#i ... am going to commit a vicious act

[allevils]

JESSE PINKMAN: don't tell anyone about this .

perhaps it's the easiest thing to do. after all, everyone has a secret — most try to cover it up with lie upon lie upon lie. jesse, on the other hand, gives the truth but doesn't want it to get out. it's locked deep into lucy's mind, her brain formulating many, many reasons to use it for her own gain. still, he sees him as a kid, wide-eyed and stuck in a situation he shouldn't be in. does it make her worse or better that she's able to recognize a victim of their situation? who really knows, right? certainly not her. never her.

so, lucy does the nice thing. she does the more acceptable thing. she places an x over her heart, drawn with the sleekness of someone whose done that movement plenty of times. we don't discuss how many times she's broken those promises — the next one has to be the one that sticks, right? right?

" i promise, kid. your secret's safe with me. honest. " he should feel worse about lying. he doesn't. after all, if lying was truly awful, then why was it the easiest thing in the world? @tocook

[foldingfittedsheets]

You wouldn’t blame a crowbar for an act of destruction, you would blame the wielder. For this reason I can’t be held responsible for what happened to my friend Charlie’s bed. I was merely a tool that force was applied through.

It happened like this: Brendan, Charlie, and I decided to have a late night movie viewing at Charlie’s house. We watched The Hogfather and Groundhogs day and we stayed up until 4am. Then we were all too tired to drive home and crashed. I got the bed and the boys took the floor.

Four hours later, Charlie’s parents woke up. They learned that Charlie had people over. They. Were. Furious. Because unbeknownst to us it turned out they had swine flu. Charlie should had been quarantining not bringing people to his plague house. They ordered Charlie to kick us out that very moment.

Charlie came to rouse us. I am… not at my best in the morning hours. Four hours of sleep did not leave my disposition gruntled. Charlie began trying to rouse me to pretty much no avail. He pulled the covers off, shook me, tried to take my pillow, but I was a tiny ball of sleepy vicious rage. When he shook me I’m pretty sure I bit him.

I should be clear, I wasn’t really awake. A baseline function was taking place but no real actual thought. I was piloting on pure instinct and the instinct was: need more sleep. Charlie tried everything while Brendan watched in bemusement.

Finally Charlie got the idea that if he physically lifted me out of bed I’d go. He managed to get his hands under my arms and start dragging me off the bed.

Two things happened very quickly. My toes wrapped around the top of the railing to his bed frame, and I went limp everywhere else. Charlie staggered and almost dropped me, because holding a floppy corpse body is much harder than a tensed one, a fact I had learned from many roughhousing attacks by my brother.

He swore and then gamely started trying to drag me backward, thinking it would be easy to dislodge my toes from the bed frame. It was not. I’ve mentioned before that my toes are strong, but Charlie was flabbergasted that their grip on the bed was so strong that he couldn’t drag me away.

I was going on pure stubborn instinct. I did not want to leave the bed. Charlie was fully committed that a 90lb gremlin wasn’t going to beat him in a contest of strength with only her toes. So he pulled. And I held on.

Both of us were shocked when there was a tortured shriek of wood and something in the bed frame cracked. It was loud enough that I actually woke up. The rest of my brain surfaced in confusion to join the lizard brain whose only goal had been not to leave the bed.

I released my toes and took my own weight and Charlie and I stared at the bed.

“You ripped the railing off!”

“Well, no, you ripped the railing off, I was just the tool. If you hadn’t been pulling on me-“

“If you had just let go! What is up with your feet?!”

We griped as I readied myself to leave his plague house, joining his parents in being mad that Charlie hadn’t told us they were sick. I drove home to sleep more.

Over the years of our friendship Charlie still maintained that I broke the bed. I disagreed and think I was only the tool by which he broke the bed. Only you can decide who bears the most sin, the dragger or the dragee.

[katyspersonal]

❤️‍🩹 something hornsent related pls! :D (the character or the culture as a whole sgsjdjdk)

I'll do both XD

For character:

In full seriousness, I DO like that he is a negative turn on the victim of something horrible. I felt very invested and compassionate towards him from basically the first interaction! His trust issues are very understandable, but he goes further. He is obsessed with revenge, but not for the pragmatism sake (as in "killing Messmer so the war can stop and my culture can heal and raise back from the ruins"). No, his obsession is to inflict the same pain he experienced, the same damage his nation experienced, and so the quest realistically never ends and killing Messmer doesn't heal him.

He is understandable, realistic, sympathetic character. Him reacting in such a negative, unproductive way shows the lasting results of atrocities committed by others. The way Hornsent goes about it is a cautionary tale. Not the generic "revenge bad" lecture I am tired of, but a notice on not loosing the true purpose of (fully justified) vengeance: to stop the vicious cycle. With all due respect to Messmer's tragedy and my liking of him, objectively he deserves only death but for the sake of ending the Crusade, not for the sake of payback. And it is so interesting and so mature to show a character that would not understand all this. He is literally just a person acting out of pain for his family and friends: exactly what you'd expect! And him being literally just a person caught in genocide's way and surviving is what I like.

For culture:

I've mentioned it before, but I fucking LOVE the Divine Beasts and crucible affiliation thing going on with them!

The lion dancers channel storm, blizzard or wind! And then there are the Divine Beast Knights who only can use one of these powers!

I think this is just so fucking cool and smart for some reason fdfdhds Their relationship with the spirit world is truly unique, there are so many interesting instances of this, but this one stuck with me the most. When I met these guys one by one in Enir Ellim I was so pleasantly surprised XD

[shortentheway]

I Can See the End

Levi Ackerman x OC (18+)

Post-Apocalypse AU

Master List | Read on AO3 Here

Heyy, welcome to the fifth chapter. There is smut at the end. Please heed the warnings. If the subject matter upsets you, please refrain from reading. If you have yet to read the previous chapters, the links are above.

Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), age gap, power imbalance, profanity, unprotected sex, degradation, dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, emotional abuse, codependency, obsession, drug use, implied prostitution, violence, mental illness.

Chapter Five - Vacillation

The water is hot, scalding even. The droplets are as bullets, assaulting my skin. I’m not precisely sure how long I’ve been sitting naked on the floor of this filthy shower stall, wasting precious water. It doesn’t matter, though. The only thing that matters is the pain, the sharpness of the heat. It’s a distraction. A distraction that pulls my mind away from the events that transpired yesterday evening. A distraction from the shame.

I’ve never felt this much self-distain in my entire life. Last night I lost control in ways that I never have. I caved to temptation, and the most disgusting part about the situation is that I don’t regret it. I don’t regret letting go and giving someone else control.

Certainly something about me changed the moment I put that first strawberry in my mouth. One moment of indulgence has become a catalyst for gluttony to infest its way into my body. I’ve had a taste of the divine, and now I never want to let it go. I’ve become the very thing I fear.

The water finally shuts itself off, abruptly ending my aberration. However, I remain still on the shower floor, catatonic. I sit there hugging my knees to my chest, rigid as stone. I feel as if I’m an animal, a wild, uncontrollable beast. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I need. I’ve been living with a constant feeling of restlessness ever since I committed my crime. Only when I partake in acts of debauchery does the feeling temporarily subside. It always returns, though, festering with full force. A never-ending, vicious cycle.

The sound of the shower curtain being yanked open rips me out of my head. I swiftly turn to look behind me to discover whoever has decided to disturb my session of self-loathing.

Standing there is a woman with long brown hair, shamelessly nude, staring at me curiously. I’ve seen her around, but I don’t know her name.

“Oh— are you okay?” She asks, seemingly genuinely concerned.

I say nothing and maintain direct eye contact with her.

“Well, if you’re done in there— wait, oh shit. You’re that girl who got dragged away by the scouts. You’re Ymir’s friend?”

I nod.

She sighs. “Let me get you a towel.”

She leaves for a brief moment before she arrives back with a towel and a hair comb. “Get up off the floor,” she urges, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a standing position. The sudden change in position causes my blood pressure to drop. Dizziness overwhelms me, and I almost fall backward when my vision fills with white light. Thankfully she notices immediately and catches me by my forearms. “Holy shit! Are you okay?”

Slowly but surely my vision clears. “Uh huh,” I moan quietly.

She seems genuinely concerned about my sudden fainting spell. “I’m sorry, did you stand up too fast?”

“Yeah… I did.”

“Okay, put this on,” she directs me, shoving the towel in my hands. “Go sit on the bed. I’m going to comb through your hair, and while I’m doing that, you’re going to tell me why you were sulking, naked, on the dirty bathroom floor, okay?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m Pieck.”

“That doesn’t help,” I mutter.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me everything. But you clearly need to talk to someone,” she presses.

I can’t help but look at her strangely. “Why do you even care? You don’t know me either.”

She sighs in frustration. “Look, I saw Ymir carry you in last night, and you didn’t look so good. So, forgive me for being a little concerned.”

“Whatever then,” I scoff. “Just this once. We’re not friends just because of this, though.”

“That’s fine,” she relented. “Just go sit down. I need to put on a towel.”

I wrap the towel she brought for me around my body and walk over to my bunk. I plop down aggressively with a huff.

Pieck, now wrapped in a towel of her own, saunters over to me with haste. She tells me to turn around. I obey, albeit reluctantly.

“You have really beautiful hair, you know?” She tells me as she begins running her fingers through my dark strands.

“Thank you,” I respond genuinely.

“Alright,” she breathes, and begins to run the comb through the ends of my hair. “Tell me about what happened last night. You looked pretty out of it. Did you drink too much?”

“No, I was high.”

“Oh… shit, okay then. Keep going,” she says nervously.

“Hmm, yeah, I got high as fuck. I didn’t really want to, though. But it felt good, and now I’m scared.”

“Yeah? What are you scared of?”

“Everything. Everything in my life has changed in like a week, and it’s my fault.”

“Listen… you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to… but what happened that day? When the scouts came. People have been saying some pretty crazy things. I don’t want to believe them, but if those things are true…”

“I did something I shouldn’t have. It was really stupid, but I can’t talk about that,” I shake my head.

“That’s okay. I understand.”

“I really didn’t wanna get high yesterday. I hate myself for doing it.”

“Did Ymir give it to you?” She asks me quietly.

My eyes begin to water. “Yeah, she did,” I whisper. “It doesn’t matter, though.”

“I heard her yell at you last night, though.”

“Yeah,” I remember. “It was a rough night, so I understand why.”

She pauses in contemplation, “You know… I think that you’re letting her off a bit too easy.”

“Probably,” I agree. “I just can’t find it in myself to hold it against her. She’s usually not like that.”

“If you say so. I can’t tell you how to live your life, so I won’t push you.”

“Uh huh.”

She continues combing through my tangled hair for a few minutes more. Her gentleness reminds me of my mother. She carefully works her way through the knots, making sure she doesn’t tug too hard or pull too much hair out. I’ll never tell her this, but it is nice having someone to talk to.

“I’m finished,” she announces. “You should wear it down today; it’s pretty like this.”

I shake my head in dismissal. “It won’t look like this when it’s dry. It would just tangle more than I could handle. I need to braid it,” I explain.

“I think you could wear it out for just one day? It’s our off day, so now would be a good time.”

She has a point, but I haven’t worn my hair down in public for a very long time. I don’t even think I can recall the last time I did. Would it really be worth the hassle in the morning? Probably not, but I’m not in the mood to argue.

“Okay,” I shrug.

