#EXCEPT for Erwin Pries
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
squintsintwink · 3 months ago
Text
Please disregard my Cyberpunk 2077 love letter on my The Sims 4 blog that I’ve yet to post any real sims 4 content to
I am simply having a very weird day
0 notes
dada-dandy · 10 months ago
Text
If I was a famous and rich filmmaker I would buy rights from EA to make a sims 2 movie.
It would all be about strangetown (with some strangerville elements) and centered around Nervous Subject and Pascal Curious, with a secondary plot about Erwin Pries and Vidcund Curious trying to stop mother plant except Vidcund falls in love with her because he's literaly a giant sentient violet.
The movie would be in stop-motion because stop-motion looks like dolls and what's the sims if not playing with dolls? And also because that would look rad.
AND it would be entierely in simlish, with subtitles.
16 notes · View notes
alltimefail-sims · 1 year ago
Note
random question but erwin gives Lana stan vibes and same lolz but then i wondered what music your characters from strangerville story all listen to?
First off I am so happy to answer this question for you!! Thank you for asking! I love love love music and love this question!
Tumblr media
That being said, before I begin I want you to know that I'm so sorry to burst a personal headcanon you've made about my version of Erwin Pries...but he has probably never heard a Lana Del Rey song in his entire life lmfao (I'm assuming that's who you're talking about). But Erwin is an EA premade, so if your Erwin is a Lana Del Rey stan I love that for you and that's valid!!! My Erwin just isn't haha (but his sister Maggie would like her music!) Anyway!!!
Very long response below the cut! ↓
Erwin mostly listens to older music: he loves music from the 60s, 70s, and 80s and listens to everything on vinyl or cassette (he is very passionate about the preservation of physical media, he is the Paranoid ass king after all). His favorites are Fleetwood Mac, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Queen, David Bowie, Abba, Neil Diamond, Jim Croce, Billy Joel, John Denver, James Taylor, Elton John, The Mamas and Papas, Johnny Cash, and so on. He also has a not-so-secret love for musicals and claims that the Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack is one of the best pieces of composition to ever exist (he also likes Godspell, Rent, Xanadu, and many more) Get him drunk enough and he will talk about how Mamma Mia is "Literally a transcendent work of art with whimsy and heartbreak and joy and a tender ass storyline at the heart that quite literally fucks so hard. Fucking Meryl Streep. Fuck!" Direct quote. That man hardly listens to anything post-1990, with the exception of "Queen Florence Welch" (Florence and the Machine).
Zoe appreciates all kinds of music, but has a deep love for the soul music that she heard around the house growing up. She likes music with feeling and depth, and the lyrics are most important to her but if the song isn't deep, it better have a good beat that she can dance to! Her personal favorite artists include Otis Reading, Stevie Wonder, Sam Cooke, Dionne Warwick, Beyoncé, Alicia Keys, Rhianna, Lauryn Hill, The Temptations, Roberta Flack, Janelle Monåe, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, and so on!
Beckett's looks deceive him because he loves pop music. He is listening to the current hits, think Billboard 100s exclusively lol. He might have listened to a few rock or rap songs to get "pumped up" back in his football days, but for the most part he is always listening to pop - he even likes boybands, but won't willingly admit that lmao. He's a Swiftie through and through, and he will fight for her honor on any Twitter thread or in-person discussion. He also has a love for 90s and early 2000s country artists like Shania Twain, Alison Krauss, Lee Ann Womack, and The Dixie Chicks (now The Chicks) because of cleanin' and cookin' Sundays with his momma <3
Junia doesn't care about music that much! She doesn't have any favorite artists, she's never even bought a CD and probably couldn't tell you 5 bands or artists off the top of her head. She's one of those people who will listen to anything that "has a good beat" while she's working out, and it doesn't even have to have words. She's listening to music more for background noise as opposed to being passionate about it or seeking it out.
Anwar listens to alternative music mostly! Bands like the 1975, The Strokes, Paramore, The Clash, Fall Out Boy, Arctic Monkeys, The Black Keys, The Neighborhood, and so on. He definitely went through a pop-punk, Hot Topic, combo of emo and scene phase in his teen years in the 2000s. (Iykyk, if you don't... look it up lmao. It was a time to be alive.) If they could play at Warped Tour, he listens to them lmao. But he's cool with most pop or radio music, he's not like a music snob or anything.
Tashia listens to pretty much everything, but she also loves metal music. Idk if you've seen the Pixar/Disney movie "Monster's University" but there's a scene in there where the mom of one of the main characters drops them off at Monsters Inc. and she's like "I'll just be listening to my tunes until you get back" in like the sweetest voice and then as she's rolling up the windows you can hear metal music blasting through the speakers and she's just like... calmly vibing like she's listening to elevator music or smooth jazz lmfao. It's very funny. That's how I imagine Tashia's music taste to be and it concerns everyone around her <3
2 notes · View notes
starry-simming · 2 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Prince, come on, you’re gonna mess up my luggage.” Lilith sighed. Prince, expectedly, did not respond. 
It was a mildly depressing morning for her. Waking up in an unfamiliar place with only cold pizza for breakfast. But she planned on starting her investigations today, which was something to take her mind off the situation. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
After eating, Lilith put on some clothes more climate-appropriate than her hoodie and sweatpants and took a short walk. Behind the trailer park were a few weird plants. They looked a bit like rosebuds, except that they...glowed, creepily. On her way back to hers, she ran into one of the people she had encountered the other day. But today, he seemed normal. 
“Hey!” She called out and hurried over to catch him. “Are you alright? You were acting real weird yesterday.”  “I’m sorry, I...don’t remember meeting you yesterday. You must be new in town.” He smiled politely, but Lilith could see anxiety all over him. 
“Yeah, just got here yesterday, but look.” Lilith pressed on. “You came over my house, talking about...about some mother? What was that?”
The man glanced up and down the street before leaning in close. “Look, if you’re the sort to try and investigate this town, I’ll warn you that others have tried and come up short or been arrested or...vanished.” He whispered. “But if you want somewhere to start, the lab in the giant crater just out of town is abandoned. I’d start there.” And he left. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Thoroughly creeped out, Lilith wandered down the road where she’d seen a small roadside shop when she’d moved in. She met the man running the place, one Erwin Pries. 
“You’re new in town, yeah?” Erwin asked while she browsed. 
“Is it so obvious? I keep getting asked.” Lilith grumbled. 
“It’s just I’d recognize a local.” Erwin grinned awkwardly. “Are you attached to this place at all? Because if not, probably leave. This town is--”
“It’s weird, I know.” Lilith grinned, putting a book, a poster, and some cash on the counter. “That’s why I’m here. I’m gonna figure this all out.” 
“Well, best of luck. Try not to get taken out by military officials. If you want a good start, check the lab in the crater. It was abandoned after...the incident.” 
Tumblr media
With two different people mentioning the lab so far, Lilith knew what her next move ought to be. She started researching the Strangerville laboratory the second she got home, preparing to leave for it at midnight
2 notes · View notes
simminglytimeladies · 4 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
Conspiracy
14 notes · View notes
titan-fodder · 4 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
Prima Vista Part I
Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.
Tumblr media
God, you hate frat boys. 
Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 
So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 
Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 
Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 
The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 
Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 
Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 
"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 
More cheers, more hollers. 
"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 
You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 
When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 
Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 
To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 
There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 
You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 
Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 
You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 
"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 
"Hell no!" 
"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."
"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 
Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 
You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 
"Hey, what's your name again?"
Again. As if you've actually formally met before.
"Why do you care?" 
Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."
You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  
"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 
He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 
"So? Name?"
After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 
"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 
Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 
It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 
"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 
"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  
"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."
"Aw, flatterer." 
That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 
"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 
He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 
"Sophomore."
His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 
You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 
"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."
Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."
Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 
"Sure, let's go with that."
Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 
"Can't handle beer?"
"Can't handle shitty beer."
"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"
He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.
"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."
"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 
"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."
It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 
"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."
"We've been talking for literally two minutes."
"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."
"Not any good ones obviously."
Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 
"Take it however you want. I don't really care."
His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 
Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 
"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 
"Just go get another drink."
You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 
A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 
"Four's whores!"
"Categories! Different beers!"
"Seven heaven!" 
"Ayyy, waterfall!" 
You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 
"Wanna play?"
"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."
Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 
"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."
"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however
"
"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 
"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."
You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 
"Excellent."
You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.
Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 
It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 
Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 
"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 
"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."
As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 
You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.
His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 
*
The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 
God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 
Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with
 Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 
Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 
Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs
 swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 
Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 
You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well
 You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 
Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 
You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 
Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 
Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”
“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 
*
Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 
A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.
“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.
Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”
Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 
“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.
Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 
His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 
He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.
“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”
You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 
“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”
“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”
“Whatever.”
Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 
“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.
You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”
“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”
“You need a list?”
Mike nods. “Would probably help.”
“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and
 Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”
“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”
“Excuse me?”
Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 
“I—”
“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”
You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”
“Does that mean I can have it back?”
You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just
Follow me.”
It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.
The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 
You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”
“Ah. Of course.”
He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 
After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.
Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”
“No you do not.”
“Definitely do.”
“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”
He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.
“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”
“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 
Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”
He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 
“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”
“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”
“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”
“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”
“Not good for the cool guy image?” 
“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.
“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”
He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”
“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”
You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 
It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 
You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 
Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 
Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 
Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.
“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”
Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”
You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 
He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 
You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 
“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 
When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 
“Too much?” He asks.
You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”
He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”
Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”
“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”
When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”
“Shut up.”
He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 
Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.
He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.
“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 
Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 
You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 
“God dam—”
Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”
“In...sufferable
” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 
Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.
You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—
He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 
“Holy—” 
Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 
“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”
He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 
You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”
Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 
A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 
This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck
”
He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 
Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”
He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 
You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.
And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 
With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 
“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just
” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 
He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 
Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”
Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.
Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.
*
You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 
This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 
You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 
Is still hot. 
Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 
You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 
While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 
He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 
Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 
His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 
"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 
"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 
God dammit, why is he so sexy? 
Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 
Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 
Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 
"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."
He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."
And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 
For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 
Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 
The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 
Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 
You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 
You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 
It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 
Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 
You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 
You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 
He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 
You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 
Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 
More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 
Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 
You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 
He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 
You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 
It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 
"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 
"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 
"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."
You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 
"Oh. Right."
You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 
He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 
"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 
He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."
You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.
*
"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 
"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."
"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."
You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 
"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."
"All the more reason not to go."
"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 
She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 
It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 
"I just
 I just don't, okay? I get a
 Sleazy vibe from all of them."
You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 
Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 
"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 
And, there's that point. 
"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."
Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."
You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 
Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 
To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 
But, it needs to stop. 
You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 
And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 
At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 
Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 
Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 
This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 
You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil
 And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 
All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 
Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.
“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.
You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 
“Right. Did you watch the game today?”
Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.
He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.
“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.
“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”
“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”
“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”
You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 
“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”
He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just
 change into one of my shirts or something."
Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."
"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."
He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 
Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 
"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."
He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 
"Thanks. You can, uh
 You can turn around now."
Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 
"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."
You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 
"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."
You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.
"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 
Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."
