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megaawkwardhuman · 1 year

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8 shows to get to know me

thanks for tagging me @someguywife

an excuse to talk about the shows I like? sign me the fuck up!

WARNING: A LOT OF INFO DUMBING I TRIED TO JUST SUM UP WHAT I LIKED ABOUT THESE SHOWS BUT I COULDN'T RESIST GOING ON LONG TANGENTS ABOUT THEM SO I GAVE UP ON THAT REAL QUICK

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

1) what we do in the shadows- I mean considering how much I post about it and the fact it got me to write my first ever fanfic no shit I love this show! I mean it's got gay people, causal murder, people who have no idea wtf they're doing, vampires, weird ass CGI baby for a season, emotional devastation, did I say gay people? I will admit when I first watched the show I honestly thought it was just ok (may have to do with the fact that halfway through watching it I got sick which is funny cause when I watched the OG film I was also sick and I'm sick now while working on my fic- AM I CURSED!?) but after showing my friends the 2014 film decided to rewatch the show before showing it to them and got fucking OBSESSED. Never been a huge fan of vampire shit but now whatever vampire media I consume next HAS to have gay people in it thanks to this show. It still feels weird to have a character I like and relate to that I can kinda actually see myself in like Guillermo and while we're not 100 the same I still kinda feel seen which is fucking weird ngl. HIS COMING OUT SCENE MADE ME CRY THE SECOND TIME I WATCHED IT. (probably cause that's roughly how coming out to my parents as trans and pan went just without the whole working for vampires thing) Low key scared for what the fuck season 5 has in store :D

2) our flag means death- I fucking LOVE this show! shout out to my friend for showing it to me cause I never would have thought that a show about gay pirates would be for me. Our flag means death has just this vibe to it that has me addicted to it and the love story that I'm STILL surprised a year later they actually went through with just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! The fact that a show that does what our flag means death does AND GET RENEWED FOR A SECOND SEASON brings a big fat smile to my face! Stede going in head first with an obsession while having no idea what he's doing is a fucking mood. can't wait for season 2 hopefully it won't leave me screaming at my screen like last season! OH YEAH I ALMOST FORGOT I'm SO glad they portrayed Mary the way they did! like they could have easily made her into an unforgivable bitch or homophobic as fuck but no I mean sure she's upset for what Stede did (if you were in her shoes you would be too) but after attempted murder and a bunch of shenanigans beforehand they talk it out and find a compromise that they both like and the fact that she's happy for him for finding love even if it's a guy and she isn't secretly jealous or disgusted by it is just *chef's kiss* so good.

3) moral orel- well let's go from modern live-action shows with gay people to a stop-motion adult cartoon from the mid 2000s! I can still remember watching this show for the first time since I binged it all in one night (by the time I finished it it was like 5am WOOPS) and I don't fucking regret it this show is just fucking fantastic. I HATE THAT IT WAS PULLED FOR BEING "TOO DARK" THE MORE I READ ABOUT WHAT THEY HAD PLANNED THAT THEY HAD TO CANCEL DUE TO THE SHOW'S CANCELLATION THE MORE PISSED OFF I GET! Like it's the darker episodes that make the show SO DAMN GOOD and memorable. HELL the episode that got the show canceled (I think it's called alone) IS ONE OF THE BEST EPISODES. The way it portrayed people handling trauma is fucking fascinating and it's a shame the episode is what got the show pulled. The season two finale two-parter I also up there as one of the greatest episodes in the show. The way the tone shifts as Clay gets more and more drunk and what went from a thing mainly played for laughs turns into a painful moment for Orel as he realizes just how awful his dad is especially when he's drunk. This isn't to say the less serious episodes aren't good. The show can be really funny when it wants to but it's just the more serious episode that leaves an impact on you. When hopping into the show for the first time I heard it was a satire show that was a parody of christian shows I was expecting every other joke to be bible bad (not a christian so I wouldn't have gotten offended but still it would have gotten tiring) but god I was relieved when I found out it was more making fun of those who use faith for all the wrong reasons then pointing the blame to an old ass book. overall 10/10 show that might not be everyone's cup of tea but I personally LOVE it. It's been a while since I last watched it but talking about it makes me wanna watch the entire show again. TL;DR: I fucking love this show and the reason it got canceled is the reason why I love it.

4) invader zim- OK time to move on to something less serious. It's also been a bit since I've last seen this show but it still has a close place in my heart. Invader zim aka the reason I have a tumblr account in the first place (though it wasn't until later when I started to actually use it. when I first made this account it was to lurk) is a nice little show I can watch and not over analyze the shit out of. (I do that a lot with shows I like) I watched this show at a very interesting time in my life. I had recently realized I was trans and had no idea how I was going to tell anyone and funnily enough a couple of days after I realized I was trans quarantine hit so needless to say it was an interesting time for me. This show and the fan stuff on tumblr for the show kept me sane. Dib was one of the first characters I ever related to and as you can tell by me still using him as my profile pic I still do. another show that the more I learn about what they had to cancel due to the show being canceled the more pissed off I get. I forget this is a kid's show half the time.

5) hannibal- I feel bad for my friends cause when I finished this show I WOULDN'T SHUT UP ABOUT IT. This show is the reason I actually use my tumblr account. (cause I paused it and it looked like Will and Hannibal were about to kiss and I needed to share it with someone and none of my friends have seen the show so I threw it onto here and the rest was history) I don't remember why I watched this show but I'm glad I did cause it's fucking great the mystery the first time you watch it and the set up of the answer the second time you watch it is just *chef's kiss* 10/10. The way they portrayed Will and Hannibal's relationship is so fascinating like it's so complex AND GAY. I WANT ANOTHER SEASON DAMN IT THAT CLIFF HANGER (hehe cliff) HAD BEEN KILLING ME EVER SINCE THE FIRST WATCH!!!!!!

