking down the window in the grey dawn.

He stops at the doorway, looks back at Mike’s small frame curled up under the comforter. One hand grasping at the pillow.

“Rest well,” Oliver whispers. Then he turns, and closes the door behind him.

[citialiin]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. tagged by: @forseenclade thank you ! man i am so bad at doing memes.  tagging: @blossomingbeelzebug @zhrets @lupichorous @dansiere yayayayayayayaya

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated [ z/iggy stardust is DEFINITELY not my original character, but 683 is, and every single part of how i rp ziggy from his backstory to his personality was made up by me. that being said, ziggy is still a character that exists in media. ]

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO. [ im pretty sure ziggy is tied with the thin white duke as one of b*wie’s most famous fictional personas? ]

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES ? / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO / IDK. [ maybe a little overrated ]

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How��s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. [ celebrity rock god of limitless talent vs inevitable overrated washup. most celebrities are polarizing anyways ]

How strictly do you follow canon?  — there isnt much canon to go off of i think? the album barely even states if ziggy is an alien and b*wie himself got really wishy washy about it (sometimes saying z is a human who was contacted by aliens, he was an alien himself, etc). i dont think we know anything about him besides what he looks like (red hair / weird eyes / pale / “well hung” lmao) and he has a band called the spiders from mars, he plays the guitar left handed, he’s bisexual + androgynous, and he’s charming and popular with the teens but inevitably is a victim of his own ego. and he dies.  that too.  but that’s literally it! we know Nothing else about him.  so i filled in all the gaps because my brain has worms.  theres a little bit of the story that verges on fantasy (that he’s some sort of messiah messenger for “the infinites,” whatever the fuck THAT means, david) so i nix that because i prefer hard scifi.  and theres one BIG part that i just ... deleted out of his canon, in that the world is ending in 5 years in his timeline, and he’s like ... aware of this ?  but that’s dumb and confusing.  i legit dont care anymore. my OC now.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  im so embarrassed i know i could be genuine and actually try but i have brain blockajjolajlakala33lak33klak333ak3jka3akjj323j3 i guess it’s like ... ziggy is truly the ultimate expression OF humanity because he reveals everything both wrong and right about the human condition, he literally embodies the best of humanity and the worst at the same time, he’s a really interesting critique on the idea of genuineness/earnestness vs commercalism in art, the perils of fame, and also how humans are so inherently corrupting?  a lot of thematic stuff i like exploring is like what is innate to humans vs what is learned behavior, what are things that humans do naturally that ziggy mimics out of his desire to be like us?  i think he has a really good story arc -- he went from being a literal nameless CLONE in a society full of pragmatic forward thinking science-oriented people to a sell out rockstar celebrity in a society of people that value individualism and self expression and art, but in the process completely lost his mind and himself and gave into the worst that humanity has to offer like rampant selfishness, drug abuse, self destructive tendencies, etc. characters changing is always interesting and ziggy truly changes for the worse -- but he is never just black and white, he was never good and then suddenly evil, he just was always the same person putting on different facades and trying to be himself by constructing an identity that maybe was who he wanted to be versus who he actually is.  i dont know what im talking about. hes just an alien trying to be too hard to be human in all the wrong ways.   i just like how “gray” ziggy is. he isnt good or bad, he can be very nice and he can be very mean, he’s overtly showboating confident but at the same time deeply afflicted with self-consciousness (why tf else would anyone be So obsessed with how they present themselves?).  hes an icon of individualism but also commercialism.  he’s freakishly alien but is almost more human than humans themselves.  he struggles as lot in his head -- which makes for interesting writing, i guess !!  Im so emabrrased im not going to go back and read what i wrote so if i typoed dont look at me

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  i think ziggy comes across as really mean and nothing else.  his horrible bitchy rudeness comes across as hee hee hoo hoo sassy isnt he a rascal when it’s supposed to be more like ... he’s so far gone into the celebrity delusion he’s conflated aggressive rudeness with charmingness because no one told him otherwise and everyone worships him to the point where he’s just given into the delusion that he can do no wrong.  i think theres the general simplification problem that happens with a lot of fictional characters, it’s easy to see him as just a whacky sassy glittery quirky rockstar when i guess it avoids the inherent tragedy of like ... everything else about him. his totally fake and false sense of identity built up from superficial things like fame and labels and stardom.  maybe my version of ziggy is just too weirdly depressing and sad when i know his original iteration wasn’t quite so ... grim.  im not very sure tbh.  