"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."
"So, you were watching."
"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 
He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."
You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 
Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."
"So? I can get tired too."
He's got a point. 
"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 
"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."
"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."
Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 
"Fine, but I have some stipulations."
"Oh, do you?" 
"I do."
Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."
Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."
"Deal." 
You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 
"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."
You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 
He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 
"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."
"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 
"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."
"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."
"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."
"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 
"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 
"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."
Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 
"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 
"You have any classes?" You ask. 
"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."
You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 
"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 
"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."
"Probably?" 
"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."
You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 
"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been
" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 
Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 
"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."
Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 
You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 
"God dammit." 
"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 
"I said we weren't—"
He cuts you off, "But, you want to."
He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 
It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 
He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 
When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 
You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 
That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 
It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 
Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 
That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 
Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 
And, words like that scare you.
Tumblr media
[ n e x t ]
422 notes · View notes
t-marveland · 3 years ago
Text
đ’đĄđąđ§đ đžđ€đą 𝐍𝐹 𝐊đČ𝐹𝐣𝐱𝐧 | Armin Arlelt
Tumblr media Tumblr media
á”ˆÊłá”ƒÊ·â±âżá” ᔐᔃᔈᔉ ᔇʞ ʰᔃÊČⁱᔐᔉ â±Ëąá”ƒÊžá”ƒá”á”ƒ
𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐄
Armin Arlelt x Reader
Warnings : aucun
Mots : 914
Masterlist
Tumblr media
❝ kisushite...❞
    À CHAQUE ENTRAINEMENT, tu tenais Ă  te battre avec Annie dans l'espoir de gagner au moins une fois, mais l'issue du combat Ă©tait toujours la mĂȘme. La victoire allait chez Annie et la dĂ©faite te revenait.
    Aujourd'hui n'était d'ailleurs pas une exception.
    ❝━ Hey ! Annie ! Viens te battre !❞
    Elle se tourna vers toi avec son ïżœïżœternel visage neutre.
    ❝━ Ça recommence... Rñla Jean.❞
    Malheureusement pour lui, tu l'avais entendu.
    ❝━ Toi, tĂȘte de cheval, on t'a pas sonnĂ©. RĂ©torquas-tu lĂ©gĂšrement en colĂšre.
━ T'as dit quoi là ?
━ Je croyais que les chevaux avaient une bonne ouïe.❞
    Tout le monde rigola et certains en rajoutĂšrent une couche rendant Jean rouge de gĂȘne et de colĂšre.
    ❝━ Tu sais trĂšs bien qu'il faut pas l'embĂȘter quand elle s'entraĂźne. Dit gentiment Armin.❞
    Jean ne répondit rien et se contenta de rùler dans son coin.
    De ton cÎté, tu te faisais encore une fois battre à plate couture par la blonde. Certains pourraient penser qu'à force, tu démoraliserais, mais c'était tout le contraire, ta défaite te motivait à continuer à t'entraßner durement.
    Tu étais là les fesses sur le sol lorsqu'Armin se rapprocha de toi. Il s'accroupit et posa timidement sa main sur ton dos.
    ❝━ T'en fais pas (T/P), tu vas y arriver. Tenta-t-il pour te rassurer.❞
    Tu levas la tĂȘte et lui souris largement ce qui le fit rougir et dĂ©tourner les yeux.
    ❝━ Allons nous promener... Dit-il en te tendant sa main que tu pris avec joie.❞
    Vous partĂźtes en direction de la forĂȘt main de la main en silence sous les regards des autres recrus. Cela faisait plus d'une semaine qu'Armin avait eu le courage de se confesser et tu avais acceptĂ© ses sentiments, lui disant mĂȘme qu'ils Ă©taient rĂ©ciproques. C'Ă©tait encore rĂ©cent et votre timiditĂ© vis-Ă -vis de l'autre Ă©tait encore prĂ©sente. Vous vous contentiez de vous enlacer ou de vous tenir la main, mais vous ne vous Ă©tiez pas encore embrassĂ©. Tu ne rĂ©flĂ©chissais pas vraiment Ă  ça tant que tu te sentais bien et aimer avec lui, c'Ă©tait tout ce qu'il comptait.
    La journĂ©e passa et tu ne sentais plus tes membres. Les courbatures du lendemain allaient ĂȘtre compliquĂ©es.
    Lorsque tu rentras dans le réfectoire, tu allas t'asseoir à ta table habituelle. Tu avais l'habitude d'arriver tÎt alors généralement, tu étais seule et les autres membres te rejoignaient au fur et à mesure.
    Rapidement, le bruit envahit la piÚce et la table fut vite remplie. Lorsque tu vis Armin arriver avec Eren, tes yeux brillÚrent et tu lui souris gentiment. Il te rendit un sourire timide et alla s'installer avec son meilleur ami.
    ❝━ Alors avec (T/P) ? Vous vous ĂȘtes embrassĂ© ? Demanda Eren Ă  son meilleur ami avec un sourire narquois.❞
    Le blond se sentit chauffer de l'intérieur et trouva son assiette trÚs intéressante tout à coup.
    ❝━ T'es pas obligĂ© de m'en parler, si tu veux pas. Je suis juste curieux, c'est tout... Le rassura Eren.
━ On s'est pas encore embrassĂ©. BĂ©gaya doucement Armin, gĂȘnĂ©.❞
    Eren s'y attendait un peu. AprÚs tout, il connaissait Armin depuis toujours et il le savait trÚs timide.
    ❝━ J-je n'ai pas encore trouvĂ© le bon m-moment. Ajouta Armin en te regardant au loin.
━ Tu le trouveras. J'en suis sĂ»r. Dit Eren en te lançant Ă©galement un regard.❞
    Une exploration en dehors des murs avait été annoncée par le major Erwin. Elle était prévue pour dans cinq jours et la tension commençait à monter. Le bataillon d'exploration était malheureusement connu pour son faible taux de survie et cela ne rassurait personne.
    Tu continuais à te battre avec Annie, tous les jours, et à te faire battre, mais tu avais remarqué de légers progrÚs que tu espérais utiles pour les jours à venir. Armin était également tendu. Il n'avait pas confiance en lui et voulait te protéger à tout prix. Il ne se pensait pas capable de réussir et avait peur de ne pas revenir. Tu avais remarqué son changement de comportement ces derniers jours et tentais de l'aider du mieux que tu pouvais malgré ton angoisse également présente.
    ❝━ J'ai peur. T'avait-il finalement avouĂ©.
━ Moi aussi.❞
    Il y eut un silence entre vous deux.
    ❝━ Je ne veux pas te perdre (T/P). Pas maintenant...
    ━ Jamais. Le coupas-tu.❞
    Tu le pris dans tes bras et collas ta tĂȘte contre sa poitrine pour le rassurer.
    ❝━ On va rĂ©ussir Armin. J'en suis sĂ»r.❞
    Tu levais la tĂȘte vers lui et vos yeux se croisĂšrent. C'Ă©tait le moment qu'il attendait depuis qu'il Ă©tait tombĂ© amoureux de toi.
    ❝━ (T/P), puis-je t'embrasser ?❞
    Tu souris tendrement et acquiesças avec joie.
    Il se sentit lĂ©ger tout Ă  coup et posa ses mains sur tes joues. Tandis qu'il s'approchait de plus en plus de ton visage, vos yeux se fermĂšrent de maniĂšre synchronisĂ©e. Tout Ă©tait au ralenti, tu sentais son souffle contre ton nez, ton cƓur battre plus fort et ses mains trembler lĂ©gĂšrement. Finalement, ses lĂšvres touchĂšrent dĂ©licatement les tiennes. Le baiser Ă©tait innocent et ne dura que quelques secondes durant lesquelles vous vous Ă©tiez senti libĂ©rĂ© de tout. AprĂšs ça, Armin posa son front contre le tien, les yeux fermĂ©s.
    ❝━ Il ne nous arrivera rien. J'ai confiance en nous.❞
Tumblr media
5 notes · View notes
gemlinz · 4 years ago
Text
Fulcrum ch. 1 - Meeting (Levi x f!Reader)
Summary: It was a cruel world, she knew. She also knew better than to ask for more than her lot: being a full time barmaid and a part time thief. She helped where she could, bitterly accepted where she could not. Feared the monsters lurking outside the walls.  But still - being near him, taking in his strength, his resolve - she couldn't help but hope for more. For herself. For him. For humanity. Warnings: Swearing, Blood
| CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | Read on A03
As far as missions go, Levi supposed this one didn’t suck as bad as some of the ones he’d been on. 
He was covered in significantly less viscera for one.  For two...
Actually, watching his target seemingly vanish once again, he decided that was the only perk.  He had been chasing her for several blocks now. 
Frustration drove him as he hurdled a crate searching the area wildly for any sign that she’d been this way.  It was mostly luck he saw a flash of her disappear over the building at the end of the alley.  Gritting his teeth he launched himself onto the nearest fire escape to pursue.  Being covered in Titan guts was actually starting to look like the better option. 
As he heaved himself onto the ledge, he cursed Erwin and anyone involved in the idiotic decision that he couldn't use his 3DMG, spewing some bullshit about “proper permits”.  Fucking assholes - the precious pearl clutchers of Mitras could kiss his ass, this target was pissing him off.
Looking ahead, he saw her running full tilt across the rooftop, nimbly weaving through the chimneys littering her path.  Pausing only to unholster his gun, he once again began the chase.
The rooftop came to an abrupt end and he saw her flail a bit to catch herself from falling.  At four stories up, she wouldn't make the jump down without at least a broken ankle - even if she tried, he’d be able to apprehend her without much struggle.
Breathing more heavily than he would like, Levi leveled his gun, aiming for her legs.  Erwin said to incapacitate, not eliminate - as long as her dumbass didn't fall over from the impact, mission complete.  He could almost feel the hot bath waiting for him at home - it’d been awhile since he worked up this much of a sweat.
“Oi,” He commanded to her back,  “Stay the fuck put.  I’d be lying if I said I didn't want to shoot you - you’ve been a pain in my fucking ass.”
Weariness tensed her shoulders as she glanced back at him, eyes hard, before her whole person slumped in a sigh.  His grip tightened on the gun as she threw her hands in the air in an over exaggerated show of surrender before turning on her heel. Levi didn't buy it for a second.
Not taking his eyes off her, he continued to advance as he got his first real look.  Covered head to toe in form fitting black cloth, the only part of her that was visible was the top of her face, dominated by her E/C eyes - they were intense, but more importantly - she didn’t seem worried in the least.  Was she delusional? 
“Listen cunt, try anything and I will absolutely blow off your kneecaps.  I need you alive, not whole.” When she remained in the same position, he narrowed his eyes and slowly moved towards her. “On your knees. Now.”
In a split second her hands went from raised above her head to a mocking salute, and Levi pulled the trigger in a knee-jerk reaction.  The gun clicked, but there was no kickback.  No bullet, either.  
Levi could only chance a look at his gun before her fist, still clenched above her heart, propped up her middle finger in a different kind of salute. She leaned back before disappearing off the wall towards the ground below.
