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#not to get real suddenly but i am so. so. so burnt out from work. and i have been for months
birdy-bat-writes · 1 year
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You've Got the Real Thing Right Here
Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
A/N: I kid you not, I wrote this in 30 minutes in a Gatorade-induced, TikTok-fueled romantic fit of filthy feelings. So…it’s probably not edited well and I’m so sorry haha. But I hope you like it:D
Summary: You come across a scene in a book and wonder, is this really attractive? Luckily, your boyfriend is there to show you that it really is.
Content Warnings: almost smut, really borderline smut, fluff, Jake being a sweetheart, Jake being way too hot to handle, and some swearing. Let me know if I missed anything :D Minors DNI!!!!
Word count:  1047
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You didn’t usually get many days off, so today was a rarity. Your boss left for a personal vacation and since there was nothing to do at the office, you were told that you simply didn’t have to come in. It was impromptu and random, but you knew exactly how you were going to spend it. There were only 8 more chapters left in your book, and you’ve been dying to find out of the two love interests finally get together.
It was a little cold out today in San Diego, another rarity. After a warm shower, you slipped into some cozy leggings and your favorite of all your boyfriend’s sweatshirts; a gray and burnt orange Longhorns crewneck subtly scented with his cologne, your perfume, and the smell of brownies from your shared baking excursion last weekend. You opted out of wearing anything under the sweatshirt because why not? It was your day off, after all. With a cup of hot chocolate, you sat down by a window and opened your paperback to its little crocheted bookmark and let yourself sink into the story.
You didn’t realize how much time had passed by the time you closed the book and placed it on the coffee table. You started at 10:00 am and now it was 3:00. Emotions were swirling within you, and you couldn’t help but twirl around your living room, smiling. They finally got together! Oh god, that was so cute—and a few pages later, so hot. Still grinning like an idiot, you decided to head on over to the kitchen and grab lunch. You microwaved last night’s leftovers and let your mind wander. Every romance book you’ve read has the same scene; the guy leaning on the doorframe and looking down at the girl. What’s up with that? It makes you feel warm every time, and you just know that whatever scene comes next is bound to be good but what the heck makes a doorframe attractive? It’s just leaning; something you do every day.
Your thoughts were interrupted by keys jangling at your door. Jake was home! You leant over in your chair, putting yourself in his line of sight. “Hey, Babe, welcome home.” Jake could hear the smile in your voice.
“Why, thank you, Darlin’. What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked, walking over to you and placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.
“Nothing much,” you replied as he walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade. “How was work?” Jake started talking, and you’re sure you heard some of it but from here on out, another thought consumed your mind entirely. Jake isn’t that much shorter than your kitchen door….
“…so I told him that was crazy. Right?” Jake looked to you to find you absolutely spaced out. “Y/N? Everything okay…?”
“Uh, yeah! Sorry, what were you saying?” Jake grinned, amused at the light blush that was dusting your cheeks.
“No, no, what’s got you so distracted?”
“Nothing, I promise.” You insisted, standing up to join him in the kitchen entrance.
“Sweetheart, you’re great at a lot of things,” he started, putting his hand in yours, “but you’re a shit liar.” You giggled with him and looked down.
“Okay, okay. Can you do something for me?”
“Anything.”
“Alright, uh,” you didn’t expect to suddenly get as shy as you did. “Could you just put your hand up here, on the doorframe corner and like, lean over a little?” Jake, with his Gatorade still in hand, looked down at you, confused, but still did it anyway.
“Like this?”, he asked.
“Yeah! Now, bend your elbow a little. Lean naturally into it.”
“Is there a reason for this or…?”
“Satisfying my curiosity.”
“Gotcha.”
“Okay, perfect.” You took a small step back, one hand still on Jake’s chest to get a look at the full picture and…woah. Okay, now you get why curiosity killed the cat, and why every book had this scene. It was freaking hot.
Jake’s green eyes were darkened by the shadows of his lashes and his lips had the slightest shine from the Gatorade. God, you bet he tasted like lemon-lime right now, and his posture…you knew he was tall, but did he really always tower over you like this? His biceps were on full display along with the tan skin of his neck and, god, he was so close, and so big and his cologne was intoxicating. You felt hot.
Jake saw it immediately. He knew that look; he saw your lips part and the way your legs squeezed shut. Oh. He took a long drawn-out look at your figure up and down and he knew you were done for.
Smirking, he asked, “Y/N, Honey, you okay there? You look a little red.” A teasing tone lacing his voice. He reached toward the coffee table to put down his Gatorade and he saw it. It’s that book you’ve been reading. There it is. Jake curled his hand around your waist, snaking it under your his sweatshirt, making you shiver as he pulled you close. His fingers were icy against your hot skin from holding the cold bottle. You gasped when he pressed you flush against his chest. “All this because of a book?” he took his other hand down from the doorframe to place it on your cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb. “Baby, you’ve got the real thing right here.” He whispered, lips ghosting over yours before pressing into you for a rough, heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his waist while his fingers pressed into yours. He peppered kisses along your jawline, feeling the warmth of your skin on his. The sensation of his stubble on your neck went straight to your core and made you whimper, an act that tore down what little resolve Jake had left. He pulled away and took you by the hand out of the kitchen.
“Jake, why’d you stop?” You uttered, breathlessly.
“I didn’t. Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“The bedroom. Oh,” he took two steps back to the coffee table and reached for the bottle of Gatorade. “Better take this. You’ll need it by the time I’m done with you.”
Moral of the story? Read books, stay sexy.
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screamersinmycloset · 1 month
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Neighbor Furina! x gn! Reader
[Summary]: you found out that the ex-Archon of Fontaine had moved in the same apartment complex as you.
[cw]: nothing just pure fluff ♡ can be seen as platonic too.
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Neighbor Furina! Who you find out lives in the same apartment complex as you after she flooded her entire dorm causing water to leak in your place. (You thought you left the washing machine on but after hearing screams from next door you figured that wasn’t the case.)
Neighbor Furina! Who comes knocking at your door with a pout on her face to apologize for the inconvenience and brings you very odd and burnt looking macarons. Getting embarrassed about being unable to cook considering people wouldn’t expect their ex-Archon to be making food for herself instead of having it served for her on a silver platter.
Neighbor Furina! Who lights up once you offer to teach her how to cook a simple at home red sauce pasta. (Only for her to get too excited and buy more ingredients than necessary.)
Neighbor Furina! who finds herself cooking you pasta every other day once she gets the hang of it. Excusing is at being extra leftovers.
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Who knew cooking would be so hard? Her cooks made it seemed so easy and yet she isn’t sure what do after boiling the water.
"Now what am I supposed to do next..?” She would scratch her head every few seconds while squinting at the cook book she bought that was definitely overpriced, but she’s finally learning to be human. And that’s something you didn’t want to take away from her.
“Ah miss Furina you put the up heat too high.” quickly lowering it down once you saw how much the sauce was bubbling, sighing in relief to see it didn’t burn.
“You..really never cooked huh?”
"I-I never did!" The ex-Archon suffered out as she tried to defend herself. "I mean, I was way too busy being an archon than doing household chores, not to mention there were countless of servants who did these simple tasks for me..." She let out a sigh and shook her head.
"Well, it was kind of embarrassing to ask my servants to teach me how to cook, I was afraid they'd think of me as childish."
“Then I’ll teach you, everyone starts somewhere.” You said with a chuckle at her words.
Seeing your sincere encouragement, Furina couldn't help but felt a bit shy as an awkward smile played around her lips. She quickly shook it off. "Heh, alright since you insist." She said with a light laugh before adjusting the heat in the correct temperature. "Then, what am I supposed to do next?"
After a few trial and errors later a deliciously scented dish was placed upon Furinas dinner table. You smiled to yourself at the way her eyes glimmered and her grin reached her cheeks from her hard work, it wasn’t a fake smile like ‘focalors’ used to have.. this was real.
“Enjoy your meal miss Furina, you deserve it.”
"Wait."
Before you even have the time to turn around, Furina suddenly grabbed your wrist, her thumb circling your wrist. She seemed rather flustered as she bit her lower lip.
"..uh.. since we did it together, why you care to join me for dinner?"
[very first fic ever! That I posted- please be nice and leave asks if you would like!]
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teyammybeloved · 11 months
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YOU KNEW when mating with neteyam would mean that he would be busy, a lot. you knew that he would be gone for days at a time, and return home late, and leave early.
you knew the chance for you two to get a minute alone would be difficult, almost impossible. it had been over a month since the two of you had last had an hour together.
you tried to ignore it, the feeling that burnt into your stomach as it seemed everyone had been more important, despite already knowing this was how it was going to be.
you were in your pod, neteyam — surprisingly hadn’t left yet, he was in the corner, finishing some work — before having to leave for work, while you were changing for the day.
as you bend down, you’re suddenly overtaken with dizziness, stumbling back. until ur against the wall, regaining your balance. you open your eyes to look at neteyam, his eyes never teared from his work, it made you frown, but shake it off.
you tried to ignore the headache, the feeling over your body— it was like it was on fire. “tey” you mutter, that gets his attention, he had missed you and was trying to finish this as soon as possible so he could spend time with you before you both had to leave.
“ma y/n” he said, smiling softly. you give him a half hearted smile back, before reaching down to grab a bag you had weaved, “i am leaving.” you say, wanting to go to the hut as soon as possible, it had gotten to the point, being around neteyam when his focused seemed to be on anything else, had caused an ache in your heart.
his smile dropped, furrowing his eyebrows. “it is still early” he said, he was almost done, cursing himself for not working faster. you just nod, placing a jar of herbs in your bag. “i have no reason to stay, may as well start early” you mutter, not meaning for it to come across as harsh as it did.
“actually i was hoping- don’t worry, its okay, have a good day yawne” he said, standing up, figuring if you wanted to stay you would. he walked towards you, hoping to maybe get a quick kiss before you left, but you slipped past him.
“bye tey, see you later” you said, his heart twisted, was this what it had been like for you.
the real reason you had left early was because you wanted mo’at to check you, walking into the healing pod you were overfilled with the sense of nausea.
“my child, it is early.” mo’at said, eying you carefully, “you are sick?” she asked, you just shrugged, stumbling over to a seat, you felt as if, if you didn’t sit, you were going to pass out.
“tell me what you are feeling” mo’at said, as she poked your arms with something. you hummed, thinking carefully before answering. “not hungry, the smell of food makes me feel sick, i have been getting horrible headaches, and i feel dizzy a lot.” you say, softly.
“are you eating?” she said, you shook your head, “i can’t, everything i eat i vomit up”
she ran a few more ‘test’ like things, but in the end she was slightly confused herself. “i am not to sure, but it should only last a week at most, but it is dangerous, you are overworked, you must take the rest of the week off, and im afraid, neteyam will as well” she says, leaving you confused.
“neteyam? why” you ask, tilting your head.
“you’re weak. you cannot leave resting. i am worried that if you do to much it will get worse. neteyam must take care of you, if he cannot, which he can, but if worst comes to worst, you stay with me, i care for you” she said, despite knowing neteyam would take a million days off for you.
“okay” you nod, “now go home and get rest, do you need assistance getting back?” she asked, you just shake your head, just silently hoping neteyam had left.
much to your dismay, as you pull the opening back you find neteyam sitting, but also jake and neytiri sitting at the table as well. they look up as you enter.
“oh! y/n, neteyam said you had left early for work.” jake said, you felt sick all over again, “uh yeah, i just forgot some stuff.” you lie, i mean there was things you could grab, but you hadn’t actually forgotten anything.
but there was no way you could ask neteyam to take a few days off to look after you with his parents here. “its good to see you sweetie, it has been a while” neytiri says, walking up to you to brush your hair behind your shoulders, you smile.
as she examines you, she furrows her eyebrows, “are you sick, child?” she asked, neteyam’s ears perk, looking over. “not at all, i feel great!” you smile, “just very busy, a little stressful” you laugh softly, moving away to collect a few jars.
neteyam’s mind seems to ease at your words, going back to the work with his father. “does y/n know?” jake asks, neteyam furrows his eyebrows before his eyes widen.
“know what?” you ask, turning to the two men. “i was going to tell you tonight! we are arranging a trip, a hunting trip,- my dad want’s me to lead it” you knew this was a big opportunity for him, you smile. “that’s great tey!! im so happy for you” you say softly.
“we are planning on leaving tomorrow” jake says, ur smile drops a little, before returning, but neytiri catches on. “that is great, very soon”
neteyam can’t help but frown at how excited you are, he was too- he was over the moon. but he wanted to spend time with you, “how long will it be?” you were thinking a one night, one day thing.
“a week!” jake said, patting his son’s shoulders with pride, neteyam smiles up at him, “oh” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows, before just smiling, “that is great.” you say, feeling a little betrayed that neteyam hadn’t talked to you about this, yes he was out during the days but he returned to you everynight, that wasn’t even the problem.
its the fact it was tomorrow, for a week. and he was planning to tell you tonight when whatever you reaction was it didn’t really matter, it was already set.
“we must get to work,” jake said, patting neteyam’s arms once more, neytiri sighed, as the two boys got up, jake walked over to place a soft kiss on neytiri’s lips, before walking out.
neteyam looked between you and his mother, no matter how long it had been, it was still so weird to do anything like that in front of his mom, she knew it as well.
she sighed, following jake outside to leave you and neteyam for a minute. you were fighting tears because of the pain in your head, but either way you just smiled at him.
“im sorry, it all happened really fast” neteyam said, grabbing onto your hand, you just shake your head. “its fine, tey. i get it. i am really happy for you, this is amazing”
“will you be okay? i told dad that when we get back, i want to spend more time with you. its just a week, then i promise-”
“tey it is fine, have fun, you deserve this”
neteyam left the next morning, you were awake, sitting up in bed, in the early morning, “i made you breakfast when you are ready” neteyam said, you were confused as to why he had been so affectionate the last day or two, after being so busy for a month straight, was it because he was leaving for a week.
“thank you tey” you mutter, pulling the weaved blankets higher onto you, neteyam didn’t get home until very late last night, you weren’t awake when he got home. he looked outside, to see the time.
“i have to go, yawne. you sure you’re going to be alright?” he asked, you just laugh. “when have i ever not been okay on my own” you say, laughing softly, he smiled.
“love you” he said, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips, he pulled away quickly. “you are hot darling”
“thank you i try” you tease playfully, despite the nausea coming back to you as the scent of neteyam’s cooking fill your senses, it was nothing against his cooking, he made great food, it was just food in general.
he smiled at your comment before shaking his head. “im going, ma’ y/n” he said and just like that he was gone.
three days had passed since neteyam left, you had seemed to only have been getting worse, your body was on fire, the headaches the came were so bad to the point you were crying, covering your eyes because the tinest bit of light irritated you.
everytime you stood up you felt unbalanced, you tried to eat the breakfast neteyam made you on the day he left, but it ended with you vomiting it up. you constantly felt dizzy and weak. unable to do anything.
you tried to sick to your normal daily routine with the minus of work, you hadn’t mentioned to neteyam you were sick, or anything about what mo’at had said, and you had mentioned to mo’at that neteyam was unable to care for you.
well he was able, you just didn’t ask. you hated asking for help, thats why you stayed in your hut.
but you were getting worse and worse.
it lasted another two days, the day neteyam returned had to have been the worse out of them all. as soon as you stood up, you were down, passed out.
neytiri had been helping in the healers tent due to mo’ats request. “it has been so busy without y/n” she said, which had confused neytiri.
