Welcome! This is FreyaVolkvangr’s navigation board for Haikyu!! and My Hero Academia fanfiction.
SUICIDE HOTLINE INFORMATION and my perspective on trauma/suicide.
Come in and stay a while. Our specialty is dessert crepes, but if you’d prefer something a little different try out the macaroons or one of the many cakes. Let me know how I can best serve you!
Filled Orders (Masterlist)
Macarons - head canons
Cookie - drabble (1K words>)
Crepes - one shot (>1K words)
Cake - Series
Pie - SMAU
Vanilla (a sweet, natural taste; fluff)
Chocolate (sweet, with a little twist; fluff w/light angst)
Dark Chocolate (starts off slightly bitter, with a sweet aftertaste; angst ending in fluff)
Mixed Berry (varies depending on baker and time of year; author’s choice)
Spice (generally best when indulging in your sadness; angst)
Boozy (only for the adults; 18+ content)
Mocha - character matchup (barista will need to know details)
Milkshake - personalized drabble (barista is lactose intolerant and thus doesn’t like making these often, she gets jealous)
Boozy beverage - 18+ drabble
If you would like to be known as a regular (taglist) for any of the following characters, please send me an ask with your tumblr URL and the type of food/drink you ordered.
100% hope that anyone who supports Israel or condones the genocide of Palestinians or smiles at the murder and torture of Palestinian civilians is so haunted for the rest of their lives that they don't have a moment's peace. I hope, genuinely, that their faces haunt you every night for the rest of your life.
To other people, you’re the special, unlockable character that they worked and worked to finally get- and when they do they’re so happy because they got the game just so they could find you.
The fact y'all are still passing around this post, eight years after I made it. Exquisite. I hope it’s still resonating with people outside of mid-2010’s tumblr.
“Holy shit,” are the first words that escape your mouth moments after you open the door and step a singular foot into the hallway.
Before the person in front of you even has the chance to react to your very kind and courteous reaction, you proceed to slowly slide your foot back inside the classroom you were just about to exit, the noise of your sneakers scraping over the metal frame piercing the silence. Kuroo stifles a laugh behind his hand, smoothly playing it off as a cough.
Right as you’re about to shut the door, he swiftly sticks a foot in the doorway and then side shuffles his way in like a crab, all while combatting your feeble attempts to squash him with the door. Once you realise this guy isn’t going anywhere without a word with you, you give up with an aggravated sigh and step aside, giving him the Kubrick stare as he strolls past you.
You’re still glaring at him when he takes a seat on top of one of the desks, using the chair as a foot rest.
The table’s long enough that the two of you could comfortably sit side-by-side on it. He gestures to the empty space beside him, yet you don’t budge an inch from your spot. Instead, you opt to exhibit main character syndrome by crossing your arms and leaning against the wall at an uncomfortable angle. Seconds later, though, you shift your position, awkwardly shuffling to more comfortable pose.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Kuroo says in a stiff manner that leads you to believe he’s got a pre-written speech that he skimmed over only once before shoving it in his pockets. He glances around the room, everywhere but you. Fidgets with his watch, twisting it around and around his wrist. Clears his throat, before speaking up again when it becomes obvious you have nothing to say in response. “Actually— it’s been almost a month since we last talked. Now if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”
He raises an eyebrow as if to silently question you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you announce haughtily. You pretend to think long and hard by simultaneously placing a finger on your chin and averting your gaze to one of the cobwebbed corners of the ceiling as you rack your brain for any memory of a conversation with him over these past few weeks. Come to think of it, he’s right, as much as you’d rather not admit that right now. The number of words exchanged between you and Kuroo has been… low, as of lately.
But not zero.
You snap your fingers and smile at your newfound eureka moment. “We talked during our physics lab last Tuesday.”
All he gives you is a placid stare because he’s not really believing what you’re saying right now. Slowly, he responds, “I asked if I could borrow a pencil from you and you said no.”
“‘Cause I didn’t have an extra one.” Lies. Kuroo knows of your susceptibility to ordering cute stationery from sketchy websites online and bringing all of them with you everywhere you go. Nonetheless, he holds back on calling out your fib. “It’s still talking anyway, so I don’t really see the problem,” you say.