6) the last of us- Ok so confession: I haven't finished the show (I have one episode left but I'm watching it with friends so it's probably going to be a bit before I watch it) BUT FUCK DO I LIKE THIS SHOW. I haven't played the games but from what I heard this is a rare video game adaptation that ISN'T dogshit so I might watch a let's play of the game after we finish it since I like the show so much. This has to be one of the most realistic representations of a zombie apocalypse I've ever seen. (granted I haven't consumed much zombie media and it could be the fact that before this the same friend is showing us the walking dead which granted CAN be good at times the way characters act most of the time at least at the point we were at before taking a break where annoying and frustrating) EPISODE 3 WAS THE FIRST TIME I EVER SOBBED AT A SHOW. Fun(?) fact: that date on the letter at the end of that episode august 29 IS MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY 😭. I'm afraid of what episode 9 has in store.

7) south park- despite having a dad who quotes this show and would watch episodes in the living room growing up it wasn't until after watching the last of us one time with friends did I ever end up watching a full episode of the show. (I forgot what episode we watched before watching south park but we all decided we needed a pick me up after it) While I'm not obsessed with this show and I haven't seen all of it (if it was possible to watch that much south park without going insane) I still like this show. Another one of those shows I can watch casually without overanalyzing it. Whenever I need a break from writing my fic or whenever I just feel like it I just pick an episode I heard was good and just watch it. The history behind this show and behind certain episodes I've always found interesting. Though I'm going to be honest for now I'm going to avoid most modern episodes cause I've heard mixed things about newer seasons. Butter's own episode, Cartman sucks, and Butters's bottom bitch has to be some of my favorite episodes. if you can't tell by my fav episodes Butters is my favorite character.

8) the owl house - FUCK YOU DISNEY THIS SHOW DESERVED BETTER!!!! Another kid's show I forget is a kid's show. the way the boiling isles are drawn hell the overall art of the show is just so fucking fantastic. THERE'S GAY IN IT!!!! LIKE ACTUAL CANONICAL GAY IN A DISNEY SHOW!!!!! I never thought I would see the day BUT HERE I AM AND AAAAAAA LUZ AND AMITY ARE SOOOO CUTE TOGETHER! KING OMFG KINGGGGGGGGGGG HE'S MY LITTLE BABY AND THE SEASON TWO FINALE MADE ME STRESS EAT FOR THE FIRST TIME. So sad that season three was cut down to three episodes. The idea that something you put a bunch of hard work into can be cut short cause someone didn't like the vibe is fucking BULLSHIT!

I would tag other people here but in the wise words of Laszlo

#wow I had a lot more then I though I had to say #also rare moment: I use punctuation in a post #yeah if you can't tell already I was kinda just writing whatever came to mind so that's why this post is as long as it is #I know the whole point of this was to write SMALL summaries on why you like the show you put down #but I can't help word vomiting when it comes to things I like!

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sucrate · 4 years

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god ok more hairstyle + piercing

#moshlyart #I FORGOT I HAD PIERCINGS ASDHGDGSDF #who would i be if i didnt redesign my sona every month #sona #moshi #ash #i realized last night i didnt post any art for two weeks..................... woops.#meant to do smth on halloween but i ahsdgdshg yeah #ADMITTEDLY I DONT KNOW HOW I DO MY HAIR ANYMORE.

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tannithvibes · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Borderlands (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Athena/Janey Springs Characters: Athena (Borderlands), Janey Springs Additional Tags: Fluff Summary:

Athena and Janey prepare to move to Pandora, and it's not as easy as it seems.

#jathena #athena the gladiator #janey springs #athena/janey #my writing #woops I totally forgot to link this one here when I wrote it last month #i think there's a couple more that I've missed too ugh #feel free to drop an ask if you'd like me to link a specific fic of mine here #so that it can be rbed and all that jazz #i try to do it everytime I post one but ive got adhd and focus is not a virtue i have #hopen everyone's havin a good day/night!!

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felidfannibal · 6 years

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Today is the day!!!

// Preorders for the calendar are live on tictail !! //

#hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #will graham #teacupsandtime #hannibal #hugh dancy #fannibals #merch #i meant to post this last night but i put it in my queue to post at a more opportune time and then FORGOT ABOUT IT #WOOPS #my bad #ill be rebloggin anythin the calendat blog posts too

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tobiyooo · 7 years

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Inktober: 7. Coran Coran the Gorgeous Man

#vld coran #coran coran the gorgeous man #the only character that matters #inktober #Voltron #artscraps #woops forgot to post this last night #the real space dad #I think he's the last of the Voltron prompts :(

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thexanwillshine · 3 years

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a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihanweek 2021 #LHW 2021 #LHWeek Day 2

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tokyoghoulaspecs · 4 years

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Aroflux Kimi (Tokyo Ghoul)

[ID: Tokyo Ghoul manga panels featuring Kimi with tumblr posts edited onto them. Each tumblr post has an aroflux red border around it.

Image 1: Kimi is sweating and has a stressed look on her face as she holds a stack of documents. The tumblr screenshot is from @/cool-wears-a-trenchcoat and reads “Being Aroflux. Somebody: Are you okay? Me, panting and sweating: My romantic orientation has fluctuated five times in two days. Yesterday I wanted to have a soulmate, today I am disgusted that I even thought romantic attraction was a thing that i experienced. Me: So basically, just another normal day. How are you?”

Image 2: Kimi in the forefront and looking behind her at Nishiki, who is speaking and gesturing to her. Kimi has a neutral look on her face. The tumblr screenshot is from @/neblumum and reads: “Me: Romantic feelings? Aroflux: Romantic machine broke. Me: alright have a nice day.”