“Yay! Are you hungry? You should get dressed so we can get you something to eat,” she rambles excitedly.

There is absolutely no way I’m showing my face in the mess hall today, not after the scene I caused last night. Not to mention, I’m sure that Ymir will also be there. I’m not ready to see her, not yet. “Umm, I don’t think so, Pieck. I’m not hungry, and I have somewhere to be.”

“Somewhere to be?” She questions me suspiciously. “Like where?”

I turn to look at her. “Mind your business,” I monotonously answer. As I start to rise from my bed, she immediately grabs my arm and forces me to sit down again.

She crosses her arms as her eyebrows furrow. “You can’t just give me a vague answer like that and expect me to just let it go.”

I scowl at her in frustration. This is getting annoying. “Pieck, I just told you that we’re not friends just because of this. What I do in my free time is none of your concern,” I sternly say, continuing to glare at her in order to get my point across. “Look, I appreciate you listening, but you should forget that this happened.”

She looks at me with wide eyes and an open mouth, clearly not expecting me to snap at her like that. I feel slightly bad, but it had to be done. I don’t need her, or anyone, involving themselves in my personal affairs. She exhales in defeat. “Alright then, I’ll let it go for now, but I’ve got my eye on you.” With that, she promptly walks away back in the direction of the showers.

Great, now I have another person keeping tabs on me.

Fucking fantastic.

I quickly make my way over to the large cabinet to grab a uniform. I really don’t need anyone else seeing me half naked. Once I open the cabinet door, I find that my size is in fact there today. I pull the uniform out of the cabinet and change into it as fast as possible. The fabric is rough on my sensitive skin. The too-hot temperature of the shower has left my skin raw and irritated. Thankfully, though, the redness isn’t too noticeable. What is noticeable, however, is the prominent bruise and scattered petechiae that have formed in the crook of my arm, right where my injection site was. Not only is it extremely jarring to look at, but it’s also quite painful. The sleeves on the work uniform are too short to hide it. I’ve occasionally spotted these same bruises on the arms of my fellow laborers. Ymir must have blown a vein when she gave me my fix.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper to myself under my breath.

My heart rate quickens as I attempt to conjure up a solution to cover it before my meeting with the captain. I’m sure that he’ll notice. There’s no way he won’t. He definitely wouldn’t be happy about it either.

I could go to medical and get a bandage. If he, or anyone else, asks, I’ll lie and say that it was a work accident. I’m sure he’ll be able to tell that I’m lying, but it’s the only option I can think of.

I walk over to the clock above the door to check the time. I’m aware that I woke up extremely late today due to my intoxication, but I’m completely taken aback by the time that reads on the clock. I hadn’t bothered to check the time before getting in the shower, but I had assumed that it was around four o’clock. It’s obvious now that my assumption was extremely off, as the clock’s hands inform me that it’s six hours past noon.

I’m immediately filled with a sense of urgency and begin chewing on the inside of my cheek. It’s much later than I anticipated. My first weekly meeting with the captain is scheduled for eight. However, I’d like to show early. I have two hours to walk all the way to the medical ward, then across the compound to the captain’s office. From the Green, it’s about half an hour’s walk. From the medical ward, I’m not sure. Though, I assume forty-five minutes to an hour, perhaps even longer with the alternative route the captain advised me to take. If I’m to have any hope of arriving on time, I’ll need to leave now.

I speed walk over to my locker to grab the map the captain gifted me. Upon examining it, I can confirm that it would take me longer than normal to reach the military wing from this side of the compound. The route that’s drawn out seems to be a back hallway that isn’t used frequently due to its longer distance from one end to the other. I fold the map back to its original shape and shove it in my pocket.

The bright, white fluorescent lights fill my vision the moment I step out into the hallway. I immediately start walking as fast as I can toward the medical ward.

I rarely ever find myself there. If I can recall correctly, the last time I ended up in the medical ward was about two years ago when my ankle got caught under a wagon wheel during a shift. They didn’t do much, just wrapped it tightly, put some ice on it, and sent me on my way. The days after the accident were excruciating. Having to stand and work on it was hell, and I’m thankful that it healed somewhat nicely. It still hurts on occasion, but it’s nothing unmanageable. To this day I’m not even sure if it was broken or not. It doesn’t matter now, though; there’s nothing to be done about it.

Beads of sweat form on my skin as my consistent fast walking pace is starting to tire me. I can’t stop walking, though. If I want any chance of making it on time, I need to keep going.

I witness multiple people looking at me oddly as I speed past them, craning their necks back in curiosity. It’s probably strange to see a laborer move like this, with a purpose. They’re most likely wondering where I’m going and why I need to be there so urgently. Most laborers follow the same schedule every day. Even on off days there isn’t much to do. Nobody moves with any sense of direction or urgency, except for me now apparently.

I can sense that I’m nearing the medical ward when I start to see faces I don’t recognize. Men and women in sterile white coats and scrubs. They calmly walk while conversing with one another without a care in the world. They don’t look sick, malnourished, or overworked like the rest of us. In fact, just as their occupations would suggest, they appear to be pinnacles of good health.

I dodge my way around them with ease as I make my way to the service desk. The moment the man sitting in the window fixes his gaze on me, his face drops. A sour look crosses his features for a moment, then a faux smile replaces it. “Hello! What can I help you with?” He hesitates, looking me up and down, ready to turn me away the moment I open my mouth.

“I just need a bandage, like the stuff that sticks to itself,” I declare with determination, looking at him with a straight face.

“Oh, okay then. Wait here,” he concedes and walks away presumably to get me my bandage.

As I stand there waiting for him to return, I hear a deep, airy voice from around the corner. The voice is familiar; however, I can’t quite place it.

I whip my head in the direction of the voice to find the man that it belongs to is Eren Jeager. He appears from around the corner with his father by his side. He doesn’t acknowledge me yet, and I’m hoping that he won’t recognize me with my hair down. I try to turn away from him, but it’s too late. We make brief eye contact, and apparently that was enough. He stops dead in his tracks, shoes squeaking on the polished floor as he does so. “Do I know you?” He asks uncertainly.

I remain facing away from him. “Probably not.”

“No, I think I remember you,” he declares, putting his hand on my shoulder and forcibly turning me around. He gets a clear view of my face and examines me. “Yeah, I do, from last night in the Quarter. You’re Ymir’s friend.”

I’m so stunned by his actions, it steals my voice. I genuinely can’t believe that he felt so comfortable putting his hands on me like that. Evidently his father is taken aback as well. “Eren! In what world is it kind to put your hands on a stranger?” He bellows, with an appalled expression directed at his son.

“She’s not a stranger, Dad. I know her,” he responds defensively. He turns to address me, “You remember me, don’t you?”

Fuck.

“Yeah, I do. Sorry,” I mumble under my breath.

Why is he even speaking to me? In front of his father, no less. Surely this can’t look good on him. A man of high social status talking with a random laborer, claiming he knows me. Does his father know what he gets up to in his free time? I would assume that he does.

“See, Dad? She knows me,” he pivots back to address me. “Are you okay, though? You didn’t look too good last night. Ymir said you had too much to drink?” He asks as if he’s concerned. However, I’m getting the feeling that this is more of an interrogation than anything else.

I glance at his father for a brief moment; a blank but curious expression forms on his face as we speak. I then turn my attention towards Eren, trying to keep a straight face. “Yeah, I’m okay. I did have too much to drink. Sorry you had to see me like that.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’ve been there before, so don’t feel embarrassed,” he attempts to reassure me. I’m sure that Eren knows that I was high last night and not drunk. I’m grateful for him sparing me from embarrassment in front of his father. Even if the contusion on my arm is a dead giveaway for what substance I was really on last night, nobody said anything.

“I was talking with Armin earlier, and he mentioned you, y’know? Seemed pretty concerned about you getting back alright.”

He knows Armin? The same Armin who I met last night? The same Armin who walked in on Ymir and me? And he was talking about me to Eren of all people? What the fuck?

I’m unable to hide my shocked expression this time. “You know Armin?”

“Yeah, of course. He’s my best friend,” he says as if it’s obvious. Eren Jeager being best friends with the only male prostitute in the Quarter is a bit hard to believe. What does his father think about that?

“Oh, well, you can tell Armin that I made it back okay.”

He looks at me and smirks slightly. “Actually, you can tell him yourself. Next Saturday we’re all gonna hang. You should come.”

That doesn’t sound ominous at all.

I open my mouth to decline but hesitate when I notice the look on his father’s face. He’s intrigued. His expression is calculating, similar to his son’s. My heart drops to my stomach. Something is going on, and it doesn’t give me a good feeling. “I probably shouldn’t. Ymir got upset with me last night, so I haven’t spoken with her today. She’s probably still mad at me.”

“I’m sure you’ll sort it out by next Saturday. Even if you don’t, you don’t have to come just for Ymir, you know? Armin and Krista would love to see you again.” He continues his attempt to persuade me. He sounds kind and sincere; however, I can tell he has an ulterior motive.

I really don’t want to go back to the Quarter, not even to see Krista. The thoughts of what occurred last night echo through my memories. It sends tremors through my body just thinking about it. But I have to keep in mind my objective. I haven’t come anywhere close to infiltrating whatever political opposition is manifesting itself amongst the masses. I’m not even certain who’s involved and who’s not. But the Jeagers are acting strange; I know that much. Floch also seems to hang around them a lot. Perhaps that’s why he spends so much of his time in the Quarter. I originally just assumed he was a sex addict, but maybe I was wrong. Perhaps Eren is my biggest clue.

“Hmm, okay then. I’ll go, but only for a little bit.”

Eren’s smirk deepens. “Cool, that’s great. You know, Zeke’s taken a bit of a liking to you. He’ll be there too.”

Please, God, no.

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“Maybe not, but he wants to get to know you. I do too.”

He wants to get to know me, does he? Or does he just want to shove his filthy cock in me? The mere thought of that man makes me want to peel my skin off. There’s no way in hell I’m letting him near me. If Zeke Jeager wants a quick fuck, he can go to one of the many poor souls he pimps out, not me.

I’m about to quip back with a snarky reply when the front desk attendant arrives back with my bandage.

“I have your bandage for you, oh— Chief Jeager! Nice to see you!” He bleats out in surprise.

Before anyone can say anything more, I immediately turn to the man and yank the small roll of bandages out of his hand. As I turn to walk away, Eren grabs me by my shoulder. “Where are you going in such a rush?”

“Back to the Green, I’m tired,” I respond without a second thought.

He looks at me then with narrow eyes. “Hmm, alright then. I’ll see you on Saturday,” he says coolly.

“Sure,” I confirm. Then I beeline out of sight, disappearing into the slightly crowded hallway.

I need to forget about Eren and the rest of them for now. My appointment with the captain needs to go smoothly. That’s my priority.

I continue walking as fast as possible to get to my meeting on time. I need to find a bathroom so I can wrap my arm, then walk all the way to the military wing. It shouldn’t take too long to find a bathroom, but the walk to the military wing from the medical wing is about forty-five minutes according to the map the captain gave me. If I walk at a consistent rate, I should arrive at his office with half an hour to spare.

I round the corner out of the medical wing in hopes of finding a public restroom. I’m not super familiar with this area of the compound, so it takes me a while before I eventually spot one. I pick up my pace to a jog and enter the women’s bathroom.

