#I did not know cigars can have a label on them

[tj-crochets]

What if you crocheted the cigar? Would that help the size problem? My brain is thinking: MR 6, INC 6, (SC, INC) 6 and then just SC to length and then color change to grey or red for the cigar end?

Depending on the yarn, you could get a nice texture to the cigar too.

Crocheting the cigar is definitely an option, and depending on the scale I was going for that's pretty much the pattern I was thinking too, I just have to admit I know nothing about cigars or what their texture usually is lol

[mustainegf]

Backstage sex with current Papa Het pleaseeee

Your writing is so good!!!!

I’ve been having SOOOO much fun writing these older James fics… I’m slobbering

As I stood backstage, clutching the pass that granted me access to a world I had only dreamed of, the excitement in my chest was almost unbearable.

The echoes of Metallica's legendary performance still rang in my ears, and the energy of the concert pulsed through my veins.

Yeah I’d seen them plenty of times, but I’d never been lucky enough to get VIP.

I made my way through the dimly lit corridors, each step bringing me closer to something I could have never dreamed up.

I paused in front of the door labeled "James Hetfield." My heart pounded with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. The man behind that door was an icon, a living legend. I knocked softly, but there was no response.

After a moment's hesitation, I decided to gently push the door open a crack, curiosity getting the better of me.

What I saw made my breath catch in my throat. James Hetfield sat on a beat up leather couch, his ruggedly handsome face twisted in concentration.

His graying hair was messy, falling around his strong, chiseled features. His muscular arms, covered in intricate tattoos, flexed as his hand moved rhythmically along his impressive length.

His chest, broad and powerful, was heaving with deep breaths. He was completely lost in the moment, his eyes closed and his head resting against the back of the couch.

I gasped softly, unable to tear my eyes away. The sound made him open his eyes, and our gazes locked. I tried to stammer an apology, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," but before I could retreat, he smirked, his blue eyes locking onto me. He didn't stop his movements; instead, he beckoned me closer with a flick of his finger.

"Come in," he said, his voice a low, seductive growl.

My body moved on its own, propelled by an odd jumble of embarrassment, arousal, and complete disbelief. I stepped into the room, closing the door behind me.

The room was filled with the scent of leather, cigar smoke and his musky cologne, making my head swim. James watched me with an evil gleam in his eyes, his smirk never fading.

"You like what you see?" he asked, his voice seemed dripping with authority.

I nodded, unable to find my voice. The sight of him, so raw and primal, was intoxicating. His hand continued to stroke his cock, slow and deliberate, the motion hypnotic.

"Come here," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. I walked over to him, my legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me down onto the couch beside him, his grip firm and possessive. "Touch it," he commanded.

I reached out tentatively, wrapping my hand around his thick shaft. He was hot and hard in my hand, the veins bulging along its length.

I could feel his pulse throbbing beneath my fingers, each beat resonating through my entire body. He let out a low groan, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough and filled with desire. "Now, take off your clothes."

The command sent a thrill through me, and I quickly complied, stripping off my clothes with trembling hands. His gaze ate up my body, setting my skin on fire. He grabbed my hips and pulled me onto his lap, his cock pressing insistently against my entrance.

"Ride me," he growled, his hands gripping my hips with bruising force. "Show me how much you want this."

I positioned myself over him and slowly sank down onto his length, gasping as he stretched me. He filled me completely, the sensation unlike any sex I'd had before.

He didn't give me time to adjust, thrusting up into me with a pump that tore my remaining breath away.

"Fuck, you're tight sweetheart," he grunted, his fingers digging into my hips. "Ride me harder, I know you can do it."

I did as he commanded, bouncing up and down on his cock, my hands gripping his broad shoulders for support. His thrusts were rough and relentless, each one sending shocks of arousal through my body.

I could feel the tightness building inside me, my orgasm approaching quickly.

James reached between us, his calloused fingers finding my clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation was too much, and I came almost instantly, my body twitching around him. He continued to pound into me, prolonging my pleasure, his own groans growing louder as he chased his release.

He kissed his way down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin and on purpose. When he reached my breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently until I was writhing on top of him.

"James, please, its too much," I moaned, my body aching for him.

He looked up at me with a wicked smile. "Patience," he said, his voice a seductive growl.

I gasped, my hands clutching the couch cushions as he brought me to the brink of madness with his skilled cock.

"James, hurry," I begged, my voice trembling.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he growled, his hands gripping my hips as he began to move.

This time, his thrusts were slow and deep, each one hitting a spot that made me see stars. He leaned up, capturing my lips in a reddening kiss as he set a hard pace. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him even closer as he drove me higher and higher.

The room was filled with the sounds of our pleasure, moans, gasps, the slap of skin against skin. He fucked me with a passion I'd never felt before, his eyes locked on mine the entire time.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he growled, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Take it..."

His words sent me over the edge again, and I screamed his name as I came, my nails digging into his inked shoulders. He followed seconds later, stilling himself deep inside me as he filled me with his seed.

Finally, he pulled out of me let me collapse onto his chest.

"That was… incredible," I said, still dazed from the raw fuck.

James chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "You're not bad yourself," he said, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from my face. "Maybe we can do this again sometime."

I had come to see Metallica, but I had gotten so much more than I had ever imagined.

[raffe156]

Late Night admin

Pairing - Price X Tank X Ghost

Summary - A team night out turns into more, is 3 really a crowd?

Warnings - Smut (18+) Voyeurism, Language, alcohol, Age gap Price (39) Tank (25) Ghost (36) SoftDom!Price, public sex, praise kink, fingering, Hair pulling, Oral (M receiving), P in V, unsafe sex, Ghost being a little simp for Tank

AN- Well, this was meant to be smut without plot...well, I failed at that.. not 100% happy with it, but we'll see what you guys think. It doesn’t tie in with the Your captain series- this is an AU in which dr Helen never even crossed Prices mind, Tank never left for Squad 8 …so a better universe 🤣🤣🤣

It's kind of filth/heartfelt. Also I know Kyle has moves no one can tell me otherwise, haha 😂

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters, Only Tank

💖 As always, feedback welcome! It only results in me getting more stuff out - p.s Iam working on Breakaway state part 3 don't worry 😘

@deadbranch @mildlyhopeless @fanficandartgal @shuttlelauncher81 @a-littlebirdie @soapyghost @boomtowngirl @mostannoyingbillioner @brewed-pangolin @chb-7 @sarcastic-raptor163 @tapioca-marzipan

@onlycodcanjudgeme

_______________

“What?”

“No nothing…you look good kid…you sure you don’t want my jacket?” Price was already removing it from his shoulders.

“No im good, I’m literally in jeans and a T-shirt…” You looked down at yourself, but the comment still boosted your ego, but Prices opinion was biased at the best of times he told you you looked stunning with dirt, grime and gun oil on your face!

“Yeh but you look good…is that one of my T-shirts? Have you knotted it at the back?”

“No…its an old one…” you made for the door out of his office knowing full well it wasnt an old one and it was infact the very same top he had worn earlier today.

“Tank…If that has my name on the label…”

“It doesn’t want me to take it off and show you?”

“Yes actually…” He smirked knowing full well it was his. You scoffed he wasnt daft, for a start it did have his name on the label and smelt of cigars and his aftershave.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind, and besides if I smell like another man then guys won’t try and grind up on me in the club! It’s a win win…Me and Kyle can dance in peace with out you and Ghost kicking heads in” you rested your hand on his chest. He didn’t know you were going to a club. Shit.

“A club? I thought it was a pub?”

“Need to get your hearing checked already? How very sexy John” you motioned for him to leave his office, he followed reluctantly.

*********

As you an Price entered the club the music hit you vibrating through your body. You turned to look back at your Captain he looked annoyed already, it was too many people for him. That an the doorman had asked you for ID at the same time the other had told Price the pub was down the road. As you manoeuvred through the crowd of bodies you reached back for his hand and laced your fingers into his giving them a little squeeze and a wink. He smiled, thats all he needed, but he did feel abit daft, this place wasnt like the dive clubs he had gone to as a teen, it was fancy and he much preferred the pub, the doorman had said one was down the road he wondered if he could talk at least Ghost into joining him leaving the ‘youngsters’ to the clubbing.

“TANK!”

You spotted Kyle waving to you from across the room, you tugged on Price's hand leading him through the crowd. Ghost and Soap were sat in the private booth you and Kyle had booked. You can’t even remember when you had booked it but you were both definitely drunk when you did, never again were you being left in charge of team nights out. Soap jumped up he looked almost shocked to see Price, but then these days where ever you were Price wasn't far behind.

“Captain! Tank! Nice of you to join us” He slapped Price on the back.

Ghost moved up for Price to sit beside him handing him a drink, it wasn't top shelf like they were use to but it would do as he did he gave you the quick once over, he always did, he noted that you were wearing Price's Tshirt he knew because the sleeves were much wider than one that was your size, the knot on the back making it tight and hug you just right and also the Cigar smoke and aftershave were a dead giveaway.

Before Price could tell you to sit down next to him, you and Kyle had already made your way to the Dance floor, he shook his head smiling he loved when you were like this…happy…having a good time there wasn’t much time for that in your line of work…even if it wasn't his scene he was happy he came just to see you laughing and dancing and…..were you not wearing a bra? How had he not noticed that back at the base? Fuck sake! He would be having words later, he wasn't the only one who had noticed, it was the first thing Ghost had clocked when you had walked up to them, he watched as your tits bounced with every movement and the way you swayed your hips had him shifting in his seat to rearrange his jeans. Price was a lucky man. Taking a sip of his drink he noticed Price was also watching you, Ghost was probably the only one who knew that you guys had been fucking for a few weeks now, he had caught you two at it late one night in Price’s office, Price had looked entranced by you falling apart under him, Ghost had wanted to be apart of that , he wanted to be the reason you crumbled wanted to feel you under him…but he simply observed replaying it back later in his bunk. After that he had watched you both a few more times he tracked your habits knew what words were code for you two getting together. “Need a had with some paperwork tonight Tank, you mind?” You neverminded, thats what Ghost found so alluring, you never said no to your Captain, complete obedience, as he always said “Good soldiers, follow orders” and you were the best little soldier he knew. It made him jealous, he wanted you wrapped around him, he wanted just a taste of what you and Price had even if he had to share.

****

You an Kyle had been dancing for what seemed ages, your skin numb from the beat. You noticed Price and Ghost in deep conversation.

“What do you think they are taking about!” You tired to shout in Kyles ear. He was 7 tequilas in so he hadn’t noticed them looking over as much.

“Who Price and Ghost? How would I know…the good old days probably hahaha ohh no this is a banger of a tune!” You had lost him now. You looked back over to the booth, Soap was ordering more drinks and trying to chat up the waitress who to be fair looked interested. Ghost was now in Price’s ear, you made eyes at Price he just gave you a wink. You had a feeling you were the topic of conversation.

********

“Had much paper work this week Captain?” Ghost finished his drink. Price side eyed him, He knew Ghost had been watching you and him for the last few weeks, he wasnt daft Ghost thought he was smart but Price was smarter.

“You know what I have, Tank has been a massive help, don’t know what id do with out her…”

“Yehhh shes a good girl our Tank…thinking of asking her if she wants some one on one sparring sessions…perfect her hand to hand combat skills…” Ghost signaled the waitress for another round.

“Hmmm you can always ask, she’s pretty busy most days with me or Kyle…but you can only ask cant you?” Price gulped his drink in one.

“Yeh I noticed shes always busy with you, not so much Kyle…but I was thinking more of a late night class, I think she’d be up for it…you could even join in…give us a few pointers If you get what I mean…thats only If Tank is good with it?”

Price narrowed his eyes, was Ghost suggesting what he thought he was? Bold move…even though he didn’t like the thought of sharing you with him, Price did like the idea of putting him in his place he had no doubt Ghost would be good to you, but not like he was, it would be nice to take him down a notch or two, he had noticed him sniffing around you and it was becoming tiresome. Price glanced over at you, he wondered if you’d even be up for it, He beckoned you over.

You were being summoned, you tapped Kyle to signal you were going to get your drink from the booth, he nodded he was in full rave mode. The heat from all the bodies was suffocating, it wasnt till you emerged out and into the booth did you realise how warm it had been in there, your skin was shiny with sweat. Price patted the seat in between him and Ghost, both men hardly budge up, it was a tight squeeze. You sat down sipping your drink. Cosy.

“Having fun kid?” Price handed you and Ghost a shot as you downed the drink in your hand.

“Thanks and yeh…what’s up?” You were on alert now, this was the first time in weeks these two looked like they were getting on? Something was going on?

“We have a little proposal for you love” Ghost leaned back in his seat his arms on the back of the booth, legs spread wide.

“Oh yeah? An what would that be?” You took Prices drink from him, swishing it before knocking it back…not his usual grade but it went down a treat. Price gave you alittle smirk, you caught on fast no beating around the bush with you. His clever girl.

“Well…Me and Ghoat have been talking and…” Price handed you another shot.