Image 3: Three panels of Kimi and Nishiki on dates: eating lunch on their college campus, looking at bracelets and necklaces on sale, and at a festival together. The tumblr screenshot is from @/a-spam-oeuvre and reads: “Monday: I don't like anyone now but I think I could in the future. Tuesday: ok but what if I actually do like this person not just platonically???? Wednesday: if someone doesn't take me on a romantic picnic right now I will die. Thursday: ok maybe I just want a picnic not the romance part. Friday: aw this fictional couple is cute but I don't want that for me. Saturday: if I see any ounce of romance I will barf right now Sunday: 💕🥰❤️😍💖.”

Image 4: Nishiki smiling kindly and Kimi looking away with a blank look on her face. The tumblr screenshot is from @/AutomaticSkyLark (deactivated) and reads: “anyways i forgot that the main reason i dont date ppl is that im aroflux and always flux out of having any romantic attraction anywhere from 3 to 14 days woops lol.”

Image 5: Kimi laying on her stomach with a surprised expression, and Nishiki glancing at her questioningly. The tumblr screenshot is from @/purple-grey-black and reads: “That aroflux feeling when you are starting to experience romantic attraction randomly like I didn’t sign up for this????”

Image 6: A close up of Kimi embracing Nishiki lovingly, her eyes closed and smiling. The tumblr screenshot is from @/tarynnwa (deactivated) and reads: “Aroflux things. Me last night: I never want a relationship, I don’t know why anyone would, I’m so much happier alone. Me this morning: *wakes up and desperately wants to cuddle.” END ID]

#tokyo ghoul #kimi nishino #nishikimi #aroflux #arospec #aromantic #aro #aroflux!kimi #edits #text post meme

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glassworkspiderlilies · 4 years

Text

like wildfire, windblown

Kimetsu no Yaiba | Kochou Shinobu, Tomioka Giyu | AO3 Summary: They can pretend that this moment is tender, that they are not drawn to each other’s pain, that they aren’t going to use each other for comfort, that this isn’t going to spiral out of control until they cannot get out of it even if they want to. —Giyu, Shinobu, and when times are bad for thinking. Notes: woops, almost forgot to post this here! some longer notes on ao3, but ultimately i wanted this to be like...more morally awful than it is LOL. Edit: belatedly adding on that I rated this M on ao3 for what I can only describe as like...overtly implied sex. it’s there, but distinctly non-explicit, haha.

Some things are damned to erupt like wildfire,

windblown, like wild lupine, like wings, one after

another leaving the stone-hole in the greenhouse glass.

Peak bloom, a brood of blue before firebrand.

And though it is late in the season, the bathers, also,

obey. One after another, they breathe in and butterfly

the surface: mimic white, harvester, spot-celled sister,

fed by the spring, the water beneath is cold.

— Temper, by Beth Bachmann.

Her head jerks up at the snap of a twig, and her shoulders are no less tense when he walks out of the foliage. She knows who he is, of course, and knows that the snap had been a warning, since he would never do such a thing by accident.

“The others are looking for you,” he says, and she glares at him. Tear tracks are drying on her cheeks, and she must look a wreck with red, puffy eyes. She didn’t want to be seen like this, and she’s also furious that he found her. She’d thought she’d been careful.

“If you were smart enough, you’d know that I didn’t want to be found,” she snaps, and he has the audacity to look surprised, though it is just a slight widening of his blue, blue eyes.

“I waited until you were done,” he says after a pause, not meeting her gaze now.

She laughs, harsh and grating, her throat raw from crying. Her irritation grows, because that means he’d found her while she was sobbing and stood there for who knows how long.

“Am I supposed to be appreciative?” she says, an edge of hysteria creeping into her voice. No, she has to keep it together. Kanae may be newly dead, but Shinobu is newly a Pillar now, and her sister—well, she’d tell her to smile.

He doesn’t say anything, and she stalks over to him, pushing him with both hands. He doesn’t move; he’s taller and bigger and this only infuriates her more. She keeps trying to shove him until she’s just hitting him, and he lets her have at it for a while. Eventually he seems to have enough when he catches her wrists, and she lets out another sob, caught between sorrow and fury.

“Time cannot be unwound,” he says finally. “Be furious. Say it’s unforgivable. A pure, strong anger…let it become an unshakeable driving force such that your limbs can’t be moved. Frail resolutions will not save you, nor will it defeat your enemy—your sister’s enemy.”

She snarls at him then. How dare he, how dare he presume to know her feelings, how dare he invoke Kanae like that?

“You talk big, Tomioka-san,” she spits, pulling at her wrists, but he doesn’t let go. “You talk so high and mighty for someone who keeps setting himself apart! Is it so great, to be capable of so much? Does it feel good to think yourself better than everyone else?!”

He flinches, then, and the force of it is enough to give her pause. But she’s still angry, she wants to hurt, and so she keeps pushing.

“It must be nice, to be so good at the Breath you wield,” she taunts, “How easy must be, to save people! A hero, you are, swooping in, protecting the innocents, leaving no one behind—”

“That isn’t me,” he cuts in, his eyes flashing. He’s caught between pain and anger himself, and Shinobu is glad for it. But it’s not enough.

“Quit pretending to be modest now,” she snarls, “Isn’t it what you wanted? Surviving the Final Selection must have been a piece of cake—!”