Upon entering, I realize that there are people in the largest stall. They’re chatting quite loudly. Definitely all women judging by their voices; none of them sound familiar, though, so I assume they work in a different sector. I spot three pairs of feet, which corresponds with the number of voices I hear. They don’t seem to be talking about anything important, but being the eavesdropper I am, I enter a stall and start listening instantaneously.

“I don’t really give a fuck about what you think of him.” One of the women snaps condescendingly.

“He’s a loser who spends too much time in the Quarter. He probably doesn’t even like you,” another one replies. Her voice is slightly lower pitched than her friend’s.

“He’s not all bad if you get to know him…”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s a stand-up guy,” the second woman snarks.

“Do you really think you’re pregnant?” The last woman asks in a hushed tone.

Pregnant? Jesus Christ.

Sometimes I forget that pregnancy is a real thing. It very rarely occurs in the Green. I can’t even remember the last time someone turned up pregnant. Most people chalk it up to malnutrition and stress. I know many women in the Green, including myself, who haven’t had a period in God knows how long. I mutter out a short ‘thank you’ under my breath that I’ll never find myself in that situation. Some things in here do have silver linings.

I tune out the rest of their conversation as I continue to wrap my arm. Their bickering over some loser man and a potential love child is extremely uninteresting.

I finish wrapping my arm and quietly slip out of the small bathroom stall. I’m sure they heard me walking in, but I’d rather not draw any unnecessary attention to myself.

I quietly close the stall door and make my way over to the sink to wash my hands when I notice that there’s a mirror situated on the wall above it.

I approach it slowly, not prepared for what I’m about to see reflecting back at me. When I do finally get a good look at myself, the first thing I notice is my hair. I was right in my prediction earlier; it looks nothing like it did when it was wet.

It’s still quite long, but not as long as it was. It also appears as if my hair has doubled in volume. It’s slightly frizzy as well, most likely due to the dry air.

I can’t decide if I like it or not. It definitely doesn’t look bad by any means, but it’s extremely eye-catching. The last thing I want, especially now, is to be noticeable. My hair down like this is an extremely defining feature. If I were to wear my hair like this every day, I’m sure I’d be unmistakable.

This is going to be absolutely miserable to fix tomorrow morning.

This can never happen again.

I huff and wash my hands as quickly as possible before exiting the bathroom. The three women from before never made a move to exit the stall the entire time I was in there, so I assume that meeting in that stall must be a routine occurrence for them.

I pull the map out of my pocket, studying the route once again until I feel confident enough that I know where I’m going. I don’t know exactly what time it is, but I’m pretty sure I still have an hour left to reach the captain’s office.

The walk to the captain’s office is long; it seems to be almost never-ending. My nervousness only results in my being hyper-aware of my surroundings. Each flicker of the lights, each echo of my footsteps, sends a small wave of panic throughout my body. The perpetual emptiness of the hallway I’ve found myself in amplifies my paranoia tenfold. What if there is another person in here? What would happen if I were to be caught? A man could do anything he wanted to me in here, all alone.

I need to hold myself together.

I tell myself this repeatedly as I speed walk through the liminal hallway.

I end up walking through the hallway for so long that I begin to question if Levi lied to me. There’s just simply no way that a single hallway could extend on for so long. And yet, I’m proven wrong.

When the hallway finally comes to an end, I’m met with another door that opens to another hallway. This one is much, much shorter, as I can see a staircase that leads upwards. I assume it leads to the floor with the captain’s office. Trudging my way up the echoing stairs, my assumption is proven correct, as I’m met with the same hallway as last time. Walking past the other doors decorated with names I don’t recognize until I reach my destination.

I stare at the wooden door hesitantly before knocking a few times.

I wait for a moment, then a familiar, deep, alluring voice sounds from inside the room.

“State your business.”

I inhale sharply, “Captain, it’s me. I’m here for my weekly report, sir.”

“I see, the door is unlocked. You may enter.”

I turn the handle gently, opening the door. His office looks exactly the same as it did the last time. A vast room with tall ceilings and dark walls. The chandelier shone beautifully, lights glimmering at every angle. The curtains are drawn this time, concealing the large glass windows in a deep, elegant shade of velvet green.

“You came just in time,” he greets me without a glance.

“That’s good,” I reply simply, trying to conceal my relief.

When he eventually does decide to look up from his desk, he pauses for a few moments. His eye trails me up and down, examining me. He looks curiously at my hair before his gaze stops at my arm. I can see his eyelids narrow, but he says nothing.

He stands up and walks over to me. “Before we get started, I’ll take you to Hange,” he explains. “You still want a pair of glasses, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I confirm.

“Alright then, her office isn’t far; follow me.” He then opens the door, and we step out into the hallway I was just in. I trail behind him as we walk a short way down the hall. I can’t help but watch him as he walks, his back muscles flexing beneath his tight black t-shirt. I swallow deeply and close my eyes, pushing away the scandalous thoughts that threaten to invade my mind.

We reach Hange’s office sooner than I anticipated. He abruptly stops in front of the door, and I bump into him lightly due to my eyes being closed.

He lets out a surprised huff when we make contact, then pushes me back firmly. “Watch where you’re going,” he says with a glare.

“Sorry, sir.”

He knocks on the door and sighs. We wait for what feels like a few minutes, sitting in awkward silence, before the door swings open. A frantic-looking brown-haired woman barges into the hallway, and ironically enough, she’s also missing an eye. “Levi! I’m so sorry! I almost forgot you were coming!”

“Dial down the volume, Three Eyes,” he sneers. “Let’s get this over with quickly; we have a meeting to get to.”

She looks at him unfazed at his uncalled-for insult, then she looks at me with wide eyes. “Oh! Is this her?”

I nod.

“Oh, wow! You’re a pretty thing! Levi—“

“Hange, what did I just say?” He interrupts her.

She glares at him for a moment. “Whatever, I was trying to be nice,” she hissed back at him. Then, she turns to me. “How about you come inside and have a seat? I’ll look over your eyes, and we’ll have a little chat,” she says to me sweetly. A complete change of tone from the one she used to address Levi.

“Hange, I—“

“You can go back to your office,” she throws back at him.

“Absolutely not—“

“Levi, go back to your office. I’ll bring her back once we’re finished.”

He then glares the meanest glare I’ve ever seen on a person. Like he’s wishing torment upon her and her entire bloodline over a simple argument. Eventually, though, he concedes. “If she’s not back in my office in forty-five minutes, I’ll wring your neck. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah, forty-five minutes. I get it; now go away.”

He turns back toward his office, side-eyeing her as he does so. She then turns her attention back to me, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside her office. It’s just as vast as Levi’s, with high ceilings and large windows. It’s much more cluttered, though. I find myself stepping around things as I walk.

“Don’t mind his attitude too much. He’s just like that; it’s nothing personal,” she tries to reassure me.

“Is he always like that?” I ask her.

“For the most part, yes.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

She says nothing to that and immediately changes the subject. “Have a seat here, my dear,” she requests, pulling a chair out for me facing the wall. “I haven’t done an eye exam in quite a while, so bear with me,” she says as she pulls out a whiteboard with letters and numbers on it of varying different sizes.

“Okay,” I shrug.

She begins to pull out a slew of different equipment. I watch her intently as she shuffles through it all. I’ve never seen someone so hyperactive in my life.

“So, how has your day been?” She asks out of nowhere.

“Uneventful,” I reply bluntly.

“Are you sure?” She pauses slightly before asking, “What happened to your arm there?”

“A work accident.”

“Hm, you’re not a very good liar, you know?”

God fucking damnit.

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

“You’re biting the inside of your cheek, and you answered the question too quickly. I can tell that you don’t want to talk in depth about whatever ‘accident’ you had. So, that leads me to believe that you’re lying.”

I look around nervously as my heart rate rises. “I just—“

“Let me guess. You accidentally blew a vein doing something you probably weren’t supposed to?”

I whip my head to look at her in shock. “How did you—“

“How do I know? I know because I’m the one who made it,” she confesses without remorse. “Yes, that little drug you laborers can’t seem to get enough of. I helped synthesize it. Obviously it was never intended to be used recreationally by the masses, but honestly, I don’t know what I expected. Of course people were going to find a way to get their hands on it one way or another.”

I can only stare at her in shock as she continues her rant. She’s really the one who created that godforsaken drug? I would’ve never guessed just by looking at her.

“Did you like it?” She then asks me curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“My little concoction, did you like it?”

What the hell?

“I did, I guess.”

“Do you want more?”

I look at her with wide eyes. I’m speechless for a moment before blurting out, “No! No, thank you. I’m okay.”

“I see… Well, I had to borrow the phoropter from the medical wing, and it’s pretty old, but it should do the trick.” She immediately changes the subject as if it were nothing. Speaking to me like she didn’t just basically admit to being the reason why half the population of this shithole is addicted to drugs.

“Umm, okay. But—“

“Don’t worry, my dear. I won’t tell Captain Asshole about your little infringement. But you should think of a better cover story, or he’ll figure it out himself.”

“Right…”

She wheels the phoropter over to me, stopping it in between me and the chart on the wall.

“Okay, I’m going to use this to test your refractive error to get your prescription, then I’ll take a look inside your eyes to make sure that there’s nothing wrong, and you’ll be on your way! Any questions?”

“Umm, how do you even know how to do this? Aren’t you in the military?” I ask suspiciously.

“I went to school for biochemistry and anatomy before everything went to shit. I wasn’t an optometrist by any stretch, but I took a slight interest in it when I lost my eye.”

“Interesting.”

She moves the large device closer to my face so that I’m looking through the small lenses. “Okay, I want you to tell me which one is clearer: one or two.”

“Two.”

She flips the lenses again. “And now?”

“Still two.”

This continues on for another ten minutes, and it starts to make me dizzy. The dizziness eventually morphs into nausea. Thankfully, just when I’m about to ask for a break, she declares that we’re finished.

“Well, you don’t have astigmatism, but you’re near-sighted.”

“Okay…”

“It’s an easy fix, don’t worry. Next week I’ll have a pair of glasses ready for you.”

Is it seriously that easy?

“Oh… really?”

“Of course! That’s why you’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

She walks over to me with a small black device. “I’m just going to look in your eyes to make sure that they’re healthy,” she explains. “The light is bright, so make sure to keep your eyes open.”

She gives no warning when she shines the bright light directly into my pupil. I have to consciously fight the urge to close my eyes as she examines them. Thankfully, the process is much shorter than the previous one.

“Okay! Everything looks good. You’re good to go.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “Thank you for doing this,” I thank her truthfully as I stand up from the chair and make my way to the door.

“Hold on,” she calls out to me.

I stop in my tracks and turn to face her. “What is it?”

“If Levi asks about your arm, tell him the truth,” she cautions me. “He’ll find out one way or another. It’s in your best interest not to lie to him, m’kay?”

“Okay,” I reply, quickly exiting her office back into the hall.

The walk back to his office is more nerve-wracking than it was before. Hange’s ominous warning is making me question whether or not lying to him would actually be a good idea. I know I probably shouldn’t. I know it’s a bad idea. But the thought of admitting to him willingly that I did drugs is even more terrifying.

I arrive at the captain’s door for the second time today. I take a deep breath in and knock.

“State your business,” he calls once again.

“Captain, it’s me again. Hange and I are finished.”

“Come in.”

I open the door to find him sitting at his desk again, watching me intently.

“Have a seat; we have quite a bit to discuss.”

