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ha-hatdog · 4 years

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little one / daisuke kambe

i definitely did not swoon while writing this. again, i did not know if you wanted hcs or one shot but i'll go with one shot. this is a good time to post this since the latest episode showed pics of smol daisuke omg. also, the name of your son is kakeru - yes, as in kakeru from run with the wind lmao

and to those who are saying i should add read more to my long fics, i really want to but i don't have a laptop or computer. i write everything on my phone, on the tumblr app. so if you know how to add read more in posts using the app, then please do dm me. thank chu💛

requested by anon: one where daisuke and reader have a two year old son together? lots of fluff

UNEDITED

Your palm concealed your amused lips, a snort emanating from your wrinkled nose as you took in the sight before you.

Kambe Daisuke was a man of little words and little expressions, and even now, after being married to you for four years and having a son who was now at the age of two, that has not changed. He was still the stoic and cool detective millionaire you have met many years ago - which is exactly what makes the unfolding scene before you much more hilarious.

Monotonous Daisuke, the same man you had seen take down criminals twice his size, was haphazardly sprawled on your carpeted ground, arms and legs outstretched, cheek pressed flat against the material of the carpet as a smaller and cuter carbon copy of him perched comfortably on his back, oblivious to the position he had set his father on, doing nothing but lie down on his father's back and sleep soundly, eyes closed, snoring and wearing such an adorable sleeping face that it was difficult not to coo.

The sight alone was already adorably hilarious, but seeing the genuine distress on Daisuke's face had you doubling over, your palm muffling your laughter.

"Look at you," You whispered at him by the doorframe, your knees bent and your other hand sliding along the frame of the door. "You look so dumb, Daisuke."

"I'm happy at least you find this amusing, but I do not." Your husband responded back in an ired puff, azure eyes glaring at you from the floor. It took all of you not to swoon.

"Don't look at me like that, my love. I can't take you seriously when our son is using you as a mattress." Daisuke's glare intensified, but as your previous statement suggested, all purpose of threat was dulled by the position he was in. "How did you even get yourself in this situation?"

"I find it unnecessary to tell you." Answered Daisuke, and from how his cheeks tinged red, you could only assume it was something embarassing. "Will you help me, love? Take Kakeru off of my back."

You shifted your gaze back to your slumbering son, and a fond smile sprouted on your brims.

Sometimes you wonder how you were even able to make this precious, big eyed, nuzzling baby. He was an exact copy of Daisuke, not a single hint of your genes. Blank face, quiet, raven hair, blue eyes, the little shine in his eyes whenever he saw you - it was like seeing Daisuke when he was a child, and it was because of this fact that you were at least feeling a little bit alright with your son having no semblance with you.

"Kakeru," You whispered to your son as you stepped closer to your best boys with quiet footfalls, and he scrunched his face ay the brief interruption of your cooing voice. You stopped yourself from squishing his cute little face, and knelt down beside them. "Kake -"

Your sentence was cut off when you felt a hand under your knee. Immediately, Daisuke retracted his hand away, hurling your way a soft glare. "Watch where your knee is going."

You chuckled at his dilemma and reached down to stroke his head. "Mattresses don't talk, Daisuke."

"Normal people don't talk to mattresses." Countered Daisuke, huffing and averting his gaze away from you. You stifled your laughter as his pout grew more prominent. It might be very obvious already with how Daisuke has everything handed over to him with a single breath, but your husband absolutely hated losing in any forms ; even in your daily banter, he must always have the last word. People often mistakenly thought that you, being his darling wife that he had persistently courted for a whole year, would be exempted to this childish pettiness you consistently deny her allegations, firmly believing you were receiving the worse end of it. This man cannot forget the times you have successfully reigned victory over his own game, months or weeks, it never failed to be permanently ingrained in his mind ; and this resulted to puzzling moments which goes by a chronological sequence - a relatively normal day, an opportunity to divulge the opening you have unknowingly presented before his feet, and then comes his last word, to which he will remind you as your confused face stared back at him when his out of the blue statement has originally birthed from.

However, there was only one person who could defeat him at that, would never let him get the last word and that is your son Kakeru. As you stared at his sleeping face, you cannot help but smile as you reminiscent that particular day.

***

Haru Kato has been invited to your house to meet Kambe Kakeru. Daisuke has been mildly cross with Haru meeting his son because he was petty and said that Kakeru needed no other man than him but seeing that Daisuke has become good friends with Haru in the two years they were partners, you insisted that he meets him. It was already unfair that Haru had to wait until Kakeru was two to meet him, the first and last time he saw him being after you had given birth (Daisuke only let him have a glimpse then pushed him out of the hospital room because he doesn't want Kakeru thinking he was his father).

"Kakeru," You chided as you crouched beside your son who was hiding behind Daisuke's legs and peering at the gray haired male, eyes curious yet cautious. "Don't you want to meet Uncle Haru?"

Haru stepped closer to the three of you, bent down near Kakeru's height, and outstretched his hand for him to shake. "Hey there, Kakeru." Haru greeted with a smile.

Kakeru recoiled and hid himself further behind Daisuke, hands around his pants tightening. "Daddy," He whimpered. "Bad man."

Haru's face fell at the enunciation, and you covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. Daisuke stared blankly at Haru as his hand travelled behind his back to stroke Kakeru's head. "You heard my son. Get out of here, bad man." Daisuke uttered his command.

A tick mark appeared on Haru's forehead at Daisuke's vocalization and before things could escalate out of the power of your responsibility, you interjected, regaiming your proper posture and clasping your hands together. "Kakeru is just wary of Haru because this is the first time he's seeing him, no need to fight." You told them off.

"No, Haru is just naturally scary." Daisuke stated with bantering finality.

"This is coming from a man who barely smiles." Argued Haru, scowling.

"And this is coming from someone who seems to be making a living screaming at me." Countered Daisuke.

Kakeru's eyes widened at what his father had said and shot Haru a small glare, yet his stance never wavered from its hiding place. "He screams at daddy . . . " Murmured Kakeru in a thoughtful trance, and pointed at Haru, shocking all three of you. "D-Don't scream at daddy again!"

Alarm made its way to Haru's facr at the accusation. "No, I have not once yelled at your dad - "

Daisuke turned around and knelt in front of Kakeru. Daisuke stared into his son's eyes and Kakeru stared back. "Don't listen to him, Kakeru. You should never listen to him, never ever. He makes daddy get all angry when we're doing police missions together."

"O-Oi," Haru inserted, fuming. "You're the one who always makes me mad! Don't turn the child on me!"

But Kakeru was not listening to Haru, as his beloved father has told him. Kakeru nodded firmly, lips curling. "Yes, daddy." He vouched in determination.

"Daisuke, stop it." You chastised, sighing and turned to the other detective that was not using your son to his advantage. "Sorry about this, Haru. Kakeru really looks up to Daisuke so he does anything he tells him to."

