#i don't mind having grown up poor. i don't. but i fucking. hate being reminded of why things were that way.

[0xo]

had a funny moment the other day where my wife said "we should maybe buy some powdered milk?" (because it's useful for baking and cooking and when you run out of real milk)

and i said "eughhh, i know it's fine but it reminds me of being very little and very poor," (which is true, i drank it a lot as a kid, takes me directly back to stale-fresh-constant cigarette smoke of my grandparents' house - they're both dead now, crazy - isn't it funny how there's always cigarette money but never milk money?)

and she said "babe, we ARE poor." (and my wife isn't wrong but i don't think it's the same kind. we don't walk to the dollar general for all the groceries we buy. or rely on our twenty-two year old daughter with three jobs to bring us the rest. and she only does that to make sure we feed her toddler that we're watching, because we're the closest thing to free childcare she has access to, even though she wishes her baby wasn't in that smoky smoky falling-down house. but she's poor, because we birthed her poor and raised her poor and gave her nothing but all kinds of hunger. so she'll take what's free and hope we don't leave the baby hungry too. and it's not free cuz the groceries add up. and she'll keep bringing groceries, even after the baby's in school and she's got just the one better job. and daycare those five years might've been cheaper, all told. isn't it funny how there's always so much for an eldest daughter to give you? even when she's a mother too?)

anyways. i know powdered milk is a baking staple and i don't mind it mixed into things but i will never have a glass of powdered milk again. it tastes like marlboro ashes.

[colossal-fallout]

[ Classified ]

The full report - Eren Yeager

The following report details all information on Eren Yeager. Contains NSFW content and reader must be over the age of 18 to view this document.

For your eyes only.

Name: Eren Yeager

Birthplace: Shiganshina

Height: 180cm / 5ft 9"

General

[ A1 ]

Appearance & Hygiene practices:

Eren's chestnut brown hair is always clean and fresh. Whenever he pays you a late night visit, he'll have most probably just gotten out of the shower. Coconut scented shampoo of sorts? Whatever it is, it smells so good.

Prefers showers over a bathe. He says it's to save time, but he spends a good 40 - 60 minutes in there, easily.

Once he's dry, likes to throw on jogger bottoms and a hoodie over his bare skin. His bare skin that is now so soft and scented as his favourite shower gel which is either tea-tree oil or Coconut.

If he wants to remain clean shaven, Eren must shave every 2-3 days. Sometimes he likes to grow it out but nothing ever past a long stubble.

Minimal body hair.

Trims the hairs on his pubic bone/lower stomach. Has pleasuring you in mind as he does so. Will take into consideration the friction against you.

Totally clean shaven testicles.

Eren's nails are short but that's because he bites them. [ see section A3 ]

Beautiful set of teeth. Brushes twice daily in a modern AU.

Eren adores it when you brush his hair for him. He finds it extremely relaxing as you massage his scalp. His eyes will close and a small, barely audible hum will emit from time to time.

Eren's skin care routine is pretty basic. All of the steam from sitting in his hot, frequent showers for so long seems to do him wonders - his skin is flawless and worthy of envy.

Due to the healing power of being a Titan shifter, Eren has no scars.

Eren has quite large hands with long fingers. He doesn't wear rings or jewellery as it reminds him of the burden of when he had to keep that damn key on him at all times. Will however, put up with a wedding ring.

[A2]

Body & Love language:

Eren is a pretty introverted person. His hands are usually tucked away inside of his pockets - be it either trousers or hoody/jacket.

He hunches a little too. Likes to feel hidden. He's had enough attention over the years and wants nothing more than to just shrink away in a crowded room. Or maybe, it's the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Brooding, moody exterior. Extreme "resting bitch face"

Shrugs a lot. At first glance, you'd think he was a moody teenager trapped in a grown man's body.

Likes to sit with his feet flat up on the chair with his knees splayed - you'll usually find him like this with an arm resting over a knee while the other is at a 90 degree angle pointing away from his hip.

Fumbles his hands together in formal occasions when he can't sit so casually or tuck them away.

Likes to drape his arm over you without touching you. His arm will rest above you on the top of the chair. A clear indication of "They're mine" and "I will keep you safe"

His hips will usually be swivelled in your direction, regardless of where you are in the room. A subconscious body language of sexual yearning.

Eren likes to hold hands with you when you're walking. He's not huge on PDA but likes the strong yet subtle showings that you're together.

Tends to rub his thumb over the back of your hand absent-mindedly when you do so.

His love languages include physical touch. Can get very needy and touch starved pretty easily. Not in a overbearing way, but even just a run of his slender fingers through your hair is enough to keep him going until the two of you are in a more private setting.

[A3]

Bad Habits & Tendencies:

As mentioned above, Eren bites his finger nails. His toe nails too. It's pretty gross to be honest.

He never does it in public, but he has been known to do it in front of you when he feels comfortable enough to do so.

Get's very fidgety when irritated or annoyed, which is pretty often. Especially if Jean is around.

Short temper. He's learned to tame it more over the years where he doesn't show it so easily. But everyone has their limit and when his is reached, his yell is booming and pretty intimidating.

During an argument with you he has been known to raise his voice, but it's not the frightening roar you've heard him unleash on others before.

Always apologises to you after he's calmed down. Even though it wasn't that bad.

If you two ever have a bad falling out, will lock himself away for days. He'll be pissed at himself for letting it get so bad and depressed that you two are having such problems. But he'll do anything he can to fix it.

[ A4 ]

Common misconceptions:

Obviously everyone has their own cannons and opinions. But I don't personally see Eren as being an abusive partner. Yeah, he has his problems and treats his friends like shit but there's a reason for that we'll probably see in the last chapter. If you're worthy enough to pierce that cold and distant shell, you're a very special person and he'll treat you as such.

Eren actually has a large heart hidden under that huge chip on his shoulder. He cares and loves the people around him unconditionally. Even to the point of carrying out mass genocide to protect them.

Still... He does have a dark side to be weary of at times.

Even though he's gross while in Liberio, usually Eren is actually pretty clean.

[ A5 ]

Food & Drink:

In a Modern AU Eren loves fancy coffees with the weird names. The longer to pronounce, the better. He just likes the fact they give him energy and the fancier ones taste good.

Due to not having meat for so long, a good ol' fashioned beef/lamb stew is his favourite.

Doesn't drink in canon.

Modern AU, his alcoholic beverage of choice is bottles of beer and craft ales. Sometimes is a sucker for red wine.

