#hakws is hard to write for

[sinister-moonlight]

Aahhhh! Of all the moments to get an amazing picture in your head and you feel unable to trully show it! Ahh! Maybe I should try and draw this....

SOOOO! HEAR ME OUT! HEAR ME OUT!

Harding in DAV (DA4? DAVeil? I dunno the common tag anymore) got magic and mentioned in a conversation that she can dream now. Right? And dreams we have long since confirmed is the fade!

Sooooo... My fellow VarricHawke lovers! Please imagine Varric also getting his magic back and suddenly while he is laying there in bed a fade trapped Hawke finds him and go all:

"Varric? The hell? Here I thought demons didn't bother to fake dwarfs. You must be a lust demon right? Thought you'd give him a a even bigger of a bush of chest hair."

By this point Hakwe should be beyond fucked up from YEARS in the fade - somehow alive cause f- I need that. Yet Varric is staring at them like they are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

Ofc he thinks it's one of these so called fade demons he hear people are tempted and possessing by if they listen. But it's HAWKE!

And Hawke misses Varric too much to even bother to "kill" the demon trying to trick them.

In the end they both are just delusional in their desperate need of being together with their crush best friend again. Varric cracking jokes and Hawke magic a table, fake bear and some cards and they play the dream away.

Night after night they do this until maybe Hawke or Varric say something that makes them realize (or maybe they are too desperate to search for any trace) that the other isn't a demon.

Varric weak and unable to get out there to help asks Emmerich and Rook for help.

One two or tree side quests later they managed to break Hawke out and both are just grey haired and damaged but neither have been so happy and smiling for YEARS!!

My heart pins for this angst and comfort!!

God I need to try and draw this or atleast write something.

[hxhhasmysoul]

As a writer, can you see the appeal of self-shipping? I don't mean to be negative, but I just don't understand that concept. Like, I just got block because I wrote fics about Endeavor/Hakws and Sukuna/Yuuji by my group of fics writers.

Before I was blocked some member criticize me by saying "how could you ship age gap like that, that is wrong in so many way". And I answered, "at least better like me than wrote self shipping like some of you guys. Gojo/reader and Sukuna/reader is just weird in so many ways". Then I was blocked.

Do you think I'm wrong?

Idk if this will answer your question, anon. I hope it's not too rambly and at least a bit helpful.

I have never considered self-shipping from the perspective of being a writer, but that makes sense to me, I only write things that I want to read and can't find, or not find enough of.

And self-shipping doesn't appeal to me as a reader. The second person makes me uncomfortable as a pov, possibly due to my history of abuse. My abuser very often assumed what I must've thought in a given situation and berated me for it and didn't accept me telling her what I actually thought. The second person pov feels too much to me like a stranger trying to tell me what I'm thinking.

This is also why I hate people policing ships in any way, because it’s always assuming what is in a stranger’s head based on confusing discomfort and lack of understanding with morality, and often based on some strange inability to separate fiction from reality. It's very far right fundie coded.

As much as a lot of stuff doesn't appeal to me, including self-shipping and several other things, some of them generally uncontroversial, it doesn't have to appeal to me because people enjoy whatever they enjoy and I can't care less about it. If it makes me uncomfortable like the second person pov or abo or real person shipping, I just avoid reading it. And I also don't have to understand why it appeals to people, it's their thing. 

Nowadays I try not to tell people that they are weird or wrong for doing stuff that is a personal preference. Shipping or most other fandom activity isn't activism or a reflection of someone's character but a personal preference. It only turns into a mark of character when people use fandom to express or try to hide their bigotry. Or use it as an excuse for actual harassment. 

Basically it's okay to find things weird, or react with discomfort. But I've learned to interrogate my repulsion or discomfort. And often it stems from internalised societal or cultural bull shit, that is about policing people and trying to fit everyone into some artificial norm. It doesn’t mean that understanding the roots of your reaction must lead you to liking the thing, but it might help you remove the value judgement. One of the best skills to have is: thinking “this is not for me” and moving on to things you actually like. I’m working really hard on honing this skill. 

For me it’s very freeing to just accept that everyone experiences the world differently and has different needs and as long as their need isn’t to harm others then it’s okay not to understand them and just say okay and move on. You can’t have all the experiences, a lot of stuff people will talk about will never be relatable because their life experience is so incomparable to yours. It’s best to accept that understanding everything and everyone is impossible but also unnecessary.  You don’t need to give everything your mental energy.

As to the person blocking you. Good riddance, they will thankfully not expose you to their shitty opinions anymore. They acted in a shitty way towards you and then couldn’t take a strong reply from you. I’m of the opinion that one should only start shit if they are ready to get the same kind of energy back. I feel no sympathy for them.