“Yes, sir,” I comply, sitting down on his soft vintage sofa.

He looks at me seriously before speaking. “Did Hange say anything strange to you?”

“No, sir,” I lie.

“Good. If she does, tell me. I’ll see to it that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Well then, I’ll start by asking if you’ve made any significant progress. I’m aware that it’s only been a week, but I’m curious to know.”

“Oh, well…” I trail off when he abruptly rises from his desk. He walks over to a small table in the corner with glasses and a few bottles of alcohol sitting neatly on top. Has that always been there?

“Keep going; I’m listening.”

“Well, sir, uh, I haven’t made much progress if I’m being honest. But I do have a few things that might be important, I guess,” I ramble shakily.

“Oh, really? Please, do tell,” he says with an air of amusement as he pours himself a glass of alcohol that is definitely not moonshine. Where the hell did he even get that?

“Umm, I have the names of three soldiers who work in the armory. I’m not sure who they are, but maybe you would?”

“Perhaps. What are the names?”

“Reiner Braun, Annie Leonhart, and Bertolt Hoover.”

He takes a sip of his drink before he hums in acknowledgment. “I know the names of the men, not the woman,” he informs me. “Why do you think they have any involvement?”

“I overheard one of my coworkers mention them. His name is Floch Forster. I’m almost positive he’s involved in some way. I’ve seen him talk to the Jeagers multiple times. They’re acting strange too.”

“Wait, hold on, the Jeagers? Zeke and Eren?”

“Um, yes, sir.”

“Those motherfuckers. I should’ve known.”

“You don’t like the Jeagers?” I ask him carefully.

“No, I don’t.”

“I see.”

We both sit there for a moment in silent contemplation before he continues. “Do you have anything else to report?”

“No, sir.”

“Well then, I guess we’re done here.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief and stand up. “Alright then, sir. I’ll be—“

“One more question,” he cuts me off. Looking at me with a leering expression, he asks, “What happened to your arm? That wasn’t there last week.”

Fuck, fuck!

“It was just an accident at work,” I lie again.

He interrogates me further. “What kind of accident?”

“I, uh, scraped myself pretty bad on a crate I was lifting.”

He looks at me with false worry. “Well, that’s not good. Do you mind if I take a look? I’m sure those assholes in the medical wing didn’t do much for it.”

He’s onto me.

“No, sir. That’s not necessary. It’s just a scrape. I’ll be fine,” I rush out.

He scowls at me, then sets his glass back on the table. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just take a look at it and treat it properly. Then you’ll be on your way. Sit back down.”

“I can’t,” I blurt out, immediately regretting my choice of words.

His scowl deepens as he makes his way closer to me. “Sit your ass back on that couch right now. You don’t get to be ungrateful. Not with me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper, slowly sitting back down on the couch.

“Look at me.”

I lift my face to meet his sinister gaze. “Tell me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, looking him in the eyes.

“Good. Now, give me your arm.”

I breathe out slowly, holding back my tears. My arm trembles as I hold it out for him. I’m tempted to plead with him more, but I bite my tongue. Begging him would only aggravate him further.

I need to hold myself together.

He slowly unwraps the bandage from my arm, revealing the gruesome-looking skin underneath. Exposing my lie. “I’m sorry,” I whimper before he can say anything.

“You’re sorry, are you?”

I nod silently.

“Sorry that you lied to me? Or are you sorry that you got caught?”

“I’m sorry I lied! I’m really sorry. I didn’t want you to think badly of me,” I cry to him like a child. I curse myself internally for behaving so immaturely.

“A bit too late for that now, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Again with the apologies…” he trails off, pausing to look at me. “I didn’t take you for a junkie.”

“I’m not! Really, that was the only time! I swear!”

“You just expect me to believe that?” He scoffs audibly, picking up his glass and taking a large sip. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“It was in the heat of the moment. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, obviously,” he snarks.

“I promise it won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right. It won’t happen again. Who gave that shit to you? I want a name.”

I look around nervously, biting my lips. The last thing I want to do is throw Ymir under the bus.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“You can’t? Why not?”

“Because I— she’s my friend.”

“Your friend, huh?”

I nod again hopefully.

“Do your friends normally shove their hands down your pants when you’re high out of your mind?”

What the fuck did he just say?

“Excuse me—“

“You heard me.”

There’s no way…

“No… How— how did you even—“

“You think I don’t know about your little adventure to the Quarter?” He asks as if it’s obvious. “You think I don’t know all about your newfound drug use? Or that little stunt you pulled with that so-called friend of yours?”

There is absolutely no way he could have possibly found out about any of that. Unless, of course, someone ran their mouth. But who? The only other people who were there were Krista and Armin. How the hell would that have even gotten back to Levi in the first place unless—

“Armin? Was it him?” I whisper out in shock.

He smirks and leans back in his chair. “You’re a clever little girl.”

I should’ve connected the dots earlier. If Eren was telling the truth about him and Armin being best friends, then it would make sense if he knew Mikasa as well. If he ran his mouth to Mikasa about what he saw, I’m sure she was eager to tell Levi everything. Has Eren told her anything about me? What else does Levi know?

That fucking bitch.

I stand up from the couch and point my finger in his perfect fucking face. “You don’t know shit about me! You don’t know shit about my fucking life. You don’t even know my name!” I spit at him without a second thought. “You can find someone else to do this shit for you. Stop meddling in my fucking business! You can throw me in the box, cut my rations, and beat me till I can’t walk. I don’t give a fuck. I’m done.” I finish yelling at him and turn to stomp my way out of his office.

He knew everything. The only reason he pretended to be oblivious was because he wanted to hear me say it. He wanted to humiliate me. I refuse to be made a fool of. Consequences be damned.

Just as I’m about to put my hand on the doorknob, I feel cold hands grip my arms and pull me backward.

He turns me around to face him, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look him in the eye. “Do you really think I don’t know your fucking name?” He asks. He looks almost appalled at me for even making the accusation.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t know me. Stop pretending like you know everything.”

“Of course I know you, you ungrateful fucking brat,” he maintains. “I know everything about you. I fucking own you.”

I shake my head and pry at his hand on my jaw.

He only tightens his grip before continuing, “You signed a contract, remember? You don’t get to back out now, baby. You’re seeing this through to the end.”

I look at him with glazed-over eyes. His pupil is blown wide. His eye is almost black, like an animal, as if he’s more monster than man. His expression is one of hunger, looking at me like a piece of meat he can sink his teeth into. As terrified as I am, I’m absolutely enraptured.

His next move is completely unforeseen.

He swiftly lowers his lips to mine. Kissing me abruptly, firmly, and without hesitation, gripping the sides of my head in an effort to keep me in place.

He tastes of alcohol, which is to be expected. His smooth, scarred lips move against mine cravingly.

My sinful, carnal desires are unearthed to the forefront of my being. For a moment, my sickness gets the better of me, and I reciprocate, only briefly, before shoving him away so roughly I almost fall backwards. He looks at me in anticipation, motionless. In my mind, I’m appalled. Surely he must know how wrong this is. He must be at least twice my age. Coming to my senses, I look at him blankly for a moment, then strike him hard across the cheek. His head flies to the side, and he lets out a short grunt of shock.

He pauses his movements momentarily, then he laughs at me mockingly. He begins to laugh so hard that tears start to wet his eye as he doubles over in amusement. I’ve never even seen him smile before now. I’m almost unable to believe what I’m witnessing.

It’s so humiliating I start to cry. Immediately regretting my actions. My hand covers my mouth as I let my tears flow freely, standing there crying like a toddler who stubbed their toe.

He contains his laughter and walks closer to me, still with a smirk on his scarred lips. “I knew just what a depraved little slut you were from the moment I saw you in the hallway. Did you know that?” He looks at me seriously.

I shake my head. I’m not like that.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” I whisper.

He scoffs at me. “You can pretend all you want. You can put on your facade of innocence. Act like you’re not a slave to your desires. But you’ll never be able to hide from me.”

His words only make me cry more. “No, I’m not like that. I’m not.”

“Really? You’re not? If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have kissed me back. Do you know how inappropriate that is?” He whispers condescendingly in my ear.

He takes a strand of my hair in between his fingers. I stand completely still, terrified of what he might do if I were to move away. “I’m sorry,” I say again through my tears.

“Don’t be,” he pauses. “I know you just want to be touched. You just want to feel good.” He grabs my jaw in his hand again, forcing me to look him in his cold grey eye. “I can give that to you. I will.”

I shake my head. My entire body is shaking: my hands, my legs, my soul.

The light of the chandelier makes him look almost menacing. The light and shadows emphasize his sharp cheekbones and the scars on his face. His dark hair is in perfect contrast to his pale skin.

He then asks, “Do you not want this?” His voice, smooth and deep. The corners of his mouth lift in amusement as one of his hands slowly slides under my tank top. I jolt at the coldness of his touch. “You know, I wasn’t lying when I said that our meeting felt like divine intervention,” he drones. “You were fucking made for me,” he groans softly in my hair as he moves his cold fingers under my tank top to softly caress my hard nipples. I shudder at his gentleness, but I know he’s toying with me.

I grab onto his muscular forearms, trying to halt his actions. “This isn’t right,” I breathe, trying more to convince myself than him.

Levi, unrelenting, pays my pleading no mind. He shakes his arms loose of my grip and drops his hands to pull on the waistband of my work pants. The material pools around my ankles, exposing my bare legs. His hands are ice cold as he feels over my ass, then torso, and finally cupping over my small breasts once again. I attempt to move backwards out of his ravenous grip, but my actions are fruitless. I’m trapped. I hate how good his hands feel. My body begins to burn as his cool touch melts my dignity away.

I clutch onto his hard biceps this time. As if I have the ability to push him away.

He sighs frustratingly at my struggle. My hands are shoved away once again as his hot mouth descends on my neck. His actions are animalistic and obsessive. I can feel him losing his composure as his hips press against mine. I don’t have to look down to know that he’s hard. I can feel every single inch of him.

His deep voice sounds throughout the quiet room. “If you really don’t want this, then tell me.” He then snakes one hand between my thighs and into my underwear. His careful fingers softly caress my clit, teasing and suggestive. His cold fingers against my hot cunt send shivers up my spine. I’m so wet. He was right in what he said earlier. I can’t hide from him, no matter how hard I try. Any sense of restraint or control I once had is gone. It’s freeing, but also frightening. I’ve sheltered myself for my entire life, and this man has quickly ripped through every single wall.

His voice sounds again, softly this time. “So fucking wet… I’ve barely even touched you. Greedy little pussy,” he mumbles into the crook of my neck. He teases my entrance with two fingers, curling them into my wet hole experimentally.

I can’t bring myself to fight him any longer. I cannot will myself to struggle or yell or plead. I softly moan and pant as his fingers slide in and out of my throbbing cunt. “I— Levi, wait—“

I cut myself off with a short yell when he rips his hands away and lifts me by my legs. Carrying me over his shoulder, he swiftly carries me back to his large vintage sofa and roughly throws me down on my back. He wastes no time pinning me down with the weight of his body, then forcing my legs to bend upwards. Pulling my shoes and work pants completely off my legs, he throws them aside. He then turns his attention upward. He grunts as he pulls and rips the fabric of my underwear off my body, exposing my hot cunt to the cool air of the room. With a jerk of his hips and a deep groan, he presses his clothed cock to my bare sex.