“y/n hasn’t been working?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed.
“you do not know? y/n is sick, horribly sick. i do not know what is the matter, but i worry. neteyam is looking after her” mo’at said, neytiri’s eyes widened.
“neteyam is on a hunting trip, he has been all week” she said, mo’at turned. “please check the girl” she asked, neytiri nodded, it was so in your nature to not ask for help, she saw the way your face dropped , how hot you felt.
she rushed to your shared hut with neteyam, she noticed the hunting party return, neteyam was laughing along with his dad, any other day she would’ve taken the time to appreciate the moment, but she rushed into your home.
she gasped as she saw you, passed out on the ground, she also noticed the face your shoulders was bleeding, she looked at the bed frame neteyam had build, your blood stained on it, she figured you hit that on your way down.
despite that she leant down, picking your body up, she rushed to carry you back to mo’at, unfortunately, neytiri had caught jakes attention.
then she caught neteyam’s, and within a minute, both boys were at her side, neteyam’s eyes wide as he took your body from her, asking what had happened, jake was just as confused.
“she has been sick neteyam! apparently she was supposed to ask you to take the week off to look after her-mo’ats request but she never did!” neytiri said, as they rushed to mo’ats pod.
“stupid child” were mo’ats words as she saw your body, you were pale, bleeding, you looked sick.
neteyam was worried sick, how hadn’t he noticed, why didn’t you tell him? did you think he would say no? had he made you feel like that?
“what is the matter with her? is she okay?” he asked, placing you down softly. mo’at scowled at him, “you did not notice your mate ill!!” she slapped his hand away from you, despite knowing he was busy and you hadn’t told him.
“i know- i know, i am sorry. i am here now/ what is the matter?” he asked, full of guilt and responsibility, wanting nothing more than to care for you like he shouldve from the beginning.
“i think she has a cold, but she has been overworking herself, that is the reason for her passing out. she needs to be cared for.” she said? coming up with a summary,
hill
“take her home, you are both to have time off until she is completely healed and healthy and has been approved by me, do you understand me?” mo’at said sternly, eyes falling over the three sullies in the room, eyes stern on jake, telling him there eas nothing he could argue, neteyam would be staying home.
“take her home, wait for her to wake” she said, before passing him a jar, “put this on her chest if she isn’t awake within half an hour” his grandmother scolded, still in shock that he hadn’t noticed his mate was sick.
neteyam did as he was told, carrying you bridal style back to your hut, placing you on the bed, he took time to admire you. you were thin, sickly thin, your eyes were covered by dark circles, your skin was burning hot.
thankfully, before the half an hour was up, you had awoken, although in that time it took for you to awake, neteyam was in his own head, pacing the hut.
how had he missed that? how did he miss that his mate was ill, so ill to the point you had passed out.
why didn’t you tell him — he wondered. had he been so distant and busy that you no longer felt comfortable coming to him? were you worried he would not take time off to care for you, it made him feel sick to his stomach.
although you being sick wasn’t his fault — the fact it had gotten so bad, was.
when you woke, neteyam was preparing a cup of water. you however, did not remember passing out, in your mind, you assumed you had taken a nap, hence why you were in bed. although there was a stinging pain in your shoulder, one you did not remember having, was this another part of the sickness.
you hadn’t even noticed your mate in the hut when you woke up, you shuffled in the bed, getting ready to stand up, however when you did you were overwhelmed with a wooziness.
“ma y/n” neteyam cursed as he turned around, placing the cup down on the table, he rushed over to you, helping to balance you out. “you mustn’t leave bed” he scolded.
you furrowed your eyebrows, when did he get back?
and why was he worrying so much, last time you checked he had no idea you were sick.
you discard his scold, despite staying in bed, maybe he was just tired snd wanted to cuddle. however you felt a tingle in your stomach, not a good one either.
you ignore it, you were good at that. “how was the trip tey” you ask as he settled next to you on the bed, you had missed his company, even if sometimes it felt like it didn’t exist.
he scowled at your, why were you acting like nothing was wrong. “it was fine, y/n” he said sternly, you frowned, why was he upset.
“what is wrong?” you ask, the look his was giving you made your chest ache, did you do something? was he upset you didn’t greet him when he returned — that must be it
“im sorry i didn’t greet you, i must’ve fallen asleep, i am so sorry tey, id love to hear all about your trip” you say, despite everything in you telling you to shut up, talking was so much effort.
he frowned even more, “i am not upset about that y/n” you frowned now, the pair of you a mix of frowning messes.
“what did i go then, nete” he wanted to cry at how pained your voice sounded, your face was pale and your eyes drained from colour, not holding the usual lint of happiness like normal.
“you didn’t tell me” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper, you tilted your head in confusion. “what? what didn’t i tell you?” you ask, mind fuzzy.
he sighed, shaking his head. his hands found yours softly, pulling you closer to him, despite the way your skin was burning his, he didn’t care.
“that you were sick y/n, you didn’t tell me” he said, you furrow your eyebrows before your eyes widen, before returning to their normal size, you felt like you could sleep for a whole week, your head felt heavy, your stomach felt tight, everything hurt.
despite that, you shrug, “it isn’t bad nete, i am okay” you nod, voice convincing, but its really not. neteyam knows you better then that, but even he is second guessing that — why didn’t he fucking know, you shouldn’t of had to tell him, he is your mate he should just know.
“why do you lie” he asks, eyes squinted as his eyebrows furrow in a mix of annoyance and confusion. you squint at him, “i am okay neteyam.” you say.
he grows frustrated. “you are not okay, y/n. if you were okay i would not have returned to you being passed out in my mothers arms because you have been sick.” he said.
you tilt your head in confusion, you had passed out once a few days ago, was that what he had been talking about? did he have to come home early.
“oh nete— im sorry i didn’t mean to ruin your trip!!” you say, eyes filling with heavy guilt, he shook his head. “you didn’t. i came home today to my mother carrying you to grandmother, because you had passed out”
a simple oh leaves your mouth, as even more guilt seeps in, he seems to notice your expression. he grips your hands tighter. “you did not tell me you were sick” he said.
you went to talk but he cut you off “you also didn’t tell me you were bed rested” he said, you frown at his words, already knowing what was coming next.
“you didn’t tell me i was supposed to take days off to care for you”
you just chew your lip nervously, he shakes his head as he looks at you, while you look anywhere but at him.
“why didn’t you tell me” his voice cracks mid sentence, it makes your heart clench in your chest, its hard to remember the last week, all you can really remember is vomiting multiple times, and crying about the headache.
“you were excited about your trip, this is a big deal for you, i just didn’t wanna ruin it” your voice is small, you words are soft, as they leave your lips.
“you already do so much, i didn’t want to be the one to take something fun away from you.. or put more on you” you admit, his heart breaks.
it takes everything in him not to curse at himself, for making you feel as if you couldn’t tell him.
he failed, “fuck” he curses under his breath. “my girl” he says, looking at your face as you look down at your hands.
he has to remove his hand from yours, grabbing your chin to force you to look at him.
“angel, you are my number one priority, every fucking day. everything i do is for you. i know — i have obviously done a shitty job of showing that, but you should’ve told me, i could’ve helped you, now youre ten times worse” he says, tears fill your tired eyes.
“im sorry tey” you say as a hot tear rolls down your cheek. he immediately shakes his head.
“no, youre not allowed to be sorry, ma y/n. i shouldve known, i am your mate and i didn’t know you were ill, i left you here alone sick”
“i shouldve told you”
he nods, “you should’ve.”
you look down, his hand moves from your chin to your jaw. holding your face in his hand. “but i an here now, no matter what”
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atticrissfinch · 3 months
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Yaaaaah. It’s Recap Time. 2023 edition.
Buckle up, bitches.
I’m positive I am about to write far too long and reveal far too much in this post, but fuck it we ball. (TWs for depression, brief suicidal ideation, general mental health talk, parental death, a lot of juicy stuff, but a happy ending)
To appreciate 2023, I have to go back to 2022.
2022 was probably the worst year of my life. The lowest of lows. I started off the year falling headfirst into my first relationship in years, and subsequently had my heart shattered in a way I’d never anticipated. I had my trust betrayed in a manner I’d never experienced. And that heartbreak would crop up and drag out consistently the entire year.
While dealing with that crippling heartbreak, my father very unexpectedly got sick and then passed away within a few months. And as anyone could probably assess from my fics, I did not have a great relationship with my father. We had a very complicated relationship with a lot of trauma inflicted on me. It all was very disorienting, guilt-ridden, but ultimately revelatory.
On top of my romantic and familial lives crashing down around me, I lost every coworker I had developed a good relationship with as the job I’d been at for 3+ years and had them all replaced with people I couldn’t fucking stand.
All of this led to me having a complete fucking breakdown in therapy. All out sobbing to my therapist, terrified that after two years of therapy, nothing was working. Nothing helped. I was incurable. I would be depressed until I died, and that might be coming sooner rather than later at my current rate. Burnt out from work, hating my coworkers, drowning in my own emotions, I had to have a serious talk about getting admitted. The closest I’ve ever come to that, to this day.
The year came to a close, my meds were on the fritz, and I was determined to sink no lower than I already was. I was going to love myself, love being single, and find friends for the first time since college. And it just so happens that a certain show was released, based on one of my favorite stories of all time. Starring one Pedro Pascal.
And I have no fucking idea what happened, but I started crawling out of the pit of despair I had been in for a literal decade. I hadn’t had a hyperfixation in equally as long. I was so run down, so depressed, I hadn’t been able to truly enjoy anything in years. And suddenly…I was feeling shit again. Watching hours of Pedro tiktoks, crying over TLOU EVERY GODDAMN WEEK. That broad, baby cow-eyed, Chilean fucker wriggled his way into my heart. To the point where I HAD to find somewhere to express it in a manner as unhinged as I was experiencing it (I’m so sorry Pedro subreddit, you were just not cutting it for me).
I went back to my tumblr roots. And Jesus Christ. What a fucking roller coaster it’s been. So much drama, so many friends. So. Many. Fics. And so much genuine joy, happiness, laughter, all that fucking obnoxious shit.
So here we are.
First person I’m gonna shout out is Paige @pr0ximamidnight. Paige, thank you for being my first friend in the Pedro fandom. Thank you for giving me a space to talk about my feral fantasies, about Taylor, about monsters 👀. Thank you for being a real one. I love you, babe.
Second…hoo boy. Emma. @walkintotheriveranddisappear. I’m gonna struggle to put shit into words here so just bear with me. Um. I love you so fucking much. You put up with my obnoxious, rude ass when you probably shouldn’t. You talk with me for hours, you watch movies with me, you drag my ass and then kiss it better. I added you on discord at the end of August and there has not been a single goddamn day that we haven’t talked since. You stayed up until midnight with me on the night of my birthday, knowing I had no one to ring in my 30th year with, and you were so eepy, but you stayed awake with me. We’d only just started to become friends at that point. And I knew you were gonna be something special to me. You are such a fucking light, I don’t deserve you. Thanks for sticking around, thanks for jacking me off in our DMs when I have a bizarre idea about something like Joel being a sleazy gas station clerk, and for every idea I’ve had before or since. I love you. Thanks for being the glowing halo around my year. I will never be this sappy again, I swear to god.
Ok I cannot wax poetic for every fucking person I’ve befriended on this site in the past few months, but. Special shouts out to @chloeangelic daddy thank you for listening to my bullshit and thirsting after mmitb!joel with such fierceness. I’m so goddamn proud of how much I’ve seen your writing improve over the last few months, culminating into fics that devastate my heart and make me cry while I masturbate simultaneously. You’re a fucking superstar. Tell Papa Joel to call me. @macfrog baby thank you for agreeing to marry me next June and for writing some of the best fics I’ve ever read and dealing with me fangirling over you when you followed me. I’ve got your back, baby. Just say the word.
@5oh5 Liv you’re a new friend but I love you so much already, you’re such an insane talent, thank you for matching my vibes so flawlessly and thank you for plant daddy Joel 🙏🏻. @papipascalispunk Iris you are so fucking fierce and so goddamn sexy and I’m so so sorry that my grammar in this post is probably pisspoor. I don’t apologize for my very sexual relationship with commas, however. Meet me in my DMs about it. @hier--soir Jess. FUCK. Your writing is so incredible. ALP is tearing me apart at the seams. Thank you for putting up with my bullshit and laughing at my stupid jokes. Yahtzee, babe ❤️
@swiftispunk Hannah you’re so fucking dope and I’m such a goddamn fan, thank you for putting up with my screaming, thank you for your baller, sexy ass fics. You’re A1, a class act, and so fucking real for tapping into my medical/glove kink with gyno!joel. Keep on your bullshit, baby. I’ll eat it all up. And I would be remiss to not also shout out @joelscruff as well. Cat, you are such a force and I don’t think you realize it. You’re so talented, so sweet, and seeing you expand into darker fic makes me so goddamn happy. I hope you fucking thrive in 2024. Make next year your bitch. May Joel’s dick always be “somewhere specific” and may you always take sick pleasure in “dealing w it.”
Ok I’m getting too chatty so honestly, to all my moots, I love y’all so fucking much. To anyone who has ever read my fics, reblogged them, liked them, made an unhinged comment, sent a feral ask, complimented my work. Thank you. Thank you for loving mmitb!joel, thank you for supporting my plots, even when it wasn’t initially your cuppa tea. Thank you for letting my love for darkness bring you light. I didn’t know when I would ever write again. I’m so proud of what I’ve done this year in such a short amount of time. The fact that so many of you love my work is so humbling and I’m fucking honored. I hope to bring you more depravity in 2024.
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marthashlyn3 · 2 months
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The entire point.
God this entire time: “Y’all still don’t see these consistencies Marthashlyn is pointing out?! It is truly the end of days. Hold on! Get tf out of my places of business! And these two are MFEO because I’ve declared it so since they were born! Don’t tell me what to do. Stay in your place. ..And I’ve reimagined the prophecy in revelation. 😏”
Also God: “With these two together, I can get more work done. I need them together NOW!”
Also God: “I want a wedding for those two.”
Me: “I think they’ve gotten the message boss. 🫡👩🏾‍🔬👩🏾‍🎨”
Also me: “Do you all know how long our celestial spirit has been catching our attention speaking as loud as he has been for us high vibrational to instantly pay attention?”