Also I’m a huge supporter of blocking people, I block at least one person every time I go into the JJK tags. Either for tag spamming or not tagging so my tag blocking doesn’t work, or just for shitty opinions so I don’t have to see them and sigh.

And their opinion is shit because shipping isn’t wrong or problematic, it’s just people imagining things. What's problematic in the JJK fandom is the racism, the misogyny, the transphobia, the harassment, the graphic vitriol towards the author and so on.

[deadlysnzs]

D/abi & Ha/wks: A day of care

This is my first time writing this kind of stuff and it's for @sneezeplease I hope you like this! I know it's really short and has many errors but, I hope you enjoy and if you want anything changed, dm me and I'll be happy to change anything!

Summary: Hawks is sick but still insisting on date night. Dabi is a softie after getting through the hard shell on the outside.

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A loud thud is heard from the front door slamming in. Tonight was a special night, one that only came once in a blue moon. One day out of every few weeks that both Dabi and Hawks have to themselves.

"You sound like shit." That brutal comment comes without warning from Dabi, seeing Hawks lean against the doorframe.

"Thanks for that astute observation." Hakws chuckles, congestion weighing heavy in his voice.

"You sound like garbage. Did you catch a cold or something?"

"N-no. It's just cold outside. Heh.. Het’chhnk! Plus is raining." Dabi just raises his eyebrows and turns back to the boxes of takeout.

"I got Chinese. Take a shower, then we can cuddle." Hawks slumps over and slugs his way to the bathroom. When he returns Dabi has the living room set up for bingeing Real Housewives. Hawks all but curls up in his lap.

Dabi looks down at him and places a hand on his forehead.

"You getting sick?" He questions, placing a hand on Hawks forehead. He can feel the heat radiating off the hero, no matter how much he denies it.

"No, I'm no-Het’chhnk!" he snuggles closer to Dabi, hiding his face in his stomach.

He pets the whiney hero's head and gently pushes him off his lap. "I'm gonna grab a thermometer, wait here."

When Dabi comes back with the thermometer and touches it to Hawks' head. It doesn't take long for it to beep with a number of 102°F (38°C).

Well, you're going to bed. You probably

He whines, "Noooo I don't wanna go to bed."

Dabi glares daggers at him. "You literally have a fever of 102°F (38°C). You're going to bed. And you're gonna like it."

He huffs and pouts.

"Noooooo. I refuse."

Dabi rolls his eyes. "You can barely stop sneezing...tell ya what. If you can hold back for for ten minutes, we can stay up and watch trashy tv. How's that sound?"

"I'll take that bet. Het’chhnk!"

"And you've already lost."

He can feel his nose twitching.

"Uh oh. doesn't look like you can hold that one back."

Shut up, I'm no..not going to sneeze."

He sniffs, trying to make it better..ultimately making it worse.

"Heh...HEEEXXXHIIEW! EEEESSSHIIEWW! EEEESHIIEW!"

Okay, you're taking Nyquil and going to bed. End of story.

Hawks begrudgingly does as he's told, dragging the purple panic attack along with him to cuddle in bed.

[plush-rabbit]

Intimacy and Vulnerability In A Different Form

Request: Can I please request for some angst with Shigaraki, Hawks and Dabi. Their S/O acts like she enjoy choking but she feels like it’s what she deserve (basically triggering some suicidal/depressive thoughts) so they’ve always thought she liked it until one particularly rough session she started breaking down and begging them to kill her and they found out about her depression. Sorry if this is against the rules, I’m not sure what you don’t write for. But kinda need this in my life rn. Angst+Fluff and aftercare please!!!

Warning: self-harm mentions, suicidal thoughts

A/N: I hope you like it!! Take care of yourself and remember to do the best that you can to take care of yourself and if you can, take your meds!!

-

Dabi:

His hands are heavy around your neck, a pressure that makes it harder to breathe and even harder to think anything coherent. His lips are bitter, the taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue and his smile presses itself against you in soft kisses. Dabi hovers above you, and as pleasurable as this all should be- the attention that he gives to you and the words that usually makes your body tremble- it’s only making you sick. The pressure tightens and all that can flash through your mind is the horrible mistakes of your past, every wound left open and salt poured on it as his words reach your ears. You aren’t sure what makes this night different compared to the others but your own hands are placed above his, your eyes squeezed tight as you press your hands down on his.