“It wasn’t me!” he yells, and Shinobu jerks back at the uncharacteristic outburst, but he still holds her wrists fast. He seems to have forgotten he’s holding them, and his grip is starting to hurt, but she doesn’t notice, right now. Giyu’s eyes go wide, then flat, and his lips twist into something bitter. “That person—wasn’t me. I’m not the same as you guys. I only survived the Final Selection because Sabito saved me. I hid the entire time. I didn’t kill a single demon. I’m not, I’m not a real Pillar. Sabito was better at the sword, better at the Breath of Water, better at being a Demon Slayer. But he’s not the one who survived. Because he saved a worthless life like mine.”

Shinobu stares at him, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks again.

“Kanae died in my arms,” she says after a long pause, her voice shaking. Now that she’s dragged this out of him, she feels like she has to offer something in return. “And do you know what her last words were? She told me she wanted me to live the life of a normal girl, and then—when I made her describe the demon that killed her, she told me, but…even though she didn’t finish what she was saying…she didn’t believe I could do it. She wanted me to abandon everything we did and promised to do, to grow older and get married like a normal girl because she didn’t think I could kill that demon and avenge her or our parents. Not on my own. “

Her breathing is erratic as she tries to calm down, but his breathing is erratic too, having some of his worst memories torn out of him.

“So we’re the same,” Giyu says, tone heavy, and she sob-laughs again. He catches on quick, despite their tales being different.

“So we’re the same,” she agrees, and looks up at him to meet his gaze. “…I’m sorry, I...went too far.”

He shrugs, but she can see both sorrow and relief in his eyes. She knows the feeling. After a moment, he seems to realize that he is still gripping her wrists, and lets go of them with a light gasp. She’s bruising, and she curses her frailty in this regard.

“I’m…sorry,” he says, a little frantic, and the corners of her lip quirk up—it’s the second time they’ve repeated each other’s words in succession.

He goes to move back, but she’s the one who grabs his wrist this time.

“No. Stay,” she says, and leans her forehead against his chest. “Just…stay.”

He does. She closes her stinging eyes and rests for a while. Giyu stands stiffly, but she draws out the moment, exhausted, and eventually, with nothing else to do, he rests his chin on her head.

It is a quiet moment, and they can pretend that it is tender, that they are not drawn to each other’s pain, that they aren’t going to use each other for comfort, that this isn’t going to spiral out of control until they cannot get out of it even if they want to.

II.

One sweltering summer night, when Shinobu cannot sleep, she goes out for a walk. It is more a patrol, because she doesn’t go anywhere without her sword, anymore, but she is at least not dressed in her uniform. Even Kanae’s haori is at home, and truth be told, Shinobu feels odd, in regular clothing that isn’t Demon Slayer issue. It feels like she is playing at being a common, normal girl.

She laughs to herself. Aside from her sword, she’s got the knives in her shoes and hairpins dipped in poison—there are other monsters out there aside from demons, and she must defend against them, as well, with more common weaponry. This is about as normal as she’ll get.

But it’s difficult, when such a thing was Kanae’s dying wish. There’s no going back and she hardly thinks Kanae will fault her for not following it, but sometimes, in the deep dark hours of the night, she can’t help but wonder if she could—should—try. What was life like, before her parents were killed? What would it be like if they hadn’t been? Girls from families like hers had marriage talks when they came of age; Kanae was nearly ready to enter that world until tragedy struck.

In truth, Shinobu cannot fathom what a normal life would consist of—what on earth would she fill her days with? And above all, how could she live under a man’s thumb?

Why would Kanae want such a thing for her?

Shinobu clicks her tongue and shakes her head, as if she can dislodge her tumultuous thoughts that way. She looks up for a moment, the moon bright and stars littering the sky, before jumping onto the roofs of the houses. Aimlessly, she begins to run, flipping and fluttering through the air as if she were on a training course.

The movement distracts her, but so much so that she realizes too late that there is someone sitting on one of the roofs. Startled, she jumps to avoid a collision, but she misjudges the distance and is in danger of plummeting into the space between houses. As she falls, though, she sees hands reach for hers and she stretches to grab them, knowing help when she sees it—they swing her around, and she lands almost gracefully, skirts swirling around her legs.

Her eyes widen as she looks up to see who saved her.

“Tomioka-san,” she says, surprise evident in her tone.

“Kochou,” he says, just as surprised.

“What are you doing here?” she blurts, baffled by his presence. It’s quite late, and she doesn’t exactly know where she is, so why on earth would he be here?

He blinks at her.

“I live here,” he says slowly.

“Oh! Do you?” she says out of embarrassment.

They both notice they’re still holding hands, and they both drop them at the same time.

“Yes,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“I was…taking a walk. Just…trying to clear my head,” she says, unsure of how to explain herself.

The side of his lips quirk up ever so slightly.

“A walk?” He asks, and something about his tone and the way he’s questioning lets her know that it’s not actually a question.

She looks back up again, and with some mortification she realizes that he’d been watching her, for who knows how long, as she was doing acrobatics in the air.

“I—you—” She stutters, and now his eyes crinkle at the edges too. She’s never seen him smile, and he isn’t, not really, but it’s close, and at her expense, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“I was curious as to who it might be. The movements looked familiar, but I didn’t know what to expect,” he says by way of explanation, with a slight shrug. “You look different.”

She might be blushing, but she’s trying very hard not to. Either way, she’ll never know the results.

“A walk,” she confirms adamantly. The amusement remains on his face. “What were you doing on the roof, anyway?”

“Thinking,” he responds, and the almost-smile fades away, his expression darkening.

Ah. She knows, with sudden clarity, what he might be thinking of, or about. It’s those hours of the night, and she knows how unkind they can be.

“It’s a bad time for that,” she murmurs, and he looks sharply at her. She does not shy away, and stares back.

He holds her gaze for a while until some tension drops from his shoulders and he looks up at the moon. She does too, and they stand in silence for a while.