Le monde is waiting for the bird class on the farm to get it together. The farm animals too. Y’all still human to me too. And the story is clear. Just eyes & leveling of oxygen & salt in the water. It’s greeky too. The lining is golden and the background is gray.
The real tea while the adults try to fix the spiritual issue that arose around 2016; I’ve entered gracefully of age around 2020.
See how I could point it out since then & many still do what they want to do? I’m waiting for God still. It’s interesting 🤔
Many suddenly wanted to attack me & I’m only a new entrepreneur focused on my spiritual growth.
A mass majority of people are never present as a whole. Mind, body, & spirit.
Witchcraft and perversion like crazy since our last senior pastor’s dismissal is evident everywhere every day.
Psycho mania as a result of being cursed by the lord for God knows what is also evident.
Many are lost in extreme self-comparison in feeling inadequate, overcompensating, burnt out.
Many are stuck in an extreme state of flight or fight.
Many are also sleep deprived from spiritual menaces & stress.
Private time for many are still interrupted by spiritual menaces who are actually terrorists for illogical reasons pertaining themselves never discussed too; many only pray & sing to keep rooted in their personal spiritual journeys.
The seven deadly sins are blindly linked. Many cannot stop. They’re blind in what they are doing & cursed.
An extremely perverted & corrupted reproved favorite is the real source of these issues with her boatload of parallel equals. Elderly & young adults alike. While all, also seeking to be loved by someone who wants nothing to do with them. As do many others. Lost in that. Their ears don’t work.
Others show evidence of extortion & exploitation, slaving and whoring one another, seeking to have that pass on the next generation
So, yeah the devil amongst plenty still..
I’m also a light worker providing insight as I grow on my journey.
Grey space simulator energy while I am not present in the room or stretching off to the side somewhere listening to music will not continue.
I only feel that energy. A serious grey spell with people stuck in a primitive psychopathic criminal state barely able to directly communicate was 2 to 3 sabbaths now. Lost in a traumatic way. They don’t even realize it.
I’ve walked the track at the park for 2 sabbaths in a row now. Spirit led. A third time, I’ve only stared at the building. I know nothing. Just energy change. After church, I only do my energy conversion.
Extreme reality falling apart & coming back together things. “Checkerboard” to me. A black whole may show up there.
I’ve already walked through a rip of white space there too a while ago. SOBER. Completely dry.
All of this, is added to God’s organic chemistry at work and chakra voodoo/Matilda tricks shared with the general public, among many other things
My reserved and I are waiting for a peaceful transition to be in completion, although, everything was finalized formerly in the lord.
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levmada · 2 years
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First Times Anthology, ch.7: all of me
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work summary » Intimate, vulnerable, gentle. Concepts Levi is a stranger to, until you.
ch.summary: Just when you think you know everything about each other, Levi has a way of surprising you after a close call. In wake of the worsening odds against the Titans, you "punish" him for taking an unnecessary risk.
content/warnings: ACKERBOND, hurt/comfort, LEVI RAGE MODE, canon-typical violence, minor injuries, softcore porn tbh, nervous breakdown/some descriptions of dissociation&reactions to post-trauma events, oh my god is that a reference to canon??, heart-to-heart talks, oral (f!receiving), creampie (f!receiving), Levi is always so careful idc, praise, resolved misunderstandings
wc: ~9.7k
a/n: i call this the 'learning to unconditionally love every facet of each other' chapter in addition to the more general name of the fic, 'levi therapy hour'. alternatively, the 'oh my god, is that a reference to canon??😱' chapter.
it's autumn year 849.
originally this chappy was gonna be split in 2 parts, but since every other chap is centered in one period of time b/n longer stretches (because it's an anthology, duh), i decided the last one is too separate to call it pt2.
BUT this is the real bonafide guaranteed second-to-last chapter. i mean it this time lol. that one is v close to being finished (i am stubborn and refuse to finish the closing paragraphs w/out finishing the one last singular scene, which.. is smut) and im thinking mid june or so!
ps: for all intents and purposes of getting railed by levi, pregnancy doesnt exist. pps, fingernails grow back. youll understand later, i just worry abt misunderstanding.
previous part・work masterpost・last part
Listened to while writing:
taglist: @peace-for-levi | @sckerman | @jayteacups | @levi-my-beloved | @alominum | @mwuah | @midtwenties-angst | @ackermandick | @halloweenmedic | @katty | @notgoodforlife | @chaotic-nick | @b-o-n-e-daddy | + link to sign up
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Your first time is that following autumn, in all its golden-browns, dashes of fiery red, and silver skies. The summer season had finally burnt itself out, and it was time to breathe a sigh of relief for another season you both left still fighting.
Levi returned in the early evening from a days-long trip to Mitras on official business between him and the Commander. With paperwork out of the way, you had made a warm, filling dinner (with real butter, too, though meat was too expensive)—for no other reason than you had missed him, and you knew how irritating he finds those trips.
Afterwards, in bed, he stirred against you and leaned over to kiss. You kissed him harder. It was certainly no surprise when he crawled between your bare thighs, hands stroking up and down your freshly-shaved legs—nor when he pulled away and asked, “Did you change your mind while I was gone?”
You knocked away the covers, as it’d quickly grown too muggy, and shook your head, heart suddenly pounding. 
Before he left days before, you had asked his thoughts on going further than you ever had in the past, on him being inside you. His eyes had grown a touch wide, but he had nodded, and since he had been gone, the anticipation took over your mind.
But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous.
 “You think you need more?” he asks now, earnest, but his voice is muffled against your slit, lapping, then suckling over your puffy clit. He licks in maddeningly hot, lazy circles.
You shudder with a light cry, hands in his hair combing it backwards. His heavy tongue has you clenching down around his three fingers that slowly fuck into you.
“No.” At least, you don’t think so—he’s been so thorough, and so fucking careful—but the bunches of butterflies fluttering in your chest want to say otherwise.
You stammer, “T-Two times not enough for you?”
“Believe me…” He sits up on his haunches, three fingers curling inside you, his other hand idly pumping his red, swollen cock. “It is.”
You make a blind grab for the sheets and rock your hips to meet him. “Then hurry.”
He licks his swollen lips and gently withdraws his fingers. While clambering on top of you, he nonchalantly licks your sweet cum from them, though his nerves beat like a racehorse in his chest. 
Your hand replaces his around his reddened shaft, the slide so easy from how much he’s leaked all over himself. More than before, you take in his size and realize how thick he is.
“Levi,” you whisper.
He rocks into your loose hand, and sighs in bliss. “Yeah.”
“C’mere,” you plead, but before you can finish your buttery lips are already moving together. 
“But you—” kiss, “—stop me—” kiss, ”—for any reason.”
You admire the sheen of sweat on his hairline, the heat on his cheeks, the slope of his jaw, and almost forget to reply. “You say that every time, and guess what happens every time?”
“This is different.”
“Nu-uh. Same, ‘cause it’s you.”
With a huff, he hoists your knees a touch higher around his slender hips and lines his cock up level with your mound—to see how deep he’ll go. You shiver.
He cradles your hip as he feels you draw tense. “I assure you it is.”
Your teeth hook into your bottom lip. You're so damn nervous, it’s easier to think so. Levi will take care of you, though. That’s guaranteed.
“I’m nervous,” you surrender. “But it’s probably not much different, right?”
He shakes his head into the shade of your neck; even without knowing what it’s like with a woman, he's confident you’re wrong. 
In return, you throw one leg over his back, digging your heel in. 
“Hey,” he gasps, “you can’t just—”
You drag him that much closer, caging him in with both arms and thighs. Between your spread legs his hips involuntarily twitch towards, then grind down against your sticky wet slit. He nudges your clit with the head, just to see how you’ll react, and your hips bow up against his, whining miserably. 
To reassure him, you massage his lips with yours. You don’t want to feel anxiety crushing you while you ache and clench for him around absolutely nothing. You need him. You need him.
“C’mere,” you beg again, and he lines himself up. Something hot, round and hard catches on your rim, and then pushes inside. 
Levi’s desire pounds between his thighs and thunders in his ears. The drag is hot, soaking wet, and hugs his cock so tight that his jaw falls completely slack. 
He’s certainly never felt this before.
For a moment his mind is utterly blank, reeling, and you cling onto him so tight. 
“Fuck,” you croak by his ear. He’s only halfway. “It’s so big.”
He says nothing—if he opens his mouth a string of noises will tumble out; showing how good he feels when you’re not there yet doesn’t feel right—and cradles you between both thick biceps, panting hard. It’s like your pussy is tightening to suck him deeper inside.
You shakily whine his name, seeking purchase by the strong planes of his back. 
All you can think of is the uncanny feeling of your body stretching to take him. Levi isn’t big by most standards, but he makes up for it in thickness, and it’s plump even while flaccid. 
It feels like he’s splitting you in half. Like all that preparation hardly made a dent in this blindly intense feeling. He was right.
“I know, it’ll feel better soon. Jus’ a little more, sweetheart.”
He watches your features carefully and bullies his hand between you to fall over your mound. In firm, easy circles he strokes you, kisses your temple, then the side of your parted lips. “That better?”
A sigh is punched from your lungs. “Yes.”
Pleasure licks up your spine when your hips finally kiss. He’s here. “Levi, Levi.”
He says your name in return, his breath fanning over your face. It’ll get better from here. His hand moves away from your clit upwards to cradle the back of your head.
You crack your eyes open, only to find his shut above you, jaw tight and features pinched in pleasure. His bangs dangle in his eyes, so you push them back, and his eyes flutter open.
Bright eyes the color of twilight blink back at you, his pupils like two round black pools. It doesn’t feel like much else needs to be said. 
His calloused fingers hug the thick of your thigh, where you’re shaking slightly. “I’m gonna go slow at first. Relax—can you do that for me?”
His endless care is anything but lost on you, which helps you relax all by itself. You nod, physically going soft and lax in his arms. 
A small gasp sounds against your lips to feel you throb gently around him. He will last, certainly, but never did he imagine it’d feel this good before even properly starting. It frazzles his mind as much as it seems to do yours.
“Baby,” you groan, scraping down his back. “Move.”
Experimentally, he grinds into all that heat. You whimper. Then he goes further, rolling his hips, and rocks in slow, shallow thrusts to the feeling of your own twitching up to meet him halfway. 
Actually doing this, there was nothing—and is nothing—he feared more than hurting you at all. Pain should never be a given in this, like he falsely assumed in the past—which is why he burns brightly to take in the pinched bliss on your face now; even though he wants to lay you back and slam into you so bad.
“There you go,” he murmurs, hot breath fanning over your lips. “Good. That’s my girl.”
A soft moan falls off your lips. Pleasure apart from the feeling of Levi rocking into you, but just as intense, writhes in your chest. Your walls flutter hard around where he’s begun to properly fuck you, and then he catches your rim, and your hips abruptly buck up into him.
A louder groan rumbles by your ear. “Fuck, you’re so tight—”
“Please! F-Fuck me so good.”
Deeper, faster he buries himself inside you enough to hear his balls slap against your pelvis. If you want more, he will give it to you gladly. Hearing you beg for him, moan his name, winds him up hotter and hotter.
For once, his embarrassment evaporates—it doesn’t even register. It’s how sweet your voice and how good your cunt feels taking him so deeply, so readily.
All of it: all of him, all of you.
The bedframe whines, and he can’t remember when, but at some point your palm snakes over his forehead, tossing his bangs back so you can grab a good handful and coax him in for another breathtaking kiss. Immediately you take his bottom lip between his teeth, and his mouth parts obediently to let you in.
“Fuck,” he groans. You can’t even think to lick into his hot, sticky mouth and rather gape into his mouth, crying out when he slams into that perfect spot. “Right there?”
Your ankles lock around his lower back, moaning shamelessly right by his ear, which is enough of an answer. He squeezes your inner thigh, spreading you wide open, which changes the angle enough for him to slam into that perfect spot every time.
“Yes!” you gasp in approval, head falling back to expose your neck to him. Your chests heave together, and it suddenly and swiftly registers in your mind—he’s fucking you, taking you, on top of you, all around you. You feel yourself getting close.
He feels you too—that subtle lift in your back and the added sting of sweet pain from your tight hold on his dark hair. Where he grinds, his thrusts, splitting your pussy wide open, he feels you spasm and tighten.
“Look at me,” he begs quietly by your hairline. Heat rolls through him. Quieter, “Please.”
You pry your eyes open half-lidded, and you do—you look deeply into his soft, blazing eyes, inspiring your whole body to shudder. A hot blush paints his sharp features, tight from pleasure. 
Just watching him somehow hurls you closer to the point of no return. His pink lips are perpetually parted for you, and once, his eyes flutter, a fragile moan escaping, and you grab for his hand. He locks them on the pillow beside your head in response.
Your tits bounce along with his quick thrusts. You try to tell him you’re close, but you can’t. Each sound ripped from you is punctuated by another wet slam of his hips.
A grunt is punched from his chest, so much so his sweaty forehead falls on yours and his rhythm skips. He’s about to come, too.
“Fuck—” He noses your cheek, panting, “—you hear yourself? Fucking gushing around me—”
“Yeah, yes.” You paw for his sturdy shoulders as heat like an electric bolt rolls over your whole body, drawing you up tight. His fat cock splits your sticky cunt now in a flurry of hard thrusts. You uncontrollably struggle to writhe when a hand bullies itself between your bodies, and the frantic attention he gives your clit shoves you into your climax, dashing your vision in bright white.
“Fuck!” He slams into your cunt, “Good fucking girl.”
You don’t have enough mind to hear yourself let go, but Levi does—the loud cry ripped from your throat, your babbled whimpers, and his name and his name and his name being moaned at the ceiling. You’re so fucking loud that if someone was walking past, the sound would be unmistakable.
You writhe so fucking hard in his arms that he has to hold you down to fucking you through the silky-soft spasming of your cunt. You go so nice and tight, practically milking him, and combined with the rest runs his blood white-hot. 
His end hits him close behind yours. It slams into him hard and sudden, making his cock surge, making him gasp. His hips stutter and his balls give a deep throb, and then he falls into it just as you’re coming down from yours.
Shaking and shuddering, these little mewls fall off your lips as you get to watch his jaw fall slack and utter bliss take over his blushing face. You get to hear a loud, rasping moan above you and feel him fuck you to completion, then his hot cum shooting deep inside your pussy, making your toes curl. So much, and a little more.
And then, when all that’s left is for him to slow and the swift heavy sounds of both your breaths, you feel him throb softly as he starts to soften inside you. His face is shaded in your neck, and neither of you move at first. Your sweaty hands are still squeezed.
He makes a noise. Idly, he realizes the mess that’s begun to dribble out between where you’re both connected, and pulls out slowly, rubbing the tremors out of your thighs.
