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helenanell · 16 days

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A Breath of Life || Challengers

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Part Two

Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.)

CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.

Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)

Wordcount: 9.7K

Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.

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The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to.

You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep.

You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.

For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it.

Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered.

It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real.

But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water.

Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone.

But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again.

And your prayer was answered.

She appeared before you like an angel.

Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life:

“So, when can I play you again?”

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Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world.

You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you.

Tashi had breathed life into you.

Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear.

Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.

But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.

How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?

You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.

Or so you thought.

At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin.

“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in.

You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands.

“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.

The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile.

“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”

You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.

“Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.

You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music.

“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”

Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”

Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm.

Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach.

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The four of you had wandered down to the beach.

Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form.

You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her.

Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you.

You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.

Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk.

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.”

“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”

Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you.

You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.

You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display.

Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear.

“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear.

Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.

When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass.

“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you.

“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.

You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.

When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile.

They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.

And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.

You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is.

But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.

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Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria.

Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.

“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.

Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”

Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”

“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”

You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face.

“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”

He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:

“You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.

“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table.

You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.

“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.”

Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?”

You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”

This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently.

“Do you love her, Art?”

“Can you please just answer my question?”

“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”

Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:

“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.”

You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”

“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”

You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her.

Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.

“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”

“You deserve to be loved.”

You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.

“I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”

You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.

You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you.

Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.

His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.

Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.

Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth.

Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi.

“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.

“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.”

Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.

But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek.

“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.”

You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!”

“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”

“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?”

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him.

But you don’t move.

Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together.

Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin.

“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”

“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.

A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you.

He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.

But Art won’t let it go.

“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”

You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back.

“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”

You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.

“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”

He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious.

Why won’t he follow you?

Why do you still want him to?

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You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art.

You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.

You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.

You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong.

You walk through the stands until you come across Art.

There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised.

You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.

“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares.

“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.”

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”

Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”

Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone.

Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him.

“The match is about to start.” You say coldly.

Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away.

“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”

You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“

The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence.

In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.

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Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain.

What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!”

The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.

He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.

So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away.

Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.

When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.

You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.

Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you.

You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for.

Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.

“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka.

“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.

“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.”

He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury.

“Shut up, Patrick.”

You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling.

Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs.

You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head.

You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.

When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“

Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.

Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over.

As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet.

“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.

It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door.

You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs.

You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top.

“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.

Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication.

You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs.

The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most.

“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”

You should fight him, but you don’t want to.

You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to. You want him.

Art had been right about both of you.

No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure.

Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you.

You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.

“We both know what this is.” He goads.

“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him.

“Inevitable.”

“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names.

An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around.

You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.

The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.

“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”

You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him.

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“

He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert.

When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol.

When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.

You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes.

“Do that again.”

You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.

Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side.

Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back.

The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips.

You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next.

You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art.

Art.

Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?

You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him.

Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you.

He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move.

“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck.

He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force.

In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real.

As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive.

The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room.

If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t.

He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away.

You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world.

No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered.

You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.

For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life.

You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him.

Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.

And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come.

From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old.

But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered.

You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art.

It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either.

Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you.

And that had not changed.

You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you.

You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room.

It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him.

You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him.

But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch.

You get down off the barstool.

As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.

And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.

You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down.

It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak.

It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them.

Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture.

When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.

“Can I ask you to sit with me?”

“I don’t know Art, can you?”

He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him.

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be.

Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.

His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.

But he’s still close, too close.

Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do.

He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.”

“When have you ever known me to have one of those?”

You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds.

You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.

He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him.

You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him.

“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly.

You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.”

“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.”

You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him.

“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question.

“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?”

“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”

When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship.

You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses.

Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.

Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.

This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer.

You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.

You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.

Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.

The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you.

The door to your room clicks shut.

You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you.

When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head.

“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck.

“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”

You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean.

Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined.

You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most.

A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.

“Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head.

Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to.

Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly.

“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.”

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.”

You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.

The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you.

When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up.

With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.

His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.

When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin.

“Lay back.” He instructs gently.

But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.

He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre.

“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations.

As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets.

“You deserve so much more than I can give you.”

You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.

Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait.

“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head.

He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs.

“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.”

Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you.

You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks.

Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever.

As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity.

You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.

Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.

As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs.

Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck.

Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping.

“Is this alright?”

Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.

“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch.

“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.

His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”

It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.

Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision.

You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.

You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.

As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick.

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.

“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.”

“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts.

You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi.

Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world.

After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.

It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip.

You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum.

You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead.

It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place.

Someone was knocking on your door.

And then you hear her voice.

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

“Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”

This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.

In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you.

When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.

You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.

Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.

The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.

You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door.

The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things.

Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

“You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously.

If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade.

Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.

All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”

Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.

“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again.

You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.

Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too.

Only time would tell.

#challengers movie #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #mike faist #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #tashi x reader #zendaya #josh o'connor

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onlyswan · 11 months

Text

summary: in which jungkook’s new lip piercing makes you want to cry, and he can’t live without you.

> established relationship, fluff / word count: 1.4k

> warnings: mention of or*l (f. receiving)

> in which masterlist!

note: heh surprise :D my impulsive, jungkook lover brain couldn’t resist so here’s a little something 🥲

—

“why are you looking at me like that?” jungkook nervously asks as the excited beam lighting him up gradually fades. “do you not like it?”

you remain speechless with an unreadable expression written on your face. dumbly staring at the lower right corner of his lips, it is adorned with yet another piercing that makes your boyfriend appear more enchantingly attractive in your eyes — which are, by the way, currently blurry and dazed. your brain is still fuzzy around the edges, short circuiting the longer you observe the silver stud.

it infuriates you, almost, how he still manages to effortlessly drive you crazier for him five years later.

it’s extremely rare for you to fall asleep before 10pm, and to be frank, you hate him for waking you up because you know you won’t be able to go back to sleep until 3am no matter how tired you are. and you’re still not quite certain if you’ve already registered that your consciousness has been rudely pulled back into reality; because then again, you’ve always been obsessed with his lip ring, maybe unhealthily so, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that you’d dream of him surprising you with a new piercing just beside it.

however, there is a particular reason that holds you back from strongly wishing for that to come true.

“but you loved the ring, even the eyebrow ones… did i pick an ugly placement this time?” he wonders out loud with a frown, confused that his surprise didn’t receive the type of reaction he expected.

when he tries hard enough, he can picture them vivid enough to draw from memory… your eyes glittering with awe and adoration each time he presented himself with a new piercing or tattoo. you, showering him with love and praises that erased every ounce of anxiety he had about his life-altering decisions that usually came in the aftermath. what others would call impulsiveness, you named his fearless self-expression.

“ow- ouch- baby! what the hell? what was that for?”

with doe eyes struck by headlights, he gapes at you in surprise as he rubs his poor shoulder that was slapped without warning.

“why did you get it there? we’re not allowed to make out again until it’s healed!” you pettily complain with a drawn-out whine, knees bumping against his thighs as you bounce your crossed legs in bitter vexation.

“oh, shit.”

in real time, you witness the realization comically dawn on jungkook’s face, flabbergasted that in the thick haze of his excitement, he forgot about this excruciating restriction during the extended healing process. in his defense, it’s been forever since he got his first lip piercing.

oh, he’s in so much trouble.

he stares back at you, frozen and unblinking as he slowly speaks with a guilty wince. “ahh, you’re right… i must be out of my mind… i can’t eat you out, too… fuck, how did i survive this back then?”

the genuine innocence lacing his voice only fuels your urge to curl into a ball and cry in frustration. yearning for his touch while he’s not physically present is one thing, but this is much, much worse.

“stop talking.” you glare at him, angry eyebrows contrasting the puffiness of your face caused by sleep.

“you’re so adorable.” the endearing sight elicits a breathy chuckle from him, followed by a small whimper triggered by the pain that spreads on the lower part of his face immediately after. he brushes it off without care, muttering quietly- “come here.”

he carefully guides you to sit on his lap, sinking further into the soft mattress with your weight added on top of him. and for tonight, you allow him to manhandle you as he likes, not having the energy to jokingly pretend to argue with him. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him, only realizing how much you’ve missed him now that you’re skin-to-skin.

“don’t be upset, baby. i’m sorry.” he sweetly coaxes you into a better mood. “i will make it up to you after. i promise. i always do, right?”

with drowsy eyes still trained on the new jewelry that shines from the light of the night lamp, you sniffle and pout at him.

“and we can still do this, remember?”

the world becomes still and quiet, and the oxygen gets trapped in your lungs when jungkook holds your face in between his warm hands, crossing the short distance between you. your eyelids slowly flutter shut, lashes kissing your cheeks as his lips softly brush against yours. languid and tender, slightly sticky from your sleeping mask that smells like candy. he ends the blissful moment too soon with a gentle pucker of his lips, leaving you with a simple peck that will haunt your mind for the weeks to come, as if you’re a teenager who just had their first kiss in the middle of the dance floor.

“hmm, see, baby? not bad?” he says quietly, pads of his thumbs tenderly stroking the apple of your cheeks.

jungkook is too persuasive for his own good. the memories of you suffering last time are clouded with the new sweet memory he just orchestrated, and you’re almost convinced that it truly might not be that bad after all.

“but we need to be veeery careful like that for now, understand? so it’ll stop hurting and heal fast.”

and just like that, you’re a little more awake.

“does it hurt a lot? did you bleed a lot?”

hearing him say that he’s in pain made you worriedly react within a split second. his heart melts, and then breaks into two as he gathers all the self-control in his body not to pepper your face with kisses like he usually does.

“the piercer was good and quick, i didn’t feel a thing. but i’m definitely feeling something now.” he shakes his head, uttering the last sentence humorously.

“of course, it hurts now. you won’t stop moving… let me see.” you scold him with a roll of your eyes, slightly turning his head by the back of his ear to have a better view of the swollen flesh around the piercing.

“how is it doing?” he inquires after a few beats, curious and impatient with your silence.

and that’s when he sees that look on your face, the glittering eyes he was anticipating to meet since he finished his appointment the morning before. you grin from ear to ear, scrunching your nose cutely before giggles bubble from your chest. sheepish with your transparent delight, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, tickling him with your every exhale.

“my boyfriend is so cool, and so handsome. i’m so lucky and proud.”

that’s him. that could only be him.

jungkook, despite being elated by the compliments, can only muster a small shy smile. he carresses your hair lovingly, securing his tattooed arm around you as you threaten to slip off from his lap.

“really?”

“hm, i like it. so much…” you hum, planting a chaste kiss to the sensitive spot on his neck. “you’re always putting me through this, making me want to kiss you more all the time. this is so unfair.”

“baby, please. behave for me?” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as if he’s in unmaginable pain. in his dramatic mind, currently flooded with love chemicals, he is. “if you keep talking like that, i will really end up risking an infection.”

you lift up your head to show him a grimace of disgust. “ew, pull it together. i wouldn’t want to kiss you with that.”

“tsk, you’re such a brat.” he calls you out with a pointed look, lightly smacking your thigh, revealed by your shorts that has further ridden up, before kneading the soft flesh under his large palm to soothe it.

you teasingly stick out your tongue in response, breaking out into laughter. and not so subtly, you squeeze your thighs together, grasping his wrist in a futile attempt to control the frenzied butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“have you cleaned it?”

“not yet.”

“then let’s do it. i’ll help you.” you climb off his lap as you eagerly tug at his arm, planting your feet firmly on the ground. “love, hurry- hurry. i want to see it in better lighting.”

exhausted after an eventful day, jungkook limply flops down, occupying the side of the bed that you’ve kindly warmed up. “you can go ahead. i’ll follow you after five minutes.”

“ugh, no, you won’t. you’ll fall asleep if you keep your eyes closed for another thirty seconds, and then i’ll have to wake you up.”

he pops one eye open, and then another, meeting your affectionate gaze with a silly grin because damn, you know him so well.

“i love you… don’t ever leave me. i think i’d seriously die without you.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

3K notes · View notes

levmada · 5 months

Note

PLEASE write about Levi’s mental state, i’m begging you

He’s faced death and precarious situations since he was born, yet he’s still standing strong and hopeful, WHAT THE HELL I LOVE MY SHORT KING

IT'S FINALLY HERE😭im sorry anon i hope you're around to see this and if u are i hope i dont disappoint

the tone in this analysis is so weird because i kept getting caught between 'this is an apa paper no contractions, academic language, double spacing -' and 'this is a tumblr post about a fictional blorbo wtf r u on'

i also use some scientific language i try my best to explain but if this turns anyone off i don't blame them because im unhealthily obsessed

*i'm a third-year undergraduate psychology student w/ a concentration in psychopathology

tw/cw: discussion of childhood exposure to sex (not assault)

Foreword

I’ve been putting this off for a while (I’m forgetful and this topic is intimidating what can I say), but being a year out from graduating with my bachelor’s to become a mental health professional, and being a Levi scholar(/hj), I wanted to give this a shot.