Kakeru, all of a sudden, began trotting away from the three of you, leaving all of you confused. After a few minutes, Kakeru returned, a determined look on his face.

"Kakeru, sweetheart, where did you go?" You asked as you approached him. "It's rude to leave our guest hanging, you know."

"Fight bad man," You and Haru gasped in horror when your son suddenly brandished a gun to Haru, not just a toy, but a real one. His tiny hands trembled as he was not used to the weight of the metal weapon burdening his grasp, and he was still glaring at Haru. "I pew pew bad guy, mommy, like daddy do with bad guys!"

"Kakeru, where did you get that gun?" You questioned, alarmed and and genuinely frightened. You looked to your husband to assess his reaction, but much to your mortification, Daisuke looked calm as he always is, as if your son wasn't capable of hurting a person as of the moment. "Daisuke, what the hell?"

You let out a yelp when Kakeru turned to you, and in the process, turned the gun to you. "Bad word, Mommy." He scolded. "I don't like."

Daisuke drawled. "It's not a big deal."

Haru growled. "Your son has a weapon! How are you not freaking out?" He then turned to Kakeru and extended his hand. "Give me the gun, Kakeru. Give it."

But Kakeru shook his head defiantly. "No!"

Daisuke frowned at his wife and his partner. "Why are you making a big fuss about this?" He questioned. "It's unloaded and the safety is on."

At the mention of those, you and Haru felt a brief sense of relief until Haru spoke out, "Just because it's unloaded doesn't mean it's okay!"

"It's basically a toy." Retorted Daisuke.

You walked towards your husband and pulled at his ear. His face did not at all change, seemingly expecting this reaction from you. "Daisuke, where did he even get the gun? Has one of yours been just lying around his reach?" This concerned you. If your son was able to get a weapon easily, what more is your husband letting him get?

"I gave him one." Answered Daisuke.

"And why would you give our two year old a gun?" You snapped at him.

"Kakeru said he wanted to hold a gun. Just like you, I said no." Daisuke glanced over at Kakery who was watching the three of you curiously. "However - " He turned back to you, and looked away. " - he's too adorable, as you might say."

You and Haru, in unison, slapped your hands to your forehead, exasperated with Daisuke's response.

"Kakeru probably looked sad when Daisuke said no." Haru remarked. "I can't blame him to be honest."

"He's spoiling him in ways too many." You added, and removed your hand from your forehead. "Daisuke, I know you love our son and pampering him but he can't just have a gun."

"Why, mommy?" You all looked at Kakeru, and immediately understood why Daisuke was forced to give him an unloaded gun. "Not love me?"

"A-Ah," You shrieked, horrified. "The secret move!"

Haru gulps. "This boy knows a little too much about his abilities."

"Even if it doesn't have any bullets?" Daisuked asked you.

You hurtled him a glower. "Even if it doesn't have any bullets and yes, even if it has the safety lock on." You immediately added when you saw Daisuke open his mouth.

Said man huffed. "Fine. If I knew you were going to react like this, I wouldn't have done it."

You and Haru watched as Daisuke knelt down in front of your son. Kakeru stared at his father, eyes wide and admiring. Daisuke lets out a sigh and extended his palm, "Give."

Kakeru shook his head vigorously, and his face scrunched as if he was going to cry but was trying to suppress it. "Daddy no love me too?"

You waited for what Daisuke would do, but he did not move. More seconds has passed, and he was yet to move. You and Haru exchanged glances before you moved over to him, checking him out. "Daisuke, love, what - Daisuke?"

A torn man was what Daisuke coukd be called at that moment. His face was deadpanned, but being with him longer than anyone else, you were able to pick up the small difference his expression held right now.

"U-Uh, Daisuke, are you okay?" You questioned in a form of a titter, eyebrows connected. "Daisuke?"

Haru walked over to Daisuke and leaned to look at him. "A-Ah, he looks like he's suffering."

"No, no," Denied Daisuke, frown deepening as he tried not to fall for his son's adorable trap. "Daddy loves you. But mommy and I agreed that you can't have that kind of toy, Kakeru."

"But," You all drew in a breath Kakeru hugged the gun to his chest, tears prodding the corners of his eyes. "My favorite toy is this."

"But why that, baby?" You asked softly. "You have so many other toys. Why that one?" You recalled the heaping amount of toys Daisuke bought for Kakeru.

Kakeru pouted, cheeks puffing. You couldn't help but imagine little Daisuke like that. "Because Daddy gave me this." Said Kakeru. "I want to be police, like daddy."

Daisuke turned to you, the internal struggle in his eyes prominent but you shook your head at him. Your husband sighed and looked at Kakeru again. He put his hand on top his head and ruffled his hair. Kakeru closed his eyes at the affection, welcoming it and his rigid frame loosening. Kakeru opened his eyes and let out a small noise of surprise as Daisuke wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

From what you can deduce, you knew Daisuke was about to say something brilliant to your son, to teach him something valuable. But before Daisuke could even open his mouth, Haru cut him off -

"A gun doesn't make a cop, Kakeru. It's the sense of justice to do the right thing and keeping people safe does." Haru then proceeded to take out his badge and handing it to Kakeru with a large smile on his face. "You can borrow this for a while, while I'm still here. As much as I want to give it to you, I need it to do my job as a cop. But maybe in the future, you can get one of your own. You'll be just like your dad."

You were impressed by what Haru had said, but Kakeru - his eyes were wide and glittering with admiration as he stared at Haru, all fear of the bad man gone. You swear that there was light all around Haru if you're ever seeing through Kakeru's eyes. But one member of the group disliked this mild change, and it was your irritated and pouting husband.

You covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. Daisuke was obviously feeling jealous of Haru now that his son was ignoring him - the emotion only worsening when Kakeru took the badge from Haru and dropped the gun on the ground and stared at the shiny object, whispering, "Uwahh,"

A cloud of dread hung over Daisuke and you patted his back in comfort. "There, there, Daisuke, he's just making a friend."

"But why with Haru?" Grumbled Daisuke, sulking. "And why is he looking at him like that? I should be the only one he's looking at like that. You too, I guess."

You let out a sigh. "You're really jealous when it comes to me and Kakeru."

Haru looked proud of the achievement and improvement he had made with Kakeru, his hands over his hips. "Looks pretty cool, right?"

Kakeru nodded enthusiastically, examining the badge thoroughly. "Very cool." He murmured, and then stared at Haru intently, lips pursing. "I wanna be like Mister Haru when I grow up!"

That was the first time you have seen Daisuke speechless and the last time Haru had seen Kakeru for six months. You were certain Daisuke did not speak to Haru for about two weeks, only communicating through nods and grunts, and Haru did not know whether to feel relieved or irritated at that. Maybe a little bit of both.

But, that was the only time Daisuke did not have the last word.