Softly, you whimper at the sudden sense of loss you feel, stroking his messy hair with tingling fingers. A completely whole sense of warmth drapes over you now, leaving you sleepy.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly from beside you. He feels it’s the right thing to do no matter what.
“Yes,” you whisper, and roll over towards him. You squirm to feel it—a creamy mix of his mess and yours caking your inner thighs. You’re a little sore, but completely fucking satisfied. Your limbs are heavier than steel.
He shakily shuffles out of bed, and you stay still, spreading your legs so he can clean you up with a lukewarm washcloth. After he seems satisfied with his own state, you lug yourself up into a sit and kiss him tenderly. 
It’s slow, and it’s lazy, but it rattles you to the core.
Levi still occasionally gets overwhelmed after. He stutters to pull away first, looking spent in a strained way, doesn’t reach out to touch you. Only if you initiate—this time by stroking his sinewy arm does he relax slightly.
“Are you okay?” you ask him in return, and immediately he nods, eyes softly closed. You take his cheek towards you and kiss his forehead reverently, like you mean to bless him, before you decide to take a bath.
He, ironically, likes bubbles and soaps with the softest smells; mostly fresh daisies and sweet smells. After helping you into the blissfully hot water, causing you to sigh softly, he sinks in behind you.
Washing has to ask for less time. As he does your hair, you take a small handful of bubbles and plop them on top of his head.
He is thoroughly nonplussed by this. “You’re such a brat,” he tells you quietly, in that same tone he uses to compliment you.
You shift back around, rocking the water, and hum as a pair of strong arms close around your waist. “My legs are still shaking.” 
And for that, Levi clearly doesn’t give himself enough credit. 
With one wide palm he rubs the aches out, and busies the other with smoothing your hair back so no shampoo stings your eyes. It took quite a bit of practice for him to get both good and gentle at doing it; he used to wash Isabel’s hair, but that was a long time ago.
“Thanks,” you murmur. Bubbles wobble around when you shift to make room so he can stretch his legs.
In reply, he kisses the shell of your ear. It’s nice, but it can’t last forever, either. An expedition is coming up soon—the last of the summer season.
You’ll be breathing clean air while your comrades’ blood is spilled for two weeks straight.
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And spilled it is. 
You haven’t seen running water or a warm bed in almost two weeks since departing from Karanese District. Some days are better than others, even some mornings less dire than nights, but considering how little you can bring yourself to sleep out here, you catch yourself thinking of it as one eternal, bloodsoaked day often.
However, today was—to put it lightly—especially dire.
The night is humid. The sun stole away the worst of the heat a while ago, but the air is thick, leaving dew staining the grass. Your mind is muddy, abandoned on the battlefield, but the adrenaline never really dries up outside the Walls. You could spring into battle the very next moment if the situation called for it.
The tent flap collapses shut behind you. As soon as the strategy for tomorrow and the day after was charted, Levi pushed himself off the wall and fled. 
You always give him space when he needs, and you had concerns for the Commander: mainly a couple of caches that were abandoned after Maria fell, and whose retrieval was the main objective of this expedition.
But after today, you’re breaking that rule.
Levi being Levi, no one questions what he does. It's like him to skip pleasantries, but he isn’t waiting for you outside the tent, nor at the makeshift canteen (a glowing bonfire) where watery stew and ration crackers are being handed out.
It’s easy to pinpoint when things went awry, which makes the fact that you don’t understand what exactly happened all the more frustrating.
ODM was nearly useless in those long stretches of plain green fields. What made the situation more precarious was the old riverbank in the area that—back before Maria fell—used to carry ferries back and forth between districts with a metal pulley system. Given its size, it’s impossible to cross, and the rushing water is a drowning risk if the underlying metal didn’t break your back first.
And that’s exactly where Titan numbers grew overwhelming today. At the time, Gunther and Petra were elsewhere in the formation to assist other squads, leaving you, Eld, and Levi to yourselves.
With every step, if you focus hard enough you can still feel giant footsteps rattle your bones. Shitty luck had it that you were swatted by an Abnormal close enough to the steep riverside to be hurled into the water like a stone into a pond. 
When you were a girl, your father’s political standing with the royal government allowed you the privilege to take swimming lessons. They would have, for once, proven useful if your loose hadn’t tangled you in a steel web after you hit water. 
One free arm and as little as you could kick your feet didn’t mean a thing as you were tossed from rapid to rapid. Weeds and algae had infested in the absence of the ships, making what sparse rocks there were too slippery to grab.
You’re sometimes pushed to believe that Levi is attached to you not by heart or feeling, but an invisible twine. Lack of air combined with the constant red flood of adrenaline dragged the nightmare out exponentially, but you were told later it was a minute, if that, before Levi did one of the most reckless things he’s done in a long time and dove in after you.
In his defense, Eld told Levi that he couldn’t swim, so Levi lied and said he could. Otherwise, you would’ve drowned. Eld covered your backs during that time.
You remember a force stronger than the rapids taking hold of you, you remember hacking out lungfuls of water, shouting, the shove and yank of the water, and the scrambling—for something, anything. Dirt, even now, stays clotted underneath every single one of your fingernails—except two, for you no longer have them.
The only thing he did that was more bad than good was hold onto you, causing the tangled wires to be pulled tight like a snake around its meal. It was you who managed a snag on a fat, bulbous root wider than your palm could wrap around, but he was the one who plunged his sword into the wall of muddy earth, snapped his blade in half like shattering glass, and cut you free as much as the chaos you were neck-deep in allowed.
He ordered you, hold still, and then dread, as thick as oil. You don’t remember how he lost his hold on you—it all happened so fast—but as if in slow motion you can easily recall pivoting downstream, your palms greased from the wet earth in order to save your savior. 
Levi can’t swim.
But then the surface of the water broke in the center of it all. Your shoulder is still killing you from where he first seized, then hauled you back to the wall with one arm, the other pushing the water aside.
You hadn’t froze up in years in battle, not until today, because who was carrying you just wasn’t Levi—not with glowing, unseeing marble in place of his eyes, not saying a word, not with that look on his face.
The next thing you knew, air was punched from your lungs with the force you were thrust upwards. Dirt smeared your cheek in ugly clumps and you clawed for purchase—ripping out earth for all you care—14 kilos of equipment and all.
Despite the fear running through your blood, you were about to call out to him when earth squelched and his elbow hooked around yours. He was himself again, with the command to either shed your gear or move faster.
So, you leaped. Wildgrass, stringy and thick, was all you needed—besides him shoving you by the bottom of your boot—to swing yourself over the precipice like a climb out of hell. 
He was still normal when you literally dropped your arm over the edge and helped him the rest of the way—eyes sharp and determined, but still normal. If he hadn’t been, you have the feeling now that he wouldn’t have even needed your help. 
That was somehow scarier to imagine.
Eld, blood steaming off his face, rode by on horseback to escort you due to the wretched state of your bloody hands. Levi stayed behind to clean up the rest of the Abnormals.
There’s nothing anyone should, or even could discuss in the heat of battle, but you still waited for a second look, something, even though that was foolish.
At first, you managed to convince yourself it was the white-hot adrenaline, or the pain so sharp it made your working mind feel somehow outside your body that conjured up what you saw. But after emerging from sleep in one of the wagons for the injured, you refused to doubt.
Levi is strong, but no one is unstoppable.
This rift wasn’t because you were slow to react for those few moments, or even that you launched off the wall to save his life. In fact when the two of you next spoke—before charting strategies with Erwin and the rest, but after the sun sank into the earth—he didn’t seem to understand at all beyond what was only obvious to him.
He asked, “How bad is it?”, and all you could bring yourself to do was shake your head. It felt so hard just to look at him; you were afraid if you did, you would see that other person again.
You haven’t spoken since, but to be fair you needed to recoup, to gather your wits again like a bunch of loose feathers. For all the scrapes, cuts, and contusions, you put the most energy into processing that power that overtook him for those few precious seconds. You struggled.
But it’s time to do something.
You grip the belts of the ODM tethered around your waist so you don’t end up picking at your bandaged fingers. Nervous habit.
You can’t forgo what little reprieve from the fight you now have without discussing it, and it’s guaranteed Levi won’t be the one to instigate the conversation—not until his frustrations completely boil over. He’s always needed help communicating, and this is certainly no exception.
Near the barricade at the entrance to the village is where you find him, seated on a log before one of the smaller campfires. It’s not necessary: where buildings don’t cover, makeshift barriers stand, and green capes in full ODM stand posted around the perimeter, but Levi is nothing if not vigilant.
“Hey,” you say.
He grunts, not so much as twitching at your approach. The roles are reversed now: he can’t seem to look at you.
You both bathe in the heat from the fire in silence until you can’t take the quiet anymore. Hands on your hips, you watch the flames. “You saved me today.”
“You would’ve done the same.”
“That’s not the point,” you argue softly, making yourself heard over the crackling firewood. “You can’t swim.”
Dirt scuffs behind you. Once his warm palm lands on the nape of your neck, tears immediately spring to your eyes. You feel yourself pull towards him—something almost scarily inevitable, like gravity pulling rain to the earth.
You return the gesture and sway there gently in silence. Both of you smell like dead fish dipped in blood, leather squeaks, and your gear clunks together, but neither of you care. 
“Your injuries?” he asks against your lips, a little blandly.
You sway a little. “I’ll live.”
In response, he bullies the fingers on his free hand under the belt tethered by your hip, and holds you there.
In terms of an apology, he won’t give you one: there is no risk from today that he wouldn’t take all over again, but in terms of an explanation, he can’t.
“I just… knew what I had to do,” he attempts to explain, only to watch the look on your face turn pensive. 
He recalls the look on your filthy face, eyes blown wide in fear once back on solid ground. By the time he rejoined the formation and you woke up, it hadn’t gone away, not completely.
A fear of his own seizes him, so he pulls away. He can’t look at you. He fears that if he does, he will see it oozing from your expression again.
Very rarely does he see you truly afraid. You’ve almost met death multiple times. It’s him, it must be, because he can’t fucking swim and yet he saved both your lives despite every facet of the situation that should have made survival impossible.
In that moment, he felt, or was, unstoppable. He’s felt that way before, and you’ve seen him do the impossible before—he fails to understand what’s so different this time.
“What is it?”
He makes his voice carefully even, but you know him better. You take a steadying breath before launching into an explanation of your side of the story: what you saw, how you didn’t believe it at first, and how you felt—how the fine hairs on the back of your neck stood up when he grabbed you, how your blood froze and how astounding his sudden strength.
Now he’s sitting, arms crossed over his knees while you scuff the dirt with the toe of your boot. When you describe the way he looked, he asks, “What was wrong with them?” and you look away.
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
He frowns. “Spit it out.”
“It was like you weren’t even there. They—well, glowed.” 
Silence. You attempt to make the one-sided conversation light. “It’d be impressive, if it wasn’t life-or-death, of course.”
“I don’t remember any of that,” he admits quietly, barely audible over even the crickets.
Shadows dance across his face as you ask what he means by that. 
He shakes his head and repeats himself like a broken record. He never remembers those moments. It’s an experience only comparable to spectating your own falling body while it expertly kicks and flails in search of solid ground. 
Maybe it isn’t that he knew what he had to do, but his body. It acts sometimes without his permission, but only to defy death when he himself cannot. At that point he’s instinct alone, an empty mind, a blank slate. 
“Have you ever had moments like that?” he ventures to ask, not looking at you because he’s confident what you’ll say.
You give it some genuine thought, raking through your memories. “No, Lee. I haven’t.”
As he thought. He says nothing, but scooches to make room for you to sink down on the log beside him. You ask why.
“Forget I asked.” If you were scared of him then, or now as you described it, then there’s the possibility of tomorrow; it’s better the conversation ends here.
You drape your bandaged hand over his scraped knuckles. “It’s okay,” you say.
Levi measures the breaths he takes. There must already be alarms going off in your head, alerts that he’s upset, but you wouldn’t understand no matter what he said. He understands it very little himself.
“It really was impressive,” you go on, squeezing a little despite the pain. “And I wanna know what you think.”
“Were you scared?”
You look up, but his hollow eyes are on the fire. The way he’s turned only lets you see half of his face.
Feeling frayed, “Everyone’s scared to die, aren’t they?”
“Not dying.”
“...You mean—” your heart falls, “—of you?”
He says nothing. Frowning deeply, you carefully put your hand on his shoulder, giving him the freedom to shrug you off, which he does, albeit hesitantly. 
“Levi—”
He stops you. “You’d have every right to, if you were. Or are. Don’t spare my feelings because you’re—you.”
“I wouldn’t,” you protest. It stings that he assumes you’d lie.
“I know.” His expression turns hollow. “I’m just saying I’d get it—if you were scared. I didn’t know all that until you said it. So, if you’re scared–”
You’re happy to hear him out until he starts to repeat himself.
“Levi, stop.” You shake your head, incredulous with him. “That’s ridiculous.”
He scoffs.
“I mean it. I’ve never actually been scared of you; except in the beginning, maybe.” 
Who wasn’t? One time, a Scout remarked that Isabel was a ‘snot-nosed bitch’ within Levi’s earshot, and he marched right up to the guy and said nothing before kicking the absolute shit out of him. He was put on medical leave for weeks.
In no way does he look or sound amused, but at least he doesn’t rebuke you. You go on, remaining truthful: the situation itself was at the root of the terror you felt, not him. In that moment, yes, you were scared, but it never crossed your mind that he would hurt you.
“Would I be here if I was scared of you?”
He scans your expression for a hint of deception, but finds none. This conversation is new to you both, not because he went out of his way to hide it from you, but he always excused those blank moments away as heightened instincts. 
He’s used to it, that power. He was as defenseless as any kid before it awakened in him. As for you, he can’t recall ever being in such close proximity when those instincts took over—not surprising, since it’s near-impossible to keep your eyes on each other when there’s a battlefield raging around you.
Again: “Why did you ask if I’ve ever had a moment like that before?”
Levi looks away, feeling his eyes ache when he closes them. “It’s kind of unbelievable.”
“Try.”
Your pinkie closes around his own, and he links them. “The man who raised me had those moments too.”
He opens his eyes. There are a plethora of reasons why Levi would rather not think of himself as related to Kenny in any way. He felt that way before he left him too, but the difference is that assuming he was explained away why he saved his life. Few things could explain why Kenny left.
So that conclusion is trembling, it’s cruel, and it’s shameful. It was enough that he had to come to the conclusion that Kenny left him that day because he couldn’t measure up to the strength he always spoke so highly of. 
“...Can I ask a more personal question?”
“Try.”
“Did—your mom ever mention anything?”
For an endless stretch of time, he doesn’t reply. His knitted brow tells you he’s wracking his memory for something, anything; if not something about the power, then anything out of the ordinary.
“I was too young, so not really.”
You quirk a brow suggestively. Not really isn’t a Not at all.
“She told me once that we don’t have a last name because we’re good people,” he finally says, then pauses. “So, as I said, no. Not really.”