I wanted to dissect and examine Levi Ackerman’s mental health “currently” (as in general canon), and explain as thoroughly but as simply as possible how and why he thinks and acts the way he does.

Seeing how AOT is pretty renowned for leaving out the ‘insignificant’ details, especially character details, a good majority of my assertions and even details of his life are built off of correlations and “signs and symptoms”; meaning some things could be an aspect of Levi’s personality, or a symptom of psychopathology.

I will examine his childhood (especially his childhood), adolescence, young adulthood, and “present” adulthood, with a short summary at the end of where he might be mentally after the war.

*Lastly, I don��t like it when things I say about a series or character are taken as fact or make it implied that someone else’s thoughts are “wrong”. This is partly built on headcanons anyway, which are influenced by my own experiences. Don’t take away from this that this is me telling you what to think.*

Childhood

The most important period of development occurs in infancy and childhood, especially from the ages of 3-6. This is when a child learns where to find security, love, and basic skills, gaining stability as they develop.

Well, Kuchel died when Levi was 4.

Maternal Love / Learning Empathy / Anxious Attachment Style

Levi was born into deep poverty within a violent unwelcoming environment. Basic physical needs must have been very hard to meet (i.e., consistently fed enough, a clean environment, no physical threats). And where Levi was born is like the dictionary definition of a bad environment for a small child, excluding only his mother’s care and love.

As it’s generally understood in canon (and suggested from Levi’s special backstory manga so far) she was a caring parental figure early in Levi’s life that loved him unconditionally. We can conclude that Kuchel did everything within her power to compensate for both parenting Levi alone and shielding him the best she could from his horrible surroundings, teaching the kindness, goodness, and love that Levi would internalize and go on to strive for for his entire life.

As far as we know, no other children lived in the brothel. Socialization is just as important for a young child as receiving love. With this isolation, it’s extremely difficult to learn how to connect to other people, or pick up on social cues. Levi would’ve never learned how to interact properly with his peers—aside from use of aggression and violence which Kenny would go on to instill in him.

With the danger/anxiety imposed by strangers, mostly if not entirely men, he would turn to his mother for comfort all. The. Time.

And she would give him that support and affection of course. This early motherly affection is integral to child development: a child who receives empathy and affection is subliminally taught how to feel and express empathy towards others.

While Levi’s surroundings were dangerous, lonely, and chaotic—traumatizing enough for a toddler or young child—Kuchel provided a safety net from that, so I think that Levi developed an anxious attachment as a child: exhibiting clinginess, excessive fear of abandonment, and an excessive need for security and/or reassurance.

Paternal Trauma / Potential Androphobia

Born and living in a brothel, we can assume that Levi was probably seen as a burden and a mistake by others, especially by men (both the likely majority of her customers and her boss).

AOT ch69; Before the Fall, ch34

This is likely in contrast to the women (those living and working in the brothel like Kuchel). They should know Kuchel if not as friends, then acquaintances who could empathize for her and her son.

There’s an obvious trend here. If Levi is going to feel fear/danger/anxiety because of men, he should have a general aversion to men and-or the behavior of men who he encountered as a child. This is impossible to know for sure or in meaningful detail, but it seemed to be resolved by the time he became an adult if so.

Although Kenny in his words was no more than Levi's teacher, Levi did see him as a father figure.

The subject of Kenny will be expanded on later, but it's clear Kenny in no way resembled a father, who also would go on to abandon Levi (at the age of 11 or so). Children without father figures tend to struggle more emotionally, psychologically, and socially. Specifically, (especially boys) tend to exhibit intimidating/aggressive personas to compensate for resentment, fear, and unhappiness.

Sexual Trauma (Tangent, Probably)

This is unconfirmed but a likely trauma Levi went through: exposure to sex as a child. There’s no way to confirm what he experienced, so I’ll function on ‘probably’s’ and ‘most likely’s’.

Because Levi and Kuchel only lived in one room, other rooms in the brothel should have belonged to other women, and he was at the oldest four, I wager that he was babysat by women who Kuchel knew and/or was made to hide somewhere while she worked, such as in a cabinet.

(for reference)

AOT ch69

The odds are high that he was exposed to the aftermath of sexual violence (i.e., marks seen on his mother), and the sound or smells that have to do with it. That young, he wouldn’t know what it was, but he should have realized later as an adolescent.

In general, children regardless of gender exposed to sexual content usually experience early puberty (which is just as likely for impoverished children, or children who experience chronic high-stress in general); issues with intimacy; become desensitized to high-risk behavior; negative/inaccurate expectations about sex and relationships in the future; influence inappropriate behavior with other children or adults; sex addiction.

This is especially relevant to Levi’s fear of closeness/intimacy in the future. Exposure to sexual situations—possibly not including CSA in his case—very early in life inflicts on a child emotions and stress they don’t have the intellect or reasoning to process or understand. An extreme aversion to interpersonal relationships, especially physical ones, results.

This stress Levi must have felt, being powerless to this happening to his mother, is a different beast. Children aren’t capable of handling high levels of stress, and so the brain will automatically create coping mechanisms: dissociation (a severe form of “zoning out”; observing the self “from the third person”; numbness; the feeling of living in a dream), excessive daydreaming/overactive imagination, symptoms of PTSD (nightmares and terrors; flashbacks; spontaneous activation of fight-flight-freeze associated with anxiety; excessive worrying/fear; loneliness/self isolation). PTSD will also be prevalent in Levi’s later life, which I’ll delve into later.

Inappropriate behavior and sex addiction are also highlights for me because they shouldn’t exist in him based on Levi's personality and behavior throughout the series. In my opinion, Levi ought to associate sex with pain, shame, and violence; he does see it as an ordinary job—a means to an end. He should be desensitized to sex as a concept, but associates it personally with shame, sadness, and pain, possibly feeling disgust towards it. So it is highly likely that Levi in every stage of life following this experienced sexual repulsion (usually associated with high anxiety towards sex), a low libido, or a lack of sexual desire entirely.

From a trauma perspective, he could avoid sexual topics of conversation, sexual settings (i.e., brothels), or an array of things which are sexually suggestive or he as a child possibly associated with sex (i.e., cleavage, panties, specific touch). Similarly, he might avoid direct reminders or have a post-traumatic reaction to them, such as anxiety or flashbacks (i.e., the sound of a bed creaking, the sight of wet clothes).

Importantly, it can be concluded that sexual violence was often exhibited, and the idea would be ingrained in him that sex, like everything else besides his relationship with his mother, is “give-and-take”, “victim-and-attacker”, and learn to be repulsed by intimacy. This impacts his willingness for later friendships and relationships as we’ll see later.

Early Abandonment & Early Exposure to Death

As Kuchel’s health deteriorated, Levi’s sense of security would break down. Availability of shelter, food, and emotional support would be even less secure than before. He might have been providing for Kuchel for some time, even, as it can be gathered that he received little to no help from those around him while she was sick. To whatever length he had to take responsibility and both fear for Kuchel, this would cement a sense of responsibility and guilt in him from the age of just four years old.

He will fail to save her—regardless of the fact that that’s not his responsibility in the first place; a child wouldn’t understand that—and then lose her with nothing he could do to even cushion the blow.

How powerless he must’ve felt. How hopeless. How likely is it that Levi found comfort in joining her? A child his age wouldn’t be able to comprehend death, basing our understanding on Piaget’s theory of cognitive development. To summarize, at the age of six or seven, children aren’t capable of complex, abstract thought like death or the finality of it. But Levi had to learn early.

AOT ch69

This will be center in his “clean-freak” tendencies later.

Adolescence

Most of this section is going to be rather vague again, but we already got the bulk of that over with in childhood!

Emotional Train Wreck / Lack of Identity

It’s hard to notice if you’re not paying attention, but in every scene we’re shown with Levi after his mother dies but before Kenny leaves, he’s wearing some variation of his mother’s one dress styled into a shirt. He loves her endlessly, even or especially in death. And part of cherishing her memory, to him, should’ve been taking after her as much as he could.

That’s how to explain why he didn’t become a cruel person (Kenny for instance) as he grew into a teenager, even though much of Levi’s outlook and behaviors come from him (ch57).

The more pertinent question is how extreme violence, reinforcement of the idea that that violence is power, and Kenny’s total (or most likely total) lack of communicated emotional connection affected him.

Levi would still desperately want that connection deep down, especially with his mother gone. This is a major reason why Levi sought to get stronger to please Kenny. For chronically abandoned people, that continues into adulthood and even beyond. A hole inside which can't be filled.

AOT ch69

Chronic loneliness—like I explained before—basically explains his aloof nature and awkward disposition. It’s not that Levi feels as detached as he looks, but he doesn’t know how to express himself or open up. He wouldn’t learn how to process his emotions, let alone talk about them. He’s basically emotionally stunted and immature in impersonal relationships (between friends and especially in regards to intimacy).

The Underground’s environment also makes him socially awkward, rude, of course stoic/not very expressive, and blunt. Levi was forced to become extremely observant of people to suss out their intentions, remaining vigilant of his surroundings at all times.

Levi doesn’t even get affection in any sense anymore. He doesn’t get a hug or a pat on the back, and he certainly doesn’t get a shoulder to cry on.

If anything, Kenny would punish him for showing weakness. Vulnerability is weakness; weakness is death.

What results is a continuous and boundless sense of emptiness inside that can’t be filled. He’s plagued by a chronic sense of unbelonging and loneliness. There’s no time or opportunity to develop “normally” as an adolescent. Socialization is limited at best; thinking of his place in the world is irrelevant when his one and only most pressing goal is survival; he doesn’t get to explore hobbies or interests.

OCD Propensity

One “interest” Levi is passionate about is cleaning, at least. Disease is what caused his mother to die. The easiest cause to point to would be their disgusting surroundings (although, Kuchel was infected by a customer). It is canon that Levi’s love of cleaning comes from "his personal experiences". In that interview, Levi first specifically references the important of fighting disease.

In other words, his "clean freak" nature comes, primarily, from the death of his mother: Filth -> disease -> death, and abandonment by extension.

His mother would’ve encouraged him to keep their room clean. There were times he or she had to have come down with something and dirtiness was the cause. On top of Kenny’s enforcement to keep up “clean” appearances to garner respect from everyone else in the Underground.

This in particular is extremely relevant to his mental health. When someone feels out of control of what is happening to them, especially in a recurring way, and especially as a child who doesn't yet know how to feel stable in an unstable environment, they look for something to control. It can be weight, bodily functions (blinking, breathing, etc), dominance over others, or cleaning, for instance.

Fear of disease, the urgent need to have control, and the basic need for stability makes it obvious that Levi would become obsessed with cleaning. And moreover, developing OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). I’ll go deeper into this diagnosis later.

Lack of Self Worth

Despite the acknowledgment throughout canon that he trusts in his own strength, it wasn’t always that way.

Canonically, Levi sought praise from Kenny by showing his strength because that was the only thing he received praise for. The conclusion Levi came to once Kenny left him was that he wasn’t strong enough (wasn’t good enough) to warrant staying with him.

In conjunction, Levi’s first conclusion was that he did something wrong, not that Kenny possibly had some obligation that forced him to leave the Underground, pointing again to his own lack of self-worth.

This scenario created a complex in him, the very root cause of Levi’s pain, the very foundation of what Levi would go on to prioritize in adulthood. If he isn’t useful to those he wants not to abandon him, he’s worthless. He’s only useful when he shows his strength. Every other aspect of him like his interests is either irrelevant or bland by default in his eyes.

He would go on to make it his mission to try his best to be good enough in order to save and protect the lives of others, but foremost those he cares about.

Young Adulthood

Our first exposure to Levi as an adult is in A Choice with No Regrets, his OVA/backstory.

(By the way, I’ll be basing this analysis off a mix of the manga and the OVA.)