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  hmmm ... a lot of things! i just really got into b*wie stuff in early 2019, i’ve ALWAYS loved aliens and sci-fi, and i was really shocked that db sets up such great visual storytelling potential but does it through music.  i just really liked ziggys “story” and i like any chance to think about aliens so i just got invested into piecing together a little backstory for him using, like, the cumulative knowledge of literally every other piece of science fiction ive ever consumed in my life.  this was summer 2019 when i was making initial pitches for my thesis film, and so i just randomly decided to pitch “animated version of ziggy stardust” as one of the potential ideas.  shockingly everyone liked it a lot and so did my professor who thought it was really cool, and then i just ended up sticking with the character and working on him for an entire year.  ziggy became my hobby but also my homework.  he was such a fun character because everything about him was interesting to me and i had just enough source material to have a starting point but so much room to take him in any direction i wanted to.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  honestly, yooooou guyssssss. i have some really amazing fwends that ive met thru here .... and some of our dumb stupid stories have literally become NOVEL length. it just self generates inspiration because you realize the limitless amount of stories you could tell with this one single character when your character enters his story or he enters their story and etc. etc.  ive drawn endless amounts of comics and stuff for him ... ziggy is just so endlessly interesting ...   cringe be cringed bro but recently (i know this sounds dumb bear with me or die.) ive kind of realized a lot of how i rp z comes as some metaphor for the experience of being an asian immigrant/being asian in the US -- his home “culture” is a lot stricter than the rampant selfish individualism of the usa (he only lives in the uk and usa, so he thinks the whole planet is like this), he’s dissuaded from standing out from his community and his selfishness becomes a community burden rather than a personal flaw, and when he does come to earth, he goes through such awful culture shock, literally nothing makes sense to him and everything is Different.  and while some things are different in a Nice way, something things are different in an Awful way, and he’s given the option between losing his true personal identity as an atominan and giving it up to be a human.  the allure of being a human is a little too much but losing yourself like this is traumatic, in a way.  obvs like ... a little silly and definitely not something that i actively intended to put into his story arc, its just something that fell into place cuz i guess i worked so closely with my own personal experiences and feelings of “alienation” (pun intended) to try to understand how he would feel being a literal alien an shid. its cathartic to write about him. but he also has a lot of my own personal interests just thrown in -- 70s fashion, scifi, science, tryhard implications about human nature, art history, whatever dumb nonsense i get into

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / SOMETIMES?

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO  [ i would prefer information to spring up organically in the story but cuz threads always get dropped i end up just telling people outright. i didnt want anyone to know his home planet/his old name but barely anyone writes enough with ziggy to get to that point to reveal it (i legit managed to do it organically Once) so i just had to write it in a post lmao orz ]

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO [ wrote a ton of drabbles ! drew a ton of comics! ]

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO 

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO / I DUNNO?

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / HAHA NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES  / NO. / IDK ? 

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  definitely!  like i said ... my version of ziggy ended up being the protag of my thesis film and for 1 yr straight his characterization, backstory, design, and even how i wanted to animate his fucking movements (ziggy stardust timing charts.) were beaten to death in a classroom environment, torn apart and rebuilt into something better.  had i stayed with what i originally wanted to go with, ziggy would be so different than how i write him 2day. amazingly my pre production professor is a literal two time emmy award winning storyboard artist and animator so he definitely helped me design him (my version of ziggy is meant for ... a cartoon, obviously, not real life) and give him a better backstory?  and my post production professor is a retired disney animator who worked on hercules and a bunch of old disney channel shows?  had i gone wah wah wah i dont want to hear ur critiques i wouldnt have made him better.  if you ever think ziggy seems inconsistent or poorly written ... tell me !! i literally major in ... animation. cartoons. entertainment.  my job is to entertain you. if you are not entertained, there is a problem.  ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED ????

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  I LOVE QUESTIONS? i love ... answering questions ... if you ask me something ill come kiss you.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  sure! i dont know why that would happen, though, because i mean ... he’s an OC. but i gues someone could be like “i feel like this is incongruous to things you’ve previously established in his character” or somethin

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  i feel like a lot of b*wie stans would find my version of ziggy weird but i mean thats fine!  i guess my goal is to have a well written character, not necessarily an accurate version of ziggy

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  if you hate MY version of ziggy thats fine but if u hate ziggy stardust in general (like the bowie concept) then u need some taste what the fuck is cooler than a egomaniac genderless bisexual rockstar alien with red hair? nothing. go back to watching your CW shows you dirty filthy normie

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  yes! dm me though. dont clown me on the dash like that.  i usually write your replies 12 AM - 4 AM so it’s expected.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  hmmm ... maybe! i do like to talk to people and i am VERY nice, trust me, if youre ever sad ill do everything i can to make you feel better. but im quiet! i dont really reach out to people and i tend to just keep to myself.  im not very social or extroverted at all haha i barely can make ooc posts without feeling like god’s coming to beat my head in with a brick. im sitting here at 5:30 AM with this meme feeling like if i post it i will die (BUT I MUST)

[swampgh0stt]

reposts from asks

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion. // Accepting

Ace is a tragic character. This shouldn’t be an unpopular opinion, but it somehow is. With the content from his novels backing this up, we know that he thought very little of himself & kept most everyone at arm’s length because he didn’t think himself worth it. Deuce describes him as The Sun, shining bright for those around but never letting anyone in. I would argue about the only people he let in close were Sabo & Luffy.