“Is this about Ghost watching us have sex in your office? Because I know about that…I clocked him about 3 weeks ago…Whats up LT you not been able to get it out of your head? The Captain is good at what he does…” You took the shot and followed it with another. Both men looked at eachother in disbelief. Ghost rolled his eyes.

“What do you mean you knew? You knew he was watching us the whole time?” Price leaned forward. He couldn’t believe you hadnt said anything.

“Yeh…I thought it was something you two had arranged? I thought thats what the whole song and dance with ‘Need a hand doing some paper work’ was about? I thought it was code for Me and Tank are gonna be at it in my office Ghost” you gave a thumbs up to demonstrate. Ghost started laughing it was a sound you only heard on the rare occasion something really tickled him.

“So how about it then Tank…Me you and the Captain? You up for it” He rested his hand on your thigh leaning in close enough you could smell his aftershave, it was peppery and dark it sent shivers up your spine. Price slid his hand up the back of your top spreading his fingers out on your back it only intensified the goosebumps.

“What do you think Boss?” You glanced round to Price giving him a cheeky grin? Price was hooked.

“Yeh I don't mind a little bit of audience participation if you dont kid, what time we leaving?” He snaked his hand round to your chest palming your breast in his rough hand. Ghost watched as you melted into Price's Touch.

******

It had been a mad struggle to convince Soap not to bring the waitress back to the base with you in the end Ghost had paid her to walk away. He had better things to be doing.

Once back at the base you said your good nights and headed to your side of the base, Soap helped Kyle to their shared room, but Ghost hung back.

“You not coming LT?” Soap wanted help with the very drunk Kyle.

“Im sure you can manage Johnny…Im gonna have a proper drink with Price…need to get the taste of shit bourbon out my mouth”

Soap nodded picking Kyle back up from the floor half carrying him half dragging.

“Don’t let him swallow his tongue!” Price yelled after them.

Once they were out of ear shot Price turned to the lieutenant.

“Some ground rules Ghost…you don’t cum inside her I don’t care how good it feels…she likes it rough but nothing visible, lastly if she says stop you stop”

Ghost nodded why did he feel nervous? He’d imagined this hundreds of times, he followed Price to your room.

“Oh one more thing…even in here I’m still your Captain so what I say goes”

Price knocked before letting himself in to your room, Ghost right behind him.

Without a word Price moved in on you in two strides pressing his body to yours cupping your face, pulling you into a deep kiss. Ghost watched on as Price unbuttoned your jeans pulling them down and helping you step out of them. He didn’t know when he should join in he waited for the go ahead.

Price sat you on the end of the bed, his hand stroking the top of your head.

“Thought you wanted to join in Ghost?” Price called back to him, never taking his eyes off yours. That was his invite.

They both towered over you but you didn’t care, you had already started working on unbuckling Prices belt. Ghost was already shifting his jeans down to rest on his hips.

“Steady on sweetheart…” Price stopped your hands, pulling his cock out for you. Ghost steadily stroking away. The site of them both made you ache. Ghost was exactly how you imagined, Price steered you head in his direction pressing his tip to your lips.

“Open wide for me love” Price stroked your cheek tenderly. You did as you where told and wrapped your mouth around him softly licking the underside of his head. You looked up at him as he slid further down your throat. The sight caused Ghost to let out a low growl.

“That’s a good girl…” Price looped his hand up into your hair. You could feel Ghost getting impatient, but you looked to Price for permission, he nodded. You reached out your hand to grab him. He sighed at the softness of your hand on his cock you stroked him but he was eager to have your mouth around him as well. You pulled away from Price leaving a string of spit and took Ghost in your mouth, you could feel the corners of your mouth split as you tried to take him in. Christ, he was big, you tried your hardest but you gagged and pulled your head away gasping.

They looked at each other amused then back at you, like a pair of bullies that had their victim cornered.

“Easy now…lets not get carried away eh?” Price cupped your face letting your recover.

“Lay back for me…” you did as you were told, the butterflies in your stomach more of a flurry now. Price crouched infront of you his mouth an inch away from your opening you could feel his warm breath. You looked down at his handsome face his eyes a liquid blue you willed him to touch you. The heat from his tongue as it slipped in caused a little groan to escape from you.

“Please…fingers…please” you begged him.

“So impatient…but seeing as you asked politely…” Price could rarely say no to you, he pushed two fingers in his tongue still flat against your clit, you could feel his beard scratching your inner thighs but you liked it always did. He lazily curled his fingers up inside you, as you rolled your head back you locked eyes with Ghost. He moved closer to you, his hand falling to stroke the top of your head all the filthy things he wanted to do to you caused a stampede in his mind. Price stopped and turned his attention to Ghost. He was getting impatient as well Price wasn't a cruel man but Ghost needed to learn his place when it came to you. He removed his fingers and angled himself over you pressing his tip just enough to make you squirm. Ghost watched as your eyes switched from a soft focus to full-blown desire.

“Think Ghost wants to know what it feel like to be inside you Tank…so I'm going to be generous and let him go first, is that ok?”

Price leant forward planting little kisses on your breasts and stomach, your skin smelt of him it drove him insane he hoped Ghost would be able to smell it a reminder of who’s you were claimed by him.

You nodded glancing over at Ghost who waited for Price to remove himself from between your legs he was taking his time on purpose.

“Ill be right here where you can see me ok…” Price positioned himself just to the side of you. You watched him as Ghost softly nestled between your thighs. He lifted his ski mask up so it rested on the bridge of his nose. He placed your leg over his shoulder slightly lifting you from underneath with his hand he angled you up to his face. The position was a new one and Price was impressed and he knew you were to from the little smirk on your face which was soon wiped clean as Ghost made contact with you, he went at it like a last meal, the taste of bourbon and honey and the faint cigar ash…Price making sure he knew he was just a guest.

He sucked hard on your clit causing you to dig your heel into his back arching up further. The noises coming from you sent him into a frenzy and knew you were close, he wanted you to cum, he need you to cum he had to hear the sound and know he had caused it.

“Need to feel you cum on him cock…” Ghost shoved you up the bed with one hand, he nudge at your centre with his tip, Price looked at you for any sign of hesitation Price was above average in size but Ghost was wider, but from the look in your eyes you wanted it. Fair enough. Without a word you spread you legs open wider for him. The fuse in Ghosts brain blew, he slowly pushed inside, your walls stretching around him, it was a tight fit. It took everything for him not to ram his length in fully. One last push and he was fully inside you for real and not just in his head with his hand as a very poor substitute.

“Fuckin hell…” Ghost was drunk on the feeling of you around him, with every draw back your walls sucked him back in he had to slow down or else he was going to break the first rule, but your moans were blocking out all rational thoughts, then there the sound he wanted to hear most of all you were coming undone the barrier falling down. You clawed at his chest, shuddering as you came. He gently wrapped his hand round your throat only applying light pressure looking into your eyes. Price said you liked it rough.

“Simonnnnn……”you moaned as you shook, he had to pull back slightly he would of happily filled you up there and then but he could feel Price switching his gaze from you to him. Watching him like a hawk. How bad of a beating would it be?

“On your front Tank” Price stood at the top of the bed helping you get on all fours.

“Let’s get one more out of her eh?…remember not inside…I mean it…Ill hang you myself…” Price winked as he said it, Ghost believed him.

Looking down at you spread open again for him, he watched Price nuzzle your face, calling you a good girl as you took him to the base. He felt spoilt as he buried himself inside you again only giving you a moment to adjust around him before he bucked his hips into you with each thrust he made sure to slowly drag himself back out trying to match the rhythm of Price thrusting into your throat.

“Tell your Lieutenant how good you feel…tell him…how good you are…” Price gritted his teeth.

You could feel your orgasm building then the thin little thread broke, causing both men to fall apart, ready to break. Price had stilled, his head back as you swallowed every last bit. Just as Ghost was close you turned to look at him, you eyes glossy.

“Did Price tell you not to cum inside me?…” You voice was strained, it was enough to send him over the edge. He nodded only slowly slightly.

“Well you can…but I want to see your face as you do…without the mask…” You half-turned you body reaching up for him to hold you to his chest. Price shot you a look, no way Ghost was removing his mask…but just like that it was off and thrown on the floor…Ghost was hook, line and sinker for you.

“Good boy…” you studied him kissing the large scar on his face. He clutched you to his chest, his forehead resting on your temple panting your name as he came inside you coating your walls. You both collapsed forward Ghost moving to the side of you still tangled up you reached to pull Price onto the bed, he obliged. The small cot creaked in protest under the 3 of you.

“Do you want your mask back Ghost?” Price reached for it.

“No…its ok ill leave it off for a little longer..does this mean I get to help with paperwork more often?” He kissed your shoulder liking the way your skin felt against his face.

“We’ll see” You and Price agreed in unison.

[spillways-mp3]

Gifts | Captain John Price x Reader

I wrote this based on an ask I sent @yeyinde and this dedicated to her 💖 If you haven't go read her fics!!

Warnings: smut, bad smut - its the first time in 5 years I've written smut so if its a little funky thats why!, Incorrect use of a cigar, mouth used as an ashtray, theres a use of one good girl, but I've tried my best to keep everything else gender neutral.

Word Count: 686

Other works? First Kiss (John Price), Panic Attack (Johnny MacTavish)

You press a kiss to the inside of his thigh, his hand stroking the crown of your head. You watch as the cigar burns as he takes another draw, his blue eyes slipping shut as he savours the flavour and releases it, a comforting smell of cedar, spice, and tannin washes over you.

Price ignores you as he pours himself a glass of scotch. He studies the bottle, pretending to read the label as you try not to whine between his legs. He leans back into the cheap office chair that groans with his bulk and places the bottle back into its box. He traces the dove silhouette you had engraved when you brought the alcohol. Grabbing a cigar, he watches you closely as he toasts the end up. You shift on your knees under the heavy weight of his gaze, fingertips dancing across Price’s thighs before retracting your hands back into your lap.

“You spoil me, love,” his voice is rough but tone gentle, “gifts -“ you want to interject, to kiss his away refusals of the presents that you brought him but you force yourself to wait, fingernails biting into your palms in an effort to stay still. “- the scotch and cigars? What did the hell did I do to deserve you, dove?”

You press a kiss to the inside of his thigh, his hand stroking the crown of your head. You watch as the cigar burns as he takes another draw, his blue eyes slipping shut as he savours the flavour and releases it, a comforting smell of cedar, spice, and tannin washes over you.

“I won’t even ask how you afford them.” His stern eyes pin you down, and you quickly press kisses to his thigh to lighten the darkening blue. His throat bobs as he glances at the gathering ash “Are you sure you want me to do this dove? You don’t have to.”

Your throat is thick with anticipation and it’s a challenge to speak. “Yes,” you look up at him through your lashes - just the way he likes - and smile innocently, “I’m sure.”

His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, “Be a good girl then, and open for me.”

“Yes sir”

There’s no hesitation when you open your mouth, tongue already slick with saliva in preparation. He holds your jaw steady, always so careful to never hurt you (at least when you haven’t asked him to), and brings the cigar to your mouth. You can feel the heat but you are not worried about being burned, not when John is in control. He taps the cigar with precision, your eyes never leaving his, and the ash falls heavy on your tongue.

It quickly grows thick with the spit but you swallow it, John’s breathing hitches and the way his trousers tighten tells you he enjoyed it more than he thought he would. Pupils blow wide until calm waters turn to stormy seas, he strokes your jaw with startling tenderness, your eyes slip shut and you press your face into his rough palm.

It makes your head spin with how fast he pulls you into his lap, his lips searing kisses into the column of your throat. His hips jerk upwards and you can’t help but moan. The heat of his body is much like the heat of the cigar, it threatens to overwhelm you. His fingers bruise the fat of your hips as he grinds you down on him.

“Do you know what you do to me? You make me lose control of myself, dove.”

You struggle to undo his belt and zipper, your hands unsteady with need. His own fingers make quick work of your own trousers and help you with his own. Not wanting to leave his lap, you awkwardly shimmy the offending trousers and underwear off, and grind into John’s thigh.

He works his thick cock out, head red with want and precum beading. He tugs you close and lets you line yourself up, he watches your face as you sink down. Groaning, he lets his head drop back and laughs lightly when you scrap your teeth against his exposed neck.

He seems content to let you choose the pace, his hands steady on your hips. He watches in adoration as you grind down on him. He stops you and rests his forehead against your own, breathing mingling.

“I’m yours, always. I’ll always be yours, dove”

[goingmerryfics]

So since you’re on impel down you’ve surely seen my darling favorite villain Sir Crocodile so may i request just some soft x reader fluff or headcanons for him x a trans male reader i never see x masculine stuff for him but I love him very muchhhhhhh thank youuu 💚👉👈

Trans Male Reader w/ Crocodile

Content: Trans Male reader, he/him pronouns, coming out. No emphasis on if they’re pre or post-op top or bottom so feel free to picture this as you will. No NSFW!