Emotional Immaturity/Affective Dysregulation

Generally, Levi’s defining negative character trait as a young adult is his emotional immaturity/anti-social behavior. Yes he’s grumpy and rude which is always indicative of him, but he’s very quick to anger, too. He cursed at the Squad Leader who offended him (by assuming that because he, Isabel, and Farlan are from the Underground, they’d be dirty), and argued furiously with Farlan that he would kill Erwin—not because it was required for the job, but because he disrespected him—for a few examples.

ACWNR ch2

He tended to be arrogant, too. Such as when he ultimately called a Scout who had experience with the Titans stupid for telling Levi to hold his swords in a certain way. He spoke to every officer the same as he would anyone on the street, having a remarkable lack of basic respect for authority. He was insistent on distancing himself from the entire setting and structure of the Scouts as much as possible, both to not get attached, and he found their mission childish/foolish.

He’s rather selfish. There is nothing Levi cares about genuinely more than Isabel’s and Farlan’s lives and the job that will set them up with a good future. Farlan’s advice is the only one’s he takes and the only judgment outside himself that he considers, such as when Farlan asks him to not cause trouble with authority to keep a low profile, but even then he acts stubborn. Levi trusts nobody wholeheartedly except himself (until later in ACWNR).

There’s a cognitive dissonance in him. Growing up, and still as a young adult, Levi’s headspace is marked by fear and uncertainty, with his power as his source of confidence. The first time he kills a Titan (with Isabel and Farlan), he uses too much gas because he refuses to potentially risk his friends’ lives; when the expedition is upcoming, he abruptly tells Farlan and Isabel to find a reason to stay back, and that he’ll complete the dangerous part of the job on his own.

Levi is full of repressed fear and uncertainty. He hides and/or buries all of it for the sake of self-preservation both emotionally and physically.

Antisocial Personality…?

It’s extremely interesting how a character as selfless, heroic, and empathetic as Levi exhibits antisocial symptoms. I’d even argue that if his childhood was spent entirely without his mother figure, then he might be a dictionary definition of ASPD (Antisocial Personality Disorder).

People with this disorder live day-to-day under the constant assumption that whoever is around them is “out to get them”/searching for a weakness to exploit. Humanity is made up of only prey and predators; morals are completely subjective, perpetuated by the society that surrounds them. This constant need to defend oneself, the effect of the exact trauma the potential sociopath experienced, combined with a muted emotional spectrum, results in a complete disregard of everything, including people outside of themself. They might believe they’re entitled to comfort or admiration, but overall, they’re intensely self-serving, often aggressive, and ruthless.

Because Levi for instance learned to rely on violence both for “love” and survival, then he might fall on violence to manipulate a person or situation into serving himself. I see reason to believe that Levi could have grown into worse than Kenny’s image if it weren’t for his mother’s influence.

However, the greatest cause for deniability is Levi’s wide emotional spectrum (especially including empathy and shame), while a lack of shame is the most significant marker of ASPD . (It is arguably one of many testaments to his strength that a victim of so much suffering, violence, and cruelty could become a man as empathetic as him.)

However, these tendencies may still be relevant: A sense of arrogance—both to the way Levi thinks of some who he perceives as weak and live without good morals—lacking issue with using deceit or violence to attain a goal, and living outside the rule of authority.

I go into more detail about this idea here.

Conclusion

As is true in general, there’s very little to say of mental development once someone has reached their early–mid-twenties. What we know of Levi’s young adulthood does reinforce his fear of abandonment, but he finds a cause where his strength and compassion can be “put to good use” and give to him a life that is worth living.

Conclusion: the ‘Present’/Diagnoses Overview

C-PTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Levi’s emotional dysregulation (i.e., inability to sit with and process negative emotions), his difficulties in relationships, insomnia, negative worldview, absent sense of self, and finally, his persistent sense of unworthiness/worthlessness are all indicative of C-PTSD. It’s distinct from PTSD in that he didn’t endure one short-term traumatizing event, but he grew up surrounded by trauma and saw it as normal (e.g., gang violence, extreme poverty, death of a parent, (more presumably) physically and emotionally abusive parental figure). Levi as a child developed no understanding of a nurturing, secure environment.

Negative/Absent Sense of Self

I’ve talked about this at length already, but it’s worth noting how Levi’s perception of himself must have changed when it was revealed that he is extremely strong physically not from his own efforts as much, but because he’s an Ackerman.

His self-confidence and self-worth have always been built on the foundation of his strength. He’s useful if he’s strong, so he’s worthy if he’s strong. Along with the extreme high pressure his goal to kill Zeke put on him in season four, he might have gone to extreme measures to compensate for his strength he might have felt was “unearned” (such as excessive exercise for example). This is an aside, but it was a blow to him for sure.

Emotional Dysregulation

The causes of emotional dysregulation generally which he experienced are as follows: early childhood trauma, feelings ignored, judged, or invalidated at a young age, and physical and emotional child neglect. Beyond his first four years of life with his mother, Levi experienced all these things (early exposure to sex and likely exposure to domestic violence aside).

It’s important to focus on emotional neglect specifically, when any and all perceived “weakness”, no matter how small, is unacceptable to Levi. He will never ask for help (being independent to a fault), he can’t define or process his emotions, and it doesn’t occur to him—and it could be a shock—when he learns that his friends care about him, not him insofar as how useful he is.

As an adult, Levi appears to be emotionally mature, but I argue that this isn’t the case. It’s more accurate to say that he has better control over his emotions (in that he buries them or ignores them) with a mature outlook because of all his experiences with suffering.

Similarly, he’s not outwardly emotional not because he’s antisocial (as related to ASPD, not introversion), but because he’s so “emotionally constipated” that he’s numbed the vast majority of the time.

Relationship Issues + Fear of Abandonment

Because of his fear of abandonment and impaired emotional intelligence in close relational conflict, he’s extremely passive and/or passive aggressive. In order to avoid potential abandonment, he doesn’t go out of his way to win major arguments—such as threatening to break Erwin’s legs if he didn’t stay away from the expedition in season three, but ultimately giving in. He’s also more likely to sneak petty insults into arguments, give “silent treatment”, slam doors, etc. His kindness and exceptional empathy shouldn’t let him be physically or overly violent.

These are likely additions to why Levi doesn’t foster many close relationships.

Fittingly, as a child I thought that Levi might have had an anxious attachment style (clingy, excessive need for security), but as this possibility for security was removed entirely, and he was taught to not rely on others, he would develop more of an overt avoidant attachment in adulthood in combination (fearful-avoidant): making very few emotional demands—even though he has needs—withdrawing when there’s conflict, acting aloof yet fearing abandonment, having difficulty expressing emotions he feels intensely, and fear of depending on someone else.

Anxiety

His cool-headedness even in the heat of battle/war (other factors like experience aside) is exactly what you would expect from someone diagnosed with C-PTSD; he’s accustomed to chronic high-stress. But small stressors (i.e., a change of plans) are overwhelming and make him quick to anger/excessive annoyance.

OCD

Emotional dysregulation is also closely associated with OCD.

OCD is much much more than being concerned with keeping clean or organized. OCD is an anxiety disorder composed of anxiety-related obsessions and compulsions, such as frequent and disturbing thoughts or images (intrusive thoughts). These attempt to be managed through rituals (i.e., handwashing, counting in patterns). Although symptoms will fluctuate with anxiety, OCD at its baseline is a distressing disorder.

Since he was young, Levi should have had an incessant need to be in control at all times. A shining example of this is his mother’s death, an incident he couldn’t control but included dirtiness/disease as a cause he could pinpoint, so this anxiety with dirtiness becomes a major obsession, and the compulsion is cleaning. (Putting aside the fact that Levi enjoys cleaning by itself too.)

It’s a widely-held belief that if Levi has OCD, it’s contamination OCD, as it specifically has to do with an obsession with dirtiness and a compulsion in cleaning (i.e., damaging handwashing, ritualized bathing that may take hours). However, based on the multitude of times Levi was covered in blood and remained unbothered by it (Titan and human), and in fact the obsession’s lack of relevance entirely during urgent missions/situations, contamination OCD is simply not plausible. Instead, it’s general OCD.

There’s no way to know for sure, but I don’t see his OCD as mild or severe. Levi is an extremely orderly and balanced person, so it can be concluded he must have things done a certain way, routinely, organizational, or planned; when the dirtiness is “negative” (i.e., Titan blood, blood on a knife he used to kill Isabel’s attackers), he is never more rigid with cleanliness; it’s probable he suffers intrusive thoughts (likely of the violent nature), a fear of contamination, and/or counting ritualistically, but the most obvious compulsion is cleaning. He might have sensory issues, such as disgust if he happens to brush shoulders with a stranger; aversion to particularly bright lights, irrational rage towards “mouth sounds” (i.e., chewing, coughing, swallowing), etc.

EDNOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified)

Levi should have a complicated relationship with food to say the least.

In the realm of eating disorders, EDNOS is sort of a catch-all term when an individual doesn’t qualify for the diagnostic criteria of anorexia or bulimia, and it encompasses lesser-known eating disorders like Pica. It’s the most common diagnosis for clinical eating disorders.

I already covered how integral the early years of life are, and beginning at a young age, if children aren’t given a basic need like food, and they must seek out food on their own, it becomes an anxiety deeply rooted in the brain regardless of how well-fed they are when they’re older. There will always be an urge to have food available. Levi’s years in the Underground were spent either actively starving, or going about every single day having acquiring food as top priority. He was a young adult when he left, so it’s impossible to unlearn this (without extensive therapy, which Levi doesn’t seek). It’s similar to compulsions found in OCD: even though he logically knows that there will be a dinner after lunch, it’s impossible to put aside this worry.

That may mean always having food stashed, eating too much—especially in his early years Aboveground when he’d eat as much food in a day than he’d eat in a week Underground— stealing food, or eating way too quickly (as someone who lived in a place where food was considered something of a luxury resource and threatened being stolen at any time).

The latter factor contributes to Levi’s suggested preference to only eat alone—joining the fact that Levi only eats with Erwin after expeditions. Eating in front of others should be considered a weakness to him.

As time passes with this easy access to food, combined with his extremely narrow sense of what makes him “good enough”, his relationship with eating may become toxic. Especially when the stakes of his worthiness are so high—literally life and death. He may think that he’s privileged to eat at all, and when he feels worthless, he restricts himself from that “privilege”.

He may be so accustomed to the feeling of hunger, that it doesn’t immediately register with his mind when he is hungry.

Lastly, he may have a generally low appetite. This is often associated with depression, but depression is comorbid with C-PTSD.

Misc.

Some tangents/miscellaneous speculation about Levi’s psychology:

Queer?

Sexuality is formed and shifts due to a wide variety of factors, which most if not all are terribly understudied: genetics, hormones, and your environment/experiences. So again, my speculation.

With his fear of close relationships and negative experiences with sex, I think he should land somewhere on the queer spectrum, specifically under the asexual or aromantic umbrella (i.e., pansexuality/being panromantic (attraction to personality) and demisexuality/being demiromantic (attraction only to those he has an emotional connection to)).

MDD

The odds of Levi having MDD (major depressive disorder/clinical depression) are iffy. Most if not all of the symptoms are comorbid with childhood trauma and C-PTSD: Such as persistent apathy, guilt, and/or discontent; sleeping too much or too little; lack of energy; reduced or heightened appetite; irritability.

Oftentimes, depression, C-/PTSD, and related mental illnesses cause unexplained physical pain, such as back pain and occasional tension headaches. “Stress hormones” like adrenaline are built-up in the body, and usually persist without physical therapy and-or medication (Disclaimer this mention is based on nothing more than Levi always standing with at least one hand on his hip).

Body Language

Similar can be said of his body language from a cognitive perspective. The vast majority of the time, Levi has himself closed-off in some way, usually by crossing his arms to protect his chest; a subconscious barrier between oneself and another person.

Also see this official art of Levi asleep.

Afterword

We’ve known it’s not just Levi’s physical strength and skill that makes him the strongest, right? It should take immense mental strength to make it day-by-day dealing with the trauma and issues that he does, but not only has he survived and continues to, but he lives heroically, selflessly, with the wellbeing of everyone around him as a top priority. He buries all of his pain by moving forward always and without exception regardless of how painful the present is. Living with “no regrets” should in mental respects be a guise for pushing his trauma down, too; there’s just no words that can properly do Levi’s resilience justice.

Part of me wants to go into detail about his later adulthood, but given how very little we know (right now), I think it’d be too speculative.