He threw the gun aside and charged after her, stopping abruptly at the edge.  Frantic coal eyes scoured below, before anger boiled low in his stomach - below was the city square, a crowd gathered that she’d be impossible to find in.
“Fuck!” His yell attracted a few glances up his way, but he paid them no mind as he walked back towards his defective gun.
Picking it up he inspected it more closely - something was obstructing the hammer.  Biting back another curse, he pried out a crumpled piece of paper.  Immediately he mentally retraced his steps - when did

Then he remembered - walking down the street to his designated position when the mission began -
A quick yelp and then she was on the ground.  Levi was a bit startled himself - he didn't even see her, so caught up in his mental rant about bullshit policies regarding 3DMG in city limits.  Visibly though, his face remained as stoic as ever.
“You should watch where you’re going.”  He bit out, offering his hand to the prone woman.  She accepted his hand reluctantly and he pulled her up.  He must have misjudged his strength because she was sent careening into his chest before she straightened herself.  He steadied her, scowling.
“Sorry, t-thanks.”  She offered demurely, eyes not meeting his, before practically running away through the market.
The memory flooded back and he struggled to remember everything about her as possible but - there wasn't much.  H/C hair, about his height - that's it.  Fuck, that could be anyone.  
Fucking idiot he cursed himself and he could almost hear Kenny lecturing him to always be on guard, even in a city like Mitras.  He began his climb down the building.
Especially in a city like Mitras, where there was less dirt and grime than poorer cities, but twice as much backstabbing.  
The urge to punch something strong, he made his way back to the rendezvous place - he was never going to hear the end of this.
--------------------------------------------------
As she moved through the crowd, F/N did her best to level her breathing and ignore the throbbing in her ankle.  This was not how she expected her day to go - Peter said it was an easy score, no muss, no fuss.  
She wasn't expecting the Walls-damned Survey Corp to be on her ass.  She could only wonder at this new move by the MPs - she hadn't caused enough recent trouble for the “Humanities Strongest Soldier” type treatment.  If she hadn’t thought ahead, recognizing him earlier in the market...  Wincing, she tried her best to even her gait and made for home;  Louis would know what to do.
She fought every instinct telling her to just bolt; it would be a dead giveaway.  As it was, she stood out in her unusual garb - switching out her mask and hood for a cap and spectacles, both swiped from nearby stalls, was the best she could do until she got somewhere safer.  She navigated the streets, avoiding khaki jackets as best she could.
“Honestly, it's unthinkable,”  She heard a voice start from a pair of drunk women walking a few yards ahead of her, “If those dirty free loaders think they deserve anything, then they should go back out and fight for Wall Maria themselves.”  Her serious expression dropped as she drunkenly stumbled, her friend giggling at her clumsiness.
Fists clenched, F/N bit her tongue.  Walking through downtown Mitras was always a struggle;  she would never understand the inhumanity of Wall Sinas' ignorance.  She pushed on - now was not the time.
She took the scenic route. Pausing only briefly to glance imperceptibly for any potential pursuers, she eventually turned down the street that housed Louis’ Pub.  The lanterns were running on fumes at this time of night, and the street was quiet.  The people of Mitras may be abhorrent but this Pub was the only exception, was home. She felt the tension leave her shoulders as she neared and saw it not swarmed by MPs.  Or the Corp.
A little bit more pep in her step, F/N nudged the doors open with her shoulder as she took off the hat and glasses, tossing them onto the first table inside.  The bar looked recently closed, most tables cleared and wiped down, chairs stacked on top.
“Louis!”  She called to the doorway that led to the back, hearing her mentor moving around, “You will not believe the night I’ve had.  Any idea what I did to piss off the Survey Corp?  Had Captain Fucking Levi after me.  The runt almost had me - Do they seriously not have anything better to do?”  
Moving farther in, she leaned over the bar and grabbed a bottle, practiced hands flicking off the cap before taking a long swig. She savored the burn as she swallowed. When he didn’t round the corner to the main bar, she paused, bottle halfway to her lips, eyebrows furrowed.  What was he doing back there? 
“Louis?” She tried again. “Do you need he-”
Instinct was the only thing that saved her from the bullet, dropping to a crouch an instant before it flew by and lodged itself in the wall.  
“Tch.” 
In an instant, she was back on her feet, but wasn't quick enough to dodge the hand on her neck thrusting her face first into the bar counter.  She felt bone give before the pain blinded her.  
Now falling, she threw her hands in front of her to catch herself before the floor did, and was rewarded with a heavy knee into her unprotected abdomen.
This time she did hit the floor, hard.  Dazed and winded, she groaned and sluggishly moved to roll over but was stopped by a knee pressing painfully into her back, her arm pulled behind her.  Her shoulder strained under the force and she bit back a whimper.  Panicking, her free arm flailed, searching the ground for anything to defend herself with.  The cool glass of the now broken liquor bottle grazed her fingers and she strained to reach it.
Ice flooded her veins and she froze at the bite of cold steel suddenly pressed against her throat.
“Try it and you’re dead.”
E/C eyes widened at the familiar voice.
“H-how-” She bit back a yelp when he pulled her arm further back, kicking the broken glass away from her reach.  Only the feel of his blade pressed against her throat stopped her from struggling - she felt fear crawling up her chest as helplessness settled in.  
“How’d we find you?”  Levi finished for her, voice mocking “Your buddy told us you’d be back here.”
Her mind raced, trying to think of who the hell would even know to look for her here - Peter?  No.  Peter was a fickle idiot, but he doesn't know about the pub.  Could it be - as best she could, her eyes looked towards the open door to the back.  There's no way Louis missed the noise of this very one sided fight.
F/N was pulled out of her thoughts when Levi leaned over her, the movement putting more force into his hold on her.  She winced.
“If you even twitch,” He hissed into her ear, increasing the pressure on the blade at her neck, “I’ll slit your fucking throat.  Understand?”
He paused long enough that she realized he was looking for an answer.  She nodded fearfully and he shoved into her once more for good measure before the blade was removed and her free arm was pulled behind her as well.
She heard the clink of metal and a second later, cool iron at her wrists.  
Face throbbing with a broken nose and likely concussion, F/N could only allow herself to be hoisted into one of the bar’s chairs, hands shackled behind her.  
Trying to get a grasp on the situation, she blinked through the spots in her vision and tried to breathe around the blood filling her sinuses.  Footsteps sounded to her left but trying to loll her head in that direction resulted in a nausea that she had to shut her eyes and breathe through.
Granted, she wouldn't mind throwing up on this dicks’ shoes - but still.  Not dignified, and she didn't fancy getting her ass beat again.
A hand in her hair pulled her head back painfully.
“Try anything and I’ll break your legs.”  Was hissed in her ear as warning when she heard additional footsteps signaling the arrival of someone new.
“Levi.” A commanding voice sounded, cutting through her delirium.  Nothing more was said, but she heard an annoyed tsk, and her hair was released, allowing her head to roll forward.
“I said to go easy.”  The new voice chided after a heavy sigh.
“You didn't have to chase her through half the city.” Levi deadpanned, nonplussed.  “She’s lucky I didn’t just shoot her.”
Not for lack of trying , she thought bitterly, eyeing the bullet hole in the wall where her head had been moments prior.
A gentle touch on her arm startled her.  Squinting, she made out Louis' wrinkled face.  Pain splintered through her chest at the sight of him.  Louis looked the same as he always did, a much younger man stuck in an old man's body.  Only his white hair and shrunken frame gave away his age, he moved like a man 20 years his junior.  He was like a father to her - took her from Marie’s care and shaped her into something human .  Him selling her out was unfathomable, even as the evidence piled up.
“It’s ok F/N,” Louis said in his familiar soothing voice “Erwin’s a friend - please just listen to what he has to say...”
While she could only stare incredulously at her mentor, “Erwin” pulled up a chair in front of her.  Sitting down, he leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.  He seemed to be examining her and she felt like a specimen on one of the Military’s engineers tables;  she was being dissected.
Blood steadily leaking down her face, F/N’s gaze swiveled between her mentor and the blonde sitting across from her. Finally able to focus, the sight of his uniform was unmistakable.
Her head throbbed painfully and the reality of this betrayal finally hit.  White hot fury spurned her forward out of her seat, but she didn't get far - an iron hand on her shoulder shoved her forcefully back into the chair.  Once again, a blade was placed at her neck.
“Give me the excuse.”  Levi leaned in to speak from behind her.
Louis cast a cold gaze at him before turning to the seated newcomer. “Is this necessary?” He asked.
Erwin’s gaze hadn’t left her face.
“Yes, as unfortunate as it is.”  He started.  After searching her bloody face, he seemed to reach some conclusion and leaned back, casting a nod towards Levi at the same time.  The pressure of the blade left her throat, but F/N did not relax.  “She is still technically a criminal, and we cannot afford to be too trusting.” 
Her scoff was interrupted by a cough.  Spitting out the blood that had drained into her throat, her eyes turned to Erwin.
“You would say that, Military Dog.” She tried her best to hold his gaze but looked away.  His eyes weren’t filled with the same ignorant spite she was used to, and it confused her. But he still had his attack dog break her nose so - fuck him anyway.
Erwin only nodded.
“Yes, I do say that.  You’re still a thief, however noble your cause may be.”  
E/C eyes shot up to once again lock with his blue ones, confusion coloring her features. 
“You seem surprised.” He said as Louis moved to take a seat beside you both. “I’m very much aware of your motives, F/N L/N. To take from those who have too much and give to those who have-not.”
“If you’re so aware of my “noble” motives, why don’t you let me go?” She asked through gritted teeth.
Erwin hummed low in his throat.
“In an ideal world, I would.”  He crossed his arms, gaze falling above to the ceiling in thought. “But then again, in an ideal world, there wouldn't be any have-nots to steal for.”
He trailed off, staring at something in the distance.
“But I digress,” he sighed, eyes once again landing on hers, “It's not an ideal world, and here we are.  It was either us or the MPs that would have caught you, and they lack the vision we do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She spat, mind reeling. The revelation his words brought was a stone in her stomach.
“It means we could use someone with your particular skills.”  His gaze was piecing, but her dazed-incredulity allowed her to stare back. 
F/N waited for the rest - for some kind of explanation to whatever the hell was happening, but when none came she cast her sights on Louis.
“Is this some kind of joke?”  She started, borderline hysterical, “Louis, please - tell me this is just you getting back at me for drinking from the top shelf.”
Louis’ gaze remained stoic, but still as gentle as she always remembered.  
“This isn’t a joke, F/N,” He began, running his hand over an old scratch in the bar table, “The Survey Corp needs our help.”
“The fuck they do!” She yelled in an uncharacteristic outburst, panic finally snapping something inside of her, “They’re backed by the government - which means they have fuck all to do with us, or anybody that doesn’t fit into their perfect society.  What could I possibly do for them that their pet fucking sociopath back here couldn’t?” She gestured behind her with a nod towards Levi, still standing sentinel at her back.  "Stop with this hero shtick and just turn me in already. There’s nowhere you can put me but in the ground that I wouldn’t eventually get out of .”