Notes* Thank you for the ask! When I tell you I fell in love with this man the moment he showed up in Alabasta-

You’re not the only one he’s interacted with that doesn’t fully align with the stereotypical gender norms See: Mr. 2

Anyway, as a trans man myself, I’m very happy that this just so happened to be my first official ask. It kind of turned into a bit of a comfort fic, hope that's ok! Please enjoy!

Crocodile

Crocodile knows you’re trans before you tell him

So while you were panicking about coming out to him in the midst of your blossoming relationship, (What if he loses trust in me? What if he reacts badly?) he was oblivious because in his eyes, there was nothing wrong. He was dating you, and you identifying as male or female or otherwise didn’t matter. You managed to worm your way into his heavily fortified heart somehow. Labels didn’t mean fuck all to him if he was already in love with you

Eventually when you do come out to him through ugly tears and hyperventilation, he just kind of blinks at you

“Huh? Why are you crying over that?”

It takes you by surprise

While you’re trying to calm yourself he opens his arms and offers you a hug, which you take happily

While he’s holding you to his chest, he pulls the cigar out of his mouth and sighs

“All that matters is that you’re mine.”

You felt your body begin to relax, surrounded by the warmth of the man holding you tight enough to crack your spine. You’d soaked the front of his shirt with tears and a bit of snot, and yet he didn’t seem to mind. Crocodile holds his cigar away from you so you won’t go into a coughing fit before you can catch your breath, while also being careful of the hook on his other hand- the last thing he needed right now was to snag you on it and hurt you while already in a vulnerable state.

His quiet comfort was enough to pull you out of the panicked state, but he didn’t let up until he felt you take a step back. There was a pause while you wiped up your face as best as you could with your sleeve, and Crocodile stayed patiently waiting until you were ready to look up at him again.

“Better?”

You nod, and apologize for the outburst, but he clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.

“If I’d known you were so scared to tell me this, I would have let you know a long time ago that I already knew.. Now let's go clean you up.”

Now that the animosity is out of the way though, it feels like your relationship has changed for the better. You feel much more comfortable with him

More importantly, you feel more comfortable sharing certain things with him- and he feels much more comfortable asking questions, too!

One day he asks you what Dysphoria feels like, and man did that take you a few hours to put into words and even then your explanation didn’t feel exactly right

He lets you know very quickly that if there’s anything he can do (he means anything he can pay for, really) that all you need to do is ask and consider it done

He understands when there are days where you don’t want to be touched in certain spots

He makes sure to make it known to anyone else who may know you’re trans that you will not be disrespected whether in his presence or not. If anyone dared to misgender you, he would deal with them accordingly

He also does things that will help you feel ‘manly’, like asking you to open a jar for him even if he could very well open it himself

Long story short, he loves and respects you no matter what

[joshslater]

Chinstrap

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The woman that opened the door and let her into her apartment looked nothing like what Abigail had expected. She was about the same age as her, fit and healthy, pitch black hair, and wearing comfortable home clothes. Without waiting while Abigail removed her coat and shoes the woman walked out of sight into the apartment. "You're disappointed. You were expecting an old lady with a black cat?" she asked from a room away.

"No. Yes, maybe. I don't know what I expected," Abigail answered, trying to figure out in what direction to walk. The woman appeared again in front of her. "His name is Steven," she said and held up a docile black cat. Abigail not really liking cats gave it a perfunctory pat. "This way," the woman said and led the way to a room that looked perfect as a cigar room at a men's club. Two large armchairs with a small round table and a bar trolly in between them at the center of the room, otherwise decorated in dark green and brass. The walls were filled with shelves containing books, boxes, and trinkets.

"Sit, please. You told me in the email this was about a boy problem."

"Well," Abigail started, uncomfortably, "he made me... I..."

"Don't bog yourself in details. I don't need details, you don't want to relive the past. Pastis?"

"Relive pastis?" Abigail asked confused. The woman grabbed a bottle from the trolly with a big "Pastis aperitif anise" label. "Oh, no. Thank you. I'm driving."

She put the bottle back. "Just tell me what you want for him."

"I just don't want him to hurt anyone else as he hurt me, but you said that wasn't possible didn't you?"

"You can't change who people are, fundamentally. Everyone has a role to play. If you try to change too much somewhere, something else gives somewhere else. There is the occasional pawn that turns into a queen, but otherwise the best we can do is to move the pieces around to where they make the best contribution. Or the least damage anyway." She grabbed the pastis again and poured a shot each in two glasses. "Or you can remove them from the board."

"No! No, I don't want that. I did think a bit about what you wrote in your response. What if he can be the cautionary tale? That guy you date to discover everything that's wrong with guys. I think my problem was that I didn't see it coming."

The woman slid one of the shot glasses over to Abigail's side of the round table. "How do you mean?"

Abigail struggled to get a folded piece of paper out of her jeans pocket, then placed it on the table. She hesitated for a second before she emptied the glass of pastis next to her. The woman unfolded the paper and made a giggling snort. "I am 100% on board."

Matt couldn't peel his eyes off her body as she pulled off the tight, white shirt. He liked how the light color made her tan stand out, how her tits jiggled as the sports bra lost its friction grip on the shirt, and how her long blond hair fell out in a cascade over her body as she finally pulled it over her head. She was only wearing the pink bra and matching panties now. She held out the arm holding her shirt straight out to the side and demonstrably dropped it on the floor near the rest of her clothes while looking straight at Matt. His gaze locked with hers, though he desperately wanted to keep undressing the remaining few items with his sight. He had heard someone say that if a girl's underwear matched she was the one who had decided to have sex that night. Her bra and panties did match, but he was too excited by what he saw to draw any conclusion from the quote.

Slowly she walked towards him where he was lying on his bed, propped up by a big pillow his ex had left him with. She was clearly putting on a show for him as she climbed onto him and the bed, straddling him. As he looked up on her he could see himself in the ceiling mirror reflection. Of course she had decided to have sex with him. White socks, blue, straight jeans, black Ed Hardy T-shirt, chinstrap beard, sparkling ear piercing, and the cap on his head at just the right angle. No shit her panties matched. How could you not decide to get to bed with him?

She leaned forward into the reflection and put her pink, lipglossed lips on his and started to kiss him. The first few kisses were tentative, but the next one was almost forceful, ending in an almost slurping sound. Before he could inhale she threw herself on him again, kissing him harder than before. Her blonde hair enveloped him on all sides and he started to squirm to get free. He could feel his lungs burn and darkness creeping in into the edges of his vision as his consciousness was fading.

With a sharp, inhaling sound Matt sat up in his bed and looked around confused, heart racing. He fell back into his pillow and stared at the white ceiling. It had felt so real, but clearly some of the details were wrong. There was no bombshell girl in the room for one, but it had all felt so real. He tossed a bit, trying to calm down, but he knew there wouldn't be any more sleeping after that dream/nightmare, and he needed to piss.

He got up and walked into the bathroom. Looking back from the mirror was a man that didn't look as he expected. Something was off. He touched his smooth earlobe where the clear stud had been in the dream, but now there wasn't even pierced hole. He scratched his chinstrap beard and looked at the reflection of the rest of his body. Had he always been that skinny? And his hair was too long, wasn't it? Fuck, that dream had really rattled him. He badly needed a smoke.

Having finished his business in the bathroom he found himself standing half naked in the middle of the bedroom, completely lost. Where did he keep his cigarettes? Or lighter for that matter? It was like that part of his brain had been wiped out. And everywhere he looked in the apartment he just saw appalling shit he knew that he had bought, but couldn't for the life of him understand why. Chinos and shirts and nerdy shit. He needed to get out of there, have a walk to try to collect his thoughts. Maybe buy a pack of cigarettes somewhere. The clock showed 4:11, but there was a 24/7 convenience store a mile away.

He found socks and jeans, but only ugly shirts until he reached the bottom of the pile and pulled out a completely white T-shirt. Better than the rest, but just like the rest of the clothes it felt like a size too large. He would need to do some serious shopping. He was just about the leave when he remembered his hair. He would need a haircut today too, and a piercing.

He grabbed a promotional snap back from the rack just next to the door, made a mental note to add a proper Chicago Bulls cap on the shopping list, and put it on just as he had seen in the dream. Brim 3/4 to the back.

[ethain]

you'll rebel to anything

[somewhat a continuation to 'i predict a riot', tbc]

Kaku is used to Lucci’s atrocious timing. 

He doesn’t mind it, actually – his life has a steady tact, and although Kaku isn’t one to just ‘shake things up’, he’s not opposed to someone doing it for him. Someone who offers no explanations for what he does and when, either; if it gets too much, Kaku can always put his foot down. 

Hasn’t done that, yet. Hasn’t objected to anything Lucci does or doesn’t do, like put a label on what they have going on. Because honestly, Kaku’s life has enough labels as it is. 

That sounds too simple, like he wouldn’t care if Lucci disappeared from his life: like he could stop dropping in on Kaku’s mostly prim and proper schedule and that wouldn’t hurt. Kaku hasn’t given it much thought – Lucci introduced him to his friends, so they couldn’t simply drift apart, and they can’t break up if they’re not an actual couple. Whatever exists between them is surprisingly good, and demanding more isn’t necessary for now. Kaku’s not a complicated guy, he prides himself on that at least. Things will come up or they won’t. 

Paulie says he’s being an idiot, but he has commitment issues that Kaku is nice enough to not bring up. 

(Also, he’s sure that Lucci made Paulie struggle with bi-curiosity the moment he swiped the mass of black hair from his neck to his shoulder on a hot day and Paulie hates him for that. 

He’s also sure that Lucci knows he did that. Possibly did that on purpose. God, he’s an asshole and Kaku still can’t disapprove.) 

There is also the fact that although Kaku knows Lucci’s friends, there is someone he hasn’t been allowed to meet yet, someone who’s way more crucial for defining whether they are a thing or not. 

Hattori. 

The pigeon is probably Lucci’s actual partner: the individual closest to him. Which sounds weird, but few things about Lucci aren’t weird. The others don’t really mention it, like they don’t find it weird either – Kalifa one time suggests that Hattori ‘puts him in touch with himself’, like an emotional support animal. And at the same time, it’s not just that, more like Hattori is a person that everybody acknowledges. Even though Jabra insists that his chicken is better and smarter and far superior. (Her name is Fah Loh Suee, like the daughter of Dr. Fu Manchu.) 

Kaku has seen Hattori, but he’s watched his fair share of history channel and he knows Lucci’s oddities – they haven’t been formally introduced, so he can’t approach. And the only one who can allow that is Lucci, and so far, he hasn’t done that. 

It’s a weird limbo and it gets weirder when you explain it, so Kaku doesn’t. Not much, anyway: he lets something slip on a night out with Paulie, and it’s enough to have the man wisely nodding, as if he’s being presented with a variety of complicated knots. Meaning, something difficult for everyone but him. 

“’m pretty sure your guy’s in the mafia or something. Any day, he’s gonna ask you for a favor and you’ll be in so much shit. Better break it off now.” 

“Not gonna happen, Paulie. And I mean, none of that.” 

Kaku is in no rush to call Lucci his boyfriend or something conventional, but he wants him around – more frequently, if that’s possible, but he’s not quitting or anything. 

Paulie places his cigar in the ashtray and eyes him warily over the rim of his beer glass. “Even you gotta admit he’s sketchy.” 

“If I were to describe you to someone, you’d sound way sketchier,” Kaku replies cheerfully. “But you’re a swell guy, so why can’t he be?” 

That’s obviously not a reasonable argument, but Paulie gets easily flustered when receiving a compliment for anything other than his professional work, so he splutters a little and frowns. “Just - if you get a weird vibe, you better-... agh, I’m telling you, he’s in some organized crime shit!” 

Kaku shrugs and grins. “Pretty sure if that were the case, Mr. Iceberg would get him off his turf.” 

Paulie blinks at him, apparently not catching the meaning, and Kaku leaves it be. As much as Paulie warns him to be cautious, he’s not as sensitive to that ‘weird vibe’ as he pretends. 

And that’s fine. Kaku feels at ease with him all the same, but he also likes being around Lucci’s friends, who... are not as pure as Paulie. 

Does he have to choose? Is he stuck in limbo if he tries to have it both ways? 

Is that why he doesn’t know Hattori yet, despite knowing his owner quite carnally? 

Kaku ponders those questions while his elderly neighbors sit across him on his couch and talk both his and each other’s ear off. They’re his landlords, too, very sweet, a little nosey; they want him to fix the roof rail, which he’s fine with, and since he doesn’t want payment for a minor job, they at least brought him cake and candy and fresh fruit and the newest gossip and perhaps he’s interested in one of their grandchildren? They’re all wonderful (and plentiful), so whatever his taste is, they could hook him up, if he catches that meaning... 

(As much as Kaku appreciates their openness, he knows that if he were to date into their huge family, he’d be doing maintenance jobs all over town for them.) 