However, based on what we have seen at the ending of AOT, it’s comforting to know and plain to see that Levi wasn’t defeated when he “lost” the reason to be so strong, and even his strength itself; he didn’t lose his love for his friends nor of life.

In middle age, based on Erikson’s psychosocial stages, the conflict that should enter Levi’s life is the idea of generativity versus stagnation. He seems satisfied with his life despite the negative effects of all he went through—grief, physical disability, inevitable mental scarring—and he’s still concerned with helping others, especially the younger generation in a world after the overwhelming devastation that was the Rumbling.

My speculated psychopathologies/diagnoses of Levi:

C-PTSD (insomnia prevalent)

OCD (contamination obsessions)

EDNOS

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barrel-crow-n · 1 month

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Obviously, we know that Inej knows Kaz best but really, even she doesn't know him - or at least, doesn't understand many parts to him.

"He just lets go" about a boy who has never let anything go. Who, since he was nine years old, has been unhealthily obsessed with Pekka and taking him down. Who was still obsessed with this revenge eight years later. Who hears his dead brother's voice in his head - cruelly egging him on on this maddened quest for vengeance. Who remembered every single last detail of the Hertzoon con; who killed eveyone involved.

People criticise this line, and rightfully because it's plain wrong, but it goes to show how isolated Kaz is and that even with the person he trusts most, he still holds many cards close to his chest. He still hasn't shed his armour completely - not even with Inej.

Inej also doesn't understand Kaz's language. She knows the signals he has established with her for moves and attacks but, funnily enough, it's only ever Matthias that truly reads Kaz (understanding his micro expressions and how he cares about Inej). She understands that she is trusted because he takes off his gloves - but even then doesn't seem to understand the extent; Kaz strips in front of her, as a show of trust - that he's willing to expose himself to her, but she doesn't understand that this is what he is trying to convey. I highly doubt this is a way of wooing Inej. At least, that that was the main reason. He was being vulnerable with her, showing his underbelly.

Kaz cannot say he cares, but he also can't seem to show it either - not in a conventional way, anyway. He carries Inej to the Ferolind despite it causing him pain, he yanks out the eye of the man who stabbed her. He says "I protect my investments." And that sounds completely dickish, but Kaz doesn't show appreciation. Ever. Inej doesn't understand that "I protect my investments" means "I want to look after you because you mean a lot to me" because that's what it means!!! In Kaz's language. "Protect" -> Look after, take care of, defend. "Investments" -> Very important to him, more valuable over time (liking her more and more as times goes on). "I protect my investments" isn't the stupid, asshole line Nina and a lot of people read it as. It's Kaz's kinda mean, not betraying how much it means to him, round about way of showing he cares. He won't say it outright because living in the Barrel has taught him that that is dangerous.

This is shown again when he says "I would come for you. And if I couldn't walk I'd crawl to you. And no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out, knives drawn, pistols blazing, because that's what we do, we never stop fighting." He can't say a simple "I care about you." but he can say all that. Why? Because he ties his care to violence. Protection. Causing harm to defend Inej. (Strooooong dog motifs for Kaz btw - the people of the Barrel were spot on with the rabid dog nickname)

And it links to how all the characters are always saying "ohh he's so mysterious, I don't know anything about him, where he came from, or what his motives are" when Kaz is literally openly saying everything.

He doesn't not speak of his trauma or his feelings! He talks about them all the time! He just isnt straightforward.

"Barrel boys don't have parents, they're born in the harbours and crawl out of the canals."

"My mother is Ketterdam, she birthed me in the harbour."

He's literally talking about being "dead" (thrown on the Reaper's Barge), how that affected him (traumatised him so bad he feels like he is no longer the same boy, that he was reborn as something else - a monster), about having to crawl out of the harbour, wet and weak from fever. He openly admits he's an orphan. He talks about it! Just in a cryptic way. A way no one understands.

It's like he's crying out, with people not far, but no one hears him. Like he's still on the Barge, making a futile attempt to cry out "I'm still alive." The Barge still has that hold on him. It's a manifestation of the trauma. It's the same way the flashbacks taking him back to that miserable night. A prison that he can't seem to ever be free from.

When he tells Inej "Tell Jesper he's missed around the Slat." he's doing it again, just more blatantly and more obvious, so that she picks up on it this time. He's showing her his language! Telling her to read into what he is saying! He's saying that he misses Jesper in his detached, cryptic way.

And this is so important with everything Kaz says. Reading between the lines - that's how you start to understand him. We get a cheat sheet by seeing his internal thoughts, but his dramatic talk is the olive branch for outsiders.

When Inej is asking him to open up, she isn't asking that he should share his problems and vulnerabilities like she believes she is saying. She's asking him to be more direct. And that's the difficult part for Kaz.

#kaz brekker. ever the performer #my isolated wet cat of a boy #who doesn't know how to show affection #and is stuck behind the bars that he himself created #he makes me crazy #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #grishaverse #six of crows duology #my analysis

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secretmellowblog · 7 months

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I really LOVE the symbolism of Jean Valjean giving up his National Guard uniform at the barricade.

In earlier chapters, the National Guard uniform represented Jean Valjean’s disguise as a “respectable law-abiding citizen.” It was something he wore to reassure himself he was safe whenever he was frightened of his secret coming out.

But one of Jean Valjean’s character flaws is that he’s become unhealthily obsessed with worshiping these symbols of “bourgeois social acceptance”/ “respectability.” He worships them in large part because that shallow appearance of respectability really is the only thing keeping him out of prison. His survival depends on how well he can keep up his act. His freedom depends on whether he can look and dress like a bourgeois.

Three or four times a year, Jean Valjean donned his uniform and mounted guard; he did this willingly, however; it was a correct disguise which mixed him with every one, and yet left him solitary. Jean Valjean had just attained his sixtieth birthday, the age of legal exemption; but he did not appear to be over fifty; moreover, he had no desire to escape his sergeant-major nor to quibble with Comte de Lobau; he possessed no civil status, he was concealing his name, he was concealing his identity, so he concealed his age, he concealed everything; and, as we have just said, he willingly did his duty as a national guard; the sum of his ambition lay in resembling any other man who paid his taxes. This man had for his ideal, within, the angel, without, the bourgeois.

But not only does he see the National Guard uniform as a means to an end— as something that will help him pretend to be respectable— he also, tragically, sees it as something that will make Cosette love him.

He doesn’t understand that Cosette loves him for his kindness. He seems to think she loves him for his shallow surface-level facade of a “proper gentleman.” He looks at wealthier men on horseback with even fancier uniforms and thinks that if he had uniforms like that, Cosette would love him more:

He once chanced to see a general on horseback, in full uniform, pass along the street, Comte Coutard, the commandant of Paris. He envied that gilded man; what happiness it would be, he said to himself, if he could put on that suit which was an incontestable thing; and if Cosette could behold him thus, she would be dazzled, and when he had Cosette on his arm and passed the gates of the Tuileries, the guard would present arms to him, and that would suffice for Cosette…..

After Jean Valjean and Cosette see the chain gang, Jean Valjean is violently thrown back into trauma-filled self-loathing and terror that he’ll be “found out.” As a result, he spends the next week trying to distract Cosette by taking her out to festivals— and wears his National Guard uniform to them:

Jean Valjean donned his uniform of a national guard with the vague inward feeling of a man who is betaking himself to shelter.

The National Guard uniform is basically the symbol of Jean Valjean’s disguise as Fauchelevent. It’s the tenuous “shelter” he finds in symbols of bourgeois respectability.

So when he gives it up at the barricade, he’s finally sacrificing all of that.

The barricade rebels are in a situation that’s basically a more extreme/exaggerated version of what Jean Valjean has been living through. Anyone who has a National Guard uniform will be seen as a respectable law-abiding citizen, and be able to walk past law enforcement unharmed. Anyone who does not have that shelter of respectability will be marked as a rebel/criminal.

So when Jean Valjean gives up his coat to save someone else, it shows that he’s finally giving up that shelter. I think it’s one of our first clear signs that no matter what happens at the barricade, he will never be able to go back to being “Monsieur Fauchelevent” again.

#Les mis #les mis letters #lm 5.1.4 #Jean Valjean #unbearably sad beast :(

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covetyou · 3 months

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is there any Santa/Cupid Joel lore you'd be willing to share?

it's a totally normal question i'm not unhealthily obsessed with him or anything

lore you say? I have baubles and stupid cupid lore. more in egg hunt at the end of March too.

word count: 722 warnings: sex toys, brotherly shenanigans, these two things are related but very much not in an incest way don't worry. summary: What started as a simple joke from the youngest Miller brother quickly turned into a... beloved brotherly tradition.

The first time he'd gotten one of those gifts it had been his birthday. He never got anything, from anyone, so when he opened his front door to see a present lying there with his name on it, he'd been wary. When he saw it was from Tommy, he was even more apprehensive. So, he did the only logical thing and left it in the garage until he could open it in a disposable coverall later that night, just in case.

Of course, he looked like a total dick stood in his garage in a coverall at midnight holding anal beads of all fucking things, staring at a chicken scratch of a note from his dearest fuckin' baby brother:

if you won't bring someone into your bedroom, maybe you gotta bring something. hbd brother.

Tommy may have been right, but Joel didn't think anal beads were that thing he was looking for. By the next afternoon, the beads were carefully hung from Tommy's rearview mirror.

And so began the long, tiring, tradition of gift giving and gift returning between the Miller brothers.

On Thanksgiving, Joel slipped Tommy a baggy of finger cots, giving him a heavy slap on the back and telling him he found his size. The next week, the tiny white condoms were neatly pulled over the ends of every single one of Joel's tools.

That Christmas Joel was the not-so-happy recipient of an edible chocolate Clone-a-Willy kit. He was almost tempted to try it out - to cast his cock in the tube just so he could take it out and look at it properly from every angle. He cast his middle finger instead, handing it to a gleeful Tommy on New Years Eve.

For Valentine's day, Joel damn near gave Tommy a heart attack, and ruined the end of what was, until that point, a very good date. He knew he should've kept it to the couch, but damn if his date didn't deserve the full Tommy Miller Experience. Apparently, that also included seeing the blow up sex doll tucked neatly into his bed. He never did hear back from her after that night.

Of course, what Joel didn't know is Tommy had stashed a pink heart shaped butt plug on his dresser, only noticing the thing weeks later when Sarah pointed it out before Joel could sweep it into a drawer and tell her to get going or she'd be late for school. Tommy groveled until Joel didn't quite want to kill him any more, and the butt plug lay forgotten in the bottom of his sock drawer.

Tommy's birthday brought him some vibrating nipple clamps - clamps that Joel never saw or heard about again, save for a thank you and a thumbs up from his brother one day on a job.

For his birthday that year, a full 365 days since this whole thing started, Joel received maybe the most baffling gift of all. A dildo for his balls. Apparently. Now, Joel wasn't a church going man - hadn't been since their parents had given up with it all when they were kids - but he couldn't help but think that maybe his brother needed Jesus.

This one, he was almost tempted to keep. Not that he had anyone to use it with, and it most definitely was not a solo use gift. He opened it, tried to figure it out, even watched the instructional video, before settling on sticking it on top of Tommy's Christmas tree at the end of the year.

But, when he pulled up outside Tommy's place on Christmas Eve it looked, and sounded, like he had company. Not one to cockblock his brother again (at least one of them was gettin' laid) Joel headed back home, toy hidden away in his Santa sack. It was still the right side of midnight when he drove down his street, noticing once again that house with the sparkling Christmas tree, totally bare of any decorations. One look to the back of his truck, ornaments from a house clearance still stashed in a box that he had yet to find a home for, and he made up his mind. Parking up and walking down the street, draped in red velvet with a bag filled with jangling plastic ornaments, he stepped up to your door...

#coveted fics #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #never forget the balls #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #coveted asks #fic: dress up joel

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swin--dler · 3 months

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I took so long writing this may as well post it here after like a year of inactivity

Hazbin Hotel Voxval analysis (I am probably mischaracterizing and misinterpreting some stuff but, oh well) :

Listen I think Vox is a toxic and manipulative asshole as well, but the fact of the matter is that as far as we've seen, he's just your typical megalomanic ultra rich ceo who embodies capitalism almost to perfection. He's seen using some psychological manipulation techniques over on Val in episode 2, but those techniques seemed like a way for him to keep Val relatively calm, to avoid him doing shit and getting hurt or worse, and it seems like the main reason why he came up to Val was because Velvette told him to because Val was disturbing her. He wanted to avoid Velvette getting more annoyed and Val getting hurt, he manipulated Val to keep them and Velvette safe.