[ A6 ]

Modern Au:

Eren wears loose clothing. Hoodies, loose jeans, those baggy cardigans too.

His texting style is spam over one long message. Especially if he's pissed off. He's too impatient to sit and type in paragraphs.

Drives a black car. Don't ask me what type, I don't know cars. But it's black, 'kay?

It also has "black ice" air freshener inside.

Likes to ride quads and mopeds along fields. He's a thrill seeker. Rollercoasters, bungee jumping... you name it he's game.

Eren plays the guitar. He took lessons for it but after about a year he just went his own way and self-taught.

If he sees a guitar at a party, he will pick it up and play it. He won't sing though.

He actually hates singing. He finds it embarrassing.

Always has in his air pods/earphones.

Likes any sort of music that is catchy.

Probably streams on Twitch. He won't talk much though.

Could have a wide range of jobs. Coffee shop, could be in college, might be a ride attendant... who knows? It's anyone's guess what Eren is doing. He doesn't talk about himself that much.

Romance & NSFW

[ B1 ]

Crush:

Eren would definitely be in denial he has a crush on you at first.

• “Does y/n seem different to you?”

Armin; “No…? In what way?”

“I dunno… Just, different.”

• His poor stubborn brain would be ticking for weeks as to why he suddenly wants to be near you a lot more often and has urges to touch you, even if it’s just a slight brush against your arm.

• Will find any excuse to do extra training with you

• Once he FINALLY clicks on as to why he’s had these feelings, he’ll be pretty knocked off his feet and a little annoyed at himself.

I’m here to kill the enemy...

• Still though… Can’t seem to keep himself away.

[ B2 ]

First kiss & general kisses:

After the initial denial and keeping himself away, he'll just decide one day he's had enough of feeling this way and decides to to something about it.

He won't shove himself onto you. He'll do some sly probing to see if there is any indication of reciprocation.

Knowing Eren, he'll indirectly piss you off or insult you. He didn't mean to. He's just lacking social skills. Man aint smooth.

You'll slap him, probably, where he'll keep his head away from you for a few seconds, realising he's pushed you too far. Whichever side you palmed him away, he'll stay.

He'll slowly return his gaze to yours before gently holding your arms, apologising and planting his lips onto yours.

His general kisses are quite firm and forceful. Not in an aggressive way, but a "god I want you so bad" way.

Always either slides his arms around your waist or cups your face/head.

He tastes like sweetened tea <3 / Coffee in a Modern AU

Loves coming from behind and snaking his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck when you're doing something. Doesn't like it when your attention is away from him for too long.

When he's feeling soft and tender, will dance his nose with yours and catching your mouth in a caress.

When he's super turned on, he'll suck your tongue, bite your bottom lip and kiss anywhere he can.

[ B3 ]

Sex:

Ha ~~!

Eren is up there with the best when it comes to sex. He knows what he's doing and he does it well.

Extremely skilled with his fingers and tongue. He'll have you crawling the walls with hysteria as he likes to tease you throughout the day. He more than makes up for it, though.

Gropes, nips, kisses, licks, bites, flicks... anywhere and everywhere he can.

Is the most vocal when you perform oral sex on him. Will groan so deeply, his entire body will vibrate.

Dirty talk is this man's second language.

"Look how desperate you are for me." / "Look how desperate for you you've gotten me..."

"Do I feel good like this?"

"Am I making you feel good baby?"

"You're so good at that. Fuck, such a good girl/boy"

"S'so fuckin' tight."

"You're my little fuck thing, aren't you?"

"You're perfect."

"I love you..."

Are some of the many things you'll hear while he's fucking you.

He doesn't really have a favourite position. He'll gladly take you anyway he can. If he's in a rough mood, he'll bend you over the sofa, take you up against the wall... But if he's feeling more soft he'll make slow, passionate love to you for hours.

He does have a strong soft side at times.

Dominic Dominant. He loves seeing you totally at his mercy, the power over you the most arousing thing in the world to him.

Big daddy dilf vibes. He knows what he’s doing and he’s fucking good at it too.

The only time he’ll sub is if he wants to be lazy - letting you ride him and use him to your heart’s content.

Dirty talk. It can get pretty degrading at times. If you’re not into that, he respects that boundary.

Will absolutely ruin you.

Low-key loves it when you claw his back in hysteria. He thrives knowing he can send you absolutely insane, and he can just heal the claw marks in a matter of seconds. Sometimes even during sex (which is the hottest thing ever)

In an AU modern, he would love to fuck you near a large mirror or record you both getting at it to watch at a later date.

A lot of hissing, humming and low groaning, especially when he’s close to unloading.

Likes to watch you masturbate, putting his head close and observing intently. Loses his shit if you moan his name while doing so.

Hair pulling is his overload language. Will tug fistfuls when he gets too turned on.

[ B4 ]

Kinks:

The risk of getting caught. He likes having risky sex in semi public locations. Makes a game of how loud he can get you to moan, knowing someone would probably hear you.

Light Degradation. When he’s in a rough mood, he doesn’t mind calling you a few names. Nothing too extreme. And if it’s not your thing, he’ll respect that boundary.

Loves a good ol’ 69. Having you on his face with your ass in view is just… *Chef’s kiss*

Speaking of ass, he loves to bend you over too, allowing himself in nice and deep with a great view and something Juicy to grab.

[ B5 ]

Aftercare:

Aftercare with Eren isn’t anything special unfortunately. He’s another who gets sleepy after sex.

Won’t ignore you though. Often lazy pillow talk is on the cards and telling you how much you mean to him and how beautiful you are.

Will run his fingers across your scalp to soothe you.

Also will kiss any bite marks or finger bruises he’s left behind and ask if you’re okay.

Relationship with loved ones & becoming serious

[ C1 ]

Friends & Family:

When Eren meet's your friends family he will be polite yet quiet. He wants them to like him but he won't pine for their approval. If they like him, awesome. If they don't...? No big deal.

Same goes with your friends. He'll stay quiet until spoken to at first, but once he's been eased into conversation, he'll flow with it a lot easier.

Again, he'll be polite but don't expect him to kiss ass, because he certainly wont.

[ C2 ]

Marriage:

You couldn’t actually believe Eren had proposed. Although he was down on one knee in front of your very eyes, your mind just wasn’t accepting it. Folks and onlookers watched with bated breath, awaiting your answer. He sure kept this surprise hidden well…

Of course, you said yes and he picked you up by your waist in a spin, colliding his lips to yours.

And now here he was, watching you walk down the aisle, a lump in his throat and his heart racing.