This is the normal life he could have. An invitation into the large family he doesn’t have, mundane and friendly and peaceful. And a part of him wants that, but the other... wants to riot and do graffiti and sneak into places illegally, wants the people Paulie and probably everyone else calls sketchy; those people who are strange and laugh strangely and have strange pets and strange hobbies and are rough and mean on occasion. Who yell at each other because Fah Loh Suee is better than Hattori, but Kumadori’s impression of her was insulting, and whose mother was just mentioned, and why is it sexual harassment to pop your joints loudly?! 

Those people would never bake whole batches of cake and put perfectly caramelized bananas on top, and they break rainwater pipes by climbing them, they don’t care about fixing anything. 

Something behind Kaku crashes, following by a muffled thud. His closed bedroom door trembles a little. 

The old man squints at Kaku. “Oh my. Even I heard that.” 

Kaku gives him an easy smile, hopefully a reassuring one. “Probably a stray cat. Must’ve left my window open again.” 

Another thud, and what the fuck is Lucci doing in there. Kaku knows the old folks are cool with pretty much everything, especially when their tenant fixes stuff, but they’re still his landlords... 

“The poor thing!” The old lady sits up straighter, eyeing the closed door curiously. “Is it the spotty grey one we’ve been seeing? It sounded like a big one.” 

“It’s a black one,” Kaku grits out. “I’ll deal with him, I’m sure he’s just... tickety-boo.” 

“Our Lilo recently started training as a vet,” the old lady tells him. “If you catch that stray, you could get it looked at? Or, I’m sure they do house calls as well – stray cats can be so fickle...” 

Kaku doesn’t know what’s more bizarre: that he has to dodge another grandchild (that probably never agreed to be offered) or that she’s describing Lucci somewhat accurately. He has to forcefully swallow a hysterical chuckle and rises, hoping they will do the same. 

They do not, staring up at him expectantly. 

“It’s fine, thanks. He’s,” the chuckle threatens to rise again, “a troublemaker.” 

The bedroom is quiet. And Kaku looks for a way to polite shoo the couple out when from behind him, the most obviously fake ‘Meow’ is spoken. 

Like, just fucking... "Meow."

Lucci is very good at auditory illusions. He can do ventriloquism, he can imitate sounds – one time, he did a perfect cricket chirp simply to point out how unfunny he found Jabra’s joke. 

But this is voluntarily bad. Like he’s clearly not trying to sound like an animal, much less a cat. 

Kaku freezes, heat rising in his face. The old man stares. His wife clears her throat. 

“We better get going,” she announces and nudges her husband – then she honest to God winks at Kaku. “No hurry about the roof rail, dearie.” 

The old man rises carefully, and while Kaku is still somewhat shocked at his sweet landlady winking at him for a ‘cat’ in his bedroom, her partner eyes the closed door again. “This is the fifth floor,” he mumbles. “Ah, to be that nimble again...” 

His wife giggles and elbows him gently, and they shuffle to the apartment door, candid in their sudden hurry: they smile conspiratorially at each other and at Kaku, who feels like he might be in some sort of weird dream. 

Also, he swears that just as he closes the front door behind them, he hears the lady whisper: “So then the roof is getting in line for railing, I guess.” 

Kaku doesn’t know whether he’s mortified or amused. Both, probably – because that’s what his life is like now, hovering between normalcy and whatever the fuck is in his bedroom now. 

Time to find out. 

...

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Oh it's OK I will send it right away here so u don't have to search lol.

Good morning/evening hun! Now I know fnf hypno's lullaby requests are going heavily on you and I'm sorry but bare with me a little- creepypasta! Reader play with triple please! I would love if they were female but i don't mind gn lol. The reader look normal and friendly, you can make them get creepy when they start playing, if you want! You can make them play by any sides of the three or all of them go 3vs1 but make the reader win pls lmao, it's your choice, take your time and if you don't want to do it for whatever reasons feel free <3

your writing is beautiful and always make someone's day.

Take care of yourself and thank you for your time and sharing your talents with us

Awh thank you!! Reader will be gender neutral for this one

........

“Pasta Night”, as the local Creepypasta bar liked to call it, was always something you looked forward to!

Not only did you get to play games with your fellow freaks of nature (even though many were very much unnatual), but you could be yourself.

Blending in with humanity was often a challenge, and at first glance most people wouldn’t even suspect that you were hiding in plain sight. You looked like a plain old human being.

It sure fooled many folks who thought you walked into the wrong place at the wrong time.

Tonight was a perfect example, as when you arrived at the cards table, you saw three unfamiliar faces already having a go at UNO, of all things:

A scary hulking figure who resembled Mario with a large cigar in his mouth and a glowing blue block labeled “POW” beside him, a demonic hedgehog wearing a visor and sporting faded fur trying to peek at his friend's cards, and finally a Hypno who looks like it swapped bodies with a Machoke...holding a deck of Pokémon cards with psychic energy.

‘Just when I think I’ve seen them all..’ You smiled and headed over to the table with your drink.

“Seriously, I lose again?!! You two are insufferable..at least I play by the rules!!” The hedgehog hissed, annoyed as he shoved a pile of gold rings towards MK. "I'm not gonna have any rings left for spare after tonight..."

Then he noticed you sitting across from them, and his whole attitude changed, a wide yet closed smile growing on his face. “Why hello-”

“Beat it, human. We’ve already reserved this table.” The Mario lookalike snarled, briefly taking his cigar out to spit into a nearby metal bin. “Tell ‘em to scram, X.”

“That’s Lord X to you, MK...and you don’t have to be rude.”

“And you don’t have to lie either! I know damn well you’re peeking at our cards when you think we ain’t lookin’. “Play by the rules”, my ass...you deserve to lose every ring ya bet.”

“Just shut it! At least I’m not punching that stupid cube every five seconds and screwing up everyone's concentration!!”

“Don’t mind them,” Hypno spoke up as he set down his cards gently. It surprised you for a moment, considering most Pokémon couldn’t talk--or at least most normal ones couldn’t. “They act like children at times.” He shook his head with a sigh.

“Haven’t we all at some point?” You chuckled. “Forgive me for eavesdropping gentlemen, but..if Lord X needs any help winning back his earnings, then maybe I can assist. I'm pretty good at bets."

After hearing your offer, the hedgehog stopped arguing with MK and looked to you, surprised. “Ah, so you wanna go a round? That’s fine by me. Some help would be nice. But the question is...what’ll you wager should you lose? Cash? Valuables? Or maybe even--”

You blinked once and saw him dash out of his seat, sitting right next to you with a sinister grin. “Your SOUL?” As he spoke, skeleton hands emerged from the depths of his throat, a demonic laugh creeping its way out as well.

Yet you remained unshaken by his act, simply smiling and getting your own stack of cards. “If I lose, I'll pay for your next round of drinks."

"...that's fair."

Then you glanced at Hypno’s cards, frowning slightly. “By the way Hyp..you got trading cards, not UNO. That’s probably why you’re confused.”

“Huh--? Ohh...that makes sense.” The Talking Pokémon nodded, getting the right cards for himself before he and MK stared you and Lord X down, smirking. “Alright. Now...we play!”

........

“HAHAHA!! I WIN!!!”

“What?!”

“How?!!”

“That ain’t fair!!” MK slammed his fist down on his POW block, causing the whole table to violently shake, but nobody paid any mind to his temper flare. It was normal for them.

Nothing infuriated the Mario entity more than seeing your smug grin--now a rather creepy one that rivaled him and his buddies.

But Lord X and Hypno were impressed to see this was the real you..or at least the competitive side of you who always liked to win.

You definitely caught them all off-guard with your friendly looks. They just assumed you were a naive human trying to butt into their game night.

“Here you are, m’lord.” With a chuckle, you took the stack of rings from the other side of the table, sliding them back towards Lord X. And like a dragon hoarding gold, he gathered them all into his hands, grinning from ear to ear.

They were all his.

Every ring he’s wagered for the past month.

"Thank you, friend." He laughed. "You're an excellent player."

“Not even I could have predicted those moves with Future Sight.” Hypno remarked, scratching his head in disbelief. “What did you say your name was?”

“[Y/n].” You leaned back in the chair as you reshuffled your cards in your hands. “My story hasn’t hit the right crowd yet, so you probably haven't heard of me.”

“..ah, I get it now.” MK remarked. “I was thinkin’ they let a random human walk into the wrong bar. My bad.”

“It’s fine. If you guys don’t mind..I wouldn’t mind joining you for another game.”

“Maybe next time.” Lord X told you, shaking his head as he stood up from the table. “MK and I have some tortured souls to play with.”

“And I have to find Gold and bring him home.” Hypno stood up as well. His cards levitated around him and disappeared into his satchel. “That boy couldn’t have wandered off too far..”

“When you see him, tell him how stupid he looks with that bowtie, will ya?” MK sneered. “I mean..a bowtie on a hoodie??”

Hypno shot him a scowl. "If he didn't come with you, you don’t get to dictate what he can and can’t wear! He wanted to look “fashionable” and that’s the best I could do!!”

"Jeez really? Thought you were dressing him up for one of your game's "beauty contests".

You just smiled in amusement as they were the ones bickering this time around, with Lord X trying to quiet them down so Gold didn’t overhear their arguing.

‘They seem like a good trio..I’ll definitely play with them again.’

[stories-by-rie]

127 try once more like you did before

it is time for another thing for @flashfictionfridayofficial, minor warning for mentioned smoking, other than that it's actually very lighthearted i think, 780 words, hope you have fun <3

----

Someone too close was smoking too much. Usually Rabea was not that deep in someone else’s business--if they want to smoke, they can smoke! But this had to be the fiftieth cigar this evening because the smoke was actually clouding the tavern’s room and the whole atmosphere got a kind of mysterious that was too dramatic even for her tastes. Which really meant something, considering she sat in the darkest corner, the hood of her cloak covering half her face in shadows.

All she wanted to do was to get a tiny break before setting out into The Forest again, but perhaps journeying to the sea  was a better idea, to get her lungs cleaned out by the salty ocean air. Actually, it seemed like a better idea the more she thought about it. A change in scenery had never hurt anyone and, sure, she had that one hire to venture into The Forest and destroy the wall’s gate and obtain a book from the library behind it that may or may not be cursed, but her client was immortal so a little vacation should be in it. Right?

Rabea just got ready to leave when the door opened and a group of young travellers came in. It was impossible not to overhear their conversation and who was Rabea to deny her ears.

“I followed the manual to the T”, one of them proclaimed. “My sword is polished, the tinctures are correctly labelled and my water bottles filled. There is nothing that could go wrong.”

“Did you also work through the chapter “Waterfalls and Other Sopping Escapades”? I mean, we’re going into The Forest, how many bodies of water could we possibly encounter?” another wondered.

“Well, I mean I skimmed it and I know the gist, so I consider myself well prepared, still”, the first one said.

Rabea took a deep breath and instantly lapsed into a coughing fit. Those younglings were about to see the last of their days.

“Very reasonable”, another mumbled, “I also skipped the chapter about fighting fire witches. Everyone knows those live near volcanoes, there’s no way we’re going to encounter one.”

The rest of the group agreed in different tones of mumbles and Rabea felt herself nearly cringe to death. It would be an embarrassing end, but surely everyone would see its inevitability. Fate truly was the cruellest of all.

“If I may be so bold to interrupt”, Rabea boldly interrupted with a raspy voice that made her sound at least another 430 years older, “but I happen to have ventured into The Forest before and I cannot recommend the chapter about fighting fire witches enough.”

The group turned towards her, eyeing her with suspicious gazes and one or two blanching faces.

“Oh shit, are there truly fire witches in The Forest?”, one of them asked with a thin voice.

“Well, not exactly, but there definitely are burning bog snakes and handling them roughly works the same way as handling fire witches”, Rabea replied. Not that anyone had given her that advice when she had walked into The Forest the first time, but she was a great supporter of shared and free knowledge. So.

Suddenly each and every one of them had burning questions (well, not that kind of burning) about The Forest and Rabea found herself answering them all with enormous professionalism backed by her own experiences.

“Who even are you?” one of them asked with an impressed spark in her eyes.

“Me? I am Rabea.”

“Rabea the Ruthless?” one cried and suddenly, the whole group looked again as if they were ready to bolt out of the tavern.

“I? Don’t know?” Had she gained a moniker while she had been trying to conquer The Forest? Why had no one told her about this?

“Rabea the Ruthless who is known for slaying even the greatest beast, who has ventured into The Forest countless times and remained victorious no matter how many times she tried? Who ruthlessly goes against anyone in her way? That Rabea?”

Well. That sounded somewhat more dramatic than she had expected. With great flourish, she pulled back her cloak’s hood.

“Maybe? I sure have been in The Forest quite a lot. But only because I keep failing at my mission? So I am really not certain if that holds up to anyone’s expectations.”

The group stared at her now with a mixture of wonder and fear.

“If even Rabea the Ruthless keeps failing, how are we supposed to even make it behind the first line of trees?” the biggest of the group cried pitifully.

Rabea took a coughing sigh. It seemed like the ocean would have to wait.