“…Would you like some tea?” Giyu asks eventually, and she looks at him in mild surprise.

He’s seeking her company. But then again, she really shouldn’t be surprised. They’ve dragged each other’s wounds out into the open once already, there’s no going back after that.

It’s late, they’re awake, and neither of them wants to be alone with their thoughts.

So Shinobu says “yes, please,” and drops from the roof with him, following him inside.

It’s a small place, and sparse, containing only the necessities. He goes to the refrigerator, pouring two cups of cold barley tea. Shinobu accepts hers graciously and sips at it, unsure of what to do now that she’s here. They lean against opposite sides of the wall near the window, still close enough to talk, but they stand in silence, looking out at the sky again. But it seems like Giyu is in a talkative mood tonight, and so it’s he who initiates the conversation.

“May I speak?” he asks, and Shinobu turns to him. He’s not looking at her, his eyes downcast, and so she matches his seriousness.

“Yes, of course,” she says.

But he hesitates, drinking from his cup to extend the silence for a bit longer. His body is tense, his expression stressed, but she waits patiently for him to continue. She tore something out of him he hadn’t wanted to say last time—this time, she’ll give him the choice.

“Have you ever thought about quitting the Demon Slaying Corps?”

It rushes it out him in a breath, his voice defeated, and she almost drops her drink. He’s not looking at her, but her silence seems to unnerve him, and so he glances back. She must look incredulous, because he turns away, the vulnerability in his eyes shuttering closed—

“Wait,” she says, the word coming out of her like she’s gasping for air. “I just—I didn’t think….that you would have too.”

He turns back to her again, and he doesn’t look—hopeful, but it’s a wary, sad sort of relief, that someone else has thought the same unfortunate thing.

The question and answer sits heavy between them.

“It would be irresponsible. There are still things that have to be done. But I was never supposed to be here. I was never supposed to be the one to survive. But I’m still here.”

Giyu’s eyes are blank and faraway, and Shinobu pushes off the wall and steps closer to him to draw his attention to her.

“I told you that my sister’s dying wish was for me to be a normal girl,” she says. “I think, sometimes, about giving it all up and trying. I don’t think it would have worked. But maybe I should be trying harder. But I’m still here.”

He stares at her.

“I’m sure you could do it, if you wanted to,” he says. It’s not the right thing to say, and bitter laughter bubbles up in her chest. But she knows why he says it, because he still believes himself lesser, somehow.

She waves a hand dismissively, but he doesn’t seem to want to let the matter go.

“If you became a Pillar, I’m sure you could do just as well otherwise,” he says absently. “But it would be a shame. You developed your own Breath. You made your own place. You’re even in charge of the healing for the Corps. If you left, you would certainly be missed.”

Shinobu stares at him with wide eyes—it sounds like praise, and she didn’t know he paid this kind of attention to her.

“You’re worthy of being a Pillar,” he continues. “So you should stay. Maybe it is I that should be trying to live a normal life. There are others who can be the Water Pillar, and do it better. Ah.”

Her head snaps to him—that tone, that realization, she doesn’t like where it’s going. He continues before she has a chance to speak, and she grips her own arms and begins to tremble, letting him get the words out though she feels an awful sense of foreboding.

“I held onto the place because I thought I had to hold it. If I don’t—then someone is free to step into it.”

“Don’t!”

She drops the cup, the remainder of its contents splashing over his floor, tackling him. He stumbles, dropping his own cup, and she cups his face, squeezing his cheeks together.

“Don’t,” she repeats, and his eyes widen at her expression.

“I’ve just—been thinking—”

“Stop thinking,” she hisses, “It’s a bad time for thinking.”

He looks at curiously.

“You said that earlier,” he murmurs, and his gaze darts away from her, then back, seeing as she’s occupying his field of vision. “But you can’t just—”

She kisses him. It’s harsh and desperate and she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she’s afraid for him. They’re friends, or something like it, and she hadn’t realized how possessive she’d become since Kanae’s death. She doesn’t want to lose him, she doesn’t want to lose anything anymore. The demons still take, and she becomes angrier for each thing she continues to lose. But here, where he is in her grasp and solid underneath her, she wants to keep him—no, she’s going to keep him.

He goes still from shock, but she digs her fingers into his hair and he leans in, his returning kiss gentle. It’s too gentle, and the tears prick at the corners of her eyes. He slides his hands around her and his touch is gentle too, but he presses her into him like he’s rediscovering what touch means. He might be, she realizes. He’s been alone for a long time. A traitor tear slides down her cheeks and he pulls back with concern when he notices, but she wipes it away with the back of her hand.

“No,” she whispers, “It’s not that. Keep going.”

He brushes her hair behind her ear, searching for something in her eyes.

“Stay?” he asks, after a moment, and she laughs. She’s seen him kill demons—it’s elegant, and beautiful, but merciless. One would not think him a kind man at first glance, but now—his touch, his words, his expression, they’re all gentle. She’s the unkind one, here.

“Yes,” she responds, and leans into another kiss.

They don’t really know what they’re doing—when Giyu’s hands work their way beneath her kimono, she pauses to consider the sensation. When she splays her own hands on the bare planes of his chest, she can feel him trembling under her touch. None of it is fear—fear, they are used to. But this is unfamiliar ground; bodies that they aren’t cleaving or stabbing are unfamiliar ground.