You looked gorgeous, like something from a fairy tale.

And of course, he looked as handsome as ever. His suit was smart and his hair was up in its usual bun.

Armin is his best man, of course; who is standing and beaming with pride.

Eren holds back his chokes and tears as he reads his vows;

“Y/N… From the first time I ever laid eyes on you, all those years ago, I knew you would be in my life forever. Back then, I didn’t think it would be as my wife, but God I am so glad it is. I’m sorry for my stubbornness and irrational behaviour when we were young. But despite that you still loved, and stood by me and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I vow to always stand beside you, whatever the world throws at us. I vow to hold you when you need support. I vow to remember how you always had my back no matter what. And I vow to always love you, with my heart and soul, until the day I die and after.”

The room erupts in cheers and tears when you seal your kiss.

The reception is wild.

Everyone is drunk (except Levi) and dancing. Reiner and Connie are dancing like weirdos, Reiner's blazer removed and at one point Connie is on his shoulders.

Sasha has too much to drink and is spewing in the bathroom.

Mikasa can’t stop crying with happiness and pride.

He carries you to your room afterwards where you spend all night sealing a special bond that will never be broken.

[ C3 ]

Children:

Eren has a soft spot for children, believe it or not. As seen before the expedition to the forest of giant trees. He sees his old self behind the innocent glint of unaltered admiration within a child's eyes.

He's not super into child play though. He wont pull weird voices or funny faces. He'll sit at their level and speak to them like they were anyone else. Obviously, watching what he says around them.

If they're unchecked and acting themselves, he'll become quickly annoyed as they wreck havoc around him and will have to leave the room or he'll get too agitated.

If his s/o discovers they're pregnant he'll seem to take it well. But inside he's falling apart and freaking out. He won't ever show it to them, but he doesn't know how he could be a father. Would he be like his own? Would he be able to be a good figure to look up to? What if he fails? Is it selfish to bring a child into this cruel world?

He'll be shocked but understandably so. After after a couple of weeks of self-reflection and brooding, he'll start to feel better about the whole thing.

More protective over his s/o than usual. Will make sure they're eating, drinking, resting and god help you if he finds you doing something you shouldn't such as trying to lift something heavy.

Will hold your hair and rub you back, as well as bring you water while you're having your morning sickness.

"Babe? It's four in the afternoon. How come you're still sick?"

"Eren, it's called morning sickness but it can happen any time."

He'll click his tongue. "....That's a dumb name, then."

The first time he feels the baby kick within you, his heart absolutely melts. His eyes enlarge and you could swear you saw them soften with that spark behind his emerald greens he had when you were younger.

His large palm is warm against your stomach as he feels around, the little flutter of your child hitting against his skin making him flinch in surprise at first.

"Woah..." He'll gasp in amazement. "They're already so strong. Hey, y/n? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Sometimes." You'll laugh softly.

He'll gingerly place his face to your skin, a little embarrassed he's doing this; but he feels the need. "...Don't hurt your mom, okay?"

As your pregnancy progresses and you get larger, he will not leave your side. If he has to, he'll be worrying and you'll be occupying his mind. In a modern au, he'll constantly call and text and will get Mikasa or Armin to check in on you often.

Will be so gentle during love making. He's terrified he'll hurt the baby.

One of the only times you've seen Eren panic in his adult life is when your waters break.

You'd gotten up in the middle of the night to pee. Climbed back into bed and felt a strange pressure, followed by a pop. Then a warm gushing sensation. You wait a few seconds to settle your own panic before you nudge Eren awake.

"Eren..."

He'll bolt up, confused. "What? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

"Eren, my waters have broken."

"Shit. Okay. Shit. What do we do? Shit." He'll leap out of bed and throw the lights on. You get to your feet where more water will start to drop onto the floor. "Shit, shit. I'll get the bag. Do you need help getting dressed? Okay, where's my jacket? WHERE'S MY JACKET?!"

"Eren, honey I need to you calm down."

"Okay, sorry. I'm calm. Shit. Shit..."

Will hold your hand with a worried look the entire time you're in labour. Has water and snacks on hand.

Will watch in amazement as your child is pushed into the world. This magical moment changes something in him, but right now he's not sure what that is.

They will bond immediately. As soon as he holds your son/daughter he can't take his wide gaze off them.

They're inseparable.

Any doubts of being a bad father is washed away as he takes them under his wing and teaches them about the world.

[babylooneytoonz]

200 Followers Appreciation Post

I'll be very honest, two months back when I joined Tumblr, I hadn't expected that my writings will be read by many, and the last thing I had expected was to be followed. Now look far we've come, from 0 followers to 200.

A personal thank you and a lot of love to each and every follower of mine.

I think this is the best part of our fandom. We love each other like family.

As a little token of my thank you, I decided to publish two of my requests combined as one today. Hope you like it. 💓

Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Request 1- Prompt "We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies."

Request 2- Reader was always in love with Tommy, thinking he can't love her back she starts writing cheap novels as a way to deal with it. Her books become popular and everything is cool until Tommy finds out about her hobby and notices similarities between her writing and real life.

Warnings - Angst

GIF Credits - @thomasshelbyltd thank you. ❤️

A Maid's Diary

 You slumped against your desk, letting your head rest against the old wooden table top, your elbows on either side of your face. Your desk was a cluttered mess, with sheets of paper flooded all over. In your hand, you held a pen, as you were just seconds back, scribbling vigorously on a parchment as an idea had just hit you, and just as swiftly, the idea had vanished from your mind.

You couldn't forget and you couldn't forgive your best friend, Linda, for having betrayed you by sharing your diary to a local printing press, who had, without your permission, published your countless feelings that you had penned down in your little diary, without even your consent, although they didn't take the credit for it. You were still the writer, even though the publishers never published your real name on it, just a pen name.

As much as you hated to admit it, the little push made by your friend had worked tremendously and your popularity had grown amongst the lower middle class especially; as that is where you hailed from. They loved your modesty, they loved how humble and down to earth you were, although you were extremely talented.

Little did they know, that the book that had been published, as an act of mistake, was actually based on your life.

"What is it that you are reading?" Tommy pushed his round glasses over his eyes, as he looked through them and fixed his broody stare on his wife.

Grace was sprawled on the couch in his study, shimmering in a beautiful pearl white satin nightgown hanging loosely over her slender frame, her natural blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She seamlessly brought up her ring studded hand to her hair, running her fingers through the locks as her eyes came to rest on her husband.