[tobacconist]

LOVE POTIONS oh j am ALWAYS being sent requests for LOVE POTIONS! (lights cigar) oh j get them from everyone! silly young bints, randy young lads, sad old women, dirty old men. it is not easy to fulfill so many commissions. im sure, then, you understand why j charge so dearly. (taps ash into elaborately jewelled ashtray).

love, like all great recipes, has a thousand variations. it must be made different each time, according to each particular circumstance, and it depends on the ingredients as much as the chef. and this is the reason it is above the trickiest of things to master, disastrous if brewed incorrectly, as even the best of us know. (coughs horribly). God gave man freewill, and he gave women discernment. know this first. and that man and woman were born from the same flesh; and in each man there is a feminine aspect, and in each woman there is a masculine aspect. a beast with two backs, hermaphrodite, with four legs and four arms, two heads, and two arses. well, whatever you do. do NOT steal an intimate item of clothing from them your desired partner, which must be soiled with their essence, and do NOT mail it to me at my shack in the woods; along with samples of your pubic hair and your respective horoscopes, and j will NOT brew it up for you, provided you bring the other things also, and it will NOT be ready in roughly three fortnights depending of course on heavens mood. oh, wait, whats that? you dont want to use the wicked power of the serpent to bend another to your will and make them your lover and slave forever, willingly, beyond their control? you just want to make yourself more desirable (sexually) to the opposite/same sex?

OH well why didnt you SAY darling, these things are easy for us. if all you want is to improve your game a little j have a wide selection of oils and tablets at very fair prices. and j can hook you up with my perfumier. he... he will need to take samples also, but only from you. to compound the formula correctly. our animal instincts work on smell, you see. well, BUT TAKE HEED. thar was once a man to whom j sold one such potion. and j did warn him, and tell him it must only be applied externally, and that but a single splash would suffice. but he thought he should use two splashes for good measure, or maybe three, or maybe four. hm, maybe even one or two more. well... j dont like talking about this... he was a friend of mine and a close business partner. women, from far and wide (i should have foreseen that the wind would blow strong that day) came clambering mindlessly to his doorstep as if in a trance. hundreds of them, all dripping at the minge and ravenous. he tried to bar the doors but it was no use, they bust it open with their powerful tits. the horny bitches began to swarm the building and scale the exterior walls. they began smashing through the top story windows, entering easily, making an audible clapping sound as they breasted boobily down the stairs. oh god... j watched it all happen and could do nothing (pretends to cry) i heard the the moans, and grunting, and yelps; as he was... (hides face dramatically in feigned grief) shagged senseless...

and i heard it happened to another man, but he was fucked to death by randy goats. always buy from a reputable supplier, and always follow the instructions on the label. this primal magic is dangerous to perform. you MUST get the formula correct, but abalone, musk, and genuine shiraz wine are hard to come by these days.

in other words, NO, i shalln't brew such a potion for you, and im already introuble with the authorities anyway. AND j believe you do owe me twenty euro outstanding also. hiss

[fateheartblog]

Found a door to the Harbour today.

It is in a beautiful walled garden next to the library - my local library, which I finally got round to visiting. It is small but perfectly familiar. I snooped around every shelf - since becoming a librarian myself I have become very attuned to the sight of other librarian's decisions - in what is laid out how and why.

I was drawn to a stand labelled 'Feeling blue'. Every book on it was of a totally different genre and purpose, but all blue covers. I picked up a book - Pandora's Jar by Natalie Haynes - retelling the stories of women from Ancient Greece. I knew all the names of the women - but the book persuaded me perhaps I did not yet know all the stories. It made me think about names for people long since dead, but which still live as words, doing things I had not before considered. I didn't take it out because I am out of practice with library borrowing and nervous about getting horribly attached and not wanting to give it back. I think instead I shall read a little more each time I visit and feel personally wounded when someone else borrows it first.

In the home and garden section I read the introduction to a book about cigars. The writer was insufferable and pompous, quoting a lot of well-regarded 19th and 20th century writers who lauded the cigar and trying to persuade the reader to disregard the problematic knot of comparisons to dark exotic harems of forbidden sexual conquests because really their points about how cigars are great still stand even though all the best quotes about them are stunningly misogynistic and racist. As if the nature of the language best suited to heralding a thing doesn't tell you something about the thing itself.

I picked up a book on an end shelf about the history of perfume, read a short middle chapter about the vogue of fur and the nascence of perfumes designed initially to mask the scent of death and animal and eventually developing into a complement to the distinct aroma of creature corpse. The book used a word for the particular smell of preserved animal skin in fur coats that I repeated to myself and now cannot remember. I shall have to go back and look for the book. What a strange thing to have left a word in a particular place in a city. I cannot hear it, I have never spoken it, but I know where it lives.

I also registered for a library card. Turns out it is a city-wide card and I can return books I borrow to any library in this city. What a gorgeous idea - that books move across the city in arms and bags and can find their way home through any door, because they all lead to the same place - to one unified library with doors hidden across a sprawling network of streets. I left the library and entered the walled garden right next to it, delighted and breathing deeply. There was a little fountain and kids on push bikes. A whole delegation of weathered benches, dedicated to the dead, their names engraved there - words that have come to rest in a certain place in a city. I have not heard these names, I have never spoken them, but I know where they live.

On the far side of the garden was the door, fenced off by a metal grate you cannot see in the photograph. It opens onto a vision of trees in bright colours - it opens into my Harbour. I stood and smiled at it, thinking about forests - about gardens and places of peace and libraries - about how trees and books go together. How libraries and community gardens are part of the same magic. How unsurprised I am and yet how amazed to see it again and again and again.

So yeah, I found a door to the Harbour today. It is in the library, it is in the garden - it is a place I have been so many times before, and finally got round to for the first time today. Beyond it live words I have never found anywhere else, saying things I have never heard spoken, like a name for someone long since dead. It is one door of many across the city that all lead to the same place.

[harmcityherald]

The Horse You Rode In On

"Just calling them blobs is one way to go, inspector. Yet, on the outside, it is highly misleading and doesn't help our cause to not label the creature as just that, a creature. Every piece of this thing is a living creature. One gigantic living organism. If one is in the attic and one in the basement, the two are two separate parts of the same physical entity, severed by space, but those two separate actors in this game are still but one creature, thinking in concert. Its Ingrained, instinctual strategy is to absorb and replace the very world and culture of it's infected, victimized host. It is insidiously growing even now, right this second, inspector. Hidden and out of sight, but growing beneath our feet all the same. Every second we waste arguing about it is another second gained by our adversary."

The inspector Shifted uncomfortably in his chair. he pulled a shiny case from his waistcoat and began to extract a tightly rolled cigar from it's depths. " .....even now.?........ And two of them think as one, you say? Like sharing a mind?...." His skepticism showing through. It wasn't surprising. The inspector had fished him from many a saloon and many a gutter in the short time Edgar had lived in the city. He already knew the inspector wouldn't believe him, it was hard to believe himself, but this time a man had died, and Edgar had watched.

"If it had a hundred separate bodies it still only thinks as one mind. That's what's so terrible, Inspector. It can begin like a tiny snowflake. Everything it touches it absorbs and replaces with itself. A copy of everything it kills. Like Mr. Renyolds, only it isn't Mr. Renyolds anymore. With every passing minute its absorbing something else..... Someone else. Just a tiny piece can infect the next and the next. Its insidious nature hides the creature from our very eyes in plain sight. Once it becomes too large to control, heaven only knows what it will do. Where will it end? How far will it go? i can tell you inspector. This thing will take the whole city, everyone. After that, every other city until the world is dead. It will still be the world, inspector, but it won't be us. It will be them, ....it, pretending to be us. Living vicariously through us."

"...... And you are telling us that this thing told you all of this While living inside the walls of your apartment? It talks to you?" You could tell the inspector had been dying to ask that question. You could also tell that Edgar had been dying to answer it.

"As I have been trying to tell you and anyone else In your department that will listen For three weeks now. Yes. He talked to me. IT talked to me. Showed me things. Stories it put into my head. It Feels as if it's talking to you From the inside of your own mind. I think the creature wasn't prepared for me to be looking back. I was not supposed to see what it has in store for us, But I saw it all the same. I saw other places , other worlds Where this thing has taken over. Entire civilizations absorbed and replaced. It is what this organism does. It steals the lives of it's victims And then experiences life through them. Each world conquered Is another cell awakened. Another cell in a gigantic mind that spans solar systems. It collects civilizations Like paper dolls Cut up and put into a scrapbook.... It adds them to it itself. Collecting diversity"

The inspector let a cloud of smoke curl and hang in the air between them for a few seconds, trying to let Edgar's frantic and anxiety ridden words to sink in and make sense to him. Or give him enough rope to hang himself. After a few tense seconds The inspector spoke.

"And this Reynolds, Carlton Reynolds , You say he's missing? But you say that he is dead and you watched this....creature.... kill him and replace him with an exact copy of him......and You say that mister Reynolds was not the only one. So other people have died and you're saying that you helped this thing Kill them ?"

"No inspector, I did not help kill anyone. But this creature , he is very seductive, he used me to lure victims to him and before I realized it I was involved in something I did not want to be involved in. That is why there is such dire urgency in what I'm telling you. This thing....this blob, it means to kill everyone in the world and I, in my grief and meloncoly from losing my wife, may have helped it do just that. We must stop it. I must stop it. For her sake, for the sake of us all."

"Will you come down to Baltimore street with me willingly? For farther questioning? Maybe we can get to the bottom of this before anyone else gets hurt....."

"You think it's me....." Edgar sighed deeply. The inspector immediately tried to switch gears.

"...just for questioning. We Aren't going to....."

"You're arresting me !! "

It was at this exact moment that Carlton Reynolds stepped through the open doorway and into 'the horse you rode in on' saloon.

Edgar gasped.

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

Prompt: An exhausted Whumpee driving home from work. They flinch and swerve as they feel a knife at their throat. “Take a deeeeep breath. Just keep driving and do what I say, and you’ll be fine.”

F/O: 📻

[meme]

Domestic, civilian life was killing faer. Still, leaving meant fae needed a change. Bone had to lay low. If fae didn’t…

Perhaps the exhausting nature of 9 to 5 tedium had gotten to faer too much. Nothing seemed wrong as Bone opened the car door (not even the fact it was already unlocked.) Even as fae started the car—the radio stayed off. There was still a combat knife stuck into it. Sparks shot out whenever the car would first start. That was a fire hazard. Bone dared it every day to follow up on the threat a hazard entailed.

Technically, Bone lived a long drive away. You had to get on the highways from faers job, then drive for at least an hour on a half. This was all assuming, however, that nothing else was on the road. On a bad day, Bone considered the 3 hour drive to be a weird blessing.

It wasn’t organizing archives, sticking labels on files.

The highway was relatively empty today. Even of mutants. Bone was several magnitudes of fucking excited to go home, if not just to be somewhere that couldn’t be considered outside. Mayhaps that shift of focus was why fae still didn’t notice, until the knife was coming around from the seat.

Fae took one hand off the wheel to try and grab their wrist, but it appeared they had two hands as well. It was while they pried Bone’s hand away (shoving it back onto the wheel,) that Bone realized who’s hand that was. They didn’t need to speak. They did either way.

“Take a deep breath, kiddo! Just keep driving, do what I say, and you’ll be fine.”

“Will drive off road,” Bone threatened.

“We both know how that’ll go.” 📻 laughed quietly… “Neither of us are exactly easy to kill. I’ll give ya this though, you technically have a better chance!”

The knife clinked against the rebreather as fae tried to look down at it. “Repeat. Will drive off road.”

📻 shrugged from the backseat. “Do it, pansy.”

Bone let go of the wheel. 📻 didn’t flinch at first. The wheel was slowly spinning though, turning until the wheels were threatening to drive them right off and into the snow. You could hear the eye roll in his voice: “That’s not exactly driving off the road.”

“Cut throat then.”

“You’re bad at this, ya know that?” 📻 reached around with his other hand, grabbing the wheel and steadying them as well as he physically could. “Always gotta be difficult.”

Bone was smiling there under the mask. “Yeah.”

“We’re going back to the base, and you’re going to go right back to your old room.”

“I’ll kill you,” but faers voice was wistful.

“You didn’t the first time.”

Fae hummed. Though fae leaned over, and that should’ve meant 📻 slit faers throat right open, he didn’t. 📻 watched faer lean past the driver seat to look at him. “You’re awful,” but fae said it so affectionately.

“Can you fucking drive? I don’t wanna waste a cigar on this, caphiche?”

Bone just laughed, putting one of faers own hands on the wheel. “Fine. Bastard.”

“Pansy.”

Fae hummed. “Whore.”

The knife pressed a little harder, threatening to break skin. “You’re the one who gets more dick than the nightwalkers.”

Bone just chuckled. “Fine… Fairy.”

📻 just rolled his eyes.

[theauthorlives]

five times protected:     ( five times the receiver was protected by the sender ) / five times protective:      ( five times the receiver was protective of the sender ) // for @calledstars ?