Sabo was his first friend, but Luffy was the one who gave Ace purpose. After Sabo’s “death,” Ace was left to take care of the very person he thought of as a nuisance. But, after seeing Luffy nearly get killed by that bear was the real turning point for Ace. I’m sure they still had their spats, but that’s when Ace really got his shit together and took more responsibility for Luffy.

I’ve written a post on this before, but it’s still an unpopular opinion, so: Ace would’ve been upset to see Sabo had been alive this whole time & didn’t once try to seek him out. He mourned for Sabo, & he thinks so little of himself- that of course you’re going to be mad that your first best friend was just out there this whole time.

I think projection & maybe casual fandom don’t focus too much on the layers of Ace’s character, you’re right. I’ve seen it for years since I’ve been in the fandom…. way too long. But I think too, because Ace is so tragic, some fans feel the need to try lightening him up? Or– I don’t know.I get your frustrations, & I don’t quite understand why they do it, but people are allowed to hc what they want. I’m with you though, it is frustrating. Ace was groundbreaking representation for me, not only as a biracial indigenous man, but also a biracial indigenous man who struggled with Blood Purity, who wasn’t raised by his family, who grew up in unstable situations like he did & only had myself to rely on. I’m not fond of those who turn him into a joke, because it seems like that’s all Indigenous people are ever reduced to: jokes, disrespected. He can have his moments too, we’ve seen him act silly, but it’s been shown over & over again that it’s a front. Ace is just… over all, so tragic. He doesn’t love himself, he doesn’t let people in, he focuses so much love & appreciation on Luffy because Luffy gave him that will to live when he could’ve lost everything in losing Sabo. Even as captain of the Spade pirates, he would take in strays- but Deuce has commented enough that he just doesn’t let people in, he keeps them at arm’s length & he just hates himself while trying to play it off. Deuce had a way of seeing through his bullshit as well. I like to think Thatch did too, since he’s as empathetic as he was & he spent a lot of time around Ace when he was babysitting him. Did you typo about that being his character in the show though? Because that childish attitude really… isn’t. Even when people credit back to the Alabasta filler, he wasn’t that hyper & aggravating as some fanon portrays him. 

[deivorous]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. image:

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO. Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. Are they underrated?  YES / NO. (he is overrated as all hell, fuck this dude... but i love him so...) Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO. (In the grand scheme of it all? He’s really irrelevant. But I’m glad Kubo didn’t kill him off like was originally planned). Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO. How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. (I think its pretty neutral post canon?) How strictly do you follow canon?  — I prefer not to RP canon events. There are a few exceptions though. though i will write a lot of post canon (which I have free reign to do considering Kubo never even let us know if he survived Askin!) I’m very headcanon based and I try to fit as many of my headcanons into my writing as possible. That being said, I do use canon to support my hc’s.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  — Grimmjow comes from a life of continuous unrelenting trauma and horror. He’s a survivor and will never feel ashamed of the things he needed to do to ensure he stayed alive. The most important thing about my Grimmjow is that he is not a good person, but he wants to be. Becoming an Arrancar gave him a lot of agency that previously eluded him and he’s trying to use it to carve a place for himself in this world. He’s aggressive, rude, and downright mean sometimes, but he’s also curious, and willing to make a connection with other people if they give him a chance.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  — They guy is an asshole. He’s hostile. Stabs as a warning. And once his trust is broken its nearlly impossible to build back up. He’s naturally suspicious and it can make it very difficult to get past his mask of contempt. Furthermore, he canonically not a very involved character. He’s had very few interaction with others. He’s NOT a romantic and shipping with him is incredibly difficult and I keep my foot down about it.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  He’s the only bleach character I really relate to. I started making a whole bunch of hc’s when I started writing fanfiction and decided to use them in rp (after I struggles to get an OC onto the scene. Grimmjow is much easier to work with.)

What keeps your inspiration going?  —   I’ve been in the fandom for over a decade. I’m not leaving now. All of the wonderful people I write with keep me motivated!

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO. (My version of him, yes. Canon? Meh, not so much) Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO. Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO. (I have many fics - find me on ao3 lmaooooooo) Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO. (im im in the zone and not doing other shit) Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO. Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO.  Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  — No. My characterization is personal to me and I very explicitly stated that I don't write Canon Grimmjow. If I did I would happily take feedback, but because eat this point hes very much my character I don’t appreciate criticism. Y’all are welcome to criticize my writing though! I love that and it helps me grow : )

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  — YES YES YES! I absolutely love head canons and questions that make me think about what my character would do or think. I welcome them all the time and I don’t care how silly or obscure they may sound so send them my way!