"Would you look at this Tommy?" She raised a red little book in her hand, showing it to him briefly, before she sat back more comfortably. Their son, Charlie, crawled about on the carpeted floor, playing with a toy train. "I don't know who this woman is, but if you read this book, you would feel like you are a bloody part of it."

"Is it one of those fucking love stories again, Grace?"

"It's much more than that, love. It's complex. It's like reading a person's life, living her memories."

"Right, well, I'm out, I've got a bloody meeting with Arthur at the pub." He stood up, sliding his hand into his waistcoat and pulling out the pocket watch, taking a quick glance at it. He then kissed his wife a goodbye, lifting Charlie up in his arms, "Be good, you cheeky little oaf."

Little did he know, how that would be the last week, that he was spending home with his wife. The next week, Grace Shelby was shot, and she couldn't make it.

As days inched by, Tommy started growing more and more morose. Although he didn't show it, those around him felt it everyday. The snapping and the yelling increased, and Tommy found himself sleeping less and less, and chugging down more and more of that alcohol to keep his mind at rest. There were weeks when Tommy didn't see his son. Although he felt guilty, for neglecting him, as the poor child had lost his mother, just like he had lost his wife, he couldn't bring himself to face him, as he reminded him so much of her.

Soon, weeks turned into months and finally, Tommy's agony subsided to a bit. It wasn't as if it was an overnight process, but somehow, over the course of time, Tommy didn't feel the hurt anymore, as he initially did— or maybe, he learnt to live with it.

One night, when the nightmares crippled him to such an extent that he found himself unable to sleep, he decided to go through Grace's belongings, something he had kept locked up in the attic, afraid to touch them. Holding a lantern in his hand, he walked up the flight of stairs, the old floorboards creaking underneath the weight of his foot as he stepped into the dinghy little room. In a corner, a brown crate was hoarded up, keeping all of Grace's belongings.

Pulling off the the wooden board that was nailed shut, he pried it off and ran his hand through the dust coated silk dresses, his fingers gently brushing against the fabric. He let out a weak, pained exhale, slowly sliding down against the floor, pulling his hand out as he started fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette.

With a lit cigarette in his left hand, he slid his right hand back in, feeling around the box until his palm hit something hard. Pulling it out, he saw a little red book that was now turning a shade of purple at the edges. The book was coated in a sheet of dust, causing Tommy to squint his eyes slightly and scrunch up his nose as he brushed the dust off its cover.

A faint smile, a fond remembrance of Grace reading this book with such enthusiasm brought a weak smile to his lips. He took a drag of his cigarette, pulling himself off the floor and pocketed the book, walking out of the attic.

It was his eyes, eyes that could hold an entire ocean in them, that captivated me. I often found myself looking at him, stealing glances, when no one was looking. A part of me begged for his attention, hoping, yearning that he would atleast give me a glance but he never did.

The more he read through the passages, the more he realized what Grace had meant. This was not just a book, it was someone's life, it was someone's feelings. The words were simple and not at all fancy, the backdrop set was not that of a fine mansion, it was a tiny little house, in a clamoured street, a family of five siblings, four boys and one girl, and the writer, who was just a servant. The writer knew the love she felt for one of the sons of the house was wrong, improper and it was forbidden because she was a servant and they were her employers but she couldn't help how she felt, no matter how hard she tried to forget. Tommy couldn't help but feel drawn— drawn to the writer's pain, her anguish and the feeling of being stuck at the end of a self destructive, one sided love. He knew what it meant to not get to be with the person you loved. He had experienced the pain, although in a different sense but somehow, he could relate. Although Thomas Shelby didn't show any feelings, he had eventually fallen head over heels in love with Grace Burgess and life with her had been a life of roses and poppies, while he was a crown of thorns; that Grace bravely adorned on her head.

It was a cold night, and I was freezing. I could feel my cheeks turning to stone and my hands fervously rubbing against my arms to keep myself warm. I could see them right in front of my eyes; the whole family. They looked happy. They brothers were teasing their sister, who had a look of dismay plastered over her face, and the youngest brother, who was just a toddler, ran about the parlour, sucking on his thumb. I wondered if it was selfishly wrong of me to think of him in this way, to imagine how our little household would have been, had I been bound to him by marriage. I wondered if it was a sin, wondering what I would have named our children if we had a handful of them.

Thomas found himself leaning back comfortably in bed, straining into his glasses, wanting to read more, although his body and his eyes were beyond tired. It was as though he could see a glimpse of his life before the war had been, right through someone else's eyes. He could see little Finn, perched on the carpeted floor, running his toy train all over it, making a weird engine sound with his mouth while John and Arthur teased Ada for something she had probably said. He could picture himself by the window, staring at the dimly lit sky, the illuminating stars, thinking of the moment Greta took her last breath, her frail hand falling limp in his warm one.

How unlucky had he been with women, he had watched the women he loved die, in in his arms.

As I scrubbed the dishes in the kitchen, I could hear the curses in the parlor. He was screaming at himself, bringing the dishes down, breaking them one by one. No one dared stop him, because no one wanted to be slammed against the wall or have to be the one taking a porcelain hit on his face. I wondered if I should step in, maybe give him some tea but I didn't. Maybe, he didn't need it. It was only later that I found out he had lost the love of his life.

He shoved the book aside and sat up straighter, running his palm through his face, his breathing shaky and rushed. He grabbed his cigarette box off the bedside table and lit himself a cigarette. Maybe reading this book had been a mistake, it was opening up all his raw wounds that he had buried away.

He was leaving. I wanted to ask him when he would be back but of course, that would have been such a silly question. And besides, he had a lot more on his plate, why would he want to speak to a servant? I stood behind the kitchen wall, listening to the solemn parting, the shuffling of feet, listening to them leave until finally I could hear them no more— I could hear him no more.

Years after years, I went on with life, with a smile on my face. I did what I always did in the mornings; scrubbing the floors clean, washing the dishes, preparing supper and doing the laundry. At night, though, I thought of him and his blue eyes. I wondered if there was any news, for I hadn't heard anything about him in ages. Maybe my prayers were finally answered, the war ended and they all were back home. Only they weren't themselves. The war had killed a part of them. They were the ghosts of war, left to meander the Earth until they finally died.

"Mr. Shelby?" Tommy sharply looked up, his eyebrows straightened into a visible frown.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Charlie's asleep, the supper's ready. I was wondering if I could get a night off—"

"Mary, you may. You have bloody worked hard enough to earn a night off. Go on then, hurry up, it's pretty dark outside."