It's seen that Val, on the other hand, seems to be both physically, psychologically and emotionally abusive, as seen in episode 4 with angel, but also in that little scene in episode 2 where he throws a whole glass at Vox, which he does totally purposefully since he asked for another drink specifically to throw it at the TV man, a bit later into the scene he also grabs Vox's phone from his hand, slaps him, seemingly pretty hard, and smashes his phone against one of the pillars. And while Vox tried to calm him down and get him to not fuck up, Valentino is actively enabling and encouraging Vox's anger and annoyance.

Also include the Angel and Vox's poison dripping mouth in Poison

Also the noncanon Instagram accounts showed than on two different occasions, Valentino had purposefully broken Vox's screen by hitting him because he wasn't satisfied with what Vox did for/to him. Those accounts have been archived since and count as non canon, but have shown a lot of truth in the way they portrayed the characters, so one could keep that in mind

Vox is also shown to get jealous, especially about Angel, notably in the scene in episode 2 in which he enthusiastically asks if Angel quit, then being disappointed when Val responds he didn't. And also during Poison, where he seems disgruntled to see Angel looking at them

Considering all of those, it seems that Val and Vox are a toxic couple to it's peak, in which each of them think they're in control, people from the outside think they're destroying each other while really only one person (Val) seems to be absolutely ruining the other mentally. Vox is probably unhealthily in love and obsessed with Valentino, to the point where he keeps his cameras on him anytime he can. But Valentino only cares about Vox a fraction of how much cares about him, because he knows he's got him wrapped around his finger when he makes him believe he's in control of their relationship. Vox would probably crawl back to Valentino anytime they have an argument, even if Vox is the one being mistreated in that argument. What Valentino seems to care about is the power and money he can get from Vox, while also considering him a sort of entertainment when he gets mad.

Sure they maybe have their lighthearted and lovey dovey moments, because Valentino is *vaguely* in love with Vox, like in the last ep, but to me and from what I've observed, Vox is not innocent, but he is still one of the victims of Valentino

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #vox #valentino #hazbin voxval #voxval #staticmoth #i think it's what it's called #those gay man are gonna be the death of me #this way throught to text so im sorry if it's confusing to read

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gabessquishytum · 5 months

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So I've been struck by the thought of Dreamling Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler and I'm obsessed because it could go both ways. Hob summoning demon!Dream to get revenge for the deaths of his wife and son, OR could be Dream summoning demon!Hob to escape his imprisonment or get revenge for Orpheus' death, it's so juicy any way you slice it! Also an excuse to dress them both up in Victorian garb again.

... Especially if it ends the same way as the anime with one devouring the other. Many thinky thoughts 🤔

- 🦊

Ooo yes. Black Butler always reminds me of being a feral 13 year old. So I can totally get into this.

I actually really like the idea of Dream as the jaded adult seeking revenge against those who have wronged his family. And Hob as the loyal and ruthless demon butler/bodyguard! Plus Hob with the long hair and the tailcoat... and the gloves...

Hob would definitely spend as much time teasing and provoking Dream as possible. Of course he's a dutiful servant and technically does exactly what Dream asks, but he always finds a loophole to wind Dream up, or flirt with him. But at the same time he's utterly devoted to Dream, always so concerned for him, comforting him when he has nightmares, making sure he eats and doesn't work too hard.

And Dream would try to pretend that Hob is a burden, an irritating demon servant that he HAS to put up with. Ultimately, though, he's crushing hard on Hob and feels desperately attracted to him. The more intimate their relationship, the more Dream burns with passion. He doesn't want to give Hob the satisfaction, but he thinks that one night of frantic fucking with his butler could probably fix him......

Of course lust ultimately turns into love, which Hob didn't think he was capable of anymore. It's far beyond a contract between a human and a demon now. They're both unhealthily obsessed with each other, and it's probably going to end in disaster... but when Hob finally gets to throw Dream down on his gorgeous four poster bed and make him scream with pleasure, he knows that it will ALL be worth it.

#🦊 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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kuroshika · 1 year

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the idea of hannibal continuing to cannibalize people after his younger sister is something i think about a lot. i like to think that it's out of honor - mischa was just a little girl. she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she was such a sweetheart. and she was just taken from him, in front of his eyes. just think about it.

he was eight years old. his parents had just been killed, and he and his younger sister abducted. he watched his captors murder and eat his little sister, then feed some of her remains to him.

so why would he keep doing it? wouldn't that be a disgrace to her memory?

i think his way of honoring her memory is by doing it willingly. by killing and eating those he finds rude or unworthy of the life they'd been given, he's avenging mischa's death. taking from the people who don't deserve it to avenge someone who had their whole life ahead of them.

that's why, i think, he's torn between wanting will alive and wanting to eat him.

mischa was one of the few people in hannibal's life who knew him inside and out. he let her see him, know him, and she was lost to him. he'd honored her body, in the least, by eating her.

when bedelia says "could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you, and feel nourishment at the sight of you?" i think that ties in here.

he's fighting with himself. he wants to honor will the same way he honored mischa - not because he doesn't deserve the life he has, but because hannibal thinks the world isn't worthy of having him. he hungers for will because he wants to honor him - he wants to honor his god. he feels that hunger whenever he sees him, that's the "daily stab of hunger". but "having nourishment at the sight of you" means that hannibal is sated by seeing that he's still alive, still fighting - the visage he never got for his little sister. he aches to honor will, to protect him, but has his hunger curbed by the knowledge that will is still alive.

and when he realizes how attached he is to will, after bedelia tells him he's unhealthily obsessed, that's why his response is "i have to eat him". because he won't survive the loss of will, and being so close to him is already a strain on his self control. he let will see him, know him, and now that obsession comes with a certain sense of fear - what if he fails to keep will safe? what if his involvement in his life leads to his death? that's why he's so desperate to alienate him at first - remove any threats that will may surround himself with so that hannibal can keep him safe. and not even that works. so then he moves on to murder - bedelia, tobias, abigail - anyone who poses a threat to keeping will alive and safe. still doesn't work. when that doesn't work, he opts to get him arrested - to forcibly make sure that no harm can befall him. no result.

so then he turns to getting himself locked up. in removing himself from will's life, he assuages the chances of damage being done, and lessens the possibility of losing him. that's why he says "i wanted you to know where i was, and what i was doing", because he wanted will to understand that this decision was for will's sake, not his own.

and it doesn't work, because will comes back for him.

"can't live with him, can't live without him". can't live with him because there's always the underlying urge to devour him, to carve a place inside of hannibal for him. can't live without him, because will's loss would be the tipping point for hannibal's restraint.

"i feel like i've dragged you into my world" - "i got here on my own" can also be a pretty solid quote for hannibal accepting that he's let all of this madness into his carefully crafted life all for will. he let himself grow close to will, and is content in reaping the consequences of his actions.

@lesbian-hannibal @craqueluring

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museofthepyre · 5 months

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do you know what everyones problem with elijah is? Im new to to fandom and im so genuinly confused as to why people seem to like think elijah is the worst (as in evil) character in the series. like i dont think people find him poorly written, they just, dont like him? which is fine yknow like who you like, but then people act like jedediah is a flawed but good character? which confused me a lot since I actually dislike jedediah more, as he just hurts in a more personal way it feels like. Elijah was sweeping Sydney in with promises of love that he hadnt gotten from jedediah, sydney only accepted that because of the way jedediah had been shunning him for years. It really bothers me that people forgive jedediah for his bad behavior, but then crucify elijah for behavior that while yes was very bad, had been hurting syndey way less for way shorter, and the only reason sydney was that vulnerable was because of jedidiah. Im asking because i am genuinly confused and I cant find anyone talking about the why of disliking elijah, i dont know if im missing something because of personal bias (jedidiahs mistakes that hurt sydney hit much closer to home than elijahs) sorry if this is a bit rambly, Im just very disenheartened to see so many people say they hate elijah when I just dont understand why, you dont need to answer this ask btw its mainly just curiousity

I think you kind of touched on the answer a bit already- imo it definitely comes down to what hits closer to home for any given listener. We all have unconscious biases. We all consume media through the lens of our own life experiences, and… ok ramble incoming

Elijah and Jedidiah both think/ behave in ways that are profoundly human, they represent very real concepts (see my whole Jedidiah= unhealthily distant, withdrawn and cold attachment style, and Elijah= unhealthily obsessive, suffocating and intense attachment style rant). These aren’t your typical innately evil villains, they’re just unhealthy people with warped ideas of love. That is an all too common thing to see irl. I think because of that… many of us can relate one or both of them to people we‘ve known in our own lives… alternatively, we can relate them to ourselves. I’ve heard some people say that Elijah’s actions hit a nerve because of past traumas with toxic relationships… aaand I’ve heard people say the exact same thing about Jedidiah! I think Elijah receives more scrutiny because his actions were… well they were actions. Visible, overt, right in front of you. You can point at them, pick a line from the transcript and say “that right there is bad”. Jedidiah’s wrongs often came in the form of neglect and abandonment, an absence of action, that’s so much harder to pinpoint. Maybe he’s slipping under people’s radars? Maybe more people see themselves in him and have a sense of understanding (which is valid, he embodies some very relatable neurodivergent struggles). Maybe it’s because he steps up and works on himself by the end and we don’t see that from Elijah (yet). Maybe people find Elijah “worse” because he reminds them of a more common negative experience, I’m not sure. One could speculate.

I’ll speak personally as an example of what I mean: I am wayyyyyyy more upset by Jedidiah’s actions. And that’s because of… you guessed it… my own personal experiences and how they influence my perception 🎉🎉🎉 I’ve got BPD, and I have an all consuming fear of abandonment. The idea of loving somebody and then having them suddenly withdraw, avoid you, and treat you coldly all the while providing NO EXPLAINATION WHATSOEVER… just leaving you to spiral and pick apart your own behaviours under a microscope, thinking you must be the problem— it’s a major trigger of mine. I’ve lived it!!! I grew up with it!!!!! It hits a huge sore spot for me and I admittedly struggle to overlook that sometimes when I see him.

Conversely, Elijah… I unfortunately connect with in a much deeper way. My own default attachment style is obsessive, intense, and often leaves me tunnel-visioned and unstable (…BPD), and he speaks a language I understand? If that makes sense. I see so much untreated, pre-awareness me in him. I know what it is to be involuntarily engulfed by an all-consuming obsession/ delusion. He doesn’t scare me, because I know what he’s made of- I see what’s beneath it all when I look in the mirror. Or at least that’s the lens through which I interpret him, I’m sure many disagree and yk what? Absolutely valid!!!!

There’s no one correct way to consume media, yada yada you get the idea, CHNT is unique because no character is intentionally malicious or evil (not counting Adam maybe… Lucille you’re on thin ice) and it’s fascinating how there’s such a dichotomy between the love and hate for these two. I may have swayed a bit off topic I just have many thoughts. I might come back with more later.

Ok rant over 🪱

#ramblings #camp here & there #ch&t #camp here and there #chnt #elijah volkov #jedidiah a a martin #jedidiah martin #sydney sargent #sydney o sargent #pink elephant man #the elephant man #the elephant man chnt

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spiritualclaymore · 2 months

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💛 ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ!

This post will include some information about me and a short testimony. Thanks for checking out my blog!

💛 ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛ & ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ

Howdy! I'm a Christian artist from the southern US who enjoys creating stories & characters that glorify God and share the gospel! 🔥⚔️ ✝️ I like anime and various comic styles. I'm currently working on my own style. I’ve enjoyed creating various OC's of humans, animals, anthro, and hybrid varieties!

sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ: I can be found just about anywhere and have compiled everything on my carrd. I am also accepting commissions, my carrd will have more information. I may compile and post commission information on tumblr in the future, Lord willing.

carrd

💛 ғᴏʀᴍᴇʀ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ sᴀᴠᴇᴅ ʙʏ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ

It's surreal to be here after taking a long hiatus around 2021. I'm used to having "missing e", a dozen extensions, and all of my pretty post formatting. It seems tumblr has tidied things up to make formatting easier. Back then, I used to copy/paste blank spaces, pretty symbols and emojis, indent all of my paragraphs, and then use a bunch of key commands to select and make my font size small and neat! Haha! I don't have any problems with people who do that, it was a style choice for writers and roleplayers.