“…Okay, then I rescind my sentence. It’s been almost a month since we’ve last had an actual conversation,” he corrects himself, his tone hinting at the tiniest bit of spite. “My point still stands. You haven’t been answering any of my calls or texts. All of a sudden, you go out of your way to sit on the opposite side of the classroom instead of your usual seat next to me. And every time I see you around on campus, you turn around and speed-walk in the other direction before I can even wave hi to you. It’s like watching on you move at 2x speed every time.”
He holds up two fingers and then wriggles them upside down in a way that’s supposed to mimic your alleged speed-walking. Clearly unimpressed, your upper lip curls into a scowl.
“Sounds a lot to me like avoidance, unless you’re purposely playing hard-to-get all of a sudden.”
“Those are some bold allegations.“
“Sure. Maybe they are.” He doesn’t bother arguing with you on that, which you believe is out of the ordinary, and it leaves an unsettling feeling in your gut. In all the years you’ve known him, you can’t remember the last time he agreed with you just like that, no debate or annoying remarks or anything, because it’s always been like this: you say literally anything with no evidence or explanation, and he plays pretend as someone having PhD in whatever it is that you’re talking about.
Maybe, you think dejectedly, you really did ruin your years-long friendship that one fateful day, the day you accidentally had one too many drinks and ended up spewing into the air a mix of vomit, nonsensical philosophies, and a confession you didn’t mean to ever let loose from the sanctuary of your heart. Maybe, things are changing, for the worse; and maybe, a rejection is going to come hurtling at your face soon, sometime in next couple minutes— that is, if you make it through the rest of this conversation without actually exploding internally. Either that, or power-walking away like a coward, the way you’ve been doing for the past month.
Snapping out of your thoughts, you watch as Kuroo leans back, bracing his hand against the surface of the table. You think this is the moment; this is when he’ll say something along the vague lines of the two of you just staying friends and leave it at that, and for the weeks that follow afterward, you’ll mull around in your room, sulking over your very first heartbreak until the motivation hits and you get the coming-of-age movie glow-up you’ve always dreamed of.
However, the next thing you hear out of him is far worse than anything you could imagine, making the warmth in your cheeks flare up the second his words register to you — or rather, your words.
“But maybe they’re not as bold as you the day right before you started avoiding me, when you said, and I quote, ‘Tetsurō,’” he pitches his voice to sound more like yours, though the impression is done exaggeratedly, “‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’”
???? Why did he do that.
The nerve of this man. You want to scream. Punch the wall. Kick him in the face. Because if the embarrassment that crushed you like a hydraulic press the morning after your confession was enough to almost kill you, this just brought you straight to your grave without warning, burying you six feet under. You start mentally counting all his eyebrow hairs, partly because you can’t stand to see that heinously satisfied look in his eyes right now, but also because you hope your sudden focus on the forehead region of his face will at least dwindle his confidence by a little bit.
(Though, perhaps the less vengeful part of you is glad to see the familiar smug Kuroo you know so well, as opposed to the prior Kuroo who looked like he hadn’t taken a shit in several weeks.)
“You really suck,” you drawl, finally shifting your attention away from his eyebrows only to send him a glare. “Do you think my feelings are a joke?”
His lips morph into a frown. “Hey, no. I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head, then tries to reassure you, “I don’t think your feelings are a joke, and I’m sorry I made it seem that way. I brought it up only because I wasn’t sure whether you remembered or not and I was wondering if you really meant it.”
You don’t know what to say to that.
“At first, I wasn’t going to talk about it with you, especially if you weren’t going to bring it up first, but then you started avoiding me and… [Y/n], I miss you a lot. I miss waking up to your texts and pictures of the ugly squirrels outside your window.” (You mutter something under your breath about how they aren’t that ugly.) “I miss sitting next to you and watching you switch between twenty different pens and highlighters during class.” (You bet he misses switching the caps of your highlighters, too, whenever you’re not looking.) “And I hate acting like we’re strangers whenever I see you on campus because, as funny as it is, it hurts a lot right here.”
He places a hand over his heart with a wounded expression. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you simply let out a dejected sigh.
“I.. I’ve missed you too,” you admit reluctantly. You twiddle your fingers and avert your eyes, wallowing in the awkward silence that ensues after. Kuroo seems to be thinking, centring his analytical gaze onto you as if trying to read your thoughts.
“Did you mean it? What you said at that party last month?”