He watched her leave, staring at the door before bringing his gaze back to the book, wondering if the writer was out there somewhere. And he wondered, and hoped, that she had finally gotten to be with the man she loved. She deserved it. She deserved all the happiness in the world.

I finally mustered the courage, after what seemed like eternity, to speak my heart out. I was afraid of rejection, but he deserved to know. I deserved to be free of this heavy secret in my heart. I didn't care if he would ask me to leave, stop coming to work from tomorrow but he needed to know I loved him. So, I stepped out into the chilly night, wrapping myself with whatever warm I could find. I walked and walked, until I was at his pub. Of course, he wasn't there. With a heavy heart then, I thought of going back home, through an alley, that was a shorter route. Little did I know, I was never going to get the man I loved for he already had the woman he loved, the woman from the pub; that barmaid. I saw the man I was in love with, from a window, the way I always imagined him to be with me, kissing her and stroking her cheeks. It was as though I heard a devastating sound somewhere close by, but it was nothing but my heart—shattered into two.

Thomas Shelby was many things, but he was not ignorant, or dumb. He slammed the book shut, shoving it on the bedside table. His heart was racing rapidly and he could feel blood rush through his veins. Arching his body forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, he buried his face into his palms. Every single detail in the book, every single piece of writing was something he had experienced before. It couldn't be a mere coincidence, could it? He slid out of bed, stomping through the hallway into his study until he was perched on a stool by the telephone his fingers frivolously moving against it. He knew what he had to do now.

"Pol?" He mumbled into the phone the instant he heard her on the other side.

"Tommy? It's fucking midnight, what's the bloody matter?" Tommy didn't mind he had woken her up. He needed answers.

"Do you remember a maid that worked for us?" He sighed into the receiver.

"Tommy, we have hired a dozen fucking maids, which one are you talking about?"

"She was with us when Greta died, when we went to war—"

On the other side of the telephone, Polly's demeanour softened. She remembered you, she even knew how you loved Thomas, but she could never bring it up to her lips, because she knew that you and Thomas had no future.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is? And for fucks sake, don't lie."

Your coffee mug lay on the table untouched, smoke bellowing out of it in waves. Outside your window, snow drizzled from the sky, like tiny droplets of fur falling to the ground, your garden sheeted in pristine virgin white.

"Love, you have to bloody see this," your friend Linda's voice echoed through the closed door, loud enough to alert you.

"What is it?" You threw open your window, watching your bestfriend stand at the gate, her eyes fixed to your window, "Just get your bloody arse down here (Y/N), I have to show you something. Come on out, now."

Annoyance.

You practically ran down the flight of stairs, not even stopped to calm your breaths.

"Jesus, Linda, it's fucking snowing, I'm going to freeze to—"

"Sorry love." Linda gave you an apologetic smile, her index finger pointing towards the silhouette of a man leaning by your front gate, slowly sliding out of the periphery of gaze. Neither were you watching her. You were watching a ghost of your past, that stood leaning by the metal gate on your front door, a cap on his head, a long overcoat drawn over his scrawny body. He had gotten weaker than you had last seen him.

"Miss (Y/N)." His voice was curt, yet warm, without a trace of malice in it. After all these years, he was right here, on your doorstep.

"Mr. Shelby? Would you like to come in?"

He shook his head, rather, his eyes and you knew that he didn't want to talk in the confines of your home, under prying eyes. He slowly pulled out a book from his pocket and your eyes widened. Your fingers flew to your lips and you felt a rush of blood in your body, an instant feeling of being in the warmth of a fireplace. You wanted to reply, but you couldn't find the words.

"You read my book, you found me out."

"It wasn't that fucking difficult to figure it out, love."

"Jesus, would you please come in? It's freezing out here, you're going to bloody catch a cold—"

He cut you off as you turned to walk in, grabbing you by your arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop you from walking. He then pulled you towards him, your front hitting his hard chest, to look into his face.

"It was you all along?"

You didn't know what to say anymore. He had found you out. After all these years.

"I don't understand—" You whispered, shaking your head. You couldn't lie, his eyes were making you nervous and all the feelings that had simmered over the course of time were finally lighting up again. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it will get published."

"Do you believe in destiny?" He cut you off.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to mentally think where he was going with this, "Perhaps, Mr. Shelby, but you need to be clearer than that."

"I didn't believe in fucking destiny, until this minute. I can't believe I'm fucking saying this—" You could see reluctance in his eyes, an inward fighting. You could see that he was thinking hard, probably having a hard time figuring out what he should say to you. "You remember Greta?"

You were hundred percent sure you weren't smiling, but had you been smiling, it would have withered.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby, the girl that died holding your hand, the girl you loved."

"Good, and what about Grace? The woman you saw at the fucking window."

Your cheeks reddened at the remark with embarassment, making you regret how he had read that part. That was a private thing between Thomas and Grace.

"I didn't mean to pry, I was just passing through the alley and I looked up and I —" You voluntarily bit on your tongue in an attempt to silence yourself because you knew you were babbling and your words were not making much sense. You needed to compose yourself, compose your thoughts.

"I married her, yeah? And do you know what happened then?"

You closed your eyes briefly, hoping he wouldn't see the pain in your eyes. When you blinked your eyes open again, you straightened slightly, almost taking a step away from him. He caught your arm, pulling you back to him.

"We have a lovely boy together, Charlie, he's three almost."

You wondered if Tommy was here to chastise you, to make you apologize, or maybe, your book had caused a rift in their marriage.

"She was shot. Fucking took a bullet that was meant for me. I fucking watched her die. Twice, (Y/N). I think it was my destiny. Will you ask me why?"

"Mr. Shelby—" You hopelessly began, trying to tell him how sorry you were about what had happened. But what could you do? It wasn't as if you had shot Grace.

"Just bloody ask me why."

You stiffened at the harshness of his voice.

"I- Why?"

"Because this fucking destiny had something else in mind for me. Perhaps it was you all along, the one I was maybe meant to be with."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, a sudden palpitating feeling in your heart, a sudden throbbing in the back of your mind. You pulled your arm away, wincing slightly at his sudden outburst, instantly moving away.

"Your words make no sense. Will you please stop?"

He parted his lips in an attempt to reply, but all that shot out of his plump lips was foggy winter air and he shut it. His hand flew to the side of your face, but he didn't touch you. He merely took a loose strand of your hair, curling it over his index finger. You could feel the sudden tension, his lips so close to you, you knew if you didn't stop him, he would kiss you. And later regret it.