And you know even less. You decide to let this topic go. “How I feel about you is the furthest thing from scared,” you murmur.
He gives you a small, meaningful glance, then nudges your temple with his lips. “Thank you.”
You rest there in silence for some time, just like that. Crickets sing their songs and lightning bugs blink in the darkness. It’s still sinking in that you’ve both made it through another day. He doesn’t want to forget, so he can’t bring himself to admit he needs to be alone right now. Not yet. 
“Will you sleep?”
He gives you a look, because you know the answer to that question. Still, you encourage that he get a few hours at least.
“Later.” 
If he’s not mistaken, a majority of the force is sleeping in barns, so he’s in no hurry.
You kiss his temple, and leave him.
Levi makes himself at home in his head until his backside falls asleep and the flames die down in the heart of the logs.
He’ll never know the answers—hell, if only he knew the questions. Power—the power—was Kenny’s religion, if some idiot could ever think him a religious man. Kenny loved to talk, but he never bothered to tell Levi anything important those years he looked after him. He never even learned Kenny’s last name.
It doesn’t matter, he reasons, because no matter the reason he possesses the power, no matter where it came from or if it’ll ever leave him—it’s his to use. 
It’s the perfect strength, the keenest of instincts, and it’s his. 
One thing is terribly obvious to him now. The reason, then, that he’s so often left behind is because he’s not good enough, compared to the power. There’s in the end no one, and nothing else, deserving of more blame. 
But today he was good enough, and for that he can forgive himself. Just for today.
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The most notable thing about the charge back to Wall Rose is the incessant rain: the ground more resembles mush than earth, the rivers spill over into the soggy grass, and everyone is waterlogged in one way or another, most from head to toe. 
As a result, it takes three days longer than it should to reach the gates: visibility is worse than terrible, the horses have a hard time moving in it, and the quickest route runs beside the main riverbanks. It isn’t an option.
It goes without saying that Levi is jumpier than usual. He’s snippy you decided not to ride with the injured, and with the rain on top of that, he might as well have a stormcloud over his head (and Oluo too, for how hard he tries to imitate him).
But he never complains. Scouting leaves no room for bitching about the rain when any one of your friends got swallowed before your eyes days before. He very much wears a stony mask on expeditions, where he’s no longer himself, but fierce in his role as Captain; you as his Lieutenant. 
Still. Through the mist and the haze and the rain clinging to your bones, as the visage of Rose plastered to Trost’s gate broke through the fog, you just about tear up. For once, it isn’t the rain. Petra laughs out loud and Oluo admonishes her for it, but then he starts laughing too. 
“And just when I thought we wouldn’t make it!”
Gunther whistled. “What a sight.”
“Not until we’re all inside,” you caution them, remembering yourself, and the glimmer of celebration dies down.
Levi tosses a look back at you and motions towards the head of the formation, where Erwin is sure to be. Inevitably, Hange and Mike are already parting their squads to join him, as is customary. 
You’re not obligated to join him like the rest, you two sharing leadership of the squad, so you shake your head. You’re not thrilled for the crowd of disgruntled townsfolk to crowd you all, to hear—no matter how hard you try to tune them out—their gasps of dismay, for them to jeer at the blood spilled and say: “Those damned Scouts. It’s like they want to die,” and so on and so on and so on.
Levi nods. “Meet back.”
That is Levi-speak for, See you at our place as soon as you’re finished showering. 
You wonder if you’ll have the energy. You could doze off on your trotting horse.
A nod. “Sir.”
You spot the second most notable thing, ironically, once you’ve trudged past the gates ahead of the rest of your squad. Your mind is a waking fog, the world mere background decor, but it’s difficult to miss kids at a funeral. It’s the Cadet Corps.
You toss a look over, and spot them in a row with no sign of Shadis, unsurprisingly. It’s customary for them to attend the return of the last expedition before graduation. 
Very few, as usual, are doing anything but paying attention, but three watch on raptly enough to make up for the rest. It’s easy to tell which ones saw Maria fall. 
The bold stare on one of them unnerves you. Running away from Titans isn’t the same as slaying them, and even then…
The split-second the blond one catches your eye, you turn your head forward, feeling nothing but dread.
The rest is a blur until that first spray of hot water pelts your head, but even now you might as well be a ghost. Water beating the floor bounces off your ears, the saddle once beneath you now only an echo of an ache on your thighs and backside. Distantly, your entire body stings, sorest of all your hands. Even where you stand, scrubbing mud and grime and clotted blood still clinging to your hair, you waver on your feet.
On the way back, Alina died. Eaten. It’s hard to believe she was on your squad so long ago when even yesterday feels like an eternity ago. 
She was always clumsy, you muse, hating yourself. The last time you saw her personally was Mayfest last year. Who was she with? What did you talk about? 
You search for meaning in the meaningless. It was as simple as scanning the composite list of casualties two days ago, and catching her name. A life, a memory, a name—blinked out of existence, just like that. There’s nothing you could’ve done.
“Those goddamn Scouts. It’s like they want to die.”
Abruptly, a sob bubbles up in your chest. It’s dry, silent weeping at first, but then tears. Then more, and more, and you’re blubbering in the shower, the ache on the inside intertwining with the physical. Your head pounds. 
You don’t register it when the water begins to bleed cold. With your bare legs folded against your chest, you sit against the wall dry-heaving because you’re out of tears to cry. More than Alina, it’s a pain that’s hard to explain.
You’re so tired of saying goodbye; the friends you’ve grieved, whose families you’ve had to give your condolences to, usually, if not always accompanied by either Hange or Levi. Your heart is a bottomless graveyard. You couldn’t possibly spare enough tears for each of them, but your heart is stubborn enough to try.
Levi finds you this way after he knocks on the door, hearing the water, but not you. You’re not quite there to comprehend his voice, nor his warning that he’s coming in—not until he appears in the open curtain, parted just slightly. Suddenly, you’re far too aware of everything.
“I’m sorry,” you hear yourself rasp. “I wasn’t thinking, wasted water, sorry.”
He tugs it a little wider. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he tells you gently.
The wooden mechanism cries as it’s shut off, followed by the drip-drip-drip, then the quiet, which is somehow deafening. You notice his cravat is gone, and he’s already peeled his jacket, boots, and waistskirt off, but other than that he’s still in uniform; it’s hard to imagine his shirt ever once being pressed and white.
Another apology sits on your tongue—eventually Levi was always going to come scrub the filth of the past two weeks off him—but you keep it to yourself, as he said. 
“Can I come in?”
“Please,” you whisper.
He does, and crouches down heavily. A fluffy towel is draped over your shoulders.
“I’m still disgusting,” he warns, “but do you want help getting up?”
“Please,” you say again.
He rolls up his filthy sleeves, then helps you rise to your feet. Now that you don’t have to keep it together anymore, it all comes crumbling down. Even Levi isn’t impervious to it.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”
On the lid of the toilet you wring the towel through your hair. He does the rest, thoroughly, which reminds you that you have little idea how you’d cope without him. 
He leaves you for only a moment to retrieve a fresh change of clothes for you, and it’s only with the stiff way he drops them on the counter that you start to worry it’s more than post-expedition fatigue.
Your jaw tightens. “Are you hurt?”
Either you’ve both been through enough, or he’s too tired to argue. “It’s not bad.”
First of all, he needs to clean up. You’ll get dressed, and he’ll join you soon.
You relent, unsurprised when “soon” turns into a half-hour. Levi’s brief, combat-style showers are unthinkable just after an expedition. It’s no wonder why, but this time you have reason to worry.
Too sick to even think of eating, you chip away at the paperwork at his desk—numbers to add, death certificates, field reports, numbers to subtract—while you wait. He must’ve spoken with Erwin. You wonder what they talked about; not even Erwin is immune to everything, no matter how his own mask portrays him to be.
While you work, you think of nothing, but at the same time, everything. Every second, every sound, every sensation. The snapping of jaws.
You rub your temples and rationalize that if Levi is injured that badly, he would have no choice but to see a medic, but never without some push and shove. Even if he was bleeding out he would claim it was a waste of resources.
After listening like a hawk for the water to shut off for an eternity, it finally does. In short sleeves and baggy pants, you meet him in front of the bathroom door, him staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real.
“We still have shit to do,” he states blandly.
You ignore him and ask, “Where are you hurt?” as you lead him by the small of his back in the direction of the bedroom.
It takes a little push and shove for him to relent, as always. He mentions something about a mother hen and a little bruising and more words that, at their root, mean, It’s not bad, up until you ask him to show you, and he hesitates.
“Levi.” Sat on the foot of the bed beside him, you remain firm. “I’m not asking anymore.”
“...It’s unnecessary.” 
“To you.”
He scowls at you weakly. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“...To you.”
He straightens up when he hears your voice shake, then winces a little. “It’s—It’s not. I wanted to see if tightening my belts would make me more accurate, and it did. They’ll be gone by next time.”
You could scream. “You idiot. You run yourself into the ground already—what’s hurting yourself gonna do?” Your next breath shudders. “You’re too important, and not just to me.”
“It saved more lives,” he argues stubbornly. “Don’t you get sick of watching your comrades die?”
You stop, hanging onto your last breath, and hang your head a little. You’d think after so many years seeing death everywhere you look, you’d be used to it by now, but this was an old friend. 
“Who doesn’t?” you remark, staring at a crack in the floorboard. “But you’re not just someone’s comrade, and you know that. You’re being careless.”
“…You lost someone, didn’t you?”
It’s less of a question, more of an observation. Calmly, he takes your twitching hand in his own to rub the aches out of them—always from the ODM triggers—careful to avoid bandaged spots.
With a shake of your head, you tug on his knee to encourage him to face you. “Let me see.”
He shuffles towards you, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “You were crying.”
“I cry at everything,” you dismiss easily, guiding his chin towards you. Though his frown is weighted by stones, waiting to see what you have to say, his cheeks are soft cradled in your hands.
Reverently, you lean in and press a fragile kiss to his forehead. “Levi, love of my life, this is stupid,” you tell him as lovingly as possible. “Even if I wasn’t here to worry about you, you can’t do this. All you can do is all you can do, and even then… I’ve seen you do more than anyone.” Always. “I’d feel a lot better if you showed me. There’s solutions to bruises.”
He melts—a little at first, then like butter in a hot skillet. “...Fine.”
With a little help, he stiffly pulls his shirt over his head. Forcefully, you put on a mask of careful indifference. You know how guilty he feels every time something like this happens as a result of good-intentioned, but self-sacrificing actions.
Bruising, as he said. Where his harness once was—four corners stretching both under his arms and over both shoulders—there’s bruising. Bruises criss-cross in an X shape following down his lower back, which disappears under his trousers. His chest is no different: a mess of purplish-bluish-black stretches across his stocky chest, follows down his midsection, and disappears in a V shape below his waist.
You again resist an urge, this time to shake him. You’re willing to bet more circle around his upper thighs, that they wind down his legs, and dig into the bottoms of his feet. 
You stand abruptly to dig through the bathroom for lotion and first-aid, but not without petting his head first so he knows there’s no more anger waiting to be spewed. “Stay here.”
He nods.
You’re more worried than even disappointed anymore. If it’s as you suspect and there’s no exception to where his ODM was strapped on, then the only places he was spared are his arms, his lower legs, and (of course) from the neck up. 
That’s it, no more work tonight. You’ll strap him down if you have to.
Back in the bedroom, he did as you said, but with the favor of dressing down to just his briefs, which makes you feel a little lighter. There are bruises on his thighs. His clothes are neatly folded by his side.
He straightens up just as you climb onto the bed behind him and uncap the bottle. “I met with Erwin earlier. There’s death certificates to take care of. Letters too, after you’re done.” 
“It’ll be a little cold at first.”
Then cold, cold cream lands on his shoulders, which you immediately begin to lather. You dig your fingertips in just a little, and he knuckles the bedspread, fighting a groan.
“Look, I heard what you said, but we shouldn’t keep those families waiting.”
“You look. If Erwin knew about this—” you pop your head over his shoulder and gesture down, “—he’d tell you to do the same thing I’m doing now. Say, hypothetically, he somehow found out…”
He’s not impressed by your threat of blackmail, but doesn’t argue. Erwin is a bigger force to be reckoned with. Levi could get put off-duty, or worse, lectured.
The stuff you’re massaging into his back, right between his shoulderblades, must’ve been expensive: it’s actually thick, actually consistent, and actually doing something. Eventually, the cold fades into an icy sort of burn that’s so powerful he feels his muscles physically loosen. 
He had no idea just how tightly he was wound until you start kneading your palms in—not too hard, mindful of the bruises themselves—and he has to fight his eyes on shutting, then his mind on dozing.
This and that can wait until tomorrow, you keep saying. You keep rebuking him, and he starts to have real trouble arguing now that you’re almost through with the muscles on his lower back. It has to be the worst there, because it’s never been so hard to resist showing how much he’s enjoying this.
“Your hands—”
“—feel good?”
“No,” he huffs. “Your injuries—”
“Oh? They don’t? Should I go harder?”
He knows what you’re doing. Maybe it’s better he just suffers the consequences of his actions. His thighs throb dully.
Breathing hard, he finally manages, “What if I can’t sleep?”
“For once I doubt that,” you retort, sounding very pleased with yourself.
Fuck you for always reading him so well. He shudders a breath as you get through with his hips, and says nothing.
Now you round his other side and kneel down, looking almost scarily determined. There really is no changing your mind, let alone stopping you. 
Strange. When he actually lets go a little, he feels less stressed. Nothing exists except for your magic hands and the focused little frown on your face as you work, and the sounds are your breaths and his much heavier ones.
So he doesn’t fall asleep, he watches your face as you move over his pecs. His middle isn’t as bad, so he can focus to talk, and explain.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that recruitment is in the ground—ah—has been for years now, and our living-to-dead ratio per expedition isn’t great, either.”
You click your tongue as you settle between his legs. “It’s better than before Erwin came up with the long-range formation.” 
Not that he’s wrong.
The lotion is terribly slippery in your hands, shaded a very diluted yellow that makes his skin almost shine when you rub it into his twitching belly muscles. It’s obvious how well it’s working—not that you plan to tell him how expensive it was—but you also notice, with unease, the way it makes the violent bruising brighter and somehow angrier than before.
He grunts in disagreement, though you aren’t wrong. While Shadis was Commander—and before that, he’s told—a great deal of what the Scouts used to do outside the Walls was group up in squads, ride together, and recover as much territory as they could, until they could no longer.
Thing is, Titan country is never short on Titans, which frustrates Levi to no end. 
As far as they know (as far as Hange’s figured out, rather), the way they breed is a complete mystery. Where they come from, why, and for what horrific reason they like to eat people has been a mystery since history became history.
He thinks, dejectedly, that the most compelling piece of data they’ve collected since he joined up was that notebook a Scout named Ilse Langnar was found clutching. His and Hange’s squads recovered her from the depths of a hollowed-out tree a Titan had stuck her in. It spoke to her, called her by a different name, even. 