Louis nodded empathetically.
“I understand your hesitation.  But we’ve done jobs for them before-”  He held up his hand when she went to interrupt, “Even if you didn't know it at the time.”
At her confusion, he finished: “Just - hear him out, ok?  I promise, our goals align, and I won’t let anything happen to you.  I wouldn't have called them here if I didn’t trust him.”
Erwin watched the exchange and nodded along.
“Indeed.  If it wasn’t us, the Military Policy would have eventually caught up to you-”  
“And they would have a field day with a pretty young thing like you,” came from behind her, and she paled at the implication.
“Enough, Levi,” Erwin scolded, voice tired, “But he’s unfortunately not wrong - captivity under the Survey Corps supervision would certainly be preferable to other branches.”
“I-I’m,” F/N began, nerves fried, imagination running wild.  Swallowing, she continued. “I’m not joining the Corp, if that's what you're after.  I’d rather whatever faces me inside the walls than
”  She trailed off.
“Than Titans?” Levi supplied helpfully, though his voice held spite.
“Not all of us have a death wish, you suicidal little runt,” She craned her neck to look at him, fury and fear shining in her eyes.  “Or maybe you get off on watching your friends get ea-”
“Levi!”  Erwin shouted as the Captain started towards their captive, blade already in hand. “Enough.  Go wait for me out front.”
Levi stopped, but his brows furrowed at the command.
“Erwin, I don’t think-" He started, but was stopped by his Commander's sharp look.  Scoffing, he turned, slamming the door behind him as he left.
“Apologies, Captain Levi has more cause than most to hate Titans, and is still adjusting to his position.  I do not recommend antagonizing him.”  Erwin said.
“Noted.  I’m still not joining your suicide mission.”
Erwin sighed, shooting a glance at Louis that spoke more than F/N was unable to fully decipher.
“I’m not asking you to.”  He started, moving to remove something from his cloak, “In fact, the fact that you're not military is exactly what makes you perfect for this.”
He threw three stacks of bills onto the table to his right, each about a œ inch thick.
“This is our sign-on offer - each job will warrant an additional fee, depending on it's difficulty.”
Y/N could only stare, slow to process his words.
“Seriously?  You want to hire me for a job?” She was incredulous, “And how are you going to explain that to your superiors, Mr. Military?” She asked, nodding towards the cash.
“More of a long term contract than a single job.  And we have funds designated to pay outside contractors.”
“Do you beat and shackle all your “outside contractors””?  F/N snarked.
Erwin's mouth quirked up.
“Only the particularly precocious ones.”
F/N gaped at his gall, making to speak. He held up his hand before she could start.
“Before you decide, I would like to be clear.  It is ultimately your decision, but if you refuse, we will hand you over to the military police for them to pursue whatever justice they see fit.”
F/Ns glare was heavy.
"Better get them over here then. I already told you I'm not fighting any Ti-"
"The jobs I need you to complete would take place inside the walls.  And if you're as good as they say, without any fighting at all."
At that she raised an eyebrow.
“What business could the Survey Corp have inside the walls, isn’t that the MPs jurisdiction?”  A beat when the thought came, “Did you get caught shacking up with someone's wife?  Need some good blackmail material to save your skin?”
“F/N.” Louis chided, but it had less impact on her than it would have a half hour ago before she knew he had sold her out.
Erwin didn’t seem phased, however.
“It’s ok Louis.  You're not far off, actually - how much do you know about the politics behind the military?”  He asked, blue eyes calculating.
She paused at that, thinking.  When she didn’t have a response, Erwin continued.
“I don’t blame you for not knowing - it's a closely guarded government secret.  The everyday citizen knowing about any infighting could inspire dissent, which, as I’m sure you can understand, would be disastrous for how secular our way of life is.  Because of this secrecy, some branches are allowed to pursue...less savory interests without recourse.”
F/N hummed, bored.
“So our shady government continues to be shady - what does that have to do with me?”
Erwin nodded, “I need ammunition if the Survey Corp is to survive in such an environment.  Fight fire with fire, so to speak.  As Louis indicated, you’ve already helped us.  Do you remember the document you were tasked with stealing from a Nicholas Lovof last year?” 
Her eyes shot to Louis accusingly.  Louis held up his hands in deference.  As far as she knew, that document was sold to an anonymous buyer on the black-market - she had no idea it was the military all long who was after it.
“Your efforts allowed us the funding needed to keep our soldiers alive, F/N.  And your work was impeccable - only the nature of the transaction tipped off my involvement to Lovof.”
As she continued to stare Louis down, Erwin continued.
“I’d like you to continue to help us.  But more importantly - help all of humanity.”
Sighing, tired E/C slid back over to Erwin as she visibly slumped.
“That's a pretty sales pitch you have there, but you’ll be just fine without me, Commander .  The refugees from Wall Maria, on the other hand, are starving as we speak.”
“Your methods of providing funds to feed the refugees are effective only in the short term, Ms. L/N.”  He countered, “With the Corp at full strength, we could take back Wall Maria.”
She sat up a bit straighter at that.
“Are you serious?  How is that even in the cards?”
“It's all hypothetical - but yes, one day the Corp hopes to reclaim what was taken from us.”  He leaned forward to deliver the final blow, “Like I said, our goals align.  Help me from outside the military, keep the Corp running, and the trodden and defeated can once again reclaim their old lives.”
F/N paused, trying to see the truth behind his bullshit, but she couldn’t disagree with him.  Taking back Wall Maria would help so many people.  Small heists here and there helped alleviate some of the bleeding - but this would be a huge win.
Slowly starting to nod, she faced Erwin once more.
“Ok - I don't disagree with you, Erwin .”  She said his name like a threat, reaching out to shake his hand.  The blondes eyes widened only fractionally.  He did not see her slip the cuffs.  “I’ll work for you, for now - but the second I see you cross over to the wrong side, to the side where gilded bullshit is worth more than human life, I’ll ruin you myself.”
His unnerving gaze never left her face, but he took her hand in a firm handshake.
“I look forward to working with you, Ms. L/N.  I know together we can do great things.”
22 notes · View notes
enkisstories · 4 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
In a recent reply to an anon I stated that I value Sims 4 as a storytelling device and indeed I hardly ever max out skills or careers. If someone becomes a governor due to my custom goals or simply story decisions, then their ingame rank in the politics career doesn’t matter.
And this is where @greenfooddog​ ‘s Play the Game Legacy comes in, that focuses on mastering things, but without setting strict goals for each generation (I hate those predefined life pathes).
Tumblr media
Founder is Clark Roswell, created in CAS from the genes of Ted and Meredith Roswell. After a loud argument that could still be heard in Lower Strangerville, the young man moved out. He didn’t plan things through, and now is penniless & homeless. Fortunately Clark still has his job, gardener at Crater Lab. One day he wants to work with the real BIG plants from outerspace (and maybe woohoo them, jury’s still out on that), but for now Clark has to steal produce to make ends meet in the street corner he calls a home.
Tumblr media
I deleted all sims except the Strangerville ones.
Claudia Cahill here is George’s granddaughter and so far Clark’s only potential love interest. I also paired Alice Martin with Erwin Pries and Mark Eggleston with Leslie Holland, but the next generation will have to make do with townies (or maybe the occasional Villareal/Renegade on the run from the law).
22 notes · View notes
markoplayssims · 5 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
Road to Nowhere: Intros - Crystal Vu’s Orphanage
The Strangetown Orphanage has recently re-opened its doors to children in need, and just in time for a new generation of orphans - a pair of siblings, Erwin and Jessie, and a set of ex-adoptees with G names, the Newsons.
When she isn’t at the local science lab, Crystal Vu is stepping up to be the one to look after these rowdy kids. Although looking after so many children can test her patience from time to time, Crystal maintains a great degree of compassion for them all.
With so many kids under one roof, things are often chaotic and stressful. Will the orphans manage to grow up well under Crystal’s care, or will this cramped environment do more harm to them than good?
Tumblr media
= Crystal Vu = A brilliant inventor with a big heart, Crystal enjoys creating wondrous machines for the betterment of society and looking after those in need. That’s what the newspapers say, at least.
Crystal is a woman of simple pleasures. She loves tinkering, money, baby animals, and the company of others.
She tries to be the role model that she believes the orphans need in their lives. Not all of them seem to like her, unfortunately, but she’s doing her best. Maybe they’ll come around? That’s what she hopes for, at least.
Aside from her community service, she wants to work on her home inventions, but the children demand quite a lot of her attention, and she often struggles to balance her work with her passion.
A nice man, fellow scientist Lazlo Curious, has been making offers to help her out with her latest inventions, but she hasn’t taken him up on any such offers just yet. They’re secret projects, and you can’t be too careful who you share your ideas with.
Tumblr media
= The Newsons = After their mother’s unresolved disappearance, the adopted Newson clan is faced with the reality of separation. With no parents to guide or protect them, the Newsons have to take refuge under the roof of the Strangetown Orphanage and hope that they can stick together.
Adopted siblings Ginger, Gavin, Gabriella, Gallagher, Georgia, and Garrett never thought that they’d have to return to a group home after Gloria graciously brought them all under her wing, most recently bringing a pair of toddler twins into the family, before she vanished without a trace.
The story goes that famed astronaut Gloria Newson was a kind and charitable woman who managed to balance having a large family with defending the nation from interstellar threats. She cared deeply for children, despite the inability to have any of her own, and this led her to adopt the six Newson kids. After she disappeared, the kids couldn’t live by themselves, and they had nowhere to go... except for here.
Troubled teen Ginger now has to step up to keep a close eye on the rest of her siblings and the other orphans, despite the stress it causes her. Gavin is working towards becoming a man, working hard to the point of exhaustion, balancing it out by watching movies about space cowboys and hoping he’ll live that dream one day.
Gabriella and Gallagher put their focus on keeping up on their homework, while hopefully waiting for the call that their mother has come back so that they can return home. She’s coming back, right? She’s got to come back.
Lastly, Crystal is trying to teach Georgia and Garrett their toddler skills, but the time she has until their birthdays is rapidly running out.
Tumblr media
= Erwin Pries = Erwin’s crackpot conspiracy theories net him weird looks, but for him, it’s the only thing keeping his head above water. Maybe one of these days, he’ll turn out to be right.
Erwin strongly believes that the alien invasion never ended, that the zombie apocalypse is coming, and that he ought to prepare special headgear to protect against mind-controlling plants from another dimension. Of course, everyone just thinks he’s ‘crazy’ and ‘weird’ and a total nerd who doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter to him what other people think.
He knows what’s true, and he knows that when one or all of those scenarios he’s preparing for come to pass, everyone who has ever doubted him will be sorry.  They’ll want in on his apocalypse shelter, and... he will graciously let them in, because he’s not that petty. But he’ll definitely say “I told you so” a few times.
He’s always been interested in this stuff, but after his parents died, the conspiracy theories became less of a hobby and more of a coping mechanism. After all, why face the darkness of daily life when you can imagine the darker possibilities of ‘what’s really going on’ beyond yourself?