“The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of people, who suppress the truth by their wickedness.” Romans 1:18

jaegerbombed | warpathpanther | blacklightburns | rubmyrosary

(CONTENT WARNING: above blog archives have explicit and/or adult content and are TESTIMONIES of what I used to write, portray, and how i lived my life. the last one is referring to a satanic voodoo cult character and I do not endorse the rosary/catholicism.)

I was part of the tumblr roleplay community and many other rp communities across the internet, including Gaiaonline, jcink, and proboards. I was doing this hobby for about 16 years before I started to take my faith seriously in 2021. To clarify faith, I was never really a believer or follower of Christ until I was BORN AGAIN in January 2023! Hallelujah! Note: I am not saying Christians cannot role play or enjoy writing as a way to develop characters, stories, etc. As long as it's not used to write content that would make you sin and it's not becoming an obsession.

Before that, I hyperfixated on horror genre, supernatural and horror anime, tv series, including video games, movies, stories, and more. I had gender dysphoria, went by 'khan', or 'khanivore'. I internalized a lot of it and would act out by doing drag king stuff and drag cosplay IRL.

I idolized playing hypermasculine male characters in the roleplay communities I was a part of. I saw many friendships made, torn apart, and savagely destroyed due to the toxicity of the community. Without Christ, people unhealthily hyperfixate on their idols and become jealous of other people writing better, portraying a certain character better, seeking all types of 'shipping' relationships that don't go well.

Wrote hundreds of thousands of words portraying s*xual fantasies with males & females. I obsessed over becoming male characters; thinking their thoughts, living their lives, not my own. I became oppressed by demons while playing songs that made me think of these characters, obsessively studied their dialogues and did some crazy forms of method acting. These characters had their own birthdays & astrology signs that I celebrated.

I had deep loneliness & despair, a void within me, & I filled it with video games, p**nography, alcohol, cosplay & role playing. When the convention was over, I felt like my heart was being burned alive & there was nothing to fill that void. I had insomnia from late nights living my double life. I was hateful, rude, condescending, competitive, swore all the time, & angry.

But JESUS set me free! He had been knocking on the door of my heart. I did not seek Him, I wanted to live in my filth, I loved my sin. But HE sought after me & my heart slowly softened. My eyes began to open. I don’t share this testimony to glorify myself; don’t want the wrong attention, nor things my old self would have gloated over. I share this testimony of where I WAS, to show where JESUS SET ME FREE!

Seek Jesus - He isn’t religion, He’s a real person, the son of God, who was sent to die for our sins. Someone who wants a relationship with you. He wants to set you free from pain. He can give you answers & true identity; not the CULTure.

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death.” Romans 8:1-2

#christian #chrumblr #christian artist #✝️umblr #christian testimony #my testimony

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teenandbeyond · 2 years

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Can I request a senku x reader where he overhears the reader, his crush that he thinks wouldn't be interested in him,talking about her feelings for him (her fluffy cute feelings and also her thirst)

Senku x Fem. Crush Reader

This one was a nice, simple one, so thanks!

Note (For anyone): I will finish your request, I promise. So please don't spam me with rq's because I don't answer quick enough for you, thanks :)

Want more from me? Then you're gonna ten billion percent like my Masterlist 2, so check it out!

☆*: .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡.:*☆

🧪Eavesdropping🧪(Dr. Stone)

Warning(s): Pre-stone world, cursing bestie lol, totally imagine another name for the best if you want

You vent to your bestie at the end of your afterschool club...but you didn't know Senku had planned to pick you up to walk together.

✨✨✨✨

So Senku did pick you up from your club, but usually, he stayed busy longer than you did, so you ended up heading to the science club and helping him out to leave. You were both club presidents and best friends, so you often walked together after closing up and cleaning.

But today was one of those rare days, the club members left the room spic and span--not a paper to be seen--and he was caught up with the experiment he'd been working on.

He figured he'd help you finish up cleaning and leave.

But just as he reached for the knob, he heard your friend's voice. He rolled his eyes, well, your other best friend. But he was the best of your best friends. You knew him longer.

"So what's the deal with you and Ishigami?"

You nervously laughed, "W-what do you mean...we're best friends, you know that--"

"I don't believe that for one minute. Do you mean to tell me you don't like him at all?"

"Obviously I like him, or else we wouldn't be friends," you cleaned a plastic paint tray from the tall stack you had beside you.

"You know damn well that's not the like I meant," she stacked up the dry canvases, carrying them to lean against a wall.

"Well, I..."

"Bitch, spill it already."

"Fine," you whined, "I might have a little itty bitty crush...that's been there for years..."

"Knew it. Why haven't you told 'im?"

"Did you just ask that, Imani? He's Senku. He thinks romance is illogical. He hates the idea of it. If I came up to him and said, 'Hey, Senku. I find you highly attractive, can we go on a date or something?' he'd totally turn me down."

She smirked over at you, "What do you like about him?"

"Well, his intelligence--that's a given. He'd definitely be the person I'd choose to be stranded on an island with."

Imani wiggled her brows, "Stranded on an island, alone?"

You squeaked at the implication, water droplets splashing on your shirt, "Don't go there!"

"What else do you like about him?" she grunted as she lifted more canvases.

"Well...how much he cares, even though he plays it off. You can feel like the most worthless being in the world and he'll somehow find a purpose for you. Always considerate of his friends. And he's absolutely adorable when he rants or nerds out about the things he likes," you couldn't help but smile as flashes of memory came to mind.

It was taking him a second to process this...he wasn't imagining you were talking about him as a man instead of just a friend, right?

Imani snorted, "You're down bad."

"I--It's not that bad."

"Mhm."

You moved on to washing the paintbrushes, "Besides. It's kind of pointless anyway if it isn't reciprocated, right?"

Imani sighed, turning to you, "The feelings won't go away overnight. Besides, it's not like you're some unhealthily obsessed person who'll kill anyone who talks to him or anything. It's simply feelings you have."

"Yeah..."

She smiled at you again, "What else do you like about him?"

"I like when we do experiments together--Not those types of experiments, clear that gutter right now! I meant science experiments with chemicals and stuff. I only know some of the basics since I grew up around him, but overall, I don't know shit. But...he teaches me, anyway. Even when he has to dumb things down for me, he still has patience and makes it enjoyable for me."

"That makes you really happy, huh?"

You fail to hide a grin, "More than I'd admit. It makes me even happier when he does artsy stuff with me--it's not often--but I appreciate it when he does. I know painting and crafts aren't really his thing."

Senku couldn't help the small smile that twitched onto his face.

He only did that because it's something you liked to do. It gave him an excuse to spend time with you in another way.

"It's a compromise."

"But lately...t-things have been a little different."

Imani raised curious brows, "Different?"

"Yeah...um...the other day Senku had this experiment he was doing outside. I happened to be coming though but I didn't realize how dangerous it was and he moved me out of the way."

He remembers that--instinct kicked in.

Imani pointed to your hands, "[Name] you've already cleaned that brush."

"Oh!"

She smirked at the expression you had on your face, "What happened?"

"Well, it was supposed to explode. So he grabbed me and rolled us out of the way in the grass--we were so close..." you fiddled with a paint-riddled brush.

She gasped, "Did y'all kiss?"

"W-what? No! No! He just covered my body but we managed to get far enough to just feel the burn from it.--He used a hand to protect me from the sidewalk under my head."

"Ishigami pulled some action-movie-type shit."

"Yeah..."

"What? What is it?"

"I guess...I started to look at him more--ah, a little differently since then," you bit your lip.

"Oh?~"

"I--I started to pay more attention. To his walk, his voice--I notice I look at his forearms and hands a lot, too."

"His hands?"

You swallow, "Mhm...I wish he wore rings sometimes, he'd pull them off..."

"Girl!" Imani laughed in glee, "Thirsty as hell!"

You shyly picked at the counter, "Yeah...a little."

"You don't uh...think about him at uh...interesting times, do you?"

Your body heated up, "No, no! That'd be weird! It'd be weird to do that without him knowing! I mean, I know it's a hormonal thing, but..."

Senku's face reddened at the thought of his hormones getting to him once...he would not think about that, never again.

"You should at least let him know at some point. It's gotta be tiring to keep it from him."

"It can be--It makes things a little awkward for me."

He had to end this, he pulled out his phone and sent you a text.

He heard your phone chime.

"It's Senku."

"Speak of the devil."

"Says something about needing to talk to me for a sec, I'll go meet him at the science club room. You can leave the rest to me, Imani, there isn't a lot left."

"Exactly, so I'll finish up. Go talk to him."

You giggle, "Alright, you're a real one. I owe you!"

As soon as you close the door, you're caged between two arms.

And when your eyes meet his, your breath quickens at the proximity.

"S-Senku?"

"I like you, too."

"I--Huh?"

You're sorta too busy being drunk on his cologne to process what he just said. For a scientist, he doesn't smell as sciencey as you'd expect, he smells really good.

"I like you, too, dumbass."

"Mhm...me, too."

"[Name]. Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah...you like me, too--Wait. Wait, what?"

Now you were sober again.

His eyes didn't leave yours, flickering between each, "For a while, now. Since middle school."

"But you don't do feelings--"

"--I can with you."

You groaned, covering your face, "You heard me, didn't you? How much did you hear?"

"All of it."

"Noooo. That's so embarrassing," you whined into his chest.

You could feel his chest jump and could hear his laugh vibrate into your hands.

"You like my hands, huh?"

"Shut up!"

He sighed, "I guess it's fair that I expose something, too...I...like your hands, too. I like the art they create...and your lips, I like those also."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I stare at them a lot when you talk, distracting."

You pulled away from his chest to look into his eyes.

"Distracting?"

He stiffened, "I hadn't meant to say that."

You leaned your face a little closer, "Could I possibly distract you, now?"

#ishigami senku #senku ishigami #dr stone senku #senku #anime #dr. stone #dr. stone x reader #senku x reader #senku x fem.reader #senku ishigami x reader

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the-cannibal · 1 year

Note

I love your writing so much! Can I please request Bo Sinclair (or the sinclair brothers if you’d prefer) with an s/o who is unhealthily obsessed with them? Tysm! I understand if you don’t want to do it and you can completely change the topic to whatever you’d like or not do it !

Awww thank you so much! That means a lot to me! This prompt is so interesting I’ve been thinking about it all morning and I’m so excited to do it for you! Thanks for being the first person to request something, I hope you like it!

Bo Sinclair X Reader who is unhealthy obsessed with him

Gender neutral reader - they/them and you is used

Written on mobile so sorry if the format is weird

You had known the Sinclair’s practically your whole life. The brothers were your best friends. You did everything together, you’d sneak off to each others homes to play, eat lunch together and skip classes in grade school. But there was one Sinclair you were closer to.

Bo. Ever since the first time you met Bo you had a special bond with him. You would always want to hang out with him. Lester wants to play tag? Can Bo come along? Vincent wants to show you how to draw? Well how about Bo join in too!

Bo didn’t think much of your… Clinginess. You were his best friend, so it made sense why you wanted to be around him so much. In fact, he actually quite liked how clingy you were to him. It was no secret after all that his parents were good to him, which is why the two of you usually hung out at your house or outside somewhere. So the fact that someone wanted his attention, wanted to talk to him and listen to him, he adored it.

But you didn’t just “want” Bo. You craved him. You always felt a special way towards Bo. When you were little you didn’t know what those feelings were. It wasn’t until you were a teen you realized you were in love with him. So you began showing Bo your love. You’d bake him his favorite sweets and cook him meals, you’d help him with cars, you’d bandage up his wrists when he had been picking at them and making them raw and irritated. And when his mama got sick you were there to listen to him vent about all the things he was feeling and what was running through his mind. Despite the fact you hated his parents for what they did to him and his brothers, you’d never talk bad about Trudy. You knew Bo had a complicated relationship with her and somewhere deep down in him he still loved her, even though she didn’t feel the slightest bit the same for him. Her world was Vincent. Bo and Lester were just extras she had to “put up with”.

And then Bo killed his father.

Bo would always tell you that his dad committed suicide. That the death of his wife drove him mad. But you knew the truth. You saw it after all.

You were going over to bring Bo a box of old car parts you had stolen found for him, when walking past the window to Victors office, you saw Bo holding up his shotgun and pointing it at the man. You saw him pull the trigger, and Victors blood and brain splatter on the window. The sight made you smile, you were proud of Bo for standing up to that sick son of a bitch and putting an end to everything once and for all. But you couldn’t tell Bo that, so instead you turned back to your home and pretended like you saw nothing. The box of car parts helped cheer Bo up after his fathers “suicide”.