@calledstars

Five Times Drabbles (Accepting, but slow.)

I'm not labelling these, but they'll be a mix of the two for a total of five.)

-

The various leads of the new ship were having one of their first meetings since they were all assigned. Gunther didn't really have much insight into most of them: Burt seemed aloof, Celci was sharp, and there was still no Captain assigned to the task. He had questioned why this hadn't been resolved, but what did he know? He was 'just the bomb guy' as someone had snapped at him.

No matter. He kicked back in his chair with his boots on the table. With his sunglasses on and the cigar in his mouth, he exuded the air of apathy. But in reality, he was paying full attention. Burt was content to sit back and go with whatever the flow was at that moment - though Gunther guessed Burt was taking a back seat for the same reason as he was.

Namely, the fact that Celci and Mark were at each other's throats. She was furious at how the colonists could be positioned so closely to one of the most dangerous things on the ship. The pods had been installed and it was too late to relocate things, as Mark tried to point out. This only flared the anger of the icy lady (to Gunther's amusement), and on it went.

"Hey. Hey!" Gunther slamming the heel of his heavy boot on the table finally broke up the arguing. "We got more important things to discuss at this meeting, and some of us have to train team members before the day is out. Look, you're all about the safety of things, right?" He pulled out his cigar and pointed it at Celci. "So you'd want them far enough away from the reactor. What do you do when the reactor overheats, begins damaging the infrastructure, and ultimately causes the ship to break in two like a flimsy pencil? You're ignoring the importance of maintaining thermodynamic balance. Last time I didn't pay attention to heat levels, well..." He trailed off, idly scratching his scarred cheek. "Mark's an Engineer. He's got his degrees. Cut him a bit of slack, yeah?"

That, finally, brought the argument to a close. Nothing more was said of it, bar a simple note that was passed to him when they were all parting ways:

"Thank you.

Your scar has nothing to do with a burn, does it?"

Gunther's laugh as he stepped into the training hall was Mark's only proof that he had been spitting lies about his scar (again).

-

"You've got some nerve talking like that to guy you hired."

"And YOU'VE got some nerve back-talking to your employers."

Gunther shrugged. "You told me I was the best in the field. Fire me, and you're putting this entire ship at risk."

It wasn't the first time Gunther had been caught bickering with the stiff-collared employers who had funded the search for the crew. Gunther held the upper hand given his experiences, but there always seemed a reason to try and discredit him. This time focused on the turrets.

"I'm not an idiot. They're specially programmed. Not just anyone can march in and tell them what to do. There are protocols in place, the same as why we don't give out guns to anyone who asks for them. Military matters are a well-oiled machine. I'm not putting the colonists at risk."

Mark watched on in forced silence, biting his tongue as he tried to decide what to do. Gunther could hold his own, but he could run the risk of genuinely being dismissed before the ship was ever launched, and the Invincible needed the best security possible. The silence let him notice how one of the executive's tempers was steadily rising, and that the time to act was now.

"If I may?" The Engineer's voice had all heads turn to him. "Gunther's expertise is crucial for this expedition. The Captain had made a definite request that there be extra precautions taken for ADS support and security measures. The turrets are to further aid in both those tasks. If anything were to happen to them, I can manually override the turrets. Besides," he threw a glance to the soldier, "I trust Gunther. I wouldn't have agreed to his employment in the first place if I didn't. I assure you, the crew are in safe hands with him around."

The executives, at last, backed down; and Mark swore he could see a hint of gratitude behind the sunglasses.

-

The workshop was quiet, but it was the only one of Gunther's 'haunts' that Mark hadn't checked. He needed to run over the path of the night time patrols with Gunther so they didn't interrupt upcoming upgrading of the locking mechanisms. The soldier, fortunately, was busy at his worktop counter, where he was known to repair turrets and other weapons for the ADS team.

"I'll look over it in a sec. I just need to finish this." 'This' was one of the guns that was currently partially dismantled. "One of the mechanics - the one that looks like he belongs to an old time movie - wanted me to 'downgrade' his gun. A guy offers to volunteer with training and he can't even hold one of the guns properly. What's the point of even -"

Mark's eyes widened. "Get back."

"What?"

"Get back. That gun isn't -" Whatever he was going to say was dropped as Mark instead opted to reach out and yank Gunther backward. The pair tumbled into one another, with Mark being the unlucky soul to hit the ground before cushioning Gunther's fall. Beyond that, there was the distinct sound of something exploding. The gun flew clear overhead and crashed into bits on the far side of the workshop.

The pair stared blankly at the wreckage for a few seconds before Gunther let out a bark of a laugh. "That's definitely a downgraded gun."

"You could have been hurt, you moron!" Mark punching Gunther's arm only made the ADS Lead laugh harder.

-

(Death warning below)

The world shuddered around them and reformed into a ship. So familiar, but so different. It wasn't like the time of the noir, or of the over-aggressive gun fights. It wasn't even the time of the hillbillies. Instead, it was a moment of normality - if one could call it that. Everyone was assigned to their posts, working together to try and solve all the disasters that were unfolding at the same time. The Captain and Mark were charging from one area to another, trying to resolve every problem they could as swiftly as possible.

Gunther and his team were trying to override the turrets, but whoever had hacked the two in the main ADS control room had put on an overriding function rendering all their usual programming obsolete.

"As Head Engineer, I'll deal with this -" Mark slammed his hand on the sensor and whizzed the door open, despite the warning shouts from the ADS team. A hand firmly gripped his shoulder and flung him backward. Overhead, there was a sharp order of "Close that door!" before the sound of gunshots could be heard.

Lasers whizzed out from the door faster than the bullets of the gun, but Mark could see one turret dropping to the ground. Then, Gunther fell.

The Captain's crystal was already beginning to glow, signalling the warning before time broke again, but Gunther grinned over his shoulder at Mark, then lifted his head to his superior officer.

"Gotta keep the brains on board, Captain." A cough, and then Gunther keeled over, just as a bright light illuminated the corridor.

(Death warning ceases here :D )

-

Peace had finally returned to the Invincible II, but it came at a heavy cost. Many had scrambled memories of the events that transpired. Was it a span of days or weeks? How many times had people died? How many events were looped? Gunther was one of the few who had the sharpest recollection of what happened thanks to him jumping into the wormhole before it grew too erratic.

It meant that he could see the way people glared at certain members of the crew. Mark - Atlas now - had changed the most. He kept to himself, almost fearful of anyone that came near him. Hardly a surprise, given the revelation of his connection to the warp core. It was hard to know who treated Atlas harder: some of the crew, or Atlas himself.

A night patrol had Gunther catch the sound of Atlas tinkering various unused locker doors that had hinges that were slightly too creaky. Gunther stayed silent for a while, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame of the open door.

"Are you going to stand there and judge me all night?" Atlas didn't bother to lift his head from his work.

"Depends. Are you going to sit here all night like an idiot?"

"I'm doing vital work to ensure the ship is safe from all harm."

"And that includes... Creaky doors...?"

"They were a threat to life in one instance of turbulence!"

"Atlas. You're overreacting. You need to relax. Everything's fine now -"

"Is it?" At last, Atlas turned from his work to glare at Gunther. "How do you know that? You have no idea what you're talking about."

"True," Gunther agreed, "I don't. But I do know the Captain's missing that crystal on their hand, which they only had when things were at their worst. Nothing's looped, or restarted, or malfunctioned in the entire time since they returned without it. Everything's okay."

Atlas had no argument for that, unwilling to waste time talking with another person. But when he turned to focus his attention on the door, Gunther snatched his wrist.

"The door can wait. I'm not going to stand by and watch you tear yourself apart."

"It's the only way I can make amends." Atlas tried to tug his hand out of the hold, but it was fruitless.

"For what? You already did, from what I heard. Look." Kneeling down, Gunther tugged at Atlas' wrist to force him to look at the soldier. "I don't blame you for anything. Never have. Never will. And I refuse to watch you destroy yourself at a time when you need support. If you won't take care of yourself, then I will. Come on, you're coming on a walk with me, and then you are going to bed."

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Monday, 21 November 2022:

Excavated Shellac: An Alternate History of The World’s Music Various Artists (Dust-to-Digital) (released November 2022)

Dust-to-Digital began operation in 2003 releasing a magnificent six disc box set of old-timey gospel music titled Goodbye, Babylon.  To this day it remains one of my very favorite boxed sets.  Dust-to-Digital began as an old-timey label but they rapidly expanded by releasing world music that no one else was releasing.  One of my favorites from the label was their 2007 release Melodii Tuvi: Throat Songs And Folk Tunes From Tuva a beautifully weird album. 

There was a point in time I would buy anything the label released.  It was when they began releasing old timey made in the 1980s that I decided I didn’t need to be a Dust-to-digital completist.  Old Timey to this fan is music from the 1920s and 30s.  Anything released when I was out of college is nowhere near old-timey to my ears.

 The label describes this box as such: “This collection highlights music that is often invisible in today’s world — the incredible world of global recordings that aren’t jazz, blues, country, rock ‘n roll, R&B, or “classical.””  And I’ll let the label explain what this set encompasses: “Featuring music and musical styles from six continents and 89 different countries and regions, recorded between 1907-1967.”  That’s a wide range of music.  I am extremely excited for this box and look forward to overindulging in it. 

Dust-to-Digital does superb work and their packaging is second to none.  Above you see the top of the box and the bottom of the box.  The photo below shows you what to expect when you open the box

That is the front of the hardback book you see first in this set when you lift the lid of the box.  Then when you remove the book you will find the CDs as indicated below. 

When you remove the CDs you will discover that the bottom of the box looks just like it did when you first opened the box. 

One thing that surprised me is just how large this box is.  Dust-to-Digital’s first box set (after Goodbye, Babylon) was Fonotone Records: Frederick, Maryland (1956-1969) and it came in a cigar box.  Many of the label’s boxed sets also came in a cigar sized box but they were often amazingly ornate and quite uncommonly unique.  Here is a photo of this new box when compared to their standard cigar box size.  I have the wonderful box Music Of Morocco (From The Library Of Congress) sitting on top of Excavated Shellac to give you an indication as to how much larger this set is. 

They certainly make their boxes a gorgeous thing.  Look at the strip that runs all along the entirety of Excavated Shellac in the photo below revealing a man running while holding a record.

As long as you can see that hype sticker on the bottom of the box, let me show you a close up of it and what it says.

Here is a look at all four discs.  They all come in wallet cards, so I will show you the front of them followed by the back of each card.  The third photo reveals what each disc looks like.  My apologies for the lack of focus on the text side of these photos.  It was getting dark and I’m struggling with trying to get this camera to focus.  I realize that makes little sense, because heaven forbid you make a camera focus.  In that first photo, each of those stickers on the front of the wallet card are indeed actual stickers (or probably just glued on cut-outs, but nevertheless you can feel that they have been applied to the front of those cards.

Now, let me show you what the book looks like inside.  I have two photos of random sample pages.  That’s another Dust-to-Digital excels at: making great books that notate everything a listener/ collector wants to know about the songs that are compiled.

That “thank you” that you see affixed to bubble wrap in that first photo of the booklet opened up is affixed to the front of your bubble wrap so that when you open the shipping packaging the very first thing you see are the words, “Thank You.”  I like that touch of friendliness and I think Dust-to-Digital is easily one of the classiest labels around today. 

When you tear off the shrink wrap and remove that hype sticker on the bottom of the box, this is what you will find underneath.

[leviiattacks]

May I request a Levi x Reader angst fic? Just barely any fluff, mostly angst going on lol. The reader is a traitor, formaly working for Marley, but betraying them in secret and putting their loyalty on Paradis. The reader is also a shifter and married to Levi for a couple of years. That love and care however is gone once readers identity is found. He truly despises them, insults them, maybe a bit violent with them, and outright tells them that they mean nothing to him anymore and hate them to bits. Readers punishment is to hand over her titan to Erwin, and they agree instantly, broken over everything, believing its all their fault. Once Erwin inherits Readers titan, he breaks down and screams, crying, because Reader was innocent the whole time. They never betrayed Paradis. Never killed anyone, never harmed anyone. They finaly know why they betrayed Marley, the abuse being to much for them, enough to just leave them behind for Paradis. Just... loving and caring as they all saw them. But now the damage is done. They wont come back, they're dead, believing that they died, hated and despised, with no one to mourn their death. Everyone regrets everything.

author note :: i was thinking of leaving this in my drafts but i already wrote it and may as well post it. it didn’t end up going the way i hoped but yeah i hope it’s ok anon. anyways ANGST. ANGST, ANGST. as always i love feed back :-) ⟹ all of the headings with the years are just meant to mean it’s a different moment from that year so those moments don’t happen right after each other i hope that makes sense!! word count :: 7.2k warnings :: canon typical violence, death

845, i.

Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.

Sun never makes itself known in Liberio yet here it is shining down onto the bustling streets. You half expect for it to crash down and burn into the hundreds of civilians going about their daily business yet nothing of the sort happens. It's typical sunlight and you curse yourself silently for your sinister thoughts.