It’s doesn’t matter. They learn together; she arches her back when he presses a kiss to the base of her throat, he rumbles low when she drags her nails across his collarbones. Shinobu is fascinated—she has the potential advantage of anatomical study, and so as she explores his body half-academically, the expressions and sounds that Giyu makes a wonder. This stoic man, opening underneath her like a butterfly’s wings—and the look he gives her as she traces a line down his chest…

She smiles, and something about it kindles something in Giyu; his kiss is hungrier, and so are his hands. It’s the hunger she wants, destruction imminent in a very different way. But despite it all, they are quiet in the act—such a thing is their modus operandi, after all—the disruption in the night air only soft pants that quicken until they are short gasps, the sound of skin against skin, then the exhale of breath in a sigh that sounds like surrender.

She’s still there when he wakes. Somehow, he hadn’t expected this. She is curled towards him, and he reaches out a hand to touch her face before he retracts it, afraid that he will wake her. Her face is soft in sleep, her hair unbound and splayed over the pillow. It’s nearly dawn, the skies still dark, but lightening.

Giyu feels…fine. Content, unburdened. A part of him recognizes that normally, he’d be worried—fraught, even, with self-loathing thinking that last night was a mistake, that Shinobu deserved better, that he’d taken advantage of what she started out of selfishness. But he feels content, unburdened. Shinobu had made it very clear what her intentions were, and had it been merely impulse, she would have stopped before it had gone as far as it did.

It’s trust, really, that he isn’t beating himself up over this—in Shinobu, if not himself.

Still. He wonders how she feels about this. She is young, and unmarried, and though the Demon Slayer Corps creates its own sense of morality, it is undeniable that certain standards are prevalent outside of it, and even sometimes in. And she’d talked last night about being a normal girl. Has he ruined her chances, if it’s something she ever truly wants to pursue?

He has to ask. He will ask.

He’s scared to ask.

Delicately, he brushes a lock of hair from her face, traces the curve of her cheek. When she doesn’t stir, he grows a little bolder and cups her cheek with his palm. He studies her, memorizes what she looks like in this moment, then pulls away.

Giyu turns, half-rising in order to get out of the bed. But before he has a chance to do so, he feels an arm drape over his side, and then a soft body press against his.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shinobu says into his ear, her voice throaty from sleep.

“Were you awake the whole time?” he says, a slight flush rising in his cheeks. He feels her smile against his neck.

“Not the whole time,” she says. “You were thinking.”

He turns to her, though he can’t quite see her face. But he feels her chest against him, her breath tickling his neck.

“It’s not quite a bad time for thinking,” he says, looking at the window, at the sun beginning to rise.

“No,” she murmurs, “But I’m not sure I like what you were.”

She pulls him back beneath the blankets, and he relents without protest.

“Are you running away?” She asks, and the question holds no accusation.

“No,” he says. Pauses. “Yes. I…I don’t know.” He pauses again. “Was it a mistake?”

“It wasn’t to me. If it wasn’t to you, then it wasn’t.”

He nods once, and she smiles, lifting a hand to trace the curve of his cheek, this time. But she doesn’t stop there, moving down to his jaw, his throat, down his chest. He pulls her close, then rolls her over so that she is on her back as he leans over her. He kisses the corner of her mouth, her neck, the dip of her collarbones, the space between her breasts.

Their movements are less frantic, now—slower, more languid. As the sun crawls higher in the sky and their breathing becomes more labored, the sounds of their joining are an echo of triumph.

III.

They spend Sabito’s death anniversary in bed, where she puts her mouth on him and doesn’t let him think beyond her touch, her body, her scent, and the only word that she lets pass his lips is her name.

They spent Kanae’s death anniversary in bed, where he traces patterns on her body with the lightest of touches so that she’s already shivering when he dips his head between her thighs.

More often they are at Giyu’s small house, since he lives alone and in an area of people who know him simply as a neighbor as opposed to the owner of an estate. Sometimes they are at Shinobu’s when it is late at night and the rest of her household is asleep.

It has been many years since Sabito’s death, but Giyu spends the anniversary either alone and struggling with dark thoughts, or throwing himself into the most grueling mission he can take as a distraction. Kanae’s death is more recent, and Shinobu cannot stop replaying the moment in her head when she finds her sister, thinking she is okay from her back profile, only to have her turn to show the blood all over her front before she collapses. Giyu has become more numb to the pain over the years, but the thought that he shouldn’t be the one alive, that he’s more or less a dead man walking, is persistent. Shinobu’s pain is still fresh, and sometimes the loss of her kind, talented sister is so overwhelming that she cannot bring herself to move.

Neither of them know if losing themselves in each other instead of honoring the dead is better. But surely it must be better than wanting to die.

They don't talk about what's between them. It's a partnership; they know they're using each other and that they're both okay with it. It doesn't affect anything else; they go about their daily lives, unencumbered by the other. There are no stolen glances, no coincidental brushes of the hand, no meaningful words. It's fine like this.

But.

They do, inevitably, become attuned. Giyu may be famously inscrutable, but Shinobu knows when he's fed up or tired by the hold of his shoulders, the degree of stiffness to his posture. Shinobu never seems like she's in a bad mood, but Giyu knows when she is by the way her eyes crease, and the angle to her smile. They become very familiar with each other's bodies, both in and out of the bedroom.

The rest of the Pillars don't notice anything different—for the most part.

Mitsuri is keen about this kind of thing, and she watches furtively to confirm her suspicions with her fist pressed to her chest, her emotions about to burst. But she can't ask, surely she can't—shouldn't—ask. It's not her place to just bring up of her own accord. But she's glad that Shinobu's smile is less shadowed, and that Giyu's countenance is just a touch softer.

Kyojuro can sense that there is a slight difference in his two fellow Demon Slayers, but he questions it no further, only taking note of things when he's faced with them. He thinks that compared to how they were before, this is better. Tengen is similar; he recognizes a slight difference, though that's all the attention he chooses to pay to it.

Regardless—it doesn't affect anything, nor should it. It's simple give and take. If anything, they're fighting a little better, their movements less reckless and desperate.