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  — Hmmmmm, yes! I’d say so. Everyone has different hc’s and I love hearing other peoples thoughts, and often I’d liek to be able to incorporate some of them. That being said, some of my i will not change under any circumstance, so as long as you are happy to compromise I’m happy!

If its a hc on your character though, that's all you! I’ll never pressure you to use a hc that isn’t your own for your portrayal.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  — I mean, everyone is entitled to their opinion and I certainly don’t believe everyone has to like my way of writing Rukia. If they don’t like it, I would probably just say they can ignore it or unfollow (because why would you follow me if you don’t like what I write? I mean, come on.)

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  — Just... don't follow me? If you make your dislike really know I’ll probably block you. RP is fun for me so I don’t want people putting me and my muse down.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  Go for it I guess? If its an error I make consistently It would be nice to know that I’m doing that wrong. If its a one of thing and your confused about what I meant also go for it! If its like... a typo? I probs wont change it lmao.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  Yeah! But I can be a bit shy on tumblr and I really only use my Grimm for ooc friends of mine, so It can take a while to get to know me via tumblr. Ask for my discord tho and Ill chat your ear off!

That’s about it, congrats for filling out! tagged by @rukia-kuchiki-divided Tagging: @ivory-insanity​ @heavenxpiercing​, @shambledsurgeon​ @its-captain-hitsugaya​

[flashbic]

After.... 9 months.... i finally kicked myself, logged into my Goodreads account and wrote a goodamn Bear Book review.

Anyway, i’m reposting it here because i’m having feelings. It’s not spoilery, mostly just me fangirling, like, a lot.

You know, sometimes you stumble across a book that is so perfectly suited to your tastes that it feels like you somehow dreamed it? A book that, after reading the first couple of sentences, you have to pause for a second, smile, and tell yourself "OH BOY, I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO READ A WHOLE BOOK OF THIS"? When i first found out about HELP! A bear is eating me! (and to this day i still can't remember exactly how i stumbled across it, which is a shame), i immediately found the title and cover amusing. Then i read the summary and started smiling: an asshole narrator to which horrible things happen? Bears are involved? This seemed ridiculously accurately tailored to my brand of humor.

And then i picked up the book.

And boy did i not regret it.

This book must've been a joy to write, and beyond the silly premise, what you will find is a ridiculously fun character study. Marv Pushkin is a jerk. He is the absolute worst. No doubt about it. He hates everything and everyone that isn't his beloved Range Rover or himself (although, in a weird way, i would have to voice doubts even over the latter), and he will over and over prove himself to be despicable, to the point where you have to tell yourself "yikes, just let the bear eat him already". And then you keep reading, and you also find a character who is so amazingly self-destructive and fucked up that, in a very weird way, you almost want to sympathize?? But here's the glorious thing about Marv Pushkin : each time you might find yourself having the tiniest bit of sympathy, each time you tell yourself "man, the poor dude sure can't fall any lower than this", you will see him grab a metaphorical shovel and dig himself deeper with the most hilarious aplomb and burning rage you can imagine. It is, truly, a sight to behold.

So yeah, that guy is the worst, but personally, i couldn't help but get weirdly  attached. i don't think you have to like Marv to enjoy the book: certainly enough horrible things happen to him that you can just sit back and enjoy the schadenfreude if that's your thing. This book has very quickly become my personal favorite, and i now regularly find myself throwing copies of it (the Kindle one i keep for myself, but i also happen to own two paperback copies: one in French and one in English) at people in the hope that they will read it. i have produced embarrassing fanart and inflicted it on people, and still find myself posting little excerpts on my personal blog whenever i need to cheer myself up.

Special mention to the ridiculously fun (and free!) podcast version too, which features some hilarious voice acting by Mykle Hansen himself. My favorite part? Marv's poor wife Edna being given the most grating voice imaginable whenever her monster of a husband happens to be quoting her.

It's hard for me to be objective about this book: it contains so many things i absolutely love that, to me, the few negative aspects i can think of don't really matter. Still, here they are. The paper and Kindle copies could've used one last round of proofreading; you'll find some little typos here and there. If you absolutely want to avoid those, i suggest picking up the podcast. The only other kinda negative thing that comes to mind is about the ending, which felt a little abrupt to me... But then again, i'm thinking this has more to do with me wishing the book had been longer, haha.

i have, since finishing this book 9 months ago, read through Hansen's entire bibliography. Lots of great things in there, some amazing ideas, some cool characters and some very unique settings. The day where i stumbled across this Goodread page was a lucky one indeed.