Erwin insists that his surname is pronounced like ‘breeze,’ but considering the overly-inquisitive, nosy person he is, it’s not surprising that everyone gets it wrong.
Tumblr media
= Jessie Pries = Jessie’s favorite pastimes include playing dolls and annoying her older brother. She misses her parents and her home, but she’s happy to have so many kids to play with... or she would be, if any of these kids knew what ‘fun’ even was.
Jessie’s young life was turned upside down after her parents died. Ever since, her smile has lost some of its’ luster, but she hasn’t lost her mischievous spirit. She’s definitely one of the more rambunctious kids in the orphanage, usually to the dismay of... just about everyone, it seems.
Her pranks and jokes are all in good fun, even though she keeps getting told off for them. But what else is she supposed to do? It’s so boring around here. There’s only so many games of Don’t Wake The Llama you can stand before it starts to lose its’ spark. It seems like the only game the other kids want to play.
As for Crystal, she’s... nice, but she’s not very fun to play with. It’s always just “do your chores” and “do your homework” and “help me look after the babies” with her. She’s so clinical about it, far from a real mother figure. And let’s not get started on Ginger ‘Killjoy’ Newson, who seems determined to rain on her parade.
Worst of all, Erwin, her own brother, doesn’t seem to want to do anything with her anymore. It’s like he’s living in his own little world. Jessie misses when she was the center of attention...
1 note · View note
itsmalachitenow · 6 years ago
Text
The Magnus Archives: Strangerville (Day 1)
Tumblr media
“Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding the strange happenings of a small town--Strangerville--he and his assistants were sent to investigate. Statement given by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. 
Statement begins.”
Tumblr media
“Strangerville.
I can’t say I’ve ever heard of the place. But Elias was insistent that I go to have a look at it. Do a little bit of digging with my team, to discover if there’s anything...out of the ordinary, going on.
I was skeptical at first. Of course I was--I always am. It’s a talent that has served me well previously, and I thought it might be useful here. But after what I’ve seen today...-sigh-...now I’m not so sure. 
Tumblr media
Tim was excited. Sasha, too, though not quite as much. Martin...had mixed feelings about this whole thing. Of course he would. 
Tumblr media
Elias got us a little house near the plaza of the town. At first I was baffled--there’s only a few beds, not nearly enough for all of us....
Tumblr media Tumblr media
...until I discovered the secret passage leading to a basement. At least I won’t have to worry about anyone spying while I record my statements.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Everyone got to work straight away. Tim went to go and photograph some of the strange-looking plants around the house, while Martin caught up with local news inside on the television. At least it’ll keep him out of the way...meanwhile, Sasha managed to join the local military branch--it’ll be useful to have someone on the inside.
Tumblr media
...that does mean she’ll need to be in better physical condition, though. 
Tumblr media
As for me, I did a little investigating of my own and spoke to a few of the locals to get their testimonies. 
Tumblr media
Wendy Thorpe was her name. Not a name held in very high regard locally, apparently, because a soldier stopped walking to join the conversation.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Apparently there’s some sort of ‘Secret Lab’. -scoffs- Not very secret if you go around talking about it, if you ask me....
Tumblr media
Some random passerby stopped to give his input as well....even though I never asked for it.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
...and then, someone else stopped beside us. I don’t really know how to describe him, except that...he reminded me of Elias, somehow. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. An air of importance...
He said his name was Ted Roswell. 
Tumblr media
At this point, I was getting the distinct impression they were pushing me to have a look at this ‘secret lab’. A trap, maybe? To say that I was on edge would be an understatement. 
But it was nothing compared to what happened next.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
...out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman. She was walking....strangely. Like a puppet with a few of its strings cut. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I didn’t want to talk to her. But something compelled me to try. She wasn’t very responsive--all smiles and gibbering nonsense. And that grin...I can’t get that grin out of my head. 
Tumblr media
Not once did she take her eyes off me. Or stop whispering. 
Tumblr media
“Our eyes are open.” ....but to what?
Tumblr media
She got a little too close--and instinctively I struck her across the face. Anything to keep that hideous grin away from me. 
Tumblr media
Surprisingly, that seemed to knock her out of her trance-like state. She was confused--unsure of where she was, or who I was. 
Tumblr media
Jess Sigworth--that was her name. She seemed friendly enough now that...whatever she was dealing with seemed to be over. I asked her what she thought of the town. 
Tumblr media
Strangerville certainly seems to be living up to its name. 
Tumblr media
But behind her, I saw more of them, and my heart sank. Walking like broken puppets and grinning like fools. Heading right towards our doorstep...
I don’t know where Martin and Sasha were during all of this.
Tumblr media
(“What are you playing, Martin?”
“Ah--Hello, Sasha! I’m just taking a break since I finished my research. It’s this game called the Sims...”
“...are those, us?”
“Um. Yeah? I--I wanted to make all of us! I figured we could all live in a house together.”
“Whatever works.”)
Tumblr media
....but I watched Tim let them in.
Tumblr media
He insisted he was just being friendly. But one would think, in a place like this, with people who are obviously under the influence of drugs...or...something else...he would know better. 
Tumblr media
Needless to say, the addled group made themselves right at home and did plenty of talking!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I suggested slapping these ones to see if they would snap out of it like Jess did--but they were too far gone and ended up grabbing our hands when we tried. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
One of them left...something, in our fridge. I didn’t get a good look at it...something red and pulsing....almost like a heart....
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Fortunately, when Sasha asked everyone to leave, they did so without any hesitation. I was worried there would be a fuss, but it seems to have worked like a charm. Martin seemed relieved. Who knows what he was doing in the basement this whole time...
Tumblr media
(“...so it says I’m ‘Pinkie Pie’?”
“Oh! That’s good! She’s the fun one, always throwing parties and things. I knew you’d get her, Tim!”
“She sounds like a laugh and a half! Has Jon taken this quiz yet?”
“Aheh, no....I figure he’ll be Twilight Sparkle--that’s the really smart one who doesn’t always get along with people...”)
Tumblr media
I wish I could say things calmed down after they left, but...a man and a woman in black suits and sunglasses came. They didn’t say a word, just looked around our house and property. 
Tumblr media
The only time the man spoke was to ask sharply what we knew about the contents of our fridge.
Tumblr media
....the fridge was gone by the time I walked into the kitchen. So was the man in black. All they left was a note on the floor. 
Tumblr media
Infection...was that what the strange, pulsing fruit was? It’s probably safe to assume there’s a direct correlation between that fruit and the way those people were behaving. For now, I’ll be referring to them as ‘The Infected.’
Regardless, I was getting very annoyed at this point. Who were the people in black? Who are the Infected? And what do ANY of them have to do with this so-called ‘secret lab’?
Tumblr media
(“Ohhh, it’s the aliens, boss--they’re here to suck out our brains, I’ll bet! Or probe us!”
“-sigh- You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Tim....”)
Tim was unhelpful.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I did a little bit of research on the area, looking over everyone’s notes...not to mention looking for listings for a new fridge. The others ate some of the food we brought with us.
Bizarrely, a name cropped up in both results. A man named Erwin Pries had a cheap fridge for sale, along with plenty of other ‘curios’ and ‘lifesavers’.
Tumblr media
Martin and I headed out to have a look. You never know when you might need back-up. 
Tumblr media
It was...about what I expected, to be honest. 
Tumblr media
Still. Perhaps not all of it was useless nonsense. I bought a tin-foil hat for Martin...a few books...
-rustling of papers, the thud of a book-
The History of Strangeville, and...
....Avoiding The Watchful Eye.
I don’t know why the last one caught my attention. It’s not a Leitner--his stamp isn’t anywhere on this book, and there were plenty of copies of it. But I think I’m going to thoroughly enjoy reading that one. 
The most unusual thing for sale was an electronic bug. Erwin was very enthusiastic--albeit very quiet--when telling me how to use it. I’m sure I’ll find a use for it.
One of the throbbing, pulsing fruits the Infected left behind was for sale, as well. I bought it and slipped it into my pocket. Hopefully we can get a proper laboratory set up down here so we can have a look at it. Right now the fruit is resting on my bookshelf. 
As an afterthought, I interviewed Erwin a little about Strangerville. He was the only one who had anything useful to tell me. 
Tumblr media
An explosion inside the crater...perhaps in this so-called ‘Secret Lab.’ 
Tumblr media
But it was getting dark. Martin and I got the fridge loaded into the car and headed home. It was on the drive back that he confided one of the Infected came near him and whispered something.
Tumblr media
Whatever strange thing is happening in this little town, it’s in that crater. I have to see for myself. Whether tonight, or tomorrow night, I’ll head out with Tim or Sasha to investigate. 
Statement ends. End recording.”
7 notes · View notes
alltimefail-sims · 2 years ago
Note
Would you be open to doing a side by side height photo for your strangerville sims like you did here /alltimefail-sims/im-freeeeeeee-i-have-finally-finished-the-it/vrtqdbdtzt3d? Thnx!
For sure I don't mind at all!!! The lineup isn't perfect, especially with Zoe and Tashia being in heels, but I tried to take that into account and visually think it's pretty close to accurate! Just in case, I did include their heights (in feet/inches) in this visual, but I also put one of those height comparison charts under the cut for a more accurate depiction. <3
Quick note: when I put “ish” at the end of a height, I just mean I really see Tashia as like 5â€Č3 and a half and Beckett as just weeee bit shorter than 6 feet, but irl they would round up for the sake of simplicity!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
4 notes · View notes
fallenrazziel · 7 years ago
Text
Les Chroniques de Livaï #166 ~ COMMENT DEVENIR UN EXPLORATEUR ? (avril 844) Erwin Smith
L'histoire de LivaĂŻ comme vous ne l'avez jamais lue. ​Le personnage le plus populaire de L'Attaque des Titans, le soldat le plus fort de l'humanité  Qui est-il vraiment ? Qu'a-t-il dans le coeur ? Qu'est-ce qui a fait de lui ce qu'il est ? Je me suis mise en devoir de rĂ©pondre Ă  ces questions en vous livrant ma propre vision de sa vie, de ses pensĂ©es, des Ă©preuves qu'il a traversĂ©es, ainsi que celles des personnes qui l'ont cĂŽtoyĂ©, aimĂ©, admirĂ©, craint, dĂ©testĂ©. Si j'essaie le plus possible de respecter le canon, quelques libertĂ©s seront prises sur les aspects de sa vie les plus flous. Quelques personnages seront Ă©galement de mon invention. LivaĂŻ, un homme que l'on croit invincible et inatteignable
 Est-ce bien sĂ»r ? Jugez-en par vous-mĂȘmes.
Tumblr media
Je ne sais pas s'il m'a vu... Je crois que oui.
Notre trio des bas-fonds n'est pas encore entrĂ© en action. La fille semble prendre un rĂ©el plaisir aux activitĂ©s du bataillon, mais les deux autres attendent le bon moment. J'ai tout fait pour me comporter de maniĂšre naturelle ces derniers jours, peut-ĂȘtre que cela les incitera Ă  agir.