Now that he thinks about it, forget data: all they reaped from that day was a heap of more questions.
“I spoke to Erwin about a fortnight ago before we left,” you’re saying. You’ve skipped past his thighs for now, and sit cross-legged on the floor massaging the bottom of his foot, which is propped up on your knee.
He practically punctures the bedspread from clutching so hard in order to resist twitching, flinching, and especially launching into a fit of laughter.
“What—” He moans under his breath,“—What was it. What’d you talk about?”
You’re forced to pin his ankle down so he doesn’t twitch away from you. So ticklish. He’s lucky he’s cute.
“We—” 
Levi squirms. 
“Captain Levi, you better sit still.”
He huffs petulantly. “Fuck you. It’s your fault. Deal with it.”
“Is it really?” You dart your thumbs on his most ticklish area just to rile him up. You hear a gasp, then only a hint of a raspy chuckle before he nearly kicks you in the face—accidentally, of course.
Maybe it isn’t your fault. He’s willing to agree with anything you say if it’ll get him to sleep sooner. 
His bruises pang dully, an amazing improvement from before. A profound heaviness drags him further and further into a warm nothingness. You make it very easy.
You decided to be generous and massaged his calves anyway. Up you go now. Almost done.
You return to what you were saying before. Erwin briefly confided in you and Mike over drinks when the discussion of future expeditions came up about two weeks ago; sealing Shiganshina bled heavily into that conversation.
Levi’s right that they don’t have enough bodies. The Survey Corps has always been an unpopular regiment for obvious reasons, and what’s worse, there’s no doubt numbers would be even less by the time you made it to the gates. 
Even if you all traveled during nightfall, you’d have nothing to seal the gates themselves with. Stone is too heavy for the horses; Hange claims Titans aren’t tricked by tarp, nor canvas, nor wool, and even if they thought up a solution, there’s a good chance most of who’s left would die on the return home—if anyone is left.
You’re in a bad way, to be very vague and very blithe.
Levi grunts. You’re molding your fingertips with each side of his knees now, a fresh dollop of lotion making him shiver.
“Those Abnormal idiots haven’t been seen in almost five years.” He groans. “Fuck, not so hard.”
You ease up, flex your smarting fingers, and wait until he goes boneless again. After what he just said, you almost want to knock on wood.
“Yeah, but that’s no reason to get comfortable.”
His hands planted back behind him are all that’s keeping him upright now. “Obviously. I’m just taking account of our shitty situation.” 
“I know, angel.”
His eyes are closed. “Erwin will figure something out. He always does, is. His brain never stops working. Probably doesn’t sleep, that bastard.”
You chitter a little, amused. “You don’t sleep.”
“Yeah.” 
You don’t think he’s listening. “Why don’t you lay back?”
He peels his eyes open. “With this slime all over me?”
“I’m not asking,” you tell him again. You will strap him down if it comes to that.
With a little effort, he manages until his head is on the pillows. The bruises on his back throb a little, but the good pain wins over the bad until he floats at the very edge of a pleasant, dull sleep. The next thing he knows, you’re back between his legs, massaging more lotion into one of his heavy thighs.
He shades his eyes with his arm and ignores the fact that he’s somehow half-hard. After the past two weeks, how is that even possible?
“Almost done,” you sigh softly, sounding pleased.
All this attention generously given to him when you never addressed who you lost out there earlier. You never snap at him, and after what he said, that’s how he knew. 
He wishes it was more rare that he found you in such a state upon coming back. Part of him too is still out there, fighting, so much so that the sight of you standing after he showered stunned him for a moment.
What can be done about those things? Nothing. There’s no fixed solution, no light at the end of the tunnel guaranteed, but there’s always something he can do as far as you’re concerned.
Whatever that thing is that makes him fearless, and somehow completely safe, and happy, but also scared—he can at least share that with you. Let it consume you both. He knows there’s a name for it, but he doesn’t want to name it, not right now.
His pensive eyes are on you as you finish up. Watching you so candidly leaves him feeling excruciatingly sappy even when all the grief forces him to feel nothing.
He gets like that after every expedition. Tomorrow, without fail, he’ll be on a cleaning frenzy (he’s been antsy; two weeks gives dust plenty of opportunity to collect), and you’ll likely be forging his signature so there’s less work for you both to do later. His name looks better in your handwriting, anyway.
HQ will be somber, quiet, in mourning. Unlike Shadis, Erwin mandates a day off after each expedition. In the worst of cases, two.
Much later—or not, time has blurred together—he instinctively rolls over to you and lays his head down on your chest. He’s wearing pants again.
 Then, he sees the light dim down behind his eyelids, and remembers himself a little. “Your fingers.”
“Bad, but not that bad,” you murmur, combing his hair backwards. “I cleaned up while you were asleep.”
Overwhelmed, his jaw moves a little uselessly. “That’s not fair.”
“Tomorrow,” you assure him, but he insists on asking, just in case, about whoever you lost. The pain on your face earlier was palpable.
“No, I’m happy right now,” you sigh wetly. “It made me feel better to, to make you feel better. So please.”
He uses the very last of his energy to lean up and kiss you somewhere—he thinks your jaw.
“Fine.” He’s whispering this. “But that goes both ways. Tomorrow let me—”
“Always.” You kiss his hair. "I will."
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miko-honey · 3 months
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FNAF is so iconic at this point it shaped an entire horror film genre of having evil animatronics killing people. First there was The Banana Splits movie which was supposedly an early script for the FNAF movie but the concept is so dumb and OUT OF ALL CHARACTERS YOU CHOOSE THE FUCKING BANANA SPLITS also there's like these social media influencers in the movie and one of them literally calls the other one DAD and everytime I see that scene from the movie I cringe. Willy's Wonderland is genuinely so bad that its good plus it has Nick Cage you can never go wrong with Nick Cage, also its the one FNAF parody where the protag beats the shit out of the animatronics and thats so based if it wasn't a horror movie it sure as hell would make a great comedy, its literally just this janitor trying to work off his debt but suddenly the spooky animatronics start attacking him so he beats the shit out of them then goes back to cleaning. Its a horror movie I highly recommend. This next one is a short film I don't recommend watching alone, in the dark, easily scared, or if you have a phobia of animatronics. Its so bad that it even scared me (someone who really likes horror movies and rarely gets scared by them) but its mostly my fault since I was watching this alone in the dark in a hotel room, I also accidentally tainted my best friend's view on the Rockafire Explosion thanks to this short film. (I am so sorry Ezra if you're reading this, but since I got reminded of this short film thanks to Chazzington you have to remember it too) The Hug is the most interesting and terrifying FNAF-like horror short film I've ever seen but its also not very creative since its just a recreation of THE BITE OF 87 but with hugs, still the set design and photography of this short film is so fucking good if I wasn't so scared of it I'd rewatch it so many times just for the look of the short film. Also some very interesting trivia about this short film is that they used a real Billy Bob (Showbiz Pizza/Rockafire Explosion) animatronic for this short film they actually contacted the creator of the animatronic to use it for this short film so thats neat. (But he also sure as hell scarred fans of his animatronics but allowing them to reskin his creation into a child eating bear) actually on the topic of this short film the way they show the animatronic eating the kid is so fucking grotesque and uncanny that its still burnt into my mind. I'm sorry to the fellow FNAF fans or people who liked the FNAF movie but these films (except the Banana Splits that movie deserves to be in the Dollar Tree DVD section) blow the actual FNAF movie out of the water, seriously it was underwhelming imo so if you really like FNAF I suggest giving these movies a watch.
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kim-poce · 1 year
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11. Witches Are Meant to Burn: Lunatic's Theory
On Patreon (two weeks earlier release)
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Magic. I thought on my own in the rare free time I managed to make for me and my students. Now, I know, I know this isn’t a real thing. Well, I should know, at least Enertine de Patry should be a lot more rational than that, and I would not dare to think about such a possibility if I was in front of my father and yet… yet I seem to be turning into some kind of lunatic.
Correlation is not causation. I tried to keep this in mind; like a rope tying me to the surface while I drowned more and more in this shameful part of my thoughts. And started analyzing everything that happened since the library was found.
There was erosion, not something grand (or so I heard) but enough for some curious people to walk around the place. That’s how it was found, by chance, by fate. (I must really be out of my mind). The cave attracted everyone’s attention, as it was to be expected, even non-scholars or scholars from unrelated fields became curious, but well, it’s Fog Age; who wouldn’t want to learn about it?
Everything about the project started as I expected; fuss, fight over who gets to make the decision, fight over who gets this part or that part of the project, fight against Gione’s students, who, by his orders, are always trying to steal an idea or another. Even the unexpected things weren’t surprising, like Portia’s representatives being so friendly to outsiders for the first time in a long while.
I, for the moment I heard about this place, tried to tie myself to reason and to things that make sense, opening an exception only to anything witches-related that might rise (there was none so far). However, there is a limit to how much I can ignore my thoughts. The odd things started on the first day I came to Podium Library (I’m still trying to change this unlucky name). It started with the heat.
Gea, the country I was born and raised in, is on the colder side. I’m used to traveling, so I am used to the change of climate from one place to another, but none like that change in the train; The day had been hotter than I was used to, nothing much or unexpected, until it changed, until it was suddenly too hot. As if we had crossed a line and traveled kilometers closer to the Central Line in less than a second. I asked later, but no one seemed to have felt that change but me. I ignored it, what could I do? To complain about the climate?
The second thing was the time I passed out, I don’t remember much; I looked inside the library, I raised my feet, put it down past the door and just… blacked out. I remember feeling hot, and since the doctor said I had a fever this seems to be about right. Normally I wouldn’t put so much thought on such matters, but heat has a special meaning to me after the whole burning witches issue.
I left Portia and paid attention to the line where the climate suddenly got colder. I repeated it on the day I went back to Podium, and as I hoped, in that same spot the climate became too hot.
Now, this all could be a coincidence, a correlation rather than a causation. But it wouldn’t explain the fires, I read and read our list over and over. Nothing would explain the whole situation as well as magic, and I know this sounds crazy, reason I’m not sharing my thoughts even with Tina, but just let me speak my mind.
The fire wasn’t aimed at people, but every trace of Podium’s work that was left alone was burned; the copies Gione’s students had, the notes of the professors, Hector’s scribbles of the unknown alphabet that were inside my notebook. The only traces taken away from Podium and did not burn was the one people carried all along. So, what if, and I know how my reputation would go down if I uttered it out loud, but what if the fire wasn’t caused by people? If it was caused by Podium’s words?
The word ‘witches’ doesn’t affect anyone but me, at least as far as I know, if it does affect other people they would be silent about it, as I am. I burnt myself on it when I was young, so I know it is real and it affects the real word, but not the whole word, it affects me. Now, none of Podium’s words that I touched so far burnt me, but maybe they burnt the buildings. If ‘witches’ needs me (or more people like me, I have a too small sample to be sure of what causes it to affect me), Podium’s words may need to be outside a certain reach, say, the spot the temperature suddenly rises, and outside people’s reach, say, a building where everyone had just walked away of, and having all the requirements met it could cause, say, a fire.
This library had several layers of secrecy, it was hidden as an awful sin, as anything that goes against Fate is expected to be. It was a place that survived in the time that going against the ‘right order of things’ meant death, it needed a way to keep the secret within its reach. So my theory makes historical sense, even if no scientific one. I can’t be sure that this all isn’t just a hallucination and I’m just a crazy person.
But I have a copy identical to the old one that burnt, I know where is the line where the temperature changes, and I happen to have free time on my hands.
@kathea, @extemporary-username, @wolfeyedwitch, @blu-jay-2779, @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee
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maslittlerabbit · 9 months
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In The Jurda Fields
Sankta Neyar's tea helps Jesper begin a conversation that's decades overdue.
The Jurda fields always smelt lovely before they were burnt.
Jesper opened his eyes and stared up at an overcast sky, the sun straining to reach through the clouds, there would be storm later.
“It’s good for the plants, you father will be pleased.”  
Jesper turned and the breath was stolen from his chest- Aditi Fahey.
“Mama.” He breathed, staring at her, arms hanging uselessly by his sides. She didn’t seem as he remembered her and, for a moment, he couldn’t think why but then, it came to him. They were the same height. All the time he’d known her she’d been a giantess, fierce and strong. Now she seemed smaller, slimmer.
“Oh, my Little Rabbit.” Aditi closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him, her grip almost crushing. The force jolted him from his shock, and he held here in kind, the pair rocking slightly from the power of the embrace.
“Mama.” He repeated, inhaling deeply and smelling that wonderful aroma of Jurda plants and metal working.
“Little Rabbit,” she pulled back, wiping his cheek with a thumb and brushing away a tear before it could fall, “Though, not so little anymore.”
Jesper let out a watery chuckle, “Didn’t get dad’s height.”
“Praise the Saints for that.” Aditi said wryly, smiling and taking him in, “Tell me, what else did you not get from your father?”
The woman stepped away, her bright yellow, purple and green clothing a beacon of joy against the limp sky. She pulled a pair of revolvers from her fabrics, spun them and shot into the distance, knocking off apples that happened to be sitting on the far-away fence.
“When did they- a-and you?” Jesper tried to think, to question but Aditi only laughed and held out the guns to him.
“Your turn, show your mother.”
“But they haven’t been reloaded?”
“Just shoot,” she said, stepping back to watch.
Jesper twirled the guns, the motion the most natural thing in the world and fired twelve bullets, knocking off twelve apples. Aditi cheered and clapped her hands.
“Stopped pulling to the left then?”
“Only took another few months.” He smirked, twirling the guns and holstering them.
“So quick. You always caught onto everything so quickly.” The woman’s smile dimmed, “Then you stopped.”
“You were gone.”
Jesper swallowed.
“And you still are.”
Aditi’s face slipped into sadness, she suddenly looked older.
“I am.”
“And this… isn’t real?”
“No.”
“A-am-” Jesper looked away, his shoulders tensing up, “Am I dying?”
“I hope not, my love.” She stepped forward and opened her arms again, Jesper didn’t hesitate to fall into the embrace, sniffing quietly, “There now,” Aditi cooed, “You have so much to say to me, Little Rabbit, and you know you can say it. I will not be angry with you. I will understand.”
“I just-” Jesper’s breath caught in his throat and he clung more fiercely, “I can’t change, it won’t make anything better. A-and I promised-”
“You father let fear rule his heart and love,” Aditi told him, her voice whispered into his ear just as she’d tell him stories as a child. “You risk your life every day for your friends, good friends who love you. Be all you are to protect them.”
In their embrace he was small again, looking up into her smiling face, he remembered.
“I cannot be anything but what I am.”          
“Yes, Little Rabbit, my Jesper.”
In the distance, thunder began to rumble. Aditi looked out towards the skies and Jesper felt her sigh.