But it isn't without its own problems.

The problem is when they wake up in the morning and Giyu smiles faintly at her in greeting when he opens his eyes and realizes she's been watching him. Her breath catches in her throat and a flutter of panic rises in her—this is not a smile he shows anyone else, it is not a smile he's ever had cause to show anyone else, but here she is, and here he is, and she wants to trap the warmth of that smile in between her hands.

The problem is when Shinobu turns to laugh at him, hair trailing over her bare shoulder, and Giyu savors the sound of it like a refreshing summer drink. It makes him want to kiss the corner of her mouth, the hollow of her throat, the inside of her wrist; it makes him want to catch ahold of her, as if she is a mirage, because she's not here to stay. Lately, when she leaves, or when he has to, he finds himself wishing for another moment, hoping for another murmur, another hum.

It's betrayal—to themselves, if not the other. There are boundaries that have been set. There are parameters that need to be followed.

In the space of the bedroom, they can pretend that this is only ever going to be what they want it to be, and nothing else.

Two conversations happen in the spring, when the cherry blossoms are in full bloom.

The first: Shinobu is over at Mitsuri's for tea, something they haven't been able to do lately because they've been so busy. They're having one of Mitsuri's favorites: pancakes with butter and lots of honey, and black tea. Shinobu cuts up her food neatly, and Mitsuri is steadily eating her way through her second stack, all the while staring at Shinobu with huge, round puppy eyes.

Shinobu knows she's watching, but gives her friend a chance to initiate. When it drags on too long, Shinobu pops a piece of pancake into her mouth and finally meets Mitsuri's pale green eyes.

“You may ask, you know,” she says, amused.

“May I really?!” Mitsuri exclaims, her voice pitched high with excitement, then coughs, adjusting her tone to a more polite one. “I mean, may I really?”

Shinobu nods. Mitsuri drinks some tea, then stares at Shinobu with a more sober gaze, though her eyes are still twinkling.

“Are you happy, Shinobu-chan?”

Shinobu flinches at the question, then goes absolutely still. Mitsuri looks at her with concern but doesn't apologize, and eats another pancake to give the Insect Pillar time to respond.

“I...don't know. I might...be afraid that I am,” Shinobu says, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Isn't that stupid?”

The Love Pillar shakes her head vehemently.

“It's scary sometimes, to know that you are,” Mitsuri says, stirring her tea. “I mean, I know this is different, but—I'm really happy right now, you know? Pretending to be who I wasn't before made me so miserable, but now I have Oyakata-sama and the Pillars and the whole rest of the Corps. I can use my strength to help people, and I can spend time like this having fun with you, with all the pancakes and tea I want! I wasn't able to do this before, you know? And I absolutely, absolutely don't want to lose it. But there's always a chance that I will, because...that's how things are, aren't they? And I don't like to think about it. So that's why I think that if you're happy now, you should absolutely focus on it as much as you can. Because you deserve it. And because...nothing is certain.”

Mitsuri's expression is downcast at the last bit, and he drains the remainder of her tea. She also seems a bit embarrassed to have spoken so much, but her lip protrudes stubbornly, as if daring Shinobu to contradict her.

Shinobu blinks and chuckles a little, reaching over to refill Mitsuri’s teacup. She gazes at the other Pillar fondly, and Mitsuri puffs out her cheeks.

“What?” she says, and Shinobu smiles wider.

“Nothing,” she replies innocently. “I was just thinking how much I like you.”

She can practically see the steam rising from Mitsuri’s head, and she smothers another laugh.

“Well, I like you too Shinobu-chan. And that’s why I think you should be happy, whatever it takes.”

Do you have time for happiness?

The dark and ugly thoughts reach up from behind, and Shinobu stares at Mitsuri as she tries to organize her mind.

You swore to get your revenge. Are you abandoning it? Did Kanae only mean that much to you, that you can go off and live your life without her? Kanae, who protected you when you were so weak? Do you have time for happiness when even now you only amount to so much? Do you deserve happiness?

“Shinobu-chan. Being happy isn’t wrong. In fact, it’s more important now than ever.”

Mitsuri’s voice is as serious as she’s ever heard it, and Shinobu’s eyes flicker to hers again.

“Mitsuri-san. Are you happy?”

“I am! Because after all, aren’t there still things worth living for?”

Shinobu stares, and takes a deep breath. The cherry blossom petals flutter over the table. The pancakes are sweet, the tea is wonderfully brewed, and she is in the company of a very good friend. And these are not the only moments she appreciates.

“Yes. You’re right,” she says, and Mitsuri smiles.

“Shinobu-chan. Are you happy?”

She gives the Love Pillar an uncertain smile.

“I might be,” she says slowly. “And—I think I’d like to be.”

Mitsuri nods and looks satisfied with the answer. She puts another pancake onto Shinobu’s plate, and there is a momentary silence as both girls work on their food. Once Shinobu has eaten half a second pancake and Mitsuri has eaten another stack, she props up her elbows and puts her chin in her hands and stares at Shinobu again.

“Okay,” she says, “Now tell me everything about you and Tomioka-san.”

Shinobu has to laugh at this normalcy, and complies. Mostly, anyway. Some secrets are still hers to keep.

The second: The truth is, there are a few times when Giyu has left Shinobu’s household that he has been seen. That person has never made a fuss nor initiated any conversation, merely bowed in greeting and walked away. Though he’s thought about telling Shinobu, it slips his mind because the interaction has been so…negligible. The manner in which it’s happened is so normal, so insignificant, that it hardly even registers as something “bad.” It feels like any other time, greeting an acquaintance from afar, not having time or not wanting to initiate conversation, walking away.