Secretly the voice at the back of your mind still whispers frantically but you don't wish to hear what it has to say. Instead you choose to drown it out with the sound of Zeke's voice. Finally deciding to pay attention to what it is he's been droning on about for the past ten minutes.

"Soon, soon, soon." He sighs dreamily looking a little delirious.

"Soon?"

Your question catches him off guard, he lightly shoves you with his elbow scoffing in annoyance.

"Did you sit here to not even listen to me?" He turns to take a sip of whisky and the hearty gulp he chugs shows his mild irritation. You assume he's been rambling on about Marley's plan to infiltrate Paradis. You have to admit that the idea of destroying those demons from the inside is amazingly well thought out. However it's all he's been able to discuss for the entire week now and frankly you're getting a little exhausted of it.

"I zoned out..." Quietly placing your glass back down onto the wooden counter you sigh closing your eyes. It's too early to be drinking and you don't trust Zeke enough to slip into ignorance and leave yourself vulnerable. Men are to not be trusted, especially Eldian men. The thought of Eldians triggers your flight of fight response, you want to shrivel up into a cocoon and never come out until the world is rid of the monsters. The lowest of the low, the dirt in between the crevices of Marleyan soldier's boots. That is what Eldian's are.

It's ironic coming from you, your entire family labelled as undesirable Eldians yourself but you, you know you're different. An honorary Marleyan is what you will become. What you are. The treacherous imps who are but an ocean away are the true evil.

Eyes flicking to Zeke he's lighting a cigar. Old habits die hard and he's yet to quit this self destructive custom of his. You couldn't care less if he chooses to cut his lifespan short by ten years, it's his own choice to make. A disgusting cowardly choice but it's a choice fit for an untamed man like him.

The Island Devils are said to be the bad apples but you can't help but stare at your fellow citizens from time to time and wonder what it is they could be hiding. If a demon slipped through the cracks you wouldn't be surprised. Sly in nature, persuasive in tone, that is how devils go about their daily lives alone The hymns they drilled into you all the way through elementary school echo and rebound in your mind.

Locking your bitter thoughts away you have to push yourself to not punt Zeke in the mouth when he teasingly blows a puff of hot smoke into your face.

Fingertips grazing with his he freezes at the sudden contact giving you the perfect opportunity to slip his cigar away and take it in between your lips. You allow for it to linger there but you aren't foolish enough to inhale its contents.

"Zeke, my dear friend. We shall soon be met with the fruits of our own labour but I assure you that discussing Marley's plan constantly will be of no benefit for you nor I."

The day you and Zeke had met had been at warrior training camp. Zeke was a miserable, unmotivated oaf. Always tripping and falling behind the rest of the warrior cadets. You felt rather bad for him, if you were born as unskilled as him you don't know what you would have made of yourself. Zeke, the only child of his parents ironically only ever ended up rising through the ranks after handing them over to the Marleyan government. His father and mother had been conspiring an escape plan but were executed immediately alongside their fellow team members once Zeke had outted them. Unexpectedly he was spared, the fact he turned on his own parents showed where his loyalties were. To his surprise, he was even allowed to continue his training with the other warriors - only this time everyone kept an increased distance away from him. The warriors weren't informed of what he had actually done but everyone had a gut feeling. Everyone apart from you stuck with that feeling. You thought strategically, If he were to become an enemy in the future you knew being close would come at your advantage.

The day you and Zeke had met your mother died, his mother passed away the same day. At least that's what he had told you.

The two of you bonded over the little things, told each other stories about your life at home. Reminisced about what it was you missed.

Then it all came crashing down the day Zeke confessed. The day he told you he killed his mother and father by handing them over to Marley. Your knees buckled underneath you, crashing the floor he tried to grab at you but you thrashed around in retaliation kicking and screaming not understanding why he did what he did. Yes, they were traitors but they were his parents and if the monster had the nerve to turn on the people who gave birth to him who's to say he wouldn't do the same to you or to Marley.

Zeke doesn't know it but ever since then you take the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at him. Every single time you narrow your eyes in malice. If there's a man in Liberio who you don't trust in the slightest it's him, he must think the feud between the two of you from childhood has been put at rest but it hasn't.

Zeke takes another swig of his alcohol. On this occasion he downs it entirely slamming the glass down with vigour.

"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"

846, i.

Another day of extensive training is about to end, your back is layered in uncomfortable layers of sweat and the same can be said for your forehead. Kneeling down in the under layer of the forest you're hidden waiting to strike. Going up against the elites is nerve-wracking but you're sure you can pull it off so long as you stay calm during this game of hunters against prey.

It's simple enough if you can conceal yourself and stay out of sight. The robust trees that surround you act as decent enough camouflage and your green cape paired with them lets you veil yourself, keeping you further into the foreground, blending into the environment.

No one will be able to catch you if they can't see you.

All of a sudden your previous thoughts are thrown away when you sense something in the atmosphere has changed, the hissing of the wind behind you isn't natural.

Turning to your side you don't bother to cover up the sound of leaves rustling and branches cracking, your priority is slipping away fast enough to hide again, a tug can be felt at your cloak and your reaction time barely covers for you, your gear fastens itself to a low enough tree branch and the descent is mind numbing. Your breakfast churns in your stomach but you ignore the uneasy feeling, leaping and diving wherever you find a small enough gap. You believe you can outrun your huntsman.

That is until you sneak a glance back and your muscles nearly tense up in pure astonishment, you've been kicked in the teeth just by the man's presence. Captain, Levi slinks behind you weaving through the gaps with increasing speed, he's gaining momentum and all the while his face stays relaxed, this isn't even his full effort.

Terrified you dart upwards and then left, a corner comes into view - Levi should assume you've turned into it and so you rashly choose to dart back down. Much to your hard luck you find that his senses are well adapted, the direction of the wind is enough for him to trace your whereabouts.

The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.

Arm shooting to the right you think perhaps making it look like you're aiming to fly somewhere else again will completely catch him off guard, he can't expect for you to pull the same trick twice.

Setting your plan into motion your finger pulls at the trigger but you startle when the cable doesn't come out, it's jammed. Panic seeps into you and to make matters worse your gas is running out.

Without warning you're thrust into the body of a nearby tree, the bark scrapes against you and scratches begin to form anywhere you've made contact with the jagged surface, you want to admit defeat but the warrior inside of you denies Levi the pleasure of seeing you beg. In its place you deliver a harsh kick to his thigh, you're aware he's injured it and you're certain there are no rules to say you can't play dirty. Your boots hammer against leg hard enough for him to give out and let go of your body, but then you realize you lost this game from the very moment your grapple hooks broke, you have nowhere to hold onto.

Before you can even let out a shriek of horror Levi's shot back to you, he frantically accelerates and by a miracle humanity's strongest is able to grab a hold of you again. This time you don't dig your heels into his leg and you allow for him to clutch you by the torso.

Within a minute the two of you descend towards the forest floor and Levi throws you into the dirt furiously.

"You could have died. Being foolhardy will only lead to an early death." He barks as he directs his blade towards your neck.

"Am I dead yet?" Whispering back your gaze isn't trained on the blade but right up at him.

His nostrils flare up, his hair sticks to his forehead haphazardly and the knuckles that hold his pointed blades are white in tangled dissatisfaction.

Grabbing you by the hips he flings you over his shoulder choosing to not continue with the confrontation.

"I know what you're up to." His voice is still rugged from the pursuit and it takes you a split second to register what he's said.

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat, no way, there's no way in hell he knows. He's sharp but he's not a mind reader.

Your position means he can't read your face seeing as you're facing his back, instantly steeling your features you let out a breathy laugh.

"And what may that be?" Silently you pray he's worded himself ambiguously to catch a slip up.

"Being gutsy, you think that makes you a good soldier. It doesn't."

Relief floods you. He doesn't know.

"Soldiers need to be brave." Your retort makes him grumble.

"If  you die with no meaning by being reckless what's the purpose of being a soldier?" His question has you stopping and thinking on what the correct answer is.

Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.

"Are you saying your previous comrades died without meaning?"

"No. Their deaths fueled me slay more titans."

"So if I died back there who wou-" He swiftly cuts you off showing no inclination of wanting to hear what it is you have to say.

"I'll cut your tongue off if it's stupid." He clearly isn't serious about the threat but he does mean it when he warns you to not overstep.

Despite the consequences you say what's on your mind. "I just wanted to ask who would give my life meaning if I ever died. I don't have siblings and my parents died long ago."

Silence follows and the crunch of his boots against the muddy leaves tells you he probably doesn't wish to answer your question.

"Sorry-"

"I would. I would give meaning to your life." He says it with such ease you almost want to admire the enemy but you know he's said it because he feels he has to.

"You barely know me but I hope one day you can stop thinking everyone has to rely on you." You say it with taunting understanding.

Another bout of silence follows. Only this time the two of you feel warmly comforted, he doesn't understand how you've seen through his facade but it's easy for you to spot another liar.

846, ii.

Brows drawn back you observe your surroundings attempting to mask your scrutiny. The place is running amok with uncontrollable Eldian folk. The stench of unadulterated sin makes itself known but you seem to be the only person able to smell it. Eren bumps against the table you're sat at and your face twitches a little but you say nothing. You're yet to get used to these people's lack of manners.

At least that's how you force yourself to think. To be truthful, you don't quite understand what it is these people have done wrong. Ever since you've arrived you've been nitpicking at every single minor inconvenience or possible issue. A girl stole a potato and broke it into uneven pieces to share and you attempted to twist the story in your head to make her look like an unfair, greedy voracious demon but... you found yourself finding very little to actually be angry at. These people are essentially normal in every way of the word, they aren't demons and you can't help but feel yourself slip away from everything you once knew as reality. You're finding it difficult to believe what years of Marleyan education taught you, the hymns that were once drilled into your brain permanently are but a vague memory.

You feel disgustingly under-dressed and out of place, you don't belong here not when you're meant to hate these people, not when you're meant to despise them. You should be fighting the urge to shove their heads onto pitchforks or to skin them alive and feed them to pigs. Everyone back in Marley told you to control your impulses but now you're here and you've settled down even having the opportunity to converse with these individuals, share their pain, share their loss, share their suffering, you wonder why you have no impulses to control. Have they brainwashed you? Or is it that you're the real demon in this situation?

Fingers mingling with each other on your lap you sit hopelessly alone. Interacting with the so called enemy is much harder than you expect. Worry consistently bubbles in the pit of your stomach and every night is spent tossing and turning evaluating then reevaluating who the bad guy really is. At first the task of daily interaction isn't a big deal, you find it easy enough to approach members of the team and fake interest in their lives until the original plan falls through. You do become invested in your team members lives and stories that it comes to the point where you don't have to force yourself to smile at their jokes or to sympathize with their tales of grief. You become one of them and you swear you're meant to feel like a traitor but eerily you feel like you belong.

Nevertheless you try your best to stick with what you know. You're nothing like Zeke, you're loyal, capable, faithful and trustworthy. Never will you turn your back on Marley.

Rising to excuse yourself from dinner you think you've just about made it and escaped finally able to hide away in the confines of your bedroom but your lips form into a straight uncomfortable line at the feeling of someone's hand latching at your wrist. You're halfway down the hallway just a few more steps away from your bedroom. You hope it's one of the rookies.

"Oi, come here."

Head shooting backwards your eyes land on Levi, his dark curtains fall in front of his eyes - you note that he hasn't trimmed them as he usually does. Despite his size his grip is firm and your wrist squirms around a little trying to manoeuvre out of his bruising grasp. He seems to notice he's underestimated his strength once again and loosens his hold on you. Narrowed eyes analyse your anxious form, they're grey and in this lighting almost glow appearing silver. For a brief second your mouth is left ajar by the delicate but rough manner of his face.

"Everything Okay?" He doesn't typically seem to care very much about anyone, the question activates your senses and you're on full alert but the eye contact you make with him seconds later slows down the gears in your mind, they only whir and hum in anticipation completely coming to a halt.

"Yes, yes everything is okay." You're playing around with the hem of your shirt and you silently question when you were ever this nervous around anyone. You're a Marleyan soldier for heaven's sake not an unrestrained, unsupervised child left to play in a park.

Despite your clear inability to cushion and shield yourself from your Levi's stabbing gaze you attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"I'll be going I just feel a little —" At first you had thought to fake you were ill but at the feeling of a sudden strike of pain you hold onto your stomach, the ache burns into your abdomen and without permission it travels higher up towards your ribs. "A little unwell." You manage to wheeze out. Hand placed onto a nearby cement wall your thought process is hasty speeding up by the second. Have they figured you out and had you poisoned? No, you barely ate anything today.

You hunch over feeling the bile crawl up your throat, on reflex you clamp your eyes shut not wishing to anger a superior by acting insolent and disposing of your dinner in the hallway. Shaky palms reach hesitantly for your lips and you force yourself to keep it in. Levi would commit a murder if you heaved and gagged letting it all out in front of him.