“Find me, Jesper. Take back your blessing and tell me what you need to say.”
“M-Mama I, I lo-”
“Shh,” Aditi put a finger to his lips and the pair of them fell to their knees as the rain began to pour, “Tell me when it matters, Little Rabbit. Tell me when it matters.”
As the rain splashed around them, the field seemed too wash away like an oil painting, washing him and Aditi away in it.
“It always matters Mama…”
Jesper opened his eyes.
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jeffwritescrap · 10 months
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The thoughtful assassin.
Sitting comfortably across her laptop in nothing but a comfy crop top. She decided to watch some Netflix. Turning on her TV, she put on her favourite show and sat there lazily scrolling her phone. It was at this exact moment, that she saw an important notification pop-up appear on her bar. As she slowly opened the ominous notification, she rolled her eyes at the content:
Hi, I am John Doe. I’ve been commissioned by xxxx to take your life. Usually, I don’t take interest in my targets, but following you around has led me to believe that keeping you alive is more valuable as my code. Do not contact the authorities, as that could force my hand in doing something I’ve decided against. My client is a persistent man, so please, don’t reply to this message as it could reveal this secure channel to his informants. For your safety, take out a sum of cash and meet me at a disclosed location, which I will send you. Considering my client, I doubt you’d be safe by yourself, so don’t go out after midnight. Take my warning seriously and wait for my next transmission. Best regards.
John Doe
The girl read the text with somewhat of a humorous tone, after all, such scan messages were commonplace here. ‘Which dumbass would actually pay to get me killed? I'm just some random dumbass, not some fancy royalty worth killing, and hell I can get myself killed perfectly fine.’ she thought as she read through it one more time. Deciding to entertain herself, she texted back. “Get rekt, bitch. No way I’m falling for your shitty scam.” Making the draft, she decided to add a little spice as well, ‘xoxoxo’. Satisfied at her work, she pressed send. After not getting a reply for 2 minutes, she gave up and yeeted her phone off to her bed. ‘Guess he gave up!’ she said with a shrug, as she returned her focus to the show playing on her TV.
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Opening her eyes, she looked around, in a groggy manner only befitting a haggard drunkard. She spent a solid minute fetching the remote as the light from the TV invaded her eyes. As she turned the TV off, she sat up to get some food from the supermarket by the street before noticing her state of undress beneath the waist. Giving up on putting on any other top, she washed her face on the sink and dragged herself to her bedroom. After dressing up, she slowly picked up a credit card and walked downstairs.
Slowly opening the apartment yard's main entrance, she noticed the most horrid smell she could imagine, “Fuck, shouda brought a mask if I knew it would be this bloody disgusting outside.” She said, as she slowly walked down the street. Looking around, she noticed how empty the street was. ‘Huh, real weird today, isn’t it?’ while the girl was walking towards the shop, the light above her heed suddenly gave out. Before reappearing the next moment.
The city street was empty, no sign of any activity. A few moments later, a short scream could be heard, as a body hit the floor after jumping from the rooftop. There were 2 shoes resting by the rooftop ledge, a note written in perfect matching handwriting laying by its side. One side was half burnt, there was a tear mark on it. It wrote a story of regret, of despair. Of a girl struggling with life away from her rural home across the countryside. It would become the example of a century, a girl who committed suicide due to the wrongdoings of society.
As the people started gathering; a man clad in white cleaner suit approached the trash can. Pulling out the huge body bag, he opened the zip to reveal a burnt corpse. “Which dumbass burns a corpse in the city.” He muttered to himself, “I have to feed him to the hounds, he might have as well ruined the entire operation.” He tsked a few more times before speaking to the dead body. “John, you were a great subordinate, damn I’m gonna miss your dumbass, aren’t I?” he said, genuine sorrow in his voice.
Just then, he noticed a small file sitting by the can, “I could almost tolerate the burning, but this dude is seriously sloppy, I tell ya.” He looked over the file. It was their client submission file. “I wondered where that went. So, you took it.” he considered the burnt corpse. Before reading it to himself once.
[Emily Hailey, the raised daughter of Karl and Penelope Hailey. Adopted by process of accidental finding and raised as the family’s own. Real identity recently found: heir to the great Santiago Maria estate fortune, estimated at around 24.5 billion dollars. Commission fee, 25 million for a natural death. No foul play suspected.]
‘You had to screw me over on such a project. Eh, couldn’t say I’m surprised.’ The old cleaner said to himself. As he put the body bag on a little rollie and walked through the homeless bridge. As he passed by, he said his hellos to some denizens of the messy community. Finding one with a small fire, he offered his file as kindling, the men sitting around him thanked him for his kindness. As he moved towards the forge, he has a body to get rid of. Whistling with joy, he pulled the rollie along and sang to himself a happy song, tomorrow was going to be a great payday!
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takoto · 11 months
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sad vent before work
content warnings for; discussion of end of life, cancer, money discussion
I always thought having such a close family member take such a turn practically overnight would kick my death anxiety into overdrive but thankfully that hasn't reared it's head (yet)
Pretty much out of nowhere my Granddad started having language problems and was suddenly very sick. Turns out it's late stage cancer in his brain (and other places, but the brain is the big problem). It's not a matter of if he'll pass away, it's a matter of when. At the moment, doctors are saying around three months - I know that's just an estimate and people can go on to live way longer, but, man, it doesn't feel real.
Like none of this feels real still. It's been months since he started having problems; weeks since we found out it was cancer, and almost a week since my Nan was told he had ~3 months. May 11th was when they were told, I will remember that date.
He doesn't want to know how long he has; from what people have said, he doesn't want treatment and to be in and out of hospital.
My Nan wants me to draw some owls for him, cause he likes them. I'll try my best to draw it swiftly.
I wish I could take time off work. I don't get sick pay though. And I only have around six days of holiday left I can take, which I want to save them encase I need to rush down there. My workplace doesn't have a compassionate/bereavement leave policy, either.
I'm not in a position at the moment to do a big commission drive or something to raise money to pay for Living Stuff if I do need to take an extended break from work. I'm extremely blessed that lately I've had a steady stream of commissions (one or two at a time), but I'm struggling with managing two at a time as well as daily life & emotional shit, so having a bunch ongoing at once would burn me out for sure
And like... right now? All I'm doing is drawing. Not in an unhealthy way. But it's helping keep my mind off of things, helping me stay focused and grounded. I can't be burnt out because if I am, my emotions will just rot away and fester. At least if I'm drawing - especially for other people - I get to feel like I'm making progress and making other people happy.
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dredshirtroberts · 9 months
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because i know if i don't get the words out of me they will sit and fester and i run the risk of exploding the relevant emotions out onto an unsuspecting passer by, but i've also already ranted about this in the group chat and in person and in a direct message, so now you guys get some too
Guess who is just now realizing they were vastly exploited and abused by their parents and first employers (same people) because i existed to make their lives easier and not to be my own person
it's ~*~me~*~
It's just like. God it's no wonder things panned out the way they did. I was burnt the fuck out, overworked, underpaid, under-appreciated, just fully taken advantage of.
I did so much for my parents all the fucking time, and they just did not even care how much I was doing until I stopped. And then I was being "lazy"
UM HOW ABOUT YOU PAY THE PERSON RUNNING EXACTLY 1/3rd OF YOUR COMPANY MORE THAN $10.50 AN HOUR WHEN THEY'VE WORKED FOR YOU FOR 7 YEARS AND, I SIMPLY CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, WAS RUNNING A THIRD OF THE COMPANY OPERATIONS ACTIVELY 100% OF THE TIME. AND ALSO WAS YOUR FUCKING CHILD.
(I rounded up to the 10.50 mark - and that's assuming 40hr work week on salary. I frequently went above and beyond, had to use my own money to do certain operations and then wait to be reimbursed, and often ended up having to juggle several high priority things and end up dropping at least one which would get me into trouble because i wasn't doing all of the things all of the time to perfection every time.)
So it only makes sense that at every job from that point on, I felt obligated to Accurately Report my time, and any slacking off I felt like I didn't deserve to get paid for, even if it wasn't actually slacking off and just there wasn't anything to do. Getting me to take breaks is a fucking nightmare and of COURSE i feel bad whenever I am incapable of helping with anything around the house (which disregards what I am capable of doing around the house and will have done even a little). I was chided for "wasting time" constantly through the first 7 years of employFUCK I FORGOT A JOB.
okay it's been listed.
but yeah i was told any moment i wasn't working actively on something was wasted time, and that i wasn't going to go anywhere, and i felt overwhelmed because i was running an entire operations department for a small business that was actively growing and got to a Decent Size before I left, and I had so much on my shoulders, and I think I found the start of the pattern of being threatened that I had no real place anywhere, and that if I fucked up badly enough I could be dropped with no repercussions on the side of the droppee's part (but then as soon as I am the one leaving, suddenly I'm irreplaceable and actually really necessary and am I sure I want to go? i have such a good thing going here and jesus christ i've been abused............)
I just. I'm so mad. I'm so fucking mad.
They're goddamn lucky I've removed them from my life, because if my parents were still in any way connected to me, I would....would.....
i'm going to eat my chicken nuggets and watch the world collapse (view recent news clips)........
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I already know this is going to be such a wild ask and I sincerely apologize but omg I’ve been a huge enjoyer of your blog and writing for awhile now (Thank you so much for posting all of your hard work!!🥺) and I just wanted to let you know that you are hands down the reason why I enjoy Suguru as much as I do! I never disliked him, I always thought he was interesting as a character and villain, not to mention v v pretty😳 but no matter what I could never find myself fully invested in him as a character by himself! In the past any interest I had was if it were an interaction between himself and Gojo but now????? After reading your writing??? I find myself getting mush brain anytime I think about Sugu, and it’s all because of how you write for him!!🥺
I’m no expert in writing or describing why certain things meld so well by any stretch of imagination, and I can’t even begin to coherently try to explain why your version of him works so well, I can just say that he feels so genuine and real! Even in his most twisted, wild, and angsty moments he is Suguru Geto, and I am experiencing this character as he was meant to be seen, read, and loved!
And ofc your writing lends itself wonderfully for everyone you write for! I found you first through your Gojo writing (All of which is still yummy and tasty and I always come back when I’m in need of comfort!🥺), but I will never forget reading your best friend! and Childhood friend! Sugu for the first time I was??? Floored from start to finish! To me at the very least, your writing is very tender but oh so unapologetic. The way you handle fluff and angst separately is impeccable, and when you bring them both together? Divine! I will rant and rave over all of your Gojo writing but there’s just SOMETHING in how the angst and quiet sweetness works so well for your Suguru that leaves me just?? So happy that I came to truly love and appreciate this character through your writing! I can feel how much you adore Sugu in everything you do and I am just??? So happy to love him as much as I do now!🥺
SPEAKING OF SUGU😳 I’ve read talk of a merman! AU and can I just say I am!!!! Fully on board😳 I cannot speak for everyone but when May/Summer comes around a button in my gnoggin gets pressed and suddenly all I can think about is Mermay and merfolk! There’s so much potential for the trope and the diverse ways in which characters can meet and learn about each other and themselves and so much else it’s just?? SO GOOD😳 It is curiosity and kindness at its core and I just!!! Go bonkers for that shit oml if you do decide to go through with writing for this Merman! idea please know it will slay so hard I fear we will never recover😌
(I wanted to talk about stsg with an aroace! reader as well but this ask is too long as is so all I will say is! That entire idea really hits close to home and it truly means a lot, it’s a very nice thought to think about and I enjoy seeing yours and others takes and ideas on the topic! <:))
I just want to apologize for letting this ask become such a behemoth, i knew i had a lot to say but I didn’t think it would be this much, i hope it doesn’t clog up your inbox or overwhelm you! ^^; but I hope it can at least meet you at a good time! I hope you have an amazing rest of your day/night, and please don’t feel pressured to respond if you’d rather not! <:)
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anon………………………….
I CRIEDDDDDD I CRIED REAL TEARS YOU ARE SUCH A SWEETHEART???????? this ask made me SO happy pls never apologize for making it long….. i love long asks more than anything and this was just so heartfelt n kind ??? T—T have been feeling slightly burnt out lately so it rlly cheered me up!! tysm……… BUT AAAA we have sm to talk abt ….
FIRST OF ALLLLL ANON MY ANGEL??? i genuinely can’t express how overjoyed i am that i could convert u into a sugu stan LMAO like that’s??? the highest form of praise to me???? knowing my silly lil sugu fics could make u appreciate him as a character???? :’3 I’M SO HAPPY sugu nation could always use more followers….. we’re kind of a cult i think HE’S LOVELY ISN’T HE??? likeeee i love gojo just as much don’t get me wrong but i do also think sugu is the best jjk character. like. objectively. nothing beats him.
no but i really am so giddy that u enjoy my sugu fics!!! :’3 and the gojo fics too!!!! they’re my special little guys and i feel so lucky that i’m able to share my love for them w everyone else <33 and aaaaa …. anon i feel very overwhelmed rn BUT ONLY IN A GOOD WAY i’m just so touched by ur kind words!!! T—T knowing my sugu feels genuine and real to u means the world to me, i try my best to stay true to my own perception of his character while writing (whether it’s fluff or angst)… so i feel so relieved knowing it resonates w u :’3
To me at the very least, your writing is very tender but oh so unapologetic.
also…. anon……. you’re far too kind 😭😭😭 THIS IS SUCH A HEARTFELT COMPLIMENT IT MADE ME SWOON tysm …….. i think that i want my writing to feel tender above all else !!! so this is also so affirming to hear phdjdvz…….. ily. T_T
AND AND ANDDDD MER!SUGU!!!!! ohhh anon i’m so glad you’ve been enjoying my discussions abt him, i adore them sm !! 😭😭 it really feels like me and my anons have been building him up together and i’m so excited to write the fic and bring him to life!!! I HOPE IT WON’T DISAPPOINT i also love mermaids a whole bunch and i agree sm when u say the trope is just kindness at its core, the idea of a human and a mermaid loving each other when their worlds are so far apart… just. appreciating each other as individuals yk?? i’m planning to make that a very central theme of the fic, i’m not gonna spoil u but !! i have a lot of thoughts abt mer!sugu and people he might have met.. how they shaped the way he views humans and himself….. how much one little act of kindness can mean to a person. yeahhh that concept always makes me emotional i’m kinda tearing up…… u get it anon…………. T—T
ANDDDDDD AROACE!READER TOO………… i hope this isn’t too personal to ask but anon are u on the spectrum 👀👀👀 i’m assuming u are hehe, it’s always so heartwarming to talk to other aroace jjk fans!!!!! i think that especially in a fandom w so much smut it’s nice to be able to create a lil corner w/o it…… no hate towards smut obviously phsjdhd it’s just usually not to my taste so i’m very content to be running a sfw blog :33 and obv aroace!reader means a whole bunch to me, i’m so happy the concept is comforting to others too!! i firmly believe stsg would be great w an aroace!reader <333 (and i hc them both as being on the spectrum too)…. if u ever wanna talk abt them then feel free to send an ask in, i’d be more than happy to!!!!