Je prends l'enveloppe prĂ©parĂ©e spĂ©cialement pour le stratagĂšme et la cache dans ma poche intĂ©rieure. Elle contient des feuilles vierges, mais elle fera l'affaire. Je suppose qu'ils essaieront de fracturer mon bureau pour le fouiller, je n'aurai donc peut-ĂȘtre pas Ă  m'en servir. Le cas Ă©chĂ©ant, leur montrer que je possĂšde sur moi des documents qui ont l'air importants les orientera. Je sais que je me mets en danger pour ça, mais cela en vaut la peine.
Mike n'est pas d'accord Ă©videmment. Il ne cesse de me mettre en garde contre LivaĂŻ, dont l'attitude laisse assez deviner qu'il souhaite me voir mort. J'approuve cette analyse. C'est bien malheureux, mais cela peut servir mes objectifs. S'il me dĂ©teste tant que ça, il ne quittera pas le bataillon avant d'avoir tentĂ© le coup. Mike s'est mis en tĂȘte de me servir de garde du corps personnel jusqu'Ă  ce qu'il soit assurĂ© que LivaĂŻ ne reprĂ©sente plus un danger pour moi... ou jusqu'Ă  ce qu'il meurt. Je souris toujours quand il Ă©voque cette possibilitĂ©.
Je l'ai mis dans la confidence au sujet de toute l'affaire. Il a reniflĂ©, a affirmĂ© que cela sentait mauvais, mais qu'il ferait en sorte que cela se passe bien. Mike fait parfois confiance Ă  mon flair davantage qu'au sien. Nous nous connaissons depuis l'enfance et mĂȘme s'il a toujours Ă©tĂ© plus grand que moi, j'ai toujours marchĂ© devant lui.
Quand j'ai choisis le bataillon d'exploration aprÚs avoir fini major de ma promotion, il m'a suivi sans hésiter. Mon choix n'a étonné personne, je répétais à qui voulait l'entendre à cette époque que c'était ce que je ferais. Si Nile nous avait suivis, comme il l'avait envisagé, quelle formidable équipe nous aurions formée... Il a préféré le confort et la sécurité des brigades spéciales, et les joies du mariage ; un luxe que les explorateurs ne peuvent se permettre, et il le savait. Je me souviens des brigades d'entraßnement avec nostalgie parfois...
Je me dĂ©tourne de la fenĂȘtre en faisant retomber le rideau. Mike m'appelle Ă  l'extĂ©rieur. On a besoin de moi pour planifier l'entraĂźnement pratique de demain. Tous les jours, les titans de bois sont dĂ©placĂ©s afin que les recrues ne s'y habituent pas. Sur le terrain, l'habitude ne peut pas toujours servir, il faut savoir faire face Ă  l'imprĂ©vu ; en particulier si on a affaire Ă  des dĂ©viants. Bien sĂ»r, ces exercices ne peuvent donner qu'une idĂ©e imprĂ©cise d'un vrai champ de bataille. Mais l'humanitĂ© n'a pas encore trouvĂ© de meilleur moyen de se prĂ©parer.
Mike m'emboßte le pas dans le couloir - j'ai pris soin de fermer le bureau à clef, il ne faudrait pas que cela paraisse trop facile - et nous descendons les escaliers vers le rez-de-chaussée. Sur le chemin, nous croisons Hanji, excitée comme à son habitude, car c'est toujours elle qui choisit la disposition des titans de bois. Elle a hùte de voir comment nos soldats vont vaincre ses parcours diaboliques. Mon travail à moi consistera à me poster dans un arbre, dissimulé aux regards, et à noter les recrues qui s'y essaieront. Seuls les chefs d'escouades et d'équipes notent les exercices, mais dans les faits, il suffit d'avoir survécu à une expédition pour pouvoir y prétendre.
Hanji marche un peu avec nous en papotant. Le son de sa voix peut en Ă©nerver beaucoup, et ses sautes d'humeur sont lĂ©gendaires dans le bataillon, mais j'ai appris Ă  m'y habituer. Elle est encore jeune mais ses rĂ©sultats excellents lui ont valu de vite monter en grade. Cependant nous savons tous que ce qui intĂ©resse Hanji ce ne sont pas les combats, mais les titans eux-mĂȘmes. Elle leur voue une vĂ©ritable adoration que d'aucun jugerait un peu malsaine. Je n'ai pas vraiment d'avis lĂ -dessus.
AprÚs tout, chacun a ses propres motivations dans le bataillon...  Je n'y fais pas exception...
Mike renifle bruyamment, ce qu'il fait toujours en prĂ©sence d'Hanji. Il espĂšre toujours lui faire comprendre ainsi qu'elle possĂšde une odeur exĂ©crable - enfin, c'est ce que j'imagine -, mais ça ne l'empĂȘche pas de traĂźner souvent avec elle. Je me mĂ©prends peut-ĂȘtre sur son attitude. Hanji n'est pas particuliĂšrement soignĂ©e, elle passe beaucoup de temps dehors, notamment sur le Mur Maria, Ă  observer les titans qui se risquent au pied des murailles. Elle peut rester des heures suspendue Ă  son cĂąble dans l'espoir d'en apercevoir un. Mike dit dans ces cas qu'elle essaie "de leur caresser la tĂȘte", ah ah ! Les gens "normaux" fuient les titans, ou du moins essaient de pas les avoir dans les parages, mais Hanji est un cas Ă  part. Elle a tendance Ă  effrayer les nouveaux.
On peut en dire autant de moi, du reste. Je suis connu pour ĂȘtre juste mais intransigeant, et mon escouade est respectĂ©e. Ce n'est pas comme si j'attachais beaucoup d'importance Ă  ce que l'on pense de moi ; je ne suis pas major. Ce qui compte pour moi c'est l'image du bataillon et faire mon travail correctement.
Nous parcourons la distance jusqu'Ă  la forteresse en diligence. Il y en a toujours une qui stationne devant le bĂątiment. Hanji nous quitte en cours de route et demande Ă  Mike s'il veut bien l'accompagner jusqu'Ă  la forĂȘt pour lui dire comment il juge son parcours. Je lui dit d'y aller, que de toute façon la rĂ©union avec Keith ne le concerne pas, car c'est son jour de relĂąche demain. Il renifle, me dit d'ĂȘtre prudent et s'Ă©loigne avec Hanji.
Je continue seul jusqu'à la forteresse et je descends une fois dans l'enceinte. C'est là que je l'aperçois.
Il marche dans ma direction, d'un pas dĂ©cidĂ© et bruyant ; ses bottes claquent sur les pavĂ©s. Il a dĂ» emprunter la porte principale. Je ne sais pas oĂč il va... Mais moi, je sais oĂč je vais.
Je me redresse un peu, et me mets Ă©galement Ă  avancer dans sa direction afin de gagner le bureau de Keith. Il ne dĂ©vie pas d'un iota de sa trajectoire... Quand nous ne sommes plus qu'Ă  quelques pas, je distingue son visage. Ses yeux sont fixĂ©s droit devant lui, mais je sais bien qu'il a notĂ© ma prĂ©sence. Je me dis qu'il va sans doute faire un Ă©cart afin d'Ă©viter de m'approcher - je suis son supĂ©rieur, c'est donc Ă  lui de me cĂ©der le passage - mais il n'en fait rien. Il continue tout droit et au moment oĂč j'arrive Ă  sa hauteur, une sensation de froid m'assaille.
Je sais bien qu'il n'est pas ce qu'il paraĂźt ĂȘtre. Je l'ai vu plus d'une fois prendre part Ă  des exercices avec ses deux amis, avec plus ou moins de bonne volontĂ©, et je sais qu'il est capable de se montrer bienveillant. Mais il n'a aucune bienveillance pour moi... La raison de son animositĂ© va plus loin que ce que je lui ai fait subir dans les bas-fonds ; il recherche la confrontation mais attend sans doute une raison lĂ©gitime de la provoquer... Je ne lui ferais pas ce plaisir.
Je continue aussi droit devant moi sans crainte et il se retrouve dans mon dos. J'ai envie de me retourner, juste pour voir s'il s'est arrĂȘtĂ© pour m'observer ; ou s'il va finalement me jeter quelque chose, une insulte ou une pierre. J'aimerais presque qu'il le fasse, ce serait prĂ©fĂ©rable Ă  ce silence pesant...
Il va falloir que je trouve un moyen de l'amener Ă  s'exprimer franchement...