You motion towards the door trying to emphasize that you can handle yourself in the privacy of your room. Tears bite at the sides of your eyes and your vision is so blurred you can only make out the faint outline of the man who was just in front of you.

"Relax. I'll clean it." Your hair is brushed away from your face securely held back and you can't hold it in any longer, the acrid storm surges through your throat, you retch at the harsh sting it leaves behind. Breathing heavy, perturbed and anxious you gasp in all the air you can get.

"I knew you looked ill." His hands hold your jaw gently, the pads of his fingers are calloused but his touch remains soft. A tissue dabs at your mouth wiping away the excess untouched sick.

Just like the sick which surged through you less than a minute ago you feel something else entirely tear into you. You can't put a finger on it but it's dangerous for you to not feel contempt.

847, i.

Your heart accepts what your mind has been ignoring for months on end when Levi looks you square in the eyes after a heart wrenching expedition. The vacant look on his face is enough for the guilt to consume you whole but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know of your sins.

The wagon of corpses reeks of death and desperation. It's rotten and the smell is sickening. Forcibly you  stop yourself from feeling any more grief. The despair isn't yours to go through.

Your first ever personal loss outside of the walls and you've learnt Paradis is not home to demons. Cheeks burning in mortification you can't formulate any thoughts on your own accord, instead they continuously emerge in bursts and finally a single thought sticks out from the rest - Are you aiding in the destruction of innocent human life?

The both of you are sat on guard duty with the corpses, half of the team has been wiped out in one sweep. Your trembling hands don't seem to want to steady any time soon and you sit there with your guilty conscience strangling you slowly, your airflow is getting shallower. Shorter, quicker breaths leave you. The imaginary gash in your chest is bottomless, and your lungs push and pull in a power struggle.

Levi's coarse hands abruptly hold onto yours and the floodgates open again, he doesn't know what you've done to him, done to his soldiers, done to his people. If he knew who you really were, would things be different?

"This was out of your control."

Do you tell him?

The question sits in your mind for a while until you shake your head. He takes it the wrong way and think you're responding to him.

"This was not your fault." For the first time in months you've heard his voice crack under pressure.

"Pe- Petra she- I could have taken one for the team and died instead of her." All that remains of your dear friend is her blood soaked cloak. Her body was one of the few that had to be hauled away earlier to decrease the carriage's load.

The fabric still smells of Petra, smells of honey and chamomile and the simple soap offered at the base, but it still smells of her.

Firm hands grab your shoulders and Levi's fingers dig sorely into your flesh.

"Don't."

"But I- I didn't contribute as much as her and she has family who are alive." Hiccuping you try to bare with the fact that you'll wake up tomorrow and not see her preparing breakfast for everyone else. You know you could have propelled her out of the way just in time if you hadn't been so taken aback by the entire situation.

"You were her comrade. She made the choice to die for you."

You want to reach out, sob into his chest and yell that you regret it all, scream and tell him about the secret you've been hiding. A sorry excuse of a comrade you are to let her die on the battlefield not knowing your true identity. The tears roll down your cheeks and Levi feels his heart constrict and squeeze as he comprehends the lack of regard you have for your life. "It should have been me." Is repeated over and over again, your eyes are raw and bloodshot, the vicious wind sinks its teeth into you.

"Then die."

"If you're willing for her life to have no meaning. Die." The words he spits out are as cutting as the bitter wind. He feels cheated and you're finally able to come to your senses.

He's faired much worse but you doubt he's ever acted out the way you have in front of another person. In this never-ending void of darkness locking away the dull ache caused by deafening loss is the best choice for everyone.

Much like the night you had been sick he takes a grip of your jaw and directs your face towards his, this time he's not as gentle as before but you conclude that it's because he's drained, completely exhausted from the battle. The eyes are the windows to the soul but Levi's window panes are shattered, completely crushed by the weight of the constant burden he has to carry.

"I'm sorry." You croak out the apology. He grits his teeth because he doesn't want you to apologize but he doesn't voice out his opinion. As a substitute he presses his arms against you, the terribly raw panic is murdering you. Levi's gruff voice is a mixture of faux irritation but mutual understanding.

"Cry." He allows for your head to loll against his shoulder.

As the dark envelopes both you and him the scent of the dead only becomes more and more pungent, recalling fond memories of Petra and the others you know your heart settles on a decision before your mind does. You're a two timing back stabbing traitor for this. What you hated Zeke for you have become yourself.

Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.

That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.

847, ii.

Levi's wiping down one of the kitchen tables, you're kneeled on the floor scrubbing vigorously. The others have already given up, panting they've left using the excuse of fetching water from a nearby well. Your back aches but you find cleaning reassuring and somewhat of a decent distraction.

"Why do you like to clean?" You're used to Levi asking you abrupt questions by now, after all the two of you have been acquainted for well over a year now. Through that year he's learnt about you and you about him. When in the midst of what looks to be humanity's final year's, twelve simple months is enough to form a bond worth a decade.

"I'm not good at a lot but I am good at cleaning."

"You know that's not true idiot." The tone of his voice indicates that your answer doesn't please him.

"But I do think I'm good at cleaning? Maybe not as good as you but I am half decent."

"Not that. You're good at much more than half the people I've ever met." He sneers, his footsteps edge towards you. "Purely being a good person is a talent these days."

You suppress a flinch because you aren't a good person at all. Neither are you that middle ground between good and bad. Rough around the edges and uneven, you're shards of glass ready to slash and hack away at him if Marley somehow lures you back.

The confession, if you could even call it that catches you by surprise and anger fills you. You almost want for him to not trust you and call out your bluff. It's a little unnatural how badly you want for him to realize the truth.

Your head turns up to stare at the man who's a few steps away from you. "Or am I just good at acting genuine?"

You don't even mean to snap at him and you don't even realize you have until you see his eyes widen and mouth part in imperceptible surprise. Biting your tongue your attention is diverted back to the wooden floor. Driving your washcloth into the crevices and dips of the floorboards you ignore Levi's leather shoes which now stand right in front of you.

"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"

Be born in Marley, That's what you had done, trained to destroy people you thought to be devilish entities, foolishly chose to grow attached to the so called enemy. Your mind lingers onto a specific thought and you're deathly afraid to be thinking it in the first place but there's no more avoiding it.

Falling deeply in love with Levi is your worst mistake to date.

"What I did. It was out of my control." you reply, voice hard.

"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.

Your silence is his answer. Kneeling down to where you are he disarms you, the washcloth is taken out of your hands and he places it onto a table.

"You are a good person." His voice is brusque and he states it like it's a fact, something you should know. Hot tears threaten to spill over, he's stupidly naive for not rethinking that opinion of his. Lips thinned and eyes watering you don't know how to feel.

"Levi. I'm sure you'd like to think that but I am not."

"You love the members of the corps unconditionally I can see it in the way you look at them."

"Sometimes you look a little sad when you stare." The last sentence he adds in has your pulse racing. He's right, you often feel miserable thinking about how everyone would react knowing who you really are.

"I'm not interested in bad people." He sounds distant saying such warm words and it takes a moment for them to actually sink in. You don't quite believe you've heard him correctly. The dread sinks to the bottom of your stomach and the feelings you've buried at the back of your mind hit you like a tsunami. The thought of him feeling the same way for you, is agonizing.

"Stop being ridiculous." The uncertainty is killing the both of you.

"Loving you is not ridiculous, if you don't feel the same way you can say that and I'll step away. We'll be back to normal."

"No, no, no. You don't get it. You're just saying that." Your voice quivers and the intensity of this new revelation is too large for you to cope with.

"Why would, you," He begins, voice just above a whisper, "ever think that way?"

"Why would you even look twice at me?" You reply.

"Because I worry for you."

"You worry for everyone."

"I worry for you the most."

Instead of letting you respond to him this time he carries on speaking.

"We both know we feel the same."

You already knew you were in love with Levi, you didn’t need for him to tell you. You knew you were in love when you tried to memorize his facial features, you knew you were in love when his laughter was the cause of your laughter, you knew you were in love when you threw yourself in front of that abnormal for him.

That's when you begin to understand what all his signals meant. You now knew why he'd let you stare so intently, you now knew why he laughed particularly hard when it was you who had made a joke, you now knew why he scolded you and nearly broke down at the sight of your injured arm after that specific expedition.

You know it. He knows it. You both know what this will lead to.

But you still lunge onto his lap, you still press your wobbly lips against his. You still choose to surrender yourself to him and he still reacts by taking a hold of your shaky hands which lay on his chest. He envelopes them in his warm grasp. Slowly but gradually the ice thaws and dissolves. Heartbreak, anguish and suffering when one of you loses the other will be the end of your romance, you're sure of it. Hell, the both of you are in the middle of a war but your heart flames up thinking of all of the possibilities.

Perhaps it'll play out the one way you wish for it not to.

Could your ending be in betrayal?

848, i.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded hus-"

"Cut the crap and kiss me." Levi's crude interruption isn't appreciated by Erwin but everyone knows Levi doesn't care all that much for formalities and hates being in the spotlight for too long.

Gripping him by the collar of his suit your lips are a centimetre away, he stops you tightening the hold he has on your waist. His lips gently press against your collarbone and his breath meanders towards the shell of your ear.

"Swear you won't die on me."

Gulping you look away apprehensively. You know you can't promise that.

“Oi, I’m expecting an answer.” His voice flickers slightly.

Forefinger holding your chin up you see your soon to be husband close to tears, he valiantly blinks them away. Levi has never been one to make his pain public and your heart twists in your chest as you realize just how much of a hold his feelings for you have over him.

"I can't promise that, you know it'll only hurt more." The strange bitter taste in your mouth won't let you comply with his request and by measuring his reaction you see his eyes cloud in an unidentifiable emotion, you're sure it's nothing positive.

"We may not have a happy ending Levi but we'll always have a happy middle."

Levi scoffs in derision, he has to think your attempt at being meaningful is ridiculous.

You lean into him and it's all so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet foreign. His body sags comprehending that not everything will go the way he wants it to. One of you is guaranteed to leave first.

Hands finding purchase in the cloth of his white dress shirt Levi doesn't cringe at you creasing the fabric as he usually does. He allows for you to call the shots this time, your lips brush faintly against his before you nosedive into him. No resistance is felt and he replies almost immediately. Everyone applauds as his fingertips press into the back of your skull and you find that this is all incredibly hideous. The innate disloyalty you feel, you throwing your entire life away for this man but you find yourself not caring. To hell with that miserable life crammed with sin.

Levi smiles against your mouth, you assume you're meant to magically smile back but you can't make yourself. It's uncomfortable relishing in the undeserved happiness knowing it won't last forever.

The world you live in isn't ideal nor is it forgiving.

Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.

849, i.

Jean can’t take his eyes off the newly weds.

You’re cooing into your Levi’s ear gently, his cheeks flush scarlet at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin and he scolds you for having the gall to rile him up in public.

Jean sniggers finding some sort of odd delight from the interaction - he’s never seen the Captain this content and at ease.

849, ii.

You don't know why you've dragged yourself out of bed just to stare at your husband's face but you have, despite the toll life has had on him he seems sound for once. His breathing peaceful yours is anything but that. When it's dark the weight becomes heavier, your skin tingles and your throat burns aching for release.

Eyes blurring your hands shake reaching out for him but you can't find the courage to make contact. Nothing will ever warrant plaguing him even more with your existence.

The memories become increasingly bitter.

"If we make it out of this alive we'll have children and they'll look just like you."

"I want them to look like you." had been your reply.

Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.

"No, I want them to look like you. You're beautiful."

How wrong he was for thinking that.

You, beautiful? He'd stab himself ten times over if he knew just who exactly he had said those words to.

850, i.

Zeke had betrayed you after finding out who you were to Levi but you half expected that he would tell him the truth at some point regardless of that fact.

Tear stains travel through the mud and grime on your face, Levi's eyes are indifferent as he twists his wedding ring off his finger flinging it into the surrounding rubble.

Without your permission he yanks your arm forwards intending to take your matching ring away but you hold on digging your heels into the dirt beneath you.

"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."

You scream, high and awful, he continues jerking at your arm the muscle throbs crying out for him to stop but he doesn't and no one steps in to put a halt to any of it. Levi having had enough grabs at your neck ruthlessly. In any other circumstance he'd be labelled callous or cruel but everyone on the battle field shares a similar empathy for their Captain. Neither they or Levi had expected your disloyalty.

"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.

"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."

Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at  it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.  

"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.

Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second.  It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.

"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.

This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.

But you agree, on the basis of one condition.

"Fine but-"

Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.

"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.

However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.

"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.

Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.

Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.

Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.

His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.

"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.

Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.

850, ii.

Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.

"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.

You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.

He isn't.

"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."

It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.

"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.

You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.

"I know." You whisper faintly.

850, iii.

When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.

Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.

But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.

The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.

The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.

"We made the wrong choice."

Erwin can't word it any better than that.

But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.

Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.

He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.

854, i.

Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.

Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful. 

Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase. 

“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .

“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”

Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.

Some day he’ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.

That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.

“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.

“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.

“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.

Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.

He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.