but!!!! with all that being said!!!!! thank you so, so much for all your kind words 🥺🥺😥 this ask rlly did find me at the perfect time, you’re a sweetheart and i’m honoured that my fics can mean something to you <333 i’m hugging u tightly anon !! i hope you have a lovely day or night 🫂🫂 always remember that suguru geto loves u
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delicateruinsexpert · 6 months
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I don't think I'd feel so burnt out if I feel truly protected, supported, heard, & handled by what I deemed "real men." Real men are able to communicate without fear, but also do so with respect. Real men give a true dam if they are actually pleasing in bed & recognize that more than the act itself plays into this. Real men know how to be observant & thoughtful. They know how work as a team. They know how to recognize each other as equals & step in, when one person is just getting burnt out by the things that come with life & know the same will be done for them. They know how to both listen & empathize, and how to problem-solve/resolve conflict. I'm not here looking to be 'rescued.' I'm doing all I can to get out of my environment & am currently at the mercy of time to see how my attempts turn out. If I had that real man in my life, I know I could turn to them for relief, when reliving the trauma is too much...or know they will lift me up when I'm dealing with co-parent abuse...and show that co-parenter that they are here to stay and they aren't going to stand for their women being treated like that. I'm dealing with abusers who look for the smaller ones to abuse...which means it takes another guy for them to finally feel like maybe then should throw some respect on things, if they want to keep their prey in their world at all - because let's face it- being abusive to a woman as wonderful as me, does feed something in them. I have seen it so many times. Anytime I'm in a relationship (doesn't matter if the guy turns out to be the worst piece of shit on the planet), my dad suddenly feels threatened that my son & I will be taken away from him & my son's father doesn't feel he can get away with being so abusive because he knows there's a constant witness to his behavior to report him. He doesn't see my father as that person & I totally can see why...but bfs, finances, husbands - tbar has always been a totally different ball game for my son's dad. Even initially after a breakup, there is small window where he tries to be nicer for a minute, as if he's just waiting to make sure the breakup is real; before he returns to his usual behavior - knowing there is no longer a witness or another man to compete with as a father figure for my son. I hate to admit that this is the reality of things; but it is....so being as burnt out as I am, I can't help but yearn to have these protections, this sense of appreciation, & care in my world. I know how amazing I can be when I'm not burnt out & I just want to get to be that version of me again ASAP. I'm tired of being tired and something needs to give...I feel God is working out something to reward me for all I've endured & answer my prayers. I just happen to be equally impatient as I am stubborn - no matter how much I recognize the importance of Divine timing. God, I'd love some softness in my Life to feel safe, calm, comfortable and like I'm free to celebrate my strength, grace, & feminity. Again, in a relationship-that would require a real man.
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monstersinthecosmos · 6 months
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could you go into more detail re: how you changed the post-bom smut in chapter 9 of TTSR? i looove the whump+smut combo but i totally get what you meant by thinking it wouldn't be realistic for keith to even recover from what you initially had in mind, esp. given it's a multi-chaptered fic and listen we have places to get to we have burns to slow and daddies to kink and whatnot. but still i am kinda foaming at the mouth to know what the original plan was LOL, if you're up to talking about it ofc. btw it's sheith VC anon and i've just started reading IWTV! lestat cracks me the fuck up but i feel like louis would sound just as ridiculous from someone else's pov, arguably more so. girl you are out there standing still in the middle of the pouring rain for hours. love the moments when it stops being an interview and becomes a psychoanalysis session instead, hey it's free therapy. if he's even aware of such a strange and novel concept yet. also the AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE COFFIN bit made me lose it
WHAT A DELIGHTFUL ASK IN MY INBOX FIRST THING IN THE MORNING HAHA. LOUIS PLZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11 i s2g lol baffled-idiot-at-the-zoo-core
Gosh so like, when I write outlines, I kinda
list the points out
in the bottom of the document
that i can always peek down and just see the next part im trying to make it to
AND THEN I ERASE THE LINES AS I GO HAHA. So there's no real record of my original outlines oops. So tbh I don't remember allllll the details but I do have a couple clues from DMs with my TTSR cheerleader:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Basically, like, in the first aid/aftercare area of the chapter I was gonna have Keith in like COMPLETE hysterics hahahaha but I'm kind of a slow writer so idk the trials part of the chapter took WEEKS to write so like. It's hard for me sometimes because in my mind I feel like "I've been staring at this scene for weeks and it's getting boring" without remembering that it would take like, idk 10 minutes to read? I get very worried that my fics are long and boring LOL. But like working on the trial for weeks where it was like so dismal and violent and dark, I think it MAKES SENSE that someone would be in hysterics, but I also felt like.!!!!!!!!!!
I wanted the sex at the end of the chapter to be like quiet and intimate but for Keith to be really shut down and uncomfortable afterwards, and I wanted him to pull away and have walls up. Like to be in hysterics, then to have sex, then to calm down and be really embarrassed that he was in hysterics in the first place, and get freaked out that they're being too intimate.
But it feels like at a certain point I'm not trying to like slow burn or drag the story out FOR THE SAKE OF DRAGGING IT OUT, I don't want to include those things if they feel gratuitous. Does that make sense? Because I've read some bad slow burns where I felt like the author was being purposefully verbose to inflate the word count so that you FEEL SLOW BURNED by the slog of words but not necessarily by what's happening in the story? To me, slow burning is about what the characters are DOING and what's happening and how everyone feels, not strictly about making people sit through 100k of build up. You can slow burn someone in 3k if you're purposeful! So like without my original notes anymore what I do remember is
Keith was going to be in COMPLETE hysterics. The notes probably were like "Keith comes out of the trial puking and has a huge meltdown" and when you write notes it feels kinds harmless but then when you write like idk 15k about the trials suddenly it's like "a huge meltdown" feels like Too Much.
Shiro drugging him wasn't in the original outline; this was my excuse to get him calm and loopy instead of having a metldown.
I felt like Keith emotionally shutting down during sex at the end was going to be TOO MUCH so I let Shiro take care of him a little more. A compromise was that I added that he COULDNT COME LOL I just thought it would like still give me an excuse to have him be frustrated/burnt out/whumpy but without pushing it so hard. (Of course Shiro figures out a way to get him off anyway because I didn't want to like edge the reader on that either, that also felt a little cruel LOL)
I don't recall if I planned whose bedroom they'd be in but I let Shiro fell asleep at least before Keith leaves. FALLING ASLEEP IN KEITHS BED LOL FEELS SERIOUS.
I also think I wrote something about how he wasn't going to want to see Shiro's face or be on top in the second scene because in the opening scene he's on top for the first time and he's really nervous and uncomfortable and doesn't like it. So like instead of the BOM trial bringing them CLOSER I thought it was going to like push them further from each other because he was too traumatized LOL.
BUT IDK IN THE MOMENT ONCE I ACTUALLY SAW HOW THE TRIALS WENT I JUST FELT LIKE IT WAS TOO MEAN LOL. AND I DECIDED IF HE'S VERY HIGH AND EXHAUSTED HE CAN AT LEAST PARTICIPATE AND I DONT HAVE TO HURT SHIRO'S FEELINGS LOL. AND HE CAN STILL FEEL VERY EMBARRASSED AFTERWARDS WHICH IS THE NEXT CHAPTER THAT I'M WORKING ON NOW.
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md3artjournal · 7 months
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3:30 PM 9/12/2023 checking-in, venting, and once again being the most insecure supposed-artist on the internet. ^_^;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Sooooo…I may be burning myself out on a project again. I stopped my daily drawings and pretty much gave up on OTPtemper and Witchtember drawing challenges. I told myself it was reasonable since I had burnt myself out on finishing a fancomic, so I needed a break from drawing. And I was having a lot of fun with figure photography, unboxing my figures, and rearranging them. But it's Tuesday now, and I'm still working on a figure photography project from last Friday. And just like working on that fancomic for multiple days, I'm beginning to feel tried.
I speculated before I that I just need that daily high of finishing a drawing each day. My self esteem is so low, I thought it made sense to be desperate for that sense of accomplishment. It made sense that a drawing or drawing project suddenly taking more than one day, postponing my daily boosts of self worth was logically draining on me.
I might be beginning to feel the same way about this photography project. It's odd though, because I did in fact finish my goal project yesterday. I'm just trying to finish a spawn side project by making a still images version of that Reel video. I should have gotten the elation of finally finishing that video yesterday. But I think the frustration of trying to figure out Instagram's Reels, and repeatedly needing to start all over again, then finally figuring out the function's bugs, pretty much evened out whatever positive feelings that sense of accomplishment gave me. That sense of accomplishment in completing the Reel was no longer projecting me into elation territory, but just barely digging me out of the hole that the frustration and moments of hopelessness caused by that process generated. They say that breaking even is still a win, and that's the only way I've been afforded to perceive my small art business so far. But by now I know, working yourself to death or even just into fatigue, and the only reward being to return back to status quo, begins to eventually become less of a "nothing lost" situation and more of a tiring situation. I'm tired. In this case specifically, maybe the mess its making of my figure collection, surrounding me with clutter each day, is somehow draining on my mentality?
On the good side, I'm getting so tired of this figure photography project, that I'm becoming desperate to draw again. It feels like internal motivation, which has always seemed rare for me. Usually, I either am not allowed to have emotions, or I'm too accustomed to not having emotions, or I'm actively numbing my emotions. More often than not, I feel like I lack that EMOTIONAL FEELING of internal NEED to create. So having an emotion I need to express through art, always SEEMS like a precious rarity.
Though, when I think about it, I have have internal motivations and emotions to motivate my art. It's just that when I'm more often doing last-minute doodles to meet personal daily drawing quotas, they don't often feel like I'm expressing some real emotion. But maybe that's just an illusion, from that experience happening more often. Creating without specifically to express an emotion, happening more frequently, it's no wonder that image preoccupies the majority of my perception of how often I feel an emotional need to express a feeling through art. I still do have deep emotions sometimes, that I need to express through art. I just, kinda…get too intimidated by my lack of skill, how bad it'll be…and then I jump in anyway, feel accomplished for a while after I finish a drawing that went beyond my personal usual bests…and then I'll see other people's art online and remember that my personal best isn't good enough. And never has been. But secretly though, I do go back later through my sketchbook or through my art blog, and I do feel accomplished again and again. But I can still objectively say it's not competitive as a professional.
I'm supposed to be a small business artist, and I'm not even getting started on that, because I'm too intimidated. I'm subscribed to a couple of YouTube channels and Instagram accounts about tips for running a small art business. And yet, I'm more often too afraid to even watch their content, because I'm still too afraid to JUST THINK ABOUT restarting by business. Before the pandemic, it was easy to just jump into an anime convention artist alley and set up a table. But this whole "online store" and "online presence" thing I've needed to do, post-pandemic, is really intimidating. I'm still learning to switch from sculptor/crafter to illustrator/fanartist. I'm still honing my craft, AND I have to be creating at a competitive level, AND I have to figure out how to work with outsourcing to manufacturers? The amount of money I'll have to sink into acrylic charms or pins or even prints, is just too intimidating, when I am constantly haunted by the notion that my art won't sell enough to cover the manufacturing costs. How could it, when my art isn't good compared to everyone else's offerings in artist alley and especially online. What am I going to do? Build a fan following? All the fandoms I make art for, I've probably ruined my reputation in them. Too many public hot takes on FE3H and my disdain for Goro Akechi. But fanart for those fandoms are all I want to draw for. It's too much of an obsession for me to give time to any other art. But more and more, it seems like I'll need to build a whole new rebrand, centered on something else.
Maybe my original art has built up enough pieces by now, to make into a whole rebrand. I'm thinking of my ink drawings of minimalistic silhouette witches, dragons, and dip pen spiral drawings, or getting into "Cute/Kawaii Art". A few years ago, I started Following a bunch of artists with simple styles, who didn't bother with realistic textures/lighting, and they didn't even bother drawing any human characters. It was really up my alley in skill level, and very encouraging. But actually, it was more up my alley in terms of art I want to consume. Because I love cute art and I don't like looking at humans (except my fandom obsession fictional characters). And their art was REALLY FREAKING CUTE. But also, it gave me some hope for myself. And yet still, I'm intimidated. My attempts to emulate the "Cute/Kawaii Art" style doesn't feel cute enough, doesn't feel detailed enough, doesn't seem to earn the emotional reactions of Cute Aggression needed to justify a simpler art style. And the ones that do, would work really well as enamel pins, since that medium actually requires simplified art. But those outsourcing/manufacturing costs! Did you know that to make ONE enamel pin design, is a MINIMUM of $200? And that's without even knowing which designs will sell! All those artist alley tables selling pins of full casts of characters from a series---if an average series has maybe 5 characters in the core cast, that's already $1000---without even knowing if it'll sell enough to cover the manufacturing cost!!! And that's just one set of pins for ONE series! Thankfully, I rewatched a Mualcaina video, that introduced the idea of preorders to get around this problem, so maybe I'll try that. But first, gotta have art good enough for it. Thankfully, I've already gotten someone begging me to turn my orb dragons into enamel pins. It's just I may have to redraw the whole thing, because it was one of my first digital drawings, so I don't think I started with a large enough canvas/resolution---Oh, wait. I think I found a function in Krita to raise the DPI. So those should be good to go. If I can get over the fear of spending so much money on outsourcing or the fear of networking-up a following to set-up a preorder. ---See? I feel like I just keep coming up with excuses to not start. I'm too intimidated.
I've always been an anxious person. Truthfully, lately I've been thinking more often that maybe I'm not cut out to be a small business artist. Though the alternative of professional corporate artist sounds like something I couldn't EVER get. No one is hiring my portfolio. I don't know if I could even survive the job hunting process. And I remember how inexplicably suicidal my last office job made me. I don't have any choice but this small business artist path---BUT I'M SOOOOOOOOOOO BAD AT IT. I've already messed up. Unsatisfied customers, people who thought my polymer clay sculptures should have been as durable as the cheap industrial plastic trinkets from Target or Walmart… I can't go back to a medium I was objectively good at, because I keep burning down bridges. I didn't want to, but I'm just too stupid to not make mistakes.
I don't even know what I'm venting about. I thought I was writing a check-in post about my current project burning me out, ironically after my previous project also burning me out. I don't know why I keep looking for "artist encouragement" videos from the channels I Follow, when I already have an old playlist like that. (https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbGXNMLue5g1UFC3gcUp3xkOIfs4KHVQR&si=QCqmjcLJvOTsF-E9) It's like I'm just stalling, procrastinating facing anything.
And now I've written myself into a melancholy mood. Greeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttt~
(Or maybe it was all that sad Rebecca Sugar music from Adventure Time I just listened to. lol)
But I do like writing. Just that alone always feels good.
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