4 notes · View notes
cheshirecatlife · 7 years ago
Link
Eruriren Weekend ~ Past Title: Until The Bombs Drop Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Choose Archive Warnings Relationship: Erwin Smith/Eren Jeager/Levi Word Count: 9045 Summary: It's Leningrad 1942 and Levi, perishing on the wounded streets, finally follows the path he had never wish he had taken. The army. But, along the way, a few people make it all that more bearalbe. Suddenly, war doesn't seem to matter as much. Extract: Levi had never found a reason to stay in the house, now more so than ever. It was just cold in there, anyway, he thought as he sat on the stairs- thawed with cruel ice. Inside was frozen, outside was frozen and the streets of Leningrad were bare. People were gone, dead or fighting. Starved to death or shot. A bullet only took one hit to kill, infections were spreading like wildfire and even a small cut could cause the severest of illnesses. That was if the cold didn't get to you first. Hunger or cold battled for the deaths of millions, picking off each one by one yet so rapidly that it looked like they were dropping in unison. Dying so quickly you could mistake it for bombs if not for the distant crashes. The bombs were still far, obliterating the outskirts of the city. But they were approaching. Quickly. Levi was starving but he didn't want food. He didn't have the energy. His hunger-riddled brain was muddling needs with wants until the lethargy dragged him into the state of unconsciousness. Sleeping with his eyes open. Sleeping whilst walking. Sleeping when you couldn't bear the cold any longer. Dead when you couldn't bear the hunger any longer. Levi shivered, his woollen coat doing little to protect him from the biting Leningrad winds. They were always like this in winter but with a warm home, the fire blazing, he had never found it much of a problem- that was until he caught a cold, at least. But, now, with his fingertips blue and his nose such a violent red you could mistake it for food. People thought anything was food now. Animals were food. Plants were food. Pets were food. Leather was food. Clothes were food. Everything. Was. Food. The rest of the slum had scurried off to the defenses but Levi hadn't budged. If he was going to die, he was going to do it here, not on a lonely battlefield under a foreign sky. He had never left his home, never walking further than three streets down where the furthest shop, the grocers, was. The one that was now empty, out of stock and ransacked. The store owner had passed whilst still at the till, he had been giving any spares to his family- not enough for himself. The slum was dead anyway, literally and metaphorically. The people were gone, the ones that stayed barely alive, maybe not even. His apartment block, which used to hold dozens of people, now contained just him. As did the next. Families didn't live here. Families were some of the only people who bothered to stay behind. That and cowards. And Levi certainly didn't have family. He had been searching for food, he remembered suddenly. His energy had been lost on him and he had sat down to rest. They all knew that a rest meant nothing of the sort. He saw the woman on the set of steps next to him, frozen over- her rotten corpse portraying the shards of ice like an art piece. With food on his mind and nothing available, he set for wallowing in his hunger, feeling the tearing of his stomach as it searched for food that wasn't there. That wouldn't be there. Not for another couple days, anyway, when one of the supply trucks finally made it over the icy stretch of the river and rations were given out again. Most people had saved their rations. Most people were living off what was few but there. Levi, he was living with nothing. Nothing at all. No bread stuffed in his pockets, no hidden honey jar for emergencies. Nothing. The grips of death clutched on him like a vice, the shadowy figure blocking his vision- black spots gradually filling his vision. He was dying, he realised. And, it didn't feel too bad. Except, he was a coward and cowards don't die. Cowards live for fear of death. The brave ones accept it. Levi wasn't brave. Levi was afraid. He was a strong coward, a contradiction that made too much sense in a time of confusion. Everything was contradictory now. A whole city was living off nothing, corpses walked and the fed still danced. The people were scared but they didn't give in. They lived. They lived with nothing to let them live. He wants to pity himself for being stuck in this state of starvation but he can't, the only ones who have food are the rich and even then, they hardly have anything either. Some of them still don't have anything at all. The clever ones are the ones living the best. The ones that know how to steal, how to con and how to persuade. They are the ones who live. That was not Levi. That was not brash, crude Levi whose aim before this was to at least get a job, for his country. For Stalin. It still hadn't happened. He didn't fit in right. He didn't try hard enough. He fought for what he believed in. At the moment, he couldn't think of anything that fits into that. Levi doesn't know how he manages to stand after that, how he managed to blink the black from his eyes. He pries his hands away from the ice and into the whipping wind, not an improvement- at least the ice had numbed his frail fingers. He looked down at himself, concentrating on his legs. They were barely there anymore. He looked like a skeleton, a living skeleton. He looked ill. He wasn't self-conscious, though, he fits in perfectly alongside everyone else. Stumbling on the ice, he gained his balanced and trudged along the abandoned streets. It was desolate, the wind his only accomplice as it whipped him from head to toe. It scratched at his dry skin like sandpaper and burned his eyes like fire. The wind was cruel, battling hunger in its want for death. What draws Levi eye, though, is no longer his own living corpse but the flyer fluttering around, barely remaining pinned to the crooked-stone wall. On it, in huge letters, wrote 'JOIN THE ARMY' and underneath, in letters hardly legible to his weak eyes, it continued to explain why he, just he, was needed. This was for him, he thought, some self-obsessed part of his mind taking over. He was no longer in control of himself. His mind or body. He leaned forward, squinting to read the print that would have been so clear only a year before. They told him of his fighting comrades, the wicked enemy, and the saviour that he would be if he were to enlist. He almost forgot of the death he had heard of. Forgot this was a lie. He didn't understand why the propaganda posters were still around. Everyone who wanted to go had gone. Or so Levi thought. 'Mikasa, why won't you just let me enlist! See this! They need me!' Levi wasn't the only self-obsessed person, it seemed. The boy, a combination of shaggy, brown hair and undefinable eyes, raved on to the girl who stared at him with a heavy gaze, one word exuding from her: no. They both looked starved, faces like skulls and muscles reduced to bone. But, they looked far more alive than many. They were some of the well-off. He could see it, in both of them, they were clever ones. He watched them, following the story in his mind. The boy was the basis of the operation, stealing and conning as if his life depended on it- in fact, it did- and then, the girl, she reigned him back before anything could go wrong. She was just as strong but far more subdued, she would do anything for him. That much, at least, was clear to Levi. This girl would put the boy above her, she would die for him. She was dying for him, Levi realised. Where she keeled over, he stood straight. Where her eyes were dim, his shone. She was feeding him her own food. She had just enough to live, just enough to be able to protect him. But, the rest went to him. He used to fight it, Levi imagined, and then he had begun to give in. All from a still image, Levi had gained so much information. His mind was so muddled that it was seeing the impossible. It was seeing a false reality. He didn't realise they were looking at him until he moved his eyes back down the where the poster now lying in his hands. 'You joining too?!' The boy shouted with far too much excitement. Levi resisted holding his hands over his ears to block out the noise, it hurt so much. His ears were fragile, only adjusted to the distant booms. Everything was distant now. Why did this boy sound so jovial about something as grim as the army? Levi didn't question, though, as he shrugged. He wasn't ready to speak, not yet. He wasn't even sure if his lips could move. He hadn't moved them in days and the ice had probably frozen them together. There was no need to move them, he didn't eat, he didn't speak. He just survived. Not lived. Survived. 'Look, Mikasa! I'm not the only one! I need to go, I need to help them!' The boy argued to the girl whose name must have been Mikasa. The boy was delusional, it seemed. Even Levi realised that even if the poster was persuading him, he wasn't needed. He would become canon-fodder. Useful, he guessed. But not important. This kid's sense of self-righteousness was a little too much. 'I can go with you...' He trailed off awkwardly, the eyes of indefinable colour staring straight into his, dull upon bright, a contrast that fit together so perfectly. 'Levi.'
7 notes · View notes
ackbang · 8 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
tea time (with espresso) for anon. prompt: jealousy
(i went a little off prompt, and wrote WAY too much... like almost 2k words lmao. gomen.)
mike comes from a farm and is the eldest of six. when he was a child, he used to envy his younger siblings. they got to stay inside and help churn butter, weave blankets, and prep dinner while his skin grew dark out on the fields. his muscles ached, grew large and toned from plows, and he seemed to dream every day about days where he could sit at the pond and skip rocks.
jealousy reeks, like old blood sitting on the chopping block, cooking under the summer sun. like blood coughed into the cup of his little sister’s hand, the smell of mucus curdling through her throat as she rasps out strangled breaths. one of his brothers tries to wipe the red from her lips, tries to gather the pearls of sweat from her brow at the edge of a clean cloth, but she passes before she can whisper a bit of thanks.
he swallows it, because the real injustice is having her taken away from him. that he ever felt jealous at all. little iris and her beautiful dusty blonde hair. he cries into the bracelet of tweed she had made him, ties it around his oversized wrist and holds his hand against it when he tells his mother he’s going to join the military.
“the military police?”
“yeah.” because they make the most. they live the longest. he could pay for the medicine this time. he can put more grains on their table during winter. he can protect them.
“jeremy isn’t old enough to tend the fields yet.”
“i can wait.” but not for long.
she looks out past him, past his head and out the window at their small plot of land. it was small, but it was theirs. she nods, but doesn’t look at him. she doesn’t look at him much after that day.
he joins training when he’s 18. the first day of training is tough, but not tough enough to go home. he’d been beaten by years of hard labor, has enough stamina to outrun all of the other cadets until the sunsets. except one: a blond haired boy of 16, eyes wide and curious, but darkened by something.
“mike.” he says, under a heaving breath. he holds out his hand, and the young man accepts.
“erwin.”
they eat in the mess hall, and it becomes a habitual thing. they learn about each other over watery mashed potatoes and steamed carrots. erwin lived with some extended relatives until he was old enough to join the military on his own. he’s an educated man, was accepted to the best schools inside sina but rejected them. “i want to join the survey corps.”
“you what?”
“there’s answers out there.” and he says it like that statement in itself is a secret.
“what kind of answers?”
“the walls. the titans.” erwin’s eyes are focused on his plate, and it takes mike to cough to snap him from his trance. “where did you say you were from again?”
“the farmlands outside of utopia.”
erwin nods. “it’s beautiful there.”
mike’s curious about erwin, about his brain, about the things he muses about when he thinks they’re alone. the things he says, he should be imprisoned for life. but he trusts mike, and in turn, mike trusts erwin. it becomes a rarity for them to be apart. rumors start to spread.
they start to go to the bar every friday during their second year, and mike finds jealously to smell like rum and ale. she hangs on erwin’s arm, drunk, red-faced, and giggling. and mike has to pry her off as erwin starts to drunkenly tell one of his stories again.
“not here, erwin.” mike hisses. he drags the man by his arm out into the cold night air. what relief he had from being away from marie only surged with his anxiety of erwin blurting out heretic words to a crowd that didn’t understand.
“mike,” erwin drawls. “i think she likes me.” he grins big and leans heavily into mike’s chest, and jealousy smells like a drunk, sweating man two seconds away from losing it all.
he smells like something... something different. mike returns back to base, too frustrated to deal with erwin’s drunken escapades one night. he sits in his bunk, his head hanging and knees twitching, waiting patiently for his bunkmate to return. he feels stupid for leaving him there--erwin doesn’t know how to control himself when he’s drunk. and when he stumbles back into the hall after curfew, his finger pressed to his lip in sign to keep quiet, he crawls up to his bunk to sleep without a single word.
mike learns two years later, after they graduate, after they both accept the wings, that what he smelled on erwin was sex. because he smells it on him now, his ass arching into mike’s hips, his mouth gaping and looking up at him with eyes that make mike feel uncomfortable. like maybe four years together was too soon to find love. that two expeditions outside of the walls shouldn’t have scared them enough into the stables at midnight to fuck each other until the horses whinnied for them to shut up.
“mike.” erwin says breathily, and he collapses into his cloak.
“erwin.” mike leans down, kisses the points between his shoulder blades and fucks him so slowly it draws a whimper from erwin’s throat that sounds so sweet it could smell like honey.
erwin’s grown, has seen things that can be changed to save men’s lives. becomes insubordinate, fights against higher command, gets into shadis’ face. mike takes erwin outside, throws his shoulders into the stone of the building. his nose flares, and he stares into those eyes that have been nothing but anchors for him, but they were drifting now. they were looking past him. just like his mother’s.
“knock it off, erwin.”
“he’s a fucking dumbass, mike.”
“if you want to make a difference, you can’t do it that way.”
“fuck him! men are dying because of him!”
“you’re smarter than that. i know you are.”
erwin finally looks at him. nods. he pries mike’s hands off of him, and the first time in eight years, they don’t eat together.
it’s on their tenth expedition that shit goes wrong.  they’ve both become squad leaders, but shadis has yet to use the long distance scouting formation erwin has been proposing. their squads converge by accident, a titan comes out of nowhere and snatches mike off of his horse. he bangs his hand on the side of a giant finger. he manages to wiggle free enough to cut through the rest of the hand, but doesn’t grapple fast enough when he’s set free. he plummets into the hands of a three meter, his ankle cracking as it snaps back all his weight when its grabbed. he cries out, tries to swipe his blade, but it had snapped through the bone of the last titan.
iris, he thinks of iris when the titan opens its jaws to eat him down. he thinks of his mom. he thinks of erwin.
“mike!” he can hear erwin’s voice, but it’s too far away. he wants to say his name back but he forgets what it is. screams out instead as he smells the rancid fragrance of melted flesh filtering out of the monster’s mouth.
his back hits the ground so hard he can’t even catch the air to make a sound. he rolls onto his side, confused but alive. footsteps lands next to him, and another.
“squad leader, are you all right?”