Wow! Suddenly, that clock on the wall looks super interesting. “You know, my next class starts in a few minutes, I should really get going. See you—“
“I know your schedule,” he cuts in, his tone carrying a certain degree of slyness to it. “You don’t have class until four.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Weirdo.”
“Liar,” he retorts with a sickly sweet smile. For the second time in this conversation, you get the violent urge to scream, punch the wall, and kiss— sorry, kick him in the face all at once.
There’s another silence that follows and that you believe is the worst one you’ve sat through in a while, even worse than the silence you experienced in your first year after mispronouncing the word ‘organism’ during a presentation. You chew the inside of your cheek, feeling your heart thump wildly against your chest. He waits expectantly.
He really isn’t going to let this go.
“I did mean it,” you say eventually. Eugh, yuck! Even just admitting that already makes you want to coil into yourself. “You make me so sick to my stomach with your shitty grin and your shitty charm and your shitty hair, and sometimes I wonder what heinous crime or sin I committed in a past life to deserve this feeling because it never goes away, only gets worse the more we hang out and—“
“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on.” There’s a look of incredulity on his face, almost offended.
“…What?” you say.
“You called my hair shitty.” Again, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes, instead settling for a less-than-impressed expression. “I can’t believe you’d lie and say something like that. It’s practically a fine art, getting it to look like this, you know.”
“I’m sure it is.” You straighten your back and abruptly push yourself off the wall before ungracefully shuffling to the side, towards the door. “Well. We talked. You got your answer. Soooo, I am departing. Goodbye.”
“Wait.” He stands up and chases after you, nearly colliding with your back when you suddenly stop and turn around. There appears to be an unspoken agreement as soon as the both of you realise the amount of space in between your faces: mere inches. Neither of you seem willing to back away. “Before you go, I have something else to tell you.”
“Make it quick.”
A light laugh from him brushes against your nose. You try not to think about it. “You’re in that much of a hurry to get away from me already?”
Your face feels unbearably warm. “Shut up.”
“How sweet of you,” he coos, reaching up to pinch your cheek affectionately. Despite your irritated expression, you make no effort to swat his hand away.
He then leans in close, a debonair grin dancing at the corners of his mouth as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. However, you note that in your peripheral vision, his ears are tinted red and in spite of his confident, teasing front, he still sounds the tiniest bit abashed as he whispers, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too.”
So I’ve been enjoying the Disney vs. DeSantis memes as much as anyone, but like. I do feel like a lot of people who had normal childhoods are missing some context to all this.
I was raised in the Bible Belt in a fairly fundie environment. My parents were reasonably cool about some things, compared to the rest of my family, but they certainly had their issues. But they did let me watch Disney movies, which turned out to be a point of major contention between them and my other relatives.
See, I think some people think this weird fight between Disney and fundies is new. It is very not new. I know that Disney’s attempts at inclusion in their media have been the source of a lot of mockery, but what a lot of people don’t understand is that as far as actual company policy goes, Disney has actually been an industry leader for queer rights. They’ve had policies assuring equal healthcare and partner benefits for queer employees since the early 90s.
I’m not sure how many people reading this right now remember the early 90s, but that was very much not industry standard. It was a big deal when Disney announced that non-married queer partners would be getting the same benefits as the married heterosexual ones.
Like — it went further than just saying that any unmarried partners would be eligible for spousal benefits. It straight-up said that non-same-sex partners would still need to be married to receive spousal benefits, but because same-sex partners couldn’t do that, proof that they lived together as an established couple would be enough.
In other words, it put long-term same-sex partners on a higher level than opposite-sex partners who just weren’t married yet. It put them on the exact same level as heterosexual married partners.
They weren’t the first company ever to do this, but they were super early. And they were certainly the first mainstream “family-friendly” company to do it.
Conservatives lost their damn minds.
Protests, boycotts, sermons, the whole nine yards. I can’t tell you how many books about the evils of Disney my grandmother tried to get my parents to read when I was a kid.
When we later moved to Florida, I realized just how many queer people work at Disney — because historically speaking, it’s been a company that has guaranteed them safety, non-discrimination, and equal rights. That’s when I became aware of their unofficial “Gay Days” and how Christians would show up from all over the country to protest them every year. Apparently my grandmother had been upset about these days for years, but my parents had just kind of ignored her.