I attempt to move my hips away, kicking at him with my feet. His amusement returns, this time with a dark chuckle. “Stop playing games with me,” he asserts. Pushing my feet away and pinning my hips down once again. He hooks his arm under my knee, forcing my leg to bend upwards to my chest. I’m completely open for him, at his mercy.

Out of control.

He pushes his waistband down with his free hand.

“You want me to fuck you, huh? You wanna take this cock? Want me to make you cum?”

My tears continue to flow. I roll my hips towards his. “Uhh, sir, please…”

He whispers in my ear, “Fuck, baby… I’ll make your pretty little cunt cream all over my cock. Stretch you out nice for me. You want that?”

I stare at him in awe. His beautiful face and his perfect cock. I can feel all of him as he slides it along my folds. It’s long and thick, veiny as well. His jet-black pubic hair is neatly trimmed at the base, his balls heavy and full of cum. His words are vile and debased. He’s so crass it makes me throb, my hips lifting to touch his.

“Dirty little girl,” he coos to me, putting his calloused hand over my mouth. I whine behind his hand and furrow my eyebrows in confusion. He grips his cock at the base, roughly fists himself a few times, and aligns himself with my slick entrance, hard and heavy. I can hardly comprehend what he says to me next.

“Don’t scream too loudly, baby.”

The moment he sheaths his cock into me without preparation or warning, my mind goes blank.

All I can focus on is the searing, agonizing pain in between my legs. I let out a blood-curdling scream that’s muffled by his hand. “Fuck, oh my—“ he hisses through his teeth. His eyelids flutter shut with pleasure. “Taking my cock so fucking pretty.”

He continues to roll his hip, forcibly impaling me down to the base. I whine loudly. The pain is excruciating.

But it feels so fucking good.

“Too much, Levi. Fuck… it hurts!” I cry out. He removes his hand from my mouth and moves to roll my tank top over my chest, leaving my nipples also exposed to the cool air.

“You can take it, baby. So fucking pretty when you cry,” he mumbles. He’s fucking me harder now, drilling into me at an unforgiving angle. His forehead is pressing against mine, looking me in the eyes as he violates my body. “Gonna fuck this pretty pussy open till you break, until you’re begging for it. Gonna paint your fucking insides white.” He then shifts his free hand down between us, rubbing my swollen clit with vigor. “Such a good little girl… keep those pretty eyes on me.”

Rough and animalistic. The movements of his cock and his cold fingers on my clit cause stars to fill my eyes. My brain is no longer in control of my body. My legs are spread for him, and my back is arched, forced to take every agonizing inch.

He moves his hand to the back of my skull, lifting my head off the sofa cushion and looking at my blissed-out face. “Shit, look at you. Making such a filthy fucking mess on my cock.” I trail my gaze down in between my legs where we’re connected, his thick cock drilling into me like his life depends on it, gaping me wide. The sound of it is almost as graphic as the sight, obscene squelching every time he pushes back in.

It’s unbecoming.

The sinful sight brings me closer to the edge. I can’t even scream at how amazing it feels. “Ahh, Levi, please… I wanna cum,” I choke out deliriously.

He says nothing, then he hooks his other arm under my other leg. He manhandles my legs on his shoulders, pistoning in at a new angle.

The sensation is incomprehensible. The fat head of his cock rearranging my insides causes me to finally snap. My vision goes white as I’m sent over the edge into an earth-moving, soul-crushing orgasm.

“It feels good, it feels good, it’s so fucking good,” I breathe out incoherently like a mantra.

“Fuck, that’s it. Let go, baby. Such a good little whore, cumming on my cock,” he grunts through his teeth. His jaw clenches with pleasure as he continues to fuck into me brutally.

I can do nothing but writhe and cry at the throbbing stretch of my tender walls around his hard cock. The haze of lust and pleasure from my orgasm is beginning to dissipate; clarity and shame slowly replacing them.

“Uhh, Levi, wait! It’s too much…” I beg him, my voice cracking as I do so. He completely ignores my pleas, continuing to pump into me viciously.

I can hear myself crying louder as his thrusting morphs into rutting, like an animal, as he shoves his cock deeper. I cry out with each thrust; the oversensitivity sends shivers throughout my lower body. “Ahh, fuck! Levi!”

He loosens his grip on my legs, unsheathes himself briefly, then flips me over. He’s quick to grip my hips and enter me once again, fucking me at the same merciless pace as before. “I told you not to scream too loud,” he scolds me, gripping my curls and pushing the side of my face into the cushion. The new angle allows him to sink in deeper, worsening the overwhelming sensation. I begin to squirm, desperate for any kind of relief. “Stop moving so much. You’re only making it worse for yourself.”

“I can’t take it anymore, please!”

He shakes his head. “Be a good girl and give me another, just one more.” He says as he moves his sinful fingers back towards my clit, rubbing tight circles in tandem with his thrusts.

“Uhh, fuck, I can’t!”

“Yes, you fucking can. Tight little pussy squeezing my cock. You fucking love this,” he grunts. His unoccupied hand grips the flesh of my hip like a vice. “You wanna know why?”

My head buzzes with building pleasure.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“You love this because you’re just as sick and deprived as I am, baby. You need this.”

No, I’m not like that.

“I hate you,” I breathe through my tears. “You’re a horrible man; you’re a sick fuck—“

“I’m a sick man fucking your swollen little cunt full of cum,” he mocks me, hips finally beginning to stutter at the approach of his impending climax.

“Fuck you! I hate you! I fucking hate you—“

He stops then, body tensing, eyes rolling as he cums deep inside me. “Fuuuuck,” he hisses, rutting himself through his orgasm. The feeling of his warm, thick release filling my cervix causes me to shudder. “That’s a good girl… take my fucking seed,” he groans loudly.

I cry as he pulls out abruptly, leaving me sore and empty. I can feel his cum start to leak out of me as I roll onto my side. He grabs my hips again, turning me on my back before pulling me closer. He forces my legs back apart, and I begin to kick at him once again.

I can’t take any more.

“Levi! You motherfuck—“

My words die in my mouth when I see him let a string of saliva fall from his mouth onto my swollen mound. With no hesitation, he rubs his spit onto my vulva before stuffing three of his fingers into my wet slit. Heedlessly fucking his cum back into my aching walls while thumbing my tender clit. My jaw drops, and my back arches. “That’s it, little girl. Give it to me. Cum on my fingers like a good little whore.”

Like a woman possessed, I scream violently as I cum for the second time on his hand, my hands gripping the fabric of his vintage couch cushions. I tremble and writhe as I gush on his fingers, immodest and unchaste.

I choke out a gasp as I feel his mouth descend on my soaking cunt, hungrily lapping at the mess I’ve just created.

I can’t even think as I look down at him through tear-soaked eyes. There’s something so godlike about him, something so primal, so holy, so pure. Flush against the veil of consciousness, I sigh. My body slackens with satisfaction.

In this moment of elation, truly, I am an angel.

Blessed by the grace of God in my most unrighteous hour.

In this moment.

I am reborn.

My soul cleansed anew.

[ilions-end]

ayyy euripides' electra time (ian johnston transl.)

i really feel i approached the three electra plays in the perfect order. the libation bearers to get me hooked, sophocles to make me frustrated and want more, and now euripides to fullfill all my secret fantasies

that is to say WOW what an initiative electra!! like in aeschylus, her path is so much clearer to her than orestes' is to him, she carries all her hate and resentment on the outside, but while aeschylus only lets her put the plot in motion and then retreat into the shadows, THIS TIME SHE PARTICIPATES. this time HER HAND IS ON THE SWORD!!! oooh delicious

i think this one also balances the weight of both murders (clytemnestra and aegisthus) more evenly than the others. personally i really like how aeschylus underlines how insignificant aegisthus is even as he dies, but now this is kinda my second favourite portioning of revenge

i DON'T MEAN TO COMPARE THE PLAYS SO MUCH, it's just i'm starting to develop LAYERS OF UNDERSTANDING here. whoops

also euripides MAKING FUN of aeschylus' electra comparing her footprint to orestes', by making her go "pshh obviously his footprint would be a different size to mine"?? i want to go back in time and tell euripides "did you think when they said their footprints were alike they were talking about SIZE? bro. omg." i am so annoyed by an ancient playwright misinterpreting another's play it's actually embarrassing.

i did enjoy euripides throwing in "hey, this might be crazy but uhh have we considered that maybe poor people can be noble and rich people can be morally corrupt" every other scene though. i bet that blew the mind of the upper class athenian audience

electra going "you dare imply that my brother would SNEAK into argos and our father's burial place like a COWARD? like a fucking LOSER with NO GUTS?". priceless

WAIT WHAT, that one-line reference to castor once trying to seduce electra. that took me by surprise. EW EW EW THAT'S YOUR SISTER'S DAUGHTER, DUDE. i'm not usually surprised at incest in greek mythology but i want to bap his nose with a rolled-up newspaper. YOU'RE A DIOSCURI, ACT LIKE IT.

yesss we love a despicable aegisthus. the vicious insecurity, the effeminate coding. myrtle flowers in his hair. electra saying whenever he gets drunk he goes to agamemnon's grave to throw stones and kick and shout abuse. oh little man you feel your own inadequacies so strongly, don't you.

but also mmmmm how this version makes the most of out of orestes' abuse of the laws of xenia. he is invited in as a friend! he's honoured with sacrifice, and turns around and commits murder with the sacrifical tools! he does the honourable thing in the most perverted way, OH it's so crunchy

i'm so emotional about electra speaking her grievances, both directly to her mother, and also how orestes encourages her to vocalize all her anger at aegisthus' corpse.

she yells at dead aegisthus what a fucking IDIOT he was to think he could seduce a married woman, marry her, and expect her to be faithful to him. it's so true it's so true

clytemnestra continues to have a point about everyone making a big to-do about her infidelity, when her husband brought back cassandra and was just gonna be like "yeah i'll have two wives (one a mad, enslaved priestess) it's fine it's normal why are you judging me".

augh how electra and clytemnestra's big confrontation made me nauseous, it's so realistically a portrait of an abusive mother who CARES about her daughter, as if that excuses the way she treats her. as if all the abuse is the fault of the child. "Why do you let your husband be cruel to me?" "That's how he is. And you have a stubborn nature." MAKING ME ILL!!!

ELECTRA'S HAND ON THE SWORD. FINALLY SHE'S ALLOWED TO HOLD THE WEAPON, TO KILL HER MOTHER.

and then OF COURSE comes the well of emotion, of bitterness, of sadness, of affection. "There. With this cloak i'm covering up one who was loved and yet not loved." AUGH AUGH AUGH IT HURTS SO GOOD

[iamnmbr3]

How do you think drarry’s dynamic would be if Draco came into a creature inheritance such as a veela or werewolf?

So I enjoy veela!draco for the crack potential but personally I'm not as into it in a serious manner (though now that I said that I'll probably find a super serious veela!draco fic and end up staying up till 3 am reading it and then crying at the ending and then have to totally eat my words). I love the idea of werewolf!draco though and am actually working on an 8th year drarry fic where post book 7 Manor sequence Voldemort let Greyback bite Draco and Draco's hiding his status due to 1) shame and 2) between his last name and his Dark Mark he's already shunned and pretty much unemployable and this would only make it worse and 3) now that he didn't report it when he was supposed to he's committed a crime which could violate the terms of his parole. (And of course Harry immediately notices he's acting off and decides to investigate. Eventually drarry happens).