At first, he thinks nothing of it, believing it to just be you simply telling him that you want more pressure but as you continue, your face burns. Tears tracing down and marking you, your moans jumbled out and sounding so pitiful that he stops immediately. Your lips move, words slurred and are told out of order and he knows that something is wrong. You mumble something about wanting to die, and he pulls his hand away from your neck and your own hands that replace where his hand used to be. Your hands curl around your neck, scratching and pulling taut at your skin and you’re left sobbing as he stares down at you. His hands are soft, curving around your wrist and holding them together, watching as you rest against his bare chest, your tears slipping down his skin and burning against his scars.

He isn’t sure what to do. He’s unable to figure out if he should outright ask you what’s wrong but between your sobs and mess of words, he figures that that isn’t wise. The only thing that he can do is hold you close, let his hands rise in heat and rub them against your back, hoping that the motion will soothe you. He has you against him, crying and he knows- or at least has gathered enough information- to decide that you do indeed want to die. You lay against him, crying and letting your emotions get the best of you and he is unable to do what he should do, but yet, he stares at you, looking around the room hoping that the answer will be written on the walls. But, it's just him and you and a wall with chipping paint. There’s no answer to this and he isn’t good at playing therapist, and the most he can offer is a simple question of “are you okay?” even if it’s obvious that you aren’t.

While he isn’t good at sorting things out and giving advice, he is good at listening, taking things to heart and paying attention to the small details. He listens to you talk about how you have your own bad habits- you hand threads with his when you say that- and that sometimes you wish that something or someone would end your life so you didn’t have to do the dirty work. He knows enough about that to nod his head and hold your hand tighter. Your lips brush over the swell in his chest and you rest on his lap, your body shaking with the aftershocks of your sobbing, and your face still wet with tears. He listens well when you talk, nodding his head and squeezing your hand to show that he is still listening to you and his lips press against your head.

The last thing that Dabi wants is to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to see him as something that can only bring pain and destruction; he wants you to view him as a person. He tells you in a whisper that anything rough is out of the question, he doesn't want this to happen again. He tells you that he’ll be with you because he wants to be and that you two can still remain intimate but he won’t hurt you, he doesn’t want to be the reason that you cry. His hands are gentle as they move you away from him, his hand holding your jaw and his eyes linger to when a tear touches his thumb. He kisses the tip of your nose, his smile lazy and he offers a shower- just something to get rid of all the tears and sweat. It isn’t a permanent solution, but it’s the best that he can offer and he’ll stay true to his word, not wanting to go against our trust and safety. There’ll be another conversation about your mental health, but only when you’re more coherent and less in a negative state.

Shigaraki Tomura:

It’s already a dangerous situation to place yourself in with Tomura- his hands around your neck, his focus already diverting to pleasure rather than focusing on you. It’s times like these that he regrets not remembering where he placed the half gloves. His entire being is centered around death, his hands clawed and already so close to closing, the air becoming thin and harder to catch and you’re left with burning tears in your eyes. Your lips meet his in a desperate kiss, straining your neck and making his hands close tighter around your neck. A part of you wants for it to hurt more, for his hands to close around your neck and squeeze until your lips are cold and he’s over your body. You call out in a croaky voice for him to tighten his grip, placing your hands over his and begging for his to close his fist. It’s getting harder to breathe and your vision is dotted in black, tears fall and catch on his hands and your moans have turned to cries. His hand loosens around your neck, his movements stopped and he carefully removes his hand away from you.

The air is tense in the room. Your cries echoing around and he stares down at your body as it closes around itself, your arms hugging your crying form. He carefully crawls beside you, clenching his teeth when the bed creaks under him, his body careful to not touch yours. Beside you, he sits, his back propped by pillows and his lips bitten as he calls your name. He isn’t sure what he’s hoping for in a response- he knows that the answer he wants is unrealistic given your state and he isn’t sure whether he can touch you or if that would lead you to spiral down. His hands catch at a piece of your hair, rubbing the ends between his thumb and index finger. He calls you once more, nudging his leg against your body, hoping that you’ll at least give him a sort of reply.

You give an odd sort of sound- something stuck between a cry and a hiccup- but he takes it. He leans over you, brushing away the stray hair and tears, grabbing at a shirt and cleaning your face with it. You hold his hands with yours, your palm over the back of his hand, the cloth pressed against your face, the warmth of his palms warming at your cheeks. He turns over to lie beside you, his chest against your back and his lips pressed over a bruising spot on your neck. You both lay in silence for a long moment, his hands sliding down until they curve around your stomach, his nose pressed against the back of your head as your cries turn into whimpers. He whispers words of comfort- telling you that it’s okay, that he’s stopped, and letting you just cry as his hands circle around your abdomen.