Out of curiosity, I ended up reading one of the books my grandmother kept leaving at our house. And friends — it’s amazing how similar that (terrible, poorly written) rhetoric was to what people are saying these days. Disney hires gay pedophiles who want to abuse your children. Disney is trying to normalize Satanism in our beautiful, Christian America.
Just tons of conspiracy theories in there that ranged from “a few bad things happened that weren’t actually Disney’s fault, but they did happen” to “Pocahontas is an evil movie, not because it distorts history and misrepresents indigenous life, but because it might teach children respect for nature. Which, as we all know, would cause them all to become Wiccans who believe in climate change.”
Like — please, take it from someone who knows. This weird fight between fundies and Disney is not new. This is not Disney’s first (gay) rodeo. These people have always believed that Disney is full of evil gays who are trying to groom and sexually abuse children.
The main difference now is that these beliefs are becoming mainstream. It’s not just conservative pastors who are talking about this. It’s not just church groups showing up to boycott Gay Day. Disney is starting to (reluctantly) say the quiet part out loud, and so are the Republicans. Disney is publicly supporting queer rights and announcing company-supported queer events and the Republican Party is publicly calling them pedophiles and enacting politically driven revenge.
This is important, because while this fight has always been important in the history of queer rights, it is now being magnified. The precedent that a fight like this could set is staggering. For better or for worse, we live in a corporation-driven country. I don’t like it any more than you do, and I’m not about to defend most of Disney’s business practices. But we do live in a nation where rights are largely tied to corporate approval, and the fact that we might be entering an age where even the most powerful corporations in the country are being banned from speaking out in favor of rights for marginalized people… that’s genuinely scary.
Like… I’ll just ask you this. Where do you think we’d be now, in 2023, if Disney had been prevented from promising its employees equal benefits in 1994? That was almost thirty years ago, and look how far things have come. When I looked up news articles for this post from that era, even then journalists, activists, and fundie church leaders were all talking about how a company of Disney’s prominence throwing their weight behind this movement could lead to the normalization of equal protections in this country.
The idea of it scared and thrilled people in equal parts even then. It still scares and thrills them now.
I keep seeing people say “I need them both to lose!” and I get it, I do. Disney has for sure done a lot of shit over the years. But I am begging you as a queer exvangelical to understand that no. You need Disney to win. You need Disney to wipe the fucking floor with these people.
Right now, this isn’t just a fight between a giant corporation and Ron DeSantis. This is a fight about the right of corporations to support marginalized groups. It’s a fight that ensures that companies like Disney still can offer benefits that a discriminatory government does not provide. It ensures that businesses much smaller than Disney can support activism.
Hell, it ensures that you can support activism.
The fight between weird Christian conspiracy theorists and Disney is not new, because the fight to prevent any tiny victory for marginalized groups is not new. The fight against the normalization of othered groups is not new.
That’s what they’re most afraid of. That each incremental victory will start to make marginalized groups feel safer, that each incremental victory will start to turn the tide of public opinion, that each incremental victory will eventually lead to sweeping law reform.
They’re afraid that they won’t be able to legally discriminate against us anymore.
So guys! Please. This fight, while hilarious, is also so fucking important. I am begging you to understand how old this fight is. These people always play the long game. They did it with Roe and they’re doing it with Disney.
I pointed this out in a Discord server I'm in and thought Id share here:
Bob Iger announced that Disney is going to absorb Hulu, and Hulu will no longer exist next year. All shows will move to the Disney+ app.
Disney also announced they were going to remove shows and movies periodically from their streaming services.
I believe both of these moves are because of the Writers Strike.
Disney knows its going to lose the strike. There is too much public support. Specifically, the WGA is going to win writers getting more residuals from streaming.
So if Disney takes shows off of streaming, they dont have to pay the writers the residuals.
They are going to use excuses like "not enough funding for the server capacity" or "not enough views to warrent keeping the show". These are BULLSHIT. Its all greed. Its only GREED.
Pay attention to what happens in the following weeks.
1. Striking is the LAST RESORT. If a union is at the place where a strike is being proposed it is because they have been bargaining for a long time and exhausted all their other options.
2. Before a strike happens, all the members vote. Everyone is very aware of the status of negotiations long before they’re made public. But if a strike is occurring it’s because an overwhelming majority voted to strike—you want almost everyone in the union to agree before you take such a huge step.