Kakeru certainly has Daisuke around his little finger.

***

You reached forward and shook Kakeru awake softly. "Kakeru," You chimed, and he scrunched his face again, not wanting to be disturbed sleeping on Daisuke's back. "Wake up, baby,"

Kakeru let out a small groan, and slowly opened his eyes. A familiar pair of blue hues greeted you, the same eyes that you wake up to every morning. Kakeru let out a big yawn and rubbed his left eye with his hand, groaning out, "Mommy," He then looked down at Daisuke who was craning his head to watch his son. "And Daddy."

You smiled at him and opened your arms, hands making grabby movements towards your two year old. "Come here, baby," You cooed sweetly.

Kakeru perked up and a glimmer crossed his eyes, the same glimmer when Daisuke had seen you for the first time. You could never forget that time, and you can never find it more beautiful than seeing that in your son's eyes whenever you offer him affection. Immediately, the two year old scrambled out of Daisuke's back - Daisuke grunted as his little feet padded on his back a few times as he struggled to get to your lap and arms - and sunk in your embrace. Your eyes grew gentler as Kakeru snuggled closer to your chest, cheek rubbing on your clothing and his hands clinging to the fabric.

"Are you tired, baby?" You questioned as you stroked the back of his head, finger running over his hair.

Kakeru nodded tiredly. "Daddy played cops and robbers with me."

"Let me guess, you were the cop and he was the robber?" You commented.

"Yes, and I captured Daddy many, many times." Answered Kakeru, proud with himself.

"Oh, is that so? That's amazing, baby. You're going to be a great cop like Daddy." You then turned over to Daisuke who was now recovering from being used as a bed. He dusted himself as he sat properly on the ground in front of you. "Is that why you were under him? Because you were arrested?"

Daisuke looked away. "I think I need to teach him how to properly apprehend a criminal."

You giggled. "When he's older, Daisuke."

He faced you with a sharp twist of his face, expression determined. "He won't grow older."

You frowned. "What?"

You and Daisuke looked down to see Kakeru fighting the need to sleep, his eyes opening and closing.

"I don't . . . " Daisuke trailed off, and a trace of embarassment scrawled on his face. You rarely see your husband embarassed and so you waited for him to continue. " . . . I don't want Kakeru to grow up."

You shook your head lightly, smile broadening. "Daisuke," You whispered, and when he did not look at you, you called him again. "Love, look at me."

He did so, and with one hand, you cradled his face. "I know how you feel. I understand where you're coming from. But - " You mused. " - don't you want to see our son grow up to be a fine man? To be the person he aspires to be? To be like you?"

Daisuke stares back at you, and took a gander at Kakeru who was beginning to fall asleep. He lets out a sigh and nodded in agreement, "I guess that would be pleasant to see."

"And he'll marry a great girl." You added.

"Marry mommy," Kakeru drawled. He was forcing himself to stay awake but his eyes was not cooperating with his spirits.

Daisuke scooted closer to both of you and brushed his knuckles on Kakeru's forehead. "Marry mommy? You're going to take mommy away from me?"

Kakeru shook his head. "Marry someone like mommy," One of his hand extended and took hold of Daisuke's shirt, the other still clinging to you. Kakeru looked up at both of you, still comfortable in your lap and chest. His eyes, again, were bright. "I want family like me, and mommy, and daddy."

Warmth swathed your chest, your heart melting. You took a gander to Daisuke and saw that the expression he wore - love, care, and the promise of sacrifice when it comes to it and when he looked at you, the emotions never faltered, and they only grew stronger. Sometimes you wonder just how much Daisuke loved you and Kakeru.

"A family like the three of us." Kakeru let go of your clothing and showed three fingers of his and quickly pressed the three digits together. "A happy family."

Kakeru fell asleep after his statement. His arm dropped and his head moved to one side, his eyes closed and lips parted.

"We should tuck him in." Daisuke declared.

"Yeah," You agreed and Daisuke helped you stand up, making sure you two aren't waking your sleeping son. You moved him to his bed, setting him down the mattress gently. Daisuke took the liberty of putting the blanket over Kakeru. Your child shifted in his spot, and cuddled to his pillow.

You sat on the bed beside Kakeru, observing your son. "Already tired when the morning has just barely started." You chuckled.

"He said he needed practice to be a cop, and I couldn't say no." Daisuke inserted.

"You can never say no to Kakeru anyways." You jested.

"Same with you." Daisuke knelt down beside the bed, arms resting on the mattress and his head level with his son's. He admired Kakeru, his deadpan expression gone and a small smile on his face. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Kakeru's cheek, lingering for a while before pulling away.

Daisuke faced you and you raised an eyebrow as he took your hand.

"You have given me a beautiful son. Thank you so much, my love."

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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hi nat it's the avdol anon again 😳 i noticed that ur requests were open and uh... you might know why i'm here. feel free to take this in any direction u want but i was wondering if afab reader could get a tarot/palm line reading by avdol which foreshadows their quickly budding romance. this is just an idea but i think it's cute! tysm for reading <3

prediction - avdol x reader (2k)

warnings: none! neutral reader, neutral pronouns. sfw.

It is your third time stepping foot in Muhammad Avdol’s little fortune-telling shop, and your heart is beating faster and more nervously than it ever has before. The first time, you had come with a friend who had not stopped chattering on about how they’d heard that this man was the real deal, they had friends who he’d been able to tell the life story of from just a glance at a tarot card spread. You had been sceptical but humoured them, agreeing to come with them to get a glimpse of this mysterious character who would so easily be able to read one’s past. It would have been dangerous, you reassure yourself, to send your friend alone to a strange new place.

Avdol himself had looked at you and smiled and you had been hit by how warm he was. You’d assumed he’d look like a charlatan, a snake-oil salesman – but his hands had seemed genuine as he’d shook yours, his thumb warm as it brushed your wrist, a curious expression on his handsome face before he’d turned to your friend.

His shop smelt like burning incense, draped in rich warm shades of red and ochre, comforting as he poured you both a cup of tea. If he’d been perturbed that your friend had brought with them an audience, he did not show it; merely motioned for the two of you to sit as he shuffled a well-worn pack of tarot cards.

You had expected the same vague kind of allusions as you’d heard so many people make before – broad statements that, if thought about, could be connected to anything in one’s life if the listener was desperate to do so. You’d expected his dark eyes to be sharp as he searched your friend for weakness, as he picked up on various little tremors of their face and voice and twisted them into something like cleverness.

But his voice had been unwavering and calm as he’d said names straight off the bat, as he’d confidently recounted incidents in their life in not quite elaborate detail, but in enough detail for you and your friend both to understand that he was the real deal. As he’d predicted moments in the future, his brow furrowing as he gave advice as to paths that should be taken carefully and paths that should be embarked upon with wild fervour and excitement.

He’d taken their money with a small smile, before he’d turned to you and said;

“And you?”