He asks you what happened, his lips pressed against your neck, his hands still and his words are solemn. He doesn’t know what set it off and he isn’t aware of what he should say and a part of him thinks that it’s his fault. He asks if it was his fault- that maybe he triggered something or something else that he doesn’t know what happened. Your confession about your state of mind makes his body go pale, a shiver running down his spine and his hands curl around your stomach. You make it a point of telling him it wasn't his fault- he hadn’t known, it was something that you kept as a secret. Your hands hold his, your face dry with tear stains still lingering against your face. After the sudden outburst, your tone grows drowsy, eyelids heavy and breaths deeper. He can sense that you’re growing tired, that the outburst took a lot of energy and he moves to grab at a blanket, letting it rest against your waist until you’re ready to move it closer to your body.

During the entirety of your relationship, Tomura has always put your wellbeing as a priority; he wants to know that you’re safe and healthy and when you confess about your issues, about how your mind works against you, he asks you to turn around. He holds you close, allowing you the option to look at him or hide your face, and he speaks slowly. He isn’t going to be the one that brings out painful memories, he’s going to be here for you. Perhaps, he won’t be the best at it, but he’ll do what he can, he’ll offer to listen and to talk, he’ll offer you snacks and hold you when you need to be held. He’ll try and that’s the best he can offer. For now, you’ll rest against him, your body covered by a blanket as he keeps you close, letting his arms wrap tight around you.

Takami Keigo:

A caring lover, Keigo takes great pride in giving in to your needs, wanting you to feel heard and seen during acts of intimacy. If you want his hands around your neck, then he’s willing to do it for you. His face will be pinched, a string of curses hissed under his breath as his hand tightens around your neck. You’re under him, a cloud of negative thoughts forming into a storm, your stomach twisting and churning with every move, your eyes closed tightly and yet, the pressure against your chest isn’t enough, the way that he has his hand wrapped around your throat simply isn’t enough.

It’s a simple bad day turned worse with sex. Despite the act of intimacy and the enjoyment that you derive from it, your thoughts scream loud, drowning out anything and you’re simply just tired. You beg him with a choking voice to tighten his grasp and he does, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment, pulling away with a crooked grin. He doesn't realize what you want- that it isn’t tight enough for you, that you’re pleading for more and that you want him to close the gap until you’re heaving and gasping for air. You beg for it to be tighter and the most that he offers is a squeeze around your throat before he loosens. His hand pulls away as you start to cry, his face falling into a frown as your words are slurred between each cry, your hands covering your face, taking deep breaths with a bitterness that lingers on your tongue.

He ground you, grabbing your hands and lifting you up, his wings pushed back in an attempt to make you feel less crowded. You’re crying, your body trembling and chest shaking with every breath, as he tries to calm you down, asking you to mimic his breaths and tell him the colors on the bed sheet. He’s desperate, fear thick on his words and his hands wanting to hold you but he refrains. His voice is steady as can be, hesitation on the end of his words but nothing like yours that trembles and breaks with every sentence. He’s a hero, he knows what to do, how to calm those who are almost seen as being uncontrollable. He gets your breathing back to normal, holds your knees and has you play with his hand, the lines and calluses traced and touched under your jittery hand.. He lets you catch your breath, your body shaking and tears slowing down into heavy drops.

You open your arms, hands curling close in an attempt to ask him to come closer. He follows, wrapping his arms around you, and bringing you close to him. Careful as ever, he makes sure his wings are extended, careful to not wrap them around you nor him, wanting you to have as much space to breathe. Your hands roam around back, clinging to his shoulder blades, the tips of his feathers teased with your fingertips. His voice is calm, letting you start the conversation or choosing to save it for later and focusing on you right now. You move him and he is putty in your hands, molding into whatever you need him to be, leaning against the headboard and holding you close, feathers twitching restlessly as you lean on his chest. His hands circle back around you, his chin on the top of your head as you start to speak. He lets you take your time when your voice starts to crack, his presence nothing but soothing.

It’s difficult to listen to you talk so negatively about yourself and to know that the rougher stuff introduced during acts of intimacy were more of a punishment rather than something for pleasure. Keigo is patient in listening to you, holding you close to him and kissing your knuckles as you talk and go further in detail. He won’t push you to do things that are outside of your comfort zone and would prefer for you to take your own pace and come into realizations for yourself. He’s your partner and he’ll help you as much as he can, but he isn’t good at taking care of himself and can often find him going further than what’s good for you. He talks to you and runs his hand down your spine, moving around until you’re side by side, his smile almost pained. It’s a minute before he rises, holding you close to him and leading you to the bathroom, turning the water on and letting you stand under it, his hands covered in white fluff as suds cover your body, his body close to yours.