"Mr. Shelby, this is a mistake. If I was your destiny, I would be the one buried in a grave and not the women you loved. I did love you," you spoke, hopelessly pulling yourself one step away but this time he didn't make an attempt to pull you close, perhaps having sensed your reluctance.

He raised his eyebrow, "Did?"

"I still do, but I don't think we were meant to be."

"I see," he almost stepped closer, reluctantly, fighting for control at the back of his mind. This was a new feeling. He knew he didn't love you yet, but at the same time, he knew he was in love with the woman from the book. The woman who had always loved him.

"Why?"

A single word can hold a vast meaning. A single word can have an answer that you could probably write a book on.

"Because Thomas .. We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies," you whispered in a low voice, tears shrouding into your eyes.

"Yet there's a bloody thing that binds us to each other. Something neither you nor I can see," he mumbled under his breath, sliding his hand into his pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes.

You didn't know what to say to him. Your mind was fervently throbbing through your skull. Your heart leapt with joy but your mind didn't let you be at ease. He waited a few seconds but when he realized you had made up your mind, he decided he will not push you. You had given him the answer. You didn't want him. He nodded softly, letting his eyes wander down to your feet for a bit before giving you a last look as he turned his tail and started walking off, his boots crushing the snow as he started walking away.

And just like that, you realized that history was repeating itself. But this time, it was all your fault. You were letting him walk away when you could finally be happy.

"Thomas stop.." His name flew out of your mouth even before you could clamp your mouth shut. You saw him freeze, but this time, he didn't turn your way, but with his back turned towards you, you missed the hint of a smile that crossed his lips; the way you had stopped him meant that he still had hope.

"I would like to work for you again, does Charlie need a nanny?" You bit your lip.

It was nothing, but yet, it was a start. If destiny really wanted the two of you together then you wanted to try it out from the beginning, maybe make the man fall in love with you and not the woman who wrote the book. You wanted him to love you and not pity you.

"Twenty shillings, you stay at the Arrowe House, no further will be discussed on that, yeah?"

You gave him a weak smile, although you could not see his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Shelby, first thing in the morning at 9."

He nodded and then, sliding his hands into his pockets, he walked away, his heavy boots crushing the snow underneath, generating a squishing, crunching sound until you could hear him no more. You couldn't wipe that smug smile from your face as you looked up at the sky, scrunching up your nose when you felt something cold; perhaps a snowflake had landed on the tip of your nose. It was a start, a start of a new day and who knew, perhaps a new life for you. Needless to say, you were excited.

[justmickeyfornow]

Ok so... I'm not rich but I'm not poor either. I have a comfortable life. Always had food on my plate, etc. I'm gay and it's a "secret" (my family doesn't know) And today, I woke up depressed. Almost 2 years ago someone broke my heart when they dumped me and it made me go into a depression spiral that just got me crazy and made me want to kill myself. Every now and then I think of them, check their social media etc and this morning I woke up feeling alone and lonely. And I just don't know :(

Not sure if I’m the best person to give advice out there, but I guess I could give it a try :)

Here’s what mostly works for me. The magic fix to all of this is just to fill your time. It worked for me and maybe it’ll work for you too. Don’t let yourself have the privilege of too much free time. Because that's your biggest enemy. The more free time you have, the more you’ll be thinking and overthinking shit. You’re either studying or you have a job right? Well the rest of those hours in the day try to fill them. Work on a project. Go to the gym. Hang out with some people. Read a book. Read Fanfiction!! Learn chess. Learn how to code (this is what I’m trying to do lately. So far, it’s fun! You should try it).

Actually the gym thing might be one of the most things that was able to keep my mind off of all the scary stuff. It’s the reason I started going to begin with. I had a lot on my mind, I was going a bit crazy and I hated sitting there and thinking about it at home. So I went for a jog and it took my mind off of it a bit. Next thing I knew, I was signing for a gym membership and going everyday ever since. It’s a huge stress reliever. Even if you’re not the type to go, do it anyway. I even pushed myself so far that I got one of those expensive memberships (That I really really couldn’t afford) just so that I would guilt myself into going everyday. And so far, I haven’t thought about that incident that shall not be talked about (scary harry potter style voice) in a long while (crap, I just thought about it now.....).

Do something that you’re good at and that you love. You’re good at drawing? Go fucking draw your heart out! Writing? Write stories until the end of time. Dancing? Singing? Playing a musical instrument? Whatever it is, do it. And there’s no such thing as “I’m not really good at anything”. So I better not hear you saying that. There’s always something that you’re really good at. Not perfect. Just good. Because if you’re just good at something, then eventually you’ll want to make it better and better until you get as close to perfect as possible. I had a friend once that lived her whole life with the notion that she wasn’t good at anything. She’s 23 and last year me and her found out - accidentally - that she can do math in her head in lightning speed. I randomly asked her what’s 12x32 and she did it in her head in less than two minutes, no pen no paper. And she was just as surprised as I was. She apparently thought everybody could do that (God knows I can’t!). So find something you’re good at and fill your time with it. I always complain about writing for Paranoia Incarnated, but the truth is it takes my mind off of the billion things that I’d rather not think about.

Social media. There's absolutely nothing wrong with cutting off from social media. Sit down and really think about it: When you browse through a certain social media account/page/thingy (I don’t even know what’s it called? I’m not really good at that stuff), what do you normally feel? Is it depression? Numbness? Endless scrolling of nothing? Jealousy? Then just delete it. It's so easy to delete an account its crazy that not more people do it. If you feel happy. You read things that make you smile. You rant about characters you like. Squeal at drawings someone drew. Smile at a cat picture. Then keep it.

As for being tempted to check up on that person that hurt you. Now, I personally believe in the opposite of Exposure therapy (concealment therapy?). If something bothers me or tends to stir up negative feelings in me, then I just make it disappear as best as I can. If it's a real person, I avoid them. If it's someone online then I block them. If it's someone I'm following, then I just unfollow them. If it's a situation, then I make sure I’m never put in a similar situation again. Yes, I know, not really a healthy thing to do. But, again, I’m a crazy person and healthy is not really something I’m very good at. So, if you really wanna go down my slippery slope, then just either unfollow or block the URL that takes you to her page. It’ll give you some peace of mind. Whenever you’re tempted to check up on her, then just get up and do something else. Open up Paranoia Incarnated and read the fluffy happy moments! There’s an idea! (Suggestions from PI? The pancakes for dinner conversation. Two penguins getting married at the zoo. Kara taking a nap for the first time in Lena’s office which is also the first time she tells Lena she’s beautiful. Leia’s chapter! The famous scotch cookies (I love this chapter!) and last but definitely not least because I was laughing my ass off while writing it: Lena trying to tap her head and rub her stomach and failing miserably!)