The thought of your future spelt out by him suddenly seemed terrifying. You had shaken your head, backing away – and he had given you that curious look again, like he saw something inside of you that you’d never noticed yourself.

“Maybe next time I see you,” he’d said, and you’d followed your friend out of the room with a dizziness that you couldn’t quite explain.

He had not said ‘if I see you’. In Muhammad Avdol’s mind, the two of you meeting again was a fated occurrence. You had told yourself that you would not allow that to happen, to afraid of all of the things that could happen to you and hadn’t yet.

Of course, you go back. Your friend is desperate to see him again, after some advice that he gave them leads to a promotion at work. They want to thank him, and ask him advice for an upcoming business trip that will take them out of Egypt for six months – when you hesitantly shake your head and bite your lip, they pout at you.

“Please?” They wheedle. “I won’t see you again for half a year, this is our chance to do something together before I leave--”

And because you love your friends, you agree, and you step foot in the comforting, homely little fortune-telling shop for the second time in your life.

Avdol does not look up from the table.

“I already poured you tea,” he says. “Please, take a seat.”

Something about the atmosphere of the shop is at once terrifying and comforting to you; like a place you’ve been a hundred times in your dreams. Your fingers trace the delicate gold embroidery of the table cloth as Avdol listens to your friend’s ardent thanks. It’s pretty; constellations on dark midnight blue velvet.

“Do you like it?” You’re snapped from the daydream by Avdol. He’s looking at you, his face unreadable. “I made it myself.”

“Oh,” you say, heat rushing to your face. “Y-yes. It’s beautiful. So delicate. It must have taken a long time--”

“I like projects,” he says to you. “Small work you have to take your time over. It’s satisfying to see it turn into something beautiful at the end.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you. “Watch out for your own constellation, habibi.”

You don’t know what he means, but your friend is tugging you out of the door before the two of you outstay your welcome, chattering on about all of the advice that Avdol has given them about making the most of their six months in a foreign country. When you round the corner and Avdol’s little shop is no longer in sight, she gives you an elbow to the ribs.

“I think he likes you,” she says, and you go all over hot and bothered at the thought of it. There’s something about him that frays at the edges of your consciousness – you have never felt quite so safely ensconced in anything as you feel within the warm incense-laden air of his rooms. But him liking you is ridiculous. And you don’t believe in anything so nebulous as fortune-telling.

You do some spring cleaning that weekend. In the very corner of your wardrobe, almost falling into a gap between the floor of it and the chipboard of the back, is a necklace that your mother gave you for your eighteenth birthday. It’s not precious; it was a silly little gift picked up for pennies in a market to go inside your birthday card, cheap metal. It’s a representation of the constellation you were born under.

Your heart beats too fast in your chest as you put it on.

And that’s the series of events that leads you to be stepping foot in Muhammad Avdol’s fortune telling shop ten minutes before he’s due to close. The lights are already off, but Avdol is sat by his table with a book in his hand and looks up as the bell over his front door rings, a smile splitting his face.

“I was expecting you earlier,” he says. Your hands fly up to the necklace, twisting it between thumb and forefinger. “Ah. I’m glad you heeded the warning.”

“How did you know?” You ask him, your throat dry as you take the seat that he points to opposite him. There is already a steaming teacup in front of it; you know it will be steeped exactly how you like it, will have two spoonfuls of sugar in it, will be your favourite blend. Avdol has seemed to know that since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“The universe works in whatever way it wills,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his own tea. The teacup he has put in front of you is patterned with your favourite flower. “You wanted me to read your palm, didn’t you?”

You nod. You do not ask him how he knows what you came here for. Too many coincidences have lead you to this point, and with Avdol so close to you and you finally alone with him you are beginning to wonder if your scepticism has been misplaced. He holds his hand out over the finely embroidered velvet cloth – you realise that your own birth constellation is exactly beneath it.

Up close, he’s so handsome you can barely breathe. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, his skin reflecting the flickering candlelight beautifully. His hands are warm and dry; well-kept, as you place your own in it palm-up.

“You’re soft,” he says – which is not the most professional thing for him to say, you don’t think, but your breath catches in your throat anyway. “Let me see.”

He gently traces your life line. He murmurs something about your family, about your past, about your driving force and your career – all of it true, all of it right. His finger dances over it as he tells you to be wary of people offering you chances that are too good to be true.

Head line. Fate line. His fingers are so warm, he holds you so gently – you imagine what he would feel like holding your hand as a lover and chastise yourself in your head. Everything he says to you about your past is true. Everything he says about your personality, about how you value certain things and about how you are feeling right at that very moment is true. You can barely breathe as his index finger brushes along your heart line.

“Ah,” he murmurs, soft. He coughs. You swear you see his cheeks change colour, just a little, but you don’t know how to react to it. “This is interesting.”

“I-is that a good thing?” You ask him, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Perhaps,” he says. There’s a rigidity to him that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“What . . . what does it say?” You ask. “What does it mean? Am I going to meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger?”

“Not a stranger,” he says. He swallows, and for the first time you see Avdol looking a little nervous. “And I think perhaps it would be remiss for someone like me to call him handsome.” You look curiously at him, but his eyes are focused on your smaller palm. It feels so right, being held like this. “Your heart line. Well. It says you were wary of this person at first, that you did not quite believe everything they were saying – but that something about them seemed to draw you in even so, like a magnetic pull. It says . . .” He seems more awkward than you’ve ever seen him, and certainly more awkward than you’ve ever heard anyone describe an encounter with him. “It says you should trust your instincts. And if you want to make a move . . . well. It seems to think today is as good a day as any.”

Your eyebrows scrunch as you think about what he could mean. You haven’t had any thoughts about anyone like that, recently. There’s nobody in your life. Hell, Avdol is the first man you’ve touched like this in the past week--

And a lightbulb goes off over your head.

It explains the way that you feel in his shop, the way that your heart seems to beat just a little bit quicker around him. It explains the constellations and the teacup and the way the two of you keep not quite meeting one another’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Avdol says. “This is unprofessional, I should be closing up shop right now--”

He goes to drop your hand, but you breathe in soft and sure as you whisper with a dry voice;

“Wait.”

He looks at you from under thick dark lashes. The whole of outer space feels like it’s contained within his eyes; dark constellations, secrets you can only wish you understood. You take a deep breath to gather all of your courage up within you. You think of Avdol warning you about things offered that seem too good to be true, but you push back the anxiety.

“Would you like to get something to eat, sometime? I’d ask about something to drink, but . . . I don’t think anything will measure up to the tea.”

Avdol looks at you. His eyes linger over your face; the cross between trepidation and hopefulness. They flicker back down to your palm. The small smile he gives you in return to yours is just as shaky as your own.

“Yes,” he says, quietly. “I would love to.”