[problemswithbooks]

Villains fans have a weird hate boner for hawks like you can’t tell me everyone understand why dabi and shiggy can turn into villains but can’t understand why hawks feel such loyalty to the man who saves his life even though he conflicted with his own family and was strip from his childhood

Oh my god I was just thinking this after seeing the leaks and how badly villain fans are twisting themselves into pretzels to hate on Hakws for literally the same stuff they excuse Dabi for.

I mean, I can understand the hate boner people have for Enji--he's an abuser and people tend to remember first impressions more then later ones. People have abusive parents and it's really easy to relate him back to those RL experiences. Enji did legitimately terrible things. I'm still tired of seeing his character misinterpreted in an almost malicious way, but I get where that hate comes from.

But I just don't understand why Hawks gets similar vitriol, past that he killed their perfect baby Jin, and wasn't the character they personally wanted him to be. And you know what, fine, hate him if you want, but don't try to justify it with moral reasons--just say 'hey this character hurt my favs so he's trash to me'.

I mean with the leaks of 354 I have seen some terrible takes, but by far the worst is the reaction to Hawks berating himself for 'abandoning/giving up' on his parents. That was some horrible writing from Hori and I know if Touya or Shoto ever said anything similar people would lose their shit about how Hori is an abuse apologist. But because it's Hawks saying something negative about himself people are already jumping on it and being like "yeah, he ran away from his past and obviously didn't try as hard as the Todoroki kids".

This idea is particularly annoying to me because I remember when people criticized Touya for running away from his abusive dad, the villain fans were quick to point out that Dabi didn't owe his abuser anything, and that there's nothing morally wrong with it. so, I guess Touya running away so he can plan his little brother's murder for ten +years is fine, but Hawks running away/forgetting about his abusive parents and embracing the saving people aspect of his job is an asshole.

And the just plain bad faith criticism of Hawks telling Enji not to listen to AfO really seems purposeful. Hawks isn't telling Enji not to listen to AfO because he thinks Enji didn't abuse his family or is perfect now--he's telling Enji not to listen so he focuses on the fight and doesn't die and lose, which could lead AfO being the entire world's dictator. I mean, I am just floored by how many people have interpreted AfO being a cunning asshole with him telling Enji some deeper truths--news flash, AfO doesn't give a shit about Touya or abusers facing justice, he's just trying to get an opening on Enji so he can kill him. He's being a manipulative asshole and just because he's saying technically correct things doesn't mean he's suddenly any better then Enji.

It's just really stupid and I think it's personally offensive if Hori continues to imply Hawks is a worse person because he didn't seek out his abusive parents and try to help them. The only way he can salvage this to me is to instead make it clear it's less about Hawks helping his parents and more that he ran away from his own identity as an abuse victim, buried his emotions around it and it personally hurt him in the long run. More, I have to come to terms with having been abused instead of forgetting it ever happened, less I'm a bad person because I didn't try and reach out to my very abusive parents that never showed any real affection for me, sort of thing.

And if it counties to be that latter, people really shouldn't jump on it and defend it simply because it paints Hawks as wrong. If Touya can run away and it's fine, then Hawks should be awarded the same sentiment. If Touya's allowed to cope in ugly ways--like trying to murder Shoto to get back at his father, then Hawks should be able to cope in less then great ways, like abandoning his past identify and trying to reinvent himself as a Hero. It's just not fair to have one set of standards for one abuse victims (with is your fav) and a different set for another (which you hate/don't agree with the writing of).

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

lil hiatus (actual announcement lol)

Hello!

so, its not hard to see that within the last few months i've been in a bit of a slump with a lack of updates and content. (not to mention my descript mentions my hiatus briefly) but, turns out that managing a couple different blogs at the same time along with working a LOT and not having much time for yourself runs a person into a burnout fAST lol.

so! in light of that i'm gonna be on a lil writing hiatus. i'm gonna try and stop forcing myself to write and take some time to brainstorm and properly think about what i want to write and how. i'm still gonna be active, so don't worry about that! just for a bit longer, my fics will be on hold bc even with the recent work i've put into a few of them, i'm so unhappy with them i'm gonna end up rewritting a lot.

i will still be posting on my bnha blog though, since i do have a few ideas for fun fics in my mind thats ready to be written and flushed out, so if you're interested in that go and check it out! the link to that blog is in the description of my blog (it's a couple bakugou ideas and my first hakws idea lol- both like shrine/diety ideas with hawks being a tengu and bakugou a fox spirit+ a different bakugou one thats just fun lol)

dont worry bc i'll be back to write for my babies here and give them the fics they deserve soon! it won't be forever, just until i can get my ducks in a row.

love you guys!