Now, let’s talk music. Choose one song that calms you down. Think of one song or one singer that every time you hear, you feel your mind drift from what you were doing just to properly listen to that song. Choose one singer whose voice can literally stop you from having a panic attack. Now, convince yourself that once you hear that song/singer that you'll be alright. I swear to God it works. If it didn't work for me I wouldn't recommend it. But it works for me.

Eden is that singer for me. I have a few songs for him that if I feel like I'm having an anxiety attack or any sort of scary nervous breakdown, I can put on my headphones and just play one of his songs and it’s like I could breathe again. If you’re interested in Eden, let me know and I’ll recommend which songs you should listen to first.

(Also, here’s a link to the Paranoia Incarnated Spotify playlist. There’re some songs on there that might help too.)

Speaking of music, your ask actually reminded me of this song that I adore. Put some headphones, close your eyes and listen to it. I have a feeling it might help ya out!

As for suicide. The only reason you're thinking about it is because you're keeping it as an option. I'm a practical person. I like to keep things practical. And simply not having suicide as an option can change your whole mindset.

Think of it like a bridge with water underneath it that you have to cross. This bridge is long and old and rusty and just slowly falling apart. But you have to get across no matter what. The water underneath is calm so it’s possible to swim there but it would still be hard. Both options are difficult but still both are possible. The third option is simple. Easy. You could just fly to the other side. Except you can’t. Because it’s impossible. It’s not an option. So you don’t think about it when you’re faced with the situation of crossing the bridge. Therefore you’re left with the other two options: cross the bridge on foot, even though you might fall down and get hurt. Or swim there, even though it would be extremely tiring and exhausting and time consuming and just plain difficult. But in the end you don’t have the option of flying.

Same goes with suicide. Don’t keep it as an option in your life, and you won’t think of it. Pretend that it’s impossible to suicide. Pretend that it just doesn’t exist. You do that, and I guarantee you won’t think about it as much.

There's no such thing as a permanent problem. Keep that in mind. Whatever you're feelings are towards this girl now, chances are they're gonna change in a couple of years.

I know you don't wanna hear this, but the truth is you're probably gonna go through so much worse to a point that this problem would seem like a walk in the park. And if you've really grown, you wouldn't think of suicide then either. Because you'd realize that you got over that first problem that once upon a time seemed like the worst thing you could go through. You actually got over it. You survived it. And you'll smile and think that you'll get over this too.

There’s also nothing wrong with feeling lonely. I wish I had a fix for you, but I still haven’t figured that one out yet. I tend to just ignore it (I’m starting to realize I live life by simply ignoring many many things. Maybe not the healthiest thing in the world....) As soon as I feel myself drowning in that feeling I simply get up. Do something. Anything. Go do the dishes. Hell, I sometimes get down and do 20 pushups to get my mind off of it (That usually works, seeing that once I reach 12 pushups I’m practically dead). Actually the pushups thing also acts as a sort of response treatment. Your mind will slowly realize that everytime it feels negative feelings you start torturing it with pushups and it stops pushing negative feelings towards you. Does that make any sense? I feel like that might not be the healthiest option. Maybe consult an expert? I dunno. I sometimes do it and it helps me, but I’m just a crazy person so I what do I know.

Other random things that I’ve done that were extremely helpful in changing my mindset:

1. Drink fruit water! Yup! I know it sounds ridiculous, but it kinda works. Grab one of those big water bottles that you take with you to the gym. Cut up a lemon (I prefer half a lemon), an orange, a cucumber, and some mint. Stuff them in there and fill it with water. It actually tastes pretty good. And it washes away the toxins in your body.

2. Dark chocolate! Not only is it healthy, but it releases dopamine (the little beautiful trigger in your brain that makes you happy) and increases your serotonin levels (the little beautiful trigger in your brain that makes you calm).

3. DRINK TEA!! I CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH HAPPIER IT MAKES YOU. IT’S PERFECT. IT’S GORGEOUS. IT’S TASTY. IT’S JUST..... *SIGH*

4. Buy a bulletin board. Put it up in your room and go crazy with it. Pin up your goals. Projects. Your resolutions. Whatever it is. Make sure it’s on that board so you could see it every single day.

5. Smile a lot.

I dunno if any of this is helpful. But most of this stuff worked for me so I’m hoping it’ll work for you. Just read a lot of fanfiction, spice up your life with some smutty ones too and you’ll soon forget about that girl.

[toukaisbetterthanyou]

Sending this here because I don't want Tumblr to block me from questions because it is too long

Warning: Black Reaper Ken being himself.

OK so we are off to a good start. /s

God, she wanted to call him. She stares at his contact information on her phone, her finger hovering over the call button. She almost presses it numerous times. 

Why do I feel personally called out here? /suspiciously eyes the mods/ But this makes me feel so much for Touka, she is in such a difficult position and  all she wants is some support but even the kindest word is in short supply.

He may be an arrogant shit head, but Nishiki had always come through in the end.

My inner Nishiki x Touka stan is peeking out.

He lets himself in, much to her annoyance.

Never change, Nishiki. I love him so much, at least he’s reliable.

 He would have made a good older brother. Then again, he already was in a way, wasn’t he?

/ugly crying/ They are so close now, why can’t she cling to him for support? And where the fuck is Ayato?

opens the door to see Ken standing there, coat on his arm and eyes narrowing when he sees Nishiki sitting on her couch like he was way too comfortable there.

Of course he would come then and he has the nerve to 

act displeased? The image of him standing with his coat on his arms is really sexy though.

He reaches behind her to turn the knob and let himself in. 

Oh, by all means. Don’t let the protests of the house owner stop you. The fuck you think you are boy?! Yes, I can see my own hypocrisy.

“Nishiki-senpai,” Ken greets smoothly, “I wonder what Kimi-san would be thinking if she knew you were here with Touka after abandoning her.”

WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU KEN?! YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT KEEP KIMI’S NAME OFF THAT GOTH TONGUE OF YOURS!

And he’s not keeping up with the pretense of not knowing him anymore?

Nishiki almost doubles over in laughter. “What!?!” He guffaws. “You think that I’m fucking Touka?”

Nishiki, an adult, is surprised he has to deal with a middle schooler’s temper in a grown man’s body.