“hange.” he hear’s erwin. “thank you. thank you so much.”
but things are different then. from that moment, erwin avoids mike. they don’t eat together, and erwin finds himself in the library until well after mike goes to bed. jealousy smells like old musty books and aged brandy.
mike comes to him one night, tells him they’re over. as if they were anything to begin with, he supposes. but it hurts. erwin is looking past him, never looks at him anymore. he’s too focused on shadis’ job, on saving men, on killing titans, on finding answers. mike doesn’t fit there anymore. he probably never did.
he holds the edge of his fist to his forehead, breathes out once, and moves on.
he’s the strongest. they tell him so. he has the most kills. is one of the longest surviving members of the survey corps. they’re deemed veterans on their fifteenth expedition. he wants the title to feel something, he wishes it would send more money home. he wishes erwin would look at him again.
four years later, jealousy smells like shit and dirt. he has a small man’s head in a puddle, the thug’s breath sputtering angrily against the water. his eyes are like pinholes, silver like the moon, and he’s so strong for a small little rat. he presses the man’s head deeper into the mud. he sees how erwin is looking at him. he knows that look.
“stay still, shithead.”
“fuck you.” he spits, but it just dirties his face more. so filthy. such fucking filth.
“mike.” erwin says, and it takes a moment for mike to register. he pulls back, let’s the small man sit up. lets him say his name. 
levi.
the ratboy’s friends die, and he’s impressive when he’s broken. he’d killed so many titans in his rage that he created his own clouds toward heaven. the man holds a blade to erwin’s throat, and mike goes to stop him, and erwin looks at him, but it’s so mike can give him levi. mike stands breathing heavily, feeling so angry that this little shit could threaten erwin like this. like they needed such a rogue to threaten their ranks.
“fight with the survey corps, levi. humanity needs your skill!”
jealousy smells like blood baking in the sunlight. jealousy smells like shit and dirt. jealousy smells like levi, and it takes mike much longer than he cares to admit to loose the scent from the depth of his nostrils.
121 notes · View notes
fallenrazziel · 7 years ago
Text
Les Chroniques de Livaï #211 ~ L'ENDROIT QUI EST CHEZ MOI (juin 844) Greta Elfriede
L'histoire de LivaĂŻ comme vous ne l'avez jamais lue. ​Le personnage le plus populaire de L'Attaque des Titans, le soldat le plus fort de l'humanité  Qui est-il vraiment ? Qu'a-t-il dans le coeur ? Qu'est-ce qui a fait de lui ce qu'il est ? Je me suis mise en devoir de rĂ©pondre Ă  ces questions en vous livrant ma propre vision de sa vie, de ses pensĂ©es, des Ă©preuves qu'il a traversĂ©es, ainsi que celles des personnes qui l'ont cĂŽtoyĂ©, aimĂ©, admirĂ©, craint, dĂ©testĂ©. Si j'essaie le plus possible de respecter le canon, quelques libertĂ©s seront prises sur les aspects de sa vie les plus flous. Quelques personnages seront Ă©galement de mon invention. LivaĂŻ, un homme que l'on croit invincible et inatteignable
 Est-ce bien sĂ»r ? Jugez-en par vous-mĂȘmes.
Tumblr media
Je me sens vraiment vannĂ©e aprĂšs des deux semaines chargĂ©es ! J'imaginais pas que rĂ©viser les bases puisse ĂȘtre si exaltant !
Erwin nous a pas ménagés, faut dire. Il veut qu'on soit opérationnels pour la prochaine expédition. Il sera trÚs pris dans les jours qui viennent, il doit aller rencontrer un potentiel donateur pour le bataillon ; un riche industriel qui fait dans minerai, je crois. Normalement c'est le major qui s'y colle mais Erwin sait bien parler et vendre le régiment. Je pense pas que ça le botte tant que ça, ce genre de chose, mais il peut donner de sa personne pour aider le bataillon à aller de l'avant.
Le dernier jour, il nous a laissĂ©s nous entraĂźner seuls. On s'est un peu dĂ©foulĂ©s sur les titans de bois, et LivaĂŻ nous a encore fait la dĂ©monstration de sa fameuse technique circulaire. J'arrive pas Ă  faire comme lui, mĂȘme Mike a du mal. On a Ă©tĂ© conditionnĂ©s par notre entraĂźnement de cadet, et c'est difficile d'apprendre Ă  tenir la lame diffĂ©remment. Erwin n'est pas contre ce changement si LivaĂŻ arrive Ă  nous l'apprendre, mais je pense pas y arriver. C'est vraiment sa technique Ă  lui. Et puis ça veut pas dire que je serais aussi forte que lui.
Il est devenu un peu plus loquace Ă  la longue, et il s'est mis Ă  partager nos moments de dĂ©tente au lieu de rester dans son coin. Evidemment, on a pas pu s'empĂȘcher de lui poser des questions sur ses origines, d'oĂč il venait, qui Ă©taient ses parents, tout ça, mais ça avait vraiment l'air de l'ennuyer alors on a arrĂȘtĂ©. J'ai aussi remarquĂ© qu'il continuait de garder une certaine distance avec Mike, comme s'il y avait entre eux une affaire non rĂ©glĂ©e... Je sais trĂšs bien de quoi il s'agit, alors j'en rajoute pas. Mais dans l'ensemble il s'entend bien avec nous.
Ses petites manies ont été un peu difficile à intégrer - sa façon de débarrasser systématiquement la table quand on a fini de manger et de vérifier si nos mains sont bien propres avant de nous les serrer - ; et chez les garçons il paraßt que c'est pire ; il les laisse pas sortir du dortoir tant que les lits sont pas faits. Et il passe son temps libre à faire le ménage ou la lessive au lieu de changer d'air. Il est toujours impeccable, et je me rends compte maintenant que l'état dans lequel il était à la suite de l'expédition n'avait rien de normal pour lui...
L'autre jour, Erwin nous a conviĂ©s Ă  prendre un thĂ© dans son propre bureau, ce qui est trĂšs rare. Nous Ă©tions tous assis sur le divan du chef, Ă  papoter et LivaĂŻ n'Ă©tait pas lĂ . Puis, il a surgit dans la piĂšce, une thĂ©iĂšre brĂ»lante Ă  la main et a fait le service. Je crois ne l'avoir jamais vu plus heureux ! Erwin lui a demandĂ© s'il avait goĂ»tĂ© le thĂ© vert au moins une fois, et LivaĂŻ lui a rĂ©pondu qu'il aimait pas ça mais qu'il ferait une exception aujourd'hui, puisque le noir Ă©tait trop cher pour le bataillon. On a passĂ© un moment trĂšs agrĂ©able entre nous, on a mĂȘme pas parlĂ© de travail.
J'ai toujours trouvé qu'Erwin se confiait peu, et j'avais peur que Livaï soit pareil. Il a du mal à s'y mettre, mais quand on le lance sur un sujet qui l'intéresse, il est intarissable. J'ai ainsi appris qu'il aimait lire, comme moi. Je l'ai informé qu'il pouvait se fournir en livre dans les bureaux des gradés. Certes, les sujets sont pas toujours passionnants, mais ils sont à notre disposition. Il m'a répondu qu'il avait déjà remarqué ceux dans le bureau du chef mais qu'il avait pas osé se servir. Pas osé, lui ?! Faut croire qu'il a parfaitement intégré le sens de la discipline !
Il est nĂ© dans les bas-fonds. Il n'y a pas d'Ă©cole lĂ -bas. Comment a-t-il appris ? Il avait peut-ĂȘtre des parents instruits qui l'ont bien Ă©duquĂ©. Je sais pas trop comment juger... Parfois, il est vraiment grossier et dit des horreurs sans s'en rendre compte, et juste aprĂšs il peut se montrer trĂšs prĂ©venant ; il a dĂ©jĂ  tirĂ© ma chaise pour que je puisse m'assoir et tenu la porte. Ce mec est un mĂ©lange subtil de savoir-vivre et d'impertinence qui m'Ă©chappe encore... Erwin ne semble pas s'en formaliser puisqu'il ne le rĂ©primande jamais.
MĂȘme si LivaĂŻ est mon principal coĂ©quipier, je peux pas passer trop de temps avec lui. J'envie Steffen, lui au moins peu parler avec Mike mĂȘme tard le soir. Je me suis toujours demandĂ© ce qu'il pouvait bien se raconter la nuit venue... C'est pas que je me sente seule dans le dortoir des filles, mais je suis... "la fille de l'escouade d'Erwin", voilĂ . Certaines d'entre elles ont le bĂ©guin pour lui, elles le diront jamais mais je le sais. Elles doivent ĂȘtre jalouses. Les soldates peuvent parfois se comporter comme de vraies Ă©coliĂšres. Certaines rumeurs ont mĂȘme prĂ©tendus que j'avais Ă©tĂ© pistonnĂ©e pour entrer dans son escouade - en oubliant volontairement mes trĂšs bonnes notes et mes combats victorieux ; on a mĂȘme insinuĂ© des choses pires que ça... Mais aucune d'entre elles ne connait Erwin ; c'est quelqu'un d'intĂšgre qui n'utiliserait jamais ce genre de procĂ©dĂ©. Pour lui, que je sois une femme n'a pas d'importance. Si dans la vie de tous les jours j'aime ĂȘtre fĂ©minine, que je puisse me permettre de ne pas l'ĂȘtre dans le cadre du travail me fait du bien.
Je me suis toujours demandĂ©e pourquoi il ne s'est pas mariĂ©... J'oserai jamais lui poser la question, et de toute façon ça me concerne pas. Il a l'air trop accaparĂ© par son travail pour penser Ă  ça, je suppose. Il est mariĂ© au bataillon, comme il dit. Ce sera peut-ĂȘtre pareil pour moi...
LivaĂŻ et Erwin se ressemblent un peu... On les pense inaccessibles, froids et austĂšres, et quand on passe du temps avec eux, on se rend compte que c'est pas le cas, qu'ils sont comme les autres. Une fois qu'on Ă©tait que tous les deux Ă  fumer entre deux exercices - oui, je sais, c'est pas trĂšs bon pour nous, mais au diable -, je lui ai demandĂ© ce qu'il pensait d'Erwin. J'avais encore en tĂȘte le souvenir de son arrestation et de l'humiliation qu'il avait subie, et je trouvais Ă©trange qu'il se soit finalement mis sous ses ordres. Il m'a rĂ©pondu qu'il ne suivrait les ordres de personne d'autre que lui. J'Ă©tais surprise. Je sais pas du tout ce qui a motivĂ© ce revirement ; il le sait peut-ĂȘtre pas non plus.
Nos rÎles sont maintenant bien définis : je m'attaque essentiellement aux jambes des titans afin de les faire tomber et Livaï se charge des coups de grùce. Mais il faudra que je lui redemande de me montrer sa charge circulaire ; j'aimerais tellement réussir à le faire, c'est trÚs impressionnant ! J'avais jamais vu personne se battre comme ça !
Bien entendu, il faudra attendre la prochaine expédition pour confirmer si tout ça fonctionne en situation réelle.
3 notes · View notes