#writing #jjba #avdol x reader #muhammad avdol #jojo's bizarre adventure #muhammad avdol x reader #jojo fluff #avdol fluff #neutral reader #Anonymous

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chrisbahng-old · 2 years

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Hey, I'm sorry to intervene just like that, but I'm starting to get really pissed.

Please don't apologize for talking about your kinks on YOUR blog. That anon doesn't have any right to tell you what you should post and what you shouldn't. If they find it disgusting then they are free to leave, without sending any hate. I think that everyone who's here knows that you have a puppy kink (is that what it's called? I don't know, please correct me if I'm wrong but you know what I mean), you never hid it, and we chose to stay here. Just like we chose to stay here, that anon can choose to leave. Again, WITHOUT sending hate. Don't change yourself and your posts just because a stranger online told you their (honestly, unwanted if they are gonna go at it so disrespectfully) opinion, and that doesn't only apply here, but to your life in general. Sure, everyone is entitled to their opinion and it's their right to express it freely, but only if they are not hurting or disrespecting anyone. But that anon did disrespect you and was very rude to you so at the end of the day it's not even an opinion, it's just them wanting to be mean and put someone else down.

And to that anon, let me ask you a question. Why are you even here? You clearly don't like the content that's posted, so why are you hanging around? And why did you feel the need to be so rude? I feel like it comes off as very aggressive and angry, but I promise I'm just genuinely curious.

To conclude this very long rant, please, please, please don't stop posting what you want here, you're a sweetheart, we've talked here and there and you were always so nice. No one has any right to tell you what you should and shouldn't post on your own blog and please, I'm begging you, don't change yourself and your content for some random stranger that just wanted to be mean.

I hope you have a wonderful day or night and take care my love, and everyone who sees this❤

im literally sitting in the bathroom at work on the verge of tears :(( thank you so so so much for your kind words :( they mean so much more to me than ill ever be able express ❤️‍🩹

#—wolfies askbox

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fragileizywriting · 2 years

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I have a question for you that you might not be comfortable answering and it is TOTALLY fine if that is the case so please don’t feel obligated to respond!! What I’m wondering is, how do you see yourself reflected in each of your characters? Traits about yourself, things you wish you were, goals you have, etc. Again, if this is too personal please don’t worry about it, I was curious because I was reading through some of my old writing and thought “I really projected onto this character huh”

hi anon!!! oh lawd, i have no idea if i should answer this in like. a full play-by-play way, or just gloss over stuff, because i'd love to answer this in huge detail but i have no idea if anyone (even you, the person who asked!) would be interested so here's what i'll do: i'm going to write my answer, without editing it over and over again, and hope to god you're okay with whatever length it ends up being :') here goes!

i have to start with the way i write lady noire. i have to. i write lady noire with the tag "marinette has ADHD" which is exactly and honestly what i have. in the kwami swap fics that i write, everything and anything she says or thinks is exactly the way that i talk and behave when i'm having a good day (which is to say, an absolute mess!) she's constantly tripping over her words, smacking into doors, always looking like she's handling her school life (when she is very much holding on for dear life just trying to pass), etc etc. kitty!marinette is by far the most obvious "me" whenever i write, which is why i think i like writing her so much. i give her my problems of attachment, of struggling to understand between romance/platonic relationships, of fits of crying that don't exactly line up to what exactly is happening in the fic. if i ever had to pick a character from any of my AUs to represent me, it would be 1000% lady noire.

i think i relate to marinette the most in all of the AUs. each marinette is different-- i only really have four of them-- but i think i write them with different personal traits that are still representative...? of me...?

maybe the marinette i have the least in common is FLP marinette. i think her skittish-but-blunt behavior is something i want to have because it's endearing and genuine, but i don't think i have it at all.

mouse!marinette i definitely have the overthinking sometimes. she thinks so much. but i definitely don't think as much or as clearly as she does, i'm definitely more impulsive like kitty!marinette is.

but DL marinette, oh god, okay--

she's the marinette i write the most, right? obviously, and i think what really gets me about her is that she is so desperate for contact and connection with others. it's genuinely hard for me not to write a DL fic with cuddles involved because that's literally all i think about. close contact and sleep (i have very poor sleep, as many people here already know) and marinette's wants for a family are the trifecta of izy when she's having a bad day.

i'm asexual myself, so the idea of having a family (as in, like, partner/partners) that will still love me and "won't kick me out" is just something that i've really come to struggle with last september. i think i wrote about that in a previous tumblr post somewhere? oh, i found it, here it is!

i wrote marinette wanting a family, a good and honest one that won't shy away to catering to her needs of wanting to be tactile and close and something something most important part being the bed-- the entire first half of comfort givin' was like. two days post-breakup, i'm pretty sure, and i was just reeling. you know? it was so painful to do anything. i honestly don't even remember what i did first-- oh, yeah. i was at a friend's house for the first time in like two years leaving the house to see her. i think i ate a hotdog. i didn't even tell my friend because she was doing homework and i was so out of it, i got broken up with over text. over text. this was a guy that had bought me a promise ring just a while ago saying that we'd get engaged as soon as i finished college, but, that sure didn't work out LSDJKFLJSKDFLJSFKD five (five!) years gone. through text. how embarassing

i know that my newly-appointed-ex decided to get wasted that night (out of saddness???? or something????? even though it was him who dumped me, so..??), so i made sure to turn off my phone just in case he tried to text me all drunk about how he was sorry and whatever-- i have no idea if he did. anyway

even still, now, i'm shocked like i didn't expect any of it to happen at all, like, everything was fine on my end, and i see that a lot in marinette when i was writing her before. i guess i wish i was as strong as her, to keep trying and looking for more and more. ironically, this succubus has helped me out a lot this past year, including helping me realize what i want out of my relationships and what i want for myself. i see myself when she doesn't find it particularly interesting to be with other succubi because of what happened-- i don't hang out with our friends anymore. i see that loneliness a lot. having a nino or an alya in my life would be a godsend. and a luka and adrien, too, of course.

sorry this got depressive LKDJFLSJDKFLSKFDJLKDLFJSDK idk i just wanted to give you a good answer. maybe this was tmi but i thought this was a cool ask and i wanted to give it a shot. thank you for asking, anon, this was such a cool ask! sorry i got sidetracked everywhere!

#speakizys #completely unedited this time before fuck it whatever #usually i spend a lot of time wondering if any of this is worth posting but #eh

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julies-butterflies · 3 years

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I must admit, sometimes I do feel like a ye olden solider, sending letters to my beloved across the waves during wartime. Oh my dearest Lydia, I hope the kudos and comments crops have been plentiful this season. Your last letter left me weeping. Why must you put poor Reginald through such pain?

(I gotta admit, I still can't believe that I'm talking to you. I've been looking up to your work for so long...it just feels a bit surreal, even now! Glad you like hearing my ramblings! And that you liked my vampire prompt! Did not realize you'd write back when I sent that in. Look at us now, huh?)