That changes in spring, on a cloudy night.

Giyu is leaving the Butterfly Mansion as he has done many times before. He doesn't startle when he is spoken to, suddenly, though the voice does surprise him.

“Do you love her?”

He turns his head to see Shinobu's tsuguko leaning against the wall, melting into the shadows. He wracks his brain for her name—ah, Tsuyuri Kanao, he remembers.

“Excuse me?” He asks, stalling for time, as he inclines his head in greeting.

Kanao smiles faintly and inclines her head as well, but she does not repeat her question. She waits expectantly, and Giyu looks up at the sky for a moment before he sighs.

“I don't know,” he says honestly, and Kanao nods at this answer. He raises an eyebrow at this easy acceptance.

Before he can say anything else, however, Kanao holds out her hand, and Giyu sees the small coin on her palm before she takes it and flips it high into the air. She catches it deftly on the back of her hand, even with the lack of light, and lifts her other hand just enough for her to see the outcome. Giyu waits for an explanation, but none comes, and starts to walk away before he speaks to stop her.

“Will you not show me?” he asks, and Kanao gives him another faint smile as she turns back to him.

There's a pause as she considers her words, tilting her head a little.

“This result is merely for my own satisfaction,” she says, “Your answer...you will have to find yourself.”

He raises an eyebrow; there's familiarity in the way she speaks. She's Shinobu's student, indeed.

“How inscrutable,” he says.

“The words are derived from my master,” Kanao says. “She said they were derived from yours.”

Giyu can imagine Shinobu's smirk and laugh here—if they had come from his own words, hadn't he just called himself inscrutable? He sighs, then looks at Kanao. She stares back, her face expressionless. He sees no distaste or hatred, no judgement. Somehow, he had expected some.

“You do not...disapprove?” he asks before he can stop himself. He wants to groan at the childishness of the question, that he poses it at all, especially since the girl is younger than him and Shinobu, for goodness’ sake.

Kanao tilts her head, blinking at him.

“It is not my place to approve or disapprove,” she says solemnly. “I love my sister, and I trust her.”

“As you do not trust me,” Giyu says, picking up the implication. But Kanao's eyes widen marginally, and she blinks again.

“I don't think that's the case,” she says, furrowing her brows. “I don't distrust you.”

“That does not mean you trust me.”

She considers this, looking conflicted.

“Perhaps not. But I don't distrust you.”

Giyu doesn't know what he's looking for from her—he's stressing her out, he can tell, though he doesn't mean to—but she's Shinobu's sister. He'd had his opinion of Tsutako's husband-to-be when they were alive (that opinion had improved with time), and he's not desperate, per se, for an opinion from Kanao, but he does want one, strangely enough.

This half-opinion is—excruciating. He thinks he'd rather have Kanao dislike him—it would make more sense. Her disapproval would shame him, and the shame would keep him within bounds.

“The coin is for me,” Kanao says slowly, “What's between you and Shinobu-nee-san is for you, and her.” She speaks the words as if she is trying very hard to convey her meaning after failing the first time. “It is not my place to interfere, but nor do I have a desire to. It's—” She frowns here, struggling with what she wants to say. “The answer is yours,” she says finally, wilting a little at the inadequacy.

Giyu blinks at her, then, after a moment, reaches up a hand and places it on her head.

“Okay,” he says, slowly, as if considering it. “Okay. Thank you.”

Kanao blinks up at him, then nods her head. He removes his hand, and she bows before walking back into the estate proper.

He comes away from the conversation—not ashamed, unfortunately. If anything, quite the opposite. He doesn't fully understand what Kanao was trying to say, but what she did say, he is turning over in his head. The answer is his, and Shinobu's, and that—that is how things are.

He opens and closes his hand, flexing out his fingers. There are choices he has to make, decisions he has to come to for himself. Shinobu's will be hers, his will be his, and together will be theirs, if there will be a together. But Giyu must set his own terms; there needs to be an answer.

Okay. Okay.

It's raining, the next time they are together. She comes to his house drenched, her thoughts clouded; her skin is ice cold as they peel each sodden layer off of her, but her kisses are hot and demanding and idly he thinks he likes it when she takes control, though he is eager enough to provide warmth of his own as she slips her hands beneath his clothes and they press their bodies together.

It's still raining when they wake, the window still open; Shinobu moves first, halfway out from underneath the blanket and ready to dress and leave. Giyu catches her wrist before she can fully untangle herself, his touch light, but sure.

“Stay,” he says, voice still rough from sleep.

She looks back at him, her heartbeat quickening at his expression. Half-lidded from sleep, but soft, and open, and vulnerable. He does not mean just for this moment, for this day. He's made his decision. Shinobu must make hers.

Are you happy, Shinobu-chan? Mitsuri's voice rings in her head. I think you should be happy, whatever it takes.

She bends down to kiss him.

“Okay.” Shinobu murmurs.

She slides back underneath the blankets, goosebumps raised on her skin from the chill of the air. Giyu puts an arm around her waist, and she presses her body flush against his, soaking in his warmth. She touches him, languid, slow; he brings the heat in her body alive again underneath the blankets.

The rainfall drowns out their breathing. In here, in this small house, small room, there is no one but the two of them. Moving together, their minds are blank save for thoughts of the other, almost as though there are no barriers, as if they cannot tell where one ends and the other begins.

Outside, no one is the wiser; the world continues to turn, with or without them.

#giyushino #kimetsu no yaiba #kochou shinobu #tomioka giyu #fanfiction #got tired and irritated holding onto this and tweaking minor things so *FUCKIN THROWS IT OUT THERE*#the first section is really the only part i still like after editing haha #also is overtly implied an oxymoron. like idk how else to describe the spice here LOL

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