A few years later and the two of you were adults now, and you had finally won Bo over. He was officially yours now and yours only. You moved into Ambrose relatively soon. The town had always been small, but you had began noticing it was getting smaller. And then one day you saw a group of people roll into town, claiming something was wrong with their car. Bo being the kind man he is offered to help them, and told them to go to the house of wax to keep themselves entertained while they waited.

“Darlin can you help me for a sec?” His sweet voiced called out to you.

“Of course, Bo! Whatcha need?” You skipped over to him with a smile.

“Well it looks like they have a broken fan belt, problem is that I don’t have the right size here. Could you go into town with Lester and get one for me?”

You nodded with a smile. And he smiled back down at you. “Thank you, darlin, I appreciate it.” Bo wrote down what he needed on a piece of scrap paper and sent you on your way. You were happy to help Bo, and you got to hang out with Lester! That was a bonus!

When you got back to town with the part you noticed those peoples car was gone, and so was Bo. So you knocked on the basement door to ask Vinny if he had seen them. He shook his head and you thanked him with a smile, turning to walk away but stopping midway. “By the way, those are some neat sculptures you got down there. Trying to keep up with your ma’s art?” You asked with a sweet smile. Vincent nodded. “Ah, I see. Well you did a great job as always! It almost looks real.”

And that was when you found out the brothers had been killing off the town one by one and anyone who crossed in it. You found the pit soon after that, or well, you smelled it. But best of all, Bo thought you were completely in the dark.

He’d wake up, give his partner a kiss before waving goodbye to them as he went out to get some more muses for his twin. Meanwhile his partner was subtly helping him out. They’d make sure their partners clothes was clean of any specks of blood, clean the garage extra carefully, and of course give him the biggest sweetest smiles. You had watched Bo do his special little hobby, in fact watching him became a part of your routine. And he suspected nothing.

“Welcome back, honey!” You shouted over your shoulder as you put dinner in the oven. Tonight was your turn to cook. Bo mumbled a hello back to you and slumped on the couch. You frowned, tossing the over mitt onto the counter, and making your way behind him. “Something happen?” You asked with concern.

Bo sighed, rubbing his temples and leaning his head back. “Jus’ been a long day,” He answered. “I’m so exhausted.”

Without needing another word you wrapped your hands around his shoulders and began massaging them, doing your best to work out some knots. Bo melted into your touch with a sigh. “You always now exactly how I like to relax.” You hummed with a giggle. “I know a lot about you, Beauregard. A lot more than you think.”

“Is that right?” He spoke. “Alright smarty, what else do you know about me?”

You hummed in thought. “Well, I know despite all the blue you wear your favorite color is actually green.”

Bo snorted. “You know my favorite color? Big deal, that’s too easy.”

“I’m not finished,” you spoke, moving your hands to lightly massage his scalp and temples. “You don’t like any green. You like a darker green, like a fir tree. You also hate neon colors because they hurt your eyes.”

Bo simply hummed in response. He was slightly impressed, he’ll admit.

“But I also know things about you that even you yourself doesn’t know.” You said, getting Bo’s attention and making him perk up. You swung around the couch and lightly kissed him on the nose. “Like you ain’t as sneaky as you think.”

Bo chuckled and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his lap and covering your neck in kisses. “What’s that supposed to mean? You know where I hid your birthday present or somethin?”

You giggled and shrugged. “Maybe,” Your moment was interrupted by the over timer. You got up and took the dinner out and looked back at Bo. “I think ill take some of this to Ms. Locket , if you don’t mind.”

Bo’s face twisted to a sad pout, a very fake one. Oh how he’s never been good at faking emotions, other than a charming southern man. “Didn’t y’a hear? She passed away this mornin.”

You frowned, slowly setting the food onto the counter and looking down. “Oh…” you mumbled. “She was so sweet…”

“Oh darlin, come here.” Bo held his arms out and took you in, holding you close. You buried your head into his shoulder and could smell gun powder. “I know it’s sad, but you’ll get through it. I know you will.”

You hummed and smiled, gripping your hands around Bo tightly. Around your Bo. Yours and yours alone. He might not know just how enamored you are by him, but that’s okay. Because you know, and that’s all that matters.

#bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #house of wax x reader #bo sinclair x reader #request #Bo Sinclair request

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gildedmuse · 8 months

Note

hey new moot :) may I request some shuggy hcs? I am unhealthily obsessed w them. could be fluffy or angsty or spicy or anything in between <3333

Hi everyone, this is @kilucore one of my new best friends. They've only really seen OPLA but already loves Buggy. Now I just have to brainwash them into believing his full name is Buggy D Clown and he's the true King Of The Pirates.

This isn't what they asked for but it's what my mind gave me. Later, I'll do a Buggy/Shanks AU. It will involve Shanks in a poly relationship and Buggy being a jealous bitch.

I love thes idiots.

The Captain Gets The Hat

"I used to know a pirate who wore a hat just like this... We served together on a pirate crew when we we're about your age.... "

"Until he betrayed me."

—💙—

"But why not go to the South Blue? There's tons of treasure there!"

"But we're already here! And who knows, since there are so little pirates here in the East Blue, there could be all sorts of treasure that no one has found yet! "

"But it's boring! Even Roger said it was-"

"Don't say his name!"

A while ago, before the crew broke up, before they all just abandoned them, Rayleigh had gotten Buggy a new pair of shoes. They were big and red and Biggy hates them, but Rayleigh said he should wear them anyway. "They're harder to slip in. Safer."

Right now, Buggy doesn't want to be safe. He wants to be pissed off.

Still even as he storms across the wooden pier, the shows made almost no sound at all. It didn't matter how much weight he throw into each step or how hard he brought his foot down. His storming away sounded more like a gentle breeze.

The worst part is he could feel Shanks watching the whole time.

"Hey." At least the shoes don't stop Buggy from being able to swat Shanks's hand away when the other boy tries setting it on his shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Why do you want to stay in the East anyway? "

"Because-" Buggy stops, even as he turns to glare at Shanks. The boy has such a bright infectious smile, he makes you feel like everything would be alright.

Only it wouldn't, would it? Not even Shanks's smile could bring back Roger, bring back their FAMILY. Even old Crocus is gone and the last place any of them knew that any of the others would be is in the East. Is in Lougetown.

Is standing below the tower where they-

"Because the East is easy pickings!" Buggy argues, motioning around to all the sailors, the shoppers, the passing Marines not paying them an ounce of attention. "We can do whatever we want and no one can stop us!" And if the others do come looking, they'll be here. Waiting.

Shanks puts on his "serious" face for a moment, though truth be told it's not very serious. "Hmmm... Well, I'm the captain and I say we're going North!" He declares with a huge, cocky grin. The kind that looks like their da-

Like Ro-

Like a pirate.

"You just said So-" Buggy starts to correct before Shanks's words really start to creepy in. His eyes go wide. He did not just say that! No way! "What make you think YOU'RE the captain!?"

Shanks can't be captain! There is only one captain! You can't have two captains and they all know-

They all....

He can't be captain!

"I have the hat!" Shanks declairs in his same light hearted tone, patting the Strawhat Roger had given him WAY before Shanks had been old enough to be captain. He's only 14 now! He barely even has facial hair (Buggy knows, him and Shanks have been comparing for years now waiting to see whose would grow in first) ! "That makes me that captain!"

"That's not true!" Buggy argues, swinging to grab for the stupid Strawhat. Shanks just laughs, taking a wide step back. That is unfair! Buggy hasn't had time to his his growth spurt yet. "Give it here! I deserve to be captain!"

Shanks sticks out his tongue. "Hey, maybe if you're really nice I'll make you my first mate!"

Buggy's face went as red as his nose. He isn't first mate!

Roger is the captain! Rayleigh is first mate! Shanks and him are just- are just-

"Give it here!" Buggy demands, jumping for the raggy hat again.

"That's a very rude way for a first mate to act."

"I said give it here!"

"Maybe I should demote you to cabin boy."

"Grr, I wouldn't be your boy if yours was the last ship in the se-"

SPLASH!!

Buggy tries to draw in a deep breath but the water is already sucking him down. Ocean fills his lungs, weighing him down even more. Trying to push the water aside is like trying to swim through concrete. He can still see the sun twinkling above, reflecting the blue of the water all around him but it's fading. Everything is getting darker.

Is this how Roger felt? No! No not Roger! He must have been brave! He wouldn't be scared or drowning or poleaxes or death. Roger isn't afraid of anything.

Bubbles float out from his mouth, the last of his air leaving his lungs. They pop silently before even hitting the surface, but Buggy heard them in the ocean all around him.

Shanks don't be a captain. Don't be like Roger.

Don't leave me.

The next thing he knows, Buggy can feel the splinters digging into his back, through the worn out shirt he'd owned too many years. The one that didn't fit Nantoto anymore and had been passed along, first to Shanks than to Buggy.

Two worried brown eyes stare down at him, with Shanks's hair a dark, wet red, sticking to his pink cheeks.

Buggy coughs water upon him. "Ehh!" Shanks laughs it all off, brushing it away. "Hey no spitting! And here I thought Raylogh gave you those shoes so you WOULDN'T end up in the sea!"

He can joke, about Buggy is still mad. "I hate these shoes!" He screams, ripping them off and chucking them in the sea. Without him in them they float. Just like everything, he is what is bringing them down. It's him. It's him that got sick, him that stopped Shanks seeing Laughtail. "I hate this fruit! I hate this stupid, stupid sea and it's stupid Marines!" Him that ate the fruit that could have maybe been the fruit Crocus always talked about, the one that could save Rogers' life. Its his fault they're all gone! No wonder no one of the crew came to see them!

He pushes himself up swiping at Shanks's leg as he does so.. the boy trips slightly but keeps from falling into the water.

"Hey, wait!" Shanks scurries to his feet as Buggy starts to march off. "Where are you going? The ship is that way? Wow, you must be really water logged after-"

"YOUR ship is that way!" Buggy snaps, not even turning around to look back at the other teenager. "I don't need you, you know! I can be my own captain!"

"Buggy...."

And maybe it is there is something in Shanks's voice that just reminds Biggy so much of Roger, of his old captain, he has to stop. And maybe it's just because it's Shanks. But in an instance Buggy found e couldn't move forward, not with out one last look back.

Shanks is taller than him. His hair is the same color as Buggy's nose, though he'd give you a black eye if you said so. His face is as bright as the sun and his heart as unpredictable as the sea. It makes Buggy's stomach hurt just looking at him.

And in that moment, Shanks wouldn't look at him either. His face was hidden, the shadow from the brim of his hat covering whatever he might be feeling. Buggy wishes he could hide away like that. His emotions feel as obvious as the nose on his face. His heart feels like it wants to escape his chest and run back to the sea.

Maybe to drown. Maybe to see if Shanks would jump in after it a second time.

"Do you know what this means?" Shanks asks, slowly lifting his chin, meeting Buggy's eyes. He feels so young compared to the other boy in the moment. He can see something in Shanks. A spark. A future. Something Buggy wants to steal but not to take it from Shanks.

Just so he can hold it, just so wherever that spark goes, Buggy will too.

"We'll be rivals!" Buggy shoots back, trying to muster his anger. "We'll both be captains and-"

Shanks shakes his head and Buggy finds himself choking on his own words. Its the boy's smile. "No," he says, taking a step closer before that smile blooms into something larger, something beautiful.

And before Buggy can react Shanks has thrown himself across the dock and right into Buggy's arms. Its so forceful Buggy nearly trips backwards right into the water but even without his special shoes, Shanks holds tight, and he stays on the dock.

"It means we're allies!" Shanks declairs, pulling back only to pat Buggy's shoulders. He is absolutely glowing. Like this is what he wants. Maybe this is what he'd been waiting for. "From now on, we're our own captains, but we're also allies! And whenever you need me I'll be there and when I need you, you'll be there! I'll cheer on all your greatest victories and you're revenge all my worst losses! Just like the best allies!"

And the way that spark shown in Shanks, Buggy couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah!" He agrees, taking Shanks'e hand in his own, sealing the pack. "We're going to be the greatest allies the seas have ever seen!"

"Like two captains but one crew!" Shanks promises. "I'll always be there fore you! No matter what!"