(Speaking of prompts, I sent those jukebox and willex ones too. And I loved them both so so much, I shall scream about them more when it is not 2 am because I need sleep)

(Oh and the update of If I Was You!!! Amazing, Stellar, Incredible, Reggie, Carrie, Julie shenanigans is my new favorite thing, DID YOU JUST DOUBLE THE CHAPTER COUNT, and I'm like 90% sure Trevor is in deep trouble with a certain angry jazz ghost. Seriously loving it)

I actually do not remember what it was like to send in 1/5 asks, because I did not get a Tumblr until very reccently! I've always been a nerdy person, but Jatp is my first time being really in a fandom. You gotta do something new in quarantine, right?

Ah yes. Luke and Emily. To me, it just seems obvious that there's so much love between them. Even with all the pain. You get it. You put it down so eloquently.

As for what kind of stories I like to read...it seriously depends on my mood.

I like niche aus, passion projects. Stories where you can just feel the author's love for the world they're inventing. But I tend to lean towards cannonverse. I like ghost stories, it's what drew me to this show in the first place. And I love exploring that concept. (Being forever gone, and always the same...it's just fascinating to me)

Platonic goodness is just WONDERFUL for this show. I will read anything with cuddles. I am touched starved and these kiddos are too, and I will cry about them puppy piling every damn day. Plus there's just some much POTENTIAL for future friendships! I love ones where Flynn and Carrie get to interact with the boys as well. And 90s content, from before and after the orpheum, just hits hard.

I really wasn't expecting to get invested in the couples on this show, but something about them is moving to me. So I do love to read about them. Watching two queer kids who lived during incredibly important areas of queer history find love together after death really hit hard for me, and there's just something so bittersweet about a girl and ghost deciding to love each other for the little time they're given.

I love family dynamics too. Anything with Ray and his seven disaster children, the band and Trevor.... I think Julie and Emily is one of my favorite dynamics to explore. A girl who lost her mother and a mother who lost her son, both grieving but with one able to speak to the dead...it's just very powerful to me.

(And of course, Luke and Emily, but I figured you already knew that)

Mostly...I like seeing the messy stuff. The unexpected consequences, the baggage. I want to see the messy emotions, the grief and anger, the jealously, the disorientation. I look for those glass shards, that might be too sharp to ever be addressed on the show. Not even the big, monumental plot lines just... the harder pieces of life, the little moments that don't fit neatly into a nine episode arc.

I just want to see them live you know? Love, laughter and loss all mixed together.

(One of my all time favorite tropes is "found family gets broken apart by trauma, only to find each other again and come back stronger than ever." I feel like this explains a lot of my taste in fiction)

Thank you for the writing advice. Your words were very motivating. I am trying to begin! I got up the nerve to start working on a little piece. Who knows if it will go anywhere. But it's been nice, to finally put some words on the page.

The POTC au is so freaking good man. The character dynamics are just on FIRE. Everything is broken and messy and the relationships genuinely tug at my heartstrings. It's such a fascinating story. Highly recommend, even with the cliff hangers.

OH HOW COULD I FORGET PAWPRINTER? Man oh man I love all her work. The wheelies art and steals universe is freaking amazing, not an avacado had me in tears (of laughter, till things got surprisingly sad). And All that Remains...slow burn Willex perfection. Jedi Alex and Pilot Willie have my HEART.

I don't think I've read firefall and weneedglitter (or if I have, I'm just not connecting the names to their pieces. I don't always remember author names. it's a problem). I will go look for them though! Cannot wait!

For more recs, I recently binge read We Found Wonderland. I was not mentally prepared for the sheer amount of feelings that gave me. Highly recommend, if you ever want an emotional rollercoaster with an incredibly satisfying end.

Going on to more serious subjects...I'm sorry your family doesn't see your grief for what it is: honest. Better to feel everything quietly, than make it an easily understadnable performance. Fake grief is so easy to spot.

I think of that scene from "Forever," when Buffy breaks down and tells Dawn that she has to keep busy, because if she stops, it means Joyce is really gone. There's a lot of truth there.

On a tangent here but.. there was a very long period in my life when I was told the ways I expressed my emotions were "incorrect". And I found that sometimes, no matter how you show your emotions, you'll always be criticized. Numbness can be called disinterest, but sobbing can be called attention-seeking too. Too big, too small: that jury was impossible to please This may not apply in your situation but...it's okay to feel however you can. It's the only think you can do, really.

As I've said before, Grief is such an odd trickster.

Don't you ever get tired of missing people... This past year, I've been so weary of grief. Sometimes it can be so sharp, but it's that dull ache. That ball and chain, no longer cutting through your skin, but rubbing it raw, weighing you down.

And people don't like to talk about that part, because it's long and tiresome, but oh, is it there. I find it hard to talk about my grief, because sometimes there's just so much of it. I could drown in it, and that fear keeps me from looking to close. To incorrectly quote Jane Austin: "If I missed you a little less, I might be able to talk about it more."

(Sometimes it's faceable. But sometimes you just can't bear it. And that's okay.)

But what you wrote in that eulogy...the love is there. It's in every word you write. I cried reading that section. I feel honored once again to see some of your jagged pieces. You're sharing your heart, and there's just so much love.

In the wise words of an author I know, "Love is like the snow Reggie. It never goes away."

And don't worry, I'm always with you.

Sending Love,

-LydiaStan7845 (aka Vampire Anon)

So...that Reggie and Nicky prompt

my god

my GOD

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

I think it's safe to say congrats, you've officially destroyed me! I was not prepared for that at ALL. I should know better by now I guess.

I can't get over that even though they all take place in very different universe, all your stories just feel so connected! The way this talked about those headphones, which you mentioned in the first chapter of Kill Your Heroes...it's just so cool. All the characterization and backstory is just so well thought out, and it genuinely blows my mind.

I didn't think I could love Nicky Peters more. I was wrong. The way you write about him...even though you never go into exactly what happened to him after Reggie's death, you can just feel how much it's shapped him as a person. And the trauma around his father, and how he fears becoming like that, was just so beautifully written. He's just so lovable and flawed and trying so damn hard and you made my heart ache for him. Again.

You always take these genuinely crazy situations and...you just make them feel so real. I love you explore the strains such a revelation would put on Nicky's own life, it just makes everything so compellingly messy. It seriously feel like I was watching a real-life account of a family trying to deal with such a massive complication.

That porch scene had me in tears both times I read it. Reggie's just always a big brother, even though Nicky is more than twice his age now. My heart was shattered, and then you slowly mended it, piece by piece. And for absolutely no reason at all, you wouldn't happen to have a reference for the porch, would you?