I really like the idea of Draco, who has all these internalized blood purest ideas suddenly having to deal with something that, according to that world view, gives him "corrupted" blood. While I think postwar he would have realized a lot of the bigotry he grew up with is wrong, those internalized ideas wouldn't go away overnight. And especially in the case of becoming a werewolf himself, the self hatred that he was already dealing with due to his alignment with Voldemort would get magnified, so since those bigoted ideas would be directed at himself he probably wouldn't feel the same need to question or reconsider them the way he would ideas about communities he's not a part of.

PLUS, Draco's exposure to werewolves included having Greyback and his pack hanging around his house. So I think he would feel even more negatively about werewolves than he did in his younger years and believe that everything he had ever been told about them being vicious and violent monsters had been proven totally true. I think he'd be terrified of becoming like that and also kind of feel he deserves it.

Harry, who spent a lot of time around Lupin obviously has a very different view of werewolves so I think once Harry found out about Draco's condition there'd be a lot of push and pull. I think Harry would probably be frustrated and maybe a bit surprised at first that becoming a werewolf actually didn't make Draco realize that werewolves are just regular people. I think there'd be a lot of back and forth with Draco struggling to get over his internalized prejudice and self hatred. I think Harry not really caring and being much more concerned with the bad choices Draco made, rather than what happens to him now on the full moon, would help him learn to accept himself and live with his condition. I think ultimately he would get to a point where he could realize that Greyback was brutal and violent because that's who he was - just like there are brutal and violent people who AREN'T werewolves - rather than specifically because of his condition. I think his internalized feelings of shame would be something he'd spend year and year struggling with though.

Conversely, I think Harry would be forced to confront a lot of the systemic problems in wizarding society and the way that affects werewolves and also be forced to confront the fact that Lupin repressed a lot of part of himself to make himself more "acceptable" in mainstream wizarding society. I really like the idea of Harry realizing that he doesn't know some stuff about werewolves. Given that Bill, who isn't even a full werewolf, apparently craves very rare meat now - and not just at full moons - I always headcanoned that werewolves actually have some wolfish characteristics all the time, like wanting to eat raw meat, but that Lupin represses all that to act more "human" and that's part of why he looks so unhealthy all the time but Greyback doesn't. I think Harry should have to deal with the fact that this is a very life changing condition and also deal with the fact that werewolves are so shunned that most of them chose to back Voldemort int he hopes of things getting even marginally better.

[asitrita]

Thoughts on the Donquixote's crucifixion.

Since today is Good Friday I felt like sharing this piece of interpretation of Donquixote family's "crucifixion". Throughout the series and Doflamingo's life I think we can see some symbolism, paralelism, or just vague allusions and hints to his nature being similar to that of the Antichrist (opposite of Christ) or the idea of Doflamingo as Lucifer or a fallen angel (we see something akin to The Last Supper with his "family", including his own personal "Judas" sitting at his left; his ideology of being the rightful king to rule the world, yet not being willing to sacrifiece himself for anyone, but actually expecting everybody else to sacrifice themselves for him; his agent-of-chaos personality; the entire idea that he is almost a devine creature that fell from Heaven to Hell, stripped of his rightful power, status, and legitimate possition above humans, betrayed by his own family and blood; the nickname "Heavenly Demon", etc.). However, I believe the moment in his life he comes to incarnate all these topics comes just after his and his family's crucifixion, or just right after the very moment he lashes out against the rabbid mob awakening and loosing his haki. Just seconds before we have this image:

Here we have Homing, whom we know is a good man, in the middle, at the centre of the scene. Rocinante is to his right hand side, and Doflamingo is to his left. As you might know, Jesus Christ was crucified together with two more people, often refered to as the good thief (traditionally named Dimas/Dismas), and the bad thief (traditionally named Gestas). The good thief was crucified at the right hand side of Jesus, while the bad thief was cricified at his left. Maybe I am looking to much into it, and I'm pretty sure someone else must have already realised this, but I can't help to notice the paralelisms and similarities. In this scene, while all Homing is concerened with is the safety of his children and doesn't mind begging and humiliating himself to try to get the mob to free them, to the point he asks the enraged mob to forgive his children, for they were only little kids, Doflamingo's anger gets the best of him and he lashes out at the crowd, not asking nor begging them to put him down, but threatening to kill them all for their actions, all while blaming his father for all his surffering and his family tragic fate. No forgiveness, no acceptance, but defiance and a promise of vicious and bloody revenge for his father and the craze mob's wrong-doings. Homing was willing to take in all the hate, die for the sins his kind had committed over the centuries, if only to appease the mob and get them to spare his children. He was willing to die for them (and he eventually did, though not in the best way possible, tbh), he was a good person and this scene perfectly shows that, despite his naiveté and the tragic and dire consequences of his actions, he acted out of the goodness of his heart. Doflamingo would not even lower himself to the point of asking for mercy, not before humans he believed were below him. We all know how the story goes, how Doflamingo and Rocinante turned out to be complete different people, with the whole good vs evil motive they have going on. Again, I'm probably digging too much into it, but I just like the Rosi/Dismas, Doffy/Gestas and Homing/Christ paralelism. More so considering how Homing will eventually willingly die for his kids' future, which sounds kinda biblical given we are all God's sons and daughters, and he (Jesus, God's son, God himself) died for us (even if in Homing's case he did die for nothing, as Doffy will not be accepted back among his kind); and how, just after Homing's (Jesus) death, it will be Doffy who becomes, in a way, the symbol of the fallen angel, of the gone-wrong-Jesus, of the anti-Christ, almost Satan himself (ruling the underworld, as his father's heresy took the throne above away from him). He replaces his father as the semi-Biblical almost Christ-like figure, but in a reversed, twisted and sick way.

Crucifixion by Giovanni Donato

[pseudowho]

hi haitch!! how was your day? did you do anything fun this weekend? anyways, i just wanted to drop by and ask for some advice.

there's this guy in a few of my lectures who has expressed interest in me multiple times, despite me firmly telling him that I have a boyfriend and therefore am not interested. But he won't stop and it's making me really uncomfortable. We're lab partners, and he's always finding some way to touch me, not inappropriately, but not in like a friendly platonic way either.

He also keeps making flirty/suggestive comments and inviting me over to his place to "study" but the way he says it makes it very clear that he doesn't want to study. On top of that, the part that bothers me the most is he clearly doesn't take me seriously, which is not something I'm unused to as a relatively small, unintimidating woman in a male dominated field of study, it just pisses me off more because it's him, you know?

Anyways, I was wondering if you have any advice. My boyfriend wants to beat the guys ass, and as much as I would like to see it, 1) it's not exactly professional, and 2) despite being very fit and athletic, my boyfriend can't fight for shit. Like seriously. I would stand a better chance in a fight than he would and I'm ten inches shorter than him.

Sorry if this bothers you. I'm just at a loss and you give trusted adult vibes and I want to fully take advantage of being one of your adopted tumblr users. However I do understand if constantly being bombarded with people asking for advice is too much and you'd like me to stop.

Have a nice night (I believe it's nighttime in the UK right now)!

Hey! You're being sexually harassed. You have expressed your wish to be left alone a number of times now. He's committing gender-based violence against you.

Feeling brave?

Okay. Be vicious.

When he next touches you, I need you to say, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I've told you to stop touching me, get your hands off me!" Make sure it's loud and clear.

Find any other members of the class, or your teachers, who will notice. Tell them in no uncertain terms, "He's sexually harassing me. He's told me he's interested in me, and I've told him I'm not, and he keeps making suggestive comments and touching me."

Let's see how he acts when the scrutiny is on him.

Don't smile. Don't demur. Hiss and spit like a fucking alley cat.

He will act like you're overreacting. He will act like his touches are accidental. He will get nasty. He will try to embarrass you, or suggest it's your fault, or that he's just being 'friendly'. He'll then gaslight you; as if you're attractive enough to attract him-- you should be embarrassed for thinking he's into you.

All violent manipulator tactics. Stand tall. None of them are correct; he is in the wrong and he will try to blame the victim.

These men rely on you not shouting. They rely on other people turning a blind eye. So you shout, and you make it impossible for others to turn a blind eye.

Now is not the time for being shy, or a wallflower.

Come on, kid. I wish you didn't have to do this, but you do, and I'm proud of you and I believe in you.

EDIT: The baby has had a fever all weekend, so we only did little trips to the park, and to the bike track. We're all alive; everyone fed, nobody dead! Me and @mrhaitch are starting to think about Halloween games, so while we're looking at the Silent Hill remake, it's currently £60 here, and so we're waiting for some honest human reviews before we take the plunge. Instead, we're going to try to finish a play through of my favourite game, Darkest Dungeon. Thanks for asking 💕

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[noofvcks]

Suicide

I think we've all thought about suicide but I wonder if thinking about it is a step before the act.

Those who committed suicide had surely imagined it before? Ofc it doesn't mean that if you imagine it you're necessarily going to do it but I was wondering if it can be linked.

Im not talking about it because I want to commit suicide, it’s just that sometimes life feel heavy so you imagine not being there. There's not enough reasons for me to do it, besides when I imagine I think of my parents and it kills me. The pain? It's going to kill them, they love me too much. And because of that I feel like the fact that they are the only people I think about is really an indicator of the love you feel from others. I feel their love a lot, I think about them and it kills me so I could never do that to them.

Idk I think that people who committed suicide must have felt so alone. Not feeling like they could be missed. You don't believe in anything anymore and you don't feel anything from anyone, it's very sad.

But I really think that every human being has thought about suicide and I think that most of us would have done it if we didn't have too many things coming between. Everyday life keeps us busy, distracts us, we have religion too... so yes we use a lot of things to silence this pain, this emptiness. So if you take that away you can also take life.

Personally I am constantly in research, I tell myself that there is always more to discover. You can think of something now and you may need informations in a few days or a few months and this information that is in the future may be useful since it will complete or contradict the thought of now.

But tbh, to keep people alive we need to make life more pleasant, the relationships between each others more pleasant. We need to show that there is hope.

I always told my father that I felt like we needed others to live, as if life was others. A vicious circle, life is the other but the other life is you. Be attentive and learn from the other to grow yourself. In the end everything is supposed to come back to you, and not necessarily from the same person.

I feel like we are responsible (as a whole) of people who commit suicide, we have a big responsibility. Sorry to say that but I feel responsible as a human being because we are the ones who create the environment, the relationships between human beings, everything depends on us. Besides, something I never understood and that I find insulting is to see how we live life as we live it and want to pay homage to death. No, because what were we like when we were alive?

[mins-fins]

the detectives treat.

summary: in which a snappy forensic scientist and an awfully flirtatious detective have a.. complicated relationship.

pairing: kim taerae x m!reader

genre: detective au thingy?, fluff

warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of corpses, and weapons

word count: 0.7k

notes: jun (@luvjiun) really read my mind when it came to this LMAO, not exactly angst because rn i feel allergic to writing angst, and this is shorter than what i usually write but take this because after this weekend updates will become MUCH slower 😭

— coroners forensic laboratory. — 11:23 am.

"if you don't stop coming in here to bother me, my knife will meet your face" taerae scoffs as he points the scalpel towards the figure who waltzes into his office, his voice full of contempt. yn lets out a gasp, stepping back a little bit.