—💙—

The applause dims as Buggy sweeps back into the backroom of his ship. The smile he'd worn for the crowd immediately slips away. "Well," he demands, snapping at Cabaji before.... Well, ignoring Richie altogether. You could never tell with Richie.

"it was great boss!" Someone cheers and the rest are quick to join in, heaping on the praise. Buggy just keeps sauntering on the back of the ship. To their poster board, listing all their upcoming preformance. "The best anyone in this sad little town has ever seen that's for-"

"Yeah for US!" Buggy snaps, the sarcasm dripping from his lips even more than his make up. "BUT WAS HE HERE?!"

His hand slams down on the poster.

Shanks is older now. He has three scars, ones Buggy int see him get. He's taller but it's the same smile. Buggy would know that spark anywhere.

A silence falls over the preformers. No one wants to say it. They all remember what happened to Kiki.

"What is the POINT!?" Buggy screams, turning his ire on the freaks, these losers, this pathetic lot who couldn't get the attention of one stupid, childish man in a silly hat. "Of putting on the greatest show if it's not seen by the greatest PEOPLE!?"

"Well...." Lionel suggests gently after a ong pause where Buggy looks at each of them , eyebrow raised. Huh? Well... Come on. Is there a single. Solidarity idea in those stupid heads of yours!? "You know, maybe he just hasn't been to the East bl---" The knife to his throat cuts off whatever he had been trying to say.

"Are you saying I can't get his ATTENTION!? That somehow, because I STAYED WHERE WE WERE SUPPOSE TO, WHERE ROGER LEFT US THAT I-"

Buggy pauses, looking out the porthole of the ship. Waling back into town where happy families, kids with Cotten candies, stuffed dolls held under couple arms. Such a perfect, happy little picture. Like a spark of sunshine.

"Don't just stand there," Buggy snaps without turning around. " Help your fellow freak. This is why I can't have SAG members on this crew, I swear, " Buggy jokes as a few of the underlings rush forward putting pressure to Lionel's wounds.

All while Buggy watches a happy little family heading back. The dad with his daughter in the shoulder. The other holding her stuffed toy, ruffling the girls hair. Such a happy little couple. Such a happy family.

"I think...." buggy says, tearing the wanted poster from their billboard, letting it crumble in his fist. "You're right. If we want attention we need to go... Bigger."

His laugh fills the boat, and then the ship, and even as the canons start to ring out and the buildings collapse you can still here him. Laughing.

You want to be allies, Shanks? Why not come see his latest victory with your own eyes. He promises. It will be bigger and badder than even you can ignore.

#one piece #buggy villian backstory #buggy the clown #buggy d clown #you'll never take that away from me #akagami no shanks #shanks x buggy #ask and you shall receive #opla #one piece live action #sorry this wasn't sluttier #next time for sure #my writings #one piece fanfiction #oh I added some Buggy daddy issues with Roger #opps #RedNose #my writing

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steddiebang · 6 months

Text

Steddie Bigbang Weekly Round-up: November 12 - November 18

A kiss is a kiss Author: @assassinduckie / Artist: @hagnoart / @/hagno.art “A kiss can mean nothing. In his rather lengthy experience, it often does. Mean nothing, that is. And the fact that this kiss feels so not a good idea at all and the best idea he ever got at the same time? Well, that just makes it a good kiss, doesn’t it?He just didn’t think he’d have his first good kiss in months with Eddie “The Reformed Freak” Munson. Though he’d probably find the “reformed” bit rather insulting.”

I Wanna Be THE Guitar Hero Author: @abbididathing (AO3 / @theroundeviloftable) / Artist: @hextotal Steve surprises Eddie with the newly-released video game that he thinks is perfect for him: Guitar Hero. Shenanigans ensue, the game isn’t as perfect for Eddie as Steve once thought, and some tension develops. But then, Eddie gets a tip from the kids that changes his whole outlook on the game and he forms a plan to surprise Steve this time around. Or: a long-form prose love letter to established-relationship Steddie and their domestic chaos.

Don’t look back Author: dartlekey (tumblr / ao3) / Artist: chilly (tumblr / twitter) When Eddie Munson wakes from a month-long coma, the apocalypse has already started without him. The air is poisonous and monsters roam the streets of a half-destroyed Hawkins, but he’s also got problems of a more personal nature: For one thing, Eddie’s so weak he can barely walk on his own, and he’s pretty sure there’s something wrong with him, like, emotionally. For another, there’s the fact that Steve Harrington has begun turning into some kind of vampiric Upside Down creature. Also, he’s into men apparently, and more specifically: into Eddie. So there’s that. The way Eddie sees it, that leaves him with three problems to solve - one, saving the world, ergo destroying the Demobats’ nest in the Rightside Up, and closing the cross of rifts splitting the town. Two, saving his friends, so waking Max from her coma, and guiding Steve (read: domming Steve) into figuring out his new vampiric powers without hurting anyone, or getting his head blown off by their very trigger-happy “allies”. And three: figuring out what it really means to care for someone, and how far he’s willing to go for the man he’s rapidly becoming unhealthily obsessed with. Here’s to turning into the monsters people always said they were.

I Will Die In The House That I Grew Up In Author: kwills91 on twitter and ao3 / Artist: sheepsicles on twitter /communismkins on tumblr and ao3 Steve Six months after their battle in the Upside Down, Steve still can’t face talking to Eddie. He’s loud, and weird, and everything Steve wants but knows he can’t have. Right now he has to focus on making sure everybody is okay. Right now he has to plan for when Vecna comes back. But a stranger shows up declaring to be from the future and changes everything. Eddie Steve’s avoiding him and he doesn’t know why. But it’s okay because he’s found the kind of friendship he never thought he’d have with the last person he’d expect. Nancy Wheeler. But when a teenage girl shows up on their doorstep, Nancy insists they move in with Steve to help him keep her safe whilst they uncover the reason she was sent back, and why Vecna has somehow shown up again twenty-five years in the future. And how is he supposed to react when she declares that her parents are none other than Eddie himself and the guy he’s been crushing on since he did that goofy little wave six months ago? And on top of all of this, Vecna returns to throw a whole spanner in the works.

Nothing But Bliss Author: @oiveyzmir / Artist: @sunflowerharrington / Artist: @bbgirlsteve There’s no reason for Eddie to feel so wrong. Everything’s normal in his life; He lives with his uncle and his brother, his and his friends’ band is a moment away from making it big, he has a boyfriend he loves more than anything else and life’s pretty great, but something still feels… misplaced. His memories are all mixed up and he seems to be remembering his life incorrectly- sometimes he’ll feel pain or discomfort in places he isn’t even wounded in, he’ll have memories that go completely against one another, and there are some weird things his mind doesn’t allow him to even think about, such as red skies, bones snapping and the way Dustin screams his name. All in all, it’s easy to ignore, up until he sees a strange girl with blood trickling down her nose.

Moon Breaks Knight Author: alchemystique / Artist: sleepykiart / Artist: kaspurrcat [ twitter / tumblr ] Eddie has enjoyed the quiet solitude of the forest for years – the shifting breeze in the branches of trees he knows as well as himself, the den of chittering foxes and the mysterious hart who appears so rarely, the white ash tree that has grown up around him as he built a fortress away from the town he’d grown up in, away from the ghosts of his past.

Eddie has little desire to be drawn into the conflict stirring around the kingdom, but wards Eddie has spent his own blood, sweat, tears and song to build begin to fail, and woods that haven’t seen a visitor in decades keep shuffling people along towards the clearing in the forest where Eddie has made his home. The village where he’d buried his mother is destroyed by a darkness Eddie doesn’t understand, and wolves draw ever closer.

And The Sun Will Rise Author: @lexirosewrites / Artist: @feralsteddie Steve may not have the people who brought him into this world at his side anymore, but he’s found someone to hold him through the end of it. -or- As a packless omega suffering with isolation sickness, Steve is just trying to survive the zombie apocalypse. Instead, he ends up courted by a lovesick alpha and getting his dream of six kids and a Winnebago in the most unconventional way possible.

Sometimes I Close My Eyes (and dream of somewhere else) Author: patientanxiety / Artist: @notsecretlymisha Eddie’s POV. Everything is canon up to s4, where there is no more Upside Down (defeated at Starcourt). Something is up with Steve, and the whole party knows, but he won’t tell anyone. Somehow, Eddie got roped into worrying about him, too and ends up sharing his trailer! or, Basically Eddie’s freakout about discovering that Steve is a decent dude but then learns of all the trauma Steve has dealt with, but don’t worry, Eddie is there to catch him when he falls and maybe even falls in love along the way.

The Rainbow Connection Author: @hellfireloserclub / Artist: sweatypeaches When Rainbow Graveyard made it big, performing as their alter egos Knocks and Munster, it should have been everything Eddie had ever wanted - sold out gigs, number one platinum selling albums, and a band made up of people he had fought through hell with at his side. The upside down might not have killed him, but Eddie never imagined that being on stage with Steve every night would be the thing that finally finished him. Eddie is not a person that was built to be loved, he has no idea what to do with the feelings that threaten to tear him apart. Since they dragged each other from the brink of death, he and Steve have been doing a dance to which neither knows the steps, building a life out of the trauma that follows them like a shadow, seeping into each and every crack it can find. Being a rockstar hadn’t been in Steve’s future plans, but it was impossible for him to deny Eddie anything, full stop. He’d helped Steve put himself back together when the upside down literally pulled him apart, and now he was pretty sure that Eddie had kept a piece of his heart and held it hostage. Steve was too much, loved too fast and too hard and destroyed everyone and everything he touched. But when he got on stage, Knocks took the wheel, and what Knocks wanted was Munster. They say that sometimes you can have too much of a good thing, and sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. But how much of you is left when you’re living as the personified version of your worst self?

Tessellation Author: @maryofdoom / ArgentumCivitas / Artist: @sparkle-fiend Steve is a knight. Steve wants to be rescued. Steve knows how to swim. Steve is tired of the ranch. Steve is pretty good at stitches. And Steve has been told that the Void is endless. Eddie wears a knight’s favor. Eddie is a tiefling bard who’s here to save the day. Eddie is a rusalka. Eddie has a way with horses. Eddie is about to bleed to death in the guest room. And Eddie has seen the Void from the other side. Six stories, six universes, ad infinitum. Steve and Eddie.

I Could Have Loved You (You Would Not Let Me) Author: @stardustwalker on tumblr/ @stardust_walker on AO3 / Artist: @werew0rmon tumblr/ @werew0rm on twitter When Chrissy Cunningham dies, Max’s world falls into a spiral. It leaves her with more questions than answers and a new found need to know more about her past. Corroded Coffin has been broken up for over 20 years. Max knows the place she can get the answers she wants. Between the documentary about the band and her upcoming wedding, it might be easier than she thought. Until she meets Eddie Munson, the reclusive guitarist for the band who’s hidden himself away for years and isn’t as forthcoming as she hoped. Along with her father, Steve, he holds the answers she’s been looking for. What could go wrong?

For the Heart I Once Had Author: @hereforanepilogue / Artist: @grimweathers | @oriarts Steve gets his arms around Eddie, pins his wings to his back even as they flutter nervously. Eddie slumps against him, presses his face into the crook of Steve’s shoulder. He can feel Steve’s warmth through his clothes, so Eddie stays, even thought it might be the worst place for Steve to let Kas press himself.

🗡

Months after Vecna is defeated, months after things should be back to normal, Eddie is still stuck. Kas’s influence lingers, and with nothing to do but wait, he turns to his friends and D&D to try and pull himself back into normality. But the more time goes on, the clearer it becomes that normal might not be an option anymore.

Are You Experienced? Author: @madaboutmunson / Artist: @danadaria Everyone knows Steve Harrington, a local rich kid jock, the previous king of Hawkins High School. He’s got it all, money, a respectable family, and chicks love him. He’s even spending the summer learning what it’s like to be a real working man before taking on a role in his Dad’s firm because its builds character and empathy. Or is he something else entirely?

Is Steve a down-on-his-luck guy, stuck in a job he dislikes because his dad is teaching him a lesson, repeatedly striking out with the ladies, that his co-worker is fond of reminding him about?

Under all the many layers and masks, he uses to survive the day-to-day, Steve has secrets. The main one is how passionately he loves music. How it moves him in ways nothing else does, and he’s sure no one else could possibly feel the same, until his Mom gives him $50 to spend at the new record store.

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