“You are,” Nishiki grits out, “But even if you weren’t. Does the king of fakes really have any right over her life? You’re the one who remembered and refused to come back,Investigator.”

YES MY SON! YOU TELL HIM! CALL HIM OUT ON HIS BULLSHIT! NISHIKI IS THE TRUE HERO OF ORIGINAL SIN!

I am ignoring the part where Ken punces Nishiki because I hate Ken in this fic so much, he is such a fuckboy and Nishiki doesn’t deserve this shit.

He slips his shoes back on and slams the door in his exit.

That door is the real victim of this story.

“I acted rashly,” She admits, “I shouldn’t have hit you – I was overwhelmed I haven’t been feeling well recently.”

My mind says I agree with this apology but my heart says SOCK HIM AGAIN!

How had her mother told her father about her pregnancy?

She wants her mom’s help /ugly crying/

“Kirishima?” Ken asks and she’s startled from her thoughts. Then, she sees him holding the burger in his gloved hands. “Why do you have this?

So they are definitely not keeping up with the protests anymore. And that is so fucking rude Ken, who knows where those gloves have been?!

“Don’t play dumb, Sasaki-san,” she retorts, bitter. She sees him flinch from the use of that name, but she refused to call him Kaneki when he insisted on keeping up with this charade. This isn’t what she had meant to tell him, but she can’t even imagine what his reaction would be to a child. It was better if he didn’t know, right? He was a mess. An absolute mess, and there was no way that she could trust him with this secret in good conscious.

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS

At least not yet.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The words are bitter as they leave her lips because that was definitely not the case. A future – god, who even knew about that? She didn’t even know what day some dove manages to crack down on her identity and hunt her down to Re:.

/ugly crying/

“We can be more, if that’s what you want –”

Too little too late my dear Sasaki.

By now the maintenance desk downstairs had probably called the police from all of the noise that he was making. Not that he cared. He would almost welcome the opportunity for a fight right now.

As if that poor guy working at the desk is so willing to sacrifice his life for minimum wage! It’s enough he has to deal with your rude ass!

It didn’t matter. None of this would matter in a few more months. Not even her.

/Linkin Park’s In The End blares in the background/

There were no ghoul doctors 

Do I see an opening for Kimi to join the story?

“I thought that everyone at re: was a team,” he reminds her. “Or did you forget that the moment that he walked back into your life?”

Nishiki laying down the truth. Please give him Kimi back!

“I know that you’d let yourself be killed for his child,” Nishiki says firmly, “Just like you’d let him keep taking pieces of you if it means that he’d throw you even a scrap of affection. When are you going to stop doing this? Do you think that no one cares about you?”

I love love love LOVE love your depiction of Nishiki and his relationship with Touka here, it’s so consistent with both their characterizations. Of course what he’s saying is 100% true and someone needs to face her with it but I wish he would understand that a little more emotional support will get him further in getting to her.

Every day was a battle of wills between her and her unborn child.

Carlos, the little sociopath. Good to know his personality is shining through so early in her pregnancy. 

“I don’t know who else knew about this, but I would expect that, you would have come to me for help at least once.”

This must be so hard on Yomo. He has always been watching over Touka and he is now witnessing history repeat itself without the ability to help. /ugly crying/

She had been afraid. What if he also told her to get rid of the child? She didn’t want that, she didn’t want that at all. 

Poor Touka. My poor daughter. All she wants is someone to tell her the decision she is making is right because she is so unsure of it herself. /ugly wailing/

“It is,” he says, sounding tired now. “You always were too much like your mother.”

ARE WE DOING THIS? RIGHT HERE? RIGHT NOW?!

Yomo, doesn’t give her the opportunity to voice any of these questions, however, as he goes back into the front of the shop, leaving her alone.

Guess not. /deflated balloon/

She sinks down to her knees, trying to control her breathing even though panic had seized her. Her heart is racing, eyes darting around as she struggles and gasps for air.

My poor Touka, always so strong and now overtaken by panic. This does not good decisions make.

Everyone had expectations – they always had. She was meant to be the girl who held it all together. If she was too angry, then she was a sad person consumed by revenge, and if she was too passive, then she would blink and everything – everyone would be gone. People even left now when she disappointed them. What was she even supposed to do? She didn’t want to live while losing things.

Lie down. Try not to cry. Cry a lot.

She’s not sure why her feet are leading her to Ken’s flat.

Called it.

For a moment all she could do is stare, tears silently rolling down her cheeks as she tries to keep her jaws clamped shut from whimpering in relief.

I don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me alone.

Why are you doing this to me? Isn’t the pain Ishida is causing me enough?! /ugly sobbing and crying and wailing in a fetal position/

Or so she thinks, until she feels his arms envelope her in a tight embrace. She flinches, eyes growing wide as she feels him kiss her forehead. “It’s okay,” he reassures. “It’s going to be okay.”

Wait, what?! What is happening?!!

She hadn’t expected a reaction like this from him at all.

You and me both sis. I was so ready to tear him a new one for being a fuckboy about this but he is being supportive?! What am I supposed to do with my bottled up rage?

In fact, he was touching her with far more gentleness than he usually did. 

OMG, is Ken back? Did the news shock his old personality back into him?!

“Again,” Ken whispers, drawing back from her mouth, so that he can see her expression. Her flexibility allows him to lean down, pushing her legs up against her chest so that he can close the distance between each other. He uses his free hand to grip her chin, “Say my name again,” and she does.

It’s only then, that his restraint seems to break.

AWWWWWWWWWWWW

And then, “You’re all mine now,” she hears him whisper, and his hand run down to rub at her belly. He wraps his arm around it possessively, kissing her shoulder. “You can’t leave me.” He’s smiling, as though he were at peace.

Oh shit.

You just couldn’t let me have that moment, could you?

You know, for people who keep saying they hate angst, you’re really good at writing it. This chapter left me emotionally drained and a little scared for Touka at the end. I know Ken would never hurt her intentionally but I am worried for how this will change their relationship. Why didn’t we get any insight into his thoughts? I got the feeling he would put her in bubble wrap and lock her in his apartment to keep her safe and his. And how is anything going to be ok when he is planning to fight his dad in a few months? Just like the selfish fuckboy to want to keep her his for a few months and not care what happens after he’s gone.

I both love and hate you mods but this chapter was so good and I already want to read the next one, thank you for your hard work, it really is appreciated because we have so few Touken fics in this fandom. I always look forward to everything you post.

I hope you forgive the long post.