"calm down mr. kim, if you do so you'll have to think about your murder case in the future, gunwook will be sad" yn shrugs, a vicious smile tugging at his lips.

taerae huffs, rolling his eyes as he gently places the scalpel down onto the examining table. he clicks his tongue and turns to yn, who smiles even larger at him.

"what do you need then, detective? hurry up i don't have that much time for you" taerae's voice calms down, but the clear annoyance is still there. yn sighs and shakes his head, used to this behavior.

"just the usual, i need the autopsy report for the case jeonghyeon's holding" he begins. "also, mind coming with me to mr. uehara's office?" he inquires, and taerae's eyebrows knit together.

taerae stares at the taller, contemplating.

was officer seok matthew not in today? that's quite unusual, he thinks.

"where's your partner?" he asks, pulling off his gloves and disposing of them. he again narrows his eyes at yn's smile. "ah, matthew? he's with keita, you know, he needs assistance after the whole incident".

taerae huffs, crossing his arms. "not you and that bibliography or, magazine, or whatever? your so full of yourself" yn laughs, a faux grimace coming to his face.

"your one mean person mr. kim, you know how hard jihoo worked for that piece to sell, it tells the amazing stories of me as a detective! even gunwook loves it, you can ask mr. chen too" yn beamed, his smile teasing, ticking off any of the remaining patience taerae had left.

"acting as if you didn't almost get jihoo arrested for a crime he didn't commit" taerae mutters meanly under his breath, snapping his head to the other direction.

yn grimaces, a real one this time.

"that was my job! i just sought out the truth".

taerae snickers, turning his head towards yn. "not during the trials you didn't, that was all chen and lee".

"but if it wasn't for me, no evidence would've been presented! i still did play a big role!" yn huffs in ignorance, taerae simply looks him up and down.

"you know what? here's the autopsy report you've been asking for, be off now" taerae places the autopsy report on the desk, turning away from yn and hoping he'll leave, even though he knows it won't do the trick.

"what? not to be rude but you still have to accompany me to mr. uehara's office" yn stood there, confused. taerae chuckles at his words, not taking them seriously.

"i don't think you'll need my help, can't you just go ask lee to help you with that task?" taerae looks back, a smile on his face, showcasing his deep dimples.

"no, jeonghyeon is busy with the trial, your the only one who can go to the office with me" yn walks over to taerae, and the shorter sighs. "your a grownup are you not? so you getting lost in seoul while looking for mr. uehara's office seems pretty impossible" taerae's voice was much calmer, his smile not fading.

"i'll treat you to lunch if you accompany me, besides, it's hotaek who usually goes to mr. uehara's office, not me" yn replied.

"lunch? are you ridiculous?" taerae scoffs. "we aren't even acquainted, what makes you think you can bribe me?"

okay, that's a lie, they are acquainted, and they have been for as long as they can remember, but close? taerae would never say he was close to yn.

"oh yes we are, gunwook likes me, admires me even! we've been acquainted since our first case together back when we both still resided in chungcheongnam-do" yn smiled, though his cheeks flushed.

it must be the temperature.

but they're inside a coroners laboratory?

taerae decides to brush it off.

"i.. ugh— fine, just to get this case through, i'll come with you" taerae sees yn's eyes light up, which is exactly why he continues.

"but, you should refrain from bothering me, that's all i ask" and again, before yn can give a response, taerae pushes past him, grabbing his coat and walking out of the door.

[girlbossyndrome]

Men are such fascinating creatures.

The title is (sadly) a constructed lie, but I got your full attention, right? I’ve been giving each and every one of you the silent treatment, I was busy sipping cocktails in new bars, with my new fresh set of friends, and my interesting books, acting untouchable, and unattainable to the average person. But I am back! And with back to school season (we’re literally in October but who cares?) it means that you are ALL back to your desks, except for the unemployed cunts (like me) but the thing about unemployed people, is that they are doing far more interesting complex things from their home couch, we see everything from our little screens.

This article is both a confession and a study on men, aka the “fascinating sex.” I love to use the term fascinating, because truth is, men are far from being boring, they’re just incomprehensible creatures, and the only thing that makes them somewhat “interesting” or “fascinating” is how women have been depicting them for centuries. If you want to truly know a man’s character, you should be asking his girlfriend, or his mother.

The second sex (as de Beauvoir loves to call us: women!) are a category of people who need to evolve, and pursue certain fulfilling activities in order to connect deeply with their sense of life, we don’t think life has any meaning, we strive to build a meaning to it, whereas men are pretty much convinced that they are here to either pay for their sins on a daily basis, or enjoy all life has to offer and by that I mean: SEX. This is probably why little girls go through their Lisbon sister era at thirteen, we grow faster, and we start getting depressed. Little boys just don’t care, they’re too busy playing their video games. And then by the time they reach high school, they’ll either start developing an interest on evil past historical figures like Hitler, or become an annoying communist who mansplains to women the economical situation of the country.

I may be biased because I am a woman, but I genuinely believe that men do not make sense, neither to women, and nor to themselves, they behave in such mysterious confusing ways, they either are too mentally limited to function properly, or just are evil unaware sociopaths, in both cases that is bad news.

A mentally limited person that can’t function properly is someone who does not understand the extent of their actions, and makes the stupidest mistakes repeatedly without facing backlash for such committed actions. An unaware evil sociopath is worse, because they tend to come off as charming, they are aware that something is bad when they do it, but because no one has stepped up to reprimand it, they continue to do so because why not test how far their limits can go? And unfortunately, these unaware evil sociopaths will meet nice cutesy demure shy horny starlets who will let them get away with it, and so the cycle never ends. It’s vicious, truly. This is why I advise all women aged 18 and more to go read “Why men love bitches?” and start behaving like a bitch. Otherwise, men will continue to walk over those nice cutesy demure shy horny starlets.

Now after having spent the entire summer surrounded by hot EVIL men (hello if you read this) I have come to the conclusion, that men are not meant to be understood, in fact, trying to understand men is like getting a lobotomy, therefore as a wise woman (ME) once said:

“A woman is much happier when she finally stops trying to understand men.”

So this is me giving up, toodles.

xx, girlboss syndrome.

[catb-fics]

“Celebrities get cancelled for less” wtf, this situation would be nothing compared to what people actually get cancelled for? who is getting cancelled “for less” and what is the less they’ve done, because I guarantee that anon has NOTHING. Why you acting like Vans committed something heinous??!!?!!

beside the whole “he can’t be that unwell” as if there’s not people behind the scenes who manage social media, Vans not posting to the band insta - anon may have had a point if Vans posting on his own account but he’s not? also we don’t know what his mental health is rn from being ill, the whole “can’t be that unwell” shite is such bull when we don’t know why he’s unwell 🤯

Completely agree the cancelling thing is way too harsh and not deserved at all over a lack of communication. We still don’t know what the hell’s going on behind the scenes which is why I try not to judge too harshly. Van could really be quite ill and someone else is handling that side of things, of the opinion that it’s better to keep stuff rolling by announcing shows. Or Van might feel that silence is the preferred option as he’s wary of a backlash as it’s stretched on for so long now. We don’t know who’s posting we can only guess! We can only speculate about everything in fact - we just don’t know 😭

But anon has a right to feel frustrated and I try to be impartial if people just want to have a rant whether I am of the same opinion or not. I won’t post unfounded hate but a lot of fans just feel let down and upset as they don’t feel valued which is so sad considering what a loyal and devoted fanbase this band has always had.

Van started to gradually withdraw from interacting with fans so much years ago, I think in part due to the whole intensity of it, then I think when things went to shit with all the nasty rumours and stuff this just made things even worse. Feels like now it could be a vicious circle of withdrawing even more due to the increasing criticism which in turn leads to even more criticism because of the lack of communication 😔

[egcdeath]

oh neptune, you are always on the same wavelength as me because I had the same thought about jane and reader. i especially do think that because of patrick's career in tennis and the way he was traveling, those first couple of your daughter's life was constantly affected by him moving around and also him not being there as much as he would like to be. you don't hold this against him because you knew he wanted to be there but just couldn't and well he is a great dad, but spending that time with your daughter by herself makes you somewhat understand jane and her worries. it's just something patrick wouldn't be able to understand and you don't know how to explain it without upsetting him, because truly he is a great dad and great partner it was more of a thing of circumstance. this empathy exists even when the whole situation with ziggy and your daughter (we need to name her haha, maybe something like Eve? idk) which frustrates patrick even more

also since female relationships are such an important part of the show, i am interested in how her relationship with celeste would be. since everyone knows patrick is such a hot head, i wonder if celeste would ever try to bring up to the reader if whether or not patrick's taken out his anger on her (i can't see him doing this. i just don't think he is someone who would physically harm someone he loves) and of course this sets off alarms in readers head so celeste kinda withdraws. idk i just feel like celeste was always struggling to talk about it even though she definitely wanted to discuss the abuse perry put her through....just a very specific scene idea that came to me haha idk.

I also love the idea that patrick and reader are a bit younger. I mean I know jane was around 25 but everyone else was closer to 40, maybe patrick and reader are like late twenties or early thirties. i guess the age may be another reason why reader empathizes with jane, but also i think the fact that no one takes them seriously automatically creates more tension. like this young couple made up on a retired tennis player and a writer, i can see them cracking jokes about how that wouldn't last and patrick losing it lol.

I think overall moving to a place like Monterey would make reader so much more withdrawn and much more tense. after a certain point she starts becoming more closed off (maybe only really expressing her feelings through journaing) and like you said this would totally upset patrick. and I do think in this au there is a genuine love between patrick and reader and this desire to be happy, but patrick doesn't know how to reach out and show his love when you're like this. so it makes him frustrated. a vicious cycle.

-🫀

heart anon!!! it’s all you and your big brain!!

that is such a great point! i could absolutely see the reader having to essentially act as a single mother while patrick travels for work or is really busy training. you would try to visit him when you can and he obviously tried to make an effort to be with you and his daughter when he could but he really didn’t realize how much of a commitment fatherhood AND being a tennis player would be. in my head, he went through a period where he wasn’t playing at big games and was mostly doing small challengers and things of that nature before he had a bit of a comeback and started playing in the big leagues again, and he simply didn’t realize how much more taxing that would be, especially with a baby on the way/having a young child. i also see this being a pretty difficult time for you, since you feel like it’s kinda not what you signed up for, but you also understand where patrick is coming from and don’t hold it against him. still, patrick feels really guilty about this time when you were basically a single mother so he really doesn’t like when you suggest that you see where jane might be coming from, since you know what it’s like to have to go through all these trials and tribulations on your own. i loveee that you thought of that because it really does make a lot of sense for these characters and it seems like something that would be a consistent underlying issue.

ohhh the female friendship of it all! i see reader and jane being friends before the stuff starts going down with both of your kids (even though you want to reach out to her but you know that patrick would not approve) but it’s interesting thinking about what her relationship with the other moms would look like! celeste would 100% check in on you and make sure that patrick isn’t hurting you. i agree with your assessment about him—i think patrick is pretty sassy and quick witted, and also isn’t someone who’s gonna mince words, but i don’t think that he would ever hurt someone intentionally. i’m sure he’s far more aggressive with people who try to cross his family but when it comes to you and your daughter he would never!

i get so sad when i think about celeste’s storyline in season one (and even s2). like really such heartbreaking stuff. i’m by no means an expert on domestic violence but the portrayal of it in s1 was just absolutely devastating.

on a lighter note, their ages… i was also thinking that they’d be in their late twenties/early thirties and i agree that’s what makes you connect with jane (and maybe even bonnie who also seemed young and not taken seriously). the whole narrative around you and patrick would absolutely be a point of tension between you two and the rest of the parents. it does feel like it comes a little bit out of jealousy rather than actual doubting that your relationship is gonna last but patrick doesn’t care about the intention if people are still talking shit about his wife and family!! you try to tell him not to worry about it but how could he NOT worry about it??

i’ve really been into the complicated relationships lately because this would be such a complicated relationship. you and patrick really do love each other but all of these external factors have put such a strain on your relationship. in my head, i feel like patrick would try to get you to open up to him and to try to figure out what he can do to help you be less withdrawn but not even you really know! it’s so overwhelming to be in this new place where your daughter is being bullied and you and patrick are at odds for the first time ever really, and you can’t even use your creative outlet the way you want to so you feel like there’s no other option to hide inside yourself. ugh the angst.

at the end of the day the only way to solve it is to communicate with each other and make amends with the people in your community! or move i guess. but once everyone makes amends with each other you would have a good time being friends with the other moms of monterey!!

amazing thoughts as usual heart anon 🫡

[imagoddamnonionmason]

PICREW & ALIGNMENT TEST

I was tagged by @hollytanaka to take part in this little tagging game, whereby you use a couple Picrew makers and an alignment test for your ocs!