Just wow. Hope you're doing well. Sending love and applause

-Vampire Anon

i’m not even gonna reply, but i want these documented... on my blog... for posterity. ( for any curious onlookers, i’m dating this anon now!! )

#vampire anon my beloved

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sableaire · 7 years

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I know KS is well you already know but I actually want to continue it just cause I'm curious on how it'll end /or who will end up dead first/ but the thing is... we are allowed to like what we like right? As long you know what's real and what isn't it?

I’m of the opinion that people simplify this issue too much. Consuming problematic media is not inherently wrong, but it’s not just enough to know “what’s real and what isn’t”.

Now, this is one particular issue in which I use my own behavior as a model, but note that I am not going to try and claim that my views are the ‘correct one’ or that my approach is better than others. However, I would just like to offer to everyone who worries about this some insight into a philosophy that isn’t quite so black-and-white as others I have seen.

Basically, like every ask I ever receive, the answer’s going to be long, so hang on, Anon. Please note that Google Chrome ‘ran out of memory’ while I was writing this post, so if anything cuts off at a weird point, I just lost that portion and didn’t notice…

More below the cut:

First thing’s first: I consume problematic media. As an aspiring writer, I enjoy experiencing stories that make me feel things, even if that feeling might be “dear god, this is what it feels like to watch a train wreck”, and as someone who thrives on new experiences, I enjoy being able to feel a broad range of emotions in a safe and controlled medium - either dreams or fiction. If there was a way to try psychedelic drugs and or ‘bad trips’ without risk of physical or psychological damage, I would try it.

Heck, I’m the kind of person who tries to induce sleep paralysis and nightmares for fun because I get a kick out of the sheer terror. It’s inevitable that I sometimes like to read about the visceral horror and sickening dread that comes from highly dangerous and awful situations. (Of course, I also have my limits, but that’s not the point of this post)

That being said, I try to be mindful about my enjoyment of such content in many ways, and I’m of the opinion that everyone else should as well. Something I always say is that “people can’t help how they feel, but they can help how they behave,” and through that behavior the feelings might change over time. However, you can’t blame someone for a reactive emotion, be it positive or negative. Humans don’t have control over their emotions.

As such, of course we’re all allowed to like what you like, but ‘liking’ something is not your ‘behavior’. Liking something is a feeling. Everything else you choose to do are actions, and you need to think them through because every action has a consequence, either on you or the environment around you.

Since you mentioned Killing Stalking, we’ll use it as an example. Although you’re allowed to like what you like, do you also know the reasons why some people are so vehemently against it? It’s not just the murder and it’s not just the depiction of abuse, and it’s not okay just to handwave it all under “haters will be haters”. These are people genuinely upset about this comic’s contents and consumption, and as someone who is choosing to enjoy it, I personally feel as though fans have a responsibility to first understand what these people are so upset about, and then make an informed decision whether or not to read it.

Once I learned that Killing Stalking was so negatively received by some individuals, I did my research. I read reasons why people dislike it. I specifically searched for primary sources, reactions of gay men and reactions of individuals with BPD. I went in with a neutral mindset - I had only just started reading the comic and I wouldn’t have minded giving it up at that point - and then decided what points I could empathize with and thought about how these viewpoints - different from my own - would affect my actions. Typically, there are three questions:

1) Will I continue reading/watching?

2) Will I financially support this content?

3) Will I socially support this content?

Question 1:In my opinion, only the first question depends on your personal likes/dislikes. Yes, you can like what you like. You can consume questionable content. However, if your answer to that is ‘yes’ or even a ‘maybe’, you absolutely have to ask yourself the next two questions.

Question 2:We live in an era of rampant digital pirating, and though yes, it is a crime and people are always encouraged not to, I’ve never personally met someone of my generation who hasn’t pirated a movie if they missed it in theaters and then couldn’t find it on Netflix and or Amazon Video. Popular books can be downloaded as PDFs or epubs. Foreign comic translation is a veritable unpaid industry of its own, on the internet (which is its own bucket of problems, but that’s not what this post is about).

So, ultimately, though the economic and moral implications are a bit hazy, you get to decide whether or not you financially support anything you watch or read. You can decide whether or not something that you find enjoyable is also something you think there should be more of in the world. In the modern capitalistic era, you as a consumer have the power to vote with your wallet, in a sense. I’m going to give an example of how this might work after this section.

I will say, however, if you plan to indirectly profit off your interaction with certain media, no matter how problematic, you have an obligation to support the author for their work. If you are going to write a movie review as an official film critic, you have to watch it in theaters. If you are going to write a book review in an official capacity, buy the book. This is partially because I believe that if you’re profiting off someone else’s work in any way, that someone should be compensated even if you hated it, and mostly because I believe that reviewers will be more accurate if they actually pay the money to see if something was “worth their money”.

This is also the reason why I bought Killing Stalking through its official channels. I had built up a surprising following for my lost-in-translation posts and even received a small sum of donations for my write-ups. As such, as an aspiring content creator myself, I could not in good conscience not pay for the webcomic when the official version was so easily accessible to me. This is also why once I felt too uncomfortable with the content and author’s comments that I stopped my lost-in-translation posts as well. I didn’t feel comfortable financially supporting her, and I didn’t feel comfortable profiting off someone else’s content for free.

Also I just didn’t want to read anymore, ahaha.

An example of something I would watch if I didn’t have to financially support it, though, is the new Ghost in the Shell movie. Even though I have pretty much vocalized everything I dislike about it, I am curious to see it for myself. If I really, really wanted to, I could easily watch the movie without providing financial support or official viewership. However, in exchange, I wouldn’t feel right writing a review about it, especially not a monetized one, due to my personal stance on creative content and also because a low-quality laptop-screen experience would greatly differ from a cinema-quality experience.

Question 3:And lastly, separate from the financial question, you have to ask whether or not you will socially support something. Word-of-mouth and fandom content are powerful, powerful forms of marketing, especially on Tumblr.

I read Killing Stalking and actively contributed to the fandom with my cultural / language translation posts. However, followers of mine might have noticed that aside from the first week or so, I never reblogged any fanart or other such content. This was because, although I personally was reading the comic with some interest, it was not content I wanted to actively encourage others to read. For the same reason, I assured all my followers that every post of mine with Killing Stalking content would be appropriately tagged so that they can blacklist it, should they feel it necessary.

There are some things that I read and enjoy that I choose not to support publicly or enthuse about. Some might call it disingenuous and others might tell me not to let others censor my behavior, but it is an intentional decision on my part. In the case of Killing Stalking, I had several reasons.

Firstly, I knew not all my followers were comfortable with it, and I want my blog to be a comfortable and accessible place for most people. This was especially true because I knew for a fact that I had some younger followers age 14 and 15 and so, and let me tell you, I remember being that age and feeling like I knew enough to make informed choices. I have learned more with age, enough to recognize that rather than controlling the media I consumed, the media I consumed was controlling me. I was young and impressionable, and I made some mistakes I’m not proud of.