3. Strikes are difficult but necessary demonstrations of workers’ collective power. The hope is that your labor is so essential that the bosses lost profits will make them come back to the bargaining table. The bosses are hoping that the workers will starve to death.
4. Working during a strike is called scabbing. Coming in from an outside industry to do work during a strike is sometimes called crossing the picket line. Both send you straight to hell.
Just so we're all on the same page with the writer's strike.
If during the strike, it's announced about AI generated shows. We are not watching them. Not even out of curiosity. Let them fail every AI generated show they try make.
The human voice can not be replaced by AI. Don't let them try.
accepting that you’re objectively weird & owning it is infinitely better than being constantly desperate to appear normal to people who don’t even matter to you
'you have x many followers' those r cadavers girl. corpses. abandoned vessels of blogs who once were. its the apocalypse in there. its me and my 5 mutuals against the world.
It’s a loathsome feeling, one could say, seeing someone you’ve loved enough to knowingly use your presence to fill a void. Looking further past his apologetic expression to the gift and flowers.
He never brings flowers. Unless there’s an apology tied into it.
Listening to the lull in his voice.. usually calculated, but confident; yet, now it’s wavering the way a pond does when two stones were thrown in feet apart. Ripples bumping, joining and then slipping past again. You could hear the rough catch in his tone as he said, “I didn’t think it would upset you this way,” his eyes search your face in an attempt to find what he’s hoping for, forgiveness?
Why does the thought come afterwards?
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you could name multiple things that could be the source of these flowers. But you weren’t quite sure exactly which one. His eyes dart from your face to his hands which are noticeably shaking. He never could quite handle confrontation. There was always something that you could pinpoint; whether it be the way his fingers twirled each other, or the way he’d look in your eyes only to dart them just above your brow-bone.
Were you past it at this point?
What good does an apology have when the wound has healed. Let alone one that was left to fester as long as he had. Sure, each time he would return home he’d be on your doorstep. Cheeky grin, fancy takeout and a gift in hand hoping to buy your time for just one night.
That’s all it ever seemed to be. Just one night.
“Look, I just want you to know that I wasn’t intending on making you feel like this,” there it is again, the internet therapist’s guide on how to apologize, intentional but vastly lacking when it comes to emotional nuance. I guess that’s what makes it so easy to stand here at this point. The regurgitation of the same phrase in synonymous words every few weeks gets stale, “I’m sorry.”
Sorry.
It’s easy to meet his eyes now, which doesn’t go unnoticed, either. Your previous bashfulness that only seemed to creep it’s way into your head when he was around is missing. Instead? Instead it’s pitiless, “if the only thing you’re ever going to say to me is I’m sorry then you shouldn’t be coming around anymore, don’t you think?”
It really is a pity.
The way that you used to be so infatuated. Enthralled, even, by the way that he could pull a giggle or a smile out of you merely by tapping the familiar, rhythmic knock he always did. He told you it was a way for you to know when it was him.
You could have fallen in love with him.
Yet hearing it tonight felt more like your morning alarm going off. It wasn’t late, no, it was only 7. Perfect time for a date, don’t ya think? This is what happens though, isn’t it? He’s a traveling type.. never quite in the same place long enough.
Whether he asks to or not.
“I know I can’t make it up to you-“
“Then don’t.”
This gets his attention, but now it’s bitter like the taste of an over ripened lemon. He wants to say something and you can see it on his face. You’d chuckle if you could get away with it. The look in his eyes is begging, pleading with something in you that you’re not sure exists anymore.
“One more,” he steps closer as his hand with the bouquet falls to his side, “one chance is all I ask.”
One chance?
Your heart softens at his tone. Almost pleading with you. He was close enough you could catch, only faintly, the cologne he usually wore. He’d tried to wear another at one point but after the questioning comment and crinkled eyebrows you gave him in response he reverted back the next time he saw you. You stepped back from him, allowing yourself space to breathe, before turning to grab the bag you had prepared, “here are your things.”
“Please, love.”
Spinning on your heel you stepped back into the doorway and pulled the door shut. Your own hands shook now, shoulders quivering at the feeling of his fist gently thumping against the door. The soft call of your name coming from a strained voice that you’ll miss. You’re sure of it.