The Picrew are here and here; the alignment test is here.

I am only going to do Jodie and Keith for this post, but if you'd like to see other ocs, then just ask! I just don't want to create a super long post with so much going off. I suppose this post can be themed BOCW!

Black Ops Cold War OCs

Jodie "Bell" Hall

Lawful Good- A lawful good character acts as a good person is expected or required to act. She combines a commitment to oppose evil with the discipline to fight relentlessly. She tells the truth, keeps his word, helps those in need, and speaks out against injustice. A lawful good character hates to see the guilty go unpunished. Lawful good is the best alignment you can be because it combines honor and compassion. However, lawful good can be a dangerous alignment when it restricts freedom and criminalizes self-interest.

Note: Hmm, I can see where Jodie might be lawful good, but the questions were extremely tough to answer as there was a lot of context missing - like no, she wouldn't betray those she loves, but she has betrayed and been betrayed before. Overall, I'd say it is relatively accurate, but she has capabilities to do bad in the face of difficult situations, especially when her hands are tied. Although, I will say that this sentence "She combines a commitment to oppose evil with the discipline to fight relentlessly" can most definitely be attributed to her in her later years of life, given that she chooses to turn against Perseus because it's the right thing to do. And of course, hating to see the guilty go unpunished. Jodie goes after those that have wronged her, that she deems guilty (Perseus and Keith), and especially in Keith's case, will stop at nothing to ensure they can never hurt her or her family.

Keith Wells

Chaotic Evil- A chaotic evil character does whatever his greed, hatred, and lust for destruction drive him to do. He is hot-tempered, vicious, arbitrarily violent, and unpredictable. If he is simply out for whatever he can get, he is ruthless and brutal. If he is committed to the spread of evil and chaos, he is even worse. Thankfully, his plans are haphazard, and any groups he joins or forms are poorly organized. Typically, chaotic evil people can be made to work together only by force, and their leader lasts only as long as he can thwart attempts to topple or assassinate him. Chaotic evil is sometimes called demonic because demons are the epitome of chaotic evil. Chaotic evil is the best alignment you can be because combines self-interest and pure freedom. However, chaotic evil can be a dangerous alignment because it represents the destruction not only of beauty and life but also of the order on which beauty and life depend.

Note: I mean... what did we expect, really? He is literally the exact opposite of Jodie in the terms of where she betrayed because she felt there was no other way, he betrayed because he wanted to and because he would gain something from it. I think the only aspect I would dispute is this idea that his chaos is unpredictable; oh no, Keith knows exactly what his chaos is for and uses it to further the extreme political ideologies of Perseus, the one faction he has only ever truly felt any loyalty to.

I hope you enjoyed this little tag game where we delve into the BOCW OCs a little more!

I am happy for anyone to go ahead and take part in this! <3 Just tag me so I can see what your OCs turn out to be!

[morrigan-sims]

Bold the Facts Tag

I was tagged by @ethelgodehel! Thank you!!

The rules are simple! Tag people and name a character you want to know more about! If you want to let the person you tagged decide who to showcase, then don’t name a character and they can pick somebody. Easy! The person who is tagged will then bold the remarks below which apply to their character &, if they want to, include a picture with their reply!

I'm going to do this for my boy Rook, because I am brain rotting about him SO HARD.

[ PERSONAL]

$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor (my boy is literally living on our gunslinger's couch.) / in poverty

✚ Medical: fit (he kind of lost it while on the Sea Snake, but it's back now after ~6 months adventuring in the Feywild.) / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable

✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other (born nobility, became a pirate, now works for the government, kind of)

✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other (received a more than passable education as a child, but uses none of it, and has forgotten most of it.)

✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed (it's kind of complicated. He's wanted for crimes, but the person who wants him is literally a criminal herself. The wanted posters got hidden by the guy we work for, but Wolf still wants Rook found.)

[ FAMILY]

◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children

◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings (he would say he doesn't have any siblings if you asked him, but he does have at least one half-sibling.) / sibling(s) is deceased

◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent ("raised" by his father, and then disowned/ran away at 17) / not applicable

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

♦ disorganized / organized / in between

♦ close minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between (usually seems pretty chill, but is a tiny bit paranoid / anxious about being found by Captain Wolf.)

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

♦ cautious / reckless (reckless is one of his most defining traits, lmao.) / in between

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

♦ leader / follower / in between (dreams on being a captain in his own right someday, but has a LOT of growth do to first. His trauma has kind of wrecked his self-confidence.)

♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between (depends on the situation and who with)

♦ optimistic / pessimistic/ in between

♦ traditional / modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured / uncultured / in between (has traveled a lot at sea, and was raised in a noble household, but doesn't act super cultured/formal.) / unknown

♦ loyal (to a fault) / disloyal / unknown

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ BELIEFS]

★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic / Spiritual / its complicated

☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious

❀ Philosophical: yes / no / in between

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless

♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious

❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious / in between

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent (he kicks ass in a duel. (unless I roll shitty. which happens a lot.)) / good / moderate / poor / none

≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✂ Technical Skills: excellent (specifically sailing and navigation) / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / Alcoholic

☁ Smoking: tried it/ trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes/ frequently / chain-smoker

✿ Recreational Drugs: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication /some medication needed / frequently / to excess

☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes (when he can get his hands on it. Though now he's going to be living with a baker...) / frequently / binge eater

$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes (He's literally about to spend all his money on healing potions and revivify diamonds as an apology gift.) / frequently / shopaholic

♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes (when he was a pirate he'd do it with the crew on occasion. People would bet on some of the sparring duels, etc.) / frequently / compulsive gambler

I'm going to tag @wildmelon @wastelandwhisperer @armoricaroyalty @aniraklova @madebycoffee @potionio @vesperastral @panicsimss and anyone else who wants to!!

[rauthschild]

First, you should know that the situation in Israel is heating up and getting more complex by the moment. You won't hear this on the news because our media has been gagged since 1902 thanks to the British Pilgrim's Society.

Israel targeted the Iranian embassy compound in Syria, lobbed missiles at it, and killed Iranians. This is, whether you know it or not, an Act of War. It puts Israel firmly in the aggressor seat and whatever Iran does to retaliate, Israelis have to accept the fact that they are suffering because of the acts of their own government.

In the last week, numerous groups throughout the Middle East have been meeting. The entire Arab population is scandalized by the extent and the ferocity of the genocide and destruction poured down on the innocent civilian population of Gaza, using a British-funded and Netanyahu-expedited Hamas attack as the Israeli excuse for this.

What has happened in Gaza would be like turning the entire U.S. Military loose on New York City with unlimited armament short of nuclear weapons, and letting it pound New York into the dirt for months.

What defense would New York City have? The same defense that Gaza has. None. It would just slowly disappear under the weight of the bombing and missiles and artillery fire, until nothing and nobody was left.

That's what you've got going on in Gaza, and frankly, the "dumb" uninformed Americans notwithstanding, that is what the rest of the world sees.

No wonder the entire Muslim world is inflamed and taking the bait to fight.

Right behind the Arab States are the Russians and Chinese, who are all allied together -- the Iranians and Russians by their pacts, and the Chinese and Russians allied by their treaties and agreements.

And here is the stellar point --- they are all on the moral high ground. We and NATO are on the wrong side of the issues, because it can never be acceptable for a massive military force to attack an unarmed civilian population and to do it in such a purposeful, blatant, prolonged, and reckless way.

The Israelis have become what they hate. Their fear and their focus on self-protection has morphed into gross, mindless aggression against Gaza, and now, they have Russian tanks on the Golan Heights.

Somehow, they seem to assume that they can get away with this genocide and their stubborn refusal to relent, just as they thought they could target the Iranian Embassy in Syria without consequence.

The concept of what happens on the school ground when a bully is beaten up by a bigger bully has not sunk in. They obviously think that the British Crown Corporation is going to come save their State of Israel, Inc. franchise, no matter what gross crimes and acts of violence Israel commits....

But the British Crown Corp. had no business creating a State of Israel, Inc. franchise, and the British Government had no right to sell Jacob Rothschild a 99-year lease on Israel under the Balfour Declaration. All this crooked dealing on the part of Britain is now becoming public knowledge and coming home to roost.

No doubt, that's why MI6 armed and paid Hamas -- a smokescreen to "get something started" as if attacking the Iranian Embassy compound was not enough.

I am disgusted to say that the Vermin are cruising for a bruising on purpose. They are creating a crisis deliberately to distract from and obscure their own criminality. The entire economic and financial meltdown is similarly self-generated and cynical.

Israel was not the victim in the Hamas attack. Israel was looking for an excuse to attack Gaza and Britain provided Hamas with the means to provide that excuse and Netanyahu let down Israeli border defenses to expedite it. The whole thing is vicious and calculated and timed to promote the Do It Yourself Armageddon scenario that the Office of the Roman Pontiff and HRE have long planned.

Let's all keep our eyes and ears alert and realize that the Perpetrators --- the ones really responsible, are the same Perpetrators who have run rampant for the past three hundred years: Rome, Britain, and "Westminster"--- the Inner City of London British Crown Cartel.

These "Principals and Powers" are the ones on the Low Road, the cause of it all, and the ones who deserve universal condemnation, if not outright and permanent destruction for their criminal activities and constant acts of war and war-mongering and war-for-profit schemes, for their refusal to give up their illegal and repugnant Caste System, and the peonage and enslavement that keeps it going.

The rest of us have moved on and are ready for something better. And here they are, putting on the biggest "show" ever, their own mass-produced end of the world event, complete with self-engineered fulfillment of Bible prophecy.

They should be ashamed and we should all shame them in public for it. Life and death are not a game and we are not pawns set up to be their gullible audience.

If you are not all deeply offended by what is going on in Gaza, you should be. And even if the planned Great Earthquake isn't pulled off, for fear of permanently damaging the biome, we should all just stay home, and say, "No!" to the best of our ability.

This Sunday, April 7th, join us and the rest of the world in physically and spiritually and emotionally saying no to them and their whole panoply of disaster and death, and declare an end to evil.