I was especially careful after the first week or so to not post fanart, no matter how nice, because as a teenager, I was so, so, so easily influenced by good fanart. In fact, I am still so easily won over by good fanart and funny content, and this is a problem for me as a person, and it’s dragged me down some pretty questionable rabbit holes in the past.

Secondly, another reason I limited fandom participation outside of my lost-in-translation posts was because sure, Killing Stalking is an interesting story in some capacity, but it isn’t a story I would outright recommend to the general masses, like I would some other media. Killing Stalking is more of a story that people will end up finding if they’re interested in such content in the first place.

In fact, it’s something that I would have found worrying if it had become widely popular, because then it truly would become a social influence and start affecting people’s views of the world.

As an additional note, some people would argue that the ‘lost-in-translation’ posts that I made might have been a form of promotion for this comic. Perhaps that is true, I don’t know. However, the way I see it, the people who would have seen those posts were individuals already in the fandom, and how I saw it, the fandom needed something more than just the fanart and the fanfics. There were a lot of people explaining why fans of Killing Stalking shouldn’t support the comic, but the problem is - and I know this from experience - the vast majority of fans, especially younger fans, won’t read about people hating what they like.

More often than not, a diehard Harry Potter fan won’t read an article about how much the original Harry Potter books suck, except to judge the person who wrote it. Sure, Killing Stalking isn’t Harry Potter and honestly it’s laughable that I even made that comparison at all, but the nature of fans don’t change from story to story. Fans are fans. Killing Stalking fans either wouldn’t have read or wouldn’t have taken to heart some pretty harsh, legitimate criticisms of the comic, especially when they’re really into it.

If someone is already a fan of something and someone comes up to them telling them (often aggressively) that they are wrong to be a fan, those two individuals are already established as enemies. Heck, we see how heated sports fans get about their teams. It’s also pretty much proven human nature, especially in individualistic societies, that if someone tells you not to do something, you feel the need to continue in order to re-establish your autonomy.

So a large part of why I made those lost-in-translation posts was so that people already in the fandom had someone within the fandom they could engage with who could offer some perspective on some of the more dangerous elements within the story. And people have come to ask me for advice about it, you included, Anon! And I’m genuinely grateful that you value and trust my opinion on topics such as these.

Reasons why “I know it’s not real” is not an adequate excuse for unchecked fandom behavior:

This is a metaphor I spent some time developing, but I think it fits. Though, I did come up with the metaphor thinking of a gun-free area, so it might not apply to all parts of America, aha, but let’s just roll with it:

Say, for instance, you have a model gun. Anyone can tell that it’s fake if they take the time to look at it, but it’s still a pretty accurate depiction of a gun. You know it’s not real, and most adults can tell it’s not real. Saying “the content’s not real, so let people reblog whatever they want” is akin to saying “it’s not a real gun, so let people carry it wherever they want.” Sure, that may be a fair point… except, long-term, carrying realistic model guns wherever you want leads to two distinct but significant problems:

1) Children grow desensitized to the sight of guns.

2) It becomes harder to tell the difference between model and real guns.

Problem 1:If children become desensitized to the sight of guns, they grow desensitized to the true danger that comes with holding a gun. One of the most powerful moments of my life, to date, is the first time I held a big, sharp knife. Because I had never held a knife before, I felt the weight of the metal, saw the glint of the edge, and oh boy, I was a little terrified knowing that I held a potential weapon in my hand. It kept me wary. It kept me careful.

Children who grow up desensitized to guns wouldn’t have that with guns. They wouldn’t feel that same danger, and really, that means there’s just one less hurdle between them and real guns.

Problem 2:Where oh where to begin with this. First of all, if children grow up thinking all the model guns are real guns, they’ll end up getting a real gun instead of a model gun. What will they say when they get caught and in trouble? “Everyone else does it, though!” and it may or may not be true.

Secondly, if some people start carrying real guns around amidst the model guns, and the model guns look realistic too, we have difficulty picking out the real guns from the model guns. We know they’re out there, but we can’t tell which is which. It’s not like you could check every single person out there carrying a model gun.

Thirdly, it becomes more difficult to tell real danger from fake danger. In a model gun society, maybe it’s commonplace for people to point model guns at each other as a joke. Haha, it’s fake, we all laugh. But maybe there’s someone out there being threatened by someone close to them with a real gun, disguised as a joke, and we can’t tell.

The Explanation:Maybe I lost you a bit there. It’s a little difficult to see how this relates to problematic fictional media. But again, let’s take Killing Stalking and pretend it became widely popular and mainstream. If something gets super popular and mainstream, it becomes a fad.

I’ll be honest, I lost this entire section when the post restarted, so I’m going to just give you the cliffnotes version. I’m sorry, I’ll rewrite it at some point;;

1) Children get desensitized easily. Think of any drugs, even alcohol or tobacco. The more you take, the more your body builds a tolerance, the more you need to take next time to have the same effect. The human brain is one of the most changeable parts of the body, and it will do the same thing with fictional media. Repeated exposure to something will have an effect. That’s why exposure therapy exists. Simultaneous exposure is a whole different beast. That’s why Pavlovian conditioning exists.

2) Desensitized children grow up into desensitized adults who think that what they went through / the intensity / content of media they watched was the norm, and they will go on to raise children who might end up even more desensitized than them. Perhaps that would just make it ‘natural social change,’ but is is a desirable one?

3) Also, in the case of Killing Stalking, people wore cosplay with visible signs of abuse to conventions. Some conventions have children attending. I am of the opinion that children should not be exposed to fake signs of physical abuse as that is not something that should be normalized.

4) Just these last two weeks, two separate men in two separate countries Facebook Livestreamed the murders they committed. We are living in a technologically developing society that is simultaneously exhibitionist, voyeuristic, and Orwellian. If media like Killing Stalking became popular and mainstream and encouraged similar media to come onto the market, especially in live-action, it will become harder and harder to distinguish the ‘real’ from the ‘not real’. In the future, someone might livestream someone they keep locked in the basement, reassuring their viewers that it’s all ‘fake’ and just an ‘experimental storytelling’ thing. In a society where such media is commonplace, we just might believe it.

In Closing:

I am aware that not everyone has the patience, energy, or desire to do this research with every controversial piece of media they choose to consume. That’s up to them. However, even these individuals have a responsibility to be mindful about their behavior. Even if you don’t research, if there are people criticizing the content of whatever you are reading/watching, acknowledge that there must be something that bothers some people. You cannot determine that you are right and they are ‘too sensitive’ without actually doing the research.

Be mindful that, no matter what measures people take, there are probably preteens in your fandom. I won’t tell you what to do with that information, but at least keep it in mind.

One person’s mindfulness changes little, but little changes build up. I would write more but it is long and I have a headache, good bye;;

#Anonymous #consumption of media #killing stalking #ks ask #long #fiction #murder//#guns//#knives//#problematic media #problematic content

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